Waiting For Two Pink Lines

Life After Infertility Treatments Fail

2009-09-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/10/life-after-infertility-treatments-fail/

September 10, 2009
Life After Infertility Treatments Fail
By Lisa Belkin

There is a quiet moment in the film Julie & Julia when Julia Child gets the news that her sister is pregnant. With a quiet sob, Meryl Streep makes us understand how deeply Julia wanted a child, and how painful it was to accept that she would never have one.

Today she could have seen specialists, gone through invasive treatments and tests, spent tens of thousands of dollars, and become consumed by what moment it was on the calendar. She might well have had her child. Or she might have been one of those for whom nothing works, and for whom all the new possibilities serve merely to add weight to the feeling of failure.

Once upon a time being childless was simply the mysterious hand dealt by nature. Now it is a decision to stop, because there is always one more something to try. Shelagh Little knows that decision well. In a guest post today she writes a primer — not about how to get pregnant, but about how to move on when you don’t.

A ROADMAP FOR A LIFE WITHOUT CHILDREN
By SHELAGH LITTLE

Almost two years ago, I resolved to accept that I would never have children. I was 37 and had just learned my IVF procedure had failed. Our eight-year struggle with infertility included six rounds of artificial insemination, clomid pills, hormone injections, a surgery, and countless (and sometimes painful) diagnostic procedures. Every new test and treatment carried with it the hope that this time, it would work. What I had to show for it all: a picture of three sad little clumps of cells - the embryos that didn’t implant – and no real explanation of why I couldn’t get pregnant.

Every woman facing infertility has to decide when she’s had enough, when she has reached her ethical, emotional, and/or financial edge. My sense of self-efficacy dictated that if I researched all the options, sought support from the right professionals and followed their instructions, I’d get what I wanted. I did all of these things to the point of obsession, but our options were running out. Another round of IVF? Egg donor? A surrogate? We really couldn’t afford any more treatments and we were starting to feel queasy about the risks associated with all the drugs and technology. But my main reason for calling it quits was that I was tired of feeling frustrated and desperate. I needed to stop trying so I could get back to living.

Since then, I’ve been reflective about my infertility journey and its aftermath. Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive after a year or more of unprotected intercourse. It isn’t a disability, because you don’t technically need to have children to live a healthy life. For me, infertility is more like a low-level, lifelong bio-psychosocial syndrome. My physical inability to produce children has emotional and social consequences that I struggle with, at least to some extent, every day. Here are some of its manifestations.

Family-lessness. I had thought a child would transform us from a happy couple into a proud family with a house full of love. This was important to me, because I unfortunately do not come from a loving, intact family. And the fact is that family remains the single biggest organizing principle of mainstream life. Just a walk through my neighborhood tells the story. After work, young couples chat on lawns while their children ride bikes and draw on the sidewalk with colored chalk. My husband and I are sidelined, left to feel aberrant. Infertility is a unique kind of loneliness.

Gender dysphoria. Motherhood is still central to womanhood, the magical thing that women’s bodies do. Motherhood is also socially rewarded and is a sort of proxy for femininity. In candid moments, mothers tell you that they liked being pregnant because of all the attention they got. As an infertile, I feel oddly unsexed, especially when I look at pregnant women. I cannot do that (be pregnant), so am I still really a woman? (That’s a hypothetical.)

Friend funk. It is challenging being friends with people who have children. Understandably, people who are devoting their lives to raising children want to talk about their children – the search for a good preschool, where to take a family vacation, how to install a car seat. I don’t relate, and I have nothing to add. At times, being subjected to exhaustive conversations about other people’s kids leaves me so alienated I feel the urge to get up and walk out of the room.

Meaning quest. I thought a child would imbue my life with a new sense of focus and purpose. Infertility has created a meaning vacuum. It has ignited in me a renewed sense of obligation to unearth my passions and work towards goals. Mothers often describe the experience of giving birth as the most incredible thing they ever experienced, holding their infant for the first time as transcendent, and raising children as “the toughest job you’ll ever love.” I feel the need to create comparable peak experiences and ongoing projects. There is a pressure to craft a life well lived, even though I will never raise children.

“Why don’t you just adopt?” is something I have often heard when I confide my infertility in others. What’s most interesting about that to me is that those same people usually have biological children and have never thought for one minute about adopting. After not being able to have children for so long, I am ambivalent about adoption and parenthood in general. I admire people who have adopted children, but it is not for me.

I have searched in vain for that room full of fierce, feminist ex-infertiles talking about the wonderful things they had accomplished with all the money, creativity and energy they would have expended on a child. Sadly I discovered there is no roadmap for creating a full life without children. It’s a make-it-up-as-you-go situation.

It is tempting at times to define myself in opposition to parenthood. I think about leaving our family-oriented neighborhood to live with hip urbanites downtown. I also sometimes must resist the urge to flaunt my free time and fanciful self-indulgences to my sleep-deprived, harried parent friends. I still have not quite figured out how to incorporate other people’s children in my life (something I’m told is good to do).

Writing this, I am for the first time acknowledging my own strength and courage in living with infertility and finally making the decision to be childfree. Emboldened, I ask of those blessed with their own children to consider the following: Your family is your good fortune. Not everyone else is as lucky. Please be self-aware about when, to whom, how and especially how much you talk about your children. Just as it is not flattering to be openly bitter about infertility, nor is it becoming to be boastful about one’s parental pride.

If you ask me if I have children and I tell you I can’t, a simple “I’m sorry” will do – there is no need for follow up questions or pat advice or jokes. Please also don’t blanch or act like I said something inappropriately confessional. With the amount of explicit and extremely intimate information shared freely these days, there is no need for infertility stigma.

To others who are actively experiencing the anguish of infertility, the good news is it does get better. Since the day I made my decision to stop trying, I have never looked back. My husband and I have survived what is probably one of the biggest challenges we will ever face as a couple and have created a bond and an intimacy that frankly would probably not be possible if we had a child to raise. And if I bring the right attitude, every day presents new opportunities to have a happy, fulfilling life as a woman who is not a mother.

Merry Christmas Eve

2008-12-24T05:18:00.000-08:00

Good news: Yesterday's biopsy was cancelled. When we woke up yesterday Dahbi's lump was about half the size. Went from about the size of an orange to a golf ball. The vet put her on antibiotics and we're going to see how she does on that for a few days. If the lump is still there by Friday, the biopsy will most likely happen.

She started the meds yesterday - this morning the lump was about the same as yesterday - maybe a teeny bit smaller.

What is it with December and lumps?

2008-12-22T13:28:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to update the blog lately - a lot has happened in the last two months. However, this post is just an update of today: Our dog Dahbi is going in for a biopsy tomorrow morning - they think she might have lymphoma.

Revealed: first ovary transplant baby

2008-11-10T12:00:00.000-08:00

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/article5114799.ece

Oxford Journal Study

2008-10-13T08:09:00.000-07:00

Since I'm still at a point where I can't put into words how I'm feeling, here's a nice upbeat little study for you:

http://humrep.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/content/full/20/7/1944

Difficulty with acceptance of infertility
For many women, the point of acceptance of childlessness had not been reached, which hindered the decision-making process. ‘I am always going to have regrets that we can't have a child, but you have to accept what you have got rather than what you haven't. You have to make alternative plans and they don't include children’. However, for some, ‘many questions remain unanswered’, and ‘many issues unresolved’. Similar sentiments were voiced by others: ‘Facing up to the fact that you will never have your own child is very traumatic and in a sense we feel forced into the situation of being childless’, or: ‘I think it's still happening [acceptance], it's such a long process, I mean we stopped treatment in May of last year, and I still can't accept it’. Although the decision to end treatment had been made, these women were generally less positive, not only with their inability to accept biological childlessness, but of their decision. Those who went on to adopt or have less invasive treatment such as donor insemination were more likely to feel more positive about their future, and no longer viewed themselves as ‘childless’: ‘I must admit the adoption changed things for us dramatically. We had another focus and we were probably ready to move on earlier than those couples for whom adoption is not an option’. One woman was more cautious about adoption and viewed the process as socially less acceptable; ‘We were too old for adoption, and anyway, we were not prepared to take on a child who may well be psychologically damaged’.

Stress associated with IVF
A common response from women was related to the stress caused by IVF treatment, and the process of decision-making often exacerbated this. However, relief of the cyclical process of ‘treatment and stress’ was evident once the final decision to end treatment was made. One interviewee indicated that: ‘the IVF for me was an extremely traumatic experience and I just wanted it all to end’, and went on to clarify that it was her life that she wanted to end. Others reported similar feelings of depression: ‘The GP started me on antidepressants. I just wasn't coping with it all’, or: ‘In a way, I felt quite depressed, not in the clinical sense, but I felt so low, so down, in a way I had never felt before. That lasted for about two months and I decided then that I never wanted to feel like that again’.

Unrealistic expectations of treatment
Making the final decision to end treatment was influenced by unrealistic expectations of success and the inability to cope with treatment failure: ‘I suppose we were naïve in thinking that IVF would work first time’. Many women were initially hopeful, but eventually succumbed to despair after repeated unsuccessful cycles of IVF: ‘In the beginning there was so much hope, I mean it was something positive we could do, and now ... there's no purpose in life anymore, no relationship left. What's the point?’. Many felt that continuing treatment was their only means of suppressing feelings of negativity and pessimism. Respondents appeared to go through a period of critical self-reflection in arriving at the decision to end treatment: ‘We never thought we would still be here [having IVF] three years on, but in time your attitudes change and you are faced with dilemmas you never thought possible’.

Pressure from media and society
Prior to making the final decision to end treatment, many women had searched the Internet for information about the possibility of new treatment options: ‘I searched every web-site you could imagine. If anything, it made me feel better about my decision in that thousands of people were going through the same experience’. However, some felt that medical staff appeared uncomfortable when faced with the results of their own literature search: ‘You never seemed to approve of the information we downloaded from the Internet, but we had to explore all options before making the final decision, leaving nothing undone I suppose’. In essence, the media proved to be another source of pressure on couples who experienced a social obligation to try new technology in order to reproduce: ‘It's the whole extended family thing. It's almost like a fashion accessory—sorry to be so flippant, but you're not accepted in the same circles or the same way if you don't have kids’. One couple commented on the apparent effect of ‘monthly media headlines’ that created indecision with regards ending treatment by suggesting that significant breakthroughs were imminent: ‘You read about it [in the media] all the time, third time lucky for IVF couple or someone who gets pregnant after adopting a baby’.

Social and professional opportunity costs
Most women had spent the majority of their thirties going through investigations and treatment resulting in a sense of ‘missed opportunities’, which eventually influenced their decision to end treatment: ‘I was so drained throughout treatment and never felt sociable. We had a great social life before IVF and a part of me wanted that back so badly’. Many were unable or unwilling to share their concerns and anxieties with close family and friends, distancing themselves from potential support networks. One woman captured her own experience: ‘One of my closest friends said that I had changed since starting IVF when I called off lunch yet again. ... I didn't feel sociable, but deep down I missed the social interaction. I suppose I was afraid that someone would appear with a baby or to say that they were pregnant, and I just couldn't cope with that. I had to stop [treatment]’ Some women actually described feelings of relief at the end of treatment, with one woman explaining in detail how she could now move on with her life: ‘I wanted my life back, and I remember feeling great sadness at the thought of never being pregnant, more than that, never having a child, but also a huge relief that I wouldn't have to go through another IVF cycle and the disappointment and grief that it brings’ Being released from the incredible stressful cycle of events that surround IVF treatment was expressed by another respondent: ‘I'm still grieving for the child I never had, for my fertility, but I feel a sense of relief that I don't have to go through the emotional upheaval of another cycle and that we can now move on’. For many, infertility and assisted conception-related issues created a sense of ‘life on hold’.

Physical and emotional pressure exerted on the couples' relationship
Financial pressure and the need to balance the conflicting demands of IVF, with those of an everyday social and professional life, caused frequent conflict within the marital relationship. ‘We had spent over $22,080 on IVF; not that we grudged the money; I mean you can't put a price on a child, but it added to the stress of it all’. In addition, whether to have another cycle of treatment or not created further conflict: ‘We just couldn't agree on whether we should have another cycle of IVF. Neither of us would admit we had really had enough, as you don't want to be the one who admits defeat’ Many commented on physical and emotional pressure that IVF exerted on their marriage/relationship, often resulting in periods of depression: ‘He [her husband] would have carried on, but I couldn't have coped with another disappointment, the anger and especially the depression—I just couldn't do it anymore’. As time went by, repeated failure lead to despair and isolation: ‘The constant stress and disappointment was incredible. Looking back, I would have risked my marriage for it all [a child/children]’

Can I take a message?

2008-10-12T14:35:00.000-07:00

We got home from DC Saturday night. And just for future reference, spending 5+ hours in the car extremely hungover? Not recommended.

Walked in the house to messages blinking on voicemail:

1. My aunt. Calling to see how we were doing. Sending us good thoughts.
2. My grandmother. Just thinking about us, wants to know if we got home ok. She loves us.
3. My mother-in-law. Hopes we’re doing alright, give her a call when we feel like talking.
4. My mother. Since you guys are home early, we should go to this arts and crafts show.

Really. Either you get it or you don’t.

Pardon me while I go see a movie.

2008-10-11T07:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday was a weird fucked up day. In the hours after my doctor's appointment, I was trying to kill time between checking into our hotel and waiting on my lab work to come back. So I took myself to a movie. I was entirely too distracted for much of anything, but I can usually zone out in front of a movie. I was at the theatre an hour before they even opened, and once they did I simply asked for a ticket to their earliest showing, provided it wasn't scary. Eagle Eye. Pretty good by the way. Or at least in an action-junky-no-need-to-think-things-through kind of way.

I picked a seat right beside the door and sat there with my cell phone in both my hands - turned on vibrate, and with the little flashy light thingy on the outside turned on. A visual, a tactile. It rang just as the opening credits started.

I jumped up and was out of the theatre standing in the hallway when I heard my doctor’s voice: “16. Dammit.” It took me a split second to decipher.

16. My LH levels. They can’t go above 12 before you trigger. 4 points. Four fucking points stood between a possible successful cycle and a cancelled cycle. He asked me if I wanted to come back in for more bloodwork “We could test again – you never know…maybe the lab made a mistake…maybe the levels went back down.” Great. This is my doctor grasping at straws.

“I’m not coming back in. I’m going to see a movie.” This was my response to my doctor telling me our 5th awful attempt at having a baby was over. “I’m going to see a movie.” This was my response to hearing I will never carry a child, we will never have biological children. “I’m going to see a movie.” It’s hilariously fucked up. There has got to be some really telling statement in there about…well…I don’t even know – reality TV watchers? People voting McCain? Women defeated by infertility treatments? All of which – very fucked up.

After our diagnosis, I knew it was going to be a rough journey, but I also knew it would work. You think if you try hard enough, if you do it enough times – eventually it has to. But unfortunately, that’s not the case. We could do round after round and still end up here. We’re not willing to live our lives like this forever. But I’m having a hard time admitting The IB has won. If she were an actual person I’d kick the crap out of her.

There’s a part of me that isn’t sure I’m ending this without regret. In fact, I can’t say 100% that this is the end (and for that reason). If we had just made it through the retrieval this time and it didn’t work, I’d be able to live with that a little easier. But you know…canceling a cycle because I can’t count. Well, that’s fucking stupid.

I don’t know. We’ve decided to give it a few months, see how we feel. See how the idea of calling this the end still sits.

In the meantime…I’m out of here. Maybe I’ll go see a movie.

And.....it's over. Again.

2008-10-09T13:51:00.000-07:00

Follicle at this morning's ultrasound was 17x13. Too small to trigger you say?

Well my bloodwork came back - LH at 16.

Cycle fucking cancelled....surged before the goddamn trigger. Again. And again. And again.

We had already arranged for a hotel so I could be close to the clinic. We decided to keep the room, do some sightseeing, catch up with old friends and do some major drinking.

Third Appointment (Cycle Day 11)

2008-10-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

Today follicle jumped up to 15x12 (although one measurement had it at 16x12). Huge amount of growth in 24 hours.

LH came back at 6.6, so the ligering question is - is that the level prior to the LH jump, or the drop before the big surge. Bloodwork in the morning will tell.

Doctor wants to retrieve on Saturday morning - they're getting me in for the earliest appointment.

Tomorrow morning I do bloodwork/ultrasound at 10am. Then I'm checking into a hotel and waiting for the clinic to call me in for a second round of bloodwork in the afternoon. Trigger will be tomorrow night.

I'm nervous that tomorrow morning's bloodwork will show I surged today. I've had a good deal of uncomfortableness in my abdomen today....usually I don't feel that until after the trigger.

So...Shit!...or Yay! I don't know which yet.

J gets in tomorrow - I'll be so relieved when he's here.

Second Appointment (Cycle Day 10)

2008-10-07T12:41:00.000-07:00

Today: Follicle at 11.9 x 9.9.

Just talked to the clinic, I'll be going in everyday for bloodwork/ultrasounds from here on out. Since I've surged so quickly in the past, they want to keep an close eye on me.

J arrives on Thursday...thank god.

First Appointment (Cycle Day 8)

2008-10-05T10:35:00.000-07:00

This morning was my first dr. appointment. Follicle looking good for Day 8. It's on the left side (for the 3rd time), size is 11x8mm. Not going back until Tuesday.

My grandfather drove me up for the appointment. He was big-and-bad on the ride up saying he wanted to talk to the doctor and see if there was anything more we (we?) can do to make this work. Was kind of terrified on the trip there - the last thing I need is my grandfather screwing up my relationship with my doctor (he's a 6 foot 2, bear of a 70+ year old man who doesn't understand a thing about IVF, but wants to see it work for us). When we pulled into the parking lot, he decided to wait in the car instead - wouldn't even come sit in the waiting room.

On the drive back, we got behind the only goddamn vehicle in the state of VA with the license plate: "MLFHNTR." After a few minutes of trying to figure out what it said, my grandfather turns to me: "What kind of hunter?" Christ alive...what is up with the fucking universerse? "No idea, Pop."

Coming through town, he turned off at the cemetery. A visit to my uncle's grave. I hadn't been since he died 6 years ago. We only stayed for a few minutes and as we left, he leaned down and patted the ground. My grandmother says he goes at least twice a week and she's never seen him leave without patting his grave. Absolutely breaks my heart.

Home sweet home

2008-10-02T04:24:00.000-07:00

Well, my fabulous husband got the internet running again. I am back at home...although still chained to the desktop...still beats the pants off Panera.

And tonight's the VP debate...I can't wait to hear what nutty thing comes out of Palin's mouth next.

The perfect storm

2008-10-01T13:03:00.000-07:00

Amazing how three major things at work can all fuck up at the exact moment...

1. My morning started with my internet going down. I called my provider, those bastards tell me they can have me back online...in 48 hours. Yeah, I work from home. I'm then informed that if I run a business from my house, that I'm supposed to have BUSINESS internet...not personal internet. I don't own a business, I don't run a business from my home....I telecommute. Hell, I didn't even know I could GET business internet until today. Apparently biz internet has a 4-hour service turnaround....it's also more than double what I currently pay. Annoying.

2. The internet going down wouldn't normally be a big deal. But oh wait...I dropped my laptop off at the repair shop 2 days ago. For the first time in 2.5 years I am not mobile, and my internet goes on the fritz...seriously.

3. This is the first time in 2 months that I've had a crisis client going on at work. I had a 150 page report due out at 8am. Yeah...didn't make my deadline.

And of course all this is the perfect time to go wrong considering the economy is in the shitter and I'm absolutely convinced that my company's going to start layoffs at any moment. Sweet...look at me being late with deadlines....

All that leads me up to Sunday. That's my first IVF appointment for this round (did I mention LAST round?). I need to be mobile for my trip...and I haven't even heard back from the computer repair jackasses.

I'm typing all this from borrowed internet (Panera) on a borrowed laptop. This is seriously sad stuff. Even sadder? I'll be here at Panera at 6:30am when they open to start tomorrow's report. woohoo.

Virginia Legislation: Fertility Coverage (SB 631)

2008-09-15T11:09:00.000-07:00

Please consider signing and forwarding this petition to require insurance companies in Virginia to cover fertility treatments.

http://www.petitiononline.com/060200/petition.html

S.B. 631: a bill to require health insurers, health maintenance organizations, and corporations providing accident and sickness subscription contracts to provide coverage for the treatment of infertility.

The bill now moves to the Special Advisory Commission on Mandated Health Insurance Benefits. This is a joint commission that also includes Governor-appointed private citizens. We anticipate testifying before the Commission in the fall of 2008.

Huh, so summer vacation's almost over....

2008-08-18T14:28:00.000-07:00

J and I just got back from a week long camping trip and I called my grandparents this morning to fill them in on our great adventure in the wilderness. My very non-campery grandfather was no doubt rolling his eyes on the other line as I rambled on about night hikes, meteor showers, happy hour by the campfire, ghost stories and my discovery that marshmellows are NOT vegetarian friendly. Then he asks, after a long pause: "So, when are you guys going to start IVF again?"

Huh. Yeah...was trying not to think about that. August's almost over.

The question has kind of had me in a daze all day. IVF. Again. Soon.

J and I have had a great summer. The alcohol, the camping, the chillin' on the porch, the alcohol...oh it has been a good, good mental vacation. One that I'm not sure I'm ready to give up yet. I'm not at all ready to dive back into fertility clinics.

J and I have had a few short conversations about where we both are with treatments. I want to start grad school, he is talking about doing some traveling. We haven't made any huge decisions - but we both seem to be on the slower end of getting this machine cranked up again. We have at least another month before we can get started (2 trips coming up)....so we'll see......

Can't believe the summer is over.....

Who says golf can't be fun?

2008-07-18T08:49:00.000-07:00

So I almost killed myself last night. You should've been there. It was awesome.

A friend of ours has been begging J to go golfing with him for a while now. He’s not a golfer, but is going on a golf trip at the end of the month, so want to go with J to get some pointers. So, last night, this other couple and the two of us went to a golf course - actually my first experience on a REAL course. Had fun, but we didn't get started until 6:30 and we were slow because J is the only golfer and he had to limp along with us 3 really bad golfers. By 9pm we were only on the 7th hole (really, really slow). And of course at 9pm it is dark. The guys were finishing up on the green and then we were calling it quits...you couldn't see a thing.

Us girls were sitting in the golf carts waiting on them. We were bored....just chillin' in the dark. Oh, and we may have had a few beers. So as soon as they finished, the boys yelled for us to drive around and pick them up so we could head to the club house. Well, as I said, we were bored. So to spice things up a bit we decided to race - you know - golf carts that go like 11mph. I also mentioned it was dark? And the beers? Oh, and I can't see in the dark and I didn't have my glasses on? Just trying to paint you the picture here.

So we start off racing.

I maxed out around 11mph, my competitor’s cart was a tad bit faster at 11.5mph. We were speed demons. All of a sudden my friend’s slightly faster cart shoots off to the right. I probably should've wondered why, but with the wind blowing through my hair at 11mph the only thing on my mind was the open road and this 4-wheeled hog beneath me. Suddenly I find myself about a foot away from a 5 foot drop into the sand trap. Dude. I didn't even have time to hit the brake. In I went - nose first of the golf cart - golf clubs flying everywhere - me hanging on to the steering wheel, legs flapping in the breeze, driving like a bat out of hell at 11mph. In the instant it happened all I could think was - holy mother, I'm going to flip ass over end. Luckily (amazingly), all 4 wheels ended up on the ground. My next concern (when I abruptly went from 11mph to 3mph and left a face print on that stupid plastic windshield) was - oh crap, I'm sinking in the sand. I floored it (we're back up to 7mph now) and shot out of the trap leaving a trail of clubs in my wake and a 2 foot deep rut in the trap.

The adrenaline kicked in as well as the "Oh my god I'm still alive" high hit and I couldn't stop laughing. Hysterically. Ok - I also kind of wanted to do it again. Meanwhile, my husband (who takes golf very seriously, just witnessed everything, and is NOT laughing), is now stomping towards me (with a putter) and is about .2 seconds from blowing up. I'm pretty sure I've never seen his face that red. Did I also mention that this Devil's Sand Trap is located directly in front of the clubhouse? And as we were the last ones out on the course, the only remaining employee is standing outside waiting on us to come in. So - according to my superbly ticked off husband - he has just witnessed the whole thing, and is no doubt banning J from the course for life. Which, I reminded him (and in hindsight probably wasn’t the best time for rationality), had to be a bit of an exaggeration because I couldn't see the sand trap in front of my face until I was riding the holy rails of terror. J did not find this amusing. But to further prove my point, when we checked in the carts, the guy didn't even notice the trail of sand our little cart was leaving behind.

All I can say is, J would not have liked the original plan. I was going to stick a brick on the gas pedal, throw myself into the other cart and just see where mine went.

Good thing we couldn't find a brick.

I know, it's been a while....

2008-06-30T04:40:00.001-07:00

...and all I'm posting is a link. Here's a new flip to IVF.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/article4232383.ece

Diving In

2008-06-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

J and I talked about this "everything-breaking" virus that we seem to have caught. We've decided to bite the bullet, do a home equity - replace the furnace in addition to a long list of crap that needs to be done.

We can't seem to get anything remodeled around here because everytime you turn around - a pipe busts, the basement's got water issues, the gutter's rotting off the house. There's a very long list of crap that the previous owners did not attend to and if we don't get them taken care of soon, they're going to end up being very expensive projects.

So, we're diving in....

Wine anyone?

2008-06-10T12:27:00.000-07:00

So after a week of living without AC in temperatures hovering around 98, we finally found somebody to come on short notice. My two new best friends arrived at 8am this morning and didn't leave until after 11. They basically duct taped our AC back together. It's a temporary fix - our furnace needs to be replaced. THE FURNACE.

If ever meet the people that used to live here, I'm beating their asses. Seriously, we've had at lest 5 pipes bust, we stil have a non-working bathroom, we have a gutter that is rotting off the house, we have mold (or at least we did), we had to waterproof the basement...at least 10 other very expensive things that I'm too brain-damanged from the heat to remember...and now....THE FURNACE. The estimate for the cheap one: $3,000. I will not be buying the cheap one.

I'm told the current duct-tape temporary situation is only going to give us enough time to shop for a new one - a month at most. And I have my doubts about that. With both systems cranking like a mother, it has taken 3 hours for the temp to come down 2 degrees in this house. It's still hot as hell, only now I owe some AC dudes like $400 for their work this morning.

And J's "new" car? After TWO DAYS of driving it - it needs to go to the garage. It doesn't start very well and it has just cut off a few times.

The Jeep's check-engine light is on - THAT needs to go to the garage.

And IVF IS EXPENSIVE (I feel like screaming that out the window right now!)!!
!#$%?^!#%&#$*!#$&!#$!*!#$*&(*%

All this crap is cutting into my wine habit and it's really starting to piss me off.

Again with the babies everywhere....

2008-06-07T19:11:00.001-07:00

My sister-in-law gave birth Wednesday night. I just found out (through my mother who just found out). Isn't that screwed up?

"Oh. Kid's 4 days old. Yeah. We're over it."

WTF?

My brother. 23 years old. Two kids.

I'll never understand how this shit works.

Thank you sir, may I have another?

2008-06-06T06:20:00.000-07:00

So, I've been back at home for a few days and have already done some drinking even Brittany Spears would be proud of. We've decided to take the summer off from Infertility Land and try again in September.

Things seem to fuck up so easily for us, it's like we're out for a world record or something. Honestly, even the doctor is shocked at how stupid-shit-prone we are. And after all the medical disasters, here's what else happened over the course of - oh, 3 days. Most of this is a repeat, but well, it's my blog and I feel like bitching:

J's car died. And I mean died during the climax of all this fertility shit. But only after the garage that we took it to for an estimate fixed the AC (and charged us for it), then shoved us out the door saying the car needed to go directly to the dump. Why the fuck would they fix the AC on a piece of shit?? Unfortunlatey J was so blindsided by it and dealing with all this fertility crap on top of that, it didn't even occur to him to be pissed until 2 days later. The good news - J's parents were in the midst of buying a new car during this, so instead of trading in their car, they traded in ours - we're paying them the difference of the trade-in and taking their old car. Ask me how much they got for our vehicle! 300 bucks....I told them we should've syphoned the gas tank first. But at least J has wheels again.

Our other vehicle needs to be serviced for...something. During my multiple times a day trips into NOVA, the check-engine light came on. We just had it serviced the week before I went up there. Seems to be fine, but you know...WE own it, so it probably needs a new engine.

It's 98 degrees outside and our AC in the house broke. We have dual zones in this place - BOTH not working. It's probably something as simple as a charge, but the earliest appointment to get it fixed? The 16th. Working from home when it's 103 degrees inside ROCKS. I'm waiting for my computer to melt so I can replace THAT.

Small, but what a pain in the ass - my cell phone needs to be replaced. Fucker stopped holding a charge - and seeing how it's at least 6 years old (I really hate buying phones...it's like going to the DMV for me), I can't just get a new battery. If it weren't for work, I'd just throw it away. For some reason after all the other crap that's gone wrong lately, this one pisses me off the most.

My weekend plans involve more drinking and concentrating really hard on all the silver linings: If my house falls down that just means less cleaning, right??

My Superman Doctor

2008-06-05T14:35:00.000-07:00

Can I just take a moment here to sing the praises of my incredibly wonderful doctor? It's not often that you hear somebody talking about how great their fertility doctor is when treatments continue to not work, but....

The man just called me. From his cell phone. On his day off. The reason? He said we had been on his mind the last two days and he just wanted to call and make sure we were both ok. Just typing it makes me tear up. Can I tell you how wonderful it is to be treated like a human being during this? It makes me hate my last doctor all that more.

I told him we were going to take a few months off and probably get started again in September. He thought that was a great idea and told me that we should blow off some steam this summer and party it up (I assured him that was not going to be a problem....and now that it has officially be "presribed", we're more than all over it).

I also told him my idea of doing a little "homework" this summer on my off time. My ideas: Basal temp charts, OV kits from CVS and bloodwork on Days 11 & 12 to monitor my LH surge and maybe get a better grasp of it for next time. He seemed to think it was all a little unnecessary. I ovulate normally and all the temp charts will do is confirm that (again). He said the ovulation kits really just register when your LH hits around 12 - which mine consistently hovers at right before my surge...so really those stupid things are only good for the fertile people of the world that can't count (Day 14...have sex y'all). He said the bloodwork might be a good thing to have as a comparision for the next cycle, but he also mentioned that my last two natural cycles were "consistently different." Different because I'm such a quick surger, that literally a few hours difference in when my blood was drawn would make it all useless. So...I'm still making my mind up with the bloodwork. We'd have to pay totally out of pocket - which I don't mind if it will help. But if it's not going to be that useful later on, do I really want to be that involved with trips to the lab for my "summer off", or is it better from a mental perspective to really forget this crap for a few months? I'm still deciding. I'm 60% for the bloodwork anyway, 40% against it. I'll decide later.

Anyway, I probably stayed on the phone with him for a good 15 minutes. I just can't say enough about how sensitive and understanding he is.

OH...he spoke with another of the doctors at the clinic and it turns out that they have had another "remote patient" before. Some chick from the Eastern Shore used their clinic (took her 5 cycles before they were able to harvest...damn the timing issues of Natural Cycle). They were able to work it out where she did her ultrasound/bloodwork from home and didn't have to be in Arlington until the critical few days before her retrieval. My doc said he was going to do a little more research on that and get back to me. The bloodwork is a cinch - we're really close to a LabCorp (which is who does their bloodwork)....if they can just work something out for my ultrasounds, we'll be set.

That would be fantastic! I told him I really underestimated how hard it would be without J being around. The first NC, wasn't too bad because all the critical stuff at the clinic fell on a weekend, so J was with me during all of it. But this time it was during the week and J gets hardly any vacation time....I was on my own. Hopefully they'll be able to work something out - that would be a huge weight off my shoulders.

In the meantime I think I'm still going to set up an appointment to talk to the doc in the next fews weeks. I wasn't expecting him to call, so I wasn't organized. I still have some questions/concerns, but I need to get them down on paper before we talk again. Also - I'm wondering, if I'm such a quick surger - is there any kind of drug I can take to slow that? Tiny doses of Lupron? Any alternatives? I need to do a little research before I set up my appointment.

One thing he did say which kind of raised a red flag for me, was my follicle was on the small side when I surged (18.6mm). It was 19mm the first time (you're supposed to be close to 20-21). He said that sometimes if the follicle is still small when you surge, it could lead to an immature egg. But then he also said that some women just have smaller follicles, they surge quickly, and their bodies are just able to spit out mature eggs and that's just the way their system works.

During our 2 conventional IVF cycles, the doc guessed at the reason they didn't work was egg immaturity. Of course conventional IVF vs NCIVF is apples/oranges...it's just one more thing I need to talk to the doc about.

And if there IS a drug that will delay the LH surge, would that help with maturity - give the follicle more time to grow?

Loads of questions more to ask......

Our IVF Refractory Period

2008-06-04T06:24:00.000-07:00

We're surprisingly good today. Or maybe that's not surprising - as J so poignantly stated last night: "Getting over failed IVF attempts is kind of our speciality".

Here is what we have decided: We're taking 2-3 months off. I have a camping trip in August that I want to go on, Labor Day we're off to Chicago for a wedding, so probably right after that, we'll get started again. In the meantime I'm going to set up an appointment with my doc - hopefully next week to come up with a plan of attack for next time. What I'm going to propose is, on this break, I'll to do the basal temp charts again, I'm going to get an ovulation kit - I'm tracking everything.

I'm going to see if the doc will send me to the lab here in town for the 2-3 days prior to ovulation so I can have bloodwork done, so we can also track my hormone levels during that critical time during the cycle. That way when I go up there next, he will have several months that he can use as comparison for my next attempt.

I'll be taking a break from treatments, but doing a little homework at the same time, which will make me feel like I'm not just sitting on my ass doing nothing, all the while I'm drinking and de-stressing and only being minimally "bothered" by fertility crap.

You know - even though the cycle was a bust, there's something about living on pins and needles for weeks on end. Despite the crappy outcome, there's always a degree of relief to waking up The Day After and knowing that huge important pieces of your life aren't hanging by a thread. Or at least that was my first thought when my alarm went off today: "Man, our IVF refractory period gets shorter and shorter everytime...."

Game Over

2008-06-03T09:44:00.000-07:00

The doctor just called - yesterday afternoon's bloodwork showed my LH surged prior to the trigger shot. At first, he suggested that we retrieve this afternoon. So I called J and got him on the road up here.

Then the doc called back again - he had spoken with the other doctors and as it turns out - they have a strict policy where they don't retrieve after an LH surge - even if they get the egg - they haven't had very good results. So their thinking - is why put me through the risk of a harvesting for such slim chances. Me? I was all about it...but was outvoted by the doctors. So I had to call J and tell him to make a u-turn and go back to work.

Cycle's over....I'm going home this afternoon and plan to medicate liberally with alcohol.

labs

2008-06-03T09:26:00.000-07:00

my LH was up yesterday afternoon which means i will ovulate before my retrieval tomorrow. we're trying to arrange to do it today....but j is 4 hours away. fuck.

Words of Wisdom (from the last few days)

2008-06-03T06:51:00.000-07:00

Compliments of my grandfather:
1. "I hope J doesn't fall in love with jerking off."
2. (As I'm explaining the latest results while my grandfather looks beyond puzzled): "So when does J need to jerk off?" Apparently he's obsessed with the idea of a porn room somewhere in a doctor's office.
3. The sweetest and most sincere: "It just doesn't seem right..." He said with a very long pause which made me think that he was contemplating the idea of a baby being grown in a lab. Then he finished with: "You guys would make dynamite parents." Which led to me crying.
4. "Good luck, sweetheart." He said with more sincerity that I've ever seen as we rushed out the door to my second bloodwork appointment yesterday.

Compliments of my grandmother:
1. "I haven't given anybody a shot in at least 50 years." She said right after giving me my Novarel last night.
2. "You know - they should put adoption agencies right next to fertility clinics." She said this morning as we were standing in like with 5 other women waiting for the fertility clinic to open. Thankfully she said it quietly. Oy.
3. "Just hold my hand, everything's going to be ok." She said as my emotions got the best of me this morning. As usual, she was right.
4. "Can she have a shot of vodka at least?" She said to the nurse this morning after I was told tomorrow's IV would have to be in my arm. Surprisingly, the nurse said "Go ahead honey and have one today...I won't tell anybody."

This morning's appointment

2008-06-03T06:40:00.000-07:00

My ultrasound looked good this morning - follicle is measuring at 18.6mm. The bloodwork I had done yesterday afternoon won't be back until around 1 - my bloodwork from this morning should be back at the same time.

As long as there was no LH in yesterday afternoon's b/w, I will most like make it to harvesting tomorrow without ovulating.

In other uncomfortable news: my ass is sore and my veins are shot. They jabbed me 3 times this morning before they got blood. I managed to squit blood across the room when they removed the needle - that's a new one for me. Gross. And OW. The backs of my hands are so sore it hurts to type.

Tomorrow I'm told they have to put the IV in my arm. Honestly, I have phobia of being touched there - a real phobia. My grandmother went with me again this morning and just thought I was being stubborn getting my blood done...until the nurse told me they'd have to get it from my arm and the waterworks started (in my defense, I'm stressed and I'm tired and I'm so ready to go home in addition to just being a wimp). The nurse (finally) realized that the crook of my arm is more than just me being a pain in the ass. (I'm weird, I get it.) So they finally jabbed and jabbed and got blood from my hand. But for tomorrow - it's in the arm. Frickity frick frick frick. At least I'll be on valium prior to the IV. Well, assuming I make it to the IVF.

More later when I hear back from the lab.
I'm so tired...getting up at 4:30 every morning is beyond old.

Shot through the heart (or...um....ass)

2008-06-02T19:19:00.000-07:00

My trigger shot is done and overwith (phew!). My grandmother shot me up this go 'round. As soon as she took the needle out, she says: "I haven't done that in 50 years." Really glad she didn't share that information beforehand.

J was a nervous wreck sitting by the phone waiting for me to call him right after. So I got to spend 10 minutes calming him down. He is really having a hard time not being here during this. He's coming tomorrow night - I can't wait to see him.

Off to bed - the Big doctor appointment is tomorrow at 7am.
Go Underdog!

From Zero to Sixty...

2008-06-02T14:56:00.000-07:00

It all gets a bit confusing and I'm a little befuddled myself to explain it properly, so I'll try my best:

I got off the phone with the clinic around 1:30 (I was trying to catch a little cat nap and of course they called just as I hit some serious dozing). I was still half asleep and I came downstairs told my grandmother that I had to get back to the clinic. She jumps up from reading her book - tosses it across the room, grabs her purse, her keys and before I'm even able to finish my yawn I hear her start the car in the garage. You've never seen a 70-something lady move that fast.

I didn't mean to sound the hounds THAT quickly, but apparently she's more caught up in this stuff than I thought. Hilarious.

She also has a bit of a lead foot. Not so hilarious. I had to remind her that, you know - I have to be alive for IVF to work. I mean they can grow great-grand babies in the lab...but they haven't perfected that whole 9-months thing yet.

I got there - doc took me right away. My grandmother (who accompanied me to my appointment this morning) is fascinated - and equally baffled - by this whole process. The doctor was very sweet and pointed out everything on the ultrasound for her. She was enthralled - and on the way home regaled me with stories from her youth when she was training to be a nurse. In fact, she gave pointers to the nurse who came to take my blood. She has no idea what LH is, but she was in her element. She'll be giving me my trigger shot tonight.

Trigger shot, you say? Oh, did I skip that part of the story?
Here's the technicals:

They took more blood this afternoon - but because they have to send their blood to the lab, they won't have the results back until the morning. My morning bloodwork showed my LH to be at 14. How it works is, LH (Leutenizing hormone) gives the final maturity to the egg and it also surges at a certain point in your cycle and triggers ovulation. So the first few days of your cycle, it hovers around 4 or 5. Then it will pop up to 10 to 12 and chill there, then very quickly it hits around 50. So when my morning hormones came back at 14, the doc called me back in. I'm on the high side of LH - and it looks like I'm about to surge.

If your LH surges prior to your Novarel injection (aka "The Trigger Shot"), then you're screwed. So what you're trying to do is get as close to that surge as possible and trigger (the shot) before your body does. Once you trigger (either by injection, or naturally), then you ovulate approximately 36 hours later. So the idea is, if you trigger via injection, then they go in for the egg after 34 hours and get it. It's entirely a timing thing. A game of chicken - get as close to the surge as you can so the egg is mature, trigger manually so you can time it OR wait too long, your body triggers, you have no control, egg ovulates prematurely, I go home and drink.

Based on the fact that my LH is a tad on the high side, I will be taking my trigger shot tonight at 9:30. My egg harvesting is scheduled for Wednesday at 7:30am. Now the screwy part is - since I had blood taken this afternoon I won't get those results back tomorrow morning. If my LH comes back high....then we'll know that I triggered too late and yes...I go home and drink. If my LH results come back and are still around 14, then it will appear that my triggering tonight was good timing.

In a sense, as I sit here typing, this cycle has already been determined. Either my bloodwork from about 3:30 this afternoon will show a surge or it won't. I'll find out tomorrow morning at 7am.

In the meantime, I have the pain-in-my-ass injection coming. My grandmother (that nurse's training is coming in handy!) will be shooting me up tonight. J is coming in tomorrow night - unless of course they cancel my cycle in the morning.

There are a gazillion things that have to go right in the next 12 hours, but I'm feeling pretty hopeful. Compared to my cycle in April, my follicle is a little smaller (still at 17mm, compared to 19mm in April). My LH is higher - BUT, my estradiol is lower. Based on the estradiol...I don't think I'll surge before tonight. We'll see though. I'm still feeling action in my abdomen - but nothing too intense yet.

Keep your fingers and toes crossed. Tomorrow is D-Day and boy I'm sick of needles.

Yikes

2008-06-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

The clinic just called and they want me to come back in for another round of bloodwork/ultrasound this afternoon. Apparently my levels shot up super quick and they're afraid I'm going to ovulate.

Follicle was at 17mm this morning. Usually they wait until it's at least 19 before you trigger.

Shit....now things are happening way too fast.

I guess you really can't count out the underdog...

2008-05-31T12:03:00.000-07:00

The doctor diagnosed me with "A Watched Pot Never Boils Syndrome."

Lo and behold we've got a follicle measuring at 13mm, estradiol is up to 73, progesterone 0.3 and LH at 5.6. For whatever reason I'm behind where I should be on the calendar, but hormones vs. follicle size is normal and on the rise. No idea what the hold up was, but we're back in the game.

We even did a little dance after my ultrasound this morning.

Next doctor's appointment is Monday. J is going home tomorrow night - he'll head back up here when it's time for the retrieval.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

2008-05-30T04:13:00.001-07:00

J's car broke down yesterday.

When I say broke down, what I mean is, it's running, but the garage told us to say our goodbyes. It's a crappy commuter car, that would be worth about 20-bucks as a trade in. This is not a surprise. But what shitty pain in the ass timing.

The ridiculous part? J dropped it off yesterday afternoon for an estimate and told them that while they were working on it to go ahead and fix the AC (hasn't worked in a year). So instead of calling to tell him what was wrong with the car first before they did any work to it, they fixed the AC and then told us the car would only last another few weeks. Ass. Holes. We dropped $170 into a car that's next drive is towards the junkyard.

Actually, now that I think about it, why the hell did we pay that? My head's so wrapped around what's going on with my ovaries that it didn't occur to me until just now to tell them to go fuck themselves.

Ugh...I have a phone call to make this morning.

Beware the wrath of the IVF scorned...

The Ovarian Daily News

2008-05-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

I had this aching, dull pain in my abdomen all afternoon. It feels a bit like it does when I ovulate, only not as intense. And it was just for a few hours...as opposed to when I ovulate, it usually lasts a good 24 hours.

Curious as to what they'll discover on Saturday...also ready to be put out of my misery and go home.

Random thoughts from the last 24 hours:

2008-05-29T06:17:00.000-07:00

1. If only I could kick myself in the ovaries....
2. Seriously? No. SERIOUSLY!?!
3. I'm exhausted.
4. I'm so pissed off.
5. If that doctor charges us $1k for two days worth of bloodwork, I'll kill myself.
6. Becoming the neighbor Cat Lady is starting to sound good.
7. I want to go home.
8. Hey, maybe this is the underdog egg that comes back from the brink of disaster and becomes the kid I ground until I'm dead.
9. Wow, that was one stupid, hopeful thought.
10. Fuck hopeful.
11. Why am I not in the car going home?
12. I'm so exhausted.
13. We've really wasted our lives in the last few years.
14. We've wasted so much money.
15. If Paris Hilton ever has a kid, they're going to have to put me away for a long, long time.
16. I miss my husband.
17. I miss my dog.
18. I miss my bed.
19. Fuck DC traffic.
20. I miss my commute.
21. I miss being 21 when my biggest worry was getting pregnant.
22. Speaking of 21, I miss alcohol.
23. Is it possible to win the lottery without actually wasting money on a ticket?
24. Oh my god, gas is how much?
25. Fuck Bush, I can't wait to read McClellan's book.
26. What's up with nurse not being able to find a vein (again).
27. Fuck this nurse, man.
28. Seriously, I'm going to stab her with that needle in a minute.
29. Yo doc, maybe if you hadn't bruised my internals with that ultrasound wand, we'd still be friends...and maybe my shit would be working.
30. Why isn't my shit working?
31. The IVF drugs have finally and permamently fucked me up. I'm so pissed at myself for taking them.
32. This is my worst nightmare.
33. We can conqure male infertility, but I can't handle anymore fertility problems...I'm obviously not a miracle-worker.
34. Try not to freak out and wait for Saturday's results...remember the underdog theory.
35. Fuck Saturday...I'm so close to giving up.

Theories

2008-05-28T13:37:00.000-07:00

There was much discussion between the docs about my ovaries today. They went back and forth trying to decide if they should just cancel me now, or retest.

They decided to drag out my agony a few more days and retest on Saturday. Part of me just wants to say "fuck it" and go home. Seriously, we can't get pregnant when IVF goes right - how the shit is this gonna work?

I guess in my brain, IVF has already ended and Saturday is a check-up to see what the fuck is wrong with me. No one has a clue right now, but here are...

The Theories:

Novarel can screw up your cycle a little bit
The doc's theory: It shouldn't cause this many issues though.
My hopeful theory: Benadryl puts me into weeklong comas, and one Tylenol is a cure for broken bones...my body overreacts to shit - plain and simple. This is my normal.
My actual theory: My body has shut down because I allowed myself to be injected with god-knows-what-drugs - this is the Universe saying "I told you so". We will never have kids.

Maybe Novarel did mess up your timing, and your body is just trying to catch up
The doc's theory: On Saturday, your levels could be much higher.
My hopefuly theory: On Saturday I'm exactly where I should be to trigger, we harvest on Monday. In 9 months - the party's at my house.
My actual theory: The ultrasound will show that my ovaries have left the building never to be seen again.

This is a one time thing brought on by stress, and leftover hormones, next month you'll be fine.
The doc's theory: Next month I'll be getting more money out of her.
My hopeful theory: There won't be a next month because I'll be knocked up.
My actual theory: I've hit menopause and am forever barren.

Maybe you miscalculated your cycle.
The doc's theory: Jesus, this woman can't even fucking count.
My hopefuly theory: That I really am that stupid.
My actual theory: I recounted the days 17 fucking times, even Skeet Ulrich could tell you I'm screwed.

I hate it when I'm right

2008-05-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

Something is seriously the fuck wrong.

The clinic just called - my estradiol is at 54 and progesterone is at 0.6. These levels are perfectly normal - for Day 2. The nurse who called thought this was my baseline test. I had to remind her that this isn't baseline, this is Day 8 (they let me skip baseline because I live so far away).

She's checking with the doctor to see what we should do. As it stands, they don't want to see me again until Monday. Or at all? I don't know.

I feel like this is my body's retribution for me fucking with it for so long.

I've IVF'd myself infertile.

Greetings from our Nation's Capital

2008-05-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

As always, I procrastinated in packing. Yeterday was a blur of me frantically cramming all the crap I own into the back of my car - only to get here and realize I left the damn syringes at home. No biggie - I only need one for the Novarel, which (as it turns out) might be a while.

This morning was my first appointment - they did an ultrasound and bloodwork. I'm a bit concerned about this cycle already. Today would technically be Day 8, at this point they should be measuring my follicle - but as of my appointment, everything was still so small the doc couldn't even determine which side I was ovulating from (it should be from my left side - since that's where it was 2 months ago).

My period was totally screwed up last week - came early, stopped, started...very strange for me. My labwork/hormone levels won't be in until this afternoon - so hopefully that will shed some light on what's going on. Based on my ultrasound though, the doctor said I wouldn't have to be in the clinic again until Saturday. Assuming my bloodwork is on par with that, then I will probably head back home tonight, and come back to DC super early Saturday morning.

BTW - damn the price of gas.

I'm trying not to worry too much about the ultrasound - who knows, maybe my body is just working really slowly - which (I keep telling myself) could be a good thing, because then hopefully I won't ovulate before my retrieval, and that He-Man (or She-Ra) egg will be ridiculously healthy and I'll be popping out the world's bouncing-est baby in 9 months.

Time will tell. Although unfortunately, my intuition usually seems to be right...and I'm not digging what's happening so far.

Let the games begin...

2008-05-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

I'm heading out the door for DC in just a few minutes. Trying to figure out what is going to cost us more - IVF, or the gas driving up to the clinic each morning.

My first appointment is at 7am tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

Day 1 (um...again).

2008-05-21T13:23:00.001-07:00

After a screwy few days where my body stopped, then started, then stopped again - things are finally on track and happening.

I talked to my IVF coordinator a little bit ago and we've decided (after flipping through numerous calendards, breaking out the calculator combined with some un-educated guessing) that today is my Day 1.

Seriously, my body = not normal right now. Not sure why. My coordinator talked to the doctor about it and he told us not to worry - sometimes Novarel just trips you up a bit. They'll just have to keep a good idea on my levels and ultrasounds (like they weren't already?).

In the meantime - this weekend is Memorial Day Weekend. Our annual camping trip is still on (phew!) and I couldn't be more excited about it. I can't tell you how glad I am that we still get to go - one last chance to kick back before getting back into treatments. I've got a good book, a big tent and I'm ready to sit my ass by the lake and chill for a few days.

Huh.

2008-05-20T06:29:00.000-07:00

So the monthly visitor showed up last night. 5 days early. Last month I had a 23-day cycle. Not normal.

I just called and left a voicemail with my IVF coordinator. I'm going to ask if I should go ahead with this cycle, or maybe wait until next month when things might be more normal. This is super strange for me...you could set a clock to my body.

I went through my calendar and noticed that the month previous (when we were doing IVF) my cycle was only 26 days. I'm wondering if the Novarel threw me off. All my cycles prior to that Novarel injection were 28 days. I believe when we did IVF last year, the same thing happened - of course I was too hopped up on way too many drugs to blame just the one injection.

I'll get things figured out with the clinic and then we'll make a decision. If we do go through with this next cycle, my first doc appointment will be Memorial Day (which screws up my rockstar weekend, but at least we'll still fit in a little bit of camping).

Paid in full

2008-05-19T14:18:00.000-07:00

Did I mention sunburn sucks? Good grief - yesterday I couldn't walk. Today I can walk a little better, but my skin has turned almost hard and my face looks a bit leper-ish. Screw being tan - I prefer my pain-free pale-ness.

In other news - we are paid in full for the next go 'round. WOOHOO! It'll work THIS time. HAHA - I feel like I've said that before. I'm not nervous. I'm not excited. I'm totally indifferent. It feels too far away (a whole week and a half) to even think about it yet.

This coming weekend - Memorial Day - we've got a big camping trip coming up. That's as far ahead as my brain is working right now. Camping on the lake with all our college friends, chowin' down on some campfire goodies, swimming in the lake, reading in the hammock, and it's one last chance to fit in all those antioxidants.

And to top it all off...

2008-05-17T20:14:00.000-07:00

Big Brown won the Preakness today.

I taste a Triple Crown this year.

Best. Day. Ever.

(Oh god I'm crunchy...need more aloe)

What a great day

2008-05-17T19:35:00.000-07:00

I got invited to go to the lake today with some friends and hang out on a boat. Alcohol + boat + magical lake scenery + cookout = Super fab day.

It was wonderful. I did nothing but sit like a happy little fool in the back of a boat all day with a glass of wine in my hand. Just reliving it brings a tear to my eye.

It was a bit chilly - a cool 70 degrees and pretty breezy. One of those days where as long as you were in the sun you were warm. Of course being out on the water on a moving boat with the wind, we were pretty cold and bundled up, drinks in hands, splashing through the surf enjoying the pristine afternoon. It was perfect.

That is until we pulled into the dock at the end of the day.

As soon as the boat stopped moving we all realized we were on fire. Sunburn. How stupid were we? Here we were trying to keep warm and nobody thought about sunblock. Me! The Queen of SPF 75 (yes, they really make that...and yes, I have two bottles of it). I am so sunburned that even the backs of my hands are red. My face is so frickin' hot I could probably generate electricity for a small city. And I'm pretty sure a raccoon on the way home mistook me for it's cousin (why do I insist on Jackie 'O sunglasses?).

I am currently tucked into bed, slathered in aloe with a fan blowing on me. I'm shivering, I'm on fire and I'm pretty sure my skin is making a slight crunching sound.

Ahhhh, it was so worth it.

Update: Not so freaky after all

2008-05-12T23:50:00.000-07:00

As it turns out, my new email IVF friend really IS a big weanie. I don't mean that as an insult either. I just mean - PHEW..thank god, she's not superhuman after all.

Turns out she IS scared of starting IVF. She does hate needles. She is scared of the harvesting. She is hanging by a thread hoping this works. I mean - I still have her beat when it comes to wimpy-ness, medical squeamish-ness, mental breakdowns - and, well - I'm sure many other things. But, I no longer feel like a freak (so THAT'S what this feels like...).

And get this - she's been trying to get pregnant for 10 years. TEN. Yes..10. WTF? I don't know if this makes me feel better, or worse - but damn. This is one tough broad we're dealing with. How in the hell do you live in Infertility Land for 10 years? I was throwing myself off the boat at the 2 year marker...and I've barely trudged myself through 3 more. Bleeech.

This is her first IVF attempt - she's doing it in June and cycle-wise she's one week behind me. Come on Universe, cut this woman some slack. Let's hope we're both knockered by the end of next month.

Antioxidants are SO good for you

2008-05-10T19:58:00.000-07:00

Hey, you know that world record where you try to see how many fertility treatments you can do and in between you drink as much alcohol as humanly possible?

I'm growing eggs one magnum of wine at a time.

What's that theory where alcohol destroys all the bad brain cells that we weren't using anyway? Yeah - that. See, I'm just trying to make room for fresh new brain cells. And in the meantime I'm reaping the rewards of huge does of antioxidants. No kidding. It's very healthy. What could possibly be bad about drinking grapes?

So we hit our first wine festival of the season today (oh Wine Season - how I love thee so...). We loaded up the car with friends, cheese, crackers, blankets and chairs and headed out to the country. Bluegrass in the background, mountains in the distance, rolling fields all around, blankets in the grass, wine in the glass, smelly cheese in my belly. John Denver wrote that song about the wrong state.

It's my most favorite part about summer. Wineries. Fancy wineries, ghetto wineries, big wineries, small wineries, old wineries, new wineries. Dr. Seuss really should've branched out into the adult genre. I like them all Sam-I-am....but I draw the line at wine in a box. Even with a fox.

The weather was amazing. In fact I think that was the theme of the day: someone would take a deep breath, suck in the day and say: "Man, what a perfect day." It was too. Big white clouds, absolutely no humidity, a steady but perfect breeze, the sun was shining. I got that song "Goddamn Right, It's A Beautiful Day" stuck in my head all afternoon. And it was SOOOOOO appropriate. That's right. I said it.

Even in a world of freaks, I am still a freak...

2008-05-08T06:04:00.000-07:00

My cousin hooked me up with a friend of hers who is starting IVF in June. We've never met, but I was excited about the prospect of an infertile friend. They're hard to come by in my circle.

We chatted on email briefly - introduced ourselves. They've been trying for 10 years (holy shit!), but this is their first time at IVF. In my email I told her that if she was nervous/had any questions about her upcoming cycle, to be sure to call me. And her response back: Oh, life goes on pretty normal whenever I'm doing treatments, they're not really a big deal for me.

Wha...??? Who ARE you?

IronMan? Skeet Ulrich?

Seriously - where are all the IVFer's that have a hard time with treatments?

I mean I think NC-IVF is a pretty good match for me. It was easy - I had no trouble with it last time and I'm excited (not scared) about the next cycle.

But I look back on the months I spent living in conventional IVF hell and think of it as a pretty dark time for me. No, that's an understatement: It was the darkest however-many-months of my life. I'd do NCIVF 100 times before I ever considered doing IVF again. It just doesn't work for me...and I'm not talking about the outcome (ok, which didn't work for me)...it's just not worth the crippling agony for me.

Maybe I'm the only freak in the room that can't handle IVF...but well...there's no buts. I guess it's a statement:

Even in a world of freaks, I am still a freak.

Blog Therapy:

2008-05-07T06:38:00.001-07:00

http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/05/07/blog.therapy/index.html

The IB strikes again

2008-04-30T19:51:00.000-07:00

I've taken to blaming the "Infertility Bitch" for all the stupid and unnecessary things that happen along this journey. For instance - IB took the blame when IVF failed and not even 2 hours later a baby shower invite showed up in my mailbox...then I had to trudge my pitiful ass out to the baby department for a gift. IB struck again the time I was going in for yet another failed preggo test and I stopped at the grocery store on my way home...just as they were installing the "stork parking" sign. Seriously - I go to the grocery store maybe twice a month...and I just happen to be there on that day? IB strikes again. And let's not forget the time I had finally mustered up the courage to visit a good friend in the maternity ward and ON THE WAY THERE, J gets a call on his cell phone from a friend announcing they're pregnant. Chalk another one for IB. OR, the ever impressive due date: my brother and his pregnant-cigarette-smokin' wife's due date is our anniversary. I mean really, IB has some talent.

So here's a new one. And I'm glad that I have such a creative opponent as IB. Really, she keeps me on my toes, because this one takes the cake. Well, it takes a few things...

Our next door neighbors (who by the way, got pregnant the second the moved in the same city as our non-baby-havin asses), had their kid Saturday night. Or at least at this point we assume they've had the baby since there have been "It's a Boy!" balloons sitting on their front porch for a few days. Awesome for them. Super happy, really (really!). So tonight after dinner J and I decide to take the dog on a walk. We bump into another neighbor and get to chatting, and while we're out there the new papa shows up and pulls into the driveway. He comes over - beaming - tells us all about the new addition - couldn't be more excited. Very cute.

After a few minutes it occurs to me that we have no idea what the kid's name is, so I ask.

...Wait for it as IB rears her wicked, malicious head...

The baby's name is Jackson. I whip my head around towards J and he has this gutted look on his face as he eeks out "You took our name." There was actually a split second where I thought he was going to cry - or be sick. Or maybe it was just that I wanted to cry AND be sick.

Our neighbor (who knows nothing about our situation and that we've been sitting on this name for 11 years) says: "Oh don't worry - we spell it: J-a-x-s-o-n."

So they stole our name. And THEN they stripper-fied it.

IB, my hat is off to you, I did not see that coming.

You see, this name has a fabulous story behind it for us. It's like one of those truly hilarious inside jokes that I could never explain in a million years. Or if I did, you wouldn't get it. When J and I first started dating, one of my friends (who hadn't yet met J) nicknamed him "Jackson". He was expecting some preppy golfing plaid pants wearing dude. Well, actually, J IS a preppy golf playing dude, but that wasn't the point. These two guys ended up being really good friends, and we all still joke about him calling J Jackson. The "Jackson" calling went on for almost a year and J had no idea. Which of course made it funnier.

See? It's a really stupid story. But if you're one of the insiders to the inside joke, it's f-ing hilarious. And it was one of our very first goofy things as a couple. Well, it wasn't "one of our first", it really WAS the first.

You know what - fuck it. Our neighbors just better move in the next 50 years that it takes us to get pregnant. We're bustin' out Jackson...sans the stripper X.

Varicose Seal

2008-04-29T14:09:00.000-07:00

...is the diagnosis that J received from the doctor today. Five years of infertility and nobody ever referred us to a urologist. How frickin' annoying.

The doctor examined him said he has a "varicose seal". Which - in my 30 seconds of googling appears to be a varicose vein that is cutting off his dudes, and can back things up enough to raise the temperate in the Dude Cave enough to damage ongoing dudes. Something like that...I need to do some more research on it. But apparently surgery would open it back up.

The doc says he wants J to have another sperm analysis done. The first analysis was VERY low (like 2,000 working dudes). The second analysis showed about 2 million dudes, but only about 200k working. So there was quite a descrepancy between the two tests. If this next test comes back and it's on the 2k level, there's no point in doing the surgery. But if it's more on par with his second test, then it might be worth it.

Assuming he qualifies after this test, there's about a 1 in 5 chance that it will make a significant difference in his count. Doctor said that even if it does raise it, it's doubtful that we'll be able to conceive naturally (zero times a million still equals zero). BUT...he said it was likely that if it works - it could put us in the IUI range. So basically it would open up more treatment options. He also said that our fertility clinic did us a great injustice by not referring J to a urologist to start with. I think that was 3 (4?) clinics ago...I've lost count...I'm not even sure who I should be pissed at.

So now we just need to figure out if insurance will cover it. J seems to be really excited about this. Which surprises me, because I was thinking, if it's not going to make a big difference, what's the point? But J's thinking seems to be: if it could put us in IUI range, let's do it. Rock on, right?

We're still set for this next IVF cycle - it will start around June 1st. We're already paid for the next 2 cycles, so we're going to go ahead with it.

J's going to go ahead with his semen analysis. But we may push the surgery back just to see if the next 2 ncivf cycles will work. Or if they can get him in for surgery quickly (after this next ivf cycle), then he may go ahead with it. Not sure...still up in the air. But it's kind of nice to know that ncivf #5 isn't a last option anymore...oh my GOD we could be talking about IUI's...that sounds like a day at the spa.

The "it will all work out" guy...

2008-04-20T18:11:00.001-07:00

I've been drinking too much recently (including at this very moment - a Sunday night when I should definitely be thinking about going to be early -without waking up fuzzy-headed tomorrow). I learned tonight (thanks, and UNthanks to the alcohol) that my husband doesn't think about "what if this doesn't work."

I don't know why I find this disturbing enough to dedicate a post to. I guess because I think about it. A lot. Probably more than I think about "how wonderful it would be if it DID work."

Maybe that's why we work together - he thinks positively, I cover all the "what if" scenarios. I guess it's always been that way. I am without a doubt the worrier, he is the ever optimistic (if very annoying) "it will all work out" guy.

It's probably the alcohol in the first place that allows us to even fathom the conversation of "what if"...but it also seems to be the conversation that starts the ever infamous argument: "why do you think of that" / "why don't you think of that" - outcome.

Here's some background (strictly MY perspective of course): I recently got turned on to Link TV. In a nutshell, it's a news channel (that also does documentaries, cultural music shows) with perspectives from inside foreign countries - Cuba, Germany, Middle East...etc.. I have no idea how I've been missing out on this station from my Direct TV lineup all this time, but I have.

I flipped it on the other day and ooooh'ed and aaaah'ed over a 30 minute news clip about Barack Obama's family in Kenya. A tiny portion of the piece centered around a school in Kenya that they dedicated to him. It's called (of course): The Senator Barack Obama Primary School. There was a kid in the school who looked to be around 16 or so that spoke perfect English and said he dreamed of having the opportunity of coming to the U.S. and studying to be a doctor so he could support his family back home.

Like flipping a switch I had a bit of an epiphany. Well, maybe not an epiphany, but maybe a moment that made me stop and think: "Jesus, K, there are a zillion things in this world that are worse than not having a child."

Excuse my pure liberal dribble, but when I was 16, I certainly was not dreaming about becoming a doctor - much less planning out my career in order to support my family. Hell, I was barely thinking about college. In my mind, college wasn't even something that - other than picking a school - I needed to worry about. It wasn't that my parents were rich (quite the opposite), but it was always assumed that "they would find a way." Not that I intentionally took that fact for granted, but the idea of college was always kind of assumed when I grew up....I would pick a college...I would go. My only real decision to make was "what would I major in" / "what would my profession be." To be honest, in my mind, cost was kind of a secondary factor.

And (to clear the air), I'm not a total idiot. Yes, I know there are millions and millions of people in the world that simply did not grow up with the idea of college - that an education like that was financially out of the question. It seems stupid that somebody 30 years old (me!) would finally and suddenly be affected by the fact (per one 30 minute news clip) that these people are really out there. So it's not the realization that they actually exist. It just suddenly struck me that here's a 16 year old kid who TRULY knows the importance (as in life or death) of success...of ambition, of drive. And all he needs is someone to put forth the faith in him - take a chance on him to make this happen...for him to become a doctor so he can support his family.

Drum Roll, please......

Then I started thinking about all the money (all the fucking money) we have blown (and I mean seriously thrown the fuck away) in order to have a child. I thought about how important it is to us. And why it's important to us. And it is selfish? And it is a waste? And could it be spent in ways that could REALLY make a difference in the world? And what is it that drives us to keep spending this money? Could I live my life (without regret) without having kids? Could my husband live his life (without regret) without having kids? And what if this entire infertility journey has just to been to take us to a place where we find ourselves ok with not having kids? What if my inability to withstand repeated IVF attempts was just to break me down and force me to explore other options that I never would've considered without the pain of the last few years?

I'm not a religious person at all. If I'm being honest, I'm 90 percent athesist, with a 10 percent chance of "what if". In conversation I define myself as "agnostic"...a very generic way of saying "hell if I know what's out there - but I'm not against the idea of there not being anything out there." The closest I get to going to church is doing yoga, or practicing a quick meditation on Saturday morning.

But there is a very big part of me that thinks things happen for a reason. I don't mean that it makes sense - or it's fair - that we can't have kids. I do, however, spend a lot of time recently thinking maybe this really is more about the journey than the outcome. Maybe us having kids doesn't even matter. For my own personal journey - it's figuring out if I can live my live without kids without turning into a bitter person (my mother) who chases away all her fertile friends, or sits around feeling sorry for herself. Maybe it's just finding out if my husband and I can survive repeated failures (which at this point I don't think we can, I know we can). Maybe it's something bigger like - turning me into a person who can overcome her fear of adoption and raise someone else's child who could turn around and save the world. Maybe it's smaller - we get sick of a quiet house, so we rescue shelter animals. Maybe all of it is completely random and irrelevant - maybe we really DO live out our lives sleeping in on Saturdays with our coffees and newspapers, no sound of little giggles in front of Saturday morning cartoons. Or maybe this mess is all some great Karmic test to see if we can create good out of something horribly bad....

Hence, this entirely long druken post....

The kid from the Obama news clip.

My thought (that I'm seeing way into the future and my husband hasn't even begun to consider yet): instead of throwing our money away...if we DO get to the point where we've decided that "enough is enough" and we've given up on IVF...I want to do something good. I want to start a charity...or I want to ship some kid over from god-knows-where, let them live in our house while they get their PhD, go on to support their families back in the homelands...or I want to spend all this IVF money on food for local food pantries...or I want to who knows what....

All I know is we've made shit-loads of sacrifices for children we are starting to not even be able to imagine having. It would seem crazy to "move on" from IVF and not do something amazing with that money that we're already used to not having. Somehow honor the children that we won't have - honor the little bits of life that we created...change lives that already exist....

It's just that I know if the next 2 cycles don't work and if I don't find myself something extremely proactive to do for my fellow man (or 4-legged friend), this may consume me. I don't want it to consume me. If this doesn't work, I will need something important and meaningful to keep my head above water. I know that in a handful of months, if cycle 4 doesn't work, and cycle 5 doesn't work...we're left empty-handed. With no new options. That's why I need to plan ahead. Because the idea of Cycle Six sounds asinine. It seems selfish. It seems stupid. If it hasn't worked by number 5, how can it ever? And if we're going on that idea, we're more than halfway done with this journey. We're running out of next cycles.

It's time to start reaching within and seeing what else it is that we pull out besides foolish hopefullness, biological desperation and irrational optimism. I've been more than lost in this for more than a few years, and it's past time I started thinking of more than the life I always thought I'd have and came to grips with the life I actually have. And the biggest part of that is realizing that the life I actually have can be the life I always thought it would.

The day after yesterday

2008-04-15T06:38:00.001-07:00

I'm not gonna lie - I threw myself a pretty hefty pity party on the drive home yesterday. J and I were in separate cars (which sucked), but I had a good 4 hours to cry it all out, talk out loud to myself (yes, I do that a lot), and generally gut myself of the gunk. No doubt everyone who passed me on the interstate hit the accelerater a little harder for fear I'd run them off the road.

It was a good detoxing drive. I saw a documentary once on post traumic stress syndrome comparing modern day soldiers and soldiers from WWI. How soldiers from WWI assimilated back into everyday life much easier than they do today. The reason: WWI military were sent back to the U.S. on huge cargo ships carrying hundreds or thousands of other troops who had just experienced the same traumatic experiences. They sometimes had weeks on these ships before reaching home - sitting around talking it all out, bonding over awful events. By the time they made it home, they had basically spent weeks in 24-hour-a-day therapy.

That was my drive home - I got it all out. Then I got home and I got the wine out.

This morning I woke up feeling a lot better. My ass is still sore from the damn Novarel injection, but I was rested and my mind was at ease. This was a lot easier than going through a month of injections, or waiting 2 weeks for a pregnancy test wondering if the embryos lived or died.

Not that I'm 100% smiles and sunshine right now - the fear of "will this ever work" buzzes louder and louder in the back of our heads each time a cycle goes south. I spent some time yesterday flirting with the Unfairness Factor: the most obvious - my 23 year old sister-in-law pregnant with her 2nd with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth - seriously...don't get me started. Or debating The Big Karmic Screw: "What the hell did WE do so wrong...?". Or the general questions of the century: "Holy-shit-can-a-sistah-catch-a-break?" and "Will-we-ever-have-money-again?".

For the most part I'm feeling pretty even-keel. The worse sacrifice I really made was a total lack of sleep and daily pokes for blood work. Sucks that I have to do it again, but I'll live. Our energy for generating Hope-On-Demand is a bit beaten, but we always seem to pull that off at the last minute.

So...goodbye Cycle #3. Maybe it's FOUR time's a charm.

10%

2008-04-14T08:45:00.001-07:00

So you know that 90% egg retrival rate the clinic has? Yeah - we're in the 10%. I ovulated before my retrival this morning.
We're packing up to go home.
We'll try again in June.

A Series of Ridiculous Events

2008-04-13T18:15:00.000-07:00

Well, my trigger was last night. It didn't exactly go smoothly. So here's a story for you:

As I have mention - holy hell I am exhausted. I'm getting by on hours a night, I'm in early morning doc appointments, I'm working, I'm sitting in traffic, I'm visiting friends/fam. I am tired. I am dragging. And I am not drinking caffeine (well, since last week anyway).

So, last night all my aunts, uncles, cousins came over to my grandparent's house (where I'm staying) and we had a cookout. Normally I would be right in the mix of things - hanging out and catching up. Instead - I snuck off for a nap. And when I woke up I felt so tired I thought I'd be sick. But - I powered through...chugged down some lime water and a veggie burger and even managed to open my eyes for about an hour.

Everybody left around 8:30 and J and I headed up to bed around 10. We had considered staying away until my trigger at 12:45, but instead thought it would be smarter to get a few hours sleep, then wake up for my injection. We set the alarm for 12:30 and hit the hay. Then I got paranoid about the alarm not going off. So in addition to the clock, I set the alarm on my cell phone and had J set the alarm on his phone.

Three alarms are set for 12:30. I have no idea what happened, but my phone and my alarm did not go off. J's phone went off - but at 1:15am. How in the world that happened, neither of us can figure. All I remember is being dead asleep and hearing J yell "Holy shit! Get up! Get up! We're late for your shot!"

So we jump up - turn on the light. I'm shaking because I'm so upset. I'm almost in tears. J's half hysterical and yelling at me to mix the Novarel. I practically broke off the needle in the bottle trying to get it ready. I was a mess.

I get the injection ready and ask J how he wants to do this - me standing up, or me laying on my stomach. Of course I'm laying on my stomach when I ask him this and I've got the target-zone in plain view - ass out ready to go. I turn towards him to ask if this position is ok - I'm half asleep and my arm swings out and I clock him in the face. Hard. I mean Chuck Norris karate chop to the temple hard. J jumps up (still weilding the needle) grabbing his head - never before heard cuss words spewing from his mouth. Really, he's quite creative. He's also now mad as a bee.

I've just clocked my husband in the head and he has yet to give me this injection. Not my best move.

As I mentioned - I've got the shocked-out-of-a-deep-sleep-shakes, and a mad husband with an intramuscular needle coming my way. Ow. And between the two of our twitchy selves, he must've hit a blood veseel or something...I now have blood running down me. It swelled almost instantly and within 5 minutes I had a bruise.

But the shot is done. It's now 35 minutes late, but it's done.

Now it's my job to go back to sleep. But all I can think about is - at our last clinic - if you were more than 5 minutes late with the HcG, they would push back your harvesting. There was no give. So I'm now a mess thinking that despite the shot...this cycle's going to be canceled because of our technical difficulties. I think I fell asleep around 4am. And of course we were up at 6 and out the door for this morning's appointment.

Today's ultrasound: Follicle is at 21mm. I'm told around 23-24mm is when you ovulate. So it looks like I'm perfectly on schedule. I've had a dull ache in my abdomen all day. My fingers are triple crossed that I don't ovulate before my harvesting tomorrow. Right now it's my only fear.

I feel so, so good about this cycle though. I really feel like this will work. I just have to get through tomorrow. Once that egg's in the lab, I'm going to be feeling really confident (I hope not foolishly).

Last night during the cookout, my uncle told me he had a dream a few nights ago. I was pregnant. And I was smoking. He quit tobacco last week, so hopefully that's where the smoking came from (HA! Me? Smoking? And while pregnant? Right....). So I'm just going to focus on the fact that he dreamed I was pregnant. And the only reason I'm getting the slightest bit excited about that (and don't judge my craziness), is that he's know for this weird link with...I don't know...something. He's had dreams that came true (told people beforehand), he has the incredibly uncanny ability to attract wild animals. Literally - squirrels come up to him and allow him to pet them, a deer even adopted him one summer. It's bizarre. So...I'm going with my uncle's premonition. I'm getting pregnant. Um...however, I won't be smoking.

Alright - early day tomorrow. Harvesting is at 10:45...but I have to be there early to down some valium and antibiotics...oh and to beat a fabulous Monday morning DC traffic mess.

Wish me luck

Survey Says!

2008-04-12T17:04:00.000-07:00

HARVESTING IS MONDAY! 10:45am. Which means I am triggering tonight at 12:45am. Oy. These people do not care that I haven't slept in weeks.

After my appointment, I spent the afternoon visiting my grandmother. She's almost 91 with Alzheimer's. God what a shitty, shitty disease. She also suffers from osteoporosis. She fell out of bed about a week and a half ago and broke her leg. This is the second time in about 6 months. Poor thing is a mess. She's on bedrest for 6 weeks. I just felt awful for her. She was in a pretty good mood and had a good deal of sense about her (it's very in and out), but she was very antsy. Who wouldn't be? One day of bedrest and I'm out of my mind and my back kills me. She's 11 days into bedrest and still in a good mood. I would most definitely be throwing things at people.

It was a good visit overall, I'm not entirely sure she knew exactly who I was (my name/relation), but she definitely remembered she was comfortable with me. There was about a 5 minute span where she even asked about J - so at least then she definitely knew me for a few.

Ugh...Alzheimer's sucks. I have always been very close to both my grandmothers. On the bright side though, she has led this truly amazing life. And 91 years - I hope I've inherited the longevity.

The best part of waking up

2008-04-12T10:21:00.000-07:00

J and I went to the doc appointment together this morning. Blood work and ultrasounds. Man, I am sick of blood work.

Follicle is up to 19mm. The doc says 90% chance that my harvesting will be Monday...but they want to wait on my labs to be sure. They'll call this afternoon and let me know for sure.

Surprise

2008-04-11T20:54:00.000-07:00

Lab results came back in and it looks like the harvesting is going to be Monday. I didn't fight it - my hormone levels were still on the low side. So all my faith is riding on this dude...and I'm feeling pretty good about it.

I took a half day from work - left the office around 11:30. Got out of DC on a beautiful day - a quick drive past the cherry trees, which still blooms on them. Although when I drove past (which the help of a little breeze), it looked like snow. Makes me miss DC in the Spring. Windows open, people flying kites on the mall, tourists with their noses in maps, horse and carriage rides. Ahhhh....

Got to my grandparent's house around 1 - had a little lunch. And Jeffrey - who said he'd be here around 4 - turned out to be a big fat liar and showed up at 2pm. Good surprise...made me cry. So incredibly glad to see him. It's been unbelievably weird doing all this without him. I'm so glad he'll get to go to my appointment with my in the morning - time to get this boy involved...no doubt it feels VERY unreal to him!

I Walk The Line

2008-04-11T05:22:00.000-07:00

The little follie (who has already been nicknamed "Lefty") is up to 17.5mm. It's supposed to be between 18 and 20 to be considered mature enough to trigger. So I'm on the line. I'm in the gray area. Do we trigger tonight, harvest Sunday? Or do we wait one day longer - let it mature, but risk ovulation and harvest Monday?

The docs are still mulling it over. They'll make their decision based on my blood work results that should be in by this afternoon.

I have a feeling that if we wait until Monday - it'll be gone. They'll miss it. I'm hoping when they call, they'll tell me Sunday. But if they don't...I'm going to push for Sunday anyway. What do I have to lose?

In other news: I am feeling fabulous. I will never, ever, ever hop back on those stim drugs. In comparison with how I'm feeling right now (totally normal) it really scares me at how screwed up that stuff made me. Terrifies me, actually. My god, I was a nutjob for a good solid 8 months strictly from hormones. Then I was an emotional trainwreck for loads of months afterwards just from the trauma of the whole ordeal. Never again. I'll be singing praises for Natural Cycle from the highest mountaintop even if it doesn't work.

Hell, I think I'm a little in love with my doctor for even offering it.

The Quick Egg

2008-04-09T06:37:00.000-07:00

I'm having one of those days where I'm totally in awe of the human body.

I went in for my bloodwork / ultrasound this morning, and that little egg is just growing away. Already I'm at 15mm (mature is between 18 and 20). So the good news is the doc seems to think this cycle is going to go by relatively quickly - less needle pokes, I get to sleep in my own bed sooner. The bad news is the doc seems to think this cycle is going to go by relatively quickly - the faster my body works, the trickier the timing gets.

But all that aside - the egg is growing. I find this the slighest bit amazing. Why you ask? Well because I'm getting by on about 3 hours of sleep a night, I'm so busy between clinic visits, hours of traffic for each one-way leg of my trip and work that I'm actually forgetting to eat. I've been constantly on the go - I'm up at the latest by 4am everyday. I'm wiped. I'm drinking WAY more coffee than I should be (actually, I shouldn't be drinking any). I AM eating healthy (you know - when I remember).

And still - I'm growing an egg. And quickly.
Must be one tough little guy...hopefully it'll stay that way.

Dear Such and Such

2008-04-07T06:32:00.000-07:00

You know those excuse notes you would have your parents/doctors write when you were in school?

Dear Such and Such,
My daughter has a sprained ankle, she should not participate in gym this week.
Sincerely,
Mom - or Dr. Whoever

I need one of those notes, man!

Dear Such and Such -
Please excuse K for her social inept-ness for the next two weeks. For her inability to concentrate, respond to simple questions and her miniature mental breakdowns when faced with decisions like: "Paper or plastic?", or "Would you like fries with that?", or "What would you like to drink with dinner?".
She has IVF-head this week. Expect side effects of: extreme anxiety, crying at the drop of a hat, insomnia, exhaustion, and irritation at everything.
Sincerely,
Dr. Charges Too Much

Day 1

2008-04-01T07:23:00.000-07:00

Mother Nature has kicked in, and this cycle is officially underway. I called my IVF coordinator this morning, she's supposed to call back and get my order form in to the pharmacy for all my drugs today.

J and I are heading up to DC on Saturday for a wedding - he'll be coming back home on Sunday and I'll be staying there for treatments.

I feel like hell, but man I'm excited! :)

Trypanophobia

2008-03-31T13:49:00.000-07:00

So I'm NOT crazy...or I AM crazy...

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/PainManagement/story?id=4072974

Hooray for weekends...

2008-03-28T08:52:00.001-07:00

Oh sweet jesus I have a brain smashing headache today. I've also lost all ability to concentrate. AF is on her way...and then this cycle starts. YAY! ACK! This morning I found the cereal in the refrigerator. Yesterday I found the mayonnaise in the pantry. I rather hope AF gets here soon...I've got some major PMS ditsy-ness happening.

The latest update (well, it's not that recent, but I can't remember if I blogged it): They are not making me redo the pre-NCIVF tests (saving us $800). In fact, they are allowing me to skip the first "baseline" bloodwork and ultrasounds since I live so far away (saving us $800...in gas).

I talked to my coordinator earlier in the week and for now, all I need to do is just call them on Day 1. They'll go ahead and order all my drugs on that day. Then I just show up on Day 7 for my first bloodwork/ultrasound. She said they will normally monitor you until around Day 12 or 13 - then it's Novarel time...then the harvesting. I may not be living out of a suitcase for as long as I had thought. That's always a good thing.

This weekend will be my last weekend at home for however long it takes. J and I will leave on the 5th for DC for a wedding and then I'll just stay up there for the cycle. I'm trying to wrap my brain around getting myself ready for this trip...but I have a feeling I'll just be throwing clothes into the back of the car an hour before we take off.

Oh - I also spoke to the doc about my concerns of Estrace. It's linked to breast cancer and other breast issues. And with my recent surgery, it just seems stupid to expose myself to anything that could exacerbate it. However, he said I would be on a very minimum dosage (2mg), it's strictly for "lining maintenance" (which kind of cracked me up), and (assuming this works) once they determine that your body is making enough estrogen to support your lining, they take you off of it. I'm told for most women that's about a month or so. The progesterone I will stay on for 3 months.

The progesterone they're prescribing comes in the form of tablets - not that messy disgusting cream. So not only do I not have to worry about the ick factor, but I don't have to worry about those crazy prometrium pills that made me feel drunk.

Actually, I might miss that part a little...

The Perks of Being an Infertile (Part II)

2008-03-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

Hold on to your asses, it’s about to get positive in here.
(Yes, you are reading the same blog.)

The other day I came across a MSN column on infertility and how damaging it can be to a marriage. Right off the bat it struck me as odd. The headline reads: “We Can’t Get Pregnant and It’s Driving Us Apart.”

http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/couplesandmarriage/articlelhj.aspx?cp-documentid=6506501&page=1

It then struck me as odd that I thought of the article as odd. An article. On infertility. Causing stress in a marriage? Noooooooo. That's madness, isn't it?

But it seems that a lot of people don’t talk about this end of infertility. What a horrible person you would be if you were constantly arguing with your husband while trying to bring a new life in the world! Oh the horrors!

If you’re a lurker out there, you must admit - out of all blogs you’ve read discussing infertility, this one here, baby – THIS one will take you deep into the depths of my dirty laundry, no doubt to the chagrin of my husband. I have no problem letting out all my pent up anger at him, at family, at friends, at random strangers, at the circumstances that makes this blog even exist. This is my place to vent. This blog, in all its awful, detailed painful glory. I shudder to think how much more insane I’d be if I didn’t have this outlet.

In joining the blogging ranks, I have discovered there are some truly amazing women out there going through the same things, losing their minds over this roller coaster. Falling off, getting back on – some incredibly strong women who have pulled themselves through much worse than my pitiful little story and doing it all with a smile and grace. Some truly moving and inspirational stories are floating around out there and I’m so thankful people have chosen to share them.

On the other end of the spectrum, I don’t think I’ve ever read anybody’s postings about how much their husbands test their nerves when they’re on day 7 of stimulating meds. Or how – on day 12 of insomnia from Lupron – they were tempted to beat the hell out of their husband snoozing soundly beside them at 4am. Or when, during the second round of IVF their husband accidentally poked himself with the needle (not even drawing blood) and threw a tantrum for 20 minutes about how much it hurt, when you’ve already endured three weeks of injections (yes, that actually happened).

Could it be part of the Infertility Secret Society? Maybe infertility has more of a stigma than I give it credit for. Maybe people are too embarrassed to talk about this stuff. It's bad enought to be deemed infertile, but my GOD, what if people knew how hard it was on your marriage? Maybe they’re afraid people will judge them. Maybe they’re just scare of all the Skeet Ulrich fans of the world. Who knows. Clearly I am not one of them. I look Skeet in the face and I say “whatever man.” Given a glass or two of wine I have been known to tell my Tale of Two Stirrups to random strangers - internal exams, marital issues and all. No doubt my name and the abbreviation “TMI” has been used in the same sentence more times than I’ve been on the receiving end of a needle (that’s a lot by the way).

The Little Black Fairies will no doubt be knocking on my door at any moment for leaking this information to the public. Or maybe not, because I’m about to make a pretty bold LBF statement:

It may shock the hell out of you to learn that despite all my bitching there isn't a thing on this infertility journey that I would change (well, except for the not having a kid part). The entire experience has dramatically changed us individually and as a couple. Sometimes in the heat of the moment, it's not in a good way. But overall I am thankful of how much this has forced us to grow as people and as a couple. I'm madly in love with my husband, even though he still doesn’t quite grasp why I don’t attend baby showers.

Let’s face it - infertility blows, plain and simple. It flips your world upside down. It makes you doubt yourself, your body, your marriage, your friendships, your own mind sometimes.

BUT, if I’m being honest (not my usual pissed off self) I think there are upsides to experiencing infertility. For instance (and don’t interpret this the wrong way), but I imagine that women having gone through painful and scary procedures to get pregnant are probably more thankful (and maybe that’s not the right word – maybe grateful? appreciative?) when they do get pregnant and have kids. In fact, wasn’t there just something in the news recently about women who went through ART have happier pregnancies?

Don’t get your panties in a bunch – I’m not saying the fertiles love their kids less. I just think for most things in the life – the harder you have to work for it, the more it means to you, the happier you are to finally have it. It’s my (untested) theory anyway.

But it’s more than that. There is a part of me that thinks that once we get pregnant (oh my god, did you see how I used positive affirmation there?) we’re going to look at all the “fertiles” of the world and think:

“Ha! So what! You had a kid. Look at us, we worked our asses off for 5 years, and we became three (oh god, don’t let it be twins or triplets). WE went through ‘this is your marriage at its worst boot camp’ and we came out the other side. And THEN we had a kid. We kept at it even on a bad day when we knew in our own hearts it was never going to work. We dusted each other off, we got back in the stirrups and we did it again. We cried, we screamed, we fought, we drank entirely too much, we cut ourselves off from real life, we laughed over ridiculously insensitive comments that people we love made, we turned this entire mess into an inside joke that only we got, we loved, we healed, we broke again and we healed again. And you…you, you poor fertile…you had a night of passion and then you had a kid. How can you possibly be prepared?”

Maybe it’s just me, but I’d be terrified if I were them.

The Secret Society of The Little Black Fairies (Part I)

2008-03-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

My cousin (who has also battled infertility) and I have had conversations about what we’ve deemed “The Little Black Fairies”. The Little Black Fairies are the imaginary things that come in and scrub people’s memories of the bad parts of an experience. For instance it allows a woman in the days following birth (the single most physical traumatic experience of her life) to say things like: “It really wasn’t that bad” or “I can’t wait to have another baby”.

It’s a good thing we have the Little Black Fairy phenomenon, or let’s face it, humankind probably wouldn’t have thrived as well. Women would hate their children because just looking into their faces would bring back a vivid reminder of being ripped open to the eyeballs. No woman in her right mind would ever have sex after that first child, would they?

As a result of The Little Black Fairies, there is now a “secret society” of life experiences. Things that happen that, unless it has happened to you, nobody seems to even know it even exists. For instance, my cousin I just mentioned gave birth a few weeks ago. After a 24 hour marathon of natural childbirth, the baby was stuck and she ended up having an emergency c-section. 24 hours later, her entire digestive system shut down in a condition called “Ileus”.

Now I consider myself at least on the upper-scale of knowledge when it comes to baby making, baby birthing and hard core scientific IVF god-playing. Of course having not experienced childbirth myself, my knowledge is strictly from an internet geek point of view. Five years on the infertility scene – paired with the fact that I work in research, has left me more time on my hands than you can imagine to read up on every ounce of information I can get hold of.

So I was a little taken aback when I got word of her hospital stay and discovered this new word I had never read on any baby-related website before: Ileus. I had to look it up. For those of you (like me) that don’t know, it’s a temporary paralysis of a portion of the intestines – somewhat common after abdominal surgery.

An apparently scary, very painful experience. Instead of bonding with her baby after surgery, she was drugged, had a tube shoved down her nose into her stomach to pump out acids, was given liquids/food by IV for 3-4 days…and well, a plethora of other horrible things that I’m sure I don’t even know about yet, and the Little Black Fairies have probably already stolen from her memory.

Now let me go back to the definition of Ileus. That’s right, you read the word “common” in there. “Somewhat common after abdominal surgery.” Do you see how the Little Black Fairies managed to scrub that word away?

Sometimes I imagine there is a midnight ceremony that takes place right after a woman gives birth. The LBF’s, or maybe a group of disgruntled government workers who are afraid of losing their jobs at the Census Bureau, bust into the woman’s hospital room, make her swear on her life that she will not divulge the scary and painful parts of the birth experience and then steal away into the night.

Maybe Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones are there with that little flashy-memory-eraser thing. Who knows – the point is - by the time you get to the maternity ward to visit your friend and her new baby, the only thing she will/can talk about is how beautiful this new little bundle is. And now you’ve got Baby Fever…and the cycle repeats itself for the history of mankind.

I even think that there are Secret Society of Motherhood meetings that happen at 1am every full moon in the middle of rural cornfields. These women get together, initiate new mothers and discuss the awful bits. They then scheme against new yet-un-pregnant recruits. These are the people that ask “So, when are you and so-and-so going to start a family?” They say things like “You would just make a wonderful mother,” and then they thrust their adorable child into your hands while they conveniently make a “quick” trip to the restroom. Leaving you standing there while their darling child makes sweet little cooing noises and your ovaries crank it up to super-fertile.

The motherhood secret society fascinates me. I so want to be part of it. But I digress (a lot – my apologies). My point here is (believe it not!) there is also a Secret Society of the Infertile. Actually, it’s SO Secret that even amongst the infertile no one speaks of it….

Which leads me to my next post: The Perks of Being an Infertile….

Monday Morning Silver Lining (completely UNfertility related):

2008-03-24T07:07:00.000-07:00

The alarm went off...
I wiped the sleep from my eyes....
grabbed a cup of joe....
turned on the computer...
opened my browser to log into my email...

wha...

...wait...

What is this I spy?

A headline on CNN.com: "Nuts! 'Jericho' has been canceled"

I could hardly contain my happiness as I forwarded my husband the link. No more Tuesday nights listening to Skeet Ulrich's voice (from the other room) while my husband caught up on the latest man-soap-opera.

J and I have been reduced to yelling matches over how bad the acting is (WAS - ha!) on that show. "But it's such a great storyline" "Yes, but how can you pay attention to the storyline when you're wondering if Skeet's going to remember to breathe during his next line" "But I just have to know what happens at the end." "I know what happens - at the end of the next sentence Skeet's going to pass out. Oh - and I think there was something about a nuclear bomb."

Beat it, Skeet...

Sucess Rates

2008-03-20T06:30:00.000-07:00

The doctor called J this morning to actually talk him out of purchasing the 3 cycles at one time. At first I was a bit skeptical. The doctor - calling to talk somebody out of saving money. Is this for real?

But in the long haul, if we do the discount and we get pregnant in cycle 1 or 2, we would lose $1k. If we pay per cycle and we do all 3 cycles without getting pregnant, THEN we lose $1k. Probably confusing to anybody who hasn't talked to their billing department, so I apologize. But (after J explained it to me three times), it actually makes sense.

The reason the doctor called? Their NC-IVF program is only about a year old (maybe a year and a half). People are apparently taking to it and signing up left and right before they try conventional IVF. Patient friendly, less expensive, no recovery...who wouldn't?

The clinic was offering this discounted program because at first they were having a hard time retrieving eggs. During NCIVF you're not on drugs that manipulate stimulation / ovulation. Well they are apparently nailing down some pretty impressive procedures for egg harvesting:

They now have a 90% success rates in harvesting. Hence the doctor's call: Don't blow your money, we've got this shit down.

Damn right bitches...bring it on........

Er...wait

2008-03-19T09:57:00.001-07:00

Clinic called again - turns out we HAVE exhausted our insurance coverage (proving once again you really do have to be a brain surgeon to figure this stuff out). So we're back to self-pay patients. Which, in some weird way, is almost a relief. Yes...it's more money, but it also means that we write one check and we're done with dealing with ALL things financial for 3 cycles. No more being at the whim of a confused billing department.

Holy cow...I'm getting excited. REALLY excited...(what a strange feeling this is!!!).

Woohoo! :)

Wow! What a morning!

2008-03-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

First we get NCIVF all scheduled and situated for April...and (finally) the specialist called J back.

They reviewed all his tests and although they're not 100% sure that they can change anything, they do want to do some deeper testing. Unfortunately his appointment isn't until the end of April - and by that time the first cycle of NCIVF will be over, but at least they're willing to see him.

So if this cycle doesn't work, we can proceed with the specialist. If the cycle DOES work - we'll still go ahead with it anyway - who knows...maybe we won't need IVF the next time (stranger things have happened, right?).

Wonders Never Cease...

2008-03-19T06:50:00.000-07:00

Well first of all, after J raised hell yesterday, not only did we get an after-hours phone call back from the clinic last night, but they were hammering out details early this morning with our insurance company.

As it turns out, my health insurance plan changed in 2008 and we actually HAVE coverage. It's a $4k lifetime (it used to be a $2k lifetime, so I'm not sure if that $2k counts towards this, or if the coverage is brand-new and we just start over). But it's 70% coverage up to $4k ($600 deductible).

I think you need to be a brain surgeon to figure it all out, but bottom line: it sounds like we can do this round of IVF and still afford to eat. So that's good (one less thing, right?).

We will also NOT have to pay another $800 to update our tests. J basically told them there's no way they could ask us to do another mock transfer since it was their fault it was taking so long to get this cycle going. Well, that wasn't entirely true...but it's saving us 800 bucks. So hey...I'm in.

My husband, my hero - I love it when he gets all fired up. :)

Clash of the Titans

2008-03-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of “nothing is ever simple”, we have a new and exciting problem on our hands:

The Clinic’s Lawyers vs. The Worthless Health Insurance Company

It’s proving to be worthy of Michael Moore. Here’s the quick (ha!) rehash:

Our new clinic is (apparently) required to file all treatments through my insurance. Keep in mind I have zero fertility coverage left. The clinic has a program where you spend so much money and you get 3 cycles - if you get preg on cycle 1 or 2, you get some of your money back. So because they have to file through my insurance (who will cough up nothing), we no longer qualify for this discount program.

To make things worse - they (and all doctors) bill your insurance company more than they would if you were paying outright. So they're going to bill my insurance more, the insurance company is going to laugh at them and forward us the bill. So not only do we not qualify for the 3-cycle discount...we will be paying more because we have insurance.

But wait, there’s more: Our consultation with them was in January - since we live 4 hours away, they went ahead and ran some tests on me while I was there (save me a trip back later). Turns out those tests are not included in a cycle of IVF (I assumed they were – I admit, this was entirely my fault). And as I said - United is useless. So before we even start IVF, we owe the clinic $800.

The icing? The tests I had done were only good for 2 months. They expire TODAY. Which means (in theory) I am supposed to have them updated and will have to pay $800 AGAIN. I'm going to beg the doctor to let me out of it.

I found out about this insurance fiasco last week when I called the billing department with the intention of paying for my 3 cycles (this is also when I found out about the 800 bucks I owe). Now to be fair, the woman I spoke with was very nice and promised that she was going to talk to their lawyers about ignoring my insurance, she was going to confirm that I have no more insurance coverage, and she was going to call me last Thursday. She hasn’t called. I have called several times for her and J has left at least 3 messages which have yet to be returned.

We have a fertility coordinator who is supposed to handle all the logistics, so J just called back and asked specifically for her (got voicemail – left a message bitching about how we can’t get this billing crap handled). If she doesn’t call back today, my head will most likely explode. I mean come on – we have 2 weeks before treatments start – we need a LITTLE time to pull the money together for all this. It ain’t exactly pocket change.

In other news: J has told me he’s going to take on handling all this…my job is to show up for appointments and to not pass out when they take blood. Put that way, I’ve never been so relieved to be on the receiving end of the needle.

And just as an update: After 2 weeks of leaving messages with the male infertility specialist, we still can't get anybody to call us back there either. What is it with everybody?

Take THAT Infertility!

2008-03-06T08:52:00.000-08:00

Just found out my lovely cousin who squashed infertility to the ground gave birth last night to her first child at 11:48pm.

11 pounds, 4 ounces.

Holy shit, he's practically a teenager already.

Microsurgery? My latest, desperate search for a way out of this mess

2008-03-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

My cousin recently sent me an email with a link in it about male infertility.

Having dealt with infertility for almost 5 years now I have a tendency to ignore most links people send me - let's face it, if it's out there then be assured that there is a 99.9999% chance that I have already read it. I can list at least 10 things that my own doctor doesn't know about male infertility. Most of it might be theory...but when you're grasping for straws, even theory starts to sound good enough.

Thanks to a boring afternoon at work, I went ahead and clicked the link she sent me. Lo and behold, buried in an article that was telling me absolutely nothing new, I pulled out a golden nugget. The word "Microsurgery" used in the same sentence as the phrase "has shown good results in reversing male infertility."

Whoa.

I re-read it at least 5 times. Then I started searching for more articles on microsurgery. Before I knew it, I had blown about 3 hours learning something new (NEW!) in the infertility realm.

In all the years of testing that we have been put through, nobody has ever recommended that J see a urologist or any type of specialist. They have all pointed us in the direction of IVF - case closed.

Now, microsurgery is new. In fact, other than telling you that it's a surgical procedure that opens blocked/clogged ducts, I really don't understand it myself (even after hours of reading). I'm not sure which patients qualify - if WE qualify. I stand before you an ignorant, desperate woman grasping for more theories.

But I do know that with J's Vegas trip next week and this month's IVF on hold, we have all of March where we're not doing jack but sitting around on our asses, so we might as well be doing something.

I found a urologist at UVA that specializes in male infertility/microsurgery. I skipped right over our doctors heads and had J call them. First they have to figure out if this is something that is even correctable by surgery. Last week J faxed all his texts to them for their review. We're (of course) antsy as hell, so J called yesterday just to check on the status - we're told someone will call by tomorrow.

I know I am stupid to put any hope into this. In fact, it's without a doubt detrimental to my mental well-being that I even think of this as an option. I'd like to say I'm not...but last night I had a dream that we were ttc the fun way.

God, it was a goooooooooooooood dream...........

Hold The Phone

2008-02-25T08:26:00.000-08:00

After a few days to calm down - and a good long talk with the hubby who reminded me that while he tells me on occassion that I am superwoman, I do not actually own a cape and therefore do not qualify to take on the world all by my lonesome - we decided to put off off IVF until April.

Blah. Bleh.

Let's be honest - if you've read this mess of a blog, we all know it's true. I can blow bluster with the best of 'em, but when it comes down to it, I am a weenie.

J basically told me that I was waiting until April to do it. He said the only thing he could picture was me waking up from anesthesia crying. The drugs really fuck with my brain when I'm waking up. There's no sense to this, but every single time I'm knocked out I will wake up (and have no memory of it later) and start crying. I'll be handed a tissue and then I fall back to sleep. I wake up shortly after (this time actually awake), and every single time I have a balled up tissue in my hand that I have no idea where it came from. It's some really bizarre comfort for me - like somebody was taking care of me even though I didn't know it. It's weird. I'm ridiculously emotional when I wake up and I'm so thirsty I feel like I'm suffocating. Plus the drugs give me cotton mouth so bad I can't talk. So I'm crying and choking (but thank god I have my tissue!). J is of course the only one who has this routine down. So while I'm losing my mind unable to talk and the nurses are trying to figure out what the hell my problem is, Jeffrey is calmy asking for ice chips. Once I have some water in me, I'm a normal human being again. It's like being 4 years old for 10 minutes. Luckily, nurses tend to be sympathetic when you’re laying there having a 30-year-old tantrum on the table.

So, J told me no way in hell was I going to be laying on a table coming out of anesthesia crying while he's off at the slot machines in Vegas. Of course I reminded him that if I found out he spent ANY time at the casinos I was leaving him immediately and going to steal me a baby from somewhere. Having had a few days to calm down, he's right. I was being ridiculous in saying that I'd do it by myself although at the time I was mad enough to go through with it.

Stupid superwoman and her stupid ugly cape.

Oh - COME ON

2008-02-22T06:25:00.000-08:00

So we just found out J’s job is sending him to Vegas for 4 days next month. The EXACT days that he needs to be here for his portion of the fertility treatments. And get this: his boss - who by the way KNOWS that we were doing IVF this month, knew about this conference in Vegas for months and just dumped it on him.

I'm so pissed off. I may meet his boss in the parking lot after work for a well deserved mental-woman-beat-down.

J is trying to get in touch with the doctor to see if he can have his "donation" frozen prior to him leaving. If so, I'm going by myself - even if J wasn't traveling, he wouldn't have been able to be there much anyway.

Which means I will be doing everything by myself. Everything - including finding someone who can get off work at the drop of a hat to come with me to the egg retrieval and drive me home after anesthesia.

I'll be totally alone on this one and for whatever reason that seems less scary than postponing another month.

The Recently Quoted

2008-02-21T06:59:00.000-08:00

"I feel like a Mr. Potato Head that some mentally challenged kid has thrown together."
--Quote from one of my good friends going through a divorce, child in tow. I swear, it's my new favorite saying. I may have t-shirts made up. All this blogging, drinking, crying and depression over infertility - and all I needed was this one sentence to get me through it with laughter. I love it.

"Do you have kids? No? No kids? You guys are young, you should have kids, you'd get more money back. I have kids, I always get a refund. You should really think about having kids."
--Quote from our now EX accountant. You can't make this stuff up. Thank you H&R Block for rubbing your fertility in our face. Thank you Uncle Sam for not only NOT helping out with the cost of our fertility treatments, but also penalizing us for being infertile. Oh my god, you fucking rock.

"Well I guess we could afford the name brand green beans if we had kids."
--Quote from my husband as we're standing in the grocery store shopping for canned goods moments after our visit to H&R Block.

"We get a bigger house since we're having another kid."
--Quote from my Marine brother who now gets to move into a larger house on base simply because his wife is pregnant again. Another round of thanks to Uncle Sam. I suppose if we were enlisted, we'd be living in a box on the corner. I can't say it enough: You fucking rock.

Insomniac

2008-02-08T07:07:00.000-08:00

I haven't been sleeping much the last few weeks. Not sure why. We get into bed around 10:30 or 11 every night. And I lay there, and lay there. I'm lucky some nights if I have fallen asleep by 3am. Once I finally do get to sleep, it's not restful. It's more dozing in and out until my alarm goes off. I don't feel tired during the day though.

Maybe it's just knowing more fertility treatments are right around the corner. I've been trying not put too much thought into it lately. I don't feel like I'm sitting around worrying about it, but who knows what's going on in this brain of mine.

The good news this week: I was finally able to track down my HSG test I had done a zillion years ago. Thank good...I wasn't looking forward to having to redo that. Expensive? Yes. Uncomfortable? Oh hell yes.

J has been put in charge of scheduling our bloowork. Once that's done, we're free to start NCIVF. Which (according to my cycle) would be in 3 weeks.

Ready or not....here we go again.

I’m Annoyed

2008-01-28T16:26:00.000-08:00

I’m annoyed at everybody today.

I’m annoyed at myself for not being more stoic.

I’m annoyed at my husband for not feeling as pissed off as I do all the time.

I’m annoyed at every person I’ve ever known who’s gotten pregnant just because they were trying – or not trying. It’s mind boggling what I’ve done in my attempts at TRYING. I can’t even grasp the idea of actually having sex with my husband and thinking: this could be the time we get pregnant. Seriously, it’s like speaking Chinese. It doesn’t compute.

I’m annoyed at people who announce “we’re trying.” Although I probably did the same thing with my best girlfriends - you know – years the fuck ago when trying was fun and didn’t involve huge sums of money. I really can’t remember.

I’m annoyed because in my mail today came a bill from a collections agency. For $15 goddamn dollars that our old fertility doctor keeps trying to collect - from almost a year ago. $15 that I do not owe, that I’ve gotten at least 12 bills for, that I have had to stop what I’m doing and make phone calls about, that I’ve made trips to the billing department in person, and even after admitting that I don’t owe it, their fucking billing department STILL can’t get their shit together. I will let my credit score drop to zero before I pay that man one goddamn cent that I don’t owe him.

I’m annoyed because two weeks ago I was bouncing off the walls excited about NCIVF. Now all I can think is: this is just another creative, expensive, soul-consuming, painful, emotional attempt at another huge failure. Screw the power of optimism.

I’m annoyed because studies say that depression lowers your chances of conception. Can someone please invent a fucking fertility treatment that is not only fun, but makes me think: Yay, I GET to do this again! You know - like SEX. I want to hear fertile women say things like: "Damn, I wish getting pregnant were hard for me, so we could try that!" or "You're so lucky - you get to do fertility treatments!"

I’m annoyed at The Money. The shitloads of money. And for what? So I can spend months afterwards walking around in a haze – fighting with my husband because he’s not as sad as I am about this?

I’m annoyed over every stupid baby shower invitation that has ever landed in my mailbox (with the exception of one).

I’m annoyed because I can NOT go to baby showers. Put simply, I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with them. Although if I finally get pregnant - I will expect every person I've ever met to not only be there, but to come bearing wildly expensive gifts.

I’m annoyed at people that in their attempts to “shield” me from this living hell of cycle-failure-cycle, go out of their way to keep their pregnancy news a secret. I appreciate the motivation behind it - I do. But avoiding the elephant in the room does nothing but isolate me even more. And trust me, I can’t be much more isolated in all this than I already am.

I’m annoyed that infertility is so isolating. This is what all my “woe is me” stems from. With the exception of my spouse, who internalizes this either very lightheartedly, or not at all, or maybe just in the exact opposite way that I do, I am entirely alone in my circle of friends. So basically I just happen to live in the same house with someone whose wife is going through infertility. It. Fucking. Sucks.

I’m annoyed that when I get together with a group of women, I am always the only childless freak in the room. I constantly find myself the only one who is physically unable to contribute to any of the conversation. I’m down to one friend that I see on a regular basis who doesn’t ramble about her precious child, or bitch about late night feedings, or whine and moan about being pregnant.

I’m annoyed at women who have children and yet don’t even know what hCG is. Or how miserable a HSG test is. They don’t know my old friends Estradiol, or Bravelle, or Follistim, or Menopur, or Lupron, or Novarel, or Prometrim. They don’t know the disgusting uncomfortableness of Crinone. Or egg retrievals, or holding their breath for fertilization and cell counts. They really, really annoy me.

I’m annoyed by all the fertility doctors that invented everything I listed above. Seriously, you HAD to have gone through a lot of trouble to reproduce all the pregnant-human, nun-pee and horse-placenta hormones that you ruthlessly shoved into me with needles. Couldn’t you have just FIXED the fertility problem instead of trying to get around it?

I'm annoyed at fertility doctors with shitty bedside manner. Sometimes we "patients" just need someone to hold our hand while we're having a procedure done, or an IV placed. One small thing like a pat on the shoulder will go a long way and will probably increase those success rates that you're so desperately worried about. It also makes forking over the $12k a little easier.

I’m annoyed that I don’t have one friend that has ever said to me: all my crying and anger is normal and it will pass – but in the meantime feel free to be pissed the fuck off that there is actually Stork Parking at my local grocery store. Seriously, do I need a sign that will slap me in the face every time I need bread?

I’m annoyed that when we talk about our next phase of house-remodeling, we have to plan around a fucking nursery that may or may not EVER happen. And I'm super-annoyed that I actually lose sleep over deciding what color to paint said room "in the meantime."

I’m annoyed that when my husband and I discuss kids, I have to make a conscious effort to say “WHEN we have kids”, even though my natural response is “IF we have kids.”

Back in the Stirrups Again

2008-01-16T08:46:00.000-08:00

It is with guarded excitement that I announce we are back on the baby-makin train. Yesterday we met with our new doctor. My first impression is that I LOVE this man. To start off the consultation, the first thing he said was: Wow, I’m so sorry that your stack of medical records is so thick. Me too, dude, me too. It’s officially thicker than our phone book.

He kicked back in his chair and said: Ok, tell me everything. This may sound like a simple thing to most people, but I’ve been to more doctors in the last 4+ years than most people go in their entire lives. It’s rare to find a doctor who listens. And not only listens (I have been known to shut a doctor up by just talking right over top of him/her), but truly WANTS to know.

After I recapped the last few years, he rambled off our options. Apparently this man thought we were still shopping around for a doctor – he also thought we were still trying to figure out our next option. I guess that’s the way it is for most people, but now that we can call ourselves infertility veterans, we know what’s up. Halfway through his sales pitch I piped in and said “We want NCIVF, when can we start?” I felt kind of bad, I could tell he was enjoying his well rehearsed speech.

Five minutes later I found myself naked from the waist down, wrapped in a fantastically small pink paper blanket with feet in stirrups having my insides churned with the ultrasound wand. “Yep, ovaries are lookin’ good, lining looks fine. Well, while you’re here, let’s go ahead and do a mock transfer.”

So as I said, I’m not used to doctors asking me to tell “the whole story.” Um, doc - did I forget to mention that my transfers are from hell, take an hour and a half with me screaming, blood pouring out of me? No? I didn’t? Let me go back and tell you more of the story: I need to be unconscious for transfers. My uterus is tilted enough for the medical journals. Can we just skip the mock transfer and then knock me out for the real one? No? It’s required to be an NCIVF candidate? Oh….ok then…..

The doctor promises me that he just needs to see what’s going on with my anatomy, he’ll attempt it, but if there’s any pain he’ll stop – he just wants to get a feel for how hard the transfer will be. The transfer begins, he is so fascinated with the twists of my uterus that there are now six people crammed into this tiny room because they just “HAD to see this.” They’re all ohhhhing and ahhhhing over the ultrasound screen. The doctor is taking still shots left and right to save for my real transfer. Not even five minutes later, with minimal amounts of uncomfortableness, he announces: “I’m in.”

Whoa? What? That’s IT? I’m desperately holding on to J’s hand waiting for the pain and he’s already done? I look at the screen – holy crap, he really IS in. And I’m not screaming, crying, OR bleeding profusely. This is fantastic – high fives all around.

After a few more quick tests, a few order forms for updated bloodwork, a couple of handshakes, we’re checking out of the office – it’s been less than an hour since we arrived. Quick, painless and we find ourselves back on the road to baby makin’. As we drove away into the sunset, J and I holding hands – filled with new hope, determination and smiles on our faces - I let out a sigh of content: It’s good to be back in the stirrups again…

Happy 2008

2008-01-07T07:22:00.000-08:00

Any New Year's resolutions this year? I have come up with a good one for myself. Every year I have said: "This will be my year." Every year seems to get worse. So this year, my NY Affirmation is this: I can't control a thing that happens, but I can control how I handle it. So my resolution is to get my shit together, basically:

I will be sad when somebody gets pregnant, but I will remind myself that I wouldn't trade my life for theirs.

I will be sad if IVF doesn't work, but will remind myself that I'm moving forward. And regardless of the outcome, I am not doing this for nothing.

I'm going to take care of myself.

I'm going to try to forgive all the insensitive, ignorant people around me. It's not their fault they're not infertile too.

I will remind myself that The Hubby internalizes all this very differently than I do. I will not be mad at him when he doesn't join me in my sorrow.

I will not wallow in sorrow. Being sad is one thing, but no more weeks on the couch crying over this mess.

I'm throwing away my Victim Status and I'm going to kick some ass in 2008.

The Pioneer

2008-01-04T07:56:00.000-08:00

I met a woman in the bathroom at J’s company Christmas party not long ago. I was standing there washing my hands and I heard this lady at the vanity beside me sniffling and grasping for tissues off the counter. She had her back to me so I couldn’t tell if she was crying. I asked her if she was ok and she responded with the candor that you can only find in the ladies room after a couple glasses of wine: “Oh, I’m fine, I’m going through chemo and it makes my nose water.” She was almost laughing at herself, which took me by surprise. I mean shit, I can’t even get through infertility without tearing down the walls around me - and this lady is laughing over chemo. Before she even started her next sentence I had decided this woman was my new hero.

Without any prompting she started telling me her story – she had been battling colon cancer for years. When they found it the doctors told her she only had a few months to live, but she beat it into remission. In fact she spent several years toting her “Cancer Free” declaration. But it came back. And she said this was her last round of chemo – she wasn’t doing it again. And the cancer didn’t seem to be going away. She said she had heard about some experimental cancer trials going on at Johns Hopkins and she was trying to get enrolled in them.

Somewhere in the conversation I told her about my upcoming breast surgery. How scared I was. I told her about all the hormones I took for IVF and even though I thought I was ok, I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t created the perfect storm in my body for cancer.

We probably talked for 20 minutes in the restroom. I can’t begin to describe how incredibly wonderful this woman was. How sympathetic, how outright, how bold, how calm, how courageous. How comforting.

I have zero religious belief in me, but I’ll admit there was a split second when we walked out of the restroom that I expected her to disappear – perhaps my guardian angel arrived right as I needed her? It seemed too coincidental to be true.

But she didn’t disappear. She met her husband at their table and 5 minutes later I glanced over to see this woman breaking bad on the dance floor. My fucking hero.

I thought about her a lot after the party. I wondered how she was doing – but I had no idea how to get in touch with her.

I didn’t have to. About a week after my lumpectomy – she found me. J called me from work and said he had just gotten back from lunch and had this bizarre cryptic message left on his voicemail from some guy at work that he’s never even met saying his wife met me at the Christmas party and wanted to see how my surgery went. He had left her number. So I called her back.

She was on the phone with a doctor at Johns Hopkins when I called. I offered to call her back, but she told me to hang on. A few minutes later she was on the phone. Chemo had officially failed and she was in the midst of trying to get approved for the Johns Hopkins study.

They claim to have a possible “cure” for cancer. But this is in no means just popping a pill and waving a wand over you. The “cure” was discovered by accident. A few years ago a man came into the hospital with a very large cancerous tumor. However, he came in for something different – liver failure. During the course of treating him for liver problems, he contracted some strain of strep and died. When they did the autopsy they discovered that this form of strep had completely destroyed the cancerous tumor. It was completely gone.

So after loads of research, they took this strep bacteria, stripped it of the pieces that are deadly and injected it into the cancerous tumor of a 78 year old man who volunteered to be a guinea pig knowing he was about to die anyway. He died a few weeks later – but not from cancer. He provided them with a huge amount of knowledge about how this bacteria works – how it kills the cancer, but the treatment got the best of him.

My friend from the restroom has volunteered to be the next in line for this experiment. And let me add that she has not only volunteered, she is doing so with the utmost enthusiasm. She is excited about a treatment that she may very well die from.

As I type, she is going through preliminary tests that will decide if she is qualified for this experiment. And her biggest fear is that she won’t. She is scared because (in her words) if she is going to die anyway – she wants to go out knowing that she has provided doctors and researchers answers that might keep somebody else from going through her same ordeal.

She wants to be a pioneer in the medical field. She wants to be the one that kicks cancer’s ass. She wants to be the one that saves lives. She wants to be the hero. She wants to move forward instead of waiting for the next bad thing to happen to her.

And she is. She’s already a pioneer – she’s conquering life’s hardest obstacles with enthusiasm and courage and a beautiful positive spirit. She’s also a hero. And I know just from the short time I spent around her, there’s no way this woman is just my hero.

Belize Navidad!

2007-12-26T01:47:00.000-08:00

We're off for a lovely week in Belize. Central America for New Year's. Can't wait!

Pathology report just came back...

2007-12-18T12:50:00.000-08:00

...and no cancer cells were found. So relieved!

We're going out for a celebritory dinner tomorrow night (still a bit under the weather tonight).

NOW I can start getting excited about NCIVF.

Alright - off to thank my Lucky Stars.

Greetings from Percocet Land!

2007-12-14T18:10:00.001-08:00

My surgery went really well. The doc thought the tumor was about the size of a grape - they ended up pulling something out of me the size of a golf ball. Ga-rooossss!

It'll be about a week for the pathology report to come back, but the doctor said he really doesn't think it's anything to worry about - he said it looked like a "fibrous mass gone crazy". Gotta love those hormones.

As far as scarring goes - he made the incision right along the edge of the aerola, so once it heals, it shouldn't even be visible. And even though he pulled out such a huge hunk of mess, there was very, very little puckering (and really I can't see it in the mirror, only when I look down at it...and the dr said he expected even that to fill out eventually). I was shocked at how "normal" it looked.

My other concern was breastfeeding. The incision starts at around 12:00 and goes to 6:00 - it wasn't supposed to be that big, until he realized how big the tumor was. So basically I've lost half of my milk ducts on the left side. But he said that it should still work from one side when the time comes, just won't produce as much.

The really weird part of the whole thing - yesterday when I woke up I kept having this shooting pain right in between my breasts (no where near the incision). Dr said it was probably some nerve damage. I had absolutely no feeling in my left breast. So all the parts that should've hurt felt nothing. Instead I was having stabbing sensations in my chest and my left arm is sore as hell (like I had slept on it all night). It was kind of hilarious (well, I was laughing at everything on the drugs).

As of this afternoon I have gotten back most of the feeling (which means I've had a lot more percocet today!), but relieved that I will have sensation once it's healed.

I was a total nervous wreck going into the surgery. I lost it when I was filling out the registration form and right under my name was written: "Left Breast Lumpectomy". Freaked me out. But I can't even begin to describe how wonderful this doctor was - and all his staff. Quickest, most painless IV I've ever had - and I've had a lot lately. I think IV-insertion is my new way of ranking doctors. :) Everybody was so comforting. I woke up in recovery with a lady shoving ice chips in my mouth (god love her). The doctor probably spent 20 minutes just talking to us and answering questions before they even hooked me up to anything. Everbody was so patient and caring. These people are getting a thank you letter from me. For such a scary experience I felt very safe.

And my incredible husband has waited on me hand and foot since I got home. He had to go into work a few hours this morning for meeting he couldn't miss, so he called in one of my girlfriends to sit with me for a few hours (percocet and lots of stairs don't mix). He even did a load of laundry this morning just so I'd have my most comfortable bra to wear. What a good man he is.

The only stitches I have are internal - they'll dissolve. The incision is held together with surgical glue and then something on top of that that kind of looks like cloth-tape stuff. That stays on until I see the doc again (sometime next week), then they take it off.

The doc is a bit concerned about the timing of our Belize trip. He said the "out of the woods" for infection date is about 3 weeks. We leave for Belize in 2. I won't be allowed to go swimming (anything wetter than a shower is out). Which is a bummer, because I was signed up for scuba diving (was going to be my first time!). Oh well. He said he was just worried about medical care in a foreign country in case something should happen. But I'll take my chances...I need Belize after all this.

So glad to have all this mess over with. Getting excited about our NCIVF consultation next month.

Happy Holidays to all.

Tomorrow

2007-12-12T08:03:00.000-08:00

...is the day. I'm strangely, not nervous. The calm before the storm, I suppose. J's been traveling for work - he comes home tonight and I made him promise to take me to the movies. No better distraction than that.

In other news, Aunt Flo showed up today, that evil bitch is kicking my ass right now. That aside, I was supposed to start charting a new basal body temp chart today and I completely forgot. I mean it's been 4+ years...I'm a bit out of the habit. I was hoping to have it to take with me when we go for our consultation next month. It's probably not a big deal that I missed today, but it will most likely be thrown off by tomorrow's surgery and the painkillers for the next few days...my lack of sleep for the next week while I'm uncomfortable as hell. Then it's off to Belize (like I'll remember to do it there). Hmmm...screw the damn BBT...this is a bad rep month....I've got enough to contend with.

Bring on the pain killers.

Jittery, skittery...

2007-12-07T14:32:00.000-08:00

Less than a week left before my surgery. I’m getting really nervous. Today has been particularly hard. J leaves on Monday morning to travel for work – he’ll be gone Monday – Wednesday. My surgery is Thursday. This weekend we’re traveling out of town to visit my grandmother. I have a hundred things to do between now and next Thursday:

* Christmas shopping. I haven’t done any. I will probably be too sore after surgery to do any. Christmas with my fam is Dec. 22nd. Crap. As I mentioned before I have decided not to tell any of my fam about surgery…so somehow I’m going to have to hide this. Let’s see, breast surgery + seeing family for the holidays = lots of very painful hugs.

* My brother is coming in from CA, the day after my surgery, so I have to fit in seeing them. Them and their stupid fertile abili-ties.

* Immediately after Christmas, we leave for Belize. There’s no way I’ll be recovered enough for a bikini, so I’m not even packing one. The airport we’re flying out of is 4 hours away – so we still have to figure out logistics for that trip.

* We have yet to get a Christmas tree. We’re supposed to fit that in tonight before we get together with some friends for dinner. I have no idea when / if it will be decorated. In fact, I’m much less enthused to decorate it now that I’ve learned my in-laws will no longer be staying with us for the holidays:

* My mother-in-law (in attempt to try to make things easier on us) suggested we stay with them xmas eve, that way we don’t have to buy food right before we leave for vacation. Ha – like I was going to cook. Isn’t Papa John’s open on Christmas Eve? Very sweet of her, really. But with all the running around we’ve been doing (and lots more to come). Not to mention my complete lack of time/space to heal from impending surgery, I was really looking forward to sitting on my ass, on my couch, sipping my own very spiked eggnog. Now we’ll be living out of a suitcase, driving, hauling the dog around, and well, NOT sitting on my ass on my couch.

* Monday I have my blood work at the lab. Call me a wimp, but I get so nervous about having blood taken I could throw up. I can almost handle the surgery better– at least I’m asleep for that.

* Speaking of “handling the surgery” – did I mention I’m a nervous wreck? No? Oh. Well, I am. I want to jump in my canoe, ship off to sea and resurface in 5 years with amnesia. J, how does Panama sound to you? The drive to the hospital next Thursday is going to suck. I can see me grabbing the wheel out of J’s hands and trying to flip a U.

* Boobs. What is it with boobs and why are they so important? I’m not a vain person unless I’m having a particularly good hair day – so why am I spending 99% of my day freaking the fuck out over how I’ll look after this is over? Hell, our sex life has already taken quite the beating over it. Just the thought of what’s to come – and the huge mass of crap in me is enough to make me not want to be touched right now. How the hell am I going to feel when I come home beaten, bruised, stitched, carved and ultimately – scarred? My girls are in their prime for god’s sakes. There are topless beaches I have yet to conquer.

* The Big C: Why in god’s name am I freaking out over my boobs when there’s a much bigger and obvious threat hanging in front of me?

* The Two Week Wait. Hey, remember all those posts of me bitching about the 2 week wait after IVF to see if you’re pregnant? Ahhh, those were good times. From everything I’ve read (again, I was too deer-in-the-headlights to ask my doctor questions), it’s a 2 week wait after surgery to get test results back. The (new) Two Week Wait – damn the irony.

* The Six Week Wait. Honestly, I found the lump on Halloween. Can we just get it the fuck out of me already? It’s the second week of December for God’s sakes. Put me out of my misery.

* Whole Mess of Crap. I’ll just leave this little asterisk for all the other mess of gunk I’m currently forgetting to freak out about, but I’m sure I will later. That’s the thing about me freaking out – my brain can only handle so much at one time. For instance, this morning I was in such a haze that I brushed my teeth, but it took me 20 minutes to realize I had forgotten to use toothpaste. I feel like an Alzheimer's patient right now. I’m constantly repeating myself, re-asking questions and spacing out. Cooking dinner has turned into a mammoth project, which has ended with me being in tears twice now. Apparently operating more than one stove burner at a time is simply more than I have the capacity for.

Watch for me on the news: "Woman's Head Explodes Due to Whole Mess of Crap"

Video at 11.

Dr. Appointment

2007-11-27T14:30:00.000-08:00

I had my appointment with the specialist today. They did another ultrasound. After two people (one was the doc the other was the u/s tech) took a look at my lump, they were both in agreement: it needs to come out. This being said after neither of them could tell me what it was.

I was smooshed to the ultrasound machine for a good 30 minutes while they hemmed and hawed over me. They pointed out what a cyst looks like...I had one - they showed me. A round shaped thing, totally black on the screen - very defined edges. Well this lump shows up as kind of a shadowy thing with no real defined edges.

The doc said he could do a biopsy - stick a needle in there and send it off for testing. However, he said that even if it did come back clean, he said he would worry that maybe he hadn't gotten the needle into all the "muck" - maybe he missed something...etc, and he would still want me to have it removed. My second option was just to have it removed, they'll send that off for testing. I'm not one for having a needle stuck in me for no reason, so they're removing this thing on December 13th. He said he could just numb it and do the surgery while I'm awake...but I told him I'd rather be asleep for this crap. I want no memories of this.

I go in for bloodwork on December 10th.

I just keep repeating to myself (out loud and in my head) that there's no point in freaking out - I won't know anything until after the results come back. I'm not at all scared about the surgery. I mean it sucks to be going in for a breast reduction given my already below average girls...I need all the tumors I've got to fill out my bikini while i'm in Belize. It didn't occur to me to even ask if there will be scarring, or if I'm going to be all deformed and crap. He gave me the options and before he finished his sentence I said: take it out.

It also occurs to me that it's weird they didn't do a mammogram, right? I don't know where my brain was while I was in that appointment. I thought I was referred there specifically for a mammo. Instead they did another u/s. I did tell them that I'd already had one done. I don't know why. I think I might be crackin' up a little...it really didn't even occur to me to ask.

I think I'm terrified. Although i'm not even sure of that.

Update:

2007-11-26T04:45:00.001-08:00

Ok, I take it back - it wasn't some crazy "accident" that I find out from the internet that my brother/SIL are having their second kid. I actually got a MySpace bulletin with them announcing it. It's apparently how they're letting their family know. Really, that's class.

!@$#%^&*(&*%#%*#^!

Got Mold?

2007-11-20T13:42:00.000-08:00

So, health issues explained: we've got mold. Not the horrendous Black Mold where you have to tear down walls, bulldoze the house or otherwise start over...other mold. The kind that makes me wake up in the middle of the night sneezing.

We had our house tested last week - I can't seem to get healthy lately. Allergies / colds / sinus infections, you name it. So we dished out $300 for some dude to spend 10 minutes walking around the house testing our air.

Diagnosis: Penicillium.

You'd think with an antibiotic name like that I'd be extra healthy. Not the case.

Fortunately, it's only in the basement (unfortunately so is the furnace which means it gets blown all over the house). But it just means reshuffling a few things on our "shit to fix" list. For instance, waterproofing the basement, venting the dryer, having the ductwork cleaned out.

Can't wait to start feeling better. There are only 2 drugs that allow me to breath and not sneeze until my nose bleeds: Benadryl, which puts me into an instant coma, and Mucinex, which lets me breath, but gives me insomnia.

So listen up all you mold spores - I'm coming for ya. This war has just begun.

Did I mention I invented the Internet?

2007-11-19T09:42:00.000-08:00

How lovely is this one a scale of 1 -1o? I just found out my SIL is expecting her 2nd child. How did I discover this? From a post on the internet.

Nothing like a little sensitivity to get ya goin' in the morning.

Did I mention I'm sick of everybody around me getting pregnant?

Things that go lump in the night

2007-11-12T13:04:00.001-08:00

Well it turns out denial doesn't do much after all. I had a doctor appointment today that I've been trying not to think about or talk about since I scheduled it 12 long days ago. Unfortunately real life doesn't give a crap about denial and instead I find myself left with this one fact:

I am 30 years old and as of 3pm this afternoon I have a surgical consultation about a lump in my breast that my doctor can't identify.

She did a sonogram during my office visit and the only thing I know for sure is, it isn't a cyst.

After that I was shuffled off to the scheduling nurse who set up my consult with a breast surgeon and then scooted me out the door. I'm told they will do a mammogram and depending on that, possibly a biopsy. Ever the optimist (stop laughing), I spent 0.16 seconds on Google, and this is the first website I found:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/main.jhtml?xml=/health/2003/09/26/hmert26.xml&sSheet=/health/2003/09/26/ixhmain.html

My appointment is November 27th.

Hodgepodge of nonsense

2007-11-08T13:14:00.000-08:00

Phew...what a few weeks...few months... Can you believe it's November? The air is crisp, the leaves are crispy. Thanksgiving is just around the corner. My mother in law asked me what I wanted for Christmas today. WHAT? It's no longer August? When did that happen?

Things have been fast for the last month or so. I took a trip out to CA to visit my brother, his wife and my nephew (my brother is in the Marines). It was a good visit, but a whirlwind. The wildfires started there the day we left - they were evacuated shortly after. I'm sure to them it feels like the visit never even happened after all that. But it was a good time - just wish we had spent more time visiting than trying to fit in all the sightseeing that we did. We did a little trip up to LA, San Diego, and then my other brother and my father and I went down to Tijuana. Oy...don't ever go there. Horrible place - dirty, poor and just all around sad. It's no wonder we have immigration issues in this country. Hell, one afternoon in TJ and legislators would be passing bills making it illegal to NOT come into this country. Really, it was a life experience.

The hubby has been jet-setting around the world. Well, not the world, but the midwest anyway. His company has him hopping around on private jets being wined/dined by huge corporations...big fancy expensive dinners out, golfing and...even a strip club on the latest venture. My god, what a life he leads.

We've made good friends with our new neighbors - they're about our age - awesome people. I continue to "grow" in my infertility journey. And by "grow", what I mean is she's pregnant and I haven't bitten anyone's head off about it yet. Look at me - it's like I'm all growed up. They seem to be pretty incredible people actually. I'm looking forward to spending more time with them.

We've decided to dive back into some more house construction (when will I learn?). It's been one week and already it's been one disaster after another. Honestly, so many things have gone wrong we've just been kicking back at night with some wine and laughing about it. We pulled up a portion of our bedroom flooring that was carpeted - we're replacing it with hardwoods. Only the nailer that we rented wouldn't work. We had it for 2 days and accomplished nothing. Oh, and to add to the stupidity of the situation, when we dismantled the bed, we leaned it up against the closet door and then stacked the dressers and various other crap in front of THAT. I haven't been able to get to my clothes in a week now. Smart move, right?

The reason for the carpeting having to go is I've had a really hard time with my allergies since we moved into this place. We've got somebody coming out next month to clean and sanitize our duct system. If that doesn't work, we're going to have someone come test for mold. It's been a year and a half - I wake up sneezing almost every morning, and even sometimes in the middle of the night. I'm not one to drug myself often, so I've been pretty miserable. Plus, I work from home, so I'm always around whatever it is. In fact right now I'm trying to shake a 2 week cold, which (so far) has turned in to a 3 week sinus infection. Antibiotics are only starting to help kill it.

Anyway - back to our construction disasters. As I mentioned, we took apart all of our bedroom furniture, which means we have been sleeping in the guest room for a week now. It's only a double bed in the guest room (we're used to a king). Not enough space for the 2 of us and the dog. Did I mention the dog is insanely spoiled and will NOT sleep on the floor by herself? We ended up moving a futon matress into the guest room and threw it on the floor. Me and the dog are sleeping together, hubby is in the bed. Pure, stinkin' rotten. But damn she's cute. She's also probably a big part of my allergy issue....

I talked to my doctor about all the problems I've been having - kind of gave her my recent medical history and she mentioned that doing IVF (all those hormones) can actually change your body chemistry. So something I might not have been allergic to before I took all the drugs, I could be very allergic to now. Once the holidays calm down I think I'm going to go in for a new round of allergy testing - haven't had it done in 10 years.

I can't help but wonder if the constant allergies may have affected the outcome of our IVFs. I've read where your immune system can literally attack and kill off the embryos. Mine has been in overdrive for quite some time now. Can't help but thing that could've had something to do with it.

In other health news. I am officially calling myself a vegetarian. I haven't had meat in over 7 months now. I did it for animal rights reasons, but I've been reading that getting all that gunk out of your system can actually help with IVF (among a zillion other health benefits). All the more reason to keep at it. I'm feeling pretty good - much more conscious about what goes into my body...definitely getting more vitamins.

This summer has been a godsend to me. Not only have I made some healthy lifestyle changes, but I really feel like I've been able to detox emotionally. Don't get me wrong, I still have days...well, not even days really, more like hours here and there, where the sadness of our journey will just blindside me and mow me over without warning. But overall, it was a hugely needed break not only physically, but for my mental state. It's the first time in over 4 years where I can truly say that it's not in the forefront of my brain at all times. It's lurking in there of course, but it's not a driving force.

I think most of it was (is) trying to get past the guilt of two failed IVFs. Guilt is a powerful thing isn't it? Those poor Catholics. :) As completely insane as it sounds, it was getting past the idea that "I" - or "My Body" killed off our embryos. It sounds stupid, doesn't it? Completely illogical. But that was it. I wasn't able to think "it just didn't work". In my head it was "it would've worked if I hadn't killed them." I just knew that I had done something wrong. It was my fault. Hell, even after having self-proclaimed myself "guilt-free" seconds ago, it still seems somehow *wrong* to say it wasn't my fault. Maybe that feeling never really goes away. It's all in how you move on, I suppose. I'll just keep working at it like everybody else.

We kept saying we were going to do IVF after my birthday (that was August). Well, 2 months later and I'm only just starting to toy with the idea again. J and I talked about setting up a consultation last night. I actually just signed up for an appointment online (they're supposed to call back in 48 hours to set it up).

Our plan is to do a consultation in January. Why January? Because we are going to Belize for New Year's. We get back in the wee hours of January 3rd. So we're going to try to get an appointment that day while we're in The Big City. We will not be going with the doctor we have used for the last 2 cycles. Hopefully this new clinic won't mind IVF-ing us from 4 hours away. I really don't think it should be a problem, but we just need to hammer out the details. More details to come, I'm trying not to use up too much brain power on it:

My focus is more on our trip. BELIZE!! How could you not be excited about that trip? I am very much looking forward to it. And if it deadens the fear of having a consultation, that's even better. :)

That's the latest......more later.

Babies Everywhere But Here

2007-10-05T07:08:00.000-07:00

Round two has begun.

So I got through (read: bitched and cried through) everybody around me getting pregnant with their kids.

Now their kids are getting a little older. Now I have to get through Round Two: everybody around me getting pregnant with their SECOND kid.

Let me describe to you how frustrating and heartbreaking this is. Oh wait, I can't even begin.

The Hawk

2007-10-01T12:07:00.000-07:00

It’s funny how something innocuous, or completely unrelated can spark an important realization about your life. For me, that something was a dead hawk.

I woke up this morning, walked out to the screen porch to let the dog outside and noticed something lying on the patio. A hawk. A very large hawk laying on his back with his lifeless wings wrapped beautifully around him. I didn’t see any obvious injuries – no blood, no cuts, it was almost like someone had laid him gently there. I spent a couple hours wondering if I should call wildlife control, or the game warden – are they interested in testing this thing for West Nile or Bird Flu? I had no idea, I’ve never had a bird – much less a raptor -- drop dead in my backyard. I called my vet (for lack of options) to get their opinion, but the response I got was: “Well, animals die all the time.” Yes they do, we all do…but large bits of wildlife don’t just fall out of the sky and land on your patio every day. And hawks in my backyard certainly aren’t a normal occurrence.

I decided the cats couldn’t have been the culprits, the bird was close to twice their size. Besides, they can’t even be encouraged to go after the stupid crickets that invade our house on occasion. The dog was definitely not the guilty party either. When she came outside with me to inspect the bird, she was terrified of it.

I finally decided to take a look at our bedroom window which overlooks the patio. The blinds stay closed, so I really didn’t think he would’ve run into it. It seems like it would be a white barrier just like the siding on that portion of the house. But when I pulled up the blind I discovered a perfect outline of his face and feathers on my window pane. I'm glad the window is still intact. I can’t imagine how loud that was…it must’ve happened last night while we were downstairs watching TV. Poor thing. At least it was quick.

I couldn’t help but look up online to see what kind of myths / interpretations came out of finding a dead hawk. According to Native American legend:

“To see a dead hawk, signifies that your enemies will be vanquished.”

Well, if that’s the case, consider my enemies squashed. My only thought was: what enemies? Most people at this point in my life fall into one of three categories: People I know and love, People whose company I don’t enjoy and therefore never see, and Strangers. I wouldn’t throw anybody into an “enemy” category. But then, not all enemies are people…

The Fertility Bitch. Now there’s an enemy. We’ve been at battle for over 4 years. She’s beaten the hell out of me at times. I’ve beaten Her back with my all – sometimes My All was a raging fury, sometimes My All was nothing but tears.

It’s been April since our latest attempt at taking Her down. We needed a rest from the warzone. Instead, we found ourselves battling each other. Unsure of how to let go of the fight - feeling like taking a break was the same thing as giving up -- feeling guilty for resting in the midst of the battle.

But now we find ourselves in a better place – healed in our marriage, in our emotions and in my body. Ready to fight the fight, but in our own time. We can go for days now and not even mention Her. But we can spend an entire afternoon talking about Her too and feel close to each other in doing it. We’ve found our own little peace in the chaos.

I actually said to J the other day: I’m not thankful for the fact that we’re childless, but I am thankful for the journey that we’ve been on. The struggle we’ve been through has been the best thing that’s ever happened to us. It’s brought us closer together and made our marriage stronger. I wouldn’t change that for the world.

I buried Mr. Hawk in the side yard right next to Mr. Squirrel. I marked his grave with a stepping stone, burned some incense for him, and thanked him for his gift.

The hits just keep on comin'....

2007-09-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

What in the name of all tht is holy is going on here lately?? First there was my disaster-day where I dropped my laptop (and all the other stuff that went wrong that day). Then both our cars broke down, our AC broke, we had a busted pipe last week that flooded the basement. And THAT leads us to this weekend....

First of all...I'm not even typing this from home. J and I drove down to the beach Friday night after work. It hasn't rained in months and it not only rained, at one point it was coming down so hard we were doing 20 mph. The good news is our Jeep apparently has an automatic feature on it that turns the 4-wheel drive on when you hydroplane. Which is a good thing - because we did. Repeatedly. It was coming down so hard there was standing water everywhere.

We get about 2 hours from the beach and we're pulling into a toll road (which of course we had no money for b/c we didn't know it WAS a toll road) and all these alarms start going off in the Jeep. It has overheated. CRAP. It's 1am, it's pouring, we have no idea where we are and we're sitting on the side of the road. Awesome. But as fast as it overheated, the temperature went back down. For lack of options, we decided to forge on. Made it down the beach house in one piece.

Saturday we did a little driving around: car overheated. My dad was with us, he threw some water in the radiator. All seemed to be fine. In fact we took it 4 wheeling on the beach and it was fine (and a frickin' blast by the way!).

Sunday morning we got on the road around 10am. My best friend & her hubby live on the way home, so we decided to stop and visit. They just bought their first house, so we wanted to see it and we all had lunch. Then we got back on the road for home. We made it about 10 minutes down the road. Overheated – with no exit in sight. We turned the car off - sat there for 20 minutes until it cooled...then we got off at the next exit (about 2 miles down the road). It overheated again. Finally made it to a gas station and got directions to a garage that was open on Sunday. It was maybe 3 miles away and it took us an hour to get there. We had to keep stopping and letting the engine cool.

Of course the garage wasn't able to look at the car yesterday. It's still in the garage - they should have it done in a few hours. $450 to replace the water pump and the thermostat. Oy.

T & M ended up coming to pick us up and we spent the night here last night. Luckily I was able to just work from their house. And J was even able to get into one of his plant's local offices here. So our jobs were covered for the most part.

But wait, I'm not done with this story....

Yesterday (before the car went SPLAT) we were driving through town trying to find T/M's house. Got totally lost - it literally took us an hour. So while we're driving around, I attempted to hop in the backseat to grab a sweater out of my luggage from the far back. WELL, I nailed my knee into the seatbelt holder-thingy (technical terms here). I hit it so hard that J heard it and thought I had broken my kneecap. And I have to tell you (being the one that FELT it) I thought the same thing. I SCREAMED. And I'm pretty sure I was 8 years old the last time that I hurt myself and cried. I was bawling. I've never broken anything in my life, but it's got to feel similar. Took me a good 15 minutes to calm down. It's not broken, but it hurts like hell to bend it with any weight whatsoever. I can bend it VERY slowly if I'm sitting...but I can't bend it and walk on it. It's even more stiff and sore this morning. And a really gross shade of green and black.

Anyway - my knee was hurting so bad I was nauseated, so J was trying to find a spot to pull over and make sure I was ok. As I mentioned, we are completely lost, and now I’m hurt and J’s freaking out. What more could I add to this story? Oh yes…as he’s trying to find a place to pull over, we get pulled over for speeding. We explained to the cop that we were lost and I had hurt myself (still had tears in my eyes, so that helped)...but we didn't want to make TOO much of a big deal out of the knee incident because I had taken my seatbelt off to climb in the back seat. Anyway - she DID let him off with a warning. Thank god.

Don't they say things happen in 3's? Because I'm starting to think for US, they happen in 30's!! :) I can't wait to get home. On top of everything, I'm simply exhausted from the weekend and I'm missing my bed.

I talked to my dad this morning...he's just now on his way back from the beach. Turns out HE had a flat tire this morning after he left the beach house! Man, we pissed off karma in a bad way….

Happy Birthday To Me

2007-08-29T04:49:00.000-07:00

I turn 30 today. I always thought I would’ve had kids by now. And then I lowered that to: Well, I’ll get pregnant before I turn 30. Obviously that is no longer the case.

So I woke up this morning and a thought crossed my brain that I must admit was kind of liberating: I will be in my 30’s when we have kids. Period. There’s no “oh crap”, I’m leaving my 30’s…will it happen?” Because yes, it will. One way or the other, this will be our decade. It might not be our year, but we will have started a family by the time my next decade birthday strolls around. Father Time isn’t going to allow us to continue all this nonsense forever - either it happens through ART, or we go another direction. But it will happen.

So happy birthday to me – my last big birthday celebration as a non-mother.

Out of the bad comes good

2007-08-24T18:47:00.000-07:00

I had an epiphany today. Let me first preface this by saying I've had a bit of wine. And beer. But the epiphany happened before the drinking began. It's only now that I've had a few, I'm thinking a little more "deeply" about it.

So in my previous post I wrote about how hysterically ridiculous my day was. Seriously, can all those things happen in one day? Oh yes they can. But I'm a big believer in "things happen for a reason."

So either, one: My day was horrible because I was sucking up all the badness in the world so my best friend (who bought her first house today!) could have an amazing day....

Or two: Maybe it was a Series of Unfortunate Events that happened to put me at my cousin's house today. On a day where she babysits for 2 small children (in addition to her own 3). One of the babies is adopted. He was a crack baby. For the first 6 months of his life he was going through withdrawal. He is now 8 months old. Perhaps a teeny bit behind developmentally (he still can't sit up), but he'll be caught up soon enough.

In between working I helped out with the little love - he was having a cranky day (so I was told). I plopped him on my lap and he giggled. I stuck him in front of the window so he could get a good view. He loved it. I sat him back down - he whined. I made funny faces at him and he laughed that amazing contagious laugh that all babies have. I know it's not all going to be adorable moments now matter the children we have - I'm not that far disillusioned. But it just hit me: do I really need to be pregnant? I don't need to carry a child to be connected to him/her....that's never been my issue with adoption. What matters in the end is this perfectly sweet (but sometimes cranky) beautiful child that's sitting on my lap exploring the world. It doesn't matter how they got there. It just matters that they're there.

So I guess the only question left is - If we do adopt - Am I strong enough as a person to survive the inevitable: "Who are my REAL parents?"

As much as I'd like to be that person that hears that question from their adopted child (in the thros of teenage agnst, no less) and charges forward unphased...not enough wine in the world can make me say that I am.

I've always thought I was "against" adoption. I have 3 siblings that were adopted - all of them with major learning disabilities, fetal alcohol syndrome and emotional disorders. I've always been scared of adoption for the simple fact that "you never know." I know I could love a child that wasn't mine biologically. But after watching my parents' marriage dissolve as a result of 3 children with disabilities (among other issues), I've been too scared to consider it as an option. Today made me realize that's not the reason. Of course I would be heartbroken if something was wrong with my child - but that could happen just as easily through an IVF baby.

What I'm scared of is my child turning 15 and wanting to know about their biological parents. Or my child in an argument yelling to me "You're not my mother!"

How do parents of adopted children face that? My hat goes off to all of them. I think today just made me realize - It's not the child I fear: It's myself.

Just call me Schleprock

2007-08-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

Here's how my day has gone so far today. I work from home, around 9am my internet went down. HUGE problem. I spent 20 minutes on hold with the internet company and got nowhere. At this point I'm starting to get a little frantic. I have a 9:45am deadline for a crazy client who freaks if their report is more than a few minutes late. So I decide my internet's a lost cause. I called my cousin to see if I could come over and leach off her wirless for a few hours. No problem.

I have about 30 minutes to get dressed, throw my office (laptop & cell) in the car, get to her house AND get my report done (which takes about an hour and a half). So instead of taking the time to put my laptop into its case, I just unplug it and head out the door (already, I'm sure you can see where this is going).

I pull up in front of her house and glance at the clock: I have 12 minutes to get my report out. In a blind panic, I'm grabbing my purse, keys, laptops, cell, notebooks and I'm hopping out of the car.....and my laptop hopped out of my hands. WHAM! Hits the pavement. Hard. F-U-C-K.

I stood there for a second looking at it. I don't see anything obviously broken. No shattered plastic (that I can see). Ok...maybe it's alright.

I get inside, turn it on. Phew...power lights are lighting. And then the screen pops on: it's shattered and there's already a big black oily blob spreading across the bottom of the screen. F-U-C-K.

Screw the damn client report - I now have bigger issues. The black blob is getting bigger - I ask my cousin for an empty CD so I can quickly burn all my files to it before the computer bites it. I drop the CD in. Horrific sounds emit from my machine. Error messages pop up left and right. My files can't be burned.

Somebody suggests a flash drive. I of course don't own one. But there's a Staples right down the road. I speed over to Staples - computer in hand. I run in, pick one up, stick it into my computer and begin copying my files.

I pull back out of Staples and my car starts to stutter. I am out of gas. I literally coast into the station with barely enough momentum to get to the pump. Jesus god. I fill up and head back to my cousin's house.

I get settled at her place. The black blob has stopped spreading and aside from the horrible view, my computer is working (or at least email is).

My husband is furious that I just demolished a perfectly good laptop by not putting it into a case. And I managed to slice my hand open while ripping into that stupid plastic packaging for the flash drive.

But...at least it's Friday. Right?

Well overdue –

2007-08-22T09:10:00.000-07:00

Today would’ve been my due date from the first cycle of IVF. God it’s weird to think how different my life would be this very second had that first one worked. It’s weird to have this date stuck in my head – an anniversary of nothing. I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m not depressed like I expected to be. But I can’t help but be filled with this strange sense of emptiness and quiet. I’d like to say I’m coming to grips with the whole situation (now THAT would be way overdue)…but I’m not sure that’s it either.

It’s like a day of grieving. But for what? Can we even grieve this? I mean what IS “this”? J and I are the only ones on the planet that know what today is.

It’s strange to think that since my very first injection from IVF, other women have gotten pregnant and given birth. And the only thing that’s happened to us is another uneventful year has passed by.

And I also find it strange that on this date – no different from any other – a completely random Wednesday - that so many big things are happening today to those around me:.

My best friend and her husband are closing on their first house today – a beautiful Victorian. It’s really MY dream house, but they ended up with it. I can’t wait to go visit.

My hubby is moving into a fancy new office that he’s totally excited about…he doesn’t know it yet, but I have big plans to help him interior-design-it-up.

Some good friends of our signed separation papers yesterday – they both seem to be in a good place about it. It’s still such a sad situation. Their papers are on the way to the courthouse as I type.

Today is one week from my 30th birthday (ok, that’s a stretch)…but in one week a very good friend of mine is flying into Colorado to visit us for 5 days…I’m very excited.

This weekend the birthday festivities begin. J’s company picnic is at the lake on Saturday…I love the lake (I have greedily requested a cheap kayak for my birthday). After the picnic, some friends & family are joining us at one of my favorite restaurants downtown for dinner and drinks.

So that’s that. A random Wednesday…like a zillion others that have come and gone. Lots of things happening today. Nothing happening today. It’s a strange day.

Our cozy little nest

2007-08-20T13:32:00.000-07:00

We rearranged our bedroom over the weekend. We live in a strange house. We’ve got close to 4500 square feet and yet the house only has 3 bedrooms. They’ve not even huge bedrooms. Or rather, they’re huge bedrooms, but they’re laid out in such a way that you can’t fit normal furniture in them. We have one bedroom that would be 350 sq ft if it wasn’t for the attic staircase that cuts into it, basically cutting it into 2 useless rooms.

Our plan is to eventually move that staircase and open up that bedroom to have as a master suite – there’s a bathroom connected to it as well as a HUGE walk-in closet. But it’s going to be a while before we get to that.

Our current bedroom is actually 2 rooms. You walk into the bedroom, then step up into another room. We’ve had our bed in the smaller room since we moved in, but we’ve both just been unable to breath – it’s carpeted (and the carpet needs to be replaced badly), and it's just too closed in - between the carpet, dust and dog (who sleeps with us), we both wake up with horrible sinus headaches. So we switched the bed into the dressing room (which has hardwood floors) and the dressers into the bedroom. It’s SO much more comfortable now. I don’t know why we didn’t do it sooner.

We spent all day Sunday just lounging around in our new room….we’ve never done that since we’ve lived here. It felt so luxurious – like hanging out in a fancy hotel. Can’t wait to one day have our master suite, but the old one just got much better to live with until then.

Wonderful news!!

2007-08-18T14:59:00.000-07:00

My lovely and amazing cousin who has battled the Infertility Bitch had an ultrasound on Friday. They found a very healthy heartbeat!!