I don't know if it was a prank call or not but I got a message from Dr. Dieu's lab folks last week informing me that I have two frozen embryos. Apparently I have two blastocytes on ice. I almost dropped down on my knees when I heard. It didn't even occur to me that any had survived. In the past I've been so riddled with the bad egg moniker that I just assumed all of them were going to go bad again. I always roll my eyes when I get the permission form for freezing the eggs. "Yeah like I'll need this!" This time I even forgot to fill it out and the nurse had to chase me down the hallway to remind me to sign it.
Am I wrong to be feeling a slight spark of hope? I know the success rates for FET are not fabulous but I'm just so happy that two of my little guys have pulled through. I'd just like to sit there and stare at them for a few hours, admiring.
This really means a lot to me. It means I had a good stimulation and good eggs. It just means that they didn't attach for some reason. It's just a simple technical problem. It's not like the entire system is en panne.
Meanwhile the reason the embryos won't attach continues to dog me. The successful birth of our baby boy throws nearly all physical problems out the window. The uterus is apparently in good working order and the birth wasn't that long ago. So why isn't this working? Am I just hanging out in the bad statistic crowd?
Monday, November 27, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
The day after failure - a backdated post
Here is another backdated post. Sorry if all this is depressing. I really have gotten beyond all this by now and I'm feeling a lot better. I feel like keeping these unposted is unhealthy somehow. I guess it's necessary like emotional vomit.
And thank you so much for your comments. I'm really touched.
Tuesday, November 21st
Today, one day later and another night of restless sleep. It is very hard getting out of the bed. My legs feel like weights were attached to my feet as I slept. The effort at swinging them over causes me to actually groan out loud. Little S comes and offers me two broken potato chips, food left over from last night impromtu dinner. He looks at me remarking with his soulful little baby eyes that something is not quite right. Maybe all that strong holding, hugging and kissing yesterday had something to do with it. Definitely the tears and puffy eyes were something un-mommy like. I am a bad mother. I find it impossible to dash off into another room and let my emotions pitter patter out onto a kleenex. Everything is raw and right there. I am in no shape to hide behind the bathroom wall for ten minutes, every ten minutes. It's just too much and it comes up too quickly. I don't often see it coming until it hits me like a runaway train.
Little S and I stumble through breakfast and still the tears flow, dripping into a cup of coffee I make to give me something to do. Why is it that everything is so much more painful in the morning? Why is so much amplified upon waking?
The storm is bringing thunder and overcast skies. I feel utterly despondant. My neighbor fraps at the door and I jump, startled at the sound. I am so damned jumpy. "Can he borrow the key for our mutual outdoor passageway so he can move some furniture?" "key..." I think staring off absently. He is asking me something nearly impossible. He is asking me to think. He is asking me to interact. We both look down at a fat blackbird delivered on my doorstep by one of my cats. "How fitting" I say to myself. I give him the key trying to remain composed but knowing full well I look like a refugee suffering through a war. He must have noticed. I do not really care.
Later I call the doctor's office. Can I get the beta a little earlier? Yes I am sure it's not just spotting. Yes it's requiring me to use more than a pnty liner. Can I please have the test a few days early. Thank you. My heart and mind need to put this whole thing to rest. I'm relieved for the opportunity for closure.
Seb calls me back. "You know I was thinking, and I don't know how you feel, but I think we shouldn't give up so quickly." Something inside of me flickers a little. "I think if it's worth having than it's worth fighting for" He says warming my frozen heart just a little. Throwing me the tiniest food pellets of hope. I quickly scarf them down and digest them before he has time to throw any more. "That is unless you want to stop." His voice lowers when he says this and I am quick to say "No, we can't stop." What I feel like saying is "...it won't let me stop" but if I say this it will be necessary to explain the it. The it which is elusive and difficult for even me to understand. The it that is in the heart of every woman who ever longed for a child. The it that is causing all this pain right now.
And thank you so much for your comments. I'm really touched.
Tuesday, November 21st
Today, one day later and another night of restless sleep. It is very hard getting out of the bed. My legs feel like weights were attached to my feet as I slept. The effort at swinging them over causes me to actually groan out loud. Little S comes and offers me two broken potato chips, food left over from last night impromtu dinner. He looks at me remarking with his soulful little baby eyes that something is not quite right. Maybe all that strong holding, hugging and kissing yesterday had something to do with it. Definitely the tears and puffy eyes were something un-mommy like. I am a bad mother. I find it impossible to dash off into another room and let my emotions pitter patter out onto a kleenex. Everything is raw and right there. I am in no shape to hide behind the bathroom wall for ten minutes, every ten minutes. It's just too much and it comes up too quickly. I don't often see it coming until it hits me like a runaway train.
Little S and I stumble through breakfast and still the tears flow, dripping into a cup of coffee I make to give me something to do. Why is it that everything is so much more painful in the morning? Why is so much amplified upon waking?
The storm is bringing thunder and overcast skies. I feel utterly despondant. My neighbor fraps at the door and I jump, startled at the sound. I am so damned jumpy. "Can he borrow the key for our mutual outdoor passageway so he can move some furniture?" "key..." I think staring off absently. He is asking me something nearly impossible. He is asking me to think. He is asking me to interact. We both look down at a fat blackbird delivered on my doorstep by one of my cats. "How fitting" I say to myself. I give him the key trying to remain composed but knowing full well I look like a refugee suffering through a war. He must have noticed. I do not really care.
Later I call the doctor's office. Can I get the beta a little earlier? Yes I am sure it's not just spotting. Yes it's requiring me to use more than a pnty liner. Can I please have the test a few days early. Thank you. My heart and mind need to put this whole thing to rest. I'm relieved for the opportunity for closure.
Seb calls me back. "You know I was thinking, and I don't know how you feel, but I think we shouldn't give up so quickly." Something inside of me flickers a little. "I think if it's worth having than it's worth fighting for" He says warming my frozen heart just a little. Throwing me the tiniest food pellets of hope. I quickly scarf them down and digest them before he has time to throw any more. "That is unless you want to stop." His voice lowers when he says this and I am quick to say "No, we can't stop." What I feel like saying is "...it won't let me stop" but if I say this it will be necessary to explain the it. The it which is elusive and difficult for even me to understand. The it that is in the heart of every woman who ever longed for a child. The it that is causing all this pain right now.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
IVF two has failed - a backdated post
This post is backdated from Monday. Like I said I kept a diary even though I couldn't post the entries. Writing is such a natural form of therapy in infertility. It really helps clear the heart and mind.
Know that I feel a lot better than I did when this first happened. It is very bad and then it gets slightly better. I know the pattern now. At the end of two days the total darkness lifts and there is small shaft of light. At the end of two weeks it's still blurry but images start coming into focus. At the end of two months you feel like a slightly altered version of your old self.
Monday, November 20th
I guess I had need to worry about the weekend. Call it foresight, I mean if you believe in that sort of stuff. We women are so tense and turned inward during all this cycling that it would come as no surprise that there would be some inner female voice whispering the outcome. And so to make a long story well, even longer, the weekend played out very much like I hoped it wouldn't and feared it would. Somehow it still caught me completely off guard.
It's Sunday night and I run for a quick last pee before tucking myself into bed. I sit there, hurrying due to the cold, and when I glance down I am suddenly stung by fear. I feel the familiar pang of suffocation as the walls of the toilet close in tightly around me. The sight of pink. Pink spotting is not good. Pink is never good as anyone will tell you. Brown blood is okay, it's old blood probably from an earlier implantation, but pink dear ones is the kiss of death in many a well documented failing IVF or pregnancy. Still the optimistic hope villain wears on and I coax myself out of the toilet with a story. "Maybe it's just some really new implantation spotting." I try telling myself. But another part knows too well that the guillotine is about to fall. I am doomed to seek refuge for the next few days in that place I've gotten to know a little too well this year. The very awful brainstorm is about to blow back in.
I climb into bed and Seb must have seen the look on my face, white and ashen I suppose or maybe wide eyed and resigned. I don't know which it was but it prompted him to ask if I was okay. I look away from his eyes because I know I am about to lie and say flippantly, "oh I'm just having some low back pain you know and it has me worried." lie. lie. lie. His reaction is a stunned silence, followed by an exasperated sigh. I suddenly feel relieved that I didn't tell him the truth about the blood. Besides there was that whole possibility of implantation spotting and why get him worried for nothing, right?
I lie there in the bed staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep. It is pouring rain outside and the winds were blowing hard making the timbers in the old attic creak. I study the sounds, mind on hyper speed. What am I going to do? Oh my god what am I going to do?
On Monday morning the bleeding is worse, a bright shiny red and frighteningly glaring from such a dizzying altitude of hope. The crash. The plunge. A floodgate of tears that will not stop. An overwhelming feeling that any contact with the outside world would burn like the touch of an open flame. I stay inside all day. Invisible razor blades continue to slash at bits of my soul each time I am forced to go in the toilet. The grief process is neatly turned on. Almost with a click of a dial and the buzz of a power current ground zero of a long and intricate healing process starts all by itself. I don't control it. It controls me, leading me through the steps.
For at least now it is truly as if someone has died in this house. Little S doesn't understand. He doesn't talk but he looks confused. Why is mommy crying? Why is mommy sitting under the table so long? Is this a game? The day wears on and each task seems insurmountable. Loading the dishwasher and washing the laundry are beyond comprehension. Making the bed seems futile and the bed and covers offer a comforting alternative to coping with the task of standing up and dealing with living. I can cover my head. I can disappear.
The day ends with a power outage. How fitting the outage of the telephone and internet is. The lights flicker off and on and it is as though the shortage of electricity ebbs and flows with my own inner tide of emotions. The internet and phone stay out of service and I have to admit that I am pleased to have an excuse not to answer the phone and act the part of someone mildly disappointed but coping just the same. I am not mildly disappointed. I am devastated. It's impossible to hide.
Later in the evening I call Seb and tell him finally, "It's over. I'm bleeding." Silence. He is so overwhelmed with shock that he says nothing for what seems a whole minute. "Are you still there...honey?" He does not answer. Can not. Finally a peep of a voice filters through. "Why were we able to have one baby and now this?" the angry words tumbling off his lips before he has time to think of the implication to my fragile well being. It seems he too has invested far too much hope in the cycle. He too was blindsided. He didn't see the negative results coming any more than I did. To him it was just a question of would it be twins? Maybe it would just be one child and we'd be a little disappointed. We always wanted twins. What infertile couple doesn't dream of that? The delicious bounty of two perfect children. It wasn't twins. It wasn't anything. He would have to accept that it was in fact nothing at all.
Know that I feel a lot better than I did when this first happened. It is very bad and then it gets slightly better. I know the pattern now. At the end of two days the total darkness lifts and there is small shaft of light. At the end of two weeks it's still blurry but images start coming into focus. At the end of two months you feel like a slightly altered version of your old self.
Monday, November 20th
I guess I had need to worry about the weekend. Call it foresight, I mean if you believe in that sort of stuff. We women are so tense and turned inward during all this cycling that it would come as no surprise that there would be some inner female voice whispering the outcome. And so to make a long story well, even longer, the weekend played out very much like I hoped it wouldn't and feared it would. Somehow it still caught me completely off guard.
It's Sunday night and I run for a quick last pee before tucking myself into bed. I sit there, hurrying due to the cold, and when I glance down I am suddenly stung by fear. I feel the familiar pang of suffocation as the walls of the toilet close in tightly around me. The sight of pink. Pink spotting is not good. Pink is never good as anyone will tell you. Brown blood is okay, it's old blood probably from an earlier implantation, but pink dear ones is the kiss of death in many a well documented failing IVF or pregnancy. Still the optimistic hope villain wears on and I coax myself out of the toilet with a story. "Maybe it's just some really new implantation spotting." I try telling myself. But another part knows too well that the guillotine is about to fall. I am doomed to seek refuge for the next few days in that place I've gotten to know a little too well this year. The very awful brainstorm is about to blow back in.
I climb into bed and Seb must have seen the look on my face, white and ashen I suppose or maybe wide eyed and resigned. I don't know which it was but it prompted him to ask if I was okay. I look away from his eyes because I know I am about to lie and say flippantly, "oh I'm just having some low back pain you know and it has me worried." lie. lie. lie. His reaction is a stunned silence, followed by an exasperated sigh. I suddenly feel relieved that I didn't tell him the truth about the blood. Besides there was that whole possibility of implantation spotting and why get him worried for nothing, right?
I lie there in the bed staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep. It is pouring rain outside and the winds were blowing hard making the timbers in the old attic creak. I study the sounds, mind on hyper speed. What am I going to do? Oh my god what am I going to do?
On Monday morning the bleeding is worse, a bright shiny red and frighteningly glaring from such a dizzying altitude of hope. The crash. The plunge. A floodgate of tears that will not stop. An overwhelming feeling that any contact with the outside world would burn like the touch of an open flame. I stay inside all day. Invisible razor blades continue to slash at bits of my soul each time I am forced to go in the toilet. The grief process is neatly turned on. Almost with a click of a dial and the buzz of a power current ground zero of a long and intricate healing process starts all by itself. I don't control it. It controls me, leading me through the steps.
For at least now it is truly as if someone has died in this house. Little S doesn't understand. He doesn't talk but he looks confused. Why is mommy crying? Why is mommy sitting under the table so long? Is this a game? The day wears on and each task seems insurmountable. Loading the dishwasher and washing the laundry are beyond comprehension. Making the bed seems futile and the bed and covers offer a comforting alternative to coping with the task of standing up and dealing with living. I can cover my head. I can disappear.
The day ends with a power outage. How fitting the outage of the telephone and internet is. The lights flicker off and on and it is as though the shortage of electricity ebbs and flows with my own inner tide of emotions. The internet and phone stay out of service and I have to admit that I am pleased to have an excuse not to answer the phone and act the part of someone mildly disappointed but coping just the same. I am not mildly disappointed. I am devastated. It's impossible to hide.
Later in the evening I call Seb and tell him finally, "It's over. I'm bleeding." Silence. He is so overwhelmed with shock that he says nothing for what seems a whole minute. "Are you still there...honey?" He does not answer. Can not. Finally a peep of a voice filters through. "Why were we able to have one baby and now this?" the angry words tumbling off his lips before he has time to think of the implication to my fragile well being. It seems he too has invested far too much hope in the cycle. He too was blindsided. He didn't see the negative results coming any more than I did. To him it was just a question of would it be twins? Maybe it would just be one child and we'd be a little disappointed. We always wanted twins. What infertile couple doesn't dream of that? The delicious bounty of two perfect children. It wasn't twins. It wasn't anything. He would have to accept that it was in fact nothing at all.
The bomb
My telephone and internet has been disconnected for four days and you can't imagine how difficult that has been. No internet. No Google. No nobody. It's been a very lonely four days.
Maybe it was a good thing to be cut off from the world. I think I needed the solitude. Today was the first day since Sunday that I left the house. Yes, as you can imagine the second IVF has failed. I never made it to the beta. I got the news Monday morning, special delivery from The Splotch Lady herself. It seems my name was on her *#@&! clipboard after all.
I still felt the need to write over the past four days and I kept a diary. It's pretty raw so I'm not sure if I will want to share it. Then again it probably would have all been posted here anyway. I'll consider putting it up over the next few days. It may help someone else to realize that they aren't so alone if they read about my feelings during this whole thing.
My mailbox was wonderfully full. Thanks you all for your concern and for being there. I really wish I could have read them earlier.
Maybe it was a good thing to be cut off from the world. I think I needed the solitude. Today was the first day since Sunday that I left the house. Yes, as you can imagine the second IVF has failed. I never made it to the beta. I got the news Monday morning, special delivery from The Splotch Lady herself. It seems my name was on her *#@&! clipboard after all.
I still felt the need to write over the past four days and I kept a diary. It's pretty raw so I'm not sure if I will want to share it. Then again it probably would have all been posted here anyway. I'll consider putting it up over the next few days. It may help someone else to realize that they aren't so alone if they read about my feelings during this whole thing.
My mailbox was wonderfully full. Thanks you all for your concern and for being there. I really wish I could have read them earlier.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Whiskers on kittens
“Patience is bitter, but it's fruit is sweet.” --Jean Jacques Rousseau
I'm not very god at this waiting thing. The dreaded weekend is upon us and I am in a state of depression bordering on anxious hand wringing hope. I am still having the cramps, soreness, mood swings and vivid dream scenarios, last night's particularly disturbing because I dreamt that I was delivered The Splotch while going to pee. There it was all over my lucky IVF underwear.* Having vivid dreams made this all seem so real. I woke up severely depressed feeling like it had actually just happened. I recovered thinking "whew just a dream". I got out of bed to eat breakfast and shake it all off but the lingering feeling stayed, pulsing through my nervous system with disgusting vigor. After all the dream was so incredibly real it was difficult to shun.
I will not do an HPT. I'm not that eager to get all this over with. If you know anything about astrology I'll just say I'm a Pisces. We're the ones who like to avoid reality and live in a nice little cushy dream world of our own making. I think that about sums it up. At least without the HPT there is still hope and I can stay in my little fantasy land and imagine that it's working. If I do the test then it will be like last time. I can remember I had to sit there and reread the stupid box all weekend that says "99.9 and 9/10th's accuracy." Then when I scanned the instructions for the 1/10th percent inaccuracy, because you never know!! I read that it's only there because some people are really stupid and pee on the box or the receipt from the drugstore or some other I'm-a-nervous-wreck-teenager-and-I-think-I-hear-my-mom- coming thing. And then panic set in and I spent the entire weekend very miserable instead of wistfully hopeful. Julie Andrews turns Joan Crawford at the shake of stick if you will.
I asked the ladies on my TTC board to do a survey about getting pregnant with their IVF's since so many of them have fallen pregnant in the last year. I posed symptoms questions asking them if they kew they were pregant before the beta. They all said no. Only one person said they sort of "knew" beforehand. I felt better. I have almost forgotten what pregnant feels like but I definitley do not feel pregnant at all this time. I feel more unpregnant than ever. If anything I just feel slightly premenstral. I'm usually way more premenstral than this so even old reliable AF is off kilter. What a freaking mess this all is.
So meanwhile, anyone wanna go on the roof and pelt progesterone tablets at the neighbor's cats with me? I'm sure they'll eat them and we can see what kinds of symptoms they get. Come on it will be fun. I so need a diversion.
Okay the very least you can do is invent a diversion for me. What wacky things can I do to while the weekend away?
*Yes I actually have a set of six IVF underwear. They're practical too because the progesterone is harsh on rayon and silk undies and I take a lot of pride in my beautiful underwear collection!
I'm not very god at this waiting thing. The dreaded weekend is upon us and I am in a state of depression bordering on anxious hand wringing hope. I am still having the cramps, soreness, mood swings and vivid dream scenarios, last night's particularly disturbing because I dreamt that I was delivered The Splotch while going to pee. There it was all over my lucky IVF underwear.* Having vivid dreams made this all seem so real. I woke up severely depressed feeling like it had actually just happened. I recovered thinking "whew just a dream". I got out of bed to eat breakfast and shake it all off but the lingering feeling stayed, pulsing through my nervous system with disgusting vigor. After all the dream was so incredibly real it was difficult to shun.
I will not do an HPT. I'm not that eager to get all this over with. If you know anything about astrology I'll just say I'm a Pisces. We're the ones who like to avoid reality and live in a nice little cushy dream world of our own making. I think that about sums it up. At least without the HPT there is still hope and I can stay in my little fantasy land and imagine that it's working. If I do the test then it will be like last time. I can remember I had to sit there and reread the stupid box all weekend that says "99.9 and 9/10th's accuracy." Then when I scanned the instructions for the 1/10th percent inaccuracy, because you never know!! I read that it's only there because some people are really stupid and pee on the box or the receipt from the drugstore or some other I'm-a-nervous-wreck-teenager-and-I-think-I-hear-my-mom- coming thing. And then panic set in and I spent the entire weekend very miserable instead of wistfully hopeful. Julie Andrews turns Joan Crawford at the shake of stick if you will.
I asked the ladies on my TTC board to do a survey about getting pregnant with their IVF's since so many of them have fallen pregnant in the last year. I posed symptoms questions asking them if they kew they were pregant before the beta. They all said no. Only one person said they sort of "knew" beforehand. I felt better. I have almost forgotten what pregnant feels like but I definitley do not feel pregnant at all this time. I feel more unpregnant than ever. If anything I just feel slightly premenstral. I'm usually way more premenstral than this so even old reliable AF is off kilter. What a freaking mess this all is.
So meanwhile, anyone wanna go on the roof and pelt progesterone tablets at the neighbor's cats with me? I'm sure they'll eat them and we can see what kinds of symptoms they get. Come on it will be fun. I so need a diversion.
Okay the very least you can do is invent a diversion for me. What wacky things can I do to while the weekend away?
*Yes I actually have a set of six IVF underwear. They're practical too because the progesterone is harsh on rayon and silk undies and I take a lot of pride in my beautiful underwear collection!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Video diary - The horrors of a two week wait
Okay here I am with nothing but time on my hands. Maybe if I worked it would be better. Then again if you work how do you concentrate? I can barely concentrate on my morning toast right now.
Here's my latest video. That paper that I have in my mouth is stapled to the bulletin board by my computer. It's my prescription for next Thursday's beta test. I can't stop staring at it. It's making me insane.
Here's my latest video. That paper that I have in my mouth is stapled to the bulletin board by my computer. It's my prescription for next Thursday's beta test. I can't stop staring at it. It's making me insane.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The splotch lady and her clipboard
Okay so here I sit bloated like a beluga, crampy and grumped out to the max. My boobs are incredibly tender on the sides but we all know that if my ninety year old granny takes progesterone she'll have these same symptoms. Grandpa has been gone an awful long time so I doubt she'd declare herself pregnant with baby number eight.
Progesterone is an evil boyfriend-stealing bitch. I hate almost everything about it. Notice I said ALMOST.
The cramps are pretty strong and right now it feels like aunt flo is absentmindedly tapping a pen on a clipboard. I'm getting visions of what might happen in a few days:
I'm so on edge I feel like my eardrums are going to explode. That could be the lack of caffeine. It could be the lack of human contact. Where is everyone this week? Even the cyber world is absent.
Hopefully this will all end soon. My beta is on Thanksgiving day next week. I couldn't imagine a more fitting day one way or another. If it's a negative the irony of the whole thing will make even me laugh, reminding me that the universe does have a sense of humor. Otherwise if it's a positive I'll be able to produce a helluva "Chicken Soup for the IVFer's Soul" story now won't I.
Progesterone is an evil boyfriend-stealing bitch. I hate almost everything about it. Notice I said ALMOST.
The cramps are pretty strong and right now it feels like aunt flo is absentmindedly tapping a pen on a clipboard. I'm getting visions of what might happen in a few days:
"Next please!"
"me?" *pointing to myself and glancing around nervously*
"yes you! Who else? Are you stupid or what? You in the black sweater. Come on will you."
"But I wasn't supposed to...they said...you were supposed to...uh, be ...next week I have a be ..."
"...HEY...it says on my list you're next and that's what they pay me to do read your name and give you this giant red splotch. I am not here to babysit the masses lady. I have a lot of other women to visit and some of them actually LIKE me and welcome me into their homes. Some of them greet me with big bouquets of roses. One lady last week baked me chocolate chip cookies she was so happy I called her name."
"Pleeze lady. You are just a fat, ugly, smelly old skanky HO. And your mama before you was a fat, ugly, smelly, skanky Ho. And you can take your clipboard and your giant splotch and shove it up your big, old hairy... "
"Well I never! There is always a reason we have an X by certain names. I can certainly see why yours has one. One of the difficult ones!" *blows whistle* "Guard! Guaaard! It's one of those IVF ladies. She's being rude to me. I told you I will not even deal with these people anymore. Take her to the back room. Give her the splotch please!"
"Nooo...not the splotch!" *fighting the straight jacket*
I'm so on edge I feel like my eardrums are going to explode. That could be the lack of caffeine. It could be the lack of human contact. Where is everyone this week? Even the cyber world is absent.
Hopefully this will all end soon. My beta is on Thanksgiving day next week. I couldn't imagine a more fitting day one way or another. If it's a negative the irony of the whole thing will make even me laugh, reminding me that the universe does have a sense of humor. Otherwise if it's a positive I'll be able to produce a helluva "Chicken Soup for the IVFer's Soul" story now won't I.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Giddy enthusiastic infertiles and me before the blog
Okay I'm so incredibly bored and nightmarishly jittery that I can't stop fidgeting with search engines of every dang sort imaginable. I was so bored last night that I started digging through old posts from my old TTC board. If you're any kind of veteran infertile then visiting old web boards you used to post on like this is the equivalent of looking through a high school yearbook because all the posts are really dorky and you read remarks that say things like "OMG Misschrisc I hope that embie sticks like superglue! Good luck to you!! Baby dust to everyone!!" And then you know, the cycle turned out to be a bust and later you stopped asking for baby dust because you were pretty much sure it was lethal and should be labeled as a Class A drug.
I still keep in touch with some of the women from my TTC board and I think those that I do keep up with have crawled through enough mucky trenches with me that I'm pretty sure they wouldn't wish any baby dust on me or anyone else for that matter. I'm pretty sure in their early days they like me were naieve and seemed confident that perfect "embies" came along each cycle, that we all ovulated on day 14 and that baby dust should be bottled and sold in Walmart because it was just so freaking wonderful. It's refreshing to have moved beyond all of that. Thank god for that reality check.
In digging around I found this old post which I found rather funny. I wrote this in January 2004 a few days before my first ever positive beta. A positive beta that was realized after an awful lot of muck: two years of natural ttc, two clomid cycles, two injectable cycles, five IUI's and one bittersweet cancelled IVF. Five years of trying to make a baby using all the ammunition available. That positive beta rocked my world! (and for the record he's still rocking it as we speak).
Pay close attention to theory number two because that's exactly what happened, little devil.
I still keep in touch with some of the women from my TTC board and I think those that I do keep up with have crawled through enough mucky trenches with me that I'm pretty sure they wouldn't wish any baby dust on me or anyone else for that matter. I'm pretty sure in their early days they like me were naieve and seemed confident that perfect "embies" came along each cycle, that we all ovulated on day 14 and that baby dust should be bottled and sold in Walmart because it was just so freaking wonderful. It's refreshing to have moved beyond all of that. Thank god for that reality check.
In digging around I found this old post which I found rather funny. I wrote this in January 2004 a few days before my first ever positive beta. A positive beta that was realized after an awful lot of muck: two years of natural ttc, two clomid cycles, two injectable cycles, five IUI's and one bittersweet cancelled IVF. Five years of trying to make a baby using all the ammunition available. That positive beta rocked my world! (and for the record he's still rocking it as we speak).
Pay close attention to theory number two because that's exactly what happened, little devil.
****
"I went to pee last night and lo and behold there was a glob of cm with a tinge of pink streak through it. My bathroom microscope may not have been adjusted to the right setting so I'm not really so sure about the grade levels...but, it was like yellowish ewcm. This is weird. I mean cm I have in ALL forms and if you've ever dealt with progesteron suppositories you'll be shaking your head along with me. We're talking concrete underwear at the end of the day people! (sorry for the enthusiasm) But progesterone leaves a "certain" trail I've come to affectionately know and this was not that. I have no idea WHATS going on. I just have three warped theories. Here goes:
Theory 1: AF is knockin' on my door with her basket full of goodies. Pushy broad that she is she is knocking at the WRONG time and is very uninvited. She has lost her key (my locksmith named Progesterone--good guy) and she's leaving her calling card and this lovely glob of ewcm as a gift because she knows I always have liked finding that. How sweet of her. I'm doomed.
Theory 2: The little tyke is implanting really late. He's going to be quite a handful when he gets here and he's showing that stubborn side now. "Hey...you WERE always late mister and don't give me that attitude!! Wipe that smirk off your face. This is your mother talking!"" He's going to cause me to have a really low beta which will just give me more even stress. Kids...golly the troubles and worries they cause us little devils!
Theory 3: The stress from the 2ww has caused a large HOLE to form in my stomach which is currently eating through my uterus in its second stage. The blood is slowly trickling and I will die just five minutes before my beta on Thursday. "How tragic!" they'll say "...she was pregnant with twins.." DH will surely get defensive and say "I told her not to stress but she didn't listen!"
And then there's the Conspiracy Theory where the Taliban came in and tampered with my toilet paper but I don't want you all to think I'm paranoid or anything. Pessimist that I am I'm sticking with theory one. Tragic Dissapointment has become very comfortable in my old age."
Two weeks of hope...why me?
I awoke this morning with cramps. They were what you might call mild, very mild in fact, almost barely not even there. Maybe even so slight that you might not even call them cramps, but more like heaviness. So there I have noted it. I have taken it down in the notepad and submitted it for consideration. The committee is adding it to their pile of information which they amass during this type of thing. You know, the little mental committee that discusses these things by conference calls thrice daily and then abruptly convenes near at the end of the two weeks for the massive summit, that massive summit where The Great IF gets decided.
Meanwhile I wait *drumming fingers*
I have polished all of my copper pots in my kitchen. Usually I just toss them in the dishwasher once a month to get them relatively splotch free, a lazy girls way of taking care of a pretty little set of pots, but yesterday I polished them with gusto using a product that's been sitting in the basement for a few years. While I was down there I grabbed our enormous box of photographs, an overwhelming visual melange of my previous life and Seb's, intertwined in a massive array of ski photos, French weddings and Florida sunsets. I decided that it was the perfect week to tackle this little organizing project seeing as these next few weeks will leave me with so much head scratching and pondering. In one of the first batch of photos were pictures of Seb's ex girlfriend, Kay and I imagined how his life may have been different, or mine had he stayed with her. Well actually I imagine she would have driven him to mental institution and I have probably singlehandedly rescued him from that judicious fate, but that maybe they would have had a few kids along the way, the easy way, and he would have found that part of life so much simpler. You can't help but wonder these things when faced with the ex-files.
Okay I'm rambling. Bear with me.
I had a really strange water dream last night, or maybe it was just what my mom calls pee dreams. I just remember wading through these murky, flood waters to get to this parking garage where I was supposed to meet the semi famous, amateur video maker Brookers. The strange part was at some point I reached under my long skirt and pulled out from between my legs a jar with two babies stuffed inside. I said to myself "damn it's probably too early to have pulled these out because they're still processing." They looked quite silent and still. I tried to put them back but I couldn't figure out how. I can remember wondering if there was a third baby in a jar up there somewhere and what state it was in. It was such a bizarre and vivid dream and I have no idea why two babies were in one jar and the other baby was presumably in another jar all alone. I also couldn't figure why they appeared to be near full term babies and not embryos. I have no insight into what it could mean but I think fertility dreams are always very telling. I welcome any armchair analysis you might want to add to it.
I'm going to get back to my photo organizing, a fun little project to do with the help of a toddler. He is ready and willing to aid in any way he can, black permanent marker poised. I'm going to let him file all the photos of "daddy and the ex." I'm sure he'll be very helpful.
Meanwhile I wait *drumming fingers*
I have polished all of my copper pots in my kitchen. Usually I just toss them in the dishwasher once a month to get them relatively splotch free, a lazy girls way of taking care of a pretty little set of pots, but yesterday I polished them with gusto using a product that's been sitting in the basement for a few years. While I was down there I grabbed our enormous box of photographs, an overwhelming visual melange of my previous life and Seb's, intertwined in a massive array of ski photos, French weddings and Florida sunsets. I decided that it was the perfect week to tackle this little organizing project seeing as these next few weeks will leave me with so much head scratching and pondering. In one of the first batch of photos were pictures of Seb's ex girlfriend, Kay and I imagined how his life may have been different, or mine had he stayed with her. Well actually I imagine she would have driven him to mental institution and I have probably singlehandedly rescued him from that judicious fate, but that maybe they would have had a few kids along the way, the easy way, and he would have found that part of life so much simpler. You can't help but wonder these things when faced with the ex-files.
Okay I'm rambling. Bear with me.
I had a really strange water dream last night, or maybe it was just what my mom calls pee dreams. I just remember wading through these murky, flood waters to get to this parking garage where I was supposed to meet the semi famous, amateur video maker Brookers. The strange part was at some point I reached under my long skirt and pulled out from between my legs a jar with two babies stuffed inside. I said to myself "damn it's probably too early to have pulled these out because they're still processing." They looked quite silent and still. I tried to put them back but I couldn't figure out how. I can remember wondering if there was a third baby in a jar up there somewhere and what state it was in. It was such a bizarre and vivid dream and I have no idea why two babies were in one jar and the other baby was presumably in another jar all alone. I also couldn't figure why they appeared to be near full term babies and not embryos. I have no insight into what it could mean but I think fertility dreams are always very telling. I welcome any armchair analysis you might want to add to it.
I'm going to get back to my photo organizing, a fun little project to do with the help of a toddler. He is ready and willing to aid in any way he can, black permanent marker poised. I'm going to let him file all the photos of "daddy and the ex." I'm sure he'll be very helpful.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Video diary - The egg retreival
Well as you can see I'm back from the egg retreival and the egg transfer. I had lots of things to talk about so I threw it all together in a video. This video thing is just too easy. I think I'm inclined to abuse it.
I'll be back on the writing bandwagon for a while here. I think the writing helps me think things through a little better.
Meanwhile for all those who were curious about how things went...enjoy.
I'll be back on the writing bandwagon for a while here. I think the writing helps me think things through a little better.
Meanwhile for all those who were curious about how things went...enjoy.
Video diary - Back from egg retreival
Well as you can see I'm back from the egg retreival and the egg transfer. I had lots of things to talk about so I threw it all together in a video. This video thing is just too easy. I think I'm inclined to abuse it.
I'll be back on the writing bandwagon for a while here. I think the writing helps me think things through a little better. The videos are fun to make and edit but they don't clear my head out in the same way that forming the ideas in my head and then putting them on a page does. Isn't that funny?
Meanwhile for all those who were curious about how things went, enjoy my telling of all the gory details.
I'll be back on the writing bandwagon for a while here. I think the writing helps me think things through a little better. The videos are fun to make and edit but they don't clear my head out in the same way that forming the ideas in my head and then putting them on a page does. Isn't that funny?
Meanwhile for all those who were curious about how things went, enjoy my telling of all the gory details.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Video diary - panic attack!
Boy oh boy was yesterday stressful. I hate the idea that the entire hospital shuts down on the weekends and staff is only reachable by cell phones. Cell phones are completely unreliable pieces of crap, ask me because I know. Having that as your only liaison between certain ovulation and the next step is scary. Being in that position when you're choosing between croissants and pain-au-chocolat at the bakery is one thing "honey, which do you want? The raisin bread looks good too...", but when it comes to creating my potential children I'd really rather have something more reliable to depend on like say... real people standing right in front of me and real secretaries manning a huge switchboard!!
I'll explain it all in my little video. It was a quick one made as I just got out of bed, which is why my voice is so odd and congested. Seb happened to mention that maybe I should put some makeup on before I do videos I put out for the world to see, but I told him that if I get rich one day I might hire an anchorwoman with bobbed hair and a Nancy Reagan suit to do all my videos for me. I never was very good on the other side of the camera. It's much more fun to be in the editing room if you ask me.
I'll explain it all in my little video. It was a quick one made as I just got out of bed, which is why my voice is so odd and congested. Seb happened to mention that maybe I should put some makeup on before I do videos I put out for the world to see, but I told him that if I get rich one day I might hire an anchorwoman with bobbed hair and a Nancy Reagan suit to do all my videos for me. I never was very good on the other side of the camera. It's much more fun to be in the editing room if you ask me.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Oh dear why does it have to be on a weekend?
So I kinda sorta have a retreival date on Wednesday but of course nothing is sure yet because there is still the dreaded weekend to get through and weekends in France are pretty much the time when it might be best to commit murder or rob a person at gunpoint or do whatever crime you have to get off your chest because it's fairly certain that even if the police are working, they're most likely standing around a coffee machine making fun of their boss or trading crass jokes about women in short skirts. So yeah, the weekend.The last few scans in IVF are the most important ones and the last scan, the big deciding scan is the MOST important. If any of the information is screwed up, the dosage not regulated well, a dose is missed or any other type of miscommunication occurs, the IVF patient can quickly ovulate and the whole cycle will be shot to hell. So, my last scan is Saturday. Yeah, the weekend!
Yesterday when I talked to the nurse she explained to me what I needed to do to get throught the weekend and gave me the cell phone number of the on call doctor at the hospital who will be my liasion after my all-important Saturday scan. The secretary and nurses are not there on Saturday and I assume most of the doctors are gone too so after I see Dr. Stonehenge Saturday morning and he e-mails my result to the hospital I am to hear from this on call doctor before six. If by around six he doesn't call then I'm to call him directly on his cell phone and scream somthing like "HEY, where the @¤%! F*CK ARE you asshole...it's one damned minute past SIX ALREADY!!" because I can't stop picturing him sitting in a café at six drinking a glass of beaujolais and staring annoyingly at his ringing phone, trying to decide whether he should pick it up or not..."no eet will be jeest zee woman ahmereecan which eez very annoying wiss her accent..ouf!"
So yeah, the weekend.
It's looking like I'll have my next scan tomorrow, which is Saturday and then perhaps continue the drugs through Sunday, and then trigger the eggs to release late Monday. This means I will have my retrieval in Lyon on Wednesday if all goes well.
I'm going to be so angry though if these beautiful eggs are wasted on the French penchant for the 36 hour work week. I have worked too hard to get here only to have it lost in some weakly constructed chinese telephone labyrinth, and heads will roll right up to Chirac's oversized feet if this cycle fails because of that.
Okay yeah, so that's what a Gonal-F rant sounds like. You just don't want to mess with me right now. I am a volcano of destruction. Watch out weekend shift!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Big scan day
Tomorrow I get another scan and bloodwork. This is the big scan though which will most likely tell me whether or not I stay on the stims, whether I trigger soon, or as in the case of an old cycle from three years ago whether I already ovulated and all is gloom and doom. I don't think I'll be sleeping very well tonight. I want to get tomorrow over with.
I hate the last weeks of IVF treatment. It's a lot of melodrama and it's really hard to handle melodrama when you're all hopped up on hormones and without caffeine or sugar.
I really do need a good night's sleep though otherwise I'll blame that if this cycle is a bust.
I hate the last weeks of IVF treatment. It's a lot of melodrama and it's really hard to handle melodrama when you're all hopped up on hormones and without caffeine or sugar.
I really do need a good night's sleep though otherwise I'll blame that if this cycle is a bust.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
Video diary - "my first scan"
I should have posted this two days ago but finally here I've finished it and Blogger is cooperating. The news is a little old.
I already have another video to add to this so I'll probably put that one up soon.
I already have another video to add to this so I'll probably put that one up soon.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
A fully stocked freezer would be nice
I saw Dr. Stonehenge today for my little scan to see if the follicles are all sitting nicely and playing together well, not pushing to get ahead of anyone or any bullying at the playground. It seems like everything is okay from what I saw. All the follicles are measuring between 5-7mm, sitting pretty and waiting for their call to duty. Dr. Stonehenge is a man of few words so it was hard to say but I think everything is going well from what I could glean from him and from my many years of past experience with this sort of thing.
When I came into his office this morning and after our greeting each other I gave him the rundown, "it's day 14 of Décapyptyl, everything's going well so far...no major snafus!" I think I probably threw him off kilter from his usual speech because he responded with "don't you have any frozen embryos?" I just gave him a blank stare and then shook my head no. What kind of question was that? Of course a million curt comebacks ran through my head as I lay waiting in the dim romantic ambiance of the sonogram room.
I talked with a friend about this recently because she has the same set of doctors, this bee-zar phenomenon of French infertility doctors not sharing loads of information with their patients, and of the patients sitting back and complacently accepting the ignorance. We talked about French spouses and how they kind of want us to go with the flow and how this is probably part of the norm here, or so it seems. It's something I don't accept and never will. It gets me in lots of little tussles, but it usually gets excused by the fact that I am after all "l'americaine" and I have to know now don't I. Yes, I do. It's my body and it's my right. It's also my habit. I'm sorry if that bugs the caretakers in this country.
***
Of course I had no frozens and was well aware of it, of course I know my protocol before he even asks me, of course I call the drugs by name and know my cycle day, and of course the fact that my follicles are measuring on target puts me at ease even if he doesn't feel the need to share it with me.
I'm still laughing though. Does he really think I'd have been stupid enough to come in for a suppression scan if I were doing a frozen cycle? Does this actually happen from time to time? I really hope not but the fact that he asks makes me feel like it probably does happen.
When I came into his office this morning and after our greeting each other I gave him the rundown, "it's day 14 of Décapyptyl, everything's going well so far...no major snafus!" I think I probably threw him off kilter from his usual speech because he responded with "don't you have any frozen embryos?" I just gave him a blank stare and then shook my head no. What kind of question was that? Of course a million curt comebacks ran through my head as I lay waiting in the dim romantic ambiance of the sonogram room.
"Yeah, we just wanted to do another cycle of injections for old time's sake doc. Humor me and do the scan..."
"Frozen Schmozen we're all natural. No way we'd accept frozen! Get out of here!"
"You mean they can FREEZE them?"
"poor wittle cold baby...awww"
"Umm...somebody forgot to plug...the unit...back...in. They all THAWED!" *sob*
"I just wanted to see you again. I'm madly in love with you Doctor Stonehenge! For god's sake don't tell my husband!" *runs at doctor with flailing arms*
"Oh f*ck I totally forgot. Where IS my head these days!"
"Jeez nobody tells me nothin' no more! I bet they called you first and told you. I AM always the last to know..."
I talked with a friend about this recently because she has the same set of doctors, this bee-zar phenomenon of French infertility doctors not sharing loads of information with their patients, and of the patients sitting back and complacently accepting the ignorance. We talked about French spouses and how they kind of want us to go with the flow and how this is probably part of the norm here, or so it seems. It's something I don't accept and never will. It gets me in lots of little tussles, but it usually gets excused by the fact that I am after all "l'americaine" and I have to know now don't I. Yes, I do. It's my body and it's my right. It's also my habit. I'm sorry if that bugs the caretakers in this country.
Of course I had no frozens and was well aware of it, of course I know my protocol before he even asks me, of course I call the drugs by name and know my cycle day, and of course the fact that my follicles are measuring on target puts me at ease even if he doesn't feel the need to share it with me.
I'm still laughing though. Does he really think I'd have been stupid enough to come in for a suppression scan if I were doing a frozen cycle? Does this actually happen from time to time? I really hope not but the fact that he asks makes me feel like it probably does happen.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Video diary - "Planning the future"
There is no hope for the hair but here is the latest update anyway.
Remember that if you click on the YouTube icon in the bottom right corner you can have a scaled up version of the video.
Remember that if you click on the YouTube icon in the bottom right corner you can have a scaled up version of the video.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Sharing
The in laws are here and we really didn't want to tell them about the IVF, or at least I didn't want to tell them about it. Seb doesn't really mind if they know, but then he doesn't resent the probing as much as I do. I don't even tell my own mother about the IVF's and I like to keep a low profile during the whole procedure, at least where real life friends and family are concerned.
The last few times we've done ART crap Seb's parents have tended to hang on to each event like it's a really good soap opera that they're dying to see the last episode of. I know from experience that they share details about our personal lives with friends and family and I hate that our news is travelling in circles of people we will one day come across at a wedding or Christmas meal where I'll be the focus of a sympathetic aunt or the fodder for comparison between a cousin who couldn't have a baby for a whole year but finally gave birth because she just relaxed and stopped worrying. Probably the worst thing is that they tend to call a lot with the probing demand of "soooooo...what's the news?" and when the news is bad, we really don't want to share it. When the news is good we don't want to share it either because we know they'll all say "oh that's great!" and it makes me nervous to hear people becoming overly excited about what we see as a fragile success in the venture, and to be honest I feel like it jinxes the whole thing worse than if we'd gone out and bought a lace covered baby bassinette and half a dozen pink onsies with "Angel" scrolled across the chest.
This weekend though there was little way to get around the IVF news what with our tiny living quarters and the fridge being the focal point of all these French stomachs, because whenever something comes out of the fridge all eyes turn toward it like it's some kind of totem god. And so I had to admit that the ziplock baggie was not full of some kind of lavish little imported snack, but was quite simply an antiovulatory cocktail that I'd soon be plunging into my flabby gut, exteriorment. After that admission it didn't even seem worth the effort to mount the dark stairs to mix the drugs in my son's cramped bedroom, so I simply laid it all out and mixed on the dining room table like I do each night while curious eyes followed my every step, darting and saying nothing. I hid in the wc for the actual injection, but when I came out I had injected badly and blood was pooling on the little cotton ball at a somewhat alarming rate so it looked as if every night must be as painful and messy as this. Mother-in-law said nothing and changed the subject to something sunny and cheery and father-in-law started another solitaire game on the computer while I cleaned up the debris of needles, syringes and bloody cotton and tucked all the products back in the fridge.
It's always hard sharing IVF with family and friends who haven't been there already, explaining the details and losing them in the jargon, conveying emotions and dodging the hurtful but apparently well-meant comments of the "I hope you don't end up with quadruplets!" genre. I've heard them all, glossed over them all and decided in the end that it's probably best not to share the news with anyone at all except a select few who have been down the road before. Sometimes though it's unavoidable and I know next week we'll get the same question "sooo...what's going on with the IVF?"
Maybe mother-in-law should just start reading my blog.
The last few times we've done ART crap Seb's parents have tended to hang on to each event like it's a really good soap opera that they're dying to see the last episode of. I know from experience that they share details about our personal lives with friends and family and I hate that our news is travelling in circles of people we will one day come across at a wedding or Christmas meal where I'll be the focus of a sympathetic aunt or the fodder for comparison between a cousin who couldn't have a baby for a whole year but finally gave birth because she just relaxed and stopped worrying. Probably the worst thing is that they tend to call a lot with the probing demand of "soooooo...what's the news?" and when the news is bad, we really don't want to share it. When the news is good we don't want to share it either because we know they'll all say "oh that's great!" and it makes me nervous to hear people becoming overly excited about what we see as a fragile success in the venture, and to be honest I feel like it jinxes the whole thing worse than if we'd gone out and bought a lace covered baby bassinette and half a dozen pink onsies with "Angel" scrolled across the chest.
This weekend though there was little way to get around the IVF news what with our tiny living quarters and the fridge being the focal point of all these French stomachs, because whenever something comes out of the fridge all eyes turn toward it like it's some kind of totem god. And so I had to admit that the ziplock baggie was not full of some kind of lavish little imported snack, but was quite simply an antiovulatory cocktail that I'd soon be plunging into my flabby gut, exteriorment. After that admission it didn't even seem worth the effort to mount the dark stairs to mix the drugs in my son's cramped bedroom, so I simply laid it all out and mixed on the dining room table like I do each night while curious eyes followed my every step, darting and saying nothing. I hid in the wc for the actual injection, but when I came out I had injected badly and blood was pooling on the little cotton ball at a somewhat alarming rate so it looked as if every night must be as painful and messy as this. Mother-in-law said nothing and changed the subject to something sunny and cheery and father-in-law started another solitaire game on the computer while I cleaned up the debris of needles, syringes and bloody cotton and tucked all the products back in the fridge.
It's always hard sharing IVF with family and friends who haven't been there already, explaining the details and losing them in the jargon, conveying emotions and dodging the hurtful but apparently well-meant comments of the "I hope you don't end up with quadruplets!" genre. I've heard them all, glossed over them all and decided in the end that it's probably best not to share the news with anyone at all except a select few who have been down the road before. Sometimes though it's unavoidable and I know next week we'll get the same question "sooo...what's going on with the IVF?"
Maybe mother-in-law should just start reading my blog.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Video diary - "A problem at the pharmacy"
Okay I know I have really bad hair here. Please don't think badly of me for it because you know this is reality here and I'm a mom to a toddler. It's the information that's key anyway.
I'll try to be more glamorous next time.
I'll try to be more glamorous next time.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Those little vials
I have accidently smashed about six of my little Décapyptyl vials by mistake when I've loaded something into the fridge. That should tell you just how long I've been waiting for the next IVF. I'm going out to get a refill today so everything will be all lined up for the next big step. Oh fun I hear you say. Yes, wading through paperwork for another IVF in France is always fun.
I'm starting the treatment in six days. I can't believe we're finally back in the game and ready to begin another one. It seems like I've been waiting months. Hey wait, uh I have been waiting months. Okay that would explain it.
Did I mention how pleased I am though? Did I also mention how scared I am? I bet I already did. Okay let me repeat it. I'm scared.
In other fun news, I hope to do a good portion of this IVF in a video blog format, yes VIDEO. I thought that it would be interesting to document an actual IVF by talking about it. It may be boring but then again you may actually get to see me throw things and cry so that would be entertaining, right? And you'll also get to see the werewolf-esque evolution of a woman all hopped-up and stressed-out on hormones. I guess this means I'll have to brush my hair before I get on the computer. Crap.
Stay tuned because I think I may just paste the first video up this week if I can wade through all the technical crap.
I'm starting the treatment in six days. I can't believe we're finally back in the game and ready to begin another one. It seems like I've been waiting months. Hey wait, uh I have been waiting months. Okay that would explain it.
Did I mention how pleased I am though? Did I also mention how scared I am? I bet I already did. Okay let me repeat it. I'm scared.
In other fun news, I hope to do a good portion of this IVF in a video blog format, yes VIDEO. I thought that it would be interesting to document an actual IVF by talking about it. It may be boring but then again you may actually get to see me throw things and cry so that would be entertaining, right? And you'll also get to see the werewolf-esque evolution of a woman all hopped-up and stressed-out on hormones. I guess this means I'll have to brush my hair before I get on the computer. Crap.
Stay tuned because I think I may just paste the first video up this week if I can wade through all the technical crap.
Monday, September 25, 2006
There is hope and there is fear, but I repeat that there is hope
The appointment with Dr. Dieu went very well, much better than expected. I discovered something about him. He’s got a sort of softer side, well um, kind of. I suppose it's soft in the way a german shepherd lets you scratch his belly but you better-be-on-guard kind of way. He was kind to me last week. He let me scratch his belly and rub his ears. I’m pretty sure it’s because I failed the first round. He‘s treating me more delicately. I’m not really comfortable with it because I know it’s not his real persona, but hey it was nice and I needed to be treated with some kid gloves. I enjoyed it immensely.
Not much has changed. I’ve been put on an increased dose of Gonal F, gently augmented from 110 IUs to 215IUs. Not a huge increase. We start the treatment on October 9th. A fresh start. A new beginning. Another chance at greatness, maybe? I’m excited and well, scared witless from all those pesky things that have to do with IVF. Yeah, scared and yes there I said it. I feel like it’s a sort of here-we-go-again grape leaf tightly wrapped around a densely compacted rice ball of emotions. There are those little grains of frustration that try as we might we can‘t ever get this damn baby thing right, teeny grains of doubt, grains of that harbored fear that the drugs will lead to cancer and kill me before my son is grown, and the slightly overcooked fear that our couple will be destroyed beyond repair from all the emotional stress. All these emotions that most people don’t ever get the opportunity to experience but oh so typical of my breed, that fertilly challenged female.
All that fear and all that loathing that tries so hard to block the good stuff.
So, what is the good stuff anyway? That’s the thing you never get to actually see until you have a successful IVF and deliver a beautiful healthy baby boy, or you don’t get to touch until you adopt or until you get there. We know because we got there a few year back and it was divine. And now we find strength in this. We know that there is an enormous vat overflowing with very, very good stuff just there beyond our reach. If only we’re a bit more patient we can get to it. It’s very likely just around the corner. Every once in a while we see it. We catch a fleeting glimpse of it but hey, lately it’s been pretty evasive and each time we think we catch a glimpse it disappears leaving us with the impression that we didn’t really see anything at all and that it was just our mind playing tricks on us. But deep down some whispering chant calms us. We were like this once, afraid and unsure and then with an explosive « kapow » there we were, wife flat out on the back, ultrasounds while holding hands, listening to a swooching heartbeat, measuring the circumference of a little head and experiencing the ultimate, caressing tiny fingers and soft, little feet, bliss.
It wasn’t so long ago. It happened when we least expected it. Why should it be any different this time?
Not much has changed. I’ve been put on an increased dose of Gonal F, gently augmented from 110 IUs to 215IUs. Not a huge increase. We start the treatment on October 9th. A fresh start. A new beginning. Another chance at greatness, maybe? I’m excited and well, scared witless from all those pesky things that have to do with IVF. Yeah, scared and yes there I said it. I feel like it’s a sort of here-we-go-again grape leaf tightly wrapped around a densely compacted rice ball of emotions. There are those little grains of frustration that try as we might we can‘t ever get this damn baby thing right, teeny grains of doubt, grains of that harbored fear that the drugs will lead to cancer and kill me before my son is grown, and the slightly overcooked fear that our couple will be destroyed beyond repair from all the emotional stress. All these emotions that most people don’t ever get the opportunity to experience but oh so typical of my breed, that fertilly challenged female.
All that fear and all that loathing that tries so hard to block the good stuff.
So, what is the good stuff anyway? That’s the thing you never get to actually see until you have a successful IVF and deliver a beautiful healthy baby boy, or you don’t get to touch until you adopt or until you get there. We know because we got there a few year back and it was divine. And now we find strength in this. We know that there is an enormous vat overflowing with very, very good stuff just there beyond our reach. If only we’re a bit more patient we can get to it. It’s very likely just around the corner. Every once in a while we see it. We catch a fleeting glimpse of it but hey, lately it’s been pretty evasive and each time we think we catch a glimpse it disappears leaving us with the impression that we didn’t really see anything at all and that it was just our mind playing tricks on us. But deep down some whispering chant calms us. We were like this once, afraid and unsure and then with an explosive « kapow » there we were, wife flat out on the back, ultrasounds while holding hands, listening to a swooching heartbeat, measuring the circumference of a little head and experiencing the ultimate, caressing tiny fingers and soft, little feet, bliss.
It wasn’t so long ago. It happened when we least expected it. Why should it be any different this time?
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Ovulation you say...what ovulation?
I just glanced at my FF calendar last night and realized that yes, I had already ovulated seeing as it was cycle day 15 and all. I didn't even notice.
I think I have a deep rooted fear of repeating last year's events: getting pregnant right before the IVF scheduled LAST November, losing the pregnancy, having the IVF cancelled because hey, I'm now fertile! Then of course not getting to do IVF again until well, now actually, one year later.
On the other hand I hear this very loud ticking. Do you hear it too? It's positively deafening. I can't believe I let another cycle go down the tubes.* WHAT ... I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE TICKING? I said "I CAN'T BELIVE I LET..."
Nevermind.
I think I have a deep rooted fear of repeating last year's events: getting pregnant right before the IVF scheduled LAST November, losing the pregnancy, having the IVF cancelled because hey, I'm now fertile! Then of course not getting to do IVF again until well, now actually, one year later.
On the other hand I hear this very loud ticking. Do you hear it too? It's positively deafening. I can't believe I let another cycle go down the tubes.* WHAT ... I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE TICKING? I said "I CAN'T BELIVE I LET..."
Nevermind.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Too much time on my hands
I hate the wait between treatments. It feels like an eternity to that next appointment, an appointment to discuss the next step. The conclusion will most definitely be IVF number two, we all know that. Why can't we just say this over the telephone? I know the good doctor won't change my protocol. He'll blame statistics on my first failure. He's probably right but I don't want to hear it.
But why not a simple telephone call and a faxed prescription. It could all be so simple and we could get started now.
Instead I'll go in next month and we'll talk about American politics for twenty minutes. He'll print out a prescription for my dosage to start treatment after my next period in October. I'll stim in early November and maybe into December. And then . . .hmm, well we don't know that part yet do we, the really fucky part of it all.
I'm ready to get started now. Why can't we start today?
But why not a simple telephone call and a faxed prescription. It could all be so simple and we could get started now.
Instead I'll go in next month and we'll talk about American politics for twenty minutes. He'll print out a prescription for my dosage to start treatment after my next period in October. I'll stim in early November and maybe into December. And then . . .hmm, well we don't know that part yet do we, the really fucky part of it all.
I'm ready to get started now. Why can't we start today?
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Round two in the Fall
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Giving up things
I'm doing okay with the giving up things, well kind of. I have to admit that giving up a few of my favorite things for this IVF has been especially hard.
After all I've been a very good girl for several months, trialing my way through three count 'em three IUI's and what on earth did it get me? A lot of resentment that's what. I hate resentment. It makes it all so much worse.
and so ...
Oh well, at least I won't harbor resentment if things don't work. I'll only have guilt to deal with and maybe that's the easier of the two emotions. The psychology of all of this is very amusing.
After all I've been a very good girl for several months, trialing my way through three count 'em three IUI's and what on earth did it get me? A lot of resentment that's what. I hate resentment. It makes it all so much worse.
and so ...
I had some wine with dinner all weekend.Will all these little sins lead to bad eggs? These are just minor slips of the tounge. After all I won't allow this trend to continue. Have I already done myself in?
I had some non-herbal tea too with breakfast.
I loaded up on sugar with a friend who was visiting.
Oh well, at least I won't harbor resentment if things don't work. I'll only have guilt to deal with and maybe that's the easier of the two emotions. The psychology of all of this is very amusing.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
The first days
I've started the supression for the IVF with an injectible drug called Décapeptyl which I belive is French. I don't see the doctor for at least two more weeks, a long grueling wait-a-thon, the first of many.
It was very strange starting this whole treatment on our vacation in Tuscany. Tuscany, ... the mist, the hills, olive trees
... and mixing drugs in little vials.
Uh yeah right, okay.
It was very strange starting this whole treatment on our vacation in Tuscany. Tuscany, ... the mist, the hills, olive trees
... and mixing drugs in little vials.
Uh yeah right, okay.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
A little bit of annasteezhuh pleezh
Okay I know I murdered the spelling, but it's funnetik you see... and I'm a lazy ho with attitude so there.
There isn't much to say but I felt that an update was in order, as much for myself as for anyone who might actually still be reading this diary. Like I said, I'm a lazy ho...did I mention the attitude part?
Let's see, well no baby making this month and already we're up to cycle day sixteen here. It's the thermometer against the wall thing, in other words...no temping! Yay! Who likes doing that anyway? Okay well, me I suppose, but I'm out of the habit so I feel all empowered about it.
Meanwhile I don't have my groovy, little advent calendar to moon over. That kind of stinks.
do you get it?...moon over...haven't lost my sense of humour in all of this.
I start suppressing ovulation on May first, May Day actually, and it's a full two and a half weeks before I even start stims. A long, drawn out month of highs and lows I'm sure.
I wasn't going to do the anaesthesia and had planned to be awake and fully AWARE of the 12 inch needle going into my Netherlands, not for the sake of safety or principle or anything like that, but for another more pressing reason. We got invited to Tuscany by my friend Riana and her husband and I really really, really wanted to go. My anaesthesia consultation appointment fell in the middle of the Tuscan week and it was going to be impossible to change it since it had been made nearly two months ago. Anyway, the choice was clearly, anaesthesia or Tuscany and I chose ... TUSCANY you fool! Oh my god who wouldn't, please what an idiot!
So anyway back from our super long weekend today there was a France Telecom message waiting for me. My appointment has been serendipitously changed to early next week just out of the blue. I couldn't believe my ears. A second chance to be anaesthetised. How could I say no when the anaesthesia Gods are sending me such a message as if from the heavens above?
So that's where I am as of today. Cool as a cucumber so far, I'll be officially starting my treatment in the rolling hills of Tuscany with a good friend and my anaesthesia consulatation all arranged. No worries.
I can't wait to get on with all of this and get a newborn baby in these hungry momma arms. And you know what, something makes me feel like it could happen very soon. Is it considered in poor taste to be optimistic at this point? No it's probably just plain sick, but I think I'm going to throw caution to the wind and plow ahead with the optimism thingy. No cheering me on please, I'm mumbling all this under my breath and darting my eyes around enough about it. If you say nice things I'll only go hide under the dining room table, chew my fingernails and start humming The Marseillaise.
Otherwise I have a plan B. I'm just going to go to the park next week and scream at some poor, isolated mother GIVE ME THAT BABY NOW LADY!! while I lunge myself at her funky, red aluminum wheeled Bugaboo stroller.
There isn't much to say but I felt that an update was in order, as much for myself as for anyone who might actually still be reading this diary. Like I said, I'm a lazy ho...did I mention the attitude part?
Let's see, well no baby making this month and already we're up to cycle day sixteen here. It's the thermometer against the wall thing, in other words...no temping! Yay! Who likes doing that anyway? Okay well, me I suppose, but I'm out of the habit so I feel all empowered about it.
Meanwhile I don't have my groovy, little advent calendar to moon over. That kind of stinks.
do you get it?...moon over...haven't lost my sense of humour in all of this.
I start suppressing ovulation on May first, May Day actually, and it's a full two and a half weeks before I even start stims. A long, drawn out month of highs and lows I'm sure.
I wasn't going to do the anaesthesia and had planned to be awake and fully AWARE of the 12 inch needle going into my Netherlands, not for the sake of safety or principle or anything like that, but for another more pressing reason. We got invited to Tuscany by my friend Riana and her husband and I really really, really wanted to go. My anaesthesia consultation appointment fell in the middle of the Tuscan week and it was going to be impossible to change it since it had been made nearly two months ago. Anyway, the choice was clearly, anaesthesia or Tuscany and I chose ... TUSCANY you fool! Oh my god who wouldn't, please what an idiot!
So anyway back from our super long weekend today there was a France Telecom message waiting for me. My appointment has been serendipitously changed to early next week just out of the blue. I couldn't believe my ears. A second chance to be anaesthetised. How could I say no when the anaesthesia Gods are sending me such a message as if from the heavens above?
So that's where I am as of today. Cool as a cucumber so far, I'll be officially starting my treatment in the rolling hills of Tuscany with a good friend and my anaesthesia consulatation all arranged. No worries.
I can't wait to get on with all of this and get a newborn baby in these hungry momma arms. And you know what, something makes me feel like it could happen very soon. Is it considered in poor taste to be optimistic at this point? No it's probably just plain sick, but I think I'm going to throw caution to the wind and plow ahead with the optimism thingy. No cheering me on please, I'm mumbling all this under my breath and darting my eyes around enough about it. If you say nice things I'll only go hide under the dining room table, chew my fingernails and start humming The Marseillaise.
Otherwise I have a plan B. I'm just going to go to the park next week and scream at some poor, isolated mother GIVE ME THAT BABY NOW LADY!! while I lunge myself at her funky, red aluminum wheeled Bugaboo stroller.
Friday, April 07, 2006
May day ...m'aider
I start my treatment on May day. Isn't that wonderful! I'm feeling back on cloud nine. The treatment is a little longer than the treatment for an IUI since for the first 13-16 days your ovulation is completely supressed, and then afterwards carefully controlled over a period of about 8-10 days while you take stims. For me that stimulant will be Gonal-F, 100 IUs this time instead of the 75 IU's I did for the inseminations. It's also combined with a drug called l'Uveris (in French at least), and well, not actally combined because one is in pen form and one is in regular old needle form. That means two, count 'em, two injections per night. Oh well, I think I'd do ten injections per night if I had to. I really don't care just gimme 'dat baby!
So this month is just a lazy month of kicking back and enjoying life as much as possible before entering the loony bin of laboratory manufactured hormones. I've decided I'm giving up alcohol and caffeine the last week of April, difficult I wanna tell you because I am such a wino and a total and complete caffeine wench, but sigh necessary I suppose. Hey you are talking to the woman who gave up coffee and almost all alcohol for 15 months during pregnancy and early breastfeeding, and that's when you really need it. I think I can do it again. It's just hard getting started and getting weaned off of the stuff.
I don't know if we will try to make babies this month or not. On the one hand I could get pregnant and not have to do the IVF can I get a whoo whoo but on the other hand I think we've been down that long and winding road before. Perhaps we will and perhaps we won't. The same goes for charting. I may take my temperature each and every morning and then again I may hit the snooze button and chuck the plastic piece of sh*t against the wall each morning just to hear the clang of the battery jar around inside. A lot of good the bastard's done me so far!
I guess we shall see shant we.
So this month is just a lazy month of kicking back and enjoying life as much as possible before entering the loony bin of laboratory manufactured hormones. I've decided I'm giving up alcohol and caffeine the last week of April, difficult I wanna tell you because I am such a wino and a total and complete caffeine wench, but sigh necessary I suppose. Hey you are talking to the woman who gave up coffee and almost all alcohol for 15 months during pregnancy and early breastfeeding, and that's when you really need it. I think I can do it again. It's just hard getting started and getting weaned off of the stuff.
I don't know if we will try to make babies this month or not. On the one hand I could get pregnant and not have to do the IVF can I get a whoo whoo but on the other hand I think we've been down that long and winding road before. Perhaps we will and perhaps we won't. The same goes for charting. I may take my temperature each and every morning and then again I may hit the snooze button and chuck the plastic piece of sh*t against the wall each morning just to hear the clang of the battery jar around inside. A lot of good the bastard's done me so far!
I guess we shall see shant we.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
The incredibly amazing Doctor Dieu
It was so weird to see Dr. Dieu again after such a long absence. Our last meeting was in September. Nothing much had changed. I still think he should just go ahead and install those mirrors behind his patients in his office. He always acts like he's admiring himself anyway. His ego is really too big to fit into that tiny space.
So there now you have a clearer picture of who I'm dealing with. He is a case and a half, a case for a reality check, a man who most likely charmed his way through medical school and beyond. He was the superior of Doctor Stonehenge for a couple of years and Dr. Stonehenge is severely intimidated by him. He is about as intimidating a character as a mouse on steroids, all tweek and no squeak. But I don't really see how I can reject him. I can't afford to not like him. He was the only thing that ever worked.
To me this overinflated bully represents hope. He is quite plainly my next best shot. I'm torn between admiration and revolt.
I guess I have to embrace him but I will never call him "easy on they eyes," mark my words.
A few brief facts about Dr. Dieu:
1)He was recommended to us as THE authority on IVF in the region
2)How could we disagree since he helped us have Baby S
3)He doesn't say anything when you first meet him, just stares at you and waits
4)This is some sort of tactic I'm sure--something he learned at a seminar
5)It bugs me.
6)Seb does the same thing but it's because he's timid and not brash
7)They stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time which was really funny, each waiting for the other to speak.
8)He drives an Austin Mini
9)And yet he's really tall for a French guy--it must be a funny sight to see him climb into that car
10)He makes chauvinistic jokes about women and then laughs while looking at the husband.
11)When I first met him he told me to stay off the internet because it would just confuse me.
12)How wrong he was, because that's how I got all of my information.
13) He never explains anything, he just makes small talk.
14)He makes lots of small talk about the United States.
15)He likes to tell me how Americans are allowed to transfer "as many embryos as they want" when they do IVF.
16) That remark caused me to lump him in with all the French people I meet who think all Americans wear cowboy hats and eat cheeseburgers.
17)He always reminds me that in France you can only transfer two embryos at a time.
18)I talked him into transferring three last time...and will talk him into three again I'm sure.
19)He once yelled at his stagiére and called him an imbecile in front of me and Seb
20)I Googled his name out of curiosity a few years ago and two French girls on an internet forum were saying how "easy on the eyes he was."
21)His teeth are yellow, crooked and have brown marks in between them.
22)The appointment, a private consultation lasted less than 15 minutes and cost me 80 euros.
23)He told me that I shouldn't complain about anything because my treatment was free.
24)I had to remind him that we pay taxes...lots of taxes.
24)He petted Baby S's head and told me he should be in magazines.
25)I had the distinct feeling he was taking credit for my baby I don't know why.
26)He told me that women who need more than local anaesthesia for IVF egg retrieval are imagining the pain,
27)Then he asked me if I'd given birth naturally as if that somehow would make it easier
28)His entire office reeks of cigarette smoke.
So there now you have a clearer picture of who I'm dealing with. He is a case and a half, a case for a reality check, a man who most likely charmed his way through medical school and beyond. He was the superior of Doctor Stonehenge for a couple of years and Dr. Stonehenge is severely intimidated by him. He is about as intimidating a character as a mouse on steroids, all tweek and no squeak. But I don't really see how I can reject him. I can't afford to not like him. He was the only thing that ever worked.
To me this overinflated bully represents hope. He is quite plainly my next best shot. I'm torn between admiration and revolt.
I guess I have to embrace him but I will never call him "easy on they eyes," mark my words.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
And the break goes on
Yes it's still break time. It feels good. I don't feel like I've missed much, don't get a wave of nostalgia sweeping over me as I pass the pharmacy or my doctor's office, or when I open the fridge and see the opened box of Gonal F sitting there, waiting.
My consultation appointment with Dr. Dieu is this week.
My period is due tomorrow.
I'm ready to get back to normal.
It's funny what passes for normal these days.
My consultation appointment with Dr. Dieu is this week.
My period is due tomorrow.
I'm ready to get back to normal.
It's funny what passes for normal these days.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
How about a little purification?
Since I've been on the drug Gonal-F I have noticed something odd. I sweat like a stinky racehorse. I smell horrid. I'm sweaty anyway but this is much worse. It's a chemical waste smell. It's no small wonder after three cycles in a row.
My friend Riana has posted on her little food blog a great step by step detox diet that is a wonderful way to make a fresh start if you've been abusing your body with medicine, alcohol, junk food, sugar or even just stress (I get gold stars for all of those thank you very much). I think these detoxes are really important and I used to do them all the time way back when I was treating my body like a temple and not a waste dump.
So, here's to turning over new leaves. And here's the diet.
My friend Riana has posted on her little food blog a great step by step detox diet that is a wonderful way to make a fresh start if you've been abusing your body with medicine, alcohol, junk food, sugar or even just stress (I get gold stars for all of those thank you very much). I think these detoxes are really important and I used to do them all the time way back when I was treating my body like a temple and not a waste dump.
So, here's to turning over new leaves. And here's the diet.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
It's like I was saying
There's that old familiar refrain. I know this song man.
It's cycle day one, but hey who's counting.
I'm just happy all this is over with.
But still...
cycle day one always sucks.
It's cycle day one, but hey who's counting.
I'm just happy all this is over with.
But still...
cycle day one always sucks.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Still on that break
I'm just here kind of waiting around for Miss Florence to blast her way through my bathroom door. She hasn't left any calling cards yet.
As opposed to last cycle's house rockin' symptoms party, I have no symptoms this cycle. Or maybe it's just that I don't care much about this cycle and I'm not looking for symptoms. In any case I am on cd 12 or something like that so she should be coming around here soon.
I haven't been temping much this cycle for obvious reasons, but for the last two days I broke down and took my temps. My temps are still above cover line but not doing The Cat on A Hot Tin Roof thing they should be doing if all was right with the world. They're slowly slipping. That's usually the beginning of the end for me.
Bye bye IUI's. We hated suffering through you and we'll be very glad very soon that you are a distant desert mirage in our dirty rearview mirror. I think I may even throw a party in honor of your demise!
As opposed to last cycle's house rockin' symptoms party, I have no symptoms this cycle. Or maybe it's just that I don't care much about this cycle and I'm not looking for symptoms. In any case I am on cd 12 or something like that so she should be coming around here soon.
I haven't been temping much this cycle for obvious reasons, but for the last two days I broke down and took my temps. My temps are still above cover line but not doing The Cat on A Hot Tin Roof thing they should be doing if all was right with the world. They're slowly slipping. That's usually the beginning of the end for me.
Bye bye IUI's. We hated suffering through you and we'll be very glad very soon that you are a distant desert mirage in our dirty rearview mirror. I think I may even throw a party in honor of your demise!
Friday, March 03, 2006
The break...just what the doctor didn't order
I seem to be taking a mental break. It's not really me who decided, it's my lazy bones head who just decided to stop counting, to stop temping, and you know what? I actually had to count on my fingers which cycle day I was on this morning.
"Had to count ..."echo, echo, echo... Well I'll be.
What's incredible is that about this time in most cycles I start wearing my little white t-shirts that have CYCLE DAY 10 emblazoned across the chest in black letters, and I walk around with my head cast down mumbling to my invisible posse... ovulation day, cervical mucous, days past, headache, progesterone level, cramps!, cramps?, cramps...hmmm....
...at least I think this is cycle day ten. Maybe it's tomorrow. For some reason the number did not stick in my head and I haven't got the energy to recount.
I guess I'm close to the obsessive period but I really would rather think of other things than start to worry.
Then again I can't guarantee that I won't start obsessing over the next few days now can I? I just really, really hope to have this cycle over with and have all the others be a distant memory, and start looking towards the IVF in May.
"Had to count ..."echo, echo, echo... Well I'll be.
What's incredible is that about this time in most cycles I start wearing my little white t-shirts that have CYCLE DAY 10 emblazoned across the chest in black letters, and I walk around with my head cast down mumbling to my invisible posse... ovulation day, cervical mucous, days past, headache, progesterone level, cramps!, cramps?, cramps...hmmm....
...at least I think this is cycle day ten. Maybe it's tomorrow. For some reason the number did not stick in my head and I haven't got the energy to recount.
I guess I'm close to the obsessive period but I really would rather think of other things than start to worry.
Then again I can't guarantee that I won't start obsessing over the next few days now can I? I just really, really hope to have this cycle over with and have all the others be a distant memory, and start looking towards the IVF in May.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Another charming trigger
Well I triggered this morning. I had two follicles, a 11mm guy we won't even count and then a 22mm shiner who is kicking my butt with her hot molten lava nucleus! I have no idea why I feel so stimmed, but I am really, really huge like I'm pregnant and ouchie! the girls are tender, left and right.
It's the same drill, a visit to the clinic tomorrow for several hours of hanging out and doing nothing while we wait. The "squirt," then the drive home. The routine.
In much better news, I have made an appointment with Dr. Dieu for a consultation in early April for the IVF. I also have an appointment with the anaesthesiologist for early May, because I really do prefer to be out for the IVF retrieval. I know many people aren't knocked out and it goes very well, dentist appointment right? I just feel less stressed if I don't have to see what's going on. On the other hand my friend Dee swears she was dropped during one of her IVF retrievals because she woke up with a wrenched back and had no idea why! She's got a point, they can pretty much manage the whole thing however they like and treat you like a piece of meat for the thirty minutes that you're out cold. But to be honest that huge 8 incher of a needle used for retrieving the eggs is what really freaks me out. I guess I don't have to look at it but the stress of being aware of it makes swoon.
It's the same drill, a visit to the clinic tomorrow for several hours of hanging out and doing nothing while we wait. The "squirt," then the drive home. The routine.
In much better news, I have made an appointment with Dr. Dieu for a consultation in early April for the IVF. I also have an appointment with the anaesthesiologist for early May, because I really do prefer to be out for the IVF retrieval. I know many people aren't knocked out and it goes very well, dentist appointment right? I just feel less stressed if I don't have to see what's going on. On the other hand my friend Dee swears she was dropped during one of her IVF retrievals because she woke up with a wrenched back and had no idea why! She's got a point, they can pretty much manage the whole thing however they like and treat you like a piece of meat for the thirty minutes that you're out cold. But to be honest that huge 8 incher of a needle used for retrieving the eggs is what really freaks me out. I guess I don't have to look at it but the stress of being aware of it makes swoon.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Disco inferno
It seems I'm a bit overstimmed. There's some "play that funky music white girl" going on in my poor, over-inflated ovaries and the girls are not pleased. I look hilariously pregnant. My neighbors have been staring and scratching their heads. They all know we're trying to have another baby and from the looks of it congratulations are in order, right? I have switched to expandable waistbands over the long and painful weekend and have been doing the dreaded belly rub gesture in an effort to calm the Latin Hustle.
Gonal-F and I have a sordid little past with overstimulation. I had OHSS bad enough with my first IVF to land myself in the hospital. Well in true French fashion they wanted to land me in the hospital but in the Lyon hospital two hours away. "Uh, yeah, let me just grab my keys and drive there guys. After all it only hurt when I breathe you know..." Seb was getting ready to leave on a business trip and I just rolled my eyes and said "oh hell I'll just deal with it." I couldn't be bothered. I just tried to drink a lot of water in between the vomiting and roll with the punches. What I didn't know at the time but learned later is that OHSS is pretty serious business and I was being extremely stupid. It all turned out okay but I think I was lucky that I didn't seriously hurt myself.
I don't think I'm quite as severe this time around. I'm just displaying my classic verve of loving this drug enough to puff out like a mini croissant in a 350 degree farenheit oven. It's at least comforting to know that some things are happening in there.
Gonal-F and I have a sordid little past with overstimulation. I had OHSS bad enough with my first IVF to land myself in the hospital. Well in true French fashion they wanted to land me in the hospital but in the Lyon hospital two hours away. "Uh, yeah, let me just grab my keys and drive there guys. After all it only hurt when I breathe you know..." Seb was getting ready to leave on a business trip and I just rolled my eyes and said "oh hell I'll just deal with it." I couldn't be bothered. I just tried to drink a lot of water in between the vomiting and roll with the punches. What I didn't know at the time but learned later is that OHSS is pretty serious business and I was being extremely stupid. It all turned out okay but I think I was lucky that I didn't seriously hurt myself.
I don't think I'm quite as severe this time around. I'm just displaying my classic verve of loving this drug enough to puff out like a mini croissant in a 350 degree farenheit oven. It's at least comforting to know that some things are happening in there.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Three time the lady
Did you ever swear that you wouldn't help out an annoying, whiny pseudo friend who calls you at all hours of the night going on and and on about her loser boyfriend, and complains about her problems in minute detail to no end? Did you ever hang up the phone, sighing and say "never again!" only to call her back one week later and say, "hey what's going on? Is everything okay?" *
I have no idea how I got roped into it, but we're doing a third IUI. It was as if Dr. Stonehenge had a whiteboard behind his desk and was presenting me the situation in a red sharpie, circling the crucial points. "In scenario one Miss Chris, you take a much needed break and call me back in a month or so for IUI number three. That's not a problem for me. You probably need a break. You seem tired and that's normal." I looked at him and my heart felt squeezed and I had that little shortness of breath thing that makes me feel like I'm smothering. The "lost time" feeling. The "I'm going to be thirty-eight years old in one month" feeling. He was already on scenario two, "we can try to contact Dr. Dieu and SEE if he'll allow you to move on to IVF but he is my superior and if he suggests IUI I think he has a reason behind it and I think we should respect that." In other words "I'm chicken shit intimidated by this guy and you're stuck in the middle dear patient. The final scenario was underscored, clearly his favorite "Let's try one more IUI and see what results we get." My eyes were fixed to the wall behind him where there is a picture of Dr. Stonehenge and a woman, his wife I presume, on vacation in what looks like Florida or Tahiti, and the sun is setting behind them, and their faces are bathed in in that surreal, tropical orange glow that you only see in holiday snapshots. "Umm, yes okay" I sighed, "I guess I'll do number three and get it over with."
I have decided that I will be the unwilling participant in this cycle. I will drink coffee, I will drink wine, I will eat sugar and all manner of nasty things and take my temperature when I feel like it and I will swear loudly and wrassle pigs in mud if the mood strikes me. And I will shoot poison eye darts at anyone who dares to tell me that "pregnant women" shouldn't drink or eat this or that, I swear I will. I will do whatever I want to and this cycle will pass before my next birthday. My body will do the cycle while I stand on the sidelines and watch it all happen. I will not even think about the treatment. I will do my injections, uh, I mean her injections at whatever hour it happens to be before she goes to bed. And so there will be my promised break. A mental break from the person who is enthusiastic!! about!! getting!! pregnant!!, to someone standing on the sidelines staring at a game being played out and rooting for neither team.
*This scenario doesn't actually represent any of my annoying whiny friends, (who I love dearly by the way, whiny or not). It's just an extreme example of course and probably more representative of myself than anyone I know.
I have no idea how I got roped into it, but we're doing a third IUI. It was as if Dr. Stonehenge had a whiteboard behind his desk and was presenting me the situation in a red sharpie, circling the crucial points. "In scenario one Miss Chris, you take a much needed break and call me back in a month or so for IUI number three. That's not a problem for me. You probably need a break. You seem tired and that's normal." I looked at him and my heart felt squeezed and I had that little shortness of breath thing that makes me feel like I'm smothering. The "lost time" feeling. The "I'm going to be thirty-eight years old in one month" feeling. He was already on scenario two, "we can try to contact Dr. Dieu and SEE if he'll allow you to move on to IVF but he is my superior and if he suggests IUI I think he has a reason behind it and I think we should respect that." In other words "I'm chicken shit intimidated by this guy and you're stuck in the middle dear patient. The final scenario was underscored, clearly his favorite "Let's try one more IUI and see what results we get." My eyes were fixed to the wall behind him where there is a picture of Dr. Stonehenge and a woman, his wife I presume, on vacation in what looks like Florida or Tahiti, and the sun is setting behind them, and their faces are bathed in in that surreal, tropical orange glow that you only see in holiday snapshots. "Umm, yes okay" I sighed, "I guess I'll do number three and get it over with."
I have decided that I will be the unwilling participant in this cycle. I will drink coffee, I will drink wine, I will eat sugar and all manner of nasty things and take my temperature when I feel like it and I will swear loudly and wrassle pigs in mud if the mood strikes me. And I will shoot poison eye darts at anyone who dares to tell me that "pregnant women" shouldn't drink or eat this or that, I swear I will. I will do whatever I want to and this cycle will pass before my next birthday. My body will do the cycle while I stand on the sidelines and watch it all happen. I will not even think about the treatment. I will do my injections, uh, I mean her injections at whatever hour it happens to be before she goes to bed. And so there will be my promised break. A mental break from the person who is enthusiastic!! about!! getting!! pregnant!!, to someone standing on the sidelines staring at a game being played out and rooting for neither team.
*This scenario doesn't actually represent any of my annoying whiny friends, (who I love dearly by the way, whiny or not). It's just an extreme example of course and probably more representative of myself than anyone I know.
Monday, February 13, 2006
The long and whiney road
Even though my energy levels are at zero, no wait at negative one actually, maybe even lower, I am going to strap my boots back on and go see Dr. Stonehenge at nine a.m. tomorrow morning. I'm going to maneuver his office with my whiney baby and I'm going to look him squarely in the eye. I'm going to hold his gaze for ten whole seconds and then I'm going to blurt out, "do you really believe we have a snowball's chance in hell of this ever working, and if you don't then why are you putting me through this hell!?"
Now all I have to do is translate all that into French: Snowball=boule de neige, chance=chance, hell=enfer. Somehow I think it will lose its oomph. The French language is so colorless. Maybe I should just act slighted and uninvolved.
And for the record, I'm still having symptoms. Still having pelvic pressure, sore boobs and belly button tugging. I have learned a valuable lesson.
Symptoms=pregnant/not pregnant.
Now all I have to do is translate all that into French: Snowball=boule de neige, chance=chance, hell=enfer. Somehow I think it will lose its oomph. The French language is so colorless. Maybe I should just act slighted and uninvolved.
And for the record, I'm still having symptoms. Still having pelvic pressure, sore boobs and belly button tugging. I have learned a valuable lesson.
Symptoms=pregnant/not pregnant.
Friday, February 10, 2006
The gross underuse of the F word
My temps plummeted this morning so it looks like I'm out. The goddamned ship is getting ready to leave port and I'm definitely not going to be on it.
This sucks.
Plain and f*cking simply put THIS REALLY, REALLY SUCKS.
Now I'm off to the f*cking store to buy f*cking tampons because I will have none tomorrow when the great flood arrives.
I should just buy them at the pharmacy when I buy the Gonal-F. "Yes and a jumbo size box of THOSE please."
Merry f*cking Christmas to me...grump, grump, grump.
This sucks.
Plain and f*cking simply put THIS REALLY, REALLY SUCKS.
Now I'm off to the f*cking store to buy f*cking tampons because I will have none tomorrow when the great flood arrives.
I should just buy them at the pharmacy when I buy the Gonal-F. "Yes and a jumbo size box of THOSE please."
Merry f*cking Christmas to me...grump, grump, grump.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Idiot alert
Okay wait, I just re-read my last few posts and I think I should probably stop smoking those progesterone pills and swallow them like it says on the nice pretty box.
I'm being a complete idiot. I'm really setting myself up for a burn here. I think I need to just sleeeewwrrr 'er down a notch.
It's been intervention time for a couple of days here and believe-you-me I saw it coming. Excuse me for just a moment while I share a letter sent by my alter ego, "Ernestine," who you may know as the crazy laundromat lady with combat boots, and who by the way, body builds by lifting cars in her spare time and eats onion and hot pepper chili cheese dogs slathered in salsa for breakfast. This came in the mail this afternoon, special delivery:
Crapper. damnfreakincrappitycrap.
I will stay calm from here on out. I will stay sane for sanity's sake and remind myself of the fact that as difficult as it is to admit, after this cycle I'll be taking a very long break one way or another.
I'm being a complete idiot. I'm really setting myself up for a burn here. I think I need to just sleeeewwrrr 'er down a notch.
It's been intervention time for a couple of days here and believe-you-me I saw it coming. Excuse me for just a moment while I share a letter sent by my alter ego, "Ernestine," who you may know as the crazy laundromat lady with combat boots, and who by the way, body builds by lifting cars in her spare time and eats onion and hot pepper chili cheese dogs slathered in salsa for breakfast. This came in the mail this afternoon, special delivery:
Dear Miss!So thank you Ernestine. I needed that. You always know how to set me straight. Because if this ship sails and I'm not on it I'm going to be jumping in swimming after it, screaming and crying for them to bring back my brand new Louis Vitton luggage set. And when they don't come back I'm going to be sitting on the dock with my face buried in my hands bawling my eyes out. Yep, I'm in deep.
I gotta tell you, stop being so freakin' stupid! [bitch slap]
You're on progesterone for bejesus sakes so you'll have about a billion phantom symptoms like sore boobs, headaches, and being a bitchy wife! Stop imagining that these might be pregnancy symptoms. Puh-leeese!!!
It's only 12 days past ovulation moron. You might want to stop and remember the 15 day luteal phase you had three months ago! And what about the little 30 day cycle, huh? Did you just happen to forget about that one?
And hey, whoa...what's this 'testing on Sunday' business! "ohh mommy I'm gonna test the day after my period is due...wahhhh!" Yeah, well miss I think you better rethink that one a wee bit longer because you may be getting your period as you're doing the freakin' test.
And all this nya-nya-nya about sore belly buttons. No one on the planet has ever had this symptom except one single halfhazardly documented person and for all you know she's dead from a bleeding hernia! And I got a newsflash for you: cramps and pelvic pressure SAME THING ...on everyone else's reality show!
Get a life you little weasel before I squash your head with a rusty tractor part.
[double bitch slap]
All my best,
Ernestine
Crapper. damnfreakincrappitycrap.
I will stay calm from here on out. I will stay sane for sanity's sake and remind myself of the fact that as difficult as it is to admit, after this cycle I'll be taking a very long break one way or another.
The torture chamber, madame
12dpo
Did I mention that hope villain and I arelikethis. Making margaritas, dancing in the living room, and dishing dirt over The Superficial Weekly, he is definitely one of the girls.
Last night as I lay in bed with the covers pulled up to my eyes, I had these funny little terrible twinges on the left side of my pelvis. Well, not so terrible actually because I said to myself "wow, that's awesome...twinges!" And with my face under the covers I could not stop smiling. I was so nervous about falling asleep and having it all end, having to wake up and go down that dark road again, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to stop smiling. And then I finally fell asleep praying that I'd get a huge temperature reading the next morning and not the awful plunge.
The next morning I didn't get a huge temperature, but I got an even one. And hey, that's good enough for me.
And yes, there is a little more boob pain, but I'm not really a boob pain girl so it's not a concern one way or the other. But the most important thing of all is that there is pressure; enormous pressure in my pelvis. And I wouldn't call it cramps, I'd call it pressure. So either this is going to be the worst period ever or I'm...I'm...ahhhhhh
...no I won't say it. I refuse.
We'll see on Sunday.
Did I mention that hope villain and I arelikethis. Making margaritas, dancing in the living room, and dishing dirt over The Superficial Weekly, he is definitely one of the girls.
Last night as I lay in bed with the covers pulled up to my eyes, I had these funny little terrible twinges on the left side of my pelvis. Well, not so terrible actually because I said to myself "wow, that's awesome...twinges!" And with my face under the covers I could not stop smiling. I was so nervous about falling asleep and having it all end, having to wake up and go down that dark road again, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to stop smiling. And then I finally fell asleep praying that I'd get a huge temperature reading the next morning and not the awful plunge.
The next morning I didn't get a huge temperature, but I got an even one. And hey, that's good enough for me.
And yes, there is a little more boob pain, but I'm not really a boob pain girl so it's not a concern one way or the other. But the most important thing of all is that there is pressure; enormous pressure in my pelvis. And I wouldn't call it cramps, I'd call it pressure. So either this is going to be the worst period ever or I'm...I'm...ahhhhhh
...no I won't say it. I refuse.
We'll see on Sunday.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
The lurker
Damn. The hope villain has been hanging outside my door, lurking. It's cold outside. I invited him in for coffee. He came right in and made himself at home. He put his feet up next to the fire and stayed.
I should have known.
I'm 11dpo and for four days now I've been having cramps. Yes, period cramps. AF cramps or whatever you want to call them. I've also been having lots of weird symptoms. Most symptoms are related to the progesterone, glowy skin, morning sickness, and the tingling in my breasts. There's another one, a symptom I find unusual though. I have a poking feeling in my belly button when I turn a certain way. It's definitely something new.
Of course I Googled it. What else is a person to do? But nary a person claimed it had happened to them, well...except one person it seems. On BabySnark I found this woman who'd kept a detailed symptoms log of her days leading up to a positive pregnancy test. A woman after my own heart. She's a list maker. I do exactly the same thing.
So here's her list and please pay special attention to the "belly button poking" because THIS IS WHAT IT IS EXACTLY:
And because you read this far, I 'll continue reporting my symptoms. I also had a bloody nose this morning. The only time I've ever had a bloody nose was when I was pregnant. In fact for the first trimester with baby S I looked like a prize fighter half the time. And I'm peeing every two seconds, but that's also because I'm checking and checking and checking, and worrying? Can we really count that? Maybe not.
So thank you hope villain. I should have never let you in. You've got me all wound up and where will you be when the ball drops? Over at someone else's house that's where.
I should have known.
I'm 11dpo and for four days now I've been having cramps. Yes, period cramps. AF cramps or whatever you want to call them. I've also been having lots of weird symptoms. Most symptoms are related to the progesterone, glowy skin, morning sickness, and the tingling in my breasts. There's another one, a symptom I find unusual though. I have a poking feeling in my belly button when I turn a certain way. It's definitely something new.
Of course I Googled it. What else is a person to do? But nary a person claimed it had happened to them, well...except one person it seems. On BabySnark I found this woman who'd kept a detailed symptoms log of her days leading up to a positive pregnancy test. A woman after my own heart. She's a list maker. I do exactly the same thing.
So here's her list and please pay special attention to the "belly button poking" because THIS IS WHAT IT IS EXACTLY:
3dpo & 4dpo – Butterflies in stomach, but not nauseous; mild cramping (ovulation type).So you see. Maybe I'm not such a nut. Or maybe I am.
5dpo – Serious AF cramps (thought I was going to start two weeks early!).
8dpo – AF cramps (low down), sharp pain left ovary in p.m., mild AF cramps just above pubic bone (all across), bloated.
10dpo – Morning temp 37.2 (98.96), serious AF cramps in late p.m., ''who-ha'' entrance much wetter (tip of C soft).
11dpo – Serious cramping R all day (sharp pains running over my R hip to lower back) – fever of 100.9 F. (N.B. Found out later I had a corpus luteum cyst.)
12dpo – Cramps (pain) in R side all day, though milder than yesterday; CF abundant.
13dpo – Tested – BFN – Pain in bellybutton (like someone poked their finger in it), and the feeling continues from there down the middle of my stomach; slight heartburn/nausea.
14dpo – Mild pain in belly button, very tired.
15dpo – Bad cramps (pain) in R side, AF cramps (straight across) in late p.m., belly button pain, got up early 5 a.m.
16dpo – Got up early again.
17 dpo – Pelvic pain continues (1/2 day of work only), woke up at 5 a.m. (2 hours early).
18 & 19 dpo – Pelvic pain consistent (no work, lied flat all day). Slight belly button pain. AF arrived (so I thought), but blood was brown and light. Read up on this site & others regarding menstruation and pregnancy. Woke up early 5 a.m.
20 dpo – Woke up really early (3:30), had to pee! Tested ++++++. (Pain in lower back straight across, sciatica on R aggravated.)
Note: I didn’t chart temps, only CP & CF. CP was high for 5 days (during O), and we BD x 2 during that time – once on the highest day. No egg white this month to go by. CP started to lower slightly after that and firm up, but then seemed to go back up 5 days later, and soften significantly at the tip after 10 days. CF dried up after O, then got very lotiony (though not abundant), with a few creamy days thrown in. When I got AF, didn’t make sense because CP was high & soft still, instead of low & firm.
And because you read this far, I 'll continue reporting my symptoms. I also had a bloody nose this morning. The only time I've ever had a bloody nose was when I was pregnant. In fact for the first trimester with baby S I looked like a prize fighter half the time. And I'm peeing every two seconds, but that's also because I'm checking and checking and checking, and worrying? Can we really count that? Maybe not.
So thank you hope villain. I should have never let you in. You've got me all wound up and where will you be when the ball drops? Over at someone else's house that's where.
Monday, February 06, 2006
A little progesterone vacation
Yesterday I decided not to take the progesterone pills for a day. I considered that this was potentally foolish, but did it anyway because I'd been feeling so horrible for so many days. I was happy for the break. It was Sunday and we made crépes and relaxed by the fire. I didn't have to sit there holding my stomach, feeling like I was on a roller coaster ride.
I started back on them today. The old nausea is coming on strong so it's quite obvious that it's the pills. I don't know why I seem so sensitive to it. It doesn't seem to bother anyone else that I've talked with. Hmm, I must be one of the lucky ones.
I started back on them today. The old nausea is coming on strong so it's quite obvious that it's the pills. I don't know why I seem so sensitive to it. It doesn't seem to bother anyone else that I've talked with. Hmm, I must be one of the lucky ones.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Bleh...progesterone
My progesterone supplements are making me ill, very ill in fact. Yes, hear-ye, hear-ye I have "faux morning sickness!" Isn't that cruel? I may not even be pregnant but I have to suffer through the indignity of this, a diet of salty foods and sodie-pop for the next week.
It's also mimicking lots of other pregnancy symptoms like tingling sensations in my boobs and some weird headaches. This stuff is evil. And adding insult to injury it makes a real pastey goo down yonder all day long, making me ask the question at the end of the day, "wash 'em or toss 'em?" Yeah I know, yuck.
So, don't get too excited. It's only 7dpo and it's way too early for the hope villain to make his appearance on my front doorstep. White fedora, sly smile and knowing wink, he's such a charmer you just can't resist him. I'm going to try. In fact I think I'll need to be about 20dpo before I'll let myself fall into that trap again.
It's also mimicking lots of other pregnancy symptoms like tingling sensations in my boobs and some weird headaches. This stuff is evil. And adding insult to injury it makes a real pastey goo down yonder all day long, making me ask the question at the end of the day, "wash 'em or toss 'em?" Yeah I know, yuck.
So, don't get too excited. It's only 7dpo and it's way too early for the hope villain to make his appearance on my front doorstep. White fedora, sly smile and knowing wink, he's such a charmer you just can't resist him. I'm going to try. In fact I think I'll need to be about 20dpo before I'll let myself fall into that trap again.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Morbid night musings
So I was just lying awake last night and I said to myself, what if everything were lost. Like what if I got diagnosed with some kind of terminal cancer tomorrow, what would that do to my priorities? Don't ask why these thoughts were there. I found it hard to go to sleep without them.
I'd definitely stop all efforts at having a child. I mean of course, who wouldn't. I'd not even miss the idea that I'd be childless. I'd be worrying about other things, important things. I'd be throwing all of myself into giving my son and my husband what love I could as my last days rolled by. They are my real world and I'd need them to get through each passing day. I'd hold onto each second and use each minute to teach my child what I think he needs to know before I leave. I'd give all I have to them. This is what I mean by seeing my priorities with a clearer eye. I'm not seeing things in the right perspective right now at all. Some unattainable beast is monopolising my ability to see what's really important to me. I think that's what annoys me right now, that I have this beautiful, perfect boy and that I have to be distracted with this horrid infertility monster once again. This is why I talked with Seb about accepting the end of all of this nonsensical cycling. It's not to say that I can or will do it, it's just to explain the why.
There's a weird twist with trying to conceive. You can't just sort of turn off the button and not be involved, not stare at the calendar and not live for the famous two week wait. You just can't and it's funny because you can go to work and cook dinners each week and grocery shop and do other mundane things without the stress of waiting for and worrying about them, but trying to make babies as mundane as it is, is so different. It's like there's a biophysical chip in a woman's brain that won't let her be at peace until she gets that child. The chip sort of bleeps-bleeps all day long, and transmits the message to her brain and her heart and her everything, to think about procreating all day long. I don't know if it's possible to turn off the chip ourselves. It may be like that worm in The Matrix pulled from Keanu Reeve's stomach by suction. You'd have to physically deworm me to get me to forget that I want another baby. You'd have to give me a drug. You'd have to counsel me. You'd have to give me conk on the head. Even then it might not work.
Why is that I wonder?
In my late night, restless, ceiling staring slumber I wondered something weird. Had anyone ever become pregnant and then discovered they had a terminal illness like cancer? You know, kind of the reverse of what I'd been thinking earlier hey, night musings are like this. I decide I'd Google it the next morning and see. And well, the answer is yes. It was this poor woman, Susan Torres who went into a coma at 17 weeks gestation. I think this is an amazing story. Uh, better go grab the Kleenex.
As an aside, don't you think Susan Torres' husband looks just like Justin Timberlake. Watch the little video clip.
I'd definitely stop all efforts at having a child. I mean of course, who wouldn't. I'd not even miss the idea that I'd be childless. I'd be worrying about other things, important things. I'd be throwing all of myself into giving my son and my husband what love I could as my last days rolled by. They are my real world and I'd need them to get through each passing day. I'd hold onto each second and use each minute to teach my child what I think he needs to know before I leave. I'd give all I have to them. This is what I mean by seeing my priorities with a clearer eye. I'm not seeing things in the right perspective right now at all. Some unattainable beast is monopolising my ability to see what's really important to me. I think that's what annoys me right now, that I have this beautiful, perfect boy and that I have to be distracted with this horrid infertility monster once again. This is why I talked with Seb about accepting the end of all of this nonsensical cycling. It's not to say that I can or will do it, it's just to explain the why.
There's a weird twist with trying to conceive. You can't just sort of turn off the button and not be involved, not stare at the calendar and not live for the famous two week wait. You just can't and it's funny because you can go to work and cook dinners each week and grocery shop and do other mundane things without the stress of waiting for and worrying about them, but trying to make babies as mundane as it is, is so different. It's like there's a biophysical chip in a woman's brain that won't let her be at peace until she gets that child. The chip sort of bleeps-bleeps all day long, and transmits the message to her brain and her heart and her everything, to think about procreating all day long. I don't know if it's possible to turn off the chip ourselves. It may be like that worm in The Matrix pulled from Keanu Reeve's stomach by suction. You'd have to physically deworm me to get me to forget that I want another baby. You'd have to give me a drug. You'd have to counsel me. You'd have to give me conk on the head. Even then it might not work.
Why is that I wonder?
In my late night, restless, ceiling staring slumber I wondered something weird. Had anyone ever become pregnant and then discovered they had a terminal illness like cancer? You know, kind of the reverse of what I'd been thinking earlier hey, night musings are like this. I decide I'd Google it the next morning and see. And well, the answer is yes. It was this poor woman, Susan Torres who went into a coma at 17 weeks gestation. I think this is an amazing story. Uh, better go grab the Kleenex.
As an aside, don't you think Susan Torres' husband looks just like Justin Timberlake. Watch the little video clip.
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