Keep 'em comin'

The ultrasound this morning found four more follicles lining up with the rest. I still only have three on my lazy right ovary, but my left is just producing them by leaps and bounds. I now have nine on my left ovary with four more waiting and three on my right with three more waiting. So, the number right now is 12, with seven more possible. It's funny, but I had set myself a goal of 12 and that's right where we're at. As if my 'goal' really has any bearing on what my ovaries are doing. Still, it makes me feel a little better that the numbers are growing and that I wasn't completely crazy with the lofty goal of at least 12 to harvest. I'm still nervous about the fact that my right ovary is being so lazy, and the fact that my estrogen seems to be staying low, but I have to just take one day at a time right now and hope for the best outcome possible: a baby.

As for timing, right now I'm at the beck and call of the ovaries and their follicle friends. The RE was hoping to do the harvest (AKA egg retrieval) on Wednesday, November 7 but I'm not sure when it'll happen since my ovaries seem to be taking their sweet time. Here's how it plays out: they want the follicles to be around 20mm before they will harvest the eggs. Follicles grow between 1mm and 2mm per day and the biggest one I have right now is about a 14 or so. So, that would give me at least three more days (2mm per day for three days to get to 20mm total), but since the largest is 14, they may wait a little longer to wait to see when the others will catch up. So, at the very least I have three more days before the retrieval, but it'll probably be more like five days.

Did I mention that I'm so bloated that I have to walk around the house with my pants unbuttoned? Fun, fun, fun!

The more, the merrier! (Tell it to the ovaries, baby)

Today's daily probing and poking was much more productive... or should I say reproductive? Either way, it was better news. The nurse was able to find five follicles on my left ovary (with up to four or five more hiding out) and three on my right (with two more waiting in the wings). So, as of right now I have eight developing with up to seven more waiting; 15 potential eggs. Much better news than Wednesday!

Of course, I wouldn't be me without some bad news to temper the good: my lining is still very thin. Oh, come on. I know you’re not surprised. The nurse said that the RE would most likely want me to start the Estrace tablets again in the next few days to build up the lining. I asked her if it would interfere with my follicle development, since the last time I took estrogen I didn’t ovulate at all. She said “We’re not worried about you ovulating now.”, which is true, but she said that it shouldn't affect the follicles at all. Shouldn’t. I hate that word. I really do. I would prefer “won’t”, but I’ll have to take what I can get.

The bloodwork on Wednesday wasn’t much to admire either. The nurse that called that afternoon told me the E2 had risen to 149 which isn’t great. Of course, this could have a lot to do with the thin lining. The good part is that the Estrace seemed to work for me last time around, plumping the lining up to a passable 7.4mm. The bad part is that I’ll be leaking blue again for the rest of the week. Oh, the joy of infertility!

As for other side effects, I’m dealing. The headache is gone and the cramps and sore belly has started (mostly due to my ovaries being inflated like little fertility balloons), but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Not yet at least.

All aboard, once again…

The rollercoaster has officially started again. I went in for my first ultrasound after starting the Follistim and the nurse didn’t find a single follicle to measure. Not one. She did find ‘multiple’ less than 10mm in both ovaries but nothing that seems to want to develop into eggs. This is not good news. In fact, it’s terrible news. After five days of the stimulation injections, I have nothing growing. I am trying so hard to hold it together at work, but every time I think about it I get tears in my eyes. Who would have thought after having such a great response to all the IUI meds that I would be in this situation? I asked the nurse if this was normal and she said that it happens ‘sometimes’. She also said that I have the ‘potential’ of getting some follicles to grow, but that we’ll have to wait to see what the blood work says. So it’s now all in the hands of my estrogen.

To top it off, I’ve been feeling much more moody and cranky the past two days. I’m sure it’s hormones, but it’s not helping matters. I finally got around to making this soup that I’ve been dying to try in the crockpot yesterday. I started it in the morning before work, which made me late for work, but the idea of having dinner ready and waiting when I got home was worth it, only to discover when I got home that I had plugged in the blender, not the crock pot. Talk about meltdown. Yes, I cried over soup. I was so frustrated and it was one more thing to add to the ever-growing list that of things that I seem to be failing at lately.

To make matters worse, I've started bruising like you wouldn't believe from all the shots. The shot this morning immediately turned black within an hour and I still have at least five more days, possibly more of the injections.

I hate this. I hate the rollercoaster of the injections, the fears that it won’t work, the side-effects, the constant worrying. Some people have no idea how easy they have it. IVF is on my mind every second that I breathe. I even dream about it now. It is all-consuming and it is beyond terrible. R says he's trying to be hopeful for both of us, but I worry that we're beyond hope.

I feel like I am trapped in hell.

All (reproductive) systems go!

The baseline went well yesterday. No cysts on either ovary and my stripe was thin. The nurse did find four follicles less than 10mm on my right ovary and multiple less than 10mm on my left ovary, but she said that was normal. I'm hoping that it's a good sign of things to come in the next few weeks. I'll be a little scared if I only get four eggs on each side. It's sad to think that just a few months ago I would have been estatic to have four follicles total. These days the numbers game takes a greater significance: more equals better. I'm hoping for at least 12 follicles total. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up either way, but 12 seems like a nice number right now.

So, now that they have confirmed that everything is quiet on the reproductive front, I've been given the go-ahead to start the next round of injections. I start my second daily injection on Saturday and it will be 225 units of Follistim taken between 7:00pm and 9:00pm every night. On that same day they want me to reduce the amount of Lupron to 5 units taken between 7:00am and 9:00am. So, basically for the next two weeks I have to take some sort of shot every 12 hours. My next ultrasound is scheduled for Halloween morning. And then the real worrying begins.

The flood damage is still being calculated. The adjuster got the estimate from the contractor yesterday and he thought it was too low, so he's making the contractor submit another estimate. We're still looking at about $40,000 worth of construction and $10,000 worth of clean-up. Luckily, everyone wants to move fast on this one, so it's not nearly the hassle it normally would be. I'm sure it'll start to be a bother once we need to pick out cabinets, carpets, flooring and the other little details.

E has been in a rare mood the past few days. He's chatting up such a storm that it's almost dizzying sometimes. Yesterday, during our ride home, he says to me "Momma, did you know that NBC News is the world's news leader?" I am not kidding you. I really need to stop that kid from watching the news.

The half-way mark... sort of.

Two weeks of Lupron injections are starting to take their toll. I’m more tired than usual and I’ve started to get the beginnings of menopause symptoms. Oh joy. The RE’s nurse said to expect them, but it’s still unnerving to have hot flashes and insomnia at my age. I’ve also started to have the lovely symptom of ‘vaginal dryness’ which, as you can imagine, is not so much fun. In fact it’s irritating. Literally. Laugh all you want, but at least when I go into menopause I’ll be fully aware of what life is going to be like. See? There’s that pesky silver lining again.

I will admit I’ve also been feeling more moody than usual. After feeling so positive and upbeat about our IVF journey it’s hard when I slip back into the doubting and fearful side of it. I’ve been trying to regain my positive footing but my hormones are playing their ugly tricks. So, I’ve been trying to pamper myself whenever possible. I did realize that the downward slide happened after I stupidly searched online for IVF blogs to see what other people have gone through. Stupid, stupid mistake. For every good success story I found there was another miscarriage or failed IVF attempt. I vowed to myself to stop researching and this is exactly the reason why: whenever I read personal stories, I start to doubt myself and my own process. It felt better to know that’s what dragged me down, but still doesn’t help to prop me back up. It was a good reminder of why I shouldn’t keep reading other people’s stories; they aren’t me.

Tomorrow I have my baseline ultrasound and bloodwork. Then, as long as everything is calmed down and the ovaries are quiet, I’ll start the stimulation medications on Friday. Tomorrow marks the half-way point of this cycle. Well, sort of. It’s the halfway point to the retrieval and transfer… and then we have the excruciating two week wait until the pregnancy test. Which I’m sure will just drag, drag, drag by. Funny how sometimes two weeks will just fly and then other times two weeks drags. It’s going to take all my will power to get through each day.

Life is what happens when… well, it just happens.

As if there wasn’t enough going on these days, God has decided to throw me another curve ball. Or maybe it’s the Fates. I don’t know. But whatever it is, it has a funny sense of humor.

R called me at work yesterday and said “Are you sitting down? Unit D is off the market.” If I haven’t mentioned it before, we own four townhouse units with R’s best friend (J) and his wife (E, but we’ll call her EV). We live in one unit, J and EV live in another and we rent the other two units out. About a year ago, we put Unit C and D on the market so that we could get out of the landlord business and start to build our own nest egg to buy another house. So, the units have been empty for about a year, but since we live on the property, we check them out every weekend or so. With that background in mind, the story continues… R tells me that something happened to the toilet upstairs in Unit D and it leaked water. Ok. It didn’t really leak water, it more like gushed water. All over the house. The ‘leak’ was so bad that it collapsed the kitchen ceiling below it. And warped the flooring in the bathroom, the kitchen, soaked the carpets through the entire house, shorted out the light fixtures, and then poured into the basement. The house looks like the apocalypse. R and I spent the rest of the afternoon calling the insurance agent, the adjuster, contractors and a water restoration company to come to start cleaning up the damage. They set up about 12 fans and two huge dehumidifiers to start drying the place out. They later told R that they think the kitchen cabinets and countertops will have to be replaced as well. The adjuster came this morning and told R that he wants us to get a quote from the contractor and he’s estimating that the costs are going to run…take a deep breath… $50,000. And no. I’m not joking.

Trying to remain positive about this, I remember three things: no one was hurt. The house didn’t catch fire even though the water got into the electrical system. We have insurance.

There’s always a silver lining, right? I’m getting good at finding it these days.

One week down, one to go

It's Wednesday. Jeepers, it's Wednesday! I had a conference to attend the past two days so this week just feels more than half over. I used to love professional conferences when I was 'just an assistant' because they got me out of the office and into something different for a few days. Not any more. Now all I think about it the work that it piled up on my desk, waiting for me. I even stayed late last Friday to catch up on some work and was actually HAPPY to have done so. For a brief minute I felt like I had a grip on my workload... and then I went to a conference. And now my desk is buried again. And I'm blogging instead of writing. Or are you already pointing that out as you read this? Smart ass.

Not much new to report from the IVF-front. I'm still doing the daily injections and getting used to having to jab my stomach once a day. I seem to always bruise when I inject my left side but not my right. Very strange. Still, even though I'm bruising, none of the injection sites are hurting, so I worry sometimes I'm not doing something right. I'm also not really getting any side effects other than being tired, tired, tired at the end of the day. But that could be because I'm not sleeping well because of that pulled muscle in my neck. These days anything could be a side effect, right?

I'm still in good spirits about everything, but I'll admit, I'm wary about seeing other pregnant women. I try to keep my distance but it's more of a tolerance than an outright acceptance. I'm working on it.

My freedom is coming.

Yes. I'll admit. I love poetry. But most of the stuff out there is crap. Sentimental, touchy-feely, lovey crap. That just doesn't appeal to me. Considering the life changes I've been trying to install, this spoke to me. No, I didn't really cry yesterday, but there have been a lot of yesterdays for me lately.

My freedom is coming.



Yesterday I Cried by Iyanla Vanzant


I came home, went straight to my room,
sat on the edge of my bed,
kicked off my shoes,
unhooked my bra,
and I had myself a good cry.

I'm telling you,
I cried until my nose was running all over
the silk blouse I got on sale.
I cried until my ears were hot.
I cried until my head was hurting so bad
that I could hardly see the pile of
soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet.

I want you to understand,
I had myself a really good cry yesterday.

Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy,
or too tired,
or too mad to cry.

I cried for all the days, and all the ways,
and all the times I had dishonored,
disrespected, and
disconnected my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me
in the ways others did to me
the same things I had already done to myself.

I cried for all the things I had given,
only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that
had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished,
only to give them away,
to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty,
and battered and plain old used.

I cried because there really does
come a time when the only thing left
for you to do is cry. Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because little boys get
left by their daddies;
and little girls get forgotten by their mommies;
and daddies don't know what to do, so they leave;
and mommies get left, so they get mad.

Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because I hurt.
I cried because I was hurt.
I cried because hurt has no place to go
except deeper into the pain that
caused it in the first place,
and when it gets there,
the hurt wakes you up.

I cried because it was too late.
I cried because it was time.

I cried because my soul knew that I didn't know
that my soul knew everything I needed to know.

I cried a soulful cry yesterday,
and it felt so good.

It felt so very, very bad.

In the midst of my crying,
I felt my freedom coming,
Because Yesterday,
I cried with an agenda

My life as a pincushion

My days as a human pincushion have started again. Today marks the second day of my Lupron injections and, after a little rocky start, I'm getting better at this. I'll fully admit that the first day was a bit of a joke. It actually took me three tries to get the needle in. I think I numbed the area too much because the needle actually bounced off my skin the first two times. Except that it didn't really bounce off fully and I ended up with three little dots on my belly where the first two attempts failed. Oops. Still, once I realized I wasn't jamming the needle in hard enough, I gathered my courage and stuck it in the third time without a problem. This morning was only one attempt and it was done. I'm turning into a pro. And no side effects yet. Yet.

So now it's injections once a day until October 24. The BCPs stop on Sunday and then the second injection will start after they check me out on the 24th. Once those start, it'll be one injection when I wake up and one injection when I go to bed. Needles, needles, needles. Thank God I got over that needle-phobia years ago.

As always, my life (besides IVF) is still marching on. I am so swamped at work that most days I can't even see straight. E is still potty-training although he's doing much better these days. He'll stay dry for about 90% of the day but he's still holding out on the pooping. He's done it for me three times so far but he's not interested in doing it for his teachers at school or the nanny. Still, this is how the successful peeing started, so I'm sure it's just going to take some time. Remind me of that again when I'm freaking about it in six months.

I've been following my own advice and staying away from all those bad IVF websites and books. I'm really concentrating on succeeding and trying to surround myself with positive energy. It feels good to start to have some faith again.

One foot in front of the other.

The migraine finally went away so I think my body is getting adjusted to being on BCP again. My period, on the other hand, was just not happy about it. All week my period has been yucky and just plain abnormal. Still, it's done with as of this morning. Not that you really need to know about that part of it.

I got a call on Friday from the pharmacy that is supplying the meds for my IVF cycle. I can't even comprehend the costs of some of these meds. The Lupron alone was over $600 without insurance; the Follistim was in the $1200 range. Thank god that RI covers these medications. We're only required to pay 20% of the amount because of state-mandated infertility coverage. I can understand now why people take a second mortgage out on their houses to finance all of this. I praise my lucky stars every day that we have such good coverage. When all is said and done, it looks like we'll be paying about $600 out of pocket for the medications. How's that for a 'co-pay'?

As you would expect from me, as soon as I knew that we were going to undergo IVF I went to the library and checked out all the books I could find that explained IVF, the successes, the failures, the methods, the medications. Everything I could get my little paws on. All of the books basically reviewed the procedure, the processes, what to expect and so on. But I kept reading them over and over, and I just wasn’t feeling satisfied with what they were telling me. And then, while I was talking to a co-worker about the process, I finally realized what I was trying to get from these books: validation. I was looking for one of the books to tell me that this was going to work for me. Obviously there is just no book in existence that is going to do that for me, so on Saturday afternoon, I returned all the books and that was that. It felt good to not have them around. It felt even better to come face-to-face with what I was searching for and to know that there was no ‘answer’ out there.

Now that I'm in my 'positive thinking' mode, I had a realization the other day. This may seem, I don’t know, pretentious, but I realized the other day that with almost every big life event that I’ve undergone, it’s always worked out in my favor even if the odds seemed stacked against me. With my wedding, it poured the day before and I mean poured. But, even though we were having an outdoor reception, I didn’t once fret about the rain. I just knew in my heart that it was going to be a beautiful day and, lo and behold, it was. When I was six weeks pregnant with E, I had some terrible spotting and I remember sitting on my couch, telling my best friend that I was done being worried about what was going to happen; it was just going to work out in my favor and I knew it. Then, while I was in labor with E, I hit that lovely transition part of labor and while the nurses and doctors kept saying “if you don’t progress any further in an hour, we’re going to have to take aggressive measures”, I knew that I wasn’t going to have to be c-sectioned. I just knew it in my heart that it would work out exactly how I wanted it to work out. And it did. I gave birth to a nine-and-a-half pound baby with only a small tear to speak of. It all just worked out.

So, why does this realization matter? I can't explain it, but I'm trying to get myself to that same point: where I just feel in my heart that this is going to work. No if’s, and’s or but’s about it. It’s not an easy place to get to, I’ll admit. Especially if you’ve had to suffer through heartache after heartache for 20 months straight. But I’m doing everything in my power to try to drown that negative, fearful, doubting voice out and let the positive, hopeful voice shine.

This is going to work. I am going to get pregnant again. I will be blessed again.

The new mantra: This will work... this will work...

Repeat after me: This will work. This will work. This will work.

My migraine is almost all gone after popping a few Advil and Tylenol. I just have to sit still and not breathe and it feels much better. I'm starting to freak a little bit about what the rest of the side effects might be like. Six weeks is looking like a long, long time to be dealing with side effects.

I'm feeling a little down the past few days too. I'm starting to doubt myself so everytime I feel those grey clouds creeping in, I repeat my new mantra. I saw a woman on the side of the road, waiting with her daughter at the bus stop this morning. She was carrying a tiny baby boy and for a second, I felt that old familiar anger, that annoyance, that jealousy that comes out when I see people who have what I want so desperately. And then, in a flash, I talked myself off the ledge and said "That will be me someday." And I smiled. Not a fake smile, but a real smile. I almost believe myself these days.

Repeat the mantra.

Red means GO!

Well, it's not a normal period by any means, but I started spotting this morning so I'm calling today as day 1. I called the IVF scheduler this morning and we are good to GO! Our IVF plan officially starts today!!!

Here's the beginning of the plan:

Start BCP today, October 1, 2007.
Begin Lupron injections on October 10, 2007; take 10 units between 7:00am and 9:00am.
Stop taking the BCP on October 14, 2007; continue with Lupron.
Baseline ultrasound and bloodwork is scheduled for October 24, 2007 at 7:30am.
After baseline ultrasound and bloodwork, the rest of the plan will be reviewed based on my response to the Lupron and BCP protocol.

Tentative remainder of plan:
Beginning October 27, 2007, start daily Follistim injections, possibly overlap with Lupron injections.
Tentative Egg Retrieval on November 7, 2007, depending on response to Follistim.
Tentative Embryo Transfer on November 10, 2007, depending on ER and response to drugs.
Tentative Beta on Friday, November 23, 2007. The day after Thanksgiving.

I'm praying that we're going to have a lot to be thankful for this year.

I'd like to order one period, please.

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?

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!

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.