Maybe I’ve taken on too much?

I find myself wondering that these past few days.  After explaining to my current internship that I wouldn’t be returning, I went home and fell into a heap on the couch and took a three hour nap.  I rarely nap.  I was just so mentally and emotionally drained after also learning that the head of the department at school is now retiring this summer.  Totally makes sense that she wanted everyone to get their hours in soon.  This was going to be an impossibility for me because:

1 – I had made the arrangements to complete the bulk of my hours over the summer (this was before knowing of the retirement).

2 – The current internship only works out on Saturdays for me.  They aren’t open past 5:00 on weekdays. 

So now that I’ve moved on to a new internship opportunity that I start tomorrow, I’ve plotted out the hours left that I need to accomplish and the next to impossible schedule that will allow this miracle to happen.  It goes something like this:

Monday – work, class – get home at 9pm

Tuesday – work, class, internship – get home at 9pm

Wednesday – work, class – get home at 9pm

Thursday – work, internship – get home at 9pm

Friday – work, homework, perhaps die a little

Saturday – internship all day, maybe some homework or a sliver of a social life.  Perhaps say “hello” to the husband

Sunday – all the homework I couldn’t get to all week, plus other responsibilities, and maybe finish the dying I started Friday night.

Too much? 

Yeah.  Too much.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way but life happens.  Eight weeks.  I’ve got about eight weeks of this to deal with.  I already warned my husband and voiced my concerns and fears that it may really test us.  I told him just to hang on for the ride, it will be over in eight weeks. 

Hope he dusts off the cookbooks.  I just won’t have it in me. 

Training for the half-marathon?  Oh yeah, I’ll just have to squeeze in my runs in the mornings now.  Sure!  LOL! 

This isn’t how this semester was supposed to work out, or how school was supposed to work out, for that matter.  It was supposed to be enjoyable and exciting as I learned new things in the hopes of becoming a designer one day.  Things have changed.  All I do now is root for a missed period. 

It’s been tough. 

Since I’ve been disappointed with my school experience, I couldn’t help but wonder if my extreme tiredness was from my ridiculous schedule . . . or something else? 

Time will tell.  But in the meantime, I need to keep trudging on.  Now’s the time, because when that day comes that I’m blessed to have children, there will be no time for anything else so I need to accomplish away! 

I’m also guessing when that day comes, the above schedule will be in 24-hour increments, with no signs of stopping, so I guess I shouldn’t complain!

A year in the life of ttc

I just realized it’s been a year since our journey of trying to conceive began.  Crazy.

January 2010 - I was psyched to get the ball rolling by undergoing a simple laparoscopy to check if my endometriosis returned.  It had and the doctor took care of it.  We got a clean slate!  This was also the month I went off the pill.

February 2010 – Doctor told us to hold off one more month so that the after-effects of the pill were out of my system.  Plus, longer healing time for me. 

March 2010, Cycle 1 - Oh baby!  Time to try.  Things are exciting and new, although my cycle was strangely short this month. 

April 2010, Cycle 2 - New month, same excitement, same strange short cycle.  24 days which is abnormally short for me. 

May 2010, Cycle 3 - Hubby jokes that “it’s always fun to try to get pregnant!”  When day 24 rolled around and no period, you better believe we were excited.  Nope - 29 day cycle. 

June 2010, Cycle 4 – Still hopeful. Charting, temping, peeing on ovulation tests.  What fun.  28 day cycle.  Hmm, maybe my cycles have now regulated to what they used to be pre-pill?

July 2010, Cycle 5 – Guess I was wrong.  24 day cycle.

July 2010, Cycle 6 – Oh goody, two cycles in one month. 

August 2010, Cycle 7 – Lucky number 7, we’re going to start some fun tests!  I’ve now turned into a pin-cushion.  Started with the Clomid Challenge Test where I go on Clomid, turn into a crazy lunatic and have blood draws on specific days.  Didn’t matter if the days were weekends or even a freakin’ holiday – - had to find a hospital to do them anwyay.  Even if that meant driving to one that’s over 35 miles away. 

September 2, Happy 36th birthday to me!   I’m still producing eggs and all my levels are fine.  Best. Gift. Ever.

September 2010, Cycle 8 – normal length cycle of 28 days, Clomid round #2.  Seeing spots.  Crazy.  Crazy. Crazy.  Hate this drug!  More time spent as a pin cushion to see if/when I ovulated.

October 2010, Cycle 9 – Clomid round #3, higher dose.  Yippie!  Who is this woman?  I don’t even know myself anymore.  Damn Clomid.  Getting the hang of being a pin cushion, more ovulation bloodwork.  Still fine.  Factory’s still churning them out. 

November 2010, Cycle 10 – Enough’s enough.  Hun, you gotta produce a “sample”.  I went for the oh-so-fun HSG where they inject dye into my tubes.  They were both clear.  Beautiful uterus.  Beautiful tubes.  Hubs tests – not so much.  Poor results.  Pin cushion takes on new role as waterworks.  Husband now takes on new role as pin cushion and also goes for testicular ultrasound and another sample analysis. 

December 2010, Cycle 11 – We’re fresh out of tears.  Still more poor results, BUT also some answers as far as determining the varicocele, and a plan has been put into place.  We somehow find solace that there’s going to be baby at the end of all these plans.  Doctors are ALL in agreement of this – or just really good actors. 

January 2011, …still in Cycle 11 – Don’t get your hopes up.  Today is cycle day 26, still time for good old Flo to get here. 

But, we’ve now met with the head of urology as of yesterday, and my husband’s surgery to fix his varicocele has been scheduled for early February.  We have hope that it will help improve his numbers.  Today, I met with my new OB/GYN after firing my old one.  She was fantastic.  So warm and welcoming.  Very pleasant to talk to and very thorough.  After going over our long history she’s convinced it will all work out.  She said she bets she’ll see me back in about six months or so and she’ll take over from there.   

New insurance plan – new doctors – new year.  I’m game.

It’s not me, it’s you

This has been probably one of the worst weeks I’ve lived through in a long time. 

It all started Monday with more fertility testing for both me and my husband.  My results turned out fine and his we had to wait for.  He was reluctant to do this but knows it’s an important and relatively easy step in the journey we’re on.  Ruling things out.  That’s all we can do.

Then, on Wednesday, six people got laid off at my work.  I had a hunch, I had bad vibes for the past couple weeks.  It was bad.  Real bad.  To the point that I cleared off my own desk, just in case.  Of those who lost their job, I felt close to at least half of them, it was a very difficult day.   Why them?  I thought for sure it would be me.  I’ve been feeling so down about my job, what I do, more importantly what I don’t do, and thought my frustrations would finally do me in.  But it wasn’t me.  Although it doesn’t make it any easier to lose some great coworkers.  I wish them all the very best.

Enter Thursday, one day after the bomb dropped at work, and my husband and I had our own little bomb to contend with.  He called me to tell me he got his test results.  They were not good. 

I am reluctant to post much about this because I don’t want him to feel hurt or embarrassed.  I’m just hoping to help the complete stranger reading this who might be dealing with the same pain and frustrations we are.   Be prepared.  It’s awful. 

I remained calm and wrote down everything he said.  Well, everything he could remember.  He said he stopped paying attention the second he heard the first bad number.  Why him?  WHY???!!!  Why not me?  I think I could handle it better.   I think because I’ve been anticipating this moment from the age of 19 when I first learned of my severe endometriosis.  I’ve been mentally preparing myself for this moment ever since. 

If it were me.  It should be me!

I’m still not going to pin this all on him.  I can’t.  I won’t.  It still very well can be me, too.  Endometriosis never goes away.  It continually eats away at my insides like acid, creating a “hostile” environment as my doctor would put it.  I also have a large fibroid, possibly getting in the way.  Not to mention a potential weakened cervix should a miracle pregnancy even happen.  My ovulation date is still a moving target, as far as I’m concerned.  Even on meds.  So this is definitely not all him and I need to keep telling him that.  It’s just been a real devastating blow and the thought of not being able to have children is really weighing heavy now.  Heavier than ever.  I still can’t even find the right words to explain how that feels. 

When he tries to joke and laugh, I’m not able to.  When I try to joke and laugh, he’s not able.  It’s really hard getting on the same page right now.  I hope this gets easier.

Please let next week be a better week. 

Later, October

Well, my favorite month has come to an end.  It was only fitting that on Halloween I had to face my fears and congratulate all the pregnant neighbors during trick-or-treat.  It had to be done so that I can move on.  Luckily, two of the ladies I needed to see stopped by literally back-to-back.  I made small talk with the first one, talked about the due date and how they are hoping for boy since they have two girls already.  Then when the second neighbor came by I joked about how I already rehearsed my speech with the previous neighbor.  I congratulated her and more small talk. 

Borderline awkward. 

We talked about my running and whatnot.  I mean, what else is there to say?  They won’t dare ask how it’s going for us, nor would I really want them to.  So, yeah, I still run.  It’s the only thing keeping me sane.  But I didn’t tell them that. 

Didn’t get to see the third neighbor, so I guess the task isn’t completely over yet. 

If they only knew what was in store for us the next morning.  More testing.  On to November.  So today was my HSG test.  I couldn’t help but feel emotional.  Every time we try something new it’s such a mix of feelings to experience.  Fear, anxiety, both hope and hopelessness at the same time.  The waiting is the worst.  I took the suggested 800mg of ibuprofen about an hour before my test. 

Oh, the waiting.

How can I have a headache?  I just took 800mg!

How does the ibuprofen know where to go to take care of the pain?  I mean, I took it for the procedure but what if it thinks to go to my headache?  Then come time when I really need it, it will be wasted on my headache! 

LOL!  Ok, I know it doesn’t work that way but it’s amazing what you can think about when waiting while anxious. 

Then they call three names.  Mine and two others.   It was kinda weird being called in a group.  Is this some kind of ovarian lottery or something?  I guess it was easier to give us all instructions at once and then send us to three separate rooms. 

The doctor was pretty cool.  Right off the bat she asked me if I’d prefer she tell me everything she’s doing or if not knowing is better.  I thought it was cool that she asked and after giving it some thought, I think I prefer the talking as a distraction.  The nurse was very comforting as well.  It pretty much starts off feeling like any gyno-visit, until they get ready to put the dye in.  Then it feels like cramps that come on out of nowhere.  I don’t know if it was my imagination or the fact that she told me the dye was going thru my tubes, but I swear I could feel it.  It was really weird.  Slight discomfort for a few seconds and it was over.  She showed me on the screen that my uterus was a good shape and the tubes were clear. 

Whew!

And then, Achoo!

I sat up and sneezed.  Nothing odd, just felt like I had sniffed some pepper or something.  Both the nurse and the doctor seemed instantly concerned. 

Over a sneeze?

Then it happened again.  And again. 

Turns out that some people have allergic reactions to the contrast dye.  They wanted to be certain that after the sneezing, my throat wasn’t going to close up or something.  Made me wait a little bit before letting me go.   Luckily, I stopped after three sneezes and nothing else happened.  So weird. 

So that’s all I have for today.  Both my tubes and my sinuses are clear.  LOL!   Time to get ready for that roller coaster part of my cycle starting in a few days.  Hope this works!

Are prayers still free?

Yesterday the bottom dropped out of this whole trying to conceive mess. 

After getting my period, I made the call of shame to the fertility doc’s office to let them know it’s here and to have them call in my script for the crazy-pills, aka Clomid.   Of course the call would not be without a line of questioning as to what the heck happened with my cycle this time, despite being on meds.

It’s always a leave-a-message-routine and it always seems to be on one of my half-days where I leave work to go to school.  I can’t exactly step out to take a call during class without becoming a disruption.  Sometimes I’m lucky and get the call while I’m en route which is normally not a problem.  Except that yesterday the class was meeting for a field trip to someplace I’ve never been before. 

This would be the precise time the nurse would call me back.  I’m trying to remember my questions I wanted to ask, listen to her answers, and read directions/map, all while driving.  I probably realized I passed up my destination right around the time she told me that the hospital is making cut-backs and will no longer be covering fertility stuff for its employees starting next year.

Uh, what was that?

I’ve been waiting somewhat patiently for my husband’s open enrollment which is like right now, and then more waiting for it to take effect at the first of the year, and now the sole reason for the switch is no longer being covered? 

I wanted to scream, cry, turn the car around and go home. 

So what the heck are my options now that they are completely out of pocket?  The big test to check my tubes that I was waiting til January for, will cost around $900.  Scratch that one.  The ultrasounds to monitor my cycle more closely, no clue what they’ll cost.  Hold off on that one.  So far any blood draws I’ve done have cost me around $45 after insurance.  Can handle that one.

Looks like my only option right now is good old $18 Clomid.  That one, I can afford. 

Clomid and prayers.  Are prayers still free?  

Since it no longer matters which insurance I’m on, I’m still going to do some comparisons.  I’ve made a call to the financial coordinator at the hospital to get a true sense as to what is covered and what isn’t and how much things will really cost us.  And, I guess ask if they have payment plans.  Lord willing we don’t have to go there.  I’m also hoping if things are considered diagnostic, they’ll be somewhat covered. 

So that’s the scoop.  I suppose I can continue to be all gloomy today but today is not the day for that. 

It’s our anniversary!  And without it, there’d be no baby plans in my future, right?  I wouldn’t be going through this.  WE wouldn’t be going through this if we weren’t a “we”.  And that’s exactly how we’ll get through it, too. 

Us.

We will.

Together.

Please pass the Motrin

I’m a dumbass.

The stupidest part of getting my period has got to either be:

A.  Refusing to believe that’s what it is.

or

B.  Trying to decipher if that’s what it is. 

Option B is ridiculous because I’ve only been dealing with my period for 25 years now.  You’d think I’d get the hang of this. 

It’s Option A that is the tough one.

Especially since every cycle, whether medicated or not, presents new symptoms, or no symptoms at all.  It’s a huge crapshoot guessing game each month.  And I’m not having fun with this game.  At all. 

Option A is also annoying because there’s always that slight chance you think the early cramping could be something other than period.  You can’t take Motrin or anything harmful, just in case.  Tylenol doesn’t even take the edge off so I usually suffer.  I’m really not into pain.  Really.  But it’s like a small punishment I put myself though when I decide not to take anything, you know, just in case, until I’m convinced she’s here. 

And by then, too late.   Bottle of Motrin by my side and heating pad on my lap.

That would be today. 

I’m ok.  We’re ok.  I think we’re ok.  It is our anniversary tomorrow and I guess getting a baby is not the gift for year three.  I believe the last time I looked it up, it was leather.  Somehow I find that slightly amusing right now. 

I think I got most of the tears out after the fifth pregnancy announcement from a neighbor.  Planning on taking a couple much needed days off soon to spend with the hubs, who is on vacation this week and next.  We both could use some time.  And who knows?  Maybe some leather?  LOL!

That’s it, we’re moving

Ok, not really but the idea has been crossing my mind lately.

Yesterday was the neighborhood Halloween party that I was a little anxious about attending.  Anxious because I knew I’d have to face all my pregnant neighbors and finally congratulate them.  It’s not that I’ve been purposely avoiding them, after all, I am keeping busy with school and work.  But still.  Maybe I have been avoiding – just a little?

What didn’t help my level of stress was the fact that I almost didn’t get my costume in time.  We ordered them off ebay and while mine included expedited shipping, my husband’s arrived first and in perfect condition.  Mine arrived two days before the party, slightly damaged and completely the wrong size.  The sizing chart on their website was a joke.  Luckily the seller was very understanding and will give us a full refund.

So I spent all of Friday night and most of Saturday morning running all over town, calling places and doing various searches for a replacement costume.  It was to the point that I almost didn’t want to go to the party anymore.  But it all paid off.  My last resort costume shop saved the day.  They were so helpful and I pulled together the best saloon girl outfit.  I wish I had a picture to post but I felt good! 

In some sort of strange way, dressing up and taking on a different persona helped me deal with what I anticipated being an awkward ordeal.  I was really worried if I could pull off geniune excitement for all those pregnant ladies.  My husband and I arrived and people really loved our costumes.  It was turning out to be a fun time after all. 

Until I realized that none of the pregnant ladies were there.  I guess I can understand it.  Can’t drink, why go to a party?  But I don’t know.  Being that it was a Halloween party and they all expressed interest in going when the invitations went out.  None of their husbands went either.  I was kinda surprised and borderline bummed.  Maybe it was the alcohol helping me but I was starting to feel ok with the situation.  I wanted to be ok.  I wanted to get the congrats over with and be able to move on.  I wanted to show that I’m ok.

Except that I’m not.

After talking to a neighbor and commenting that there are a lot of people missing that I was expecting would be there,  it was then that he told me yet another couple are expecting and just found out.  (That makes FIVE pregnant neighbors now.)  But this lady is such a sweetheart and it’s their third but I couldn’t help but wonder what my face was doing at that exact moment because then the neighbor who spilled the news apologized to me.  I know he was just being nice with such a sensitive topic and followed up with when it’s the right time, it will happen. 

I know he means well.

Is this where things are heading?  People feeling the need to apologize for pregnancies to us?  Perhaps I’m not the only one who will be doing the avoiding?  Will everyone start to avoid me knowing how hard this has been?  Maybe the tables will turn and all the pregnant ladies will feel awkward and not know what to say?  I wouldn’t know what to say to me, either.  I don’t even want to think about it. 

I’ve never wished so hard for winter to get here so that we can all be stuck in our homes.  Maybe that would be easier on all of us?

But I won’t do that.  I hate winter almost more than not being pregnant.  I’m still in my favorite month of the year and our anniversary is coming up.  Still plenty of things to be happy about, I just have to remember that.

Finally, some news

Heard back from the doctor’s office and my worst case scenario was not something I needed to worry about.  Turns out I ovulated, but late.  They say that anything over 3.2 for this test indicates ovulation took place, but at this late in my cycle my 3.6 result should have been much higher.  Since it’s low, it’s a good indication that the ovulation was fairly recent. 

So I’m still in the waiting game.  My favorite thing.  The nurse said I won’t know anything either way for at least another week.  Maybe more.  This is because the late ovulation plus the Clomid will likely lengthen my cycle.  If we don’t end up pregnant this cycle, it’s on to a higher dose of Clomid (100mg).  It was the dose I tried last month for testing purposes and it was not fun.  It would be nice not to go there. 

The waiting is the worst part.  It’s absolutely exhausting.  As time goes on the wait seems longer, the hopes get higher, and the prayers run deeper.  I’m going to try and do that awful word that no woman who is trying to get pregnant wants to hear.

Relax.

It’s almost impossible.  But after the waiting, hoping and praying, it’s all that’s left to try.

The plan

I’ve been on pins and needles now for almost two days. 

After getting my bloodwork done Tuesday I was told they should have my results the next morning.  So I call the next morning and the office staff said they will leave a message for one of the nurses to get back to me with my results. 

The ENTIRE working day goes by. 

I call back at ten minutes to 5 to try again.  Tell them that I’ve been anxiously waiting my results.  The office staff pulls up her screen to see what’s going on and if any attempts to reach me have been made.  “Looks like they are waiting on the doctor to find out what the plan is.”

The plan?

Can’t anyone just tell me my numbers?  My levels?  Whatever the heck it was that you tested?  Throw me a bone here!  Anything for peace of mind?  Please don’t send me home to try and study and sleep and function like a normal person without any answers!

Of course they can’t do that and I was told hopefully they should know more by morning once the doctor has a chance to review. 

This is not how this is supposed to go. I’ve had MANY tests done and every time I get a call, am given some numbers, we discuss, and then of course I go and Google everything and compare notes with other women dealing with infertility.  (I don’t tell the nurse that part.)

So what is the plan? 

Does this mean the test was bad?

Instantly, in my head at least, it does.

Early menopause?

All dried up?

No more eggs to be had?

The waiting is pure agony.  I’ve only been at this now since January if you count my laparoscopy and then really only trying for 8 cycles.  But it already feels like an eternity.  I don’t know how women who have been at this longer and more deeply than I have, survive.  I really don’t.

So naturally the fact that the entire world is pregnant becomes more obvious to me by the minute.  Mindlessly watching E News last night to hear Beyonce ”I wasn’t ready” and Rachael Zoe, age 39 and all 39 pounds of her, are pregnant.  Lovely.

Then of course I get to finally face all my neighbors this Saturday for the first time in a long time.  The first time since learning of two new pregnancies.  Have I really been laying low for over a month?

I get to see all of them.

The veteran mommys.

The new mommys.

The mommys-to-be.  (probably in some sort of cute “Hey, I’m pregnant!” costume)

All of them.

I will be dressed appropriately as a barmaid.  (Hubs wanted to go as a western theme couple and I complied.)

My plan? 

Drink up!  I’ll already dress the part. 

Until then, I guess I’ll keep waiting on the doc and HER version of the plan . . .

Babies and running

Who knew either would be this hard?

Today was not cooperating with me in any way.  It all started with the realization that I forgot to pack an ovulation test kit to take with me.  Normally not the end of the world except that today was day 21 of my cycle and supposedly a very specific day for further fertility testing.  My instructions were to use ovulation predictor tests daily until day 21.  If I got a positive test, it would indicate a surge and ovulation should follow shortly.  The fertility specialist would then schedule bloodwork on a certain day to detect if ovulation really did occur.  If not, the next step is to up my dose of Clomid next cycle.  If I didn’t get a positive test by day 21, I was to call for the testing regardless.

Day 21.

Today.

Me without a test.

Ugh.

I wanted to cry.  I’ve yet to have a positive test.  I was close once on day 12 but nothing since.  Today was also one of my crazy half work/half school days with no time to run out for more tests.  My only option was to take one as soon as I got home around 5:30.  But in my heart I knew it would still be negative and by then the office would be closed and the bloodwork would have to wait. 

I’m tired of waiting.

There was a lab located a stone’s throw from my school that is connected with the hospital and I figured it would be so convenient to go there after class.  The nurse said that would be fine but if I ended up with a positive today when I got home to call for a new gameplan. 

Crisis averted, or so I thought. 

The lab was open until 6pm and I didn’t have the exact directions with me.  I asked a couple students and one of them told me it was so close by and to take a right and a right. 

Nope and nope.

Drove 25 minutes out of my way to realize it was the wrong way.  Got my bearings and decided to go with what my original instincts were and got on the highway.  It was only two exits up from the school.  I could have walked there faster.  The traffic sat.  And sat.  And sat.  The lab was going to close in less than a half hour. 

Thankfully I found it and the blood draw went fine.  As much as I hate them, I’m starting to get used to it.  I’ve been warned that would happen.  I should know the results by morning.  Basically they are testing my progesterone which somehow is supposed to indicate if I ovulated or not.  These blood tests are pretty amazing when I think about it. 

My next hurdle was the fact that today was a good day for a run since most others I get home too late.  This time of year the daylight fades fast.  By the time I got home and asked my husband what time sunset would be, I had about 15 minutes. 

Forget it.

I got in the car and went to the gym even though it would add on so much extra time to my already exhausting day.  Once I got started, I soon realized just how boring running inside is.  This was the very same track that I started my Couch to 5K program on and I remember how excited I was as I progressed along. 

Not so much now. 

10x around is one mile.

So.  Ridiculously.  Boring.

And I found that I was so ridiculously tired.  Drained.  The day took its toll on me.  But I did it.  I ran for 45 minutes.  Not all of them but most of them.  But it was hard.  The entire day was hard.

I had no idea.