I'm slowly feeling better. The weekend helped me gain perspective and I had Seb here too. I think it was hard not having him here to cushion the blow when I got the official news last Tuesday. I really needed someone to give me giant ten minute bear hug after hearing it. I finally got that on Friday afternoon and of course I sobbed into Seb's shirt until he had a giant wet spot on his chest. We talked everything through and agreed that maybe we were being a little too optimistic to think it could work the first time. We both agreed that now was not the time to give up, in fact on the contrary it was time to get to work. Our diet needs tweeking and we need to try to get more rest and build up our energy reserves. I think we both are a little battle worn from the past few months and it hasn't helped our chances going into IVF with an already weary mind and heart.
So I have my appointment for September 20th, the consultation to discuss the next step. I'm pretty sure the discussion will involve another try without changing much, except maybe just a tiny change to the dosage of Gonal-F. I hope so because I was only taking 112 IU's this time as compared to 300 IU's with my very first IVF! I think I'll ask some questions about my progesterone levels. I'd like to know if I can have my progesterone closely monitered next time. I spotted so much during this cycle that I felt like something wasn't holding back my period. I don't think it's normal to spot so early on while taking progesterone. I also want to know why they don't measure my lining before the transfer. If they are measuring it, they aren't telling me. I'd hate to think that perfectly good embryoes are just sitting there with no cushy place to attach themselves. It will at least ease my mind to know what the thickness is.
I can just see Dr. Dieu rolling his eyes right now. He'll run his hands through his thick whisped hair, lean back in his chair and smirk saying something snarky like, "Oh you American's always have to know everything don't you." Then he'll look at my husband and say "women always have to take charge of everything don't they...I guess it's the same worldwide." That's Dr. Dieu. I can't complain though because it was his team of doctors and biologists who gave us our lovely little boy. How can you argue with such perfection? I don't think you can. Come on Dr. Dieu make me another beautiful babe!
*Thank you to all my friends for your sweet messages and phone calls. It helped to hear those voices and get those e-mails and messages on my blog. You're wonderful.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Sad and angry
A negative IVF is, as I can now attest, like being kicked very hard in the stomach when you least expect it. When I was six years old I can remember joyfully pushing an empty swing, a large blue wooden swing in our neighborhood park, and when I turned my head for just a split second, the sucker flew at my stomach and knocked all the air out of my lungs. Suddenly I was flat on my back on the ground, swing flying recklessly over me so I couldn't get up, gasping for breath and feeling dazed. I don't remember how long the sensation lasted but the surprise and shock and helplessness stays with me to this day. Tuesday was a lot like that.
The worst part in all this though has to be that gnawing rage, that tightening in the throat that heart sinking feeling of being in a very long line and being sent back to the end of the line as if all of your waiting in that line never counted at all. It's being told they are out of stock, there may be more, please try again tomorrow, next week, another time.
No that's not the worst part. The worst part is being sad and having your son see you sad. It's trying to put on a brave face for him and feeling the weight of this news in all of your limbs like lead pellets poured into your joints. It's crying in front of him because the tears are right there and once they spill over the edge it's like someone has turned on a too full hose, a hose bursting and bulging to be released of all its pressure before it splits in half. Once the tears come they last for several minutes and you bury your face in a pillow and try swallowing them down but it doesn't do any good. With the tears should come the healing but it's slow and difficult and each time the tears come and dry up you wonder how many more tears there are and how deep this reserve is anyway. There are a lot because the pain keeps filling the trench back up with more and the pain does not stop, refuses to go away.
My next appointment is September 20th, an eternity of waiting. Time to think and obsess and don armour for the next battle. This is not a pink, light-filled, fuzzy positive thinking fest where happy, confident people will win the baby. This is a war and only the strong will get there in one piece. No, not positive thinking but flat on your stomach clawing and scratching your way through a mine field armed only with a penciled map, a battered helmet and the overwhelming will to get to the other side no matter what condition you end up in, just arrive somehow.
Maybe in there somewhere lies a message of faith too, I don't know. To me though faith is lying on your back, hoping that something will come to you. This may have been my past philosophy, a quaint and simple belief that the universe will do what's necessary and right, but not anymore. Now I'm strapping on boots. Now I'm going to battle. I don't think I'll get there without a fight and after all isn't it a maternal instinct to fight for our children at any cost?
The worst part in all this though has to be that gnawing rage, that tightening in the throat that heart sinking feeling of being in a very long line and being sent back to the end of the line as if all of your waiting in that line never counted at all. It's being told they are out of stock, there may be more, please try again tomorrow, next week, another time.
No that's not the worst part. The worst part is being sad and having your son see you sad. It's trying to put on a brave face for him and feeling the weight of this news in all of your limbs like lead pellets poured into your joints. It's crying in front of him because the tears are right there and once they spill over the edge it's like someone has turned on a too full hose, a hose bursting and bulging to be released of all its pressure before it splits in half. Once the tears come they last for several minutes and you bury your face in a pillow and try swallowing them down but it doesn't do any good. With the tears should come the healing but it's slow and difficult and each time the tears come and dry up you wonder how many more tears there are and how deep this reserve is anyway. There are a lot because the pain keeps filling the trench back up with more and the pain does not stop, refuses to go away.
My next appointment is September 20th, an eternity of waiting. Time to think and obsess and don armour for the next battle. This is not a pink, light-filled, fuzzy positive thinking fest where happy, confident people will win the baby. This is a war and only the strong will get there in one piece. No, not positive thinking but flat on your stomach clawing and scratching your way through a mine field armed only with a penciled map, a battered helmet and the overwhelming will to get to the other side no matter what condition you end up in, just arrive somehow.
Maybe in there somewhere lies a message of faith too, I don't know. To me though faith is lying on your back, hoping that something will come to you. This may have been my past philosophy, a quaint and simple belief that the universe will do what's necessary and right, but not anymore. Now I'm strapping on boots. Now I'm going to battle. I don't think I'll get there without a fight and after all isn't it a maternal instinct to fight for our children at any cost?
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
About that dream...
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes
2.6 sounds like a GPA not a Beta
I thought I'd be relieved to get the bad news over with but instead I'm just really sad and I feel bad for Seb who is sad too but trying to stay brave for me. And as if things couldn't be timed better, my cat is missing and has been since Monday Morning. I know that's not a long time but she always comes in at night and sleeps with me. She's slept with me almost every night for the past six years and she hasn't been seen for over 24 hours. I'm really worried. She's like one of my kids.
Right now I'm just trying to empty my head of all the crap it had stored for the past 75 days of the treatment. I guess we'll be doing this again but right now I can't hold another bit of information about any of this in my aching head. It's just overflowing.
Right now I'm just trying to empty my head of all the crap it had stored for the past 75 days of the treatment. I guess we'll be doing this again but right now I can't hold another bit of information about any of this in my aching head. It's just overflowing.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Tomorrow will end the torture
I'm sure to be the first one through the laboratory doors tomorrow morning. Believe me when I say I want this over. This weekend has been hellish.
I google until I'm cross-eyed. I can't help it: ivf+hope+spotting, negative hpt+ivf+late implantation, miracle IVF story+negative hpt and it goes on and on. I'm so ready for this to be over.
I really want to stop the progesterone. I want to stop running to the toilet to see if the spotting is still there. I want to stop focusing on THIS and start focusing on something else.
I've even considered changing the date on my BETA lab prescription.
Did I mention that I want this to be over with because I do.
I google until I'm cross-eyed. I can't help it: ivf+hope+spotting, negative hpt+ivf+late implantation, miracle IVF story+negative hpt and it goes on and on. I'm so ready for this to be over.
I really want to stop the progesterone. I want to stop running to the toilet to see if the spotting is still there. I want to stop focusing on THIS and start focusing on something else.
I've even considered changing the date on my BETA lab prescription.
Did I mention that I want this to be over with because I do.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Screwy
Oh how I hate progesterone. I've abruptly stopped spotting except for the faintest of faint spotting and yet still no period. I'm sure it's the progesterone . . .
and the elevated temperatures too . . . progesterone
and probably my snarly mood . . . progesterone
I'm sure that if I stop the supplements my period will finally arrive and we can put this dog to rest. But I can't stop them until Tuesday . . . just in case
aaaahhhhh make it stop!!
and the elevated temperatures too . . . progesterone
and probably my snarly mood . . . progesterone
I'm sure that if I stop the supplements my period will finally arrive and we can put this dog to rest. But I can't stop them until Tuesday . . . just in case
aaaahhhhh make it stop!!
Friday, July 14, 2006
It looks very bleak
Two negative pregnancy tests and light spotting do not look good. I'm 14dpo today and I don't see myself getting that beta on Tuesday. I still have to do the putain beta because the doctor will want it as "confirmation" since sadly he does not accept underwear as proof of putting this cycle to rest.
This smarts because I freaking let Hope in the door again, damn fool that I am. It was a gashderned IVF for god's sake so how can you blame me. Heck, lock the door you say --that sucker was wide open with a cool breeze blowing through. I got left at the altar in a major way.
I'm officially dreading Tuesday and all contact with any human beings at this point.
'scuze me while I scrub these tire tracks off my back. Life is completely in the gutter this weekend and poor Seb is having to put up with me for three full days, poor slob. He gets to hear my sappy "you should have married someone fertile" speech and I get to hear his "maybe it's me with the problem you never know" speech...again. We really need new speeches.
Oh the infertility banter of the "unexplained" We have no one to blame for our misery and we're stuck in the hamster wheel of modern medicine.
Crap.
This smarts because I freaking let Hope in the door again, damn fool that I am. It was a gashderned IVF for god's sake so how can you blame me. Heck, lock the door you say --that sucker was wide open with a cool breeze blowing through. I got left at the altar in a major way.
I'm officially dreading Tuesday and all contact with any human beings at this point.
'scuze me while I scrub these tire tracks off my back. Life is completely in the gutter this weekend and poor Seb is having to put up with me for three full days, poor slob. He gets to hear my sappy "you should have married someone fertile" speech and I get to hear his "maybe it's me with the problem you never know" speech...again. We really need new speeches.
Oh the infertility banter of the "unexplained" We have no one to blame for our misery and we're stuck in the hamster wheel of modern medicine.
Crap.
Monday, July 10, 2006
For those following along at home...a recap
The funny thing about online communication is that you speak through written words with friends all the time and never, never NEVER speak with them on the phone..."gad as IF!" This rule got broken a lot over the two months I was out of service by those who happen to have my telephone number. Of those friends I can't tell you how many thought that I was hiding out because my IVF had gone awry. This had me laughing because if anything an IVF failure would leave me full of words, many very nasty, but full of lots of things to say and heck, lets be honest an outlet for it. No, it wasn't that at all.
The IVF is still going on. I think it's probably the longest ever in the history of modern and cave medicine combined. It has taken two long months to get to transfer. A small eternity in IVF time.
Everything was going well back at the end of May, normal and fine, until suddenly my local doctor, the esteemed Dr. Stonehenge took off for ten days holiday to god knows where and left me scan-less and doctor-less and with only two choices: go to Lyon three times in the next week for prescriptions and scans or draw out the treatment a little longer. I chose to wait for him to get back rather than drive and drive and drive for two weeks and so they put me on a continued dose of Decapyptyl for his leave time and I took an appointment for when he got back.
When Stonehenge finally did get back and I was to start stims, my scan showed a cyst the size of a golf ball or bowling ball take your pick, and I couldn't start stims until the pesky little sucker was drained and laid to rest. This all involved what turned out to be an initially scary hospital trip where the staff told me they wouldn't be using any anesthesia and then promptly produced the large IVF needle that most doctors try to avoid letting you see for fear it will make you run screaming through the automatic doors, gown flapping open behind you in your haste. Honestly though the mega needle though frightening to look at, only hurt a little bit and the staff was very nice and talked to me through it all telling me how brave I was. It made me realize that the local anaesthesia would work fine when it came IVF retrieval time and I was happy for this because anaesthesia is the worldwide leading cause of death on the operating bloc and with statistics like that should be avoided as much as possible.
So the peskering "little sister" cyst was drained and then, I was told I'd be able to start stims in one week but that I'd be coasted on them for an extra two weeks. The reasons behind this two week delay were I imagined so I could regained strength from the cyst procedure or perhaps so that they could check for any new cyst growth in the coming weeks or maybe just because they had to do a seasonal cleaning of petri dishes in the laboratory, all reasonable excuses, or so I thought. But when we finally asked Mr. Nervous the intern of Doctor Dieu why we had to wait two extra weeks he simply shrugged and claimed quite candidly that they didn't have a place in the planning for me anymore. Thank you very much sir. I like knowing I'm injecting myself with synthetic hamster urine for two weeks because you have a government imposed 35 hour work week. I would have preferred the cleaning the petri dishes story.
So I've finally made it through all of this. The retrieval went well and 7 follicles rapidly became 4 embryos, which eventually became 3 and those 3 were transferred last Monday. Two were average Joes and though one was a potential serial killer, we insisted they transfer it anyway because after all it would be our little serial killer now wouldn't it, and we'd just have to keep a better eye on the cats that's all.
On Tuesday of next week I'll have a blood test to see what of it. I really don't feel pregnant at all and many things feel downright normal which is either good or bad or hey who knows. I'm very emotionless about all of this which kind of scares me because it's not really normal to feel like this. I certainly didn't feel like this last IVF cycle. I was very touchy and nervous and crying a lot and worried about things like the toaster popping up too slowly, "why is it taking SO long!" and making lists of potential IVF clinics in Bangladesh where they'd agree to transfer 10 or 20 embryos, I mean come on one would be bound to stick around right?
You can even see that the past few IUI's left me this way, emotional and crazed on the brink of losing grip with reality. But this cycle I refuse to get caught up. I'm not taking my temperature or studying symptoms or getting the least bit strunng out or in a frenzy that might end up sending me into some sort of tailspin spiraling out of control.
Right now I feel like on Tuesday if my beta is at say minus 5 or something horrid, I may react simply as if someone said "and would you like fries with your order?" But then again I may just duck in a shop alcove and ball my eyes out before I get home.
The IVF is still going on. I think it's probably the longest ever in the history of modern and cave medicine combined. It has taken two long months to get to transfer. A small eternity in IVF time.
Everything was going well back at the end of May, normal and fine, until suddenly my local doctor, the esteemed Dr. Stonehenge took off for ten days holiday to god knows where and left me scan-less and doctor-less and with only two choices: go to Lyon three times in the next week for prescriptions and scans or draw out the treatment a little longer. I chose to wait for him to get back rather than drive and drive and drive for two weeks and so they put me on a continued dose of Decapyptyl for his leave time and I took an appointment for when he got back.
When Stonehenge finally did get back and I was to start stims, my scan showed a cyst the size of a golf ball or bowling ball take your pick, and I couldn't start stims until the pesky little sucker was drained and laid to rest. This all involved what turned out to be an initially scary hospital trip where the staff told me they wouldn't be using any anesthesia and then promptly produced the large IVF needle that most doctors try to avoid letting you see for fear it will make you run screaming through the automatic doors, gown flapping open behind you in your haste. Honestly though the mega needle though frightening to look at, only hurt a little bit and the staff was very nice and talked to me through it all telling me how brave I was. It made me realize that the local anaesthesia would work fine when it came IVF retrieval time and I was happy for this because anaesthesia is the worldwide leading cause of death on the operating bloc and with statistics like that should be avoided as much as possible.
So the peskering "little sister" cyst was drained and then, I was told I'd be able to start stims in one week but that I'd be coasted on them for an extra two weeks. The reasons behind this two week delay were I imagined so I could regained strength from the cyst procedure or perhaps so that they could check for any new cyst growth in the coming weeks or maybe just because they had to do a seasonal cleaning of petri dishes in the laboratory, all reasonable excuses, or so I thought. But when we finally asked Mr. Nervous the intern of Doctor Dieu why we had to wait two extra weeks he simply shrugged and claimed quite candidly that they didn't have a place in the planning for me anymore. Thank you very much sir. I like knowing I'm injecting myself with synthetic hamster urine for two weeks because you have a government imposed 35 hour work week. I would have preferred the cleaning the petri dishes story.
So I've finally made it through all of this. The retrieval went well and 7 follicles rapidly became 4 embryos, which eventually became 3 and those 3 were transferred last Monday. Two were average Joes and though one was a potential serial killer, we insisted they transfer it anyway because after all it would be our little serial killer now wouldn't it, and we'd just have to keep a better eye on the cats that's all.
On Tuesday of next week I'll have a blood test to see what of it. I really don't feel pregnant at all and many things feel downright normal which is either good or bad or hey who knows. I'm very emotionless about all of this which kind of scares me because it's not really normal to feel like this. I certainly didn't feel like this last IVF cycle. I was very touchy and nervous and crying a lot and worried about things like the toaster popping up too slowly, "why is it taking SO long!" and making lists of potential IVF clinics in Bangladesh where they'd agree to transfer 10 or 20 embryos, I mean come on one would be bound to stick around right?
You can even see that the past few IUI's left me this way, emotional and crazed on the brink of losing grip with reality. But this cycle I refuse to get caught up. I'm not taking my temperature or studying symptoms or getting the least bit strunng out or in a frenzy that might end up sending me into some sort of tailspin spiraling out of control.
Right now I feel like on Tuesday if my beta is at say minus 5 or something horrid, I may react simply as if someone said "and would you like fries with your order?" But then again I may just duck in a shop alcove and ball my eyes out before I get home.
An imposed break
Well I think I needed a break from the computer world and holy ceramic cows if I didn't get it. The little guy was in the shop for two months, two months yes that's right TWO months, and then was promptly lost, and then and now replaced. The break from the cyber world was difficult at first and then it became liberating. It was just me against the world with no cheerleaders, I guess as it should be....as it really is if you think about it.
Coming back I see that many cyber friends are pregnant. whoopee!!
Okay, I do have to admit that the green monster is coming out a little. Mainly this is because I can't really join in yet and I really want to. I'm not in that club yet. I'm still in the uh er, other club which, let's admit it now, nobody really likes being in anyway, the Desperately Trying to get Pregnant Month after Month Club.
I hate this club too. I want out too!
Although I've filled out countless membership forms, heck was even a former member in good standing, I can't seem to get my latest application approved. Meanwhile I'm trying to be patient and not get pissy over things like when the box of pregnancy clothes falls on my head in the basement, breaks open and spills the entire contents onto the floor at my feet. I mean of all the boxes that were stacked up there, go figure.
Coming back I see that many cyber friends are pregnant. whoopee!!
Okay, I do have to admit that the green monster is coming out a little. Mainly this is because I can't really join in yet and I really want to. I'm not in that club yet. I'm still in the uh er, other club which, let's admit it now, nobody really likes being in anyway, the Desperately Trying to get Pregnant Month after Month Club.
I hate this club too. I want out too!
Although I've filled out countless membership forms, heck was even a former member in good standing, I can't seem to get my latest application approved. Meanwhile I'm trying to be patient and not get pissy over things like when the box of pregnancy clothes falls on my head in the basement, breaks open and spills the entire contents onto the floor at my feet. I mean of all the boxes that were stacked up there, go figure.
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