6dp3dt and no symptoms

I've mostly been trying to keep my mind off the fact that I'm waiting for beta. It has consumed me despite my best efforts. Every twinge, every sting, every cramp makes me wonder what, if anything, is going on. Is it AF? Is it implantation? What if it is? What if it isn't? I'm crazy, obsessed and unable to focus on anything else. It's like I have beta ADD.

I've looked at the calendar, counted the days post transfer, added the numbers to figure out the number of days post ovulation (ER day): 6dp3dt = 9dpo. I've looked at the stages of embryo development a million times and have it memorized.

I've looked at my natural me.nstrual cycle on the calendar, tried to figure out when Aunt Flo (AF) would show up if she still knew what my schedule was before the meds messed with it, or if I should be counting my "normal" number of cycle days after AF started at 3dp5d last month.

If we're just comparing cycles, then at 9dpo today, I've already made it a day farther without spotting than with my last IVF cycle (8dpo). (Hooray for Progesterone-in-Oil injections and suppositories.) If I'm counting from last month, then I'm hoping she doesn't arrive this weekend.

I have had no real symptoms to report. I'm not getting much uninterrupted sleep because of the progesterone, and I've woken up every morning this week with my heart fluttering. It's the weirdest feeling, like it's giving an extra beat or three.

Earlier this week, my skin looked almost transparent, and I could see veins I've never noticed before. It was really weird. Maybe the winter has just been too long and my skin needs the Sun, but just as I started getting excited, the blue veins went away. All of the symptoms - tingly bo.obs, twinges - disappear as quickly as they appear.

I'll use a home pregnancy test this weekend, just to start preparing myself for the outcome.

The progesterone injections are going well, but I'm starting to get rather bruised now. Women who continue with the PIO injections for the entire first trimester have my utmost respect.

Weird signs everywhere I look

I'm usually attuned to signs, patterns or coincidences. It might just be that I'm more aware now, or that I'm constantly searching for signs, but twice something pretty weird happened on the drive home from the clinic.

After the first transfer, we were stuck behind a truck with the word "impregnate" in big letters on the back panel of the truck. It was so weird, because you couldn't miss it. Regardless of how hard we tried, we couldn't pass this truck (there was only one lane, because of a construction zone.) How often do you see that word on a truck?

Today, a car drove by us with a license plate spelling "MIDWIFE." I joked with my husband that we needed to follow her and make an appointment...

Day 3 transfer (IVF/ICSI #2)

Instead of waiting until Day 5, the RE recommended that we try a Day 3 transfer with this cycle. "Your body might be a better incubator for these embryos than our culture media," he said, gently trying to reassure me.

He wanted to look at the embies this morning, and then make a recommendation. We discussed our options telephonically, and there was a lot of uhm-ing and ah-ing before settling on transferring 3 embryos today (rather than waiting until the weekend). My gut was saying Day 3 since last month's Day 5 didn't work. He agreed. I'm a big believer in switching things up.

That resulted in a few panicked last-minute call-ins to work, and driving to the clinic in haste. I called the acupuncturist on the way to give him a heads up that I'd be stopping in unexpectedly. Oh, the drama, because both the acupuncturist and my RE had to leave at noon today. We had to get me knocked up - and fast - but without stressing me out. Try that one on for size.

We were there by 9:45, I had a blissful acupuncture session, and then went to the clinic for the transfer. The RE had other procedures in between, so he was doing a retrieval, then an HSG, while squeezing in my transfer. I'm very thankful for his multi-tasking ability, and never making me feel rushed despite all the other patients waiting for him.

Encounters with the spe.culum are never fun, but it's particularly alarming when they "prep" you and then walk out to get the embryos. I always feel tempted to yell out, "Hey, wait up! Come back here! You can't leave me like this!" The RE explained he wants to be sure he can access my cervix and uterus before they get the embryos.

The RE never leaves me alone - all prepped like that - for more than a minute or two before coming back with a nurse, an embryologist, and our embryos. But man oh man. It's still a pretty darn vulnerable position to be in for any amount of time, despite my husband's presence. And trying to relax "those" muscles while you're "with spe.culum." Well, don't get me started.

As with the last cycle, the quality of our embryos isn't good. My RE didn't sound very hopeful that it would result in a pregnancy, but he said he's seen poor quality embryos turn into beautiful babies, and even twins, so all is not lost.

I'd rather be prepared than have sunshine blown up my skirt.

Fertilization report (IVF/ICSI #2)

Fert report just in:
13 eggs
12 mature enough to fertilize with ICSI
10 embryos dividing
3 were transferred (poor quality)

Last month's fert report:
13 eggs
9 mature enough to fertilize with ICSI
8 embryos divided
7 made it to day 5
3 were transferred (poor quality), none implanted
1 made it to freeze

Retrieval news (IVF/ICSI #2)

You may remember that 13 is my lucky number, and that 13 eggs were retrieved with last month's cycle on Monday, the 23rd. Well, today's retrieval on Monday, the 23rd, yielded the exact same number of eggs: 13.

How very consistent of the universe and my beautifully bloated ovaries. I'm particularly ecstatic with that number, since my ovaries were distorted by ginormous endometriomas just 3 months ago. I never thought we'd retrieve any of my own eggs, let alone 13!

As I write this, I'm acutely aware of so many of you who are contemplating DE, going through a DE cycle, and others who have done multiple DE cycles. Infertility is so unfair, and even as I'm celebrating my victory today, my heart breaks for you. To my friends with Endo who are TTC, if you need an operative laparoscopy or laparotomy, go the extra mile to find the best surgeon money can buy. Seriously.

Dh has much to celebrate today too, as the urologist found sperm with PESA... again! Last month, there was not one motile sperm to be seen after 16 attempted aspirations and four uses of the dreaded gun. We were just happy that they found tadpoles resembling sperm, but none were swimming. Despite ICSI, we ended up with bad quality embryos. Today, lo and behold, the urologist hit the epididymal jackpot.

I was already prepped for ER, complete with IV and heart rate monitors, and anxiously awaiting news. Nothing like sitting there all ready but alone, watching the clock, knowing you'll be ovulating any second, and waiting for news on the sperm front. Tick tock. Tick tock.

My reproductive endocrinologist popped into the OR, silently, but with his hand held up as if to "high five" me. "You won't believe this," he said with a huge grin. "They found lots of beautiful, motile sperm this time!" He went on to tell me how he made the urologist "visualize the healthy sperm" before doing the aspiration. My RE believes in a holistic approach, combines western and eastern medicine, and encourages his patients to go for acupuncture.

"The urologist doesn't believe in that stuff and always pooh-poohs me and my visualizations, but I made him do it anyway!" he said, chuckling. This time, they filled 3 vials with 3 sperm aspirations, and can pick and choose to find the best 13 swimmers to fertilize my eggs.

Hubby came into the OR, gloating. He told me he saw the little guys swimming on the microscope's monitor and how he just couldn't believe it. It is more than 15 years since his vasectomy, and a decade since the failed reversal. We didn't think there were any motile sperm to be had.

Another funny moment was when the anesthesiologist asked me about any prior surgeries. I rattled off the surgeries. "Are you in the medical field?" I laughed, and said, "No." What I was thinking: "No, but I have a degree from Goo.gle."

I soon fell into a happy, Versed-induced "sleep" as Dh held my hand. The ER was over before I knew it. A little spotting, a little cramping, but nothing bad. I didn't need Tyle.nol.

We had left the clinic when the nurse practitioner left a voicemail on the cell. "Nothing to worry about, just give us a call when you get this message," she said. Of course, we worried. We called, and the cherry on top is that they want us to sign a consent form so they can cryopreserve all the gorgeous, extra, healthy sperm. Is this really happening? It feels like I'm living a dream, except I've done my first PIO ever and my hiney is hurting, so it must all be real.

My incredible husband is still on cloud 9. He's the man. Normally, he doesn't say a whole lot on the fertility topic and just kind of takes things as they come, but he can't stop telling me about seeing his own "real, live, swimming sperm!" As in, "not a photo, not a frozen image, not somebody else's. They were really swimming. Fast!"

Can this day get any better?

What If? in overdrive, the night before ER #2

Before I fell asleep Sunday night, the night before retrieval, I clung to Dh. The serenity of the past two weeks suddenly evaporated. He asked what was wrong, and with long pauses inbetween, I whispered all of my fears:

What if they don't find sperm on retrieval day?

What if my eggs are now overcooked on the higher stim dosage?

What if they find sperm, but the embryo quality is again not good?

What if I don't get pregnant this cycle?

What if the one frostie from the last cycle we have doesn't take during a FET cycle?

What if we can't afford another fresh cycle?

What if we have nothing more to freeze from this cycle?

What if infertility and IVF destroys our relationship?

What if I do get pregnant this cycle?

What if I have a healthy baby, but I'm a horrible mom? (can you see the downward spiral of anxiety?)

And on it went. I sighed, but didn't cry. Hubby just held me, and didn't try to talk me out of all the "What ifs?" Needless to say, I didn't sleep much.

Trigger (IVF/ICSI #2, awaiting ER)

I'm no baby when it comes to pain and needles. I'm no masochist either, but I do have Endo, and tolerate pain well. Yowser! The Ovidrel trigger and I had a hard time bonding tonight. I've triggered with Ovidrel before, and it didn't feel like this with my 1st cycle. I'm wondering if my belly is just so sensitive after doing 2 back-to-back cycles? Or maybe my ovaries are so huge right now and everything is more sensitive?

In fact, I poked myself with the Ovidrel needle once tonight and it was about halfway in when I realized I just couldn't go further. I pulled it out and tried in another spot and it was better, but I still had to go extra slow with the plunger.

My bo.obs and ovaries feel like they're about to explode. With the last cycle, my e2 was over 4,000, but they didn't coast me. I'd like to know what my e2 was this time around that forced them to go from 300 iu Gonal-F to 150 to 75 to coasting. I'll be asking for copies of my medical records tomorrow, because my clinic is notoriously bad with sharing info. It's like pulling teeth. And then I'll have lots to obsess over during the 2ww. [evil grin]

Monday's retrieval can't come soon enough.

Coasting along (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 10)

Friday - Stim day 10 - ended up being the stim day that wasn't. Methinks I've built up "needle credits" in the universe, and that I was fortunate enough to redeem one last night. No stims, just Lupron. Coasting... what a concept. If I never have to see another Gonal-F pen it will be too soon.

I was so busy at work yesterday, that I only remembered to retrieve the cell phone voicemail with my blood test results and dosage instructions after 6 p.m. Thank goodness the nurse left a detailed message, because the clinic closes at 4 p.m.

Doing a second cycle has changed me. There is a calmness about the whole IVF thing I never thought I'd have the privilege to experience. Actually, it's probably 50% calmness and 50% exhaustion, because there's not much fight left in me after doing 2 cycles back-to-back. Thankfully, this cycle was 2 days shorter than the last one, but I'm twice as tired and uncomfortable this time around.

I'm almost resigned now, just rolling with it. I'm in "whatever" mode a whole lot more. Monitoring daily? Sure, whatever. Electrical stimulation with acupuncture? Sure, whatever. Halving my stim meds twice? Sure, whatever. Unfortunately, the little bit of excitement I could muster with the last cycle is also gone, but I hope to reclaim that after Monday's retrieval.

There's also an overall lackadaisical-ness. To the point where I did my shots a bit earlier 2 nights ago because I wanted to go to sleep really badly. I was a spaz with IVF #1. It felt like it consumed my thoughts every second of every day. For the two hours prior to the shots, I couldn't focus on anything else. The nurse said an hour this way or that way for doing the shots won't negatively impact the cycle, but with IVF #1, I did all the shots at the same time nightly - actually, to the minute!

I was watching a movie last night and realized late that I hadn't done the Lupron shot yet... I had better get my act together before tonight's 8 p.m. trigger.

Follies in the crockpot (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 9)

Today's monitoring appointment wasn't at all what I expected. I hoped I'd be triggering sooner, but apparently not. The brash nurse - who needs to be reminded that she can't gesture with the hand that is maneuvering Wanda - said firmly, "You're not ready." (I think she could see the rebellion on my face: "Yes I am! Yes I am!" like a 2-year old. "Come on, follies, prove me right!") But alas, it was not to be.

I'm disappointed, but I don't want the RE to retrieve immature eggs for the sake of my comfort. We've come too far, these follies and I. Most of the follies are around 15 mm and they need to be at 18 mm. We're almost there, but not quite. The follies are in the slow cooker, which might not be a bad pace after all.

Yesterday, my lining was at 11, and they saw 9 follies. Today she measured 12 follies around 15 mm in size "with a couple more that might be ready by retrieval." Compared to the last cycle when we only ever saw about 8 right up until the end, things are looking up. Still only 2 follicles on the right, and 10+ on the over-compensating left ovary.

My estrogen must be through the roof, because they insist on close monitoring, and seeing me every day, tomorrow included. They have me almost coasting tonight, but not quite. Just 75 units of Gonal-F. I listened to the dosage message the nurse left on my cell phone three times, because she mumbled and I couldn't believe she said "75" and not "175." Just 2 clicks, that would be a piece of cake!

Tonight might be my last encounter with the Gonal-F pen... should I write "for this cycle" or "forever?" Either way, I might jinx it.

Whine, whine, whine - not the kind you drink (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 8)

The 2-hour drive to and from the clinic is getting old fast. I was real chipper about it the first dozen times or so, but now? Not so much.

Morning monitoring combines my least favorites activities of getting up early (5 p.m.), foregoing coffee, driving alongside truckers on the highway, getting blood drawn ("You have scar tissue - it's hard to find a vein") and of course, being violated by Wanda. As if we infertiles don't suffer enough already.

Trying to accomplish all of the above with an exhausted, bloated body is just damn near impossible. I'm not a morning person. Can you tell?!

Today's monitoring brought a surprise phone call from the RE's office to halve my meds dosage tonight, and instead of coming back for monitoring on Friday, they asked that I come in tomorrow. Please, oh please, let me trigger earlier than Saturday. I'm ready for the stick-up to peacefully hand over my eggs.

The price of frugality (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 7)

Gonal-F pens come in at least two different doses - the 300 iu and the 900 iu. The trouble started when I had meds left over in the red pen from IVF/ICSI #1.

Instead of starting a new 300 iu blue pen for the 300 dose, I used up what was left in the last 900 iu red pen from last month's cycle. At almost a $1,000 for the 900 pen, that seemed only reasonable. What I didn't take into account, was the belly real estate, and the sensitive tummy from last month's cycle and all the acupuncture.

I've been click counting to double check the dialed vs. dispensed dosage. (Yes, I'm a.nal retentive.) 1 click = 37.5 iu. 8 clicks = 300 iu. The "problem" is that many of the 300 pens contained more doses than what was indicated on the label. So, after dispensing 300 iu, there'd be another 75 iu left over to use the next night. Instead of throwing it out, I ended up injecting 3 times with 3 different Gonal-F pens tonight. 75 iu + 75 iu + 150 iu.

When you add the Lupron, that's 4 injections in one night. Lovely.

All's well except for the oranges (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 6)

I had a wonderful Nurse Practitioner wield the Wanda this morning. She is one of the kind, gentle nurses who offers up blood test results, follicle size, and other information without being prompted.

My estradiol was over 400 on Saturday and today there are seven follies between 10-12 mm on the left, and two between 9-10 mm on the right. Apparently a few more might be waiting in the wings on my overachieving left ovary. I'm so relieved that everything seems to be on track. Ra, ra, ra follies!

The migraine is gone (hallelujah) and I feel great. The only minor complaints are:
1.) I feel like I swallowed two huge oranges whole. It's pretty darn uncomfortable, and my tummy is protruding like I'm pregnant. Oh, cruel world.

2.) I'm exhausted, and it's only Monday.

This time around has been much easier overall. I'm more resigned to being the marionette controlled by a group of manipulators. It's pretty amazing how easily I relinquished control this time around. If you knew me IRL, you'd be astounded.

Compared to last month's cycle, things are definitely moving much quicker. I'm on 300 iu Gonal-F now compared to the 150 iu start the last time around. The nurse predicted a Saturday (3/21) or Monday (3/23) retrieval. Aah, wouldn't it be simply wonderful to stim for 9 days instead of 12?

On the weirdness scale, an ER on 3/23 would be off the charts. With February and March dates falling on the same days of the week, this month has been a constant stream of déjà vu experiences. This month's cycle started two days later than last month's, but with the higher dose of meds, it looks like I'll be catching up. Not that I'm rushing to relive the BFN.

Last month's retrieval was on Monday, the 23rd. If that is indeed the retrieval date this time around, then the singleton due date for this cycle would be... wait for it... my birthday. Twins would be... on my brother's birthday. I about died when the calculator spat out those two precise dates.

A colleague, who didn't know when my birthday is, told me he has had a recurring dream about me the past two nights. In his dream, he was visiting me on my birthday (close to Christmas), and felt compelled to bring gold, frankincense and myrrh. But strangely, he said, he was visiting me at my house on my birthday, but the presents weren't for me. Someone else in my house was having a birthday. He knew he couldn't afford gold, so he had to find a substitute. Aah! He could bring Gold.schläger sch.napps! But then he realized, I couldn't drink. Hmmm. How very weird - and hopefully psychic of him.

I'm seeing a pattern (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 2)

The great news is that I'm already on day 2 of stims and feeling more optimistic than I thought I would. For anyone wondering how to get over a failed cycle, the answer is: try again.

The bad news is that I've been battling a migraine since yesterday. The nasty kind that includes visual disturbances, and have you wishing you could just throw up to get it over with.

I've been keeping track of my symptoms during the IVF cycle (so much to obsess over!), and interestingly enough, I had a migraine on day 2 of last month's IVF cycle as well. It must be my body trying to adjust to all the hormones. My migraines always coincide with shifts in hormone level (around ovulation/menstruation), sleep pattern changes, and physical exhaustion.

Combine crazy early morning monitoring appointments, the extra hor-moans, and the drug-induced exhaustion and you have a perfect recipe for a migraine. Ugh.

I might not be feeling like myself physically, but emotionally, equilibrium seems almost within reach. Today, I hardly flinched when a friend-in-the-know, who was too afraid to ask about the IVF cycle outcome, got excited when I said I felt nauseous.

She: "Does this mean it worked?" she exclaimed excitedly.

Me: "No, I haven't had the heart yet to tell you the cycle didn't work."

She: "Oh no. I'm so sorry. I was hoping nausea was a GOOD sign!"

Other friend who has adult children chimes in: "I could carry them babies for you!"

Me: [Trying hard not to throw up] Thanks, but I'll let you know if I need help.

Then there was the email conversation with my sweet, usually empathetic sister-in-law:

SIL: I'm sorry your little nest isn't full right now.
(Wtf?! I may have eggs, but I'm not a bird, 'kay?)

Me: Thanks, I appreciate you thinking about us. (It doesn't help to correct fertiles, it only aggravates me more.)

SIL: You know, I'm so overwhelmed with everything I have to do this weekend. I am throwing a stork party for my daughter!"

Me: (Speechless) !!

Having a baby and NOT having a baby has NOTHING to do with one another. That is the worst effin' segway I'd ever experienced. And THEN she sweetly tells me that she understands how I feel. Let me get this straight: you have two kids, one of whom is reproducing with a boy she hardly knows, and you know how I feel? Come on. And I was in SUCH a good mood with the migraine already.

Now if I can only figure out how to protect myself from insensitive remarks from fertiles. Step one might be to remind myself not to tell any fertile about this cycle, because the support I thought I'd get from fertile friends has proven to be a mirage. The closer you get to the oasis, the farther it moves away from you. I do have a few close (fertile) friends who gets it, and for that I'm eternally grateful.

I promise, tomorrow will be better. It just has to be.

New plan! IVF/ICSI #2

Unfortunately, the only thing that has the potential to lift me out of this funk, is also the very same thing that could pull me deeper into the depths of despair. Attempting another cycle is the ultimate Catch-22. I *might* be damned if I do, but if I don't, I'm *certainly* damned.

How can I not give this another shot? If it wasn't for the money, I probably wouldn't have hesitated at all, but paying everything out-of-pocket makes this an agonizing decision.

Being the "leap of faith" kind of gal that I am, I found myself in the RE's office yesterday requesting that they change my beta bloodtest to a baseline for IVF/ICSI#2. The nurse practitioner looked at me somewhat shocked, but then obligingly did an u/s. This is how you know you've had too many u/s: when you start ASKING for them! :P

I hate that I was right, but AF had reduced my lining to 2.something (down from well over 10). There were about 10 antral follicles, and no cysts. Woot! (Forgive me, I'm trying hard to keep focusing on the silver lining.) It was cute how she counted on her fingers to figure out when I could start stims again.

I might be able to start stims for cycle #2 as early as tomorrow, if my progesterone level peters out enough by then. I'm going back for another blood test, and should know if I have a green light by the afternoon.

Typically, they make you wait out a cycle, but since I have severe Endo, I don't want to have two periods before I can try again. They suggested following the same flare protocol as it worked well for cycle #1. I'll be starting with 300 iu of Gonal-F instead of 150, but other than that, it's the same (Lupron 0.05 daily, Ovidrel trigger).

Right back in the saddle. Yeee-haaaw!

9dp5dt - Beta Result

I POAS this morning, and the digital HPT showed, "Not Pregnant." Well, that's unambiguous in a cruel way. Thankfully, I started processing and crying a week ago, so by the time I called the clinic for the hCG results, it didn't even sting.

It was as I suspected all along: a Big Fat Negative. I'm all cried out now, which, I guess, is a decent place to be given the circumstances.

Thank you for your incredibly supportive comments. It helped me cope, just knowing you truly understand. Thank you for not judging me or telling me to snap out of it.

Thank you for not spewing platitudes like my IRL friends:

• "The time is just not right."


• "It was not meant to be."


• "God must have a different plan for you."


• "You can't lose hope now! You've only tried once!"

Thank you for offering to cry with me. Thank you for being sad, angry and frustrated on my behalf. Thank you for caring enough to leave comments. Each and every comment resonated with me, and was appreciated. I came back and re-read them a few times, but didn't feel up to posting until tonight.

The IF community is incredible. Because of your support, and the triumphs of those of you who are/were in the trenches with us, I feel like I may just be able to muster the courage to try and kick infertility's butt.

So, here I am 9dp5dt, trying to get myself out of this funk by counting my cycle blessings, and finding the silver lining:

1. My FSH/E2 is <10.


2. The flare protocol worked well.


3. I stimmed better than we expected, and didn't get OHSS.


4. My lining was normal


5. The cycle didn't get cancelled


6. ER was much easier than anticipated. Bonus: no nausea, very little pain.


7. There were more eggs retrieved than the number of follies I thought I had


8. The urologist found sperm!!!


9. We spent $700 on PESA instead of $4,000-$10,000 on MESA


10. 8/13 eggs fertilized.


11. We had 7 growing embryos (not good quality, but not a bad number).


12. Transfer itself was a non-event on the pain scale.


13. We have one embaby on ice.

Bleeding can't be good - 6dp5dt

It started 3dp5dt. At first, I was hopeful that the spotting was implantation bleeding. I was happily headachy, nauseaus, and crampy. And then the bleeding started with a vengeance. Now, after 3 days of non-stop heavy bleeding, I'm convinced it's my period. My hCG beta is Monday, 9dp5dt, so I have a weekend of pure torture ahead.

Dh is out of the country, and I can honestly say that I'm a mess. I spent yesterday in endless hopeless crying fits, and finally decided I needed to do something productive. So I gave myself a pep talk, got the vacuum cleaner and cleaned the house. I'll confess to ramming it into a few walls on purpose, just to take the edge off my anger and frustration. It didn't help one iota.

So there I was, on all fours, vacuuming underneath a cabinet, when the anger suddenly made room for the rawest sadness I've ever felt. I just lost it. I was in the fetal position on the floor, bawling, with the vacuum cleaner still in my hand. Ugly crying, the kind where your face contorts, and you can't catch your breath in time for the next sob.

I really don't know how to pick myself up from this dark place to try again. How do you do it? Where do I begin? I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to be devastated again and again.

These past few days I've felt as if I'm living someone else's life. This can not be happening to me. It was not supposed to end this way.

Snowbaby news on 4dp5dt

On the day of transfer, the RE said none of the 7 embies we had available were of good quality. I felt crushed and suddenly uncertain. He even used the word "lousy," which is now seared into my memory and making it increasingly difficult to remain hopeful about a positive outcome.

In his defense, he was trying to explain why he didn't want to give me the exact embryo grade and fragmentation report, which I still think is just BS. "I can tell you the quality is not good. But if I tell you they're lousy instead of saying they're beautiful embryos, you won't be able to stay positive." How patronizing. So, what was he saying? He'd rather lie to me so I can hold onto false hope? Ugh.

We decided to transfer 3, and he said they'd watch the other 4 to see if any could be cryopreserved. Tonight, we received a letter from the clinic informing us that one made it to freeze! We actually have a little snowbaby, frozen in time, and waiting for us to be ready if this cycle doesn't pan out.

2 of the 3 we transferred weren't blasts on day 5, so it has given me hope that they might just be up to the task of implanting.

Va.ginal suppository hunt, courtesy of Murphy

Sil said... "I once dropped my last dose of Clomid in the toilet. I scooped it out, stared at it, wiped it a bit, and popped it in my mouth. The things we do!"

I can so relate. It reminded me of another Murphy-at-his-best episode in the life of me. As if there haven't been enough amusing anecdotes courtesy of the ever-present Murphy already! I graduated from supression and stim needles to v.ag.inal progesterone suppositories last week. Much lovelyness, these little yellow egg-shaped Pro.metrium bullets. All 60 of them. I know how many, not because I read the label. Oh noooo, that would be too easy.

When I picked the pill bottle up by its childsafe lid, the entire contents hopped off the bathroom counter and onto the tile floor like popping corn. They were scattered about with the random intent of a Jackson Pollock. The dog sniffed around eagerly for "bonbons" before I was able to shoo him out safely, close the bathroom door, and proceed with my va.ginal suppository hunt. The floor was a little... uhm... dusty, because I hadn't vacuumed in recent days (hey, I was resting between retrieval and transfer, and then after transfer, okay?!). So there I was on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor (ick!), with even my double jointed arms unable to reach all the places they had rolled into.

I grabbed the closest thing I could find - an empty Ovidrel box! - and raked in what I could reach. After about 10 minutes, the search-and-rescue mission eventually yielded 59, minus the ones I had used. The last one had rolled into a spot underneath our elevated vanity where it was beyond impossible to retrieve. The one that got away. Oh well.

Now my only problem is to... ahem... de-fluff the little buggers prior to... ahem... insertion. It's not like I can rinse them off, so I've been wiping them as best I can and hoping the 2-minute rule applies to them too.

To quote Sil, "The things we do!"

Update after today's transfer - pregnant until proven otherwise

I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning, too excited to sleep, but it might have been a side effect of the progesterone too.

The acupuncture session prior to transfer helped calm me down significantly. Thirty minutes prior to transfer, I took a Val.ium the clinic provided. At least, I tried to. I was alone in the waiting room, retrieved the Val.ium from my purse, and as I opened it, the pill broke into a million little pieces. A largish chunk fell into my purse, some of it was on the palm of my hand, and some powder was left in the pill wrapper. Argh! Gone was the serene calm. I was laughing out loud at Murphy, my constant companion. There I was, licking my palm like a junkie, frantically scratching through my purse to find the little orange getaway nugget, and dumping the rest of the pill wrapper contents onto my tongue. I'm so together.

Needless to say, the Val.ium didn't do much of anything. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't feel a sudden wave of calm or floatyness, nor did it help to relax my muscles (which was the primary reason I was persuaded to take it, because how would I even know to relax my cervix?)

We were soon dressed in OR garb, me proudly sporting crazy rainbow toe-socks this time around. The RE came in, loved the socks, discussed the embryo quality with us, and gave us a picture showing all seven embies. Apparently the embryos weren't doing as great as we had hoped. Although they are all 5 days old, just one made it to blast. The other 6 were all cleaved embryos that may or may not make it to blast.

The RE advised transferring three to four embryos. We were comfortable with three, given my age and the embryo quality. It was the hardest decision to make, because my heart was set on transferring two at most. I'm well aware of the risks of High Order Multiples, but I was swayed by the REs reasoning. The embryologists will continue to monitor the other 4 embies, and that should give us some indication on how the three in utero might be developing. Even though this is not the outcome I had hoped for, I'm still cautiously hopeful as even less-than-perfect embies can become healthy babies.

The RE left us alone for 10 minutes while they prepared the embies, and hubby and I had some space to just absorb the moment. Dh whispered beautiful things to me, while I clutched the photo of our embies. It was perfect.

The transfer itself went very well, and was over much quicker than I had anticipated. The speculum is obviously pretty uncomfortable, but my RE thankfully moves quickly. He pressed down very hard on my tummy with the u/s wand to see my uterus more clearly, but it was still a heck of a lot better than having the d.ildocam inside me every other day. A few deep breaths, hubby squeezing my hand, and then it was over.

The RE had me lay back for another 15 minutes, during which I tried to imagine the embies implanting over the next few days and growing inside me. This is as pregnant as I've ever been.

I went for a 2nd acupuncture session and fell asleep during the session. Calm. Content. I slept for a few hours when we got home too, following my doctor's instructions to "be a couch potato this weekend." Now THAT I can totally do.

Dh has been on pampering patrol - bringing tea, snacks, and pineapple. He will be making dinner tonight. Gotta love men who get it.

Purchasing pregnancy tests, and being ready

A girl has to be ready for any and every eventuality. I'm nothing if not a Type A personality who has to be in control at.all.times. I have to know the unknown, and plan the unplannable. This sounds a little Zen, but you know what I mean, right?

I don't have the embies in me yet, and I've already decided to POAS. Those of you who have been in the trenches with at-home TTC, zillions of IUIs and multiple IVFs won't believe this, but I've NEVER purchased a pregnancy test in my life. Dh had a vasectomy before I met him, so there was really no reason to ever suspect that I might be pregnant. Even after the vas reversal, we knew we couldn't get pregnant.

So there we were yesterday: hubby and I pouring over pregnancy tests in the grocery store and debating which ones to get. We were giggling like high school girls buying con.doms. We finally settled on an e.p.t. Certainty, the ones that show "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant" digitally. I know I'd drive myself crazy with the "line" ones... and I need more crazy like a hole in the head.

To check whether the trigger is still in my system, I might just get a few el cheapo ones from the D.ollar Store to do daily checks from 6dp5dt onwards. It will give me something to look forward to every day, being the obsessive gal that I am.

The kitchen cupboards are stocked with comfort food, the pineapples are ripe, the pregnancy test is at the ready on the bathroom counter, the chores around the house are done, and the clinic-supplied Val.ium is ready and waiting for tomorrow morning.

Bring it.

Embie update ahead of tomorrow's transfer

We are still a go for a Day 5 transfer tomorrow morning. I'm so excited! I'll be going for an acupuncture treatment directly before and after transfer, and I'm looking forward to being in the moment, and the relaxation that acupuncture will bring. All week long, I've had this inexplicable longing to have my potential babies safely and snugly in my uterus rather than in the cold petri dish. They're not even in my ute yet, let alone born, and I want to snuggle them already.

I've always had a very strong maternal instinct, and knew that I wanted to have kids from a very early age. In fact, I remember telling my mom when I was 5 years old and she was nursing my younger sibling, that I wanted to have kids someday too.

Of the eight embies growing in the petri dish, one arrested yesterday, but seven are still growing. I felt sad and disappointed when I heard that one embie didn't make it. It's somewhat irrational, but I'm already connected to these potential babies.

The 5 Day wait has been excrutiating. I myself was born 3 weeks early, I nagged my mom from age 4 that I wanted to go to elementary school, and this trend continued throughout my life. I graduated high school at age 17, had my first degree before I was 21, and my second degree when I was 22.

I'm the world's least patient person and can relate to Generation Y wanting everything NOW. Good things come to those who wait? No way, man, early bird gets the worm. Yes, yes, early worm gets eaten, I know, but let's focus on the bird, 'kay?

The only upside to a 5 Day transfer is that it has cut down the number of post-transfer waiting days. My clinic's first beta test is two weeks after retrieval, which would be 9dp5dt.

Aah, how far I've come - I remember the first post about IF and TTC lingo and not understanding what the heck those letters and numbers meant! For the newbies: 9dp5dt stands for 9 days post 5 day transfer. Thanks for the rapid education by immersion, everyone.

Honest scrap award acceptance speech & more

Thanks, L, of Baby Making Journey-fame and Gil over at the
The Hardest Quest for tagging me with an Honest Scrap Award.

It's my first blog award ever, and although I probably don't deserve it, I'll accept it anyway. I'm totally chuffed. I'd like to thank:

1) The Academy

2) Stirrup Queens, Lost and Found, and ICLW for connecting me with the IF community

3) The IF community for blogging so eloquently about the impact of infertility, the obsession to conceive, and how life comes to a grinding halt when you're TTC.

4) My parents for not pressuring us to make grandbabies

5) My fertile friends for their compassion

6) My "pet" squirrel and chipmunk for the daily entertainment outside our living room window, and my dogs for being so goofy that I forget I'm supposed to be sad, angry or both.

7)Oh, and of course, unlike Sean Penn who made a cute speech but forgot to thank Robin Wright-Penn, I'd like to thank the love of my life, my soul mate, my buddy, my long-suffering Dh, for everything and then some. Mostly for having sperm, but he's useful for other things too. ;-) Honey, if you're reading this: don't.


The rules:
1) Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.

2) Show the 7 winners names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with "Honest Scrap." Well, there's no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.

3) List at least 10 honest things about yourself.


And the 7 winners aaarrrreeee:
1) Mustard Seed Baby
2) Invitro Veritas
3) Strong Blonde
4) Infertile Myrtle
5) Yes, We're One of THOSE Couples
6) Inconceivable?!
7) Baby OCD



Here are my ten honest things. Honestly!

1) I'm scared that I've waited too long to have a baby. Having a family is the only thing that matters to me now and I'm completely, utterly obsessed by it.

2) Flying reminds me that anything is possible. I love the rush of a plane becoming airborne, but after 9/11 I'm anxious every time I fly. I have taken to the skies in a hot air balloon, a military helicopter, a twin engine plane, a prop jet, small chartered flights, and of course, large commercial airliners.

3) Traveling is my number one passion. It feeds my soul, and energizes me.

4) I'm drawn to fire like a moth to a flame. Big bonfires, small cozy fireplaces, BBQing with real wood. I love watching a contained fire, and find it meditative and relaxing. My fertility clinic has a fireplace in the waiting room... Good sign, no?

5) I dreamed of a big church wedding all my life, but Dh and I were married in a very small ceremony, on a secluded, pristine beach, with just our closest friends and family. It was perfect, but sometimes I wish I hadn't done my own hair.

6) I'm afraid of getting lost. I can read maps, but have no sense of direction.

7) I have met Nelson Mandela and the XIVth Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso. I know this sounds pretentious, but it is true. Both of these encounters were in very small inner circle gatherings, where I had the opportunity to speak to them. Their humility and faith in mankind despite their own suffering astounds me.

8) I believe our loved ones in the afterlife are sending us subtle signals. There have been too many weird coincidences to explain it any other way.

9) Genealogy intrigues me. I've traced my mom and dad's ancestors back 13 generations.

10) I have never been to South America, Antarctica or Australia, but have set foot on the four other continents: North America, Europe, Africa and Asia.

The fertilization report is in!

The embryologist called with the best news this morning. Of the 13 eggs, 9 were mature enough to be injected with sperm (ICSI). Of those 9, she said, "Eight beautiful embryos are continuing to grow wonderfully."

They have scheduled a Day 5 blastocyst transfer for Saturday, February 28. Beta will be Monday, March 9. Hubby and I are both over the moon.

Home after egg retrieval and PESA

Thank you, all the loyal blog followers, and ICLWers, for leaving such supportive, encouraging and wonderful comments on my blog. It carried me through the anxiety. I'll be commenting soon, but first, here's what you've been waiting for:

Today was a good day. Instead of the predicted 8 eggs, the RE retrieved a whopping, surprising 13 eggs. I'm beyond ecstatic, because they also found sperm during Dh's aspiration. No motile swimmers, but sperm nonetheless.

Since the little tadpoles are being ICSI'd 1:1 into the eggs this afternoon, we could care less that they're not motile. Ladies and gentleman, after 11 years of waiting, we now know we have both sperm and eggs! We will receive the fertilization report tomorrow, but I have a feeling we'll have something to transfer.

Dh's is in excellent spirits despite braving an overnight snowstorm that threatened to derail our best laid plans. We were up at the crack of dawn to be at the clinic at 6:30 a.m. (hey, who can sleep in when your future is about to revealed in spectacular fashion?)

My incredible hero of a husband had to brave 16 needle sticks in his nether region, and the urologist finally used the dreaded "gun" to extract tissue from his testicle. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! I'm cringing for his sake as I'm writing this. He's been up and about since 7 a.m., directly after the PESA. The Novacaine's effects are waning, but he says he doesn't need Tylenol. (He's usually a baby when he has a head cold, so I believe him that he's okay!) Men dealing with MF, take heart. Hubby took it all in his stride. My tough guy.

As for me, I'm feeling unexpectedly terrific! I can remember everything prior to and directly after the retrieval, but nothing of the retrieval itself. Okay, I'm a girl, so I have to tell you what I wore: cute soft babyblue socks with dark blue arrow grippies on them, a most fetching hospital gown, and a must-have blue hair net.

A very sweet nurse put the IV in my left arm (no drugs yet), and hooked me up to the heart rate monitor while she was chatting with me. (My heart rate was beeping way over 90 and rather intermittently - I was scared sh!tless!) My resting heart rate is usually nice and low: 50 to 60.

Hubby commented on the stirrups that look like humongous snow boots. It cracked me up. Yeah! I've reached the summit and the only way forward is to go down at breakneck speed.

I was seated in an upright position while the RE, anesthesiologist and nurse walked us through the pre-procedure questionnaire, consent forms, and post-op instructions. The RE popped in briefly to check on me. He was there just long enough to say, "Hey, how time flies. Can you believe you're in the OR already, just 2 weeks later? We're here to get you pregnant soon... and then get you outta here. Are you ready? Start visualizing that cute baby bump of yours. Can you see it yet?" I nodded an emotional "Yes..." and swallowed tears.

The anesthesiologist clipped the oxygen monitor to my left thumb, lowered me with a warning about how fast it will feel and he even let out a "Wheeee!" like a little boy riding a roller coaster. The roller coaster visual totally made me smile, and you IVFers will know what I mean.

The nurse put my feet in the stirrups, the anesthesiologist then gently inserted the air tube in my nose (weird!), and then I was blissfully gone. Asleep. Hubby, who was in the OR throughout the procedure, said I started saying something, but trailed off in hilariously and embarrassingly incoherent fashion as my eyelids started closing.

I woke up to the sound of, "We retrieved 13 eggs!" It confused me completely, because the number was so much higher than I had anticipated. I confirmed 3 times, "Really? 13? Are you sure?" I was lucid then... just in utter disblief. I thought I'd be out of it, sleepy, groggy, but I was wide awake. The nurse brought me my clothes and while I got dressed, she poured some green tea for the drive home, brought me my coat, and escorted me to the car.

I was awake all day, feeling a little lightheaded, but fine. Hubby and I took an hourlong nap. There are a few light cramps every now and then, but nothing like the sharp, stabbing cyst or Endo pain. It's not even as severe as my regular period pain, and I haven't taken any pain meds.

Anyone who's had surgery or an operative laparoscopy: retrieval is a walk in the park in comparison. Of course, if you suffer complications from retrieval, then that's another matter altogether. But I got lucky today.

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.

Donor sperm - will we or won't we?

After weeks of frank discussion, it's clear that my husband is vehemently opposed to even thinking about donor sperm. I could see in his face he was perplexed by me even bringing it up for consideration. His expression said, "As if this journey isn't painful enough, if I don't feel guilty enough for having had a Vasectomy, you now want me to consider being a part of impregnating you with someone else's sperm." Of course, he didn't say a word other than, "I don't think I like the idea."

I do understand his position, and I feel uncertain about it myself, so I dropped it. What I’ve always wanted is my dh's baby. More than a month passed, and we have been engulfed by our first IVF cycle.

Friday night he sat with me while I was relaxing in the tub. He sat on the bathtub’s edge with his feet in the water (you know, bathtubs are bad for his "swimmers" who need to stay cool, calm, and collected). He became really quiet, took a deep breath, and said, "You know. I've been thinking...” Pregnant pause.

My heart raced. What now? Does he have cold feet? Does he not want a baby anymore? Is this IVF cycle too much anguish? Is the cost too high?

And then, he says, “If the urologist goes in on Monday and finds nothing, then I want you to know I'm okay with us using donor sperm for the next cycle."

Excuse me, what? Where did THAT come from?

We often don’t give men enough credit. They sometimes need more time than we think they do. I know some will never get used to the idea, but my open-minded, loving husband had to get to this life-altering decision all by himself, without my intervention. And that is good. Because I love him, and would rather have his genetic offspring than use donor sperm. But I also know him well enough to know he could love any child that came into our lives, whatever the path. He is intelligent, loving, gentle, selfless. My soul mate.

I'm relieved that we have more options on the table now, because adoption is too expensive for us to even consider. If this IVF/ICSI cycle doesn't work, then all we could have done was to try the same thing again and again, maybe with a different protocol of meds and dosages.

With donor sperm, we have at least one more (albeit less desirable) option to consider. With DS, we get to bond with the baby while he/she in my uterus, we get to be present for the birth of our child, donor sperm is easier to match, more affordable, the baby would at least be genetically linked to one of us, and I get a reprieve from Endo and lower my risk of ovarian cancer by carrying our child. It's comforting to have a backup plan as we head into the uncertainty of next week’s retrieval - and hopefully a transfer of beautiful blasts.

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 12 - oh so blasé

I just completed injection #23 and #24 - the last of the stims before the Ovi.drel trigger tomorrow. The whole injection thing is totally overrated by now. It's become completely old hat. I even have my own little injection routine down to a tee.

Around 8:30 p.m. I take 2 minutes to remove the Gonal-F pen from the fridge and move it to the bathroom so it reaches room temperature by the time I do the injections 30 minutes later. (Cold injection = pain.) I then proceed to set up the crack house: alcohol swabs, Lupron vial, Lupron syringe and Gonal-F pen, and dial up the pen to the correct dosage. Then I'm off to go do something fun, like catch up with my IVF-friends via their blogs.

At 5 minutes to 9 p.m. I wash my hands thoroughly, swab my belly and let it dry while I swab the Lupron vial and Gonal-F pen. (The needle will burn if you stick it through wet alcohol on your belly.) I don't use any ice or Emla cream.

I insert the needle into the Gonal-F pen and set it aside. Then I draw up 5 units of Lupron, inject it, and discard the needle into my fancy little red home sharps container. Gonal-F is next: I pull out the tab to the dialed dosage and confirm, inject, wait 5 seconds, pull it out, and discard the needle. The whole process takes no more than 3 minutes. It's become so routine that I don't even think about it anymore. I'm like a Ni.ke commercial. Just do it.

What takes the longest, actually, is to find a suitably unpunctured, pristine spot on the belly. I've been working "around" my recent lap surgery and old appendectomy scars. I have only one bruise to show for the IVF injections - that ain't bad. After 24 IVF injections, and just one more to go - I am proudly wearing my battle scars.

Stim day 10 - discomfort is the name of the game

I had a really nice nurse for my u/s appointment this morning. She showed me the u/s pictures from Wednesday, and took the time to talk to me while she drew blood. Pretty follicles, but not many, unfortunately. About 6 on the left and 2 on the right - fewer than what I had hoped for. She was very encouraging, though, repeating the "quality over quantity" mantra.

The follicles are growing very slowly, which is good. I'm somewhat frustrated by the thought of having to inject Gon.al-F until Friday. This would mean 12 days-a-stimming... and a partridge in a pear tree. I'm pretty uncomfortable already, and can't imagine what Sunday will bring. Moan, moan, moan. How do you gals who have 20+ follicles handle it? Aside from the occasional twinge, there's no pain, thankfully. The "twinges" are nothing compared to the stabbing pain of Endo and cysts. But, I'm nauseous, with a stubborn, dull headache, and of course, the bloating. Oh, the bloating.

Looks like I'll be triggering Saturday, and heading to retrieval bright and early on Monday morning. I.can't.wait.

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.

Heavy-handed nurses & other amusing u/s anecdotes

By now, I'm unfortunately intimately familiar with the affectionally nicknamed d.ild.oc.am, and although it's never pleasant to undress and park my feet in the stirrups, I've never had an experience like this Friday morning.

I'm a va.ginal ultrasound vet of sorts, having had several unpleasant encounters prior to laparoscopic surgery to remove bilateral endometriomas. My previous RE, a woman, wasn't the gentlest of di.ldo.cam operators, but despite severe Endo and cysts, the u/s itself was never painful, just well, rather uncomfortable. I'd be a hurting unit an hour or so afterwards, but nothing during the u/s. And she was nothing if not thorough.

At a follow-up Endo appointment at a local hospital, the female u/s tech allowed me to insert Mr. Dild o' Cam myself, which of course was weird, but also, well, empowering and even, dare I say it, more comfortable physically. Of course, there was the uncomfortable moment of having to ask how deep to insert it. But I digress.

My first ultrasound at the fertility clinic proved to be bizarre too. There I was, undressed from the wait down, with a new (male) RE I had met just minutes before, a female rep from an ultrasound company somewhere in the deep south, a nurse, and my husband. You see, the clinic was in the process of purchasing a dozen fancy new u/s machines that make your stimmed follicles light up like a christmas tree for fast and easy counting and measuring.

The RE respectfully - but excitedly - asked whether I would mind if the rep was in the room, because he might need help with all the new buttons. "I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" I said with a pathetic but understanding smile. "Oh no, you definitely DO have a choice. It's just that it will go faster if she's here. I'm sure you don't want the probe in you for 20 minutes while I try to find my way with the software," he said, laughing compassionately. So, I didn't in fact have much of a choice, but I relented, because I was already undressed. It went fine. He was gentle, and fast, and the tech kept her eyes on the monitor. The sweet nurse had her back to me, busy somewhere off in the corner. Hubby was trying his best to sit still, not fiddle, and not accidentally press the emergency button that was hanging next to him. Oh, the temptation.

Back to Friday's monitoring... You'd think women would be gentler. Yowser, did it hurt! There's something alarming about a mean-looking nurse on a timed mission, armed with a 6" magic wand and a condom, searching for your tonsils.

Prodding wildly left and right, she went on her follicle hunt, disregarding my exasperated exclamation, "Ouch!" and proceeding to point at the oddly-shaped black circles on the screen as if they were the most amusing thing she ever saw. Yes, poly-cystic-like ovaries, I know.

I tried to ask how many follies she counted, how big they were, you know, the important stuff. She just said it was too early to tell exactly. They'll probably up my stims, but that they need to wait for the blood test results. She'd give me more info about the follicles on Monday. I didn't push her, because you know, she might be armed and dangerous on Monday, and I sure as heck don't want to get on her bad side.

Sleepy tiger in sleepy clothes

Hubby is working today (Saturday), and I've decided to happily ignore the world, stay in my sleepy clothes all day long, and just chill. If I feel up to it, I may build up just enough energy to drag my lazy behind off the sofa to go light some candles and soak in the bathtub. But it sure as hell ain't looking promising for the bed to be made, the house to get clean, the laundry to get done, the groceries to get shopped, or the dinner to get made.

I'm giving myself a break, not committing to anything, and just focusing on relaxing, for a change. Lupron and Gonal-F has me feeling like a sleepy tiger, exhausted, but ready to pounce at the slightest annoyance. It's best for me, my bloodpressure, and the world at large for me not to be in circulation, as I might just accidentally rip someone's head off.

The following song, aptly called "Sleepy Tigers" from "Her Space Holiday" makes me so happy:

Oh I love you so very much so much in fact I'm gonna switch it up
I'm gonna take this room that I built for fun
And burn down the walls in front of everyone
So they see, you and me
Dancing in our sleepy clothes
With two big smiles and a bowl of hope!
That we'll drink down like ginger tea
The heat will help us forget everything
That you and I, that you and I have seen

And if Ive learned anything at all
In this short life of mine (it's this)
If you hear that joy has come to town
Track it down, take a picture and tape it to your eyes

Stim Day 5 - time's a flyin'

I had my first monitoring appointment today, and the nurse called this afternoon to say they're upping my Gonal-F dosage to 225. So far, I've done all the injections myself, but I asked dh if he wanted to try doing them tonight, and he said yes. He did everything perfectly, but I could feel the difference tonight - the Gonal-F injection site felt kind of numb and weird afterwards. I wonder if it's the higher dosage, or the fact that I've "lapped" and am now starting to get the injections in places where I've injected before. Who knows. It's like an alien trying to make sense of clothes tumbling in a dryer: fascinating, but it will get me nowhere.

As if I'm not being poked, prodded and stabbed enough, I'm keeping an open mind about alternative therapies, and have scheduled my first acupuncture appointment. Should be interesting. In principle, I like the idea of western medicine being complemented by an eastern approach. We'll see if I give a shit about the yin and yang afterwards. They recommend doing one acupuncture session a week prior to retrieval, another one directly before retrieval, and one directly afterwards. Hopefully I'll be so out of it on retrieval day, that I won't care one way or another.

It's now looking like retrieval could be Monday, 2/23, but the nurse practitioner was hesitant to make any predictions.

Good luck to everyone out there cycling now.

Lupron "flare" protocol - stim day 3

My RE has me on the regular dose Lupron "Flare" protocol. I jumped right in with stimming on CD2 with a combo of gonadotropin (Gonal-F) and a gonadotropin-releasing hormone (GnRH) agonist (Lupron).

Since I'm at a higher risk of developing OHSS, the doses are 150 iu Gonal-F and 0.05 ml or 5 units of Lupron every night. So far, I had a killer headache today and lingering nausea throughout the day, but no other discomfort. It was incredibly hard to focus on work today, but I gave it everything I had. Of course, I came home and crashed, and woke up at 9 p.m. to do the injections. Having to wake up from an early evening nap to inject myself is an entirely new experience, and one I do not wish to repeat often. Having said that, I'm already on autopilot with the injections. So far, it's real simple, fast, and much easier than I thought it would be.

I use the Gonal-F RFF Pen: http://www.fertilitylifelines.com/serono/products/gonalf/pen/instructions.jsp
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fADyj_nLKqs

and Lupron:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sKKDH9qCkE

In terms of the cycle, I'm hoping for quality over quantity, and since this is my first IVF go around, it's hard to know how my body will react to the stims.

In addition to severe Endometriosis, I've now heard three different REs say that I have many antral follicles and although I don't have classic PCOS, I have "polycystic-like ovaries" - whatever THAT means. I guess time will tell. At least my new RE listened to my concerns, and agreed that I may have greater success with lower doses. All in all, I'm okay with less meds.

Tears of joy

So I thought it had all sunk in nicely overnight, and decided bravely to call my folks long distance with a "Hey, guess what!" to have them share in our excitement.

My dad, who is - aside from my dh - the sweetest man in the whole world, answers the phone. "Hi dad, is mom there too? Could you get her on speaker phone, because I have some news." My mom comes to the phone and instead of telling them about the surprise IVF cycle start, I get so verklempt that I can't get a word out. I hand the phone to hubby, who promptly tells them the basics about the IVF and sperm aspiration without missing a beat. It sounds like he's talking about the weather, only more excited. (I told you, I have a great husband.)

All of this, while I sob and smile and nod and wave with my hands in front of my eyes - the way Oscar winners do - in an effort to compose myself. Hubby comes and sits next to me on the sofa and puts his arm around me while I cry with joy - and he talks to my parents. I managed to get a few incoherent sentences out, but by the time they were saying goodbye and "We love you, we miss you, we wish we could be there with you," the next crying fit started.

After years and years of waiting and anticipation, the moment of telling my parents that we've started IVF was simply too big. They have known from the very beginning that we may never give them grandkids, they have never pressured us, or asked us whether we were making "progress" on the baby front. They love my husband like they do my siblings and I. He is their son.

I have the most amazing and selfless parents, who have always been supportive of me, whatever the path was I chose. Through all of the infertility struggles, my parents have just listened, asked questions, encouraged me, and said, "We love you." I wish I can be the same kind of supportive parent to my soon-to-be kid(s).

All in a Day - IVF/ICSI cycle #1 starts

The thing about relinquishing control is that life sometimes just magically works itself out, without my intervention. Sometimes, it's best to take my sense of reason out of the equation and just go with the flow. Today was such a day.

My plan was to go for a consult in March. Then the fertility clinic called and said, "We had a cancellation. Can you come on Monday?" I have always been impatient, and even more so where IVF is concerned. So, of course, I jumped at the earlier consult.

AF, usually as regular as clockwork, started two days late, and there I was, going in for a consult on day 2, and beyond all expectation, coming home with a protocol, prescriptions, and instructions to start a fl.are protocol TONIGHT. It's a beautiful thing, really, when you're in your thirties and have Endo, not to have to wait one nanosecond longer.

The doctors were contemplating the best approach and protocol, and the one said to the other, "She's ready, man. Look at her. She's ready." And so I was. In that moment when it became evident that I could start today, the weight lifted from my shoulders. The waiting is over, and I'm entering the next phase. I am suddenly feeling at peace with it all.

Hubby is beaming. I'm beaming. We're really doing this and it's not as daunting as it seemed a week ago. Now there's no turning back, and I'm okay with that.

On my way to buy the meds, I turn the radio on, and hear the ending of a song, "today... today... today." No kidding. Today. It's been an unpredictable day already, and it's only the beginning. It takes an hour to get the prescriptions filled, and they don't have it all, but I don't even stress about it. As long as I have the meds for tonight, I'm fine.

I switch the radio on as I drive to work, and hear, "Make a wish, take a chance, Make a change, and break away." No time to ponder the song, or bond with my box o' meds, as I'm late for a meeting. I grab an opaque bag and shove the meds in the work fr.idge. After the meeting, I retrieve the stash, and rendezvous with dh in a parking lot to do a covert meds handover as I head into another meeting. He couriers the meds home, while I focus all the attention I can muster on the meeting.

It's 8 p.m. when I'm finally home and can start to process the day, and figure out tonight's injections. Let the fun and games begin! The 2 shots (lupr.on and gon.al-f) were easy and painless. Now that I've spent months reading everything and educating myself, I can let go and just do this thing.

It's a crazy horse. But somebody's gotta ride it.

Obsessing about IVFing

Now that I’m forced to wait, I realize I’m getting utterly and joyously obsessive. It’s as if I have IVF OCD. I have read every IVF/ICSI blog I can lay my hands on, subscribed to IF forums, and have Go.ogled the heck out of every protocol on the planet. I have sobbed when reading about cancelled cycles, BFNs, and m/c as if they were my own, and have basically spent every waking moment thinking about IVF.

I’m at the point where I get annoyed if my husband dares ask me about anything else.
Him: “What would you like to do tonight?

Uhm, let’s think about this for a second.

Me: “Read about gonadotropins.” (I say this deadpan.)
Me (distracted, after a minute or so): “Why? What would you like to do?”

Then he sighs softly and walks away towards his laptop, kind of sulking, kind of relieved that I’m not engaging him in a discussion about Go.nal-F. He knows I'm hyperfocused, and he knows I need space. This is why I love him. He gets me.

I’m not really dreaming about a child(ren) as much as I’m thinking about IVF and its impact on our lives. Contemplating what I’m about to do, and how I feel about this point of no return that we’ve been approaching for ten years. IVF has been a vague possibility for all these years, something we’d get to when the time was right. But the time never seemed right, and now, suddenly it’s here, and in focus. And coming at me fast.

If we don't try IVF, we'll never know. And there's some comfort in not knowing. It keeps the hope alive.

I’m overwhelmed by the thought that I’ll finally know whether it’s possible for me to have my husband’s child(ren). I’ve always believed that if we had “intervention” in the form of IVF, we might just be able to realize this dream. I now know that if it doesn't work, I’ll be devestated, not only for the BFN, but for the whole belief being proven wrong. For being so stupid as to have believed that it might work for us.

Soon I’ll relinquish the last 1% of control (or the illusion of control), and just do. Just be. Just breathe. I’m at that tipping point where my destiny is to be revealed.

Murphy's Law of Infertility

Trying to be discreet about IF at work is an exercise in futility. The RE hardly ever calls me back, and my boss is hardly ever in my office. However, these two universes are *guaranteed* to collide the moment the boss pays me a visit about something urgent.

I had to excuse myself today, grab the cell phone, and head outside, because where else can you say things like, "sp.erm aspiration," "transvagi.nal ultrasound" and read a list of VDs you tested negative for aloud, and still act natural?

Then there's technology. Try staying calm while you order *all* of your medical records to be faxed to you, stat. First, the nurse has me on the cell because of the obvious privacy concern. Instead of dialing the fax, she attempts to fax it to my cell. I should have just quit right there.

Me: "Uhm, I hear a call coming in, and the ID is blocked. Is that you calling me?"
Nurse: "No, I'm dialing your *fax*. Oh, wait. I can hear your voicemail.... That's strange."

Duh!

She tries again and one page comes through on the fax.

Me: "Good, you got it. That's the right fax number."
Nurse: "Okay, I'm sending the rest now. Stay close to the fax. Let me dial again."

Then my cell rings AGAIN. "Wait. Hang on. Are you dialing my cell again?"

Nurse: "No, I dialed your fax number! This is really strange." (She's starting to sound perplexed.)

She tries again, and the fax machine begins spewing out 30+ pages of my not-so-sacred medical history. Of course, there's a hiccup. It runs out of ink in the middle of it all. I mean, why on earth would I have anticipated this to be quick and easy?

I quietly replace the ink so as not to draw attention to the lengthy illegitimate fax, only to have the fax machine's alignment function go belly-up. One co-worker lurks, trying to see what I'm up to, while another leans over and catches a glimpse of my sad ovaries as she tries to help fix the issue.

Throughout this ordeal, I'm still on the cell trying to get the doctor's office to resend the fax. Another colleague has now entered the office and is looking at me pitifully and puppy-faced, non-verbally asking my help with the copier that is busy eating multiple pages of her project. I lean over and unjam the thing, while talking to the nurse, and then proceed with my stealth faxing maneuver.

Next time I'm trying to do anything personal during my lunch break, I'll be sure to send out a memo. It may contain words like, "scro.tum" and "test.icle." In fact, you can bet on it.

Uro-logically Speaking

Dr. Hopeful said hubby is a young and healthy almost-half-century, and that in his esteemed medical opinion, he'd be "very surprised" if dh's "good sized" right testicle didn't yield a gazillion sperm. Dh is in excellent health after all, so why am I doubting this will all work out in the end?

He must have keyed into my hopelessness and overwhelmedness with the entire process, because he ended with, "This is exciting," as if to say, "I'm giving you permission to be excited, because the odds are good." Of course, he couldn't - and didn't - say that.

Besides, any amount of time spent on blogs and IF forums informs me the chances of conceiving on cycle #1 and carrying a baby or babies full term are remote - and I'd be foolish to hope for that when the babymaking battle scars are to be seen everywhere I turn.

I've always been a pretty realistic person (as opposed to a fatalistic or overly optimistic one), so throwing that realism away won't be happening anytime soon. I will, however, try my best to conjure up a bit of hope and a smidgen of excitement.

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.

Farming Out

It's quite the concept to farm out the most significant and life-changing experience to a group of REs, embryologists, nurses, pharmacists, and goodness knows who else.

I've known for more than a decade that IVF would be in my future, but the closer I get to it, the more I'm mourning the loss of conceiving "normally" (whatever THAT means!) I'd like to think I'm totally over the lack of romance this process entails, but maybe I'm not. I'm really resentful that it will take an army of specialists to make an embryo in a petri dish, and that it might not work despite everyone's best efforts. Dh's sperm won't even get to "swim" to fertilize the egg, for heaven's sake. It'll be shot straight into the egg, if we're lucky enough to have eggs retrieved for ICSI, that is.

Some days, I just want to shout from the rooftops, "Why does this have to be so $%&* complex and expensive?" And then the internal whining, "It's not FAIR!" Ugh. I know, I know life's not fair. But honestly, IF just sucks in so many ways. Sometimes I want to give up before I've even tried, because of all the "what ifs." It's beyond daunting, and running away seems like a perfectly reasonable response.

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.

Totally Normal

At last, some hopeful news on the IF front. My RE called today and left a voicemail saying my FSH of 3.4 and estrogen levels look "totally normal." I don't recall when the last time was that I heard any good news on the reproductive front. I've been expecting the worst - it's a coping mechanism learned through many disappointing interactions with physicians and surgeons these last few months.

But today I could actually hear my RE smiling as she left the voicemail, and it made me relax instantly. Finally, things are looking up despite the Endo, the surgery, and my age.

Caffeine Highs and Lows

Cranky doesn't begin to describe it. I've been slowly cutting back on my favorite cup o' Joe in the morning in anticipation of IVF cycling, and today, I bravely kicked the habit completely.

Frankly, if not for coffee and chocolates, what else is there to look forward to in a life consumed by doctor's appointments and work? But my Starbucks and Illy addiction is sadly no more. I tried replacing it with a cup of tea this morning, but blegh! Suffice it to say that it's NOT the mama.

I used to favor tea over coffee every time. In fact, I never used to touch the caffeinated stuff. But after I met dh, the coffee ritual became a sacred part of our mornings.

Giving up coffee is a small enough price to pay in the pursuit of a baby, I guess. After all, if we're going to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a petri dish miracle, the least I could do is give up coffee. Dh drank coffee this morning and beer tonight... It's not even worth giving him the evil eye, but hey, *somebody* has to look after those precious, expensively retrievable sperm.

The Waiting Game

We’re just waiting. Waiting for FSH results, waiting for hubby’s appointment, waiting to make an appointment at the local clinic, waiting to cycle. I almost lost it when hubby told me he might have to reschedule his appointment because of his work schedule. With everything hinging on this one appointment, I wish he’d just get it over with so we can move on to IVF, and fast.

Are My Eggs Cooked?

I drove to the nearest Quest lab this morning to have my FSH, LH and Estradiol tested. Let’s hope my ovarian reserve looks as good as my RE said it did after looking at the “many follicles” during my u/s. I can’t handle more bad news right now.

If my FSH is over 9, then the news is not only bad in terms of ttc, obviously, but it’s a double whammy because we won’t qualify for the shared risk insurance option down the line. My mom was 39 when she gave birth to my brother, and I’ve read that one’s mother’s fertility clock can be an indicator of one’s own ovarian reserve. I’m cautiously hopeful.

A poster on one of the forums mentioned a clinical trial in NYC. I completed their pre-screening evaluation, so we will see if anything comes of it. They are comparing different IVF protocols. My RE reckons I’m at risk of OHSS, so mini-IVF wouldn’t be objectionable. I wonder if MF is reason for disqualification. We shall see. I wouldn’t mind a free IVF cycle.

A Visit From the Finance Fairy

I spent the entire day obsessing over our finances, but think I’ve started to figure it out. I applied for my free credit report from https://www.annualcreditreport.com/cra/index.jsp
and applied for a free trial from http://www.myfico.com/ in order to get my credit score. Then looked into a gazillion credit cards, and finally settled on Capital One’s because it had a 0% interest for 12 months, plus a low APR thereafter.

With our savings ($4,000), my pretax flexible spending account for healthcare ($1,800), our employee retirement contributions ($1,000/month), and the extra money we usually put into our mortgage, we may just be able to afford MESA and have enough for the downpayment round of IVF #1, interest-free. Not having to apply for financing for round 1 would be wonderful. We’ll put the meds on our credit card, and pay it off within 3 months. Then, early next year, we’ll claim anything above 7.5% of our adjusted gross income from the IRS, including mileage, hotel, and other medical expenses, like dental, vision and co-pays. (Minus the $1,800 for the flex spending account, of course.)

Ladies and gentleman, we have the beginnings of a plan. Thank you to everyone who posted financial info on all the various IF forums, this “plan” could not have materialized without input from those in the trenches, and my friend, Google.

The idea is to do as many cycles in one year as our credit, time and health will allow, because then at least, we can recoup some of the cost. Since we’re self-pay, we have to do this smart. Not only that, my Endo will grow back, and we therefore have a window of one year of “optimal fertility” to work with. And then there’s my age egging us on, so to speak.

If IVF #1 doesn’t work, our round 2 plan is to buy a $20k shared risk plan (if I qualify), or to go to Cornell. It’s too early to know, but I guess our decision will be informed by how MESA goes, and how I respond during our first cycle. It kills me that the economy is limping along just as we embark on this journey. Our timing just sucks. I wish we had started when I was younger.

PM$

My fighting spirit is back this morning. I have PMS and I’m pi$$ed off, so give a wide berth. No gold digging surgeon, no matter how amazing he is, will keep us from realizing our dream. I scour the infertility forums for more information on MESA costs and find nothing useful. Come on Dr. Google, throw me a bone.

Someone posts saying their urologist charges $4k for MESA and he’s outside NYC. Glimmer of hope. Dh makes an appointment while I look into a fertility clinic an hour’s drive away. I like the local clinic's shared risk and no-interest packages, but I hate their stats. I guess you get what you pay for. We have to at least try before we give up. It makes sense to exhaust the cheaper options before me move on to the big guns.

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.

To Cycle or Not to Cycle – IVF Is the Question

We have not arranged financing, called the nurse coordinator to make an IVF orientation appointment, or had my FSH levels tested to check my ovarian reserve. We’re in a holding pattern. All of this will need to happen in January, but for now I’m enjoying the “lull” after a year of intense pain, three months of blood tests, transvaginal ultrasounds, surgery, and post-op appointments. I’m reading to prepare for what lies ahead (can one ever really be prepared?) , healing from the Endo laparoscopy, and generally just trying to take a break to enjoy the holidays. We will need to wait until February to cycle. In the meantime, we are faced with the “Do we really want to put ourselves through this?”question and “Can we really afford it?” The answer to the first question is, “No, but we have an irrational, biological need to procreate and IVF/ICSI is the only way.” The answer to question 2 is, “No, but see answer to Q1.”

My clock is ticking louder every day. Birthdays and periods certainly don’t help to take one’s mind off the topic. I’m increasingly facing a deadline and realizing it’s “Now or Never.”

Hubby seems distant, sulking, disinterested. I suspect he’s in denial about it all and I’m getting angry because he is unwilling or unable to express his feelings. I know he’s having a hard time with the details, but he’s such a pragmatist that I can understand that he comes across as disinterested. To his mind, it’s “Let’s just do it. No point in procrastinating, or reading all there is to know. It is what it is.” I interpret his laissez faire approach to mean that he doesn’t care. Which I know isn’t true. It just bugs me that he’s not reading, asking questions, or being as “present” as I’d like him to be. Somewhere deep inside, I fear that this is a precursor to him being distant and disinterested in any future child(ren) we may have.

IF Makes Me Trilingual, and Counting

There’s much more to worry about than I ever knew. This journey, with its gutwrenching highs and lows, is well-documented by brave women across the globe. Contrary to what I thought, it’s not that hard to find someone cycling, dealing with insurmountable odds. (In our case, MFI and FFI – Endo Stage IV attempting IVF/ICSI.)

Despite all the emotional turmoil, learning to decipher infertility acronyms is just one more overwhelming obstacle in a road riddled with bumps, pitfalls, milestones and footsteps of those who have gone before. With every new term you discover, you realize you’re slowly entering a collective consciousness that you never chose to be part of. How to make the PIO shots easier, deal with the 2WW, to POAS or not. I still don’t know what 6dp3dt means, but I’m sure I’ll be enlightened soon…

It’s both comforting and disturbing to read everyone’s stories, heartaches, journeys and outcomes. I find myself anxiously awaiting the news from people I do not know, but care about. Every beta day, every BFN, could be my own and it helps to answer the “What if this were me?” question.

I catch myself playing “What if?” more frequently, as I try to come to terms with the infinite number of outcomes. “What if the cycle is canceled?” “What if no embies make it?” “What if I get a BFN?” “What if I m/c?” I resent fertile women who bypass “Go” and start their journey at the “What if I m/c?” phase. Of course, I realize that once you’re pregnant, and have a child or children, the “What ifs?” are infinite too.

From Sea to Shining Sea

Infertility makes you question your being, your sense of self. Suddenly equilibrium is beyond reach, a constantly downward shifting goal. If I could only get pregnant, if I could only resolve the pain, if I could only test negative for ovarian cancer, if only it wasn’t stage IV endo, if I could only get through the day without sobbing at the sight of a parent hugging his child. Holding onto the dream when despair cloaks every cell, hormones rage, and I’m an ocean away from support, seems infinitely impossible. The firmer the grasp on the floating dingy, the more I bob about uncontrollably, at the mercy of an endless sea of disappointment.