Growing Up

And the suck-fest continues, folks.

We got a phone call on Sunday night (whilst at dinner at G&A's)-my mom was rushed to the ER (ironically, the one where she's a supervisor) after having a stroke. They gave her tPA (a "clot buster") and airlifted her to a hospital in Trenton, where the AWESOMEST neurosurgeon is (like, he's in the top 10 neurosurgeon's IN THE NATION. And he's single and good looking, which doesn't hurt, either). She was doing okay on Monday, then started becoming lethargic and more unresponsive. The ICU nurse immediately rushed her for a CT scan, where they found a huge clot by her brain stem, and they took her into surgery and were able to remove the entire thing, which was no easy thing due to the amounts of tPA and heparin she was on.

So, what caused it? Well, Dr. Hotness thinks that it was a combination of narrowing of the arteries in the head (due to years of smoking) and one of the chemo drugs, cisplatin, which has a risk of inducing strokes. But, she's a fighter (she was already trying to do things for herself when I left last night) and she'll fight this.

She's still in the ICU but is doing much better-her right side is affected, and she really can't talk much due to the muscle weakness. She's more alert and is aware of what's going on (she keeps asking what her blood pressure is....the nurse in her can't take a day off, I suppose), which is a positive. She'll be moved soon to an acute rehab facility where she'll stay to do her therapies.

So, there we are. It was a scary few days, since it was very touch-and-go on Monday. I still can't comprehend that there was a very real chance that she could've died or become completely incapacitated on Monday had the doctors and nurses at the hospital hadn't moved as quickly as they did. The two hours that she was in surgery were probably the scariest time in my life, and watching my father go through this was difficult for me. I'm not ready to lose my mother yet. But, I feel like I'm also not ready for this, either. I've suddenly had to become an "adult" in a few short days, and I'm not liking it either. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter.

Adulthood, here I come.

Bitter And Not Really Liking It.

Thank you, all of you out there on the 'Net, for your words of comfort. You get it, and I know that-you don't have to say anything more than "Shit, that sucks. Sorry" and I know that you truly understand. And, a special thanks goes out to Shelli-you're such a wonderful, giving, caring person, and I love you lots. LOTS!

I'm doing okay. I have moments that I'm so fucking angry that I want to scream and throw things (last night I looked at Sean and had the almost irresistable urge to punch him squarely in the face. Obviously I didn't do that, because then I'd be blogging from a prison common area rather than the comfort of my couch), alternating with times of just wanting to either cry, or hide and wait for the world to go away. I just want to wake up and it be nine years earlier, when I was younger, newly married and ignorant to infertility. Maybe if I knew then what I know now, I'd have made different decisions. But, shoulda coulda woulda, right?

Needless to say, it hasn't been fun. I go back to the RE next week to have the WTF conversation, along with a saline sonogram to make sure that everything has passed. We'll just have to wait until then to see what is the next suggestion. I'm thinking that she's going to suggest PGD, but I guess we won't know until Thursday. Unfortunately, since nothing was frozen, we'd have to start from scratch yet again. But, the real question du jour is this: do I want to do another cycle? Right now I can't even contemplate it, but if Dr. Pipsqueak feels strongly about doing another cycle and give me a good enough reason that we should, then maybe. Maybe doing PGD will help-at the least, it will lower the miscarriage rate due to the fact that we'd be transferring embryos that are chromosomally normal (that is, assuming that we'd have enough to transfer-I've learned the hard way that nothing is guaranteed with IVF). I've had every test under the sun to see if there's another underlying problem that's causing both the implantation failure and chemicals, and they've all come back as normal. So, what the fuck is the problem?

To say that Sean and I are both miserable fucks is putting it mildly. This hit us both really hard, especially since it was such a great cycle in the sense that we had great stats with my retrieval/fertilization rates, I didn't over respond, and we had so many blasts. It doesn't help that most people can't really fathom what we're going through, unless they've been through it themselves. And, even then, once they've made it through to the "other side" it's like a distant memory and they can't really relate. I also can't help feeling that every time, EVERY TIME we do this, something fucked up happens and it doesn't work, although it does for someone else. We're pregnancy magnets! Seriously! Unfortunately, the magnet also seems to repel any success for us. I can trace every single one of our friends children, with the exception of one, to a failed IVF or FET cycle, or a miscarriage. That's a lot of babies, people. And, yeah, perhaps it's negative thinking on my part (as was recently suggested to me), but it's also the truth. I'm the only one of my friends (excepting one couple who decided to be childfree) who doesn't have children. Hell, I'm the only one left from my original Fertility Friend group, from my bloglist. I'm the Last Woman Standing, and not by choice. I didn't do it to myself-no amount of negative or positive thinking, acupuncture, herbs, eating right, eliminating caffeine, meditation, tarot readings, praying to Saints, Guardian Angels, God/Allah/Buddha/The Flying Spaghetti Monster
has made this work for us. Oh, I guess statistically, it DID work, twice-it just didn't stick around long enough to grow into a baby who would later ask mommy to buy eyeliner and ask for the car keys. And I do realize that it's farther than some people have gotten in their reproductive treatment. But, dammit, I want it to be MY turn. Not my brother's, not my friend's or even the woman who's been sitting next to me for two weeks in the clinic waiting room. Yes, it's selfish and immature, but I think that I'm allowed to be bitter and angry and selfish and immature-sounding about it. I've been doing this long enough to be entitled to my feelings.

My feelings are really the only tangible thing that I have right now.

13dp5dt

Yeah, well.....it's not a good ending.

Beta 9.9 I have to stop progesterone, be back on Friday for more bloodwork to make sure that the beta is going down, and make a follow-up with the doctor.

I also get to do the Rhogam therapy tomorrow at the hospital, due to being Rh negative. Yay....another sick day taken due to this. Wonderfuckingful.

Oh, did I mention it's also my anniversary? Yeah. Happy Anniversary Sean. Too bad my gift to you is another dead baby. Who knew we'd be having THIS MUCH FUN nine years later.

What. The. Fuck.

11dp5dt-Beta Hell

Today's beta shows that my levels did go up, however, not as much as they hoped. The nurse said it was "20" (as to the exact number I don't know...guess I'll have to find that out tomorrow). So....from 15.6 to 20 pretty much sucks big monkey ass, right? The nurse who called me said that Dr. Pipsqueak still wants me to continue on the meds for two more days, then come in for Beta #3. When I asked her how realistic this pregnancy could be, she replied that "it doesn't look too good", but then again, sometimes things actually work out (which is why they're keeping me on the meds, I suppose). On one hand, it's good news that it DID go up, but not so good that it didn't double like they wanted. As to whether or not it will be considered viable....well, it's anyone's guess at this point. I've been trying to research on the 'Ol Interweb to see if there are any cases of women with low betas/doubling times that have gone on to have successful pregnancies, and there are women out there, so I guess there's always hope for me. The odds are against me, but there's always a chance, right?

It's odd-I didn't get really upset when I got the phone call (probably because I was in the middle of a faculty meeting), and I'm not totally gutted right now. Maybe I'm still in a state of shock over the whole fucking thing, but I just have a peaceful feeling about this (at least, at this point in time). Sure I want this to work, but it's not up to me, ultimately. That embryo just needs to either make it, or it won't. I've been through this before, and yes, it sucks royally. But at least I know what to expect, unlike the last time. Last night, as I was lying in bed, I had a little talk with the Man Upstairs (as well as St. Anthony, St. Gerard, St. Rita, St. Theresa and the ever-appropriate St. Jude....patron saint of lost causes) and just asked for a sign that this will all work out for the best. Needless to say I went to bed without a definitive answer.

On the way home today I was driving up the Parkway when I looked up at the sky. It was a partly-cloudy day, where the clouds are all puffy and look like cotton balls. Anyway.....so I was thinking about the game I used to play when I was a little kid, where you would look at the clouds and see what objects you could "see" in the clouds, when I looked at the cloud formation that was directly in front of me. It was in the shape of an early fetus, lying on it's back. You know what I mean-that picture you see when it's around 6-10 weeks old. Yeah.

My question is: is it wishful thinking, or is it that sign that I asked for? The jury is still out on that one.

9dp5dt-Beta Day

I did two more Evil Pee Sticks of Anxiety this morning, and the faint positives are still there, probably a little bit darker than yesterday.

Beta came back at 15.9, Progesterone at 27. I stay on meds for another two days, then go back on Monday for a repeat to see if the numbers have doubled.

I'm trying to stay positive and focused, because Nurse Blondie said that it isn't necessarily a bad number (lower than they'd like to see, but still better than a single-digit). I personally don't give a fiddler's fart-as long as it consistently doubles, that's enough for me. It's going to be difficult, since I've been here once before, and you all know how THAT ended up.

So, all of you out there in InternetLand, please pray to God/Buddha/Allah/The Flying Spaghetti Monster/Whoever that this works. I can't go through the awfulness a second time.

8dp5dt-The Night Before The Morning Of

Thanks for your support guys. It's sort of blown over, I think. I still haven't talked to my brother, and I won't until we know about the results of tomorrow's beta (then, depending on the results....well, we'll see). I did talk to my dad for his birthday the other day, and it wasn't mentioned by either of us, and I haven't talked to my mother yet, although her treatment is next week. *Sigh*. Hopefully they'll have learned their lesson about thinking before speaking, but I doubt it. It's just best to distance myself for now.

As for the 2ww front: well, nothing yet. I've been having cramps in varying degress all week long, and the girls have been killing me. I mean killing me and then once I'm dead KILLING ME AGAIN. Oddly enough, they hurt more at night than in the morning. The other night they were literally throbbing from the outside and in towards my center. Ugh. It's like taking off my bra and feeling like a bag of rocks dropped out. I'm tired, hungry, constantly peeing, sore and starting to get lumpy from the PIO. What else is new, right? That's why PIO sucks-it gives you the pregnancy mind fuck.

As for testing...........sorry Heather, but I did cave. I can't help it-I'm of the mindset that I need to be prepared, so that if it's negative it's not a total kick in the ass. I started on 6dp5dt, which was BFN. Then again the next day, which was "sort-of" negative (kinda ambiguous, so I'm going to say BFN). Today, I did three more, one in the morning (the CBE +/- kind), and two this afternoon when I got home (a FRER and a CVS brand, which is supposed to be like a FRER). The CBE had a really really faint "+" line (like you had to really look at it), but the FRER had a more defined line (but still very faint, though). The CVS one also had a really faint line, but not as strong as the FRER. The upshot of all this? I'm not sure. It's definitely not an evap line, because the faint 2nd line came up within the 5 minute window. If it IS positive then the beta could come up as really low, which isn't a good sign (and I've been there before). If it's negative, then it's just a fucking bad karmic joke. However, three different test coming up as (sort of) false positive? I'm not sure that could be happening-it's too weird. Either way, there are two tests left (a FRER and a CVS) so I'll test tomorrow before I leave for the beta and let Sean look at it (he doesn't know-I'm a closet POAS'er!! HELP!) to get a second opinion.

So friends, hold your applause, because we're at that "maybe.......not sure" stage of the 2ww. We'll all know tomorrow, one way or the other. I know which way I want it to go, though.

4dt5dt-Self-Preservation Is My New Best Friend

So far, so good. I've had a little cramping off and on, but I'm really not feeling anything else as of yet. Of course, we all know that progesterone is a little bitch in regards to side effects screwing with your mind, so I'm trying not to read into anything as of yet, since it's too early to tell anything.

Yesterday we got a little shock when we got a phone call from my brother and sister-in-law, who were visiting my parents. They kept asking us if we were going to be there, but we wanted a weekend to ourselves, so we decided to stay home.

I'm glad now that we made that decision. My brother announced (after asking that we put him on speakerphone) that he and his wife are expecting. They'll be married six months on Sunday. Nice, huh? I couldn't even talk to him-I managed to choke out a "congratulations" and had to walk out of the room. After Sean hung up the phone I just lost it (pumped up by My Buddy Progesterone)-I mean, LOST IT. I cried for two hours, because it seems like EVERY CYCLE we have, someone else gets pregnant (and, I'm not kidding-I can connect almost every one of our friend's or family member's children to when we've done an IVF or FET cycle)............and it's never us. I couldn't help feeling that it's a bad omen of what's to come.

Of course, my mother had to call later and bitch me out because I was "wrong" to act the way I did. Hello? Really? I got into an argument with her (yeah, thanks again hormones!) and told her that perhaps, PERHAPS, she should've told him what was going on (since they didn't know we were doing a cycle) and maybe they should've waited to call me until we find out what's going on (they aren't far along anyway, why the frig are they telling us NOW?). She said that she did tell him, and that he wasn't sure to call, but my mother "didn't think that it was a big deal, because everything's going so well (JINX!!) for us". Yeah, because it's not like we haven't done this before, and things have gone well in the past......and we know how that turned out, right? I told her that there is no guarantee that this will work, and it was shitty of her to be so naive. She tried to put me on the phone with my father, but I just didn't want to talk to any of them. I just freaked out, and they were pissed off at me and hung up on me (after my father angrily told me that my brother doesn't want us to tell anyone. Great. I didn't want to be told, why would I broadcast it?).

Of course, Sean is upset. We were both thrown by the news. But he's more upset because he doesn't want me to be stressed out, because he thinks that my stress levels and the outcome of this cycle are connected. I just couldn't help reacting the way I did. Sean actually called my parents later and tried to explain how I'm feeling to them, that, although they are supportive, they will never know the hell we've gone through in regards to infertility. That the hormones I'm taking aren't helping my reaction, and that even he can't fully relate to it, because he's not the one who is being poked, prodded, injected, hooked up to things and having surgery to have what others have. He told me later that he thinks she has a better idea, but she still has "her opinions" on the matter (whatever), and that she does care about we're going through. Sean just thinks that she's just the type of person who isn't totally involved emotionally, which he's right.

My family, who is SUPPOSED to be supportive of us, can't understand why I'm so upset, that it's not fair to them (true, but again....HELLO?) and that we "should be happy for them". Yeah, well perhaps if I wasn't in the throes of what is my last IVF cycle and in 2WW hell, I could've probably mustered up an acceptable theatrical display of oohing and ahhing. But I feel like my mother, MY MOTHER, should've tried more to protect my feelings on this. Instead, she's all happy happy, because she's getting her long-awaited grandchild; and, like I always felt, it won't be from me. Even if this does work, it's like the thunder has been stolen from it, because he got there first. Yeah, it's selfish and babyish of me to think that way, but when the Only Son of the family announces that he's knocked up his wife, everything else in an Italian family just isn't as important. I should be used to it, but I always, stupidly think that it'll change and my parents will magically *POOF* realize that. Nah.

So I've decided that I won't talk to any of them right now, and if we're lucky that this works, we still won't tell them until we have to. I'm tired of being the one who always worries about what my family thinks. It's time to think of myself first. Yes, I know that at this point there's not much more I can do for those embryos, but I can try to help myself.

1dp5dt, Times 3

Well, folks....the deed is done. There are now embryos safely smooshed between my uterine walls, to hopefully do their little thing. I'm kinda counting on them to know their role and attach, but you know how kids are.....they NEVER do what you want them to. Unless it involves massive amounts of Jolly Rancher candies, McDonalds and XBox video games. But, I digress.

I show up at the surgery center almost promptly at 1pm, with my bottle of water in dutifully in hand, and do the usual melee of signing away your life (or those of your embryos) in paperwork. I was the only one in the waiting room, and it didn't take long for someone to come and get me to prep for the transfer. I get my rockin' hot designer outfit of gown (open in the back, of course), slipper socks (grey) thick, fluffy robe (that tries to make you almost believe you're in a spa, but then you suddenly realize that the only "massage" you're getting involves a metal speculum. WITHOUT LUBE), and a blue paper hat that makes you look like a lunch lady and sit in my little recliner (complete with warm towel-see what I mean about the spa part?). They take my vitals, blah blah blah, and I sit and wait for the RE to come in and give me the news. And she gave me a whole lot of news.

Now, as we last left our little saga, we had 18 eggs retrieved, 16 mature and 12 fertilized, which are pretty damn good stats. As of yesterday (day five, remember) All 12 were STILL GROWING. Yeah, you read that correctly. I still had all twelve as of yesterday. It was better than they could've hoped for. So......the recommendation was to transfer in three blasts. I was a little apprehensive at first, given that blasts are more likely to succeed, but they want to take a "more aggressive approach" this time around. What worried me is the higher-order multiple risk, but the doctor assured me that the triplet rate is only around 5%. However, the twin risk is around 35-40%, which is probably higher in my case, given that twins run in both sides of my family (there have been five sets in my family, and three are still living-my mom's brother and sister are twins, and we don't have any as yet in my generation of family members). Whoo hoo-double trouble!! So I made the decision to go through with it, and off I went to the OR and had them transferred in.

So here we are, at 1dp5dt. And I'm really okay about it, so far. I'm not overly obsessive yet, and I was pretty calm during the drive up there. Really calm, in fact. Which is pretty much my attitude throughout this whole cycle-there really hasn't been any anxiety over anything. As for the remaining blasts-well, they will check them today to see if they meet freezing criteria, and will freeze what's okay. Hopefully we'll have some frozen, because I like to hedge my bets. But, seriously.....I'm actually pretty peaceful about it all. I'm taking my prenatal vitamins, eating well, sleeping well (except having to get up at night to pee-damn progesterone!!), not having too much progesterage and Sean still has all of his body parts. What could be better than that?

Other than the obvious, of course. Beta is scheduled for October 3rd.

Well, Well, Well.....

Got another surprise this morning at around 9:30, but in a really good way.

Dr. Pipsqueak called while we were having breakfast-my embryos are doing really well ("the best we've ever seen" is what she said) and are going for a day-5 transfer on Thursday-TBA. We'll know exactly when later today.

Did I mention exactly how great the new place I work is? I went in yesterday morning and had a talk with my principal (who I've been honest with about our whole journey, so she knew that we were going to do this) and told her that we weren transferring on Tuesday and I'd need the day off. She told me it was absolutely no problem; and, in fact, I should also take Wednesday off to "rest and relax". I told her that it was really not necessary, but she insisted. She's already told me that she really wants this to work for us, and that she'll do whatever she can to make it happen. How cool is she?

I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm scared shitless. I know that blasts have a higher implantation rate, and from my own experience the only success I had was with a blast, despite it being a FET. But, the fact that it failed also is sitting in the back of my mind too. This whole cycle has been one big surprise in the way that nothing went as planned, from the cysts to actually getting to transfer at all. Perhaps this is the ending we all want? I'm afraid to hope for it, so I don't jinx it.

It all seems so weird. I know that I didn't post this, but for my retrieval my anesthesiologist was the same guy that I had when I had my hysteroscopy ages ago with Dr. Vest (which was right before I started my first cycle), and we recognized each other. Now, I'm (fingers crossed) about to have a blast transfer, like I did for my first FET, which did result in a pregnancy (albeit briefly). Perhaps everything is parallelling because it's coming full circle, and this is really the cycle for us? Am I reading into too much? Hmmm......

I don't think that I've ever heard Dr. Pipsqueak so excited about our results. She said that she told the embryologist that "this is it....this is the cycle where she gets pregnant".

From your mouth to God's ears. We'll know soon enough.

Wrenches

Holy crap, has it been like two weeks since I've last posted? Sheesh. Sorry y'all, but the past two weeks were a kick in the ass in relation to time-management. But, I do have updates! Woot!

Lets see......what's new? Oh, we got another cat! She's an adorable six week old kitten that we've named Callie. She was part of a litter that my MIL rescued (she's kind of the crazy cat lady of her neighborhood) when they were about a week or so old. She raised them, and we decided to take one of the litter. She's really sweet and loooves to cuddle, but has all that crazy kitten energy that has resulted in little claw marks all over my legs. We've kept her seperate from Peachy for now, since she's so small (she's in the office, which is partly why I haven't updated-the computer is in here and every time I try to get on she wants to play....typical), but I'm sure in a week or two she'll run havoc around the house.

Mom's doing well-she had phase two of her chemo treatment that, honestly isn't as much "fun" as the last time. She had to go into the hospital for three days for partial IV chemo (1 day) and then they also inject a dose directly into the port that's in her abdomen. Then they flush her body with 1000 cc's of fluids so the port chemo doesn't stay in her system-kind of like marinating her insides. So she's feeling a bit nauseous this time, not to mention the bloating and constant peeing from the fluids. She's lost about 15 or so pounds through this journey (she's down to 97 pounds) so it's important that she eats, but she wasn't hungry because of the fluid push-hopefully that will change. Not fun, but necessary.

Now, onto the main event....my cycle!

When we last left our saga, I was starting Lupron and going back for monitoring that Thursday. I started the FolliSTING that night (75IU, can you believe it!), overlapping with the Lupron and stopped the BCP's. So, I was plugging along on the same dosage (I'm still amazed at that small amount of stims....unreal, right?) and going every two days for monitoring, which really sucked because I had to get up at 4:30am in order to get to the clinic and to work on time-with the new job it now takes me an hour to get to work from there. Starting this past Monday I was going every morning (double suckage), and they let me trigger Thursday, with the retrieval being Saturday morning. Then Dr. Pipsqueak decided that she wanted to throw a small wrench into the plan by calling me on Friday and letting me know that there was a "distinct possibility" I could have a fresh transfer this cycle, since I did so well with the stims (her words were that I didn't "explode like you usually do"). So I had to get PIO and Medrol from the office, since it was never ordered for me. Luckily I was already in the hospital visiting mom and I could just walk over, and I already have tons of leftover PIO needles!

I had the retreival yesterday (LOVE those drugs ,btw!) and they got 18 eggs! We'll find out today the fert report and whether or not we'll do a fresh transfer this cycle or not. I did start PIO last night (yeah, forgot how much THAT sucked!) just in case.

Let's hope that the wrench in the plan is a good one.

**************update***************

Nurse Blondie called late this morning with my results:

18 retrieved, 16 mature, 12 fertilized. Day 3 transfer scheduled for 12:30pm on Tuesday.

Here we go again.

The Ganirelix Love Affair

First of all, thanks for all the comments and support. Honestly, I thought that, because I've been neglectful of this here blog, there would be nobody really around these parts, but thanks to you (and LFCA.....you rock like a aging heroin punk groupie on the Bowery) I know that I'm still not alone, even though I've been at this shit for as long as I have been. I'm the crusty old infertile that sits in the corner of the room talking about the "good 'ol days", when men were men and women were.....well, you know what I mean.

And, I apologize for leaving anyone hanging out there in regards to what's going on with my girly-bits. I went back to work on Tuesday (kids came on Wednesday) so it's been pretty crazy right now with getting back into the swing of things, and then adding in getting up at the ass-crack of dawn (the ass-crack being 4:30 am to get out of the house by 5:30 and getting to the office by 5:50am)to go to BIC for monitoring and THEN going to work, which is an hour from the office (with some traffic).....all to make it in time for my homeroom. Sheesh.

So. I went to the RE on Sunday morning, bright and early for my bloodwork and wanding. Of course, I was also killing a few birds with one stone, because my RE's office is attached to and affiliated with the hospital where my mother was recuperating from her cancer surgery (more on that in another post, but the streamlined version is that they did the total hysterectomy, didn't have to remove any of the bowel, the cancer cells were 99.9% gone according to the surgeon, and they installed the intra-peritoneal port for course #2 of chemo under her skin.). I drag Lovely Sean with me into the wanding room, where he proceeds to yet again prove his lack of common decency by asking me if he thought that Dr. Pipsqueak would find it odd if he asked her if he could lick the probe afterwards, like a Kohr's Frozen Custard on the Jersey Shore boardwalk. Really. I can't make this shit up, I swear.

And, no......I didn't let him. Although it would've been worth it to see the reaction he got, I DO have some pride left in me throughout this.

Yes, people-I STILL want to reproduce with this man. And make him partially responsible for any offspring I might release from my loins. Um....yeah. Of course, since any child we have will be half mine and half his genetically, and Murphy's Law being what it is, they'll more than likely inherit this lovely trait from him. Wonderful. I'll be the future gestator of probe-licking children who have no "filter" button. Can't wait for Back-To-School Night already!!

Oh, sorry......anyways, the upshot of this whole thing is that, once the wand was inserted, we all find out that the cysts are GONE. Buh-bye! It was like Ganirelix is the Wonder Drug Of The Fertility Universe. Like, I'd marry it if it were legal. Hell....I'd even let it not put the toilet seat down afterwards. Because THAT'S how much I love this damn medication. I even read something online about a study that was recently done using Ganirelix on high responders and those at-risk of OHSS, and it worked in lowering fast-rising E2 levels without compromising egg quality-better than lowering doses or coasting. I mentioned it to Dr. Pipsqueak and she got a big shit-eating grin on her face and agreed that the findings were pretty cool. It's like Ganirelix was MADE FOR ME! Hallelujah!

I got the call Sunday night to start Lupron (10 units) and overlap with the BCP. And, OH MY GOOD GOD, I forgot how much injecting suuuucks. I've been at it for almost a week and I'm still getting over that "my hand is trying to stick a needle in my body" mental override that you have to do. I mean, for the first time EVER I bruised badly enough that I still can't inject on my right side. It was bright purple and about the diameter of a golf ball, I swear (but is now starting to turn that pretty shade of yellowish-pink). I even had the school nurse look at it, to make sure that I wasn't internally bleeding to death (she didn't think so, btw). It still freaks me out looking at it.

I had to go back to BIC for monitoring on Thursday (how I made it through the day I have NO IDEA-thank God we only had the kids for a half day) and got the all-clear call from Nurse Blondie-I could stop BCP's, and start the Folli-STING (75IU-can you believe it? It's like the dosage for an IUI!!) tonight. Woot! Sean also got to start his Doryx today. I get to go back on Tuesday for monitoring and we'll take it from there.

Wow.....we're FINALLY on the ride! I thought we'd never get here. I am a bit excited now that the process has started. Of course, once I start daily monitoring (probably the middle of next week) I'm sure that if you asked me, I'd say that I'd rather have a dirty spork sticking out of my eye than stim. But, I'm feeling good about it at this point in time.

And, that'll do for now. Quite nicely, in fact.

Chemical Cocktails Aren't Very Tasty, But The Souvenir Glass Is Nice

Well, friends.....in our newest installment of "Who Wants To Be A Down-Regulator", we found out that (1). the HCG shot worked in the sense that my LH and E2 levels have somewhat gone down, (2). My P4 levels have gone up, and (3). one of the cysts is shrinking.

However, my E2 and P4 levels haven't changed as much as they need in order to start Lupron (my reading is 2, and it needs to be 3......isn't that a har-de-har?), and the cyst on my right side has gotten bigger (4cm). So, after Dr. Pipsqueak reviewed today's latest bloodletting, she has come up with a new plan to try to suppress me enough to start Lupron. Starting tonight I get to start BCP's (yay.....my favorite!) and add in Ganirelix for the next four days, then go in on Sunday for more bloodwork and a date with the wand. If everything looks good, then Lupron is a go (I have until Sept 1st to start Lupron for this lab series). If not.....then the plan is to stay on the BCP until the next series starts in October. Which blows big monkey balls, but there's not much that I, or anyone else can do. I had to go pick up my meds at the office and got to speak to Nurse Blondie, and I did ask whether or not I should be concerned about the cyst bursting or getting bigger, and she said that Dr. Pipsqueak doesn't seem to be overly concerned and that the cyst is pretty small compared to the size it could be if I didn't take the HCG. But, that cyst is still creating hell and havoc, much like a middle-schooler. How ironic.

Nurse Blondie suggested having a "talk" with my ovaries, and I told her that I've begged, cajoled, bribed and threatened those little fuckers, and that the next move is a well-aimed punch in the cooter. Oddly, she didn't find that as funny as I thought. Hmmm. Perhaps I shouldn't have used the word cooter.

So.....that means that I get to start a new chemical cocktail, starting tonight. Anyone out there take Ganirelix and have any input? Is it more, or less shittier than Lupron? How about side effects? The only thing I could find on my trusty Dr. Google is that it's a GNRH-antagonist, which is like someone telling me in Russian that I should try black caviar. And, I HATE BCP's....hate, hate, hate them! Ugh, nothing like being a moody bitch right in time for the new school year, huh? Heads are gonna ROLL next week with my 7th grade homeroom! Grooowwwwl! Let's hope that it really doesn't make me crazy.....or, at least, not as crazy as Loopy Lupron does.

Seriously, though, I am disappointed-I won't gloss over that-but not totally gutted by it. Perhaps now is not the right time to do a cycle, and, with everything else that's going on with school starting and my mother's illness (she's doing well, btw....the tumor has shrunk to the point that the CAT scan can't pick it up, and they've moved her surgery up to this Friday, instead of in November). I just can't help feeling that time is slipping away from me with each passing month that we don't conceive. I'll be 37 my next birthday; and, although it is still technically "young", even by infertility standards, it sure ain't 30. It's the age where I have to start worrying about upped miscarriage and Down's syndrome rates, CVS and amnio testing, and all the crap that I never gave a thought about when we started this whole mess. To be honest, I idealistically thought that we'd have more than one child by now, and we wouldn't have to worry anymore. That the world of infertility would be just a distant memory for us.

Boy, was I wrong on that one.

Punch, Meet Judy

Well, it's official....I have not one, but two cysts on my ovaries-one measuring 2cm on the right side, and one almost 3 on the left one.

Sean got to name them this time-Punch, and Judy. Hopefully they'll kick the shit out of each other. As for me, that's what Anaprox is for, right?

According to the RE's office, my estradiol numbers are going down, but not as much as they want. So, I get to take my HCG trigger today or tonight (no set time), and they "should" rupture. Then I get to go back in on Monday for another wanding and more bloodletting. After that......well, we won't get our hopes up yet, shall we?

Hey, c'mon.....this is par for the course for us. SOMETHING has to go wrong when we decide to do IF treatment. It wouldn't be AS MUCH FUN then, right?

I'm still waiting for the punchline, though.

Hmmmmmm.....

Well, I'm back in the doctor's office AGAIN. I came in yesterday for my usual "WTF" bloodletting, only to get a phone call from Nurse Blondie yesterday afternoon. My estradiol is still up, and my progesterone hasn't risen high enough to see if I ovulated, so I'm now here for more bloodwork and a wanding to see what's brewing in my girly-bits.

Of course, I've been crampy on my right side for the last few data, and when I woke up this morning and peed, I found a smear o' bright red blood on the toilet paper. And a clot in the toilet (yeah, it TMI-deal with it!).

Anyone wanna put on their Dr. House hat and diagnose me? I'm guessing a cyst, but it's anyone's guess.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Let's hope that my body cooperates today, and I've actually ovulated. I'm tired of this shit already, and I haven't even really started the process yet!

At least the office doesn't seem as crowded today-I got a comfy warmer seat on the first try! And a cup of coffee that tastes pretty good. I'll take comfort in that, at least.

You've got to try to appreciate the small stuff, right?

I'll update later once I hear.

******update 2:30 pm********

Well, what do YOU think happened?

Orders are to be back in the office Monday for bloodwork.

It's cycle day 30. Why don't I have a good feeling about this?

I need a fucking drink. I'm just SO done with this shit.

You win, ovaries. I say Uncle.


-- Post From My iPhone

Deja-Vu

Hmmm....guess where I am?

It looks like they're giving away another IVF door prize this morning. Of course, being a weekend, there are a lot of husbands/partners/significant others here. But, I didn't get a Seatsicle, so that must count for something in the IF universe.

So, shall we take bets as to whether or not I've ovulated? I'm guessing yes, but that's the cock-eyed optimist in me. That, and perhaps the half-pitcher of sangria I sucked down last night at dinner.

We must get through somehow, right

-- Post From My iPhone


***********************

Okay, it's now 12:45, and I got the call from Nurse Blondie.

Guess what? C'mon, you know the answer to this one!

I STILL HAVEN'T STARTED LUPRON!!!!!!! I need to go back on Wednesday, because I'm "really close" but....no cigar.

I'm about to punch my cooter in the cooter and give it a "time-out". I hope that this isn't a precursor to how this cycle could potentially turn out. If that's the case, fuck it!

GGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

WTF?

Can you fucking believe that I STILL haven't ovulated??? It's CD 25, for fuck's sake!!!! Apparently I'm "close", though; so I now have to go back on Sunday.

Now, if this was just a regular cycle for me, I'd be ovulating at CD 26....Which would make this a 40 day cycle. 40 days! I've NEVER had a cycle that long before. Now I'm freaked out because I'm thinking, what if I'm starting to go perimenopausal?

AHHHHHHHHH! THIS SUUUUCKS!!!


-- Post From My iPhone

The Waiting Room, Round Two

I'm back at the clinic for my blood draw, and I screwed the pooch yet again-I got another Seatsicle. Although, I can't complain too much...it's only partially under the air vent. At least the TV's on this time!

Ooh-I did the Fertility Chair Switch and got a warmer seat!
Woot! Maybe that's a good sign that I'm going to start Lupron!

Isn't it sad that I base my IVF success by the seat I get at the clinic? Yeah, I thought so.


-- Post From My iPhone

Figures....

So, do you think that perhaps MAYBE I can have an IVF cycle go somewhat smoothly?

Nah, why should it? That would make it boring, right? The extra stress just adds to the experience!

Sean and I had to go back to the clinic on Monday afternoon because we forgot to fill out our consent forms. While I was there, Nurse Blondie let me know that I had to go back on Friday for more bloodwork, since I hadn't ovulated yet. And, since I haven't ovulated yet, I can't begin the Lupron.

Yep, that's right-it was cycle day twenty-freakin' one and I HADN'T OVULATED YET!! WTF? This has never, ever happened to me before. Unfuckingbelievable.

I guess that explains why I pretty much sexually assualted my husband on Saturday AND Sunday.

Well, that means that it's back to the clinic on Friday morning for the Annual Running of the Hormonal Bulls blood draw and hope to God that I get a good seat. Or else I'm bringing my parka. And my down comforter. And a thermos of vodka.

Because everything is easier with a thermos of vodka. Trust me on that.

The Waiting Room

Is it twisted and sick to get disappointed when you groom your girly-bits for a date with the Follicular Lurve Wand, only to find out that you're only having bloodwork instead?

I GROOMED, dammit! My va-jay-jay hasn't looked his good in MONTHS! Oh, well...

------------------------------
I was up at an UNGODLY hour this morning-5:45 to be exact-so that I could get to the RE's office for b/w and an ultrasound. But it appears that there was no need to, because it's bloodwork only this morning. So, here I am, early-morning blogging at the office. And, this is the second time I've made this mistake-I guess I'm a little IF rusty when it comes to appointments.

Did I ever tell you about the chair situation at the RE's office? Oh, God....it's frickin' HILARIOUS! So, the waiting room in the office is pretty large, with a lot of chairs and couches around, tables with an assortment of magazines for your reading pleasure, a coffee machine and pastries-even a flat-screen TV (Which isn't on right now-boo). Well, like in most doctor's office, it feels like Siberia in here-and it's like that ALL YEAR ROUND. Like, it's warmer outside in January than it is in the waiting room. Why is this? What the fuck is the point-to kill germs?

Anyway, there's a whole bank of seats under the windows that, although close to the TV, are RIGHT UNDER the air conditioner vents. And, NOBODY wants to sit there due to the fact that you freeze your tits off. You'd probably get frostbite waiting to have blood drawn. In fact, you'd probably have frozen blood to draw. Not to mention a frozen cooter. Not that the actual exam room is any warmer-it's only slightly warmer than a meat locker.

So, the game amongst the patients is to get there early enough so you're not in those seats-call it "Musical Chairs for IF Treatment", if you will. When they call your name for the blood draw, you actually have to leave all your shit on the seat like a 2nd grade child, otherwise the poor saps that got the Seatsicles will jump into your chair faster than shit out of a goose. And then look at you when you come out of the lab like they're expecting a fight. Nothing like a room full of women hopped up on hormones, huh? If you end up with the bad luck of getting the Seatsicle for the whole time you're there (which could be up to an hour and a half, depending on how busy it is), the nurse basically has to melt you out of your seat with a hair dryer to get you in the exam room. Well, I got here this morning at 6:15, thinking I would "win" the game and get a good chair, but, alas, the waiting room looked like they were giving away an IVF door prize, and guess where I had to sit....you've got it....THOSE SEATS! I can't feel my extremities and am now praying to be put out of my misery. Could you hook a sister up with a heating pad, for fuck's sake?

Whoever said that IF isn't so bad obviously hasn't sat in this waiting room. Help!



-- Post From My iPhone

I Like To Ride My (IVF) Bicycle.....

I had my RE appointment last week with Dr. Pipsqueak, for a physical and saline ultrasound, and it's weird getting back on this IVF bandwagon. It's a bit like riding a bike after not using one for years-you kind of wobble around like a drunk for a few minutes, fall off on to your ass, scrape your knee and curse and wonder why the fuck you're doing this in the first place, because it's OH SO MUCH FUN. Then, you get that sense of familiarity and everything starts to work together, as if you've suddenly remembered something buried deep inside you, and it all starts to make sense, in a fucked-up hormonally challenged sort of way.

Yeah, infertility is like that, isn't it? Especially when you've done multiple IVF cycles and have taken a long break in between, like me. I actually forgot who to call when it was my CD 1, and I made a complete ass of myself when trying to find out who gets the call (I ended up calling the admin AND the nurse....better safe than sorry, right?). But, I'm trying to worry less about the small, dopey things and focus on the things that I can control; which, let's face it....isn't a whole hell of a lot-at least, not when it comes to an IVF cycle.

So....yeah, did I mention how much I LOATHE the saline ultrasound? Yeah. A lot. I mean, I can look on the bright side....it ain't an HSG (and we KNOW how much I love them. If it weren't for Captain Valium and his sidekick Sergeant Anaprox, I'd be writhing on the floor in pain). But.....ew. Gross. Messy and just awkward. But, necessary.

All went well with the appointment, though. The girly-bits checked out fine, and the physical went well. Right before the ultrasound, she said to me, "So....have I told you what we've planned on doing for you?" (which ALWAYS makes me feel like all the RE's in the office are are discussing my cooter whilst tenting their fingers together a la Montgomery Burns and saying "Exxxxcelllent...."). So, since I had no idea what she was talking about she told me that she went to the lab director with "my file" (as she said those words she held her hands apart about six inches, which leads me to believe that my chart must obviously be the size of "The Lord of the Rings"....all three of them) and asked him to look at it. The whole damn thing. Shit-I hope that guy had enough Red Bull on hand for that one, because I'm sure that it was just fascinating reading. Sort of a cross between reading grafitti on a bathroom wall and a church bulletin. Or maybe a church bulletin graffitied on a bathroom wall? In a church? Oh, never mind....

Anyway, after the poor man probably went blind reading my epic trilogy-like novel chart (Myyy PRECIOUS.....), he and the other RE's decided that perhaps a fresh transfer isn't the way to go with me. It's obviously that I don't need a lot of medication in order to produce the amount of eggs to populate a Third-World country, and that it's a delicate dance to balance my meds with enough mature eggs to retrieve-stay on the meds too long, get a lot of eggs, and no fresh transfer; trigger earlier to avoid OHSS and get a transfer, and not get enough mature eggs to fertilize. And, because from past experience I seem to have no problem with embryos fertilizing, developing and their status post-thawing, we'll be doing another freeze-all cycle. As Dr. Pipsqueak put it, "There's no sense forcing your body to do something that perhaps it isn't able to do". Which, although it makes me feel shitty that I, yet AGAIN, have managed to be unable to do what "normal" women can do, she does have a valid point. In my case, there might be no way that I'd ever be able to do a full IVF cycle all at once. It's such a delicate balance with all the medications that are taken, and if I over-respond to the stims, there might really never be a way to balance it out with progesterone in the luteal phase. Although numbers-wise I've never had a problem with that, maybe I'm just really sensitive to that and it's just the way it is. Great, huh?

But, there is a plus side to all of this insanity. I don't have to do PIO. My ass-cheeks have been saved to fight another day. Woot! There is a plus side to IVF-who knew??

I got my call from Nurse Blondie today and I'll be doing the CD 21 long Lupron protocol (otherwise known around these parts as "The Neverending Migraine And Mental Insanity From The Fire-Pit of Burning Hell"), I was hoping at first that I'd do the BCP/Lupron overlap, which was the one that I did the very first time, which was two weeks of BCP's , then overlapping the Loopy Lupron for the last three days. I like the latter better-the less time I'm on Lupron, the better it is for anyone who has to have any personal contact with me-but, because of scheduling (mine, not the clinic-we've got to do the retrieval before September 1st, which is when school starts) I'm doing the Long Lupron protocol, but at a higher dosage-I'm starting on 20 units of Lupron and they'll taper it down, which I did for the last cycle. The Lupron Suckfest will begin in about six days (Aug. 3rd), so my favorite side effects of headaches, mood swings and hot flashes should be hitting me full-force right around the time of a family reunion picnic (Sean's side) and my FIL's surprise 60th birthday party. If his family ALREADY didn't think that my husband married a crazy person, then they're in for a treat that they couldn't even begin to imagine. Hoo boy! Party on! Can't wait!

The Return of the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Girl

So, I've been thinking a lot about this upcoming cycle lately. I don't know-call me a little crazy-but, I'm actually looking forward to it, in a sick and sort of stick-sharp-objects-in-your-body kind of way. However, there is one thing that I seriously need to do before we move forward.

Lose weight. Because, OH MY GOD, I can't stand the way I look right now. And it's not going to get any better once we add meds to the mix.

I've gained about 10-12 pounds in the last year, and that's not counting the fact that I was 15-20 pounds overweight to begin with. So, that means that I've gained a total of thirty pounds since I've started IF treatment. Holy motherfucking shit. Of course, some of that weight is in my boobs (I was already a D-cup when we started, and have slowly migrated to a DD), but not THIRTY POUNDS. That means that I am going to have to get serious when it comes to losing some of the weight before we start, which doesn't give me a lot of time. Plus, I've been such a lazy bitch when it comes to exercising. I just can't be bothered, which is NOT GOOD. I don't know if it's a sign that I just don't give a rat's ass, or that I need to get motivated, but I just can't stand it anymore. I have to do something about it, STAT.

So, I've had the online membership for WW since February of last year, and within the last two weeks have been tracking my food intake. My biggest problem is not what I eat, because we actually eat pretty healthfully-lots of whole grains, fresh fruit and veg, and we rarely cook or eat red meat (honestly, the only time I eat steak is when we go out to dinner) at home-but, I think my problem is a combo of the fact that I don't drink enough water throughout the day, and also that my dinner tends to be later because Sean doesn't get home until 7pm, which means we don't usually eat until 7:30-8pm. And, that's not really good when you want to lose weight. Add that to the fact that I'm not really exercising, and well......there you go. Thirty fucking pounds later.

It's just so damn frustrating. It's bad enough that I can't get pregnant on my own, but to LOOK like I'm pregnant (or like I've just had a baby) when I clearly haven't, is embarrassing. I guess I should console myself with the fact that at least it's somewhat evenly distributed throughout my body (but a lot of it is in my belly). Thank God for big tits, though....they make my belly look smaller. You've got to be happy for the small accomplishments in life, right? A big problem for me is that I don't have a "buddy" to help motivate me, so I get lazy. Sean's no help-he's on his feet all day long, so he burns his food as fast as he eats it. Plus, he's a man-and we all know they tend to lose faster. Fuckers. Not like he needs to anyway-he's got a nice flat stomach to fit in his 33" waisted pants. Bastard.

Now, it's time to get off my ass and move around. Enough talking about it....it's time to start acting on it. I'll be blogging on my progress, so if I cheeze out, I give any one of you out there full permission to kick my fat ass around the block. Whatever it takes, right?

Potpourri

Wow, I had NO idea that I haven't updated in four months!

I guess it's official-I am a total slacker when it comes to blogging lately. However, I'm discovering that "itch" to blog again, because I'm feeling a need to express myself here. I feel as if I can truly say what I feel, without having to explain why I feel that way. I don't need to make it all flowery and pretty and worry about not offending someone if I don't say it the "correct" way. Because, let's face it....that's not really me.

So.....what's been going on here? Sheesh, where do I begin?

School's out, as of this past Thursday. Let me tell you.....having a job that you like makes a hell of a difference in your mental state. I never realized how much I hated my former position until I started in my new job. Now, that's not to say that I love every single aspect of my job, because life ain't perfect, people. But, to work in a place with a support system, to feel as if you're an equal, contributing member of a faculty......let's just say that I'm going nowhere anytime soon. I can see myself retiring here, that's for sure.

As for the home front, well.....that's a different story. We've been dealt a major kick in the ass lately. About a month ago, my mother wasn't feeling too well-she was having pains on her right side, and went to the emergency room. The docs there thought that she might have a case of diverticulitis, so they decided to do a CAT scan to see what was up. They found that her colon was twisted on the right side, which was causing her the pain. But, it was what they also found that has changed everything.

They found a mass on her left ovary, and recommended seeing an oncologist.

Of course my mother, being a nurse herself, decided that she was going RIGHT AWAY to her regular gynie (who she sees yearly) to see what was up. He did an ultrasound, saw what was up, and concurred about seeing an oncologist. He ended up recommending someone on his floor, she got an appointment the next day (cancellation), and they scheduled a hysterectomy.

So, she went in for the surgery on May 29th. What they hadn't counted on was that the tumor was adhered to her bowel, pelvis and bladder, and that the entire area was inflamed. So, they biopsied as much as they could, and closed her up. We found out the next day that it was Stage III Ovarian Cancer. Considering my grandmother (my mom's mother) also died from ovarian cancer, we all took this pretty badly. The recommended course of treatment is that she gets chemo every three weeks (she had the first treatment as an inpatient, and her second is on Wednesday of this week), they'll redo the CAT scan to see if/how much the tumor has shrunk, and then, if all looks good, will reschedule the surgery and remove everything they need to.

To say that this was a blow to us is an understatement. My mother is a trooper though. She's feeling okay so far-mostly tired, but she started losing her hair last weekend, and decided on Thursday that she was going to shave it all off, rather than let it fall out gradually. Her doctors are optimistic about her chances of beating this, despite the diagnosis. It hasn't spread into the lymph nodes, which is good news. The recurrence rate isn't wonderful, though.....which worries me. But I know that she's in the best hands possible. And, in a really weird way, no amount of worrying is going to change the fact that my 57 year old mother has cancer. I just have to be there and support her and my dad as best as I can. Luckily I'm not working this summer, and we're not going away, so I can help out more.

So.....what do I decide to do in the wake of all this drama going on? Why, prepare for a fresh cycle, of course! Because I just can't seem to be able to have enough going on right now....let's add some infertility to the mix! Woot! What the FUCK am I thinking?

Well, I had a mini-freak out thinking that, what with injecting enough hormones to choke a woolly mammoth, I was next on the Big Casino list, so I emailed Dr. Pipsqueak with a shitload of questions (would I get cancer? should we cycle again? should I have the BRCA genetic tests?). She reassured me that (1). there is no proven correlation between reproductive cancer and fertility meds, (2). if my mom tested positive for the BRCA mutation, and I was tested, it would depend on my results (luckily, mom tested negative, so it wasn't passed on-woot!) and (3). there IS a corellation between INFERTILITY and ovarian cancer, so it would be to my benefit to get knocked up to lower my risk. In short, we need to cycle, and since I'm not getting younger, it needs to be soon.

Needless to say, we're updating our things with her office, to try to get in during the summer for a cycle, once the lab opens in mid-July. We were talking about cycling anyway, but now there is more of an urgency. Maybe I'm overthinking this whole thing, but I'm thinking that, if I can get knocked up and have a baby (or two, but at this point beggars can't be choosers!), and we know that we're done, I'll have a hysterectomy and hopefully be done with the whole potential cancer-y mess. That is, if it's a perfect world and everything works out. Which, in my case, never does.

So, I'm back in the IVF saddle, for the fifth time. Hey, do you think that they have a "frequent flyer" type of program for IF? Or a "buy four and get the fifth free"? Hell, I'd even take preferred parking, at this point. I guess that's just the old, crusty barren bitch in me, raring to get out.

It's good to be back, though. Hopefully there are still some of you out there, but if not, I'll just chat to myself and look like a crazy woman.......trust me, it won't be the first time.

Infertility, watch out.....I'm gonna kick you right in the cooter. Repeatedly.

Or, at least until a baby falls out of it.

The "All-Naturale" Approach

Since I'm not cycling right now, it's a bit weird blogging....I mean, what is there to write about? I'm not hormonal or bloated (not counting the FAT that's accumulated around my middle again...sheesh), shooting up fertility meds or massaging the Strawberry Shortcake-bandaided-covered lumps of progesterone on my ass.

Oh, wait.....not yet, at least. That fun is coming soon enough

It makes life rather boring, in a sick, demented sort of way.

So, I've been going for weekly acupuncture for almost a year now, and this time around the acu has also prescribed me some Chinese herbs to "help" things along. She feels that it will balance my reproductive system and "prep" it for a new cycle, if I don't get pregnant first.

Seriously......the only thing that this has helped, at least so far, is in activating my colon. OMG....the GAS! And the POOP! And the GAS.....ugh.

Last month she put me on this 4-phase formula that didn't work. When I got AF last week, she decided, after going through my Chinese diagnosis (Blood Stasis and Kidney Yang deficiency) and Western dx (blocked tubes), I got an herbal mix that is supposed to "Resolve" my lower system. It's in capsule form that I have to take three times daily (three caps a day). Luckily it doesn't taste like ass, so it isn't too bad. Being the dorkus maximus that I am, I looked up the herbs and I figured that nothing in them will make me sprout another leg from my body, so I should be all right. The pamphlet that she gave me with the pills did specifically state that it was good for tubal occlusion and blood stasis, cysts, and endo, so I guess that I've got all bases covered.

Oh, God.....did I mention the GAS?!?! And the SMELL from the GAS!?!?! And the SHEER VOLUME OF SOUND it makes!?!? Urgh...it's like I've got a duck speaking out of my ass. Or a small rhino. Or the entire contents of the Amazon. It's scary how much gas I have. SERIOUSLY. I kid you NOT.

Oh, yeah-I'm also supposed to avoid "cold" foods, and red meat, so I guess that means no ice cream on my filet mignon. Oh, well. Actually, I'm afraid to eat, since everything that goes in my mouth smells like the Plague coming out. I'm afraid to look at the sheets, in case there's scorch marks. Or shart marks (c'mon, you've got to know what a "shart" is!? I'm SO not going there unless I have to!).

Really, though-there's a purpose to this, right? I mean, besides being a stinky thirtysomething who gets a panic attack thinking that there's noxious gas leaking out of her rectum which will kill upon contact?

Although, my butt could be considered a WMD.....or perhaps our new Adminstration can use it to find an alternative to our energy crisis......I could make millions! IVF for everyone! Yay!

Catharsis

So.....it's been exactly a month since I've posted.

It's been a tough month.

First of all, thank you all so much for your kind words. The whole ordeal with Buddy left such a void within me. It hits me at certain times-if I'm snuggled up relaxing on the couch and realizing that there's no kitty to jump into my lap, or in the mornings. Some days are easier than others, but I'm still plodding along.

Sean and I hit a breaking point a few weeks ago with this whole IF bullshit. We've both felt a disconnect in our marriage for a while now, and difficulty communicating with one another, physically, emotionally and literally. We were arguing more and more about stupid things, and the whole sexing thing was......well, another shitty job to get through.

About two weeks ago we got into a HUGE argument-huge enough that I took my car keys and left the house, because I just couldn't deal with it anymore. It was probably one of the few times in my marriage that I seriously considered separation, because there was NO WAY that I could see the two of us staying together without killing one another. After about an hour I came home, and we both laid down the law-something had to change, or our marriage wouldn't survive.

It was a sobering thought. We talked, REALLY talked, for probably the first time since we started doing IF treatments-about the pressure put on ourselves in regards to having children, the disappointments, how hard it is. Until this point, Sean had never really expressed how he felt about what we've gone through, so I just assumed that he was either being naive or didn't really care as much as me, since it wasn't "his problem". I learned that night that he is hurting just as much as I am. He also never really talked about treatments, and how he felt about going ahead with another cycle. He wants to, but not at the expense of our marriage, which I can understand.

I don't think that, until that moment, I ever truly confided in him about what hell going into treatments is for me, and the toll the negative outcomes of our cycling has taken on me emotionally. He did suggest that perhaps we need to speak to a counselor about this, because it is a huge stress on our marriage, and maybe he's right. What I do know is that we can't go on the way we had been and make things work.

It was a catharsis of sorts, for both of us. We needed to get it all out on the table, so that we both know where we stand in all this.

So.....what's the deal?

We will cycle again, probably in the summertime.
I will get into the best shape physically and emotionally to help things along.
We are taking more time for us.
We are trying to come to terms with the fact that perhaps it will be just the two of us.

It's not easy, but we're taking it one day at a time. That's all we can do, right?

Goodbye, Handsome Boy

On Wednesday, we had to make the hardest decision that we've yet to make in our marriage.

We had to let Buddy go.

It was agonizing to make-but realistically, we knew that it was the best choice, that we were being selfish if we didn't go through with it. Since Saturday, he had gone downhill-he was barely eating....all he wanted was water, and would barely drink any. He was also starting to have difficulty going up and down the stairs, and was so lethargic. He urinated on the bed several times (a few times in his sleep) in the middle of the night and didn't bother to clean himself afterward. Waking up at 3:30 on Wednesday morning to a soiled bed, and then trying to clean Buddy's paws with baby shampoo because he can't clean himself was the reality slap for us......we knew that it would only get worse for him from here on in. And, that wasn't fair to him-he deserved better than that from us.

Sean made the appointment for Thursday afternoon, and took him to our vet. Being that I just started my new job, we felt that there wasn't any way that I could take the time. I think that it was also easier for Sean this way-he could focus on Buddy and not on me losing control (which would have happened if I was there). Of course, I feel guilty as hell; as if I had abandoned him when he needed me the most. I was his mommy, and I wasn't there-it's something that I need to come to terms with, eventually. Leaving for work on Thursday knowing that he wouldn't be there when I came home was one of the hardest things I've had to do. I didn't want to let him go-I was trying to memorize how he felt, the texture of his fur, his eyes, his smell.

Sean said that when the vet examined him, he could feel the lumps throughout his abdomen, where the cancer had obviously spread through his colon. He reassured us that we were doing the right thing. He also commended us on how we went over and above what others would have done in the same situation.

Of course we did-he was our baby. We had to try to save his life.

We decided to have him cremated, in the end....I couldn't bear having him put in a communal grave and left alone. He will be with us, where he belongs.

Those who had the experience of being around him knew that he was just about the sweetest, most loving cat. He hated to be held for long amounts of time, but would constantly crawl into your lap and look up at you with his big green eyes. He loved his mousey "Marvin",chewing on the shower curtain liner (even though he knew it drove me crazy), trying to see if he could sneak into the bathroom and drink out of the toilet, and loved lying in your lap. He would wait for you either at the door or would be watching out at the window to see you pull into the driveway. He even loved his sister; and, although she kicked the crap out of him at times, he was the first to go up to her and clean her head with his tongue and lie next to her.

What I remember especially about Buddy is when we found out about our miscarriage, four years ago. There I was, sobbing in bed after the phone call from the RE, and he climbed up into my lap, touched me gently on the face with his paw, and looked up at me. His eyes looked right into my soul, telling me that everything was going to be alright. He had that way about him-he could actually communicate with you through his eyes. It was one of the things that we realized was missing in the past few days-that ability to "talk" to you with his eyes. At the end, there was a blankness there that was absolutely heartbreaking. We knew then that we had to do the best thing for him, even though it was the worst thing for us. He was at least with someone who loved him, in the end. He wasn't totally alone.

Goodbye, my handsome boy. You've left a void in my heart that nothing can replace right now. You were my baby-perhaps the only baby I'll ever live to have. I hope you can forgive us for trying to do the right thing, and that you're in Heaven, knowing no pain, and feeling free and happy.

These words written here will never begin to express how much I will always miss you, and how much you've affected my life. Thank you for loving us unconditionally, for the gift of your companionship. We love you and will never, ever forget you.

Hello? Is it Me You're Looking For?

Anyone still out there? *knocking on monitor screen*

I'm still around, really. I've inadvertently taken a little "blogcation", although it wasn't my original intention. There's been so much going on here, and lots of changes have happened, and, really, since I'm not cycling at the moment I felt like all my posts had that "woe is me, I'm a bitter infertile bitch wah wah wah" type of repetition thing starting to happen, and seriously.....who wants to read that shit over and over again?

It was even starting to annoy me. So, there we go.

A basic update: We found out the end of October that the kitty chemo didn't work, so they offered the option of an oral chemo protocol. It had less of a chance of working and really didn't have a great life expetancy, so we had to make the decision to stop Buddy's treatments. They sent us home with prenisolone, gave us about a month. Buddy is still with us, but we've noticed the past week that he's started to noticeably slow down. He's also started things like going outside the litter box (the best was coming home on Thursday to find that he peed on our brand new comforter set, and he's pooped on the floor). So I really think that it's going to be sooner rather than later, which totally blows ass, but really, he's lasted two months longer than the doctors said he would, so at least we've had extra time with him. It still blows large monkey balls, though.

I also started a new teaching job, mid-year, in a MUCH better district (teaching middle school music AND drama-woot). I started this past Monday, LOVE IT, and am exhausted with trying to get organized and used to the new routine, which is totally different than elementary school music. Everyone is really nice and have been so welcoming, which is foreign to me, given that I came from a school where almost nobody talked to me my first year there. Let's just say that I had really no hesitation when the job was offered to me....

As for where I'm at with cycling.....who the hell knows. Sean seems to be under the delusion that I'll get pregnant on my own. However, since we all know that I am NOT the Blessed Mother, I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't work. I'm still doing acupuncture weekly and will start herbs, just for shits and giggles. Since I've changed jobs and health insurance carriers, I'm not sure how this will work, so I'm going to be totally optimistic and say that perhaps we'll cycle in the summer, if I can convince Sean that we won't get busted by the insurance company. Watch what happens, though-because I've just started a new job and I'm no longer tenured, I'll be one of "those people" and get knocked up on my own, after downing two bottles of vino, a joint and some processed food, and after only ONE NIGHT of the sexing, post-ovulation. Why? Because that's just my damn luck, that's why.

Ah, just the delusion of that makes me giggle.

So, my New Year's resolution is to blog more, because if I don't, I've found that I'm a total bitch to everyone around me. This little blog has kept me sane; or, at least as sane as I can be. To that end, I'm now finishing my post on our brandy-new iMac, which is bitchin'! We picked it up yesterday from the lovely Fed Ex people, and it was idiot-proof to set up, which is partly the reason why we got it.....so Sean doesn't end up downloading mega-viruses and deleting half the hard drive, which is what he did to the PC we had ("but, babe....I thought that you were SUPPOSED to click on the flashing window!"). I totally love this thing, and if I weren't already married I'd take out a Domestic Partnership license for this mofo. Because, I'm weird like that.

Seriously though.....let the snarkiness begin