It's been over a month since I last posted, and almost as long since I've kept up on anyone else's blog. Several reasons contributed to the downtime, but the enveloping reason was: "IMPOSSIBLE!" During my time away, gardening season came into full swing. Every spring is the same inundation of tasks as I go about setting seeds and plants into the ground. But like I've said before: gardening is my therapy and I wouldn't survive without it.
Other things that kept me away: Ever-present laptop problems took a turn for the worse: no battery + no charger + no internal antenna = no blogging. My June flying schedule has been one of my most frustrating ever, prompting a decision to- I still can't believe it- resign from International (though it won't go into effect until September). In related news, I've taken an additional job three days a week. More on that another time, but suffice it to say I KNOW it will head me in the right direction.
Also in this months' time, I'm sad to report, J and I have stayed on the infertility carnival ride. A quick recap of last cycle: ten + follicles at ovulation and J's award-winning sperm count of 203 million the day of IUI was not enough to get us pregnant. I was on a layover in San Juan Puerto Rico when I knew my period would come, and come it did. I was so despondent I couldn't sleep and phoned J at midnight, a hot mess. He talked me down from the cliff, then sweetly texted me the next morning this quote from Goethe: "In all things it is better to hope than to despair." Followed by his own words "Love you!!!!!!!!" The message has since gone into my iPhone bank of alarm reminders, which are not all "Keep Nice Mood" any longer. The reminders now number ten, and go off at intervals for each of my waking hours. Every time one sounds, I read the reminder and rub my belly like Genie's lantern.
We are now midway through the 2WW of the current cycle: Clomid/IUI again, which didn't look nearly as good on paper this time around. I wanted to avoid the hCG trigger and wait for my body to ovulate on its own (in the past this has been between day 16 and 18). But when I'd not gotten a positive OPK by day 17, Dr. Assistant said "Gotta trigger." I injected myself with hCG at a John Turturro film premiere (probably not the first person to shoot up in a bathroom at one of those) and IUI was performed day 19. I was very upset that I'd not ovulated on my own, though J tried to convince me it meant nothing "Things fluctuate," he said. My poor stud-muffin had to apply that optimism to himself day of IUI, as his contribution was a lackluster 8.5 million. As for my follicles, I had only four, maybe five, with several others grown "so big they failed." Watch: this will probably be the cycle we get and stay pregnant, because it really is an against-all-odds situation.
And I am genuinely hopeful we will, despite the negative tenor of the previous paragraph. Why the hell not? is what I say as I silence my mantra alarms and rub my stomach nineteen times a day (who's obsessive? surely not me!). Yet, my emotional tether to this cycle is thin, no less desiring of a Take Home Baby, but it feels a bit like letting go. Not giving up, but realizing in a deeper way than I have before, deeper than on Pancake Epiphany Day, that I am not in control of any of this. I can do my part, I can try some stuff, but ultimately the control I have over infertility, the stuff I try, will not simply make a child appear.
If this cycle works, fantastic. If it doesn't, it will be time for a major shift in tactics. I think the shift is already happening, as I turn often to this blog and am trying to instill better karma in my life. One way I'm trying: now whenever I see pregnant women (and damn if they aren't everywhere) I don't look away; I don't surge with jealousy and bitterness toward them as I once did. I look right at them and say to myself, "Joy in the belly!"
I will know that too.
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Sunday, 15 May 2011
Keep Nice Mood
I'm coming off of one of the craziest weeks in ages, having awoken in so many different places I had to lie still each morning when the alarm went off trying to remember where I was. It's now Sunday evening in Paris; I just got back from a dinner of grilled sausage and roasted potatoes at a neighborhood restaurant in the 13th. Walking back to the hotel I stopped by a creperie for une crepe avec du chocolat- what an indulgence. I am on call this month and must fly wherever I'm sent, so Paris isn't a bad gig, as assignments go.
Somehow I managed to fit into the week 1) sex every other night with my husband; 2) two appointments with my acupuncturist; and 3) three appointments with my RE for sonograms and blood work... all in preparation for the IUI we squeezed in yesterday. Through it all I kept calm thanks to a new mantra I adopted from my Chinese acupuncturist: Keep Nice Mood. She told me Monday the most important thing I could do- along with, of course, eating right and getting rest, is "keep nice mood"- spoken in her endearing staccato voice. I knew immediately those words would help me through the week, so I set the entire bank of alarms on my iPhone to go off at intervals everyday, and in the memo line of each alarm those three simple words. Believe me, the reminder helped.
It's been another "great looking cycle" according to the numbers, and the time came around quickly for the full TTC effort of this past week. On my own, I would be ovulating mid-next-week, but when Dr. Assistant saw the film of my sono Tuesday, he recommended triggering ovulation for an IUI as soon as my schedule would allow. That turned out to be yesterday morning. A sono Thursday had shown three follicles at over 20mm in my right ovary, and several more just behind that in size in both the left and the right. Dr. Assistant said the quality of my eggs would be better now than if we let them "age" until my body ovulated on its own, so in a hotel bathroom Thursday night I found myself hovering with a syringe above a pinch of belly fat trying to work up the courage to inject hCG to trigger ovulation. I've given shots before- to my mother; a medication she took for ten years- but I've never done it to myself. A lot of you know that the first time is freaky, but having done it once I know I could do it again. Whatever it takes (almost) is the thinking, right?
For the IUI, J and I had to drive to a branch office of my RE that is open weekends. J had the choice of "producing" at home or at the clinic, and he emphatically chose the former. But on our way to the clinic we took a wrong turn and barely made it in the hour-long window after "production" that the clinic requires. I worried aloud about this as the nurse checked us in, but she told me the timing was fine and said it was better that we brought the sample rather than have J produce it on site. "We share the lab with a sperm bank so it gets pretty busy here at times," she said. That explained the young men, alone, waiting in the reception area till their names were called. I pictured all the small rooms around the office perimeter filled with hot guys jacking off and had a good chuckle. This business of making babies is really bizarre when you stop to think about it.
There was a bigger worry J and I brought to the clinic than getting there late. I'd been unaware until J told me on the way, but he awoke in the night after having oh.my.god. a wet dream. He couldn't recall the last time it happened, and when he woke up and realized, he got out of bed feeling sick. He thought, "There go our chances," though he hoped he'd "recover" a bit before needing to produce the specimen in the morning. He never looked at the clock, nor did he come back to bed, but it was hours before the sun rose and the whole time he sat in a chair worrying. When he told me what happened, my heart sank too.
So when we entered the room where the IUI would be performed and heard the doctor's words "You win the prize today," we were confused. Then she told us the specimen sperm count: 205 million. What the...?!? How was that possible? We looked at each other and started laughing and immediately lost the sick feeling we'd had all morning. J is smugly proud of his swimmers, and I suppose he has reason to be.
J had never been with me to an RE appointment, and he'd not wanted to be there during the procedure. "It's your moment," he told me, and I shot back at him: "My moment with a doctor and a tiny tube up my hoo-hoo? Yeah, right." So he reconsidered and came with me when the time arrived. He was cute, reaching out to give me a little scratch on the shoulder as the doctor started the procedure, then holding my hand when the nurse told him he could move closer. He was stunned by the speculum, asking if it hurt. "It looks like a shoe horn!" he said. I told him I felt pressure, but no pain, and by that time the doctor was saying, "Okay, all set." I'd told J the IUI would be quick, but he was surprised how quick. He asked the doctor how long we should wait before I got up and looked at his watch to time the ten-or-so minutes. We chatted a bit, but mostly just silently held hands. I did some breathing exercises, focusing on "keep nice mood."
When we got back to our apartment I lay down and napped off and on through the afternoon, knowing I'd be up all night on the flight. I wished there was a way I could avoid flying, but I've ruined my attendance record while TTC and can't call in sick anymore. On a regularly scheduled month I could have moved the trip, but not when I'm on call. So I focused on keep nice mood and the things I can control. Getting as much rest as I should is rarely one of them, so I try to make up for it when I can.
I feel great about our numbers and good about our overall chances this cycle. But of course I still worry. We are classic "uexplained infertility." We have always had good numbers; we've gone years without getting pregnant; we have gotten pregnant twice; we have miscarried twice. We know that if this cycle things don't work out, we have an IVF decision to make. There are never any guarantees and all of the worries won't be over till I hold a baby in my arms.
One final thing: I've not been very good lately at keeping up with blog reading and commenting, and I was kindly given an award that I've not yet "responded" to but will soon. Meanwhile, I'm wishing the best for everyone out there on this same god-forsaken path. Keep Nice Mood.
Somehow I managed to fit into the week 1) sex every other night with my husband; 2) two appointments with my acupuncturist; and 3) three appointments with my RE for sonograms and blood work... all in preparation for the IUI we squeezed in yesterday. Through it all I kept calm thanks to a new mantra I adopted from my Chinese acupuncturist: Keep Nice Mood. She told me Monday the most important thing I could do- along with, of course, eating right and getting rest, is "keep nice mood"- spoken in her endearing staccato voice. I knew immediately those words would help me through the week, so I set the entire bank of alarms on my iPhone to go off at intervals everyday, and in the memo line of each alarm those three simple words. Believe me, the reminder helped.
It's been another "great looking cycle" according to the numbers, and the time came around quickly for the full TTC effort of this past week. On my own, I would be ovulating mid-next-week, but when Dr. Assistant saw the film of my sono Tuesday, he recommended triggering ovulation for an IUI as soon as my schedule would allow. That turned out to be yesterday morning. A sono Thursday had shown three follicles at over 20mm in my right ovary, and several more just behind that in size in both the left and the right. Dr. Assistant said the quality of my eggs would be better now than if we let them "age" until my body ovulated on its own, so in a hotel bathroom Thursday night I found myself hovering with a syringe above a pinch of belly fat trying to work up the courage to inject hCG to trigger ovulation. I've given shots before- to my mother; a medication she took for ten years- but I've never done it to myself. A lot of you know that the first time is freaky, but having done it once I know I could do it again. Whatever it takes (almost) is the thinking, right?
For the IUI, J and I had to drive to a branch office of my RE that is open weekends. J had the choice of "producing" at home or at the clinic, and he emphatically chose the former. But on our way to the clinic we took a wrong turn and barely made it in the hour-long window after "production" that the clinic requires. I worried aloud about this as the nurse checked us in, but she told me the timing was fine and said it was better that we brought the sample rather than have J produce it on site. "We share the lab with a sperm bank so it gets pretty busy here at times," she said. That explained the young men, alone, waiting in the reception area till their names were called. I pictured all the small rooms around the office perimeter filled with hot guys jacking off and had a good chuckle. This business of making babies is really bizarre when you stop to think about it.
There was a bigger worry J and I brought to the clinic than getting there late. I'd been unaware until J told me on the way, but he awoke in the night after having oh.my.god. a wet dream. He couldn't recall the last time it happened, and when he woke up and realized, he got out of bed feeling sick. He thought, "There go our chances," though he hoped he'd "recover" a bit before needing to produce the specimen in the morning. He never looked at the clock, nor did he come back to bed, but it was hours before the sun rose and the whole time he sat in a chair worrying. When he told me what happened, my heart sank too.
So when we entered the room where the IUI would be performed and heard the doctor's words "You win the prize today," we were confused. Then she told us the specimen sperm count: 205 million. What the...?!? How was that possible? We looked at each other and started laughing and immediately lost the sick feeling we'd had all morning. J is smugly proud of his swimmers, and I suppose he has reason to be.
J had never been with me to an RE appointment, and he'd not wanted to be there during the procedure. "It's your moment," he told me, and I shot back at him: "My moment with a doctor and a tiny tube up my hoo-hoo? Yeah, right." So he reconsidered and came with me when the time arrived. He was cute, reaching out to give me a little scratch on the shoulder as the doctor started the procedure, then holding my hand when the nurse told him he could move closer. He was stunned by the speculum, asking if it hurt. "It looks like a shoe horn!" he said. I told him I felt pressure, but no pain, and by that time the doctor was saying, "Okay, all set." I'd told J the IUI would be quick, but he was surprised how quick. He asked the doctor how long we should wait before I got up and looked at his watch to time the ten-or-so minutes. We chatted a bit, but mostly just silently held hands. I did some breathing exercises, focusing on "keep nice mood."
When we got back to our apartment I lay down and napped off and on through the afternoon, knowing I'd be up all night on the flight. I wished there was a way I could avoid flying, but I've ruined my attendance record while TTC and can't call in sick anymore. On a regularly scheduled month I could have moved the trip, but not when I'm on call. So I focused on keep nice mood and the things I can control. Getting as much rest as I should is rarely one of them, so I try to make up for it when I can.
I feel great about our numbers and good about our overall chances this cycle. But of course I still worry. We are classic "uexplained infertility." We have always had good numbers; we've gone years without getting pregnant; we have gotten pregnant twice; we have miscarried twice. We know that if this cycle things don't work out, we have an IVF decision to make. There are never any guarantees and all of the worries won't be over till I hold a baby in my arms.
One final thing: I've not been very good lately at keeping up with blog reading and commenting, and I was kindly given an award that I've not yet "responded" to but will soon. Meanwhile, I'm wishing the best for everyone out there on this same god-forsaken path. Keep Nice Mood.
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
Making a Dent in the Cost of Parenthood
A story about The InterNational Council on Infertility Information Dissemination, or INCIID (pronounced inside), an organization that helps couples receive "scholarships" for IVF treatment. I didn't know this group existed untill hearing the report and have to pass it along, in case it might help anyone of us. The audio of the story contains more details than the written version, so I'd suggest clicking the link on the site to listen.
Sunday, 8 May 2011
The Holiday We WANT to Celebrate
I have a habit of saving good pieces of writing, mostly essays or short stories that resonate because of their topic or the author's graceful ability to compel with words. Deep in this collection is an essay, a newspaper column actually, sent to me by a family friend while I was living abroad in 1992 (alas, I was in my early 20's with motherhood no where on the horizon, though I knew I wanted children someday). The essay was written by a woman ranting about childbearing and children, and though I've not read it in years I don't need to, as much of it is etched in my mind. One sentence went like this: "Something in nature is terribly wrong, when a panda bear gives birth to a creature that fits in the palm of the hand and a 120 pound woman gives birth to an infant the size of an overnight bag. Scientists need to drop everything immediately and solve this problem!" Wow. Duh. She's right!
But after all her angst filled railing, the writer ended with this: "Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there, from someone who wishes she were one." Only in the past few years have I truly understood her words.
So tonight, I have a wish for every woman who isn't a yet a mother but wishes to be one, or has been one- if only for a few precious weeks of pregnancy:
May we all bear overnight bag-sized babies by the next time this day rolls around!
But after all her angst filled railing, the writer ended with this: "Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there, from someone who wishes she were one." Only in the past few years have I truly understood her words.
So tonight, I have a wish for every woman who isn't a yet a mother but wishes to be one, or has been one- if only for a few precious weeks of pregnancy:
May we all bear overnight bag-sized babies by the next time this day rolls around!
Friday, 6 May 2011
Infertility 2.0
Tuesday I had an appointment with my RE. As originally scheduled, it was for a pregnancy test, after the 2ww, after my most recent IUI. But AF had shown up Sunday, unwelcome though anticipated. Monday morning I called my RE to let them know I wouldn't need a pregnancy test, instead I'd need a cycle day 3 work-up. Well, apparently the message didn`t trickle down, because one of the nurses greeted me Tuesday with a huge smile and the question, "You didn't get your period, right?" When I told her I had, she was incredulous, as was the doctor a bit later- the RE's assistant, a doctor whom I like a lot. He's extremely compassionate, but his decisions and words are- sometimes brutally- based on reality). As he looked at my chart he said: "With numbers like this, our conversation should be about you being pregnant with seven... not zero..." And then the dreaded words, "This is classic unexplained infertility."
Dr. Assistant's analysis and advice was two-fold: at my next appointment, have a water sonogram to see if the polyp I have (and have known about, having been told it is "sizable") is inside my uterus. Initally my RE thought the polyp is just outside the uterine lining, but her assistant now said, "If it's inside, it could be taking up a lot of space and interfering with implantation."
His other suggestion, though it was actually an instruction, was to find out all the details of my insurance coverage for IVF and start considering it. "You produce a lot of eggs, and J a lot of sperm. We could get a lot of embryos to work with. It will more than double your chances of getting pregnant." Of course that was great to hear, but my immediate question was, "What about preventing loss?" Dr. Assistant answered that there would be no reduction of those chances, unless we did a new type of pre-screening that would essentially rule out using embryos with chromosomal abnormalities.
So much God-playing on this quest for Motherhood...
I don't want to do IVF. All along I've maintained that I "don't want to get crazy" trying to get pregnant, which for me is code for "I don't want to do IVF." My opinion is not meant to discourage or judge another woman for whom IVF is the right choice. I just know I don't want to do it, never have wanted to, never thought I would need to, and now... here we are.
Never say never.
Dr. Assistant's analysis and advice was two-fold: at my next appointment, have a water sonogram to see if the polyp I have (and have known about, having been told it is "sizable") is inside my uterus. Initally my RE thought the polyp is just outside the uterine lining, but her assistant now said, "If it's inside, it could be taking up a lot of space and interfering with implantation."
His other suggestion, though it was actually an instruction, was to find out all the details of my insurance coverage for IVF and start considering it. "You produce a lot of eggs, and J a lot of sperm. We could get a lot of embryos to work with. It will more than double your chances of getting pregnant." Of course that was great to hear, but my immediate question was, "What about preventing loss?" Dr. Assistant answered that there would be no reduction of those chances, unless we did a new type of pre-screening that would essentially rule out using embryos with chromosomal abnormalities.
So much God-playing on this quest for Motherhood...
I don't want to do IVF. All along I've maintained that I "don't want to get crazy" trying to get pregnant, which for me is code for "I don't want to do IVF." My opinion is not meant to discourage or judge another woman for whom IVF is the right choice. I just know I don't want to do it, never have wanted to, never thought I would need to, and now... here we are.
Never say never.
Saturday, 30 April 2011
A Bit Later...
Some funny things happened after I wrote that earlier post, starting when I crawled into bed with my mom just as the sun was coming up. I haven't done that since my Dad died, and my mom isn't a warm and cuddly type of person, so it was odd, though it seemed the thing to do. I told her my temperature was bad news and she said she was so sorry. We were quiet. I intended to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I didn't intend to lie there crying, but I did. I didn't intend for my mom to know, but she knew and asked if I was ok (then answered the question herself, "No, I know you're not." She got up and brought me Kleenex, got back into bed and said, "I don't understand why life has to be so cruel."
I couldn't respond, and I lay there thinking of all the possible reasons I'm not pregnant this cycle, which included the thought, "Maybe J's swimmers just didn't make it," followed by a question: Do sperm actually swim?!? So I picked up my iPhone (...I rarely go anywhere without it, even the next room) to Google the question. I pressed the "home" button and the first thing that came on my screen- I'm not making this up- was Dan Savage's YouTube video with his partner Terry, "It Gets Better". I just stared at the screen and at those three words. I watched the video a month or so ago, and I know it's a message intended for a different audience, for a different reason, but it was the message I needed RIGHT THEN. How did Dan Savage know? Or YouTube, or my iPhone? How did this get on my screen at that exact moment?!? I do not know, but I do believe it gets better. Today's just a tough, sad day.
I couldn't respond, and I lay there thinking of all the possible reasons I'm not pregnant this cycle, which included the thought, "Maybe J's swimmers just didn't make it," followed by a question: Do sperm actually swim?!? So I picked up my iPhone (...I rarely go anywhere without it, even the next room) to Google the question. I pressed the "home" button and the first thing that came on my screen- I'm not making this up- was Dan Savage's YouTube video with his partner Terry, "It Gets Better". I just stared at the screen and at those three words. I watched the video a month or so ago, and I know it's a message intended for a different audience, for a different reason, but it was the message I needed RIGHT THEN. How did Dan Savage know? Or YouTube, or my iPhone? How did this get on my screen at that exact moment?!? I do not know, but I do believe it gets better. Today's just a tough, sad day.
The Bottom's Gonna Fall Out...
I didn't take my temp yesterday, due to awakening in the middle of the night for the Royal Wedding. But I took it this morning and it's way down. It was down Thursday morning too, which I'd hoped was a fluke because I'd not gotten much sleep that night. But today there's no denying that it's dropped to a level which means I'm not pregnant. I've not tested yet, but I don't need to; my temps are reliable enough indications. I'd been so hopeful until now. This cycle had been different and had brought me so much hope.
My mom doesn't drive, so when I arrived Thursday evening to visit her, SIL- the yucky one- picked me up at the airport. I'd figured it would be her (most logical possibility) and I knew that meant I'd meet my new nephew for the first time. And just as I suspected, instant love. He's doing great and weighs 7 pounds now, but he's so tiny still. His ears are about an inch long, his fingernails the size of my hangnails! His head fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. He sleeps a lot, making those soft baby noises, which right now as I remember them and type this, send me over the emotional edge. Our family is so blessed that he made it, and I'm so grateful, but I'm so sad for J and I and so bitter at my loser brother and SIL. Why do irresponsible idiots like them have- between them- seven, SEVEN!!!- children and J and I have none? Well, there are lots of reasons (age difference for one). But all of them seem unfair.
I'm just so sad right now, so deflated of hope.
My mom doesn't drive, so when I arrived Thursday evening to visit her, SIL- the yucky one- picked me up at the airport. I'd figured it would be her (most logical possibility) and I knew that meant I'd meet my new nephew for the first time. And just as I suspected, instant love. He's doing great and weighs 7 pounds now, but he's so tiny still. His ears are about an inch long, his fingernails the size of my hangnails! His head fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. He sleeps a lot, making those soft baby noises, which right now as I remember them and type this, send me over the emotional edge. Our family is so blessed that he made it, and I'm so grateful, but I'm so sad for J and I and so bitter at my loser brother and SIL. Why do irresponsible idiots like them have- between them- seven, SEVEN!!!- children and J and I have none? Well, there are lots of reasons (age difference for one). But all of them seem unfair.
I'm just so sad right now, so deflated of hope.
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