Decorative Plumbing

Painting

2008-07-28T08:17:00.000-07:00

After my miscarriage last November, I started painting our house. I painted and painted and painted some more. I accomplished so much all by myself that some people actually started to worry about me a bit. But there was something soothing in rolling on thick, smooth paint. It felt so therapeutic to me. I don't have control over my body, but at least I can control how our walls look like (and ceilings, but I don't like painting ceilings...).

Around the same time, I began reading house improvement/renovation blogs and stopped one by one reading infertility blogs. Most of them already had or expected babies and the few still struggling stopped blogging; understandably so. All the babies of *my* pregnancy cohort are born safely by now. I cheered for each and everyone of you. It's a bit bittersweet though to be left on infertility island.

The place I stayed at temporarily - or so I thought- on this island looks more and more like a permanent dwelling. And if this is my permanent dwelling, shouldn't it be as nice as possible? I think so. And so I will go on and try to make the best of this place that I find myself in.

Right now I am painting my fence. And it feels good.

Still here

2008-07-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

I was just checking my own blog and realized it's been a while; a while, but nothing (in)fertilitywise has happened (to me that is) in the meantime. And it may never again happen. Or it might. Who knows.

It's been almost four years of trying. ART hasn't exactly helped me, and I am feeling like I should just let it go. The last year has given me a couple of little pregnancies, which I treasure. In terms of moving on, however, they haven't helped me one bit. They somehow gave me the illusion that, indeed, I could get pregnant. But it isn't so now, is it?

I found the picture of my four lost embryos (IVF #2) last weekend. I was happy to find them, they were missing from my little white memory box. Now, that I put the picture in the box, the box feels strangely complete. Nothing more to add.

I still cry "WHY" out into the night. Having kids was always very important to me; infertility has truly hurt me deeper than most people can fathom. And I can well imagine that the loss of fertility at an age when most women do not have to worry about it yet (34) will haunt me and sadden me for many years to come. Of course, that doesn't mean, I won't be doing fine. I will. But, as I said, it's been a very deep and painful loss.

Gosh, I didn't want to get all teary here. I am just sorta reaching the point where it seems more difficult to continue with ART (whatever little options there are left for me anyway) than leave it.

On to a happy note: I may be going to turn 38 this year, but I still pass the pencil test just fine!

Welcome to public school

2008-06-09T16:46:00.000-07:00

If you get a letter a) asking you to give you your preference for your child's classroom placement along with the opportunity to explain why you think this classroom would be a good fit for your child and b) giving you a deadline of say May 12 to return this letter to the school, what would your expectations be regarding the selection criteria?

These were mine:
1) the school would make the selection after the deadline
2) the school actually cares about your opinion
3) you may still end up in a different classroom

Miss V. did not end up in the classroom we had hoped she would, which did not make us happy, but it didn't make me as upset as I am now about the school after I learned how they actually made the selection.

Basically, by the time that I handed in our letter the selection was already made based on the order in which the letters came in. Regardless of what you wrote down in the letter (and I actually put thought into it). The nice secretary could have easily told me right there and then "TOO LATE!". Why it took the school a month to send out the letter telling us they could not place our child in the requested classroom, I don't know.

When I toured (public) schools, I came upon one principal who was very straightforward about the fact that parents had no input in student placement. I didn't necessary like that but I appreciated her frankness. No build-up of wrong expectations there.

Right after we received the letter telling us which public school Miss V would go to next fall I had actually called the school to express our preference (yes, it was important to us). I was told that a note would be put in my daughter's file and that a letter would be send out soon. Nothing was said about the "first come, first serve" selection criteria.

Bah, unfortunately, my good opinion of this school is already tainted.

Welcome public school.

P.S. Today was also the due date. And I got my period over the weekend. Always a pleasure.

I think my RE is giving up on me

2008-06-01T08:23:00.000-07:00

...or already has, I don't know. And I don't know how I feel about this.

I met with him last week, and the meeting was a bit weird. I asked him about another HSG (maybe coupled with Letrozole) because at this point I am mostly interested in plumbing maintenance. His response? Donor Eggs?! I had thought we had put this option to rest for the time being. Actually, thinking about his response makes me much more angry now than I was during the meeting. Funny how that works.

Anyway, he would be okay with another HSG but if there is evidence of scarring (particularly the tubes), he is not going to do anything about it. He doesn't want to subject me to any more (unnecessary) surgery. See, why I feel he's giving up on me?

He may be right, I may never get pregnant again in my life (without donor eggs). But I am so tired of having my eggs be blamed for all the failures. I may be delusional, but I think without the Asherman's I may have had a chance a couple of years ago. My eggs were not always crappy. And last year, after a clean-up and with an open tube, I did manage to become pregnant. Probably a bad egg, but good enough to implant at least.

I don't know where I am going with this. I don't even know why this all bothers me so much. After four years of secondary infertility I should be able to finally accept our three person family.

Poor Me

2008-05-19T08:18:00.000-07:00

We're approaching THE due date fast. And I am not pregnant again (what a surprise, eh?). I read blogs of women who got pregnant around the same time as me, they are getting ready to give birth- or already have their little ones home. I see women in my neighborhood chatting happily with each other while everyone of them is carrying a baby.

People, I do feel left out a little bit.

I am going to meet with my RE this week to discuss another HSG, just to make sure that the plumbing is still in semi-working condition. Maybe we can couple this attempt with another round of Letrozole? It's cheap. In some ways though, it all feels kinda pointless.

I have had beautiful cycles the last couple of times. Strong ovulation predictors, good cycle lenght, adequate periods (with the added bonus of absent pain!). If I didn't know I was so damn infertile (most of the time), it wouldn't look so bad from the outside...But the periods always show up on time, and the most i get in terms of second lines are dubious evaporation lines on dubious pregnancy tests. Damn.

Is there a point to this posts? Nah.

But, hey, the weather here in the Northwest was beautiful this weekend!!! And I had my first visit to the emergency room in the middle of the night with Mr H and Miss V in tow...it's all good now though, I just needed some nice pain medication and a small medical procedure to drain an "peritonsillar absess". The emergency room visit was, well, interesting. Next to me, hidden behind a curtain, was an old man suffering from alcoholism. Or so I thought until they asked him when he had his last menstrual period.

Did I mention that we have had some great weather lately???

Yesterday

2008-04-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

1) The diaper bag: Here it is, in all its glory! Thanks for asking, Erin!
As I mentioned before, the diaper bag is for Baby Lucky. But who is Baby Lucky??? Well, that's Miss V's cousin whose due date is in June, close to the one of my own unlucky offspring.

...and this one is the baby outfit I sewed as well:

2) things that made me laugh yesterday: "Bomb her womb with your huge cannon" (a spam email sent to Mr. H)...

3) things that made me sad/furious/speechless yesterday: that (austria*n) father. The one who kept his daughter (and some of their respective offsprings) locked up in the basement for a quarter century. I have no words for this.

Weather induced ramblings

2008-04-28T07:38:00.000-07:00

We had about 2 days of sunshine this April. 2 lonely days. We had about 4 snow days. Twice as many. That's just not right. Needless to say I am SO sick of the cold and the gray skies. Guess, there is only one thing I can do: increase my carbon footprint!

Other news? Nah, nada over here. I made a beautiful diaper bag for baby Lucky (and enjoyed doing it), but that's about it. Other than that I decided (for the thousandths time or so) to get my act together and get back into the paid work force. Making diaper bags isn't that profitable, but at least I have a skill now. So, now I have something to contribute to all those school auctions that I envision in my near future.

I have always wanted to learn how to sew, but I never really had the time to do it. Until the last two years that I worked as a professional infertility patient. In between doctors/acupuncture/therapy/massage/etc. appointments, there actually was the odd hour of leisure time. And you know what? It was good for me. It gives me satisfaction to see something growing under my hands. Looking at my dissertation gives me some satisfaction, too, but getting there was brutal. And it took far too long.

But it would be great to earn some money, too. So, it's up to me to take some actions.

Imprisoned - for now

2008-04-09T16:24:00.000-07:00

I am proud to announce that i conquered my demons for now once again. "back to the closest!" I ordered them and after some hubbub here and hubbub there, they actually retreated.

Thanks so much for all your nice support! Sometimes that's all I need. It also helped to talk to my friend who recently went through her own loss.

I had an eye exam this morning and had to be close to the hospital my SIL gave birth in. I didn't plan it that way, but suddenly when I walked to my doctor's office I decided it would be fine to go congratulate the parents and welcome my daughter's newest cousin. It felt right and so I did. They were still there and the little babe is just beautiful. I had forgotten how little they are! And ah, so cute.

I know that my demons will find a way again to escape the closet (after all there is still cousin #2 on the way...), but for tonight I am feeling good.

Fighting my demon

2008-04-07T11:27:00.000-07:00

I am fighting my demons today.

My SIL did it again. On the due date (her mother's birthday no less; the first kid was born on its due date also which happened to be the other grandma's birthday...I know, sounds like I am making this up), in like 2 hours. I am wishing her and her little babe all the happiness in the world, but I am not feeling particularly happy. In fact, I need a virtual hug or something because not even Mr H understands the complicated feelings I have regarding the truckload of babies that are delivered these days all around me. "But it's my sister" he says rightfully. "Shall we meet at the hospital?" he asks me. "NO!" I want to yell. I am not setting foot in that maternity ward. I was supposed to deliver there, too...(and I kinda did, just not the way I had so hoped for).

We handed over our carseat and other baby stuff last week. Once I had the dream of using that carseat again this coming June for our own ninja. How can this all not affect me?

My brain was flooded with memories again. Memories of a traumatic birth, memories of failed cycles, memories of bad ultrasounds, memories of surgeries, memories of tears. I don't think any birth that results in a healthy baby can ever be so painful as infertility is over and over again.

Where are my endorphins to make this all bearable?

Recently, I noticed that most infertility bloggers I read so long ago have all safely left infertility island. It hurts to still be here. And no matter how hard I try to be okay (and I am okay most of the times), there is no sweet happy ending to cushion the pain of my memories.

And so I am fighting my demons once again.

Memory of sunshine

2008-03-21T08:44:00.001-07:00

Hm, I still remember the sunshine. Which is a good thing, particularly after I checked the weather forecast for this lovely city of mine.

Hawaii was, well, Hawaii! We stayed at a one of those big, fancy hotels on Maui, albeit in the cheap basement rooms, right next to the village doctor's waiting room, the hallway. We had pool access from 6pm-8pm while the regular visitors were off to dining*. But that's okay, because I prefer the ocean anyway. Plus, I actually went swimming in the pool once and I had it all to myself! I got some snorkeling done and saw some colorful fish. And whales!!! Unfortunately, the corals which I remember being very colorful from my last visit were drained of color. Maybe it's just a cycle thing.

Speaking of cycle: the last couple of days I was a bit worried I would get my period too soon (and right in the middle of the ocean...oh, are you a shark?), but it behaved this cycle. I did get it on our last day. Now, of course, I was hoping I wouldn't get it at all , but when have I ever conceived with the help of meds (what, I didn't tell you I took Letrozole and had three, well, two follicles growing????)??? To be honest, for a couple of hours I felt a bit down, despite the beautiful surroundings.

Now, we're back in Seattle. But the memory of sunshine will hopefully be with me for a while longer...

__________
* kidding. We were also permitted to dip our toys into the pool around 1pm...

EDIT:
DinoD, thanks for your comment! And you are completely right: we have some beautiful sunshine here this afternoon?! Sure, didn't look like it this morning.

Sadness and happiness in SIF

2008-03-10T10:57:00.000-07:00

A good friend of mine was recently diagnosed with some uterine condition that makes it very difficult for her to get pregnant/stay pregnant. It cannot be operated upon and her RE basically told her to forget about pregnancy. This diagnosis came as a big surprise because, you see, she has a daughter and had no problems getting and staying pregnant with her. Her daughter apparently implanted in the only possible spot.

A few short months after the final RE verdict, she discovered she was pregnant again. I was very optimistic for her because, after all, I am the one with bad luck (the ones around me seem to be doing just fine - or so I think in my self-pity). I was, unfortunately, so wrong. She, too, miscarried at 10 weeks. The doctors believe this miscarriage has nothing to do with her uterine condition.

Life can be such a bitch sometimes.

Sometimes it grants great happiness after great sadness, though. My daughter's former toddler teacher Bella is ripe with her second child, after suffering a stillbirth and subsequent secondary infertility. She is so deliriously happy, it's a joy to see.

My two SILs are getting rounder, too. And me? I am off to Hawaii!

Feeling better

2008-02-23T08:56:00.000-08:00

The sun is shining, flowers are blooming, and we booked a vacation in Hawaii (and the period seems to be on her way out...). So, I am feeling much better. Thanks though for letting me whine a bit!

Period.

2008-02-22T10:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Internet, I am not having a good day today. Actually, I am not having a great week. Don't read on if you're easily disgusted or if you had enough of my whining (you wouldn't be the only one, just be so kind to quietly quit without yelling at me).

Last Monday while "relieving" myself, I was thinking to myself "well, I am probably not pregnant, but at least I am not bleeding anymore." At this point, I've had roughly 8 days of no bleeding and no spotting and I wasn't expecting my period for another couple of days. These are the moments that make me feel so paranoid, so laughed at by life. Because when I wiped, there it was again, light bleeding. No prior warning. The next day I was bleeding like I haven't since my mid-twenties. There was a flow big time. What's going on now? I have not the slightest idea (in fact, I do, but none of them remotely happy ones). Mr H. was hoping this was a "good" sign, but when is that ever the case with my plumbing? Thankfully, the flow has considerably slowed down (though I might have jinxed it now).

I am so tired. When is enough ever enough? The miscarriage was in November and still my body is acting out. I try so hard to get on with my life to find happiness in the life that I have, but I need the universe to back off a bit.

On top of that, I had another pregnancy ambush. And you know what? She probably will get her baby, while mine that I waited for for so long, had the bad luck of random genetic mishaps. Ups. How much bad luck can one person have in the world of infertility? Don't bother answering me. I know the answer myself after reading so many sad stories.

A year ago I had my first chemical pregnancy. I am so tired of all this. It's been three and a half long, long years.

No Explanation

2008-02-07T12:36:00.000-08:00

That's basically what my doctor told me today after yet another ultrasound exam. Thankfully the bleeding has subsided some today, so it might have been more difficult to find its cause. According to my doctor, my upper uterus looks fine (lining is bla, but at least triple-striped, and I have one follicle that's about ready to go), and my cervix also looked okay to him. So, I feel a bit better but still wonder. I mean, I was changing pads on Tuesday and Wednesday?! Hopefully, the bleeding will not continue.

Thank you all so much for checking in with me!!!

Crank back in

2008-02-05T08:22:00.000-08:00

hi, it's me again. Crank. Thanks so much for replying to my post!

As it turns out, the bleeding got worse (could have something to do with our procreational activity, but hey, what if this was a good egg?), so I called my doctor (who still thinks it could be normal) and made an appointment for Thursday. I would really like to know where the bleeding comes from.

I need to get another pap smear and already have an appointment for one in March (my usual pap smear person is on...maternity leave.). Since I have had trouble with pap smears before (in 2004), I am a bit afraid it's the cervix complaining. Argh.

I really would like a break in all things gynacological. A miscarriage is bad enough (as are infertility, endometriosis, IVFs, etc, etc. etc.), I don't need any other stress resulting from it. I just don't. I have the sickening feeling though that what I need or want has nothing to do with what I get.

Anyway, I am still cranky.

Have I mentioned before that re-caulking a shower stall does not alleviate crankiness????

Cranky

2008-02-04T17:14:00.000-08:00

That's how I feel. I spent the weekend in bed - or at least I tried- due to a fever that now slowly turns into another cold. Mr. H was dealing with the exact same condition last weekend. Thanks, Hon.

I also have great CM (and my usual ovarian discomfort), it's just the wrong color. It's bright red. Yes, in case you are wondering, it's blood. I am so sick of spotting and bleeding.

Basically not a single day has gone by since the D&C in November without spotting, weird colored CM, or blood. During my last cycle I spotted EVERY single day from period to period. I had an ultrasound on day 14 that apparently did not raise concerns, it also showed I was close to ovulation. Two weeks later: spotting turned into bleeding. After 6 days bleeding turned into spotting, which was almost gone on day 10 when I had another ultrasound, this time a sonohysterogram. Uterus apparently looked fine, but afterwards I experienced quite the spotting. And now it's even red. Mixed with the fabulous CM that leaks and hangs out of my body. Fun, eh?

Have I mentioned that I am cranky? I called my RE because I don't think this is normal. I understand that the first few cycles after a miscarriage can be quite weird, but this weird? I don't know. How is a (infertile) "girl" (haha) supposed to take advantage of the great miscarriage induced fertility (haha) when the habitat doesn't cooperate?!

Seems like my uterus is still crying for its lost inhabitant. It held on so well for such a long time, now it can't stop grieving. Poor uterus, it has gone through so much during the last couple of years.

Oh, and then I totally forgot another reason that makes me very, very cranky: kindergarten shopping. Or deciding whether my young, shy, wonderful 4 1/2 year old child is going to be ready for it? Summer birthdays are no good when it comes to school. It's just added agony.

That's it. Crank is out.

Number Four

2008-01-08T11:37:00.000-08:00

Miss V. and I dropped Mr. H off for work this morning. On our way back Miss V. was pondering the following:

"Now we're only two. Number three went off to work."

and added after a short while: "and number four is dead."

Happy 2008, you all!

2008-01-07T07:43:00.000-08:00

A new year...

We had a good new year's eve, although it left me speechless for a while.
My intention was to invite good neighbor's of ours for a cheese fondue. They are wonderful people AND they have two kids Miss V. loves to play with.

I always thought they were done having kids, therefore a good choice to ring in the new year with, without being reminded of what was missing from our life.

I didn't even consider the possibility that she might be pregnant. I didn't even look at her belly to see if I needed to be prepared. I didn't even understand her the first time she told me she was, indeed, rather pregnant. I had to ask several times before it registered.

Lovely internet, that's my luck. Surrounded by pregnancies. Ambushed, again.

I am happy to report that I behaved wonderfully when I finally understood. I was rather proud of myself. And I missed my ninja boy fiercely.

Other than that little ambush, we had a lovely evening.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with my RE to do a sonohysterogram to check my uterine plumbing. I am not sure though, whether we can really do that procedure as I am currently close to ovulation (I think) and I am still spotting from my last period. That last part actually worries me a bit. I have seldom spotted for that long. At this point though, there is nothing to do but consult the good doctor.

Happy new 2008.

My little boy ninja

2007-12-26T21:55:00.000-08:00

My lovely OB/GYN called me last Sunday (!) to tell me about my unfortunate embryo's chromosomes. I actually don't know the exact chromosomal disaster but my little boy ninja's genetic make-up was sadly incompatible with life. I just wanted to know its gender. It was important for me to know. A little boy ninja.

Now I am hoping for the king or queen of the ninjas. The one that makes it all the way. Yes, I still hope...though it feels silly to admit.

I started to bleed yesterday (Christmas Day) after a couple of days of cramping and spotting. It's been five weeks since my D&C, so my period was to be expected. The only strange thing was that I (still?) had a faint positive pregnancy test last Thursday (on Sunday it was considerably weaker). I don't know how to interpret it. Probably left-over HCG from the miscarriage, but I did have strong ligament pains again while sneezing (and they pretty much went away after the D&C). It's a bit of a mystery to me. But whatever it was, it is no more.

It was interesting for me to experience the support of my friends and family after my miscarriage. What was especially interesting to me was that the support was there. I rarely received such support after a failed IVF cycle, although, frankly i needed it just as much, if not more. Despite the sadness I feel about the brutal end of my pregnancy and the fact that I will never meet this little boy, I remember feeling happy for quite a while beforehand. I was happy carrying a child inside of me again. It was incredible. With my failed IVF cycles I only remember despair, sadness, anger, and bitterness. There was nothing positive about them. Nothing. And yet, I didn't feel that most people understood that I needed to grieve and heal just as much.

2007 turned out to be quite the reproductive year for me: two chemical pregnancies, one full-blown miscarriage, one D&C, and one hysteroscopy. Despite this emotional rollercoaster, 2007 beats 2006 by far. 2006 was a very dark year for me. 2007 had periods of incredible light. Seriously, I can't tell you how happy it still makes me to remember the joy I felt each and every time I saw two lines on a pregnancy test, each and every time I threw up in my mouth and toilet. Of course, I also remember the horrible moment I realized on the ultrasound table that something was terribly wrong with my beloved ninja. This memory might make me cry for the rest of my life, similarly to the memory of saying good-bye to my father for the very last time.

May 2008 bring us all much needed happiness.

Spending New Year's Eve: Coming to terms with infertility and miscarriages while others get choices

2007-12-16T20:47:00.000-08:00

Today in the New York Times Magazine was an article by my brother-in-law. In this article he wrote about an abor*ion that he and his wife (then girlfriend) went through shortly after New Year's Eve. His article inspired me to sit down to write my following blog entry:

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

While my brother-in-law and his then girlfriend, now wife, spent last New Year's Eve at home, preparing emotionally for an elective abor*ion, while my sister-in law suffered through a miscarriage, my husband and I went went out in Germany, my home country, to welcome the new year with a crowd. I yearned for a new year, for a new beginning.

While my brother-in-law and his girlfriend prepared themselves for an abor*ion, my husband and I tried to come to terms with the high probability that we might never have another child. After years of secondary infertility, after several surgeries and treatments for severe endometriosis, after a uterine rupture that resulted in Asherman's syndrome (scarring of the uterus), after two miserably failed attempts at IVF (even my doctor advised against a third try), there was not much hope left for us to experience a second pregnancy, a second birth, a second baby. Our beautiful 3-year old daughter would most likely stay an only child.

This thought made me incredible sad. I lost my father in my early twenties due to a glioblastoma, a deadly and terrible cancer of the brain. If there was one thing I learned from this tragic experience, it was the importance and comfort of family; the importance and comfort of siblings.

We had lost six potential siblings during two IVF cycles in the old year. Four of those only days before we came to Germany. I was on sedatives on the plane, as otherwise the trip seemed too daunting to me. I felt a profound sadness. The loss of the dream of another child was huge to me. It seemed like such an ordinary dream and yet so difficult and painful for us to achieve.

While tons of firecrackers and fireworks were lighted to greet the new year around me, I made my New Year's Resolution. It was a simple one. I would start Antidepressants as soon as we would get back to the States. Spending those last two years trying to conceive and failing each and every time, was taking a high emotional toll on me and my family. I didn't have much control over my reproductive bits, I couldn't force an embryo to settle down in my beaten uterus, even if we paid thousands of dollars for it, but I could put a protective shield around my heart. I could be a better partner and mother again.

And so I did.

Almost a year has passed since the day I made my New Year's Resolution. Another New Year's Eve is approaching fast.

My brother-in-law and his former girlfriend, now wife, will celebrate New Year's Eve on the Orient Express in Europe. They are on their honeymoon and excited about the new year. They have a good reason. They are expecting a child next June. My sister-in law, who suffered a miscarriage last year, is also expecting another baby. I do not know where they intend to celebrate.

My husband and I will stay home. We are not expecting a baby. I am not even pregnant. In fact, I am still lightly spotting from a D&C for a missed miscarriage that I had to undergo during Thanksgiving week. I went to 11 weeks with all sorts of reassuring pregnancy symptoms before we learned that our much waited for, our much loved surprise baby had silently died unnoticed weeks earlier. Our baby would have been due in June, the same month my brother-in-law is expecting his baby. I learned about his baby two days after my D&C, one day before Thanksgiving.

To our great surprise and amazement, I had fallen pregnant simply by having sex. In fact, technically I had fallen pregnant that way three times during the year. THREE times. Two pregnancies that lasted only a couple of days to a week (chemical pregnancies) and one that lasted several weeks. But I lost them all. And while it has admittedly given me hope that maybe one day, we will indeed be able to fall pregnant again (and maybe even EXPECT a child), I still cry for my lost babies. I keep whatever little physical memories I have of them, mostly positive pregnancy tests, in a white box next to my bed. Not even my husband knows about this box.

My brother-in-law and his wife are wonderful, sweet people. I like them a lot. But truth be told, I am incredibly jealous. And I am angry. It's not a rational anger, it's not justified, but nonetheless it's there. Not only is it their June baby that lives while mine died, they decided to have an elective abortion last year when my dreaded period flushed my much wanted IVF embryos down the toilet.

I always thought of myself as pr*-cho*ce. And I still do. A woman should be able to decide to continue or end her pregnancy for whatever reason. As my brother-in-law correctly wrote in the New York Times “The abortion is no one's business, but ours.” Rationally I am still all for it. Emotionally, I am struggling quite a bit right now.

It is soon time to make a new New Year's Resolution. My happy pills last year were a good one, they helped me deal with this year's infertility roller coaster quite effectively. I am holding up considerably well. But I have to think about a new resolution.

Maybe finally overcoming my anxiety to drive on freeways?
And maybe, maybe try unprotected intercourse.

Survived Thanksgiving

2007-11-24T07:28:00.001-08:00

thank you all so much for commenting on my last posts. It means a lot to me. It really does.

Thanksgiving is over and I managed to go over to my in-laws dinner. It was a very small dinner, none of the pregnant ladies were in attendance, and pregnancy talk were kept to a minimum. I couldn't have gone, however, had Mr H and I not have a big fight beforehand.

Infertility/miscarriages are hard on our marriage, which doesn't come as a surprise I suppose. Some people say they get closer BECAUSE of it, but I am not sure that's the case for us. I guess, it could be, if we had a similar style of mourning the loss of our dreams. But we really don't. To me it always seems, Mr H is sad FOR me, not necessarily WITH me. Don't know if that makes sense. But it always enhances my feelings of aloneness.

There was one time when he mentioned that a friend of ours (couple of years older, went through a bit of infertility, but ended up with a second child long before there was even a chance for us) kept telling him "just keep trying" and that this comment really bothered him. At this moment, I felt really close to Mr H.

The last couple of months seem like a dream to me. A great dream but "only" a dream nonetheless. Sometimes the memories even feel surreal. Maybe I just dreamed that I had been pregnant? But then i see the bruises from the IV...my ninja was a reality at least for some time.

Unfortunately, not long enough.

Cancelling Thanksgiving?

2007-11-22T08:39:00.000-08:00

I just called my MIL. I told her that I was feeling pretty miserable today and that I might not attend the Thanksgiving dinner.

My in laws are really sweet and they grieve with me. But at the same time they are, of course, excited about the prospects of two new grandbabies. But I can't be.

In my mind, I see the two cousins playing together and I wonder whether I am the only one who will remember that there could have been a third...

I can't celebrate Thanksgiving this year. I thought I could. I was holding up reasonably well. Until yesterday. Until my sweet husband had to drop this bomb on me.

I just can't get over the timing of all these events. It's hard enough to get over this miscarriage as is, but getting informed that fertile inlaws are EXPECTING* a baby around my due date while I still bleed away the last physical memories of mine, I am sorry, but that's too much for me right now.

I want my baby back. And given that's not going to happen, I would at least like to have a husband who grieves with me.

Gosh, what a lonely road to walk.

_________________
* only normal people are "expecting" a baby, us infertiles, if we're lucky, we get pregnant. We rarely get to "expect"

Lost my appetite

2007-11-21T13:56:00.000-08:00

Remember my last post, the one I just wrote an hour ago or so? The one, in which I said I was looking forward to having lunch with my husband?

Well, it didn't go so well.

Shortly after we ordered food, Mr H thought this was a good time to drop a bomb on me. He started saying that he had some news about his brother and that those news are a bit bitter sweet. I knew what was coming, do you?

His brother got married in the beginning of September. Shortly afterwards I managed to get pregnant. Apparently he and his happy bride did the same thing. They are due in June, the same month my baby would have been due.

WTF.

At the wedding my other SIL announced that they were "expecting" again. I even managed to be happy for them.

But today, I couldn't feel happy for anybody. It felt like the knife that is stuck in my heart was twisted. Two babies due, close to each other, none of them mine, and one even due at the same time my baby was... And all I got? A missed miscarriage. Another surgery. More heartbreak.

All I got was a couple of weeks of morning sickness for essentially a dead baby. Or embryo or whatever. And then the week I try to deal with my miscarriage, the loss of a much wanted, much waited for baby, I have to further digest that there will be a constant "mirror of what could have been" right in front of me? At every family function?

I know this has nothing to do with fairness whatsoever, but sometimes it's just too much for me.

Dear internet, how does one deal with all this?

And how can I manage not to hate Mr H a little bit for taking me to restaurant for a nice date and then dropping such a bomb on me in front of a whole restaurant? I had a difficult time holding back the tears. Great lunch.

Great thanksgiving.

Physically I seem to be okay

2007-11-21T11:56:00.001-08:00

Emotionally I am not so sure. I hope time will cover up some of my sadness.

The D&C went (thankfully) uneventful. I went there all by myself, which suited me just fine. There was nothing that I wanted to talk about anyway, so reading a book worked nicely for me. I think some of nurses felt sorry for me, being all alone and such after a miscarriage, but I didn't mind.

Physically the D&C was not too hard on me. I am not in pain, not cramping, and just bleeding lightly. Hopefully no complications will arise in the future.

Today is Mr. H and mine dating anniversary. We had our first date the day before Thanksgiving and somehow we keep celebrating this day almost more than our wedding anniversary (which is a day after Valentines. Makes you wonder whether we are a bit memory impaired, doesn't it?). We've been through a lot the last couple of years. And I hoped we could celebrate something wonderful this time around. Well, not yet.

But I am still looking forward to my lunch with him. Somehow at least my appetite has returned full force.

"Baby Alive"

2007-11-17T14:32:00.000-08:00

I watched a commercial yesterday that was advertising a doll called "Baby Alive." Oh, goodie, I thought, maybe I should put it on my Christmas list?

Miss V by the way named our demised ninja "Emma". She is sure that it was a girl.
Have I mentioned before how glad I am to have Miss V? She's my light. There is something so refreshing about how a four year old deals with a miscarriage.

A couple of weeks ago, when I started feeling shitty and changed my eating habits, she constantly asked me what was wrong with me. I finally told her that there might be a little baby growing inside of me. I told her that I couldn't promise that there would really be a baby in the end, but that I was hoping it very much.

So, when she saw how sad i was last Thursday, I told her that the doctor had told me that the little baby inside of me was too sick and had died. I further told her that I was very sad about it. Miss V looked at me sadly and said "she was very sad, too" and she let me hug her (she is usually not so into the hugging). Then she looked at me and started to ask all those curious questions about why the baby had died. In the end she decided that "ah, well, maybe there will be another baby" (to which Mr H answered, well, we'll keep trying...) , oh, and cheerfully announced while walking back to her toys, that tomorrow, she would tell her preschool teacher that "my baby died." I am sure her teacher enjoyed that conversation. It's funny, it doesn't hurt me at all to talk to Miss V about the doomed ninja.

I haven't started bleeding yet. And my bo*bs still hurt. And can I tell you something that may sound weird? I think I will feel so empty when they finally remove our little ninja. Apparently, I prefer even carrying a dead ninja to an empty uterus. Sad, isn't it? But I guess, it will get easier to let go of my dream then.

Back to the Reality that is my Life

2007-11-16T13:44:00.000-08:00

I feel like I was rudely sent back to Mother Earth after being allowed to float around for a couple of weeks in lala-pregnancy land. I didn't really think I was allowed to float up there much longer, was I? I am back to the reality that is my life.

There were really no big warning signals that something was so terribly wrong. I was nauseated a lot, I gagged a lot, I hated certain smells, and my bo*bs were moderately sore most of the time (at least not any less than with Miss V.). I didn't pee so very often (although I had to get up about twice at nights), but I don't remember that being the case with Miss V either. I didn't cramp, nor did I spot (apart from one tiny drop after a bowl movement a couple of weeks ago).I sometimes even felt some ligament pain though I did feel more a couple of weeks ago.

I did start to feel better over the last week, just a bit queezy here and there. But I remembered feeling similarly better at 11 weeks with Miss V. With her though, I heart her heart beat at 11 weeks (though not without difficulty finding it. I even got the miscarriage speech, but somehow I hadn't run out of luck back then).

And even though I always have a cautious voice in the back of my mind warning me not to get too overly excited (who us doesn't have that?), I didn't really think we would NOT see a living fetus. I mean, I was almost 11 weeks pregnant, without any warning signals, at least as far as I was concerned...Delusional? Maybe.

And Mr. H was so excited to see the ninja. And then there was nothing but a dead embryo in its gestational sac. Probably dead for quite a while without me really noticing.

A missed miscarriage is pretty brutal. No warning signs. Basically, one cannot even take comfort in the existence of pregnancy symptoms (as if I didn't already have enough paranoia).

I just can't shake the feeling that again somebody up there was having a good laugh at my attempts of being happy with and optimistic about this pregnancy. It's sounds paranoid, doesn't it?

After all, it was probably just some bad luck...(now why doesn't that make me feel any better????)

I am very sad about having to let go of this ninja. After those initial great betas (14 dpo: 168, 16dpo: 595, 22dpo: 12430) I did allow myself to dream. It makes me sad that the dreams will just remain that. Dreams.

I am scheduled for a D&C on Monday, unless my body decides to finally let go over the weekend. I am not thrilled to have another procedure that increases my risk of adhesions, but my OB, my RE, and I agreed that I might want to have this physically over as fast as possible.

Thank you all for your kind words and hopes for this ninja. I know, that sadly you all have been where I am now.

Missed Abortion

2007-11-15T13:26:00.000-08:00

I should have been almost 11 weeks pregnant today, but our embryo had died some time ago. We learned that during yet another ultrasound from hell.

It's so brutal. It's so cruel.

Recovering from a jetleg

2007-10-28T14:50:00.001-07:00

It's interesting that time in early pregnancy seems to slow down. It drags. Hours seem like days, days seem like weeks. I never had such a problem with other people's pregnancies. They always went from happy announcement to birth in about 4 weeks. Or so it felt.

Anyway, I am back and I have never had such a difficult time copying with my jet lag before. I basically had to lie down for a couple of days because I felt so nauseated and sick. And yes, I did throw up. It's better now, and hopefully that's not a bad sign either. Thankfully, my bo*bs hurt a lot yesterday and still feel pretty sore today. Gosh, what a mindfu*k, isn't it?

My third beta is sort of a mystery to me. I am too chicken to listen to the message once more. When I first listened to it, the nurse started with a pretty low number and I couldn't listen to whatever else he had to say. Apparently, he corrected himself and read of a number that seems pretty high, almost a bit too high. All according to Mr. H who kindly went through the message twice. And he is a native speaker of English, so he should have an easier time understanding.

So I called the office on Friday to talk to the nurse, but he didn't call back. And given that he is out on Mondays, I won't hear from him before Tuesday. I sure hope though, that if the doctors are concerned about these numbers they would try to reach me (or would have tried harder before I left. I mean I had the blood draw Friday morning and left Tuesday, plenty of time to let me know if there was something to be concerned about, right????)

I made the mistake to google a bit. Not about high HCG numbers because that would freak me out (I don't need to read about molar pregnancies right now...and the possibility of twins is honestly scary, too. You wouldn't want to carry twins with a formerly ruptured uterus. But what am I talking about? Twins...haha. Didn't I go through an IVF last year that included the transfer of four embryos of which none made an attempt to implant?). No, instead I googled about ectopic pregnancies which freaked me out, too.

I guess, I really need an ultrasound to answer some of my questions.

I still can't believe that I am even in a place where I have such questions. It's a bit surreal...amazingly surreal.

On vacation, slightly nauseated, and happy

2007-10-15T04:22:00.000-07:00

I am on vacation at the moment - in Germany. I am feeling nauseated in the morning and cannot stand the smell of my mother's detergent, nor can i stand the smell of any other perfume nor fall fires. This makes me VERY happy. Big knock on wood.

I had one last beta drawn before I left, but I have no idea what it was. I left before they told me. Which is fine by me. I did call and made an ultrasound appointment though. If everything works out (KOW), I will be around 10 weeks by then. In contrast to many others, I hate ultrasounds. With Miss V I had one around 5.5 weeks, which was horrible because I thought I was further along and we didn't see a heartbeat (I also spotted during that week, plus lost my breast sensitivity, so I was a mess). The next ultrasound I had was at 19 weeks.

Sometimes I wonder though whether I should go and see a doctor here, just to make sure that it's not an ectopic pregnancy. I will, if I start experiencing weird symptoms.

So far, I am fine. Great even. Big, big Knock on wood.

Thank you all so much for checking in on me!

Beta #2

2007-10-02T16:24:00.000-07:00

I got the call and I am speechless. Really. My number is 595, so it more than doubled. I can't really process it. I mean, I know there are no guarantees and things can go downhill so easily, but for now, for tonight, I will just be happy and relieved.

And maybe I can rest better tonight.

wow.

No news yet

2007-10-01T09:45:00.000-07:00

Thank you all so much for your comments!!!

I've had my second blood draw on Saturday but haven't got any results yet. Emotionally I am up and down, coupled with any of my "symptoms". Sometimes I feel hopeful (mostly when my bo*bs hurt), sometimes I feel down (mostly when my bo*bs don't hurt). Sounds familiar?

I am just glad I have my happy pills. Without them I'd feel even more anxious now...

I don't want to jinx anything...

2007-09-28T08:01:00.001-07:00

...but to my greatest delight, there is another ninja currently trying its best. My beta yesterday (~14dpo) was 168. That's the highest it's been in many years. I am getting a little excited over here, but I know there are zillions of hurdles ahead of us. Tomorrow I have another blood draw scheduled. It would be just beyond great if the numbers will have doubled.

Today I will be happy about my ninja.

3 years of IF

2007-08-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

Last week I was on vacation. It was a beach vacation, the best kind there is for me. I love the ocean. I love to get washed over by waves or watch the underwater world through the safety of my goggles. I love to stick my feet in the sand, feel the sun warming my skin and doze of in the shade. For me, there is no place in the world better suited to calm my soul than a sunny and warm ocean beach.

My period was strangely absent during the entire time. I was grateful, not because I was secretly decorating my baby's nursery, but because I don't use tamp*ns anymore. And swimming with pads somehow doesn't sound like such a good idea. I did buy a d*va cup but haven't figured out yet how to actually use it? So the absent period was much appreciated. It has finally arrived yesterday on my birthday but I am still mystified about its absence. I am usually rather good at predicting my period - or at least I was until my first chemical pregnancy this year. My luteal phase (LP) (based on subjective and/or ovulation predictors) was always a bit on the shorter side, on average about 12 days. Once in a while I experienced a 13 day luteal phase. Even on heavy progesterone suppositories (IVF #1), I started bleeding after 13 days. Before my chemical pregnancies I have not experienced a cycle with a LP more than 13 days (at least not during the time I have been trying to get pregnant again). Until this year. Apparently, my LP can now be 14 days. This cycle it approached 16 days?! I peed on a stick a day before I started to spot and there was no second line whatsoever. So I was either a) totally off in my subjective assessment of ovulation (used ovulation predictors however) b) didn't really ovulate c) have magically longer LPs now or d) had a brief contact with an embryo that went undetected. No matter what it was (personally I hope it was the last option), my period has now graced me with its presence. And that means: calling the RE tomorrow to get a prescription for Letrozole. Should be fun.

As I have said in my last post, there is not much I feel I contribute to the (secondary) infertility community anymore. And I feel rather tired. It's been three years that I have been dealing with this crap. Three long years: countless negative cycles, two failed IVFs (compl. negative), three surgeries, numerous visits to accupuncturists, massage therapists, miracle doctors, and two surprise chemical pregnancies. Yeah for the last. And booh for the rest.

I am mildly curious to see what will happen in the year(s) ahead in regard to my attempts to have another child, but really, at this point, I have no expectations to ever be so lucky again to hold another baby of ours in my arms. If I have learned someting during the last year, it is to hope without feeling too much disappointment. That is: to hope without expectations. To be honest, I was actually halfway convinced that I might be pregnant last cycle, but when the second line did not materialize, I wasn't shattered. It was more like "oh, well. thanks though for letting me swim."

I have a beautiful 4-year old daughter. She has my husband's incredibly dark brown eyes and my blond hair and petite frame. She has an astonishing imagination. She gave me a story for my birthday present. I wrote it down. It's a story about a beautiful anaconda and her friends who have to fight sea monsters (one even has a stinger butt!), get married, open presents, and fall in love. In that order. I love this little girl more than I can ever express in words and I am so very fortunate to be her mother. I wish I could have added another of these funny little creatures to our family. Maybe one day it will not hurt anymore that I couldn't.

Right now, I feel I need to work on my friendships that have suffered greatly under my infertility. I am still having trouble to accept that I won't find as much support from my friends as I was originally hoping, but I am working on that. I am also still having trouble with pregnancy jealousy. I wonder, is that ever going away?

So many of the infertility bloggers I started reading a long time ago have gone on to being (expectant) mothers. Some of them have lapped me. May you all have a rich, happy, and wonderful life with your little ones. To all the remaining ones still in the trenches, i wish you all the best. It is a shitty place to be and I hope you find support and love on the way.

I am not intending to continue this blog much longer. If any of you would like to keep in touch with me, please, drop me an email at kat074@gmail.com. I would love to hear from you. I will continue my quest, wherever it will lead me, and I will gladly give you updates.

thank you all so much for your support and for sharing your stories. It means so much to me.

One more try...

2007-07-17T13:01:00.000-07:00

...before I turn 37. And NO, it won't be IVF (never again), just a good ole' hay roling. Apparently, roling in the hay works just as "well"- if not better- for us anyway...I originally wanted to try Letrozole this cycle, but Mr H announced he was leaving the country for a while. Sadly, for a second there I contemplated asking him to get his sperm frozen. Slap me. Please.

But never mind. His business trip was postponed.

Given that we won't try IVF again, are not pursuing either adoption nor donor eggs it feels as if I don't have much to contribute to the IF community anymore (if ever really). Our plan is simple, if only in words. Take care and enjoy our little family of three. And continue to hope. Occasionally I might try Letrozole, ovulation predictors, and who knows even some IUIs here and there. I haven't done those yet, so might as well add them to my repertoire. I will continue to do acupuncture and herbs and get abdominal massages. I will still do uterine maintenance, but try to be realistic. After almost three years of infertility, two gloriously negative IVF cycles, several surgeries, two wonderous chemical pregnancies, a full term- pregnancy just doesn't sound all that likely.

Which doesn't prevent me at all from peeing on sticks again. But I noticed that my expectations have truly changed. I am not devastated each month anymore. I keep the positive pee sticks from the beginning of the year and enjoy looking at them. My ninjas. Last cycle I added two more sticks. They weren't positives at all, but what I call "promising negatives". Negative results that show a hint of a line long after 10 minutes are over. Most likely those lines are evap lines. They only appeared on two tests and those were from the same package. I decided to keep them anyway in my collection. Wishful thinking.

Wishing everyone a wonderful summer.

Post IF friendships

2007-07-03T12:03:00.001-07:00

For a while now, I am working in my head on a post about how my infertility has impacted one of the closest friendships I have - in a negative way.

I admit, I am having a somewhat difficult time with my friends having babies right and left. Just recently I received another birth announcement of a childhood friend who announced the birth of her third son. She's had two kids in the time that I have been - unsuccessfully- trying for one. Yes, I am very happy that she has three healthy, gorgeous kids. And yes, I get a bit sad for myself because there is still a bit of a hole in my life. Or my other friend whose second child will forever remind me that I could have - theoretically- a kid his age. Two. I could have had a four year old and a two year old if IF hadn't intervened...And of course, my ongoing struggle with IF makes it difficult for my friends as well. You all know how it is.

But that's not even the problem my close friend and I have. My friend and I go back to high school. And as every close relationship, there are things that I love about my friend, and things that, well, bother me a wee bit. And it's of course the same for my friend. This is important because I believe part of our problem roots in the past; there are some things about me that simply have irritated her for a long time.

To give you some background of the current situation:
My friend lives in Germany, whereas I live in the U.S. Naturally, we don't see each other very often. We occasionally called. Mostly, we've communicated via email.
My friend is one the few people who have known for a long time about my endometriosis issues and my personal fear of infertility. I remember talking to her about those fears shortly before I conceived Miss V. When it became more and more obvious that I had problems conceiving a second child, I went through a pretty dark period in my life. I was very angry. I was still trying to recover from the shock of the ruptured uterus and its consequences for subsequent pregnancies (and the fact, that I did have gestational diabetes, which is not awful but not great either). I was still trying to recover from the scare of cervical cancer (thankfully the biopsy did not show as severe abnormalties as the original pap smear). And I hadn't forgotten my endometriosis either. My friend was hopeful that my successful pregnancy had "cured" endometriosis. I wasn't. But I didn't expect it to come "back" with a vengence either.

So, when I found out that 1) I had new endometriomas on my ovaries 2) my left ovary's fertility potential was diminished possibly due to earlier ovarian surgery 3) my lining was extremely thin 4) I had developed Asherman's syndrome probably as a result from my rupture/c-section 5) at least one of my tubes was blocked and 6) my best chance to conceive was IVF, I was pissed. I was bitter. I was jealous. I was angry. And I was scared shitless. And you know what? I can still totally understand my feelings. I know that some unfortunate souls have to deal with far, far worse. No one should have to deal with so much gynecological crap. It's enough for many lifetimes. I couldn't believe in shitty randomness anymore and felt personally targeted by life. It was, still is, difficult for me to digest it all.

Shortly after my first hysteroscopy, I wrote a long email to my friend in Germany. Part of that email, but not all, was me venting about all this shit. I knew I was venting, I even warned my friend that what was coming next, was not going to be pretty. I complained and I whined in this section of the email. I was bitter and generally angry. I told my friend that I didn't understand why I had to deal with such a traumatic birth AND had to deal with such ugly consequences. I wrote that no one I personally knew had to deal with problems like that. And then, I told her that I would have to do IVF. I finished the letter, however, on a much lighter note, talking about Christmas stuff.

I never heard back from my friend. I went through an entire (failed) IVF without even a single note from her. I was disappointed. I felt she was abandoning me during a time of great emotional need. I tried to explain this silence to myself by wondering whether she had even received the email? I didn't know what was going on, so when I went back to germany last summer, I contacted her.

She had received the email, all right. We spend on horrible evening together in my beautiful german home town. It was bad. I am not sure I remember it correctly, but it felt as if she was yelling at me. As if I had done something to her. I purposefully didn't mention any IF stuff. But she asked. So yes, I told her, and yes, I was bitter. And then it felt as if a thunderstorm came down on me. I was quite perplexed (well, and hurt of course, too). Basically, she was very annoyed with me because "can't you ever be happy?"

Now, this friendship is very important to me and I understand that dealing with my general tendency towards depression coupled with my bitterness and anger about IF can be quite challenging. But, to this day I have a difficult time with her general lack of compassion and support during a very dark period of my life. I have a difficult time to understand why she chose silence over a simple "i'm sorry" just because she seemed irritated by my ongoing whining (and not only about IF stuff as it turns out). I didn't share my IF story with all my friends in such detail; it just plain hurts that it backfired.

My friend is a great person and the picture I am painting right now doesn't do her justice at all. She's been there for me many times over. And I think she has had every right to be honest with me and tell me what made her uncomfortable. I am just not agreeing with the HOW, though, at all.

But I am still struggeling how to relate to her at the moment. We are both trying. And maybe right now, that's as good as we can hope for.

******************
Update on cycle issues:
I peed on a stick today (~11dpo) and there was so much white space it was blinding. So, I deduct from this that the wonderful, hurting bo*bs I have been blessed with these last 11 days have nothing to do with any invading resident. Ah, oh, well, I do like having these boo*s though.

Pretty good

2007-06-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

....those were the words my RE used to describe what he saw on the ultrasound of MY uterus today! Rarely have I heard the word "good" in conjunction with my female plumbing at his office. It felt great. Of course, "good" is only relative; meaning it's (pretty) good for me, not necessarily good for the average fertile woman.

My uterine lining at CD 11 measured something over 8mm. For me, that's as good as it gets. Remember the ill-fated IVF #2? On trigger day (10 days of heavy-duty stims, so heavy duty I am embarrased to tell you how much Follistim I wasted) my lining measured a measly 6.something mm. So 8mm sounds rather cushy, wouldn't you agree? Apparently, I also have two follicles growing, one on the right and one on the left (one measured around 15mm, the other I am not sure). Remember the ill-fated IVF #2? Not only was my lining pretty shitty, my left ovary also couldn't be bothered to produce any follicles. Not a single one, despite the heavy duty FSH offerings. I was sorta under the impression it had retired. But, no! It still does business with me once in a while. And just imagine: if I were to spit out two follicles in a "natural" cycle (not saying I will), I got half my IVF harvest right there.

So, I was pleasantly surprised today. Not only was my lining actually better than during my last (expensive) IVF cycle, but both of my ovaries had some action going on. Priceless. And so much cheaper than IVF...

Bone Marrow donor?

2007-06-13T17:45:00.000-07:00

I was wrong and I like it. The sun was shining here in the Northwest afterall! Though it's still much too chilly for my taste. After all, it's June...The pathology report came back on my mole and i am happy to report that all is good.

Today at the park, I ran into a father whose baby is seriously sick from the day he was born and spent pretty much most of his life at the hospital (we are fortunate to live close to a great childrens' hospital). I didn't understand all of it, but from what I gathered the young boy was born with a severe immune system dysfunction. He had a bone marrow transplant some time ago and was just now allowed to go outside for the first time in his life. The father urged me to think about being part of the national bone marrow registry. I think I'll do it. In fact, I should have done this a long time ago. It does cost some money to register, but it is worth it for me. I may not be able to grow new life, but maybe I can help sustain a child's life nonetheless?

My RE is not the best of record keepers. Maybe he tries to hide that I am still his patient, after all I am not really a success story. I called today to make my ultrasound appointment and nobody knew what I was talking about. I didn't think it was that exotic to get your lining checked after a hysteroscopy, particularly not if it was suggested by your doctor (who didn't leave any notes about your last appointment in your folder). I guess i should have called earlier, but RE appointments are not my most favorite things to do.

I talked to one of my SILs a while ago. She had a miscarriage a couple of months ago and is trying to get pregnant again. I think she's now in the stage where it starts to bother one not to get knocked up immediately because after all it shouldn't be that difficult, right? I remember that stage. And then the one where I couldn't any longer ignore that something was seriously wrong. Getting my period back then was emotionally far worse than it is now. It's been almost three years that I set out to try for another baby. It's been almost five years that my body nurtured a baby. I was 34 when I tried for my second baby, as old as my SIL is now. It's pretty useless to think about it, but damn do I wish I didn't get Asherman's after Miss V birth. With two dysfunctional tubes at 34 I had no chance. And you know what my gynacologist said when I voiced some concern about my light periods? "scarring is so rare, don't worry about it." Yeah, well. But it's futile to wonder about the ifs. 34 for me is gone...long gone. I can't help it though I am still hoping for one ninja, even at the somewhat ancient age of 37 (and apparently I am more ancient at 37 than others). Cute, eh?

Have you had your annual mole check-up yet?

2007-06-11T20:38:00.000-07:00

I went to the dermatologist last week. "What a nice doctor" I thought when she said "I always like to see you." But wait: that was before she continued to say "because you have over 100 moles and therefore are more likely to get melanomas." Gulp. Nothing like a meeting with your doctors when they throw cancer threats right at you. And yes, I am practically a walking mole. Right now you can still see a glimmer of my "natural" skin tone shining through here and there, but as I grow more and more of those moles, well, let's just say I look more and more dotted. I even grow them on the palms of my hands! The sunny side of the growing moles is, of course, that one day I will only have one mole instead of the 100s I have now. It'll be big, sure, but only one (and therefore my likelihood of melanomas should go down, right? RIGHT?!) . It's been some time since they cut out some of my moles for future preservation (mine that is). Last week I said good-bye to another. By the way, Dr. Google diagnosed me with some hereditary mole issue. Just wondering about my little sister now. She has just as many moles as I do, but in addition she's also losing skin pigments. That should cancel the cancer threat, I would think. It's like a built-in eraser...

I remember in pre-infertility years, I took my skin much more seriously than i do at the moment. For some reason I cannot get the energy up and check my beloved moles as often as I should. I do, however, take my doctor's visits seriously. And I am moderately good about not getting too much sun (and using sun screen). I have given up on getting a nice tan a long time ago. It just doesn't happen. My natural skin tone, as much as you can still see of it, is ghostly white. It doesn't burn as easily as people think it would, but it doesn't obain much color either (unless of course I grow another mole...). But I have to admit: sometimes I like to feel sunshine on my face...it just feels so damn good.

Unfortunately, there is no sunshine here in the Northwest. I am cold. And apparently we won't have nice sunshine for yet another couple of days?!

i am excited though because tomorrow we will start our garden project 2007! Yes, we will finally be able to get rid off the dandilion salad field in our front yard and replace it with some low-maintenance plants and a patio. And the street side strip will be covered in some nice ground-covers that do not need to be moved every other day! We have a corner lot. Never again. Far too much street garden to take care off. But of course, as first time home owners we didn't think of those things.

Sometimes I catch up on pregnant (in)fertility blogs and am surprised how far along the pregnancies are. Some of them started shortly before I had my first round of positive tests (Feb), some before my second round (April). It boggles my mind to think that with some luck I could be far into my second trimester or at least leaving my first. It's not that I get incredibly sad when i have those thoughts but they do make me sentimental. I also still look at my collection of positive tests and shake my head in wonder.

The collection has not got bigger. The last round of tests dared to be completely negativ, followed by another period. I am currently on day 3. Guess, I will not use Letrozole this cycle either as i haven't talked to my RE yet. I have to call him tomorrow though to make an ultrasound appointment to spy on my lining. Hope things look okay in there, but that's all i can do anyway: hoping.

Today i finished another little set of summer pants for Miss V. It feels good to be productive.

Nothing to report

2007-05-31T11:49:00.000-07:00

Weeeellll, it's been a while, hasn't it? But don't fret, lovely internet, you didn't miss much.

Surgery went fine, as far as I know. Afterwards I was put on estrogen to cushion up the lining. I was warned that estrogen is not birth control (as if I need that) and that some women may ovulate while being on estrogen treatment. Guess, i was one of them (honestly, I think we started the estrogen therapy much too late in my cycle, around day 12) because two weeks or so later, I started to bleed. Oh, and how i bled! I would almost go as far and declare that blood flow "normal"?! I know, that's quite something for me to say. There was a flow, people, a FLOW! I FELT it. Haven't had that sensation in a while.

Anyhow, this cycle is a wait and see one. I am somewhere in my post-ovulatory phase and am currently afraid to have contracted a sinus infection. I think next cycle I may try Letrozole. Can't hurt, can it?

Yesterday I listened in on a conversation of two friends who were discussing secondary infertility. One lady was saying that they tried Clomid for a while, but didn't want to proceed with IVF. Among other things the thought of twins at her age scared her....ah, pre-IVF naivitee. I once thought similar thoughts. But while it is true that some women get twins out of IVFs, others leave with empty hands and wombs. And I dare say, that chances are higher to leave with an empty womb at our age than with twins. I didn't say anything though. Most of the time, i don't like to talk about my infertility journey (anymore).

These days I obsess more about my new hobby: sewing. i always wanted to learn how to make my own clothes - or at least some of them. There are certain garments that I like but can never find a store. Sewing will hopefully make me more independent of current trends etc. Of course, i still have a long way to go...

Is it just me, or are there actually many more pregnant infertiles out there than usually? It's amazing, really. Of course, I get a bit sentimental and wallow in self-pity for while when I come across another happy announcement, but, really, it is so great that so many of us may finally be able to move on. Well done!

All set for surgery

2007-04-20T12:27:00.000-07:00

So, let's see. What has happened over here? Not much really. My period came last Saturday, I had my pre-op appointment, and my last HCG draw (completely negative). I am all set for surgery next Monday. Hopefully my uterus can be restored to its former beauty...

We reviewed the HSG pictures. Basically, the whole upper part of the uterus was "missing". Not really missing, of course, but it didn't fill up with fluid, suggesting that the upper parts are stuck together. Thankfully some fluid got to the tubes, so we know that for now they are open. Hopefully, they stay that way.

Emotionally, I am doing fine. A bit exhausted, but fine. I am just glad that I have started my ADs at the beginning of the year. Not only are they some sort of great fertility medication for me, I also think I wouldn't be doing quite so fine without them.

Have a enjoyable weekend!

I think I might just cry a little tonight

2007-04-13T14:10:00.000-07:00

While on the way to see my OB/GYN to get another beta draw (and to talk about my HSG results with her), I came across a billboard with a happy baby picture that said something like this "embryos are just tiny babies." Had I read the entire message, I would have not only killed my embryo, but also myself, so I am not entirely sure what the billboard was really all about.

BUT, regardless. A message like that is not helping anybody. Not the women who go through pregnancy losses, not the women who go through (multiple) IVF treatments, and not the women who, for whatever, reason chose not to continue a pregnancy. All it accomplishes (in my mind) is to make the first two groups sadder and the second one more guilty (and quiet possibly sadder as well).

Also, I think I am going to cry a little bit tonight for my lost embryo. I haven't started bleeding yet, but I sense it's just around the corner. I am really okay, and I don't feel like I'm lying when I answer random requests in regard to my well-being with a firm "fine", but, I am also a litte sad. Who wouldn't though, right?

I also knew this was coming at some point, in fact, I think it was overdue: Miss V. wants a baby (sister) in my tummy. And all because her hero "Angelina, Ballerina" got a little sister. Miss V mentioned her wish a couple of times this week. Surprisingly, it hurt a whole lot less than I imagined it would (particularly given that I was "pregnant, not expecting" (->DinoD, by the way how are you???). This just in: the number is down to 10). I just told her that sometimes babies come and sometimes they don't. We just have to wait and see.

So, now I just need my period, so that we can go on with the scheduled show.

Have a good weekend, you all!

Seems like my predictions are right on...

2007-04-10T16:03:00.000-07:00

To recap: my predictions were that I had HCG in my system but that I would probably lose this pregnancy soon.

My beta today was 24. I was not surprised it was that low. It probably is already on its way down. Of course, I was hoping. But hoping is different from realistic expectations. And again, not only have I seen the uterus pictures, I also remember all the other crap that has happened down in ninja land. I am sad, but I knew it was a long shot to say the least.

But: I have this ninja on file. This ninja is official.

I still want to believe, that one day one of the ninjas will make it. And I still feel happy that there are still some who try.

The Return of The Ninjas

2007-04-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

This just in: I peed on a FRE*R and an A*nswer pregnancy test. Obviously it wasn't first morning pee, but it didn't matter. Both of them show a visible (still a bit faint) second line. And both showed it within 2 minutes.

How amazing is this? Honestly though, I am not super optimistic. The pictures of my uterus were sad. Basically, one didn't even see a uterus...it was so distorted. How could anybody survive there? Even DEs may have a hard time.

Still though, I take this new information as evidence that a SECOND ninja is saying hello. For how long, I don't know. And again, I'm afraid it's not going for very long. Sadly. At least though, I didn't lie to Mr H that it was the hormones that made me extra tired this weekend (I told him I am going to milk this as much as I can).

Amazing, isn't it? It gives me hope. If I still go through with my surgery on April 23 (obviously, this will only happen if I lose this pregnancy soon), then hopefully my uterus can be put back into a state that would support any (hopeful) pregnancy. I keep dreaming.

2007 shapes up to be a different year for us, there may still be no actual baby, but at least some hellos.

Amazing. Truly amazing.

Clea*blue +/- tests: an infertile gal's best friend

2007-04-07T08:36:00.000-07:00

Of course, after reading that Clea*blue +/- tests are lovely, infertile friendly tests ('cause they show you a positive!), I caved in and peed on a DollarT*ee one (in the afternoon). And guess what happened? Nothing. An all too familiar white space was smiling at me.

Crap. But, oh, well.

When I went to bed that night I couldn't resist peeing on the second +/- test. I was curious if I could repeat the dead. And guess what happened? Within two minutes I stared at a visible (even for those without infertility goggles) blue plus sign. Nicely positioned right in the center. Quite a bit darker than the one I had stared at the night before. Mr H laughed when I threw it at him. He didn't need to tilt it this time. The plus sign was staring at him, too.

Fun stuff. I've never tried those +/- tests before, which might explain why I usually do not get positive pregnancy tests...

But then again, why was the plus sign easier to read?

I want to believe...

2007-04-06T14:01:00.000-07:00

that

1) the very faint plus sign I thought I saw on the Clearblue easy pregnancy tests (Mr H “if I hold it at a certain angle, there may be something…”) yesterday evening (~11dpo) and that darkened over night in a visible, blue plus sign (this never happens with my clearly negative ones), means that I have, indeed and again, some hcg in my body right now….(go ninjas!)

2) there is hope that maybe someday I get pregnant and stay pregnant again

3) my old eggs are not doing quite as badly as Dr. Soothing seems to think. Even when they decide to pop out a bit early.

4) my dysfunctional (challenged) plumbing has probably more to do with my infertility than Dr. Soothing believes.

5) my body likes ADs so much better than any fertility medication!

What I cannot believe is:

that I won’t have to reschedule my hysteroscopy surgery which is scheduled for April, 23rd. If there is indeed another ninja trying to implant right now, how could it thrive in a uterus full of adhesions?

But: Isn’t this amazing? I haven’t got positive HPtests for over 2.5 years (sadly including those two IVFs, yada, yada, yada) and then somehow, this is the second time this year that I get possibly positive (well, at least not clearly negative ones) pregnancy tests?! Seriously, having a functional tube kicks ass. The cleaning may have helped, too.

In other news, well, really what else could there possibly be?

Are you sometimes wondering whether I make up all this stuff? I couldn’t blame you. Really. And no, I am not going to test today, I want to carry around this happy, possibly delusional feeling for a while longer...

*** EDITED***
haha, just read that Clearblue +/- tests are prone to show plus signs (particularly if one waits a day, and mine did get more pronounced overnight) even if one is most certainly not pregnant. Bummer. I still want to believe...this information just made it a tad bit more difficult.

HSG #2: are the tubes open now?...

2007-03-20T08:55:00.000-07:00

When we were driving back from the hospital this morning, after yet another HSG, I started to laugh. I really don't know what else to do anymore.

I tell you the good news first. Both my tubes spilled fluid today! The fact that my right tube might be back in working condition could explain my happy, albeit brief second pregnancy.

However, my uterus did not look like a normal uterus at all (which could also explain my happy, albeit brief second pregnancy, among other things of course). Just two weeks ago, Dr. Soothing was reassuring me that my uterus looked normal during the hysteroscopy in September. Apparently, that's not the case anymore. The attending RE didn't really want to hypothesize what happened but admitted that new adhesions could explain the less than desirable uterine picture.

Overall, I am trying to see the good in this finding (must be the happy pills talking here). I might not need elaborate surgery to open the tubes, but I might need another hysteroscopy to deal with the new (?) adhesions.

fun stuff, isn't it?

hello, I',m back

2007-03-12T17:12:00.000-07:00

It’s been some time that I have updated. In fact, it’s been so long that I am practically at the end of another cycle….So here it comes:

I feel fine. I don’t think my expectations regarding my short-lived pregnancy four weeks ago were very high to begin with. Just the fact there was a second line made me happy. That something must have worked. It still amazes me. I stare at the pee sticks in wonder not in dismay. I cherish this short-lived pregnancy, I really do.

I called my OBGYN to ask if I needed a Rhogam shot (I felt a little silly asking, but better safe than sorry) and the nurse told me several times “I’m so sorry”, making me wonder whether I should have felt more crushed and less giddy. In some ways it is a little sad that my particular IF experience has taught me to be happy even for a chemical pregnancy. I am not happy that this ride ended much too soon, not at all, but I am happy it started.

Part of it is that I felt almost like a “normal” woman. For a week I was granted the status of an OB patient, when usually I am “just” a Gyn case. It’s ironic that I fell pregnant (though I feel like an imposter saying it) during the very same cycle that I have switched OB/GYN offices. I just went to a new office for my annual pap smear around the time implantation must have occurred, and I expressed the wish to meet with the actual doctor in March to discuss her input on my upcoming surgery. I remember the medical assistant going over my intake questionnaire and remarking “oh, only one pregnancy”…Gulp. A couple of days later, I felt sick to my stomach and had to deal with a stomach flu of some sorts for a couple of days (including a fever and diarrhea). Then I expected my period. Which came, but only after I’ve seen the double lines (of varying shades) on at least 3 pregnancy tests. My abdomen didn’t feel well the entire time, lots of uterine and intestinal discomfort, so I wasn’t surprised that this unexpected ride ended much too soon. But I still get happy looking at the tests.

Th credit for the term “Ninja embryo”, by the way, goes to Mr H. During our cycle review (which took place around the time of ovulation, sort of ironic, isn’t it?), he summed up our options by saying something like “so, basically all we can do now, is to hope for a ninja embryo…” I almost laughed out loud. Ninja embryo indeed.

I went to see my RE again last week. It seems he is not so much in favor anymore of another surgery. However, he agreed that we should do another HSG. If that one shows that the right tube spills some fluid, we forgo the surgery – for now. If not, we need to discuss our options – again. Yawn. I am also going to meet my new OB/GYN this week for a consult. I am curious to hear what she comes up with.

Anyhow, I have to admit that my little pregnancy adventure has gone a bit to my head. I seem to think I have joined the fertile league again. Quite cute, actually. I even peed on my remaining two HPT tests this cycle. I am sure there was a second line there somewhere, it was just so white, it was hard to distinguish it from the white background. They should make those lines a bit more visible, don’t you think?

CD1

2007-02-13T08:21:00.000-08:00

It's over. Not that it was a surprise. The pregnancy test yesterday evening still shows a faint, very faint second line, suggesting that at some point an embryo made contact. But now it's gone.

I am sad but I am also thankful. It may be difficult to understand but this little ninja embryo has given me a lot. I felt "alive" for a little while. It still amazes me that there was a second, pink line. It's all I have from this embryo.

Surgery is still an option. For a second there I was hoping I didn't have to do it, but that would have been to good to be true, right?

Yesterday I was pregnant - I think

2007-02-12T09:03:00.000-08:00

And it was fun while it lasted. I kid you not.

I went to Target to buy a pregnancy test. “Somebody just shoot me”, I thought. This is crazy woman behavior. My period may be a little late, but it feels as if it’s just around the corner. Plus, I don’t even know when I ovulated. And I have no pregnancy symptom whatsoever (more to the contrary). No sore boobs, nothing. I haven’t got pregnant in over 2.5 years. I haven’t got pregnant with the help of two IVFs. I have dysfunctional tubes. I have endometriomas. I have Asherman’s. And yet, lovely internet, I bought the test. I haven’t peed on a stick in over a year. I didn’t pee on a stick during my IVFs. I just couldn’t stand the thought of the white space. And yet yesterday evening, I felt compelled to test. I wasn’t even nervous. I didn’t expect to see anything but one lovely pink line. And that’s what I saw – at first. But then a second line appeared. Very, very faint, but definitely visible. Even Mr H saw it (he didn’t understand at all what the significance was). A second line, lovely internet. A fucking second line?! I haven’t seen a second line in years.

However (you knew this was coming, right?), Mr. H made me pee on a stick this morning and there was only a shadow of a shadow of a shadow of a line left. You know the one, the one only I can see. My best guess? A chemical pregnancy. A spark of live. Most likely in my tube anyway. And the waiting for my period continues.

I am not even sure how I feel about all this (can you tell?). It was just too great to be true in the first place. Mr H didn’t want to talk to me about it. He was afraid I would get my hopes up.

Is this my initiation into the world of chemical pregnancies/miscarriages? I just don't know what to think and feel.

With the help of ADs

2007-01-31T13:31:00.000-08:00

The AD must be doing something. I watched Miss V today at gym class while waiting with the other parents and their additional offspring. The majority of time was spent discussing siblings and spacing. Naturally, I couldn’t really contribute (other than “I was a second child” – somewhat lame, no?), so I stayed quiet. And I managed to stay emotionally detached, at least to a degree that made the waiting bearable. Hearing “I love having two children, there is just something about having more than one” is not easy, but with the help of some artificial brain chemicals it’s getting more tolerable. I could also answer the question whether Miss V was an only-child positively (because she is) and calmly. Infertility broke my heart, but I am trying again to stand with my head up high.

Cycle Review

2007-01-25T12:42:00.000-08:00

We had our cycle review talk with Dr. Soothing. It went well. I didn’t cry. I had hoped he wouldn’t just jump right in and throw donor eggs right and left, and he didn’t. So, that was good.

I learned that our embryos were 2 8-celled and 2 9-celled ones on day 3. I was impressed. That sure was a good-looking cohort, small but exquisite. Unfortunately, they didn’t want to stay around. Or couldn’t, we just don’t know. But really, I am impressed that all of our 6 embryos were 8, 9, 10 cells on day 3. Makes me wonder, what wonderful embryos I could have produced as a 21 year old (but didn’t since I was on the pill)?

Dr. Soothing again told us that there was nothing observable wrong with our embryos. Nothing they could observe that would suggest “poor egg quality.” The main reason they suspect poor egg quality is that none of them implanted (and because I have severe endometriosis and so on and on and on).

He also told us that there are other variables that could impact implantation in my specific case, such as the functionality of the endometrium. Even though there’s nothing wrong with it structurally, Asherman’s may still impact its functionality.

In regard to what to do next, he advised against another IVF (with my own eggs), which is pretty much in line with what Mr H and I were thinking, too. Even though, clinically speaking my cycle was a “good” one (according to Dr. Soothing), it’s not worth the effort, money, emotions etc. After all, I only had three more eggs than I usually have during any given natural cycle. “As good as IVF has become, it’s not meeting your needs”, he declared. It’s true, it’s not. I am still not pregnant.

He briefly inquired about donor eggs and even mentioned surrogacy.

I was glad that he mentioned that another surgery may be possible. Surgery was the preferred treatment up until a couple of years ago, but it fell out of fashion with the coming and improving of IVF. But given that we exhausted IVF, we may as well give surgery another try. It’s not going to improve our chances a whole lot, but if successful, there may still be a slight chance of a pregnancy for us. I was afraid he’d say “no surgery”, but he didn’t. He thought some repair work could still be done. And if successful, the repair work could at least allow for fertilization.

That’s as good as it gets here in our household.

Happy 2007?

2007-01-18T10:29:00.000-08:00

I toured the internet. I found out exactly how shitty a year 2006 was for some people, compared to that my last year was a sunny ride indeed. My heart is heavy for so much suffering. May life grant you all a much needed peace- and joyful year.

On the other hand though, what is up with all the urban legend pregnancies that pop up on the internet? Please, don’t get me wrong, lovely internet I’m incredibly happy for you guys. One fellow blogger comes to mind, but she would mind being mentioned, so I just silently cheer her on. And can you imagine, barefoot Chris is complaining about her trimester pregnancy?! Of course, in RL I would turn green with envy if I would see her, but seriously, I can’t but cheer her on. And then there are (Barren) Mare and Thali*. I remember when pregnant Mare went through her failed IVF cycle long before I failed my first, and was thrown into worst afterwards. Have you read how she found out she was finally pregnant, after years of infertility? Urban Legend indeed. I’ll keep my fingers tightly crossed, Mare. And you, Thali*. Just a little relaxing will do this?! Take good care, girl. 40 doesn’t seem all that bad now, right? And those are only a few that I’ve found. May 2007 be exceptionally good for all of you!

Makes me wish I had functional tubes. Damn it.

Future

2007-01-17T16:54:00.000-08:00

So, I have tried IVF twice with max. stims, produced 6 (about) 8-cell embryos total, and all 6 died inside my tortured womb. I haven’t had my cycle review meeting with my RE yet, but I think it’s safe to say that my prognosis with my own eggs is shitty at this point.

My “complimentary” cycle review is scheduled for next week. My guess is Dr. Soothing will propose donor eggs if we wanted to continue trying. I don’t think he has much else to offer at this point. So far he’s never even mentioned the possibility of immune system issues, despite the research that is being done on the role of the immune system in implantation/endometriosis.

Donor eggs and/or (embryo) adoption, however, are not realistic options for our family. I have my reservations and Mr. H has his own ones. These reservations may change down the road, who knows, but right now, I don’t want to pursue donor eggs. I am actually more open towards adoption, but I can’t see that happening any time soon either, if ever.

My problem is that I don’t feel ready to give up on another (biological) child, but I don’t see what other options we have given that .

A. No good infertility coverage
Our health insurance that covered part of our infertility journey (for IVF we still paid most out of pocket, but at least ultrasounds etc were covered) was cancelled as of Jan 1. I think IVF expenses is one of those areas in infertility that I’d view differently if I had primary infertility. Basically, I’d be willing to go into debt and beyond. But we do have a little girl to think of, to take care of. I can’t just go and spend all our family money, or travel to Cornell etc in the pursuit of an unlikely dream. So even if my doctor would cycle me once more with my own eggs, I’m afraid the expenses would be too high given the crappy odds. Unless of course, Dr. Soothing has some sensational insight…

B. Dysfunctional Plumbing
If I had healthy tubes, I would continue with IUIs (that my new insurance may even pay for, how ironic), acupuncture, and good old se*. But both my tubes are dysfunctional, which makes even fertilization a challenge to put it mildly. Not to mention the rest.

C. Tubal Repair seems unlikely
I would undergo more surgeries but I fear that there is nobody willing and/or able to repair even just one of my tubes. Anybody out there? Tube repairs have gone out of fashion with the arrival of IVF. Too bad that IVF didn’t work, isn’t it? Plus, the costs might be out-of-pocket. You know, dysfunctional tubes don’t cause physical pain.

So, lovely internet, it seems my crappy eggs have nailed my fertility’s coffin shut*.

I might consider going to talk to a different RE, but really, what could they tell me differently? Would my embryos like their embryologist any better? Doubtful (though I might).

So, really, I seem to have appeared at the end of my infertility tunnel but it’s not sunshine but rain that is awaiting me.

I took my first AD today. Feeling so much better already.

___________
* okay, here’s the problem I have with the shitty egg thing: am I really to believe that I know when my last good egg popped out (Miss V.)? We started trying for a second kid almost immediately after my period returned after pregnancy/nursing. So, am I too believe I went from fertile-enough eggs (if it wasn’t a fluke) to shitty eggs while being pregnant?!

IVF 2: Details of Failure

2007-01-14T17:27:00.000-08:00

In my last post, I mentioned that I didn’t tell my family about the last IVF. But as you may have noticed, I didn’t tell you, lovely internet, a whole lot of my IVF odyssey either. I want to remedy this omission. You never know, there may be someone stumbling my way, who actually learns something from my shitty experience? And what a shame if I had hold back, right? Plus, for my own records it’ll be good to have a summary of some sorts. Hm, after writing and reading this piece is mostly for my own records.

(0) Protocol
So, let me give you a summary of the ride. IVF 1 followed the “microdose Lupron protocol,” a protocol for the challenged, which left us with four eggs of which only two fertilized (both transferred, both dead). We tried to improve the odds for IVF 2 by 1) draining of endometrioma (to open access to all potential follicles) 2) estrogen pretreatment (I believe to sensitize the follicles to FSH) and 3) highest dose of follistim (about 600 units per day). It was one of those protocols for the truly lost causes; I think it’s called the “estrogen priming protocol”.

(1) Stimming (10 days):
Unfortunately, my ovaries just yawned at all these exercises. The left actually had a good laugh at us and produced nothing at all (my left ovary doesn’t run at full capacity ever since the complete removal of an endometrioma. Full capacity, haha, who am I kidding?). The right tried to put in some effort and came up with about 7-8 follicles, which wouldn’t be so bad had the left not given up so completely.

I have no information about my FSH, for I declined measuring it. I know, that’s quite radical, isn’t it? But seriously, what would that have changed? They already had me on the max. dose of follistim anyway. So, they humored me and let me start anyway. Given that I am not an FSH superstar, I’ll just assume it was a bit on the high side. Actually, after the baseline ultrasound Dr. Soothing took me aside and gave me this uplifting prep talk “we let you start. For you, we’ll lower our guidelines (meaning that they let me trigger with fewer follicles as a normal IVF patient. Sweet, eh? Even for the infertiles, I need extra status). However, if there are only one or two good follicles and/or crappy estrogen, we cancel you.” What an optimistic introduction to my cycle.

I am also not sure about my baseline estrogen. If I remember correctly, the first measure (day 4 on stims) was 130, raising to ~350 (day 6), ~850 (day 8). The final measure on trigger day (10) was around 1400. As far as I know that’s an acceptable rise in estrogen, similar to IVF 1. Apparently even crappy eggs can produce some good stuff. On day 10 of stims, at least some of my follicles were nice and plump (around 18-21mm), and thankfully, I didn’t spontaneously ovulate them before triggering. My lining was a whopping 6.3-6.5mm. Apparently, all that estrogen didn’t really do much for my endometrium. It was trigger day. Nobody had mentioned to me before that my lining was so shitty. Now, I know that some (good) embryos don’t care that much, but would you, lovely internet, feel great about your chances when your lining was only a little over 6mm on trigger day? I sure as something didn’t. After that ultrasound, the one were the words “donor eggs” were mentioned to me while in the stirrups, I went to my acupuncturist to do some last minute emergency intervention. It may have worked. The next day, my lining measured something over 7mm, which sounded more promising, but still didn’t cross the 8mm line. And it was triple-striped.

(2) Retrieval:
To my own amazement, I made it to retrieval day. On retrieval day, 4 eggs were harvested. They all fertilized normally and without the help of ICSI, which was about the best news I received during this entire cycle. I still remember how happy I was when I received theses news. I couldn’t stop smiling. My old, tired, crappy eggs still knew how to couple!

(3) Transfer:
Based on my intuition, I would have preferred doing a blast transfer (assuming one of the embryos would have reached that stage in the lab), but my doctors had decided early on to do a 3-day transfer again. All four embryos happily divided and were available for transfer. I don’t know their actual quality assessment, all I can say is that their pictures looked as if they had all reached 6-10 cells and looked fairly symmetrical. To me they looked like darn nice embryos. Well, anyway, they were all transferred into the desert, formerly known as my uterus, and, well, died. I would have preferred to freeze two of them (you know, to drag out hope, plus I believe we could have addressed my lining issues better during a FET), but the embryos may not have even been eligible for the freezer anyway. I don’t know. All I know is that in the end, they either committed mass-suicide or my uterus committed mass murder. I believe, doctors favor the first choice.

(4) Post Transfer
I went against protocol (I had to fight with a nurse about this. I won) and decided to continue the progesterone shots instead of using the suppositories. During IVF 1, I started bleeding on beta day despite the suppositories. Let me tell you, that was quite the insult. During IVF 2, I used 100mg of progesterone in oil once a day instead (I would have done 50mg twice a day, but the nurse was so afraid that my little ass couldn’t take it. Little Ass, hahaha.) Call me crazy, but I liked that my butt hurt. It distracted me for a while from feeling potential PMS symptoms. Unfortunately my butt got used to the shots and barely hurt after a while. Go figure. Nevertheless, I didn’t start bleeding until after 5 days of the last shot. So, even if there really is no difference in the achieved pregnancy rate between suppositories vs. shots, I would still go for the shots. I just don’t need the extra stress and insult of early menstruation.

The day of transfer I spent on strict bedrest, not so much because I thought it would really help implantation (the embryos weren’t ready for it anyway, they were not blasts yet) but because I liked the time for myself. After that, I tried to give my embryos a darn good time in the hope it would persuade one of them to stick around. I ate lots, and that includes fast food and other nice goodies. This I didn’t do during IVF1, and see where all the healthy food etc had got me? I would have liked to give them the taste of a nice wine but decided against it (not that it’d have mattered). I contemplated the use of crack, for it seems to me that feeling high persuades lots of embryos to stick around. Embryos may like to feel high, too, you know? … I am actually quite proud of myself for not losing it during the waiting period, or just losing it once. I didn’t pee on a stick. The white space just depresses me. I didn’t expect good news on beta day and I didn’t get it. But I sure was much better in holding on to hope for a long time this time around. And you know what, that feels like a tiny victory.

That was it. Some good parts, mostly bad. The worst for me of course is not necessarily the fact that this IVF failed (bad enough) but what this failure implies. I will talk about this some more later.

The first post in a new year

2007-01-06T12:55:00.000-08:00

Lovely internet, thank you all so much for thinking of me and Mr. H. I am doing better. In addition I made an appointment with my GP to talk about treatment (=AD) for depression. I believe, it will do this little family of mine some good.

2006 has not been a great year for me. It appears that sadly, I am in good company. I will even go so far and say that few years weigh heavier on my soul and spirit, if any. The year my father battled and subsequently died from cancer was enormously sad. This last year though beats all other years in beating down my innermost spirit, hope, and my feeling of self-worth. When my father died part of my past died, when the last two IVFs failed (combined with the news that my plumbing has reached an all time low), part of my hope for our future died. I didn’t get cynical, angry, bitter, or depressed back then, but I am now.

I didn’t know how I hard I would take the final phone call of my fertility clinic. I had actually wondered if there would be some part of relief, like “now finally I must move on” sentiment. But no. There was no relief. Poor Miss V had to witness my breakdown. It was bad. No child should see her mother like this. I also didn’t know how angry I was with Mr H for dealing with this failure so differently. What I needed was someone who was as sad but also as angry as I was at the universe. But he can’t grief with me like this. I am not even sure he understands why I feel the need to grief. He offered hugs. But the last thing I wanted was to hug the body (my body that is) that had just killed another four embryos so successfully. Or produced four embryos that were incompatible with life. Anyway, it was a bad night and I only managed to get on the airplane to Germany with the help of some tranquilizers that I had to call in from my regular GP.

And it was good I had them, for the universe had another bad joke up its sleeve. While waiting for our plane, I noticed another family of four, two kids under four, that looked rather familiar. You see, I bought my fertility monitor from the mother. And it was the mother with whom I had one of the worst and memorable phone calls discussing my fertility issues. After the obligatory “it took me five long months to get pregnant with our second…(the young mother was about 41 at that time)”, she proceeded to tell me about her wonderful VBAC experience because “you know, uterine ruptures are so rare anyway” (never mind that I had one, and she knew it, though it may have slipped her memory). Don’t get me wrong, I am glad for her that she had a good experience. I also know that uterine ruptures are rare, even for a VBAC. I am quite aware of my freak status here. Really. But there is no need to throw it into my fragile face, wouldn’t you agree? And finally she offered me her opinion on IVF and how she wouldn’t do it, not without having tried everything else. Amen to that, sister. I think we finished the phone call with her well wishes “don’t give up hope, I’m sure it’ll happen for you soon.” and I haven’t talked to her since. I sure as something didn’t want to talk to her right after my failed second and final attempt at IVF. So I ignored her completely. And thankfully they (probably) missed their connecting flight in Copenhagen – as did our luggage.

We made it to Germany in one piece and for the most part, I was okay. Sometimes sad, sometimes even happy. I never told my family about this last IVF attempt, and I didn’t tell them of its failure either. My mother is a great person, but not only is it tremendously difficult for her to see me so sad (and cynical and bitter), she also doesn’t quite get it anyway. Over the last two years, we’ve had a number of children-related conversations that just didn’t go well for either of us. I just didn’t want to risk any further disappointments. I think she knew anyway, but we never talked about it openly.

Christmas was very enjoyable. My sister came, and so did my brother with his wife and beautiful, little son. He’s an IVF baby. That’s right, lovely internet, I am not the only one in my family who suffers from infertility. But we don’t talk about our experiences. My SIL is very private about these matters and for the most part you wouldn’t know she had to go through so much agony (couple of failed IVFs) to have her little guy. She may have hated me a little back when I announced I was pregnant with Miss V, while she was in the trenches of infertility. I would have. My brother probably did a little, although he may also have been happy that at least one grandchild was on the way (you see, no pressure, but my mother wanted to be a grandmother). But my SIL is different from us. She has such a happy disposition, I am not even sure any bitter thoughts have ever crossed her mind. Sometimes it’s difficult to have such an infertility superhero in your face. Anyway, Christmas was nice and we spent some good family time together. And the kids got along better than expected.

The remaining time in Germany was pleasant and for the most part uneventful. Chocolate attacked me right and left, and so did lots of fatty, yummy foods. Mr H and I often went to the local Weihnachtsmarkt and enjoyed Gluehwein (= hot, spiced red wine), Bratwurst, and potato cakes with applesauce. I introduced my sister to the wonder of “Fir*fly” (Admittedly, I am a bit of a geek) and Mr H and I watched lots of “Battle*tar *alactica”, where I learned about cylo*s (humanoid machines) and actually started to wonder whether I was one of them, or at the very least one of their descendents. Most of them can’t get pregnant (surprise) and the one that did (a machine got pregnant?!) had bad plumbing. Sounds a bit familiar, doesn’t it?

We’re back home now. It was a difficult flight back as Miss V suddenly became sick with a stomach flu. And then, while waiting at immigration with a throw up bag and a sick child, we were flagged. Literally with a big red card. Nice, eh? And you know what the problem was? My brand new passport, that had been stolen and retrieved out of a government agency before I ever laid my hands on it. Thankfully my government had provided me with some official document that explained these circumstances (“just in case, but, you shouldn’t have any problems anyway”), but, of course, it was in German. You may all be relieved to know that the US immigration officials didn’t just take my word for it. But in the end, they let me go.

I am glad 2006 is over. It had the potential for great happiness, yet in the end that potential was all there was. I am a bit wary about 2007. As many of you said in your own blogs, we all thought 2005 was bad enough and hoped for better things in 2006. Yet, for many of us, they didn’t happen. And they may not happen in 2007 either.

Nevertheless, in the hope for a great year to come, I wish you and yours peace, happiness, and health. And that, of course, includes reproductive health as well.

Request Denied

2006-12-13T15:15:00.000-08:00

The battle is over, the war is lost. I've given it everything that i could and still it wasn't enough.

I now know how this place feels like, this place devoid of hope. For there is no hope for me left to ever get pregnant again, much less carry another baby to term. Apparently you can throw a football team of embryos in my uterus and they all prefer dying over living. I hope that at least for the few days I was allowed to carry them around with me they had some fun times? Or did meeting Santa scared them to death, literally that is?

I didn't think I would ever say it but I think I would have fared better had I actually lost my uterus at Miss V birth, instead of being left mended with a severly broken one. Then at least I could have honored the shitty piece. Right now I 'd like to tore it out together with the useless pieces of shit that are my ovaries and fallopian tubes and unceremonyously dump them in the trash.

These last two years I dedicated solely to bringing another child into this world, but no matter what I tried, no matter how much I pushed myself with numerous surgeries and IVFs, I was not only denied every single time, the news was always mediocre to downright horrible. And yet I picked myself up again and again in the hope that in the end there would be, even for me, some good news for a change.

How do you heal from a ride like this? How do I mend my broken heart? How do I manage to pick up the pieces this time? I have no idea.

I am going to Germany tomorrow for a couple of weeks. I am not sure I will continue this blog afterwards. There is nothing for me to say that I haven't said before. And I truly have reached the end of my journey. We all have a limit, and I have reached ours. What I am going to say next is probably something that most of you wouldn't understand, but I would have preferred a miscarriage over this crushing negative. While I believe (though not know) a miscarriage would have devasteted me even more, it would not have killed hope so completely like this negative did. Through the course of these last two years, I slowly learned that my ovaries are eaten up by endometriomas, my uterus handicapped by Asherman's, and my fallopian tubes broken (due to endometriosis and Asherman's). IVF was our only chance for a pregnancy and yet again, my body didn't get beyond implantation. It's a hurdle I no longer have hope to jump over. A miscarriage would have at least kept that hope alive. But along with the embryos, hope died.

We all know that not everyone of us gets the happy ending. I now have to learn how to continue, how to find happiness despite. It's possible, I am sure, we all are, but I didn't want to find out.

Lovely internet, good luck with fighting your own battles, your own wars. May there be a happy ending for you.

This sucks so much.

Post Transfer

2006-12-03T14:05:00.000-08:00

Lovely Internet, we made it to transfer yesterday. I am so thankful.

Deja Vue

2006-11-29T14:55:00.000-08:00

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!”

Venting

2006-11-27T09:38:00.000-08:00

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?

Blogging Break

2006-11-09T11:08:00.000-08:00

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.

Estrogren ladden thoughts

2006-11-01T20:00:00.000-08:00

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.

Dealing with Paranoia

2006-10-11T14:06:00.000-07:00

I love my daughter with all my heart and soul. She's my sunshine; I would not know where I would be without her. It sounds as if I'm preparing for a big BUT, but no. I just needed to say this. I love my daughter.

Today was sort of a sad day for me. It was sunny and warm and a beautiful day, but I felt rather gloomy. I know why. I am scared of the upcoming IVF. It's as simple as that. I may be looking at the end of my road. Another negative cycle (and that is provided we even get to a transfer, nothing I take for granted) and my clinic and my husband will put an end to this madness, an end to my dream. In my last post I mentioned that I don't have a plan B at this point. Neither donor eggs, nor surrogate or adoption feel right to me or my husband for various different reasons at this point in our life.

But I was wrong. I do have a plan B. Plan B for me is to go on Antidepressants. Lovely internet, I feel as if I am at a breaking point. Never in my life have I felt this way before, not after my father's terminal cancer, not during graduate school, not at any other time in my life. After my father had died I was tremendously sad, but I wasn't depressed, bitter, or angry. And while I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder during graduate school (along with half my fellow students - or so it seemed), I didn't feel the need to medicate myself. Now I do. I feel beaten to the pulp. I can’t go on like this for much longer, without any positive (what a punt) sign in sight. Infertility has become a central part of my life, of my identity. I feel like the desert my uterus has become. Lifeless and barren. Infertility has robbed my husband of his wife, my daughter of her mother, my mother of a daughter, my friends of a friend. It can’t go on like this much longer.

But I not only felt sad and scared of the upcoming (hopefully) IVF today, I also felt generally anxious. Almost panicky. And I believe part of why I feel like this has to do with on of my coping strategies, which has backfired, leaving me rather paranoid. My strategy to cope with the continuous demise of my reproductive health was partly to put the focus not on the parts that were not functioning, but on the parts that were. I call this the “At least” strategy, as in “at least I still have a healthy uterus (haha)”…I tried to lay out here why I believe this strategy is backfiring:

1999: (initial diagnosis of endo, no visible damage of reproductive organs)
healthy right ovary, healthy left ovary, healthy left tube, healthy right tube, healthy uterus, healthy cervix

2001: (removal of first endometrioma that appeared out of nowhere after 6 months of Lupron)
healthy right ovary, healthy left tube, healthy right tube, healthy uterus, healthy cervix

2003: (partially ruptured uterus, C-section)
healthy right ovary, healthy left tube, healthy right tube, healthy cervix

2004: (cervical dysplasia treated by leep)
healthy right ovary, healthy left tube, healthy right tube,

2005: (diagnosis of second endometrioma & Asherman’s syndrome, blocked tube)
healthy left tube

2006: (recent laparoscopy)
Anatomically everything compromised, IVF last resort, but only as long as compromised ovaries still function in an acceptable range. Gosh, can you believe it? These days I am overjoyed when I get my period, simply because that might indicate that AT LEAST my ovaries still ovulate…of course, giving the paranoia I feel about my AT LEAST strategy, I’m so paranoid –and I’m serious- that even that may end sooner than it should.

None of these blows have been particularly devastating in themselves, but the accumulation of them is wearing me completely out. It’s getting harder and harder to pick myself up after yet another blow. My optimistic coping strategy of “AT LEAST” as got me exactly nowhere. Worse, it has backfired and made me deeply paranoid now. Whenever people try to be helpful (I believe they mean well, even though I’d like to smack them) and say “be thankful, AT LEAST you have one child”, lovely internet, I get so incredibly anxious, I get so fearful that something terrible could happen to her. I start sweating even writing it down here. I love her so incredibly much. I don’t feel safe from random life shit, quite the contrary. I feel the “AT LEAST” strategy is cursed. Hell, to be honest, I feel it's ME who is cursed -reproductively speaking that is.

You see, why I think a bit of Prozac may not be such a bad idea?

IVF thoughts

2006-09-22T14:53:00.000-07:00

My drug induced haze has evaporated. Sweet Reality, you have me back.

I am doing alright. My body is recovering nicely and I am not too worried about new adhesions/scarring (that's sort of a plus when already having so much adhesion damage. Things are already broken.). My mind, well, that's a different story, but it tries as best as it can to process the information and not give in to sadness.

My infertility story is by no means extraordinary. I've read too many blogs, too many infertility stories to know that unexpected bad news is never far from our doctor's lips. And yet, I wasn't prepared for it. Oh, I was mentally prepared that Dr. Soothing might not be able to open my blocked tube despite the high success probability he cited (who are those people anyway who fall on the good sides of these statistics?), but I so was not prepared that my left tube was even more useless AND unfixable. It caught me off guard. While this result explains nicely why I haven't managed to fall pregnant in those two years, and while this may mean I might not have as crappy eggs as Dr. Soothing may have thought, it means that my tiny hope for a natural pregnancy is in fact microtiny.

IVF is an excellent infertility treatment for tubal factors. It may even have been invented for it. But, unfortunately, I am no more an excellent candidate for it than I was before. IVF's success lies partly in circumventing the tubes, but it also lies partly in numbers. The more eggs, the more embryos, the better the chance to find the one embryo (or two or three...) that looks like it could make it. My past IVF experience tells me that my beaten ovaries are not so much into the number thing. And nobody knows how or if the Asherman's/Endometriosis has functionally damaged my uterine lining.

Only time will tell whether our second IVF will be more successful than the first. I am being cautiously optimistic, so much stuff can happen in an IVF cycle that it is sometimes overpowering. There is nothing one can count on, nothing one can willfully or with a lot of hard work control: not the number of eggs produced, not the number of eggs fertilized, not the uterine lining, not implantation. One can only try to breath and continue on.

One of the smart infertility books that I have lying around here suggests not to go in into one treatment cycle without having a Plan B to hold on to. Honestly though, I don't have a plan B. Plan B was to keeping trying for a natural pregnancy. Not very original, I know. And now even less promising.

Have a good weekend, lovely internet, and thanks so much for checking in with me after surgery!

Decorative Plumbing indeed OR: Another piece of the puzzle

2006-09-18T22:12:00.000-07:00

Lovely internet, checking in with you for a short time. I figured as long as I am in a happy drug induced state, I could share with you the results of my laparoscopy/hysteroscopy.

According to Dr. Soothing the procedure was a success. According to myself, well, not so much. But here in short the good (yes, there were some!) and not so great results:

Good:
(1) I am alive and with most of my organs (minus the reproductive ones) hopefully intact
(2) Endometrioma is drained ( = success of surgery for doctor)
(3) No uterine adhesions detected. Yeah for that one!
(4) Apparently, not much endometriosis implants detected elsewhere?! Maybe the acupuncture/herbs have done some good?

Not so great to downright depressing news (once my drug induced state weans off):
(1) Could not easily remove endometrioma, so endometrioma still present (and will probably grow again)
(2) Could NOT get the metal tube opener through the uterine opening of my RIGHT tube. Too much scarring. According to doctor, it’s unlikely, yet not impossible for an embryo to pass it. Before surgery Dr. Soothing said something about “in 90% of all cases, we won’t even have to use the metal opener, because the tubes will have opened in the meantime.” I said “in 90% of all cases? Well, with my tendency to fall on the worse side of these statistics, we already know what will happen to me.” He said “Yeah, you’re right.”
(3) The downright depressing news: Left ovary is permanently married to LEFTtube. They are inseparable, leaving the one tube we thought was functional, purely decorative. More so than the blocked right tube. Huh?!

I guess, that’s another piece of the puzzle of my SIF. Sometimes, and please no beatings, I don’t understand why people with unexplained infertility want to get an answer for their infertility out of their surgeries. I have so many answers, many of them unfixable, that I don’t know where to keep them anymore!

Seriously though, I think the drugs keep the events of today somewhat cocooned from my mind’s eager, pessimistic (realistic) processing. I know they are depressing to me, yet I don’t feel it quite yet. Makes me think, I should seriously consider antidepressants. All the vitamins in the world just didn’t do this trick.

Oh, and before Iforget. Shortly before I went into surgery I read this article in a German magazine about a woman who had 13 children. The last one she decided to have at, yes, drumrolls, please, 55. And what did this article asked us? Why don't we all have so many children? Yes, why indeed.

Today wasn’t such a great day for me, but after checking in with some other bloggers, it seems to have been a pretty bad, if not worse, for too many others as well. I’m so sorry, Julia, for the crushing news you received at your ultrasound today. It’s so heartbreaking. And, Thalia, I’m so sorry for the white space where there should have been happy pink. Should have been. I’m so, so sorry.

Two year anniversary

2006-09-14T10:30:00.000-07:00

So, here it is: the reason why I went AWOL (hi DinoD!). I wanted to write this really insightful post about my 2-year SIF anniversary. What I learned, what I gained, lalala. And not surprisingly, nothing was written. Yet. And not only because I didn’t really gain anything from this godawful experience. Not even some extra pounds, and I had actually looked forward to adding on some womanly proportions.

So, it has been two years. Lots of babies can happen during two years. Just look at Brittney and, soon, Heidi. But not over here. Oh, no, not at all.

The thing is, I was always afraid of infertility. Always. Even before there even was a reason to fear it. I’ve just seen too many (great)aunts of mine end up childless, having had miscarriages or abortions, and never conceive again. I always pitied them. For me, having children wasn’t a choice, it was the most normal, the most ordinary thing in the entire world. I heard my biological clock ticking before anybody else did. When I learned I had endometriosis, I was devastated. I was very fortunate to have met Mr. H shortly thereafter. But he is a couple of years younger than I am and wasn’t too eager to start a family quite yet (well, I wasn’t quite there yet either, thinking at first that he and I were a wonderful fling without serious prospects). When we finally agreed on trying for a child, we tried to mentally prepare ourselves for the reality of IVF – as much as this is possible, which really it isn't. He researched his health insurance. I wrote down our timeline. But then, out of the blue, on our third cycle trying I conceived Miss V. Can you imagine my utter surprise at that faint second line that emerged? It was a left over HPT and I thought I would have to get used to seeing negatives anyway, so why not pee on it. It was positive, the only positive I have ever got. And thankfully, this positive turned into our Miss V, the cutest little pain in the butt you can imagine.

So, when we started trying for our second elusive child, my guards were down. I wasn’t so much wondering about the IF as I did the first time, it was more a question of WHEN. Ironic, isn’t it, in retrospect? Sure, I was two years older but my endometriosis should have been the quietest it’s ever been, what with the pregnancy and the nursing and all. Needless to say, it wasn't.

It’s been two difficult years for me. I remember my excitement at the first positive ovulation predictor. I remember my first cycle with shooting breast pain, that surely meant one thing and one thing only (it didn’t). I remember the pregnancy announcements around me and my bewilderment of why I still wasn’t there. I remember the wakening of raging pregnancy envy. I remember my acupuncture appointments and vile herb concoctions. I remember FertilAid. I remember the fertility monitor. I remember a cupboard full of vitamins. I remember the never ending rollercoaster of hope, disappointment, and despair. I remember my dawning suspicion that something was seriously wrong. I remember ultrasounds and bad news. I remember surgeries. I remember injections. I remember two embryos. I remember tears. Lots of them. I remember anger and bitterness. I remember increasing social isolation. I remember fights, with my husband, my mother, my friends, and sometimes – and that’s the most bitter thing of all- with my daughter. I remember severe feelings of worth/uselessness, as a woman, a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a member of society.

I’ve learned a lot about myself during those two years. Things that frankly I didn’t need to know. Who needs to know about oneself what a bitch one can be? I cannot think of anything that has ever induced such jealousy as the ability to get pregnant and have babies. It’s frightening of how jealous I can get. And then there is the anger and the bitterness that I cannot shake off. Sure those feelings have got a little better over time, but they’re nowhere close to extinction. I’ve thought of myself of quite the compassionate person before infertility brought me to my knees. But I cannot honestly say that infertility has made me more compassionate. Sometimes I even fear it has made me less so. There is, however, one positive thing that I learned during those two years. It’s how to forgive myself for being such a bitch. Not always, mind you, but I’ve become much better at accepting my undesirable personality traits and inadequacies.

I might not overcome it, but I will survive this infertility shithole. It might just take me a long time to do so; much longer than my family and friends seem to deem acceptable. Recently, I sensed changes within me, may they be resignation or acceptance. When we moved into our house, I was wondering how to arrange our house when our second child would arrive. Would the kids share a bedroom? Or would we have to finish our basement to add more useable space? I haven’t had those thoughts in a long time.

I believe we can be happy again – provided not more awful shit goes down the drain. There will be a good life after infertility for our little family. In the meantime, though, my heart is breaking.

Next: laparoscopy scheduled for Sept 18. Yep, that’s next Monday.

Plumbing Updates

2006-08-23T13:28:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed? I changed my blog's name. I am not exactly sure why, but then I also don't know why I want to change my hair color and try out red. I just do, I guess.

So, Decorative Plumbing it is. Because it has to have some purpose, right? That reminds me that I talked to my RE last week and we tentatively scheduled a date for my next surgery (and IVF, but I don't want to think about that yet). It's going to be in the middle/late September, shortly after my next period. The plan is to drain my endometrioma (thankfully that has not grown during this entire last year), try to open my right tube, and fix whatever is fixable of my decorative plumbing. I fear it's going to be a mess in there. Earlier surgeons never really attempted to remove any of my endometriosis (other than my first endometrioma) because there is just so much of it everywhere. They tried a 6-month run of Depron-Lupron and/or continuous birth control (whatever that is) pill. Neither of which is a good option for my current goal.

It's going to be my third laparoscopy and my fifth abdominal surgery. I am on my way to become a pro at this.

“…because birth control is the last thing you want to worry about.”

2006-08-17T00:37:00.000-07:00

(read in an add in a parenting magazine while at the ophthalmologist to discuss my newest medical curiosity, macular sucker, ahem, pucker. That’s a retinal disease, apparently caused by faulty genetics and aging. ‘nough said)

Birth control IS the last thing I worry about. But is that what I wanted? Hell no. I wish I had to. I desperately wish I had to.

I do worry about my period though. It’s getting progressively lighter and lighter again. A reasonable guess is that the uterine adhesions have returned. Asherman’s is fucking with my body again. Of all the reproductive shortcomings, I think I have the hardest time with Asherman’s. Why? It was caused by a fucking c-section with uterine rupture and infections.* Nothing fun to begin with. But apparently that’s how life operates: once on the road of sickness, sickness has a tendency to multiply. It’s like the rich get richer and the poor poorer. It seems to be universal law. Quite evident on infertility island. Had I had a nice, uncomplicated vaginal birth, I wouldn’t have to worry about blocked fallopian tubes and thin uterine lining** (not to mention that I could still dream about more than two children, something that the uterine rupture apparently put an end to). Ups, was there a kernel of bitterness surfacing?

I wish I still had to worry about birth control.

______________
* I consider myself "fortunate" to have got Asherman's from a c-section that gave me my beautiful daughter rather than from any other possible scenario .
* * I understand that vaginal births may carry their own undesirable after-effects, like pain with intercourse. Doesn’t sound like fun either.

Birthday News

2006-08-04T14:23:00.000-07:00

I spoke too soon: infertility intruded my dreams last night and I woke up feeling already beaten on...

my birthday! Yep, I turned 36 years today. Of course, I look like 26(unfortunately only if I look into the mirror without glasses, but still...). This morning I realized that if somebody had told me on my 26. Birthday that I'd be mother, a wife, a homeowner, and a Ph.D. 10 years later, I would have thought "not too shappy!".

Now, don't get me wrong, I still reserve the right to bitch about my infertility, at least on my blog, but for now I will take joy in all the people and things and accomplishments that I am fortunate to have in my life. Who knows how long I manage to do that...

Happy Birthday!

Bus drivers, Beer Gardens, and Baby Blues

2006-08-01T21:06:00.000-07:00

I’ve been on enough blogs of Americans who live in Germany to know that they miss their native country. I would miss many things from here as well should we move back to Germany (which Mr. H, my American, dreams about). For one, Seattle is breathtaking, particularly when the sun is willing to shine – which is unfortunately not often enough for me. And people are incredibly friendly here. And have I mentioned our Seattle bus drivers yet? Oh my, never in my life have I met nicer ones. And then there are the little things, like getting lots of ice in my coke when I actually feel like having one. Or all the different flavored coffees. Hmm…And nobody looks at you if you’re from Mars if you order a decaf. Imagine, they don’t even have decaf in German Starbucks?! Oh, oh, and all the burgers! I love hamburgers. Always did. Oh, yes, there will be plenty to miss.

But I also miss my home country. I do. I miss the old stone-built towns with their cobblestone streets and their pedestrian passages with their mix of stores, apartments, and restaurants. I miss the million bakeries with their sunflower and pumpkin seeds breads. I miss the plaza cafes in which people have nothing better to do than to do people watching. And they do it for a long, long time. I miss German beer gardens, real gardens under big old chestnut trees where people come to socialize and have a good time (while, of course, having a beer or two, or -in my case- some wine). Believe it or not, but kids are welcome in German beer gardens. They often even get their own play areas. In Bavaria, you can even bring your own food, so families come and bring dinner and meet their friends while the kids go off and play. I never liked the American version, or at least the Seattle version, of a beer garden. There is beer, alright, but that’s all there. And all that it is there for. It’s a place to get drunk. Which is fine, I suppose, if that’s what you want. But I don’t even like beer. I know, I know, what a shocking revelation. Not liking beer? That’s weird to say for an American but for a German? Can you see “exiled” burnt across my chest? Anyway, where was I? Ah, sitting in a beer garden under chestnut trees in the late evening summer breeze…

I also miss public transportation and the railway. And I miss people on bikes. I see them around in Seattle but it’s a different breed of bikers. In Seattle, for most bikers – apart from the occasional student- riding a bike is not a means but an end. It doesn’t serve the purpose of transportation but rather the purpose of exercise. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, it’s just that I miss the old men and women on their bikes with their shopping baskets full of daily groceries. Daily, because even large German fridges are small by American standards. Oh, yes, there is plenty for me to miss…

…now that I am back. This time, coming home was made easier by a freshly painted house, newly stained back deck, and a new, much more eye-pleasing yard fence. The yard itself looks rather horrid, but the fence and the paint make our house look so much more attractive. I love those house improvement projects…once they are done that is. Mr. H and I never really agree on what really needs to be done (except the exterior paint), because his priority is “security” whereas mine seems to be “prettiness”, but once in a while we come to an agreement. For example, when the wind blows down the ugly, eye-sore of a fence. So, I am not sure what comes next. Replacing windows (Mr. H) maybe or replacing the ueber-ugly vinyl kitchen floor that could be mopped thrice a day and still look dirty as hell (that would be me). First though, we have to save some money for our next IVF gig. Wish that wasn’t necessary.

However, not surprisingly, I am still not pregnant. I find it actually ironic that from the outside in, I would look like an average fertile women today: it’s day 13, I got a positive OPK (not sure why I still feel the urge to test sometimes. Maybe to see a double line?), my saliva ferns, and my CM looks ready. Almost textbook, I blushingly admit. But it all feels so pointless. I am not even sure I ovulate an egg (maybe my follicles are mostly empty promises?), and should I manage to ovulate one, where does it go? Into the fallopian tubes or into abdominal space? Does conception ever take place or do all the sperm jump on their brakes as soon as a brownish-wrinkled, drunken looking egg stumbles down the tube (apparently endo eggs don’t look so pleasing to the eye)? And even if a sperm takes pity and jumps the hag of an egg, does it shout “hooray” and fertilize? And if conception actually takes place, when do the embryos die? Do they already give up in the tubes or do they wait until they reach the desert, formally known as my womb? It’s a mystery.

I went to a playground today, not any playground mind you, but the one where every pregnant woman of a toddler or two (and if not pregnant then with a newborn) likes to meet her friends. Who, not surprisingly, are in similar circumstances. So, while I felt my body gearing up for another kamikaze ovulation, I looked at this happy display of fertility and couldn’t help but feel my spirits sinking really low. Out of reach.

IF is never far from my waking mind, it’s actually scary how often I catch myself thinking about it. Only when I sleep do I seem to let go of it. And even then, it manages to intrude my dreams here and there. Some days are better than others. Today wasn’t so great, but there is always tomorrow, right?

Summer Break I

2006-07-03T21:00:00.000-07:00

I originally planned to have my laparoscopy in July, do IVF in August and September and then give birth to beautiful boy/girl twins in May/June. But then I changed my mind: instead of having a laparoscopy Miss V. and I are going to Germany tomorrow for a couple of weeks (Mr. H hopefully follows a couple of days later)!!! I was just yearning for a summer of fun instead of IVF stress (particularly since next summer will be quite stressful being hugely pregnant and all…haha, see my attempts at optimism?). So, laparoscopy and IVF are pushed into the fall months. Statistically those may not be the months of most pregnancies, but since October is the only month with a 33% pregnancy success rate (as opposed to 0 ) for ME, it may be a better time anyway.

So, lovely internet, enjoy a beautiful July!

Reproductive Innocence

2006-06-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I spent a wonderful morning at the beach with two great mothers. We each have a little (almost) 3-year-old little girl. One of these mothers was telling us that they have been trying for a second since January without luck. She is forty years old. In my world, the world of SIF, that’s about 6 months of unsuccessful trying and she fits the diagnosis of secondary infertility. I didn’t tell her that. She was too much in denial that anything could be wrong (and she could very well be right). According to her a) they wouldn’t seek any help unless they had been unsuccessfully trying for a year* (which to me seems a bit risky if you are forty) and b) she felt that it would happen any time now. She felt it could happen any time now because her husband was finally emotionally on board with the project second child.

I wish I had her innocence.

I am not sure though I ever believed emotional readiness played a crucial part in getting pregnant. I mean, what would it do? Make sperm more willing? Make eggs younger? Make your uterus more receptive?

But she really believed it.**

Living in reproductive la-la land sounds much more fun than being in reproductive hell***.
_______________________
*to be honest, I waited 9 months to speak to my OB/GYN myself. I was 34 but knew I had endometriosis. I was clearly in denial.

**she also seemed to believe in the “just relax” or, worse, “just adopt, and you’ll get pregnant” urban legends. I know those urban legends exist, I know some myself, but I also know that our database is skewed, simply because we don’t register all the cases where “just relaxing” didn’t work.

***Whenever I tell people that we have been trying for almost 2 years now to have a child, including IVF, they seem to relax (haha) when they hear all my reproductive ailments. Because stuff like that clearly isn’t going to happen to them. Most likely, they are right. But still, it bugs me.

2006-06-26T17:25:00.000-07:00

First post-healer cycle: the red tide showed up as usually. On the day I had predicted it (I am very good at this by now.)

How was I feeling? A bit sad.

But I couldn’t stay sad for very long for I was in the midst of a little mini-break down in the Bay Area. Without husband or kid! It was the second time I had been away from Miss V. for a couple of days and she did great. So did I.

On the way back I had an incredible view of the mountains/volcanoes of California, Oregon, and Washington. Floating above those amazing sights, being so far away from everyday (human) concerns, I simply felt good. And for a while I didn’t care about my broken reproductive bits.

That, of course, changed a little later when we went to the wading pool full of toddlers, their infant siblings, and siblings to be. But it’s good to know that sometimes I manage to feel just fine.

…and psssst: my bladder pain is almost non existing this cycle (knock on wood!)?! Of course, it may still sneak in, but it’s unusual nonetheless.

Hairy Issues

2006-06-19T13:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was experiencing some of the same ‘ole (PMS) symptoms that I’ve been experiencing for almost two years now. So, it doesn’t look necessarily promising over here at Casa Infertile ID. Gosh, I can’t believe it’s almost two years of zero implantations (and –apart from the two IVF embryos- possibly zero conceptions). With this striking pregnancy success rate, I could be mistaken for a man. If there wasn’t that monthly bleeding, of course (which I am actually rather thankful to get. Because it means there is still some hope left in my girls.)

And because there is nothing new to talk about regarding my fertility struggles, I thought we should turn our attention to some other pressing issues. Hairy issues, that is.

You see, lovely internet, I not only have the striking pregnancy success rate of a man, I also have his leg hair. I know, I know, not something you really wanted to know about me, but I thought I throw it out there, just in case you have found the miracle cure at least for THIS problem.

I love summer! But I just can’t seem to find a solution for my hairy problem. Shaving, tweezing, epil?, waxing, sugaring, nadding etc, you name it. Nothing comes even close to what I’d call an acceptable treatment. Sure, waxing/sugaring keeps the hair at bay a little longer than shaving, say one week, but after that week? Hairy hell breaks loose and I have to hide my legs again for the next month or so until all the angry inflamed, ingrown hairs have calmed down. So, needless to say, this is not an acceptable option for summer. Unless summer lasts a week, which may be the case this year in the Northwest. If we even get a summer, that is.

I was also probably one of the first people to buy an Epilady back in the late ‘80ies. And though I am willing to endure some pain in this hairy odyssey, the epilady pain was just a bit much. I really wonder what women tested those things? Did they even have leg hair???? And it didn’t get better with time either. A couple of years later, I bought a newer model. One that promised to be almost painless. Haha!

So, lovely internet, any ideas how to get the hairiness under control?

What could it be?

2006-06-02T20:30:00.000-07:00

Let’s do a little riddle, shall we. Here it comes: when I pee, I hurt. Have I mentioned the urgency yet? No? Well, believe you me, it can get very urgent over here at Casa Infertile ID. To be honest, sometimes I don’t even reach the toilet in time. Hm, what could it possible be?

Yes, that’s right! I had my monthly uterine clean-up. As usually, my german uterus was right on time. What, you thought it was an ordinary bladder infection? Something a normal person would get? I’ve had those as well. Not much fun, but at least one can get some medication to cope with it. Unless – of course- it’s the recurrent kind. That one sucks, too. No doubt about it. But even that usually has no implications for one’s fertility. Endometriosis does. It therefore sucks doubly.

But I shouldn’t complain too much. Really, the pain has been much, much worse in the past (the infertility though hasn’t, it’s seems to be a give and take). As in almost passing out from the bladder pain. And no medication helped to lessen the pain. These days (knock on wood), it’s really not too bad. Which surprises me, actually. I still have peeing pain, or rather discomfort, about 10 days every month and more severe bladder pain during the first days of my period, but overall the pain is very bearable. And (again knock on wood), I didn’t have any severe uterine cramps during the last two years. For someone with severe endometriosis, that’s not too shappy I suppose. Now, if only that stupid endometrioma would just say good-bye…

So, on to another cycle*. My first post-healer cycle. Lovely internet, I will let you all know if there is anything else but bladder pain to report next time. A second line, for example, would be nice. Preferably on an HPT.

________________
* well, given that I wrote this post over a week ago, I am now well into this new cycle. The bladder pain though, that one still persists.

Broken legs and broken uteri

2006-05-19T21:58:00.000-07:00

Today I saw the Healer. He was surprised that I even managed to have one child given the desolate state of my reproductive plumbing. According to him, my reproductive plumbing was under some serious stress. Not the mental kind, but physical stress/trauma. If he’s right my left ovary has woken up from its comatose state and my blocked fallopian tube is halfway open. I want to believe this. Oh, how I want to believe this. I have to admit that I felt quite optimistic after my session that maybe, maybe there is a second child for us. I even could look at pregnant bellies afterwards, smile and think, I’ll get there. I will. And I was tempted to postpone our IVF plans a little bit to give the “natural” pregnancy a chance after things have been set (pulled) right in my pelvic area (and legs and wherever things just were a little off in my body due to previous accidents. Legs and reproductive plumbing have apparently a lot to do with each other and I once had broken my right leg). Plus, a summer without ART would actually be quite nice. Almost relaxing. The Healer wasn’t too thrilled with my plans to have another lap (IVF) anyway. He seriously thinks I won’t need that.

This euphoria has worn a little bit and I came back to planet earth. However, I still want to believe so badly that my chances of a natural pregnancy or if not that, then at least my chances of more (and better quality) eggs during IVF have now improved significantly. And I am still seriously thinking of postponing our IVF plans.

Now if I could get my RE to just do another HSG for free (of course), I would at least know whether that sweet fallopian tube of mine has indeed recovered a bit…

I guess, we will see. According to my “source” he’s helped quite a number of women achieve pregnancy when western medicine wasn’t quite so successful. Oh, it would be so nice to be one of them, wouldn’t it? We shall see, lovely internet, we shall see.

So, to sum up my experience today: I am a bit more hopeful and that is something. That is something, indeed.

Infertility Blame

2006-05-17T21:32:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, I read an honest post by fabulous DD. She’s asking whether women diagnosed with male factor infertility call themselves “infertile”, even though with a different (assumingly fertile) partner, they would not have infertility issues. It’s an honest question. So often, you read that infertility is the problem of both partners in a relationship. But is it really?

If Mr. H one day decides to leave our relationship and build a family with someone else, chances will be good that he could. Most likely he would be able to father another child with another (fertile) woman. However, I wouldn’t (not even with another fertile man).

The infertility we are experiencing is mostly* mine biologically. My entire reproductive plumbing has taken a beating at one point or another. None of it my fault, and yet I feel guilty: Because Mr. H could be the father of a litter with someone else. I can never get rid off this thought, never get rid off that self-imposed responsibility. It’s a heavy burden to carry in our relationship.

I always wondered about male factor infertility. For me, apart from the obvious, female factor infertility has also robbed me of my trust in my female body (though admittedly, that was shaken before). It has robbed me of my self-esteem as a woman. I feel worth less as a woman because of my dysfunctional female plumbing. It’s not rational, I know, but I can’t help feeling it. I wonder, do women with male factor infertility who go through exactly the same treatments as I do, feel this, too? Or is at least their self-worth protected by thoughts that they could have gotten pregnant many times over had they just met someone ELSE? Is the anger and stigma of being labeled infertile** easier to deal with if you have someone other than yourself to "blame"?

I read on DD’s blog that women with male factor infertility indeed often silently blame their partners for not getting them pregnant. Do you think only women silently blame their infertile partners or do men, too? Lovely internet, I completely understand why the biologically infertile (BI) partner is blamed by the partner who is infertile by association (AI) only. I probably would, too. In fact, I do blame myself for my (our?) infertility. But I do something else, too. I, being the BI in our relationship, actually sometimes resent people with functioning reproductive biology because they get spared the blame and all negative feelings that arise from it. I even sometimes resent Mr. H for it, because he can fly through this infertility shit with at least his self-worth intact whereas I can’t. When he had his semen analysis done, I actually wondered whether it would make ME feel better if I wasn’t the only one to blame.*** It’s not fair to resent anybody for being healthy but it’s not fair to be blamed for not being healthy either.

Sometimes when I am tired of the blame that I envision Mr. H may or may not put on me (though I am sure I blame myself plenty more than he ever could), I think of in-laws. Some of us are lucky and are born into great families, some of us are unlucky and are born into shitty families. And some of us are unlucky and marry into a shitty family. Can we really blame (resent) anybody for the family one was born into? Isn’t bad luck bad luck, regardless of disguise (born vs. married to)?

But it seems regardless of whether it’s your family or your in-laws, it’s the women who seem primarily in charge of family interactions, such as remembering birthdays and writing thank-you cards. Same in the reproductive department: The burden (and risks) of human reproduction seem to fall primarily on women. This is obvious in pregnancy, but it is also true for infertility. All that men have to do physically is provide their specimen. This may be a bit uncomfortable, but to me it seems nothing compared to the ordeal that women go through. But does this mean we (theoretically speaking) have more say in all reproductive matters? Can I as an infertile woman decline egg donors whereas infertile men “should” accept donor sperm (after all I assume that this was a reasonable “treatment” for many barren women throughout the centuries)? I can only speak for myself, obviously, but the thought of donor eggs is not a particularly cheerful one for me. I assume that at least to some infertile men, the thought of donor sperm could be similarly troublesome. So, I don’t know how to answer that question. Regardless, however, whether it’s their sperm or our eggs that don’t cooperate, I believe men, who see their partners go through an extraordinary ordeal to get pregnant (and lovely internet, that includes all the vitamins and herbal concoctions that make us want to vomit every time we just smell them), anyway, I think men could at least inform themselves how to keep or make their sperm as happy as can possibly be. Or listen to us when we tell them. For some of us, good enough sperm is THE key in knocking us up, for some of us it’s the only factor in our favor. So, please, guys just take your vitamins. Thank you.

Infertility causes us a lot of heart-ache. Riding the rollercoaster of infertility can be at times so emotionally and physically draining that we can’t help feeling resentment and anger towards those that get the easy ride. But what to do with all this anger? In cases, where you know who hurt you, it’s relatively easy to find an outlet. In cases, where you can’t blame but a crappy hand of cards –yours or that of your partner- , it is more difficult. Out of sheer frustration, some of us start blaming our partners because without them, we wouldn’t have that problem. Without them, we would be mothers or fathers. Without them, we would lovingly rub our swollen bellies and never even have to know that our swollen belly may be a source of pain to others. Without them, we would never know that the innocent question “do you have kids?” can send others in emotional turmoil. Without them, we would be able to take the sunny road to motherhood (and who wouldn’t want that?). Without them, we would be normal. If I wasn’t the BI in our relationship, I’m pretty sure I would feel like this at least some of the time (And then feel shitty about myself). As the BI though, I can only blame myself (and life (or god), but that would be another post).

Infertility isn’t a stroll on the beach, damn it. What we long for is something so ordinary, so basic to life it cannot be but painful to be denied, particularly if it seems few around us are. It denies both partners in a relationship equally. It is unfortunate for the BI one to have to deal with shitty, sometimes even painful reproductive shortcomings. It is unfortunate for the AI partner to have to suffer indirectly from these shortcomings as well. There is a German saying that sums it up pretty well “mitgefangen, mitgehangen” (caught together, hung together). I wish it wasn’t like it. For none of us.

And with these profound words I shall end here.

_____________
* Mr. H semen analysis actually showed a potential problem with his morphology. According to our RE, this is probably not relevant to our problems having another child, because Mr. H has already fathered a child. His guys therefore can do the job. The fact that I mothered said child didn’t seem to matter quite as much.

** Stigma of Infertility: Sometimes when people ask me “why I don’t have anymore children”, I simply tell them that Miss V.’s birth caused extensive damage to my uterus (which is true). I don’t tell them that I have endometriosis on top of that (which is much more likely to be the cause of my infertility). I do that because it’s seems somewhat more “honorable” to have lost fertility on the battleground of birth compared to a disease (and possibly a genetic one). Twisted thinking, isn’t it? As if it mattered.

*** In the end, I was actually sad for him when he got his results. I didn’t really want him to feel as broken as I feel. Good thing is, he doesn’t. He probably has forgotten all about it by now.

Mother's Day Tribute

2006-05-15T13:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. Due to another vacat..., sorry, business trip of Mr. H's, Miss V. and I spent Mother’s day all by ourselves. I took the girl out for brunch in a shopping/mall center close by. Given that the play area is under construction, I felt safe from having to spend some time in SIF hell. But as it turns out, I wasn’t quite so lucky. The shopping center invited my little girl to play in a temporary play area, and how could I resist those wishful eyes?

So I grabbed a chair and joined the array of fathers who were watching their offspring. Some of them, of course, tiny. The obligatory pregnant mothers of one, two, three occasionally drifted by with a nice coffee in their hands, enjoying some well-deserved shopping time all by themselves.

While observing these fortunate, fertile families from my side of the SIF lawn, I started to think of somebody else. I started to think of my daughter’s daycare teacher, who I will call Bella.

Bella sits on our side of the lawn, too. But even worse, Bella didn’t even get a live baby to take home when she was pregnant a couple of years back. When she was about 6 months pregnant, her water broke. She spent a week in the hospital but her baby could not be saved. Had the little one lived, she’d be four years today. Ever since then, Bella has been trying to get pregnant again without success. For four long years.

We SIF women often consider places, in which toddlers and their (pregnant) mothers get together a necessary, but frequently painful experience. For the sake of our child(ren), we go even though for our own sake, we’d rather stay away. And sometimes we do stay away (well, at least I do). Because we just can’t take it.

But what do you do if you work in a daycare? Not only do you take care of other people’s babies every day, you frequently see their mothers get pregnant again and have more and more children. How do you do this day after day, year after year, and still be the nicest and loving woman around?

Miss V. loves Bella and I sincerely think Bella loves her daycare children. Lovely internet, Bella is one of my heroes.

Yesterday was a day for Mothers. More often than not, however, people don’t think about Mothers like Bella. Those mothers who had to bury their children and/or are still waiting for a(nother) child of their own. They are mothers and deserve acknowledgment just like any other. Maybe even more so.

I don’t know who is in charge, but whoever is, it’s about time that Bella gets her take-home baby.

You will have luck in the summer

2006-05-07T11:27:00.000-07:00

…said one of the three fortune cookies I opened yesterday. “Ah!” I am thinking “that’s good news for our IVF!”. The next one –appropriately- said “You will have a large family” “Ah!” I am thinking, “that’s even better news for our IVF!”. The last one –mysteriously- said “good news from afar bring you a welcome visitor.” “Hm” I am thinking “how does that one fit in?”

There are two reasonable explanations that came to my mind: (1) our large family is going to be built on international adoption and our next child is conceived this summer in a far away country or (2) I am going to be contacted by my friends, the far away aliens, who take pity on me once again* to get pregnant. Given that we are not seriously considering adoption as a means to expand our family, (2) must be it, don’t you think?

I love fortune cookies!

* given all the less than favorable evidence that we have now about my reproductive system, I have deducted that Miss V.’s conception must have been the result of alien interventions. But, psssss, don’t tell Mr. H.

Sick days

2006-05-04T21:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday/Friday are daycare days here at Casa InfID. I love the girl to pieces, but when Thursday comes around, I can’t throw her into the arms of her daycare teachers fast enough and sprint away for a couple of hours*. This is my time to do grown-up stuff, like working on my ART career. I usually try to fit as many of my ART appointments (including acupuncture etc.) on those two days, although we all know with our sensitive female cycles, that doesn’t always work out so well. Sometimes I even manage to do fun stuff, like have a nice cup of coffee all by myself.

Today is Thursday. But the daycare didn’t want my girl. Apparently they don’t like kids who cough and sneeze and run a fever. I don’t either. What made matters a tad bit more challenging today was the fact that Mr. H is away on yet another “vacation” (aka business) trip to Europe. And therefore I have been alone with a (sick) toddler for a couple of days and nights now. Lovely internet, you probably get the picture.

First I cancelledmy appointments. Then I turned on the TV. When that lost its entertainment value for a while (yes, Miss V. watched a lot of TV today), I tried cleaning. She loves cleaning her potty (which she refuses to use by the way) with a water spray bottle. Then we used the vacuum. Have you ever used a vacuum cleaner when a toddler insists on helping you? The whole enterprise was so hysterical that I couldn’t help but have some good, needed laughs about it. Needless to say, the cleaning wasn’t very thorough. But then again, it probably never is.

So tomorrow is another (forced) sick day for the two of us. I think Mr. H owes me big time when he gets back tomorrow evening. Big, big time. Particularly, since he’ll be gone again in a week. He claims, he misses us on these trips, but come on, he flies to Europe TWICE in one month?!

The reason why he has to come home in between those two trips is, of course, to have ovulation sex. The sad truth is that although the timing is in fact a coincidence, I couldn’t help but make a mental note of it when he told me he was going away.

Lastly, sick girl = sick mother in a couple of days. Fun prospects...

* funnily enouogh, I kinda start missing her at some point and love picking her up in the afternoon.

ART has its prize

2006-05-01T20:55:00.000-07:00

It’s been a while since I last posted. It hasn’t been that long though since I’ve written a post, but I never seem to be able to post them. Sometimes it’s because I’m too lazy to actual copy and paste my entries into blogger, sometimes it’s because I censor myself. For example, there was this post about how Mr. H and I had a disagreement about ovulation sex (Infertility hasn’t exactly improved our sex life). But I couldn’t get myself to actual post my frustration about Mr. H. He is my rock, my safe haven. He doesn’t deserve a public flogging.

Now, on to my exciting ART life:

I’ve given myself one year to try out ART to add to our family. The end of that year is in sight, with only a picture of two ARTistic embryos to show for. I made up my mind to try out IVF one more time, however, only after a laparoscopy to drain my endometrioma and the attempt to open my right tube. I need to give this try the very best shot. I need to go for broke this time.

I’m not even sure if I really think IVF is the answer to my fertility problem(s). Deep down it feels futile. Deep down, I think that albeit there may still be a child somewhere in me, IVF may not be the one to bring it out. Delusional, I know. But what can I do? As far as I am concerned, doctors have made mistakes before. After all, they predicted that I would stand at most about 4’10 inches high when in reality I managed to grow up to respectable 5’ 2’’. I showed them, didn’t I? I just hope they can manage to open my blocked tube, because that would increase my chances of a natural pregnancy enormously. Say from 0.5% to 3%. Or something in that vicinity…

I have also decided to go see a kind of a “healer” who specializes in infertility. Most likely he will not be able to help me either but he’s a bit cheaper than my RE. And so far my RE hasn’t helped me get pregnant either, right? So I figured that it can’t really hurt anything (other than my wallet, but my RE hurts that even more) to get his opinion. Apparently he doesn’t believe in old eggs, a belief that is always soothing to me. If I ever manage to get a hold of him (he’s one tough cookie to get in touch with), I will let you know how it all went. At the very least, it should be interesting. And at best, I will get pregnant (and stay pregnant) the very next cycle. Or the one after. I am not that picky anymore.

Other than that? Well, since this exciting yet futile ART year is coming to an end, I will start looking into a different job. Being a professional ART patient wasn’t quite what I had in mind for a career. For one, it’s not only stressful but doesn’t give you a paycheck. And I’d love to have a paycheck again! To be honest though, I have no idea what kind of a job I would be interested in/good at. So far, I have only seriously tried out academia. And, well, I don’t really want to go back there either. Although compared to my ART career, it was actually quite fun. So, we’ll see.

And lastly, I finally paid the last bill for my ARTistic embryo picture. I figure that's what all the bills were for.

Pap Smears and Crappy Eggs

2006-04-12T20:52:00.000-07:00

It’s been some time since the last outpour of my infertile ID. My mother came and went, and MR. H finally came home from his vacation aka business trip. And I am happy to report that Miss V. and I are still alive and still in love with each other. At least I am.

In the meantime I went to see Dr. Soothing to talk about the implications of possible bad pap smears. You see, I was avoiding getting one done because I’m so afraid that my cervix will need further treatment and subsequently be deemed “incompetent” to hold a potential pregnancy (I am such the optimist). Dr. Soothing basically told me to suck it up and go get that test done as soon as possible. I am proud to inform you all that I did*. Now I have to wait for the results which, of course, I hate.

During my little talk with Dr. Soothing, we also discussed a possible second IVF. Unfortunately he wasn’t very soothing when speculating that my egg quality is crap. First of all, I hate the gynecological terminology: poor quality eggs, weak uterus, incompetent cervix, hostile mucus, etc. Doesn’t do much for my self-esteem, that’s for sure. Second, I feel incredibly insulted. After all, we were talking about my (tiny) offspring! Geez. I mean, I didn’t point to his kids’ pictures and said those are some rotten eggs, aren’t they? (his kids actually look really cute). Third, I am wondering how bad my eggs can be given that 100% of my tiny 3-day offspring made it to 8 and 10 cell status. 100%?! (admittedly the sample was a bit on the smallish side). Forth, it just seems too easy to blame it all on my eggs. And fifth, I just don’t buy it. Or rather: I really do not want to buy it. When I was 32 I had severe endometriosis as well (albeit minus the active endometrioma). And I managed to fall pregnant in a very reasonable time frame (third cycle after stopping continuous birth control pill. No ovulation predictors. No herbs. No supplements. Not even a prenatal.). I find it hard to believe that this was my only decent egg and it conveniently matured right on time. I know that in the end it doesn’t matter why the IVF didn’t work: Whether it was my eggs with a potential quality problem, or my uterus with its documented issues. But for some reason, it really bothered me to have my eggs/embryos be called (potentially) “poor quality.”

Today I received another bill for the failed IVF cycle. I would have been so happy to pay this bill had the IVF actually work…Now, not so much.

Mother Blues

2006-03-16T10:17:00.000-08:00

Lovely internet, please, let me whine a little bit. We’re not having a good day at Casa Infertile ID. Mr. H has taken off for a long 10 days to go on a business trip and left behind an exhausted, tired mother and their toddler; the very same toddler who has gone through the hell of infertility with a mother who on her best days only cries about once. Do you know the adds in which kids have breast cancer and lung cancer? Well, my kid suffers from infertility. And you can tell. She is much more fragile and clingy these days, afraid that her mother will fall sick and perish away.

She doesn’t understand what’s going on. She is just scared and copes with the situation as best as she can (which is, I'm afraid, by regressing a bit).

I, on the other hand, understand what’s going on. But it doesn’t make it any easier for me. I feel so beaten, and I so desperately need something to work out. But nothing does, or so it seems. I feel like a failure, as a woman, wife, and mother.

Right now, this very second, I feel like the worst mother around. The kind of mother I don’t want to be. The kind of mother who compares her kids to others and her own kid fails the comparison. I know they are MY problems and not hers, and I should be able to handle them. But, alas, I am not.

And being the only one on call for 24 hours a day for days on end doesn’t help one bit. Not when every plan for desperately needed play dates has fallen through. Not when you are deeply exhausted to begin with. Not when your kid is whiny and clingy and you are cranky. It’s sad, but the whinier she gets, the crankier I get with her, which subsequently makes her even whinier. It’s a classic vicious circle.

But I am her mother and I know it is up to me to break this vicious circle. Or at least soften it.

I need to cut myself some slag, too, though. Because, damn it, failing an IVF cycle, getting sick (bad sinus infection), and being alone with a toddler is no walk in the park. Compared to that, a business trip seems like a vacation. And it probably is.

So, I make myself the promise to try harder to be the kind of mother that my kid deserves while at the same time trying not beat myself up if I don’t always succeed. I should think of some really good rewards for myself for succeeding, don’t you think?

"What's in there?"

2006-03-15T15:09:00.000-08:00

...says Miss V. and points to my nice belly roll. “A baby?” “Ahem, no. No, there is {{unfortunately}} no baby in there”. “A small baby maybe?” “No, honey, not even a small one.”

Life can be so beautifully cruel sometimes.

Orientation: where am I?

2006-03-14T22:31:00.000-08:00

Had the IVF worked I’d be now somewhere around 6 weeks pregnant. But, alas, not so much luck. At least, my blood flow has stopped and I think, I am actually
about to ovulate (which is probably a good thing, ‘cause it means my old girls are doing what they are supposed to under the given circumstances). In order to have even our minimal chance for pregnancy (not zero yet!), ovulation needs to happen soon though, ‘cause Mr. H. is going on a business trip. He claims he doesn’t want to but I don’t believe one word of this. Who wouldn’t want to go to Portugal?!

A week ago or so, Mr. H and I had our “cycle review” consultation with Dr. Soothing. Not much to say about this, other than that despite our meager quantity of eggs, they would let me cycle again because our embryos seemed to be of “good enough quality” (it’s just too bad they didn’t connect with my uterus). I also learned that my uterine lining was triple-striped, which pleasantly surprised me (but then again, why did the cupcakes not thrive there?). Because Dr. Soothing had never mentioned it before, I simply assumed my lining had not changed. We now have to make the decision if and when we would want to go down the IVF road again. I also have to think about whether I would like to have a laparoscopy done to drain my endometrioma before another IVF in the hope that the draining will increase egg quality and egg quantity. Might as well, right? At least, if it’s covered by insurance. Apparently egg quality and quantity is always an issue with me and my delicate kind of endometriosis. Not to mention my geriatric age. Maybe they can try to repair my fallopian tube at the same time. Wouldn’t that be something? I also have to get another pap smear, which scares me. I am not sure I could deal with any bad news on that battlefield at the moment.

I have also added to my team of health care professionals. In addition to Dr. Soothing and his RE team, my therapist lady (specializing in infertility and a SIF survivor herself), my acupuncturist/herbalist (I’m enjoying her concoction this very second), I have now “hired” a belly massage therapist. I figured it could not do anymore harm, but might actually alleviate adhesions and increase blood flow to my poor, battered uterus. The massage therapist, Mr. Belly, seemed duly impressed with my belly misfortunes and applauded my efforts to try out abdominal massage. I’m actually rather curious to see if I notice a difference. Anybody out there who has tried this?

So, where am I now? To my surprise, I think I am a pessimistic optimist. Deep down, despite everything that has happened (and continues to happen) I still seem to think that somehow, someday I actually manage to get pregnant again (well, at least I seem to think that occasionally). Right now, I still give ART a chance. After that, maybe it's time for a bit "relaxing"...hehe

SIF nightmare

2006-02-28T08:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon I was attending a good-bye "kaffeeklatsch" for a great friend who is going to move back overseas. This "kaffeeklatsch" was organized by all us mothers who send our toddler kids to the same preschool on Monday afternoons. These are all very kind women. I enjoy their company.

Many of these women have second kids, most of these babies. Naturally the conversation evolved around babies and having (more) children. Not surprisingly I think, I didn’t participate. I was doing alright but having just gone through a failed IVF cycle (and still bleeding away my two cupcakes as well as thousands of dollars), it cost me some effort to keep my composure.

Until a well-meaning friend, who just wanted to integrate me into the conversation (bless her heart, I really mean it) directly addressed me: “so, do you want another one?”

Good-bye composure, hello sobfest.

Good-bye, little ones

2006-02-25T16:16:00.000-08:00

The IVF rollercoaster is over. The outcome wasn’t the one I had hoped and even prayed for (though that hasn’t had any impact whatsoever during this entire shit of a ride through infertility).

Here is what happened:
Due to my history of endometriomas and ovarian surgeries, I was put on the “lupron flare protocol”. I guess, I was at risk of being a “poor responder” to the meds. I didn’t prove them wrong. Despite the fact that my estrodial climbed up to 1410 (which was right where they wanted it to be) and we could see about 12 follicles growing (though some were admittingly smallish), in the end only 4 eggs were harvested. As far as I remember, the doctor mumbled something about empty follicles and the endometrioma being in the way (just the day earlier, a different RE seemed happy though about the way the follicles distributed themselves AROUND the endometrioma). You see, most of the 12 follicles were growing on my right ovary, the one handicapped by a current "big" endometrioma. My left ovary that has already had been through surgery wasn’t willing to spit out more than 2 follicles. But regardless, I still blame the RE for doing a poor retrieval job.

Of the 4 eggs, only two fertilized (some mumble jumble about being immature). Now, those of you who have been through IVF can probably understand what a nervous rack I was from that point on. I am not kidding when I say that I will be forever grateful that I made it to our 3day-transfer. Luckily, I did and one beautiful 10 cell and one beautiful 8 cell cupcake came back to me. I wasn’t told anything about their quality other that they looked “great.”

I did reasonably well during the first couple of days after transfer. I stayed mostly calm, and get this, for the very first time I had a “strong” reproductive pulse according to my accupuncturist. I felt optimistic.

But then I lost it. Mentally and physically. I had prepared myself for the likelihood that I would feel many pregnancy symptoms due to the progesterone suppositories. At least, that’s what I had learned from other infertility blogs. However, I had not prepared myself for feeling nothing or even losing symptoms. I just didn’t think that was possible given the continuous flow of hormones. How wrong I was. It may sound silly to many (though probably not to the IVF initiated ones), but the fact that my breasts suddenly stopped hurting after one week threw me totally off. The ironic thing is that just one day earlier I was thinking “at least, I won’t have to worry over boob pain, even if it is just caused by the progesterone supplements.” I assume the heavens had a good laugh about me, yet again.

I didn’t go into the beta draw with a lot of confidence. Of course, I still had that little bit of hope against all odds that, maybe, maybe I was just one of the lucky freaks. You know them. They are 16 weeks pregnant with no symptoms whatsoever (e.g. no breast pain) and find out by surprise they are pregnant. But then I saw the spotting. Rosy. Just like pre-period. Hope wasn’t even trying to pretend anymore that it was my friend. And the heavens were laughing even louder. The dreaded beta then confirmed what I had suspected: negative. Over and out.

Today I am incredibly sad. Sad that the two lives that we started with great effort weren’t given the opportunity to grow and prosper. Sad that we won’t be adding any new sibling to the family anytime soon, if ever. Sad that I didn’t get a break from infertility hell.

I will, however, always be very grateful that the little cupcakes were able to make it home to me and didn’t have to perish in their Petri dish. And in some strange way, it gives me some comfort to know that they weren’t alone on their brief journey towards life. Farewell, little ones.

I am now waiting for the most expensive and saddest period of my life.

Freaky Reproduction Award

2006-01-27T13:41:00.000-08:00

Freaky reproduction (as in infertility and its numerous treatments) and various other related forms of miracle reproductions (as in virgin births), though certainly not the norm, make up a visible portion of the entertainment industry.

Take for example, ABC’s show Desperate Housewives. It started off with the suicide of a perfect housewife and mother of one child (I guess that should have ticked us off. Who has only one child if not freaky people?). As the show progressed it was revealed that this desperate housewife was desperately infertile and had to “steal” the kid of a fertile drug addict. Later when the drug addict was “clean” and demanded back her child (“thanks for taking care of my baby, now hand him back”), the desperate infertile killed her and subsequently herself a couple of years down the road. Apparently it’s well known that infertility can cause great pains, and what is more entertaining than watching how freaky people deal with it behind closed doors?

So, because freaky reproduction is so darn entertaining to the masses, I am thinking of giving out awards for the best “freaky reproduction” encountered in the media.

Here is my absolute favorite so far. I believe it was one of the CSI episodes, though please do not ask me which of the many CSI shows it actually was. New York, Miami, Babylon? Don’t know and don’t care.

The episode in question had it all: failed IVFs and FETs, embryo donation, virgin birth, and of course, bloody murder. Really, that’s hard to beat, don’t you think?

If I remember correctly the story started out with a mother of a little boy being murdered. So far nothing out of the ordinary for a crime show. But listen. The mother was still a virgin as attested by her intact hymen (guess, the kiddle came out via c-section. I just can’t see a hymen surviving a vaginal birth)?! And No, no, her name was not Mary, but I shall call her so anyway. So, of course freaky (as opposed to the divine) reproduction must have played a role. Freaky as in donor embryo. And believe it or not, in her will Mary assigned the genetic parents custody of her little boy. That of course, signed her death warrant. I almost feel silly pointing it out to you.

The genetic parents of the little boy didn’t have any babies of their own. None of the three (or so) IVFs produced a baby. And instead of trying a last time with their frozen embryos (as I assume probably most infertiles who still wish for a child would have done), they donated their embryos. To modern Mary, or whatever her name.

While Mary is busy gestating a little boy, the genetic father of the little boy dies; most likely of a heart attack or cancer or some other unfortunate life event. His death leaves a heartbroken wife. No husband, no babies.

And this is where another mother enters the picture. The genetic maternal grandmother. Because life has dealt her daughter a very crappy hand of cards, she takes matters in her own hands and forces some happiness into her daughter’s life.

Unfortunately that meant to kill Mary. Poor virgin Mary who only wanted to do good by saving doomed embryos (while at the same time saving herself for Mr. Right).

So, I guess, the morale of this episode was something along these lines: always offer yourself as a surrogate. It may save YOUR life. Or maybe I misunderstood. Maybe the show just wanted to say: Never attempt a virgin birth. Too dangerous.

Any other favorites out there?

Email and other (in)fertile news

2006-01-21T10:50:00.000-08:00

Let's summary what has happened so far today:

I was just informed (via email, of course) that I was awarded about a million or so English pounds in some surprise and obscure lottery that I didn’t even know I participated in. Isn’t that fantastic? I didn’t even have to buy a ticket?! Oh, goody, I will have loads of money to pay for all the medication that I am currently waiting for. What a relief. (If only, right? It would be soooo fabulous, would it not. sigh.)

And if that wasn’t enough good email news. I also learned that I could get a genuine university degree (BA, MA, MBA, or Ph.D) in just 2-4 weeks, without studying. Oh, my! Can you imagine my possibilities? But then I remembered. I already have a Ph.D.. And see where it got me so far (still at home, trying to build a family…). Not even considering all the years I worked, studied, and researched for it. If I had only known. But I am seriously thinking of getting another (maybe this time, all I have to do is sit on my couch. Lovely thought). It’s nice to have two, you know?

The next email, unfortunately, was of the “we have news variety.” You guessed right. Somewhere in the middle of the email, it said “oh, and we just had a baby yesterday.” You know, dear internet, having a baby is really no big deal. Making one even less so. Having a bit of sex, spiced with a bit of passion, 9 months of blissful baby-baking, and voila, baby is out. Hardly noticed it. Infertile ID is proposing sending out an email saying “we have news, too! I’m shooting drugs up my ass!.” And yes, my superego is happy for the fortunate parents.

Other less spectacular news includes a marital dispute, fueled by…, oh I forgot. It had something to do with ordering drugs. The fertility kind. After much hubbub they’re supposed to come today. We’ll see.

Scary.

A war with many battlefields: Introduction to a gynacological horror show - or so it feels

2006-01-17T15:12:00.000-08:00

So, lovely internet, here it comes. My own personal gynacological horrorshow.

At times my struggle with infertility seems like a war with many battlefields; some of which that may still lie in the dark (though I’m hoping not). At this point, almost all my reproductive organs have taken a beating: ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, and cervix. It’s not hopeless, yet, but it does feel like I’m sitting on a minefield that can go off any time – or has already done so.

1. Battlefield: Endometriosis
I was diagnosed with endometriosis when I was 29 years of age. I was single at that time and not trying for a baby. At first, it looked like my endometriosis had spared my reproductive organs and had mostly just taken a liking to my bladder (of all places, and just for the record: it grows outside and inside my bladder). But we were wrong. In fact, these days (now that I know I’m infertile) my RE, to be referred to as Dr. Soothing, even uses the plural form when speaking of my endometriomaS that have taken residence on my ovaries. And these ones are not the first. I’ve already had one removed from my left ovary via laparoscopy a couple of years ago before my pregnancy with Miss V who we luckily conceived relatively effortless despite all this endometriosis shit (and out of that left ovary no less).

Dr. Soothing considers my current endometriomaS our primary reason for not getting pregnant again. He also thinks that these lovely chocolate cysts were probably already in place before we started “trying” for our elusive second child. But I don’t get it. I really thought after 9 months of pregnancy (= no periods) and a year of nursing (= another year of no periods for me), I should have been in good shape?! Alas, not so much. According to Dr. Soothing, I seem to have a particularly severe/aggressive form of endometriosis, one that grows regardless of treatment. Or pregnancy.

2. Battlefield: Partial Uterine Rupture
It’s sort of difficult for me to admit to an infertility community that I still harbor some anger about what happened at Miss V. birth. After all, not only was I able to get pregnant and stay pregnant, I also was able to go home with a beautiful baby girl. And beautiful she was and still is. Nevertheless, it still boggles my mind that the incredibly unlikely complication of a uterine rupture happened to me. Nobody knows why it happened, although I have some hypotheses of my own. My regular gynecologist, Dr. BadNews (for that’s what I associate her with), claims I have a “weak” uterus. Weak uterus?! WTF is that supposed to mean?

As far as I know the partial rupture should not have any impact whatsoever on conceiving again. It does however have implications for future pregnancies: 1) a future pregnancy would be high risk, and would require a C-birth sometime before the duedate should we be able to make it thus far. 2) At least Dr. BadNews thinks I should only attempt to have one more child. This last bit of news was depressing when I heard it because I felt ripped of a “choice.” Haha, now that having this “one more child” is such challenge, I can’t remember anymore why I was so depressed about the news in the first place. 3) Should we be able to attempt IVF, and get to transfer, we may not be able to transfer more than one embryo (if there are more in the first place), thus reducing our chance of a future pregnancy.

It sucks.

3. Battlefield: Cervical dysplasia
Sometime last year after almost one and a half years of no period due to pregnancy and nursing, my period returned. And so did my bladder pain caused by endometriosis. Honestly, I never expected anything else. Sure, I was hoping that maybe pregnancy would have changed things for the better as apparently it does for some women, but I really didn’t expect it (unlike one of my best friends who like so many people uninitiated in endometriosis think that pregnancy is a cure. Let me tell you, it’s not).

When my endometriosis symptoms returned I made an appointment with Dr. BadNews who I hadn’t really seen before. During this appointment, we talked about another pregnancy and she delivered the somewhat depressing news about “only attempting one more due to my weak uterus.” During the same appointment, I also asked for a pap smear.

Pap smears had thankfully never been an issue for me before my pregnancy and I didn’t really expect them to be a problem now. And after not hearing from my doctor for almost three weeks, I pretty much thought things were okay. How wrong I was – yet again.

My pap smear turned out bad, very bad. Apparently, I’m a carrier of the HPV virus*. According to Dr. BadNews with the degree of abnormality seen in my pap smear, cervical cancer was pretty much a certainty, if not already then in the future. I had my biopsy (at which I yelled at my doctor to never use the term “hysterectomy” in my presence ever again. I really did. Poor Woman. But then again she was the messenger of bad news...) done a day before we were supposed to spend a beach vacation with Mr. H’s family. That vacation was sort of drowned in tears while waiting for the results. Although not very likely, Dr. BadNews hadn’t ruled out cancer quite yet.

When the results finally came in (and it took longer than it normally takes – how reassuring), they were thankfully much better than expected. To all our surprise the degree of “severe” abnormality was downgraded to “mild.” Nevertheless, Dr. BadNews recommended a leep procedure to get rid of the abnormal tissue. And so we did. If you have never had this procedure done, let me tell you, it’s quite a sight to see one’s vagina smoking…

Rationally I know that pap smears are a good thing for women**. But I am now scared of them. I just couldn’t afford anymore procedures that shorten and weaken my cervix. Not now, not before I have my second baby. I already have dysfunctional ovaries and a broken uterus. Is there no end to this?

* if it is true that only promiscuous women get HPV (and cervical dysplasia), I must have had a far more exciting sex life than I am aware of. What bullshit. Any woman who has ever had sex with men – may it be only one time (I also know one lesbian woman with HPV. No kidding.) can get this virus. Men, too, of course. It just doesn’t hurt them.

** there may be great help for my daughter’s generation: a vaccine against the HPV virus that protects them almost, if not, 100%! Miss V. is definitely going to be vaccinated. No question about it.

4. Battlefield: Aging Ovaries
After my leep procedure, I was set on getting pregnant again soon. I was 34 and I was desperate. I wanted to be pregnant before my next pap smear so badly…Well, we all know that didn’t happen.

Month after month went by and each month I got my period. Blablabla. You all know how it is. And you all know where I went from there. After a year, now 35, I subjected myself to the care of an RE, Dr. Soothing.

Given my endometriomaS and all that shit, he told me right away that he thought my best chance would be IVF, if, of course, my ovaries hadn’t given up quite yet. During a very stressful cycle, it was determined that my ovaries were a bit old, but not too old yet. My FSH, though close to the magical 10, had not crossed that barrier yet. Although Dr. Soothing didn’t seem too concerned about my FSH, I am now working with my acupuncturist* to “lower” my FSH. Gosh, can a girl not get a break?

* My infertility employs a whole arsenal of different professions

5. Battlefield: Asherman’s Syndrome
Remember that birth complication that I still feel sort of angry about? Well, part of the anger results from the fact that not only did I have that super unlikely (and unlucky) uterine rupture, I also ended up in the unlikely category of getting Asherman’s from that c-birth.

Asherman’s syndrome refers to any kind of scarring/adhesions in the uterus. It is caused by uterine surgery and infections (I think). It is also rare. Asherman’s can cause thin uterine lining, it might make it difficult for an embryo to implant, and it might cause miscarriages. It can also block fallopian tubes (which it did for me on the right side). It sucks.

Apparently, I signed up for it.

All this makes one wonder how my body ever managed to get pregnant and give birth to Miss V., doesn’t it? Well, at least I wonder. I will be forever grateful that I have my little Miss V. If I had to go through her pregnancy and birth again and again to get her out safely and soundly, I would in a heartbeat. No question about this.

…But I nevertheless have a hard time digesting all my unlikely reproductive complications. Why does every part of my reproductive plumbing have to be bruised, often several times?

I admit that I am/ was a tad bit depressed about having endometriosis. But I try to think “shit happens. And that’s the shit that happened to you. Deal with it.” And I accept that I have endometriosis. I really think I do. Things could be much, much worse (people tell me this a lot, but really they don’t have to. I’m pretty sure I know this myself). I even sort of accept that I suffer from infertility as a result of it (although I admit, that is much easier to do when you already have a child). Long before even trying to conceive my first baby, I tried to prepare myself and Mr. H. for the likely reality of IVF some day (but then was awfully glad that Miss V. didn’t require it). But I have a hard time grasping the rest. It’s just too much. If all these assaults to my reproductive system are supposedly unlikely and random, how can they have all happened to me? It boggles my mind. Somewhere along the way, something inside of me has shattered and I am not sure it will ever be whole again. Is it any wonder that I feel like a gynecological horror show?

By the way, we have never had Mr. H. tested yet. Any chance this may all be “his” fault? Haha.

Hey, what’s that, Mama?

2006-01-16T13:41:00.000-08:00

Miss V. holding a balloon in front of her and generously offering her answer “It’s a big belly. You try.”

Yep, Miss V. likes me to carry a balloon under my shirt and call it a baby. Nice, eh? And you know the worst? In a morbid kind of way, I like it. It’s pathetic, isn’t it?

So, where am I now?

2006-01-14T14:59:00.000-08:00

Before I am going to post another mammoth post about my several reproductive ailments (sorry, internet, I have lots to get out on this one), I thought, why not sit down for a minute and ponder about where in the process of “baby-making” we currently are.

Diagnostics on me: check
Diagnostics on Mr. H: apparently almost irrelevant

I had my operative hysteroscopy in December, which sort of meant a deliberate act of egg kamikaze that particular cycle due to no sex around ovulation time. And surprise: No PMS symptoms that cycle – AT ALL. And I really listened hard. Go figure.

The following cycle was delayed by taking estrace for 7 days to see if my lining was willing to cushion up. Apparently, the result was acceptable, 8mm, and that’s, internet is what I am shooting for. Acceptable. Thanks lining!

I am currently waiting for my period. I have my PMS symptoms (hello back-pain!), so I know it can’t be far away. I am actually sort of curious to see whether my blood flow will have increased due to a healthier (so I hope) lining. Of course, deep down I am still hoping to be pregnant. But I guess, I don’t even have to mention this to you…..oh, but wait, there is blood in my underwear now. Day 1 has arrived.

Just called the clinic and they want to see me tomorrow for my baseline appointment. Tomorrow. I’m overwhelmed right now. IVF. How again did we end up here?

Infertile ID: Introduction

2006-01-12T21:00:00.000-08:00

This blog is meant to be an outlet for my generally neglected ID (which according to Freudian theories, whatever they are worth, is supposedly the site of my unconscious, egoistic, & primitive urges and desires) in dealing with secondary infertility. My ID may, of course, be occasionally be censored by my Superego (my social conscious).

It’s not pretty, my ID. It has somewhat “dark” feelings. It is self-centered and indulges occasionally (or as some would argue: always) in self-pity. I probably wouldn’t have very many friends if they had to deal with my ID a whole lot. Though, coming to think: these days my Ego and Superego don’t have a whole lot of friends either. Suppressing the ID has one big downside, it takes a whole lot of energy, and contributes to my feeling of depression, anger, and bitterness. And depression is, let’s face it, unattractive to be around. So, I decided that a blog would be a reasonable outlet for all this “dark” energy. And who knows, it may even help other women suffering from (secondary) infertility just as other blogs have helped me.

Where do I start? I am actually not too fond of many of Freud’s ideas. However, lately it feels as if there is a war going on within me. A war between how I should feel (let’s call that the Superego) and how I do feel (let’s call that the ID). And the mediator (let’s call that the ego) is getting tired in trying to find a compromise that works.

Need an example?
Infertile ID (spotting a pregnant belly, holding its breath): “need to scream, need to scream, need to scream….”
Superego: “that’s not nice. She hasn’t done anything to you. Be happy for her.”
Infertile ID: “WTF?”
Ego (very tired): Guys, please, can’t we just all get along?”
(and so on and so on)

So, that’s why I am here now, trying to make sense out of things that seem utterly senseless, reaching out to a world of women who go through similarly senseless and devasting times. Times of infertility.

In my personal case, I’m dealing with secondary infertility (SIF) as I was thankfully able to get pregnant and stay pregnant once with my now 2-year old daughter Miss V. In retrospect, I am not sure how I ever got pregnant. People claim that sex played a role. But since Mr. H. and I haven’t yet managed to replicate the experience in over 17 months, and according to my RE our best shot is IVF for a sibling, I sometimes wonder whether I, perhaps, got abducted by aliens? I mean, given my blood type and all? You see, some people suggest that people with my blood type (O-, a winner!) are sort of aliens or at the very least get visited by aliens a whole lot. I admit, I found this, how shall we call it, intriguing piece of information on the internet. But I digress.

Secondary infertility hit me both, expectedly and unexpectedly. Expectedly, because I have a known history of (aggressive) endometriosis. And endometriosis is never good news, particularly not if a woman still wants children. SIF heat me unexpectedly, because deep down, I thought I beat my odds once, I could do it again. I was quite wrong.

But endometriosis is not the only ailment of my reproductive systems. Since the birth of my daughter, I’ve added a ruptured uterus, cervical dysplasia (leep-ed), and Asherman’s syndrome. And on top of this, my aging ovaries (FSH was declared normal, yet a tad bit high) indulge themselves in growing chocolate cysts. Yes, there is not a single part of my reproductive plumbing that can be considered normal.

When we started trying for our elusive second child, we knew that we were looking at a high-risk pregnancy. Not only is my blood type (O-) sort of a bummer, but I am also at high risk for recurrent gestational diabetes (another winner!) and uterine ruptures (my biggest winner!). And then, who knows what else is lurking in the shadows. But I wasn’t prepared for how difficult it would be to even get pregnant. And in all honesty, I am bewildered about my shitty reproductive luck and frequently angry and bitter about it. Who would have thought that the ordinary dream of having children turns out to be so exotic?