I.V.Effed: No Sex, No Lies, and No Videotape

A little behind in the updating here…but I am full steam ahead.  Did the coculture, did the patch(es), did the Ganirelix x3, got a period, had some bloodwork and an ultrasound (gulp, about to fall off the reproductive cliff completely, AFC seemed to be just over half of what it was two years ago), and just finished injecting night #2 of 450 Follistim and 150 Menopur.  I forgot how much the latter burns…but I now have a new fave drug (that’s right, KK, me too) in the Follistim . It’s easy to load and the needle is is so tiny and sharp, it’s a delight to inject into my lower stomach!

So here we go.  Sigh.  I was kissing P and tucking him in, and thinking of the medical paraphernalia awaiting me at the dining room table…and I had such a surreal moment.  My son, this crazy, clever, loving, stubborn, (and quite often fresh these days) boy… he came to us…he is so much more than we ever could have dreamed of…and he too started as a box of needles, syringes and various vials.  And back then, in a dining room 3,000 miles away, I was sitting amongst those things, thinking, what if this doesn’t work AGAIN????  And here I am, pretty much exactly five years to the day I was doing that, and I am trying for my third child.  This marks my SEVENTH fresh ivf.  TWO FETs.  TWO IUIs.  (Some might call me crazy.  Yep, they’d be right.)  Will this cycle complete our family?  Or is it already complete?  It is much easier to be mindful, spiritual, and give it up to God this time, something I could not do either time before.  Maybe because before I thought, No WAY is this your plan.  No damn way.  I will not accept this plan of yours.  And now, I kind of think, OK, if this is the plan, I think maybe I can do this your way.  (disclaimer: I completely understand this is  (likely) not the way the Lord works.)

Next monitoring will be this Friday morning for some b/w.  Also…my TSH did drop a whole “point”, which is fab news, so tyvm, thyroid medication.  It is nice to know you can do what you are made to do.

No Comments | In: January '12 | | #

This is It.  Don’t get scared now. (ten bucks if ya know what movie). 

Uterine culture next Thursday.  Start the priming/patch that Friday.  If all works accordingly afterwards, injections should begin the last weekend in January.  After a mishap with the med ordering and an incomplete protocol given by nurse (my steel trap mind made me question what she had told me…sure enough, I was right.  sigh.  It’s hard to be right all the time…), we are gearing up to go.  Here’s hoping…

No Comments | In: January '12 | | #

Today is day 8 of cycle, will begin to monitor for surge…tomorrow?   Hoping the surge does happen on the earlier side as the three-day-weekend ahead will only offer more waiting if I surge over the weekend.  The timeline for this Last and Final depends on where I fall on the elusive co-culture wait list; if I make it off the list, then the estrogen priming starts sometime around the 20th.  I think it is 9 days after surge…or something…I can probably reference my own post from two years earlier if need be, but I believe I have mentioned before I am a terrible luddite (I still have a “hotmail” address as my main email.  that should clue you in) and therefore I don’t know how to link to an earlier post.  But the gist is,  a patch every other day for likely three patches worth, then a “period”, then on day two of that, start shootin ‘er up.  And us high FSHers, we gets to get shot up good.  I will be indulging in the regular delights–menopur, gonal F and then ganirelix.  Ahhh, let the good times roll…(oh IVF…it’s just like riding a bike…a fcuked up, rusty, twisted handlebar, extra-hard-in-the-girl-parts-seat, missing-some-spokes, broken handbrake kind of a bike…)

Sidebar: I am realizing that I have it easy now–to be able to think about what might be, instead of two months down the road, when I may only be able to imagine what could have been…

No Comments | In: January '12 | | #

That’s such a loaded title, I know, but it is kind of how I am feeling right now.  For the second year in a row I was able to act like any old fertile person on NYE–I was thankful for the family I have, thankful for the blessings of another year gone, and hopeful for the new year to come.  I did not find myself crying in the shower or in the car or while folding laundry about unanswered prayers, wasted months and dollars, and an empty, sad heart.  But, unlike all the other fertile people–I also knew that this next year will mark the end of my chance to have another child.  And being realistic, I know that this fresh cycle in Jan or Feb will be my last true chance.  I can’t just think, oh, well, we’ll try and see when we get pregnant, and whenever that happens again, that will be just perfect for us.  I have really only one shot.  I want to hit fertile people over the head with this “concept”–when you can’t get pregnant by taking an ovulation test and then biblically lying with your husband, it really sucks.  My body’s ability to ovulate perfectly every month is also a mindfcuk, since I see it, know it, lay biblically (why the hell not?) and stupidly hope one superstar egg somehow didn’t disintegrate down the tube and a miracle happens. (With more failed IVFs than successes you think I would not be so stupid.  But I am.  That stupid.)

Okay, well this wasn’t supposed to go in THAT direction.  I guess I have so many emotions, knowing I have Just One More Chance.  (yes, we will use all the frozen embryos we have.  no, I don’t have much hope they give me a baby.)  I am guessing that over these next few months it will be a messy messy place, both here and in my head, as I try to come to terms with my body making the choice to “finish” my family before I make the choice with my head or my heart…damn you again, infertility.  I know that on my deathbed I won’t look back and curse the 6-7 years of my life I struggled with this–but right now, I curse it.  I know in years down the road this will all be just another chapter in the story of my life, but since I am still writing said chapter currently, it seems like a pretty big freaking deal.

Aaaaaanyyyyway…today is Day One of my cycle…which means I left a gajillion messages at Cor.nell for the nurses, coculture “arranger”, HSG coordinator, etc.  I should hopefully receive a flurry of return calls tomorrow, and then find out sometime soon if I am going ahead with everything this month, or if I am stuck on the coculture waitlist and therefore bounced to next month.  Either way, the coincidences are too scary.  If I cycle this month, my beta week would be somewhere around where it was with P.  And if I cycle next month, it would be around where it was with A.  I hate coincidences, because I always try to read into them.

Happy 2012 to anyone who still comes over to read my story.  I truly hope this is a year of joy, gratitude, and happy endings for us all.

2 Comments | In: January '12 | | #

Clearly, I am not pregnant.  And I love the nurse for believing me when I talked to her the day before the beta, instead of scolding me for giving up hope or whatever.  I had a phone consult scheduled with Dr D for this past Friday, only to be later told he was in surgery all day and couldn’t commit to a time.  The time he COULD commit to turned out to be 1:15 on Sunday afternoon…the first time in 48 hours I let my phone out of my sight/range of hearing (it was Sunday, for crimenys sake!  seriously.  I was shopping).  So he left a message, just completely standard…sorry your fet didn’t work, you seem to have none left, if you want to go ahead with a fresh, call my nurse and my office and we’ll get you on the calendar, same exact protocol, call if you have questions…right.  Like I’ll get ahold of him.  It would be easier to reach Barack at 1600 PA Ave. 

Here’s my thing.  We go same protocol?  I’m two years older.  Getting up to that magic threshold of (shhhhh, 3-5).  Will same protocol be okay?  And no need to check out my utes, give it the all-clear?  And what about my slightly elevated tsh that nootherdoctorwouldthinkishighbutthisonethinksistoohighandneedstobecontrolledwithmedication?  I’m just so nervous.  Last chance at a fresh one (gulp).  I had told T earlier this year I was okay with that, I am and can be happy with my family the way it is right now, hell, two years ago I was convinced it was never going to be this.  A truly is my miracle baby.  But now that it is approaching…the door is going to be closed for good, and I am sad (I obviously talk like it won’t work.  See previous post about 20 embryos, 2 children, and understand my thoughts).  I understand that every family comes to a point where reproduction stops…but in more cases than not, the FAMILY decides to end the reproduction, the REPRODUCTION doesn’t end the family.  Big diff.

I also found out this week two good friends are expecting next summer.  One has a son that is two days older than A.  She is so damn fertile, it is mindblowing.  But I love her more than life, so I can never be anything but happy for her.  She is the type of person who DESERVES fertility, whatever that means (this of course implies I don’t?).  So while I am thrilled for her having #3, I am also slightly jealous (which I freely admit to her) because clearly, I want to be in the same position.  But I’m not.  And then I think about all of the amazing people I have met through my infertility journey and I think SHUT THE HELL UP C there are so many people out there still that don’t even have what you have.  So it’s a freaking back and forth in my head, all day long.  What is that they say?  The heart wants what the heart wants.

Sooooooo…to summarize my cycling future: I am on the co culture waitlist for January.  If I dont get in then, I get in February for sure.  If all goes well, I respond as expected to drugs, etc etc etc…best case I will be cycling end of January, next case I will be cycling end of February.  Two cycles timed as such have brought me my sons (and a third a double-miscarriage–but still a pregnancy).  Luckily, I have a few weeks off to just enjoy Christmas with the amazing family I have…and really, I can.  The place I am in now, compared to where I was two years ago… the difference is inconceivable.  No pun…intended.

No Comments | In: December 2011 | | #

You bet.  P is four, A recently turned one.  I am ready to ride the infertility-coaster for another go (or few) at it, but there are some stipulations put in place by the husband (after all, he’s lived with my all sorts of crazy since we started trying to have a baby back in 2006…and even though Crazy C has hibernated for the past 15 or 16 months, she’s ready to come out for one final roar.)  So husband’s stipulations are as follows: 1. we are done trying by the end of 2012. 2. If we are going to do a fresh cycle at all, we do it in the beginning of the new year.

My feelings on the above are varied–while I am ready to put the Life of Fruitlessly Trying behind me, I am also so damn stubborn and determined that I think, “see, you didnt ever really quit when you were trying for number two.  Does number three deserve any less effort?”  But I also want to keep the peace and happiness we have now found, and I don’t want my family unit to suffer unnecessarily.  I am on board to go for a fresh cycle as soon as possible (just need to talk to dr, etc etc).  Of course, I need to wait a few days because I am at the end of a busted frozen cycle–two more transferred in and nothing of it.  Bringing the grand total to…twenty transferred, two children.  So, with my stellar math skills working overtime, it seems I am working at 10%.  Good grief, Charlie Brown, that sucks.  Can’t call the dr now because beta isn’t until Tuesday (no, I am not wrong and pregnant like I was last time.  I am not.  you’ll see).  Anyway, don’t want to be a total loon too early, so will talk to them on Tuesday when they call with my beta results and ask about getting fit in for coculture, finish up necessary bloodwork, etc etc.  (Oh, another wrench into the mix…elevated TSH.  So an effed up thyroid.  Have been on the meds for about six weeks now…we’ll see what it does.  Other than give me heart palpitations).  So maybe I can do a fresh in January/Feb, then clean out the freezers over the course of the year, and then, throw in the needle.  Man.  I was so hoping that the transfer of our two bestest frosted embryos would be the break of a lifetime, but no dice. 

Oh who am I kidding.  I am trying to keep in mind that I shouldn’t plan…we plan, God laughs, and all that.  Though I don’t really think he laughs, because that would be kind of mean.  And quite unGodlike.

So I will plan…and likely my plans will be upended.  But I want to try again.  I have some fight in me to try again.  I look at my great boys, how far I have come, this insane journey, and I think, yep, I would do that over again if I knew it would get me here.  So now, I will get back into my crazysuit and hold on for the duration.

 Back in the game.  But playing only for a limited time.

No Comments | In: December 2011 | | #

but little A arrived at 11:32 pm on Veterans Day.  11/11.  A perfect date for an ex-high-school-history-teacher.  He was 7lbs, 15oz and 20 inches long.  He has been a perfect little dream baby so far–unlike his older brother who was essentially kicked out of the nursery for screaming nonstop.   We are definitely having some adjustment problems from big brother P…he has been acting out in ridiculously cliche ways for someone with a new little sibling…and of course, being now the Terrible Three doesn’t help matters.  But we’re surviving.  And if little A continues in his awesomeness, we may just be able to thaw our frozen tykes and try for a third sometime down the line.  Although…we are two for eighteen…and we only have eight frozen.  History would show we’re one short…but I’m getting waaaaay ahead of myself here.  Waywaywaywayway.  Just going to enjoy the blessings we have right now.

I’m tired…really really tired…but I am so happy right now, to have my little family.  My houseful of boys.  My miracles, as silly and sappy as it sounds.  I look down at A right now and see him as the child who almost wasn’t.  Even T is a miracle for me…he’s stuck around for 12 years.  That’s nothing if not miraculous.  Pee on the toilet and around the toilet and on the wall next to the toilet…dirty shoes and knees and firetruck obsessions.   Ah, my future for the next 18 years.  And I am in love with it all.

3 Comments | In: November '10 | | #

I was feeling really ready the other day–ready to get the show on the road.  But now…not so ready.  P has been in the throes of the end of the twos/start of the threes (happy belated bday, little man) and his behavior has caused me to worry about what the heck it’s going to be like when he’s throwing himself around a room in a tantrum as a tiny little guy squirms and cries in my arms…(also, have not yet found The Name for the next installation.  P has offered a number of interesting suggestions along the way, and at random times will offer such gems as “blueberry” “fireman s.am”"mommy”and any name of any person we have recently learned.)  I remember being like this with P, though–wanting to not be pregnant anymore just to have my own self to myself, but then also not wanting to have this little being leave me…and of course, I was scared about the things to come.  I am also struggling with the whole “how can I ever feel about my second the way I feel about my first” syndrome…P was our miracle baby.  The apple of our eye.  The king of the house.  The greatest joy ever.  Now he’ll have to move over to share the throne…and it ain’t going to be easy for anyone, I’m sure.  I feel weird feeling this way since the effort and time and pain endured to become and remain pregnant this time far surpassed the time for P…but now it all feels different somehow.  I don’t know how to describe it.

Other musings: 

1. the other day we were singing “somew.here over the rai.nbow” in a music class…and yep, of course, I started to cry (the week prior we sang “lea.ving on a jet pl.ane” and I cried then too).  But I thought about how I am now on the side of the rainbow where everything is good and right and happy…though I never did think I’d be here again.  And I realized with such fierceness that everyone who ever wants to have a child should get to find this side of the rainbow.  Should never have to feel that they’ll never make it there.  Because the fact is, it is the complete opposite feeling of what you feel when you are in the depths of dispair, certain you will never be a mom.  It is entering a completely different realm, in a way…you always know where you’ve come from, but the amazingness of being pregnant and on your way to your dream is so incredible, and it is heartbreaking that not everyone gets to experience it. 

2.  Baby has dropped into the pelvic area (engaged, if you will), I am 1-2 cm dilated, but not much effacing going on.  I think it’s all about right where it should be for being 36 weeks and 2/3 days.  I am still hoping for a 39-40 week pregnancy (who wants their turkey in a hospital, no matter HOW swanky said hospital is?)

3. Giulia.na and Bill is the best show to hit the airways that deals with IF.  I cried the first episode when they found out they were pregnant.  I cried at the previews for what is to come.  In one clip G says “I feel like I am being punished for something…” and holy crap, did that hit home.  That’s exactly how I felt.  I felt I was being punished for who I was, something I had done maybe.  I wish only that more people knew of/tuned in to the show…because I can only assume it would help so many who are unfamiliar with this situation, as they watch strangers go through it all on camera.  From the procedures, the waiting, the joy, the incredible pain…and that’s only what G and B let the viewers see…

4. Seriously.  What am I going to name this little boy?  We have approximately three weeks to figure it out…and I don’t believe in the “we’ll know when we see him” stuff–he will look (hopefully) like a red-faced, naked, puffy eyed little boy.  Certainly I won’t be able to discern his true name from that????

1 Comment | In: October '10 | | #

I know.  You’ve known this for a while.  And so have I…but here’s the thing.  Friday P and I were at Hom.egoo.ds and he had to use the bathroom (I swear, he uses it as often as I do these days. However, his needs stems from a newfound infatuation with potties (thank you, newly potty-trained son)  soap dispensers and the ever popular debate “Handdryer v papertowel”…though he calls handdryer machines “leafblowers.”)  Digression over.  Anyhow.  There is a semi-full length mirror in this particular bathroom…and I saw my profile for a second.  And I saw that I was pregnant.  Really, truly, no-one-mistakes-me-for-a-bloated-person pregnant.  (I get that this seems silly.  I have looked pregnant for quite a while, and every day do see my person when I get dressed.  But there was something about that moment, about the angle, about…something…) I just stopped and stared at that person for a few seconds…because I remember so vividly the days/weeks/months/years I was convinced I wasn’t going to see that again.  And it was so strange…to be like, yup, there I am…pregnant.  A little boy will be coming around sometime in the next 7 weeks or so.  And he’s in there.  Growing, elbowing, smashing, pressing, contorting…getting ready to come and join our crazy family…

3 Comments | In: October '10 | | #

My sweet P,

           Today mommy and daddy took you to your very first day of nursery school.  Three days a week, three hours a day…it seems like I have all of this “found” time now.  It has been just one month shy of three years that you and I have spent practically all of our waking minutes together.  I know that now the time is right for you to start school–you woke up today and said to me “I can’t wait for gool today!”  It has been the greatest blessing being able to spend these past years with you.  I thank your dad that he works so hard to let me stay home with you, because even though sometimes you drive me crazy (especially lately!) I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I was not the mom to drop you off at a friends, or have a sitter come so I could go shopping or get a manicure by myself…I was not the mom who handed you off to your dad when he walked in the door at night.  I was not the mom who couldn’t wait for a night out without you, or the mom who left you at the daycare at a gym.  I instead held you close, and kept you, my little buddy with me when I could.  I chose my “me” time to be when you nap, and I cherish the weekends that you, me and daddy are all together, rather than look for chances to get away.  You have come with me to the grocery store, the mall, RE appointments, OB appointments…basically anywhere I have needed to be, within reason, you’ve come along.  As I reread this now, I realize it may sound like I was too protective…but I know the kiss and hug you gave me as you walked into your classroom today without a tear demonstrate that I’ve done okay by you (so far).  Sure, there’ve been some mess-ups.  I’ve done some mean-mommy things that I’m not proud of (I did NOT need to throw the cereal box on the floor last week when I couldn’t handle the fiftieth time you were telling me no, you wanted Life…and we didn’t have Life…) but I made a promise to myself that I would always tell you after a “fight” that I loved you, that I was sorry, and give you kisses and hugs. 

             For a very long time I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to have my own child.  And then came you. You warm my heart and make me laugh a hundred times a day.  I love that you kiss my leg with the painful veins as I get dressed in the morning, I love that you want me to sing to you still and cuddle in your rocking chair, I (secretly) love that only I will do when you wake in the middle of the night or need to be tucked in again or have to use the potty….  I love that you have a fiercely independent streak, as I was afraid at one point I might squash that with my overwhelming love.  I love that you have started to take a protective interest in your baby brother in my belly, giving him kisses, saying hello to him, and laying your head on me to try and hear or feel him when he gets a bad case of the hiccups.  There was also a long time when I didn’t think I would be able to give you a brother to love.  You were there for me to hold and cuddle and cry on when I lost the babies last March.  You were there with your sweet face to comfort me when I found out cycle after cycle had failed.  You didn’t ever know what was wrong, but you were always good for a hug.

                 I am so proud of the little almost-three-year old that you are, and I look forward to watching you grow up.  You are truly a gift to me and to your daddy.  I love you more than I ever thought I could love another, and more than you will ever be able to know.  In two months our lives will change a lot.  But you will always be my sweet little guy, my big hearted son, who may test me to my limits some days, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

                               I love you, P.  Love, love love you.

1 Comment | In: September '10 | | #