Infertility, yoga and chocolate

Alright, I caved.

2011-06-20T22:19:00.000-04:00

Someone stopped me at daycare this morning and asked me about my IF journey. I've never been very secretive about it, so someone had told her what I'd shared with them and I'm glad they did. She's been through a few IVFs, and is in a support group of locals also going through IF and apparently I'm the first one they've ever met who's ever been successful via IVF. She threw something out there about maybe me speaking at a meeting or something (it actually should be my ovaries taking the credit) and it made me think about my old IF blog and my old blogger community.

Max is 14 months old now and I still feel like I'm just trying to survive on a day to day basis. I haven't had the luxury of lurking on IF blogs but I'm dipping my toe back in the water again. Apparently I can't quite give this blog up. It's too sentimental to me. It's too much a guilty pleasure to read back through and remember all that I've already forgotten (mostly the pain and worry).

I'm not sure anyone out there is still listening, but I'm whispering in case you are...

checking in with the Universe

2010-06-15T15:55:00.003-04:00

So I'm thinking about deleting this blog and bidding it adieu. Is that horrible?

I just can't think of anything to write. Things are going well. I have no angst. No unresolved wishes (besides to lose this stupid 10 pounds). No need to yell at the universe or ask for support. And isn't that what blogging is about? (Unless you're particularly witty and people like to read your random musings about life in general, which I am not).

Max is doing well. Growing like a week - almost double his birth weight at 2 1/2 months (yay for mommy milk and a 2nd time more confident mommy). Danny is doing great, loves being a big brother, and besides the whining, a fantastic kid. Husband is doing well - no fighting for over 6 months now. Doesn't talk as much as I'd like him to and still has some other bad habits, but I guess I'm not perfect either.

We're done with the kids thing, having won the jackpot twice now (hopefully Max will not develop anything dire). I go back to work in 2 weeks and hopefully will not be laid off anytime soon.

There's just nothing to say. I'm open to being facebook friends if you like - just reply with your email and we'll "talk." I've gotten some great support from you all and I appreciate it more than you will ever know. I just feel like I'm at the end of having anything good to say. Some people just stop posting forever and leave us wondering (Kat? you still out there?), but I thought I'd run it by the Universe first before I did anything.

Anyone still listening out there?

schedule

2010-04-29T20:02:00.002-04:00

Still alive here. And no longer thinking frantic thoughts about wishing Max back into my womb.

So far the taking it one day at a time thing is working out okay. And being able to take Danny to daycare 5 days out of the week is a godsend. We've settled into a sort of a routine. Mornings Max nurses, Danny and I watch TV and I shuffle him off to daycare. I chat with the daycare director for a few minutes (pretty much my sole human contact for the day), then head home to nurse again and nap off and on again until lunchtime. At which point I try to do a chore or two, or get a quick workout in (nothing crazy, just riding the bike or walking or lifting some light weights). Then shower, pick Danny up and try not to lose my mind between 6 and 9 pm. That time period is when both kids are traditionally crying. Danny goes to bed around 7:30 or 8, and then only Max is crying until he goes to sleep around 9. Then I pop my Ambien and pray for more than 2 hours of sleep in a row.

Fun times, huh?

It's not too bad, though, and for the most part Max is a good baby. He doesn't seem to have the reflux that made early days with Danny pure torture, so that in itself is a blessing. So I've substituted worrying about a kid with worrying about my body image. The mirror is not kind these days, although I've already lost 23 of the 40 pounds I gained while pregnant. Mostly I just try not to look in the mirror and try to concentrate on the one day at a time thing. It'll come off. And Max will sleep more than 2 hours in a row one day. And one day there will be relative peace in my house again.

Max

2010-04-12T20:14:00.002-04:00

So.... Max is here!

It's been a bit hectic since he arrived, so sorry for not updating sooner. I went in for a routine check up Friday, April 2 (38 weeks that day) and ended up having a baby. My blood pressure was way up, so they induced me and it went relatively easily. Everything worked out as far as childcare, Danny did okay with the help of neighbors and Uncle Chris, and we're currently settling into our new lives together.

It was a bit hairy at first, since apparently my body decided to play some tricks on me. I hadn't been sleeping well for at least a month before Max was born - couldn't seem to fall asleep, couldn't seem to stay asleep, and I just chalked it up to pregnancy discomfort. But it continued once he was born, and my OB ended up putting me on Ambien in the hospital. That, along with mega doses of ibuprofin and percoset, as I had a headache that just wouldn't leave. Today is actually the first day that I haven't had to take the ibuprofin, and it's amazing how nice life is without a constant headache. I've been taking the Ambien pretty much since I left the hospital, with the exception of 2 days that I was at home and tried to see if I could sleep without it. I broke down last Tuesday and called my OB's office to ask if the headache and insomnia were normal, so they had me come in to check my blood pressure (apparently they're not), and I left with a prescription for more drugs. Along with the fears, planted by my OB, that somehow my postpartum hormones had kicked up some sort of bipolar thing. My mom has bipolar, and it is pretty much the biggest fear of my life that I end up like her, so I drove home from that appointment crying and very scared. Husband and I talked about it, though, (as much as he and I do talk about things, him not being much of a talker) and he seems to feel that I seem fine and he's not worried about me having a psychotic break anytime soon. And for the most part, emotionally, I do feel fine. Not especially sad, or anxious, or moody, just tired. I go back in tomorrow to see my OB again, so we'll see what she says.

I'm trying to do a lot of things differently this go round than I did with Danny. I'm making the effort to eat right, drink lots of water, I'm making myself take showers and take care of myself, I've started exercising again, and I make myself get out of the house. I'm also trying very hard to just take it one day at a time so that I don't get overwhelmed. The thought of taking care of two kids on my own pretty much scares the crap out of me, and when I allow myself the luxury of contemplating the possible realities of this situation, I freak out a little bit. I know that I wanted desperately to have two, but there are moments when I wonder what I was thinking. I love Max and I'm very grateful that he's here, and am very grateful that so far he's been very sleepy and accommodating and easy, but if he's even the slightest bit as difficult as Danny was in the beginning, I'm toast.

So pretty much I take it day by day. In the mornings I just have to hold it together long enough to take Danny to school. Then I just have to get through the day until it's time to pick Danny up. Then I just have to get through until he goes to bed. And then until I go to bed.

Tonight will be the first night that Husband hasn't been home, but so far the Ambien hasn't done anything to keep me from waking up when I need to. It helps me fall asleep and that's about it. I actually wake up on my own for the night feedings - I think my sense are super alert for the slightest whimper (Max has this whimper he does - kind of like a "5 minute warning" before he starts yelling that he's hungry) and I end up waking up before him.

But what a horrible thought. I feel very guilty to even think it when I wanted so much to have another child, and was so incredibly blessed to have this miracle happen. But it was so easy with just one...

urgh

2010-03-24T20:32:00.003-04:00

Still here. As pregnant as I have ever been.

A number of adjectives could accurately describe me at this point.

Lumbering.

Haggard.

Awkward.

Ungainly.

Huge.

Overflowing.

And I don't mean to complain. I don't want to complain. I want to revel in every ounce of discomfort because this is such a freaking miracle. This little boy inside of me. This stubborn little guy who so wanted to be here that he crawled into my bitter uterus and hung on. Who fails NST's every single week just so that he can run up my insurance and flirt with the u/s techs either downstairs or at the hospital. (By the way, I think they're on to me. I don't actually fail the NST's, I just go to the hospital so that I can watch "The Real Housewives" with the antepartum nurses).

And I don't want it to be over. I am truly afraid of the sleep deprivation and crying (mine and his) to come all too soon.

But here come more adjectives...

Cumbersome

Enormous

Even my boobs have grown in the past few weeks(even more than they already had). I've all the sudden developed old lady boobs. And the baby has dropped, causing all of my pants to suddenly be low-riders, quite scary for anyone behind me when I have to squat down or bend over. I haven't looked at my rear lately, but it was quite frightening last time I glimpsed it accidentally, and I've elected to not go there again. So while I can now breathe (as baby is not nestled in between my lungs), I can now no longer walk. It has helped me to prioritize at work, consolidating all of my tasks so that I walk down the hallway as little as possible, but the incessant peeing counteracts all of the prioritizing. There are the moments of profound discomfort while walking that have led to the mental image I have of the baby, nestled in between my pubic bones, with a little sharpened spoon, jabbing away, trying to tunnel his way out. And there's the end of the day, when I lay on the bed, and feel all of the aches and protests from my body, tired from carrying all this weight around all day.

But you know what? I'm as happy as I have ever been. I've got what I wanted. Husband and I are doing really well, working as partners, getting along, flirting. And Danny is just a joy. And we're having another one. Our family will be complete. I'm as happy as I've ever been.

34 w 5 d

2010-03-10T19:58:00.002-05:00

Another day, another visit to the hospital.

There's been a lot of that lately. So far in the past month I've had two trips to the hospital (Labor & Delivery), 6 non stress tests, 4 biophysical profiles, and I'm getting ready to start my 2nd 24 hour urine test.

The Braxton Hicks contractions started about a month ago. All day. Every day. No big deal as I'm not dilated yet and they're basically just a (slightly painful) exercise in futility for my uterus. Nothing really impacts them - moving, not moving, laying on my left side, laying on my right side, drinking water.

Peanut's fun and games with the fetal monitor started about a month ago. Eerily remiscent of Danny's fun and games with the fetal monitor. I'm not sure how many trips to L&D I made when pregnant with him, but I'm thinking that Baby Brother is giving him a strong run for the money. See, OB visits these days pretty much consist of me getting hooked up to the fetal monitor and Peanut deciding that it's a lovely time to play possum. Apparently within a 20 minute time frame his heart rate is supposed to fluctuate approximately 20 bpm 4 times. Which he doesn't like to do on command. It's only after the hour drive to the hospital that he perks up. Today at least I was calm. Last time I was a little freaked out, wondering about who was going to pick Danny up from school, where was my husband (stuck in a work meeting while his phone was in his car), etc. Little things like that.

Today's visit had extra added fun. Not only was my blood pressure high, but Peanut was non-reactive, my fundal measurement was a little behind where I should be, and I've been feeling really ill and especially exhausted lately. Plus the really impressive swelling in my feet and hands (and forearms). This weekend I decided (in my psychosomatic way of being) that I may have HELLP syndrome, but bloodwork and everything today I guess ruled all of that out. My trip to L&D basically ruled everything out - the u/s was good, Peanut is measuring on track, he was reactive, and I only have a trace amount of protein in my urine. And I got a free lunch. And another bucket to pee in for 24 hours before I go back for another NST on Friday.

I really appreciate how cautious my doctors are being with me. They're very concerned about my risk of getting pre-eclampsia again and I feel like I'm in good hands. But it's a little mentally exhausting, wondering after every OB visit if I'm going to get to go back to work or if we're going to have to amp up our angst about choosing a name for this little bugger.

So I've been a little quiet lately. I haven't wanted to complain as I have a little survivor's guilt at being fortunate enough to be pregnant again, when I know others are still out there struggling.

besides the crushing fatigue, pregnancy is great

2010-01-27T20:31:00.003-05:00

I hate it when people preface a post with "this is just a quick check in" and yet I keep doing exactly that.

If I had any brain function at night it would be easier, but I'm pretty much exhausted at this point every night. Lugging around an extra 20+ pounds each day, combined with sleep deprivation, combined with a 34 lb wiggly needy toddler who likes to be held a lot and has days where he changes personalities every 90 seconds... oh yeah, and working and being a single parent during the week, well, you get the picture.

The pregnancy is going by at lightning speed. I'm at the cusp of 29 weeks, 6 weeks behind where Danny was born, and I'm in some serious denial here. I'm just getting used to being pregnant. I'm not at all ready for an actual live baby and all the adjustments and other stuff that I'll have to figure out once he actually arrives. But this creature in my belly keeps poking me and reminding me that I'm going to have to figure out logistics at some point.

urgh

2009-12-29T20:33:00.003-05:00

So I decided yesterday that being pregnant is remarkably similar to being 2 years old. It's all about peeing on the potty and being able to take naps. The great majority of my time is either engaging in one or thinking about when I can.

***********

Other than that, things are fine. Christmas was good, the baby continues to do well, and I'm thinking I need to go into therapy just so that I can bitch full time about my family and maybe one day reach a point where they don't upset me anymore. About two months ago I emailed my dad. I'd been thinking about it for quite a while, composing and rewriting the email endlessly in my head until I finally just sat down and spit it out. Nothing bad, just asking for clarification. I'd had no contact from him since his terse reply to my wedding invitation in 2005, which consisted of him checking "no" on the RSVP card and writing something to the effect of "have a nice life." This seemed pretty clear, so I didn't contact him again, didn't let him know he was going to be a grandfather, etc. When my mom came to visit Danny for the first time, he essentially stalked her until she gave him some pictures of Danny. Wanting him to leave her alone, I contacted him, sent him some pictures and let him know that he was welcome to see him, etc. We visited that Christmas, and a year later he responded to my in-laws' invitation to come over for Christmas and that's all that I've seen him since 2002. He and my stepmother are retired, wealthy, and live 4 hours away, but they've never bothered to visit despite repeated invitations. My dad finally admitted via email that they had no intentions of coming to visit. They've turned down invitations to attend Danny's birthday parties (held in the same city where they live - they and the in-laws live in the same town). All of this following a seemingly heartfelt sentiment expressed that first Christmas where my dad said that he wanted to be part of Danny's life.

So I emailed asking for clarification. You don't want to visit, all you're interested in is us bringing Danny to you. You're seemingly content with seeing pictures of your grandson and the occasional emails to his mom. You send Christmas and birthday presents. What's the deal? What exactly did you mean when you said you wanted to be part of his life? I didn't say this, but I have no interest in bringing him to see his grandfather when his grandfather can't make the slightest effort to leave his palace to cross town and see him. We prefer to spend time with relatives who seem to care. Please clarify what you want out of a relationship.

As expected, this email was met with silence. Despite the fact that all of the above was expressed very nonconfrontationally, very politely.

He responded to my "happy Thanksgiving" email with a "happy Thanksgiving" in return and that's been it. This year we didn't even merit a Christmas card, and Danny got nothing from him. Not that Danny would notice. He has no idea that he has another grandfather.

But I'm pissed. Infuriated. The silent treatment just makes me want to lash out and kick and scream and ask what's wrong with him. He clearly wants to hang on to the imagined hurts that I inflicted upon him twenty-some years ago and would prefer to miss out on knowing his grandson(s) versus have to interact with their mother. He's a petty petty petty man and it's no loss to Danny but yet again, I stupidly got my hopes up that he was capable of being a grownup, being a good person, being a grandfather. Being a better grandfather than he's been a father.

Then there's my brother. Who hasn't spoken or communicated with me in years. For reasons I still don't understand. Apparently I've wronged him at some point too. The best I can come up with on that one, based on irate emails received over the years, was that he's pissed he didn't get a wedding invitation sooner (um, he got one when everyone got one, and I didn't bother to track him down earlier because I didn't think he would come - after all, he hadn't spoken to me in years), and some imagined comment that I supposedly made 15 years ago about not wanting to be part of our family. It's almost scary how he and my dad have rewritten history. When my dad met Husband for the first time, he regaled him with anecdotes from my childhood. That were actually anecdotes of things our next door neighbor did. I was the uber-responsible child, the popular one, the cheerleader, the one that was in the top of her class, Who's Who of American High School Students, etc. I was the one that he sobbed to about hospitalizing my mother for the hundredth time for her drinking. But anyway. Brother is in the same fantasy world as my dad. I'm not mad at how he's treated me (well, not that mad anymore). But when I talked to my mom yesterday to see how her Christmas was, I asked about my brother. Yes, he had called her while on his way to my dad's house. Flying across the country to visit his dad. And I could hear the sadness in my mom's voice. She admitted that she has asked my brother several times if he would ever be coming back East for a visit and he'd always said no, he wasn't planning on visiting the East coast ever again. But he unapologetically told her that he'd be flying to visit his dad (who lives 5 hours from my mom). It was pretty pitiful. My mom said, "I just miss my son." She hasn't seen him in a decade.

They're both just assholes. It's one thing to be an asshole to me. But being an asshole to my mom is just wrong. Yes she's got issues and is difficult to be around (she inspires huge guilt/pity in me) but she doesn't deserve this from them. Her last contact with my dad was him telling her that he didn't ever want to hear from her again (she'd asked if he could increase her alimony - she's mentally ill and can only work minimally). And her only surviving son makes it clear that he doesn't want to see her.

And he doesn't know them, so they can't hurt his feelings, but they're being just as vindictive to my son. My mother in law preaches persistence and compassion and encourages me to keep contacting them, to keep the doors open, but I just don't think I can be that nice. I just want to physically hurt them.

dreams realized and hopefully unrealized

2009-12-08T20:32:00.004-05:00

I'd like for you to meet my second son.

:)

So the Level II ultrasound went fairly well. The technology has improved over the last 3 years, so Husband and I got quite a lot of good looks at the little guy. In what was particularly interesting to me, they even were able to look at uterine blood flow in order to see if there were any markers indicating a likelihood of pre-eclampsia (again). One side had the marker and one side didn't, which apparently means that I'm in the clear (for the moment). I go back again at the end of the month to get another look at the baby's heart and the uterine blood flow again, which is fine by me. Don't need to twist my arm too much to get another peek.

It was such a happy day that I haven't really wanted to write about it - kind of wanting to hold the memory to myself before sharing it. We'd spent a nice Thanksgiving with the family, a nice weekend at home, and everything in general with Husband has been going well. It's sad to say, but even just having all of that uninterrupted driving time in the car was good for our relationship. And the day of the ultrasound felt like a date. It was just the two of us, we got lunch afterwards, we shared a happy experience, the sun was shining, life was good. I think I figured out that I really miss him when he's gone on the road all week long, so when he's home, I look for things to be annoyed about just so I can be mad at him and not miss him as much when he's gone. If that makes any sense.

The happiest news, of course, was just that all is well with the little guy. All his body parts were there and in all the right places (we all counted fingers and toes out loud), heart looks good, face looks good, spine looks good, and the doctor said that he feels that chances of Downs' is half of one percent chance. Nothing is for certain, of course, but I just feel good about this little guy. He is a fighter. He's not supposed to be here, I wasn't supposed to be able to conceive him, but he saw a window and wiggled his way in and found a way to be here. And boy is he active. Little sucker kicks a lot and is strong. With all of the meat products he's been inducing me to eat, I'm thinking that he will be the linebacker to Danny's quarterback. At this point I'm figuring that he's going to pop out of the womb saying "go meat!" like that commercial.

But lest we forget that other love of my life, here's a Halloween pic of the other man.

Awesome is pretty much how I'd sum him up as.

*******************************

The only disconcerting note to all of this goodness, though, is my dreams. Early in this pregnancy they were filled with erotic dreams about cheeseburgers and buffet dinners. Really steamy stuff. Not as much fun as my pregnancy dreams that I had while pregnant with Danny - that was some actual good stuff. The only surprise there was which random man would appear in them. Yum.

But these ones lately are just horrid. I've only had a few of them, but each one has had an impact that lasts for days. The theme seems to be that Danny is doing something dangerous or is in a dangerous situation and I either fail to realize it or realize it too late and am unable to save him - rush over just a split second too late, that kind of thing. So far he's fallen out of a second story window, been smothered, etc. The memory of looking out that window at his broken body below is one I still can't shake.

My boss, who is much more psychoanalytical than I am, thinks maybe I'm worried that once the new baby comes that I won't be as attentive to Danny as I need to be, and I'm worried about my ability to keep him safe. I suppose that's it, because I will essentially be on my own with two kids, but it's not something I really worry about that much. Mostly I figure I'll get a good sling and just tote the baby around while I tend to Danny. If anything, the fear is that I'll ignore the baby in favor of Danny's needs, out of guilt that I'm usurping his position as King of the Household.

I don't really care why I'm having them. I'd just like to stop having them. Horrid. Just horrid.

geezer thoughts

2009-11-23T20:23:00.003-05:00

Sorry I've been so quiet. I think I hit a wall as far as IF overload, so I pulled back and away from the IF sites, blogs, etc. I don't know what it is, but apparently a little or none does better for me than a lot, which I guess is what I was indulging in. Maybe that's why I got so frustrated - it makes me slightly insane and very irritable to immerse myself in the IF mindset, and I can't relate to people who do. It's just not healthy for me, but clearly others can do it. I can't do it. Apparently I'm just a taker - I delurk when I need the support and withdraw again in between times of needing support. I offer it to others when I do lurk, but I just can't participate in the regular chats. I can't understand the animosity towards "fertiles." I understand envy and jealousy and wishing so hard for what others have that your heart is going to burst but choose not to become bitter. All I know is what works for me. I in no way endorse that this is the way for others.

As for other aspects of my life, it's just putting along. Husband continues to drive me nuts and I wonder at least once a week why I had to choose him. And then we have a moment like Saturday. Danny and I were out at "the bouncy place," one of our common Saturday morning "dates." I looked up to see Husband walk in the door unexpectedly and I was so happy to see him. As in, sun bursting through the clouds happy. Seeing him unexpectedly, somewhere besides our living room, was just a happy thing, kind of like a new light on something familiar, so that it looks different. Clearly we need to go on a date together, sometime soon. We haven't been out together in over a year, and one of these days when I'm able to stay awake and alert past 8:30 at night, we will definitely plan for that.

But Danny is doing well, and the new little one is doing well as far as I know. The level II ultrasound is a week from today and we should know more than as far as gender (although I'm pretty sure I already know - pretty good u/s at the OB's office two weeks ago), any extra appendages, etc. I've had no testing whatsoever prior to this, and I know, as a geezer mommy, that this wee one is at higher risk for all kinds of scary things. Hopefully all will look good next Monday and I'll relax just a little bit more...

if you want to be mad at me, feel free to read

2009-10-11T20:46:00.005-04:00

So I guess I should just basically shut up. Even if I'm just talking about myself, I somehow manage to offend people. The pain Olympics continue on all fronts, I suppose. If I've made strides myself, that reminds others that they haven't or aren't where they want to be. Or whatever. I don't recall saying I was perfect, especially since I'm the one who was in a bad mood for three days when Nicole Ritchie got pregnant. Again.

Oh well. Pain Olympics is such an adequate term. And if you tune in right now, you can catch them on most local stations.

On IF boards. In IF'ers lives. In my household.

Husband and I are in yet another stupid fight about who does more around the house. Apparently I do absolutely nothing but breathe and take up space. The combination of that plus pregnancy hormones has me just wanting to punch someone. Or yell at the top of my lungs. Or maybe just collapse in a lump of snotty tears and curl up into a ball until I completely disappear.

So I've probably offended again and I honestly am okay with that. Apparently I can't please anyone right now.

crossing over

2009-10-08T20:05:00.005-04:00

Still here. Hanging out. I broke down and bought a home doppler thingie and got to hear the heartbeat last week. Husband listened in Sunday night and it was "a moment." Pretty cool.

Feeling McRegret right now as I mistakenly read the side of my Quarter pounder tonight. Didn't stop me from eating all of it, and my fries. And Danny's 4 chicken nuggets that he didn't want. Need. McIntervention. Stat. Feeling McFat and McGrumpy.

So anyway, I hang out on this lovely infertility support site (not happy happy babydust land of FF, but the other one). Mostly I lurk, as I'm not sure where I fit in. There's a lot of hullabaloo over there about who counts as an IF "vet", if you're still a vet once you've "passed over" (their phrase, not mine), whether you should be allowed to speak to someone who hasn't "passed over" yet or not. There is lots of discussion about the bitterness, those who they mock or dismiss. You're dismissed if you've been lucky enough to have a child, because clearly there's no way you remember what it was like before you had your child, and while you're not quite the enemy, you're definitely sitting in the same section as the enemy now. The enemy being the "FERTILES." Because if you conceived on your own, you never have any issues in pregnancy, IF ladies are the only ones who have complications, IVF pregnancies are the only ones who have unexplained bleeding, FERTILES don't ever have these issues. (Gee, do you think that IF ladies maybe have more issues because there are some physical issues that led to the IF, that possibly could contribute to pregnancy complications? duh) I was moved to comment on a discussion about yoga with THE FERTILES. As in, oh my, how on earth could we practice prenatal yoga in the same room as people who couldn't possibly have ever been through something as debilitating as infertility, they'll be all cheerful and happy because they haven't suffered infertility, because I have the magical ability to detect whether someone went through ART or not, and I'm determined to hang on to my INFERTILE status for the rest of my life regardless of whether I've conceived or not, and hey, let me just ignore the fact that I'll be dismissed by my bitter brethren as soon as I give birth because I can't possibly understand. (okay, holy run on sentence there, sorry) I commented that in response to the original question, I'd taken prenatal yoga with my son, found it helpful, enjoyed it, recommend it, never felt different from any other pregnant ladies in the class. My comment was ignored in favor of scathing comments about happy happy joy joy FERTILES and how annoying it would likely be to take a class with them. I feel invisible amongst those ladies, but oh well. Not sure that's a club I want to be a member of.

I probably am not allowed to comment, but I'm just sick of this attitude. Yes I was bitter and jealous and desolate in the time period before I conceived Danny, but I also recognized that my fertility was just one part of who I was. I was not tempted to make it my identity. Or, well, maybe not my entire identity. At least not that I remember. Although, you know, I do have a kid now, so I can't possibly remember clearly. The yoga class thing just has really set me off. While I was an anxious neurotic mess while pregnant, it was because I was afraid something would happen to Danny and I'd lose him. Being pregnant was something I was incredibly grateful for. I felt like I'd joined a club I'd been wanting to join for a long time. And like I really belonged there, because damnit, I'd worked hard to get there. I don't remember (because I have a kid now, and that has caused amnesia) ever feeling a division between me and other people who were pregnant. Who was I to assume that they didn't have difficulties too?

And when I was moaning about all my difficulties getting pregnant again this time, my sister in law got pregnant. I was bitter. Boy was I bitter. Everything happens so easily for Husband's family, for Husband. I was the screw up, the only one who struggled. I was jealous and bitter. And then she got breast cancer. And I felt like I'd been kicked in the head for my selfishness. As if my negativity has somehow caused this very bad thing to happen to her. I was pretty sure that she'd have given anything to trade places with me, to be cancer free, to not be worrying that she was going to die and never see her second child.

And that pretty much cured me of my bitterness. I decided that everyone has something that they struggle with, and while I mourned with each RE that told me I'd never have another child, at least I didn't have breast cancer. Suddenly I felt lucky.

So now, no, I can't relate to these vets. I want to yell at them and tell them to get over themselves. But I can't, because my opinions don't count. I've crossed over to the other side.

attitude at 11 weeks

2009-09-24T20:21:00.002-04:00

Sorry I've been quiet again. Apparently I've been too busy eating everything not nailed down in my household, along with visiting all of the local fast food restaurants. It seems that Baby likes cheeseburgers. Frequently. And I've been absolutely insatiable. It's really ticking me off because usually I get an intense craving for something that isn't in the house at the moment (like a fast food cheeseburger) and then I end up eating other stuff which doesn't satisfy me. I actually had an intensely erotic dream last night about a divine buffet.

But anyway, I had my first OB visit today and it went quite well. I was quite a bit nervous about it, which I didn't realize until I'd gotten back to work and was exhausted and drained. But the little peanut was there still, heart still beating, although he was taking a nap. He woke up ever so briefly and twitched a few times and then curled back up and ignored us. I could see my finger poking his nest on the ultrasound but he resolutely ignored me. Oh, so it's going to be like that? It's starting already?

Meanwhile I've pulled some maternity clothes out of the closet. And yes, my memory was correct. They are just as ugly as they were when I wore them the first time.

So I'm trudging along. Still feeling like I'm not really pregnant, I'm faking it, this is all a dream.

be vewy quwiet...

2009-09-14T21:18:00.002-04:00

So I've been very quiet lately, tiptoeing and trying not to wake The Beast.

We've been back in for two more ultrasounds, and last week I was officially released to my OB, who I see next week. RE has been increasingly pleased each week with my bloodwork and how the little peanut is growing and as he termed it, I'm as "out of the woods" as I can be, without actually being "out of the woods." The baby was measuring almost a week ahead (being on steroids can do that) and the placenta seemed a good size, and the heartbeat was continuing to increase, so everything looked good.

Which means that I should be feeling pretty good around now.

But no. Hence the tiptoeing. Because if I relax and start feeling optimistic, then something bad will happen, right?

RE says that if there were chromosome issues, the baby would most likely have passed by now. And that everything about my uterus looks good. But we all know that doesn't matter. The baby's heart could stop anyway.

So, shhh.... I'll continue tiptoeing until next Thursday, if you don't mind. At that point I'll be 10 1/2 weeks and almost out of the very critical period.

Shhhhh.

121 bpm

2009-08-24T20:23:00.003-04:00

Well, that was pretty much one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. It's been roughly 2 1/2 years since I heard that glorious sound coming from within me, and it's just as nice now as then.

Husband and I arrived separately this morning (he came from work) and sat quietly on the couch as we waited. Mercifully he hasn't thrown anything at my head in the past 2 weeks (and I haven't thrown anything at his) as I've grown progressively irritable and evil, I suppose from anxiety. I remember being this evil at this stage in my pregnancy with Danny and it hasn't gotten any better. It's taken all the willpower I have to bite my tongue repeatedly at all the perceived wrongs and slights experienced lately, to remind myself that I'm merely a wee bit cranky and that maybe the other person doesn't deserve to die. Even Husband's breathing lately has bothered me.

He still sucks a lot of the time but is much better in a lot of ways. Stirrups, for example. I think childbirth robbed him of his last bits of fear of them as he had no problems being in the same room as me in them (versus ultrasound #1 with Danny where he sat in a chair far far far away - practically in the next room). Both he and the RE saw the little peanut before me but we all heard it at the same time. RE said "and that's a good strong heartbeat!" and it went from there. And I cried a little bit.

With RE #1 with Danny, he noted the heartbeat, pointed out the blob that was Danny, fiddled with the machine a little bit and that was it. Today we looked at the blob, tracked the heartbeat, looked at the placenta, the lining, the yolk sak, the blood flow of something, and probably a few more things. Mostly I was looking at the ultrasound screen and crying. Husband, with his usual unflappability, almost even smiled.

After I was allowed to disconnect from the ultrasound machine, we all convened in RE's office. Reviewed the plan and his findings. Discussed probabilities and my lab results so far. Basically my lab work looks great, the peanut and his room look great, and the only teeny tiny imperfection so far is that the placenta is measuring 2 or 3 days behind the peanut, but RE says he's not concerned about that at all. Of course, now that he mentions is, I'm concerned about it, but not too much. He says it's only a problem if the peanut continues to grow and the placenta doesn't, which would be bad. But with the protocol that I'm on right now, and how good things look inside, he basically thinks chances of this being a successful pregnancy are in the 90+%. Essentially if the baby doesn't survive, it's because of a genetic or chromosomal abnormality. And he said that babies on his protocol with this issue usually make it a bit longer than those not on it, but that Nature ends up taking care of them either way, which is a blessing.

Husband and I spoke briefly after the appointment, before we went our separate ways. We agreed. It just doesn't feel real yet. It doesn't feel real at all, actually.

I was settling into my role as the bitter barren.

I don't understand how I even had an inkling that I was going to ovulate. I don't understand how I took a few random inocuous symptoms and took the leap to taking a pregnancy test. It's not like I believed I was actually going to ovulate. I'm not even sure the OPK was positive, since I've never even seen a positive one (of my own). It's not like we timed intercourse. He just happened to be home and feeling friendly. I didn't limit exercise and even went running Saturday and Sunday in the 95 degree weather right before I got the first positive pregnancy test.

I've got this tiny living being inside of me, with a teeny tiny heart beat and a teeny tiny body and apparently a really big spirit. This little being apparently really wanted to be created and has worked his way inside my broken and barren body and it's just amazing.

So anyway, I go back next week for another ultrasound and more bloodwork to see how things are going.

****

Just as I was clicking "publish" Husband called. He says that the peanut looked like a boy to him. Considering that all we saw was a teeny tiny little blob and a pulsating little dot of a heart, I'm quite impressed with Husband's ability to discern the genitalia.

argh!

2009-08-23T11:37:00.004-04:00

So can I just say that I am going nuts? In 23 hours, give or take a half hour, I'll know. In 24 hours I'll either be hiding underneath a table, sobbing, at my RE's office (scaring the other patients) or I'll be skipping through the halls.

I really really know that I really really need to stop, but I took a few more pregnancy tets. I'd managed to take about a week off from them, but caved and bought some at the grocery store yesterday. They're not quite as dark as the others have been, so naturally I've decided that the baby has died. And that I'm okay with it, since a baby dying this early on means that something seriously was wrong with it, and I'd hate to have a baby suffer with something terminal or untreatable or miserable and have to be born to my dysfunctional self. And of course I'm lying with that. Not only do I not want my baby to die, but I don't want it to be sick and die, be sick, or die, in any combination of those words.

And I certainly feel pregnant, which would be the sickest joke of all if indeed the baby has died. I am peeing all the time, I feel slightly ill from about 11 am until bedtime (but thankfully no throwing up), and the girls feel like they weigh about 25 pounds each. Walking quickly is no longer even an option because OW.

I just looked back at my original post where I found out I was even pregnant, and I'm still amazed. I'm still not sure how this happened.

Please baby, can you be okay? If I had another good luck email to forward, that would be nice. That was the last thing I did before I took the original HPT and it sure worked out nicely then.

boys are weird

2009-08-17T21:12:00.001-04:00

My beautiful boy and his daddy. Checking out a frog. Boys are so weird. :)

____________

On an unrelated note, I've been thoughtfully doing science experiments the past week or so. Apparently if you continue taking home pregnancy tests when you're already confirmed pregnant, the line on the left gets progressively darker until it essentially leaches all the color out of the control line on the right. So it's as if the HPT is yelling at you that yes, you're PREGNANT. STOP TAKING HPT'S ALREADY.

I've gone in for more bloodwork the past few days and so far my progesterone levels have dropped a little more and estrogen is holding steady. Progesterone as of today is 34, which I believe is quite okay. My other numbers have gone down so I'm now officially cleared to start Heparin injections on Wednesday (when the pharmacy will have it in). So that's Heparin injections twice a day, HCG injections Wednesdays and Saturdays, baby aspirin every night, Metnx, Fortamet, Dexamethasone and Ultracal Night (magnesium). Oh, and progesterone suppositories nightly, and estrogen patches every other day.

I almost had the American dream - getting pregnant without needles. I got pregnant that way, but clearly did not fully escape the fun. Oh well. Doesn't everyone have their own sharps box in their living room? Just seven more days till we know if it's all been effective...

zen coated with nuts?

2009-08-13T20:25:00.002-04:00

Okay, no more internet for me. If only I could turn my mind off as easily as I turn off google.

I'm torn between trying to be zen - this baby has his own agenda. He obviously wanted to be created, and he went about that without consulting me, and it's just luck that I make peeing on a stick a hobby and figured out that I was pregnant at all. This little bugger feels strong and determined.

Or being nuts - surely I can't be so lucky as to get pregnant on my own without any complications. Something has to go wrong - either a miscarriage, or the baby will have some sort of birth defect or Downs or something. It isn't possible that I could get so lucky twice in a row and have perfect children.

Zen or nuts... which one to choose...

I think nuts is winning at the moment, although zen may be coming up from behind. I realized this morning that um, I am not going to be having any more betas. Seeing as I'm giving myself HCG shots now twice a week, um, that would probably throw off any results. And would most likely be the reason why that test wasn't ordered on this morning's lab slip. (duh) So apparently I'm just going to have to wait 11 more days to see if zen or nuts wins out.

Yay.

sanity, where did you go?

2009-08-12T20:53:00.002-04:00

Wow. So I, um, had forgotten how stressful the second 2ww was. So far I've had an anxiety attack over exercising, spent way too much time on the IVF connections boards reading about people with promising betas and no heartbeat at 6 weeks, and I currently have popsicle frostbite on my fingers from my current popsicle kick.

RE had told us on Monday that I was to be a "lady of leisure" when Husband asked about me exercising (the man knows me so well). No, no running. No, no weights. No, not even the recumbent bike while watching bad TV. Nothing. Nada. "Lady of leisure" you shall be. His philosophy is that I am high risk, that all ladies who have been through infertility should be considered high risk, and that in his eyes my chemical was a miscarriage, and a high risk pregnant lady with a history of rather serious pregnancy complications, premature birth and miscarriage should not be doing anything strenuous.

Intellectually I don't understand this, as I was most certainly running leading up to the pregnancy, ran in the 95 degree heat the day of probable conception and in the 2ww, and I don't understand how something good for my body can be bad for the baby.

But a friend whose brother is an OB/GYN convinced me that perhaps I should listen to the wise RE, and since then I've been worried that exercising anyway (before she got a chance to make her pitch about not exercising - "would you rather be fit or have this baby?") has killed the baby. All I did was squats and pushups and some ab work, and nothing too strenuous since it was, after all, 6 am and I wasn't entirely awake or incredibly motivated.

I've also vaccilated between trying to decide if I should feel optimistic or pessimistic about the baby. If I'm optimistic, I'm jinxing myself by being overconfident. If I'm pessimistic, I'm not believing in the little bean and it'll die out of spite.

And then today for some crazy reason, I was online reading posts about people with perfectly normal betas that suddenly stopped doubling, or that ended up miscarrying or being molar pregnancies.

I would like to think that for as much medicine as I'm on, RE is going to be able to correct for whatever issues I have that might lead to the baby dying, but you know, apparently I have a lot of issues that have prevented me getting pregnant on my own so far, so it's kinda silly to think that they've all gone away and that I'm free and clear.

Yes, obviously I have a beta coming up tomorrow morning. Bright and early tomorrow morning, as I have a work training to attend all day tomorrow, and I'll have to leave in the morning around 6'ish. (ew) Hopefully all will go well, but this is a really really really long wait, this wait until the 24th and the first ultrasound.

the story

2009-08-10T20:39:00.003-04:00

This is going to be relatively quick since I just can't stay awake these days.

Thankfully, the meeting with the RE went fine today. It took a while to get past the bizarre ("pregnant! he said pregnant!") little mental blips that went up every time he used the "p" word, in talking about our pregnancy plan, this is our protocol for our pregnant clients, etc. It was all I could do in the beginning to not jump out of my chair and run in circles around his office with the total joy of it all. Even Husband, about 5 minutes into it, asked the RE, "but how did this happen? We were told 4% chance of ever having another child? How did this happen?" I mean, we know how it happened, but it's still just such a shock.

Anyway, RE reviewed the bloodwork that he's done over the course of working with me, my meds, and what meds he recommends I continue on throughout the pregnancy. (there's that "p" word again!) Something new that he's adding to the pot that I've never heard of (he says he's been doing it for over 10 years, but I've never heard anything about it) is HCG injections until the 14th or 16th week (can't remember which). He had me read a journal article this weekend about a study where women in high risk pregnancies, or in imminent danger of miscarriage were treated with magnesium, progesterone and HCG and the actual miscarriage rate was very low in the women treated with all three, despite the women's high risk (they had already been admitted to the hospital with signs of pending miscarriage). I'm already on a magnesium supplement and progesterone, and the HCG (oh joy) would be a twice a week IM injection (ow). He also would like to use heparin as well, but my white blood count is already skewed (maybe because of the infection?) so he's going to hold off on it. We reviewed all the risks of everything and his history of successful use in his patients, and basically Husband and I completely defer to RE and his judgement of what he feels is safe and best for us. Clearly the man knows what he's doing, if he can make the barren fertile, and if he believes in it, that's good enough for me. I've never met someone so well read on the subject (he was quoting studies done in Iceland, for example) and was explaining that a lot of what he does is the European protocol. And he reviewed that here's the standard protocol for x, and here's his protocol. He prefers to treat every situation individually, versus using a universal protocol, and while I don't completely understand all of what he was explaining (lots of big words), I believe in him. As he says, he has dedicated the last 30 years of his practice to all of this, he prays on it, and something about him just inspires my full trust. He's earnest and honest and thoughtful and he is what doctors should be.

So we'll see. I started on an estrogen patch yesterday, I continue on the progesterone, and I start the HCG injection tomorrow (ow). Ultrasound to look for the heartbeat is August 24, and RE is feeling pretty positive about things. He feels that the numbers look good overall and I go back in on Thursday for more bloodwork and a repeat beta, so we'll see how the little bean is doing as of then.

And maybe sometime soon I'll stop taking a daily HPT. I just need the repeat reassurance that it's real.

*************

Meanwhile, getting to tell Husband was great. Don't we all dream about how we're going to tell them? Coming up with the perfect scenario? It's the prize at the end of the 2ww.

Unfortunately, I couldn't really come up with anything too creative. I'd printed out an order form for this shirt

and folded it up. On the outside I'd written, "I'm thinking about getting this for Danny. What do you think?"

And as an afterthought, on the inside, under the T shirt order form, I'd written, "now ask me why..."

I left this with the mail, knowing that Husband gets in late Friday nights and I'd already be asleep when he went through the mail. So I slept on and slept on and eventually he came upstairs to unpack, brush his teeth, etc. He woke me up as he came into the room and went about his business. I waved at him, he waved at me, he kept on. I lay there waiting. Nothing. He brushed his teeth. Nothing. Eventually he came out of the bathroom and I asked him if he'd looked at the mail. He said yes, and said, what was that sheet you left for me? I looked at him and said, why do you think? He just looked confused and slightly irritated.

I'd written a note on my tummy earlier that night that said "hi daddy."

So I turned on the light, lifted up my shirt and waited. He looked at me confused and said "you're pregnant?" Again with the confused and irritated face. Now I was irritated. So I got out of bed, walked him into the bathroom with me and showed him the digital pregnancy test that said "pregnant." He looked at it, looked at me, looked at it for a full 30 seconds, looked at me and literally sputtered, "how, how?"

I explained the concept and it eventually penetrated and he kissed me and smiled and for him, was enthusiastic.

:)

up and down and up and down

2009-08-09T21:46:00.002-04:00

So this has been a roller coaster weekend. (understatement)

Told Husband about the pregnancy (I'll write about that tomorrow), contracted pleurisy, and got good beta results this morning. Beta was 240 (yay! yay!) but RE is concerned about my dropping progesterone and estradiol levels. We think the drop in progesterone (from 49 - 43.7) is due to me decreasing the progesterone suppositories from twice to once a day (per instructions) and I'm not sure why the estrogen levels are dropping (146 - 126). RE doesn't like them since they're growing close to 100 so he's put me on the Vivelle patch (estrogen). I can't find any chart anywhere on the internet that lists what normal estrogen levels are during pregnancy, but it seems like my progesterone levels are still okay. What do I know, though?

RE #1 never ever tested any of this, just did betas and left me alone until the 6 week ultrasound when he kicked me to the curb.

So while I'm psyched to still be pregnant and feel like the little one is determined to be born, one way or another, I'm a little freaked out about miscarrying.

Husband and I will meet with RE tomorrow and discuss the plan.

Compared with this, the pleurisy scare was nothing. That was just a virus and felt somewhat like I got kicked in the ribs by a big horse and I then promptly came down with the flu on top of it all. Spent most of yesterday in bed in the fetal position worried about losing the baby. First because I was afraid it was an ectopic pregnancy, then after I called RE's office and talked to the nurse (who said, no, not ectopic) freaked because of stuff I read on the internet (BAD INTERNET, BAD INTERNET) about people needing chest tubes and drainage and getting pneumonia, etc. I finally broke down and went to a doc in the box yesterday and he reassured me that it's just a virus, I didn't even need meds, and I felt so much better.

The fever broke sometime last night and I woke up feeling much better, able to take deep breaths without agonizing pain, took (yet another) HPT and was pleased to see the darkest lines I've ever seen on an HPT. And then RE freaked me out all over again.

jumping beans

2009-08-07T20:22:00.002-04:00

Got a beta of 95.7 this morning. Yay!!!!

Back on Sunday for a repeat, but unless RE wanders into the office for some reason (taking pity on me, please? please?) I'll have to wait until Monday morning to find out the results.

He actually called me this afternoon to tell me personally what my results were. And to tell me that we WOULD be meeting on Monday to discuss the plans. *I may have said before that his specialty is pregnancy prevention. I, um, actually meant pregnancy LOSS prevention.

He said he plans to do his own extensive chart review before our meeting, and will go over it all again with us on Monday. So far it sounds like my progesterone levels are good (40? 45? 40 something) so I guess his plan is to try and see if a repeat pre-eclampsia and premature birth can be avoided.

I looked back on this blog (August 2006) and my first beta with Danny was 80-something, so I'm thinking this looks pretty good so far.

I don't even have words for how happy I am so far. It's like a thousand little jumping beans are exploding in my chest. Yes, I know it might not last and I'd like to say that I'm prepared for that, but I'm not. I'll be devestated and probably hide under my bed for a few days. But for right now, the jumping beans are ruling. I can't wait to tell Husband and make it official.

huh

2009-08-06T20:27:00.002-04:00

Well, I've been taking a poll. And so far four different brands of HPT seem to all agree. Beta is tomorrow morning. It will of course be impossible to relax at that point, but I will at least clue Husband in after that. Then there will be the repeat beta on Sunday. And if all goes well, an ultrasound at 6 weeks to see if there's a heartbeat. And the fear will most likely continue until around 11 or 12 weeks. Fortunately my RE specializes in pregnancy prevention, so when I called this morning, the nurse pointed out that he becomes even more aggressive once you're actually pregnant. I have a friend who worked with him and he monitored her up until the point she gave birth. So hopefully (if all goes well) he'll continue ultrasounds up until the critical stage is passed, so I won't be left unmonitored, unaware of what's going on. I live in fear of the baby dying and me not knowing until weeks later.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around getting pregnant without needles or constant ultrasounds or pain or agony.

part 2

2009-08-05T22:16:00.000-04:00

So, um, the past 24 hours have been fun. Someone pointed out to me that I may not be able to sleep, and she was right. I lay in bed just thinking and digesting and wondering and thinking some more. Wondering what morning would bring.

3:30 am brought the urge to pee and I figured I may as well take a pregnancy test. Stupid stupid stupid. It was slightly lighter than the test that I'd taken 7 hours before, so I lay in bed again thinking and thinking. Decided it was most likely a chemical pregnancy and eventually fell back to sleep.

I'd officially exhausted my home stash of HPT's, so I went to work and moped. And felt slightly ill. Went out for lunch and indulged in my love of wasting money on HPT's. Took another test.

Hmmm. Quite positive. Not positive with an exclamation point, but it definitely was speaking in a firmer tone of voice than before.

Took another test when I got home. Even more emphatically positive.

Still haven't told anyone on the absolutely need to know list. As in, Husband or RE. RE's office was closed when I called, so I'll try them again tomorrow. Husband, well, I'm waiting. Waiting for what, I'm not sure. To be more certain that this is real, I guess. I suppose I'll tell him this weekend. As he's out of town all week, I'd prefer to break the news to him in person, so I can see his face. And preferably after a beta so I have more proof.

Meanwhile, I still cannot fathom this. This can't be happening. I'm the one that doesn't ovulate. Hasn't ovulated on her own since at least 2002. Who was told that she'd never have any more biological children. Ever.

wtf?

2009-08-04T20:50:00.002-04:00

So just for giggles, about an hour ago (not quite) I did this.

Oh. My. God.

It took ten minutes for my hands to stop shaking and for me to stop bumping into things. I changed the litter boxes and forgot a pivotal part of the process. Wandered outside and spoke nonsense to innocent people I met outside.

This has got to be a freakish fluke. There is no way. I'll do it again in the morning and all will be blank again, just like always. I forwarded one of those stupid "good luck if you forward this to 20 people" emails tonight and made a tiny wish as I did so, but um, wasn't quite figuring on this.

Surely this is a fluke. There's no way.

I even touched the wand to make sure it was wet to make sure that somehow I hadn't grabbed an old one. (Yes, ew, but really? Seriously? Are you kidding me???)

Tomorrow the world will return to its proper axis and my body will return to its normal state. I don't know how I'm going to sleep in the meantime, however. And there's absolutely no one around to freak out to.

And how weird this post looks on top of my last one.

What the ...

Friday night obsessing

2009-07-31T20:50:00.000-04:00

What? Doesn't everyone sit at home on Friday nights touching up pics of pregnancy tests?

Yes, these are almost two months old, but somehow seeing the positive tests makes me feel like it was real, if only for a few days. Especially since I'm not sure I'll ever see one of these again.

Continuing to follow the million meds protocol - the DHEA and other meds. RE wants me on the DHEA three months before I cycle again, so August would be month three. So I guess I would be cycling in September sometime with a pregnancy test (if I get that far) in October, which yay, is my birthday month.

I haven't really thought too much about donor eggs in the meantime. I just don't know. I get stuck on wondering how I would explain to the child, how would I explain to Danny. I'm sure I would handle it in a reasonable and mature way, but would the baby always feel like an outsider? As in, I'm the only one not fully related here? Would it come up in fights between the siblings? "Mom loves you best - she's related to you and I'm just a stranger!"

look out Hasselhoff

2009-07-14T21:29:00.004-04:00

I feel it only right to follow up a load of dismal posts with one triumphant post. Just so no one starts thinking they need to start locking up all the sharps in my house.

So my first year of parenthood was spent essentially in constant fear that I would somehow kill my kid. I'd chilled out somewhat by the second half of the year, but that fear was still there. After all, I had no prior experience as a parent, had done no internship, only a little bit of reading, and all of my work experience was with taller people who actually had a working vocabulary.

Year 1-2 was spent trying to conceive another kid and enjoying the developments of kid #1. And worrying that he'd brain himself on some household object.

All along I've always wondered, would I be the mom who could lift the car off her kid if need be?

And this weekend I found out that yes, I am. After the incident I asked Husband if he'd been worried and he looked at me strangely and said no, as if it had never crossed his mind. Men!

We were all out at the pool on Sunday and Danny's new game is jumping into the pool with me. I hold his hands, count to three and he jumps. And 4 seconds later insists on me lifting him back out so he can repeat it. (Great for the lower back, I might add. 30 lbs x 50 awkward lifts out of the pool = ow)

We'd taken a break from this game to enjoy his other favorite game, throwing stuff out into the pool (ostensibly throwing it at me in a game of "catch") so that I can swim out and retrieve it. He'd wandered over to the 8 foot deep end of the pool in his throwing, so I was treading water and trying to convince him to head back to the shallow end. No go. Then he wandered over to the ladder and stood between the rungs, smiling and saying he wanted to jump in. While his language skills have improved immensely, I was unable to convince him that jumping in to mommy, who was treading water, would result in one or both of us swallowing half of the pool when we inevitably both went under, even if I was able to catch him as he jumped.

Especially as his language skills are sufficient to convince us that any sort of lifesaving device (swimmies for his arms, a life vest, etc.) is absolutely not an option. So we've foolishly allowed him to get away with not wearing any while we're holding him in the pool.

While I, for some reason, had to pass a swim test in order to graduate from college, am by no means a strong swimmer. I have this weird thing, developed as an adult, about putting my head under water. And I am by no means a swimmer. I primarily move around in the water by hanging on to the walls of the pool, walking, or a pitiful dog paddle.

So anyway, feigning ignorance of all of this along with my well detailed arguments of why he shouldn't, Danny elected to jump in anyway. To the crappy swimmer, doing the dog paddle in the deep end of the pool, with no wall handy to cling to.

I'm not even sure what all happened in those few seconds. But somehow I managed to tread water with my frantically churning legs, use my arms to catch a hurtling 30 pound toddler, and keep both of us above water. I don't think I even displayed any of the panic that I felt, and managed to do an awkward dog paddle variation propelling us both back to shallow water where I managed to stand up again (and breathe).

I'm so impressed with myself. I was able to perform better than I am actually able to, and to keep my kid safe.

Thank God.

where infertility is likened to chocolate syrup

2009-07-14T20:24:00.004-04:00

Very quiet around here. There's only so many times I really want to whine about how unfair the universe is in how it allots babies. I mean, I do have my pride, right?

I was thinking the other day that it's been at least since 2002 that I ovulated on my own. I was thinking this because, of course, my delusional self thought that maybe I'd ovulated this month on my own. Because magically, the new meds that I'm on HAVE FIXED ME!!!!! and I can be that miracle chick who gets pregnant on her own after spending thousands and thousands of dollars on unsuccessful IVF's. I had the whole nine yards, ovulation pains, etc. I even walked down memory lane and bought an ovulation predictor kit. I didn't really get a positive, but I'd procrastinated long enough that I rationalized that by the time I took the test I'd already ovulated. Or that because I have PCOS that I'm one of those ones who OPK's don't work on. I'd gotten the bloodwork results back from my RIP test (I think that's the name - it has to do with immune system, I believe) and for the first time they were normal. And I've started acupuncture.

So I waited through my imaginary 2ww and took a very real pregnancy test and there you go, nothing. Not pregnant. Most likely due to not ovulating (except in my imagination).

So I've made the leap from this imaginary ovulating to the IVF in a few months not working. And me electing to not even try with donor eggs because I just can't do it anymore. And I'm depressed and irritable and bitter all over again.

In addition to the mourning that is just the chocolate sauce on top of this infertility sundae, I'm also struggling with the slippery eel that is Hope. (yes, way too many metaphors in one sentence)

Just when I think I've finally accepted it, am finally starting to deal with the very real reality that most likely Danny is going to be my only miracle, Hope pops up out of the blue. When I have no clue that she even has any life left to her. She's worse than Voldemort as far as having 9 or 900 lives. I push her down, stuff her into a little box, and slippery bitch, she squeezes back out through my clenched fingers.

So then I go through the funk all over again. Even though I knew there was no way I magically started ovulating on my own, some sentence that I found about DHEA (one of the new meds) causing spontaneous (love that word - conjures up a vision of poof! baby appears out of nowhere!) pregnancies apparently revived Hope just as she was gasping her last breath.

roar

2009-07-01T20:38:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-19T19:51:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-10T21:31:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-07T22:07:00.004-04:00

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.

2009-06-05T19:58:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-03T20:27:00.004-04:00

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

2009-05-31T09:59:00.002-04:00

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.

tick tick tick

2009-05-28T21:11:00.002-04:00

Can time move any slower?

It's a mixed bag. Time is moving slowly towards being able to take a definitive HPT, yet it's also moving slowly towards possible heartbreak (again). Of course I have to test before beta, I'm just not that girl. I'm the "need to know" girl, not the "has patience/ can walk away from the remaining two Oreos/ restraint is my middle name" girl.

Yes, I am more positive than I have been in previous cycles, but only time will tell if I can hang on to it if/when I get a negative.

2w squared

2009-05-26T20:39:00.001-04:00

Tick, tick, tick. Time ticking away.

Feeling surprisingly okay this cycle. Spent the weekend kind of relaxing and kind of being normal (settling for a compromise between bedrest and real life) and just kind of being. I had a good feeling laying in the recovery room after ET and I'm trying to hang on to it. I feel like I've done all I can do to ensure that this will work - I'm taking my meds, not exercising, am thinking positive, Husband is thinking positive, etc. I think last cycle I was too busy wishing I was dead from the sinus infection to think much about our little embryos, but this cycle they're getting the attention they're due. And if it works, it works. If not, well, then the experience hasn't been that bad with Big Fancy Clinic, so I can probably handle one more try.

The main challenge this week is finding enough baggy clothes to wear, as I am still ridiculously swollen. My innard are still tender too, which I don't remember going on for quite so long in IVFs of past.

In the meantime, Husband and Danny are being great. Husband kisses my belly every morning and says hello to the embies (he's really coaching them to all take - ack!) and asks about them when he's not at home. Danny's just cool, just plain cool. Maybe he's saving the "terribles" for age 3, because so far, he's manageable. Humor, changing the subject, offering choices, giving warnings, etc. have all worked beautifully with him and to be honest, I've never really seen a tantrum in him. Maybe crying for a few minutes when he doesn't get his way, but he seems to have learned at this point that when we say no (we try not to say it often, preferring to offer choices or options instead) we mean no and he doesn't waste his time arguing.

Of course, now that I'm patting myself on the back for my fantastic parenting, he'll fall apart tomorrow. But at least it's been great up until then. :)

2w squared

2009-05-26T20:39:00.000-04:00

bedrest is actually a lofty goal

2009-05-23T19:23:00.003-04:00

Feling subdued and tired here. We live in tourist land and apparently the entire cast and crew of "Animal House" decided to move in next door Thursday night. I thought Thursday night was bad, but it was nothing compared to last night. I woke up at midnight to the sounds of "1 2 3 CANNONBALL!!!!!!" as assorted drunk people took turns jumping into the pool. Woke up again at 2:30 to someone imitating Tarzan outside of my window. Mercifully they got enough complaints and police calls (I broke down and made one myself) that the rental agency moved the people from next door, but there are still plenty of their compatriots in our complex to carry on in their absence tonight.

Useful information only because I had limited sleep last night and a 2 1/2 hour drive, leaving my house at 6:30 this morning, to get there for my transfer. Where I was met with cheerful people who kept asking "are you excited? It's the big day!" And understandably I was unable to muster up much enthusiasm, especially when I saw the pic of my three little ones.

Amazingly all three survived to today. One was an 8 cell grade B (although it looked much worse - seemed like he was all fragmentation, but what do I know), the other was an 8 cell grade C, and the other was a 4 cell grade D (I think). My face fell somewhat when I got this news, but the RE pointed out that actually the very first IVF done was with a grade F embryo, and she turned out to be a gorgeous baby (who just turned 20 or something?). That was very helpful to know and eased my mind considerably. RE pointed out that they prefer quantity to quality, and apparently this is working well in my case, comparing the survival rate of this bunch to past bunches. He also pointed out that number of eggs retrieved can vary tremendously from cycle to cycle, even with the exact same regime, so my smaller number of eggs doesn't necessarily mean anything in particular.

Transfer went well, and again, everyone was incredibly upbeat and positive. As I lay there for the prescribed 30 minutes of bedrest, I could almost picture the warm fuzzies surrounding my little embryos. Such a different experience from last ET where I lay there enveloped in old RE's pessimism and shitty attitude, horribly sick from the neverending sinus infection, coughing up a lung as I lay on the table.

I met with the IVF coordinator after it was all said and done and she seemed to feel pleased with my overall response and that I have as good a chance as any of getting pregnant this cycle. She said (because I asked) that there's no reason to think donor eggs should be a consideration at this point if I don't get pregnant this time, so that was nice.

Meanwhile bedrest has been quite difficult today. How exactly can one be on bedrest with a 2 year old? I've laid around as much as possible, but I have moved some and am totally paranoid about it. Big Fancy Clinic prescribed 2 days of very limited activity (you can get up to eat, pee and that's about it) and I'd like to follow their directions as fully as possible so that I don't look back on anything and wonder if that was what made the difference to not make it work.

Oh well. I can do my best and other than that it's out of my hands. I do have an actual life and it wants its mommy time sometimes. So we'll see...

waiting

2009-05-22T21:52:00.002-04:00

Nothing much to say here.

Got an email this morning from my IVF coordinator that my three little guys were still kicking (as of 8:30) this morning. I asked her to go have a chat with them and urge them to continue carrying on carrying on. I pointed out that as they have me and Husband as parents, they may be likely to get sidetracked or slack off, or merely work themselves into oblivion, depending on whose genes are more prominent.

I of course lurked on the IVF connections boards quite a bit today trying to find reassurance that those in similar situations do get lucky sometimes. Since I was only looking for happy endings, I found them. I'd prefer to ignore the negative.

Now I just have to wait to see who's managed to survive until tomorrow and then see if they like their new digs. I've recently remodeled inside, so hopefully my uterus is nice and welcoming, fung shui is correct, etc.

Meanwhile I am horribly swollen. I'd liken it to how big my belly was at 4 months pregnant. Nothing like rubbing salt into the wound...

Needing a hug or two (or a hundred)

2009-05-21T20:25:00.002-04:00

I'm trying to find comfort in the memory that the IVF that produced Danny had me crying in my office as well when I got the fertilization report.

I got the call first thing this morning, which was merciful, as old RE made me wait two days after ER. Embryologist called me directly and was incredibly nice as he explained that of my 9 eggs, only 5 were mature and of those only 3 fertilized. Nice IVF coordinator called me shortly afterwards to schedule my ET and very kindly explained that no, they didn't leave any eggs behind, they took out all the ones that I had. I don't quite understand why I had so many empty follicles, as I've never had that issue before, but I guess I'm as old as I've ever been too, so maybe that's the thing.

Husband, God bless him, pointed out that three embryos is better than none and that we should just wait and see what happens before we get upset. (rational people, grr)

I'm just so afraid that my three are going to fizzle out and I'll be left with none to transfer.

I emailed my IVF coordinator this afternoon and asked if she could check in on my three little ones tomorrow and make sure they were still kicking. The coordinator I talked to today (mine was off today) promised that she'd go in and have a chat with them. She seemed pretty positive that they'd survive until Saturday, but I don't know how she knows that. The overall attitude at this clinic seems to be one of positivity, which is nice, but I wonder if it's just blanket optimism or if she knows something about my embies that I don't.

So naturally when I walked in to daycare with Danny this morning, we were met within about 5 minutes with baby pressure. Danny walked into the baby room (he loves loves loves babies) and two of the staff cooed and started talking about how he needs a little brother or sister. And then they kept going with it.

As if I don't know this already. Here's a pic of him meeting his new cousin...

nine

2009-05-20T20:04:00.002-04:00

Nine. Sigh.

Retrieval and all the stuff surrounding it actually went pretty well. Husband and Danny and I set off for The Big City last night and Danny was delighted to wake up in a hotel parking lot. It's got to be so fun to be two - everything is an adventure! Getting to sleep again was less fun, as it was 11:00 and I was exhausted and he was disoriented and the room was full of strange noises (traffic, people coming and going) and any time I'd put him down in his pack and play he'd start crying and whining "Nuggle! Mommy nuggle!" So I'd lay with him for a while, put him back to bed and after two of these times he was finally tired enough to fall asleep. Meanwhile it took me forever to sleep and I woke up before the alarm, I guess just thinking about the retrieval. I was actually looking forward to it. The way that you look forward to a test when you've studied really hard and are almost positive you're going to get a good grade. My belly was swollen, my ovaries were pressing on my bladder such that laying down meant I had to pee every 15 minutes, and I was full of the memory of my last ultrasound and the lots o' follies that were counted.

The people at the clinic were fabulous this morning, very friendly, such a nice change from old RE's office. Danny was behaving great, had woken up in a great mood, and it seemed as if he and Husband were going to do just fine by themselves while I was otherwise occupied. I'd worried about them being bored and had looked up stuff in the area for them to do, but the retrieval didn't take long, so they just putzed around. Danny was particularly excited at the clinic's little pond and the ducks outside. I didn't even get a goodbye when the nurse took me back, as Danny caught a glimpse of a baby duck through a window and took off running to the door.

So I was quite surprised to hear that they only got nine eggs. Yes, I know that not every follicle contains an egg, but yeesh. My rationalizing self kicked in at some point on the drive home and came up with the explanation that maybe this clinic isn't like old RE, who took every single egg out, regardless of size. New RE had mentioned over the weekend that sometimes Big Fancy Clinic only takes out the largest eggs, so I'm going to hope that this was the case. Nurse who was babysitting me in the recovery room didn't seem to think that nine was a bad number, but I guess I'll wait and see what tomorrow's phone call says. The embryologist is supposed to call in the afternoon with the fertilization report and estimated transfer date.

And before you say it, yes, I know nine isn't bad. I'm just thinking of IVF's of the past, where so many eggs fizzled out into worthless blobs of nothingness, and if I'm only starting with nine, then that doesn't leave many left when the majority of them fizzle. Yes, yes, I know, I only need one. But still...

Anyway, have been quite uncomfortable most of the day and popping the Tylenol with Codeine. I'm due for another dose and then it's off to blissful sleep. If memory serves me right, the discomfort should be gone by tomorrow. I just hope that the fertilization report doesn't cause the discomfort to return...

Meanwhile tomorrow is our fourth wedding anniversary, and both of us have sort of forgotten about it. Of course I remembered and have been thinking about it, but forgot to get a card even until today, and Husband forgot entirely. He found the card I'd planted in his bag (meant to be opened tomorrow) and clearly felt terrible when I said it was for our anniversary tomorrow. So he and Danny ran out and got me a dozen roses (especially adorable moment - Danny walking across the den with a bouquet saying "flowers Mommy!") and we'll probably celebrate this weekend. You'd think I'd be annoyed at him forgetting, but not really. This IVF has taken up most of my emotional energy, and I know he loves me, and the look on his face when I told him today is enough.

Plus, I think I've decided that if this IVF doesn't work, I'll do one more and then be done. It hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be with this new RE and the hassle of going to the Big City for ER and ET, and I can probably do another one before giving up for good. I'm no longer sure about donor eggs, and I've never really given adoption much thought. I'll have to talk it over with Husband, though.

Meanwhile, there is some codeine calling my name. Walking hunched over in pain isn't very much fun.

ow

2009-05-18T21:14:00.002-04:00

So I had yet another ultrasound this morning and it seems like things are going well. My left ovary had about 15 follicles and I stopped counting by the time he got to my right ovary. As far as I can remember, there were about 12 really large follies (20 - 24), around 6 between 14 and 19 and a bunch of smaller ones. RE thinks the other RE will get about 15 mature eggs, which is pretty good, I think.

Meanwhile apparently my ovaries are so swollen that they've relocated my uterus, according to RE, who had to do quite a bit of poking around to find it. And yes, ow.

Old RE I guess had a different philosophy, as he would have triggered me by now - he usually triggered by the time the follies reached 19 or 20. So I'm curious how this protocol will influence things. I'm also pretty excited about not having to do the trigger shot in my hip - they do it subq which my hip is pretty thrilled about as well. Apparently there will be no shots in the ass with this group - I do the progesterone suppositories (ew) and then some sort of patch thing and that's about it.

Transfer is set for Wednesday, and Husband and Danny and I will drive up to the Big City tomorrow night. I'm not sure what the men will be doing while I'm out on the table, but hopefully they'll go do something fun.

Only 40 more minutes till I can trigger, so I'm going to limp upstairs and get ready for bed and then limp back downstairs to mix the trigger. My innards are quite tender. :(

sloshy ovaries

2009-05-17T21:41:00.003-04:00

I no longer even am keeping track of my estrogen levels or my follicle count. Why I was isn't even clear to me, unless it falls under the category of feeling more in control because I have more information. I've had ultrasounds yesterday and today and one more in the morning, with an estimated retrieval on Wednesday. I think I had about 9 big ones this morning (as in, 19, 20-22) and a bunch of smaller ones and I am officially quite uncomfortable in the ovary region, and the RE and his nurse assured me this morning that I'm doing well, so I'll just let it go at that.

It probably wasn't a good idea to flip back through my archives and reread from my last IVF's, as it reminded me that RE #1 started talking about donor eggs after my very first egg retrieval. I'm not sure what that was based on, maybe the not great fertilization rate and the fact that the embryos fizzled away into a fragmented mass of goo pretty quickly. It was an interesting reminder that Danny was once an 8 celled grade B embryo that probably wasn't going to survive. Glad no one told him that, as that crappy embryo is now a contented sleeping mass of all boy in the next room.

So I guess I was hoping for lots and lots of follies so that when they fizzled out, maybe there would be just a few left standing that could maybe morph themselves into another delicious mash of mine and Husband's DNA.

Drank too much wine with dinner tonight in an effort to not worry about egg quality, so I think I'll sign off now.

update

2009-05-15T20:07:00.002-04:00

Had my first ultrasound this cycle yesterday. 13 follies measuring between 8 and 14. Estrogen was a nice 722. Probably explains the unexpected tears at completely random moments. The other morning I was driving to work and cars pulled to the side of the road to allow a screaming fire truck to pass, and it brought me to tears.

Better than the scary rages that I was having but still disconcerting.

Another ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow morning. Hopefully things will continue looking good, because it certainly feels like I'm smuggling cantelopes in my ovaries. I well remember this discomfort from past cycles and I'll willingly put up with it if it means something will come to fruition.

A little sad that only 13 are growing in there, but a friend pointed out that quality is what I'm looking for, so I'm going to concentrate on that.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. In the meantime I'm going to go lurk in my own archives (July 2006 and November 2008) to see where I was at this point in past cycles. Cause, you know, it'll make me feel... oh, I don't know. It'll add to the obsessing.

somebody is waving the white flag and I'm ignoring them

2009-05-11T16:37:00.003-04:00

Urgh.

Got *the call* from Big Fancy Clinic. Estrogen level is not what they want it to be so they're bumping up the Follistim. Obviously used to anxious infertiles, the nurse was quick to reassure me that 122 wasn't bad, the goal was around 200, doesn't mean anything, et cetera, et cetera.

But I can't help but wonder. Has my body just decided it's done? Loads and loads and loads of hormones are going to be needed to pummel it into submission, if it even cooperates. Yeah, yeah, it's early yet and things may work out just fine, but still, it's a little depressing. Apparently my body is really trying to convince me to just leave it alone, it's resting, would prefer to retire and just watch a lot of TV. Well, my ovaries, at least want to retire. The rest of me feels fine. I don't feel old on the outside. It's those sneaky little parts inside that want to quit. Grr.

on sleeping arrangements and boredom

2009-05-11T12:38:00.002-04:00

It's been over two years since I've had this feeling, but um, I'm bored. Our office was closed on Friday since they were doing some renovations, and today is some lame holiday that we get and no one else does, so I've been greedy and selfish and sent Danny to daycare each day, enjoying the freedom. I don't feel too bad doing so, as he LOVES going to school. Today he has both Gymbus (toddler gymnastics) and music class, and there's no way on earth I'd deprive him of either. Little boy loves his gymnastics and adores singing. He breaks into song often, although his most recent favorites are the "ABC's" and what I think is "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." The enthusiasm is there, the words not entirely. It's so cool to hear him sing, and I'm hoping he keeps his love of music.

So anyway, Friday I used the day to run errands and sat outside by the pool for a little while. Saturday I had a hair appointment where I had some *smoothing* thing done that allegedly will remove the disorganized unattractive tendency of my hair to attempt to curl. Curly would be one thing. This spastic semi-wave semi-curl frizz that I have going on is quite another. Meanwhile I'm not allowed to wash it for 3 days and I am anxiously awaiting tomorrow morning. I'd been prepared for this by my hair stylist, but the reality of walking around looking like a drowned rat has been less than fun. Not to mention that I can't sweat or get it wet, so I haven't really been able to have any fun all weekend. Hence me being inside today trying to summon up things to do.

This morning I went in for bloodwork and am awaiting the call that will tell me what my next step is, as in, when my next RE appointment will be. I've cleared my mornings at work all this week (begrudgingly) but still get a little stressed at the realities of trying to get to the clinic early enough to get bloodwork and an u/s done, while trying to manage childcare. Husband helped this morning, taking Danny to daycare, so I could get in early, but I'm not sure what I'll do the rest of this week. Big Fancy Clinic likes all bloodwork to be done by 9 am so they'll have it ready for their noon meeting, where they discuss stuff and then call patients to tell them their next step. That's pretty much impossible unless Husband helps this week, but I'll wait and see what is said in today's call before I fully stress. I figure if worst comes to worst, Big Fancy Clinic will just have to wait. A half an hour can't make that much a difference, can it? Daycare doesn't open until 8, and it's an hour's drive to RE's office, plus however long I have to wait in the lab to get my blood drawn, plus however long it takes to process STAT blood orders. Urgh.

Oh well. Been here before. This week will be the pain in the ass as far as appointments. Next week will be the pain in the ass as far as when will the ER and ET be, how Husband and I will handle traveling with Danny up to the Big City to Big Fancy Clinic for the ER. Having no family or anyone we know well enough to leave Danny with for the trip, we've decided that he'll just have to come with us. Husband went in last week to freeze his "sample", so we just have to get me up there for the retrieval. Big Fancy Clinic does its retrievals early in the morning, so there's no way we could leave Danny in daycare for the trip, so off he'll go. The part I'm most worried about is sleep - we're most likely going to be all in one room. What do we do when it's time for Danny to go to sleep? Turn everything off and sit in the darkness while he sits in his pack and play and sings and does whatever he does while he's getting ready to fall asleep? Urgh. Not sure how that's all going to work.

Oh well. At least the homicidal flashes of rage have subsided. Into out of the blue crying jags. Well, not really crying, but on the verge of crying jags. I just had one a few minutes ago and for the life of me couldn't say what caused it. I'm watching a true crime TV show and typing, so your guess is as good as mine.

Anyway, I'm just rambling. Off to continue organizing some of Danny's old toys and clothes and maybe take a nap. I remember being bored. I think I remember kind of liking it a little bit. :)

on being hoisted up and wide open

2009-05-06T21:45:00.002-04:00

Okay, 25 Tostitos covered in melted cheddar cheese, 6 tootsie rolls, 5 Samoas and a large glass of milk later, I think I'm ready for my RE appointment tomorrow. I'm not sure, but I think my subconscious motivation was that if I eat enough, I can possibly just roll to the appointment, a la Violet in Willy Wonka. I mean, I know gas is expensive and all, but I'm not sure my inner id couldn't have found a better way for me to get to the appointment tomorrow, like, oh, I don't know, my car, regardless of gas prices. I am approximately the size of my car now, so should make fitting into the car door fun in the morning.

Nope, not stressing at all about starting stims for what may be my last IVF. Apparently the Lupron has driven me to the point that I can see the whites of the eyes of INSANE, and I really look forward to the estrogen surges and what impact they'll have. I screamed at Husband like a shrewish harpie, in the middle of the parking lot Sunday morning as I was getting into my car to go to yoga. (yes, I see the irony) The night before I threw shoes at his head. The fight? Um, about a pair of shoes for Danny. Danny currently wears size 7. Husband insisted that a really cute pair, sized 6, would fit (found in the closet as a gift from the grandparents). The sane option would have been to ignore him, have him have Danny try the shoes on, see that they don't fit, and move on. But no, I was screaming something about "a 6 does not equal a 7! He wears a 7!!!" and I may have said something like "you big dummy!" I'm not sure, but I may have called him a boogerface too.

Oh, IVF just rocks. Love it.

The ultrasound tomorrow is to ensure that my system is sufficiently suppressed so that I can start on the super humongous doses of Follistim on Friday. This RE has me on a slightly different protocol -no Repronex, no PIO, some patch thingy after ET.

And did I mention the best part? The ET is done like a regular ultrasound. As in, I get to remain horizontal. The new REs looked at me like I was a nut (which I am, they just didn't know that yet) when I cheered at this news. I explained that old RE did his embryo transfers with the patient essentially hanging upside down - picture uncomfortable aluminum table, elevated, 45 degree angle, hands gripping the side of the table in hopes of preventing a slide head first into the floor... all while trying desperately not to pee from the ridiculously full bladder. And seriously, when I say elevated, I'm not kidding. Old RE is at least 6'5" and I'm fairly sure that my knees were even with his head when he came in the room. Okay, probably not, but that's how it felt. Somehow the humiliation factor of being in the stirrups increases exponentially with how high up in the air you're hoisted.

Yep. IVF rocks. I'm going to miss it when this round fails.

roller coaster without a seat belt

2009-04-29T20:34:00.003-04:00

Can I already be insane after only two days on Lupron? I don't remember feeling this last fall when I was on it, but maybe it's because back then I actually thought IVF would work again.

I found myself cruising donor egg sites today at work, feeling depressed in advance. This evening I went from flying high with joy at seeing Danny, to feeling like a hungry alligator after reading an email that irked me. I could feel my mouth extending and my teeth glistening as I contemplated which prey to sink my teeth into.

This is just horrible. I'm torn between feeling depressed that this cycle isn't going to work, to feeling the horrible despair of wondering what comes next after this cycle doesn't work. And this isn't the cynicism that cloaks secret optimism of people who say, oh, I don't think this'll work even as they're secretly thinking that it will. This is fear, and sorrow, and mourning, and distrust and guilt and fear and the bottomless pit of sadness of wondering what comes next - giving up, donor eggs, giving up?

roaring on the inside

2009-04-26T21:11:00.004-04:00

Geez, I haven't even started this IVF cycle (officially) yet, and I'm a mess.

I've been on bcp for two weeks now and go in for a monitoring ultrasound tomorrow morning. The day after tomorrow I'm supposed to start Lupron. I spent $5,000 on meds and my deposit to the Fancy Clinic last week.

Meanwhile I'm irritable and emotional and trying very hard to push all those emotions back down inside where they won't hurt anyone. What if this IVF doesn't work either? Then what????? And again, those nagging I'm too old, too greedy, thoughts pop back up again.

Husband (who is back out of the doghouse again) is treading ever so gently around me.

undecided

2009-04-22T21:10:00.003-04:00

Hmmm. I got my Big Box today. You know, the big box of meds and needles for the pending IVF.

Except that this one was smaller than those previously. And more expensive, weighing in at just under $2,000. I haven't poked around too much yet, but what little I saw was a little unfamiliar. For one thing, there were a few boxes of Vivelle patches. Not sure what that is, and Dr. Google says they're something to do with estradiol. I also saw Progesterone pills, the kind you insert, versus the kind you inject (PIO). Makes me a little nervous, since I thought I saw somewhere that PIO is more effective than the other kind.

Not that I'm not in favor of sticking fewer needles into my body, but hey, I'll do whatever it takes, and I'd like to know that I'm doing the best stuff possible.

Hmmm.

boring marriage post

2009-04-12T20:22:00.005-04:00

I really miss living somewhere where I have good friends that I can talk to on a regular basis. It's still pretty lonely here, which most of the time I don't notice. I talk to my coworkers, talk to clients all day long, get more than my fair share of phone calls each day, spend my evenings with my son, and have about an hour or two of quiet to hang out with my TV friends or my yoga DVD friends and then it's bedtime. Husband isn't, and never has been, very chatty on the phone, so in our daily phone calls it's mostly telling him how Danny's day has been or brief business of our own and we're done.

As far as friends here go, I guess I don't really have any. I had J., who I quickly bonded with when we met at the gym a few years ago. Thought she was great, a kindred spirit, we talked on the phone tons, hung out a lot, etc. Except that she had this fairly annoying habit of being unreliable. We'd make plans and 80% of the time she'd cancel at the last minute, saying she didn't feel well, had just woken up, or just plain forgot. She was going through infertility treatment (which I didn't really understand then) so I gave her the benefit of the doubt most of the time. We had a falling out eventually but reconnected again about 18 months ago when I'd forgotten how annoying the unreliable thing was. She's a stay at home mom now, so she has all her SAHM friends. And she's even more unreliable with me than she ever has been, although probably not with them. She's also pregnant again now, so she has that to contend with. She sounds well meaning and good intentioned every time we talk on the phone, but her no-show rate has climbed to about 95% at this point. So I don't know if she counts.

T. has always been a sort of friend. She was great when Husband and I were going through our stuff, and when Danny was born, but she's fairly unreliable as well. Oddly enough, she seems to be a foul weather friend.

So as the tensions between Husband and me have grown over the past few weeks, I haven't really had anyone to talk to about it, or any real desire. Something is going on with him, and I really don't know what it is. He's irritable and sullen and seems tired all the time. My best guess is that his knee, on which he needs surgery, has been hurting more lately, because he's a dumbass who insists on continuing to jog on it. He's finally quit jogging on it, which probably means that the pain has reached the level of excruciating, versus just really bad. I've asked several times over the past few weeks if something is wrong, if he's stressed out about something, and have only been met with what it is that I'm doing that pisses him off. Today he went off on me because I was filing something and he thought I was doing it in the wrong order. I give almost as good as I get, so I had some choice words for him as well, once he got going on his detailed list of what I do that pisses him off. He continues to insist that he's not stressed about anything, I just piss him off.

Trying to retain perspective here. I know all couples fight, I just don't know what goes on in others' marriages for real. I'm going to try to resist my usual impulses to think the worst, that our marriage is over, Husband can't stand me, et cetera, et cetera.

The worst thing about all of it is that Danny heard all of our heated exchange this afternoon. It was naptime and his bedroom door wasn't closed all the way, and had somehow swung open so that he got an earful. I went upstairs once Husband and I were done with each other, saw the door open, heard Danny talking to himself, and went into his room. I sat in his rocking chair for a few minutes trying to compose myself and Danny just sat there quietly until I walked over to him. Piece of shit mother that I am. I wish he hadn't had to hear that.

Sigh.

Marriage is so hard at times. I really need to read a book or something where someone talks about their marriage, to get an idea of how others do it. My parents certainly are no guide to anything except for how to get a divorce and mess up your kids.

Sigh.

********

Oh well. At least I've got one man who loves me...

meh

2009-04-08T20:23:00.004-04:00

So in about two months I'll be taking my third beta. Hopefully third time is the charm.

Met with fancy clinic people today and am on to start IVF #3 whenever I get my period (within a week or so). This RE agrees with RE #2 that I'm not all that seriously broken, even said that I'm pretty much on track with every other woman my age, as far as reproductive capacity. My FSH and ovarian reserve are right there with my peers, Husband's sperm count is fine, and seemingly my only real problem is not ovulating on my own. So I'll start bcp sometime next week and Lupron at the end of the month and we'll go from there. He thinks my chances of getting pregnant are around 40%. A little different from (asshole) RE #1 who gave me about a 5-10% chance of getting pregnant with IVF #3 and suggested donor eggs. New RE today asked me if I knew why RE #1 suggested that and I, without any tact or subtlety, said money. Donor egg cycles cost more - $30K, versus any IVF cycle with your own eggs which is about $13K. Today's RE was a little aghast at me saying that, but hey, it's what I think and he asked what I think. I never really saw any evidence that RE #1 had any true investment in finding out what my issues were or getting me pregnant - he had me on a rote routine for IVF, probably the same one he uses for all of his patients, and if it didn't work, oh well.

Must go do yoga now and digest my dinner. Yogurt, an apple and some of Danny's leftover Alpha Bits from breakfast. Life with a toddler...

rumenating

2009-04-07T20:12:00.003-04:00

Can a RE give you PTSD? Can I blame my neuroses on my old RE?

Because he has forever influenced how I see infertility and the attitude with which I meet with doctors.

Because of him, I am dreading tomorrow (in case the sudden increase in off kilter posts, and increase in posts in general wasn't a clue). I am embarrassed to out myself to yet another medical professional as infertile and broken. I am embarrassed that I am entitled enough to think that I deserve to have another kid, or to have one at all. There is nothing out there that guarantees people to life, liberty and pursuit of children even when "some people just aren't meant to be parents." I feel like the little kid who was out playing and realized that the birthday cake was being handed out, and stands, forlorn and empty handed, hoping that a piece of cake will magically appear, when sadly, it's all gone. I feel considerable guilt at wanting to have another child, at not being grateful for what I have, for whatever factors kept me from trying to have a child earlier, when I was younger. When I started trying to get pregnant at 34, I should somehow have anticipated that I'd be broken and it might take a while, even if it happened at all.

I've read that 2007 was a huge baby boom year, with more children being born then than since the post WWII baby boom. What right do I have to add to this more? Is it just vanity that makes people think they're entitled to procreate?

I see myself as pretty simple. I want a husband, family and house with a white picket fence. I want to be the mom who bakes cookies, teaches her kids about the finer things in life (homemade bread, Billie Holliday, being athletic, the importance of being silly, books and kindness to others). I don't really want to think about the global ramifications and overpopulation and limited resources. I don't want to see myself as old and desperate. I'd like to think of myself as a good person, who's a good parent, and therefore has earned the right to try again.

It's like that time I went to a church in high school, and it was one of the more rabid churches. They said that if you have any doubts, any questions, etc. that those thoughts were planted there by the Devil, SATAN (dum dum da dum). I forever after questioned every single thought I had, wondering if it was really mine, or if it was a plant from the man in Red. Really messed me up.

First RE has really crawled in my head. All the comments about my being old, women like me should just know when to give up, etc. have really screwed me up.

I'm officially depressed in advance of tomorrow's meeting. Sigh.

whoops

2009-04-06T19:53:00.003-04:00

Okay, by the way about the TMI post yesterday. Apparently that filter in your brain that's responsible for keeping the stupid stuff inside your brain versus it coming out of your mouth (or fingers) is clogged up.

Consider me down for repairs until I get a new filter.

way too much talk about icky female stuff

2009-04-05T14:45:00.003-04:00

So, um, my blog is titled yoga, and I used to be a good little yogi, and um, well, that was about 2 years ago. Saw a brochure for my old yoga place when I was buying a smoothie last weekend, though, and something just clicked, and I decided I was ready for it again.

So I did a little solo practicing this week at home, and today crossed the threshold of my old yoga studio for the first time in over two years. (blush) It was awesome, though. It was a hot yoga class, which was great, because my muscles got all warm and loose and muscle memory kicked in and it was as if I'd never left. Contented sigh. So now all I have to do is stick with it again, and if I get pregnant on my next IVF (ha! as if!) keep practicing.

I guess I'd just forgotten that yoga is home for me. Not so much doing it in my home, but going to the nice warm friendly studio, with nice warm friendly people, challenging my body. And savasana, relaxing, at the end, is just bliss. I guess some people feel that way about running and other things, but for me it's yoga. Yay for me for going again!

Meanwhile RE appointment is Wednesday. And Husband has orders to you know, do that thing, sometime this weekend in order to prepare for Wednesday's semen analysis. Allegedly with me, but at this point I may hire someone else or suggest a little solo love for him. I have a yeast infection again, for the third time in just a few months, and just can't wait for the u/s with the new RE to show it off. Apparently my resistance really sucks, as the first YI (first I've had in almost 15 years) was caused by antibiotics during my 6 months of neverending sinus infections, as was the second, and this one seems to be caused by the steroids I'm now on which replaced the Plaquenil (which was supposed to boost my immune system).

Not that you really want to hear details of my nether regions, but yeesh. It's just a yeast infection party around here - first Danny, then Danny and me, then me and me again. Haven't mentioned to Husband that I have another one yet. That fun is roughly equivalent to the embarrassment most people feel buying condoms, or buying tampons from a 15 year old male store clerk. Who asks for a price check loudly on the intercom.

Sigh. At least I did my yoga today. Yay me!

Hope is a bitch

2009-03-31T20:52:00.003-04:00

I wouldn't have even thought it possible to be this bitter and already have a child. I wouldn't have thought I could access this feeling without several more years of unsuccessful trying to get pregnant. Let's see, at last count it's only been what, a year or so of trying so far for #2? Only a few unsuccessful Clomid cycles and one failed IVF cycle. Pish posh, I'm a rank amateur here.

I'm still all stirred up after my RE meeting yesterday. It's one thing to have that IVF out there looming in the future, but the thought that it could be pretty soon freaks the living shit out of me. For lack of a more poetic turn of phrase. It's one thing to say that I'm negative and fully anticipate that this next IVF cycle will fail, it's another thing to have that confirmed.

I had a little taste of that this morning and really really didn't like it. I mentioned to RE yesterday that I thought I may actually ovulate on my own this month, and just for giggles he had my progesterone level checked. I've been having what felt like ovulation pains and was so excited. I even entertained the fantasy of ovulating on my own and creating a baby the old fashioned way for a day or two until that bubble was popped today. Nurse called and said that bloodwork showed no signs of ovulating. So yep, yet again, stupid stupid body just doesn't want to cooperate. Stupid stupid stupid body. Stupid stupid stupid me for thinking that it might.

*****

Not that it's all negative in my world. On the contrary things are going well. I just don't feel like talking about it at the moment. Here's a pic that pretty much sums things up. Danny's playing with me while I'm taking his picture, grabbing the camera and making faces. I just love this kid.

that pesky nymph

2009-03-30T21:47:00.003-04:00

So we're just going to disregard that "I hate fertile people" post and carry on.

As apparently I'm getting back on the train to my next IVF sooner than I thought I would be. One of the wonder drugs that new RE prescribed, Plaquenil, was not meant to be. I developed a rash last Friday and it's been discontinued. As RE was wanting me to be on it for 6 weeks before we started the IVF, um, no need to wait for that anymore. I met with him today and he changed up my meds somewhat and gave me the referral number to the fancy clinic a few hours away where I will be doing my ER and ET. He will be doing my monitoring, but there are those two days, the timing of which, is an unknown and a bit of a stressor. (the whole, what to do with the kid, thing, you know). Although actually, maybe that's just one day, now that I'm thinking out loud. No need for Husband to be there for the embryo transfer, so no matter what time that is, he can be home with Danny. So there's really only one day to stress over. Since I always need something to stress about, that is...

My consult with the fancy clinic is next Wednesday and Husband is quite excited about having to do another semen analysis. Actually he didn't say anything, but I would imagine he's pretty excited. I can't imagine having to orgasm on command. Yes, yes, I know that women have it way worse in the whole IVF thing, but at least we don't have to, you know, perform under pressure. Just our follicles do, and they don't complain too much.

So my whole attitude here is, "let's get it over with." Not really feeling much optimism here. Which is confusing, as I'm not sure at what point I would have stopped trying before Danny was conceived. It's not like I'm done, I want another child. I'm not done. But I don't know. Maybe the shield that I've built around that fragile little Hope fairy is stronger now than it used to be. Hope used to walk around all vulnerable and fragile and airy, blowing around in the wind. This go round I've only caught brief glimpses of her and I can't say I can really describe her accurately.

two years ago today

2009-03-27T13:08:00.001-04:00

Happy birthday little man. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to know you.

the opinions stated here are purely my own, the network takes no responsibility

2009-03-26T20:05:00.004-04:00

So even as I'm opening this page up to write this, a pregnancy test commercial comes on. Thank you universe.

I hate fertile people. I really do. I don't wish them well. I don't mildly envy them. They all suck.

That is all.

snapshot

2009-03-19T22:08:00.003-04:00

I was thinking about tonight a few minutes ago and literally thought my heart would burst. So I'm getting this out in the interest of letting some of the emotions out of my already full cup.

I am the luckiest mom. I have this gorgeous, sweet child who grins at me each morning when I go into his room. ~ He selects food for his dinner (we eat together each night) that he then doesn't want, and I've finally figured out that he's selecting foods he thinks I want. He sees that I eat stuff that he's changed his mind about (usually a banana) and seems to have deduced that this is what I want. So when he selects stuff that's surprising, it's not because he wants to try it, it's because he wants me to have it. ~ He climbs up into a chair, and then pats the space next to him so that I come to sit next to him. ~ He snuggles into my lap each night for story time. ~ He cries when I'm the least bit late in the afternoons to pick him up from daycare, and I love to see his face transition from desolate to joy when he sees me coming. Of course he runs over towards me, and then keeps on running to whatever toy it is that he's running to. I merely represent relief, mom's here, all is well, I can continue on. And I'm okay with that and am honored that he feels secure in our relationship. A child is supposed to feel safe and secure and loved and when they do, they're more able to take risks, venture out on their own, etc. I feel like I'm doing a good job with him. There is no doubt in my mind that there is no doubt in his mind that he is absolutely loved by me.

So add to all that this little snapshot from tonight that I want to capture. We'd arrived home from daycare and I'd picked him up to carry him up the stairs. He usually walks up stairs on his own these days (with a helping hand for support) but these are concrete and a little tricky and I still prefer to carry him most days. I'm a pretty affectionate mom, and it's all I can do most of the time to resist the urge to kiss his head repeatedly when I'm holding him - I don't want him to ever think "ick, mom's smothering me." So as we're headed over to the stairs I gave in to the impulse to give him a big buss on the cheek. And he smiled and turned to me and said "more!" and gave me a big kiss on the lips. And then laughed, said "more" again and we kissed once more.

And then we carried on with the rest of the night.

But it's one of those perfect, gleaming memories - a spiderweb full of droplets of dew - and I want to capture it.

I like my poop fettered, please

2009-03-16T20:54:00.004-04:00

So we're in the tail end of the yeast infection fun. And what appears on the horizon, but pink eye. Yay! And close behind (ha), toilet training! Woo hoo!

All three I could probably handle separately, but all on the same night could have disastrous consequences. I've been letting Danny sleep without a diaper for the past week or so, and diligently applying the Lotrimin and hydrocortisone per the doctor's orders, and he seems to be doing better. As of last night he was able to sit in the bathtub again, although he's still cautious about it, well remembering how much it hurt before. [poor baby]

Today he apparently decided on our day off from school and work (thank you pink eye) that he wanted to start potty training. He'd tell me he had to go, we'd take his diaper off, sit him on the toilet, and nothing would come out (thankfully - I haven't figured out how to position him such that I don't get shot full in the face). Tonight he was saying "poo poo" and again nothing came of sitting on the toilet, so I'm really hoping that he doesn't poop in his sleep tonight. There are many things I'd like to, but have yet to experience. Unfettered poop is not on the list.

scumbucket

2009-03-11T21:38:00.003-04:00

Ever have one of those days where you feel like a worthless piece of garbage - you know, like the piece of gum that gets stuck on the bottom of your shoe, when you then proceed to walk through dirt and grit and dog poo and assorted other refuse and only realize the gum is there once one shoe is an inch higher than the other, what with all the gunk on the bottom of it? Me = gunk.

Nothing major. Just screwed something up at work, which totally is my fault, I totally dropped the ball, and in most instances if I do something similar it's no big deal. Someone blew something way out of proportion, however, and now I just look like a jerk. Which I am. (see gunk reference)

Added to which the fact that I can't figure out what's wrong with my kid. He's had these recurrent yeast infections since December and I just can't figure out why. It can't be dietary, since he eats the same blasted stuff every day. He eats plenty of yogurt too, which is supposed to help prevent yeast infections. Dr. Google is no real help on this. And pediatrician's office hasn't been especially helpful either.

All I know is that giving him a bath tonight just about killed me. Diaper changes are torture enough, as he sobs and wiggles away and basically lets me know that I'm causing him pain. [ouch] But tonight I prepared his bath with that Aveeno soothing bath stuff, lukewarm water, etc. and hoped that it would feel okay on the blazing red rash that wasn't there this morning. (where does this come from? argh!) Little man knew, though, he knew. As I reassured him that it wouldn't hurt to sit down in the water, oh, he knew. Big fat liar that I am. Big fat gunky liar. So we negotiated and I told him it was okay, he didn't have to sit down, I'd just use the washcloth to dab at a few parts in need (hello green fingerpainting project at daycare today). And God bless him, despite being told that he didn't have to, he sat down in the water anyway. Because he loves his mommy and wants to please her. (clearly not aware that she belongs on the bottom of someone's shoe)

Oh.

My poor little guy. Clearly sitting in the water was just as excruciating as he imagined it would be, so he stood up again sobbing and clinging to me for comfort. I patted him and apologized and soothed and when he was calm again, attempted to dab again at the green paint on his eyebrow.

And stick a knife through my heart, but he sat down in the water again. Still trying to please. And found out that yes, still excruciatingly painful.

Needless to say, the bath was brief and the green paint is now gone but my nerves are shot. Even putting the antifungal cream on him after the bath was horrible.

I hate that he's hurting and I don't know how to stop it or how to fix it. And that he's still nice to me after hurting him, and still good natured (once he's not being threatened with water or cream).

So, tonight's tally is:

deadbeat loser at work: check deadbeat failure at home: check

Really looking forward to tomorrow at work and having to continue to deal with esteem crushing issue again. Not that I'm melodramatic or blow things out of proportion or anything.

Lemmings

2009-03-05T10:45:00.001-05:00

Great. Missouri is now following Georgia's lead on the whole Octomom bill thing.

Eek.

I'm getting sorta kinda nervous here.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little

2009-03-04T20:49:00.002-05:00

I heard about this on the news this morning and of course it was talked about on my favorite fertility website today. Here's the shamelessly lifted summary:

The Georgia Senate Health & Human Services Committee will hold a hearing on two bills: SB 169 and SB 204 this Thursday, March 5, at 9:00 AM in Room 450 of the State Capitol. At the hearing, the committee will hear testimony on the bills. Georgia Reproductive Specialists along with other Atlanta fertility clinics, RESOLVE and the American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM) oppose both of the bills. The hearing is open to the public and you are encouraged to attend the hearing and send a letter to the Committee members before Thursday. To send a letter immediately, click here.

Senate Bill 169 would restrict doctors' ability to perform IVF in accordance with best medical standards. Here are the key provisions:

No more than 2 or 3 eggs could ever be fertilized in a cycle; if a woman produced more eggs, they still could not be used.
Only 2 embryos could ever be transferred to the uterus, unless the woman is age 40 or over (then a max of 3).
No extra embryos could be cryopreserved. If they are created, they have to be transferred.
No financial relief, such as insurance coverage, is proposed to help with the added financial burden of using less effective treatment. Patients will still have to pay out of pocket for less effective treatment.
Bans all financial compensation for donor gametes, such as egg donor, sperm donor, or embryo donation, which would reduce the pool of available donors in Georgia.

SB 204/HB388 is an embryo adoption bill. It would subject embryo donation to all the same provisions as required by law for adoption of a child. This would subject infertility patients needing an embryo donation to go through the judicial proceedings, home visits, and other procedures required for an adoption. We do not believe that such treatment is appropriate or needed for embryo donation.

Here's the long version of the bill. I blame octomom.

**********************

Also on the news this morning was some furor about some RE and designer IVF embryos. Again I blame octomom.

**********************

Big sigh. Makes me want to choke someone. I don't know how long it takes to make a bill a law (Schoolhouse Rock may have covered that but all I remember is the first part of the song), but had I stayed with RE #1 this definitely would have impacted me, as he's in Georgia. RE #2 isn't, but how long will it take for my state to piggyback on Georgia? So frustrating. Bill obviously written by someone who doesn't understand that IVF isn't a sure thing, that not every egg is fertilized, not every egg makes it to transfer, etc.

Sigh.

renovating the outside and the inside

2009-03-02T20:20:00.006-05:00

Is it any wonder that I'm a little cranky lately? In addition to the fun of continuing to digest new RE's plan and the fact that there is more wrong with me than what I'd previously known, I'm also contending with the results of Husband's love of watching HGTV. Must find a way to get that channel removed from our cable lineup. There is crap EVERYWHERE. Clutter on the outside always makes me feel cluttered inside, and believe me, there's enough crap inside already.

While I'm sure our kitchen will look beautiful once it's done, I'm not sure where my oven is at the moment (den maybe?), I can only step on every other tile, and our house is a death trap for Danny full of "stop! don't step there!" and "no! don't touch that!" Fortunately he is sufficiently enthralled with the contractor's enormous vacuum and tools to overlook all the fun he's not being allowed to have (i.e. climb the contractor's ladder, step on nails, etc.). He's also being heavily bribed with bubbles in the bathtub. The boy is seriously kooky for bubbles.

Still digesting RE visit and very much appreciating the comments. Sometimes it's hard to see things clearly from within, so it helps to be reminded of some things. Yes, it is depressing to need ART, and yes, it is a lot of information to digest. I guess my defenses are so well trained that I go into denial pretty quickly, so I'm already trying to forget RE visit, ever needing IVF, upcoming IVF, etc. I'm trying to focus instead on getting my body healthy, getting my diet back on track, exercising every day, etc. I'm not positive, but I would imagine that my body worked better back in the old days because I ate very cleanly - good proteins, clean carbs, veggies, etc. and exercised daily. New RE is aware that I exercise and eat okay now, but he did remind me that these are especially helpful in ladies with IR, so keep it up. Yes sir.

Meanwhile, Danny's going to be two this month. Crazy. How can I look at him and not want another? How can I even contemplate giving up? I am, and I'm not. I guess we'll see.

6 more weeks to drink heavily and indulge in that crack habit

2009-02-27T20:30:00.003-05:00

I mulled about this for the afternoon part of the day and only about an hour ago realized what was needed to help. Wine, of course. :)

My RE meeting today was like a school lecture. Full of stuff that occasionally flew over my head, I felt the pressure to focus and concentrate and be able to answer questions and be able to demonstrate that I was smart and understood stuff. Meanwhile, time moved very slowly.

He sat down at his desk. Contemplated my folder before him. Carefully opened it and flipped through his notes. Explained that he'd re-read things early this morning, but needed a re-read. Also that he was reviewing what he'd like to photocopy for me so that we could review things forever. Calmly continued reading.

I focused on sitting calmly and not jumping up screaming, "just get on with it already!" Distracted myself by comparing this RE's desk with old RE. Old RE had a desk that was monstrous, took up most of his office, and created considerable distance between him and his patient, as he insisted on conducting meetings from behind it. New RE's desk is much less phallic. Normal desk sized. Not so intimidating. His office is full of pictures of his children, versus a wall of fame of kids created.

Anyway. I'll summarize and see if I can't figure things out while I type.

I ended up with none of the options that I stressed over last night.

Apparently there is a wide variety of things that can be wrong with you to explain infertility. While I have no major things wrong with me, I have a few minor things that apparently all add up to my inability to ovulate, much less get pregnant.

1. Low estrogen level. My number was 24.18. Normal estrogen levels (per Dr. Google) are 50-400. Low estrogen means I don't ovulate, which means I don't have a period, which means my normal levels of testosterone are not balanced out and hence the annoying facial hair thing. Low estrogen also means that in order to get pregnant I'll need supplementation (yeah, knew that). But also that for the foreseeable future, when I'm not trying to get pregnant, I'll need to be on hormone replacement therapy, as low estrogen puts me at risk for osteoporosis, cancer related to my body not menstruating and shedding endometrial lining each month. So, birth control pills, or HRT.

2. I'm apparently also insulin resistant. Old RE had declared that he knew from looking at me that I was not IR. (New RE pointed out that you cannot diagnose someone from looking at them. And while I'm "thin", I'm still at risk.) Among other things, this also affects my ability to ovulate.

3. I have two genetic mutations in the MTHFR family - CG77t and AI298C. These are associated with elevated homocystinen (something to do with amino acids and folic acids) and has been found to be associated with miscarriage, placenta problems, heart disease, stroke, etc. Husband has one of these mutations, and while it's fairly common and has no health consequences in men, apparently the two of us having it together is not ideal.

4. My immune system isn't fantastic. I had three "bad" numbers on the Reproductive Immunophenotype (RIP). Something to do with antibodies, lymphocytic function, associated with reproductive failure.

5. Analysis of Danny's placenta showed "extensive laminar necrosis" - that the cells of the placenta were dying and "mildly increased synctial knotting" that the cells were trying to compensate. Something about diagnosis of "severe preeclampsia" was disconcerting, although I guess me needing to be give birth less than 24 hours after being diagnosed should have been a clue. So I clearly have issues with blood flow stuff and am at high risk of having preeclampsia again if I get pregnant again.

6. Review of tissue from my biopsy showed a high level of white blood cells. Again, something to do with my immune system.

Some things weren't bad. My thyroid and pituitary gland are fine. My follicles had some action going on, even though clearly nothing was ever going to come to fruition.

The plan is what is making me drink wine at this point. I'll be going back on metformin to address the insulin resistance. And I'll be taking metanx to address the homocysteine stuff (the MHTFR stuff, I think). Along with the other supplement with the magnesium and other stuff in it that I take twice a day. And next week sometime I'll be taking Plaquenil to address the immune system stuff. He wants me to be on all of that for about 6 weeks before starting IVF #3.

So, no. I will not be one of those patients for whom he prescribes something simple, boom, they're fixed and get pregnant on their own. I've got another IVF in my future. And not until May probably.

I don't know why that thought makes me so sad, and two glasses of wine later, still don't know. Could be because I somehow, unbeknownst to me, still harbored the hope that this RE could find the one thing wrong with me, fix it, and I'd be fixed for good. Or because I dread the scheduling nightmare that comes with having to have an ER and ET in a city a little over two hours away, when I have a toddler that I'm the primary caretaker for, and no family or friends really to help out. I guess we'll figure something out, but it still sucks.

I even had the thought this afternoon, that if IVF #3 doesn't work, I just may be done. Wouldn't have thought I'd quit this easily. And maybe once I get back in the swing of it, I'll feel differently. RE pointed out today that even if I had cycled with old RE with my own eggs, or even donor eggs, I may not have gotten pregnant just because of all the stuff I've got going on that essentially work against me getting pregnant.

I don't know why I feel so defeated. He's found some things wrong with me, which is what I wanted. He has a plan. That's what I wanted. So why do I feel depressed?

obsession

2009-02-26T20:00:00.002-05:00

Nope, not thinking constantly about tomorrow at all.

I wish I knew why I did this to myself. I was lecturing one of my clients, oh, just yesterday, about how we're in charge of our thoughts, it's not what happens to us but how we react to it, and all that other really useful nonsense. I believe there's a really (annoying) good quote that's on point - those who can't do, teach.

Maybe I should make a top 10 list of all the things I'm afraid of happening tomorrow. Maybe if I throw it out there, it'll help my brain be a little less overflowing with all the insanity.

1. RE reviews all my test results, declares that there's no reason why my body doesn't ovulate or get pregnant with IVF, and that if I'd like to try IVF again, that's fine. Fast forward to IVF #3. Unsuccessful again. No baby.

2. RE reviews test results, says I have a minor thyroid imbalance, prescribes something, I start ovulating. Have periods month after month after month. No baby.

3. RE reviews testing, no thyroid problems but he has a theory about my endometrium issues, he has me continue taking the vitamins I'm currently taking. Periods month after month after month. No baby.

4. RE reviews testing, has found a few things wrong with me, prescribes a bunch of things. No periods. No baby.

5. RE reviews testing, few things wrong, bunch of things prescribed. Period after period after period. No baby.

6. RE reviews testing, nothing significant wrong, just diminished ovarian reserve and old age. Tries DHEA and other things. Never end up with a baby.

See a theme here?

There are also the alternatives which include me getting pregnant with twins or more and a) having more kids than I have hands and being completely outnumbered or b) having to discuss selective reduction versus being the "new Octomom" and subject of internet scorn and general media scrutiny and irritation.

on why Hollywood should consult me before making reproductive decisions

2009-02-23T12:04:00.002-05:00

Disclaimer: I am very aware that I am being irrational and that I'm just nervous about RE appointment on Friday. That being said...

Seriously? Again? Can you stop rubbing your young, fertile, working ovaries in my face already?

Being said, of course, to Nicole Ritchie.

I get the whole "oops I'm pregnant" thing as far as her first kid and have forgiven her for it, but now I feel like she's just doing it on purpose to piss me off. Yes, me, someone she doesn't even know exists. Her being pregnant has nothing to do with her desire to have a second child, loving being a mom, or any other positive and perfectly reasonable reasons to be pregnant again. Who knows, it may have even taken her a month or two of frustrated trying to actually get pregnant this time. I should feel happy for her after all that she's suffered.

But I don't. It's just pissing me off. It's not fair. No one on this planet should be allowed to get pregnant until I do.

So there. I've said it. You know just how terible I am. I don't appreciate the child I have. I don't appreciate the fact that I already have a child when lots of people don't. I don't appreciate how good I've got it. I am a greedy, unappreciative dolt who should have started trying to have kids at a younger age when her parts worked and who should stop blaming the universe and being mad at other people just because they had/ve sense enough to have kids when they were younger.

And as long as I'm being honest. To you, annoying coworker:

Yes, yes, I've heard you say a billion times that it took you 4 years of trying to conceive your son. What does trying mean, you say? Well, not being on birth control and randomly having sex. Look, lady, you have by no means earned your merit badge here. No charting was done, no consulting your OB, no nothing, just hanging out boinking your husband. Don't talk to me about your pain missy. No one on this planet has suffered the way I have!

Okay, maybe that last part was overkill. Said in the same fashion as when one says petulantly to one's parents, "but you don't love me like (insert sibling name). In fact, you've never loved me!"

****

On a completely unrelated, and much less irrational note, I feel it only fair to warn others that I may not be around much in the future. Danny and I are in the process of booking our whirlwind stage tour, sure to rival the Von Trapp family singers in cuteness. He and I were taking a walk yesterday and I was just randomly singing the "Winnie the Pooh" song (not sure if that's the official title) and as I was singing "Winnie the..." this small voice beside me said "pooh!" much to my surprise. I continued singing, to see if the miracle would happen again, and sure enough, "pooh" emerged from his cherubic mouth right on cue. Wonder of wonders! Adding to our repertoire is "Old McDonald", although we're still working on that one. When I pause after "Old McDonald had a farm, eeieeioh, and on his farm he had a ..." well, Old McDonald seems to have a farm populated solely by puppies. Every single time, Old McDonald had a puppy. In Danny's defense, maybe it is a puppy farm. I don't recall the story ever having puppy as an option, I always thought there were sheep and cows and the like, but this is a new age, so maybe it's a purely puppy farm.

Coming soon to a stage near you, Danny and mom and their repertoire of two songs.

(unless mom is rightfully stoned to death by fellow infertiles for being a twit)...

sad

2009-02-20T19:50:00.002-05:00

Sad here.

Surprisingly. I thought I'd be so relieved and excited to finally get the scaffolding out of my nose, but the headache that has tormented me off and on the past few days is still sticking near. ENT doctor told me to take Advil and call her on Monday if it's not gone, so I'm a little nervous that all is not well in there and that I'm not done. I'd really like to just feel well for a few days. It's making me depressed to feel physically bad. Truly, two sharp metal spikes through the temples would be less painful than what I've got going on.

Or maybe it's just the baby news coming at me from all sides. There's the "Octo-mom", about whom I refuse to give any blog space because she pisses me off too much. Plus all the "implanted" instead of "transferred" references are making me a homicidal.

But I guess it's time for all the people who had babies around when I had Danny, to start on number two. So I'm hearing a lot of TTC stories, as well, as "we're expecting" stories. And yes, I'm bummed and jealous and a whole host of other emotions. I guess I'm just sad in advance of RE appointment next week. I'm just really thinking that he's going to have found nothing wrong with me, tell me there's no reason why I can't get pregnant (besides the not ovulating thing), and as such, offer me no real hope. Sigh.

nightmares

2009-02-16T20:54:00.003-05:00

Only 4 more days until these godawful plastic instruments of torture are removed from my nose. Not that I'm counting down the seconds or anything. I can't wait until tomorrow at work where I'll be expected to be empathic and productive and useful, all while trying to not take Vicodin to address the throbbing pain in my nose and teeth and head. Urgh. Sinus surgery is not for wimps.

Meanwhile, what is up with the bad dreams? I think I had a few while pregnant - the ones where my anxieties about the pregnancy led to fun dreams of me killing the child, et cetera, et cetera. Since then I've only had a few especially delightful ones involving me dropping Danny over a balcony and other exciting feats of matracide. Last night's latest installment actually didn't involve me doing the actual killing and instead I got to save his life, and yet the guilt was still there. In this one Danny was somehow in a bathtub playing with some older kids, and they decided to pile on top of him and hold him underwater. Somehow I sensed this and raced into the bathroom (perhaps tossing some kids off of him - not sure I cared about others' safety when my own kids' life was at stake). And I pounded his back until the water came back out of him and he gasped for air, as help arrived. But as I ran with him I was trying to scream for help and barely a whisper came out.

This is what always happens in my nightmares (even the non-Danny ones) - I'm trying to scream and nothing comes out. I woke myself up early this morning trying to scream for help for Danny, feeling so helpless and infuriated that I couldn't manage to make any noise.

Maybe the dream is related to what I've recently realized is a sense of futility that I have in terms of ever being able to have another child. Something in me seems to have given up, feels that despite having a new doctor, it'll just never happen for me and I've resigned myself to it. Maybe the helplessness is the theme of the Danny nightmare. At least he got to live through this one. I suppose I should be happy for that, and yet I'm still sad. I'd really love to have solo nightmares. I hate that he has to be involved in them.

undermedicated. woe is me.

2009-02-14T10:14:00.004-05:00

Oh. My. God.

Sinus surgery is no joke. I was woefully misguided in thinking that at this point I'd be feeling better and doing stuff.

Wednesday was the surgery. Spent the remainder of the day wishing for a hammer to brain myself with and thus end the pain. Husband's helpful comment: "But you knew you were going to be in pain, right?"

Thursday - refer to Wednesday. Most of the day spent sleeping in a drool fest inspired by hydrocodone.

Friday. More of the same, with fun visit to doctor where she pulled my brains out through my nose. Or as she referred to it, "removing the packing" from my nose. Another fun filled visit scheduled for next week where she removes the splints from my nose.

Saturday. Looking gorgeous. Still wishing for a hammer. Drug supply is running low. Am supposed to be home all day with Danny on Monday but no longer sure I can do it. Will start looking for babysitter's phone number once this dose of hydrocodone wears off and I can see straight. Can't wait to read this later and count misspellingsss.

2ww

2009-02-10T20:17:00.004-05:00

Amazingly enough, I find myself yet again in the infamous, dreaded, "two week wait."

Miracles do happen! You too can have defective girl bits, not ovulate, not chart your every daily temp and have the fun enjoyed by so many FF ladies of counting the days until "test day."

Or, in my case, until yet another consult with new RE.

They called today to schedule a consult, at which new RE will discuss my test results. With only the trace of a whine in my voice, I asked politely (well, or maybe not) if they could please tell me something, anything, now, as opposed to making me wait 17 more days to find out just what, if anything, is wrong with me. Instead, I was offered two earlier appointments which I can't do.

So I have to wait 17 more days. Nice nurse explained that RE is very thorough, likes to go over all the results, give copies of results, etc. and really prefers to do this in person. That if something major were found they'd have scheduled me ASAP and rescheduled someone else.

Meaning that I apparently do not have a tumor. Not that I thought I did, but at least that would have gotten me in sooner and eliminated the stress of waiting.

I mentally stuck my lower lip out and stamped my feet when given this news. Now that I've been given the idea that there's maybe something wrong with me that's treatable, I'd very much like to find out what exactly it is (so that I can begin googling). Or if there actually is nothing wrong with me besides age and defective parts, and I can begin grieving for the child I will not have.

A/X Anon meeting scheduled at my house

2009-02-09T12:32:00.003-05:00

Okay, MRI is done and I'm thinking new RE should have results by now. I'm in that lovely phase of waiting for the phone to ring. Not nearly as much fun as the "waiting for the phone to ring" time that I enjoyed while waiting for my last negative beta. Woo hoo.

I have sinus surgery on Wednesday, so I'm really looking forward to being on lots of lovely drugs for a few days as I heal. If I haven't heard from RE by then, I can always use my time on the couch to call and ask for results. As their last contact with me was while I was high on drugs, it should be no surprise to talk to me later on this week while I'm high on drugs. :)

Still embarrassed here at the joke I told while in the stirrups. And by my rambling on and on to the nurse about how much I enjoyed being high. As I believe I explained to her then, I have essentially no vices, so I really enjoy the legal escapes from reality that egg retrievals, biopsies, etc. provide. They may include a referral to Anaesthesia/Xanax Anon in their recommendations as to whether I'll ever be able to get pregnant again.

Oh, and I know that I really should let go, that this man doesn't deserve any more of my time or energy, but I'm still mildly annoyed. When I called to cancel my IVF with old RE, the (un) friendly nurse that took my call never even asked why, just got my chart, said "okay" and ended the call. No questions, no sympathetic or questioning noises, just apathy. Probably all that I could have expected from them. And new RE wonders why I like the mind-numbing drugs so much?

three "urghs" and lots of whining - may want to skip this one!

2009-02-04T20:03:00.003-05:00

Maybe I've glossed right through it, but I don't think I hear many complaints from us fertility-challenged women about the time thing. How much work time is lost because of appointment after appointment after appointment.

I'm currently stressing, uselessly, about tomorrow's appointment. In my happy haze on Monday after the endo-biopsy, I mentioned to my RE's nurse that I have sinus surgery next week and they said "ack - you need your MRI before that happens!" So they scheduled me for it tomorrow. It's not like protesting would do any good, so my happy little self wrote it in my appointment book and said oh no, it's fine, I'll work it out.

RE's office apparently gave the MRI people my home number, so I got home today to two messages from the hospital people asking me to call them back about stuff they need from me prior to tomorrow's MRI, and one message reminded me that I need to be there at 8. Um, RE's office told me 9. MRI is scheduled for 9:30. Daycare doesn't open till 8, so getting to the hospital by 9 is stretching it (as in, there's no way I'll be on time unless my car grows wings overnight). I guess I'll just get there at 9 (ish) and deal with the repurcussions. I don't have any choice. Hopefully it'll work out and they'll still scan me, because there's absolutely no way I can get this done any other day than tomorrow.

But (whine to follow) this just sucks. Monday I was off from work the entire day because of the biopsy. Tuesday I actually worked a full day. Had to take time off today for a haircut (yes, no sympathy here, but she doesn't work on weekends and a girl's gotta get her hair done). Tomorrow I'll miss more time from work due to stupid MRI. Am missing three whole days next week because of stupid sinus surgery.

It's just bad timing that I've got stupid sinus stuff going on at the same time as RE stuff but it stresses me out. I have a hard enough time getting everything done at work as it is, without missing at least one day a week from work lately. Urgh. Plus it's just awkward to keep asking for time off. Urgh.

Meanwhile I called RE's office today and asked the secretary to apologize to the nurse and RE for me. She was nice but dismissive, said she's sure they hear wild stuff all the time. So now I feel not only embarrassed for being such a dork on Monday, but I feel embarrassed for calling when it probably was no big deal. Urgh.

someone should have just said "shh!"

2009-02-03T20:31:00.003-05:00

Ugh.

That sound describes yesterday, my endometrium biopsy (endometrial?). Nope, not the procedure itself. That wasn't too bad, relatively speaking. With all the action that your nether regions get during an IVF cycle or the prep stuff leading up to the cycle, this wasn't too bad.

The "ugh" refers to this morning. When memories of yesterday came rushing back to me. Apparently along with the Xanax and Demerol, new RE should have prescribed a muzzle as well.

It was today when I remembered all the goofy and embarrassing things I said while under the influence. I'm still cringing at the joke I shared with the RE and his nurse while I was in the stirrups. Why that time inspired me to tell jokes is beyond me and all I can do is blame it on the drugs. Oy. Must call and apologize to them.

big deal? no big deal?

2009-01-28T11:36:00.003-05:00

So... the test results are trickling in, according to new RE's office. Spoke with the nurse yesterday, and yes, I did test positive for the MTHFR gene (which always makes me giggle - apparently I am a 12 year old boy at heart - just looks too much like "mother fucker").

According to Dr. Google, this mutation can lead to miscarriage, pre-eclampsia, blood flow issues, etc. One article says it's not a proven big deal no big deal. Another article says it is kind of a big deal ... big deal .

I have no opinion yet. Am just waiting to get all the results in and see what new RE recommends.

wow

2009-01-20T20:35:00.003-05:00

Okay, I'm mentally exhausted and physically hungry, so this will be cut and pasted from the FF board (where probably no one will read it, oh well). Our house is undergoing renovations and there is white dust and chaos everywhere and I'm worn out from dreading this RE appointment this morning for the past 2 weeks, as well as undergoing the actual experience. Here's the summary I posted on FF...

"We started our TTC journey in 2005. I had no period coming off bcp and was eventually diagnosed PCOS, non IR. Did metformin, went off it. 3 trials of Clomid. 3 of Femara. 1 lap which found nothing. 2 IUIs and one (successful) IVF. Enjoyed being a mom for a while, started TTC again. 2 trials of Clomid and 1 (unsuccessful) IVF.

RE #1 has always diagnosed me as simply anovulatory and old. Poor egg quality. Agreed to do one more IVF with me but felt chances of success were low due to my age (38 ) and egg quality, that he'd corrected for all he could correct for (as in, inducing ovulation, IVF and ICSI). Donor eggs were discussed.

Met with (my new) RE today and his approach is completely different. He explained that he sees infertility as a symptom of a problem, not the problem. He's reviewed what bloodwork and other stuff my other RE had done and it seems as if not everything was ruled out. New RE reviewed my *entire* reproductive history (something old RE never explored) as well as my pregnancy and pregnancy complications (pre-eclampsia) and even reviewed the testing that was done on my son's placenta. He feels that there may be an underlying thyroid or pituitary gland (one of those - lots of info to absorb and may have gotten some parts wrong) problem that is why I don't ovulate. He also discussed in detail his theories on the quality of the endometrium as a factor in me not getting pregnant. He explained that American doctors generally dismiss theories about endometrium quality, but that British doctors are much more attentive to this. New RE feels that when there are issues with the blood flow to the endometrium, it affects implantation, it affects the placenta, it leads to pre-eclampsia, etc.

Again with the blood flow thoughts, he feels that if the blood flow and all the electrical impulses that generate all our unconscious functions (breathing, ovulating, etc.) are out of whack, that also affects the ability to get pregnant. He discussed magnesium as a way of correcting this balance - something about the hypothalamus (or is it pituitary gland?).

He explained that Clomid, IVF, etc. can correct some of the issues and lead to pregnancy, but never address the actual underlying problem. His focus is on overall health of his patient, not just getting people pregnant and pushing them out the door. He pointed out that just as one example, pre-eclampsia has been linked to health problems later on in life, like heart disease, and that a good doctor will make their patient aware (neither RE #1 or my OB ever mentioned this). He also extensively reviewed the testing done on my son's placenta and told me that the placenta was actually flawed (eek), and that we're actually very lucky that my son was born healthy and (almost) term. He feels this is more evidence of a problem with my endometrium. So he plans to do some more extensive testing on the placenta cells, as well as an endometrial biopsy to explore this.

He also plans to do some very extensive blood work on me and either rule some of these things out or rule them in. (Old RE never ran anything beyond general TSH levels once and Estradiol levels during the IVF cycles - never FSH, never redid TSH). He cited several cases of patients of his that had an underlying issue that was never caught, he prescribed something very mild and they became pregnant on their own.

My point being (I think I have one, that is) is that I'm now very annoyed at my first RE for never bothering to explore what was behind me being anovulatory. There may actually be an explanation for my fertility issues, I may have an underlying condition that has never been diagnosed, and that hopes of me having another child are not completely gone, as RE #1 had me thinking.

I don't know how other REs work. I trusted my first RE and thought that he'd done all the testing and everything that needed to be done. When I got pregnant with my son, I took that as a sign that he was a good doctor. Maybe this new RE is just blowing smoke, maybe he won't find anything wrong, maybe I won't ever get pregnant. But I appreciate, at least, the thought that he is being thorough. And I really like the thought that infertility is a symptom of a problem, not the problem."

Pretty long, I know. And it may sound like a lot of hocus pocus... blood flow and all that. But it makes sense, and I have no problem with thinking outside of the box, which is what the new RE believes in. Old RE was so very black and white. Pump me up full of drugs, introduce sperm and eggs, and see if I get pregnant. If not, then oh well.

******

Meanwhile, the part that sticks with me, and I think hit Husband hard today too, was the news about Danny's placenta. New RE explained that the placenta was too thick, the weight was wrong (too heavy? too light? - can't remember) for Danny's weight. And that the umbilical cord was not in the typical, proper place. Normally the cord is in the center of the placenta. Danny's was more to the side. None of which was able to be seen in all of the ultrasounds that were done during my pregnancy. So we are very very lucky that Danny was born healthy, or at all. RE cites this as proof that I most likely have endometrium issues, and if they're not addressed, I'm highly likely to have this problem again if I get pregnant again. Knowing how awful that night was for Husband, the night before Danny's birth, I'd really like to avoid that again. It was a long long night, where he sat there awake all night at my side, as I was hooked up to monitors, monitoring my pressure, Danny's heartbeat, alarms going off all night as one or both of us dipped into the danger range. Wondering if they were going to have to do an emergency C-section. Wondering if there would still be three of us come morning. Husband says that night took 10 years off his life.

It took me most of the day to feel a little less unsettled about this news. I almost wish I didn't know this now. No, we didn't lose him, I keep telling myself. But the other voice reminds me - we could have. He could have died. We could have lost him. I can't imagine my life without this child and it's staggering to consider all of the ramifications of what we were told today. Yes, yes, I know. He's here and he's fine. RE said today that he is constantly amazed at a baby's ability to survive in situations where it shouldn't. But still...

****

Anyway, I go in to get some bloodwork done tomorrow morning. I have an endometrial biopsy scheduled for February 2. We'll see what comes up.

And now I really have to go eat something.

typing under the influence

2009-01-16T20:07:00.003-05:00

So, um, my diet plan insists that every meal include a protein and carbohydrate. Do you think that two glasses of wine and a protein bar qualify?

This has just been a really good week. I'm hoping that this week precludes a good next week, as next week is the (dum dum da dum) meeting with the new RE. Tuesday morning at 10, to be exact. In case I haven't mentioned it, oh, about a thousand times before, I'm really hoping he has something optimistic to say, I can fire RE #1 and emerge from all of this with a baby I'm related to.

Meanwhile I met with an ENT at the beginning of the week and I'm back on drugs again. Is this 5 or 6 rounds of antibiotics I've been on since October? Apparently I have a deviated septum, on top of other things, so sinus surgery may be in my future. Woo hoo.

Anyway, back to the thoughts of what a cool week this has been. I know I say it all the time, but seriously, I am the luckiest woman on the planet. Not only do I love my kid, but I really really like him too (and that's not just the wine talking). He's so much fun, and so sweet. Tonight I asked him for a hug, and got the arms outstretched (he doesn't have the position right, but the general idea will do) and even got a "mwah!" pretend kiss. (Don't know who taught him that, but have to thank them). He's picking up even more words and venturing ever so slowly more into two word sentences. More as in "hi" and "bye bye" to certain things, but he'll repeat phrases when we ask him to ("go Steelers!" and "hi mommy") this week.

And for the moment, I feel like I understand him (the majority of the time). I get it when he's frustrated about something, and can usually figure out what it is. I'm okay with reading the same book two or three times in a row, because it's fun for me too. He understands what I'm asking of him most of the time, knows our routine and we usually don't have battles about things (for example, I've learned to pad our time, so that taking 5 extra minutes in the mornings to allow him to dawdle doesn't make me crazy). We did have a conflict of interests over eating Cheezits for breakfast the other day, but that doesn't count.

Husband misses out on all this, with being on the road all week. But I summarize our day for him each night, and relate the anecdotes, and it's fun that he's just as excited by all of the changes as I am. Coworkers, friends, etc. will never be as interested in your kid as you are, and it's nice to have someone else who is. He expressed just the right amount of excitement the other day when I called him to tell him that Danny had said his first sentence ("bye bye puppy"). And he laughed just as hard as me this afternoon when I described the scene I was met with this morning. It's been colder lately, so I put Danny in footed pajamas last night, and he was not pleased with those at all. Did Not Love the footed part. So I walked in his room this morning and there he was, laying on his back, feet propped up on the walls of his crib, just staring at his feet. ("What the heck is on my feet? And why? And how can I get them off???")

Contented (slightly drunken) sigh. Life is good. Let's hope the good stuff and news continues...

yum

2009-01-12T21:11:00.002-05:00

Tonight after our customary snuggle, I put Danny in his crib and whispered all the things that parents all over the world do - you know "sleep tight", "I love you", etc. He smiled at me as he lay there and reached up his hand. I reached back to him and took his tiny little paw in mine. We held hands for a second or two, and then he was done, rolled over onto his side and I left his room.

It was a simply delicious moment.

Honestly, can it get any better than this?

decisions, decisions

2009-01-08T19:45:00.004-05:00

I've been waiting to see if something inspired comes to mind to sum up my consult the other day, and nothing has popped in, so here goes. In the interest of being current, versus sounding intelligent.

Met with nurse of RE #2 on Tuesday. Was already feeling conflicted, as I'd talked to nice nurse from RE #1's office the day before, and I felt as if I was committing infidelity, maybe I'm being unfair to RE #1, maybe he really isn't a dickhead, etc.

Felt teary just getting off the elevator to walk down the hall to the doctor's office. Obviously a Pavlovian response to meeting with a RE.

And then I walked into the clinic, and I swear that it was subtle, but I heard that angelic harp music in the background, usually confined to cheesy commercials about a brand new fantastic kind of butter, or something along those lines. The receptionist greeted me warmly, as did the nurse, and off we went with our initial consult. She reviewed the (million) forms I'd filled out, along with my (yes, I am that patient) typed up summary of my IVF protocols and responses and set about trying to get an understanding of my history and when things started to go wonky. [Already a more thorough conversation than I'd ever had with RE #1] She reviewed my IVF protocols and responses, and said that she didn't actually think they were bad at all. Basically she said that it's difficult to know exactly what my ovarian situation is until they get my results back from the labs, etc. But she explained that RE #2 is one of those kinds of REs who thinks a little more outside of the box, and said that they have used DHEA and something else (darn that non-photographic memory) with moderate success to help with egg quality (RE #1 says that stuff is crap and worthless). She also said that I'm not actually all that ancient, and that I'm right in the range of the women they traditionally work with. We reviewed the clinic stats, etc. which are good (and impossible to compare to RE #1 since last stats he had published were in 2004, and he obviously feels he's too superior to report to SART and instead reports directly to the CDC). She asked about tests RE #1 has or has not done on me, and there are a few that haven't been done, and some I simply don't know, as he's not the kind of a RE to keep a patient in the loop. She also explored the PCOS issue a bit with me and helped me understand it a bit more. She explained that PCOS simply refers to the cysts on the ovaries, and that there may be an underlying hormonal issue going on with me explaining the lack of ovulation, the (incredibly) embarrassing hair growth on my face and the (mortifying) chin hairs that have gotten exponentially worse over the past year or two. So my impression is that there are things that have not yet been addressed, that may or may not contribute to my fertility issues.

I asked her questions that I knew I shouldn't have asked, that she can't possibly answer. Namely, why is RE #1 so discouraging in working with my own eggs? Is it really hopeless? Should I cancel my cycle with RE #1 and work with them instead?

She was kind and warm and for the first time ever, I left a RE's office feeling positive and almost, even, optimistic. She didn't (and couldn't have) answers to my questions about why my RE is so pessimistic, other than maybe he worries about stats, maybe it's because donor eggs are so much more lucrative, maybe... who knows.

Husband feels that we should go ahead and cycle with RE #1 and when it doesn't work, cycle with RE #2, since this cycle is just around the corner, and I probably could not get in that quick with RE #2. He also helpfully points out that it may be a good idea to wait until my actual meeting with RE #2 on the 20th before I decide anything. See what he says, see what he's learned from reviewing my results, and then decide.

But because it's what I specialize in, I'm worrying. The day I meet with RE #2 is the day I'm supposed to start my prometrium to bring on my period, so that I can start birth control pills for (unsuccessful) IVF #3. If RE #2 wanted to do any testing or anything on me, it's going to have to wait until (unsuccessful) IVF #3. And there's the issue that my insurance only pays for one more IVF. Should I waste that on (unsuccessful) IVF #3 with the dickhead?

Urgh. Husband is probably right. I should wait until I talk with RE #2 before I decide anything. But urgh.

luck and answers

2009-01-05T20:01:00.004-05:00

Okay, am finally well again, after round #65 of antibiotics. I have an appointment with an ENT next week because clearly something is wrong in my upper regions. I don't appear to have mere colds these days - it's one day of sneezing and congestion and the next day I have a sinus infection and even my hair hurts. Having a sinus infection for more than two months is the point at which I cry "uncle" ...

The nether regions have their own appointment tomorrow, as tomorrow is part 1 of consult with new RE. Tomorrow I just meet with the nurse and review my history, sign releases of information (both REs practice in the same building, so RE #2 can get my bloodwork, results from my lap three years ago, and I can provide him the dosing and other things from my two IVF's). I meet with the actual RE two weeks from now.

I'm feeling a little conflicted now and feel as if I'm cheating on RE #1. It's the old, "the devil you know is worse than the one you don't" philosophy. I talked to the way cool nurse Jan from RE #1's office today to schedule IVF #3, and she was so cool and nice that I started feeling guilty for going behind their backs to meet with RE #2. I'll start stims at the end of February and have retrieval the beginning of March and I'm just confused. Should I go ahead with this IVF and wait for it to fail before trying whatever (if anything) RE #2 recommends? My insurance covers one more IVF and we'll be using savings to cover whatever comes next. I just don't know. Urgh. I hate ambiguity!

Meanwhile, things are very good in the kingdom. Christmas was very very good. Husband and I were bickering up until Christmas Eve, but in a stroke of maturity, I offered the olive branch and Husband took it and things went very well from there. In the old days neither of those events would have happened, so life past separation/moving out is much improved.

Danny is simply fantastic these days. He is much more a little person than toddler (most of the time) and as such is much more fun to hang out with. He is curious and patient and persistent and much more easygoing than either Husband or myself. He has the personality I'd like to think I have, although it's still just the one I strive for.

His speech has taken off and he continues to add new words to his vocabulary. He's even doing sentences (two words), in the form of needing to say bye to things and people when he leaves the room. It's beyond adorable to see him saying goodbye to his stuffed animals, toy vacuum, his shoes, my shoes, etc. And it's mesmerizing to watch him absorb concepts - he points out familiar objects in unfamiliar settings - balls, bears, puppies, etc. And to see him imitate us, and to try to figure out how things work, and to try to be a big boy and do things himself. He's alternately fiercely independent and needs his mom, which is just how I like it. :)

So I'm putting along, taking it a day at a time. As I am (for the moment) reasonably illness and infection-free, I'm back on the healthy bandwagon and have begun a new diet and exercise program (Body for Life) in hopes of being my healthiest before I get pregnant again (which will happen, with either my own or donor eggs, no matter what) and having a healthier and more active pregnancy than I did last time. Last time I was too nervous to exercise much, and took forever after giving birth to get active again. Beyond that, I just feel icky. Five days into the program I'm already feeling healthier and have more energy and am feeling more in control of things. Hopefully I'll stick with it this time. I'd really hate to feel as uncomfortable in a bathing suit again this year as I did last year...

Now I'm off to fill out the paperwork before my appointment tomorrow. Wish me luck and answers.

pics and a little text

2008-12-29T20:16:00.008-05:00

Okay, I must confess that I am clueless. Well, that is already well established if you read this blog regularly, but I have no idea what "L & F" or "LFCA" is. I've had a few fabulous women delurk and say that they found me there, and I have no idea where either of those magical places are. If you wouldn't mind leaving bread crumbs out so I can follow the trail there, I'd love it. In the meantime, I'm loving having all of your blogs to read. :)

Anyway, this will be quick. After round #3 of antibiotics to beat this really tenacious sinus infection (tenacious as in, think kudzu), I think I'm getting sick again! Seriously, I'm thinking that euthenasia is going to be the next thing my doctor recommends.

I'll write about Christmas when I'm not thinking more about bed. But suffice it to say that it went fairly well, Danny and I both got way more presents than we deserve, and I have a consult with a different RE's office next week.

In the meantime, here are some pics (taken with my new camera - woo hoo!).

RE consult revisited (aka lots o snot and tears)

2008-12-22T20:13:00.002-05:00

It's taken me a few days to be calm enough to even consider writing this post.

I met with my RE this past Friday and clearly my intuition was dead on as far as feeling that I needed to have arguments prepared as to why I should be permitted to continue trying for a baby. RE was in a good mood... there were no patients scheduled for the day, their Christmas party was shortly after my consult, he'd sent the previous client off crying. (In hindsight, when I went to the potty in the lobby before entering RE's office, I should have known that the woman sobbing in the stall was one of RE's patients. An hour later I was in the adjacent stallway sobbing myself).

So anyway, RE was in a good mood. For him, he was patient. He offered several examples towards explaining to me that the odds of me getting pregnant using my own eggs were abysmal. First he used basketball examples, something about 2 point shots versus 3 point versus half court shots. I think the point was that odds of me getting pregnant were equivalent to someone shooting half court shots. Keep in mind, still sick with the stupid sinus infection here. I woke up that morning with a fever and wishing I was dead. Nose so clogged that breathing required effort. (Not made better by crying, I might add). So it was with just a bit of frustration that after 8 minutes of the basketball analogies I just looked at RE and said "um, I don't speak basketball." So he then proceeded to try to explain why I should quit trying for a child, with statistics. He reached across his enormous (phallic) desk and patiently drew for me, upside down, a graph of odds of pregnancy versus something (I'd quit caring at this point), in response to my simple question of, "well, statistically, don't my odds of getting pregnant increase with the number of IVF's I do?" Seriously, I didn't need charts or sports analogies to have that question answered - I am reasonably intelligent, have a master's degree, etc. It's entirely possible that I would have understood English, in spite of the sinus infection that has rendered me sniffly and pathetic.

I can't detail the entire humiliating appointment. Basically he feels that it was a considerable miracle that I got pregnant with Danny. My egg quality sucked then, and it sucks even worse now. Clearly Danny was the result of the one good egg I am capable of producing. He added that Husband's sperm isn't great either. And that on top of that, egg retrievals with me are very difficult. For whatever reason (I never did get an explanation out of him as to the cause) my eggs don't like to be released from their follicles, and he hates doing retrievals with me because they're a lot of work. Let's see, what else... um, he reviewed the graph (mental image this time, not annoying upside down graph) of how women's fertility dramatically decreases past age 35 and I'm on the low end of the the slippery slope. And that no, not all women have such crappy eggs as I do, but I was shortchanged at birth and given a bum bunch of eggs, so sad, too bad. And if this was 10 years ago, we wouldn't be having this problem. (Sorry I took so long to find someone I wanted to have children with. If I'd had children with any of the assholes who came before Husband, well...)

Then we got into the financial fun. Basically my insurance sucks, and while it does pay him, it pays him very little and he certainly doesn't make a profit on IVF with me. All that being said, as my insurance will only cover one more IVF, he will do one more with me, and I can cycle in March as that is the next time available. He wants to be paid for my last IVF before he does another one. I asked if it would make a difference if the next IVF was out of pocket. He said no, it would still be March before I could do it, and he wouldn't do it anyway, because I probably won't get pregnant. And this is the last one he will do with me with my own eggs, because he won't let us dip into our savings to pay for something that is unlikely to work. Then he went on to talk about donor eggs, how that is approximately $15,000 per cycle (unless we split a donor with another couple) and that can require a wait, as the list of people waiting for donor eggs is longer than the list of people waiting to donate their eggs.

Still not full out crying yet, but definitely tearful and a veritable fountain of mucous... I managed to sputter out, "but I want a child that I'm related to..." and RE responded, "but you have one." Um, make that, I'd like to have one more you pompous insensitive prick.

If I didn't already know what an amazing and remarkable gift it is to have a child of my own, I wouldn't be pushing so hard to have another one. I'd have given up long ago.

And I don't think that it's purely ego that has me pushing so hard to have a child that's biologically related to me. I don't want Danny to be a mini-me. Part of the joy that comes in being his parent is being able to see his own personality emerge and getting to know who he's becoming. I love that he's got his daddy's chin. I love that he has my family's blue eyes - that he has the blonde hair of my brothers when they were younger. I love that when he gets truly excited or happy that he has this enormous open-mouthed smile that mirrors mine. I hope that his love of books continues and that we have that in common. I love that he has his daddy's athleticism. I love seeing the connection to the generations that came before him and wondering where he got such and such trait from. I wouldn't be able to do that with someone else's child. I'd always be wondering if something this child did was because of his mom, or because of Husband's family's influence, and I don't know if I could handle the feeling of exclusion that would undoubtedly come from knowing that I'm not related to my own child. And how, and when, would I explain to this child that I'm his mom, but not really?

Clearly I'm not ready to think about donor eggs just yet. I might be there at some point, but not at this minute.

Anyway, I cried a lot on Friday. Talked to Husband, who was irritatingly rational and couldn't understand my urge to return home after my RE appointment, crawl into bed, and spend the day moping. Instead he called the RE a few choice words and encouraged me to get a second opinion. I argued with him, said it was hopeless, so why bother, et cetera, et cetera. By the end of the weekend, though, I was surfing the internet, contemplating, and this morning I called the only other "local" RE(local being a relative term - local as opposed to 2 or more hours away) and scheduled a consult for January 5. The incredibly nice woman that I spoke to on the phone explained that first I meet with the nurse for about an hour, and about 2 weeks later I'll meet with the RE, and that meeting is about 2 hours. In between the two meetings they'll be able to get at least some of the stuff that current RE has done with me - they're in the same hospital, so they'll be able to get all of my labwork, and can request results from my laporoscopy that was done in 2006, and I'll be able to show what meds and dosages I've been on (I save everything). She concurred with what I'd been told before, that if I request records from current RE, that he'll no longer work with me, because he blackballs patients who request a second opinion.

This RE supposedly has fantastic bedside manner and his patients rave about his kindness. I've never considered him an option before because he doesn't do IVF. He is a satellite office of a bigger one two hours away, so he'll do all the monitoring and everything for IVF and then send you to the other clinic for retrieval and transfer. It's always been easier to stick with (asshole) RE because he does IVF on site, but I don't know anymore. It's worthwhile to just see what this RE thinks, if he concurs with current RE or if he has other ideas.

I don't know. How do you know, really, if anyone is any good? I have checked the SART site and all the stats I can find, but really, how do you know? I've looked at the sites for Cornell and CCRM, but honestly, this would only be an option if we didn't have Danny. There's just no way that I could do all the traveling required, that we could do all that traveling. There's just no way.

So anyway, that's that.

Any advice or opinions are, as always, very welcome and appreciated.

on drugs and words

2008-12-17T19:45:00.003-05:00

Ugh. I seem to have a fierce, evil virus living inside of me. I went back to the doctor's office today for the third visit in the past 6 weeks for this stupid sinus infection. My first visit she prescribed 5 days of an antibiotic, which never officially killed the evil virus (I don't know if it's a virus or it's an infection, but virus is easier to say than whatever this stupid thing is in reality). Instead THE EVIL CRUD lingered, waiting, fluorishing and calling in reinforcements during my IVF, coming back with a vengeance, stronger and more resistant to drugs. I finished a round of antibiotics this past weekend, and prednisone on top of it, finally felt like I was going to live for a few days, and then boom, yesterday it rang the doorbell and announced it was back. I am so tired of being sick! I currently have a fever and am headed upstairs for bed, at the ripe late hour of 7:45 pm.

Meanwhile, Danny continues to learn new words, which is very cool. New this week are the words "rabbit", "duckie" and "trash". And tonight while eating dinner, he got a little yogurt on his face, so he reached over, grabbed the washcloth, wiped his mouth, and put the washcloth back. (doink!) He is so Husband's son!

And not that I'm obsessing or anything, but the thought of my consult with the RE on Friday is ever present in my mind. Maybe he'll surprise me and launch right into our plans for our next IVF. (doubtful) But I'm prepared to argue. Not that I have very convincing arguments, but I was going to point out that I'm 1 for 1 on IVF's here, that women who have difficulty conceiving are the reason he's in business so he shouldn't refuse to let me cycle just because he doesn't think it's going to work, that he shouldn't give up after one negative cycle because I had a pretty good response in actuality, and that's pretty much all I've got. I can also point out, that in response to his "women like you are like Brett Favre, you just don't know when to give up", that actually Brett is doing pretty well this football season. So maybe us old-timers do still have a little life in us...

If anyone has any other arguments I can offer up to the RE, feel free to toss them out there. I'll take anything I can get...

Meanwhile, off to take my body and my mutant sinus infection to bed.

marriage part 2

2008-12-11T21:57:00.003-05:00

Wow. The earth just shuddered.

My marriage has gone from being one where I felt alone most of the time, in love with my husband, but not connected to him... to what I just experienced. 10 minutes ago I vented to my husband about my day - complained about a semi-psychotic coworker who cursed me out this afternoon. He listened, asked what my role in the conflict was, and then offered support and just a teensy bit of advice ("just let her be and go about your business. If she apologizes, she apologizes, if not, oh well."). He even remembered something I'd randomly told him a few years ago about her ("wasn't she the one you'd talked about maybe going into private practice with?").

Two years ago he would have asked me what I'd done to make her curse at me, asked if I'd been a smart ass to her, and would have blown the whole thing off after a few minutes.

But tonight I could actually talk to him like a friend.

I got off of the phone with him just now and felt 20 pounds lighter.

It was just about a year ago (plus a week) that we reconciled, and while it totally sucked at the time, I think our separation was the absolute best thing we ever did if it results in a feeling like I have right now.

I can talk to him now. I can talk to him about Danny - our current concern is this horrendous diaper rash he has (it's like a 2nd degree burn - yeast infection gone amuck?) - and we can talk rationally about it, offer opinions, and come to an agreement (pediatrician's office is getting a call and visit tomorrow!). I can talk to him about some petty thing at work. I can talk to him about how infertility makes me feel (like I've let him down).

This is good.

I'm boring... you may want to skip this one

2008-12-08T20:12:00.007-05:00

Okay, I'm starting to get sick of myself. I've read a lot of blogs over the years and I don't remember anyone going on and on and on about a failed cycle. It's annoying, because the underlying implication seems to be that I seemed to have some sort of idea that I should have gotten pregnant, was entitled to it, deserved it or something even less likeable. I truly didn't realize I was thinking this, but clearly, as I'm still experiencing the aftershocks of jealousy and bitterness, this must have been simmering underneath.

I'd thought I was okay, but just inhaled a half a carton of Haagen-Dasz in response to news that someone else going through IVF just looked down upon a positive pregnancy test and beheld the magical second line. My original plan for tonight was to get on the treadmill and enjoy my third workout in almost so many days. I climbed back on the thing Friday night and felt so much better, back in control, in charge of my life and emotions again ... And now I'm too full to even think about doing anything beyond typing. (Hmmm... maybe a little online Christmas shopping is in order?)

Anyway...

I feel it my duty to record the much less depressing and much more fun phenomena that Danny has begun learning some new words. Last week it was almost a word a day and so surprising! I don't know where I got the idea that his words would be somewhat predictable, but usually they're ones that come seemingly out of the blue. As of last weekend we now have "puppy", "bye bye", "bubble", "Elmo", "ball", "no" (in varying tones and volume) and "mommy" (also experienced in a wide variety of tones and volume levels). I'd heard "daddy" a lot before this, but not "mommy" except for very very rare occasions. He's also learned to shake his head when the "no" needs an exclamation point. Unfortunately he tends to look more like a puppy shaking water off its head, so he loses points in emphasis but gains many more in cuteness.

Thanksgiving day Danny woke up with a 104 fever and the chills, so this was the weekend where he really practiced the "mommy, mommy, mommy" mantra. The ones that really killed me were the ones screamed from the back seat, arms outstretched, tears pouring down his face, as we drove home from grandma's house. He only wanted to be held... needless to say, it was a very long drive home.

This past weekend was calmer, although he continues to wallow through this somewhat clingy phase that his dad is trying hard to not take personally (which has got to be very hard). He's been through this clingy thing before, so I'm sure it's going to be over soon, but it's hard to not feel guilty and flattered at the same time. My unexpressed theory is that maybe Danny knows how much I need all the extra snuggles and neediness, that I've been a bad mommy to his almost brothers/sisters, and need to know that I'm still a good and needed mommy to him.

We visited Santa at the local mall this weekend, with interesting results. Danny has a toy phone, so we'd spent earlier in the day calling Santa on it (unbeknownst to Danny - he's more interested in pushing the buttons), we'd decorated the condo for Christmas, et cetera. So you would think he'd been totally prepared to see Santa again, especially after their exciting and memorable 3 minute visit a year ago. But nope, Danny was having none of it. He was introduced to Santa and demonstrated quite proficiently his ability to cling to me like a 25 pound piece of cling wrap...

We tried the extended introduction, with (the oh so patient) Santa offering toys. Nope, no good. My boy saw through it. This was a STRANGER!!! and one in a COSTUME!!!! no less, and he sensed danger...

We tried having him watch other children get their pictures taken, so that he could see for himself that Santa does not bite or turn into a dragon or whatever baby paranoia he was coming up with.

He was fine with that, but still not having anything to do with getting his picture taken. We eventually settled for me putting him on Santa's lap and running. So our Christmas pic this year is of a dazed looking Santa and a screaming Danny. :) If I had scanning skills I'd show it, but you'll have to just use your imagination.

So anyway, for the most part I'm pleased with Danny being my only. I love him more than I ever could have imagined, and I love my family. I feel incredibly fortunate to have what I have. Danny is a blast - he loves to laugh and be silly, loves to play with me and Husband with his little silly games (e.g. his personal favorite - poking Daddy in the head and then running, giggling hysterically, to go stand in the corner and wait for Daddy, in the guise of a grumbling bear, to lumber over to him and devour him with raspberries).

He's also entered the stuffed animal phase, which is interesting, as he's never before shown any interest in any of the many that litter his bedroom. His current favorites are his giraffe, puppy, an orca and Tigger. Tonight he insisted on all of them sharing his crib. Usually he can narrow it down to one or two, but perhaps he needed the extra support too. I couldn't resist a pic...

a little less teary here

2008-12-07T21:33:00.004-05:00

Just a quick post to say that I have finally stopped crying. Well, for the most part. Got a little tearful tonight when Husband gave me a long-awaited hug as part of the post-mortem.

He's been awesome during this, which would be the one positive outcome of a negative IVF cycle. Last bout of infertility tore us apart. This one seems to have us working as a team, and I'm feeling much more understood and supported than I ever have before. He asked why I was crying tonight, and I explained that I just feel like I've let him down, and he just continued patting my back. His take on things is "try, try again." If we didn't get pregnant this time, we'll just try again and see what happens. No blame assigned, no negative words, just that we'll try again and see what happens. I wonder what it's like to live like that? Without the angst and worry and fears and self-blame?

I guess that's the ease that comes with knowing that our fertility problems aren't his fault. I wish I wasn't so ever aware of my failings as a babymaker.

Oh well. I suppose this will soon fade in intensity and I'll be back to non-obsessional thinking about my ovaries. Other things in my life are going quite well, and Danny is as ever, amazing, so I'll have some more positive posts soon, I promise.

Thank you to all who've delurked. I must go check out that site where you found me! And if anyone (yes, I have no pride and am asking again) knows how I can archive this blog, please put me out of my misery and point me in the right direction. I've tried to figure it out using the blogger help, but am clearly not bright enough to find directions that seem to apply or make sense. (yes, eye roll away... I'm rolling my eyes at myself, too).

It would just be nice to divide things into sections...

2008-12-04T20:35:00.001-05:00

Okay, so the tears have stopped for the most part. Because the rationalization and searching for answers and bargaining have begun.

"It's okay that I'm not pregnant - I can finally get

negative

2008-12-03T16:04:00.004-05:00

Negative beta, as expected.

What hasn't been expected has been all the tears. I started sobbing just walking into the lab this morning, and the tears just continued to build up momentum as the poor phlebotomist inserted the needle and began to draw blood. He gave me a tissue, then another, then offered me the whole box. Nope, not embarrassing at all.

Finally dried up by mid-morning, and did okay until about 25 minutes ago, when I broke down and called the RE's office asking if they'd gotten my beta results yet. Clearly I was not important enough to merit a call. Just what my already crappy day needed.

So now I go back to the RE in two weeks for a "consult." I'm terrified that he's going to refuse to do another IVF as I'm a bad candidate - too old, crappy eggs, etc. He basically wasn't too thrilled about doing this last one before we did it, but seemed pretty pleased with my response during the actual process.

None of the leftover embryos survived to freezing stage, though, which will reinforce his opinion that my eggs are crap.

Oh, this just sucks.

I've got to figure out how to stop crying.

freakin waterworks

2008-12-03T09:44:00.003-05:00

Wow. That was only slightly mortifying.

As has been my practice the past few mornings, took another HPT this morning and got a glaring negative. If it weren't crazy to think so, I'd think that there was a big spotlight shining down from way up above, highlighting the virginal white section of the test that would hold a second line if I were pregnant. Not that God isn't way too busy to worry about the state of my uterus, but certainly one of his henchmen with a sense of humor was playing with the spotlight in order to make it VERY CLEAR to me that I AM NOT PREGNANT. Maybe he could use that bigass light to find Osama or some money to bail out our economy... I'm just sayin'...

So didn't cry this morning. Thought about it, then decided to focus more on how much my head continues to throb and pound because this stupid sinus infection that I've had for a month still doesn't want to leave. Had a brief thought of teeny tiny gratitude that if I'm not pregnant, I can finally get back on antibiotics and kick this stupid infection. That I can get well, start exercising again, and feel better. That maybe if my body is in better shape the IVF will work next time.

And so I thought I was okay. Got Danny dressed for school this morning in overalls (my favorite outfit on him - little boys should be required to wear overalls, as cute as they look in them), and an Elmo stocking cap as it's quite cold outside. Went to daycare, played with him for a few minutes in his room, and went off my merry way to the local lab to get my blood drawn. Meanwhile planning on calling my other doctor's office to beg for antibiotics as soon as I hear the bad news.

Still thought I was okay.

Actually was okay until I entered the lab. I only waited about 5 minutes between arriving and being taken back and stuck with the needle, but the tears gradually grew in intensity until the poor phlebotomist gave in and offered me the entire box of tissues (the first few he offered were used quite quickly). I'm sure he was confused as to what comfort to provide - is she crying because she thinks she's pregnant? Is she crying because she thinks she's not? Why the f*** is this nutjob crying and when will she stop?

That wasn't embarrassing at all.

not looking good for the home team

2008-12-02T11:49:00.000-05:00

Because I can't stand the idea of hearing news first from the RE's office, I've done a few HPT's of my own. With Danny I had my first positive test at 11 dpo. I'm now at 12 dpo and haven't had a positive yet. A few evaporation lines that fuck with my head and one of the blue +/- tests looked sorta like a +, but overall the consensus seems to be that I'm not pregnant.

Beta is tomorrow.

I'm just crushed in advance. I didn't realize just how badly I wanted this until I found myself standing on top of the toilet in my bathroom, holding a HPT directly under the light and squinting, hoping to see one of those magical lines.

So a lot of negative feelings flowing. Despair at not being pregnant. Guilt at not being satisfied with just having Danny, at being greedy and wanting another. Guilt at wanting to usurp him from his happy position in our family as our only, the center of our attention, the only receiver of all of our love and affection.

And crushing grief.

bad time for a smoke break

2008-11-25T19:54:00.002-05:00

Clearly medical mysteries are in the air. After a few weeks of an endless diaper rash and mysterious polka dots on Danny's penis, I finally called the pediatrician's office this afternoon and talked to a nurse about it. I asked one of the daycare ladies this morning her opinion, and she voted for yeast infection. And sure enough, the nurse agreed (even without seeing him). Who knew that boys got yeast infections? And now I feel terrible that Danny's had this for a few weeks now and I've done nothing about it. My only excuse is that he's my first, I'm not familiar with the parts yet, and that he hasn't seemed to be uncomfortable or in pain so I wasn't sure what to think about things. So he got his first basting of Lotrimin this evening and we'll see how things look in the morning. Bad mom.

And bad mom not just to Danny. I don't know if my sense of denial is just that automatic and fine tuned, but I keep forgetting that I've got little embies floating around inside of me. While on the phone with Husband last night we were talking about Danny, and then he asked, "and how are my other little babies?" and I had to think for a second before I knew what he was talking about. (oops)

I just can't decide what to do. If I think about them all of the time am I being unhealthy? Or am I providing them reassurance that they're loved and therefore one will snuggle in and decide to stay? If I don't think about them, am I being healthy and cushioning myself against the blow for when I'm not pregnant? Or am I merely jinxing myself by not caring enough?

I try to tell myself that people get pregnant all the time without any conscious thought or effort or pats to the belly and encouragement, but it sounds hollow. Clearly my uterus is special needs and requires thousands of dollars worth of medical intervention in order to squeeze out a baby. So it's not out of the realm to wonder if the belly pats and words of encouragement and constant obsessing are vital too.

So I'm trying to compromise by belly pats in the morning and at night and randomly during the day, kissing the pics of the embryos when I pass by, and trying not to let myself think about the possibility of actually getting pregnant. I'll catch myself imagining the positive pregnancy test and thinking about bringing out my old maternity clothes and then I'll give myself a swift mental kick. Because if I think positive I'll jinx myself.

It's like a 3 ring circus in my brain these days, except that the guy in the top hat with the microphone has stepped out for a smoke break and the lions and elephants and bearded lady are all running in circles with no direction...

and now we wait

2008-11-23T21:04:00.003-05:00

Well, I went ahead and had three embryos transferred this morning. I very much appreciate the feedback, but unfortunately didn't get to read it until this afternoon. (oops) I wrote the post before going to bed last night and left home this morning for the transfer at 6:45 am. (ouch)

RE said he wasn't concerned about multiples, since only one of the embryos was decent - an 8 cell, grade B. The other was a 6 cell grade B and the final one was another 6 cell, but highly fragmented. He didn't hold out much hope for the remaining 5 embryos making it to freeze status, so oh well.

Spent the remainder of the day trying to rest and take it easy, which Danny apparently had a definite opinion about. He is in this new clingy phase again and the mere sight of me is enough to make him cry at times. He runs towards me and holds his arms up for me to pick him up, and unfortunately, today this was not an option. I hid upstairs for most of the day watching bad chick flicks on cable until I couldn't take the ridiculously farfetched happy endings anymore and rejoined the world. Danny's still confused as to why I couldn't pick him up or play any of our usual more active games (e.g. him riding me around the room) but I'll be back to form tomorrow and I can't wait.

Meanwhile my belly is just enormous. I remember saying this last time, but it really is just a cruel joke to look pregnant because of all of the stims and other maneuvering that's gone in in my nether regions.

I no longer have any feelings one way or the other about this cycle. If I get pregnant, it'll be a miracle as I can't imagine a less welcoming environment to be conceived in. I'm still sick with that sinus infection, a coughing, mucous-y mess. I'm hoping the doxycycline that I was on to prevent infection after ER will kick the last bit of this infection, but I don't know. This may be the never ending illness.

So any good thoughts that the internet world can send out to my one good little embryo would be most appreciated. I very much appreciate all the comments and feedback and support throughout this process. :)

outnumbered?

2008-11-22T20:04:00.002-05:00

I know, I know. Suddenly a flurry of posts.

But eek. Got my fertilization report this morning. Of the 12 retrieved, 8 of the eggs were mature. All 8 fertilized with the ICSI. Of those, the RE particularly likes 3 and wants to transfer all three tomorrow morning. Because of my age, egg quality issue and all...

Meanwhile I've been obsessing all day. He told me to think about transferring 3, it's what he recommends, etc. But I'm terrified at the thought of multiples. If this was my first pregnancy, maybe not, but since I'm on my own all week, the thought of taking care of 3 kids (or more) by myself is a little terrifying. Of course, the thought of even taking care of one initially was terrifying and I've done it, but oy.

I don't know what to think. I guess I'll explain to him in the morning that I'm very nervous about multiples and see what he recommends. He knows more than I do and I just have to put myself in his hands and hope for the best. If we get no babies out of this, I'll manage. If I get two or three (or more) then we'll manage (somehow).

But... yikes.

Now I'm off to google how to give a PIO shot, since I've lost the video on it, and didn't do so well last time I thought I knew how to give a shot.

quickie

2008-11-20T22:28:00.002-05:00

Got 12 eggs at retrieval today. Not sure how I feel about that, as I got 20 eggs last go round. Oh well. I guess it's how many fertilize that is key, and since we're doing ICSI this time hopefully the fertilization rate will be better than last time (I think only 7 fertilized out of the 12 that were mature).

Have been in pain most of the day, which is different from last time too. At one point if was stabbing pains, prompting a call to the RE's office. Was reassured that this is normal, and should be better by tomorrow. Also got a script for Darvocet called in.

Ooh. Cramp just hit. Will call it a night and pray that my little guys and Husband's little guys are getting acquainted. I don't get the fertilization report for another two days, so I guess I'll try to think of other things until then. (ha!)

almost there

2008-11-19T21:05:00.003-05:00

So in about 12 hours the RE will hopefully be counting lots and lots and lots of eggs, and will have a big smile on his face, proud of me and my ovaries. (Retrieval is tomorrow at 7:30 am. Yawn.)

That is the hope, after all.

I don't know about the reality. I've never counted myself as particularly supersitious, but this cycle has just seemed filled with negative mojo. It just doesn't seem possible that anything positive can squeak its way through all the stifling negativity in my immediate world.

1. Mother in law with breast cancer
2. Sister in law (pregnant) with breast cancer
3. Friend's husband in ICU because of random attack
4. Former client (not of mine, thankfully) committing suicide in work parking lot
5. Constant state of sickness (my sinus infection seems to have returned)
6. Constant near misses - while out biking with Danny last weekend some freakazoid on another bike almost ran me off the path into a tree. While on my way home from RE appointment earlier this week random man in a Lexus almost sideswiped me.
7. Me finding a way to screw up my trigger shot last night. Brain was so foggy from sinus infection that I forgot to switch needles to use the smaller, less painful one in my ass. And I neglected to push the needle all the way in for some reason. Again, foggy brain, but I think it may have been because I thought I was going to hit my hip bone or something and just stopped. Have been reassured by doctor at work that I'm most likely fine, but have spent the entire day thinking severely unkind thoughts about myself.
8. General state of discomfort. I don't recall being this incredibly uncomfortable last IVF cycle. There were actually a few moments of sharp pain today from my ovaries. Not fun when Danny's favorite place to sit these days is in my lap. And he likes to plop down, and then lean back. Right into the ovaries. (ouch)

And I'm sure there are more, but I feel too crappy to think much harder. I've been afraid to tell the RE that I'm sick out of fear that he'd cancel the cycle but think I'll confess tomorrow. Maybe the doxycycline that I'm on to prevent infection will kill off the last of the sinus infection? Or maybe he'll prescribe me something?

I should feel more excited at tomorrow's prospects, but I just feel embarrassed about the potential trigger shot screwup, and depressed in advance that things will turn out badly.

Sigh.

thickening skin

2008-11-13T19:37:00.002-05:00

Wow. I'm not sure, but I think I've been spammed via the comment section. Does that mean I've officially made it???

Nothing new to report, just anxiously waiting for tomorrow's monitoring appointment. I'm hoping to get a little more direction as to when ER will be... it makes trying to put together my work schedule for next week a little difficult.

So odd. I was talking to Husband on the way home from work tonight, reviewing my upcoming appointment tomorrow, my hopes to find out an ER date. Despite the fact that I mention that ER should be sometime next week, oh, I don't know, basically every day, Husband still managed to sound confused when I brought it up again. Surgery? he said. You mean I have to be there??? Not surgery, exactly, I said, knowing that he was confusing my laporoscopy and ER, but anaesthesia and an epidural are involved (I think) and I most definitely cannot drive home.

So very odd that he has forgotten so much about the IVF process. It just shows how different the process can be for men versus women. I lived and breathed IVF for weeks. He did his thing in a cup and showed up for ER.

Anyway, it's time to mosey on downstairs and stick needles into my belly. I'm sure this is just my imagination, but I'm convinced that the skin on my tummy thickens as a defense during this process. The first few days the needles go in relatively easily. But it seems to get harder and harder to get those damned things in... Must be my imagination, but still.

needles, a coma and Elvis

2008-11-11T21:39:00.004-05:00

So Halloween has come and gone and now I'm thinking about Thanksgiving and Christmas. If you look closely, you'll see me hanging on to the holidays with my heels digging into the ground, trying desperately to slow them down as they whiz by...

Danny didn't enjoy Halloween as much as his mom did, as he was apparently uninterested in how cute his Elvis costume was, complete with rhinestones, sequins, and cape. He was seemingly more interested in lollipops - stealing them out of other kids' candy buckets, trying to convince us that he would actually finish one versus suck on it for a few minutes and then smear it all over himself or us...

No real milestones to report as he's not really doing anything dramatically new. I suppose he's learning new things daily but incorporating them more subtly and internally. I mean, after rolling over, walking and talking, the other milestones can't help but seem small by comparison. Mostly I just see him comprehending more - following directions, helping us get him dressed or undressed, sharing when asked, etc. His newest fun thing that cracks me up is at bedtime when he occasionally reads books to himself. His favorite place to sit these days is my lap - anytime I'm sitting I'm fair game - so he'll grab a book, carefully back up until he is in reach of my lap, then plop down and babble to himself as he turns the pages. Very very cute.

Meanwhile IVF #2 is in full force. I started stims this past weekend and no ovaries or emotions have exploded, which is always a plus. Retrieval and transfer should be sometime next week. It's going much easier than last time, I think mostly because I'm getting better at denial and pretending that I'm not actually going through IVF, and because Danny keeps me so busy.

I've noticed a particularly superstitious bend to my thinking, though. I've been sick with various elements essentially for the past 3 weeks - sinus infection, the flu, followed by a delightful bout with a stomach bug. And I think I'm getting a cold as of this morning. No fun. In the midst of which we had someone commit suicide in our parking lot at work. Topped only by one of my very good friend's husband being randomly and savagely attacked in his back yard, while grilling steaks with a friend. He's currently in a coma with likely brain damage, back in ICU as of last night due to them discovering internal bleeding in his stomach. It's just way too much to digest at the moment, so maybe this is the perfect time for IVF. Whining at having to inject myself three times a day seems petty in the face of what my friend is going through at this moment. And yet I can't help but wonder, what with so much bad stuff going on, if that's not a sign that this IVF can't possibly have a positive outcome...

Anyway, not to end on such a depressing note. We had our first professional photo shoot for Danny this weekend, and I can't resist posting one of the pics from the shoot. I know that I see him every day, but seeing these pics reminded me what a beautiful child I have (inside and out). He's way cuter than either of his parents, so I'm not sure how that happened, but I'll take it.

grumpy bad mom

2008-10-27T20:07:00.004-04:00

Bad mom. Today is Danny's 19 month old birthday and I didn't even realize it until I was checking my emails and got the monthly newsletter from Babycenter or one of those ones. Bad mom. I look forward to when he's finally 2 and I can stop counting in months. I already feel silly doing so but "one and a half and a month" or "almost two minus 3 months" just don't come out as easily as "19 months."

Meanwhile all the nights of licorice and gummy bears seem to have come crashing down around my middle. In the form of this ugly extra flesh that hangs over my middle. Oh my. What happened to my workout aspirations? My gloating that I was back down to my pre-pregnancy weight and clothes, if not the same body fat.

Not that there's much of a mystery to what happened. Thinking about IVF is what happened. And thinking about it and thinking about it and a little more thinking about it just for fun. Apparently for every negative thought or worry I have about IVF I have to eat a gummy bear or Twizzler. Bad bad girl. And at this point I start stims next week, and I was strictly prohibited last IVF from raising my core body temperature, so I'm kinda like, oh what the hell, about the whole exercising thing.

Which is all fine and good until I have to put on pants and they're too tight. Crud. I should probably stop eating gummy bears as I type this, huh?

Meanwhile, Danny is still doing great. No real milestones to report - he's starting to climb up stairs on his own (stepping up them versus crawling), he's still working on being able to climb into chairs, and last week was working on his backup singer skills to the song "Monster Mash."

I'm too bummed now at the thought of eating gummy bears while thinking about fat rolls, so I'll sign off with a pic. We went to a festival recently and Danny crawled into the basketball net thing. He absolutely loved playing with the basketballs and his dad. I have some even cuter pics from Halloween stuff this past weekend, but my computer is still all messed up, despite (or because of?) its recent debugging. I can no longer upload pics, so hopefully it will be fixed soon...