Words You Love to Hear…

…from your 8-day old baby’s cardiovascular  surgeon:  everything went perfectly.

The doctors were able to do a complete fix of the transposition.  He is in the ICU recovering and so far doing well.  He’s still intubated and covered in a myriad of other tubes and monitor stickers (LG and I tried to count the lines going into him, but lost count), but he’s holding his own.  We’re so grateful to the doctors and most of all the amazing nurses at Children’s.  He’s still considered critical for the next 24 hours or so, but we’re definitely seeing the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel and can’t wait to take our healthy little boy home.

Off One Rollercoaster…On to Another

Despite my infrequent postings, some of you have continued to show your support, which is so amazing to me.  Thank you for that.

On to the news…our son was born on March 3 at 2:19 am.  He was 6 lbs 2 oz, but we didn’t get a length as immediate medical intervention was required for him, but I’m getting ahead of myself…

I’ll try to come back and post the birth story later, but here’s the quick version:

• Induced due to low amniotic fluid
• Fetal distress with contractions at only 5 centimeters
• Rushed into a surgery at 1am in the morning – baby out quickly and safely
• Found a suspicious lesion on my remaining ovary after removing the baby
• Kept me open on the table for nearly 2 hours waiting for a pathology consult who never came because apparently they don’t work at night
• Took a biopsy to send for a full workup and finally closed me up.
• Learned 2 days later with great relief that the growth was benign

Now, onto the story of the Boy (still coming up with an alias for him).  Because of his heart condition, the NICU resuscitation team was on hand for the delivery.  They immediately took him to another room when he was delivered – neither LG nor myself got to see him.  They worked him up in the NICU of the hospital where I delivered, and initially he seemed very stable.  They were going to bring him to see me before he transferred to Children’s, but once they gave him the drug to keep his patent ductus open to allow for mixing of the blood, he stopped breathing.  They were able to quickly stabilize but felt they needed to transfer right away, so as a result I didn’t get to see him before he and my husband rushed across town in an ambulance.

When he got to the Children’s NICU, he had stabilized and his oxygen saturations and blood gases were quite good.  They did a detailed echocardiogram and to our great relief they did not find any other cardiac or lung issues beyond the transposition and the VSD’s we already knew about.

I finally got out of the hospital on Saturday (3.5 days after his birth) and went straight to the hospital to see him.  What a little peanut. At that point, he definitely had his share of tubes, which was an initial shock, but little did I know…  He did great for a couple of days and then on Saturday night, he started to go downhill.  They decided to do a catheterization procedure in which they go up through a vessel in his groin to his heart and they create another hold between the atria to create another path for blood to mix.  As a result, he was put on a breathing tube.  From there, things got kind of screwy in terms of other systems and it was a rough day or so.  The tubes multiplied before our eyes until it got to the point where we could barely see our son.  The only place we could touch was his feet – and only those because they couldn’t get any tubes into them because he was retaining so much water.  We got him baptized on Monday, which brought us a sense of peace.  By Tuesday, things had steadied again and they took his tube out and he finally opened his eyes for a bit!

His surgery was scheduled for today, but late last night, a heart became available for a child in need of a transplant so that procedure took priority and bumped our little guy off the schedule.  We were certainly disappointed as it had been an emotional day preparing for the surgery, but in the grand scheme of things we realized the bigger picture – that while were disappointed and definitely want our son to get surgery before there’s a chance his condition could worsen, that another family’s world came crashing down around them last night at the loss of their child and the family of the child receiving the heart was receiving an incredible gift of hope.

We’re headed over the hospital in a bit to see our Boy, but wanted to capture to try to capture these early moments here.

Penetrating the Armor

I haven’t had much to say as of late although I still follow all my favorite blogs as well as a whole new batch focused on kids with Congenital Heart Defects.   N0w, though, I find myself starting to bubble over so I thought I’d head back to the tried and true outlet of writing about it.

We’re 7.5 weeks away from Wal.nug’s scheduled arrival (and yes, at this point, that half makes a difference).  Physically I really can’t complain.  I have the typical discomforts with respect to sleeping, heartburn, back pain, etc., but nothing that’s unmanageable.  I started weekly non-stress tests at 29 weeks, so I get a weekly reassurance that Wal.nug’s doing just fine in there, which is nice with everything else being so uncertain.  It’s that uncertainty about what comes after the little one is born that is starting to take its toll.

LG has struggled and worried essentially since we got the diagnosis*.  He worries that our baby won’t make it through surgery or that the condition will end up being more complicated than what we’ve been told or that the child will have on-going health issues that will lead to a compromise in the quality of life.  He’s always wanted a boy, but now he’s saying he wants a girl because he thinks it would be too hard for a boy to be restricted from playing contact sports like football or hockey.  (That’s both heart-breaking to me in that it’s clear he’s really worried about the quality of our child’s life but also somehow funny since between the two of us and our epically non-athletic natures, this kid’s lucky to be able to walk without bumping into walls on regular basis much less play something like hockey or football.)

I’ve been the one with the stiff upper lip until the last week or so.

Through a wonderful organization we found on-line, I was matched with a mom whose daughter was diagnosed with the same conditions our child has at her 20-week ultrasound (just like us).  I’ve exchanged a few e-mails with this mother and she’s been incredibly generous with her time and story for which I’m hugely grateful.  Her story did trigger a great deal of emotion for me, however.  The most important thing is that her daughter who is now 3 is doing really well, which is fabulous, but her diagnosis ended up being more complicated than originally believed and she has had a really tough go of it and faces further invasive procedures to ensure her heart continues to function.  In many ways, reading her story was like a direct arrow to the protective shield I’ve built around myself.  Since the day we got the diagnosis, I’ve hung on to the fact that it was serious but very fixable – usually with a single operation and then the child goes on to live a normal life.  As I learn more and more, I’m finding that’s not always the case and that kids do have on-going issues and even require multiple surgical interventions.  (Now, that may be a bit of sampling error as we say in my business because it could be those who blog about and therefore whose stories are more available are those who have had a more involved course, but still – it’s getting harder to hold onto the “one surgery and done” mantra that’s been my talisman.)

Now that my shield has been penetrated, I find my worries really top of mind and constant tears just under the surface**.  It’s becoming harder for me to be the “strong one” yet expressing any of my fear, worries, or doubts makes things even tougher for LG.  We’re just ready for the next 7 weeks or so to go by so we can move on to at least having a better idea of what we’re dealing with and get out of the holding pattern we feel like we’ve been in for nearly a year – first when we were in the throes of infertility and now through a difficult pregnancy.  In the days to come, I’ll write about how I made a fool of myself at the newborn care class we took through our hospital and the family drama that’s ratcheting up around Wal.nug’s imminent debut.

* I think it’s finally safe to be more specific about the diagnosis.  Wal.nug has a condition called Transposition of the Great Arteries or TGA (also called Transposition of the Great Vessels) along with 2 significant Ventricular Septal Defects (VSD’s).  Essentially TGA means that the positions of the pulmonary artery and the aorta are switched meaning that rather than oxygen rich blood circulating from the lungs to the heart to the body, the oxygen rich blood in a closed circuit between the lungs and heart and the body never receives the oxygenated blood.  This condition is usually fatal within the first year unless treated typically via open heart surgery.  With Walnug, the surgeons will attempt to fix the VSD’s during the surgery as well which will likely take place when he or she is 5 to 6 days old.

** Could also be a function of raging pregnancy hormones…

Just the Facts

So much has happened since the last post in terms of emotions but not terribly much in terms of actual new events that it’s hard to know what to write about/where to start.  So, I think I’ll catch-up with the events today and try to write about the emotions (the harder part) over the next few days.

The only major baby events were the 2nd opinion and our visit with the pediatric cardiac surgeon who will be doing Wal.nug’s surgery.  (His or her in utero name has evolved from Nugget to Wal.nug.  My sister-in-law started calling him (or her) Walter because she thought that was a strong name that suggested a good long life.  Combine that with Nugget and voila…)

2nd Opinion

After much debate, we decided to get one…not so much to confirm the TGA diagnosis but to make certain that there is really no sign of a rhabdomyoma.   We started with the 2nd major children’s hospital in the city.  They turned out to be quite uncooperative and wouldn’t even speak to us unless we provided an order from our doctor and full medical records.  We had hoped to get the opinion somewhat “stealth” – mostly because of my weird issues around not offending doctors.  (I know that I’m going to have to get over this now that I have a little guy I need to protect.) However, after the first reaction, LG phoned our OB’s office, and while he said they seemed a little surprised, they did provide us with another local pediatric cardiologist based in the suburbs.  She agreed to see us.  Even better, she comes into the city once a week and practices at the same office where we did our initial Level 2, so she was able to see the original films and compare her reading against that.   In great news, she agreed that no rhabdomyoma was present, so we can finally stop worrying about tuberous sclerosis.  She confirmed the diagnosis of TGA.  Also consistent with our first consult, she told us the heart was too little to make a definitive diagnosis on anything else at this point.  We do another fetal echo this coming Monday and another at 33 weeks so hopefully that will tell us more, but all the doctors have said they won’t know with true certainty until the baby is born and they can see the actual blood flow/oxygenation patterns.   That leaves a lot of time for worrying.

Meeting with Surgeon

This turned out to be a tougher meeting than I expected.  (I think LG had more realistic expectations of the relative toughness.)  Even going into  Children’s Hospital – a building both of us have walked by a million times but never imagined ourselves actually in there because of a sick child — our sick child – was an eerie feeling.  The surgeon seemed very capable and talked about the hospital’s experience and success rate with the arterial switch procedure.  LG felt like he was getting a bit of a sales job, but I took a measure of comfort from the facts and statistics.   What surprised both of us was that when we asked how many of these had been done, he said about 230…over 30 years.  That was a stark reminder that this is anything but routine surgery.  Both the surgeon we met with and the head of the department will be in the actual procedure.  Between them, they’ve performed nearly 150 of these surgeries, so I feel like we’re in good hands.  The doctor was direct with us in that this a surgery that they know how to do and have very high success rates, but that it is technical and complex especially given the size of the baby’s coronary arteries (which will all need to be reattached).  In a full-term baby, he said they are approximately the diameter of the opening of a ballpoint pen (read: very very tiny).

They also took us on a tour of the NICU and the PICU.  I’m delivering at a different hospital (more on this in the emotion post), so the baby will be immediately transported across town to Children’s where he or she will go to the NICU to be stabilized.  The baby will stay there until surgery – probably on Day 5 or Day 6.  After surgery, the baby goes to the PICU as that is where they care for all post-op cardiac kids.  Once Wal.nug is cleared from a surgical sense he or she will either be discharged or go back to the NICU if there are feeding issues (which are common in these kids apparently).

I’ve read so many gut wrenching accounts of kids who started their lives in NICUs so I felt prepared in concept but not in actuality.  Walking into the place knowing that your child was going to be relying on this place to live was a terrifying feeling.  Knowing that our child is going to be alongside other children fighting for their lives…  I wanted to escape the minute we walked through the doors.  Somewhere between now and when Wal.nug is relying on his or her father and me to provide strength and protection, I’m going to need to find more internal fortitude.

Where we are now…

Pregnancy-wise everything is going along normally – which is just about the most blessed word I can imagine given how everything started.  I passed my 1 hour gestational diabetes test, which was the first test through this entire pregnancy that didn’t plunge us into a place of worry and distress.  Blood pressure is good, weight gain is good if I’m training to be a sumo wrestler (somewhat less than good according to my doctor’s guideline, but eh…), baby’s heart rate is nice and strong, and I’m finally starting to feel Wal.nug kick pretty regularly.

So, those are the facts…the emotions behind everything are a little less straightforward as we bounce between excitement and anticipation to the normal fear felt by all new parents to the abject fear that our child may not make it through the surgery or may not have the smooth recovery we’re all counting on.

Through it all, though, I’m grateful to be in this position.  Blessed to be in a place to worry about our child.  The all encompassing pain of infertility is still very close to my heart.

Holding Pattern

My thanks to everyone for your support and kind words and happy ending stories (they really help)!.  Special thanks to Nat for providing me the link to http://www.babysamson.com/.  I’ve been searching unsuccessfully for blogs dealing with the diagnosis of congenital heart disease.  While Samson’s diagnosis is different than ours, it was still inspiring to read, and the blog contained a treasure trove of other blogs dealing with similar issues.  (Still undercover with that due to family Googling and my need to stay stealth, but I will provide initials to the diagnosis and will fill in the details later:  Primary diagnosis is TGA, secondary is multiple VSD’s and a few others things they’re still watching.)  I learned well the power of the blogging community through my infertility travels and am grateful to have found this new source of first-hand information.

Nothing much to report on the baby front today.  We’re in a bit of a holding pattern, which neither LG nor myself excel at.  We meet with the cardiothoracic surgeons at Children’s tomorrow.  I hope they’re ready for us, because we have a long list of questions prepared.  The biggest topic of discussion for LG and myself right now is whether to obtain a second opinion.  As I’ve mentioned, we feel very confident in our doctors (which is why I’m really torn on the subject), but when it comes down to it, reading a fetal echocardiogram is “observational” (versus looking at a definitive lab number or something like that).  It’s not so much our current diagnosis that we’re looking to confirm, but more that we want to be absolutely sure there is no trace of the rhabdomyoma, which was the initial diagnosis that led us to the cardiology follow-up originally.

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In non-baby news, here’s what passes as romance in our household these days:

LG to me at a completely random point in time:  “Would you still love me if I were a lam.prey?”

For those of you (like myself) who had no idea what a lam.prey was before this post, it’s a disgusting sucking eel that looks like a slimy giant garden hose with teeth.  Why this popped into his head, I do not know.  Ah, the mysterious and magical workings of LG’s mind!

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In sort-of baby news (just not my baby), a strange thing happened last week.  As previously stated, I work in HR.  One of the least favorite parts of my job (and that’s saying a lot because there are so so many least favorite parts) is dealing with employee relations issues.  I have heard and dealt with all manner of interemployee squabbles ranging from the serious (harassment) to the dicey (body odours, etc.) to the laughably petty (chews too loudly,  looks at me funny…)  I have never – until last week – dealt with the “pregnant co-worker slacking off and I have to pick up her work” complaint until last week and then it was 2 different cases from 2 completely different locations.  The first call came in the day after we got our diagnosis, and I had spent the entire workday doing Google research, so to say it hit a bit close to home was an understatement.  The call actually came from one of the HR managers on my team who phoned me for advice.  For this first time ever, I had to deflect and very briefly explained the situation and asked her to consult with another HR VP who just happens to be one of the few senior HR folks not pregnant right now…probably because he’s a guy.   I felt lousy about that, because I felt like I wasn’t able to separate my professional and personal life…but at that moment, I wasn’t.  The 2nd complaint deals with a group of pregnant ladies who sit right outside my office whom I privately dubbed the pregnancy cabal…because they never work and chat about baby stuff all day long.  While I understand all too well how consuming this time in a woman’s life can be, I am going to have to address it because they chat all day and then tell their bosses that they have too much on their plate and its causing them stress, which means other people are having to pick up their work.  Needless to say, I am not looking forward to THAT “coaching”* conversation.

*Polite HR term for a conversation that is typically nothing more than a “knock-it-off”meeting.  Good times.

Getting Answers

I can definitively say that this past Friday through Monday were the worst 4 days of my life.  Armed with the diagnosis of rhabdomyoma that we had been given on Friday, we hit the halls of the Google School of Medicine only to be slammed in the face by a genetic disease called Tubular Sclerosis Complex (TSC) – the cause of  50% to 80% of cardiac rhabdomyomas diagnosed in utero.  The more we read about this condition, the more our hearts fell.  Over the weekend I managed to hold onto a few talismans to convince myself that we were in the 20% to 50% who had the cardiac mass but not TSC — our doctor (who’s pretty direct) didn’t mention it, we had genetic testing done, only one mass was seen, etc.  LG – who relies much more on facts than the “glass half full” mind games I play on myself – wanted more concrete answers.  So, despite my wishes, he phoned our genetics doctor (with whom he has some weird connection…maybe it’s because they’re both super quant numbers guys?), to ask him what he knew about the condition and whether we had been tested.  We had not – it’s not tested for in a typical amnio and, in fact, can only be tested for if there is a known family history (present in about half the cases) so they know what mutation they are looking for in the genes.  With that, all of my defenses fell.  Monday was a day of grief the level of which I’ve only experienced when my father died nearly 7 years ago.

Yesterday, we went in for a repeat Level 2 ultrasound, a consult with a MFM, and, most importantly, a consult with a pediatric cardiologist along with a fetal echocardiogram.  Minutes into the exam, she told us she did not see a mass, which ruled out a diagnosis of TSC.  I cannot describe the relief I felt in  that moment.  The relief – while still very much present – diminished as the exam continued.  Our little Nugget has a collection of serious heart defects – the most severe of which will require open heart surgery within the first week of life.  I will write more about the specifics as we learn more (and after my family passes through the mad-Googling stage…while I think it’s unlikely my little blog would come up in a search, it is completely anonymous from anyone IRL, and I want to keep it that way).

We are stunned and scared but still feeling the relief that comes from knowing that this should be a fixable condition and not one that will cause lifelong systemic complications for our baby.  We feel very confident with the medical system we’ve just been catapulted into – particularly our OB (who we originally didn’t like and almost switched early on!).  LG and I have long talked about moving to a remote area where we can get some land (in the Colorado mountains if I have my way), but for now are glad to be in a major city with one of the top children’s hospitals in the country.  It happens to be near our neighborhood.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve ridden the bus by it and wondered about the stories unfolding behind those wall.  Now, we will be one of those stories. I’m channeling all my “glass half full” mindgames to say that I think it will have a happy ending.

Reeling

So much has transpired since the last post that I’m going to bypass the dramatic arc of the genetic testing to bring things up to date.  To get caught up:

• The full amnio results came back clear.  Thrilled.
• Due to confusion about whether a CF carrier test had been done (confusion was mine), the test was done later in the process than normal.  The same day we learned of the amnio results, we learned that I was a carrier for CF.  The amnio did not test for this, because at the time the test was done, it wasn’t known that this could be an issue.
• It took a little over a week to find out if LG was a carrier.  During that time, we had the most gut wrenching fight in our marriage to date as we grappled both with the emotions of everything we had been through as well as our completely opposite view of what to do in the event the baby had CF.
• On Friday of last week, we learned that LG was not a carrier.  We took the first collective deep breath in months.  I looked forward to our 20 week ultrasound scheduled for yesterday.  Given all the testing that we’d already had done, I believed with every fiber that we’d be given a clean bill of health and could begin to take steps to enjoy this pregnancy.  I secretly made reservations at the restaurant where we held our rehearsal dinner to celebrate this turning point.

Then, yesterday.  We went in for the ultrasound at yet another specialist.  (My OB works with a network of specialists for all the non-routine procedures – genetic testing, amnio testing, L2 ultrasounds, etc.  It makes you feel like you’re in great hands but it also means you’re always meeting new doctors.)  This being my first 20 week ultrasound, I didn’t really know what to expect other than that they would look at all the organs and take measurements and that it would take about 45 minutes to an hour.   The facility is beautiful – big plasma screen on the wall for both of us to watch the proceedings.  At first the technician was quite chipper and pointed out structures as as she went along.  As time went by, she got increasingly quiet and seemed to be spending considerable time on the heart.  Again, I thought perhaps that was normal but my spidey senses were starting to tingle.  Finally, she finished up but told me not to get dressed in case the “doctor wanted a few more pictures.”  I’ve heard that line before…right before the ovarian tumor that later became early stage ovarian cancer was first identified.

Then, a second technician came in and had me roll around a bit in an effort to get the Nugget to move.  (The baby was stubbornly reclining on its belly and wouldn’t flip over despite all our best efforts.)  She too zeroed right in on the heart.  Finally I asked her – fully expecting that she couldn’t and wouldn’t say anything  – if this was because something was wrong or if they just weren’t getting the pictures they needed because of the baby’s position.  She looked at me, paused, and told me that she really wasn’t allowed to say anything, but that there might be a problem.   My eyes filled with tears.  LG’s grip on me tightened and his eyes took on that faraway look I’ve seen so often the last several months.  The tech was incredibly compassionate with both of us.  I am grateful for her candor and very much hope it didn’t get her into trouble.

Finally, the doctor came in.  He showed us the picture that caused them concern and began to scan himself to see if he could recreate it.  At first he couldn’t reproduce the picture, and I started to think it was just a fluke, but then he did…and we all saw it at the same time.  Nugget has a growth on his* heart.  We then went straight to our OB who further explained the situation.

It appears the baby has something called a Rhab.domyoma.  As long as Nugget is in utero, he should be fine, because I am keeping him oxygenated.  There is a chance that the mass will stop growing and then it won’t be as much of an issue, but if it continues to grow disproportionately to the chamber and blocks blood flow to the atrium, then the baby will be in serious jeopardy when he is born.

On Tuesday, we go for a second opinion and to have a fetal echo performed.  We’ll also meet with a pediatric cardiologist and a MFM doctor.  Depending on what they determine, we may need to meet with a pediatric surgeon as it’s possible the baby will need heart surgery shortly after birth.  Our OB also said she’d be arranging a meeting with the NICU staff, since it is highly likely the baby will need to go immediately to special care.  That – more than anything – drove things home for me.

The only bright spot in all of this is that for the first time LG and I have come together over this kind of news instead of retiring to our separate corners.  For that I am grateful.  Things are quiet around our house, though.  We’re both operating in suspended animation until we learn more next week.

*We don’t know the baby’s sex, but I’ll use male pronouns going forward, because I don’t like calling the baby “it.”

Beyond What to Expect – Part II

Picking up from yesterday…

Once the physical symptoms finally started to abate, it was time for the first trimester screening.  Before I go into that…a little context.  Since this involves both LG and me, and he’s incredibly protective of his privacy, I’m going to tell parts of the story in broad strokes.

About 6 months before we got engaged, somehow LG and I stumbled into a discussion of what each of us would do in the event we found out during pregnancy that the child we were carrying had some sort of highly debilitating condition.  It quickly became apparent that our respective views on this topic are as divergent as they could possibly be.  I think that gave us both pause – could we be with someone who held such a different viewpoint on a fundamental issue – but ultimately each decided on our own that it was such a remote possibility  that we would ever deal with the issue {cue ominous foreshadowing music} that it wasn’t something that would get in the way of all the wonderful things we did have going for us in our relationship.

I was actually looking forward to the 1st trimester screening as I was certain it would say everything was fine and it would be smooth sailing from there.   We met with the genetic counselor directly after the nuchal ultrasound.  First, the good news – the scan looked great with a measurement of 1.6.   Then she got to the bloodwork.  The free beta-HCG was slightly above normal (1.3); however, the PAPP-A was markedly low (.2 Multiples of Median or M0M).  The counselor explained that the blood results  were potentially indicative of Trisomy 21 (Down’s Syndrome).  The combined risk factor with the ultrasound was 1:71 for Down’s.  Bloodwork alone was 1:20.  To make matters even more fraught, she then told us that if the low PAPP-A wasn’t a result of the baby having Down’s, then it might be indicative of a placental issue that would put me at higher risk for preeclampsia, growth problems for the baby, and pre-term labor.  There was no question of whether we would have a diagnostic test, just which one.  Due to the bleed, we were advised against the CVS, so we had wait 2.5 weeks for an amnio.

Those 2.5 weeks were filled with tears, fights, emotionally draining discussions of what we do in the event the baby had Down’s, tension-filled silences, attempts to pretend everything was OK and back through the cycle again.  Finally it was amnio day.  I was quite anxious, but the procedure ended up being pretty painless and quick.  In fact, as the doctor was pulling out the needle, it actually looked as if the baby waved good-bye to this visitor into his or her* little world..  It was probably just an effect of the suction, but pretty cute nonetheless.

In a miracle of modern medicine, we got the preliminary FISH** results that same day.  I’m certainly not an expert on FISH tests, but my understanding is that they shine some sort of light on the sample (?) and they can see if two chromosomes light up for genes #13, #18, and #21 or three.  If it’s 2, it means that gene is normal, if it’s 3, then the baby has the condition associates with that particular chromosome.  (Anyone more knowledgeable, please feel free to correct me.)  The results from this test are 95 to 99% definitive depending on whom you talk to.  It takes 10 to 14 days for final results and that includes testing for neural tube defects.  Our FISH results…..  all indications of a chromosomally normal baby!  I was thrilled without reservation.  LG was thrilled with reservation until we got the full results.  We both started to take tentative steps towards allowing ourselves to be excited and putting the tension and distance caused by this unfathomable decision about whether to continue the pregnancy if in fact the baby had Down’s behind us.

Just like the IVF process before this, we waited anxiously for the call.  More on that to come.

** While we could learn the sex from the amnio, we’ve elected to wait until the big reveal in March 2010.

*fluorescence in-situ hybridization

Beyond What to Expect – Part I

I am so touched by the small but incredibly appreciated group of people who follow my story.  I knew that I had dropped off the radar with nary a word and thought about and meant to and really wanted to respond to the people who reached out via e-mail to check in (thank you!!), but never did.   Because I didn’t know what to say.  Given that, I knew I had no right to expect anyone to read much less offer such amazing support when I finally turned back to this space. The fact that you did moved me beyond words. I don’t know how often I’ll write, but I promise not to just disappear again. If I decide to take a break or even stop blogging, I’ll be upfront and honest about that.

Truth be told, I actually wrote my previous entry about a month before I posted it. However, almost everything in there holds true today although I am starting to see a light on the horizon. The last post was by design a very vague outline because I wasn’t ready to talk about the specifics when I originally wrote it.  Now, I’d like to fill in some of the details.  I apologize in advance for the negative and seemingly complaining tone of the next couple posts.  I want to be as honest as I can about what’s transpired these past few months both as a way to document the experience and also to provide some context for my absence.   I offer my sincere apologies to anyone I may offend who is struggling and waiting for the blessing of pregnancy and a child.  Please know that despite the experience I’ve had and the fact that thus far it has been dramatically different than the blissful glow of impending motherhood I envisioned, I am extremely grateful that we are in the position we are and continue to hope and pray for all that are in the throes of the struggle.

When we learned I was pregnant after our 3rd attempt at IVF, we were thrilled beyond words.   I actually knew before the beta thanks to copious use of pee sticks. I’ll never forget the catch in my throat and the heart stopping moment when the 2nd line made its way across the display window.   That said, I wasn’t exactly in a hugely celebratory mood as I was in the throes of moderate OHSS.    (To all those out there who have suffered through severe OHSS, my never-ending sympathies are with you as this was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced.) Ultimately, after essentially being bedridden for a couple of weeks because I couldn’t stand up straight much less walk or even breathe, Dr. Yacht made the decision to do a “tap” in which they drained the fluid from my abdominal cavity. They took 2 litres and the relief was almost instantaneous. Usually people have to be re-tapped at least once, but I got lucky and the OHSS completely cleared within the next week or so. Only to be followed by a very sharp pain and bleeding…and panic. We rushed to the clinic where they found a sizable subchorionic hemorrage (SCH). My doctor doesn’t believe in bedrest for SC bleeds, so we were left to just wait it out and see what happens. Fortunately, the little nugget hung on and the clinic and OB were good about giving us frequent ultrasounds to check in on things.  While it took until Week 14 for the SCH to clear (with off and on but always terrifying bleeding throughout that period), it’s now thankfully gone.

Shortly after the onset of the bleed, I began feeling more pain … and here’s where it gets into a bit too much TMI.  The pain was reminiscent of the worst UTI I have ever had combined with a nasty case of hemorrhoids except the pain was deep and internal.  My unmentionable parts were in agony.  After multiple highly embarrassing doctor visits including one with my OB, whom I’d never met prior to that appointment but who told it me it was all in my head (nice), no cause was ever found. It didn’t present like any pregnancy or OHSS symptom that everyone had ever heard of but was debilitating none the less. Again, I basically didn’t move for a couple of weeks.  My sofa now has a perma-groove shaped precisely to the outline of my not so slender self.  Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. At that point, we were near the end of the first trimester and starting to get a little bit of the excitement back. We even went out and bought the ubiquitous What to Expect… book.  And then…first trimester screening proceeded to rock our world and we’re still digging out.  More on that in the next post.

I Haven’t Known

I haven’t written in months. I haven’t known how to fully capture what I’ve been experiencing without hurting or offending so many others mired in the trenches of infertility still hoping, dreaming, and praying for a positive pregnancy test – praying for what I have. I haven’t known how to write about the incredible disconnect between my hopes and dreams for this pregnancy and ultimately the child who will hopefully come into our lives and the truth and reality of what the last 4 months have brought me. I haven’t known how to write about a marriage in jeopardy. I haven’t known how to write about the increasingly consuming feeling that I have made oh so many mistakes and the fear that more are on the horizon.

I still don’t know how. But I know I can’t go on like this so I need this outlet.

Changing Tides

So, um….seems I’m pregnant. LG and I have been living in a bit of a fog for several days as the news sinks in, which is why this post is slow in coming (and scattered). Once our TTC journey started, I fantasized (at times endlessly) about finding out that we were pregnant and how I would react in that moment. It was always a variation on a theme of exuberant celebration and relief. The reality has been incredibly powerful and moving but different – more muted than I’d expected. The celebration is there (and building now that I’m slowly bouncing back from the OHSS), but not the relief. It seems we still live in anticipation of the next phone call and doctor’s visit. Are the betas doubling? Will I need to be hospitalized from the OHSS? (So far, doesn’t look like it – so I’m very grateful for that. They drained 2 liters last Saturday and while there’s been some buildup again and my left ovary is enormous, it appears to be manageable with copious amounts of gatorade (gag) and what basically amounts to bed rest at home.)

We now have 3 betas under our belt and LG and I are finally able to breathe and take in the magnitude of the moment. We are equal parts thrilled, scared, delighted, and guarded. I finally told my mom and sister yesterday, and I think it was their reaction that finally helped me break through the fog. My mom was traveling, and I caught her in the baggage claim at the San Francisco airport. I asked her how she’d feel about becoming a grandma again. She immediately started crying! My sister offered to send all her What to Expect and other pregnancy books, but I’ve asked her to hold off until we hear the heartbeat. I convinced LG (who is typically more secretive than a CIA agent…left to his own devices he wouldn’t tell people about the pregnancy until we brought the baby home) to tell his sister. Partly because she wanted us to go to the 4th of July fireworks in our city, which I wanted no part of given the way I feel, but mostly because I think it’s important for him to have someone that’s “his” that he can talk to when he needs an outlet. She was thrilled, and I think he was surprised by how good it felt to share the news. The only other person who knows is my boss because I called to tell her that I’m taking another week of off work due to the OHSS. She actually got choked up when she heard the news! As much as I dislike my job, I’m so lucky to have someone so understanding as my manager. Assuming I can hold out (yeah, right…who am I kidding), we won’t tell anyone else (other than you guys, of course) until after the proverbial 1st trimester.

So, since ART is a science of numbers, here’s the pertinent info:

9dp5dt / 14dpo – HCG = 228, Prog = 142
12dp5dt / 17dpo – HCG = 818, Prog = 179
14dp5dt / 19dpo – HCG = 1845, Prog over 200

The progesterone numbers freak me out a bit, but the nurse said they can sometimes be elevated in people with OHSS.

We go back in on Monday for an OHSS ultrasound and another beta and then on Wednesday for our 1st OB scan at 5w5d. That seems a bit early based on what I’ve read, but hopefully we’ll be able to see something.

I never thought we’d get here. I’m thrilled that we did and hanging on very tight for the rest of the ride.

Knife Skills

It’s been a busy week or so.  To catch up, I will rely on the time-honored tradition of bullet points.

• Apparently, I was not the summa cum laude graduate of my knife skills class that I hoped to be.  While smugly applying my new onion cutting skills, I managed to slice the tip of my finger.   It’s actually a pretty minor cut, but because of the Lovenox I’m taking, it was quite the bleeder, hence the amputation-like wrap (and greatly reduced blogging).  I am happy to report that healing is finally underway.
• I’m now 9 days post transfer and just made my 2nd trip back to the clinic for hyperstimulation.  I actually felt great after the retrieval and transfer – this just reared up on Monday.  On Tuesday, they felt like I could manage it through copious amounts of Gatorade (which, by the way I hate), but now they’ve decided to drain it.  They couldn’t do it this morning, because I’d eaten right before going into the clinic, so now we have to drive out to the suburban clinic (over an a hour away) for a 6:30 am appointment for yet another needle up my hoo-ha.  Truth be told, I’m kind of looking forward to the relief I hope it will bring.  I literally look about 3 months pregnant, which accounts for the 2 people who have asked me in the last couple of days if I am in fact pregnant.  One was a guy I’ll give a break too because I look huge and I was rubbing my stomach in the pregnant-lady way because it hurt.  The second was a cab driver.  It’s about a million degrees where I live (it went from rainy and cold to heat warnings in about a 2 day span), yet the cab drivers are loath to turn on the air conditioning due to the high high gas prices in the city.  When I asked him to turn on the air, he said, “well, for a pregnant lady, I’ll turn it on.”  To which I said…thank you.  Whatever – might as well get some benefit. 
• My beta is scheduled for Monday.  Dr. Yacht and the ultrasound tech both said that hyperstimulation at this stage could be a good sign, so we’re hopeful.

Other than that, nothing much to report as I’ve pretty much been couch bound due to the discomfort of my giant rock-hard abdomen and inability to wear anything in the way of acceptable-for-going-outside clothes.

Now Entering the Waiting Zone

I’m officially off the 48 hour “coach-potato” rest advised by my clinic post transfer.   I’m still going to take it easy the rest of the day, but wanted to post a quick update. 

We continue to be thrilled with the progression of this cycle.  Out of our 8 fertilized embryos, 5 made it to blast!  Because of our past history combined with my age, we decided to take a risk and transfer 3 blasts (4AA, 4AB, and 4BB).  Now, it’s just a waiting game. 

I don’t know how much I’ll post while waiting, but I do plan to keep up on all the blogs I follow and provide support to my fellow travelers.  Thanks everyone for continuing to check in on me.  It means so much!

Phone Calls

I’m struck by how much and how quickly an IVF cycle can turn on a single phone call.

The call after the baseline telling you you’re canceled because of a persistant cyst or that you’re cleared to start your stims.

The phone call after each wanding/blood-letting telling you to continue on or that the cycle is canceled due to low response or some other heartbreaker.

The phone call telling you what time to take the trigger shot and the feeling that you’ve passed a major hurdle.

The phone call telling you your fertilization rate –  a call that can either plunge you into despair or keep your hope alive for another day.

The phone call with your transfer time – will it be a Day 3 or a Day 5?

The ultimate phone call – the one for me that has always started with the word “unfortunately…” blunting my ability to hear anything beyond that.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my sister when the other line rang through.  I quickly checked the caller ID and saw that it was my clinic – and being unable to operate call waiting promptly hung up on her.  (She was very understanding when I phoned her back.)  LG was in the other room but could tell from the catch in my voice when I answered who it was and rushed out to be next to me.  For me, every one of those call has a moment  – one might even call it a pregnant pause – between the barely controlled “hello” and whatever follows next.  In that moment are hopes and dreams ready to be carried along another day or dashed. 

This time the news was good.  No, it was great.  As of today, we have 8 embryos.  Double what we have had at this time for either of the other cycles.  We are scheduled for a Day 5 transfer on Wednesday.  There are still many phone calls to go…but for today, our hope has survived the ringing of the phone.

Holding our Breath

All things considered, retrieval went well yesterday.   We needed to be there at 7:30 and since the lab we go to is about an hour away in no traffic and we’re both highly paranoid, we were on the road at 5:30 a.m.*  After hanging out in the parking lot until 7:00, we ventured in and they took us back right away.  For most people, this would be a great thing as it meant we got one of the few private rooms instead of curtain divided cubicles.  For me, less exciting as it meant I couldn’t indulge in one of my favorite pastimes:  eavesdropping.  (Turns out, the private room would turn out to be a blessing, but I’m getting ahead of myself.)

LG and I hung out for awhile in the room – most of that time spent with him torturing me taking long pulls from his Diet Pepsi (I, of course, NPO since midnight), several of which he followed up with a satisfied “ahhh…”  I responded by telling him that if and when the point comes for him to get a colonoscopy, I will return the favor by indulging in a big bowl of ice cream (his favorite) while he’s getting prepped.  Ah, young love.

Finally, they took me back to the procedure room where they had not the usual 3 suspects gathered to behold my Lady Bits (TM – Jen @ Maybe If You Just Relax), but rather 4:  the nurse anesthetist, the lab assistant, Dr. Yacht, and player never named.  For my own piece of mind, I will assume she was some sort of student.   Once the IV was in, the rest was a void until I awoke back in the room….feeling like absolute death.

I tend towards queasiness with any pain meds much less anesthesia, but this was by far the worst.  (Now, the private room came in handy.)  I was in and out of alertness for much longer than usual while the staff bustled around me.  At one point, the anesthetist came in and said this wasn’t surprising as they had to give me additional pain medication during the procedure.**  I am loath to think exactly what I did to communicate during my sedated state that I needed more pain medication.  Hopefully, neither violence or foul language directed towards Dr. Yacht was involved.

Of course, the need for extra pain medication became clearer once they told us that 28 stabs to the hoo-ha and beyond were involved.  That’s right…28 eggs were retrieved from my poor sweat-shop left ovary.   While ostensibly a great number, we’ve been on this train before, so we know for us it’s not the retrieval number that matters but rather the fertilization/viable embryo counts.  These have historically been lousy.  Our overall attrition rate to date has been about 85%.  Needless to say, we’re waiting anxiously for the call later today to see how many were mature and how many of those fertilized.

LG took great care of my once we got home.  I settled into bed and after a 2-hour nap broke out the IVF kit.  This is a tradition that started with our first cycle where I gather up books (hardcover!…no waiting for the paperback versions for the kit!), magazines, and movies and save them for Transfer Week.  This cycle’s kit consisted of:

• TIVO’d episodes of So You Think You Can Dance and the new Top Chef Masters.
• Pretty in Plain by Jen Lancaster.  This is her 3rd book and one of the few authors that can make me laugh out loud – usually in inappropriate places.  (See: IVF Cycle #2).
• Handle with Care– Jodi Picoult
• 6 episodes of Season 2 Brothers and Sisters
• Trash Mags
• Jelly Bellies!

This time, LG decided he needed to get in on the kit action so he ordered himself some guitar books from Amazon and spent yesterday looking after me and trying out his new blues books.

Today, my pain is markedly less than previous retrievals even though this is the biggest haul yet.  Perhaps the effect of acupuncture?  The true test of the effect of my time off/acupuncture/massage is still to come, but I’m increasingly becoming a convert.  So, for today I’m just planning to take it easy (once again, the weather is cooperating by being incredibly rainy and dreary for June making a day on the couch under a blanket much less guilt-inducing) and wait for the phone.

* The day of our first retrieval was a really snowy day.  We got there really early, so we were OK, but while we were waiting a lady came in for her retrieval.  She was over 90 minutes late due to weather-related traffic.  Because her window had passed and they were jammed that day with other people, they weren’t able to do the procedure.  Can you imagine?  Suffice it to say, that only fuels our paranoia about arriving several hours before our assigned time.

**  She also said that she knew I might need more meds to “relax” because I was really nervous about the IV insertion.  OK, lady.  Growing up, I had a medical condition for which I received meds by IV every month for over 10 years.  I was not nervous about the IV.  After she left, I muttered that very fact to LG in my still drunk-on-sedatives/in-and-out state.  Being a defender of my honor, he asked if I would like him to seek her out so he could clarify that fact.  While he was mostly joking, I’m convinced that if his question had been met by a “yes” rather than slack-jawed snoring, he would have done exactly that.  He rocks.

Moving Closer

We’ve made it to the next milestone!  Retrieval is set for Friday morning.  I am more than ready as I’ve run out of real estate on my stomach for any more shots.  Apparently practice does not make perfect as my growing stomach pooch looks like some sort of avant garde finger painting consisting of blue, purple, and yellow dots…and I haven’t even started the Lovenox yet.

I’m not sure where I’m going to end up in terms of eggs since I’ve gotten conflicting reports from the u/s techs, but should be somewhere between 11 and 21.   I keep trying to remind myself that the goal is not numbers (which we’ve gotten in the past) but rather quality (which we have not).  Hopefully, the acupuncture and fertility enhancing massages that I’ve been doing will help with the quality and subsequent fertilization and development.  We’ve already decided along with Dr. Yacht that we’re doing a 5-day regardless of the number of embryos, so getting high quality embryos that can make it to blastocyst stage is a paramount.  (It’s worth noting that we’ve never actually gotten to that stage, so I’m more than a little terrified about taking this risk, but given the past 2 failures, these seems to be our best bet.)

Now that the update is out of the way, can I just say that I am LOVING my life of leisure.  I have not thought about work at all, and I feel like a different person.  LG (and others) have commented on how much happier I look and seem, and it’s absolutely true.  Of course, June is flying by so I’ll be back to work soon enough, but for now, I’m really trying to enjoy every minute of it.  I never lose sight of how blessed I am to have this time to concentrate on this cycle.  The unexpected thing is that I actually feel less consumed with all things baby making than I did when I was working full time.  Today, I finally took a cooking class (actually a knife skills class) that I’ve been talking about doing forever, and it was so much fun…despite the fact that I had to be the idiot in the class that actually dropped the knife.  Happy to report that all toes are intact although my visa took a little bruising in the cookware store attached to the school.  Other than that, just taking things easy.  Lots of acupuncture (which I’m really enjoying), some shopping, some gibbon-watching at the zoo (although not as much as I would like as it’s been unseasonably cold and rainy around these parts), and general lounging.  Life is good.

Green Light!

Woohoo!  IVF #3 is a go!  I start shooting up on Saturday.    When AF was a no-show after stopping the birth control pills on Sunday, I was really afraid that this cycle was going to be canceled either because the lining would be too thick or because the E2 levels would be out of whack.  The way my clinic works is that everyone is forced to the same ER/ET week, so if conditions aren’t right at the exact beginning of the cycle, you’re bumped until at least the next month.  That would have been a killer because (1) I’m mentally very ready to get this show on the road, and (2) that would mean NO LEAVE!  Truth be told that might have been the bigger kick in the gut.  I really need this time away as a sanity break.

The first hopeful sign came when we arrived at the clinic yesterday for the baseline wanding/blood-letting.  My clinic shares a facility with another IVF clinic, so when one or the other gets backed up, they sometimes will help out by doing ultrasounds.  Such was the case when I arrived, so I got an ultrasound tech from the other clinic.  I’ve had her before.  She is without question the Grand Marshall of the Crazy Parade, but at the same time inspiring, and you can’t help but smile when you’re around her.  As I’m settling myself into the Recliner de Exposure, she asks me if this is my first IVF.  No, I tell her with a weary sigh, it’s my third.  At this she steps back and turns to the corner of the room, raises her hands and offers what can only be described as a prayer – to whom or what I’m not sure.  It is then that I see she has created an eclectic version of a fertility altar including various representations from the world’s religions, new age talismans, and – of course – a pair of fuzzy dice for the “Vegas element”.  AWESOME!  And, it’s weird to say, but I did feel some sort of blessing  settle on me.  Not a bad way to start.  I’m definitely ready to roll the dice!

Connections

First, my thanks to everyone who’s stopped by and left a comment for ICLW. I’m so enjoying welcoming new people here and finding new stories to follow. Making some of these new connections has caused me to think about connections in my personal life.

I’ve written before about how I wish I had more friends in my life.  (If you click on the link, feel free to skip to #9.)  While I adore LG and love the time we spend together, there are times I’m still very lonely for girlfriends. 

Last night, we went to a Memorial Day BBQ with some people I had worked with at my previous company.  We had so much fun!  Fun that may have been helped along by the fact that I single-handedly consumed a bottle of wine*, but a great time nonetheless.   At one point the party turned into a typical 7th grade dance with the girls on one side and the boys on the other.  Only, this was the adult version with all the guys outside gathered around the grill and all the girls inside in the kitchen.  It was so good to be around a group of women just having fun and laughing.  We talked about everything (job security in these economic times) and nothing (reality TV…verdict – Real Housewives are lame but So You Think You Can Dance rocks).  Nobody at the party knows anything about our infertility or  upcoming IVF, and it was so just freeing. 

I used to work very closely with one of the women there, and I had forgotten how much I really enjoy her and feel like we have a connection.  LG has been after me for awhile to reach out to her, but I felt like too much time had gone by.  Now that our paths have crossed again, I’m definitely going to give her a call.   Here’s to new connections with old friends.

Now, for the Show & Tell portion of today’s post.  For quite some time, I’ve been looking for an occasion to break out the corn cob cupcakes I saw in one of my many cooking magazines.  Yesterday’s BBQ seemed like the perfect event, and I was really excited about how they turned out.  The “corn kernels” are yellow and white Jelly Bellies (my favorite!) and the “butter pats” are yellow starbursts.  They were quite the hit at the party, but if you make them, please be warned that sugar overload is a near certainty. 

 To see what the rest of the class is showing, head over to Mel’s place. 

 

 

 

 

 

* This was the swan song to the libations since I’m officially in IVF preparation mode starting Monday.  Thought I’d go out with a bang!

Happy ICLW Week – May

I thought I’d provide a quick synopsis of where things stand to date for those stopping by the first time (I’m very happy you’re here and I’m excited to visit your place!), and then go back to regularly scheduled programming.

My husband (known here as LG) and I have been married a year and a half, and we’ve been trying to expand our family literally since our wedding night. It’s a first time marriage for both of us but it took us a long time to find each other, so we’re practically both in the eating-at-Denny’s-at-4:30-in-the-afternoon camp** when it comes to baby-making. I’m 37 and he’s 44.

We fast-tracked our first visit to the RE given our ages as well as my medical history which included the removal of one ovary/fallopian tube due to a Low Malignant Potential ovarian tumor. Given both of those factors, our doctor (whom I refer to here as Dr. Yacht in honor of the luxury boat my treatments are funding), suggested we go right to the big guns of IVF.

Our first was canceled before we even got going due to a sky high E2 level (no BCP can keep me down…power to the ovary!). The next – and the one after that – were both giant busts.  Our diagnosis is still – frustratingly – unexplained, although after 2 attempts that have produced over 40 eggs combined (from one ovary!) resulting in a paltry 7 embryos – none of which successfully implanted – Dr. Yacht is now leaning more and more towards poor egg quality as the culprit.  After a much needed break, we’re now about a week away from starting stims for our 3rd attempt.  This time I’m shaking things up and taking a leave of absence from work for the month of June, and I’ll be spending that time pursuing acupuncture and other integrative therapies.  I’m well aware that this is probably a paltry attempt to exert some “control” over the situation, but it helps to feel like we’re doing something different.  Plus, IF has been such an all around drag – the least I can get out of it is a nice long summer break from work!

I’m really looking forward to discovering new blogs this week. Finding this community has been a life saver.

**Even if I were a young sprightly thing, we would still probably hit the dinner spots early because I hate HATE waiting for a table.  Paragon of patience…not I.

Expectations

Thought I’d start with a couple of random updates before I get to what’s really been on my mind as of late:

• LG and I went to the acupuncture info meeting on Monday.  I found it very interesting, and I’m looking forward to adding it to the protocol for this cycle.   I do wish I’d started earlier as the instructor said they usually recommend two to three months before a cycle, but she said there can still be a benefit, so I’m more than willing to try.  I have my intake appointment tomorrow, so more to come.
• 7 Days to my leave!  I’m really looking forward to getting some space from work – especially being front and center for the layoffs, salary freezes, restructurings, etc.  During the leave I plan to:
  • Take part in integrative therapies including acupuncture, yoga, and fertility-enhancing massage
  • Cook
  • Organize my recipe file
  • Visit the local zoo on a nearly daily basis to watch the white cheeked gibbons – my favorite animal
  • Try my hand at watercolors
  • Update my blog more frequently
  • Explore my Budding Life Plan…more on this below
  • Relax and grow great follicles which will hopefully turn into solid embryos which will hopefully turn into a healthy, happy baby.

Now – Part II of this post.

I’ve written before about how important my sister is in my life.  We became very close after she graduated from college (she’s 3.5 years younger than I am) and since then, she has been my rock.  The person who knows exactly what I need to hear in the moment, whether it’s a sympathetic ear, words of comfort or encouragement, or even a buck-up speech.   She knows the ins and outs of what we’re going through with the infertility and has gone above and beyond in being a great listener and really seems to understand the struggle.  As much as someone with 2 kids, one of whom she and her husband refer to as their “one-shot wonder,” can that is.

Lately, however, it feels like we’ve been really out of sync.  It started with some off-hand comments she’s made about my nephew, whom I’ll call Truck in honor of his one true love.   Truck is just shy of 3, a total charmer, and an inveterate trouble-maker who has been giving his mom fits as of late.  A few times we’ll be on the phone and he’ll be acting up in the background, and she’ll say something like “I’m going to send him up to you and LG for a week…see how badly you want kids after that!”  I’ve been trying to figure out why that gets to me as much as it does without really coming up with an answer.   I really believe she’s not making light of our situation – I think she’s reacting more to her own frustrations in the moment, but it still rankles.

To describe the next part of the out-of-sync puzzle, I have to take a step back.  As my small but beloved circle of readers know, I’ve been really struggling with my current career of HR.  The question I have been unable to answer up to this point is if not HR, then what.  To that question, I’ve been coming up bone dry, which has led to a premature mid-life crisis of sorts.

A number of possible career paths have flitted through my mind – some dwelling a little longer than others – but none have felt reason for one reason or another.  I’ve thought about going back to school to be a doctor but have disqualified that because not sure how I would do that at my age especially if we are blessed enough to have the children we so want.  Medical school at 38 followed by a residency – all with small children in the house – seems more than I want to take on.  Then, I’ve thought about nursing, but the type of nursing I think I want to do involves a significant amount of schooling and practical experience, so it would be a good 8 years or so before I was really working in the capacity I want to…and again, with IF treatments, (hopefully) small kids, etc it seems like more than I want to take on.

I’ve also considered psychology as I’m often told that I’m a good listener,  but if one thing HR has taught me is that I have very little patience with people who want to wallow in a situation of their own making and then not take steps to get themselves out of it.  I am by no means saying that this applies to the vast majority of  people who seek psychological counseling. When I say this, I’m thinking more of my own personal experience when I was in several years of therapy for an eating disorder and spent the better chunk of that time resisting every minute of it.  (Thankfully, thanks to the patience and skill of the wonderful LSW I was working with, I finally was able to breakthrough…so I know first hand the value but also how frustrating the process can be for all involved.)  On the whole, I think that seeking professional counseling is a very courageous act that people make when they know they need to make changes in their life.  It’s just that sometimes those changes are a long time in coming, and I don’t know if I have the patience to see people along on that journey and as a result, I think I’d either burn out quickly or be ineffective.  Then there are the offshoots of HR that I’ve considered – Learning & Development, freelancer creating e-learning curriculums, etc, but all of those seem like same thing, different wrapping.

Then, last week I stumbled onto an idea that is too hare brained, too fantasy laden at this stage to write about specifically, so I’ll just refer to it for now as my Budding Life Plan.  If it starts to take shape, I’ll definitely write more about it, but suffice it to say that for the first time in a long time, I’m really excited about an idea.  I’ve talked about it with LG, who is usually very practical and slow to accept things that (a) distract us from our primary priority of family building and (b) require significant change, but he gets how this idea addresses all the things I’ve said I want out of a career and is supportive.  I’ve talked with my mother (also a paragon of practicality – which this idea is not) and she thinks its a fabulous idea.  Then, I told my sister – my cheerleader, the person I go to to help me dream and dream bigger and…she laughed at me.  Completely mocked the very concept of the Budding Life Plan and then mocked me for what she termed yet another  “idea of the week.”

Maybe I caught her at a bad time.  (Truck was yelling in the back seat of a the car.)   Maybe in my excitement I didn’t articulate the idea and it sounded even more hare-brained than it is.  Maybe she’s growing weary of what I admit is increasingly a 2 track conversation with me…want a kid, hate my job.  It’s just that my expectations of her are so high because of what she’s always been to me – my soft place to land – that to find that soft place replaced by a mocking hard surface was jarring and hurt… a lot.

I know I need to talk with her about it and probably ease up on my expectations of her, because forcing her to teeter on a pedestal isn’t fair to her.   I have a sense it’s going to take us some time to get back in sync.

Brought out of Hiding by Neil Patrick Harris

So, true confessions time.  I’ve been a horrible blogette as of late.   I’ve even fallen behind on reading and commenting although I’m starting to get back into the swing of things.  I have finally been rustled out my pre-IFV #3 hibernation due to the need to share my joy that my secret boyfriend Neil Patrick Harris (yes, LG knows) is going to be hosting the Tony Awards.  Fancy musical theater production numbers and NPH…  it really doesn’t get much better than that!

It’s been up and down but mostly up these past couple of weeks.  To recap:

The Ups:

1. My mom and I enjoyed an awesome Girls Weekend trip to Phoenix where we spent our days spa’ing, lounging, eating, and drinking in beautiful warm temperatures.  It was so amazing to get up at 6:30 – 7:00 in the morning and be able to sit outside on our patio and not need to bundle up.    We had a terrific time and really re-connected.  Good thing, because it helped smooth things over when I proceeded to completely space Mother’s Day the following weekend.  Sorry, Mom!
2. Things are going well in the IVF #3 pre-planning stages.  Just taking BCP’s and hoping it’s doing the trick.  So so happy we’re not doing Lupron this go-around.   That stuff mad-a me ca-raaazy.
3. LG and I are going to an acupuncture info meeting tonight.  I’m well aware that I’m pretty late to be looking into this this seeing as I’m scheduled to start stims on May 29th, but better late than never.  I’m very interested to hear what they have to say and am excited to be doing something “different” this go-around.
4. I’m 2 weeks and 1 day out from my June LOA…and counting!

The Downs:

1. I spent most of last week traveling around to different offices to conduct “notification meetings” (e.g. let people go).  Always soul-draining, but on the bright side, I think that should be the last of those conversations for awhile (see point #3 above).
2. LG and I had yet another painful disagreement about our respective boundaries on whom and what we tell about infertility, IVF, et al.   It ended up being a “good fight,” as I think we got some important issues on the table, but it still really took the wind out of my sails for a few days.

That’s about it.  I’ll try to be a little more prompt (and interesting) in my posting especially since I’ll have time on my hands come June.

Why I Am Lucky

Yesterday afternoon in a phone call to LG:

Me: “If X* happens, that will be what puts me over the edge.”

LG: “Well, then I’ll be on the other side waiting to catch you.”

And, that is why I am so lucky to have him in my life.

*Where X = something at work…of course.

Put Me in Coach

Through the use of blunt force (i.e. Provera), AF has finally arrived – officially clocking in at 49 days.   I have a date with my friendly wand wielder on Friday and then will most likely start BCPs on Saturday in preparation for a June transfer.  There’s quite a bit going on with me on the job front*, and LG asked if we wanted to postpone our next cycle until September, but no.  The break has done me well and I’m ready – even excited.  (Contrast that to IVF #2.)   As I told him, we can wait until September – still not have things figured out, which knowing us is the most likely outcome – and just be that much further along on the advanced maternal age parade route.

So, I’m back in the game.

* I unsuccessfully tried to resign yesterday.  Unsuccessful because I never actually used the words “I” and “resign.” I managed to talk all around it, without ever saying it.  Chicken = me.   My boss is very much aware of what’s going on with me personally and has been very supportive.  (Frankly, if I were she I’d have much less patience as, much as I hate to admit it,  my personal struggles are clearly affecting my work at least on some level.)    I truly believe my issues with the job are a result of the company culture combined with the fact that I’m just burnt out in HR in general.  She, however,  attributes my inability to just ride things out to my “understandable but heightened emotional state.”  I think the reason I can’t bring myself to flat out quit is because I’m afraid that she might be right – at least a little bit.  I’m also afraid of financial ruin, but that’s another topic.   I usually am pretty decisive, and yet I’m really having a hard time pulling the trigger.  I got my FMLA approved, so I’ll be taking all of June off.  Perhaps that will help give me some perspective.

Lunchroom Capers

First, I must start with the tragic news that I can no longer watch this season of Survivor.  I was SO hoping this would be the last time Coach would besmirch my television screen, but it was not meant to be.  Since I refuse to allow one of my greatest escapes – reality TV* – to add to my already impressive level of angst**, here is where Survivor Toncantins and I must part ways.

I’m percolating a couple of reflective infertility posts, but not really ready to go there yet.  In the meantime, since I haven’t treated (tortured?) you with work kvetching lately, I thought I’d bring you a story of how I spent my day today.  Tracking down a lunch thief.  That’s right, my friends.  It appears my company – let’s call it Quant Guys, Inc – has a resident lunch looter.

At about 1:30 today, as I’m getting carpal tunnel syndrome rearranging data in yet another meaningless spreadsheet made necessary by the fact that our HR systems don’t talk to our financial systems, a very indignant VP appears in my office.  Turns out that there has been a rash of lunches on the lam and he wants to know WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?  For this, I went to business school?  Honest to Pete, these people are crazy.  But I can tell you must be on the edge of your seat with suspense.  What did she do about it, you’re asking yourself.  (What’s that?  Oh…you’re not?  In fact, you’re clicking on to the next blog in your reader?  OK, I’ll wrap it up.).  Being all about the diplomatic solution, we are going to assume for now it was just a big mix-up and remind people that lunch bags and various frozen entrees – much like your luggage at the airport – tends to look alike and please double check that it is, in fact, yours.  If that doesn’t work…exploding decoy lunch bags.

* That’s right my friends – I’m a reality TV junkie.  I have even (she says hanging her head) been known to read reality TV recaps because viewing it just isn’t enough.  I do have standards, though.  I won’t watch anything built on the premise of being mean – or being an Octomom, should that come to pass.  (Speaking of which, have you heard of the new Fox reality show where apparently employees vote Survivor style on who is going to be laid off?  What a horrible horrible concept.) Anything else, especially if they’re cooking, baking, sewing, or strutting down a runway (especially strutting), is fair game.

** Growing up I was so adept at teen-age angst that I have refined it to a whole new level of pushing-40 angst.

MTHFR…WTF?

AF has still not arrived.  Cycle Day 42 and counting.  Good thing we already had a consult scheduled with Dr. Yacht for Tuesday just to make sure we had a solid understanding of our protocol for the next go-around.  He said that a delayed natural cycle after a failed IVF is not normal per se but also not uncommon.  After a quick wanding and blood test, it’s been determined that my lining is still pretty thick (10mm) and my estrogen is high, so I’ve won myself a Provera prescription to bring on my period.  After that, I’ll go on BCP to make sure I’ m adequately suppressed for the June cycle.  Stims should start in late May.  The break was much needed.  I’m feeling much more emotionally ready this time than last time when we went from IVF #1 to IVF #2 with little more than a month in between.

We also got the results of my genetic testing back.  I sent an e-mail to the nurse on Monday asking if they were back so we could be sure to address them in our appointment on Tuesday.  She e-mailed back and said everything was normal except I came back positive for MTHFR, so we’d be adding Lovenox after the transfer due to a slightly elevated risk of blood clotting.  This, of course, sent me straight to the library of the University of Google School of Medicine where I freaked myself out in short order.  By the time I went to Dr. Yacht I had a whole host of questions that caused him to give me his patented slightly patronizing but at the same time weirdly comforting smirk.   Turns out, I have the relatively common and much less concerning heterozygous variety and when he tested the homocysteine levels, those were all normal, so he feels there is nothing to worry about.  The Lovenox is just a precautionary measure as quite frankly he can’t figure out why 6 high quality embryos have failed to implant and figures we’ll just cover our bases.

Sorry this is such a boring post.  Just wanted to get something up as I haven’t felt very “post-worthy” lately.  I’m cooking up a few posts in the coming days about my experience going back home for Easter this past weekend as well as other bloggy thoughts.  Thanks for bearing with me!

Amber (or should it be Red) Alert

AF is missing.  I’m now at CD36, which is crazy as prior to all this IF stuff the one thing you could say about me is that I was regular as hell.  (A fact which apparently didn’t get me anywhere, since whatever I was “regularly” kicking out was crap quality.  Ah well…I digress).

My first period after the Cycle of Doom (aka IVF #2) came right away after stopping the progesterone.   I think I was a few days late after failed cycle #1, but I don’t remember being this late.  I’ll have to go back and check, but I wasn’t quite the obsessive recorder of all things down-there as I am now.  (Why should I have been, IVF is the magic bullet and we were only going to need it once…right?  Right.)

I’ve decided to use this blog to move AF along as we all know that lamenting a missing period to all and sundry is the best way to force AF’s hand – if only so she can make a fool of me yet again.   LG has tentatively brought up the pregnancy possibility.  This directly after I announced to him that I think I’m having a mid-life crisis at the ripe (young for a mid-life crisis / ancient for conceiving a living human child) age of nearly 37.   (More about that later).  He attributes any pronouncement I make that seems less than hopped up on happy pills to be caused by (said in a hushed voice) “hormones.”   Technically, I guess his pregancy theory has theoretical merit, so I will spend $10 I’ll never get back to be taunted by a plastic stick, but I’m not holding out hope as I have absolutely no symptoms.  Not a sore boob in sight, nary a queasy stomach, nada.

In all seriousness, I’m hoping it’s soon, so that my May AF doesn’t get pushed back too far thereby jeopardizing IVF #3 in June.  I want to make sure I have plenty of time on BCP to get adequately suppressed.  The first go-around, I was only on the pill for a couple of weeks, which wasn’t enough to shut down the estrogen factory so the cycle was canceled.   IVF #1 – I was on them for almost a full month, so while it was a giant bust, we were able to proceed to ER/ET.  IVF #2 brought us “Callie – Made Crazy by Lupron,” and we will NOT be going down that road again.  All BCP for me from here on out.   So:

Dear Aunt Flo:

I know I haven’t always greeted with you with open arms, and I know I probably shouldn’t have cursed at you like I did the last time, but…please come visit.  I promise I’ll be nice this time.

Love,

Callie

Mel’s Show & Tell

We’re back!  A week of sun, surf, togetherness, and yes, many a fruity drink was exactly what we needed.  It was incredibly restorative in so many ways.  We spoke very little about infertility and treatments, but even when we did, it was in a much more hopeful way.

When we were selecting our vacation spot, we were open to resorts that allowed kids, but at the last minute LG suggested we look for an adults only resort.  (Not one of those kinds – but just something where we wouldn’t be reminded at every turn what was missing.)  It turned out to be a great decision as it really allowed us some time away from the disappointments and even jealousies that have been front and center for so long.

The Dominican Republic (we were about an hour away from Punta Cana) is absolutely beautiful.  We didn’t know what to expect as it’s not one of those places that comes up as much when talking about a beach vacation, but I would highly recommend it.  Miles and miles of beach made for incredible morning walks that were just a great time for LG and I to be together.  The resort where we stayed was also amazing – incredible service, good food, and enough activities to keep it interesting, but you could also do your own thing.  If anyone wants to know where we stayed, feel free to send me an e-mail, and I’m happy to provide more info.  Here’s the view from our room.  I can’t tell you how much I miss looking out the window and seeing this: 

We spent most of our time during the day either reading books, swimming and snorkeling, drinking beer (LG) and some fantastical concoction of white rum, pineapple juice, grenadine, and bananas (me) plus a healthy dose of beach naps.  LG delights in capturing me in what he calls my favorite state (he’s right), so here’s me sleeping to the sounds of the surf.  (I’m usually cold no matter where I am, hence the jacket and towel/blanket).

Finally, one of my favorite pictures just because it reminds of me of exactly what this trip was about…an opportunity for LG and me to get away and come together.  We’ll get back to injections, doctor’s appointments, wandings, and follicle/fert reports all too soon, but this picture just gives me a chance to reflect on the two of us and how lucky I am to be part of that.

Now, it’s time to see what the rest of the class is showing.  Stop over at Mel’s Show & Tell to take a look!

The Countdown

Just checking in to say I’m still around.  Things have been quiet as I’m mostly concerned with (1) hating my job…see previous post, (2) counting the days until we head to the beach (3 more including today), and (3) taking a hiatus from cycling.  I’ve found that taking the break has slowed my posting pace but I’m still following the blogs of my fellow travelers – just commenting a little less than usual.  I deliberately skipped ICLW this month (my first time doing so since I started the blog) because I figured I’d be laying low.

I promise I’m going to get off this job thing post-haste, because I do realize that I’m lucky to have a job…and it’s boring to anyone who’s not me, but may I please offer the:

Top Three Reasons I Need a New Job (and Career Path)

1.  Over the past 2 months, I have been directly involved in or have overseen the firing or layoffs of nearly 180 people.  The ones related to business restructuring are heart-breaking and soul-draining, and even those that are performance related are terribly difficult as well.  I know far too well the economic climate people are facing and the impact this has on people’s lives.  I never ever take that lightly, and I lose a great deal of sleep over these notifications.

2. Because of said economic climate (see point 1), I have been informed that I can no longer replace the open position I have on my team.  Why is that position open, you ask?  Because the person in it opted not to come back from maternity leave.  Ah, sweet irony – what a wicked sense of humor you have.

3.  This past week I had to meet with a bunch of woman in the office who are acting like pre-teen girls to tell them to knock off the bullying  that’s been going on of late.  (In the HR parlance, facilitate a team-building session.  Give me a break.)  Seriously, if I have to scold people for child-like behavior, couldn’t it at least be my own children?

Is it wrong that I am looking forward to my next cycle as an excuse to take a leave and get a break from this for a little while?  Small detail – I still haven’t shared my little LOA plan with my boss, but since I’m pretty sure Dr. Yacht will certify the leave, I’m not worried as it should qualify under both FMLA and the expanded Americans with Disabilities Act.  (BTW: If anyone in the US ever wants more information about how these federal laws apply to infertility – especially the ADA, please e-mail me, and I’ll be happy to offer some advice.  I’m not an attorney and all cases are different (disclaimer – check), but I can listen to your situation and try to point you in the right direction.

4 Days to white sandy beaches and a drink containing some ratio of banana to rum!

Why Don’t You Just…

Quit.  No…not TTC’ing.  Rather, my job.  I know this is a bit off topic and somewhat self indulgent, but it’s been on my mind A LOT, so I thought I’d turn to the blog to work some of these thoughts and feelings out.  Please bear with me!

From time to time I think I’ve made mention of the fact that I really really dislike my particular job and actually even the field of HR.  I won’t bore people with the details of why I dislike my job.  Even my husband (who much to his chagrin cannot avoid being bored by the details) doesn’t fully understand why.  He gets that the politics and cultural dynamics in play at my particular organization are daunting, and that some of the issues I deal with are equal parts petty and soul-draining (he refers to it as the Land of Whiners and Cowards), but as he says – “You usually get to leave around 5:00, you don’t take work home, you make a great salary…what’s your problem.”   All that being said, he’s tired of hearing me complain and he feels that the stress I’m carrying around as a result is affecting our ability to conceive, so he often urges me to quit.  He’s even resorted to bribery by saying we could buy my beloved but up until now unpurchased Mac if I would just do it already.

It’s surprising to me how many internal struggles this decision is sparking.  Everything from financial security to my independence to trust levels between LG and me …not to mention how this fits into our long-term family planning.

Given everything going on in the economy, LG and I are comparatively blessed.  We’re by no means well off, but we are able to meet our relatively simple needs without concern.  LG comes into the relationship with investments (which of course have taken a big hit) including college funds that he started for his future children in his 20’s (that’s how much and for how long he has wanted to be a father).  I have far fewer investments (read: none), but earn a comfortable salary.  A salary that happens to be 3 times LG’s.

LG insists that we can make it on his salary and still be fine.  I don’t think so.   When I try to express my concerns about this, it leads to an argument because he thinks I’m basically saying that I have to keep working, because he doesn’t earn enough.  I hate myself for it, but that is kind of what I’m saying.

I’m also afraid that if I leave the workforce, I won’t be able to get back in.  Certainly not now and definitely not at the salary I’m making.  The 2nd part is OK – that I could live with.  It’s the first part that’s scary.  I know first hand from the other side how tough job hunting is right now.  I recently posted a job for my own team and had 150 applicants within the first 24 hours.  I don’t have time to go through all of those, so the first few that looked good, I brought them in for an interview and hired one of them.  I would guess that I didn’t even look at 100 of the resumes or more.  There could have been incredibly qualified candidates there and because of how many resumes flood my inbox every day (not to mention recruiters phoning me with their candidates), they never even got a look.  I’m terrified that I’ll make the decision to quit, discover I’ve made a terrible mistake, and have no recourse.  There’s also a part of me that feels incredibly selfish – here I have a job in these times and I’m flitting around being all cavalier (not really) about whether or not to keep it while others are struggling so much.  Who do I think I am…some kind of dilettante?  I have considered staying in the field (ugh) but looking for another job, but see above: tough times.  Also, the one thing this place has going for it, is that my boss is aware of and understanding of our efforts to have a child and what that entails for us in terms of time away for work for doctor appointments, retrievals, transfers et al.  What if my next employer and/or manager is not as flexible?

This next one’s a hard one, because it goes a little deeper and makes me question a number of things I hadn’t considered before.  Namely, I’m scared to death to be financially dependent on LG – regardless of his salary.  I’m scared that something will happen to him, or worse, he’ll leave me, and I’ll have nothing.  We’re not having relationship issues, so that shouldn’t be a concern, but I’ve seen it happen far too many times, when you think everything’s fine and the next thing you know someone’s walking away.  (In the spirit of full disclosure, this fear is not a new one – it’s a large part of what kept me single so long.)  This makes me feel like I don’t fully trust him (or us) and that’s confusing to me and sad.

So with all of that, it’s probably hard to tell where the decision comes in….  All compelling points, so why would I even consider leaving without another job in hand?  The flip side is that I’m absolutely miserable in this job and it’s starting to take a toll on my physical and emotional wellbeing as well as LG’s and my relationship.  While we all know IF is infinitely more complex than just relaxing, I do believe that stress plays a role, and how I feel right now most days can’t be helping things.  At the very least, LG and I have decided that I will take a leave of absence around my next IVF cycle in June.

I guess there is another option…bulk lottery tickets.

Umbrella Drinks

It’s been quiet around Chez Road Rise the past week or so, because I’ve been absolutely slammed at work.  Between traveling, trying to churn out 900 million individual bonus letters (OK, only 400, but still….), and really strange employee relations issues, I’ve been quite the lunatic.  (I’m sure all around me are silently giving thanks that I’m not doing this hopped up on Lupron, because holy cow – people would get hurt.)

Right now, I’m just enjoying the interlude between IVF’s.  We’re still giving the old fashioned way a whirl over the next few months (because, why not?), but it’s a nice change of pace not to be so immersed in the whole thing.  Things will start up again soon enough as IVF #3 is planned for June, but in the meantime, we’re just enjoying our time together free of shots, hormonally induced mood swings, and the constant ups and downs that go with the whole high-tech baby making routine.

Speaking of enjoying ourselves, the trip is officially on!  Not Italy as we had originally planned, however.  That got really complicated as it turns out the only week we can go due to work conflicts (LG) and jury duty (me) is the week after this upcoming one.  Trying to pull off a trip like that with so little time to plan and get organized was becoming stressful…entirely the opposite of its intended purpose.  So….

We’re headed to a really nice all-inclusive resort in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.  The hotel is part of a family of resorts.  We’ve stayed at another property of theirs in Riviera Maya and really enjoyed it, so we’re hoping this experience is just as fun.

Technically, while we’re there I’m in a natural 2WW, so no drinking, etc.  Screw that!  If it’s meant to happen naturally after months and months of trying on our own followed by two disappointing IVF’s, then an umbrella drink (or ten) shouldn’t really be a problem.  Who knows – it might even be therapeutic!

I’d Like to Thank the Academy…

• My first blog award courtesy of In Vitro Veritas and All Grown Up.    Huge thanks to onepinkline and Nicole for this award as it came at a time when I was really feeling down – both from the recent IVF failure as well as work struggles.  Receiving this award from you guys really helped pick up my spirits!

This award has been making its way around blogville, so the rules are probably pretty familiar, but just to recap:

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

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

3) List at least 10 honest things about yourself.

So, at the risk of revealing my true ordinariness, here goes:

1 – Although I have never lived in Canada (closest I’ve gotten is Minneapolis), I often lapse into a Canadian accent – especially when tired or nervous.  I did date a Canadian for quite some time in college so I always attribute it to him…but that was (ahem) quite a number of years ago.  Lately, it’s gotten stronger as my job takes me to Winnipeg quite frequently.  People who just meet me often assume I am Canadian and are later surprised to learn that I’m actually from the Midwest.

2 – I BADLY want a dog (as does LG) or even a cat, however due to allergies and asthma that doesn’t seem to be in the cards.  We did have a beautiful Standard Poodle for 3 weeks as we had heard that people with allergies often do well this breed.  Not so much.  Unfortunately, after 3 weeks, we had to return him to the breeder (we were very up-front with her in terms of the situation and she was amazing).  It was one of the saddest days I can remember.  I couldn’t believe how quickly I fell for him.   

3 – I could eat Chipotle everyday.  Chipotle and Twizzlers.  When we finally have children and I have to model good nutrition, it’s going to be a rude awakening for me.

4 – As a true testament to my dorkdom, I am obsessed with fonts.  Specifically, I have a true aversion to serif fonts.  If someone at work sends me a file in Times New Roman or other serif fonts, I have to change it to Arial before I can read it.

5 – I used to be an active participant in community theater.  I have played the character of a nun in 4 different productions.  I also once did a cabaret-type show at a local night club in my City.  Just me, a piano, 1 guy (it was a duet show), 16 songs, and the audience.  It was one of the scariest things I’ve done and one of the things I’m most proud of doing.

6 – When I’m really relaxed, I have this very weird habit of drawing up my shirt (or blanket) up over my mouth right under my nose and just kind of holding it there.  It’s this strange little comforting ritual I have.  When I’m doing it, I’m usually not aware of it until someone points it out.  LG delights – delights I tell you – in mocking me for this mercilessly.

7 – I work in HR, and while I’m happy to have a job, I hate it.  You would not believe the things people come into my office to whine about.    I was pre-med for my first quarter in college, and I dropped out because I had a bad run-in with Calculus.  I have forever regretted that I didn’t see that through.  Sometimes, I think about going back to medical school, but the fact that we’re just now trying (unsuccessfully thus far) to start our family and the fact that I feel like I’m too old holds me back.  Nursing is another option I’m considering.

8 –   I wish I lived in Colorado.  I went to college in the Denver/Boulder area (keeping it anonymous, LG) and lived out there for nearly 15 years before moving to my current city.  I really really miss the mountains and the whole vibe out there.

9 – I wish I had more friends IRL.  I’ve never been one of those girls who is part of a huge group of girls, but I’ve always had at least one or two close girl friends.  While they were really strong friendships at the time, they tend to be situational versus the kind Mel of Stirrup-Queens so elegantly calls “transcendent“.  I do still have a couple of friends from college, but they both live in different states and have 2 children each, so we’re in very different places – literally and figuratively.  Work used to be my go-to place for friendships; however, I changed jobs about two years ago, and I’ve never connected with anyone at the new job.  Of the 3 girls I was closest to at my old job, 2 moved out of state and the third passed away from Stage IV breast cancer 6 months after her 40th birthday.  I still miss her every single day.  I do have my sister, and even if I had a gaggle of girlfriends, she would still be my best friend, so I’m grateful for that…but she, too, lives in another state.  I really miss the laughter, support, and comfort that comes from having friends in the same city that you can go to chick flicks with and deconstruct each other’s lives over guacamole and margaritas.  I adore LG and the time we spend together, but sometimes I am very lonely.

10 – I hate to wear bras…although I definitely need to wear a bra. 

And now on to the worthy recipients:

• Infertility Rocks
• Life, Family, and the Pursuit of Sanity
• Were You Looking for Me?
• Good Egg Hunting
• Awake in the World
• Relaxing Doesn’t Make Babies
• Flotsam

Taking a Deep Breath

First, my deepest thanks to all of you who have stopped by and offered words of comfort and your voices of experience.  All of your comments have provided incredible comfort to me and to LG.  As I’ve written about in the past, this blog has been a source of contention between LG and me.  Over the past couple of days, I’ve read him several of the comments I’ve received, and I think he’s finally starting to understand why having this blog and your support means so much to me.

Even just a few days have made a difference, and I’m starting to feel better.  Hope has crept back in…she’s a tough gal to keep down!

We were very fortunate to be able to get in with Dr. Yacht today for our WTF meeting – especially since I’m traveling for work the next two weeks solid starting Monday, and I didn’t want to have to wait until I got back in town.  The meeting went really well.  I do love Dr. Yacht.  We had a good discussion and here’s what we’ve learned and/or plan to do differently next time.

(1) The fact that I stimulated so well using two completely different protocols yet had pretty significant attrition at each phase suggest to him that it is a quality issue – egg or sperm or both.  He believes this is the cause moreso than an implantation issue as my lining has been ideal both times.

(2) Because the lining looks great but now a total of six nearly perfect Day 3 embryos have failed to yield a pregnancy, he is considering some sort of genetic issue with the embryos.  To that end, if we have happen to have a better yield next time and there are enough embryos for it to make sense, he will perform PGD.

(3) I asked him about immunology issues.  As I suspected based on what other Dr. Yacht patients have said, he doesn’t really buy into the theory, but he did run a panel of bloodwork today to look at immunological levels as well as to perform karyotype testing to look for chromosomal abnormalities.  He did say that he will add Lovenox to my post-transfer protocol next time just to cover our bases.  He does not believe in IVIG treatment, but did give us the name of a local doctor if we wanted to pursue.  He said if we decided to go that route, he would still do our treatment, but the other doctor would manage that portion of my treatment plan.  Based on his explanation, that’s not something LG and I are going to pursue at this time.

(4) Because our first IVF demonstrated that at least one of our embryos has made it to blast, we are going to push this time to Day 5 no matter what.  Worse comes to worse, we’ll thaw our frozen guy that morning as a backup plan.

(5) NO LUPRON!!!  Since I stimmed fine on the pill, we’re going to go back to that.  LG is very happy about that as he feared for life and limb last time around.  My tear ducts are also grateful.  The makers of Jelly Bellies and Twizzlers (my go-to comfort foods) – less so.

(6) I plan to add acupuncture next time around.  Maybe not on the days of ER and ET as that’s logistically difficult, but at least during the stimulation phase.

These last 2 aren’t protocol related but feel equally important:

(7) We are taking a break until the June cycle.  In the meantime, Italy has been chosen as the location for the consolation prize.  We’re hoping to plan a trip for early April, so I need to get crackin’ on that.

(8) I also plan to try to add a few things back into my life that seem to have been sacrificed on the altar of all-things-babymaking.  We’re still not making huge moves like changing jobs or moving – both of which are oft-discussed topics of ours, but at least I can get back to some of the activities like singing lessons and cooking classes that gave me a little dimension.   I really need that.

So, thanks in large part to you guys and Dr. Yacht, we’re picking ourselves up, taking a deep breath, and going forward.

Heartbroken

Apologies in advance for the rambling/ranting nature of this post. 

We are heartbroken.  From start to finish, this time was so much harder than the first.  When our first IVF/ICSI didn’t work, we consoled ourselves with the thought that we would have been lucky to have it work on the first time, so while the failure was hard, we put it into perspective fairly quickly.  This time, I am reeling.  The entire cycle starting with the Lupron fueled fights through our poor fertilization results and then the phone call that always seems to start with “Unfortunately…” has taken its toll.

Now that we have 2 failed attempts under our belt, my mind can’t help but wander into that territory of what if this doesn’t happen for us.  I know it’s still relatively early in the journey and that there are so many stories of people having success on try #3 or #4 or even beyond, but, honestly, I’m fighting to retain any hope. 

Part of what is so frustrating to me is that our diagnosis remains “unexplained.”  In every test they do with the exception of LG’s morphology, our results are textbook.  Even that, the number is normal – just on the lower end, and we’re using ICSI, so it shouldn’t be a factor.  All of that makes it hard to know what to do next.  Is there more testing that can and should be done?  I know some people go the immunology testing route (which my clinic doesn’t seem to really believe in), but I thought that came into play when the issue was not necessarily getting pregnant but rather carrying to term.  (I could be very very wrong on that as it’s not something I’ve researched yet, so if anyone has insight, I would love to hear it.)  I know there are emerging advancements around testing of the embryos (CGH), but my understanding on that is that you have to have a certain number of viable embryos make it to Day 5, which we’ve never come close to.  

 That all leaves us….where?  What can we possibly do differently on Cycle #3 to have a different outcome?  LG thinks that we should force it to Day 5.  Even if we have fewer quality embryos than our clinic recommends (they want at least 5 high quality embryos at Day 3), he wants to push through and see what we get and he’s willing to take the chance that that there could be nothing to transfer.  I just don’t know.  The thought of having three at Day 3 that might be viable like we did this time and then waiting and possibly ending up with nothing seems like such a waste, but then again, this outcome can certainly be categorized as a waste as well.

I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m sad, and I’m losing hope.

Beta: Negative

LG & I: crushed

Scared

Tommorrow is my beta.   In a previous post, I talked about the fact that I intended to pre-test in order to prepare; however, that is not to be for two very good reasons:

1. I have no more HPT’s
2. It is really really cold outside, and I don’t want to go out of my warm house and walk the few blocks it would to take me to go buy a box.

So, we’ll hear the news with no lead time tomorrow.  I’m in a conference call all afternoon which is when the clinic usually calls.  I know I’ll be completely unable to concentrate once I see the number come up the screen, so I don’t want them calling me.  At my husband’s job, the clinic would have to go through a receptionist who won’t put a call through until you give up the goods on why you’re calling, so that won’t work either.  So, we’ve decided to just leave our home voicemail number and tell them to leave a message, and we’ll both listen to it together when we get home from work.

I’m really scared.  I just feel so strongly that it didn’t work, so technically I should be ready for the worst, but hearing the official end to this cycle just seems more than I can take.

Idiot, Me

Against all my better judgement, I was compelled to POAS last night… a mere 7dp3dt.  I know, I know… what was I thinking.  (In case anyone is wondering whether I’m one of the lucky ones who always seem to be posting on the fertility boards that they got a BFP a mere 3 or 4 days (or in my case 7 days) after retrieval…I’m not.)

I have little I can offer by way of excuse, but by way of story, I blame it all on LG.  🙂

Up until last night, there wasn’t a thought in my mind about testing early.  The 2WW has been pretty manageable this time…I think because of ICLW, and because I have been slammed at work and don’t have time to do much of anything beyond crunching spreadsheets.

I had my plan – I would test on Sunday morning, which would give me a full day to grapple with the results of a BFN (should that be the case) before hearing the official word while at work on Monday.  This is what I did last cycle, and it made hearing the news – while still incredibly difficult – much more manageable and kept me from embarassing myself at work with a great display of pathos.  The only wrinkle in this plan is that my mom is in town and staying with us on Saturday night, so she’d be here for the big pee festivities.  That’s not a huge deal to me, but if it’s positive, I would want LG and I to be able to share and celebrate with just the two of us, and if it’s negative, same thing – it should be just us in that moment (quickly followed by you guys, of course).

So, yesterday, after we got home from work, LG says the words that never bode well – “Can I tell you something without you getting mad?”  To which I promptly answered, “probably not, but give it a whirl.”  (No false promises, here!)  Well, turns out, he’d been thinking the same thing about testing with my mom here and wanted me to skip it.  We had a conversation about how I needed to know so I could pre-prepare myself.   Since I’d been having the same thoughts anyway, we agreed that I would test after my mom leaves mid-afternoon.  Maybe not as accurate as first thing in the morning and doesn’t give me as much time, but should certainly do.

But (and here’s where this becomes all his fault), the mere conversation put the whole notion of POAS’ing in my head and it wouldn’t go away.  It was like one of those earworms – you know when a song gets stuck in your head.  I was unable to ignore the siren song, so next thing you know I’m drawers down using my last HPT.  (FRER for those keeping track at home).  Of course, it was negative!! 

I’m actually OK with it as I know it was way too early, so the little Hope Addict within rebounded pretty quickly.  The thing is, now it’s very very top of mind and I have to resist the pee stick for four more days.  Truth be told, I’m not that good at self denial.  That’s why I “give up” Twizzlers 4 times a week only to be drawn back for more. 

Well, at least I have the spreadsheets at work to distract me…

Mel’s Show and Tell – The Beach Version

Welcome to Show and Tell here at May the Road Rise! To see what others are showing, click here.

For today’s edition,  I thought I’d take a little break from the world of IF to take a trip to the beach – Riviera Maya in Mexico to be exact.  This picture was taken on LG’s and my first big trip together as a couple.  We had taken one weekend jaunt, but this was the first time we were going away for a week with no quick escape if things turned rocky or we ran out of things to say to one another.  We ended up having an incredible time, so now this place holds a special place in our heart and is the front runner for our consolation prize vacation should that be warranted.

When I originally took the picture, I was trying to capture the pelican you see on the right about to take flight.  What I hadn’t expected to record for posterity is what I am convinced was an aging p.orn star.  You can see him there under the gazebo gazing out on the ocean.

Every morning, he would arrive at the beach in style wearing a shocking (and I mean SHOCKING) neon green s.peedo that was at least 1 size too small.  He would spend a good 10 minutes angling his beach chair just right to ensure maximum sun rays.  Once this feat was accomplished, this woman who seemed to be accompanying him (although LG and I could never figure out their relationship despite much discussion), would rub him all over with tanning oil.  After her ministrations were complete, she would move her chair several feet away…you seriously would not even know they were together had you not just seen her rub him down..eeww…only to get up when he needed a re-application.

Here’s the part that never fails to crack me up.  Every so often, he would get up as if he was going to head out into the ocean but then he would take a moment to “stretch.”  And by stretch, I mean he would strike these weird almost-bodybuilding-type poses (but not quite) designed to show off to everyone his all musceley tan physique.  While doing so, he would glance around (in a manner I’m sure he thought was subtle…totally wasn’t) to see who was noticing.  He seemed completed oblivious to the wave of giggles spreading across the beach front.  (Now, normally, I would feel very badly for a person in this situation as I don’t like to see people laughed at, but in this case, the guy was being a tool…) 

When I took the picture, somehow I missed him in the shot, so when I developed the pictures, LG and I had quite a laugh remembering his performance.   I’m really hoping we don’t end up going back there – at least any time soon because that would mean this round of IVF didn’t work – but if we do, I will keep my eyes out for past-their-prime ad.ult en.tertainment stars and duly report back.

Happy ICLW Week!

I’m excited for this week as I need to redeem myself for my poor performance* last month.

I thought I’d provide a quick synopsis of where things stand to date for those stopping by the first time (I’m very happy you’re here!), and then go back to regularly scheduled programming.

My husband (known here as LG) and I have been married a little over a year, and we’ve been trying to expand our family literally since our wedding night. It’s a first time marriage for both of us but it took us a long time to find each other, so we’re practically both in the eating-at-Denny’s-at-4:30-in-the-afternoon camp** when it comes to baby-making. I’m 37 and he’s a few weeks shy of 44.

We fastracked our first visit to the RE given our ages as well as my medical history which included the removal of one ovary/fallopian tube due to a Low Malignant Potential ovarian tumor. Given both of those factors, our doctor (whom I refer to here as Dr. Yacht in honor of the luxury boat my treatments are funding), suggested we go right to the big guns of IVF.

Our first was cancelled before we even got going due to a sky high E2 level (no BCP can keep me down…power to the ovary!). The next was a giant bust, and we’re currently right in the middle of the 2WW for our second attempt. So far, I think I’m managing to hold the crazies to a minimum during the wait, although LG might disagree. Much to his chagrin, he gets a near hourly update on the relative soreness of my boobies. (Current reading…not so much). He has recently informed me that my assessment might be more accurate were I not constantly poking and prodding them to check said soreness. An interesting concept, but I’m sticking with my approach.

I’m really looking forward to discovering new blogs this week. Finding this community has been a life saver.

* If you click on the link, Patience Song refers to the name of my first blog.  Due to a giant blow-out between LG and me over the fact that I shared the name of the blog with my sister, thus rendering it less than anonymous, I changed the name in order to continue blogging.  This version has remained a state secret when it comes to anyone IRL.

** Even if I were a young sprightly thing, we would still probably hit the dinner spots early because I hate HATE waiting for a table.  Paragon of patience…not I.

Trading Places

Day 2 of the 2WW…so far so good.  The fact that I’ve taken this whole week off of work has really helped keep my stress levels down, and I feel like I’m in a better place than I was at this point last time.  If all is going according to plan, my 3 little guys (which LG suggested we name B-17, B-24, and B-52…a suggestion which was summarily vetoed), should be blastocysts today. 

Since there’s little exciting to write about IVF-wise during this time, I thought I’d take a little detour and write a bit about some things I haven’t really touched on…aspects of my story both related (and not) to infertility.

As I’ve written about previously, my mom, sister, and I are all extremely close.  That doesn’t mean, though, that there isn’t a certain disequilibrium that I think comes into play in any parent/sibling relationship.  As a child, I was sick basically from the time I was 6 months old.  For at least a few heart-wrenching months due to a lab error, my parents thought I had cystic fibrosis.  Fortunately, that turned out to be a misdiagnosis; however, I was diagnosed with severe asthma and a whole host of environmental and food allergies.   Oh, and to top it all off – I had infant acne.  A real dream come true for my parents, I’m sure.  

As I grew older, the asthma played a very real and disruptive part in my life.  So many of my childhood memories involve the local Children’s Hospital.  Much of my mom’s time centered around shuttling me to doctor’s appointments, visiting me in the hospital, and basically just trying to keep me breathing.  As a result, my mom and I were incredibly close.   This left comparatively little time for my younger sister who remembers frequently being pawned off on neighbors during the middle of the night as my parents rushed me off of the hospital yet again.  It wasn’t until much much later that I realized the toll this took on my sister and how left out she felt.

All of that changed when my sister had her first child.  My niece, M, was born exactly 2 weeks to the day after my father died.  She came into the world with a job.  Basically, to breathe life back into our family –  a job which she pulled off like a champion.  She was and still is a true light in all of our lives.   From the moment of her birth on, my mother and sister shared something that I didn’t – they were both moms.  The first few years of M’s life, my sister lived about 30 minutes from my mom, and they spent a tremendous amount of time together.  I was far away in Denver living a completely different life.  They were never ever exclusionary, but I could tell without question that the dynamic had shifted.  That balance shift remains today.  My sister and mother talk every single day.  My mother is a constant presence in the lives of M and her younger brother, L.  They adore her and she them.  As LG and I started down the path of trying to start our family, I have dreamed of rekindling that kind of closeness with my mother.   Not that we’re not tight now…it’s just different.

The longer it takes us, the more I’m afraid that having my mom be the kind of grandmother to our children that she is to my niece and nephew just won’t be possible.  Yesterday, we spoke on the phone and she told me that her chronic back pain seems to be something more ominous – advanced degenerative disc disease.   I am worried for what that means for her — this is a woman who just last year booked herself on a 2-week walking tour of Switzerland — and selfishly, I’m worried about what that means for the children LG and I hope to have.  Will she be able to lift them and swing them around the way she does M and L?  Get down on the floor and play A.merican G.irl doll or trucks?  I know regardless of what happens, she will love them with all of her heart and be a great source of advice and support to us, but its just another reason that I hope it happens soon so they can know her as M and L know her – vibrant and active.

Cautiously Optimistic

We went in bright and early for our transfer this morning.  We were quite nervous as we weren’t given any information about the condition of our embryos when they called yesterday to give us our time, which is unusual.  Normally, they give you a day by day update on how things are developing.

Turns out that all 3 embryos made it through and we transferred all of them:  1 7 cell with 0% fragmentation, 1 7 cell with 5%, and a 6 cell with 5%.

So now, I’m just at home doing the requisite “coach potato” for the next couple of days (which, by the way, I rock at being the champion lounger that I am), and praying that my 3 little guys are snuggling in and making themselves at home.

Thanks, everyone, for your words of support.  It makes such as a difference as I’m feeling increasingly isolated from my friends IRL (another post in that later).

Cheers!

Somewhere between Agony, Optimism, and Prayer

Yesterday’s retrieval went off without a hitch.  I’m feeling much better today than I did last time when I had symptoms of OHSS and was in pretty severe pain the following day.  That is…until we got the call from the clinic this morning with the results.

My issue is not producing eggs…in fact, my one little ovary goes into overdrive with the slightest stimulation.  The problem appears to be the quality of those eggs and then the resulting fertilization rates.   Dr. Yacht retrieved 17 eggs.  Of those, only 9 were suitable for fertilization, and of those 9, 4 fertilized abnormally, 2 didn’t at all, leaving us with 3 that we’re watching.  We had really hoped to get to a Day 5 transfer (and have some left to freeze…we’re greedy that way), but now we’re looking at a Day 3 where they will transfer whatever makes it that far.  Last time, 2 of our 5 embryos arrested, so I’m praying we fare better this time.

The title of this post comes from a Season 1 episode of Brothers & Sisters*.   The situation in which it’s used has nothing to do with infertility; rather, it deals with the vulnerability of a marriage.  In the scene, the therapist says to one of the characters:

“With your pain, there is hope and that is where you are…somewhere between agony and optimism and prayer.”

The words struck me as such an apt description of exactly how I feel today.  I’m still holding out hope and to the notion that “it only takes one.”  I’m  praying that our 3 little guys make it to Tuesday, so I can welcome them inside me.  I can’t bear to think of the alternative, so right now, I’m not.

*I’ve fallen into the routine of creating an “IVF Kit” for myself for the retrieval/transfer week.  The kit for IVF #2 consists of:  J.elly B.ellies, DVDs of Brothers & Sisters and Sports Night (best show ever…cancelled way too early), and the book Bright Lights, Big Ass by Jennifer Lancaster.  If you haven’t read it, it’s hilarious!  I was laughing out loud as we waited in the clinic yesterday.  Completely inappropriate, I know, but so so funny.

Breaking up with Facebook

Despite the fact that if I successfully fall pregnant I will qualify for the Advanced Maternal Age sticker (where’s my discount at Denny’s?), I joined the ranks of Facebook about six months ago.  I did so mostly to keep in touch with my classmates from graduate school, but quickly fell into friends collecting mode.  As a result, I’m now connected with many people from high school and college – the vast majority of whom I had a passing acquaintance with at best.  But now, I’m treated to all the flotsam and jetsam of their daily lives.  There have certainly been some fun discoveries along the way like learning how people have changed (or not) over the years, seeing what people have chosen as professions and personal pursuits, and finding out who possesses a rapier wit.

But….I think it’s time for a Facebook timeout.  Lately, it feels that Facebook is conspiring to poke at my soft spots.   A couple of examples:

Point me to the nerds table

I know I’m not unique in this (cue Breakfast Club), but high school was a really tough time for me.  I’m not naturally athletic, outgoing, perky, pretty or any of those other things that give you safe passage through the high school years.  I guess some would say I fell into the “smart kids” category, but truth be told, while I could find purchase in that crowd, there were so many others far beyond me (as reinforced by their fabulous careers Facebook keeps me up to speed on) that that certainly wasn’t identity making.  The biggest thing I was in high school was shy.  The first couple of years I had a small group that I could call friends – mostly drama club buddies (Go Thespians!), but even then I was on the perimeter.  After my sophomore year, I left school due to a serious illness that caused a long hospitalization.  I came back in spurts my junior and senior year, but for the most part I was out of school and graduated through home study.  During the times I was gone, my friends moved on in the way that people do, so when I was there I felt even more adrift.

Now, I’m connected to a fair amount of people from high school and even those to whom I’m not, I’m treated to details of their lives as they leave wall comments and whatnot on those that I can see.  I feel like the outsider all over again.  So many of them have kept in touch and seem to have fine memories of those 4 years.  Facebook has suggested people I might know for me to befriend, and I don’t do so because I’m scared they won’t remember who I am or worse yet, do remember and chose not to click accept leading to that same feeling of isolation and rejection I felt lo so many years ago.  And I thought I’d come so far…

Yes, yes, I’d love to see pictures of your kids

Even better than reliving my Not-So-Wonder-Years, is the constant barrage of kid pics, crazy kid updates, maternal commiserations, and now my new favorite…the little meme going around where mommies wax poetic about the birth of their first born.  One person – who doesn’t know we’re smackdab in the middle of our second IVF, but does know that we don’t have children – even tagged me!

Once I’m there, though, I can’t turn away.  I look at all the pictures one by one by one.  I follow the fascinating progression of potty training (thanks, sis!), and I read through the “My First Born” postings all with a pit in my stomach.

So, Facebook, the time has come for us to take a break.  It’s not you, it’s me.  Just bad timing.  Maybe in another time and place.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Egg retrieval is set for Saturday!  Guess where we’ll be spending Valentine’s Day.   My left ovary went crazy over the past 24 hours…it’s like a little popcorn machine in there!  Somehow I went from 7 follicles over 12mm yesterday morning to 20 today.  (I suspect we may have gotten some squirrely counts throughout the monitoring process as the numbers have been all over the board.)  Quality, of course, remains to be seen, but I’m still pretty encouraged.

I’m a little surprised that they want me to still stim tonight, but that’s what they told me to do, so consider it done.  (I think RE’s must have the most compliant patient population of any medical specialty.)  We’ll find out tomorrow what time to take the Ovidrel and also get our retrieval time on Saturday.

Speaking of Ovidrel…  I knew that many of the stim drugs have…ahem…interesting origins (e.g. urine of menopausal women, pregnant women, etc.), but I didn’t know until today the key ingredient of Ovidrel (and my other good friend Gonal-f).  Wait for it…they come from the ovary cells of Chin.ese ham.sters!  This made me laugh out loud when I saw it…if for no other reason that the word “hamster”  is one of those oft-bandied about words in our marriage as it happens to be one LG’s favorite words.  I’m taking this as a sign!

Edited to add:  While the hamster part still makes me giggle in a Beavis-like way  (because I am just that simple), I do think it’s important to be as knowledgeable as possible about the treatments I’m undergoing and the medications involved.  That’s why I’m grateful to one of my commenters, Michelle, for lending her expertise around the subject.  Please take a look at her comment below for a great explanation of the recombinant proteins that form the basis of Ovidrel and similar medications.  Thanks, Michelle!

Keep on Stimmin’

Between work and this cycle, I’m fried, so today’s post will take the form of random bullet points.

• Follicle growth is slow but apparently steady.   After 8 days of stims, I have 7 follicles measuring over 12mm.  E2 is 1561, so definitely getting there.
• The follicle count is somehow down from a couple of days ago when they said they measured 9 (WTF?), but after a minor breakdown, a fight with my husband, and a panicked call to our nurse at the clinic, we have been assured that we are on course.  I’m to continue with the same routine (0.5 Lupron, 1 Powder Menopur, 225 Gonal-F) and then back in the saddle tomorrow to check progression.
• I keep having to remind myself that the whole point of changing the meds was to get fewer but better eggs.   My last cycle (23 retrieved) skewed my expectations about what’s a good haul, but then again, as my husband reminded me this morning, that trip to the fair was …. not at all successful.
• At this rate, ER will be Friday at the earliest.  I am ready to move this show along!
• Work blows right now.  Note to my future self – planning an IVF cycle set to go live the exact week that all compensation and bonus recommendations are due is a very very bad idea.  My company is one of the few doing merit increases which is great for us as a company but hell on the HR person (me) from an administrative standpoint.
• On the huge plus side, my boss can be very tough (every time she call I somehow think I’m getting fired), but at the same time incredibly understanding about what I’m going through and its relative priority compared to work.  She is a survivor of 2 bouts of Stage IV cancer, and is a big believer in knowing where your priorities lie.  For that I am extremely grateful as I know that having that kind of support in the workplace is far too rare – especially in today’s environment.
• Huge thanks to  everyone stopping by from cyclesista and elsewhere to read my ramblings and to offer your support…I can’t tell you how much it means to me.

Sorry for the disjointed nature of this post.  Just don’t have a narrative in me today.  I’m sending all my best wishes to my fellow cyclers!

Cheers!

Mel’s Show and Tell

Welcome to Show and Tell here at May the Road Rise!  To see what others are showing, click here.

Today’s Show and Tell comes from an amazing vacation that LG and I took last June.  As I’ve mentioned, we’re typically beach people, but in this case I had a work conference in Vancouver, so we decided to take advantage and have LG fly out afterward so we could spend a few days in Victoria, BC.  This trip was a couple months after our first visit to the RE but before we decided on a treatment plan apart from compulsive BBT charting, grapefruit juice, and propped-up hips.  Even then though, I must have had an instinctual sense of what was coming, which caused me to take this picture.

This was taken at the tide pools at Juan de Fuca Strait.  It was really a sight to  see – the tide pools were
filled with beautiful sea anemones and other ocean
life and the exposed ocean floor made for a great playground to run around and climb on the rocks.  The tide can come in quickly, though, so scattered throughout the area are these escape routes.  Even then, I recognized something powerful and symbolic in that sign.

I’m really feeling the need for an escape trail right about now.  I’ve come to feel consumed and therefore trapped by infertility as of late – particularly since this current cycle seems to be taking such an emotional and physical toll on me (and by extension, LG, since I’m such a treat to live with).   It’s clear to us that we did too much too fast.   But, on the positive side, a change in direction is near one way or another.  In a matter of a few weeks, we’ll either get the most amazing news possible … a BFP or a few months respite just to escape from this for a little while and just be.

Another Milestone

So, my last post garnered me my first Comment Hater along with another milestone – the first time anyone condemningly said “why don’t you just adopt.”  (BTW, according to spellcheck, condeminingly isn’t a word…whatever – it should be.) While it was jolting at first, it did make me realize that compared to so many people dealing with infertility, I’ve been lucky in that regard.  Quite a few people are aware of our struggles, yet I’ve encountered very little insensitivity along the way.   The funny thing is is that I can’t tell if Miss El.phie is more offended by our desire to have a child or my dislike of the musical Wicked.  I suspect it’s the latter.

In update news, nothing much to report.  Things are progressing albeit slowly.  I keep having to remind myself that the whole point of the protocol this time is to produce fewer (and hopefully) better eggs.  Well, the fewer part is certainly working.  We’re currently at 9 follicles measuring over 10 mm with the bully of the group at 19mm.  Our meds haven’t changed and we go back on Monday for another whirl.  The cycle week for our clinic officially starts on Wednesday, but I’m guessing based on my pace that we’ll be looking at an ER on Thursday possibly Friday.

The Fertility Shuffle

Many many thanks to all those who’ve commented on my last post and given us great vacation ideas.  Even though, as Erica said, I hope we don’t end up taking it – at least not as a consolation prize for a BFN – having it to think about and plan keeps me in a more positive frame of mind than I think I would be otherwise.  Weird how the mind works.

While I’m trying to remind myself that it’s still early (only 5 days into stims), I’m not too encouraged with this cycle so far.  Nothing new, there.  For many reasons, it’s never felt quite right – mostly because I think we rushed into it too quickly after our first failed IVF.   As of yesterday, only 4 follicles (versus 12 at this same point last time around) and one seriously outpacing the others making cancellation a possibility.  I go back in tomorrow for another turn at the cam/vampire wheel, so I’m hoping to get more encouraging news.

In the meantime I thought I’d follow Sarah‘s lead and have a little I.Tunes inspired fertility fun.   Here’s how it works:

Skip through your randomized playlist, and each consecutive song that comes up is the answer to the following questions in order:

1. The song for the you that existed before you ever thought about your fertility:
Whenever You’re Ready – Mary Chapin Carpenter  (Wow – that hits home.  Back before all of this, I thought the only thing stopping me from having a child was the always trusty Life.style condoms.  That the minute I was ready from a relationship and financial standpoint, I’d throw away the birth control, maybe wait a month or so, and then I’d join my fellow high school and college friends posting pictures of my offspring on Facebook.)

2. Would you really want to go back and be that person again?
The Flower that Shattered the Stone – John Denver  (Must say, this isn’t one of my favorite John Denver songs (this came in the later years when I think he was trying to update his image or something), but I do think it’s appropriate here as the song is about hope in the face of any obstacle.  I do wish I could get that back.)

3. The song for when you first started fertility treatments:
I’m All Alone – Spamalot Cast Recording (So true until I discovered all of you guys!)

4. What did infertility do to your sex life?
What Does a Man Do – Assassins Cast Recording (Heh…LG wouldn’t be happy to see this come up!  I do think it’s apropos though as infertility sex is all too often just about the mechanics.)

5. What about superstitions and fertility rituals?
A Little Bit of Good – Chicago Cast Recording (I guess I agree…I don’t tend to get too caught up in superstitions or other rituals.  That being said, I am hanging on a little bit to what I hope might be a sign…LG’s mother passed away suddenly about 3 years ago just a few weeks before he graduated from grad school.   The day after he took the professional exam required for his profession, a plant that his mother had gotten for him produced a single flower for the first and only time…until this week.  I am holding on to the thought that his mom is sending a little love and hope our way.)

6. How about “alternative” treatments, from cough syrup and pineapple to acupuncture and ‘body workers’?
Holding to the Ground – Falsettoland Cast Recording  (Haven’t tried any of them yet, although I think acupuncture has something going for it and may get there yet).

7. How do you feel about coming out of the IF closet?
Make the Most of Your Music – Stephen Sondheim Album.  (Ah, perfect.  As I’ve written about before, I’ve been pretty open about things.  I haven’t shared it with my extended family, but most people I work with on a day to day basis know.)

8. Your song for other people’s baby showers:
On the Street – Rent Cast Recording (Where I’d rather be.  Truth be told, this isn’t really a problem for me.  All of my friends live in other states and they’re well past baby shower stages.  If anything, I’d be invited to go to piano recitals or soccer games. )

9. What about our scary friend hope?
The First Cut is the Deepest – Sheryl Crow (OK, I must admit I cheated on this one.  The song that actually came up was O Come O Come Emmanuel but I didn’t know what to do with that, so I spun again, and honest to Pete this is what I got.  The title says it all.)

10. And lastly, the theme song of your fertility journey:
Ten Day Heartbreak – Steven Schwartz (If this was called the “14 day heartbreak”, it would be perfect.  I feel like so much of my life is spent on a roller coaster broken into 2 week spans.)

I should note that in addition to John Denver, I’m also a musical theatre freak.  I know you guys are thinking I’m about one post away from starting with “This one time – at band camp…”  Anyway, I couldn’t help be struck by the fact that I have about 3500 songs loaded and of the 10 that came up, 7 were either cast recordings or Broadway composers.  You can imagine how thrilled LG is when I’m in charge of music selections!

Thanks, Sarah, for the idea.  That was fun!  I’d love to see what others come up with.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

First, title shout-out to John Denver! In the spirit of full disclosure, I must share that I am a John Denver aficionado. (Pause for those who are so inclined to snicker and comment upon my relative coolness. I’ll help you out there…I lack even a single cool gene.)  When I was growing up, I had a John Denver 2-record LP (I think it was An Evening with John Denver), that I played over and over until I wore out the grooves…and my parent’s nerves. The song Matthew gets me every time.  I’m also a giant fan of the Muppets and Colorado as these three things are all inextricably linked.

Anyway…so not the point, but thanks for indulging me. Here’s the real reason for this post. I need your advice, my Netty Friends. As part of my strategy for coping in the event of a BFN, I have convinced LG that should this cycle be a bust, we will (a) take a break for a few months…that being all my “Advancing Maternal Age” will allow, and (b) take a fabulous (and much needed) vacation. This doesn’t mean I’ve thrown in the towel on it by any means, but just that I need something to counterbalance…something to look forward to and plan for in the event things don’t go our way.

So, the question I have for you is…where shall we go? I’d love to hear any and all recommendations. Just for context, here’s a couple of things about our current vacation habits:

• I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this given how much travel I do for work and because I wish I was more adventurous …but, I’m kind of a nervous traveler.  Mostly what I worry about is language barriers or needing medical attention  in a foreign country (which actually happened to me in Bucharest so not a totally unfounded fear).  That being said, I know I’m missing out on seeing the world and all its cultures and glories, and I want to get past my niggling worries.  So, if your amazing adventures have taken you to non-English speaking locales, what’s your advice for getting around?  What things should we definitely see and do?

• LG and I are – at the heart of the matter – loungers (feel free to read that as lazy …me more so than LG).  With the exception of one great trip to Victoria, BC, all of our vacations have been to beach locales, where we do very little except take a beach walk in the morning and then follow that up with a day spent reclining on the beach and/or eating and drinking.   When people say they would get bored lying on a beach for more than a day or so,  I know not what they speak of.  If lounging were an Olympic event, I would the be the Michael Phelps (minus the b.ong) of the sport.   I love these types of vacations as they are completely rejuvenating, so I’d love to hear about your favorite spots.

I’ve got TripAdvisor at the ready and am ready to hear your ideas!

Oh, and in cycle news…went in for my first monitoring this morning.  I was pretty disappointed in the follicle count.  I’ll report more once I speak to the nurse.  I don’t want to get all worked up unnecessarily, which I’m often wont to do.

Cheers!

It Seems Like Just Yesterday

In the midst of the Great Blog Dust-up of 2009, LG and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary.  Honestly, things were so tense around that time and I was so emotionally strung out (much of that I now know was hormonally induced) that I probably would have skipped town and headed to my sister’s for a few days if it were not for the fact that I didn’t want the memory of our anniversary to be ruined.  I’m so glad I stuck around, as the weekend reminded me of how incredibly lucky I am to have finally found this man.

Despite the fact that we were still working through what’s really been our first big showdown of our entire relationship (not just our marriage), we took a time out to celebrate and ended up having an amazing time.   We went for drinks at the fancy bar of a swanky hotel in our city and then went to a great restaurant we’d been saving for a special occasion.  We drank (a lot), laughed,  talked, and reminisced about how much fun we had at the wedding.  What didn’t we talk about?  Anything to do with blogs, babies, clinics, shots, or anything else of the high-tech baby-making ilk.  It was a much needed hiatus from all things infertility.  I realize that so many others who face infertility have struggled with it much longer than we have, but even so there are times I still feel robbed.  Robbed of that first carefree year of marriage where you face the world together confident that all your dreams will come true.  We’re still facing the world together, and still very hopeful that our dream of a family full of little guys will come true, but the confidence has worn a little thin.

To commemorate our special day, here’s a picture from the wedding.  I absolutely love this shot for the candid moment that it captured.  My hand in LG’s as we stood before our guests and thanked them for being part of our lives and our celebration on that day.

Take Two

So, I’m back after all – albeit with new digs.  In my last entry (which seems like forever ago in my hormonal-fueled emotional state but was actually just over a week or so), I shared the news that I was shutting down the blog due to LG’s discomfort with the general concept of putting our (his) personal biz on the internet.  All true, but the one detail not included in the first rendition is that the thing that sent him over the edge was the fact that I shared the original blog address with my sister.  Now to me, what’s the big deal, because it wasn’t like she was going to read anything in the blog that we hadn’t already discussed ad nauseam, but to him it crossed the line as it removed any chance at complete anonymity.

After many tears (it was quite surprising to me how quickly I grew to need this avenue and this community as an outlet), recriminations, tense silences and whatnot, we finally got to a place that we could have a rational discussion about what each of us was feeling and needing in the situation.  He needed to know that his need for privacy was being respected by not creating a written record on the wide world of Internets that could be linked back to our family, and I needed a place to write down my feelings about what we’re dealing with and get support from an amazing group of people who find themselves on the same unfortunate road but still travel it with grace, dignity, and kindness.  So…

Patience Song is now officially May the Road Rise.  It will still be a place where I share my thoughts, feelings, opinions and hopefully make some connections along the way, but it will not be shared with anyone IRL.  The name change was part of our agreement.  I’m actually saddened by that, because it took me a long time to come up with the original name, and once I did I instantly felt a strong connection to it, but such is life and the spirit of compromise.  The new name comes from the traditional Irish blessing, and I am struck by the imagery of a (winding) road taking us to meet our children to be.

Now back to regularly scheduled programming…cycle updates.

I start stims tonight, and I am ready!!  Being on Lupron for more than 3 weeks has taken its toll, and I’m looking forward to balancing things out a bit.  Since I overstimmed last time and Dr. Yacht feels that may have impacted egg quality, we’re dialing it down a bit this go-around.  Same medications, just lower dosages to start.   No baseline this time due to the Lupron, so I go in for the first cam/vampire (i.e. Ultrasound & Bloodwork) treatment on Wednesday.  Let’s do this!

Internets, I Hardly Knew Ye

Looks like Patience Song will go down as the shortest blog in history.  Things have been quiet here on the blogging front the last several days, but definitely not in the Patience Song household.

LG has decided that he’s not comfortable with me putting this out there for all to see on the internet.  After much teeth gnashing (both of us) and tears (mine, all mine…it doesn’t help that these conversations are taking place when I have 2 weeks of Lupron under my belt and my tear ducts seem to stuck on the perma-water setting), I’ve decided that as much as I’ve come to be so invested in this community and loved having my little corner of it, I’m more invested in my husband and my marriage and feel like I have to respect his feelings.

As a result of this, the whole blogosphere has been pretty painful for me the last few days, so I’ve been a terrible ICLW participant.  My sincere apologies and thanks to all those who have commented on my blog – I have loved receiving your thoughts and words of encouragement, and feel badly that I haven’t been reciprocating.   I hope to catch up over the course of the week with my ICLW commenting.   I will also still keep up with the many adventures I already follow and hope to add more to my list as I discover new and wonderful blogs through cyclesistas and Stirrup Queen, and all of your blogrolls, so look for me in the comments section.

My very best wishes for all of you.

Mini-Update

In response to AF’s unannounced arrival on Saturday and our subsequent freakout due to my travel schedule coupled with the completely unhelpful input from the weekend nurse on call, I roused poor LG from his very comfy sleep at about 5:30 this morning so that we could be front and center at the clinic when it opened this morning.

I told the receptionist that I was there because the on-call nurse told us we needed to come in for B/W and and U/S. OK, so she didn’t really say that…the conversation went more like this:

Me: I’m doing Dr. Yacht’s February cycle, and I was told to call when my period started. That’s today, but I’m going out of town for Cycle Days 3 through 5, so, um…what should I do?

Nurse TotallyUnhelpful: Well, now, I don’t know.

Me: Should I maybe just go to the clinic Monday morning just in case?

Nurse TotallyUnhelpful: Sure, whatever, that sounds like a good idea.

Close enough.

Anyway, to my utter shock, they fit me in, and I even got the one u/s tech that deigns to tell you what she’s actually looking at on her Magic 8 Ball machine.

Little sketchy on details from that point on.  Since I was going to be on a plane, we made a point of giving them LG’s number to call so that he could get the all important numbers from the bloodwork and ask some of our questions of our regular nurse, and they decided to call on the home phone instead (WTF?) and just leave a breezy message – Continue the Lupron!   OK, then.   All in all, though, I’m feeling better about things.   We didn’t miss the window and we now have a date to start stims (2/1), so at least for now, all systems are go.

Spreading the News

Megan, over at bottoms off and on the table, had a great post telling her IVF story and wishing she could share that with her family.  It got me to thinking about one of the things I’ve grappled with over the past year of decisions, treatments, and disappointments – what to tell to whom.   LG and I have made very different decisions on that front.  I am extremely close to my mother and sister, and so they have known right from the start and have been great about asking me how things are going and providing support.  My sister, in particular, has a true gift for knowing exactly what needs to be in said in the moment – whether that’s just to provide a listening ear, to offer advice or support, or even to gently bring me back on track when I’m spinning a bit.  I am incredibly grateful for this as I know from reading other people’s blogs that so many people aren’t able to get that kind of support from their families.

I’ve also been pretty open about things at work…almost to a fault sometimes.  Part of that is that I’m just a pretty open person, but another big part is that while I can keep secrets like a vault when it comes to other people (a job requirement in HR), I have a hard time holding onto my own secrets.  They rattle around in my head until the slightest little thing said by someone else triggers the floodgates.  If someone asks me a direct question – I’m done for.  If I ever find myself on a witness stand (heaven forbid), I will wither and crumble under the first “Isn’t it true…”

During my first cycle, my boss as well as most of the people on my team were aware not only about our difficulties, but also that I was in the midst of an IVF cycle.   The reason for this was the thought of having to hide things or make up excuses for why I couldn’t travel the way I typically do made me more anxious than telling them did.  Having the reality of the situation out there just made the whole thing easier in my mind.  As time has gone on though, I’ve become much less comfortable with people knowing.  This was driven home after my first BFN when people would ask about it, and I’d have to put on a perky smile and blather some BS like “didn’t work this time, but we’re keeping our spirits up…!”  As a result, I’ve gone underground.  My boss knows about the upcoming cycle, but that’s about it.

LG, on the other hand, has told NO ONE.  Not even his sister who he talks to on the phone several times a week.  She’s knows we’re trying, so probably figures something is up, but they follow the family equivalent of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell when it comes to each other’s personal life.  That is so incredibly foreign to me just as it is mindblowing to him (although he’s getting used to it) that my mom, sister, and I provide each other nearly daily bulletins on all things big and small.   He just takes a very different approach when it comes to sharing any thing beyond his opinions on great guitarists and current events.  Knowing that about him makes me all the more grateful for how open he is when communicating with me.  It makes me appreciate how special it is that he’s chosen to share himself with me in that way.

So, this time around, I’m going to take the middle road between LG’s communication style and mine – limiting the news to my mom and sister, my boss, and then of course, the Internets.  I’m so grateful to everyone who’s stopped by and especially those who’ve left comments.  Many of you are cycling at the same time, and I look forward to following your journeys and cheering you on.

Favorite Things

LG’s favorite word is “hamsters”.  Not clear why (although let’s be honest — it is kind of a funny word), but he enjoys throwing the word out at random moments.  Tonight I was on the sofa watching Grey’s Anatomy (really need that whole Denny storyline to play itself out), while he was in the office working on the computer – supposedly preparing materials for a meeting he has tomorrow.  When I finally made it to the computer to check in on a few blogs, a little elf had changed the monitor wallpaper.  Rather than the calming seascape that usually greets me, this is what I was treated to:

Clearly, more supervision is required.

Update

Just as I predicted in my post below.  AF arrived this afternoon – with no advance notice.  It’s next to impossible to get anyone from my clinic on the phone on the weekend, but finally managed to get the on-call nurse to phone me back.  I don’t know her as she isn’t one of Dr. Yacht’s dedicated nurses. She told me that she  “doesn’t know” if I need a Day 3 baseline.  Well, that makes two of us, sister.  Her suggestion was that I just show up at the clinic Monday morning and try to find someone who does know and, if I do need the cam/vampire treatment, to beg/plead/cajole/bribe them into fitting me into the always packed Monday schedule – hopefully before I have to leave for the airport for my work trip to NYC.  I plan to take LG with me as the heavy.

Portending Signs

I don’t have a good feeling about this cycle – and we haven’t even really started.  I know that’s a terrible mindset to have – positive thinking and all – but I just keeping getting weird vibes (and I’m not a vibe kind of gal) that this timing isn’t meant to be.

We got our BFN on 12/19 (Merry Christmas) and our WTF meeting on January 2 (Happy New Year).  At that appointment, our RE, whom henceforth I shall refer to as Dr. Yacht* was very reassuring.  We learned a lot…blah blah blah.  When we asked about timing for trying again, he felt that it would be fine for us to try for the February cycle**.  I told him I was on CD 15, and he said – no problem.  We’ll just skip OCP’s and start you on Lupron on CD 21, and we’re good to go.

Well, fast forward a couple of days to Cycle 20 – no Lupron has arrived.  I was out of town for work, so LG phoned the clinic to make sure the order had been placed and was on its way.  We were assured yesiree, everything was fine.  I went in on CD 21 for bloodwork and at LG’s insistence (he wishes I would push the doctors and nurses much harder for answers), we waited to talk to our nurse to double check since we still hadn’t heard  from the pharmacy, which is out of state.  Whoopsie – no order had been placed and now the pharmacy we have to use for insurance couldn’t get it to us in time.  So…I had to stay home from work, make a million phone calls, and finally take 2 buses to a local pharmacist (who apparently just does fertility and veterinary compounds…weird), to get the Lupron in order to start it that night as scheduled.  This caused the first flutter of hesitation – maybe we’re trying to do this too soon.

Then, I got the stim schedule from our IVF coordinator, whom LG and I call Little Miss Sunshine, because she is anything but.  Sometime, I’ll write the story of our first IVF consult.  Good times.  The schedule is clearly wrong because it has me taking OCP’s until late January then starting Lupron (which, incidentally, I had started 4 days previously).  Bad sign #2 – nobody seems to know what the hell protocol we’re doing.  I e-mailed her to clarify, but of course heard nothing back.  Fortunately, Dr. Yacht’s nurses are pretty great at responding, so I e-mailed one of them and she told me no problem – keep on with the Lupron and then call when you get your period.

That brings us to bad sign #3.  Oh, AF…where are you?  I am now closing in on Day 34 with nary a stomach cramp or sore boob in sight.  Of course, I am traveling next week Monday through Wednesday, so with my luck it will start today making me completely miss the window for the Day 3 workup.  Not liking this, folks.

I know these are small things, but they all contribute to this nagging sense that the stars just aren’t aligned this go around.  I’m trying to break that cycle of thought, because I know it does me no good, but it keeps rattling around in there.  I have a little retail therapy planned for today – doing my part for the economy, you know – maybe that will help.

*I really do like our RE, but whenever I see him, I always flash to a scene of a dapper (and very tan) guy dressed in white pants, topsiders, and a bright-colored polo shirt disembarking from his 80-foot yacht to go see the adoring ladies of his clinic.  (The yacht that I and my fellow clinic compadres are most likely funding.)

**For some reason I’ve yet to figure out, my clinic forces everyone to the same schedule.  ER’s and ET’s are only done 1 week a month so they get everyone on the same schedule via luck and hormones.  If your cycle doesn’t cooperate that month – you’re screwed until the next window.  Does anyone else’s clinic take this approach? Do you know why they do that?  Is it some medical philosophy – or for convenience sake (for the doctors that is)?

Guilt

I often tease LG and tell him that he must have been a Jewish or Catholic mother in another life, because he is extremely skilled at the art of friendly guilt.  Even my Irish Catholic mother, whom I thought had the lock on the title, could pick up a few tricks from him.

The one thing he has never ever ever made me feel guilty about is my inability to give him the children he so desperately wants.  Even though our diagnosis is unexplained, his SA was picture perfect, so that leaves me and my half-ass reproductive system looking like the culprit.

I remember a time pretty early on when were dating – a couple months or so after we had started having the “no agenda it just ROCKS”  sex versus the methodical and “we have to do it NOW,  we’re in the window-sex” that would come later.  We were sitting by the lake near our house, and he looked at me and with incredible tenderness asked me about my scars.  My body bears the marks of the rather tumultuous relationship I have had with health over the years.  I have significant stretch marks everywhere (without the benefit of every actually being pregnant), due to severe childhood asthma that required high doses of corticosteroids over an extensive period of time.  I also have pretty dramatic scarring from the surgery which removed my right ovary, fallopian tube, and several lymph nodes due to (thankfully) very early stage ovarian cancer.   His question surprised me, but because he asked with such genuine interest and caring, I felt comfortable telling him everything.  He listened, and stroked my arm, and then quietly asked me, “Can you have kids?”  This is a man who has been telling his friends for years that he wants 5 kids.   I told him that there was no reason to believe that I couldn’t.  That people get pregnant with one ovary all the time and the doctors said there was no reason to think I’d have any issues.  (Of course, to be fair, they did say that 10 years ago…).   He kissed me and we went on with our day, but from that point on, I knew without a doubt how important being a father is to him.

I have always known how much he wants to be a father.  If it’s possible, maybe even more than I’ve dreamed about being a mother.  And because of me, this is a dream of his (ours) that is so far – and maybe forever – elusive.  I feel horribly guilty about that.  On some very deep scary level,  I worry that if it doesn’t happen for us (to date he hasn’t wanted to talk about adoption or other alternatives, but it may just be too early for him for that), that something will be lost in our relationship because he feels deprived of what he’s wanted for so long.  He’s never given me any reason to think that…but there it is all the same.   I desperately hope – for both of us – that we find our way to the family we both dream about.

Right back at ya, Universe!

I think at some point all of us dealing with infertility feel at some point that the universe is flipping us a giant bird by arranging for constant reminders of what eludes us at every turn. I am having one of those weeks – and given that I’m under the influence of Lupron – not dealing with it well. May I illustrate…

Yesterday, after doing a careful inventory of my left-over meds from IVF #1 to send to my coordinator in preparation for IVF #2, I logged onto my e-mail to send the list her way. There, in my inbox, was an e-mail with the always clever “Hello Stranger” subject line from a former co-worker with whom I have not spoken for at least 2 years. Since I’ve made it my New Year’s Resolution to try to reconnect with former friends who have faded away due to time and circumstance, I eagerly opened it. The first part was harmless – just telling me about her change of jobs. The second part read as follows:

“I also have some personal news… I am having a baby in about 3 months! We are very excited for our little surprise! I guess life happens :-)”

Why yes, I suppose life does happen. Just not to me — at least with respect to surprise babies… Not even with drastic medical intervention come to think of it. I was surprised by the funk that this e-mail kicked off. Up until now, I’ve been pretty lucky in that I could genuinely say that pregnancy news in others didn’t kick of a maelstrom for me, but this was different. I think it was the “whoopsie” like manner in which the news was presented. (In fairness to this person, she has no idea that we’re dealing with this, so this wasn’t an issue of insensitivity – just bad timing.)
The second reminder is a little harder to compartmentalize, because I’m in the throes of dealing with it at work. I work in HR and manage a team of 9 – all women. As of today, I have 1 person out on mat leave (in Canada no less, where mat leaves are a year – definitely a topic of another post), 1 going on mat leave in February (also in Canada), and 1 who just let me know today that she will not be returning from mat leave. Much of my time at work as of late is trying to figure out how I’m going to cover for all of these – particularly since given the economy, it’s likely I won’t be able to replace some or all.*  The irony of simultaneously feeling both horribly put out from a manager’s standpoint and personally jealous is not lost on me. I don’t begrudge any of these women (2 of whom did not have an easy road getting there) their happiness, but enough already. You know how when you buy a new car and just about every 3rd car you see on the road is the same as yours? Well, here’s the deal, universe – I haven’t bought the car! I’d appreciate a little break on the pregnancy reminder drive-bys!

Edited to Add:  In Canada, because maternity leaves are a year, it’s common to bring someone in on 12 month term contract to cover the workload while the person is on leave.  Didn’t want people to think that I meant permanently replace.  Full compliance with FM.LA and all applicable Canadian laws here!

Inaugural Post

Starting something new is always hard – where to begin…? While I’m a bit of a latecomer to the world of blogging, I’ve recently become very entrenched (at least by way of lurking) in a particular blogging community – that of my fellow adventurers in infertility. Now I’ve decided to jump in with both feet – both by capturing my own story here in this blog and also by commenting on those that have been such an important part of my journey thus far. Here’s the short version – more to come as the story unfolds. I’m 37 years old and married to an amazing guy – I’ll call him LG here (not his initials but rather shorthand for the nickname we use for each other). It took us a long time to find each other, but we finally did and now have a year of marriage under our belts. We knew we wanted a family, and because of our ages (he’s 43) and my medical history – my right ovary and fallopian tube were removed about 10 years ago due to borderline ovarian cancer – we started trying right away – literally on our 1st night of marriage . While I was not then the scholar on all things TTC that I would later come to be, I knew enough to know it was the ideal time of the month and naively thought we were going to have a honeymoon baby. In fact, I worried about having kids before we really had time to enjoy our new marriage. Fast forward 6 months filled with temp charting and nearly obsessive tracking of all other activities in the general area of impact. At that point, we realized things weren’t going to be that easy. We were prepared to wait the requisite year, but instead followed the advice of a friend who had gone before who advised us to take matters in our owns hand and go to an RE right away. So we went and did all of the testing, and…na da. Unexplained. That being said, our RE suggested we go straight to IVF. Needless to say, we left that appointment like a deer in headlights. We were expecting a lecture on patience, and instead came out with a binder full of forms. After much conversation, debate, and a few tears (mine), we decided to go straight to the big show. And there the story begins.