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!
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?
