Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Summer Vacation

Long, cleansing sigh....Phewwwwwwww.....

I just gotta say I picked a hell of a way to totally waste 7 months of my life, didn't I? :) I mean if you're going to waste 7 months, it should be full of alcohol, cabana boys and sunburn. Mine consisted of tens of thousands of dollars wasted, 263 needles piercing my skin, thousands of dollars worth of drugs pumped into my body that may cause cancer later on, no less than 37 doctors staring up my hooch, 4 needles shoved into my ovaries, and tiny little lives flushed down the toilet.

Do I know how to party or what?

Here is the aftermath: Relief. Let's set aside the fact that I've been beaten and bruised for 7 months, that our dreams of starting a family seem to get further and further away the harder we try. Take away all that: Relief. Relief that for the next 4 or 5 months, I'm done with this crap.

Do you remember being in grade school - that feeling you had on the very last day of class? You were SO excited that you had the entire summer ahead of you - no responsibilities - staying out until the streetlights came on.

That was me yesterday as I left the hospital for the last time.

I felt like I should've been running across the parking lots with my arms flailing, screaming at the top of my lungs: "I'M FREE! I'M FREE!"

I know that's a weird as hell reaction to all this. But there it is. I'm not doing another cycle right away - I get my life back for the summer. I get to go to the lake and watch my dog roll in the mud. I can go camping. I can lay on my couch and veg. I can go to all the wineries I want (oh and I will…and J WILL be my dd!).

I'm on summer vacation. I'm free to forget all this stuff. I literally don't even want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. I have moved all the leftover drugs and syringes to a place where I won't even SEE them. I want to spend the entire summer NOT thinking about it, NOT researching it, NOT reading about it. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. For the next 4-5 months, we're not two infertile people. We're just two people that aren't trying to get pregnant.

Ahhhh....I'm free....

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Make no mistake: it's not bravery, it's the fear of giving up

We went into IVF #1 thinking that was going to be long and drawn out and scary. It was. But we thought it would work. Now IVF #2 is over. We went into it armed with the information that it was going to be long and drawn out and scary...and, more importantly, we did it with first-hand knowledge that it doesn't always work. We did it knowing it could all be for nothing. The injections, the side effects, the emotional strain, the money...the list goes on. Maybe the scariest part of round 2 was having what little hope you had left ripped away. It was one thing for IVF #1 to fail. It shakes you up, but you tell yourself you just fell into that 60% statistic that doesn't get pregnant. But with IVF #2 you think: Ok, I've paid my dues...this one will work.

But it doesn't. For the second time, I woke up today - the day of my pregnancy test - to discover my period had started. It wasn't a surprise, I knew days ago it was on its way. But for the first time, I wasn't sad. In fact I think some of the anger is even going away. Frustration - now that's here to stay. But the biggest thing that hit me was: determination. I made an immediate decision: I'll do it again.

In the words of one of my favorite infertile bloggers:

“I don’t think I am being brave at all. I am just too terrified not to try again.”
-Tertia Albertyn


I remember walking out of my first IVF cycle. I was leaving the hospital after my pregnancy test. I knew it was negative. I had started my period the night before. I was walking to my car crying. Not just because it didn’t work: I had this fleeting moment of panic where I kept thinking about J….and how if something happened to him, he’d be lost forever. No child left behind on this planet that could inherit his patient temperament, his goofy sense of humor, or his romantic streak. I’d be alone. His parents would be left with nothing. My fatalistic approach to the world.

I’ve decided to do IVF again. Against my own rationale that says my body has had enough, against the advice of friends and family, against my own husband’s wishes. J doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want me to go through it again. But if I think about it, it’s not even a choice I have to make. It’s the only option that doesn’t feel like giving up. I’m not ready to give up. I feel like if I give up, all this was in vain. Not only the physical, mental, emotional and financial sacrifices we’ve made, but the months and years we’ve spent in limbo waiting for this to happen…the months between cycles that we’ve spent wallowing in guilt and blame and sorrow. I can’t think of anything worse than calling it quits and making this all for nothing. I’m too scared to pursue other options. I’m not ready to throw in the towel. Something good has to come out of it. It just has to.

Right?

Monday, April 23, 2007

Moment of Weakness

In a moment of weakness, I had J run me by CVS and pick up a home pregnancy test. We were warned to absolutely NOT use a pg test - because I was injected with pregnancy hormones, it can give a false positive. So we decided that we would ONLY put stock into the results if it came out negative.

Which is stupid, because I know my body. I know my period is moments from starting. I know I'm not pregnant. But I needed someone else to tell me that I wasn't being crazy. I needed the preg test to confirm it.

And it did. Negative. If a home preg test is coming up negative, even after having pregnancy hormones injected into my body, it has to be negative. There's no way around it.

So that's that. I have my beta tomorrow. I'm going to it only for the sake of having the final results in my file. It would tell if I had a "chemical pregnancy" (a very early miscarriage), or if it's simply a period. Although I probably would've gotten a positive from the home test if it was a chemical pregnancy.

It's over. All that and it's over. Again.

What's next for us?

We'll be holding here indefinitely...

Have you ever felt like your life was in a holding pattern? Like you were so consumed, or determined to get this one thing done, you put your entire life on hold until it was accomplished? "Once I get this report out for work, my life will get back to normal" or "Once this week is over, my life will get back to normal" or "Just let me get through the holidays and life will get back to normal...."

Our lives have been in this "holding pattern" for almost four years now. I yearn to be pregnant not just for the obvious reasons, but because I want life to start moving forward again. J and I were talking this weekend about how everything in our little world has been on hold, just waiting for this one miracle to happen.

It's funny how when you're "waiting on life to be normal," everything falls to the wayside. For instance, we USED to be the most organized people...monthly bills, day-to-day paperwork, tax info...ALL that used to be placed in a very neat manner in the filing cabinet. This year we walked into H&R Block with crumpled up balls of paper, missing half our documents, dropping papers on our way in the door. We looked like Charlie Brown's friend Pig Pen. In fact we had to interrupt our accountant so J could drive home to get some stuff we'd forgotten. It was pitiful.

We moved last year, just months before we began treatments. We still have unpacked boxes in the basement. We still haven't found "homes" for the phonebook or the spare sheets, we have at least 18 different places that the cell chargers are kept...looking for them is a day-long project. In our old house - everything had a very exact location. And it always got put away. Nowadays we walk in the door, dump all our crap on the kitchen counter and it's weeks before it gets put away. Usually when somebody's about to come over it gets crammed into the first convenient drawer. I think we're up to 5 junk drawers now.

Our lives have become junk drawers. We just keep cramming crap in there thinking we'll take care of it later. Thinking once the word "infertility" is behind us, we can move on and take care of all of this junk that's been sitting around for years. It's hard to stay sane, hard to keep it all together when your life feels so scattered. I'd like to say we could take a break from it. But whether it's actually going through fertility treatments, thinking about fertility treatments, visiting friend's new babies, oh...the endless stream of baby shower invites that I don't go to...hell, just walking through the grocery store and seeing a pregnant lady, or a little kid. There's no way to avoid it. Fertility or INfertility reminders are everywhere. There is no break.

I have a feeling this battle is going to last a long time. I think there will be the day when we look back and say...four years....ha!....that was nothing. The longer this drags on, the longer and harder I ultimately think it will be. My biggest fear is losing the delicate supply of hope and determination that we have now. It's not a big supply, it's been shaken, dropped and thrown. But I think there's enough to keep us going for a little while longer.

At least I hope there is. Because right now as I sit typing this, I can tell you that IVF #2 did not work. I know with every piece of me, that I am sitting here alone. Not full of triplets, not full of twins, or even a single. It's just me.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Every Symptom Means Nothing

Progesterone: May cause breast tenderness, headaches, mild uterine cramping, dizziness, faintness, fatigue, frequent urge to urinate.

Sound at all familiar? They are also very early symptoms of pregnancy. I of course have all of them. I oscillate between thinking: “Oh my god I’m pregnant,” to: “These are all side effects, I can’t be pregnant.”

The Two Week Wait. I’d rather have a spoon in my eye.

Sigh.

Oh to be normal. Oh to be one of those lucky people who get a negative pregnancy test and don’t have to think: Oh my god I just blew through $12 grand (for the second time) for nothing, put my body through hell (for the second time) for nothing, ended up horribly sick (for the first time) – for nothing.

Oh to be one of those lucky to people who get a negative pregnancy test and think: Hmmm, we need to have more sex. While I sit here recovering from IVF, not even allowed to have sex.

I don't know...maybe being NOT normal is just our thing. Part of our charm. What makes us tick.

Jeffrey and I have decided to have the “what next” conversation this weekend. I feel like I need a plan in case the test is negative next week. I need to know that if it’s negative, we have a direction to point our brains in, to direct our energy towards instead of letting that energy devour us (again). I need to be prepared. I don’t want to be negative…but I need to be realistic. I don’t want to fall off the edge like I did last time. I don’t want us to go our own separate directions like last time. We grieved in very different ways – two strangers living in the same house for months. I can't handle that again. We need to figure out how to be there for each other this time. We need to find some kind of understanding in the middle.

“What next.” Two very scary words. Will we do IVF? Do we even qualify for other treatments? After this last cycle, do we have egg issues? Can we do egg donation? Artificial insemination? Embryo adoption? Are we ready to give up on IVF? Are we ready to give up on ever having biological children together?

I need to be ready for the worst. We need to be ready for the worst and hope for the best.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Recovering....and waiting....

We got home Friday night from FL. I've never been so glad to be home in my life. J suggested mac & cheese for dinner. So our feet hit the ground and we went straight to the restaurant. I've craved nothing but mac & cheese in the last 2 weeks. Good 'ole comfort food.

We ate, got home around 10 and went straight to bed. I woke up Saturday morning around 8...milled around a bit. By 9:30, I was already for a nap. That's how I spent both Saturday and Sunday - napping, waking up, eating, more napping. My body's been through a lot...it's exhausted.

The swelling in my abdomen has gone down. Which is both a relief and a reason for concern. If I were pregnant, I would immediately swell back up again. Instead, I continue to lose the water weight. At the biggest point I had gained 13 pounds of water in my tummy. I can't begin to tell you how uncomfortable that was. I still have a swollen belly, but it's only about half of what it was a few days ago. When we flew home on Friday, I looked about 4 months pregnant.

It's weird to think that right now at this moment - it has either worked, or it hasn't. But I won't know for sure until next week. Once the embryos go in, they should implant within about 72 hours. That limit was Sunday night / Monday morning. So one way or the other, it's over. It's over except the wait for the pregnancy test. My least favorite part of this whole mess.

I went back to work on Monday. Around lunchtime on Monday we lost power due to a crazy windstorm. Power didn't come back on until about 9pm on Tuesday. Madness. I had to drag my recovering ass down to Panera with my laptop to work. It was probably a good thing. Had I stayed at home, I probably would've fallen asleep.

They've got me on prometrium and crinone. The prometrium absolutely knocks me out. I've never felt so stupid being on that stuff. I feel drunk on it. It's horrible stuff. Although I guess the silver lining is: I can't drink...prometrium takes the edge off without the hangover.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

I went to Florida and I all I came home with were these 3 wimpy embryos

This morning was the embryo transfer. I wish I could tell you how it went, but I wasn't really there. Here are the parts I remember:

We got there around 6am, transfer was scheduled for 6:30. We were the only ones being implanted today (yes...EVERYBODY else in the cycle has stronger, faster growing embryos and all their transfers are on Saturday...jerks), so they got me stripped down, on the table and IV started the moment we arrived.

Now there are two very important factors that determine if IVF works: embryo quality, and the ease of the implantation. Embryo quality is pretty obvious - the bigger they are, the healthier. The delicate part is the implantation. They take a long skinny catheter, situate it up in your uterus with the ultrasound - and basically inject them in. That's it. My uterus is tilted backwards - I've got a 90+ degree turn right before my cervix which a catheter is unable to manuever. Well, without violent force. "Violent Force" isn't exactly condusive to "ease of implantation."

Last time we did this the implantation was horrific. What should've taken about 5 minutes took an hour and a half, with me bleeding, crying, pleading for death...and all that while I was under sedation....with drugs that were supposedly taking the edge off.

THIS time...my lovely and wonderful doctor brought in the anesthesiologist...with The New Drug. My Best Friend....well, kind of.

The IV was put in. Phew...hate that part. The doctor comes in and I ask him if we actually DO have 3 8+cell embryos today. He says he has no idea, we're still waiting for the embryologist to come up from the lab. Jeffrey and I are kind of looking at each other like - what the...? The whole 2 minutes since we arrived happened a little too quickly...we were expecting to sit down with the doctor and the embryologist and have a little pow-wow about why the heck we keep having the same problems with our embryos - THEN get ready for this madness. Instead I have been rushed into the OR, strapped to a table, the IV is already in and we still have no idea what's going on. I am laying on the table all prepped ASSUMING that the anesthesiologist hasn't started the sedatives because - well, doesn't he KNOW that I have a zillion questions for the doctor?

I only realize that my assumption is wrong because all of a sudden I get that burning down my left arm. Jason, my fiance anesthesiologist, isn't drugging me today - it's a new guy. I have to rub my own arm. I'm irritated at the new guy, this is bad anesthesia ettiquette. You gotta warn a sistah before you put her out...as soon as I get over the damn burning I'm panicking trying to tell him - "Hold on! I'm not ready! The embryologist isn't even here yet! I have questions!" But it's too late, I can hear people somewhere off in the distance talking ABOUT me instead of TO me: "Yeah, this stuff should make her pretty happy....it also gives people short term amnesia, she'll be really confused when she wakes up." I'm conscious just long enough to hear Jeffrey's reply: "Should make for another interesting ride home."

I crack my eyes open and the first person I see is the Cathy/Martha nurse from recovery. I'm so confused about what the hell just happened. Last time for the implantation I was under sedation, but I was awake the entire time. I knew they were sedating me THIS time, but I thought it was the same - until I woke up I had no idea I was going to be asleep for the whole procedure. Stupid anesthesiologist...Emily Post should kick your ass.

Cathy/Martha is rumaging around in a cabinet looking for something and making a huge racket. Apparently I've been out HARD for a while and she looks amazed that the 150 decibels of noise she was just making woke me up. I hear a man's voice to my left: "Well, there she is". It's Jeffrey. Thank god...someone I know. I'm confused like I've never been before and I'm terrified...I have no idea where I am and I can't recall anything in that moment except my alarm clock going off at 4:30am. I can feel tears welling up. I try asking what happened, but my mouth is so dry I can't get words out. The other nurse walks in and looks surprised to see me awake. Jeffrey tells her I need water. She doesn't think I can handle water yet, but he makes her get it anyway. God I love this man.

J tells me that even HE was surprised that I slept during the entire procedure. I'm so upset I missed it - not the pain part, but the one crowning moment of the entire cycle. The one moment that makes the entire cycle seem worth it: being able to watch the ultrasound at the exact second the embryos are put inside. The exact second you're deemed "technically pregnant". And I slept right frickin' through it. Damn that anesthesiologist.

I start tearing up again (hormones, amnesia, anesthesia...I missed the preggo part...what can I say...). I look up and J is holding an ultrasound picture in his hand. The Exact Second. He had asked the doc for a photo when it happened. Did I mention I love this man??? God I love this man.

Once I regain speech I have J recount the entire morning:

IV kicks in. Seconds later I'm a goner. Apparently the embryologist was in the room before I was totally out - he's the one that made the amnesia comment that I vaguely remember hearing. Jeffrey said after that I was laying there with my eyes only occassionally peeping open, but it was obvious I was feeling nothing. He said before HE knew it, he was looking at the catheter in my uterus on the ultrasound screen. He said the whole thing probably didn't even last 5 minutes. The doctor asked him "Are we putting all three in?" Um...see, THAT is a question that perhaps WE could've been discussed BEFORE the drugs. Oh well...J & I had decided it yesterday. Yes...all three 8-cell embryos. There is now a special place in hell reserved just for us.

J said as soon as the embryos were in, everybody cleared out...just me snoozin' and him holding my hand. Doc came back in a few minutes later to remove my IV. J said I barely, barely woke up as he was removing it. Which doesn't surprise me because I have a huge bandage on my hand that's full of blood...J said when he popped that needle out I squirted blood. Ew. Ew. Ew. That doc is rough...if anybody was going to wake me up (even barely), it was gonna be him.

Anyway, while he was removing it, he says to me (in this great middle eastern accent which Jeffrey has down exactly): "You did good girl!" J said I mumbled: "really, you're not just saying that?" I am told I was using a tiny little voice. My god - was I flirting with the man? What in the world? Anyway...the doc replied: "You mean I'm not bullshitting you?" At this point J says I laughed hysterically and immediately fell back to sleep.

This cracked me up because somewhere in the very back of my brain I can remember the doc saying something about "bullshit" and me thinking him cussing was the funniest thing I had ever heard.

After that, the nurse and Jeffrey helped me (read: dragged me) back to another room where I was deposited in this fabulously comfortable leather recliner. And here's more brownie points for my mate: I've been so uncomfortable with all the fluid I've retained in my abdomen (13 pounds of water as of yesterday) from the hyperstim that I can NOT lay on my side (which is of course my most comfortable sleeping position) and being on my back just makes me sore. Last night I slept sitting up. So J had them sit me up in the recliner to sleep off the drugs. God I need to remember all these brownie points the next time I get mad at him.

Anyway - I apparently slept for about an hour and a half. The procedure was over by 6:45...and my sleepin' ass didn't get up until about 8:30. It was about 9 before we left the office.

So that's it. I've got three embryos swimming around inside me. Here's hoping that at least one will latch on and make itself at home.

I'm on bedrest (again) today...Jeffrey ran out and bought me lots of fruit...and a huge container of mac & cheese. I'm still so swollen in my abdomen that I can't eat more than a few bites without feeling full. The doc says if I get pregnant (IF implantation happens, it will be in the next 72 hours) the prego hormones will make the hyperstim worse...I'll be loaded with water weight until my body starts to adjust to everything going on (anywhere from a few weeks to a couple months). Here's hoping. Also, he said if suddenly all the fluid is flushed out of my body (within a few days), that's a sure sign it DIDN'T work. Let's hope that doesn't happen.

Alright...preg test is in 2 weeks. Fingers crossed.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Babies in the wild...

Couldn't resist - so cute:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=447829&in_page_id=1770

Flushing All Morals Down the Toilet

They say that once you experience infertility you end up a changed person - no matter the outcome. It's something that makes you take stock of the important things in life. Makes you realize that that new car you've been eyeing isn't really what you want, but a way to fill a void. It either makes you or breaks you as a couple. It brings out your faults and it brings out your strengths.

And today it's forcing us into a decision we swore we wouldn't make when we started this. We've decided to risk Selective Reduction.

Let's just call it what it is: Selective Reduction is a nice way of saying selective abortion.

The doctor's office called this morning to tell us our implantation will be tomorrow. We are expected to have 3 8-cell embryos by tomorrow morning. I know I should be grateful, and don't get me wrong, I am. I am so grateful that after coming all this way our cycle isn't being cancelled for lack of embryos. But three puts us in the position to make a decision we had hoped to not face. If we had had 4 8-cell embryos, we would've implanted on Saturday and waited to see if we got blastocysts...picked the strongest 2 and used them. If we had 2 8-cell embryos, we would implant tomorrow and hope for twins. Instead...we're in the middle....we're stuck with the choice of implanting two and possibly throwing away the only good one and getting a negative preg test. Or implanting all three and getting triplets.

My doc has already said he will not let me carry triplets. I'm just too small to handle it. So should all three take - we have to abort one. We'd have to abort a baby that we've worked so hard to create...and we'd have to do it after seeing a heartbeat on the ultrasound. It also means that I'll spend the next two weeks waiting for the pregnancy test hoping that one of our embryos doesn't make it. I feel like putting us in this position already qualifies me for Shitty Mother of the Year award. Or maybe even Shitty Human of my Generation.

I can feel Murphy's Law kicking in...last time we took the high road - implanted 2, got none. This time we'll dance with the devil - implant three, we'll GET three, we'll have to make the abortion appointment. And knowing our luck, I'll be so traumatized by it I'll lose the other two. In fact, it feels like the perfect punishment for making a decision that's so greedy and careless and desperate.

And how is the decision made to pick which life will be snuffed out? Do I say - "Leave me a boy and girl" "Pick the closest one" "I don't care - you choose"? If we have to make that decision I'll carry it with me for the rest of my life.

Then again if we don't risk this...do we risk NOT bringing life into the world - discarding an embryo that could've become a sulf-sustaining person? Isn't that the same thing? Life is life, right? I mean we already threw away 4 embryos last cycle. Just because there's a heartbeat on the ultrasound doesn't make it anymore alive than cells in a petri dish.

Implantation is at 6:30am tomorrow. At 6:30am tomorrow morning I'll make a decision that will forever change my basic principles.

But as they say - nobody comes out of this the same as when they went in.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

I'm sorry, but this guy is a dick:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/6530295.stm

Recap of the last 36 hours:

Sorry…could not post yesterday…or walk…or carry on real-live conversation. Here’s what has happened the last 36 hours or so:

Late Sunday:

I don’t know if it was all the moving around I did Sunday afternoon, or the HCG kicking in…but Sunday night I was in a lot of pain. My stomach, which has been swollen up for the last week and a half, was even MORE bloated. I look about 3-4 months pregnant. If it weren’t for VERY low-rise pants, I would’ve had to go shopping in the heart-breaking maternity section.

Monday (Egg Harvesting Day):

Got up, showered and had to leave the hotel at 7am to go to the doc. On the way out we ended up on the elevator with another IVF couple. My harvesting was at 9am, hers at 11am…she looked just as terrified as I felt. They were on their way out to watch the sunrise on the beach before they got ready for their appointment.

Got to the doc around 8am…a half hour early. There’s nothing worse than arriving for something early when you’re terrified out of your mind. It just gives you even more time to freak out. Especially when the woman who went before you comes stumbling out into the waiting room cracked out of her brain and falls asleep waiting for her husband to pick her up. It was me, a woman in serious pain and 3 men waiting on their wives. Talk about a scenario that makes you think men are dirt: one guy’s playing on his computer, another is reading a Sports Illustrated and mine is playing with his new Blackberry – while all the women suffer. By the time they called me back I had filled up several tissues with tears. So stupid…I’ve done this before…

I get back to the operating room, get laid down on the table. I warn the IV dude that I am the biggest scaredy-cat in the world. He doesn’t need this warning as my doctor has already prepared him. Great…I have a reputation.

He gives me a local on my hand so it will numb me while he puts the IV in. For the first time in my entire life, the IV goes in without a hitch…doesn’t even hurt…I’m not prodded 15 times before he finds a vein. Of course I’ve got tears streaming down my face anyway. While this is going on, my stupid doc is going over a list of questions that I’ve already answered for the nurse: Are you allergic to latex? Are you allergic to anesthesia (um, isn’t that already dripping into my vein?). Meanwhile, Jason, my wonderful and fabulous anesthesiologist is interjecting hilarious questions between the real doctor questions:

Doc: Have you ever had a bad reaction to any anesthesia?
Jason: (leaning over and whispering in my ear): Have you done any crack this morning?
Me: No to both, but if you have any crack I’d love some.
Doc: Um…ok...? Is there the possibility you could be pregnant right now? (me: seriously?!)
Jason: (leaning over and whispering in my ear): Have you ever seen monkeys fly?
Me: No babies OR flying monkeys so far today.
Doc to Jason: Are you giving her the anesthesia already?
Jason to Doc: No, I swear I haven’t started the drip yet.
Doc to Me: Are you ok?
Jason to Me: Yeah, seriously…what’s your problem? [he winks and nudges me]
Me: [insert crazy laughter]…sorry, I always get this way when I’m about to have my ovaries sucked dry.
Doc: Um…alright…you sure you’re ok?
Me: Just knock me out doc…let’s get this over with.

I know the IV drip has started because I can feel a god-awful burning all the way down my left arm. I don’t know why, but anesthesia always burns the shit out of me when it starts. I try to grab my arm with my other hand, but it weighs a thousand pounds. Jason sees this and immediately grabs my left arm and starts massaging it. Instantly the burning stops. He says “Don’t worry, a lot of people experience the burning, this will help. It’ll stop in a minute.” I’m pretty sure I asked him to marry me. I try to ask him why it burns, but my question trails off into nonsense and suddenly I have to blink continuously to make the ceiling stop spinning. Jason says “Don’t worry, I gave you something stronger than you had last time…believe me, you won’t be fighting it this time, it’ll be over in just a second.” Oh god I love this man.

I blink and wake up in recovery. My new fiancé, Jason, and the doc are gone. And I’m staring at the recovery nurse – Martha. I know this because it’s embroidered on her shirt. But I’m calling her Cathy. I can’t help it, she looks like a Cathy. She says something kind, or at least I THINK it’s kind because she’s smiling, but I’ve lost the ability to understand English. I try to ask her if it’s over, but it comes out like “asdf lknwe vbas fdni voiv2w deve?” She seems to understand my version of Anesthesia English and answers: “Don’t worry honey, it’s all over, just lay here and rest. You tell me when you’re ready and I’ll help you get dressed.” I’m pretty sure I fell asleep again. But somewhere in there she helps me sit up and put my clothes on. I’ve only got snippets, but the doc came in at some point and instead of me asking him the important question (How many eggs did you get?), I’m asking him if it’s still raining outside (I had a sudden urge to go the beach). Finally it occurs to me to ask the egg question. He says that they just got everything to the lab and the embryologist hasn’t had time to count yet. He then tells me that I talk in my sleep. Oh great. He said the only words he could fish out of the nonsense were “Randy” and “Russell”. Even on mass amounts of drugs I am WAY too embarrassed to tell him that Jeffrey’s nickname of his “manly part” is “Russell the Love Muscle”…and we had been joking around that morning about how he was going to have to be feeling “Randy” to get revved up for his “deposit”. I make the doc swear on his life he won’t mention this to Jeffrey. He leaves and I crack up laughing. The nurse looks concerned.

Jeffrey, or somebody that looks just like him, walks in. I immediately tell him about the “Randy / Russell” conversation (in front of the nurse). What can I say…drugs make me stupid. Luckily he thinks this is hilarious. Between him and the nurse they half carry me, half drag me into the doc office. My legs refuse to work. I plop down into the chair and somewhere in the distance I hear the doctor suck air in through his teeth as if to say: my god, that must’ve hurt. I feel nothing. Glorious, glorious nothing.

The nurse, the doc, the embryologist and my husband are all in the room. Gary, the embryologist announces that they got 12 eggs. I scream “ WHAT? ONLY 12 EGGS? My ultrasound showed closer to 30 the other day…what happened?” Only I realize I still can’t form words and it was just me THINKING that I said it. Jeffrey, who CAN speak English asks the question for me: “But…I thought we had a LOT of eggs…what happened to them?” Doc says that since I only did half of the Novarel shot on Saturday night, I lost a lot of them. But the good news is he expects them to be good, mature eggs, and since that’s all they got, he thinks I might be out of serious hyperstimulation danger. Then he emphasizes that I should be prepared just in case – it could still happen anyway. I lost 2/3’s of my eggs and I’m still a hyperstim candidate. I should be pissed, but I can’t help myself, drugs are good. I can’t stop laughing.

Jeffrey and the doc have a long conversation about what meds I have to start – antibiotics to fend off any possible infection, medrol to help get rid of all the water I’ve already retained from the early throes of hyperstim, prometrium (progesterone to thicken my uterus), crinone (another form of progesterone), prenatal pills, baby aspirin (will thin my uterus making it easier for the embryos to implant). I keep nodding off, waking up and asking: Wait, WHAT drugs do I need to take? I can’t comprehend any of it. Luckily they’ve written all this down and given it to Jeffrey…The Keeper of the Meds. Gary, the embryologist holds my hand (he’s a very fatherly-type, I love him). I tell him to make us some babies. He says he’ll work like crazy to make it happen. I believe him. I think I asked him to marry me too.

By the way, I should add at this juncture (yes, I said “juncture”) that I suddenly find myself having an out of body experience and I’m sitting here thinking…did I accidentally pop a Tylenol PM? It took me a few minutes to realize it’s the progesterone pill I took about an hour ago. Makes me VERY faint and dizzy....I had forgotten how stupid it makes me feel. Should pass shortly. So if I go off on a tangent or suddenly have really bad spelling…that’s why. Or if I’ve already done it…that should explain it. I feel absolutely non-functional right now.

Anyway…Jeffrey and I leave the hospital and head back to the hotel. I am feeling NO pain. I took some Tylenol PM the second we got in the car so I can sleep when we get back. Then I decide I need to call both my parents and my grandparents to tell them what’s going on. I have absolutely no recollection of this. Thankfully I got my dad and grandparent’s answering machine…I left long rambling messages that they couldn’t understand…another small miracle. My mother, however, actually answered her phone and now knows that my husband’s penis is called “Russell The Love Muscle”. Awesome…can’t wait to relive THAT story at every family gathering for the rest of my life.

Got back to the hotel, took my new drug regimen and crashed. Hard. Woke up every hour on the hour to pee. That Medrol is flushing all the water weight out of me. Only it’s giving me major cotton-mouth…and peeing hurts…and I’m so sleepy….

I wake up around 4:30pm. I can tell the drugs starting to wear off. Not because I’m feeling pain, but because suddenly words are making sense. In fact, the pain has kind of subsided. I already feel less bloated. J makes me stay in bed – I want to go play Putt-Putt, but instead we watch movies. By 6 I’m feeling so good I want to go for a walk around the hotel, but J won’t let me. By 9 the pain kicks in. And I mean pain. I am acutely aware of every organ in my body, my stomach has started swelling up again. I’m hurting. I pop 2 more Tylenol PM’s and I’m out. Somewhere during the night J sneaks out and buys me Salt & Vinegar potato chips. My fav. I’d ask him to marry me, but we already did that.

Tuesday:

So that brings me to this morning. I wake up, the pain has gone from acute, to just a general uncomfortable-ness that extends from just below (but includes) my breasts, all the way down to my upper thighs. I’m very sore, I’m very, very bloated (early signs of what I hope will be MILD hyperstim) and since I slept in the exact same position all night, I’m super stiff. I needed help sitting up. Once I got moving around, I felt a little better. Got in the shower, got dressed, got J up and we headed downstairs for breakfast.

While we’re sitting at breakfast, J’s phone rings. It’s the doc office calling to see how I’m feeling. “On a scale of 0-10, what is your pain level?” Well, last night, probably an 8…right now, I’m about a 4. I’m eating like a pig…I think I’ll live. I haven’t taken any pain relievers so far today. You know me…I hate popping pills. Oh…except for the 5 I took this morning that were prescribed. Jeffrey’s talking to her and asks about the embryos. He hangs up the phone and says (mustering all his happiness and excitement):

“Six eggs fertilized.”

I can tell he already knows my reaction and he’s mortified that I’m about to explode in a very public place. He’s right. I do:

SIX? ONLY FUCKING SIX EGGS FERTILIZED? ARE YOU BEING FUCKING SERIOUS? SIX???? I GO FROM HAVING 30+ EGGS, TO THEM GETTING ONLY 12, TO ONLY SSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXXXXXXXXX FERTILIZING??? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?????

I’m facing hyperstimulation for SIX FUCKING embryos…and according to statistics only about a quarter will become 8+ cells embryos and therefore be considered implantable, and then there's only a 40% chance they'll survive? WHAT!?!??!?! I just went through a month of putting my body through hell…stronger drugs, no insurance coverage and this is EXACTLY what happened last time. EXACTLY. They got 11 eggs out of me last time, 6 fertilized, only 2 became very slow growing 8-cell embryos and (obviously), neither survived. I don’t understand how this can be happening again. I had so many eggs. I was so sure that even if this cycle didn’t work, we’d have enough left over to freeze for later and I wouldn't have to go through this again. There’s no way that will happen now. The numbers are so low that now I’m sitting here worrying that we might not have enough to even implant.

It’s been a few hours since breakfast, so I’ve had a little while to compose myself. But I’m still just sitting here baffled. All I can think is long-term…IVF doesn’t work for us. I mean we went from one extreme to the other. The first cycle, I was on mild drugs and my eggs didn’t mature correctly. This cycle, I’m on some of the strongest drugs out there, I had TOO many mature and we somehow ended up with the exact amount of fertilized eggs. It just doesn’t work. For some reason our eggs and sperms do NOT like each other. And if it doesn’t work…it’s such a waste to do this all again. If there had been EIGHT eggs that fertilized…and it didn’t work…maybe I’d consider doing it again. But six? The exact same results as last time?!? Why would I do it again? I can’t keep doing this to my body for no reason.

Jeffrey – the eternal optimist - keeps saying that yes, we only have 6, but this time all six could become 8+ cell embryos…we won’t know that until Thursday, so I can’t write it off. I mean he’s right…it COULD happen. In all likelihood it won’t, but it could. I shouldn’t be losing it now until I know the final outcome in 2 days. But I can’t help but be furious. Realistically, we’re looking at the exact same ending as last time. And I’m ANGRY as hell. ANGRY. ANGRY. ANGRY.

J drove into Jacksonville a little bit ago. His company has an office there, so he’s working this afternoon. I’m glad to have a little time by myself to collect my thoughts. I think I’m going to walk down to the beach, do a few ohms, burn some incense, do a little praying to the agnostic gods, have a good long talk with Karma and Buddha, and have a little chat with my Indian ancestors. Maybe they can pull some strings for me. Maybe if I can shake off this dark cloud, a little ray of sunshine will shine through and give us a miracle.

The implantation will more than likely happen on Thursday – should all 6 of them hit that 8+ cell marker, then we’ll do it on Saturday. I hope, I hope. God I want this more than anything in the world….

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Baby Makin’ Eve

Well, tomorrow is the big day – Egg Harvesting Time. I know I’ve done this before, but I’m terrified right now. I’m scared of the anesthesia, the IV, the falling asleep, the pain when I wake up, the possibility of hyperstim afterwards. I’m in pre-harvesting panic! :)

Not allowed to have food or drink after midnight tonight…that shouldn’t be a problem…I’m hoping to be asleep early tonight…get a good night’s rest and get this over with. Tomorrow’s the big day…this is almost over.

Today we went out and tried to fit in some more sight-seeing (today was my last official day of guaranteed vacation). We went to The Alligator Farm. It was SO much fun. I even got to hold a baby croc....got some pics. This place was incredible. There must've been hundreds and hundreds of crocs / gators. They did a little gator feeding program. This teeny little girl (I swear she looked 12, but must've been in her 30's) came poppin' into the gator pen full of at least 30-40 HUGE crocs, did a little feeding demo, talked about them...and she was standing jut feet from them. They seemed so gentle with her. It was amazing. There was one croc called Hercules that she walked over to - he was chillin' in the water with his massive head resting on the edge of his pool - she taps his snout and asked him to show everybody his teeth. He's all chill, slowly opens his gigantic mouth and just hangs out there while she talks about his teeth. Holy crap, it was crazy! I was in awe. How do I get her job?!? Oh my god it was awesome.

In a sign of good positive baby-energy, they even had STORKS at the farm. I got a couple pics...they're actually quite ugly. How did they get to be the symbol of babies? Their heads are all scabby and they have bald-fuzzy little heads. I don't think I'd ever seen one up close before. Got a couple pics for luck though.

So after that we went to this lighthouse down the road...I'm QUITE sore, and you had to climb all the steps to get to the top. I didn't think I was up for it, so we just took pics from the ground. Very beautiful.

After that we headed into the historic district of St. Augustine. We attempted to go to The Oldest House (I'm assuming it's the oldest house in St. A). It was closed though...but we did walk past it (I know...very exciting). Then we again attempted to go to the old spanish fort Castillo de San Marco...BUT...traffic was mad because of an Easter Parade...couldn't find parking and didn't want to get stuck in the parade traffic. Hopefully we'll get to check it out before we head home.

Alright...that distracted me from The Fear. But since all my touristy-stories are over, I'm freaking out again. Ack! I just keep telling myself...it's not the egg harvesting tomorrow...it's fertilization day. Tomorrow we'll have babies in a petri dish. Babies!!!! US with BABIES!! YAY!!

Saturday, April 7, 2007

Eggs & The Fountain of Youth

We got to FL last night, nice flight – checked into the hotel around midnight.

Got over to the hospital this morning for my doc appointment. Doc took one look at the ultrasound and went: Whoa…we have quite a bit going on here…we’re going to need to talk about this.

Yeah…no kidding. My ovaries hurt so bad the 45-minute car ride to the hospital made me sick.

I have my last injection tonight – The Big One. The HCG intramuscular shot. Right in the rear. Woohoo. Doc says he is now not just worried about hyperstimulation…he’s telling me it’s gonna happen. The HCG will trigger that. So instead of taking the entire dosage like I did last time, he’s cutting that in half – which will hopefully diminish some of my symptoms. He tells me even with that I can expect to be in serious pain at a minimum for the next week. In his exact words: “You are going to be hating me for a while”. If I end up pregnant (the preggo hormones will exacerbate all this) I could have symptoms for up to 3 months.

I’m SO scared about what tonight’s shot is going to do to me over the next 72 hours. But I’m trying to tell myself it’s just not going to happen…my body can handle it…etc, etc, etc. I haven’t really started believing it yet.

In GOOD news…he’s estimating (and it’s a total guess of course) that we’ll have a good 10 embryos (not eggs…but 8-cell+ embryos) to choose from. So if for some reason this doesn’t work….hopefully we’ll at least have some to freeze.

Well, that’s the IVF latest…harvesting is Monday morning at 9am. Fingers crossed.

Today was great…I figure since I’ve only got today and tomorrow where I can get out of bed…I’m going to cram in everything I can.

So after our doc appointment, we had a fabulous breakfast (I was hurting from the drive, so we took a nap afterwards), then we took a long walk on the beach onto a pier….it was beautiful. THEN…we just got back into the car and drove into St. Augustine (the oldest city in the U.S.) and went to The Fountain of Youth. Seriously…it was a fountain…we drank the water. It was awesome. The setting was an old Spanish garden – there were peacocks walking around everywhere. Gorgeous. Statues, monuments. After that we went out for a quick dinner – back to the hotel for another rest.

Then we hopped in the hot tub. Oh my god, the hot tub was exactly what my poor ovaries needed. In fact it’s been an hour and I am still feeling pretty good. I’ll be doing THAT again. Serious therapy.

Our hotel room has a Jacuzzi in it…it’s weird…it’s right next to the bed. But after the harvesting if I can’t handle being in public, that’s where I’ll be.

I’m beat…more later. No shots, drugs, or doc appointments tomorrow.

Friday, April 6, 2007

Welcome to the Danger Zone

My ultrasound this morning showed 18 very large follicles (at least 1.5 cm's). On each side.

Yes...that is 36 total.

Estradiol is around 3,600. My doc is now talking about hyperstimulation. I'm SO, SO sore.

We leave for Florida tonight. Have an ultrasound / blood work tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Phrase you never want to hear your grandmother say:

"Jerking off"

Yes, I had a conversation with my grandmother earlier and she actually used the phrase "jerking off". Pretty much never laughed so hard in my life.

So today's blood work & ultrasound went well. Had a super cute guy-nurse take my blood...which of course just made it that much more embarrassing when I freaked out. Oh well, at least I had a few seconds of eye-candy distraction. My estradiol levels came back at 1896. The doc said on Monday he wanted them to double...they almost tripled. Hyperstim is a small concern...but so far, no symptoms...still feeling good - uncomfortable (boy am I uncomfortable!), but good.

Ultrasound went well. Every follicle I have (with the exception of 1) is 1cm or over. I'm up to 10 on one side, 12 on the other. The nurse who did it said I was the last IVF patient this morning to get it done and I had way more eggs than anybody else. Jeffrey immediately yelled at me: "it's not a competition!" All I can say is...last time I had the LEAST amount of eggs...being in first place ain't so bad. Eat my dust, suckas...

[Note to Karma: I SWEAR I am just joking around. Damn, I'm going to regret that.]

Which leads me to my conversation with my grandmother:

Gran: "When is your harvesting?"
Me: "It's tentatively scheduled for Sunday."
Gran: "So, while you're doing the egg harvesting, what is J going to be doing? Jerking off in the
bathroom?"
[insert a good 30 seconds of dead silence on my end]
Me: "Um, as a matter of fact...."

There are some things you just never fully recover from in life....

The grass is always browner…?

I'm getting VERY nervous by how positive all my tests are coming back. In fact the nurse who did my ultrasound this morning said that out of all the IVF-ers this cycle, I've got the most action going on. They’re estimating between 18 & 20 follicles that may contain eggs. Maybe because I'm used to it, but I think I'm more prepared to get bad news. I don't know what to do with good news yet except be terrified that I'm getting my hopes up for nothing. Stupid, I know...but getting excited just to come crashing down again is a very dangerous road for me.

I won't get the blood work results back until this afternoon - the doc will call and go over the ultrasound results as well. Based on my last tests on Monday, he lowered my med dosage. I have a feeling he's going to do that again. Some of my follicles are already over 1 centimeter. I read online that anything 1-2 cm's means they can burst, releasing the egg – waalaaa: ovulation...something we DON'T want. If I ovulate, there's no eggs to harvest...and then WHAM...my cycle gets cancelled and all this was for nothing. I'm a bit nervous that I'm so far along and my harvesting isn't until Sunday. But I am also on drugs that are supposed to suppress ovulation….hope they continue to do their job!

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Guarded Optimism

The doctor called this morning to check in on me. He said he had reviewed my blood work & ultrasounds yesterday and compared them to my tests from the same time last cycle. Last cycle at this point my estradiol was only in the 200’s. As of Monday I was 686.

He seemed really optimistic about the cycle. He made the comment that this was how he had expected my body to react last time.

We talked about the implantation, we're not going to do the surgery. Just a "normal" implantation. He reminded me I'll have to control my nerves and I reminded him to bring the sedatives. :)

Things are looking good...but it's way too early to get my hopes up.

More blood work and ultrasound tomorrow.

Monday, April 2, 2007

Slow the drugs....

Finally heard from the doc office. After 5 injections my estradiol levels are at 686. Jeffrey and I were wracking our brains trying to think what they were last cycle at this point. See? I was way too confident thinking I wouldn't need that info later! I think we were more in the 400 range. So I'm probably on the high-end of average for me. They're decreasing my Follistim from 300 IUs to 225 IU.

[info on estradiol: http://www.drary.com/a1.htm]

Quite honestly I didn't get to ask all the questions I wanted to: combination of work going haywire at the time, the nurse not speaking very clear English, and they called on my cell phone which basically means I have to stand on my head to get a signal. Plus...it wasn't the doctor, so the nurse was probably telling me what he told her. Oy. I hate not being extremely informed.

So...cutting back on Follistim, which I'm going to take as a good sign that my body is working the way it should (and maybe a little too much, which I'm totally fine with too!). I swear at this point, I'd rather hyper-stim than get to the end and not have enough. Ok...I shouldn't say horrible scary things like that. :)

That's the lastest...next blood work & ultrasound Wednesday morning.

The Follicle Countess: Guarding of the Tiny Milestones

This morning was my first blood work and ultrasound. The blood work (as always) sucked…took ‘em 2 pricks to get blood out of me and even then it was sloooowly, so I sat there for 10 minutes with a needle hanging out of my vein and my fluids barely oozing out. Hate, hate, hate having blood taken.

The ultrasound went fine – there’s one lady at the hospital that has been assigned all the IVF ultrasounds. It’s kind of nice to have somebody who already knew my situation, and she’ll be doing it for the rest of the week. She counted 8-10 follicles in each ovary, 5-6 big, maturing follicles on each ovary that look like they might contain eggs. So that’s a count of 10-12 possible eggs right now.

The nurse said I’ve got good action happening. But I remain guarded. Although there’s the start of a lot of follicles, only 10-12 eggs isn’t great. Last time they got 11 out of me and that’s on the low end.

The blood & ultrasound results were supposed to be faxed to FL this morning, and I am anxiously awaiting the doc to call and let me know what he thinks. He’ll adjust my meds based on today’s results. I kind of hope they raise my dosage. I’d rather face hyperstimulation this time than a low egg count and low success rate again. The blood work will show how quickly my estradiol levels are – that will give a good idea of how my ovaries are working, if they’ll be mature eggs, if I’ve got more on the way.

Jeffrey and I were talking last night about all these little milestones you start hitting at the end of IVF. The first 3 weeks – you’re just injecting. The week before the harvesting you start to have all these little things that HAVE to happen in order to “graduate” to the next level. If you miss even one tiny little step, the whole cycle was for nothing:

1. 3 Ultrasound & blood work appointments – monitoring for number of eggs and hormone levels. If either of those stop, the cycle is cancelled.

2. Egg Harvesting – Extracting of the eggs – more than likely, the doc will probably miss an egg or two. Also the chance that it’s being done too early or too late, in which case, the eggs might not be good. Cycle cancelled.

3. Fertilization – Once the eggs are out, the next step is to see if they will fertilize or not. If not – cycle cancelled.

4. Embryo Growth (for 3 days) – The embryos can actually start off growing and then stop on a whim. You’ve got 3 days of constant monitoring. Should they stop growing – cycle cancelled.

5. Implantation -- Then you have to make the decision on which day they should be implanted. They have to be big enough to survive the implantation, but at the same time, the longer they sit in a Petri dish, the lower their chances of long-term survival. So you want to keep them in the lab for as long as possible, but at the same time it’s a race to get them implanted. Anything goes wrong during either process: negative pregnancy test.

The week starts all the tiny milestones. A bit nerve wracking! Then we go through all this and then…the looooooong 2 week wait until the pregnancy test.

We’re getting closer to the end…

Sunday, April 1, 2007

O, Sleep, where art thou?

I’ll just start right off with the silver lining so I can get that out of the way and then ramble on as my cranky self: I got to see the sun rise this morning. Ok, enough of the happy crap.

I went to sleep around 11 last night. Woke up shortly before 3. I suppose I should be thankful that I got almost 4 hours of sleep last night. It’s one of my longest night’s sleep since I started cracking out on the drugs. See, to fall asleep there’s a chain reaction of chemicals & hormones that kick off in your body. One of those is estrogen. Something (thanks to Lupron) I have very little of in my body right now. Lupron sends your body quite literally into menopause – flat-lining all your hormones so your body doesn’t do anything reproductive until you shoot yourself up with another drug to trigger it. We’re going strictly “au (un) naturel” here. You’ve heard of menopausal women complaining about insomnia…this is exactly the reason why. But, I digress.

Put simply: despite all the hormones ravaging my body right now, I’m lacking a hormone my body needs to shut down.

I am able to fall asleep (most nights). The hard part for me is staying that way. I keep having this dream that I wake up and it’s 6am. So when I wake up, although it’s still dark in our bedroom, I’m all happy and stretching and thinking…oh man, I slept for SO long. I feel SO good. Only to roll over, look at the clock and realize it’s actually 1:17am. For some reason that’s always the time when I wake up. Then, if I’m really lucky, I’ll doze back off for an hour or so. But most nights, I wake up at 1, or 2 or at the latest – 3…and I lay there frustrated as crap as my husband softly snores beside me. I swear...he can be so inconsiderate sometimes.

The weird part (that I’m thankful for) is that I’m not tired during the day. I tried to nap yesterday afternoon – just because I know my body needs it, but I wasn’t tired. Ended up just laying there staring off into space for an hour. At least it was a little “rest”, even if it wasn’t sleep.

I’ve been really irritable since last night (oh wait…that was only a few hours ago). Stupid new drugs = stupid new side effects. Just trying to remember that my body is working overtime right now. I’ve still got a slight heaviness in my abdomen, although it’s becoming more localized. I feel like I can tell exactly where my ovaries are now.

In other irritating as hell news: one of the cats has peed somewhere in the house. I ask you, is there a smell worse than cat pee? I will answer for you. No, there is not. I must’ve accidentally locked one of the little buggers in the house without access to the Great Outdoors. I can’t find where the smell it coming from. It smells like it’s coming from everywhere. The second my eyes popped open at 3am, that was what I was greeted with: cat pee….right up in my nose. I swear to god it’s the only thing I can smell now…and I’m sitting outside on the porch typing this. Cat Pee. I also noticed that our bathroom smells like J’s dirty socks. That’s the only smell second to cat pee.

I can’t help but wonder if this is some new and bizarre side effect:

Follistim: May cause The Crazies, your ovaries to burst, stroke, death, anal leakage (ok, F doesn’t really have that SE, but doesn’t it seem like a shockingly large number of drugs out there DO?), penis shrinkage, and your nose to detect cat pee and dirty-sock smell.

I can’t take it…my day will be spent scrubbing down every inch of the place.

Oh my god. I lied…there IS another more up-beat note to this post. I just got to see my neighbor come outside in his robe to pick up his paper. Fat man in a little green robe… I feel like I can start my day now…