Still no period. Nothing. I'm starting to wonder if all that light bleeding last week WAS my period. Can that happen so close to ovulation?
What the heck is going on here?
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Stuck at a rest stop
Doesn't it figure that the one time I want my period, the darned thing decides not to show up?! I'm on day 28 today and no period. Nothing. Not even a spot. And I've been little Miss Clockwork for over a year. I can only think of one cycle that wasn't exactly day 28 on-the-dot. I can usally even pinpoint the hour that it'll happen. Positive spin on this: at least I don't have to wear a pad to bed tonight! I always hate that part of it!
My RE called me this morning to chat about our cycle. I always love talking to him. He's just so, well, HUMAN. He's nice and optimistic and thorough about every question I have. So, here's what we went over:
1. He asked me if I had given any thought to how many fertilized eggs we will transfer. I told him that we would like to consider two, maybe three with the hopes that one or two will implant. He said that they try to never transfer more than two in an otherwise healthy woman and so he said that although he would rather see me with one transfer, he'll agree to do two.
2. He also asked about performing ICSI (Intracytoplasmic sperm injection) on half of the retrieved eggs. The plan is that after they retrieve all my eggs, they will divide them in half and perform ICSI in one half and allow the other half to fertilize naturally. ICSI is a procedure where they manually inject one sperm into an egg to ensure that the egg is fertilized. In cases like mine, where there is no known cause for the infertility, they tend to try ICSI because of the fact that there might be a problem with the sperm being able to penetrate the egg naturally. Since that very well could be the reason I'm not pregnant yet, I told him I agreed that we should try ICSI on half the eggs. Of course, it adds thousands to the cost of our IVF cycle, but it also guarantees that some will fertilize. Whether they grow past the two cell stage will remain to be seen.
3. I asked him about doing the 81mg baby aspirin therapy during my injection phase and he agreed that it wouldn't hurt, especially given my history of thin lining. He also agreed that, if my lining is still thin, he would recommend the estrogen tablets again to help with the lining, but only after the retrieval, not before.
So, the last piece of the puzzle is getting my period this month. He said that if I don't see it by Monday to come in for bloodwork and he'll give me something to bring it on. I just want to get this journey started... no more sitting at the rest stop for me!
My RE called me this morning to chat about our cycle. I always love talking to him. He's just so, well, HUMAN. He's nice and optimistic and thorough about every question I have. So, here's what we went over:
1. He asked me if I had given any thought to how many fertilized eggs we will transfer. I told him that we would like to consider two, maybe three with the hopes that one or two will implant. He said that they try to never transfer more than two in an otherwise healthy woman and so he said that although he would rather see me with one transfer, he'll agree to do two.
2. He also asked about performing ICSI (Intracytoplasmic sperm injection) on half of the retrieved eggs. The plan is that after they retrieve all my eggs, they will divide them in half and perform ICSI in one half and allow the other half to fertilize naturally. ICSI is a procedure where they manually inject one sperm into an egg to ensure that the egg is fertilized. In cases like mine, where there is no known cause for the infertility, they tend to try ICSI because of the fact that there might be a problem with the sperm being able to penetrate the egg naturally. Since that very well could be the reason I'm not pregnant yet, I told him I agreed that we should try ICSI on half the eggs. Of course, it adds thousands to the cost of our IVF cycle, but it also guarantees that some will fertilize. Whether they grow past the two cell stage will remain to be seen.
3. I asked him about doing the 81mg baby aspirin therapy during my injection phase and he agreed that it wouldn't hurt, especially given my history of thin lining. He also agreed that, if my lining is still thin, he would recommend the estrogen tablets again to help with the lining, but only after the retrieval, not before.
So, the last piece of the puzzle is getting my period this month. He said that if I don't see it by Monday to come in for bloodwork and he'll give me something to bring it on. I just want to get this journey started... no more sitting at the rest stop for me!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The positive over the negative...
So, this is the new positive me. And on that road to positive thinking, I am vowing to do a few things:
1. Stop researching personal stories about success with IVF. No one else's story will ever match mine exactly and all the research does is drive me crazy. I am me; my problem is unique although the solution to my problem is not. IVF is not an isolated thing and over a MILLION babies have been created via IVF... I aim to make ours number one million and one.
2. I'm going to try to focus on the good things during my cycle, even if one cycle fails. And yes, it might fail. But from every failed cycle, something is learned and that lesson will help me to overcome that hurdle for the next cycle. We will succeed. The light is appearing at the end of that tunnel. Within two months I could very well have another little monkey kicking around in there.
Ok, so there are only two things on that list. But it's a start. It's a big start for me, at least. I'm going to be committed to keeping a positive outlook.
1. Stop researching personal stories about success with IVF. No one else's story will ever match mine exactly and all the research does is drive me crazy. I am me; my problem is unique although the solution to my problem is not. IVF is not an isolated thing and over a MILLION babies have been created via IVF... I aim to make ours number one million and one.
2. I'm going to try to focus on the good things during my cycle, even if one cycle fails. And yes, it might fail. But from every failed cycle, something is learned and that lesson will help me to overcome that hurdle for the next cycle. We will succeed. The light is appearing at the end of that tunnel. Within two months I could very well have another little monkey kicking around in there.
Ok, so there are only two things on that list. But it's a start. It's a big start for me, at least. I'm going to be committed to keeping a positive outlook.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The new path for another journey
Another journey begins: we’re on the road to IVF. R and I met with the doctor about changing our minds about the injectibles and heading straight for IVF. He seemed a little surprised that we decided to skip that step and go to IVF, but he didn’t dissuade us from it at all. He said that even though he would recommend the IUI/injectible cycle, considering what we’ve been experiencing IVF was probably our best bet. So that’s it. We’re now IVF candidates.
Oh, and he confirmed, without a doubt, that I didn't ovulate a single one of my six follicles. Ain't that a kicker?
It was such a whirlwind meeting that by the time we left the office, my gut instinct was to say “Forget it. We can stick with the injections and IUI for a little while longer.” R and I talked about it and I proposed backing off from the IVF option and sticking with the IUI and he disagreed. He said that there’s no way he wants to keep going like we have been and he feels, just as I do, that we’re going to end up at IVF anyways. So, he reasons, why not just do it now. And he’s right. There’s no reason to not just go for it. Except that I’m scared. Really, really scared. I keep having these awful feelings like it’s not going to work. I told R and he said that he thinks that if I go into it with that frame of mind, it’s not going to succeed. That hurt, but he’s probably right. I really, really need to change my way of thinking. I need to remember that almost 60% of people that try IVF succeed. And we will be one of them.
Still, the procedure and process is overwhelming. It’s enough to make your head spin and your knees buckle under the weight of it. I haven’t gotten my final protocol from the RE yet, but the basic idea is that I will first take 21 days of birth control pills. I know, it seems ridiculous to take BCPs when trying to get pregnant, but there it is. They use the pills to ‘calm your hormones’ so that they can give your body a bit of a rest. The theory is that the ‘quality’ eggs have a chance to rest and will be the ones to move to the ‘front of the ovulation line’. Toward the end of the pack of pills, I will start the daily Lupron injections. This will throw my body into artificial menopause so that all hormones are turned off. Then, while taking the Lupron shots, I’ll start the FSH (which I think is another shot) and these are the shots that will start my ovaries producing lots and lots of eggs. I’ll continue these shots for about two weeks and once the follicles are large enough, we’ll have the retrieval. Now the retrieval is no small change, but luckily enough they’ll only put me under ‘twilight’ anesthesia. I’ll have to rest the entire day to make sure I don’t have any complications. Once they have all my eggs, they’ll put them in the Petri dish with R’s sperm sample and the lab will start making embryos. Three days later, those embryos should have split into at least 8 cells. The best two (or three) will be selected and they’ll put them back inside my uterus for possible implantation. I’ll have to be on strict bed rest for between 72 and 96 hours at this point. Two weeks later, we’ll pray that we get a BFP. And that’s that.
Welcome to the world of IVF.
Oh, and he confirmed, without a doubt, that I didn't ovulate a single one of my six follicles. Ain't that a kicker?
It was such a whirlwind meeting that by the time we left the office, my gut instinct was to say “Forget it. We can stick with the injections and IUI for a little while longer.” R and I talked about it and I proposed backing off from the IVF option and sticking with the IUI and he disagreed. He said that there’s no way he wants to keep going like we have been and he feels, just as I do, that we’re going to end up at IVF anyways. So, he reasons, why not just do it now. And he’s right. There’s no reason to not just go for it. Except that I’m scared. Really, really scared. I keep having these awful feelings like it’s not going to work. I told R and he said that he thinks that if I go into it with that frame of mind, it’s not going to succeed. That hurt, but he’s probably right. I really, really need to change my way of thinking. I need to remember that almost 60% of people that try IVF succeed. And we will be one of them.
Still, the procedure and process is overwhelming. It’s enough to make your head spin and your knees buckle under the weight of it. I haven’t gotten my final protocol from the RE yet, but the basic idea is that I will first take 21 days of birth control pills. I know, it seems ridiculous to take BCPs when trying to get pregnant, but there it is. They use the pills to ‘calm your hormones’ so that they can give your body a bit of a rest. The theory is that the ‘quality’ eggs have a chance to rest and will be the ones to move to the ‘front of the ovulation line’. Toward the end of the pack of pills, I will start the daily Lupron injections. This will throw my body into artificial menopause so that all hormones are turned off. Then, while taking the Lupron shots, I’ll start the FSH (which I think is another shot) and these are the shots that will start my ovaries producing lots and lots of eggs. I’ll continue these shots for about two weeks and once the follicles are large enough, we’ll have the retrieval. Now the retrieval is no small change, but luckily enough they’ll only put me under ‘twilight’ anesthesia. I’ll have to rest the entire day to make sure I don’t have any complications. Once they have all my eggs, they’ll put them in the Petri dish with R’s sperm sample and the lab will start making embryos. Three days later, those embryos should have split into at least 8 cells. The best two (or three) will be selected and they’ll put them back inside my uterus for possible implantation. I’ll have to be on strict bed rest for between 72 and 96 hours at this point. Two weeks later, we’ll pray that we get a BFP. And that’s that.
Welcome to the world of IVF.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Decisions, decisions...
And now the big decisions start: how many eggs will we fertilize? How many will we attempt to implant? If we implant three and all three take, will we carry triplets? Will we want to attempt selective reduction? How many will we reduce to? What about the risk of spontaneous miscarriage after a reduction? Will we be willing to risk that after all we’ve been through?
And with the decisions, the worry: What if I don’t ovulate when on the new drugs? What if the side effects are worse than what I’m having now? What if my estrogen doesn’t respond the way it should and my lining stays thin? What if my eggs are bad quality and they don’t fertilize?
Did I mention that one of the side effects of the progesterone was ‘worry’. I’m not kidding; it actually lists that among the known side effects. Gee, I wonder why.
I was talking to my Dad last night about moving forward with a new treatment and he was so non-committal about the whole conversation that it bugged me. Usually my Dad is the talk-your-ear-off kind of guy, especially if it’s a subject he’s not familiar with (i.e., asks a tons of questions to learn more sort of thing) but this is just a subject he doesn’t seem to want to know about. I told him how I was feeling about not going to Thanksgiving dinner at R’s family’s house and he actually said “You know, it’s too bad you can’t get in a better frame of mind about this.” And then it hit me. I really am truly, utterly, fantastically alone in all of this. There is no one, save this blog, that I can talk to about what is happening to me. This is such a sensitive subject, such a personal issue that if you’re experiencing it, you’re basically alone. No one really wants to talk to you about it. They only do it because you force them to communicate about the subject. There are only two people that I know (‘real’ face-to-face people) that actually ask me about my treatment, about how I’m doing what I’m doing. Maybe that’s why I cling to this blog so much. It’s the only place where people will ask me about my treatment or how I’m feeling or where others can see the hell that I’m going through. The blunt realization after talking to my Dad was just yet another layer of isolation in the infertility world.
Anyways, someone was asking me for another E story, so to lighten the mood, here you go. Last Friday E was being Mr. Fuss-about-the-potty for the Nanny and when I got home, she told me the whole horror story that was their day. She ended up putting E in time-out for an hour at the end of the day because he threw a fit about going on the potty. A little while after he got out of time-out, she said that she was in the kitchen getting something and she could hear him in the bathroom, setting up the potty seat so that he could go. All by himself. That night, after the Nanny left, I reminded E that he needed to go potty before dinner and to call me if he needed help. “I don’t need help, Momma. I need privacy,” he tells me. How can you not laugh out loud at a comment like that?
And with the decisions, the worry: What if I don’t ovulate when on the new drugs? What if the side effects are worse than what I’m having now? What if my estrogen doesn’t respond the way it should and my lining stays thin? What if my eggs are bad quality and they don’t fertilize?
Did I mention that one of the side effects of the progesterone was ‘worry’. I’m not kidding; it actually lists that among the known side effects. Gee, I wonder why.
I was talking to my Dad last night about moving forward with a new treatment and he was so non-committal about the whole conversation that it bugged me. Usually my Dad is the talk-your-ear-off kind of guy, especially if it’s a subject he’s not familiar with (i.e., asks a tons of questions to learn more sort of thing) but this is just a subject he doesn’t seem to want to know about. I told him how I was feeling about not going to Thanksgiving dinner at R’s family’s house and he actually said “You know, it’s too bad you can’t get in a better frame of mind about this.” And then it hit me. I really am truly, utterly, fantastically alone in all of this. There is no one, save this blog, that I can talk to about what is happening to me. This is such a sensitive subject, such a personal issue that if you’re experiencing it, you’re basically alone. No one really wants to talk to you about it. They only do it because you force them to communicate about the subject. There are only two people that I know (‘real’ face-to-face people) that actually ask me about my treatment, about how I’m doing what I’m doing. Maybe that’s why I cling to this blog so much. It’s the only place where people will ask me about my treatment or how I’m feeling or where others can see the hell that I’m going through. The blunt realization after talking to my Dad was just yet another layer of isolation in the infertility world.
Anyways, someone was asking me for another E story, so to lighten the mood, here you go. Last Friday E was being Mr. Fuss-about-the-potty for the Nanny and when I got home, she told me the whole horror story that was their day. She ended up putting E in time-out for an hour at the end of the day because he threw a fit about going on the potty. A little while after he got out of time-out, she said that she was in the kitchen getting something and she could hear him in the bathroom, setting up the potty seat so that he could go. All by himself. That night, after the Nanny left, I reminded E that he needed to go potty before dinner and to call me if he needed help. “I don’t need help, Momma. I need privacy,” he tells me. How can you not laugh out loud at a comment like that?
Monday, September 24, 2007
Taking the long way...
It’s official: we meet with the RE tomorrow at 3:00pm to discuss starting our IVF treatments. R and I talked about it at length last night and he feels like we need to move onto IVF just as much as I do, but for different reasons. He’s worried about the toll this is taking on my mental, physical and emotional well-being and at this point, he wants to do whatever is going to get us the positive results we’re looking for. He asked me to send him some info on what IVF is going to entail and I found a good link this morning. (In case anyone else really wants to know what IVF is all about, here’s the link. http://www.soft-infertility.com/docs/PInonfundedIVF_usual_.pdf )
So that’s it. We’re crossing the infertile threshold and heading into the scary place that is in-vitro fertilization. The numbers scare me: most clinics put their success rates at 50% or 60%. That’s still not very high to me, but it’s better than the 2% (natural cycle) or 20% (IUI cycle) that’s we’re dealing with now. Still, it scares the bejeesus out of me to think about what is ahead of us: injections, possible multiples, the retrieval, going under general anesthesia, all sorts of complications. It’s enough to make you think twice about what you would do just to have a baby. Is it really going to be worth it all? Am I doing irreparable harm to my body just for the sake of having another child? What if all of this comes back to haunt me in 15 years and my health suffers. Who will take care of my kids if all of this causes me to get sick when I’m 50 or 60? It’s just awful that we’re in this position. Wanting something so bad is just not healthy. It doesn’t let you see straight.
I’m interested to see what the RE is going to say tomorrow, especially since I haven’t officially gotten my period yet. I wonder what he’s going to say about the ultra-low progesterone, if he’ll agree with me that it means I didn’t ovulate this month. I hope to god he’s not going to force us to take a month off to ‘rest’ my ovaries before starting. I’ve heard of some doctor’s suggesting it, but it’s always hard to get the full story behind what’s happening.
The one personal drawback from starting IVF in a week is that R thinks that it should make me feel more positive about our treatment and therefore I will feel up to spending the Thanksgiving holiday with his family. I told him it would make no difference to me what our treatment was at that point; if we aren’t pregnant, I just can’t face them. He wasn’t happy about that. Sometimes I don’t think that he understands what a raw wound this whole experience is for me. He tells me that he feels the same way and that he can see how much it impacts me, but I told him last night that I hardly ever divulge my true feelings about the subject because I don’t want to upset him. I think if he really knew what I’m feeling and how much this affects me he would be scared for me. I really don’t talk to him about it all. I know he’s dealing with it in his own way and he’s told me before that it’s no use to talk about it because we essentially say the same things over and over.
So, that’s it. I guess I’m officially undergoing serious infertility treatment. Last night, while I was laying in bed, spending yet another night staring at the ceiling, I had this fleeting thought of “God, I almost pray for twins just so I will never, ever have to go through this again”. I guess, in a way, it’s good that we already know what we’re up against if we did want another child after this time around. I think once you have an IVF baby you’re pretty much stuck on that road for all eternity.
So that’s it. We’re crossing the infertile threshold and heading into the scary place that is in-vitro fertilization. The numbers scare me: most clinics put their success rates at 50% or 60%. That’s still not very high to me, but it’s better than the 2% (natural cycle) or 20% (IUI cycle) that’s we’re dealing with now. Still, it scares the bejeesus out of me to think about what is ahead of us: injections, possible multiples, the retrieval, going under general anesthesia, all sorts of complications. It’s enough to make you think twice about what you would do just to have a baby. Is it really going to be worth it all? Am I doing irreparable harm to my body just for the sake of having another child? What if all of this comes back to haunt me in 15 years and my health suffers. Who will take care of my kids if all of this causes me to get sick when I’m 50 or 60? It’s just awful that we’re in this position. Wanting something so bad is just not healthy. It doesn’t let you see straight.
I’m interested to see what the RE is going to say tomorrow, especially since I haven’t officially gotten my period yet. I wonder what he’s going to say about the ultra-low progesterone, if he’ll agree with me that it means I didn’t ovulate this month. I hope to god he’s not going to force us to take a month off to ‘rest’ my ovaries before starting. I’ve heard of some doctor’s suggesting it, but it’s always hard to get the full story behind what’s happening.
The one personal drawback from starting IVF in a week is that R thinks that it should make me feel more positive about our treatment and therefore I will feel up to spending the Thanksgiving holiday with his family. I told him it would make no difference to me what our treatment was at that point; if we aren’t pregnant, I just can’t face them. He wasn’t happy about that. Sometimes I don’t think that he understands what a raw wound this whole experience is for me. He tells me that he feels the same way and that he can see how much it impacts me, but I told him last night that I hardly ever divulge my true feelings about the subject because I don’t want to upset him. I think if he really knew what I’m feeling and how much this affects me he would be scared for me. I really don’t talk to him about it all. I know he’s dealing with it in his own way and he’s told me before that it’s no use to talk about it because we essentially say the same things over and over.
So, that’s it. I guess I’m officially undergoing serious infertility treatment. Last night, while I was laying in bed, spending yet another night staring at the ceiling, I had this fleeting thought of “God, I almost pray for twins just so I will never, ever have to go through this again”. I guess, in a way, it’s good that we already know what we’re up against if we did want another child after this time around. I think once you have an IVF baby you’re pretty much stuck on that road for all eternity.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The Human Rainbow
Ever have one of those days when you think, "Well, my life is pretty good" and then it just comes crashing down? Today was one of those days. It seems like I have a lot of those days lately. E woke me up at 6:15am this morning. Being that he was so bright and chipper, I insisted that he go back to bed for at least an hour so I could wake up. He's a trooper and so he stayed in his room, quiet as he could manage for about another 40 minutes. At that point he kept calling out "Is it too early now, Momma?" Ah, well. Time to start another day.
I had to get my weekly blood test this morning, so I fed him breakfast and headed out to the lab. After the blood draw, I headed out to get some errands done with E in tow. We're still in potty-training hell, so I made sure that all the stores we had to visit had a bathroom in the vicinity. E is known for only telling me he has to potty when there is no bathroom in sight. He did very, very well and was able to stay dry almost the entire trip. When we got home, R, E & I headed out for a little outing and between E & R giggling about some silly story E was making up, the warm weather and just generally feeling better than I had in weeks, I actually had the nerve to think "Gee, my life is pretty good." I had about two hours of that before it tanked.
On the way home, I got a call from the RE's office saying that based on my blood test that morning the doctor wanted me to start progesterone immediately. Wait a damn minute. My progesterone has never been bad. In fact, it's always been really good, so good that it's fooled my OB in the past into thinking I might be pregnant when in fact I wasn't. Why the hell would I need to start progesterone medications? So, I called the paging service to have the doctor on call paged to find out what was happening. It took almost five hours, but he finally called back and we went over the results. Apparently my progesterone was only 0.42 this month. To put that in perspective, it was in the twenties last month and almost 40 the month before that. And now it's less than 1. I asked him what in the world that meant, even though in my heart I already knew what it meant: I didn't ovulate this month. He confirmed that it could mean that I didn't ovulate or it could just be a fluke. He said that my LH last Friday was about a 26 and they interpret anything above a 16 to mean that you are surging and about to ovulate, hence the reason they scheduled the IUI for the next morning. But now my progesterone seven days later is less than 1. So he has no idea what the hell is happening. And so he prescribed the progesterone to see if we can save any pregnancy that may have started, on the off chance that I did ovulate.
So, I'm back to inserting pills where I would rather they didn't go. I'm back to the fantastic variety of colors seeping out of me, this time yellow. From blue pills to red blood to yellow pills. I'm just a freaking Human Rainbow these days. And I'm back to the oh-so-much fun side effects: nausea, cramps, loss of appetite. Who ever said that infertility wasn't fun?
After dealing with all that, I just couldn't seem to function. I feel so lost and hopeless now. I feel like I'm screwing so much with my body's natural abilities that I've messed everything up and now nothing is working properly. I used to ovulate perfectly fine on my own and now, with SIX follicles this month I couldn't even ovulate. There's just no way that after having six follicles develop that my progesterone was less than 1 if I actually did ovulate. I just don't think it's possible. I mean, come on, I had two follicles and my progesterone hits 38.
For the past few days I've been toying with the idea of just skipping the injectibles cycle and heading straight for the IVF option. The news today sealed the deal for me. I'm through screwing around with IUIs. We've had five, none of which have worked. I'm not waiting around, wasting another month with the hopes that another IUI will work. I knew months ago, in my heart, that IVF was where we were going to end up and we're there. I can't deny it anymore. R said he wants to talk it over tomorrow night, but he's also said that it's basically up to me. I'm ready to move on. If the IVF doesn't work then it's over. We'll probably give it three IVF cycles and then call it quits and move onto another option. I have no idea at this point what the option is, but it'll probably be adoption. I just hope that I can come to terms with the fact that I might never get pregnant again. I wish I savored it more. I wish I remembered what it felt like to hold that life inside me. It kills me to think I might never have that again.
I told R tonight that if we don't get pregnant by the time Thanksgiving comes around then he's going to have to go to his parents with E alone. There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to be around my pregnant siser-in-law and my other sister-in-law who just had a baby in May. A pregnant woman on one side of me and a newborn on the other. No way am I strong enough for that one. No way.
I had to get my weekly blood test this morning, so I fed him breakfast and headed out to the lab. After the blood draw, I headed out to get some errands done with E in tow. We're still in potty-training hell, so I made sure that all the stores we had to visit had a bathroom in the vicinity. E is known for only telling me he has to potty when there is no bathroom in sight. He did very, very well and was able to stay dry almost the entire trip. When we got home, R, E & I headed out for a little outing and between E & R giggling about some silly story E was making up, the warm weather and just generally feeling better than I had in weeks, I actually had the nerve to think "Gee, my life is pretty good." I had about two hours of that before it tanked.
On the way home, I got a call from the RE's office saying that based on my blood test that morning the doctor wanted me to start progesterone immediately. Wait a damn minute. My progesterone has never been bad. In fact, it's always been really good, so good that it's fooled my OB in the past into thinking I might be pregnant when in fact I wasn't. Why the hell would I need to start progesterone medications? So, I called the paging service to have the doctor on call paged to find out what was happening. It took almost five hours, but he finally called back and we went over the results. Apparently my progesterone was only 0.42 this month. To put that in perspective, it was in the twenties last month and almost 40 the month before that. And now it's less than 1. I asked him what in the world that meant, even though in my heart I already knew what it meant: I didn't ovulate this month. He confirmed that it could mean that I didn't ovulate or it could just be a fluke. He said that my LH last Friday was about a 26 and they interpret anything above a 16 to mean that you are surging and about to ovulate, hence the reason they scheduled the IUI for the next morning. But now my progesterone seven days later is less than 1. So he has no idea what the hell is happening. And so he prescribed the progesterone to see if we can save any pregnancy that may have started, on the off chance that I did ovulate.
So, I'm back to inserting pills where I would rather they didn't go. I'm back to the fantastic variety of colors seeping out of me, this time yellow. From blue pills to red blood to yellow pills. I'm just a freaking Human Rainbow these days. And I'm back to the oh-so-much fun side effects: nausea, cramps, loss of appetite. Who ever said that infertility wasn't fun?
After dealing with all that, I just couldn't seem to function. I feel so lost and hopeless now. I feel like I'm screwing so much with my body's natural abilities that I've messed everything up and now nothing is working properly. I used to ovulate perfectly fine on my own and now, with SIX follicles this month I couldn't even ovulate. There's just no way that after having six follicles develop that my progesterone was less than 1 if I actually did ovulate. I just don't think it's possible. I mean, come on, I had two follicles and my progesterone hits 38.
For the past few days I've been toying with the idea of just skipping the injectibles cycle and heading straight for the IVF option. The news today sealed the deal for me. I'm through screwing around with IUIs. We've had five, none of which have worked. I'm not waiting around, wasting another month with the hopes that another IUI will work. I knew months ago, in my heart, that IVF was where we were going to end up and we're there. I can't deny it anymore. R said he wants to talk it over tomorrow night, but he's also said that it's basically up to me. I'm ready to move on. If the IVF doesn't work then it's over. We'll probably give it three IVF cycles and then call it quits and move onto another option. I have no idea at this point what the option is, but it'll probably be adoption. I just hope that I can come to terms with the fact that I might never get pregnant again. I wish I savored it more. I wish I remembered what it felt like to hold that life inside me. It kills me to think I might never have that again.
I told R tonight that if we don't get pregnant by the time Thanksgiving comes around then he's going to have to go to his parents with E alone. There's no way in hell I'm going to be able to be around my pregnant siser-in-law and my other sister-in-law who just had a baby in May. A pregnant woman on one side of me and a newborn on the other. No way am I strong enough for that one. No way.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Days go by...
Well, it looks like the bleeding is slowing down, but it's not gone yet, so I called the RE's office again this afternoon to let them know. I'm still almost 99% convinced that it was due to stopping the estrogen but I figured since it was four days in the running, another phone call was warranted. Plus, I'm having these strange sharp pains now and then. Some of them are strong enough to take my breath away, but they go away pretty fast when they do hit. I keep having terrible visions of an ectopic pregnancy but I have to remind myself that they're rare and I probably wouldn't have bleeding this early with an ectopic. Just have to keep my mind off it.
R was talking to me last night about a couple that we're friends with and he says "Did you know that C and L have been trying to get pregnant almost as long as we have?" This, of course, I knew. We went to their wedding a few years ago and I remember C (the husband) saying that they were going to start trying immediately. We hadn't heard that they had gotten pregnant yet, so naturally I have to assume that they were still trying. "They just found out they conceived", R tells me. Isn’t it amazing how your vocabulary changes when you’re knee-deep in infertility treatments? It’s not “They’re having a baby!” or “She’s pregnant!”, but “They conceived” instead. Yuck. Impersonal, clinical, sterile, yucky. Yet one more reason to hate the world of infertility.
And, of course, as soon as those words left R’s mouth, I felt sick to my stomach. It’s awful the way I feel when I hear someone else is pregnant and I’m still NOT. Part of me feels really happy for their good fortune and hates what’s happening to me and the other part is just angry and spiteful and full of rage. It’s such a Jekyll and Hyde sort of life I live these days. On the outside I’m trying to smile, be happy and keep my life moving in the right direction but deep inside I’m so angry and confused about all of this. People keep telling me “Relax, it’ll happen soon. You’ll have another baby, I swear, it’s just a matter of when.” That brings me no solace whatsoever. None. I know it should cheer me up because they’re probably right. I’m sure eventually, somehow, some way, I will have another baby. But that’s not good enough. I don’t want to have to suffer anymore because of my body’s inability to create another life. I don’t want to have to keep injecting myself with dangerous chemicals, timing sex, suffering from bizarre side-effects. I don’t WANT any of this anymore. And yet, I can’t stop. There is absolutely nothing I can do to help this situation and that’s just infuriating me. I am at the mercy of nature and modern medical science. And it’s a lonely, lonely place to be.
R was talking to me last night about a couple that we're friends with and he says "Did you know that C and L have been trying to get pregnant almost as long as we have?" This, of course, I knew. We went to their wedding a few years ago and I remember C (the husband) saying that they were going to start trying immediately. We hadn't heard that they had gotten pregnant yet, so naturally I have to assume that they were still trying. "They just found out they conceived", R tells me. Isn’t it amazing how your vocabulary changes when you’re knee-deep in infertility treatments? It’s not “They’re having a baby!” or “She’s pregnant!”, but “They conceived” instead. Yuck. Impersonal, clinical, sterile, yucky. Yet one more reason to hate the world of infertility.
And, of course, as soon as those words left R’s mouth, I felt sick to my stomach. It’s awful the way I feel when I hear someone else is pregnant and I’m still NOT. Part of me feels really happy for their good fortune and hates what’s happening to me and the other part is just angry and spiteful and full of rage. It’s such a Jekyll and Hyde sort of life I live these days. On the outside I’m trying to smile, be happy and keep my life moving in the right direction but deep inside I’m so angry and confused about all of this. People keep telling me “Relax, it’ll happen soon. You’ll have another baby, I swear, it’s just a matter of when.” That brings me no solace whatsoever. None. I know it should cheer me up because they’re probably right. I’m sure eventually, somehow, some way, I will have another baby. But that’s not good enough. I don’t want to have to suffer anymore because of my body’s inability to create another life. I don’t want to have to keep injecting myself with dangerous chemicals, timing sex, suffering from bizarre side-effects. I don’t WANT any of this anymore. And yet, I can’t stop. There is absolutely nothing I can do to help this situation and that’s just infuriating me. I am at the mercy of nature and modern medical science. And it’s a lonely, lonely place to be.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Gifts
I think if anyone asks me what R got me for our sixth wedding anniversary I’m going to have to say “a sperm specimen”. It just sounds so romantic.
As if that 'gift' wasn't enough for me, my body has decided to give me it's own little surprise. I started bleeding this morning and it's getting heavier as the day goes on. At first it was just a little spotting but by this afternoon it was heavy enough to warrant me using a pantyliner. I have no idea what is happening here. I've never, ever had mid-cycle spotting. Not before I had E, not while doing the four other IUI cycles, never. So it bothers me a little. I'm also having some cramping but that's not really abnormal. I called the RE's office a little while ago and they said that they would run it by the doctor. The nurse did mention that it could be implantation, but it seems really early to have that happening right now. Then again, anything is possible. If we figure out the days, I guess it's possible... look at it this way: they had me come in on Saturday morning after seeing my Friday LH blood test results. Because of this results, I skipped the trigger and had the IUI on Saturday. So, it's possible I ovulated on Friday and that would put me at 4DPO. I always thought that was a little early for implantation, but anything is possible.
And, even as all this stuff happens life is moving on around me. E has taken two big steps back in the potty-training efforts. He's not even caring that he's wet or dirty, not telling us he needs to go to the bathroom and fibbing about whether or not he already went. It's infuriating and frustrating, to say the least. Last night he and I had a big talk and I told him his one job from now on is to stay dry. He 'promised' me he would and even as he was saying it, he was wet. Sigh. So, I'll admit, I was so ticked that I sent him to bed after dinner. At 6:30pm. I was just cranky and not up to dealing with it, so rather than do or say something I would regret, I sent him to bed. I don't know what to do for him anymore. I swear, he's going to be the only ten year old in diapers.
As if that 'gift' wasn't enough for me, my body has decided to give me it's own little surprise. I started bleeding this morning and it's getting heavier as the day goes on. At first it was just a little spotting but by this afternoon it was heavy enough to warrant me using a pantyliner. I have no idea what is happening here. I've never, ever had mid-cycle spotting. Not before I had E, not while doing the four other IUI cycles, never. So it bothers me a little. I'm also having some cramping but that's not really abnormal. I called the RE's office a little while ago and they said that they would run it by the doctor. The nurse did mention that it could be implantation, but it seems really early to have that happening right now. Then again, anything is possible. If we figure out the days, I guess it's possible... look at it this way: they had me come in on Saturday morning after seeing my Friday LH blood test results. Because of this results, I skipped the trigger and had the IUI on Saturday. So, it's possible I ovulated on Friday and that would put me at 4DPO. I always thought that was a little early for implantation, but anything is possible.
And, even as all this stuff happens life is moving on around me. E has taken two big steps back in the potty-training efforts. He's not even caring that he's wet or dirty, not telling us he needs to go to the bathroom and fibbing about whether or not he already went. It's infuriating and frustrating, to say the least. Last night he and I had a big talk and I told him his one job from now on is to stay dry. He 'promised' me he would and even as he was saying it, he was wet. Sigh. So, I'll admit, I was so ticked that I sent him to bed after dinner. At 6:30pm. I was just cranky and not up to dealing with it, so rather than do or say something I would regret, I sent him to bed. I don't know what to do for him anymore. I swear, he's going to be the only ten year old in diapers.
Friday, September 14, 2007
I take that back.
No sooner had I finished posting this afternoon than the nurse called and let me know that, as she said, I was about to ovulate any time. I'm guessing that my LH was high on the blood test, so the nurse told me to skip the trigger shot this month and to come in TOMORROW MORNING. Yup, talk about a quick turn-around. So, IUI number 5 is schedule for 10:15am, tomorrow morning.
Did I mention tomorrow is our sixth wedding anniversary?
Did I mention tomorrow is our sixth wedding anniversary?
Stalled?
Went for another ultrasound this afternoon and basically had good and bad news. The bad news was that I seem to have stalled out on follicular development. But it's strange because the nurse this morning found not four but SIX growing follicles. The bad part is that the largest one was still only a 14mm. However, she thinks that the nurse-in-training that took the ultrasound on Wednesday misjudged the size of the largest lead follicle and that she measured two follicles as one big one. So, the nurse this morning didn't want me to think I haven't progressed because she thinks that the eggs are still growing. It looks like I'll be back in the office on Sunday for yet another ultrasound. Which bugs me because I'm on CD14 today. Normally I ovluate on this day without a problem, but because I took these meds so late this month, everything is thrown off.
Now for the possibly-good news: It looks like my lining has gone up to 7.4mm. Finally, something to be optimistic about! From what I can remember, this is the thickest it's ever gotten so maybe that's a good sign. So, I'm still stuck with taking my yucky, messy little blue pills, but at least it looks like they're working. I had my E2 and LH tested again today so it'll be interesting to see if my E2 levels correspond with the thicker lining.
As for work, I got so little done today that I'm annoyed. I had my first lunch meeting with a Sales Rep and it lasted from 11:30am until 2:30pm. Yikes. Talk about wasting away an afternoon! Still, at this point everything is a learning experience, so I just have to roll with it. At least I got a lobster sandwich out of it all.
Now for the possibly-good news: It looks like my lining has gone up to 7.4mm. Finally, something to be optimistic about! From what I can remember, this is the thickest it's ever gotten so maybe that's a good sign. So, I'm still stuck with taking my yucky, messy little blue pills, but at least it looks like they're working. I had my E2 and LH tested again today so it'll be interesting to see if my E2 levels correspond with the thicker lining.
As for work, I got so little done today that I'm annoyed. I had my first lunch meeting with a Sales Rep and it lasted from 11:30am until 2:30pm. Yikes. Talk about wasting away an afternoon! Still, at this point everything is a learning experience, so I just have to roll with it. At least I got a lobster sandwich out of it all.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I’m feeling blue… so blue.
After the surprising phone call from the nurse yesterday afternoon, it turns out that they don’t consider me close enough to ovulation to order the trigger shot just yet. When she called back, the nurse said that the doctor reviewing my chart said that the high E2 was most likely from the estrogen I’m taking. Um, duh. So then she said that they want to see me again on Friday morning for another ultrasound and to check out the four follicles I have developing right now. I asked her if we would still do the IUI and she got a little snippy about it and said something like “I didn’t say anything about that. I said to come in on Friday morning and we’ll look at the plan once we see what’s happening. We need those follicles to be at least 16 or more and your biggest one is only a 14.” So, since I was feeling a little combative, I started peppering her with questions: should I keep taking the estrogen? Was my ovulation delayed because of taking the Femara later? When would I stop the estrogen? and on and on.
So, yet again, my body is just not behaving as it should. My lining is still non-existent even though my estrogen is through the roof. Having to take these estrogen pills is wrecking havoc with my body. Not only am I tired, achy and just generally down, I’m also leaking blue. Yes, blue. Yuck.
I realized last night yet another one of the things that’s bothering me about all of this infertility stuff. What if it never happens for us? What if I never am able to get pregnant again at all? Will I be happy with an adoption? Would R and E be happy with it? How would I feel knowing I have no genetic connection with a child that I’m raising? As we were getting ready for bed last night, R started to put the moves on me. Normally I would jump at the chance because he hardly even is in the mood to initiate on how own, but it just made me cry this time. I knew we couldn’t fool around because I had just ‘taken’ my pill for the night and he’d have been freaked if the pill came out or something while we were in the act. Imagine having sex and you look down and you’re covered in light blue? Fun thought, isn’t it? So, here he is, trying to calm me down and I couldn’t help saying that I feel like I’m at the edge of giving up. He told me that he’s not there yet, so I have to be strong and hang on for both of us. He (sort of) acknowledged that I’m the one getting the brunt end of all of this, with the medications and such throwing me into such a tail spin. I’ll admit, I’ve been tired, cranky and just generally out of sorts all week. It was just nice to hear that he acknowledges how hard this is becoming on my body and me. As he was trying to calm me down I blurted “What if it never works? What if I can’t ever get pregnant again? What will I do!?”. I couldn’t help it. It’s the question that lurks in my mind all the time. I keep trudging on and on with the blind hope that it will work and yet it doesn’t. Month after month, nothing works and that fear edges up a little higher. But it’s what I need to know. I need a contingency plan to work towards. I need a goal to set my sights on so that if it doesn’t ever work again, I have something, anything to look forward to. That’s part of the pain of all of this. I’m not ready to accept that it won’t work, but I have to plan as if it won’t just so that I can sleep at night.
So, yet again, my body is just not behaving as it should. My lining is still non-existent even though my estrogen is through the roof. Having to take these estrogen pills is wrecking havoc with my body. Not only am I tired, achy and just generally down, I’m also leaking blue. Yes, blue. Yuck.
I realized last night yet another one of the things that’s bothering me about all of this infertility stuff. What if it never happens for us? What if I never am able to get pregnant again at all? Will I be happy with an adoption? Would R and E be happy with it? How would I feel knowing I have no genetic connection with a child that I’m raising? As we were getting ready for bed last night, R started to put the moves on me. Normally I would jump at the chance because he hardly even is in the mood to initiate on how own, but it just made me cry this time. I knew we couldn’t fool around because I had just ‘taken’ my pill for the night and he’d have been freaked if the pill came out or something while we were in the act. Imagine having sex and you look down and you’re covered in light blue? Fun thought, isn’t it? So, here he is, trying to calm me down and I couldn’t help saying that I feel like I’m at the edge of giving up. He told me that he’s not there yet, so I have to be strong and hang on for both of us. He (sort of) acknowledged that I’m the one getting the brunt end of all of this, with the medications and such throwing me into such a tail spin. I’ll admit, I’ve been tired, cranky and just generally out of sorts all week. It was just nice to hear that he acknowledges how hard this is becoming on my body and me. As he was trying to calm me down I blurted “What if it never works? What if I can’t ever get pregnant again? What will I do!?”. I couldn’t help it. It’s the question that lurks in my mind all the time. I keep trudging on and on with the blind hope that it will work and yet it doesn’t. Month after month, nothing works and that fear edges up a little higher. But it’s what I need to know. I need a contingency plan to work towards. I need a goal to set my sights on so that if it doesn’t ever work again, I have something, anything to look forward to. That’s part of the pain of all of this. I’m not ready to accept that it won’t work, but I have to plan as if it won’t just so that I can sleep at night.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The modern medical mystery that I am.
I just got a call from the RE’s office. I went for another ultrasound this morning, which is another story entirely, but I had three follicles on the left side and one on the right. Sounds promising, except the reason that the nurse was calling was that my estrogen has gone up to 2000. That’s right, 2000. To put that in perspective, last month it was in the 80's. She said that they were so perplexed by that result that they needed to call me right away to find out if I took all my meds this month. I told her that I did and reminded her that I was on the vaginal estrogen tablets three times a day to help my lining. She said that might have something to do with it, but that the follicular development was not corresponding to the estrogen levels. I’m not sure that the heck that means, so I’ll have to check into it. I was hoping with such high estrogen levels my lining would finally behave and get thicker but no such luck. It was only 4.7mm. Less than half of what they would hope for at this point in my cycle; it should normally be around 11 or so. Nope. I don’t even know what to think about it. I’m so frustrated I could cry. All week I've been feeling terrible. I'm not sure if it's the meds or if I'm fighting something off, but I've had terrible cramps, an upset stomach and I just feel worn down and tired all the time.
The nurse is going to call me later today to let me know what the next step is. I'm not sure if they'll have me trigger now or not. Imagine if I went through all of this just to have them cancel the cycle?
The nurse is going to call me later today to let me know what the next step is. I'm not sure if they'll have me trigger now or not. Imagine if I went through all of this just to have them cancel the cycle?
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Round and round we go.
The meeting with the RE went almost exactly as I had thought. I probably could have written it out word-for-word. As I thought, the RE wants us to move onto a more aggressive procedure. He would approve us for IVF tomorrow if we want, but he would really like me to try at least one injectibles cycle so that he can see how my lining responds. He is completely puzzled as to what my problem is, so again I'm lumped in with that 'unexplained' 10% of all infertile women. No reason for the problem, just can't get pregnant. Great. R wanted to go right to IVF, but I agreed to do one injectible cycle. I asked the RE what a good response to the injectibles would be and he said that ideally we'd like to have two or three viable follicles. Which is what I've already been getting with the Femara, hence the reason he classifies me as a 'good responder'. After I pushed a bit about the lining, he agreed to try to Estrace tablets for the rest of the cycle. I'm pretty sure he doesn't think they'll do anything for me, but he was willing to let me try. I'm also taking Mucinex (my own decision, nothing that the RE mentioned), but since we're going to try having sex on our own this cycle in addition to the IUI, I figure it can't hurt. So, starting tomorrow morning, I get to start popping the Mucinex and start stick these tiny little blue pills where the sun don't shine and pray to God that my lining responds. The monthly ultrasound monitoring starts on Wednesday, the hCG shot will most likely be on Wednesday night with IUI #5 on Friday morning.
As for the other parts of my life, I start my new position tomorrow morning. It's going to be a strange transition, to say the least. I spent Thursday and Friday learning my assistant's job so that I can step in when needed on her end. It's going to be so strange to be learning a new job when I've already been there for a year.
As for the other parts of my life, I start my new position tomorrow morning. It's going to be a strange transition, to say the least. I spent Thursday and Friday learning my assistant's job so that I can step in when needed on her end. It's going to be so strange to be learning a new job when I've already been there for a year.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
“We should be happy” and other lies.
This weekend we make the five-hour driving trip to see the in-laws. It was supposed to be a get-away for R and I so that we could take E to see his grandparents and escape yet another crappy, failed cycle. Part of the reason we were going was to visit the New York State Fair. Another reason was that my brother-in-law was in his first triathlon on Saturday and we were going to a little get-together to celebrate his success. So, we drive the five hours and I’m just so glad to be getting away from thinking about not being pregnant for the 18th month in a row. It's like a weight is being semi-lifted from my chest. Internally, I'm making all sorts of vows to myself to stay upbeat, put the past behind me, focus on the new month. All of that. Yet...
We are not at my sister-in-law’s house for more then five minutes when they announce that they are, yup, you guessed it: Pregnant. Oh, the sheer fucking joy of it. I felt like a trapped animal. My first overwhelming instinct was to run. I just wanted to get out of that house and run as far away as I could. I went outside to get something from the car for E and I just sat there and sobbed. R saw me leaving the house and followed me out. I’m sure he could tell I was upset, so he gave me a hug and the first words out of his mouth were “We should be happy.” I can’t even begin to explain how that cut me. We should be happy? Why, oh WHY should I be happy for them when I’m still stuck in my own personal infertile hell day after day? R proceeds to remind me that they’ve been going through almost exactly what we’ve been going through and that my sister-in-law knows how I’m feeling because, as he says, “she’s been through it when her friends got pregnant and she didn’t”. So, why is it that she suddenly gets amnesia about the pain and humiliation of someone else getting pregnant when YOU can’t? R tells me that they have the right to be happy and to celebrate the fact that it worked for them. Yes, I agree. You can be happy ALL YOU WANT. Just find a more humane way of breaking the news to those of us that are mentally destroyed by your oh-so-happy news. Don’t announce it to the whole fucking room so that we have to find a way to cope with your joy in public.
See, that’s the part that bothers me the most. This is the same sister-in-law that was snippy to me last month about why we were going straight to IVF after this month and not trying injections first. This is the same sister-in-law that told me I should enjoy my son. I don’t know why I thought she would be a friend in all of this torture. I don’t know why I thought she would be more compassionate about breaking the news if she got pregnant first. I guess it’s because I know I would have thought more about how it would have affected her if I had gotten pregnant before she did. I would have broken the news to her in private; I would have made sure she was comfortable first. If she’s ‘gone through it with her friends’ before, why the hell couldn’t she remembered what that pain was like? I guess I’ve been lucky. All of my friends that have ‘gone through it’ and gotten pregnant before me have been sensitive about how it might make someone else feel. They actually remember what it was like to have that feeling.
So, with that one announcement, my entire weekend was spun into a newer, deeper shade of hell. Now I was pissed because we were on vacation and because I started my period on Saturday, we were going to pass the deadline for the injections or IVF cycle. Which means I have to repeat another Femara/IUI cycle. Considering the outcome of the last four IUI cycles, I don’t have much faith that this month is going to be any different than the last four. Call me pessimistic, call me negative, whatever you want. I’m just plain angry and sick and tired of all of this.
This morning I had the joy of another baseline ultrasound and more blood work. I don’t think that I’ve mentioned it before, but another one of the wonderful side effects of having to get blood draw every week is that your veins start to become sensitive. It’s starting to really hurt every time they stick me. I’ve tried alternating arms, but it’s the same. Or maybe it’s just psychological. I don’t know. I just know it hurts and the bruises are lasting longer and longer. I barely have time to heal before they have to stick me again.
R and I are meeting with the RE tomorrow afternoon to talk about moving on next month. We’ve basically decided that we’re sick of not getting answers about my lining issues. Every month I’m told that I’m responding beautifully to the medications and every month my lining is thin and we don’t get pregnant. I think that we’ll probably undergo one month of injections before we start to push for IVF. I’m afraid of what the RE will say tomorrow. I know he’s going to want to push for injections instead. I’m just tired of waiting. I’m tired of crying about all of this. I just want something to work.
We are not at my sister-in-law’s house for more then five minutes when they announce that they are, yup, you guessed it: Pregnant. Oh, the sheer fucking joy of it. I felt like a trapped animal. My first overwhelming instinct was to run. I just wanted to get out of that house and run as far away as I could. I went outside to get something from the car for E and I just sat there and sobbed. R saw me leaving the house and followed me out. I’m sure he could tell I was upset, so he gave me a hug and the first words out of his mouth were “We should be happy.” I can’t even begin to explain how that cut me. We should be happy? Why, oh WHY should I be happy for them when I’m still stuck in my own personal infertile hell day after day? R proceeds to remind me that they’ve been going through almost exactly what we’ve been going through and that my sister-in-law knows how I’m feeling because, as he says, “she’s been through it when her friends got pregnant and she didn’t”. So, why is it that she suddenly gets amnesia about the pain and humiliation of someone else getting pregnant when YOU can’t? R tells me that they have the right to be happy and to celebrate the fact that it worked for them. Yes, I agree. You can be happy ALL YOU WANT. Just find a more humane way of breaking the news to those of us that are mentally destroyed by your oh-so-happy news. Don’t announce it to the whole fucking room so that we have to find a way to cope with your joy in public.
See, that’s the part that bothers me the most. This is the same sister-in-law that was snippy to me last month about why we were going straight to IVF after this month and not trying injections first. This is the same sister-in-law that told me I should enjoy my son. I don’t know why I thought she would be a friend in all of this torture. I don’t know why I thought she would be more compassionate about breaking the news if she got pregnant first. I guess it’s because I know I would have thought more about how it would have affected her if I had gotten pregnant before she did. I would have broken the news to her in private; I would have made sure she was comfortable first. If she’s ‘gone through it with her friends’ before, why the hell couldn’t she remembered what that pain was like? I guess I’ve been lucky. All of my friends that have ‘gone through it’ and gotten pregnant before me have been sensitive about how it might make someone else feel. They actually remember what it was like to have that feeling.
So, with that one announcement, my entire weekend was spun into a newer, deeper shade of hell. Now I was pissed because we were on vacation and because I started my period on Saturday, we were going to pass the deadline for the injections or IVF cycle. Which means I have to repeat another Femara/IUI cycle. Considering the outcome of the last four IUI cycles, I don’t have much faith that this month is going to be any different than the last four. Call me pessimistic, call me negative, whatever you want. I’m just plain angry and sick and tired of all of this.
This morning I had the joy of another baseline ultrasound and more blood work. I don’t think that I’ve mentioned it before, but another one of the wonderful side effects of having to get blood draw every week is that your veins start to become sensitive. It’s starting to really hurt every time they stick me. I’ve tried alternating arms, but it’s the same. Or maybe it’s just psychological. I don’t know. I just know it hurts and the bruises are lasting longer and longer. I barely have time to heal before they have to stick me again.
R and I are meeting with the RE tomorrow afternoon to talk about moving on next month. We’ve basically decided that we’re sick of not getting answers about my lining issues. Every month I’m told that I’m responding beautifully to the medications and every month my lining is thin and we don’t get pregnant. I think that we’ll probably undergo one month of injections before we start to push for IVF. I’m afraid of what the RE will say tomorrow. I know he’s going to want to push for injections instead. I’m just tired of waiting. I’m tired of crying about all of this. I just want something to work.
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