The Bright Side of Waiting May 30, 2006
Usually waiting is one of the hardest parts for me in all of this crap. I’m just an impatient person, and it sucks to feel like I’m not making progress. However, I’m actually ok with the wait for my ultrasound at the moment. That goes against my nature, but there’s something greater at play right now.
Until I go in for that ultrasound appointment, it can’t officially be over. No news means no bad news. Limboland is never fun, but it sure as hell beats “the end.” It’s just like the wait for beta. Sure, the two week wait is torture, but seeing one line on a pee stick or getting the negative beta call sucks oh so much more. The same principle applies with the wait for my ultrasound.
I’m actually trying not to even think about this crap, because when I do I automatically go into worst case scenario land. I have absolutely no expectations of good things to come. Not one. Actually, the opposite is true. Just like I expected my third beta to not increase, I expect to get bad news on Monday. It’s seems impossible to have anything else happen.
Dan and I were talking the other day about the house we have our eye on and what we would hypothetically do with each room. Dan mentioned the words “baby room” and I immediately shut him down. To be honest, I don’t think he was even thinking in terms of a need for a room if things somehow managed to go well this time around. He just meant a room for any possible future children down the line. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t stand to think about it or talk about it. It’s too hard.
It’s much easier to sit here in denial land. I know that’s not entirely possible, but I can try. For once, I just want to wait.
Still in the Game May 27, 2006
I was absolutely terrified going in for my beta this morning. My hands were literally shaking and when asked for my cell phone number, I could not remember it for anything. I was convinced that I was going to get terrible news.
My hands started shaking again later in the day when my cell phone rang, and I saw my clinic’s number pop up on caller ID. They were shaking even more as I wrote down the number 1013.
It’s still not exactly doubling, but it went up. I’m honestly shocked. That makes for a doubling time of 52 hours between betas 2 and 3, up from 54.4 hours earlier in the week. It could be better, but it could be much, much worse.
I’m done with betas now. Next up is an ultrasound a week from Monday.
The Calm Could Only Last So Long May 26, 2006
I’ve been doing pretty well the past few days. I’ve haven’t had another freakout. I’ve just been doing my best to hang in there until tomorrow. Now that beta #3 is so close, however, I’m getting nervous again.
I know the anxiety is flowing through my body whether I try to keep it at bay or not. Last night I dreamt that there was blood on the toilet paper. There hasn’t been (knock on wood) but it just goes to show where my brain is right now.
It’s going to be hard if I get bad news tomorrow. Aside from the obvious reasons, I won’t be able to crawl into a hole immediately. We’re making the drive over to my parent’s house tonight for a family get together this weekend. It’s been a year and a half since my two brothers, their significant others, my parents, and Dan and I have all been together at the same place at the same time.
This weekend has been planned for a long time, and I can’t exactly blow them off. So, I’ll just have to suck it up for a while if tomorrow’s phone call brings bad news. Maybe I’ll bring Vicodin along with me. Hey, you can’t say I don’t plan ahead.
I know that things could go either way tomorrow. I know what I’m hoping so much for, but I also know what kind of luck I have. I just hope I get a break this time around. I’m feeling overdue.
On a Lighter Note May 24, 2006
Ok, I think my drama queen freakout is over at least temporarily. Sometimes I just need to lose it so that I can keep it together. Does that make sense? Probably not, but the point is that after letting out my fears and having a good cry yesterday, I feel better today.
Now this doesn’t mean I’m not still scared or that I think this will actually work out. I’m too jaded for positive thinking. I am attempting to chill the fuck out, though. I think I’ll make it to Saturday in one piece. However, all bets are off after the results of beta #3.
Oh, and I know it seems like extra torture to have to wait until Saturday instead of having #3 done tomorrow. I understand the reasoning, though. It would suck to get an ambiguous number Thursday only to have to make the trip over on Saturday anyway. It actually works out better for me since Dan will be able to make the drive over with me on Saturday when he wouldn’t have been able to on Thursday. Definitely a good thing.
Ok, on to the lighter stuff. You wanna hear my shot story from yesterday? It’s one to add to the IVF memory book for sure. I have to do my PIO shots in the morning this cycle since the damn suppositories are supposed to be done at bedtime. Of course my AM shot time just happened to fall right in the middle of my drive over to Houston yesterday. There really was no good solution, so I ended up giving myself a PIO injection in a bathroom stall at McDonalds. It was quite an experience to say the least.
My distraction from all of this stuff has been house hunting. Things are sort of moving along with that. We found a house we like, but it’s overpriced and the sellers really aren’t budging. I think they’re trying to recoup their 6% Realtor commission even though they’ve only lived there less than a year and a half. The house hasn’t appreciated that much in that length of time, but it appears that they’re ignoring that fact.
We’re not in a rush, so we’re taking our time with it. We’ll probably go back in a couple weeks to look at some more houses. Who knows, maybe the sellers of the house we like will get more lenient if their house sits on the market for a while.
It has been kinda fun to look at different houses and get an idea of what we like and don’t like. Carpet in the master bath? Um, no. Dead trees in the front yard? No thank you. The owners of one of the houses we looked at even neglected to remove a dead bird off of their patio. Yuck.
We’ll figure out the house stuff eventually. Just like I hope we’ll figure out everything else.
Limboland Must Have Missed Me May 23, 2006
I so wanted to see a doubling number today. I didn’t get that. Today’s beta was 282, up from 153 on Sunday. That’s an increase of 84% with a doubling time of 54.4 hours.
I know this could be worse. I know it’s still considered “ok.” It doesn’t feel ok, though. It feels terrifying.
I had things I considered blogging about yesterday, but I couldn’t. I’ve been too scared to do much of anything. This doesn’t help.
I don’t want to have to be so scared that it brings me to tears. I realize now how very deeply my battle scars run. Maybe if this wasn’t my umpteenth cycle or if I hadn’t had previous losses I’d be more ok right now. I know I should just be grateful that the numbers are positive and let everything else fade away. I wish I could.
It’s very hard to always expect the worst. I wish I could have faith that everything is going to work out fine. I wish I could believe that I’ll finally have my dream fulfilled this time around. I think I’ve just been through too much for that to be possible, though.
I have to go back on Saturday for beta #3. Until then I’ll be sitting here hoping so very much that this isn’t the beginning of the end.
The Results Are In May 21, 2006
I managed to find some wireless to steal borrow, so I get to post before we get back late tonight. Beta was 153. I go back on Tuesday for beta #2. Off to find a house now. Thanks so much for all of the good wishes. You guys rock.
The Great and Powerful FRED Has Spoken May 19, 2006
Have you ever had your heart thump so hard that you felt like it was on the outside of your body? That was me this morning lying wide awake in bed waiting for enough time to elapse from the last time I had gotten up to pee so that I could get up and break out the HPTs. Knowing that so much was riding on those damn pee sticks was beyond nerve wracking.
FRED, and his distant cousin Equate, both think I’m pregnant. I’m 7dp5dt today, and I didn’t have to squint, hold the tests up to the light, or take them apart. There were definitely two lines on both of them.
As soon as I saw those double lines pop up, I sat down and cried. All I could think was Please don’t let me lose this one, too.
I realize that all I can do is take this one step at a time. The next step is beta on Sunday. We’ll take it from there.
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A couple of footnotes:
1. To all of my fellow pee stick addicts out there, I definitely recommend the newly redesigned FRED. You can tell you’re buying the new ones by looking at the picture on the box. The new ones have an oval result window instead of a rectangular one. I know the old ones were notorious for faint lines, but I think they’ve improved them.
2. To anyone who shares my major trait of impatience, just a heads up that I won’t be able to post Sunday’s beta result until late. We’re doing the house hunting thing Sunday afternoon and then we have to make the long drive back. I’ll post when we get back home Sunday night.
The Obligatory 2ww Freakout Post May 18, 2006
Well, maybe I’m not totally freaking out, but I’m most definitely being tortured by this damn wait for beta. This one is harder. I knew it would be.
I know I’m going to be crushed if this cycle didn’t work. I mean flattened. We’ve got some things scheduled for this weekend that will hopefully prevent me from immediately curling up into a ball of immovable depression should we get bad news. We’re driving over to Houston on Saturday. First up is an acupuncture session in the afternoon. Then we’re going to an Astros game Saturday evening. Beta is Sunday morning, and then we’re going house hunting with our Realtor a little later in the day on Sunday. Kind of a crazy plan, one which I know will only delay the inevitable flattening, but it’s a plan nonetheless.
I know I have no say in how things will play out. I’ve learned that lesson too well by now. However, I really hope the infertility gods will listen to me on one thing. If this cycle isn’t successful, long term successful, then I really, really hope that I’ll just get a negative beta on Sunday. I want to be spared the agony of another chemical, or even worse another miscarriage, so very much.
Yesterday I felt the need to go back and read some of the posts from my third fresh cycle. More specifically, I read the posts and comments from the 2ww, through when I got to see those magical two lines, through when I got my first doubling beta, through getting horrible news via ultrasound, and finally through my miscarriage posts. I sat here and cried. I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t know if I can.
This two week wait is torture. It really is, but that is beyond torture.
It’s hard to imagine that I could get good news this time around. It’s hard to imagine that I could get good news that would continue on to more good news and not go to hell at some point. Even if I could let myself go there, which I can’t, it just seems impossible at this point.
So, three more days. It seems like such a short time. I have no doubt, though, that it will feel like an eternity.
A Male Perspective on IVF Cycling May 17, 2006
Hi! It’s Dan again. Last time I posted here I wrote about the emotional burden of being the male half of a couple afflicted with male-factor infertility. Dealing with those emotions are part of handling infertility’s big picture, but it won’t get you through the day-to-day roller coaster of an actual IVF cycle. We are now in the middle of our seventh (!) cycle, and I think by now we’re about as expert as we’d like to be.
The first emotional hurdle we had to deal with was whether to do the cycle at all. That was a relatively easy emotional investment to make for our first few cycles, but the cost, both emotional and monetary, mounts with each cycle. When we started our first cycle, we committed to quitting after three cycles. Three came and went, and then we decided we would quit after five cycles. Now, of course, we are well past that mark. The truth is that it was very hard to anticipate ahead of time how many cycles we would be willing to endure. It’s easy to set an arbitrary limit at the outset, but we discovered that our desire to have a child exceeded those limits. Ironically, the last entry I wrote here, back in November 2005, also contemplated that cycle as our last. Obviously things change. It was easier to decide to go ahead with this cycle, though, because we had frozen embryos waiting for us. The cost of a frozen cycle is obviously quite a bit less than a fresh cycle, and we weren’t going to abandon embryos that we had put time and money into making.
Once we decided to go forward, it was time to begin medication. We males are fortunate that we don’t have to take any of the medication, but get to play our own role: giving shots. Now, as Amanda has probably recounted for you in some past post, I am, shall we say, a bit squeamish. There’s a reason I ended up in law school and not medical school. In fact, the first time Amanda showed me an IM syringe for PIO injections I felt nauseated and light-headed, and I thought I might pass out. An auspicious beginning, indeed. Now, though, it’s second hand. Although I still feel guilty for causing Amanda any pain with the shots, I don’t have the same quasi-physical reaction I did when we first started. For you husbands out there who have the same feelings about needles that I did: don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.
Speaking of medication, cycling has made me realize just how physical our emotions are. Amanda has been a bit of a home-grown experiment in this regard, and we get to watch her emotions and energy level fluctuate depending on which medications and hormones she happens to be putting into her body at any given time. Sometimes it’s funny, and sometimes it’s frustrating, but mostly I think it helps me keep some perspective and patience. When Amanda is upset and having a hard time dealing with the cycle, I can more easily roll with the punches and support her emotionally because I know she’s not really mad at me. Giving your wife drugs means never having to take the abuse personally. ;)
After several weeks of shots and other medication, we got to transfer our frozen embryos. Unlike a fresh cycle, of course, there’s no retrieval to worry about. However, the thaw can be just as worrisome. Although we’ve always had high quality embryos, there’s always the chance that we could show up for transfer and discover that all of the embryos failed to survive the thaw, or that the survivors suffered severe degeneration, substantially reducing our odds. Thaw is yet another roller coaster. We were fortunate this time around to have all four survive the thaw, although one suffered more degeneration than we would have liked.
Despite the successful thaw, the ratings given by the lab tells us nothing about the chromosomal quality of our embryos. Even with a high rating for three of our four, all four could be chromosomally defective that they cannot implant, or cannot develop properly following implantation. I am especially worried about chromosomal quality because my condition tends to cause those kinds of problems. As Amanda has written about before, long-term obstructive azoospermia appears to result in very high rates of chromosomal abnormalities. Of course, it’s a little late to be testing for that kind of thing.
After thaw, we have transfer. Again, this is something in which we males can only lend a supporting role. Amanda has been amazingly tough, going through retrieval and transfer time and again. I couldn’t be more proud of her, and I do my best to take care of her when she’s recovering.
And now we wait. Waiting is one of the hard parts, I think, while we continue to administer shots and watch for any telltale symptoms which might suggest success or failure. Amanda will start cheating later in the week, using HPTs to predict the results of the beta test, which will be next Sunday. The wait is a mixture of nervousness, dread, and hope. Although I know our chances of success are small, I can’t hope that maybe this time around our luck will change. The waiting isn’t necessarily over with the beta. Given our history with chemical pregnancies and miscarriage, it’s not unlikely that we could see a low positive on Sunday and have to continue waiting and hoping.
So far, we obviously haven’t had any success, and the failure had been hard to deal with. Even harder, I think, is seeing Amanda’s anguish and disappointment. At this point, I want us to succeed as much for her as I do for me. We’re fortunate, of course, that our ordeal has forced us closer together, unlike some of the couples who split because of infertility. We are also much tougher than when we started this process. Has it been worth it? Ask me again next week.
Eight Years Ago Today May 16, 2006
Dan and I are celebrating our 8th wedding anniversary today. You would think that having a birthday and an anniversary in the two week wait would provide a good distraction. You can only be distracted so much, though. The wait is still torture.
I am so thankful that I’m going through all of this with Dan. When I start in on my doom and gloom stuff he is quick to remind me that no matter what happens with this last cycle that we’ll make it through it together. I have no doubt that he’s correct. We’ve already made it through so much. We’ll make it through this, too, hand in hand.
And while we’re speaking of Dan, I’d like to mention that he’s volunteered to write another From the Husband post this week. I’m sure it will be more interesting than reading about my two week wait torture. It’s always the same thing anyway, right? I want to find out, but I don’t. The fake symptoms are torturing me. I don’t think it worked. Blah, blah, blah. I’m interested in reading my husband’s take on the wait for beta and IVF in general. Much more interesting, I think.
Happy Anniversary, honey. Smooches! I couldn’t make it through this crap without you.
Guess What Today Is? May 14, 2006
What? Mother’s Day? Oh, we’re so not going to talk about one of the most dreaded holiday to infertiles. I’m sure I could go on and on about how much Mother’s Day sucks when you’ve been longing to be a mother for so long. I have a feeling I don’t really need to spell it out this year, though. Plus, it just makes me too damn sad to think about the fact that I should be celebrating my first Mother’s Day with a one month old when I’m not. Too damn sad.
Enough about that, though. Today is not only that dreaded day, but it’s my birthday. Lucky me, right? I wish I could say that I’m all excited about that, but I have to admit that it’s bittersweet. It’s yet another reminder that another year has passed by, and I’m still childless.
Back in the pre infertility days, I really wanted to have three kids by the time I was 30. I turn 29 today. I’m guessing that’s not going to happen. We so know that three of those embryos aren’t going to stick around. One would be a miracle.
The embryos help a little, though. There’s just something about knowing I’ve got embryos in there that makes for such a cool feeling. Of course, I’ve been wondering if I’ve killed them all already. It’s a definite possibility, but I sure hope not. This is the last time that I will ever have our embryos inside me. I need to try to enjoy that, because I’m never going to get the opportunity again.
You know what’s cool about today? I’m only two days past transfer and already halfway through the two week wait. I love blast transfers for that very reason.
I’m going to attempt not to be grumpy today. Today is hard, but I need to make an effort so that it doesn’t completely end up sucking. We’ve got some plans involving yummy food and tasty birthday cake, so that should help. Cake always helps.
Embryos on Board May 12, 2006
I have to say that I’m feeling better now that I”m on the other side of transfer. This morning was tough waiting to find out our thaw report, but I survived.
Transfer went pretty well. 3 of our 4 blasts fared the thaw well. We had a 4AA with 0% degeneration and 100% reexpansion, a 4AB with 0% degeneration and 70% reexpansion, a 4BB with 10% degeneration and 90% reexpansion, and our not so great one, a 4CC with 30% degeneration and 35% reexpansion. Our RE gave us the option not to transfer the 4th one back since he didn’t think it had any chance, but I had them put it back anyway.
Transfer itself went really well, probably the least difficult I’ve had to date. The anesthesia drugs were quite yummy, too. I had the same anesthesiologist as last transfer, but he actually managed to get my IV on the first stick. Much better. I’m sure he thought I was nuts for begging for him to shoot the drugs through my IV as soon as possible, but I figure it’s one of the few perks out of all of this so I might as well enjoy it.
They did more bloodwork today and my E2 was 728, and my P4 was >60, so all’s looking good on that front. I was very happy to see that my E2 made a great rebound from Saturday, and that P4’s not too shabby either.
Beta’s on Sunday the 21st.
It’s Almost Here May 11, 2006
I have been waiting for tomorrow for so long. This FET protocol was over 7 weeks long. Even after going through all of that, through all of everything, I can’t believe it’s almost here.
My dear friend Julianna (who I think about, and worry about, and miss so very much) called her last chance FET embryos her $100,000 embryos. I totally get that. Those 4 blasts in the freezer are my $75,000 embryos. Everything we’ve been through in the past two years of IVF cycles, every cent (and there are a ton of pennies in $75K), every injection, every sacrifice, every loss, and every heartbreak, all comes down to this transfer and those four embryos.
After this cycle is over I’ll get to answer the question “was it all worth it?” If it does work the answer will be easy. If it doesn’t the answer will be just as easy. How could going through all of that crap be worth it if you have to walk away empty handed?
I’m scared. I truly am. I know if you didn’t consider our history that having four top quality blasts in the freezer would make it seem like we have a good shot at this. Knowing what we know changes everything, though. The chances aren’t good yet I can’t help but wish we somehow manage to miraculously beat them this time.
I’m so nervous about the thaw. We’re 6/6 in past FETs, but those two cycles were done at a different clinic with a different lab. I know not to take a single thing for granted in any of this, so I don’t think I’ll be able to really breath until I get to my clinic tomorrow and am told what we have to work with. Please, please let them all make it.
I’ll readily admit that I’ve been nervous on big days, retrievals, transfers, and the like, in previous cycles, but that cannot touch how I feel right now. I’m fucking terrified. I can’t sleep, I’ve lost weight (I guess I should be thankful for that one, but still) and my brain has stopped functioning almost altogether.
Maybe after I get to the other side of tomorrow afternoon I’ll be able to calm down a bit. Not that the 2ww is going to be a walk in the park, but hopefully I’ll be able to chill a bit more after transfer is done.
It just feels like everything is riding on this. I know that rationally speaking this doesn’t have to be the end of the road. It very well could be the end of this particular path, though. That’s a lot of pressure.
I know stress has no bearing on the outcome of an IVF cycle. (I can throw out some links for anyone of the “just relax” persuasion if necessary.) I just wish I could make it stop regardless. It sucks to feel this way.
I know I’m being hard on myself, but there is no other way I could possibly feel right now. I can’t feel hopeful. I can’t feel excited. I can only feel scared.
Maybe I’ll ask for double anesthesia tomorrow. That should help, don’t ya think?
Missing: One Brain May 10, 2006
I seem to have lost mine, and it’s not pretty. I mean, my brain is total and complete mush, and I’m forgetting everything.
Yesterday I managed to forget to turn off the oven after cooking dinner, which I never do since I’m paranoid about it, only to figure it out two hours later. Also, during the past couple of days, as soon as a thought has entered my mind it manages to leave just as quickly. I’ll be sitting at the computer and it will hit me that I want to go to a particular site to check something. And then it’s gone. I can’t remember for the life of me what I wanted to check out.
Is it a fun new side effect? A result of stress? Is it happening because I haven’t been sleeping well this week? Heck if I know. I just want my brain back.
There is one thing that’s hard to forget, the whole last chance transfer thing coming up in two days. I’m getting nervous. Really nervous. I know I just need to chill the fuck out, but that’s virtually impossible right now. Hey, maybe I’ll pop that lone Valium I’ve had my eye on. I won’t be needing it for transfer since I’m having it done under anesthesia again. Nah, I better save it for the aftermath of beta day. I know I’m going to need some sedation then.
Adventures in Progesterone May 8, 2006
So, I got through my first ever experience with progesterone suppositories last night. Yes, I’m on my seventh cycle and have managed to avoid them to this point. They’re not exactly my idea of a good time, but I guess I’ll live.
I have to do my PIO shots in the morning this cycle since the suppositories are done at bedtime. This is a major change for me since I’ve done my PIO injections at night during all of my previous cycles. It’s just much easier to remember that way.
Last night I told Dan that I should put a post-it on the front door as a reminder to do the PIO in the morning before he left for work. He reassured me that wasn’t necessary because he’d remember. You know where this is going, right? At 9:30 this morning it hit me that we had both forgotten to have him give me my shot before he left for work. Of course by that time he was across town at work and my shot was already late, so I had no choice but to do it myself.
Well, before I did it I uttered some choice words in my husband’s direction through a couple IM’s. He apologized profusely and even offered to come back home to do it. That wasn’t necessary because I just sucked it up and pushed that long ass needle into my flesh. Fun times.
On a completely different note, I thought I’d answer a couple questions from the comments of my previous post. Ann Marie asked if I’d be doing acupuncture before and after ET on Friday. The answer is no. I’m actually going to a teaching clinic to cut down on costs. $30 a session is much better than $85, but the clinic doesn’t have Friday morning hours. I will, however, be having a session done before we head back on Saturday. The reason I wanted to do acupuncture in the first place was because of my lining. Now that I’ve started progesterone that lining isn’t going to grow more, so doing a session for that purpose is pointless. I’m going on Saturday because I feel like it won’t hurt, plus when you pay for four sessions you get the fifth one free. I’m so not one to pass up something that’s free.
Leggy asked if there was any house news. We did make progress this weekend on that front. We determined that we didn’t like the interior of the new construction house that we had our eye on. We did, however, find a house up for resell that we liked. It’s yet to be determined if the timing of closing will work out, but we’re considering it. I really feel like we must get through this cycle before making any major decisions on the house front, so hopefully in a couple weeks we’ll have more of idea of where things stand.
The Coast is Clear: My Freakout is Over May 7, 2006
At least for the moment anyway. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Reading all of your comments to my last post helped so much. I honestly don’t think that I’d ever have made it this far without all of my blogland friends. You guys rock!
I’m feeling much better now. You knew I had to have at least one major meltdown this cycle, though, right? I think it comes with the territory. Sometimes this stuff just builds up so much that all you can do is lose it and hope that you’ll feel better afterwards.
Dan and I have been talking all weekend, and I have to say that knowing that there will be another road for us to hop over to if this cycle fails makes me feel better. We have options, some of which I didn’t even think we had.
Ok, on to the updates. My second lining check appointment didn’t go as well as I had hoped. What’s new? It wasn’t the worst case scenario, though. My RE measured my lining three times, and it averaged 8.3mm so just about where it was on Monday. Obviously I would have liked for it to have thickened up some more, but this is what I have to work with. My RE just wants it above 7, and I said that I wanted a minimum of 8 to transfer, so I guess this is good enough.
I wish I could say that my E2 remained the same, too, but it didn’t. It dropped from 672 to 391. I was immediately told not to worry about it (oh, how they know me). They just want it to stay over 300. Since it was still over that, they didn’t want me to add any additional estrogen or anything. My IVF coordinator told me that the difference could have been at least partially caused by the fact that I had just changed patches just a bit before my blood draw. I don’t know if that’s accurate or not, but there’s not much I can really do about it but keep on going.
In injection news, I did my last Lupron injection last night. Yippee! I did get to meet up with my good friend, the IM injection, though, with the start of PIO this morning. I get the pleasure of starting the damn progesterone suppositories tonight, too. Oh, I’m so looking forward to that.
The house hunting went pretty well and wasn’t as depressing as I thought it would be. It actually took my mind off of the fact that I didn’t get the best news on the FET front.
So, I’m all scheduled for ET on Friday afternoon. I’m just going to be hanging out on progesterone, patches, and some antibiotics and Medrol until then. I wonder if I’ll be able to keep my mind off worrying about the thaw? Somehow I doubt it.
Sometimes M&M’s Just Aren’t Enough May 5, 2006
I can’t shake it, this overwhelming feeling of sadness. I just can’t.
I think I know what’s going on. As this last chance transfer gets closer and closer, I’m having a harder and harder time dealing with the fact that this is it. There will be no more attempts. I wish I could put it out of my mind, but I can’t. It’s too huge.
I wish I could find some “bright side” to ending treatment. I know some people can. I know it’s a relief to some. I don’t feel relief. Not even a little. I just feel sad.
The truth of the matter is that if it were completely my decision and IVF wasn’t so damn expensive that I’d keep going. Even knowing that our chances are slim to none. I’d keep at it. It’s not completely my decision, and god knows that we’ve already spent a small fortune on this little venture and just can’t keep pouring money into a losing cause. I just know that I’m not going to be able to walk away from it all and feel good about it.
I want this so badly. I can’t even express how badly I want it. Every fiber of my being yearns for it to work. I want to be pregnant. I want to have our baby with us, finally, finally. How in the hell can I walk away from that? How will I not fall apart?
I know I will be a mom even if this FET doesn’t work. I’m holding on to that thought as much as possible, but it kills me to think that it could take another 2+ years. I’ve been waiting for 4.5 already. I don’t know if I can make it another two.
How do you reconcile the loss of a dream? How is that possible when it’s the one thing you want more than anything?
My heart is hearting. I’m staring at the end of the road. I mean, I can see it right up ahead. I’m scared to proceed. I’m terrified of getting to that place.
I so hope that if I get there, and there’s a mighty good chance that I will, that I’ll be ok taking the next path. To be honest, though, I’m just not sure if I will. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick myself up for the millionth time and set out on a new road, one that I know will continue to be long and hard.
Sometimes I wish that IVF hadn’t been an option for us or that we’d walked away after the second or third cycle. It honestly gets harder to give it up the more cycles you do. The more you invest, financially and emotionally, the harder it is to just stop, call it a loss, and move in a different direction.
I know that I have to be a pretty strong person to have made it through as much as I have. I don’t feel strong right now, though. I’m having doubts that I’m going to be able to make it through it all if this FET doesn’t work.
I’ve always held on to the belief that my child will come into my life the way that he or she was meant to. It may not be the way that I had originally planned but that it would end up being the right way when all is said and done. It’s so hard right now, though. It’s unbearably hard.
I’m crying as I think about our four embryos in the deep freeze right now. We’ve made 44 embryos and have transferred 17. These 4 are all we have left. I know they don’t stand a chance. I truly do, and it’s so very hard. Oh, but how I want one of them to make it. I want it so much it hurts.
I better stop now. I could go on, but I really need to stop writing so I can stop crying. I know my wish that this last cycle will end up working probably won’t come true. I just hope that my wish to have to the strength to be able to deal with it and move forward does.
Change of Plans May 4, 2006
There will be no truckers honking at me Friday morning, because I’m no longer having my ultrasound done on Friday. No, I didn’t cancel it, but I did manage to reschedule it.
You see, Dan and I have been planning to head over to Houston this weekend to meet with our realtor to start house hunting. If I had my ultrasound appointment on Friday then I would be driving over and back Friday and then back again Saturday morning. Too much damn driving.
Normally my clinic doesn’t do FET scans on the weekends, but I got them to make an exception for me. Now my appointment is scheduled for Saturday morning. The only catch is that I have to be there at 8am, so we’ll head over tomorrow evening after Dan is finished with work.
Saturday is going to be a packed day. I’ve got my u/s at 8, we’re meeting with the realtor at 10, then with the mortgage people in the early afternoon, followed by my acupuncture appointment at 3. We’ll then hit the road and stop by my parent’s house for dinner on the way back home. We ought to get at least something accomplished out of all of that.
I guess I should be really excited about all of this house hunting stuff. The truth is, though, that I’m not at this very moment. First of all, I really care a lot more about how my lining is going to look Saturday morning than anything else that’s going to happen that day. Secondly, it makes me sad to think about buying a huge house with no little ones to fill up the bedrooms. Ok, that makes me downright depressed. I also can’t help but think that part of the reason we’ll be able to afford to buy a house is that we won’t be doing any more IVF cycles. It’s hard to accept sometimes.
Dan keeps saying that he hopes all of this house stuff goes smoothly and we end up with the one we want, etc. All I can think is that I’d gladly keep living in a little apartment if it would mean that this cycle would work. Sure, I think it’s fabulous that we can finally buy a house, but I’d give it up in a heartbeat if I could finally have my long awaited for baby.
Man, I’m depressing today. Maybe devouring my newly purchased bag of mega peanut M&Ms will help cheer me up. Dan will be home from New Orleans this afternoon, and I know that will definitely help. All of this crap can just be tough at times, ya know?
I Could Never Be a Trucker May 1, 2006
That drive fucking sucks. I think it might not be so bad if I didn’t have to get up at 4:30, but then again driving 8+ hours in one day would suck no matter what. I’m so tired I can barely sit up. Just play along if this post ends up making no sense whatsoever. Oh, and speaking of truckers, what’s up with them honking their big loud horns at chicks driving alone? That happened to me six times today. Same as last week. Don’t they know that scares the crap out of me?
I digress. My point was that the drive sucked. Guess what didn’t suck, though? My lining. It measured 8.2mm this morning. That’s thicker than it’s ever been at this point in a FET cycle. My E2 was 672 which is good. If it had been less than 300 then I would have had to start vaginal Estrace, but there will be no little blue pills up the hoo ha for me. No siree.
Since my lining was ok and my E2 was good, my RE suggested moving my ET up to next Monday which would mean starting progesterone on Wednesday, but I politely refused. I want some more time on estrogen to see if I can get my lining thicker. 8 is ok, and my RE certainly thinks it’s enough, but it would be nice to have more. This is our last shot at this, and I want the best possible conditions to work with.
There were several other reasons why transferring a week from today wouldn’t be ideal. It would mean that Dan would have to take two days off from work instead of one. It would mean that I would have to do two PIO shots by myself since Dan is in New Orleans until Thursday afternoon. Not that I haven’t done it before, but I’d just prefer not to. Plus, if ET was next Monday then beta would be on our anniversary. Major suckage. All of that combined with the lining issue just seems to me to be pointing in the direction of staying with the original plan of transferring on the 12th.
Even though I despise the damn drive, I’m going back over on Friday for another ultrasound at my request. I want no “what ifs” this cycle. I want to make sure my lining goes in the right direction, or at least stays the same, before I start progesterone on Sunday. I’m sure I’ll be cursing myself when I’m behind the wheel on Friday, but I need to do this.
Ok, I’m going to crash now. I think I’ll probably sleep well tonight.