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

Today I went in and “forced” an ultrasound.  They just wanted to check my levels, but I KNEW I just KNEW that things had gone south.  My body was battling two conflicting issues–morning sickness and the ever-telling pull of my uterus wanting to shed a nice built up lining.  I knew this as of Saturday…and then I just prayedprayedprayed that the period-cramps and other happenings held out til Mother’s Day was over.  It is by far, for obvious reasons, my favoritest holiday in the whole world.  Favoritest.  Has surpassed my old favest, the birthday, and is now in close running with Christmas–not Christmas for me, Christmas for the little ones.  Anyway.  My prayers were answered until yesterday evening, miraculously.  There was no telltale signs of Things Gone Wrong until about 5 pm last night.

This morning I got a sitter for the boys, and got to the office with enough time to play some IPad solitaire to numb my mind.  When I went in for the blood with my favorite nurse, I told her I needed an ultrasound.  She is the BEST I tell you, the BEST.  After she said “Shit, what happened, I was out Friday!” and I told her nothing that the office knew of–just that I knew.  She put me in a room right away, and the other doctor (whom I now favor to mine–why, you ask?  Because she has something called COMPASSION.  and BEDSIDE MANNER.  And…WORDS.)  I saw the sac, saw it was still small, and was so damn glad to know I had been right, and this wasn’t going to give me some awesome, surprise, meant-to-be baby.  She was great.  And I was great, let me tell you.  No real breaking down, no sobbing mess, just asking all the right questions about What Happens When You MIscarry (I’ve only had that one with the twin pregnancy–and it was a missed one–and they did a d&c for that whatwith all the copious tissue….).  She told me we might try to give it a week, but schedule a surgery for early next week, so I am not waitingwaitingwaiting for this to happen, and can move on.  I guess there is a chance once I tear off the 4 estrogen patches and stop injecting 1.5 cc of progesterone in my ass, it happens naturally.

I definitely cried on the way home.  T is away on business and was therefore unreachable after I left (I swear, he’s not a douche–he was on an airplane.  So seriously unreachable).  I called my SIL/best friend/otherhalf and she cried with me.  But I am going to be okay from this, I just know it.  I guess it was always seeming to good to be true–or even, too bad to be true.  Sometimes I wish I never saw those damn TWO PINK LINES…because two pink lines infer a baby, but sadly, not this time.  We have some amazing things around the corner for our family of four–and I am trying to focus on the belief that perchance, somewhere down the road, I will understand why I was only given two children.  We do of course still have some frozen enbryos with this current clinic (of mediocre-to-poor quality), so the expectation will be low.  It was our plan to be “done” by my 35th birthday which is right around the corner at the end of June–and that is out of the question now.  I know how long it takes for numbers to fall after a loss.  I also know there are embryos out there somewhere, waiting to be “adopted”–and since we likely won’t risk crazy amounts of cash for another cycle with my sucktastic eggs, I know T would be willing to adopt some frozen embryos down the line if we decide to do so.  Part of me is like, “I’m ONLY going to be 35…” and the other part is like, “Shit, I am going to be 35.”

I am just going to continue to pray for peace, pray for an “easy miscarriage” (whatever the hell that means–because that sure sounds like an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one), and I am going to be so damn grateful for the two miracles I was somehow blessed with.  I know I have so many amazing and wonderful gifts in my life–I know that it is now the time to focus on that, and move forward.  Thanks for your support—kind words, reassurances, understanding, and just…reading.

6 Comments | In: May '12 | | #

I have not blogged about this at all–but we did an FET in April.  It was fairly uneventful, and based on my 0-for-3 FET history, as well as my notsogreat fresh history, we had little faith.  I tested negative the morning of 6dp5dt…but a light positive that evening.  Squinter light.  It got gradually less-squinty until the beta at 14dpo (a wednesday) came in at an underwhelming 32.  Nothing to get excited about, but not low enough to figure it is completely a chemical.  Slow-forward two days, next bext beta comes in at 85.  Slow-forward three days, beta #3 comes in at 297.  Slow forward three more days, beta comes in at 975.   And four days after that….2999.  Clearly doubling.  Clearly doubling within the window of double-time.  But clearly, low.  Pretty low.  Not hopeless low, just low enough to have limited hope, and I am afraid, to get smashed down.  The following day after beta #4 (so this would be 27 dpo), doctor wanted me in for an ultrasound.  I saw the gest sac.  I BARELYBARELYBARELY saw the yolk sac. Dr saw it.   We did not see a fetal pole (I was technically 5w6d at the appt).  After forcing my doctor to share some information with me (he was satisfied with “see you in two weeks” and I was NOOOOOTTTT), he did give me 50/50 odds that this turns into a viable, healthy pregnancy. I also forced him into telling me what I was measuring (“about 5 weeks”). Yuck.  No one wants a flip of a coin determining their ultimate future.  I tried to be all positive and say, “well, there is as much of a chance it works as there is that it doesn’t!” until my usually optimistic husband introduced the coin-toss analogy and I lost all positivity.

I have heard that FETs take longer to build steam.  I have read stories of people who didn’t see fetal poles at 5w6d and saw one at their next ultrasound.  And I have read many many stories of people who have miscarried after an experience like mine.  Fifty-fifty, not the greatest.  It is going to be a long trip from today (Wedneday, one day past ultrasound) until next Friday, ultrasound number two.  It is the earliest he would do it.  It will also put me at 7w2d.

I am having a hard time understanding why this would happen at the end of the journey–why didn’t the powers that be let me go out with a fizzle, rather than a Bang! No! Wait! No! Not a bang! Just a…….?  So I just wait it out until next Friday.  Not much more to do…but wait and hope.  It’s not in my hands.

9 Comments | In: May '12 | | #

Just plain pissed.  And a lot o bit sad.  Tears come at strange and completely unexpected times.  I HATE the fcuking finality of this all.  Hate it.  I hate that other people, fertile people, don’t have to have this decision made for them by their body.  I hate that I would do it again, even though it drove me and my family completely upside-down crazy for a three week stretch.  IVF in the suburbs-to-the-city, with no family, a 13-hour a day working husband, and small children is not for the weak.  And I hate that I can’t do it again, at least, not anytime soon, as I made a promise that is SO DAMN HARD TO KEEP.  I promised my husband I would leave the crazy behind and move forward.  I am currently wondering if I will need any type of therapy to help me do so–and I’m also DAMN MAD that I might need therapy to help me keep a FCUKING PROMISE.  Who does that?  I am mad and sad that the existence of my two amazing little boys isn’t enough to quiet this voice in my heart.  Why can’t I just embrace the blessings of the past and the present and just LET GO of this one last dream?  I feel so utterly selfish and ridiculous.

I am MAD that I am going to no doubt put some hope in the embryos I have left (five, I think?  Two from the miscarriage cycle of ’09 and three from a failed Dec’09.  And those last puppies are NOT.GOOD.EMBRYOS.  Pretty sure they froze a PQ or a YZ or something.  Extra room in their freezer at the time?  Who knows).  I am sad and mad that I will have to get some hope built up for those cycles, and they might not happen, they might not thaw, and then they likely will not work.  Or I can think they will, and get my heart crushed further.  I am mad and sad that I will think I might be one of those people to get pregnant on her own even though she has shittastic eggs and a HOSTILE AS SHIT UTERUS…23decent embryos?  2 children?  Seriously???????????  I am mad and sad that I will likely drink wheatgrass and pump my body full of alleged fertility aids, and use OPKs and have timed relations… I am sad and mad that I might hold out hope that it could work (clearly, I am dumber than dirt, as 23 embryos and 2 children…why doesn’t it sink in to my head?)

I am mad and sad that T thinks we can “try again” in ”a few years” if we “decide we want to.” Or that he “isn’t convinced it won’t ever happen.”  I will have approximately one egg left then.  And I know that I will jump at that chance and do it and work that one little egger to the ground.  Because I am like that.  Persistent.  Head.  Wall.  Bang.  Repeat.

This, my third child, the one I will likely never meet, never know what it is like to have and hold and complete the circle we have started…is the one thing I have pursued with every strength, and it is the one thing I have failed at.  Hard work does not equal success.  Focus, strength, determination, prayer…does not equal success.  Desire, persistence…does not equal success.  Not where infertility is concerned.  Life is not fair–I get it.  I tell my son this all of the time.  And when he whines and says “This is the WORST DAY EVER” I can’t even bring myself to agree with him in a sarcastic jest, because I have known my own sort of “worst day evers”– countless failed cycles, the losses of his two brothers…I can’t.  I know we all have our burdens to bear, and the saying goes, if we saw other people’s dirty laundry, we would always choose to take our own back home.  I’m not so sure of that some days.

Tomorrow we’ll drag ourselves into the city.  I’ll see that waiting room for the last time (embryos frozen at previous clinic).  And that will be that.  The door will be closed on this.  If only my heart wasn’t so damn gaping open.

1 Comment | In: February '12 | | #

Ugh, wish my body would freaking metabolize the trigger faster…because there is still a faint line.  I am however glad that I decided to do the “test it out” thing–because it would REALLY HAVE SUCKED if I hadn’t, and then today peed for the first time, and thought that it was a positive test.  They have at least been getting lighter, and I have read that some people take longer than others to metabolize it…so apparently, I can’t even do it in 12 days!

Had another good cry/sobbing-babble to my mom this morning, just needed to get it out, and I am sure there will be one or two more sobbing moments, but for now, I feel a bit lighter that it is all off my chest, and I know I will be able to move on from this.  I know that by next week at this time, I will be ok.  And I will be okay because I have two great little miracles that may never have been–and even after this cycle, having done everything the same as with A’s cycle, I realize he is such a little gift.  It wasn’t some magic potion protocol that Dr. D concocted that was the panacea for my issues–it was a good plan with a lucky lucky outcome.  And for that I am so grateful.  I will for certain enjoy my two boys for the rest of my days, knowing there are some who will never even get to say that.  I will probably always be wistful when I hear of others adding to their family (easily or not), but I will have this ugly stage of life behind me, and I will be able to focus on the now, and the future, rather than what Could Have Been.

Much thanks to those who still read this, who have always rooted for me, and for all in the infertility-blogging world who have helped me on this long journey.  It’s a crappy little club, but it really means something when you know you’re not alone in it.

1 Comment | In: February '12 | | #

Happy Valentine’s Day!  I have spent a good portion of the morning bursting into tears for no reason.  Ok, lie, there is a reason, obviously.  The period-coming-feeling has only intensified, not subsided like I had hoped it might in order to make way for some cramping.  I don’t cramp before my period, I get a heavy, pulling feeling in my uterus, my body gets kind of weak-feeling, and I get some slight nausea.  Every time I get my period, the above happens.  When I get pregnant, somewhere it turns into a sharper, pinching, tightening localized cramping…that is no where to be found right now…and I even lay perfectly still sometimes to see if that is happening anywhere.  Nope.  It’s not.  Not a twinge, a cramp, nothing.  It is just one of the strongest period-pulls I’ve had in a while. Probably because I had an insanely awesome lining (as usual) that my body can’t wait to shed.

Of course, that small part of me that is Eternally Hopeful, has compared notes from March ’10.  I called it as a BFN on 3dp.  I then wrote on 6dp about how devastated I was.  And then somewhere between the night of 6dp and 9dp, something changed, and my body wasn’t feeling the same way anymore.  But of course, I didn’t write down exactly what I was feeling that 6dp, so I can’t remember if I was still having super-intense period feelings, or if they had lessened, or what happened.  I kind of skipped that part.  I have even (embarrassing) gone so far as to make a day by day comparison chart, showing that tomorrow, which would be 6dp, I was then still feeling negative about it.  So I am somewhere in me trying to give my embryos one more day, even though it doesn’t feel possible at all.  Again, The Eternal Hopefulness, just a small small glimmer…

I know people are still telling me not to give up hope.  That it is way too early.  That I can’t possibly know.  And for a second I felt bad about coming here to whine about my sadness, my disappointment, my just utter utter…sadness.  But then I remembered that this is my blog, and I wouldn’t be true to myself if I didn’t accurately record how I was feeling and what I was thinking.  So I am whining.  And feeling anger and sadness.  Also acknowledging how damn blessed I am to have T, P and A in my life…but yep, also just being sad about not having another.  Damn you infertility.  Damn you for stopping my family from growing before I am really ready for that.  But we can’t do another cycle without taking something away from our current family unit.  We just can’t.

1 Comment | In: February '12 | | #

Trigger is not going anywhere–still crazy dark on the stick.  Which means it won’t be gone by the 10 days after trigger the standard length is (that would be tomorrow)…and while it keeps me from over-peeing on things since I am not waiting for something to appear (instead waiting for something to DISappear), it is messing with The Plan to check for the trigger to be gone, and then test on Saturday.  Because it could still feasibly be in my system on Saturday, I think!  These new tests are quite sensitive…the cheap internet ones aren’t showing anything, but the Gold Standard of Pee Tests still show a dark line.

I am still not feeling as positive as I wish I was about this.  I am feeling hopeful, for sure, but I am reading the signs my body is giving me, and it isn’t good.  I was thinking today, how many miracles can one person get in a lifetime?  I have already had two.  Three seems kind of greedy.  In order to (try) and make myself feel better about a failed cycle, I am going to make a list of everything a failed cycle would mean (in a positive way…)

1. less expenses for children (now through college.  Those four year private universities are really ridiculous these days)

2. regular wine drinking (very necessary around the hour of 5pm-7pm until T comes home from work)

3. Half-marathon planned to run in November can definitely happen

4. Boob job (and maybe some wrinkle filler?  But really need to consider the boobs.  They are at an A minus-minus-minus right now.  I could be confused for a 12 year old boy…if it wasn’t for those wrinkles)

5. more traveling with the husband, as well as with the family ( Four is an even number–for amusement park rides, two double beds in hotel rooms, and no one in the “way back” of the car)

6. More storage space (clean out the old baby clothes, toys, accoutrements)

7. No need to move in the next year to a bigger house

8. More of me to go around for the two boys I already have

9. skinny jeans can be worn the rest of the winter (well, once I start working out again and they can close…)

10. No hard decisions on what to do with the frozen embryos we have–we will instead just use them ourselves, more out of obligation to ourselves and to them, than for the actual belief they might work

Right now–this list isn’t really making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  But hopefully, in time, it will.

No Comments | In: February '12 | | #

This was the day I called it in 2010.  I had all the familiar pangs and pulls that I get when I am a week out from my period.  The progesterony cramping and the blissful ignorance fades and I enter a new worrying zone…and get pretty convinced it’s over. Nine times out of ten I am right (six times out of seven).  I am trying this time around to not think that…and to think maybe I am wrong again.  I am trying to think that maybe this past week- this whole cycle- was to teach me some new things.  (Refer to a previous post for some…).  I also got to spend some quality time with a friend I haven’t really seen in years, and I think we mutually helped each other through some stuff.  I relaxed a bit these last few days, I reflected on the amazing family we have created, and I just tried to “be.”  Whatever that means.

I am reminding myself of all of these things now, so in a few days, if and when things do indeed turn south, I can reread this, and find some peace in the end of this process.

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Well, here we are.  The final one.  (Exaggeration–there will obviously be another one or two when we thaw some frozen embryos down the line to try those…but with history as a guide, this is the last wait with any chance of working.)  So I have three eight-celled embryos somewhere in my uterus.  Hopefully they’re still there…  Transfer was Thursday afternoon (1.8 days ago.  Who’s counting?).  I have since been “resting” at a local hotel so I would not be inclined to pick up children, clean, pick up children, clean…and after thirty hours, I’m ready to go home and back to the craziness.  Soon!

The doctor who did the transfer had me leery…he is young (funny I say this, he is a year older than my soontobeAMA self), and so I was worried–they say the placement during a transfer is SO important.  I mentioned about an ultrasound guided transfer since they don’t normally do that, and he said “I don’t need it, but for you, I will do it.”  (Should mention this was same doc who did the retrieval, and also the same one I saw multiple times up in the suburbs, and he let me blow up as many latex-glove balloons as little A yelled for in the exam room).  So I got to watch the catheter go into the correct(ish) area, and that was that.  I told him this was it–my last time.   Last chance.  I think I keep saying it out loud to remind myself of the finality of it.

And now I wait.  I know that by the third day after the previous fresh cycle I was convinced that it didn’t work.  I had the feelings of failure.  I do know now that the difference between that cycle (ultimately working) and the other failed cycles where the same feeling did happen, is that the “feeling” did go away.  In November, with the FET, the feeling did not.  And I’m not talking about an abstract feeling here, I’m talking about a true, uterine-pulling-sort-of-heavy-feeling that accompanies the start of every cycle for me. 

I’m nervous.  But not sickly, crazy-ass nervous like I’ve been before.  I’m just nervous about the finality of it all.  A friend said to me this week…it’s going to be hard.  This whole infertility business has been part of my life for so long.  And she is right…we have been living this since 2006.  Six years of infertility.  Yes, we have had success in those six years.  But it has become such a part of how I live/who I am, and now, if this doesn’t work, that is it.  I will have to learn how to live without it as a “tag” that defines my everyday life. 

I promised T I wouldn’t test until next Saturday morning, which puts us at 9 dp 3dt.  I did get the green light to test out the trigger though, although I haven’t done any of that yet.  And then when it turns white, I have to stop.  I am such a pee addict, it will be hard.  I plan to work my charm on him to let Friday be the first day…even though it is really early then still.  We’ll see.  I hope the days fly by until then…and I am interested to learn how I will react to the news…whichever the outcome.

No Comments | In: February '12 | | #

Well really, seven on six.  But they called today with the official “we got seven” update.  Out of the seven, five fertilized normally.  Transfer set for Thursday afternoon.  I am oddly oddly peaceful about this.  Unlike all other gajillion cycles–this one, I feel some peace about.  Some.  My old-egged body did quite well for two years post-last-one, six months before I become an Old Hag (aka advanced maternal age–ridiculous phrase, just ridiculous).  Five is great.  I don’t need a stockpile of frosties that will never live through a transfer into me.  I just want one to stick around, and complete the family.

And yes, still love the drugs that put me under.  Love that feeling of “yep, it’s coming through now.  See ya later….” and then nothing. Just nothing.  I know.  It’s twisted.  But I like it.  I don’t have to think, try, feel–I’m just there.  Also, yesterday I was rather sore for only 7 eggs, which makes me wonder how people who get 25 even LIVE TO TELL ABOUT IT…

Will surely update after the transfer.  Fingers crossed.

1 Comment | In: February '12 | | #

But this cycle is drawing to a close…found out this afternoon that tonight will be the trigger shot, tomorrow back for pre-op at the clinic at 6:30am, and then ER sometime late Monday morning.  It has been an exhausting week and a half…11 nights of stim shots, 8 mornings of monitoring.  (My veins still look fab, though!) I’m not sure why they were all about the excessive monitoring this time around, although I DO know my E2 level climbed sloooooooowwwwwlllly.  So slowly, in fact, that there were a few days I was convinced this cycle was going to be cancelled.  Slowslowslow. I am undoubtedly at the end of my pretend-reproductive years.  Undoubtedly.  They never lowered my stims, and as of this morning, I had six measurable follicles.  After 11 days of stims my e2 was at 788…After 9 days of stims two years ago on the exact same protocol, I was well over 1000.  They retrieved 11 eggs two years ago.  This time around, I am really praying for a solid six.  Man, times have changed. 

I have also realized a few things. 

1) I am a nutcase-borderline-psycho on high doses of stims.  We were watching the L.ittle Mer.maid for the first time last night, and P asked if we would ever know an Ur.sula in real life.  T told him, only Mommy when she is on her tummy shots.  It was hilarious.  And (slightly) true. 

2)I can not do another fresh cycle.  I have a husband who works 13 hour days.  Two boys 4 and 1.  No (repeat, no) family within a 300 mile radius.  Sporadic sitting help.  Friends with lives–and no one true friend who is my “person” who would do anything for me (ie: watch the 1 year old six mornings in a row while I go to monitoring appts).  (If anyone knows of anyone else looking for their person in the tri-state area, let me know).  What this meant was, A had to come with me.  And I stressed about it.  Because years ago, I always resented the moms who brought babies to the RE.  But I beg you to believe me, I had no options.  Both babysitters were busy all week.  T was traveling.  So A came with me, and we hid in a conference room or walked around outside in the cold.  Because to me that was better than possibly making anyone else sad/angry/resentful–IF is so freaking hard enough.  I wish I still hadn’t had to bring him along, but it is what it is (was).  And it’s exhausting.  Don’t get me wrong–I am LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY to be on this side of infertility.  But getting three people out of the house in a 20 minute period, drop one off at school, then hit the highway for a 30 minute trip to the clinic each morning, hide in a conference room feeling guilty and embarrassed, drive home, all the while throwing food and odd toys at the toddler who is annoyed by the constant car time…it wears on you.

3) I am not expecting this cycle to work.  I am hoping that it will work, but I am not expecting it to.  I write this 75 minutes before my trigger shot (yes, I still worry I will ovulate on my own–are you SURE, nurse, that I don’t take the Ganireli.x again tonight as an extra-precaution?), and I know this is the best and last shot we have, and I don’t think it is going to work.  Again, have hope, trying to go with the odds here, and really, they have not been in my favor.

4) P is S-M-A-R-T.  Even though I have not told him outright, P said tonight that I am “taking these shots to try to have a baby.”  Yep, thats right.  “I only want anudder brudder though, not a sister.”  I told him that we are going to try, but if it doesn’t work, then it will be Me, You, Daddy, and A, and that is a pretty great family right there.  His response? “Just trwy.  Trwy your BEST.”  You got it, bud.

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