I'd like to say there is a lot going on here, but this beginning part of pregnancy is mostly about gagging, nausea, and overwhelming exhaustion. For me, there are some little additions - I mentioned the incredibly early belly distension, which seems to have gone down only to be replaced by this soft rounded protrusion (I know anatomically it is actually some sort of fat pad being pushed out, but it is definitely there). That is still being hidden at work (more on that later). Also, the constant urination thing - I am trying desperately to drink enough water/liquids and failing most days, but I still have to pee. I'm finding that the combination of pregnancy and IC (interstitial cystitis - I've written about it before) are fairly painful - I think my bladder has hurt for at least six or seven weeks now. Whenever that popping-over-the-pubic-bone thing happens, I hope it helps a little. And the sacrum out of alignment that began at week five is still happening, but thankfully causing less pain than it did.
Sounds like complaining, right? Not going to deny that, but to me, pregnancy is a means to an end. That crying, healthy baby at the end is what I have my sights on. Strangely enough, it's starting to set in that we might actually get there. That this little guy or gal will continue to grow and make an appearance in June or July. That we might really have to buy a car seat and make plans for daycare. Not that we're going to discuss any of that right now outside of a completely theoretical way. I want viability (23 weeks) and then I want another 17 or 18 weeks on top pf that. Then we can talk baby showers (yes, I freaked out at the mention of that celebration).
We told our families right between six and seven weeks, after that first US that showed one solid heartbeat. I know it was early, but we're working with a few factors: my darling C has a huge mouth, our families knew we were doing IVF "sometime this fall," and if something went (or still goes) wrong - we will need their support. Yes, there was some over excitement going on and I reminded all that this wasn't free information - they had/have to keep it to themselves for a long time yet. And there was the uncle that reminded me that my worth to this family was not ever going to be judged by my ability to have children (well-intentioned, I think). My sister knew all along as my confidant and C's brothers were surprised and excited. Of course, about everyone that talks to C knows (coworkers, close friends, the dogs) and I've started telling (you guys) and some closer, very supportive friends. Ahh, but work is tricky. I'm not afraid of telling them - they're going to be over the moon with excitement. But while all of our family and friends can be incredibly thoughtful and supportive if something happens, it's more difficult for coworkers. Pregnancy is an on-going thing, often resulting in a baby, who then grows up - constant conversation material. Loss and bad things are usually acknowledged once and forgotten. Partly because it might be awkward to bring them back up, i.e. how are you doing since your dad passed away? going to try for another kid since your baby died three months ago? My coworkers would have to see me dealing (or not dealing) with grief and loss everyday and I guarantee that sooner or later the attitude will turn into get over it already. It's just different with them (very few who have had losses or difficulty getting pregnant). I'm also not ready for the comments/advice onslaught. All well intentioned, but can you imagine how "Took you long enough" and "Are you hoping for a boy or girl?" and "You should postpone vaccination" are going to affect me? How much do I want to share with them? I'm mostly an open book, except when that book contains information you could use to hurt me (even if You think You are being funny).
What I'd like to say to anyone with a comment/advice is this: I worked damn hard to get pregnant. It has taken death and surgery and science and medicine and drugs and injections and years and doctors and love and money and therapy to get right here, right where I am. I want a healthy, full-term baby out of this. My husband and I will be deciding on testing and care providers and names and pacifiers and delivery and cribs and co-sleeping and circumcision and vitamin K shots and breastfeeding without your input, because we will most certainly ask for your input if we desire it. Don't you dare use the phrase "knocked up" around me, as I am not. Don't you so much as reach a hand in the direction of my belly without asking and planning to respect my No. Don't even think of telling me the horrible condition your sister's hairdresser's niece experienced in pregnancy or about anyone's scary as hell delivery - I know my own real people that have gone through things you can't even imagine AND I have an incredibly active imagination. See? I'm still very defensive. I'm trying to work on it, realize that there are loads of good intentions behind many of the actions/words/possibilities of above.
To end on an upbeat note, I have been looking at care providers. I did see an OB almost two weeks ago who did all of the lab work and the last US and I could also stay with my GP, who is awesome and delivers at the hospital I work for (and live 10min from). From all of my reading over the past few years, I was thinking that once I was able to get pregnant, it'd be nice to have the kind of care that a midwife provides, more hands on and caring about the whole woman. I was just unsure how I would be categorized after one miscarriage and an IVF pregnancy - apparently totally normal. I found out that the birth center up north that opened in September is taking prenatal patients and that they are in-network with my health insurance (C is concerned about cost). We're hopefully going to tour the facility on Monday evening and then schedule with one of the three midwives that work at the birth center - which will aid us in making a decision between care providers. Since I've been angling for a homebirth for years (yes, it is a well-researched desire and with the right midwife, a perfectly safe and rational decision), a birth center staffed with midwives seems like a good compromise between that and a hospital birth. I'll add more about birthing options later - not looking for any comments about OUR choices, and in fact, I feel lucky that we have so many choices when most women in the world do not.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The Nitty-Gritty
Okay, that last post was scary. I've been having this psychological hiccup where I think telling anyone that we are pregnant (I will interchange the "I" and "we" because while C is not physically carrying this child, he is carrying me, sometimes literally, always emotionally, mentally, etc., so I'm sorry if "we" are pregnant annoys you) will automatically result in loss of said child. This is not a rational fear. But it sort of is after a miscarriage when you had to go back and untell everyone. And again, my therapist said I'm fine (how I love those words - they sound SO L.A.).
Facts:
We received a positive beta. It doubled perfectly 48 hours later.
We had a vaginal US at 6wks2days that showed one very strong flicker of a heartbeat in a blobby thing.
We had a second vaginal US at 8wks2days that showed the same strong heartbeat inside of a gummi bear looking thing (arm and leg nubs & the beginning of a spinal cord!). RE then told us to find an OB.
I went to meet a highly recommended OB and I had a third US at 11wks exactly (not that said OB or staff can figure out the dates on an IVF pregnancy if there is no LMP, but I know the exact DATE OF CONCEPTION!) and there was this baby looking thing with an excellent heartbeat and what appeared to be arms and legs and tons of other development. Wow.
Alternate facts: I'm usually a slender-ish person (good genes/high metabolism - I take zero credit) and IVF did a number on me, especially my ovaries. They got really big, like externally discernibly big. And since I was pregnant, I kept feeding them HCG hormone and they won't go down. So I'm bloated or I look pudgy or a tiny bit pregnant - and I have since forever ago. This distension also hurts. I'm not sure why - the stretching maybe? My abdomen hasn't NOT hurt since egg retrieval. Around 5wks, I started to get shooting pain from my butt down the back of my legs, so I waited two weeks and then saw one of the PTs that I work for (and I had to tell her) and it's some sciatic nerve/sacrum issues that probably won't just go away.
Facts:
We received a positive beta. It doubled perfectly 48 hours later.
We had a vaginal US at 6wks2days that showed one very strong flicker of a heartbeat in a blobby thing.
We had a second vaginal US at 8wks2days that showed the same strong heartbeat inside of a gummi bear looking thing (arm and leg nubs & the beginning of a spinal cord!). RE then told us to find an OB.
I went to meet a highly recommended OB and I had a third US at 11wks exactly (not that said OB or staff can figure out the dates on an IVF pregnancy if there is no LMP, but I know the exact DATE OF CONCEPTION!) and there was this baby looking thing with an excellent heartbeat and what appeared to be arms and legs and tons of other development. Wow.
Alternate facts: I'm usually a slender-ish person (good genes/high metabolism - I take zero credit) and IVF did a number on me, especially my ovaries. They got really big, like externally discernibly big. And since I was pregnant, I kept feeding them HCG hormone and they won't go down. So I'm bloated or I look pudgy or a tiny bit pregnant - and I have since forever ago. This distension also hurts. I'm not sure why - the stretching maybe? My abdomen hasn't NOT hurt since egg retrieval. Around 5wks, I started to get shooting pain from my butt down the back of my legs, so I waited two weeks and then saw one of the PTs that I work for (and I had to tell her) and it's some sciatic nerve/sacrum issues that probably won't just go away.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
If You Were Wondering
I have no idea how to write this post because I never pictured myself writing it.
I'm pregnant.
No idea if there was a easier or sooner or better way to tell whoever reads this (since I'm still not sure who actually reads this).
And for those of you that are happy for us because you know that this is a long hoped for, fought for, prayed for result of years, but you are sad or upset or disgusted because infertility is at times so damn hard and trapping, I'm going to end this post quickly and write up details, fear, excitement and complaints (yes, this life is wonderful, but not perfect) in another post. Feel free to skip out of self preservation - I know all about that and do not judge.
For a conclusion, I feel like I don't write this enough. Thank you. To the internet, to my friends, to my internet friends, to my stalkers, to all those who hoped or prayed or wished or silently (or not so silently) supported us, thank you. I will continue to need you and I thank you for just existing because I've always known that I've had people in my corner - that I was never alone - and that you'll be a tough crew if someone messes with me. Thank you.
I'm pregnant.
No idea if there was a easier or sooner or better way to tell whoever reads this (since I'm still not sure who actually reads this).
And for those of you that are happy for us because you know that this is a long hoped for, fought for, prayed for result of years, but you are sad or upset or disgusted because infertility is at times so damn hard and trapping, I'm going to end this post quickly and write up details, fear, excitement and complaints (yes, this life is wonderful, but not perfect) in another post. Feel free to skip out of self preservation - I know all about that and do not judge.
For a conclusion, I feel like I don't write this enough. Thank you. To the internet, to my friends, to my internet friends, to my stalkers, to all those who hoped or prayed or wished or silently (or not so silently) supported us, thank you. I will continue to need you and I thank you for just existing because I've always known that I've had people in my corner - that I was never alone - and that you'll be a tough crew if someone messes with me. Thank you.
Monday, October 17, 2011
It's a Delicate Balance
See, I get overwhelmed easily. Do most people?
I have a small idea how many of you out there in reality (like I know your face and possibly your family) and even in the interweb WANT this for me. Don’t get me wrong, I want this for me too. Your thoughts and prayers mean the world. That no one is calling us selfish or telling us we’re wasting money or that we’ll be terrible parents or that this isn’t G*d’s will is also meaningful. Sometimes I can’t even handle it all. I’ve made myself build a little dam to hold all of the goodwill back. Not because I’m ungrateful, just because I’m scared that too much hope will get a hold of me and as I’ve mentioned, I think she’s kind of a two-faced b*tch sometimes.
Because if this doesn’t work, there are, of course, a few frozen embryos waiting for us (joy, serious joy floods me when I think of them). But that is an easy, rational answer, and this process is neither easy nor rational. Do you see? The embryos the doctor transferred were still growing when they were placed in my uterus. Whether that makes them alive or babies or cells, I won’t argue, but they were/are potential family for C and me. So, if we get a negative beta (pregnancy test with numbers, remember?), I’m not sure, but I might react as if something/one died. Whatever your beliefs or semantics, something did die – a hope, a dream, a chance, a possible future, etc. I really need to be prepared for that. Some of you can’t possibly understand preparation for terribly bad news, but maybe you are the ones who handle that type of news better than I do. I handle bad news incredibly poorly. There is incessant crying and rage and anger and spewing of hateful words phrases ideas towards everyone and anything. I did the unexpected bad news thing before and was stuck in the darkness for about a year. Go read my early posts – they are seething with hatred. I have a therapist because I can’t go back there and I am preparing myself for a negative result because I need to for my sanity and self-preservation. I only ask that you understand and don’t feed me hope that I can’t handle.
Because I am well aware that this could work. That we could receive a phone call with an amazing beta and then a doubling beta and then an early ultrasound with a heartbeat obvious on the screen (or G*d help us all, two heartbeats) and then a fantastic OB visit, followed by numerous others, then a 20-week ultrasound where everything looks perfect and then the birth of a healthy baby, ready to bring home. It’s possible and it’s what we’re aiming for, but . . . understand that we’ve been on the wrong side of statistics multiple times and it’s difficult to believe you might be the 50-60% when you’ve been the 10% and then the 20% of that 10%.
So when I say delicate balance, I mean DELICATE BALANCE with insanely minute tipping points EVERYWHERE like live wires dangling or landmines.
Update from the V angst: my clinic doesn't do JUST PIO shots - they supplement with suppositories. I did have a yeast infection and was prescribed di.flucan for three weeks, as well as ordered some great probiotics to hopefully stave off more infections. Changed progesterone script to the once daily gel (as the clinic offered no option that doesn't involve something inserted in my V - which I understand better after reading about localized progesterone vs. bloodstream progesterone) and that's seemed to help. Things aren't peachy down there, but they are better. Which in context of my V, makes "delicate balance" all the more applicable.
- Posted from my mobile phone
I have a small idea how many of you out there in reality (like I know your face and possibly your family) and even in the interweb WANT this for me. Don’t get me wrong, I want this for me too. Your thoughts and prayers mean the world. That no one is calling us selfish or telling us we’re wasting money or that we’ll be terrible parents or that this isn’t G*d’s will is also meaningful. Sometimes I can’t even handle it all. I’ve made myself build a little dam to hold all of the goodwill back. Not because I’m ungrateful, just because I’m scared that too much hope will get a hold of me and as I’ve mentioned, I think she’s kind of a two-faced b*tch sometimes.
Because if this doesn’t work, there are, of course, a few frozen embryos waiting for us (joy, serious joy floods me when I think of them). But that is an easy, rational answer, and this process is neither easy nor rational. Do you see? The embryos the doctor transferred were still growing when they were placed in my uterus. Whether that makes them alive or babies or cells, I won’t argue, but they were/are potential family for C and me. So, if we get a negative beta (pregnancy test with numbers, remember?), I’m not sure, but I might react as if something/one died. Whatever your beliefs or semantics, something did die – a hope, a dream, a chance, a possible future, etc. I really need to be prepared for that. Some of you can’t possibly understand preparation for terribly bad news, but maybe you are the ones who handle that type of news better than I do. I handle bad news incredibly poorly. There is incessant crying and rage and anger and spewing of hateful words phrases ideas towards everyone and anything. I did the unexpected bad news thing before and was stuck in the darkness for about a year. Go read my early posts – they are seething with hatred. I have a therapist because I can’t go back there and I am preparing myself for a negative result because I need to for my sanity and self-preservation. I only ask that you understand and don’t feed me hope that I can’t handle.
Because I am well aware that this could work. That we could receive a phone call with an amazing beta and then a doubling beta and then an early ultrasound with a heartbeat obvious on the screen (or G*d help us all, two heartbeats) and then a fantastic OB visit, followed by numerous others, then a 20-week ultrasound where everything looks perfect and then the birth of a healthy baby, ready to bring home. It’s possible and it’s what we’re aiming for, but . . . understand that we’ve been on the wrong side of statistics multiple times and it’s difficult to believe you might be the 50-60% when you’ve been the 10% and then the 20% of that 10%.
So when I say delicate balance, I mean DELICATE BALANCE with insanely minute tipping points EVERYWHERE like live wires dangling or landmines.
Update from the V angst: my clinic doesn't do JUST PIO shots - they supplement with suppositories. I did have a yeast infection and was prescribed di.flucan for three weeks, as well as ordered some great probiotics to hopefully stave off more infections. Changed progesterone script to the once daily gel (as the clinic offered no option that doesn't involve something inserted in my V - which I understand better after reading about localized progesterone vs. bloodstream progesterone) and that's seemed to help. Things aren't peachy down there, but they are better. Which in context of my V, makes "delicate balance" all the more applicable.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Two Weeks - No Sex - Unhappy V
Although, that's not really what this post is about. There's also that beloved TWW (two week wait). But, I've got some great distractions.
First, the pain after ER has mostly dissipated. I just wasn't anticipating that type or that amount of pain, you know? Everything else was a breeze compared to that. At ET, Dr. G did mention that my ovaries were still pretty big, so I know it's not in my head. But I'm feeling better: more like a human with a distended belly and not a human with a huge OMG-if-you-touch-me-it-hurts-and-I-will-kill-you belly.
Now the suppositories. There lies my current trouble. See, my V has issues. My V is temperamental on a good day and a shrieking banshee on a bad one. What do I mean? I'm super prone to all sorts of infections and general pain and discomfort down below. Yeah, it does suck, thanks for realizing and totally not blaming me. Anyway, my V does not like the three times daily progesterone suppositories. Big surprise, huh? And I'm just guessing here by the common symptoms of pain, itchiness, discharge (really, how can I tell?), redness, and loss of elasticity (seriously, ouch). So, I'm planning to see my GP (who has ob training) tomorrow and see if she wants to diagnose a yeast infection. I'm not sure how, with the sludge that's pouring out, but I'll let her take a look (everyone else has, right?) because I just want an extended script for di.flucan(?), the oral cure. Which she's given before. Which I may need if pregnancy is in my future. Questions for her: is di.flucan(?) safe in pregnancy? Can I take a probiotic through a pregnancy?
Also, I will chat with the GP about this, but a switch to the PIO (progesterone in oil) shots might be in my future. They are the predecessor to the suppositories, are just as effective, and are actually cheaper. I think I can get my RE to write a script. The intramuscular shots are going to suck. But possibly, no more angry V. I'm going to get through until the test on the suppositories if I can manage it though.
Any advice or thoughts? Too much info about my V? I just want her comfortable, you know?
- Posted from my mobile phone
First, the pain after ER has mostly dissipated. I just wasn't anticipating that type or that amount of pain, you know? Everything else was a breeze compared to that. At ET, Dr. G did mention that my ovaries were still pretty big, so I know it's not in my head. But I'm feeling better: more like a human with a distended belly and not a human with a huge OMG-if-you-touch-me-it-hurts-and-I-will-kill-you belly.
Now the suppositories. There lies my current trouble. See, my V has issues. My V is temperamental on a good day and a shrieking banshee on a bad one. What do I mean? I'm super prone to all sorts of infections and general pain and discomfort down below. Yeah, it does suck, thanks for realizing and totally not blaming me. Anyway, my V does not like the three times daily progesterone suppositories. Big surprise, huh? And I'm just guessing here by the common symptoms of pain, itchiness, discharge (really, how can I tell?), redness, and loss of elasticity (seriously, ouch). So, I'm planning to see my GP (who has ob training) tomorrow and see if she wants to diagnose a yeast infection. I'm not sure how, with the sludge that's pouring out, but I'll let her take a look (everyone else has, right?) because I just want an extended script for di.flucan(?), the oral cure. Which she's given before. Which I may need if pregnancy is in my future. Questions for her: is di.flucan(?) safe in pregnancy? Can I take a probiotic through a pregnancy?
Also, I will chat with the GP about this, but a switch to the PIO (progesterone in oil) shots might be in my future. They are the predecessor to the suppositories, are just as effective, and are actually cheaper. I think I can get my RE to write a script. The intramuscular shots are going to suck. But possibly, no more angry V. I'm going to get through until the test on the suppositories if I can manage it though.
Any advice or thoughts? Too much info about my V? I just want her comfortable, you know?
- Posted from my mobile phone
Friday, October 7, 2011
Surprising Things
After ER, I'm still in substantial pain. My abdomen switches from okay to aching to sharp pain in an instant. It's always present, unless I'm laying on my right side. Walking hurts, sitting hurts, moving hurts. T.ylenol regular isn't touching the pain and T.ylenol 3 (as prescribed by the RE's office) dulls it a bit, but I can't take it at work. The general, abiding discomfort is starting to wear on me. Which, honestly, has me down.
One quart of fluid is 32 ounces and sometimes g.atorade can still make you nauseous. Spree, Sweettarts, and sour gummi things can help.
I'm protective of our embryos. Now that they are real, not theoretical, growing and multiplying, they are my chance at a family even if only at a cellular level in a petri dish. Mine. My family. My genes. Do not mess with them. Do everything in your power to protect them from harm. Encourage growth and development. Maybe someday one of those will become my son or daughter. That is HUGE. Let it blow your mind for a second.
I was irritated about the "no sex" mandate. Which was specified with a companion "no orgasm" mandate. Seriously, let me have one or another - or so I thought. With the abdominal pain, I don't want him to touch me. Maybe ever again. Much less with that or those. I'm not above using duct tape to put a line down the middle of the bed that he can't cross. Unless he wants to be friendly with my Eagle. That's my handgun. AND, the thrice daily vaginal suppositories? Who would want to crawl up in that muck? Judging from some of my harsher responses, I'm guessing there are some hormonal fluxes happening as well. I don't even want to have sex with this mess.
Enlarged and engorged body parts that have gotten inconvenient and uncomfortable and inappropriate. We'll leave it there.
I'm still surprised that his sperm like my eggs enough to get.it.on. We've got some awesome contenders for a 5-day blastocyst transfer. I should be way more grateful, but there is that pain thing and my concerns about the killer uterus I might be harboring.
My Sis has begun naming the octuplets. No one steal this name now, okay? No. 4 is Hannibal Love. You can't handle no. 6's name.
Implant vs. transfer still rankles me. Scientists, doctors, etc. CAN'T implant embryos. They are working out a way to implant embryos into the super cushy uterine lining, but right now, at this moment in time, they don't know how to IMPLANT embryos. If they could, pregnancy would be a higher percentage outcome because pregnancy is the result of embryos implanting and continuing to grow and develop in the uterine lining. Those processes then create HCG, which is the pregnancy hormone. Doctors can and do TRANSFER embryos into the uterus and position them in an optimal nook or cranny. Which is why we all go in for transfer, not implantation. See? Teaching moment over.
Hope everyone else is doing well. Waiting on more surprises here.
- Posted from my mobile phone
One quart of fluid is 32 ounces and sometimes g.atorade can still make you nauseous. Spree, Sweettarts, and sour gummi things can help.
I'm protective of our embryos. Now that they are real, not theoretical, growing and multiplying, they are my chance at a family even if only at a cellular level in a petri dish. Mine. My family. My genes. Do not mess with them. Do everything in your power to protect them from harm. Encourage growth and development. Maybe someday one of those will become my son or daughter. That is HUGE. Let it blow your mind for a second.
I was irritated about the "no sex" mandate. Which was specified with a companion "no orgasm" mandate. Seriously, let me have one or another - or so I thought. With the abdominal pain, I don't want him to touch me. Maybe ever again. Much less with that or those. I'm not above using duct tape to put a line down the middle of the bed that he can't cross. Unless he wants to be friendly with my Eagle. That's my handgun. AND, the thrice daily vaginal suppositories? Who would want to crawl up in that muck? Judging from some of my harsher responses, I'm guessing there are some hormonal fluxes happening as well. I don't even want to have sex with this mess.
Enlarged and engorged body parts that have gotten inconvenient and uncomfortable and inappropriate. We'll leave it there.
I'm still surprised that his sperm like my eggs enough to get.it.on. We've got some awesome contenders for a 5-day blastocyst transfer. I should be way more grateful, but there is that pain thing and my concerns about the killer uterus I might be harboring.
My Sis has begun naming the octuplets. No one steal this name now, okay? No. 4 is Hannibal Love. You can't handle no. 6's name.
Implant vs. transfer still rankles me. Scientists, doctors, etc. CAN'T implant embryos. They are working out a way to implant embryos into the super cushy uterine lining, but right now, at this moment in time, they don't know how to IMPLANT embryos. If they could, pregnancy would be a higher percentage outcome because pregnancy is the result of embryos implanting and continuing to grow and develop in the uterine lining. Those processes then create HCG, which is the pregnancy hormone. Doctors can and do TRANSFER embryos into the uterus and position them in an optimal nook or cranny. Which is why we all go in for transfer, not implantation. See? Teaching moment over.
Hope everyone else is doing well. Waiting on more surprises here.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Lucky and Still Worried
I woke up from anesthesia that wasn't anesthesia with a crescent shaped gouge in my wrist. Pretty sure I got myself while under. Before giving in though, I made the cranky nurse chuckle, Dr. G chuckle, and both the anesthesiologist and the embryologist laugh out loud. They had these looks on their faces like they shouldn't be laughing at what the sad infertile girl was saying, but funny is funny.
Shots are over, but we've moved on to thrice daily vaginal suppositories. Yummy. Rumor is that they're about $14/day, which doesn't seem bad until you calculate that I'm using them for two weeks if there is a negative pregnancy test and 8-10 weeks if it's positive. My stomach is still a battlefield. See?
The most unflattering picture ever. I'll claim that the belly button, the piercing scar and the freckle were there before, but the bruises and stab marks are courtesy of IVF. The barely-there scar in the bottom of my belly button is from the laparoscopic surgery as a result of IF. Love is a battlefield, no joke.
We're incredibly lucky in that we have more embryos (right now - this can all change overnight) than some women even have eggs retrieved. So very lucky.
Which makes me wonder if my uterus is just going to kill the beauties we put back in a few days. I know, one day at a time and be grateful for what you have, but there is a problem and if it's not with my eggs, his sperm or the joining of the two (which is kind of exciting in a hey-baby, wanna-try-out-my-backseat sort of way), then I may just posses a killer uterus. It's possible. We'll find out.
*Thanks for the Gatorade tips - you, of course, are correct and now I'm not sure where I came by the other advice. Trying to drink the quart of recommended fluids from here on out.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Shots are over, but we've moved on to thrice daily vaginal suppositories. Yummy. Rumor is that they're about $14/day, which doesn't seem bad until you calculate that I'm using them for two weeks if there is a negative pregnancy test and 8-10 weeks if it's positive. My stomach is still a battlefield. See?
The most unflattering picture ever. I'll claim that the belly button, the piercing scar and the freckle were there before, but the bruises and stab marks are courtesy of IVF. The barely-there scar in the bottom of my belly button is from the laparoscopic surgery as a result of IF. Love is a battlefield, no joke.
We're incredibly lucky in that we have more embryos (right now - this can all change overnight) than some women even have eggs retrieved. So very lucky.
Which makes me wonder if my uterus is just going to kill the beauties we put back in a few days. I know, one day at a time and be grateful for what you have, but there is a problem and if it's not with my eggs, his sperm or the joining of the two (which is kind of exciting in a hey-baby, wanna-try-out-my-backseat sort of way), then I may just posses a killer uterus. It's possible. We'll find out.
*Thanks for the Gatorade tips - you, of course, are correct and now I'm not sure where I came by the other advice. Trying to drink the quart of recommended fluids from here on out.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
What to say?
Lots has happened and we're still waiting on the best bits.
My darling C has put up with a lot: hysterical crying, misguided anger, and being told the sex we just had was terrible. Not my best moments.
I've been quite proficient at giving myself shots. Especially the easy l.upron ones with the insulin needles. The stims with the mixing, q-caps, saline and $50 clouds of fluff caught me off guard. That first night, with AM by my side, I tried, got confused, then freaked out and finally got all the meds into my body one way or another. It was a small scale trainwreck and to quote AM, "It only took 20 minutes." Thankfully, with C as mixmaster extraordinaire, things have gone much smoother. I mean, I'm still fussy (before shooting up) and very silentangry (after shooting up), but I'm sticking a needle in myself. And m.enopur stings.
Oh, and I hit a small vein or capillary or something while Mom was watching me shoot l.upron, so there was blood and then a giant bruise. I'm super talented.
And most recently, I've got over a dozen follicles brewing in one ovary and half that in the opposite. But as we all know, don't count your follicles until your eggs are retrieved, and then, don't count your eggs until they're determined mature and fertilizable, and then (okay, we'll stop there). The NP at the RE's thought that was pretty funny. My last US went well (how many women can laugh with a dildocam pinning their right ovary in place?) and labwork looks great. So far, I believe I'm textbook. Which is better than being the one that they have no idea why things are wonky.
I'm sure there is much more drama and stabbing to come and I'm not ruling out a case of OHSS (I read to eat protein and drink water - not g.atorade due to the salt). Need I write it? Please let this work. Or let it give some answers. Or let it give us closure. Any or all of the above.
- Posted from my mobile phone
My darling C has put up with a lot: hysterical crying, misguided anger, and being told the sex we just had was terrible. Not my best moments.
I've been quite proficient at giving myself shots. Especially the easy l.upron ones with the insulin needles. The stims with the mixing, q-caps, saline and $50 clouds of fluff caught me off guard. That first night, with AM by my side, I tried, got confused, then freaked out and finally got all the meds into my body one way or another. It was a small scale trainwreck and to quote AM, "It only took 20 minutes." Thankfully, with C as mixmaster extraordinaire, things have gone much smoother. I mean, I'm still fussy (before shooting up) and very silentangry (after shooting up), but I'm sticking a needle in myself. And m.enopur stings.
Oh, and I hit a small vein or capillary or something while Mom was watching me shoot l.upron, so there was blood and then a giant bruise. I'm super talented.
And most recently, I've got over a dozen follicles brewing in one ovary and half that in the opposite. But as we all know, don't count your follicles until your eggs are retrieved, and then, don't count your eggs until they're determined mature and fertilizable, and then (okay, we'll stop there). The NP at the RE's thought that was pretty funny. My last US went well (how many women can laugh with a dildocam pinning their right ovary in place?) and labwork looks great. So far, I believe I'm textbook. Which is better than being the one that they have no idea why things are wonky.
I'm sure there is much more drama and stabbing to come and I'm not ruling out a case of OHSS (I read to eat protein and drink water - not g.atorade due to the salt). Need I write it? Please let this work. Or let it give some answers. Or let it give us closure. Any or all of the above.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Out-of-Pocket Cost
As of my appointment today, $11k and change. Will itemize later. Holy shit. We're not even to the meat and potatoes of this game (or egg + sperm = embryo, then blastocyst, if you will).
When was the last time any of you threw down eleven grand at the blackjack table? Because, have no doubt, this is a gamble.
- Posted from my mobile phone
When was the last time any of you threw down eleven grand at the blackjack table? Because, have no doubt, this is a gamble.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I'll Just Be Honest
Even birth control is screwing with me. Bloating and constipation are the main culprits, but heartburn reared it's ugly head. But I'm not certain, because I am coughing-fever-sniffles-congestion-sore throat-green drainage sick also. So, the sore throat is a toss up: really bad heartburn or continual drainage sliding down the back of my throat. I am unpleasant.
I don't care what I'm wearing today or that the minimally acceptable duties are being performed at my job right now (oh, except for that part where I went to the grocery store over lunch to get a veggie platter, dill dip, pita chips and hummus for a dear Coworker's birthday, and then to Paner.a for a mango smoothie, okay, for both of us). Although rumor is that I flirted with at least three older gentlemen at work today, which while low for me, is still one more than advocated by department standards. I just don't feel good.
I don't care at all about the one hour prerequisite technology course I'm currently taking. I just bitched my way through the postings due last night. I also received moments ago, confirmation that I've been accepted into the librarianshipenhoodsmith program to begin graduate work in January. Here's the thing, if I can get pregnant and stay pregnant through January, I'm thinking this degree might need to kiss my ass. However if bad things happen or no things happen (which are still bad things), I might need this degree program for distraction and/or comfort. Or I'll need the grad school money for therapy. Which I'm already seeking.
That's all I have the capacity to write about right now.
- Posted from my mobile phone
I don't care what I'm wearing today or that the minimally acceptable duties are being performed at my job right now (oh, except for that part where I went to the grocery store over lunch to get a veggie platter, dill dip, pita chips and hummus for a dear Coworker's birthday, and then to Paner.a for a mango smoothie, okay, for both of us). Although rumor is that I flirted with at least three older gentlemen at work today, which while low for me, is still one more than advocated by department standards. I just don't feel good.
I don't care at all about the one hour prerequisite technology course I'm currently taking. I just bitched my way through the postings due last night. I also received moments ago, confirmation that I've been accepted into the librarianshipenhoodsmith program to begin graduate work in January. Here's the thing, if I can get pregnant and stay pregnant through January, I'm thinking this degree might need to kiss my ass. However if bad things happen or no things happen (which are still bad things), I might need this degree program for distraction and/or comfort. Or I'll need the grad school money for therapy. Which I'm already seeking.
That's all I have the capacity to write about right now.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Eggs
I need them for chocolate cupcakes for a coworker's birthday tomorrow. Yeah, it's 930pm. There is one in the egg carton in the fridge.
I've got two things to say.
First, C is picking some up on his way home from out of town.
Second, why is it all about the eggs? I'm set up to inject myself with freaking hormones to produce 10-15 (I'm aiming for 16 in order to be an overachiever). And that's all that is going to come to mind when pondering eggs.
IVF is a wonderful bitch. You just can't know the unyielding grasp it has on your life until you've invited it to possess you. Then it will and when you ask it why it has to control every little thing, it just smirks.
I've got two things to say.
First, C is picking some up on his way home from out of town.
Second, why is it all about the eggs? I'm set up to inject myself with freaking hormones to produce 10-15 (I'm aiming for 16 in order to be an overachiever). And that's all that is going to come to mind when pondering eggs.
IVF is a wonderful bitch. You just can't know the unyielding grasp it has on your life until you've invited it to possess you. Then it will and when you ask it why it has to control every little thing, it just smirks.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Some Days Get You
C was supposed to provide his part of the whole shebang this morning. I bought him cold medicine (the good stuff behind the counter) last night. Does anyone else have this problem? It just doesn't work with cold medicine. We both forgot. Thankfully, we were both accepting of this fact, as was the doctor's office and C was able to reschedule.
My grandma was taken to the ER and then put into the hospital for COPD complicated by pneumonia. We think everything is going to be fine, but it isn't something to mess around with.
And what is really weighing on my heart is the news that a dear friend miscarried. They just told me about their third addition not three weeks ago and they were exhausted, but so very excited. Their oldest son was convinced the baby was a girl. I received a text earlier today that they lost the baby. All I could send was my love. Until I headed to my own dr appointment and saw a girl walking out with a small belly and I smiled to think that she was somewhere in an early pregnancy. I then looked up at her face and the guy accompanying her. My dear friend and her sweet husband. I froze, not knowing whether to intrude or just let them be. Half a second later I remembered how alone I had felt with my own news four and a half years ago, bolted out of my car, knocked on her window. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. Despite having been there, I do not know if those were the right words or actions. And still, I'm strongly considering showing up at her house this weekend just to sit, either with her and listen, or with the boys to give her and the husband a few moments.
This reminded me again (because AM was instrumental in lighting the fire) that I need to talk with someone. Reducing anxiety and coping mechanisms are at the top of the to-do list. I was lulled into thinking that every pregnancy except a possible one of mine ended in a live baby and again am so sad to find out that's not true.
- Posted from my mobile phone
My grandma was taken to the ER and then put into the hospital for COPD complicated by pneumonia. We think everything is going to be fine, but it isn't something to mess around with.
And what is really weighing on my heart is the news that a dear friend miscarried. They just told me about their third addition not three weeks ago and they were exhausted, but so very excited. Their oldest son was convinced the baby was a girl. I received a text earlier today that they lost the baby. All I could send was my love. Until I headed to my own dr appointment and saw a girl walking out with a small belly and I smiled to think that she was somewhere in an early pregnancy. I then looked up at her face and the guy accompanying her. My dear friend and her sweet husband. I froze, not knowing whether to intrude or just let them be. Half a second later I remembered how alone I had felt with my own news four and a half years ago, bolted out of my car, knocked on her window. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. Despite having been there, I do not know if those were the right words or actions. And still, I'm strongly considering showing up at her house this weekend just to sit, either with her and listen, or with the boys to give her and the husband a few moments.
This reminded me again (because AM was instrumental in lighting the fire) that I need to talk with someone. Reducing anxiety and coping mechanisms are at the top of the to-do list. I was lulled into thinking that every pregnancy except a possible one of mine ended in a live baby and again am so sad to find out that's not true.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Monday, August 29, 2011
10 Things I'm Comfortable Sharing
Our RE, Dr. G, might as well be called Dr. Careful. Surprisingly, this is a-okay with me (right up until he won’t let me do what I want to do which I don’t think will happen). Guidelines such as: only exercise allowed after embryo transfer is walking. I mean, a reasonable, rational person knows that embryos aren’t going to be jostled or mountain biked out, but let’s get real, no women and few men who are doing IVF are reasonable or rational at that point in the game. Anyway, I am grateful for Dr. Careful and will be, even if this doesn’t work.
I’m utilizing masking tape to quilt in straight rows and I think it is the coolest thing ever. Also, in case you don’t read the blog about our mundane life, I quilt. For other peoples’ babies. Because I am a sicko like that.
C is right, purchasing and using birth control pills while actively trying to get pregnant is weird. I will need a refresher course in how to take them. Seriously. One of my friends mentioned the same thing as she went on bcp for a year to take a drug therapy for her newly diagnosed MS – taking bcp while being in the right place and wanting a child, again, so weird.
A double dose of the children’s gummy multi-vitamins have a nutritional edge on the sour gummy prenatal vitamins. More zinc and more folic acid. I’m still forgetting to take both.
The front office personnel at the RE’s office knows me. Like actually knows who I am. I should bring them cookies. I always arrive winded after racing up four flights of stairs (side note: will that be prohibited after embryo transfer?).
It’s too bad that the next baby quilt I make can’t say “My mom kicked infertility’s ass!” because it should. That girl deserves it. Her soon-to-arrive baby boy is testament to her perseverance. Instead, I’m thinking grays and purples for the baby prince.
My sister thinks that injection class sounds cool. Until I explained intramuscular shots vs. subcutaneous shots and the mixing of vials and the possible burning and stinging at entry. Now she’s freaked out. I’m thinking of either making her give me one or watching an injection when we get to that point. Just to be cruel, you future lab tech, you.
I was considering a last minute tattoo in the belly region as an FU to the fates (either that or the purchase of a convertible and I don’t want a convertible). As usual, C thinks my ideas are dumb and as I glimpsed the injection hand out, I think there will be enough needles going into my belly in upcoming months.
No sex for two weeks + after egg retrieval, or is it transfer? I need to look at that again. It’s going to be a long haul. Three weeks total? Or is it until the first US? So I might have a viable pregnancy, but can't have sex? That's got catch-22 written all over it. I still need to read that book.
Even with all the craziness (reminder, bcps still contain hormones), we are actually doing okay. Mostly. On good days. Yeah.
- Posted from my mobile phone
I’m utilizing masking tape to quilt in straight rows and I think it is the coolest thing ever. Also, in case you don’t read the blog about our mundane life, I quilt. For other peoples’ babies. Because I am a sicko like that.
C is right, purchasing and using birth control pills while actively trying to get pregnant is weird. I will need a refresher course in how to take them. Seriously. One of my friends mentioned the same thing as she went on bcp for a year to take a drug therapy for her newly diagnosed MS – taking bcp while being in the right place and wanting a child, again, so weird.
A double dose of the children’s gummy multi-vitamins have a nutritional edge on the sour gummy prenatal vitamins. More zinc and more folic acid. I’m still forgetting to take both.
The front office personnel at the RE’s office knows me. Like actually knows who I am. I should bring them cookies. I always arrive winded after racing up four flights of stairs (side note: will that be prohibited after embryo transfer?).
It’s too bad that the next baby quilt I make can’t say “My mom kicked infertility’s ass!” because it should. That girl deserves it. Her soon-to-arrive baby boy is testament to her perseverance. Instead, I’m thinking grays and purples for the baby prince.
My sister thinks that injection class sounds cool. Until I explained intramuscular shots vs. subcutaneous shots and the mixing of vials and the possible burning and stinging at entry. Now she’s freaked out. I’m thinking of either making her give me one or watching an injection when we get to that point. Just to be cruel, you future lab tech, you.
I was considering a last minute tattoo in the belly region as an FU to the fates (either that or the purchase of a convertible and I don’t want a convertible). As usual, C thinks my ideas are dumb and as I glimpsed the injection hand out, I think there will be enough needles going into my belly in upcoming months.
No sex for two weeks + after egg retrieval, or is it transfer? I need to look at that again. It’s going to be a long haul. Three weeks total? Or is it until the first US? So I might have a viable pregnancy, but can't have sex? That's got catch-22 written all over it. I still need to read that book.
Even with all the craziness (reminder, bcps still contain hormones), we are actually doing okay. Mostly. On good days. Yeah.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Monday, August 1, 2011
Dates
I have dates. I didn't want to say anything because I don't want to share them. I don't want anyone to ask how many eggs or how the embryos are doing or how many we ultimately transferred or (especially) when the pregnancy test is. I don't want to be backed into a corner where I feel forced to answer these questions because the person asking cares so much for us and what we're going through.
Which isn't to say I'm not asking for your love, positive thoughts, prayers, smoke signals, love, encouragement, support, love and understanding, because I am - somewhat desperately asking for all of these fantastic intangible gifts. Which also isn't to say that I won't (double negative) share some of the specifics - I might. But on my terms. When it's all over, I know I'll talk about it and be eager to share, to educate. Unless I'm engulfed with grief and then I'll do whatever I need to in order to get through it.
So, I'm an anxious, emotional ball of a mess. I will be this way for awhile. Good news** will scare me and bad news will devastate me. But I'm willing and allowing the tiniest smidgen of hope to creep in.
**C is the sort of man that cannot keep a good secret. He just can't. He won't last the 12 weeks I would like us to wait to tell friends and family about any possible good news (I can already tell how these presumptuous words will hurt me later), so the deal is that we won't say anything until after seeing/hearing a heartbeat. And since no one knows the exact timing of everything, no one will know when to anticipate good or bad news. Sounds like a plan to me. I think.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Which isn't to say I'm not asking for your love, positive thoughts, prayers, smoke signals, love, encouragement, support, love and understanding, because I am - somewhat desperately asking for all of these fantastic intangible gifts. Which also isn't to say that I won't (double negative) share some of the specifics - I might. But on my terms. When it's all over, I know I'll talk about it and be eager to share, to educate. Unless I'm engulfed with grief and then I'll do whatever I need to in order to get through it.
So, I'm an anxious, emotional ball of a mess. I will be this way for awhile. Good news** will scare me and bad news will devastate me. But I'm willing and allowing the tiniest smidgen of hope to creep in.
**C is the sort of man that cannot keep a good secret. He just can't. He won't last the 12 weeks I would like us to wait to tell friends and family about any possible good news (I can already tell how these presumptuous words will hurt me later), so the deal is that we won't say anything until after seeing/hearing a heartbeat. And since no one knows the exact timing of everything, no one will know when to anticipate good or bad news. Sounds like a plan to me. I think.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Presuming the Best (?!?)
I just texted C's brother that if we're lucky he'll have to come home within the next 18 months to meet his niece or nephew. I've got a sick way of tempting fate, I guess.
Holy shit. The gall of some people (me)!
The inherent problem here (as I've noted before) is that when hope creeps in, it lifts you up. Making it a worse fall and landing into disappointment.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Holy shit. The gall of some people (me)!
The inherent problem here (as I've noted before) is that when hope creeps in, it lifts you up. Making it a worse fall and landing into disappointment.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Friday, July 22, 2011
More to Consider
Lines in the sand have been drawn. I went to an infertility presentation on Monday with one of my friends/coworkers. The doctors presenting run the rival clinic to my own RE. It was depressing in the way that it reminded me how fragile the creation of life is and what we are truly embarking upon. My friend? Different scenario, set of circumstances, and she was invigorated. It was good for her.
I took away three questions/ponderings/ideas: 3 day transfer vs. 5 day transfer, egg quality (I know) and genetic testing.
The transfer difference is due to the assertion that the clinic that made the presentation was the first in our area to do 5 day blastocyst transfer. What this means is that the lab babysits the embryos for five days, until they reach a multi-cellular size and then transfer them back into the uterus, versus the typical three day babysitting the lab usually does. The reason that 5 day transfers are better than 3 day transfers are because doctors/scientists think that in a run-of-the-mill pregnancy conception occurs in the fallopian tubes and the embryo takes about five days to travel (and further develop) to the uterus and find a comfy spot to burrow in (implant). So 5 day blastocyst transfers might better mimic traditional timing. I need to find out which type of transfers my clinic does (because this presentation was made by a rival clinic).
Egg quality is kind of freaking me out. Again, typically and per past research, I should have nothing to worry about because the huge determining factor is age and I am relatively young (in this infertility game). What these doctors said in the presentation backs that theory up, but. But there are other factors besides FSH levels, such as history (my FSH and history are clear), AFC and some other count. And the doctors said that the reason human conception rates are so low (they are, at 15-20% chance of pregnancy each month, we have one of the lowest conception rate of any mammal – maybe not that bad, but when you don’t bring a dog in heat into the house – she always turns up full of puppies) are that a huge percentage of our eggs are incompatible with life, or genetically defective. The incompatibility/defect only increases with age, which is why pregnancy is possible after 40, but the movie stars are not using their own eggs. So, back to me – I should still be in the clear, right? IVF is a wonderful route to a baby, but it can also be an eye-opening diagnostic tool. Think about it: you’ve got the sperm and the eggs under a microscope and you are watching them get together and multiply. But you can see the two-headed sperm and the guys that seem to have no internal compass. And there are a few eggs you’re wondering about with cracked membranes and other irregularities. There are even a few embryos that formed, but now refuse to further develop. Look at everything you learned from sheer observation! The doctors stated that under that type of microscope, “unexplained” infertility (essentially, what we’re dealing with) often becomes an egg quality issue. Which isn’t incredibly worrisome in and of itself, but the AFC does concern me a bit. One of the slides had a picture of a healthy ovary and you’re supposed to have follicles with eggs waiting in the lining (AFC: antral follicle count). I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen that. I mean, my doctor can check and I’m not always sure what I’m looking at, but still. If it’s an egg quality issue, we’re screwed.
Now for the most controversial: genetic testing. When utilizing IVF, you can choose (for a couple extra $K) to have the embryos undergo PGD (preimplantation genetic diagnosis). I could delve into what PGD actually is, who it is useful for, and how often it is not used in the terrifying way that the general public thinks it is, but I won’t bore you with that or my views on PGD in general. I will recommend two books (if you don’t read my booklist on the other blog) if you are interested: The Match by Beth Whitehouse and The Baby Business by Deborah Spar – because heaven help you if you even attempt to discuss this issue without being well informed (did you catch that? I will never care for your ignorant, ill-informed opinion/advice/supposition). For us, my concern is CF (Cystic Fibrosis). I have a first cousin with a child who has CF, and while this child is amazing and active and his prognosis is good, this is still a disease with terrible realities. Rather than go through PGD with any of our embryos, we thankfully have another option – I can be tested to see if I am a carrier for CF. If I am, C can be tested. If C is, then we have some more decisions to make.
If there is a baby that comes from all of this madness, I wonder if he/she would even care or want to know the struggle/desire/love/money/science/medicine behind her/his conception and eventual birth. I’m sure it won’t matter to an infant or a ten-year-old, but is it either useful information or a sentimental story for a child about to get married or start a family of his/her own?
We have two videos that were shot while I was pregnant. C took them around nine weeks and they are me lying on the couch with the cutest Boris puppy draped across my midsection. The narrative is so sweet and genuine. Whether or not I ever torture myself by watching them is not the point; that they exist makes me feel less insane and possibly hopeful. This morning I briefly considered making another video. Something that puts a face, voice and story to this precipice we’re on. The concern and struggle and worry given a tone and wandering across my face. I’m not sure what it would be for exactly. Perhaps I need to check on motivation.
As for the lines drawn:
~I will ask my clinic which day they transfer embryos and do a little more research on the benefits of 5 day transfer vs. 3 day transfer. I doubt that there is enough evidence out there for me to switch clinics at this point in the game, not to mention building a new relationship with another RE when I am perfectly happy with my own RE.
~I’ll ask my RE if there are any additional tests we can do to determine egg quality, but outside of a disastrous result, the embryologist will probably see what I’m working with shortly after egg retrieval, which is too far into the process to change any protocols. There is a reason I compare IVF and ART procedures to Russian roulette.
~I will call my insurance company to price/see if they cover genetic testing for CF and then get tested. This is what will ease my worries. C does draw his line at PGD. My line is more a gray area full of what-ifs that I hope to never encounter.
- Posted from my mobile phone
I took away three questions/ponderings/ideas: 3 day transfer vs. 5 day transfer, egg quality (I know) and genetic testing.
The transfer difference is due to the assertion that the clinic that made the presentation was the first in our area to do 5 day blastocyst transfer. What this means is that the lab babysits the embryos for five days, until they reach a multi-cellular size and then transfer them back into the uterus, versus the typical three day babysitting the lab usually does. The reason that 5 day transfers are better than 3 day transfers are because doctors/scientists think that in a run-of-the-mill pregnancy conception occurs in the fallopian tubes and the embryo takes about five days to travel (and further develop) to the uterus and find a comfy spot to burrow in (implant). So 5 day blastocyst transfers might better mimic traditional timing. I need to find out which type of transfers my clinic does (because this presentation was made by a rival clinic).
Egg quality is kind of freaking me out. Again, typically and per past research, I should have nothing to worry about because the huge determining factor is age and I am relatively young (in this infertility game). What these doctors said in the presentation backs that theory up, but. But there are other factors besides FSH levels, such as history (my FSH and history are clear), AFC and some other count. And the doctors said that the reason human conception rates are so low (they are, at 15-20% chance of pregnancy each month, we have one of the lowest conception rate of any mammal – maybe not that bad, but when you don’t bring a dog in heat into the house – she always turns up full of puppies) are that a huge percentage of our eggs are incompatible with life, or genetically defective. The incompatibility/defect only increases with age, which is why pregnancy is possible after 40, but the movie stars are not using their own eggs. So, back to me – I should still be in the clear, right? IVF is a wonderful route to a baby, but it can also be an eye-opening diagnostic tool. Think about it: you’ve got the sperm and the eggs under a microscope and you are watching them get together and multiply. But you can see the two-headed sperm and the guys that seem to have no internal compass. And there are a few eggs you’re wondering about with cracked membranes and other irregularities. There are even a few embryos that formed, but now refuse to further develop. Look at everything you learned from sheer observation! The doctors stated that under that type of microscope, “unexplained” infertility (essentially, what we’re dealing with) often becomes an egg quality issue. Which isn’t incredibly worrisome in and of itself, but the AFC does concern me a bit. One of the slides had a picture of a healthy ovary and you’re supposed to have follicles with eggs waiting in the lining (AFC: antral follicle count). I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen that. I mean, my doctor can check and I’m not always sure what I’m looking at, but still. If it’s an egg quality issue, we’re screwed.
Now for the most controversial: genetic testing. When utilizing IVF, you can choose (for a couple extra $K) to have the embryos undergo PGD (preimplantation genetic diagnosis). I could delve into what PGD actually is, who it is useful for, and how often it is not used in the terrifying way that the general public thinks it is, but I won’t bore you with that or my views on PGD in general. I will recommend two books (if you don’t read my booklist on the other blog) if you are interested: The Match by Beth Whitehouse and The Baby Business by Deborah Spar – because heaven help you if you even attempt to discuss this issue without being well informed (did you catch that? I will never care for your ignorant, ill-informed opinion/advice/supposition). For us, my concern is CF (Cystic Fibrosis). I have a first cousin with a child who has CF, and while this child is amazing and active and his prognosis is good, this is still a disease with terrible realities. Rather than go through PGD with any of our embryos, we thankfully have another option – I can be tested to see if I am a carrier for CF. If I am, C can be tested. If C is, then we have some more decisions to make.
If there is a baby that comes from all of this madness, I wonder if he/she would even care or want to know the struggle/desire/love/money/science/medicine behind her/his conception and eventual birth. I’m sure it won’t matter to an infant or a ten-year-old, but is it either useful information or a sentimental story for a child about to get married or start a family of his/her own?
We have two videos that were shot while I was pregnant. C took them around nine weeks and they are me lying on the couch with the cutest Boris puppy draped across my midsection. The narrative is so sweet and genuine. Whether or not I ever torture myself by watching them is not the point; that they exist makes me feel less insane and possibly hopeful. This morning I briefly considered making another video. Something that puts a face, voice and story to this precipice we’re on. The concern and struggle and worry given a tone and wandering across my face. I’m not sure what it would be for exactly. Perhaps I need to check on motivation.
As for the lines drawn:
~I will ask my clinic which day they transfer embryos and do a little more research on the benefits of 5 day transfer vs. 3 day transfer. I doubt that there is enough evidence out there for me to switch clinics at this point in the game, not to mention building a new relationship with another RE when I am perfectly happy with my own RE.
~I’ll ask my RE if there are any additional tests we can do to determine egg quality, but outside of a disastrous result, the embryologist will probably see what I’m working with shortly after egg retrieval, which is too far into the process to change any protocols. There is a reason I compare IVF and ART procedures to Russian roulette.
~I will call my insurance company to price/see if they cover genetic testing for CF and then get tested. This is what will ease my worries. C does draw his line at PGD. My line is more a gray area full of what-ifs that I hope to never encounter.
- Posted from my mobile phone
Friday, April 22, 2011
I Don't Need This Right Now
A patient just called to cancel her appointment. She said her PT knew the situation, but told me anyway as she was trying not to cry.
Her daughter is losing her baby. She had been trying for five years to get pregnant and now, at nine weeks she is miscarrying.
Is this what I'm setting myself up for? I cannot deal with this right now. If you so much as touch me, I swear the floodgates will release the tears. Is IVF really worth the possibility of loss? It about destroyed me the first time. If we don't try IVF, that lowers (eradicates) my chance at pregnancy, which lowers my chance of losing said pregnancy. Am I too rational for my own good?
I dare someone to talk to me about not attempting something for fear of failure. Because, in this case, my fear is loss of life and you've just termed it a failure (on my part?). I'm not sure either reasoning or comfort are appropriate right now. I'm sad and angry and defensive and scared.
*Posted from my mobile phone
Her daughter is losing her baby. She had been trying for five years to get pregnant and now, at nine weeks she is miscarrying.
Is this what I'm setting myself up for? I cannot deal with this right now. If you so much as touch me, I swear the floodgates will release the tears. Is IVF really worth the possibility of loss? It about destroyed me the first time. If we don't try IVF, that lowers (eradicates) my chance at pregnancy, which lowers my chance of losing said pregnancy. Am I too rational for my own good?
I dare someone to talk to me about not attempting something for fear of failure. Because, in this case, my fear is loss of life and you've just termed it a failure (on my part?). I'm not sure either reasoning or comfort are appropriate right now. I'm sad and angry and defensive and scared.
*Posted from my mobile phone
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Now Time
Half coherent and already in bed for the night finds me slightly reflective. Only slightly.
I've been drifting to sleep lately with wet eyes. Small potent tears have made their escape on the edge of my entry into dreamland. I startle awake at a cold damp pillow. It is what it is.
I thought my fears regarding friends' pregnancies were going to get me. Until a dear friend miscarried. Hearing that sliced me open and it's not even about me. It brings back some very raw emotions: fear, anger, panic. Lots of anxiety. I think she's doing okay, but I don't really know. I've only had a conversation about repeat blood tests and dropping HCG numbers - not about how she feels. No one needs to be pushed to have that conversation.
I'm having trouble associating IVF with a live healthy baby. This is probably very normal for someone who has experienced what I have. Treatments don't equal pregnancies and pregnancies don't equal babies. I keep saying we're going to try IVF or attempt IVF. Never that we're going to try to have a baby utilizing IVF. I am, of course, hoping to become pregnant as a result of the IVF procedure, but I'm too smart to assume that a pregnancy results in a live healthy baby. And in a sick twist, I just realized that in this process I'm either pregnant or I'm experiencing a loss. Because if I'm not pregnant, my body rejected perfectly good embryos. All still hypothetical, yet gut-wrenching. Maybe that is why the months are ticking along at an increased speed: I am looking forward to doing IVF, but dreading it at the same time.
I was also thinking that I'm glad I named my little boy a highly unusual name for this country. It's only his and I never have to be surprised by hearing it. His name is written on my heart, which is the only place it needs to be. I don't think anyone sees the space he left. My son would turn four this year and my childless life would look radically different. My mention of this isn't for pity, but a stark fact I live with every day.
I'm a little irritated and saddened by the insensitivity of the world right now. I will also admit to my own over sensitivity. This combination is not ideal. I would like hope and faith to be tangible. And pain to be as erasable as chalk on a blackboard. I want to be able to hide where nothing can find me or to grow a hide like an aardvark so no hurt can penetrate. I'd like a black hole to encounter all the meanness. I have my doubts that all experiences are character building or make me a better person. Serious doubts.
*Posted from my mobile phone
I've been drifting to sleep lately with wet eyes. Small potent tears have made their escape on the edge of my entry into dreamland. I startle awake at a cold damp pillow. It is what it is.
I thought my fears regarding friends' pregnancies were going to get me. Until a dear friend miscarried. Hearing that sliced me open and it's not even about me. It brings back some very raw emotions: fear, anger, panic. Lots of anxiety. I think she's doing okay, but I don't really know. I've only had a conversation about repeat blood tests and dropping HCG numbers - not about how she feels. No one needs to be pushed to have that conversation.
I'm having trouble associating IVF with a live healthy baby. This is probably very normal for someone who has experienced what I have. Treatments don't equal pregnancies and pregnancies don't equal babies. I keep saying we're going to try IVF or attempt IVF. Never that we're going to try to have a baby utilizing IVF. I am, of course, hoping to become pregnant as a result of the IVF procedure, but I'm too smart to assume that a pregnancy results in a live healthy baby. And in a sick twist, I just realized that in this process I'm either pregnant or I'm experiencing a loss. Because if I'm not pregnant, my body rejected perfectly good embryos. All still hypothetical, yet gut-wrenching. Maybe that is why the months are ticking along at an increased speed: I am looking forward to doing IVF, but dreading it at the same time.
I was also thinking that I'm glad I named my little boy a highly unusual name for this country. It's only his and I never have to be surprised by hearing it. His name is written on my heart, which is the only place it needs to be. I don't think anyone sees the space he left. My son would turn four this year and my childless life would look radically different. My mention of this isn't for pity, but a stark fact I live with every day.
I'm a little irritated and saddened by the insensitivity of the world right now. I will also admit to my own over sensitivity. This combination is not ideal. I would like hope and faith to be tangible. And pain to be as erasable as chalk on a blackboard. I want to be able to hide where nothing can find me or to grow a hide like an aardvark so no hurt can penetrate. I'd like a black hole to encounter all the meanness. I have my doubts that all experiences are character building or make me a better person. Serious doubts.
*Posted from my mobile phone
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Let's Talk About Sex
Sex. I like sex with my husband. A lot. Even after six years together (I went to Christian school, so I'm not admitting to sex before marriage), this guy is the one I want.
I smile when our friends tell jokes about wives that are tired or uninterested in sex, but I don't really understand it. Sure, I have my moments (rare) when I don't want to engage in sexual anything, but again, they're rare. I usually want to have sex with the adorable C. When we come home from work, when we go to bed, and even random sunny afternoons. I'm game for sex over 90% of the (appropriate) time. This hasn't changed much since I met him and fell in love.
So what is it? Am I just a sexual person? Are C and I super compatible sexually? Is C really amazing in bed? Why, even with age and stress and LIFE has my libido not slowed or waned?
I have a few theories, since you're still reading about my sex life. Pervert. Voyeur.
I've only ever had sex with C. I'm that girl. Which, for me, is a huge benefit. C is the best I've ever had - he has all of the skills and techniques that I know and enjoy. We know what makes the other happy, what the other is willing to do, and essentially how to make sex work for us. I'm not going to speak for C, but sex with him makes me happy.
Which is the simple explanation for the complex physical, mental, and emotional things that happen during/after sex. What I write next may seem simple and naive, but I mean what I write. I love my husband and I love having sex with him. Sex makes me feel beautiful, desired, loved, cherished, cared for, CALM, relaxed, powerful, strong, talented, and so much else. Sex boosts my immune system and my self esteem. Sex makes me smile and realize some things are way more important and some things are way less important. Sex is messy and funny and sad and joyous and spiritual and angry and lovely.
I was raised in a religious family, in church, and attended private Christian school for high school. Which is to say, I was not overly educated about sex. At all. As in, the homeschool mom who somehow wound up teaching sophomores biology could not explain, when asked directly, what an orgasm was. Pathetic. Side-note: I refuse to return to that school unless allowed to teach a comprehensive health/sex education class. And so, in dating, I was (and probably still am) clueless. No ideas about sex, except that if you have it before you are married, you are a sinning heathen destined for the bowels of hell.
Why couldn't anyone tell me about sex? That I have a vagina and a cervix and a clitoris, among other cool parts? Any information about pap smears? UTIs? Yeast infections? The risks associated with birth control? That sex is a tiny word that encompasses so many things? No one can tell me that sex is great, or that it isn't something to be ashamed of? How come no one talks about sex?!
So, I talk about sex and now I've written about sex. I've counseled numerous former classmates on the importance of pap smears and the risk associated with different birth control. Also infertility (unfortunately), but that is another issue; however, if you can't talk about sex when it is great and "working," how in the world can you discuss when it's NOT working? I've been the one friends talk to about sex (gasp, premarital and uninvolved). I educated an ex-boyfriend all about the mechanics of sex (long, strange, slightly sad story). But still, why don't people TALK about it?
Here I am though. Unashamed and talking about sex. Not even in general, because I'm talking about my sex. Not in an explicit fashion. It's just sex, you hear?
There is a chance that sex is different for me than it is for you. A small difference, but unmistakeable. Sex is not the method through which I can procreate. There is not any type of birth control in my home. Do you see where this is going? To all of the emotions that get involved with sex, I'll add my own: we are mostly certain that our children will not be conceived through sex. And yes, that makes me sad. I'd rather be like you in that respect. Which means that I have to realize that for C and I, the sex really is just for us. No pregnancies and no babies. Just because we want to, need to, and love each other. It's taken awhile and a few tears, but I'm okay with that. Which is yet another reason to keep this dialogue open: sex changes. Not intended to be profound, but very true.
You don't have to talk to me about sex, but you can. You need to talk about sex with the person(s) you're having it with. And you need people out there that you can ask questions (no, your doctor does not count because doctors do not know all of the answers). So, let's talk about sex, shall we?
*Posted from my mobile phone
I smile when our friends tell jokes about wives that are tired or uninterested in sex, but I don't really understand it. Sure, I have my moments (rare) when I don't want to engage in sexual anything, but again, they're rare. I usually want to have sex with the adorable C. When we come home from work, when we go to bed, and even random sunny afternoons. I'm game for sex over 90% of the (appropriate) time. This hasn't changed much since I met him and fell in love.
So what is it? Am I just a sexual person? Are C and I super compatible sexually? Is C really amazing in bed? Why, even with age and stress and LIFE has my libido not slowed or waned?
I have a few theories, since you're still reading about my sex life. Pervert. Voyeur.
I've only ever had sex with C. I'm that girl. Which, for me, is a huge benefit. C is the best I've ever had - he has all of the skills and techniques that I know and enjoy. We know what makes the other happy, what the other is willing to do, and essentially how to make sex work for us. I'm not going to speak for C, but sex with him makes me happy.
Which is the simple explanation for the complex physical, mental, and emotional things that happen during/after sex. What I write next may seem simple and naive, but I mean what I write. I love my husband and I love having sex with him. Sex makes me feel beautiful, desired, loved, cherished, cared for, CALM, relaxed, powerful, strong, talented, and so much else. Sex boosts my immune system and my self esteem. Sex makes me smile and realize some things are way more important and some things are way less important. Sex is messy and funny and sad and joyous and spiritual and angry and lovely.
I was raised in a religious family, in church, and attended private Christian school for high school. Which is to say, I was not overly educated about sex. At all. As in, the homeschool mom who somehow wound up teaching sophomores biology could not explain, when asked directly, what an orgasm was. Pathetic. Side-note: I refuse to return to that school unless allowed to teach a comprehensive health/sex education class. And so, in dating, I was (and probably still am) clueless. No ideas about sex, except that if you have it before you are married, you are a sinning heathen destined for the bowels of hell.
Why couldn't anyone tell me about sex? That I have a vagina and a cervix and a clitoris, among other cool parts? Any information about pap smears? UTIs? Yeast infections? The risks associated with birth control? That sex is a tiny word that encompasses so many things? No one can tell me that sex is great, or that it isn't something to be ashamed of? How come no one talks about sex?!
So, I talk about sex and now I've written about sex. I've counseled numerous former classmates on the importance of pap smears and the risk associated with different birth control. Also infertility (unfortunately), but that is another issue; however, if you can't talk about sex when it is great and "working," how in the world can you discuss when it's NOT working? I've been the one friends talk to about sex (gasp, premarital and uninvolved). I educated an ex-boyfriend all about the mechanics of sex (long, strange, slightly sad story). But still, why don't people TALK about it?
Here I am though. Unashamed and talking about sex. Not even in general, because I'm talking about my sex. Not in an explicit fashion. It's just sex, you hear?
There is a chance that sex is different for me than it is for you. A small difference, but unmistakeable. Sex is not the method through which I can procreate. There is not any type of birth control in my home. Do you see where this is going? To all of the emotions that get involved with sex, I'll add my own: we are mostly certain that our children will not be conceived through sex. And yes, that makes me sad. I'd rather be like you in that respect. Which means that I have to realize that for C and I, the sex really is just for us. No pregnancies and no babies. Just because we want to, need to, and love each other. It's taken awhile and a few tears, but I'm okay with that. Which is yet another reason to keep this dialogue open: sex changes. Not intended to be profound, but very true.
You don't have to talk to me about sex, but you can. You need to talk about sex with the person(s) you're having it with. And you need people out there that you can ask questions (no, your doctor does not count because doctors do not know all of the answers). So, let's talk about sex, shall we?
*Posted from my mobile phone
Monday, March 14, 2011
Time to Catch Up
A few things.
• I love knowing that you are pregnant. It will always worry me. This is not to anyone specifically and I assume that pregnancy becomes a somewhat delicate idea to anyone who has experienced any type of loss. From the couple who just texted a picture of a positive pregnancy test to the friend who called to ask me how accurate pregnancy tests are. I'm excited for you. But worry lives in me.
•The course that I'm teaching right now has made me so anxious that I find myself unable to sleep well. Or eat. My portion size is down to almost one meal per day. Which means that the anxiety diet works for me! I didn't know that adults in college programs still want something for nothing. Or that they can be such manipulative bullies to their instructors. It's a terribly realistic version of mean girls and it should be over after Thursday.
•We're planning to do IVF this year. I might blog about it and I might not. I would like all of the support and encouragement possible, but nothing overly hopeful - does that make sense?
•Hypothetically, if you are distantly related to us, please don't begin making comments about how we should have adopted your daughter's crack addicted baby six years ago. That is not even a road I would allow my thoughts to travel for so many reasons.
•I will say it. I want to move home. Home is the town I was born in and until four years ago, had lived my life. Aspects of this place annoy me and make me smile at the same time, but it is where my heart is at.
•I might start school again in the fall to work on my second master's degree. Because I want to be a librarianshipenhoodsmith, or a librarian, for short.
I think that's all for now.
*Posted from my mobile phone
• I love knowing that you are pregnant. It will always worry me. This is not to anyone specifically and I assume that pregnancy becomes a somewhat delicate idea to anyone who has experienced any type of loss. From the couple who just texted a picture of a positive pregnancy test to the friend who called to ask me how accurate pregnancy tests are. I'm excited for you. But worry lives in me.
•The course that I'm teaching right now has made me so anxious that I find myself unable to sleep well. Or eat. My portion size is down to almost one meal per day. Which means that the anxiety diet works for me! I didn't know that adults in college programs still want something for nothing. Or that they can be such manipulative bullies to their instructors. It's a terribly realistic version of mean girls and it should be over after Thursday.
•We're planning to do IVF this year. I might blog about it and I might not. I would like all of the support and encouragement possible, but nothing overly hopeful - does that make sense?
•Hypothetically, if you are distantly related to us, please don't begin making comments about how we should have adopted your daughter's crack addicted baby six years ago. That is not even a road I would allow my thoughts to travel for so many reasons.
•I will say it. I want to move home. Home is the town I was born in and until four years ago, had lived my life. Aspects of this place annoy me and make me smile at the same time, but it is where my heart is at.
•I might start school again in the fall to work on my second master's degree. Because I want to be a librarianshipenhoodsmith, or a librarian, for short.
I think that's all for now.
*Posted from my mobile phone
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Explosively Happy Thing
You really deserve it. A happy thing, or you know, me being happy. And I am and it is not at all about me.
A friend just called me. A sweet, heart-on-her-sleeve friend that I've know for over ten years. I'm especially useful to her now because she is going through IF and our story is pretty much a wide open book. I know stuff. I've lived this IF life for over four years. I'm an armchair RE. Anyway, she is one of the private ones, so I am a fabulous resource.
As in, she just called to ask how accurate pregnancy tests are. Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap - very accurate, with some considerations. How many days since the HCG shot and the IUI? Fifteen? And first morning urine? Nope? And the lines? Super dark? Mary mother of all that is Mercy me . . . You are so totally pregnant!
And I'll get a call back when she does a blood test tomorrow and she was able to tell her husband that she thought she might be, and her mom that she was pretty sure, and she is so overwhelmed, but joyful. I bet she looks radiant right now.
What does this mean for me? Not a damn thing - this post isn't about me. It is about the pure happiness that can break through despair and doubt. It is about the wonder of technology, and in this case, my friend standing up to doctors and getting them to take her seriously. It is about the much hoped for, prayed for, already loved life growing within her. That's what this one is about, people.
Maybe it proves that I've got some residual of hope left for myself, maybe it just demonstrates that I'm not a cold hearted b**** that hates the pregnant women, or whatever. Do you have any idea how happy I am for this girl? I'm excited that I was able to have that reassuring conversation with her and that I was able to experience part of her joy.
It's all I've got for today. What an expression of love. Joy. Faith. Overwhelming indeed.
A friend just called me. A sweet, heart-on-her-sleeve friend that I've know for over ten years. I'm especially useful to her now because she is going through IF and our story is pretty much a wide open book. I know stuff. I've lived this IF life for over four years. I'm an armchair RE. Anyway, she is one of the private ones, so I am a fabulous resource.
As in, she just called to ask how accurate pregnancy tests are. Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap - very accurate, with some considerations. How many days since the HCG shot and the IUI? Fifteen? And first morning urine? Nope? And the lines? Super dark? Mary mother of all that is Mercy me . . . You are so totally pregnant!
And I'll get a call back when she does a blood test tomorrow and she was able to tell her husband that she thought she might be, and her mom that she was pretty sure, and she is so overwhelmed, but joyful. I bet she looks radiant right now.
What does this mean for me? Not a damn thing - this post isn't about me. It is about the pure happiness that can break through despair and doubt. It is about the wonder of technology, and in this case, my friend standing up to doctors and getting them to take her seriously. It is about the much hoped for, prayed for, already loved life growing within her. That's what this one is about, people.
Maybe it proves that I've got some residual of hope left for myself, maybe it just demonstrates that I'm not a cold hearted b**** that hates the pregnant women, or whatever. Do you have any idea how happy I am for this girl? I'm excited that I was able to have that reassuring conversation with her and that I was able to experience part of her joy.
It's all I've got for today. What an expression of love. Joy. Faith. Overwhelming indeed.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Without A, B Would Not Exist (Welcome 2011)
Outside of being just fine happy okay, the dates and moments that bring me to a bleak place vary. I didn't ever figure our child's due date (which has proven wise and sanity-saving) - I only know that had things gone perfectly, he would have arrived late July or early August. Therefore, that time frame does not mean much to me. Even though I told my parents about the pregnancy around the end of January, that time period doesn't mean much to me either. I know the date forwards and backwards that I lost our child in a gush of blood, but February 11th, doesn't even usually cause much anguish.
What hurts then?
Today. January 1st. For many reasons. Mostly because of the memory of C's excitement upon finding out we were going to be parents. It was today. I remember that. I asked him to keep it quiet and he fought with me. He had to tell the friends that came over on the first for lunch. We were at their house last night for New Year's Eve, like we have been every year since. I was able to hold their almost 6mo old son. This was the day we began telling three years ago. Obviously not knowing the heart wrenching future, but full of hope and happiness. I'm not sure we get to experience that again.
Christmas. Our families are great - they get this struggle more or less. It's just everyone else and their stupid small talk and comments. I feel this need/desire to provide my parents/his parents with SOMEONE else to focus on. Someone small who gurgles and sleeps a lot to buy lots of clothes/toys/whatever for. The focus on us, the twenty/thirty-somethings, for this holiday is bordering on crazy.
Our Anniversary. The beginning of the end for my beloved grandma. She fell Christmas Eve, went into the hospital, and never came out. The traditional wedding she would have been so proud of us for having was missed; Grandpa came alone. Three weeks later, I was the last one to say goodbye and while I was there, she passed. I am not certain you are ever old enough to make a call to your parents to tell them that their mom is gone. While I know that my lovely grandma is perfectly whole and radiant where she is, I miss her and I know she would have revelled in the great grandchild she could have had through me.
Our Anniversary also reminds me of the guilt I feel in my capacity of Wife. Even if I was competent at Wife, I would still fail at Wife because I can't transcend to Mother. Which is only true for us because that is where we want to be (as in, this is not a social critique on you or your choices or roles). Yes, I do feel shitty because I can't provide my husband with the children he (we) desire. Yuck.
Valentine's Day is more of the same. I woke up four years ago on Valentine's Day and thought inside my head (and without the necessary filter and thanks to pain meds, then turned to C and said out loud) *Happy Valentine's Day, Honey. I'm sorry that I'm a terrible wife and lost our baby. I still love you.* And that should sum up how terrible I usually feel on that day. What a fabulous present to the one you love, huh?
Since all of these dates are clumped within a nine week period, it does feel like an onslaught in what was my (our) favorite season of winter. Interestingly, nine weeks was pegged as the length of fetal development when I had the D&C. The good part, is that it comes and goes relatively quickly. By late February, everything is relatively normal.
I definitely did not come home from the parties last night and argue with C. We didn't drive to the parties and back home in silence. I certainly didn't want to leave any of these parties early. While there was a valid reason for the argument, even I knew something else was going on in my head. So when the racking sobs came on with the memories and crazy irrational thoughts, I got it. We're in some weird limbo. Four years ago we were ecstatic about the possibilities in front of us. We've spent four years trying to get that back. And we're adding the fifth year to the tally.
Please, 2011, I can't ask for what I really want and you can't make promises, so I'll ask for something in the middle: answers. Perhaps we just need answers for closure. Or, maybe with enough growth this year I can stop being such a basket case. Either way: it's win-win for me.
What hurts then?
Today. January 1st. For many reasons. Mostly because of the memory of C's excitement upon finding out we were going to be parents. It was today. I remember that. I asked him to keep it quiet and he fought with me. He had to tell the friends that came over on the first for lunch. We were at their house last night for New Year's Eve, like we have been every year since. I was able to hold their almost 6mo old son. This was the day we began telling three years ago. Obviously not knowing the heart wrenching future, but full of hope and happiness. I'm not sure we get to experience that again.
Christmas. Our families are great - they get this struggle more or less. It's just everyone else and their stupid small talk and comments. I feel this need/desire to provide my parents/his parents with SOMEONE else to focus on. Someone small who gurgles and sleeps a lot to buy lots of clothes/toys/whatever for. The focus on us, the twenty/thirty-somethings, for this holiday is bordering on crazy.
Our Anniversary. The beginning of the end for my beloved grandma. She fell Christmas Eve, went into the hospital, and never came out. The traditional wedding she would have been so proud of us for having was missed; Grandpa came alone. Three weeks later, I was the last one to say goodbye and while I was there, she passed. I am not certain you are ever old enough to make a call to your parents to tell them that their mom is gone. While I know that my lovely grandma is perfectly whole and radiant where she is, I miss her and I know she would have revelled in the great grandchild she could have had through me.
Our Anniversary also reminds me of the guilt I feel in my capacity of Wife. Even if I was competent at Wife, I would still fail at Wife because I can't transcend to Mother. Which is only true for us because that is where we want to be (as in, this is not a social critique on you or your choices or roles). Yes, I do feel shitty because I can't provide my husband with the children he (we) desire. Yuck.
Valentine's Day is more of the same. I woke up four years ago on Valentine's Day and thought inside my head (and without the necessary filter and thanks to pain meds, then turned to C and said out loud) *Happy Valentine's Day, Honey. I'm sorry that I'm a terrible wife and lost our baby. I still love you.* And that should sum up how terrible I usually feel on that day. What a fabulous present to the one you love, huh?
Since all of these dates are clumped within a nine week period, it does feel like an onslaught in what was my (our) favorite season of winter. Interestingly, nine weeks was pegged as the length of fetal development when I had the D&C. The good part, is that it comes and goes relatively quickly. By late February, everything is relatively normal.
I definitely did not come home from the parties last night and argue with C. We didn't drive to the parties and back home in silence. I certainly didn't want to leave any of these parties early. While there was a valid reason for the argument, even I knew something else was going on in my head. So when the racking sobs came on with the memories and crazy irrational thoughts, I got it. We're in some weird limbo. Four years ago we were ecstatic about the possibilities in front of us. We've spent four years trying to get that back. And we're adding the fifth year to the tally.
Please, 2011, I can't ask for what I really want and you can't make promises, so I'll ask for something in the middle: answers. Perhaps we just need answers for closure. Or, maybe with enough growth this year I can stop being such a basket case. Either way: it's win-win for me.
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