Losing it

I was so freaking smug this past month or so. I've been all, "look at me not being infertile! Look how I'm thinking about and doing other things! La la la la la-de-dah." Stupid.

Apparently I have not dealt well with my issues, but rather pushed them to the back burner. You know, to come boiling over when I wasn't paying attention, ready to burn me and ruin my pot, stove, and probably my outfit too.

I have been seriously on edge the past few days. I can't explain it. My only guess is that I'm suffering from a raging case of PMS, because I'm also bloated and I have a headache. I'm on Day 2 of holding a grudge against my husband for something stupid that he said to me. Two days ago. It wasn't even that bad, I just didn't think he was being ... "nice." What am I, a toddler? Oh and speaking of toddlers? Mine? Yeah, I screamed at him this morning. Screamed. Then I slammed my car door. Why? Because he didn't tell me he wanted juice for the ride to school until I started to pull out of the driveway. Then he started to cry and whine. Which he has been doing entirely too much of lately. And because I couldn't take the grating sound of his whine, I pulled back in the driveway and got him his damn juice. Screaming at him as I slammed the car door on my way out of the car. When I got in the house I screamed at the top of my lungs until my hands stopped shaking.

What the hell is wrong with me?? I'm usually so good at dealing with his little tantrums. (And that's all they are, really. He's generally a pretty laid back kid.)

I got back in the car, and sat in the back seat with him for a minute, and apologized as much as I could. I told him I didn't like to yell, and I was very frustrated and angry and I shouldn't have yelled at him.

The whole way to school, I imagined other drivers pointing and staring at the crazy person. I thought the other parents at school, or worse yet, the teachers, would see it on my face, how terrible I was to my kid. To his credit, he acted completely normal, like nothing had happened. When it was time for me to leave him I gave him a hug and a kiss, and he kissed my cheek three times (a "triple" he calls it), and I told him I was sorry I was such a cranker this morning. Know what he said? "I'm sorry mommy. I won't make you late to work. Any. More."

Then I cried on the way to work today. Because of a Daughtry song.

Serenity, NOW.

Filling in the blanks

Well.

So far, 2010 has been a pretty good year, with just one exception.

My sister's marriage is crumbling. Listening to her, I'm pretty sure it's over. When I asked her a few days ago if she was decided on her next steps, or if she was still "trying" counseling (I put it in quotes because I'm not sure she ever really tried very hard; I think by the time they went to counseling she was checked out of the relationship), and she said, "well, I'm just not sure what to do with the baby, what to tell him, how to arrange for babysitting on my own..." I think she's just trying to figure out logistics at this point. Without getting into too much (searchable, identifiable) details, she is fed up with her marriage because her husband doesn't contribute anywhere near 50% to the house, the finances, or the child-raising. However, he is dealing with a medical condition. A medical condition that I never understood, or frankly even believed was for real, but that she knew about from day one. She always supported him, and, well, it seems now like she was covering up for him and making excuses for his behaviors.

I'll stop here and say that it's not drugs. It sounds like drugs or alcoholism, doesn't it? Not even close. I don't mean to be vague in an annoying way, I just don't want to share details that aren't mine, so I'm trying to be as anonymous as possible.

What is making it so hard for me to be supportive to my sister, is that I feel terrible for my brother-in-law. Truth be told, I never felt like he was the one for her. I told her my reservations about him when they first started to get serious, and so did our other sister, as well as a friend of hers. But she stood hard on the "It's not his fault, he's dealing with a serious medical condition, and I love him and want to support him" line. No matter that he managed to work full time before he met my (hard working) sister. He dropped to part time, then stopped working all together, to pursue his education. For the past few years, he's taken one class per semester (so he could take care of the baby), and a year ago stopped school all together. Oh, and he sends the baby to a babysitter every day of the week.

So why do I feel terrible for him? Since he clearly sounds like a deadbeat? Well, one because my sister is having an affair. Yeah. But mostly because I can't figure out what he did wrong. (Besides all of the above, you're asking?) Again, I would never be ok with a marriage like that, and I would never think that my workaholic sister would either. But she married the guy! Just like he is today. Nothing's changed, except his efforts, which she has been ok with all along. Supportive even. I can't figure out where her breaking point came, and why now. She said simply, "I just reached my limit - I can't take it anymore." I feel terrible for my brother in law, because all of his efforts (or lack thereof) have been my sister's idea or fully supported by her until now. How was he to know she had a problem, if her first mention of the problem is in the same breath as "I want a divorce," and "Oh by the way, I'm having an affair"?

Anyway. I have no idea what to do with all of this. (Except vent to my other sister, and be as supportive and thought-provoking as possible to this sister.)

Next time, I'll write about why this year has gotten off to an otherwise great start. Thanks for listening if you've made it this far.

First stop, write the dang goal

My husband and I were talking about the past year, and wondering what 2010 would bring. He said that he's already broken his new year's resolution for this year (being more decisive - hahah! Who knew he was struggling with the same thing I am?), and then asked me what my resolution was. I told him I wasn't messing around with a silly resolution this year; they're too easy to break and even forget. I told him I was writing a goal. His response? "So, then, your resolution is to write a goal?" I had to laugh out loud. Clearly I married him for his looks and his ability to crack me up.

So what is my goal going to address? I'm not really living my life as fully as I'd like. I'm too focused on what I don't have, and what might be missing, to completely enjoy and cherish what is great right now. I'm not trying to imply that I'm all together miserable or anything - I know that I'm not. But I also know that I'm much more focused than I'd like to be on the negative, and the unknown, things that are going on with me. The truth is, we are lucky. Yes, lucky as hell. We have food (and often too much of it), we have our health, we have a house in a great neighborhood, decent jobs, and a great family. We have our kiddo. Our little lightbulb. I don't want to look back and wonder what I missed because I was too busy worrying about or working towards an uncertain future. I have too many certainties in my future for that!

I was running late to work today. As usual. Except my boss, my boss's boss, and even her boss, were all in town for a meeting, and I desperately wanted to be early. So all morning I was rushing my kiddo, telling him to be a good listening boy for me, and running around the house trying to get us ready and out the door. We forgot his Nicky bunny (a tragedy, I tell you, leaving Nicky bunny at home), so I had to run back in the house to get it, with my car idling and my kiddo sitting happily in his carseat. My heart was pounding, thinking that I was going to look terrible showing up late to this meeting. I was ushering him into the daycare lobby, when I looked down and saw that he was walking like a duck, his back to me, waddling down the hallway toward his classroom. He didn't turn back around to me, just said - quietly, mind you, because he was focused intently on doing it right - he said, "mommy, look, I'm fancy-walking!"

Fancing walking. The kid cracks me up, all the time. All I have to do is pay attention, or else I'll miss it. And I don't want to look back in a year or twenty years, and wonder what I might have missed when he was two or three.

Those are the thoughts behind my new year's goal.

Goal setting primer

I decided that I'm taking a different approach this year. I'm not setting resolutions. I'm defining a goal. In my work, I've done training on goal setting for managers and leaders, and I often apply these to more informal coaching sessions as well. When I talk of writing goals, I break it down into its parts, and I'll encourage you to consider what you want to achieve, how you're going to set about achieving it, why it's important, and how you're going to measure your success. Let's start with these pieces first.

What do you want to achieve? This is the goal itself: the outcome you're looking for. Often, it's helpful to include why you want to achieve the goal.

Is losing 15 pounds a goal? Not really. There's usually some reason you want to lose 15 pounds - whether it's to feel more energetic, or to lower your blood sugar or blood pressure, or even to be able to wear all your kickass skinny clothes.

What are some ways to get to that desired outcome? How will you achieve your goals? In a broad sense, or a big picture, these are your strategies. You might have one or two or five strategies under a goal.

To continue on the weight loss thread, one strategy might be to eat better and another one might be to move your body more. These are not really specific, but in broad strokes, these are the ways that you'll achieve your goal.

Specifically, what are you going to do to make those strategies happen? Here you'll come up with very specific, manageable, measurable, doable tactics. Often you'll have several tactics under each strategy. The key is to make them something to strive for (so, not too easy!) but not impossible. They should be challenging yet realistic. These tactics can change over the course of your plan; for example, for the first few weeks it might make sense to exercise at the gym twice a week for 30 minutes each, but as you progress it might be more realistic to go four times a week for 45 minutes each time. Tactics should also be things that you personally have control over. So, "get my husband to listen to me when I talk to him," is not a good tactic.

Some examples of your tactics might be: I'm going to walk 30 minutes a day during my lunch break at least 3 times a week, I'm going to eat fresh vegetables at least twice a day, or I'm going to sign up for and attend all sessions of a weekly yoga class.

Lastly, you'll want ways to measure your progress. How will you know if you've succeeded in your goal? These are your metrics. You'll probably have more than one metric.

Here's where the 15 pounds comes back in! So a metric might be to lose a specific amount of weight, to be able to run a 5K, to fit back into your skinny jeans, or to bring your blood pressure to an acceptable range.

To summarize:
Goal - outcome
Strategies - the approach (or approaches) you're going to take to achieve your goal
Tactics - specific sets of actions
Metrics - measurement of your progress and success

If you include all these pieces in your new years resolution - or goal! - it'll be more meaningful, easier to track, and hopefully in the long run will be more achievable for you.

Next up: my new year's goal, and an outline of my strategies, tactics, and metrics.

Thanks Grandma

We had a fabulous Christmas (and another installment to come tomorrow, thanks to splitting time among the different branches of our families), but rather than bog your Reader or feed down with another Merry Christmas post, I will just share with you what my husband's Grandma wrote in our Christmas card.

And I quote (though yes, I'm changing our names here):

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! To William, Billy, Stephanie ... AND ?????

I asked my husband if she thinks we're pregnant, or maybe just hoping.

WTF?! I can only laugh at this point.

But really, in all seriousness, I hope you're all enjoying your time, and to my fellow empty uterus infertiles, I hope the Grandmas of this world are kind to you this holiday season.

xoxoxo

A lot to consider

I met with Dr. D today, to talk about what went wrong, next steps, and options. What went wrong? One thing: my eggs. "You just can't get around egg quality," he said. I asked what my highest FSH was ever with them, and he said 14. Terrible, right? Except that 3.5 years ago, I had an FSH of 13, and got pregnant with IUI and tamoxifen. My first IUI, by the way. He responded that an FSH needs to be considered along with a woman's age; so, an FSH of 13 in a 34-year old is a much better consideration than an FSH of 14 in a 38-year old.

Oh.

I asked if there was anything else to try, anything that might lead to a better response, and he said no. They started me at a fairly high dose of meds already for this IVF, and unfortunately there's just no other combination or protocol that he thinks would lead to me producing more eggs. No tricks up their sleeves. I was sort of hoping for another shot, but honestly - truly - knowing that IVF is off the table is a good thing for me. At least I know.

Then he said what I was secretly hoping to hear. He said, "we could try more IUIs. I have no objections to that, and in fact, what if we tried an IUI with tamoxifen?" (Tamoxifen, for those of you who aren't familiar, is like Clomid, but a much smaller dose.) Then he said, "now, wait, I know you're going to say that this is like taking a step backwards..." Um, no. It's exactly the option I was going to ask him about next. I told him I'd been thinking of that, and asked him if maybe there was a benefit of fewer eggs in response, like maybe there'd be higher quality with less quantity. He replied that he has never seen any data to support that, but that his embryologist swears that the outcome she sees is better for women with high FSH on Clomid rather than injectibles.

I also asked him about my tubes. What if they're blocked? What if my endometriosis came back, but more this time? I had an HSG and a laparoscopy previously (when I got pregnant with my kiddo), but this time around I've only had an SHG. We talked at length about this, because I had a terrible experience with the HSG (I swear it hurt worse than my epidural-free labor and delivery). He said that the clinic's Physician Assistant does all the HSG's, and "she's rather good; of course I'm sure you'll feel some pain, but I would guess that it's not going to be like what you felt before." I wouldn't be surprised if it were a walk in the park compared to the one I had before; that guy was an oaf, twisting and turning me on the table, cursing my cervix, and generally acting like an ass. Dr. D even reminded me that some believe that fertility is enhanced in the few months following an HSG.

We also talked a lot about the option of donor eggs. I told him we were absolutely open to the idea, but it was the cost that was prohibitive at this point. He advised that I talk to his insurance person, because she could outline the costs more specifically - taking into consideration my awesome insurance coverage (albeit without donor coverage) - so that we can make an informed decision.

In the end, he kept repeating that there's nothing to suggest that I can't get pregnant. He told me that they've had women with an FSH over 20 who got pregnant successfully. But, he also said a few times that IVF is not going to be the way to go for me. He said something like, "It's too much to go through, too much stress on your body, your time, and your wallet for you to go through that." Apparently for women like me, IUI has about the same chance as IVF (which, yes, is very small, but still a chance), so he wouldn't recommend IVF at all any longer. I asked him at what point he'd cut me off from treatments, and he replied that we could try the HSG and then one - maybe two - IUI's, and that would be all he would recommend. He even stressed that we could be that rare couple that gets pregnant on their own. I liked his attitude - stressing to me that it's not impossible, but yet reminding me to be realistic about our chances.

Clearly, we have a lot to think about. I'm no less confused about our next steps than I was before, but I have to repeat that it's a relief that we know what roads we won't be able to go down. I plan to get through the holidays, and decide what happens after the new year.

Again

It's amazing how one phone call can pull me right back in.

Land of IF: Population, Me.

I have been doing really well the past couple weeks. No, I haven't been perfectly content, and I have been so conflicted about our next path that it's downright confusing at times. But I have been calm. I've enjoyed the feeling of being done with treatments - if only for a time - just the feeling of not having to schedule appointments, spend a quarter hour mixing meds and jabbing myself nightly. It has felt nice. Easy. I have distinctly *not* felt infertile, at least for the past couple weeks. I thought about our next steps with a sort of detachment, thinking the whole time that whatever works out will be for the best ... no, that we'll make the best of it. I will even say that I have spent more time being happy with feeling done, and less time being sad about what we're missing.

Then today. Today I did something that's been on my "to-do" list since this day. One month ago today I learned that my IVF wasn't going to happen, because my ovaries were sleeping on the job. I knew when my cycle was converted that I'd have to sit down with my doc and talk about our options. I knew it would eventually be time to figure out what happens next.

So I called today to schedule time with the doc for what we infertiles sometimes call the "WTF appointment." As in WTF went wrong? WTF do I do now? As I said, I went into this phone call with a sort of centered calm. It is what it is, whatever will be, will be, and all that fun stuff. Within minutes of the call I was crying. (Frankly I'm lucky I held out until I hung up the phone.) I was internally cursing my body, angry and feeling broken. Guilt. Tired. Again, again, again.

The appointment is Friday.

I'm scared.

Naughty and nice

Naughty

Aetna. My plan has an "infertility program" that is mandatory if you're undergoing IF treatments. This means I need to call them every month when my period starts, tell them what I'm doing that month in terms of treatments, and then they send me a letter in the mail with what tests or procedures I'm approved to do that month. So they know full well I'm dealing with infertility. Yesterday, I received a nice little flyer in the mail from them, touting the benefits of their "Beginning Right Maternity Program." They included enrollment information, so that I can make the most of their maternity benefits. Thanks a bunch Aetna, way to kick a girl when she's down.

Mother Nature. It's in the teens here. Biting, frigid, teeth-chattering cold. Not a fan.

The mall. I have to head there this weekend to do most of my christmas shopping.

The chick in my training class this week. After a cutesy announcement in the middle of the introductions that she was 4 months pregnant with her first (and she looked all of 97 pounds soaking wet), I overheard her tell someone that she had to get pregnant quickly again after this one comes, because she really wants her kids close together in age. Grrrrr.


Nice

Sleep. I had the best nap ever today. I love having a day off a week, just me and the kiddo.

My husband. He rocks, seriously.

Toddler logic. My kiddo funny of the day was centered around my son not wanting to sit on the potty. I found him peeing in the tub (not more than a minute after he got down from the potty and got into the bath). When I asked him why he didn't go in the potty, I added in something like, "don't you want to be a big boy?" He responded, in all seriousness, "I don't have to go potty to be a big boy. I'm already a big boy." I laughed and then he continued, "Anyway, my bedroom is too messy, I can't go pee in the potty." Mmmmkay, thanks for the explanation little man.

Christmas music. Scratch that - holiday music. I love the stuff. I'm so corny I even play it in other seasons. Speaking of which, where is the Adam Sandler Hanukkah song? I haven't heard it once yet. But Target was playing the Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel song this morning, and my son was singing along.

Being home. I'm a big, big fan of this place.

New perspectives

I'm traveling for work this week, and I'm staying in a really trendy (sort of oddball, in my opinion) hotel. The bed is quite comfortable, but I'm prone to allergies, and the entire bed is wrapped in down: the 23 pillows (ok, so I exaggerate just a bit, but trust me there are plenty), the comforter, the featherbed. I thought I was sleeping in a goose's embrace last night, minus the honking. Then there are concrete walls (yes, inside my hotel room), a bathroom with a wall that doesn't quite go to the ceiling, and in the lobby there are chairs that look like a broken egg. Remember the chairs in Men in Black? Except in this hotel, the egg chairs hang from the ceiling.

But here's what's good about the place. This is the showerhead:

Heavenly. Like standing in a warm rainshower.

Except for the full length, full width mirror in the shower stall. Yes, a mirror in the shower. I stepped in and thought, ok, I'll just face away from that thing. At some point, of course, I had to turn around. Not terrible, I thought. Could be worse. Honestly, I look way less (terrible, gross, just plain fat) - scary - than I expected I would.

Within a few minutes, I was wishing my husband were with me. Now that would be a fun use of that shower and its mirror. Instead, I got to see that my butt cheeks turn bright red in a hot shower.

All in all, I'm looking forward to coming home tonight.

A verbose state of speechlessness

I really am speechless. I have no idea what to think, or say, let alone what to do, so if you wish to bear with me and read my swirling thoughts, here they are.

My husband and I have not really talked about this - not since Wednesday. The closest we've come is that we'll each make tentative little statements about being a one-child family. Like this morning, our kiddo was being his normal silly adorable self, and I said, "you know, if we are only going to have one, then he's really the right one to have." He's made one or two similar comments recently as well, about positive aspects of this "choice" we're facing. It's almost like we're dipping a toe in, testing the water to see how it feels. Will we jump in?

I have truly never been so conflicted in my life. One moment (or day) I am relieved to be done with treatments - and I fantasize about my life with no more treatments - and the relief I feel is indescribable. I think about simple things, like signing up for a yoga class that's 10 weeks long, like losing the 15 extra pounds I've put on, like not having to worry about fitting doctor's appointments into my work schedule and upcoming trips. The problem with quitting treatments is of course that the net result is that I do not end up pregnant.

Then the next minute or hour I want another child so much I can taste the feeling. I have spent these moments - sometimes full days of this - daydreaming about adoption, donor eggs, even pursuing a more aggressive IVF cycle. (If there even is such an option, which I doubt.) We've talked about foster care, mostly because my sister has had a great experience - she adopted her two children from foster care, after deciding to stop pursuing IF treatments after the Clomid stage. It's worked out well for her in the end, but the road of course was full of heartbreak when a couple other children were taken from them after their respective parents decided to ... well, to parent. That's the part that stops me with fostering. And overall, the problem with all of the family-building paths that I know about, is that they're mostly expensive, and none of them have a 100% success rate.

Anyway - I can't get into all my options now - partly because I honestly don't know what they all are, and partly because it's going too far down a road that I'm not sure about right now. How do I express how I feel about pursuing a donor egg cycle when I don't even know how I feel about pursuing *any* further road to another child?

It's kind of like going to a diner. I live in NJ, and diners abound. I always take three times as long to figure out what I want to eat at a diner, not necessarily because there are more choices, but because there are more *kinds* of choices. If it's 12:00 noon, and I walk into a diner, my first choice is: breakfast or lunch. How can I compare a chicken caesar salad with french toast with strawberries? It's impossible until you decide if you want lunch or breakfast.

And wouldn't the decision be 100x more difficult if you were starving, and if the choices were the following:
1) A 100% chance of getting a shrimp caesar salad (and you have a shellfish allergy), $9.00
2) A 10% chance of getting strawberry-topped belgian waffles, and a 90% chance of getting nothing, $100
3) A 5% chance of getting a mystery plate, 95% chance of nothing, $250.

Oh and by the way, everyone else at the restaurant is ordering what they want, for the usual price, and getting what they want. Except the woman at the booth behind you, she complains nonstop that she's pregnant with a girl and she reeeaaaallly wants a boy. You're allowed to drop your iced tea on her, by the way.

Going too far down that analogy road?

Ok, now you see how conflicted I am. My main problem is that I'm comparing apples to oranges. (Or strawberry-topped belgian waffles with a chicken caesar salad.) I'm trying to decide between stopping treatments (which is a foolproof way to *not* have another child), and pursuing treatments or some other road (which is not a surefire to end up with a child, but rather just an opportunity for one. And an expensive opportunity at that.)

How does one even make that decision?

Game over

I'm speechless.

Where do we go from here?

I've done a lot of thinking about what happens next. If - or when - this cycle doesn't work. Let me start by saying that while I'm not optimistic about my chances, I am absolutely hopeful. I don't want to banish that hope and say to you - or to myself - that I don't expect it to happen, or that I *know* there's no way it will happen, because that would not be true. I do hope, very much so, that my period doesn't show up on Wednesday and that I see two lines on Friday. I hope so much that I want to scream, that my head hurts sometimes, that I can't sleep at night. And in order to hope, I have to believe that I have a shot. I have to believe that there's some chance - however small - that this might work.

But at the same time, to say I'm not optimistic ... well, that's a bit of an understatement. I am holding onto hope because it doesn't want to let go, but that doesn't mean that I'm window shopping pink booties and this season's maternity clothes or picking out baby names. In fact, I find most of my thoughts swirling around the question: "What's next?"

I truthfully do not know what happens next. (If this doesn't work.) I want to do whatever it takes - I really do - but only if "whatever it takes" comes without too steep a cost. Because lately I have come to face the reality that what I have been through over the past two years has cost me. And my marriage. And my son. I am tired, so bone weary, of being consumed by this quest, and the thought of jumping off the ride now makes me feel happy and light in a way that I have not felt since I can remember. I don't believe for one second that the hits we've all taken can't be repaired; I know these wounds will heal. Of course, jumping off the ride means living the life that we didn't technically choose for ourselves, and therein lies the tough choice. We want another child. I don't know how to reconcile this; I just can't figure it out.

For now, I'll do what I'm *supposed* to do. I'll meet with the RE to discuss what went wrong, and what my next steps will be, if I choose to continue treatments. I'll put all the information aside for a short period of time ... short, because let's face it, I don't have much time to decide here. And then we'll figure out what our path will be. We'll weigh and consider, we'll take some time to heal and get stronger, and then we'll decide.

I have to say, it might be the path of least resistance.

A happy sort of post

Reading back over my last several entries, you'd really think I'm a big Debbie Downer. I'm not usually so damn negative (and clearly I've had some crap hit me lately) but I also believe that mood and behavior can easily follow outlook, so I'm going to focus on the good and great stuff for a moment.

Here's what's good right now:
* A four day weekend. I mean, what's better than that? As I love to tell my husband, we're getting paid to *not* work today, and even after the two busy days we've had, we still have two more days off. Love it.
* I have half a strawberry swirl cheesecake sitting in my fridge, plus a nice chicken and stuffing dinner for tonight. (Have I mentioned that the only thing I dislike more than cooking is trying to figure out *what* to cook?)
* I have plans with my sister to go to a movie tomorrow. I love going to movies: the popcorn, the chocolate, the amazing picture and sound, and simply escaping for a couple hours. Can't wait.
* I have gift ideas for most people on my list already. Huge hurdle overcome.

Here's what's great right now:
* My kiddo. Seriously, he rocks. He's the most laid back kid out there, so chill and smart and funny.
* Everybody is happy and healthy around me lately.
* Naps. Four day weekend = at least two, maybe three, naps. Aw, yeah.
* I'm less than a week away from my period being due. I will be so relieved when this is over, because being in the middle of this wait is like a huge stupid mocking weight on my back. I know that when my period comes I'll have a new kind of crushing disappointment to deal with, on top of the kind I already am experiencing, but I want this uncertainty behind me. And it will be soon.

What my ovaries have stolen from me

Of course my slacker ovaries can be said to have stolen many things from me over the years. The easy to name stuff, like a spontaneous sex life, a romantic TTC journey, and not feeling about 10 years older than I am due to their response.

But, more specifically? Recently? My slacker ovaries have stolen two important things from me.

First, I have to endure the much longer 2ww that comes with an IUI cycle. I was so looking forward to the shorter, 9 day wait, after an IVF embryo transfer. My RE doesn't do a beta until 16 days after the IUI. But since my IUI was done on a Friday, and 16 days after that is a Sunday, I have to wait until Monday, 17 days after my IUI.

(not that I'm going to make it that far; my period will come long before Monday December 7th. But still.)

Secondly, because my IVF was converted to IUI, I didn't get to have the four days of bed rest that I was so (pathetically, I know) looking forward to. I know that going under anesthesia and having a needle put through my delicate ladybits wouldn't have been fun. I'm aware. But I was *so* seeing the brightside of having a few days of bedrest. Days where I wasn't allowed to do anything but lie around and read and watch TV. A few days seemed like a nice amount of laying around time; enough time to decompress and chill out but not so much as to make me want to go crazy. It felt like pampering.

Did I mention that my birthday was last weekend? (38. Painful. Enough said.) My wonderful husband bought me three books that I was really looking forward to reading, specifically because he knew I had those days of bedrest coming up. And I bought myself a little gift too - two seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD.

I think I'll try to find a way to make it up to myself, like with a trip for a mani/pedi or by going out to a movie or something.

Stupid slacker thieving ovaries.

Reactions

IUI for Friday, confirmed this morning. Thank goodness this didn't get pushed back further, because I really just want it over and done with.

It's funny, but I've been so open about what we're going through, and I think it's finally biting me in the ass. I was just so excited about starting IVF, and I don't mind being open about my infertility in general, so I told people about our cycle plans. Now I have everyone I know asking me (excitedly, mind you!) about how things are progressing, when retrieval will be, etc. It's been rather tiring to have to keep explaining the cancellation. Lesson learned, I suppose.

People's reactions to these developments have been interesting. Here's a little recap:

Boss who is living child free after 10 IVF attempts: She's always been so understanding - much more so than I expected, actually. She let me vent, she listened, and then she moved firmly into the "understand how lucky you are" camp. I can appreciate that; I am lucky.

Boss who has had no trouble conceiving, and who has 2 little ones of her own: Very sympathetic, hopeful, and accommodating.

Assorted friends: I've gotten varying degrees of anger, sadness for us, frustration, etc. But the overriding theme is along the lines of "what's the next step?" This is why I wish I had kept this cycle a little (not completely, but just a little) closer to the vest. Answering these questions is not easy now, because my thoughts are changing on an almost hourly basis. One friend made me laugh out loud with an email where she told me to tell my ovaries to stop slacking off, and "quit acting like they have a state job. It's time to get to work." (She's a state employee, by the way, before anyone gets offended.) It was just the levity I needed at that moment.

My husband: He's disappointed. I think he's taking this harder than I am. While I am automatically looking at the positives of having one child (and there are plenty of positives!), he is forcing himself to look there. I really think he's .... sad. Last night we were talking about Friday's IUI, and he said, "what time will we need to go back for the insemination?" We, I asked him? "Yes," he said, "I'm coming with you." Ummmm, ok? Honey, we're not newbies, you don't need to take a half a vacation day to hold my hand. Heck, we haven't done that since, well since the very first IUI, three and a half years ago. Ah. "Hey, I was there for him," he said, as he pointed to the kiddo, "I want to be there this time too." I don't know if it's superstition on his part (hey, it worked that time! Maybe there's something to having him in the same zip code when I get knocked up), or if he just wants to round out the circle because he feels - like I do - that this might be our last attempt.

Me: First and foremost, I think I'm confused. I'm so used to having a next step, a plan B (and C and D), and this time I just don't. Yet. And all of the questions I'm getting are not making it any easier to figure out, frankly. I'm being honest with people close to me, letting them know that we need to take some time to decide, and that maybe clarity will come with a little space. Other than that, I'm also alternating among anger, frustration, sadness, crushing disappointment and longing, and relief.

Yes, relief. I truly, honestly, fully can not wait for this to be over. I'm tired. I'm tired of spending 20 minutes every night mixing meds. I'm tired of being late to work all the time, scheduling meetings around my appointments, and not knowing what days I'll need a coworker to cover for me. I'm tired of getting my hopes up and then having them crash down around me, Every Single Month. Most of all, I think I'm tired of not knowing what happens with us. Uncertainty is not something I work well with. I like to make decisions and move forward; speculation and waiting are not part of my comfort zone. So, the idea of ending this now, moving on with our lives ... well, it's a decision, isn't it?

And that, in itself, is comforting.

SSDD

I had another follicle check yesterday morning. Guess what? A big miracle! My 3 follicles turned into 24! My doc said I looked like a 20-year old in there. No wait, better yet, it turns out I'm actually pregnant! I guess that's why the meds weren't making any follicles. But don't worry, the doc said that the Gonal-F and Menopur I've been using won't harm the baby; in fact, it's gonna make him a rock star! A genius, charming, sensitive, adorable rock star. Who knew. Oh, and labor won't hurt either - it's another side effect.

Should I throw in some lottery winnings too, just to make it more sarcastic?

Ok, so the real news is nothing new. I still have three (maybe two, but probably three), and my E2 is still chugging along. I go back tomorrow for what I hope is my final check, and then (*crossing fingers*) I should trigger tomorrow night and have my IUI on Friday. My stupid, senseless, annoying IUI. Did I mention that my husband had to talk me into doing it? I don't even want to bother, I know it's a waste of time and money, but at the same time I know we'll both regret it if we skip it. So, IUI it is.

I'm holding up fine. I'm crying here and there - the disappointment is just overwhelming at times - but for the most part I'm dealing. I have so many thoughts swirling around in my head about next steps - if there will be any next steps, that is. I keep telling myself to let this cycle finish, take a couple months, and then figure it out when the time is right. Right now, I'm in no rush.

Progress - Follicle check # 2

I'll start this with a gentle warning: if you don't approve of cursing or it in any way offends your sensibilities, this blog might not be the place for you today.

I was psyched for my follicle check today. I finally stopped bleeding yesterday, so I was looking forward to seeing how my lining is growing. And, although I've felt some mild tenderness in my ovaries for the past couple days, today was the first day that putting on pants hurt. A great sign! So of course, I was dying to see how those eight follicles were looking, and how many more I might have cooking in there.

My lining looks great - getting lusher day by day, and is currently 7.8mm. Aww, yeah. Now onto the follicle count. He starts on the right side, where last time I had three. He says to his assistant, who is taking notes, "twelve." Twelve?! Shit, how could I have gone from three to twelve?? No wonder my ovaries are so tender and swollen. Then he moves from right ovary to left ovary, where a couple days ago I had five. He says, "eleven..... [big pause here] ... and twelve." Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. It starts to sink in. He's not counting them, he's measuring them.

Three. That's how many I have. Fucking three.

He turns on his gentle voice. "That's right, there are three." I'm speechless, and then this voice in my head goes off, telling me to ask something, anything, because I'm going to want to know later what the hell this means. Ok, so I ask him - what happened to the eight that were there just two days ago? He said there are still plenty there, but they're not growing the way these three are. Now I move in with The Big Question. What does this mean? Dr. Gentle replies, "IUI."

Still in his "I hope she's not going to cry" voice, he tells me to keep my dosage the same (because why the fuck would we increase it now, those others clearly have no shot of catching up) and come back on Monday. He said there's always a chance that we'll get a nice surprise on Monday morning, so don't count anything out.

Sure, because my body has often surprised me in a good way. Right.

Progress - follicle check # 1

More blood work today and an ultrasound, and it looks like things are moving along nicely. I asked the nurse why the doc told me I wasn't responding as well a couple days ago, and she said my E2 was a bit lower than they like to see. My baseline E2 was 22, and on Tuesday (after two days of stims), it was up to only 42. They usually hope for it to be in the 80-100 range at that point.

Then came my ultrasound. Lining is super thin at 4.5, but I'm still bleeding, so that isn't surprising. I swear I thought I was going to burst with anticipation until the tech started counting follicles. So far, there are eight: five on the left side, and three on the right. She kept stressing that it was too early to see much, and that more will be visible as they get bigger, I think because she thought I was going to be upset at the number. On the contrary, I was thrilled! Clearly I'm not expecting very much out of my body.

Doc left me a message a while ago, and said that my dosage stays the same, and I go back on Saturday for another check. She didn't specify the E2, but now that I know about it I'm going to keep asking.

Unresponsive

That's me. Well, more specifically, my ovaries. I had blood work this morning, and according to the doctor, I'm "not responding as well as we'd like." He says I'm to increase the Gonal-F tonight to 450 (from 375), keep the Menopur the same (two vials), and go back on Thursday for an ultrasound and blood work.

I didn't really ask questions - I understand all about what my follicles should be doing, but as far as blood work, I'm not sure what my E2 levels should be at each stage - or what else they're looking at as far as blood levels. So, I just took him at his word about me not responding well. I'm honestly torn between wanting to research so I can obsess - I mean, ask appropriate questions - and wanting to keep taking him at his word and leaving it at that.

Something to ponder between now and Thursday, I suppose.

Chill, with a side of anxiety

What a great, laid back weekend. I had a gift certificate for a facial, and I used that on Saturday afternoon. I have to admit that while it was nice (and I always love being pampered and any kind of massage whatsoever), it wasn't nearly as good as getting a full-body massage. I think that I'd do it again, but not super often and definitely not instead of a massage. My face does look fantastic though.

Otherwise this weekend, we just hung out, enjoying the beautiful weather. I'm a little bummed about the impending cold weather - why I live in the North East is beyond me (oh, that's right, it's because the bugs down south would send me to a looney bin and the dry air out West would lead to constant raw, sore throats) - so I'm sopping up every ounce of warmth there is left this year.

I'm so laid back about my current cycle it's amazing. The primary-IF me of four years ago would be stunned and impressed at how I'm taking it all in stride. I haven't figured out yet if this will be my only IVF attempt (if it doesn't work, that is), and what's more amazing, is that I feel no pressure to figure it out yet. That's a huge thing for me, just going with the flow and taking it as it comes. Hey, I'm no dummy, I know that with my age, FSH, and the fact that this is my first IVF, my chances aren't phenomenal that I walk out of this with a baby. I know that. And yet, for some reason that I have yet to figure out (probably because I'm not spending every moment analyzing it), it's ok. It's ok if I decide to cycle again next year, it's ok if we have frosties left over and do an FET .... hell, it's even ok if we decide to stop. Right now, it's ok for us if we just don't decide yet, and focus on being hopeful for this chance.

That being said ... there's a little "but" here. I feel laid back. I do. I feel like I'm ready for whatever happens. And yet, I'm having these awful, anxiety filled dreams. Now that I think about it, they seem to be centered around the meds. I'm not new to mixing the meds, shooting myself, having my husband shoot me in the butt - I feel comfortable with all of that during my waking hours. But at night? After I fall asleep? Apparently I'm really worried that I'm going to screw something up. One night, I dreamt that I used PIO instead of stims. Another night, I gave myself ten times the amount of Gonal F. In a different dream, all my meds were missing when it was time to inject them - I just couldn't find them anywhere in the house. And last night, I dreamt that I forgot to take them, for two nights in a row.

Tonight I start stims. I just hope that once I begin the nightly routine, my sleeping self will chill out a bit, and catch up to my waking self. Here's hoping.