roar

Okay, I've been laying low.

Trying to decide how I feel about what's next, apparently. Since I'm the kind of person who goes into a funk or mope or snit and figures out what prompted it later. Sometimes much much later. Not so emotionally evolved am I.

Husband and I ended up working, in our own demented way, through our issues with each other. Husband apparently decided either to be a grown up, or to forgive me for not being cheered up at being told that a miscarriage/no further hope of a biological child/etc. was no big deal. His family came to visit for his birthday and for father's day and he acted like a shit for a while, until he was able to pull his head out of his ass and rejoin the human race. I'm sure that my speech to him to act his age and behave (actual words) was contributory. :) Either way, he pulled it together and the weekend ended up nicely. We even had a relatively "long" conversation about the failed IVF cycle and our thoughts about what's next. ("Long" for Husband equals about 7 minutes of actual conversation without sarcasm, inappropriate jokes, or him blowing me off and changing the subject).

So here's the deal.

After some long conversations with main RE (not Big Fancy Clinic RE) we've decided to do one more IVF with my own eggs. Husband admitted to some very strong feelings about trying again, not wanting to look back in 5 years or so and wonder what if. He really wants me to try one more time and I've agreed. RE pointed out that the immune system and other issues that I have, that led to my pre-eclampsia with Danny, may be a major (or minor, who knows?) contributor in why the past two IVF's have failed. He thinks that egg quality may be an issue, but it's hard to know how much of an issue since I have that other stuff going on as well. So he's added two more meds to the mix - another blood thinner thing, and DHEA. He wants me to be on the DHEA for three months before cycling again, as research has showed that the best results are reached when women have been on the DHEA for three months. So that means another IVF in September, right around my 39th birthday. Big Fancy Clinic RE also wants to do a few days' worth of shots of growth hormone in the last few days of stimming towards helping with egg quality or something (I don't remember why, I just follow directions). Main RE has pointed out that if the underlying issues aren't addressed/resolved/improved, then donor eggs may not work either.

So with all of that in mind, it seems like it's as worth it to try again with my own eggs versus donor eggs. Apparently not everything has been tried on me yet, and I'm kinda with Husband on this one, as far as not wanting to give up on having my own child until I'm satisfied that every last intervention has failed.

I've been requesting information on donor egg programs and have gotten some in the mail, but chickenshit that I am, haven't opened up any envelopes yet.

Mostly I've been savoring and digesting. Savoring the reassurance that Husband is invested in this whole process, and digesting the mixed emotions raised by the realization of just how much Husband wants another child, and the further realization of how much he wants a child of mine. I watched him with his sister's new baby the weekend of their visit, and saw how much he enjoyed spending time with the baby. At one point, over dinner, the baby was fussing and baby and his dad walked outside. I commented to Husband, "you don't miss those days, do you?" (Meaning, I love the fact that Danny talks to us, can communicate his needs, and I no longer have those helpless, powerless times of him crying and me being utterly ineffectual at soothing him.) But Husband, without the slightest hesitation, said that yes, he does.

Oof.

Insert knife into my chest.

Guilt. Remorse. Sadness.

So you know what? If he wants to try again, I owe it to him. As much as at times he inspires fantasies about hitting him with a brick, I love him immensely. I love our family. I love how much he loves being a dad. I would do whatever it takes to give him another child. So I'll do it again.

Even though everyone is quick to remind me that it most likely won't work, we'll do it again. Just because.

****

On an related note (vent), I wonder why all those people who've done multiple failed IVFs don't usually hear the death knell that has been rung for me, twice so far, by two different REs. I've had two failed cycles, with not great, but not immensely horrible results. I've certainly heard worse (like, two or three eggs retrieved) but haven't heard the women citing worse talking about their REs giving up on them. I don't get it.

*****

And on only a slightly related note (VENT).

Stupid stupid Matthew McConaughey (or however you spell his name, he's stupid and needs to wear a shirt) is stupidly pregnant again. Well not him, but his baby mama is. Stupid stupid Hollywood people conceiving without the slightest regard for my feelings. Did no one learn from Nicole Ritchie's tongue lashing?

And my stupid 17 year old client told me today she's pregnant. By accident. She's pissed off about it, and gloating, since all she sees is that she's going to be the center of attention for a while. And because she loves drama, she's getting lots of it now. And clearly she's been hanging out with my 16 year old client who's knocked up too. And thrilled about it, since her whole goal has been to get pregnant and show her mom how great of a mom she is and how crap of a mom her mom is. (Yes, I know. If they made good decisions they wouldn't be seeing me for therapy). It was all I could do to not have a Tourette's moment today and *accidentally* mutter "bitch" during the session.

Stupid stupid people who don't deserve to get pregnant. What about me? And the others who are hanging out in the "multiple failed IVF" club?

And as long as I'm getting it all off my chest, I'm going to have to throw something at the TV the next time that stupid First Response Fertility Test commercial comes on. "Have I waited too long?" is the most annoying line in the commercial. "Why yes, namaste, you have. It took you too long to find Husband. You enjoyed the delusion of thinking that trying to get pregnant at 34, while not ideal, would be relatively simple. And you waited too long after Danny was born to start trying again. You were selfish to want to nurse him for a year, you were foolish to think that pregnancy could 'fix' you like your OB said, to think that trying Clomid again could ever work when it never worked the first time. You were selfish to spend your 20s trying to figure out who you were and making sure you could always take care of yourself, getting your degree, getting established, establishing your own independence..."

Okay, so maybe all she says is "did I wait too long?" on your TV, but on my TV the extended version runs and her additional dialogue hasn't been cut...

apparently I'm not done grieving

So today was "the day." The phone consult with Big Fancy Clinic's RE. Which I really did not envision going the way it did.

Basically I had about 15 or 20 seconds of feeling okay before he, in a relatively kind way, told me that doing any more IVFs is pointless. He compared all three IVF cycles I've done in my lifetime and basically said that despite my fairly normal test results of ovarian reserve, etc. that I clearly have an issue with egg quality. I produce lots of follicles, a fairly okay number of eggs, but they're just not good. Even in my first and only successful IVF cycle, quality was a concern as my eggs basically just disintegrate. BFC RE said that if I were to do another IVF, which he wouldn't recommend, even if they tried some new things like DHEA and other things, that the chances of me getting pregnant are about 4 or 5%. So not impossible, but highly unlikely.

And then he, in a manner that I'm sure he thought was kind, said that I have one child and I should just accept that and move on. Because unless I want another child, this probably wouldn't be a good thing to consider doing again. {I'm thinking that he lost track of what he was saying when this sentence came out - perhaps a bird flew by the window, his stomach growled, or something. Um, no, I've just been doing IVF and have changed REs and gone through extensive testing because I particularly enjoy wasting money and injecting myself for kicks. A hobby of sorts.) I was told that it's healthy to grieve and I probably need to cry about it because it is sad. (No. Really?)

(Meanwhile I am crying and performing all sorts of facial contortions in order to stop crying and maintain some sort of normal voice, versus the strangled squeak that is all I can manage when I'm crying and trying to talk).

I initiated conversation about donor eggs, somewhat confused that he hadn't brought it up himself. (Was he going to stop at oh, sorry, you're REALLY REALLY infertile, not just sorta infertile, deal with it, appreciate the kid you have, you've got one, be grateful, move along now. Next!)

Basically he said, sure, donor eggs would work - 70% success rate versus 4% with my own eggs. But take your time think about it, takes time to come to a decision about this (because no, haven't been thinking about this since November, lurking on DE boards, etc.), talk about it with my husband, etc. Gave me the name of the DE coordinator at the Big Fancy Clinic, and hey, let him know what I decide, he'd be interested in hearing what I decide. And hey, by the way, why don't I run it by my IVF nurse at Big Fancy Clinic and see what she thinks. So okay, now, you take care now. Bye.

Cried for a while. Blew my nose. Cried some more. Repeat. Went through a lot of tissues. Texted Husband to let him know, as I knew I wouldn't be able to get a complete sentence out.

He called a little while later, allegedly to try and "make me feel better." Which, to an albeit good but emotionally shut down man, comes in the form of telling me this isn't a big deal. And when that doesn't work. Telling me that crying isn't going to make it any better, so if I want to sit around and cry about it, go ahead. (little 'tude creeping in now) He also disagreed with giving up on my eggs, I should go to Duke or somewhere and try with them. (Husband has this idea that Duke knows everything, and regardless of the diagnosis, they can fix it. Yes, they diagnosed your brother's years worth of misery and illness as CF when no one else could figure it out, but um, not sure they can help in this situation). And by the way, when I go to Duke I should hurry up about it. He also has this theory that since IVF worked for us once, it's just a matter of continuing to try until it works again. (Because sure, we have unlimited savings and repeated IVFs take absolutely no toll on me physically or emotionally and hey, so what if we have more than one doctor telling us the same thing, they're all wrong). Eventually Husband's irritation that his well intentioned (stupid, thoughtless, incredibly unsupportive) suggestions and comments had not had the desired effect of magically making me better, and hung up on me.

Because I know him so well, and know his limitations, I recognize that he's an idiot. A well intentioned man who loves me a great deal, but absolutely turns to shit when I'm crying and he doesn't know how to make me stop (other than pissing me off so that I'm yelling at him instead of crying). His reaction is to try to fix things, not admit defeat, and get angry when he can't make it better. So he'd prefer to tell me to stop crying because he just can't take it. (I'm imagining that) It makes him feel powerless, which makes him angry (because it's his job to take care of me and he's failed). So when he's supposed to be comforting me, it inevitably ends up in him yelling at me and me crying more. Yay.

Meanwhile today is his birthday and it's father's day weekend. And I officially suck because Husband sucks. Never tells me what he wants for his birthday or Christmas, yet counts the presents under the tree and looks mournfully at my pile and compares his lack of pile to my own (um, I tell him what I want, what size, what page, where to buy it, etc.). It's his 40th, and I really wanted to do something special and have failed miserably. His friends suck, and I couldn't get anyone to come down here for a surprise party. Couldn't figure out how to con Husband into going up to his hometown so I could do a surprise party there. Have connived with his family to come down and surprise him, which is sure to piss him off, as I was told earlier this week that he didn't want a party, and he's usually irritated when he has to give up his precious weekend time to spend time with his family. He's traveling all week long, so weekend time is the only time for him to see Danny, to get projects done, (to spend time with the wife he loves and adores) and to relax (which in his brain means do pointless projects around the house and criticize me for trying to get some down time in versus "being productive"). So I've bought a lot of balloons, taught Danny to sing "Happy Birthday" and have serenaded him twice today, framed some pictures of him and Danny, got some cards, and that's it. I suck.

So today just sucks. Will never have another bio child. Husband as usual has failed miserably to say the right thing and is instead mad at me on his birthday, when he should be happy. And Danny is loving life and clueless and has no idea that his mommy is sad.

And now I'm just wondering all the questions that everyone who contemplates DE thinks. With a kid who already is so my child, how will I feel about a child who's very clearly not my own? I'd like to think that what I love about Danny is who he is, and have thoroughly enjoyed the process of watching his personality develop. I love him because of who he is, not because he's like me. It's just kind of neat to see some of my traits in him. I don't think I wouldn't love a DE child because they're not like me, but would it affect how I loved them? How/ would I? tell the child? Would it change how the siblings related to each other? If I tell the kid, does that mean the family has to know? (No one beyond a few select friends know Danny was conceived through IVF) How would they view me? How would they view the child? Would there be secret contempt within anyone (family, the child?) for my broken body that is unable to make my own child?

Or should I just be done? And accept that life isn't fair. That other people can have their own babies and I can't. That no matter how good of a mom I've tried to be, how good of a person, that bargaining (if I'm a good enough mom to this one, will you reward me with another child?) doesn't get you what you desire (or else no one would ever die or suffer) if it's not going to happen. All of my unsuccessful predecessors who have tried to strike this deal with God (or the universe or whoever) can attest to this.

So I'm exhausted and want nothing more than to curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep. Instead I'm going to go downstairs, pour myself a large (LARGE) glass of wine, fix dinner for Husband and try to stay awake long enough to wish him a happy birthday (and fantasize about punching him) before I go to bed.

Hi, I'm a curmudgeon

Okay, I know it's a switch, but this is a non fertility related vent.

So my brother in law is getting married at the end of August. His wedding has caused several conflicts between Husband and myself, as Husband sees himself as "the honest one", who tells the truth that others are afraid to say. With no accompanying ability to use tact, to censor himself, etc. He feels that future sister in law is only concerned with making a big fuss, getting a lot of attention, and is causing everyone lots of money and inconvenience for just one day. (Maybe so, but you're not supposed to say these things out loud.) Tonight I uttered words that I never thought I would say to anyone under 10, wherein I told him I was ashamed of him.

Future sister in law is 20-something and apparently has gone to a lot of big weddings over the years and somehow has this idea that this is how weddings go. Or maybe this is just how she's dreamed it would be over the years. Can't imagine - my fantasies usually involved me putting a slip over my head and pretending it was a veil, maybe imagining my dress, and that was the extent of it.

It's going to be a huge ordeal, lots of money has been spent so far, they have their own wedding website, huge registry, etc. All stuff that I completely didn't want for myself and can't ever envision wanting and can't relate to at all. But it's not my wedding and all I have to do is show up, dress Danny in a tux, and hope that he doesn't freak out at all the commotion and run screaming from the church. He's a ring bearer. Oy. I was asked to do a reading and was mercifully allowed to decline, as the thought of public speaking causes my entire body to blush, and the reality of having to do so causes full body blushes, perspiration, stammering and me to speak at a speed that's almost indecipherable. (yes, have gotten conned into it before)

Husband emailed future sister in law a rude email today and I ended up with a copy, apologized for him, and just fussed at him on the phone. Naturally he didn't do anything wrong.

Anyway, what my true rant for the night is about is that out of curiosity I checked out the wedding web page and registries a few minutes ago. While I will never admit it to Husband, I think he's right that she's a little insane in her expectations. Or maybe I just don't know how weddings go. I don't recall any of my friends having registries like this and I've been to some big and fancy weddings.

So, um, she's got furniture on her registry. As in, tables, an armoire, lamps, hardware for the bathrooms, etc. And the usual crap - a bazillion different kinds of serving plates (that she'll never use), a bazillion kinds of cocktail glasses, wine glasses, etc. And six, seriously, six full sets (bath, hand, etc.) of bathroom towels, a few full sets of sheets, luggage, two different tea kettles (really? does anyone use those anymore? and why two?). I wouldn't have been surprised to see a dining room table on the registry.

Yes, yes, I know that wedding gifts are supposed to be designed to help the new couple set up house and all that. But really? When you're in your late twenties, have lived on your own for years and are already living together (not officially, but most likely - they're Catholic and therefore unable to admit to living in sin)? Since when is it our job to furnish their entire house? Don't you already have all of this stuff? Furniture? Really????

Apparently I'm a curmudgeon, but I'm really kind of amazed at this. I can't relate at all. We didn't even have a registry and I can't imagine asking someone to furnish my house.

Thoughts?

damn you Kubler-Ross

I'm not sure, but I think I sounded okay in my last post. Well, that must have been the zen induced by a lot of Dayquil and sleep deprivation. Apparently I am now pissed off. Really really pissed. In a subtle kind of way that apparently is just invisible. Husband seems to think I'm just sick and sleepy. Meanwhile I guess I'm working through the stages of grief?

Or just annoyed with stupid people who should know better. I'd posted a very generic post on Facebook (yes, I succumbed) about being sad and one of my friends posted something pushing visualization, that book "The Secret", or something along those lines. She knows what I'm going through, as I messaged her back that um, may be losing a pregnancy (hint, so shut up with the visualization crap). And she threw more of it back at me. Um, tell me how visualizing is going to stop me from losing a pregnancy and I'll give it a try. Talk about blaming the victim. If I'd only thought more positively or visualized me remaining pregnant, I'd be pregnant now.

I just want to punch her in the face. She suffered through infertility for many years, never thought she could have a child, and just randomly conceived, one of those miracle ones. She should know better.

Like the other friend who offered me one of her kids, hey, have one of mine. Not the first time to hear this comment but again, people really should know better. So, you have breast cancer? So sorry, why don't you have one of mine? Oh, your husband beats you? Sorry, why don't you take mine? Makes about as much sense as that.

Or Husband, who says it's not the end of the world, we can just try again. Well, great, thanks. It's not the end of your world, but it's the end of the world I'd had planned for this child. I'd already daydreamed all the possibilities, the realities, what life was going to be for the next 9 months. If I'd gotten pregnant the last IVF cycle I'd be giving birth next month. So, the end of another world and life I'll never meet.

I'd google but I don't really care that much. Trying to remember the stages of grief - sadness, denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance. Not in that order, but apparently I'm checking them off as I go. Yay.

4 a.m.

So slightly before 4 am, I was having cramps so bad that they woke me up. Rolled around for a while before I gave in and got up, took a HPT (doesn't everyone when they wake up in the middle of the night?) and realized that I was bleeding. And according to the HPT, in no way pregnant.

Husband had knee surgery this morning, so did that for a few hours. In between things left a message on IVF nurse's voicemail asking if I still had to do the beta, et cetera, et cetera. Received return phone call that yep, sorry, still had to.

Have held it together fairly okay today. I think I'm too exhausted to really care that much anymore. Didn't fall asleep until 1:30 or so, then awoke to the end of my pregnancy, so, um, running on fumes.

Husband, heavily sedated, pointed out (helpfully) that it's not the END of the world if I'm not pregnant. And I pointed out, um, I'm not allowed to be sad? Recognizing that each had equally accurate points, it's been let go at that.

Other RE's nurse today reviewed that actually a chemical pregnancy is sort of a positive, as the little bugger did implant, and they'll just need to do some thinking and reviewing of stuff to see if there's anything that can be tweaked for next time to help somebody stick around longer.

So I guess we'll do it one more time. I'll have to take a month off and cycle the next month, and do some talking in between time about timing and if that cycle is going to coincide with Husband's brother's wedding at the end of August. As in, something that absolutely positively cannot be missed.

I'm thankful that I was pregnant, even if it was only briefly, because it means it's possible. I'm thankful that the pregnancy ended at this point, versus turning into a molar pregnancy, or the fetus not developing and me requiring a D&C at some point. (Yes, have spent way too much time on IF boards looking for outcomes of low betas - found lots and lots of happy ones, and lots of unhappy ones as well). I'm also thankful for Danny and for Husband and my life in general.

I just wish this had worked out.

limbo

I haven't quite sorted my feelings out yet, so please forgive any rambling or irrationalities. On top of everything else, I have the Worst. Cold. Ever. and it's made me sort of stupid.

So Monday morning I took a HPT, got a negative, and informed Husband that this probably isn't it for us again. He asked when the beta was, listened to me say that well, it's not over yet, not over until beta. And so he walked over, kissed my belly and said "come on little ones!"

Monday night, just because I like to repeatedly ground it in my head, so that there's no hope, and I can be depressed for as long as possible before beta, I took another HPT. And got a very faint positive.

And another one Tuesday morning.

And another one this morning. A little bit darker. Not equal to the test line by any means, but a little bit darker. And a line is a line, right?

Keep in mind that these pics are a little bit washed out. I am too wiped out and apathetic to adjust the camera settings. The lines ARE darker in real life, I promise.



So I went in to the lab this morning feeling a little bit optimistic. Hadn't told Husband, wasn't going to feel anything until I got confirmation. Had a very busy day booked with clients all afternoon, so I knew that there would be some phone tag going on.

Met with my 1:00 client. Finished with her, checked voicemail. Got a message from IVF nurse. "Hi, um, I have some not great news for you. But um, I'll call you back."



2:00 client showed up. Ignored them, frantically called IVF nurse back, got her voicemail. Called her assistant, got her voicemail (all in the same meeting). Called main RE. Office closed. Left message for IVF nurse telling her that leaving a message like that certainly should be illegal and I was going to have to do a citizen's arrest. Please leave whatever the bad news was on my voicemail and put me out of my misery. Stressed about what the bad news could be. Figured it had to be that my number was low, or some number was low. Wondered how it would show up on a HPT if it was so low as to cause a voicemail like hers.

Met with 2:00 client. Listened to him talk and thought totally unkind, untherapeutic thoughts. Stifled urges to shout at him to just shut up, that other people have real problems. As a therapist by trade, recognized that this was sorta wrong, so I ended up being nicer to him than I probably would have on a normal day.

Shooed him out. Listened to voicemail. IVF nurse left message that my beta was 8.9 and was probably chemical or a late implanter, but either way, not to get my hopes up. I'd emailed her on Monday that I'd gotten a negative HPT and was wondering what the process was if a cycle didn't work. Left her a voicemail and confessed to my obsessive HPT'ing, told her about the positive tests Monday night, Tuesday and this morning, that they'd been getting just a wee bit darker each time, was it maybe that my little 4 celled guy was the one who actually implanted, and he moved slowly.

Met with 3:00 and 4:00 clients. Naturally this is the day that everyone showed up for their appointments.

Listened to voicemail. IVF nurse sounded slightly more optimistic in light of the information about the positive HPT's, said it sounded more like a late implanter, but either way, I still shouldn't get my hopes up. That I'll have to go back in and get my blood drawn on Friday and we'll see what the numbers do. That while it's most important that they double, well, a 16 still isn't that great, and they'd much prefer something like a 50.

So, because I am just that much of a masochist (sadist? I don't know, whichever one means you torture yourself - too tired to look it up), I bought some more HPT's on the way home from work and took one at dinner time. Since I'm sick, I've been drinking a lot of fluids, so being able to pee wasn't a problem, but it was very diluted. (yes, way too much information, mental filter is broken) And the line was essentially gone.

I had this issue yesterday. Got a pretty okay line in the morning, almost nonexistent in the afternoon, pretty okay at night.

A sane person would probably tell me to put away the pee sticks and stop torturing myself.

I scrolled the IVF connections boards today and saw quite a few stories of low betas like mine turning into children. But you'll find anything like this when you're looking for it.

I don't know. I'm just rambling. I don't know what to think or feel.

11dpo, 8dp3dt

I know that the phrase "cried myself to sleep" is as cliche'd as they come, but it holds true for last night. I'd taken an HPT last night just to torture myself, and had already rented what I thought was a romantic movie, but it turned out to be sad, so I had lots of reasons to be sad.

And just for kicks, I took another test this morning.

So I look like shit. Yay. Little sleep, puffy eyes, shadows from lack of sleep. I just love IVF. Even the pregnancy test was in on it, glowing more brightly white than usual, in its absence of a second line.

Can't even name all of the feelings right now.