You can't improve, so just give up
And I quote:
"It's not likely that we can improve upon this in another cycle. It would probably be more logical to consider other options such as adoption and egg donation."So after being told I should wait for the letter from the RE to make a follow-up appointment, not wanting to wait, then finding out there are no appointments until August, we got the letter. Last cycle, there was at least a hand-written note on the letter. This was straight-on typed, and I'm not even sure the signature isn't a stamp.
The last
Barren Bitches Book Tour covered the book by Peggy Orenstein,
waiting for daisy (I read the books, but don't do the tours, because book club and book tour stuff makes me feel stupid.) There were so many moments where I nodded and held back a, "you go, girl." But when I got to this paragraph, just a day after getting the letter from my clinic, I jumped up and shouted, "Hallelujah!" Hubby and I had discussed this very thing two weeks before
."I felt like the high roller whose new friends disappeared when his stake was gone. The caring brochures, the chummy smiles, the warm affect of the clinic "team" seemed abruptly stripped away, revealing nothing more than a cold-blooded business. We had wanted so desperately to believe that we had ignored the sales pitch in the compassion, the coercion in the photographs of babies and sunflowers. But I finally got it - these guys may have been doctors, but they were also salesmen. I may have been a patient, but I was also a consumer. I was undergoing a procedure, but I was also making a deal - and they were making a buck."
- Peggy Orenstein,
waiting for daisyWe didn't perform up to our clinic's expectations, the odds are we will continually fail and that will make them look bad.
But, they "were pleased to obtain 3 mature eggs and one immature egg."
What's wrong with that? Why do we have spit out 15, 20, 25 eggs each cycle? So what if only 2 fertilize? I'd only want 2 embryos transferred, anyway. Hubby has had a few conversations with an RE we got friendly with at a conference a while back. He told us that the down side of being plied with maximum dosages of gonal-f, lupron, repronex, etc., etc., while increasing the number of follicles and eggs produced, is the potential for chromosomal damage to the embryo. In which case, nature (usually) intervenes and prevents the embryo from implanting and maturing.
Alrighty then. Why did my RE never tell me this? I've never seen this mentioned in my own research, I've only ever seen the warnings of cancer risks to the patient. All the conversations about cancelling this cycle because of my low response, no one ever said, "and y'know, there's a chance that even if we do eggs, the embryos will be so genetically damaged, they won't implant anyway."
What's wrong with doing a regular cycle, with minimum meds, getting one or two follies, one or two eggs? Ostensibly, I ovulate every month anyway. In theory, I'm already producing one egg each month that is going to waste. So what if I don't get extra embryos to freeze? So what if we don't have a choice of the "best" egg and the "best" embryo? People who get pg that other way - y'know, using "sex" - don't get a choice. What the fuck difference does it make? Seriously?
I remembered a
clinic whose focus is low-dose cycles being mentioned in an issue of
ATIME's magazine a while back and decided to look them up. They're our next phone call. And we're not buying into any caring brochures, chummy smiles or photos of babies and sunflowers.
For extra credit, some light reading: Daily Mail article
Labels: infertility, isitacycle
Out From Life
be back shortlyLabels: infertility, isitacycle
The (very) long and the short of it
Random thoughts:
- I hide bad stuff behind humour. I went through some abusive stuff early on and learned to hide what I was feeling so I wouldn't let the other person know they were getting to me. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. It's now a bad habit I hide behind. I have difficulty saying, "I'm sad."
I'm sad.
- The more I think about, the more pissed I am at the clinic nurse who called. I wanted to make a follow-up appointment with my RE right away. She said we really should wait for "the letter" that they send out. Last time, it took weeks to get the letter, and by the time I received it, I was so done with that cycle. I didn't want to rehash it. But now, I want to talk to the RE when it's all fresh, and discuss our egg quality, etc., and the RE's thoughts on why two good embryos didn't take. The nurse finally, huffily, said she'd get a message to the secretary to see when the RE could "fit me in."
Oh, eff you. SO sorry for the inconvenience. I remember feeling this way last time - "Sorry, it was negative, you'll get a letter, okay, buh-bye, get lost." Everyone at the clinic is wonderful and friendly until you get that BFN. Then you're just another patient who made them look bad.
(warning, if you're squeamish or easily grossed out by body stuff, stop reading now. Of course, if you're squeamish or easily grossed out by body stuff, you're probably not pursuing infertility treatment.)- All day yesterday, I had very, very dark brown (like almost black) thick, mucous-y discharge with little clotty bits. Anyone know why I would brown discharge
first, before red bleeding? Today is closer to normal. (haha, very funny body: you hear "bfn" and immediately set forth to flowing. Thanks.)
- I'm very very sad that I'm now
niddah. Hardest part of the whole crapfest is knowing I can't get hugs and snuggles. Those hugs and snuggles were getting me through the last few days.
- Ironically, yesterday and today I've been horribly nauseous. (haha, very funny body: you suck.)
- Hubby and I had a most romantic dinner out last night (I didn't get my scotch*, but I did get sake). We just sat, snuggled in a private corner of the restaurant, and talked all gushy mushy. It was lovely. Hubby even got choked up. I love that I'm married to a man who is comfortable tearing up when he talks all romantic-like.
- What a difference blogging makes. Last cycle, a few people knew we were cycling. When they asked how it was going, and we told them about the bfn, there were a variety of responses, none of which was too comforting (somebody actually said we just saved ourselves "$500,000 on tuition, clothes, camp, etc."). This time, with one or two exceptions, you guys were the only ones who knew we were cycling. And I couldn't have asked for more comforting responses than the ones I received from each and every one of you. I am so grateful to you guys. Thank you from the bottom of my sore little heart.
I'm so glad tomorrow's Shabbat. I need a day off to just curl up with a blanket on the couch (and watch old movies, but I can't do
that on Shabbat). I think G-d will understand if I don't go to services, and limit my prayers to just personal conversation.
*Shanna, I've tried to drink Scotch properly; I just can't. Except for some stupidly beautiful, v v old Glenfiddich someone gave me. yum.
Labels: infertility, isitacycle
I'll take a Scotch, wet, on the rocks
First off, apologies for making you wait.
So last night, Hero Hubby came to pick me up, and told me the news. The doctor from my GPs office (not my GP, but another in the office) said the results were negative, and then added,
"BUT"
::sigh::
damn non-infertility doctors.
He said to be sure we test again next week, because "it's extremely common to have a false negative."
That may be. For people who try to get pg the so-called "normal" way. He also said it's still very early, blah blah blah.
I just heard from the clinic, the results were 0. So, no need to re-test, non-infertility doc! Geez, if rabbinical students are now having to learn about infertility, why aren't GPs having to learn at least the basics?
On the bright side, I no longer have to stuff myself with little balls of peanut-oil.
On the other bright side, I can have cocktails tonight.
Oh, and there's an update to the "easy" blood draw. Remember, I asked for the paper tape since I've developed an allergy to the bandaid adhesive? I got big red bruises from the tape. THE TAPE! Argh.
Labels: infertility, isitacycle
G-d heard all our prayers
but he said no.
more later.
Labels: isitacycle
Hubby to the rescue!
Hubby actually went to my dr's office. They may stop answering the phones at 4:30, but I guess they still see patients. He explained the situation, put me on the phone, the nurse asked if it was okay to give the results to Hubby, I said "ABSOLUTELY." The nurse called the lab, got the results and gave them to Hubby. After talking it over, we decided to stick with our original plan.
He's coming to pick me up within the hour.
And before you even ask, I couldn't tell anything from the tone of his voice.
I was a basket case when I thought we'd have to wait until "sometime" tomorrow. Remarkably, even though I don't know, I'm fine now. I'll be
more fine if it's positive, of course.
Maybe live blogging doesn't suck after all.
Labels: isitacycle
It's a charlie foxtrot, sir
There's an old Yiddish expression: "Man plans, G-d laughs"
After all our planning over who was going to get the call, we heard nothing. Hubby finally called the clinic, AFTER the nurses all left. I checked our voicemail at home again, to hear a message from one of the nurses saying she had been trying Hubby's cell all day and if we got the message in 10 minutes to call the clinic. Otherwise, we're to call them tomorrow. (Like I could make it to tomorrow without exploding)
The message was from 45 minutes ago. I tried calling my GPs office, figuring they could give me the results. I called at 4:28, and got the "we close at 4:30pm" message.
Hubby just called; he's at my dr's office. He's going to call me back in a minute.
Ah, my first experience with live blogging.
It sucks.
Labels: isitacycle
Snap!
That's it, I've just snapped. The pressure got to me. My mouse is acting up, and I can't create a thingie that I need to create for work, so I just started crying. Right at my desk. Argh. Fortunately, no one is in my office right now, and the computer guy had just left.
Hubby just called, and was kind of circumspect, so I thought he had news and was just taking his time getting around to telling me, but no. No news. Teasingly, an hour or so ago, his phone blipped, the name of our clinic popped up for a second, but then disappeared. They probably dialed, thinking they needed to answer a question, then read the chart and realized they didn't have my results yet. Whatever, it was a nasty little tease.
Thankfully, I planned ahead and bought M&M's this morning.
Labels: isitacycle
One more thing
For those of you who don't go back and read comments to previous posts, I'll repeat what I said
here:
You guys ROCK!!! I can't tell you how much it helps knowing people are pulling for us. We SO appreciate all the love. Thank you.
Labels: blogging, isitacycle
You want me to stay 'ere and make sure 'e duzn't leave
Best movie ever.
Speaking of convoluted instructions, Hubby and I spent quite a while last night talking about how to handle the results of today's test. Since we're both at work, and our jobs are at opposite ends of the city, we had to decide who gets the call from the clinic, and who gets the great or sucky job of calling the other.
I would love to be able to call Hubby with good news, but I'd probably break down in my office, and my co-workers and boss don't know about our cycle. I'd loathe having to call Hubby with bad news (I really don't think I could even do it), but I'd be okay in the office. I hide bad stuff really well.
Hubby would be okay with calling me with bad news, but would have a helluva time keeping calm with good news. And to be honest, I don't want to get any news over the phone. Especially if it's good, because we'd get off the phone and then I'd have to put a cap on it.
It's like planning the invasion of Normandy, I tell ya. So, the decision is, we've asked the clinic to call Hubby. If we hear today, Hubby will pick me up after work and then tell me one way or the other. Bad news, we go for drinks at our favourite beachside lounge. Good news? Hubby gets to drink at our favourite beachside lounge.
Since the last 5 minutes have felt like 5 hours, I have no idea how I'm going to make it to his phone call telling me whether or not he's picking me up. And
then, I have no idea how I'll make it to pickup time!
The wai-yay-ting is the haaaaaaaaardest part.
(oooh, lookie: a movie reference AND a song reference in one post!)
((I'm a little delirious, can you tell?))
(((blood draw went awesomely! Tech lady hit my vein with no problem, and even was nice about using the white paper tape when I said I've developed an allergy to the bandaid adhesive.)))
((((Did I tell you I've developed an allergy to the bandaid adhesive?))))
IS IT 4PM YET?????
Labels: isitacycle
Just keep swimming
I have long, indepth conversations with G-d every day, twice a day. Demanding that He make at least one of those little embies stick. But lately I've realized, it's too late for that. They've either stuck or they haven't.
So I've switched to insisting that IF at least one of the embies stuck, He watch over it and keep it healthy, and let it grow fully with all its bits and bobs.
But that feels weird. Defeatist, almost.
IF it stuck? Then we have the whole "keep it healthy" thing, which sounds too much like getting
hopeful.
And what if I get a BFN tomorrow? Should my daily chats stop? Should I change it to, "Thanks a whole lot for NOTHING!" I can condense 10 minutes of conversation to one word: "why?"
That'll save me a whole lot of time in the morning.
Beta tomorrow. I can get through today, but how the hell do I get through tomorrow??
Labels: isitacycle
Hubby Appreciation Day
With all my griping, whining, cramping/not cramping, etc., etc., I failed to mention something.
I have the best Hubby in the world. He comes with me to every appointment that he can. He's had to miss two because of meetings he couldn't get out of, but otherwise, he's there for every blood draw, every ultrasound.
And while I was stimming, he was in the bathroom with me morning and evening, popping open needle caps for me, prepping the alcohol wipes, collecting the needle wrappers, used cotton balls and wipes and tossing them in the garbage, and putting the used needles in our sharps jar.
He can't take the shots for me (although I'm pretty confident he would, if he could!), but he tries as much as possible to make sure this is something we're both going through, and that I'm not doing all the crap work alone.
And that makes me one very lucky Projgen.
Labels: isitacycle, mememe
And the beat goes on
and on and on and on....
My body hates me. On Saturday, I had what felt like "I'm getting my period any minute" cramps all morning. I was so miserable, so sure it was all over, when the cramps suddenly ratcheted up.
Ah. Just an IBS flare up. Probably still residual effects from forcing my insides to
EMPTY! ::sigh::
I told my body it was unecessarily cruel and heartless to do that to me. But does my body care? No. It just snarled and said, "Don't like it? Go find someone else to jab." And really. How could I argue with that?
Labels: isitacycle
Nobody else could possibly be that bored
Obviously, the creator of
this was in their 2ww.
(I thought I posted this last week, but just saw it was a draft. Duh. 2ww brain?)
Labels: isitacycle
Stand back! She's got hormones!
The thing that is really getting me about the 2ww, is not the waiting. Waiting is waiting, you find ways to make the time go by. What's killing me is the emotional torture. Am I or am I not?
I had such a fit of gloom-n-doom yesterday, being so sure this cycle isn't going to work (see what games we play? We can't even bring ourselves to say the pg word, even if we sure we're NOT). Does this or that sign mean it worked, or does it mean AF is coming? I can tell myself until I'm blue in the face that I won't know until I know, so stop trying to interpret the signs, but it doesn't matter. I can't stop. This morning I woke up to realize my boobies are no longer big and sore, so I figured "that's it."
But on the bus ride to work, I suddenly got more nauseous than I've ever felt. And I can count the times I have thrown up in my entire life on one hand. I don't barf too often. But that could mean anything, like maybe I shouldn't have had that pastrami sandwich last night. Besides, it's too early for me to be feeling nauseous if this is working. Yesterday I felt crampy twinges. Pre-menstrual or implantation? Last night, on the way home from work, I burst into tears on the bus for no reason. Hormonal? Sure. But it is drugs or nature?
See? Driving myself crazy. I can't stand it. I can't stop thinking about it. And I can't even have a drink to try to forget about it, 'cause there's still that one little tiny chance in hell...
Labels: isitacycle
Grace Slick's got nothin' on me
One week in and man, oh Manischewitz, my boobies ITCH! It's driving me crazy. They also hurt like hell. I remember that from last time - that progesterone just messes with my system.
Speaking of which, anyone ever read the fine print on Prometrium? Y'know, where it says, "
Do not (their bold, not mine) use Prometrium if you... are pregnant or suspect you may be pregnant."
Um, what?
Also (and this is not very modest of me, so if you're offended by that, you might want to look away now), my crotch is like a space heater on high. I'm emitting so much heat from that part of my body that I could sweat out a small room. Yeesh. Giving that I'm taking progesterone capsules suspended in peanut oil vaginally, I'm emitting other things, as well, but we don't need to go there. Let's just say panty liners are a girl's best friend. I still don't compare to
Persephone's stories, though (I also use something like GladRags, not store-bough disposable thingies).
And I'm worn out. Pooped. Wiped. (huh. Never noticed the relationship between those two words before.) And having majorly bizarre dreams. I usually remember my dreams, and they're frequently quite detailed. But lately, they've been highly detailed, extremely clear and just plain weird. Last night I dreamt that I had a baby - not delivered, a newborn just appeared - and I was worried about nursing, but it just latched right on. Then I didn't feed it for 8 hours, but I didn't seem worried, because I took the baby, put it on the grass, where it turned into a white rabbit and started noshing away on the green stuff. And that's just the highlights.
For those of you who are wondering, the last time I smoked pot was the one time I tried it 25 years ago in high school. And no, I've never dropped acid, either. Who needs that stuff when I've got progesterone!! Woohoo! I should start selling it on the street; I could help pay for so many people's cycles! Although getting people to buy into the "take vaginally" part of it, might limit my market.
Labels: isitacycle
Half full AND half empty
However you look at it, we're halfway! Only one week left to wait (please G-d I should have the whole week to wait). Okay, one week + one day, but c'mon, allow my little victories.
Meanwhile, an aside to my Jewish readers. I received this email about a survey on Negiah and Taharat HaMishpacha. Because I love surveys, and am a little obsessed with T"H, I am posting it here. I've seen it around the 'nets already, and filled it out awhile ago, so it seems they're being very thorough and trying to get as large a sample as possible. Go fill it out, if you so desire.
================================================
Hello,
My name is Mark Guterman. I am a Clinical Psychology PhD student working with Orit Avishai of the University of California at Berkeley. We are doing an internet survey of Jews of all denominations. The survey is for both singles and married couples. The survey is online at:
www.JewishSurveys.orgPlease help us out. We are not making any money on this; we are simply trying to learn more about our community. Your cooperation in this would be greatly appreciated, and you would be doing a service to the Jewish community at large.
More info on the survey:
The study looks at issues regarding Negiah (premarital touching) and Niddah / Taharat HaMishpachah (family purity). Niddah and Negiah play an important role in the every day lives of Jewish men and women. The collection of handbooks on this topic grows from year to year, yet we know very little about how Jewish couples, men, and women experience and observe Niddah and Negiah. Anecdotal evidence and our previous research have led us to conclude that many couples and individuals are experiencing difficulties with this aspect of the Halachah. We are inviting the Jewish community at large to participate in this important survey to shed light on these difficulties and explore some ways to address them. Given the intimate nature of these matters, this brief, online survey is totally anonymous, and no identifiable information is collected.
Thank you very much for considering this,
~Mark Guterman
NOTE: There are some very un-tnius questions in this survey, so be aware if you are uncomfortable with extremely - um - personal questions. -pgLabels: isitacycle, Jewish
What's the other 50%?
| You Are 50% Normal |
While some of your behavior is quite normal...
Other things you do are downright strange
You've got a little of your freak going on
But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself |
thanks to
Rachel Inbar for helping me kill another few seconds of the 2ww.
Labels: isitacycle, misc
Are we there yet? How about now?
It's dpt 5,834 of my captivity...
Ugh, for the love of sushi, I can't believe it's only been two days. I wasn't this crazy with waiting last time. The emotional rollercoaster seems to be speeded up and it's making me naseous. One minute, I'm (slightly) optimistic that this is all going to work, the next I'm terrified of getting a negative. The next minute, my heart is racing thinking about what if we get a positive and something (G-d forbid!!! ptu ptu ptu) goes wrong? Seriously. Last cycle, I thought I'd be sad if we get a bfn, but this time I think I'll be crushed like peat moss under Sasquash's feet. Up, down, up, down.
Meanwhile, I was tagged last week by
Nearlydawn, but I was too caught up in swabbing, stabbing, keeping pressure. Oh, and getting stabbed by every Tom, Dick and Hairy. Er, Harry. Being tagged offered me an opportunity to kill 300 seconds, so here we go, here are 8 arbitrary things about me:
1. I have teeny, tiny toes on my feet. Honestly, they're little mutants.
2. My best friend from when I was 9, with whom I lost touch when she moved away, found me on the internet two years ago. We still haven't seen each other, or talked on the phone, but we email each other like idiots!
3. I have a photographic memory. I memorize things by taking a mental picture, then when I need to remember it, I imagine the picture. Like, a quote from a book, for example. I "take" a picture of the page in the book, and then recall the page and "see" the quote on the page. It's how I remember where things are, too, like keys and stuff. I "see" the keys hanging on the hook. Which is why I go batshit when somebody (ahem!) doesn't put things back in the right spot. My brain shuts down. I don't know how to actually *look* for things.
4. I've had all sorts of weird jobs. I was once a "crowd rallier" for midnite screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I'd get up on the stage and get other people to come up and dance the Time Warp, spin the globe, throw toilet paper, etc.
5. Because I've moved around so much, I don't have a best friend. Other than Hubby, of course.
6. I love rodents. Not roaming freely in my kitchen, mind you, but some of my favourite pets have been my gerbils. I once found a newborn mouse in my house and tried to keep it alive. I don't know what happened to the mother, but I couldn't find her anywhere. I wasn't a good substitute mouse. I was also godmother to a ferret, whom I adored.
7. I think it is so unbelievably cool to be Jewish, and to say prayers that were written over 3000 years ago. To learn the same Torah that my ancestors learned thousands of years ago. To live by - and break ;) - the same commandments. And, thousands of years later, to still be discussing and arguing what certain passages mean. The Torah's not an old, dusty, meaningless book. It's a living work that is forever open to analysis.
8. I have hairs on my chin that embarrass the hell out of me. I pluck 'em, I dipilatate 'em, I bleach 'em - all to no avail. I'm no
Rosie O'DonnellI tag
Lut CMegan Rachel Inbar.
I have a hard time keeping track of who is at what stage (I can't seem to take a mental picture of blogs), travelling, running an empire, etc., so no pressure folks.
Whadya know! That killed 483 seconds! ::sigh::
Labels: isitacycle
Alphabet soup
With all the excitement I completely forgot to talk about something.
(this may be TMI for some people)The
empty bowels.
It was stressed to me so many times that in order to reach that left ovary, my bowels had to be empty, and of course, since after an u/s the RE throws all the information at you, then says good luck and good bye, I completely forgot to mention to the RE and nurses that I have
IBS. Probably because I forgot, myself. That in itself tells you how focussed I was on my ovaries; my IBS never lets me forget that it's always there, lurking in the background.
So I dutifully ran out to get a laxative (big no-no with IBS). After speaking with the nurse in the afternoon, who repeated the EMPTY bladder admonition, and then told me to eat lots of vegetables and drink prune juice, I was frantic trying to think where I could get prune juice.
Finally, I came to my senses. If I had eaten only veggies, and had prune juice, I'd STILL be in the bathroom, followed by not going to the bathroom until 2008. As it is, the laxatives ensured that I was empty, hollow, wasn't nuthin' left in my gut, because I spent the entire evening before retrieval in the bathroom. And the morning of retrieval. I was a little panicked that I'd have to use the bathroom in the middle of retrieval. Can you imagine? Oy.
Anyway, I was fine during retrieval (thank G-d!), and now I haven't gone since. So now I have super-sized, tender ovaries and I'm on progesterone. And we all know how progesterone gums up the works. ::sigh::
IVF and IBS. They just don't go together.
Labels: infertility, isitacycle
