Decorative Plumbing

-- it has to have some purpose, right?

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Deja Vue

I am back from retrieval and we got the exact same small number of eggs we got last time. Remember that surgery that I went through in September? What a fucking waste of time. Nothing was repaired and now I am not even having a single more egg than last time. And my doctor who gave me a 99% probability that he would be there for the egg retrieval? Nah, didn’t make it. Got my “favorite” again. Dr. Insensitive. I am sure my blood pressure shot in astronomical heights when I realized this. I am probably reacting like a little child, stomping feet and all (I actually don’t care), but I feel rather deserted by my regular doctor.

It’s not time to give up. There may be embryos, there may be good embryos, there may still be a transfer. But, god, I am bitter and angry about all that I have to go through. And please, don’t give me any BS about this. If you’re one of my friends in RL who thinks that I should carry my infertility with more grace and acceptance (because there could be worse fates, which is true, no doubt about it, though all the while thinking of conceiving your own third child, because you know, they are so cute), just leave me alone. Who knows, I might re-emerge as the perfectly little sweet darling you expect me to be. And if so, you should probably thank my ADs.

And the sweet medial assistant who waited with me while Mr. H got the car? Well, it was the one who assisted the ultrasound, in which Dr. Insensitive started talking about donor eggs. And sweet as the medial assistant may be, while we were waiting she inquired further about my thoughts on…..donor eggs. WTF. I didn’t reply. I was afraid I’d scream my head off and/or start verbally insulting her. I kind of expect the regular world to exhibit this level of infertility sensitivity (“have you thought of adoption yet?” “No, tell me, what is that?”) but not the staff of a fertility clinic. It should be a BIG no-no for them. People, my reproductive system is quite challenged, as much as it makes me sad I am not delusional about it, but last I checked my brain was still functioning at (at least) average pace. I get it. Really I do. Donor eggs is on your minds (maybe has been there for a long time), IF this cycle fails. IF, people. IF!!! So until then, please, be so considerate to not voice your thoughts. It’s everything but helpful.

Julie over at “a little pregnant” recently wrote something about hope and optimism, that they are NOT the same. And I agree. I hope, against all crappy odds. I hope. I hope for this one fighter embryo that has an incredible urge to live. A fighter embryo, that is willing to take the chance on my crappy uterus in the hope that his/her life outside of it will more than make up for it. I am hoping. SO MUCH.

And I promise that I will do everything that I humanly can to make the 9month stay in my uterus as optimal as can be with me. I promise. And if it means that I get gestational diabetes again, and it won’t leave after the pregnancy is over, so be it. I will gladly take diabetes in exchange for a healthy baby. If it means that I lose my uterus (and ovaries, and cervix) at the baby’s birth, I will not cry but be overjoyed that my uterus was able hold on. If it means I have to go on bedrest for most of my pregnancy to get my healthy baby, so be it. It’ll be million times better than the alternative. If it means I have to deal with objective tinnitus again, that won’t go away after the baby is out -like last time-, so be it, too. It may drive me crazy at times, but that, too, will be so much better than NOT having you, my second child, in our lives. I promise, my fighter embryo. That I promise. And so much more.

Okay, ‘nuff of the venting. I need to think good fighter embryo thoughts now. May there be divine goodwill for them and lots of it. Please. So, chant with me, lovely internet, if you please, “this IVF is going to result into a healthy, live baby!”

Monday, November 27, 2006

Venting

This is a short interruption of my blogging hiatus to ...no, not to announce I am pregnant.

I won't bore you with all the details of my challenged IVF cycle, suffice to say that my reproductive capabilities haven't improved over the last couple of months. I am just feeling so awful right now -after yet another traumatizing ultrasound- and don't know where to unload my shitty feelings but here.

I can't get over my ultrasound this morning, particularly not the conversation I had with the attending RE, let's call her Dr. Insensitive (if she ever reads this: I'm sorry, I'm sure you had the best intentions at heart, but your timing was really shitty). First of all, I hate having ultrasounds with doctors I am not that familiar with, and who apparently are not as familiar with my challenged reproductive system. They tend to throw things at me that I have a hard time to digest, like "did you know you had an endometrioma on each of your ovaries?" or "did you know you have a really big endometrioma?". Thanks, pals. Anyway, so for many (un)fortunate reasons (e.g. Thanksgiving and the weekend) I always ended up with Dr. Insensitive instead of my regular RE, Dr. Soothing for the dreaded ultrasounds. So, for today, I wanted to make sure I could see my regular doctor and specifically requested him. But ha, not so much luck. Because of snow, damn snow, we hardly ever have snow here, so why now?, they traded their shifts. Of course, nobody told me.

My regular doctor knows to keep a keen eye on my endometrium. I'm not so sure Dr. Insensitive did. She never mentioned anything before, so I was under the impression things were alright (and I didn't press the issue because I am one of those people who do not need to know all the details). Not so much. Today she mentioned that my endometrium was still very thin, as in really thin. Yes, pregnancies have happened with thin endometriums like this, but it's far from ideal. Now, during my last unsuccessful IVF cycle I was taking L'Arginine to help my lining along (and it was notably fluffier). I didn't use it this time because last cycle was unsuccessful and who knows whether the L'Arginine had something to do with it. But, had I known that my lining this time was sooo shitty, I would have taken it again, no question at all! So, I am already upset at her for not mentioning it, and upset at myself for not asking about it earlier; upset as in tears were flooding my eyes. I am a crier, what can I say.

This was the fragile moment, that she chose to bring up the following topic: "Have you ever considered donor eggs? The success rates are over 85%..."

Lovely internet, I was there in stirrups, in the middle of an IVF ultrasound, with at least some, though of course not many, of my own eggs waiting to be triggered. I can't help it but I thought her timing was chosen horribly. What was the point anyway? Make me feel even more pessimistic about this cycle, about the chance of having another biological child? And apparently she wasn't even aware of the fact that I have a child. Did she not read my chart?

I knew going into this IVF wasn't going to be easy, but damn it, why does it always have to be so difficult? Why does every step have to be so exhausting? I know it's ridiculous, but I can't help but wonder what I've done to be in that position? I keep hoping for some divine goodwill, some pleasant suprise. Maybe some day?

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Blogging Break

I haven’t thought long and hard about it. And I probably won’t keep silent for long anyway. But for now, I think I need a break from blogging. Not that I have been very good about blogging anyway.

At some point in the recent past I thought I was doing better, but it doesn’t feel so anymore. I thought I was sort of over my intense pregnancy jealousy, but I am so not. A pregnancy bomb was dropped on me today that despite my greatest efforts resulted in a tidal wave of bitterness. Apparently, I am very vulnerable to these bombs right now.

I also noticed that I cannot be as encouraging to you guys, who fortunately have finally (or again) made it (or are about to) into pregnancy territory, as I would like myself to be. Being pregnant can be downright scary and stressful. I loved being pregnant, loved to feel “normal” for a change, but was scared and paranoid nonetheless (except when it came to birthing. And we all know what happened then). And that was after a surprisingly easy conception. How much scarier must it be to be pregnant after tremendously difficulty in achieving those pregnancies and/or multiple prior pregnancy losses and/or high risks of pregnancy trouble? Thankfully, many of you have reached this stage at the same time and are able to support one another. I am still holding on a tiny bit of hope that I may reach it, too. But right now I am not. And even if I can only imagine how stressful it must be to be pregnant in (y)our situation(s), I’d still would much rather be in pregnancy territory than not. Looking over the fence again and again, while you hopefully move through pregnancy territory unharmed, is right now getting a bit difficult for me. I am so incredibly glad you made it across the fence (even if you didn’t take me with you - yet). I wish you all the best of luck. I cheer you on. I really do. I don’t want to see you on this side of the fence ever again. I just feel that reading pregnancy is getting too difficult for my own state of mind during this very fragile time.

The internet has given me so much support and comfort over the last two years. Reading your stories, your darkest hours and glorious moments, has meant so much to me. Over the years I’ve had many troubling encounters with families and friends who meant the best, I am sure, but who all added to me feeling shittier and shittier about myself. At times just knowing that I wasn’t alone with my less than perfect feelings about being infertile was enough to make me feel less alone. So thank you, lovely internet, thank you so much for sharing your stories.

Some of your stories have deeply touched me. Stories of cancer, of stillbirth, of repeated pregnancy loss, of premature ovarian failure, of primary infertility, of secondary infertility, of failed IVF after failed IVF, of having to let go of one of the most ordinary dreams there may be, of trying to move on despite getting knocked down again and again. I’ve cried many tears with you. And I can’t stop wondering WHY. Why does life not give you, give us, a break? I wish you all the best of luck on your tough journeys.

This November I am going to attempt another IVF. My fridge already hosts an insane amount of Follistim. Had my first one worked out, I would be due any time now. Coming to think about it, this kid could have been conceived around Valentine’s Day (day of transfer) and born around Thanksgiving Day. Alas, it did not happen. Too much cuteness? If this coming IVF fails again, I am not sure where our journey will take us. Mr. H is ready to be done; the ultimate optimist in our family has lost his optimism. To be precise, he’ll be done with IVF, which apparently equals the death of my dream. I can’t help and feel angry with him. Not only do I feel like a puppet in my body and life’s theater of random shit events, I am also not the one in control of when to put a stop to my (ordinary) dream. And I don’t know how to deal with that.

If you can, please, wish me some good luck for this coming IVF cycle.

This blogging break may only be temporary, heck, it may only last a couple of hours. We’ll see. In the meantime, please let me know if you know of, or know how to find, a great reproductive surgeon who specializes in tubal repair. Mr. H may not like to have to support another IVF cycle, but if my tubes could be repaired afterall, he'd support it.

Thank you all so much. Thank you. And all the best to you.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Estrogren ladden thoughts

Can you hear it? No? Neither can I. It's so quiet here, and it's not even 8pm. Miss V decided today to go to bed early tonight. She was tired she cheerfully announced (actually, what she said was something like "my legs are tired, and my feet, too. Can I go to bed now?"). I didn't object, not one bit.

Other than that, there is really not too much to report. I am popping vast amount of little blue estrogen pills these days in the hope to sensitize my good ole ovaries to FSH (drugs). It's so much, that my b*east have started to hurt, which has never happened on estrogen alone (they did, however, not increase in size; something, I had secretely hoped for). Progesterone maybe, but not estrogen. I am also to insert these little BLUE pills vaginally. You get what that means, right? I am not sure if I can really blame the estrogen alone (which I do, of course), but I have been feeling quite irritable lately. I really lost it a couple of times and yelled like a banshee, which, even for my angry self, is a bit much. Poor Miss V. Looking forward to the progesterone that I am allowed to add to the mix soon.

About two weeks ago, I learned that our insurance plan, which thankfully has covered part of our horrendous IVF costs, will phase out at the end of the year. No other plan that is offered at Mr H company has comparable coverage. It sucks. Simple as that. Some other plan may cover IUIs, but with two dysfunctional tubes that seems a bit silly, no?

I still have the dream that I will find a surgeon who dares to fix my tubal issues. Of course, if the upcoming IVF works and all I won't hopefully need it. But there is a lot of if in IF (gosh, I amaze myself at my ability to be witty in a foreign language!).

I am not sure, I will write a whole lot of my IVF experience. I didn't the last time. I just couldn't get myself to write about it. I was partly too anxious, but partly I also felt embarrassed. Stupid, I know, but I couldn't admit to anyone how much Follistim/Repronex I used every day and how timidly my ovaries responded nonetheless. I was never so deluded to think that i would produce vast amounts of eggs, be an IVF superstar so to speak, but I didn't think I would "perform" so poorly either. Every step of my last IVF attempt was rich with worry. Every single one. It was utterly exhausting.

So, we'll see about this next one. Sometimes I even muster up some optimism. Really, I amaze myself.

On a more positive note, we had lots of fun for Halloween! I love me some pumpkins and trick-or-treaters.