26w0d - Letting go

My friend Carrie is expecting 3 boys - the perfect complement to our 3 girls. Her efforts to keep growing her boys through multiple scares, while on hospital and now home bed rest, and caring for her young daughter has been nothing short of heroic.

Since Carrie asked for more frequent updates, and she has been my inspiration, I simply can't refuse. So here goes:

As we're gearing up for the girls, I'm also trying to let go and have faith that everything will work out with this high-risk pregnancy. Surely everyone in the IF community can identify with this apprehension.

As much as I've been bonding with the girls, feeling them kick and watching their progress on the ultrasounds, there is a part of me that is still super cautious. I thought that would lessen with each milestone: seeing the fetal poles, the first heartbeat check, receiving the CVS results, passing the first trimester... Now that we're just two weeks away from the major 28-week milestone, I know I won't begin to believe it will work out until they're home with us, and then a new phase of caution and fear will start.

Reading about NICU experiences and triplet losses have helped me understand that my optimism won't protect me from things going wrong. Will simply believing that everything will be okay, make it so? Or is that living in denial?

I guess I'm living somewhere on the fence between optimism and realism. I like to be informed: prepared for the worst, but hoping for the best outcome.

As a result, I've been holding onto my leftover IVF meds: a flare protocol cycle's worth of Lupron, Gonal-F pens, Ovidrel and prometrium. Although we paid out of pocket for our IVF cycles, the insurance miraculously covered our meds. After our failed cycle, I ordered a new round of meds, and then found out that our clinic would give us some meds through a grant program. After we signed on to the grant program, I found out the pharmacy wouldn't take the meds back. Since I didn't have any hope that cycle #2 would work, I kept the meds for cycle #3, knowing I would donate it back to the clinic if I didn't need it.

It's been like a mental safety net to open the fridge and see the Rx stockpile. I realize now that it is also preventing me from truly believing that my babies will be okay. So this week, I'll stop by my IVF clinic, drop off the meds and try to let go of some of the fears that have been holding me back.

I'm worried about walking into the clinic with my pregnant belly, and upsetting the other women. I'll attempt to go in the back way. I remember vividly how crushing it was to see a pregnant woman in that waiting room, regardless of whether she was a "success story" or there to support a friend. It made me jealous, weepy, angry and frustrated and I'd hate to do that to anyone else going through the life crisis that is IF.

The day before retrieval

ICLWers, welcome! Please share your ER stories with me to get me through today. Your comments mean the world to me.

Ahhh! Finally, a day off from injections. I'm feeling optimistic about tomorrow's egg retrieval, and of course a little scared, but mostly excited and calm. I keep telling myself it can't possibly be worse than the Endo lap surgery two months ago.

It helps that today is Sunday, and I had homemade, organic scones for breakfast. I'm listening to good music, visiting IComLeavWe blogs, calling my family and generally just chilling.

Usually, I'm a workaholic stress case, an undeniable type A personality who needs to control everything. It's a new feeling to try to be good to myself, to take it easy, to relax, and to let go. I practiced this approach with great success last weekend (see Sleepy Tiger in Sleepy Clothes post) and I'm working on perfecting it today. I have the week off from work to stay sane between ER and Tx, which bodes well for becoming an IComLeavWe Iron Commenter. A girl has to have goals. ;-)

Dh's aspiration is at 6:45 tomorrow morning. We don't know if they'll find sperm, but the RE said he was so sure they would, he'd give us the cycle free if they came up empty-handed. After 11 years and a failed vas reversal, we'll finally know if the boys are coming to the party.

My clinic does ICSI for everyone's IVF cycles. It's included in their regular IVF fee. I'm relieved they do this on a regular basis, and that we'll maximize our chances if they only find a few viable sperm.

My ER is at 8:30. No food or drink after midnight tonight, and no strong smelling perfume/hair spray/cologne allowed. I use natural products with little scent, so this is good news for me. Strong smells can easily trigger my migraines. Jasmine, hazelnut coffee brewing, strong perfume. Blegh. Makes me instantly nauseous. I can't go near Y.anky Candle or the perfume counter at department stores.

Based on what I've read on the blogs, I'm expecting to do a whole lot of sleeping and cramping after ER... Sounds like a good time.

Trigger happy

A colleague in the know commented tonight on how calm, happy and serene I am despite IVF. Anyone going through IVF knows that's the nicest compliment one could hope to receive, especially on the night you are triggering. We all aim to be relaxed, but it's not really an attainable or realistic goal when Lupron, stim injections, the stress of IVF, and a full time job is in the equation.

I've been trying hard to calm myself, and be acutely aware of this profound moment in my life. Although this path to parenthood has no guarantees, and is not for the fainthearted, I do find myself feeling surprisingly happy tonight. It's a strange feeling, one that I'm at odds with. I do feel trepidation for what lies ahead, but I'm also in somewhat of a celebratory mood to have reached this point. For the longest time I didn't know whether I'd be able to do this - financially, emotionally, physically. Biologically, I wondered whether I'd be a poor responder or someone who would easily hyperstim as my first RE had warned. Doing the trigger shot tonight was confirmation that things have gone well so far.

Yesterday's u/s still showed 6 follies on the left and 2 on the right. It's not a huge haul, and some follies were on the small side, but the nice nurse reassured me they'd all be ready by Monday's egg retrieval.

My fridge is empty, my sharps container is full, and my heart is bursting with excitement, happiness, and fear.

Stim day 7 - nightly countdown to 9 pm

It's really strange to suddenly have this nightly 9 p.m. stim commitment. I generally dislike structure and schedule; always have. Perhaps because this is the only contribution I can make to the IVF process, I don't mind it as much.

I'm generally absent-minded, but prefer to think of myself as "hyper-focused" on the things that matter, and just not caring as deeply about all the other minor details of life. My attention is fully focused on this IVF process now, and I catch myself subtly counting down to 9 pm all day long.

The whole IVF experience is so unreal, so violating, so inhumane, so excruciatingly emotional, that I think it's my way of beginning to process it all, not letting a moment slip by that I'm not realizing that I'm in this NOW. For good. For better or for worse. No turning back, no regrets about having tried, whatever the outcome.

Last night - stim day 6 - was the 2nd evening in a row that dh gave me the injections. Not because I'm squeamish (I actually prefer to do them myself - control freak), but because I need to force myself to let go sometimes.

Of course, while I was busy setting up the "crack house" as invitroveritas so aptly and hilariously described it, hubby hurriedly attached the Gonal-F needle without swabbing the rubber tip with alcohol. Surprisingly, I didn't freak out with a hormone-induced hissyfit. I calmly asked him if he had swabbed it, and he said he forgot. So, I said, "It's okay, let's remove the needle, swab the top and attach a new needle." Not that it would help much, but it made me feel better. He recapped the needle and tried to pull it off rather masculine-ly, instead of gently turning it clockwise to unscrew it from the pen. I was busy loading the Lupron injection when he started futzing with the Gonal-F pen, so I put the uncapped Lupron shot down.

I hadn't realized he accidentally bent the Gonal-F pen needle and it was now sticking through the safety cap at an angle. When I asked him to slowly hand me the pen so I could show him how to remove the needle, the thing bit me through the cap as I was unscrewing it - badly. Ugh. Now I'm bleeding, and we haven't even started the evening's shots yet.

So we get a Band-Aid, take a deep breath, and start over.

Then he points to the uncapped Lupron injection, and says, as he's reaching out to pick it up, "This is unsafe." Wtf.

I'm real proud of myself for not turning into Lupronzilla right then. That's unsafe? Ya think? How about you NOT swabbing the effin' Gonal pen, bending the effin' needle because you were struggling with it so violently instead of just asking for help, and then sticking.me.with.it. That's not unsafe? I could have jabbed him with it. But I didn't. I bit my tongue, smiled, and said, let's do the Lupron first.

It was one quiet victory in a sea of unsuccessful attempts to contain my raving lunatic lupron rage. Progress. Everything went smoothly and lovingly from there on out. Afterwards, I snuggled next to him on the sofa. Today he made lunch. We're all good.

More Funny Business

Infertiles know there's nothing sacred about conceiving with ART. I've had to expose myself to so many u/s techs, doctors, REs and nurses over the past few months that I don't even worry about what I wear to the doctor's office anymore. I mean, I'm going to be naked half the time anyway, so who cares. There is no room for privacy, let alone bashfulness.

I thought I had been doing a stellar job of relaxing while exposing myself in more ways than one, and talking about the most intimate details of my life. But the universe had a surprise in store: I discovered this process can also be... funny. Now I know "humor" is not generally a concept associated with visiting any medical professional, but trust me. When you're infertile, you take humor wherever you can find it.

I haven't found much to laugh about lately, and the last place I anticipated cracking up was accompanying hubby to an urology consult. I mean, can you say, "a-w-k-w-a-r-d."

In search of a second opinion, hubby and I visited a remarkable, intelligent, wonderful board-certified, Harvard-trained, specialist who - with all the compassion and warmth in the world - also found ways to sneak the funniest punch lines into the conversation. But this doc, as amazing as he is medically, surely missed his calling as a standup comedian.

So, while hubby is in the other room still fastening his belt, the doc comes back into his office where I was waiting and says to me gently and compassionately, "The men have it so easy when it comes to IVF." He paused, and with impeccable comedic timing, says, "So, you should really bug him about going for a prostate exam soon." I about died laughing, and all I could get out was, "There is justice in the universe after all."

This doc may be a man, but he sure as hell gets it, all of it: the stress, the injections, the violation of the female body. And he may be focused on guys all day long, but he has the ability to see the world from a woman's perspective. The world sure needs more specialists like him.

Healthy - With a Vengeance

In anticipation of the upcoming IVF cycle, I've forced myself to start exercising again. Getting into my gym clothes and onto the treadmill seems to be the toughest part of the exercising routine. Especially since all I really want to do is cry and sleep, in that order. Or, on a good day, sit on the sofa and read every blog post and forum about IVF experiences and protocols (which often leads to more crying).

Once I'm on the treadmill, however, the anger and frustration with, and injustice of, IF could keep me walking, forever. Spinning infinitely and seemingly getting nowhere but exhausting myself... it closely resembles how I feel about this infertility path, actually.

I've recently been on a total health rampage. Exercising with a vengeance, drinking daily vitamins, eating better, fresher, healthier meals. I suspect it has little to do with the honorable goal of preparing my body for IVF and a possible pregnancy and more to do with exerting control over the 1% of my life I still have a semblance of control over while the rest is slipping away into this infinite pit of IF despair.

The Clock Stops Here - And So Does the Buck

On our way home from work, hubby tells me his doctors fee will be $10,000 for MESA. That doesn’t include the anesthesia or hospital fee, or any other incidentals. I walk through the door to our house, my beautiful watch that hubby bought me for my birthday two years ago breaks and falls from my arm as I’m unloading the groceries.

Dh meant to replace the watch for my birthday, but never got around to it. It hits me that I can’t even afford to spend the $100 to replace the watch because we’re saving every damn dime for this ridiculous roulette that is IVF/ICSI. So, no birthday present or Christmas celebration, just the surgery, and the painful realization that I’m a year older, still have no child(ren), and awaiting my next period.

I throw the stupid broken watch against the wall, slam my bedroom door out of sheer frustration and disappointment, and weep for hours until there’s nothing left. It’s not the watch, or disappointment around the holidays, or PMS, or hubby.

I'm so angry all the time now. Each setback, health, financial, or emotional, hits me harder than the previous. I have no reserve. I’m hovering between despair and disappointment. My dream of a family is slipping away. We take a few steps forward only to slip farther back. And I feel he just doesn’t get the urgency. I’m constantly “on” him to make a doctor’s appointment, find out information, request medical records, get the questions together, etc.

There’s just no proactiveness in him and it drives me crazy. He’s totally laid back and I’m all type A control freak. Usually, that works for us. He mellows me out. But clearly not when it comes to IF. I’ve sat back for a decade thinking he’ll step up to help me figure all of this out, because he’s the one who had the failed VR. But I’ve finally realized it’s going to be up to me.

So step away slowly. I’m driving this trainwreck now.