The Horse Can Kiss My Ass November 30, 2005
I remember how excited I was to be starting my first IVF cycle way back when. How am I feeling about starting this sixth cycle? Pissed off. So yeah, I’m getting back on the horse, but I’m not doing so with a smile on my face.
Last night was the “go through the big ass pile of consents” night. Oh, how it made me so mad to do that. I had a major mad at the universe moment after we were done filling those suckers out. All I could think about was how instead of sitting here being halfway through the pregnancy, we were filling out consents for the umpteenth time for yet another cycle. That is so beyond frustrating.
Yes, I want another shot at being pregnant. Yes, I want another shot at having a bio kid. I just don’t want to have to be going through it all again. I just want it to have worked already, ya know.
Last night I just felt so lost. It felt like I was up in the sky looking down at myself. Sometimes I don’t even recognize me anymore. It’s like we made this decision to do IVF and then I turned my back for just a second. When I turned back around, I found this huge mess. That’s a scary feeling.
One of the forms we had to fill out was one that had you list previous number of pregnancies, the result of those pregnancies, number of previous fresh cycles and number of previous FETs. Do you know how depressing it was seeing that all in print all in one place? It’s hard to believe that the woman who has gone through three fresh cycles, two frozen ones, and had two pregnancies with nothing to show for it is me. I looked at that and thought that woman must be crazy for signing on for more.
I do think you have to be a tad crazy to keep on going after all of that. I definitely fit the bill. It’s crazy to think we might get a take home baby if we try just one more time. Oh, but I want it so much. How can I not try again?
So we will be. My hysteroscopy appointment is on Friday. I’m not really looking forward to that, to be honest. Last time was a bitch and that was while I was on Vicodin. I’ll be driving back and forth to Houston by myself this time, so there will be no yummy drugs for me.
I’ll be turning in my consents, getting my protocol, and handing over some cash as well on Friday, so I guess that will make it all official. I won’t be starting BCPs until my next period, but I know with the holidays and such that the start of my cycle will be here before I know it.
So, I guess this is a tad more fucked up of a post than the standard “Yay, I’m starting my cycle” post. I guess that’s to be expected at this point, though. At least my extreme urge to kick the universe’s ass has faded some today. That’s progress, right?
Family Traditions November 27, 2005
Holidays are filled with family traditions. Some are wonderful, some not so much. It seems to be that our new Thanksgiving tradition is getting sick. Oh, yes. You know where this is going. I got to spend the holiday weekend puking my guts up.
This has been the third Thanksgiving in recent years that my family has spent sick. One year it was a week long stomach virus thing. One year it was food poisoning. This year it was another stomach virus, but thankfully a little shorter run version.
We made it into town just in time to watch family member by family member come down with this stomach virus. Once we figured out what was going on, it was too late to escape. We figured we had been exposed by that point. All of our plans, including attending the big family get together with all the traditional Thanksgiving fare, were scrapped. We did have some yummy gumbo, though.
We left early to come back home so that if we were going to get sick that we could at least do so in our own home. Sure enough, I started feeling sick Friday afternoon. By Friday night I knew things were going to get bad.
I really don’t like stomach viruses, and I really don’t like puking. I don’t like being stuck in bed all day either. I think at one point yesterday I was begging my husband to kill me.
As an added bonus, my period finally showed on Friday night, so I got to experience some lovely cramps along with everything else. Of course I couldn’t take anything for them, since I couldn’t keep a damn thing down. Fun times. My silver lining was that I lost 2.5 pounds in one day. Now that’s a good diet plan.
This morning I woke up and started to feel like I might just live through this “family tradition” again this year. My husband has yet to come down with it. (knock on wood) I guess we should know soon enough if he was the only lucky one to escape it.
Thanksgiving Post: Take Two November 23, 2005
Let’s try this again. I’m done with my pity party. I hate being a whiny blogger, but I’m just so damn good at it. It’s not one of my favorite traits, though, I must admit.
I’m hoping the Thanksgiving fairy (there’s one of those, right?) brings me my period. Not that I’m a total fan of the whole period experience, but it’s got to beat this raging case of PMS that’s plaguing me at the moment. I swear, I have a major urge to rip out all of my girly organs. Plus then I can schedule my hysteroscopy and get this show on the road.
Wait, was I whining and complaining again? Shit, I can’t even control it when I’m trying.
Sometimes I have to vent to preserve what little remains of my sanity, but there comes a time when I really must give myself a big kick in the ass. Yeah, things aren’t always rosy, but there is more to life than constantly dredging up the bull shit.
So, I’m going to attempt to have myself a good holiday weekend. It might be hard at times when my inner scrooge comes out to play, but I’m going to make an effort.
I hope all of my blogland friends have a very happy Thanksgiving. I sure am thankful for all of you guys.
Sometimes It’s Hard to Feel Thankful November 22, 2005
I know I have many things that I am thankful for, but I’m finding it hard to feel thankful in general. It’s just one thing after another these days, and it’s enough to wear me down.
Should I be thankful that after five IVF/FET cycles that I finally got pregnant past the initial positive beta stage only to miscarry a matter of weeks later? Should I be thankful that I lost my sweet kitty companion of 17 years? Should I be thankful that I got to watch a massive hurricane tear through the city where I grew up and where my parents and other family members still live?
Should I be thankful that I got an email from my mom letting my know that they had to put one of our family cats to sleep yesterday, a cat who I had found in middle school and had grown up with? Obviously this is not as hard as losing my sweet Dixie, but it’s still hard.
There have just been so many shitty things happen these past few months. How can I be thankful that my world has been turned upside down too many times to count?
When I take a step back it is possible for me to focus on the things that I am thankful for, though. I’m thankful for my hubby. I’m thankful for my kitties. I’m thankful that my family is ok. That even though Rita ripped that city to pieces, that they’re ok. I’m thankful for all of my friends who I’ve met through the internet.
I wish I could just focus on the good stuff. I’m trying, but it’s so hard sometimes. I’m sure the fact that I’m majorly PMSing at the moment doesn’t help. That never helps. I just want to be happy and not worry about the bad stuff. I’m not even necessarily asking for the universe to start treating me well, just to leave me alone for a little bit. Just some peace and quiet would be enough to make me feel thankful.
Climbing Back on the Wagon November 20, 2005
Thank you. How the hell I would make it through all of this crap, especially the really low points, without my blogland friends is beyond me. When I was way down in the rut on Friday, it was impossible to remember that it was normal to feel that way given the circumstances . Thank you for reminding me that I was not a total freak for feeling that way.
I woke up with a lovely hangover Saturday morning but decided that wasn’t going to stop me from attempting to climb back on the wagon. I got my ass on the treadmill and worked out. Yeah, I felt like total shit doing so, but it was necessary. I worked out again this morning and managed to walk three miles. Not bad.
I’ve also relegated the vodka bottle to the back of the fridge and am back on my no sweet treats diet. It is ok to indulge every now and then, but I am so bad about the whole moderation thing. Soooo bad. So, it’s just easier if I abstain altogether.
I’m feeling better. No, I’m not skipping around with a big smile on my face, but I’m definitely doing better. One thing that’s helped is doing stuff. I’ve had a pretty darn productive day today, and it feels good. I feel so beyond unproductive reproductively speaking right now, and that depresses me to no end. Getting some other stuff done helps a little.
It definitely takes effort to keep from feeling the need to crawl into a cave. Sometimes all the effort in the world isn’t enough. Sometimes it helps, though. And sometimes you’ve got to crawl into the cave in order for things to look brighter when you crawl back out.
I’ve Fallen Off the Wagon November 18, 2005
Just a warning. I’m posting drunk. I cannot be held responsible for what follows. Oh, and just so you know up front, this is a major venting post. Anyone who wants to tell me to get therapy can just save their breath.
I haven’t been doing that well lately. I’ve fallen into a big giant rut, one that is very hard to climb out of.
It’s no big secret that I’ve been depressed lately. Hell, I lost a potential baby and my sweet furball in a matter on months. Who could blame me for feeling like shit?
It’s gotten worse lately, though. I’m just not functioning the way I should be. It’s like I’m watching myself fall apart, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
This evening I went to the store and bought a package of cookies and a bottle of vodka. What can I say? Desperate times call for desperate measures. I almost made it to the three week mark of the no sweet treats diet, but that’s all been thrown out the window now.
I know self medicating is not a real solution. I freaking know that. It’s just going to have to do, though.
Sometimes I really hate living in my body, living in my head. It’s hard. It’s hard waiting for good things to come and then never having those dreams realized.
Maybe this is why I haven’t had a kid yet. Maybe the world doesn’t need another me.
It will get better. I know it will. I won’t let it get to the point of no return. I can’t. How much more shit will I have to put up with, though? Why does it have to get harder before it gets easier?
Scratch That November 15, 2005
Please disregard my previous post. I’m just a big whiner. I mean seriously, there are a ton of worse things than having your pants fit a little tighter than you would like. Hell, I’ve got real things I could complain about like the fact that I’m missing my kitty so much or that every time I think about how much I want to get pregnant again the whole miscarriage thing pops into my brain. Weighing a little more than I’d like to is small potatoes when you think about it.
I guess sometimes it’s just nice to vent. I haven’t been Miss Suzy Sunshine lately, more like a big Grump-a-mump. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with it all. Even the little things start seeming like big things. It helps to get it all out.
The Scale Can Kiss My Fat Ass
I’m trying. I really am. It’s not working, though. I’ve been working out consistently (and by consistently I mean a minimum of three days per week, usually at least four) since the week after my miscarriage. That’s a total of nine weeks of good solid exercise.
Plus, I’ve been faithful to my new endeavour, the no sweet treats diet. I have eaten no candy, cookies, brownies, cake, ice cream, etc. for 2.5 weeks now. It’s definitely not been an easy undertaking, but somehow I’ve managed to keep it up. This has meant not only forgoing the pleasure of filling up my shopping cart with yummy snacks on a regular basis but also not allowing myself to buy any half priced candy the day after Halloween (unheard of in my world). Plus, I was the only one not to order dessert when we went out to dinner while we were in Houston. Do you know how hard it is to sit and watch other people eat scrumptious desserts? (Ok, it’s a tad bit easier when you’re drunk.)
Speaking of alcohol, with the exception of my Houston trip, I’ve cut that out, too. What else is there? I’m exercising, not eating yummy treats, and forgoing alcohol. That should be enough, right?
I guess I’m getting my due because I’ve never really had trouble losing weight in the past. There was no reason to think that it could last forever.
I think the whole pregnancy/miscarriage thing has reset my body. Before all of that, my body had a set weight where it liked to be. It was really into the homeostasis thing. Every now and then I might lose a pound or two or gain a couple, but my body always went back to that set weight.
It seems to be doing the same thing now except my new homeostasis point is five pounds heavier than it used to be. Blah. I’m not happy about that at all. I know it could be worse than five pounds, but those five pounds really make a difference on my body. I’m little. I’m short and have a tiny frame. You can tell when I’ve gained five pounds.
It’s more about how I feel about my body, though. It all goes back to how my self esteem is tied into my body image and all that good stuff. I know if I let the magic number (or not so magic in this case) slip, I probably wouldn’t gain much sympathy. Honestly, I’m not technically overweight. That’s not how I feel, though. I’m overweight for me.
So, I guess I’ll keep on with my new diet and exercise plan. I’m not enjoying it one bit, but I’d like to think that it might work one day. I told myself that I had to lose this weight before my next cycle. Who knows if that’s actually going to happen, but I won’t be able to say that I didn’t try.
Although, I guess I could switch to my husband’s strategy. When I whined to him that I was making all of this effort and that it wasn’t making any difference he said that I might as well just enjoy my yummy sweet treats then. He’s such a good influence. I know those Snickers are calling my name…
Nope, I’m not gonna do it. I can’t hear you, Snickers. La, la, la.
Ready to Get Back on the Horse November 13, 2005
I’ve been very anti IVF lately. I guess that the whole miscarriage/death of a pet double whammy thing will do that to ya. Taking a break was not only a good idea, it was essential.
Throughout this break I’ve been waffling on the whole IVF thing. I guess that’s pretty natural considering. It’s hard enough to decide to do IVF in the first place. Going through five attempts with nothing to show for it makes that decision even harder. I mean, I am sick of many aspects of IVF: feeling like a guinea pig, handing over thousands and thousands of dollars, getting my heart stomped on over and over. You know, none of that is much fun.
I’ve felt my outlook on IVF change the past few days, though. I’m ready now. I’m ready to go through it all one more time. I’m not exactly looking forward to going through all of the total bull shit that accompanies an IVF cycle, but I want another shot.
It’s really hard for me to sit here and know that my body is ovulating and doing all that good stuff while knowing that there’s absolutely no chance of me getting pregnant right now. Sometimes I consider that a good thing, because I don’t get my hopes up on natural cycle. But most of the time it’s a bad thing, because I have no reason to get my hopes up.
I want to do another IVF cycle, because I want that chance. I don’t expect to finally put the rabbit out of the hat, but I want to be able to at least try.
I still have over a month before I’ll be starting birth control pills for this next cycle, so I have more of a wait to get through. I’m ok with that. It just feels good knowing that I’ll be ready when the time comes.
Home Again, Home Again November 11, 2005
It was nice getting away for a few days, and it was nice being back in Houston again. I don’t think I mentioned where we were going, but that’s where we were. I got to go to some of my favorite places while I was there, so that was fun. I had fun with a little retail therapy, too, although upon reflection I realized that I didn’t buy anything for myself. Oh well. That’s how it usually goes.
I also got to hang out with one of my IF friends. Melissa and I have been posting together on an IF board since before our first IVFs way back when. I even had the pleasure of meeting her once before when I lived in Houston. It’s always nice to sit down with a fellow infertile, one you know really gets it. Melissa and I had had a fun afternoon of yummy food, even yummier margaritas, and great conversation.
Wednesday night we went to dinner with my husband’s old law firms friends. That was fun as well, especially since I got really drunk had an opportunity to enjoy some more tasty beverages. Of course, I paid for it yesterday, but it was fun while it lasted.
It was nice being back in Houston. I think I’m ready to move back. Of course, I could do without all of the valet crap and fancy smancy stuff that comes along with staying in a nice hotel downtown . (I mean, I’m not complaining about being able to stay in a nice hotel. Just about all the BS that comes along with it.) I’m a park my own car, carry my own bags, fold down my own comforter, down to earth type of gal. (Plus, is it really ok to pay $18 for cereal and juice? I mean, that’s just crazy to me.) Anyway, I guess I’m just more comforable in my jeans and t-shirt world. It guess a change is nice sometimes, though.
We had a good time, but it’s nice to be back home now. I missed my kitties tons. I always miss them when we’re away, but I missed them even more this time. I’ve been holding my kitties really close since Dixie died. It’s good to come back home to furry snuggles.
It’s kind of weird feeling like going to Houston was going home but then coming back here was also going home. I guess I don’t really have a city that I call home right now. Home is just where my husband and kitties are. I guess that’s how it should be.
Time for a Much Needed Getaway November 7, 2005
Right off the bat, I want to thank my husband for his post. It took some nagging encouragement to get him to do it, but I really think he enjoyed it once he got going. He even sent me an instant message after he had finished writing it asking me what he should entitle his category. I was like, “You want your own category?” He replied that he thought he might post again someday. Fine by me.
Dan left yesterday to go out of town for work. I’m leaving tomorrow to go join him. I probably would have gone the whole time, but I didn’t want to leave the kitties for too long.
Sure it’s not a real vacation, but it’s as close as we get these days. I’m not about to complain about being able to stay in a very nice hotel for a few days while someone else foots the bill.
I’ve been in a bit of a funk again lately, so it will be good to get away for a little bit. I’m still having trouble with my damn body. I’ve been exercising a lot, and I’m still sticking to my no sweet treats diet. (I’m currently on day 10. Who would have thought I could go this long without sticking candy, cookies, or ice cream in my mouth?) It’s still not doing a ton to help, though. Blah.
I’m still grieving, too. I guess I didn’t really think I was, but last night as I lay in bed sans husband with my two kitties up to other things in other parts of the apartment, it hit me how much I’m still grieving Dixie’s passing. She would have been curled up in my arms right then if she wasn’t gone. All I could do was cry. I miss her so much.
I know all of this takes time. It takes time to mend a broken heart. It takes time to heal a broken body. I know I just need to keep on keeping on. I think a little break will be nice, though. I think a little retail therapy couldn’t hurt either.
Guest Post: The Husband November 4, 2005
Hi, my name is Dan, and I’m Amanda’s husband and partner in this whole IVF mess. Amanda asked me to write a guest post or two reflecting on our experience from the male perspective.
As you may know, we are dealing with male factor infertility, caused–at least in part–by a hernia operation I had when I was very young. I didn’t know that I had any problems until Amanda and I started to try to get pregnant a few years ago. After more than a year of failure, we both made appointments to see doctors. Getting the phone call after that first round of tests is a memory that remains crystal clear. The nurse called with the results, and told me that my count was zero. ZERO? Well, I knew that wasn’t good. From there it’s been a pretty bumpy ride, with a few highs and lots of lows.
At first, it was simply surreal. I mean, none of my other friend’s doctors have porn in their offices. That was certainly new. Dealing with doctors and nurses poking and prodding me–more often than not in areas I don’t often leave accessible to the public–was a new experience as well. Nonetheless, I had a great urologist, and I was optimistic about the possibility that surgery could repair my leaky plumbing, and we could get on with our pleasant baby-making lives. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Twenty-five years following my hernia surgery was simply too long, and there was too much damage to repair. Amanda’s reaction when I grogily asked about the surgery after waking up is the second memory that remains with me. I knew then that it hadn’t been successful.
The hardest part, at least at first, was dealing with the guilt. I know that I did not cause my azoospermia, but nonetheless I take some responsibility for the problems we’ve had. It hurts me more than anything to disappoint Amanda, and I want to be able to give her children for her sake as much as for my own. Amanda is strong, though, and with her help I turned my guilt into determination. We are both certainly tougher than when we started, although I can’t say that I wouldn’t trade our growth for a child. Even determination, though, can’t help but give way to disappointment after repeated failure. We’ve been through five cycles now, and we both know that this next cycle has to be our last, success or not.
I know we have a chance with this last cycle, but frankly I can’t help looking toward the next step, or as Amanda calls it, the infamous “Plan B.” For us, that will likely be adoption from China. We talked about adoption shortly after we started IVF, and we both admitted that we weren’t ready for it. Now, I’m not only ready for it, it’s starting to look like a damn good option. We’ve started to collect information about adoption from China, and one of the agencies sent us a DVD in their packet. Watching the video, it really hit me: this is something I want to do. I would love to have a biological child with Amanda, but I also know that if we can’t, I can accept it and wholeheartedly take the next step on our journey toward parenthood.
I Want My Body Back November 2, 2005
My body just hasn’t been the same since the miscarriage, and it’s driving me a tad bit crazy. It’s not like I was a huge fan of it beforehand, but I’m even less now.
One of my major issues at the moment is my weight. The weight I gained during this last cycle just won’t come off. I’ve been working out, and I even cut all the yummy things I live for (candy, ice cream, cookies, etc.) out of my diet. Nothing.
I’ve always gained weight during IVF cycles, but in the past I’ve been able to drop it with no problems. In fact, I’ve always seemed to lose it all during the two week wait. That was actually one of the differences this time around that led me to suspect that it might actually have worked. I didn’t lose a single pound during the 2ww.
I really thought that I’d be able to lose it after my hormones had settled down a bit after the miscarriage. Nope. I really think my body has changed now, and I’m not liking it.
Another issue I have is with my skin. While I was pregnant it was awesome. Now I’m breaking out like I’m a teenager. Damn hormones.
It sucks that I got some of the crappy pregnancy mementos but none of the good stuff. I mean, I’ve got the weight gain thing going on, and I got to deal with some fun contractions of my own, but I didn’t get the newborn baby part.
Oh, and while we’re on the topic of contractions, the nurse who told me to expect period like cramps during my miscarriage can kiss my ass. Um, hello. Those mother fuckers were contractions. Not something I’d recommend experiencing if all you’re going to get out of it is the passage of a sac. There’s no way I’m going through that again unless I know there’s a live baby to be had at the end of it. Ok, stepping off my soapbox now.
Back to the topic at hand. I want my skinny, clear skinned body back. I know it’s superficial, but I really don’t think it’s too much to ask given the shit I went through to get this way in the first place.
Whew. That felt good to get that off my chest. Nothing like a good vent to make you feel better.
Oh, and I have an editorial note to share. I will be having a guest blogger this week. My husband has agreed to blog about all of this crap from his perspective. A while back, Carrie asked how I thought dealing with male factor infertility affected my husband. (Sorry it took me so long to get to this, Carrie. I’ve been a big slug lately.) I thought, well why not just have my husband answer that. So, he’s going to. I don’t know what day he’ll be posting, but I’ve been promised it will be this week. It’s always good to hear different perspectives, and I’m sure my hubby will have an opinion or two to share about all of this.
More Plan B Ramblings November 1, 2005
I have to say that I feel really good about our Plan B. It was definitely a process to get to this point, but it feels damn good to get here.
Last night my husband and I watched a short video that was included in one of the agency info packets that I had requested. Afterwards we talked some more about Plan B. You know, I think if it was up to my husband that Plan B would become the new Plan A. I think he’d rather just bypass this last IVF cycle all together.
Sometimes I think I might be inclined to agree. There are a few issues keeping me from doing that, though. One major one is the wait. Since we can’t start the process for a year, we’re looking at approximately a 2.5 year wait. That’s so freaking long.
Sometimes it feels like we’re doing this next cycle because we’ve got nothing better to do while we wait. At least we’ll be doing something, ya know. We’re definitely not going into it thinking we’ll pull the miracle pregnancy out of the hat. I guess, for me, it’s a way of finally being able to close the door. I guess I need a final farewell cycle.
Going into this IVF crap, we had a plan. That plan has definitely changed over time. I don’t think it’s realistic to go into IVF thinking that “we’ll only do two cycles” or whatever number you want to stick in there. It’s not like we didn’t do it, but it just doesn’t work that way.
Some people are lucky and never have to readjust their plan. They get their take home baby on cycle #1 or 2 and don’t have to reevaluate the situation time and time again. There are others of us who aren’t that lucky. After you use up your preplanned number of cycles and are left empty handed, you have to do some real soul searching. Not to say that you don’t have to soul search in order to jump into the IVF world in the first place, but, for me, the major soul searching began after we had gone through a number of failed cycles.
I know that I couldn’t have come to this place after cycle #2, 3, or 4. It’s obvious from my previous posts that I wasn’t even close. I don’t know how many times I’ve said that adoption is something that we think is a good option, but that we’re just not there yet. Well, we’re there now, and I know that we had to go through five cycles to get there. We couldn’t have gotten here anyway else.
Sometimes it’s easy to regret throwing all of this time and money away trying IVF again and again. I have to remember that this is how it had to be. I wouldn’t be in this place if things had gone any other way.
So, we will be doing this final farewell cycle. I guess there’s a chance, albeit a small one, that it could work. If it does, great. If it doesn’t then that’s ok, too. We’re now at the point where we’re not focusing on a kid with my husband’s eyes, or my hair, or our color of skin. We just want to be parents. And we will be.