Day 10

Ah, Cycle Day 10.

In this now 2+ years of trying to conceive, tucked somewhere between the very first months where things were exciting (We’re gonna make a baby!) and the last few months where body parts didn’t even need to be in the same room together, there were the middle months of trying.

The months where we became slightly more informed and realized ”just winging it” didn’t work for us and we had to be selective about which days to try.  Cycle day 10 became some magic number day where I’d tell my husband, “I’ll see you later (wink, wink), and again two days from now, and again two days from that for good measure.” 

Yep.  Tried it that way for a while.  Even threw away good money on plenty of ovulation pee sticks, as if they were the power ball on our lottery ticket.

So here we are on Day 10 in the cycle immediately following a failed IVF.  I’ve read and heard that sometimes women are extra fertile in the cycles after medical intervention or even when Clomid just didn’t work.  I guess it might have something to do with residual meds floating around in our bodies, or just the fact that that our body just experienced a beat down into forced fertility the month before.   So kinda like a two-for-one deal.   I guess that’s the silver lining in all this.  It’s too bad that MY lining is taking forever to shed.

This IVF has left me feeling and looking like it’s still Day 3 - EVERY DAY!  Still sporadically bleeding, still clotting, and between that and my colon becoming a terrific tag-team, I’m feeling anything but sexy right now.

Yay, Day 10!!  And thanks IVF.  It’s as if you should stand for “It’s Very Frustrating” or “I’m Vehemently Fed-up.”

Just waiting for that day I’ll feel normal again.  Hubs is a patient, patient man…

Nine months

Before I get a shot at my own glorious nine months, I keep thinking there must be reasons why it’s not now.  I don’t want to entirely give up but maybe we need to focus on some other things that the universe feels are “in the way.”

One thing that has been getting me through this infertility misery of late is the new job opportunity for my husband.  It’s in the works but they still need to iron out some details, salary requirements, technically post it, and then he needs to figure out things like start date and giving a two or more week notice to the team he works with now.

Then there’s the school part of it.  He might need to head back to school for a bachelor’s as the job would normally require one, which will eventually result in an even better salary when completed.  So there’s that, too.

Then I thought it might be nice that I finish up school in May before attempting any more IVF or testing or research.  Maybe I’m meant to pass the educational baton to my husband before our world gets turned upside down again?

After my appointment with my OB and the renewed sense of urgency she instilled in me, it’s hard to wait.  I feel like eggs are shriveling up like raisins every day.  But maybe there’s some things in the works that need to be in place first?  That’s what I keep thinking.

So I sat down and drew up a financial plan that takes us through the end of the year.  Ironically, nine months from now.  It was quite the eye-opener.  We had recently filed our taxes and of course the daydreaming starts.

A grand vacation?

Building a deck and patio on our house?

Buying a new piece of furniture?

A small vacation and the furniture?

The furniture and just the deck?

Oh hell, who are we kidding?  We’ve been slowly paying off bills since our wedding over four years ago.  After a few hard knocks, we’ve felt like we’ve been in a hole ever since and only recently have we begun to climb out of it.  So as much as we’d love to do any of the above, the smart move would be to pay off bills.  With what we are expecting back, we could probably knock out two balances.  Plus, there’s the slew of medical bills still coming in from IVF round one last year!

So nine months.  I’d like to see where we are in nine months.  If we still can’t find a way to have a baby, we’ll be in a better position to do whatever we want going forward.  If we are lucky enough to be pregnant by then, whether through IVF or our own miracle, we’ll be in much better shape financially.

I still don’t think I’d feel comfortable waiting nine months to try IVF again, but we will keep on trying naturally.  But now that there’s a plan in place, the big picture is starting to become clearer.  The universe is working something up for us.

Good fortune

Hubs and I went out for a much needed night out with a group of friends.  Wine and sushi – two pregnancy no-no’s.  And it was fabulous!  Great food and a great time with lots of laughs and stories. 

At the end of the meal the waiter dropped off a handful of chocolate mints and fortune cookies.  I randomly grabbed one from the pile and we all began comparing our fortunes.  Some didn’t make any sense.  Some were funny or simple.  And then there was mine.

On a day that was full of thoughts regarding our future for having a family, wondering if and when we should stop – Should we do IVF again?   Should we wait?  Should we just give up altogether? – I thought this was the perfect fortune, even with the poor grammar. 

As I passed it around, many of our friends got it right away.  There wasn’t any explaining or stretching it into a truth. 

Then one of our friends turned it over and said they got chills.  They asked if we read the back.  We flipped it over and were even more thrilled with our fortune. 

Maybe this will be my sushi fix for a little while?  Maybe we need to keep trying?  Maybe this is all a bunch of nonsense, planning life around a fortune cookie, but I think it sends a pretty loud and clear message for us just when we think about giving up.

Donor eggs and a stork

I had my yearly appointment with my OB/GYN today and in some ways, it was pretty good timing.  A lot has happened, or I guess NOT happened since last year. 

The first thing that was brought up?

Donor eggs. 

It nearly took my breath away.  She asked if my RE has brought up using donor eggs yet.  The words cut like a knife.  But I had a feeling I’d be hearing them one day if we were still without a baby on our own.  I can’t even wrap my head around this.  It’s like, the baby wouldn’t be me.  It would be my husband’s sperm knocking up someone else’s egg.  I just don’t know how I feel about a scenario like that. 

As I explained my elevated FSH level peaked at 14 last time it was checked, and then discovered my AMH was a dismal 0.39, it just seemed to be pointing in that direction.  I also explained how since my last visit, my husband’s issues have been corrected and on the mend and we’re seeing improvements. 

I just wish there was a way to improve egg quality.  We talked about that a little bit and there really isn’t anything all that proven.  There’s no great way to stop the clock on my ovaries.  You’ve got what you’ve got.  But she did agree that trying things to relax me like yoga or acupuncture would be a fine idea. 

But once I told her how well I responded to both IVFs, she changed her tune.  She was shocked, based on all my horrid test results.  So maybe there is hope?  Maybe that’s why the RE hasn’t brought up donor eggs yet?  She said it’s definitely good to take some time off to recharge mentally, but honestly, no more than a couple cycles. 

Really.  Because next thing I know, I’ll blink and be 38 and it might be even that much harder on us.  So while I was looking forward to taking a break through the entire summer, maybe that’s too big of a gamble?  Now I’m thinking just finish the semester, get to May.  Then we’ll make some decisions. 

My emotions were still a little up and down as I left the appointment.  Cautiously hopeful. 

As the elevator doors opened up and I stepped in, I noticed a husband and wife on the elevator carrying twins.  Yeah, one last slap in the face for me. 

We walked out to the parking lot and as I sat in my car and watched them go to their car, parked in a spot near the front marked with one of those stork signs, I thought to myself next time.  Next time that will be where I park.  We will have a stork.

Bellyaching

So today I started to feel slightly better.  Not terrific, but better than yesterday and certainly better than the day before when I never thought I’d poop again.  I had made it through the weekend and the beastly cramps from a failed IVF cycle, and eventually recovered from the constipation I created for myself with pain meds.  I’ve felt lousy for the last several days but nothing that would make me consider a call to my RE. 

Until I saw this. 

This odd bruising above my navel.  (Ignore the navel piercing evidence from my twenties.)  So I saw this and thought this was really strange.  I immediately wondered if I took too many pain medications and was bleeding internally.  Just didn’t see how I would manage to run into a surface, belly-first, with a non-pregnant belly.  I mean, I’m bloated, but not that bloated. 

It freaked me out.  I called my husband, who works in the medical field which is both a blessing and a curse.  He told me not to worry as he usually does.  But it just didn’t sit well with me.

I went to class where I had to deal with more bellyaching – the group project.  Ugh!  I started this blog to write about my adventures in school, which lately has been overshadowed by infertility, and it might as well stay that way.  Oh group projects, where one or two people carry the weight of five.  Guess who one of the two are?  Yep.  And now that I’m no longer in this waiting mode for IVF to work, I’ve redirected my focus to this class and the slackers need to look out.  LOL!  I’m soooooo incredibly annoyed and have started speaking up about it.  One lady never answers emails, the other never shows up for class and waivers on dropping the class.  Then drop it already!  We need to know if we can rely on you!  Then when she does show up, she selectively works on the fun parts of the project while the rest of us had to do all the dirty work and presentations.  I seriously can not wait for this semester to end for me to graduate. 

I really wanted to have a  baby belly as I walked that stage though. 

So after class, I couldn’t take it anymore and was back to worrying about my aching, and possibly bleeding belly.  I called the RE and talked to the nurse.  I explained my entire weekend and pill-popping to avoid pain regimen.  About an hour later she called me back and said the RE wanted me to come in for an ultrasound. 

Uh, what?  Is it serious? 

She just wanted to make sure nothing was bleeding internally and to check my belly.  So I went in and it ended up being a big fat “I told you so” score one for the hubby appointment.  Thankfully, they couldn’t find anything, but they were all baffled by the bruising.  It’s possible that it was from all the ibuprofen irritating things, thinning the blood.  So she sent me for some blood tests and I was on my way.  I suspect nothing will turn up and that’s a good thing.

All I really want is to be myself again.  No more bloating, tenderness, pain, bowel issues, or strange bruises.  I just want to feel good again.

And I suppose as soon as I do, I’ll find myself in class again, with a whole new bellyache. 

Counting down.

Sucks

Back to the land of suckiness.  Where everything sucks.  Work sucks.  School sucks.  My motivation sucks.

I know I sometimes appear to be positive and I was getting better at it, but I have a feeling today’s post is written completely from the bottom of my bowel.  Can we say constipated?  Ugh!

I am proud to say that I stayed on top of my cramps this weekend.  Hubby really helped me stay on track and helped me remember how much I was taking and when, because to be honest, I felt like a non-stop pill-popper for 48 hours.  I couldn’t even remember anymore.   I started taking Motrin on Friday at the first signs of a headache and general achiness.  But I didn’t want to get too crazy taking pills that made me wonder if I was even getting my cramps yet.  I didn’t want to be masking nothing and be taking all these pills.

When I was pretty convinced it was coming, we upped my dose to 3 Motrin at a time.  Friday night I threw in a Percocet which was probably a good idea because I could feel the cramps fighting back a little.  I felt loopy and weird most of Saturday, including when I went to a baby shower, but I survived.

But when I got home from the shower, the cramps really wanted to let me know who was boss.  I slapped them around again with more Percocet, twice.  It was time for the heavy artillery.  Even though I was winning the battle over pain, I was feeling loopy and sick.  My stomach and liver were getting tired of being showered with a combination of too many OTC’s and prescribed narcotics.

I guess we won.  I didn’t cry once.  I didn’t lay down on the bathroom floor naked once.  I didn’t feel the need to call the on-call doctor or consider going to the emergency room.  Moaning was kept at a minimum.   And I only slighly ruined one pair of underwear.  Victory.

Except that I can’t poop.  That means I also can’t run, can’t function, can’t sit comfortably, don’t want to be at work and don’t want to be working on my school project.  I think those last two things are givens, but I’m just not well.  These cramps and the medication aftermath are the last things I need to get through to feel normal and move on with my life.   I need to move on with my life.

Please let me feel normal!

Insult to injury

50 tampons

60 panty liners

28 overnight pads

That ought to do it. 

Throw in Motrin by the handful and some stronger pain meds to sleep, and my IVF-failed-cycle-raging-period-survival kit is complete. 

Adding insult to injury and also to the shopping basket that I carried these items in, was the baby card I also needed to purchase.

Yep, I’m going to a baby shower today. 

I’m actually ok with it.  I think.  My main concern wasn’t so much my emotions but keeping my cramping under control.  If I couldn’t stand upright, I wasn’t going.  So far, so good. 

The shower is for a neighbor.  Surprise, surprise.  They all get pregnant around here.  And I’m riding there with another pregnant neighbor.  How’s that for being strong?  What kills me is seeing all the regrets on the Facebook invite that was sent out.  Neighbor mom after neighbor mom giving regrets.  Now, some of them I believe.  But seeing others who just give a cold “sorry, can’t go” type of response, right after a previous mom said something similar, annoys me.  It’s almost like if she’s not going, I’m not going.  I think this is so wrong. 

Not everyone had it so easy.  The woman who is being honored today paid her dues.  Both her successful pregnancies were not easy to obtain.  First one took five years and the second one probably the same, with miscarriages in between.  She’s my age, with similar issues to me, and I couldn’t be happier for her.  So I’m going – four days after the news of failed cycle two.  If there’s ever a good karma, pregnancy vibe in the air that I need to absorb, it’s today. 

As for my next tip for surviving IVF failure:

Tip #2 to self:  Run.

Get back out there and run.  Run to clear your head.  Run to feel strong and healthy again.  Run off all the puffy medication pounds you’ve  gained.  Pick out some races to feel the adrenaline you’ve been missing. 

Run until Aunt Flo ties your shoelaces together and trips you up.  But know that it’s only temporary and you’ll get to run again.

Next chapter: Day one

I’m doing much better today.  I still have my snarky moments but I’m less numb so I’ll run with that.

I could go into this angry rant about how unfair life is.

I could continue to be a very negative person.

I could explain my overall disdain for Valentine’s Day and how it’s traditionally never been a favorite of mine, and how yesterday was the mother of all bad Valentines.  I could also point out that yesterday’s post was by far the most read post I’ve ever written – all seven words of it.  This horrible day will now be displayed on my blogging dashboard until a new post generates more hits and is crowned king.  I will be reminded of this day every day that I log on to write a new post.  Part of me is flattered, and ALL of me is appreciative of the outpouring of love from everyone.  The other part of me knows not every person came on here to read about me and my IVF woes.  I bet having a post titled “Heartbreaker” on Valentine’s Day might have more to do with it.  Which makes me sad for everyone who had a bad day, not just me and hubby.

But today’s a new day and we’re moving on.

We have to.  This whole process has been draining.  Not just financially, but physically and mentally.  And to think we did it twice!

So I’ve decided to make some plans.  Not sure what they will be just yet but I know they’ll include things like running, art/creativity, home projects, home organization and cheering my husband on as he may embark on a new job soon.  These are good things to think about.  I had an obligatory large glass of wine last night and have already selected a race I’d like to run in next month.

I might even write future posts that list my suggestions on how I plan to get through this one day at a time, with some grace and dignity.

Here’s my first one.

Tip #1 to self:  Leave for work BEFORE the school bus comes. 

This is one of the views from my house that I get to see every day.  Kids, tons of them.  (This isn’t even all of them yet!).  And their parents and their parents cars all parked everywhere.  Yes that car you see blocks part of our driveway every morning.  I cringe when I get my coffee and see all this craziness.  A craziness I’d love to be a part of, honestly.

But until that day comes, I HAVE to not keep witnessing this.  It’s just too hard.  And really, I should be getting on the road by 8am (when this happens.)  Nine times out of ten, I’m not.

Leaving early would not only ensure I’d get to work on time, but actually I could get there a little early.  I won’t feel rushed, stressed, and I can get an early start to my day before work gets crazy.

Sound like a plan?  I think this one’s doable – and necessary.

Heartbreaker

We are not pregnant.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Changes needed

Apparently my max for staying positive is around 24 hours.  This has been so hard.

Yesterday my husband and I stopped at one of those shopping Mart places.  The one that begins with a “W”, if that helps any.  As I stood in line with our box of home pregnancy tests, I witnessed a mother yelling at her child making a huge scene.  The kid wasn’t even doing anything that I could tell.

“You are on my last nerve!  Get off my last nerve!  This is my only day off work this week.  Get off my last nerve and stand over there!”

I turned to my husband and said, “I would love to tell people how lucky they are.”

Then I watched an older mother pushing a cart full of babies with her daughter sauntering next to her.  I really hate making assumptions and felt awful doing so but again, I turned to my husband and said, “See.  This is how this works apparently.”

He told me I need to stop being this way and he’s right.  But it’s sooo hard when you’ve been at this trying to conceive thing for soooo long.  It’s incredibly painful to be standing in line witnessing these accounts just so you can buy some tests to see if you’re finally lucky enough to be blessed with something that so many take for granted.

Then on the flip side, there’s plenty of positive stories, which to be honest, can also be hard.  I’m a part of message boards and I’m so thankful for that because the information I receive on a daily basis is invaluable.  But it can be hard to be on a thread that announces positive test after positive test after positive test.  I cheer for everyone, but when is it our turn?

I’m also in the process of making a baby quilt for a neighbor.  I’ve made about 6 of these now because there’s obviously something in the water around here.  I don’t do it for any other reason than I truly enjoy it.  I feel like if you have a talent or a passion for something, you should share it with others.  But again, when is it our turn?  I have so many patterns, colors, ideas swirling around in my head for our babies someday.

So here we are.  I am filled with so much emotion and uncertainty.  The day before our test and we’ve seen it all.  The bad, the good, and all that’s left is the unknown.