Delayed Reaction March 3, 2005
I’ve been doing pretty well the past few days. Maybe too well. I’ve been treating this last failure the same as I did the past two, but you know what? It’s not the same. I think I’ve been in denial about that. Today things just came back and hit me. I had a lovely bawling in the shower moment that left my cat beyond puzzled.
I don’t know what you call what happened during this past cycle. I guess technically it ended in a chemical pregnancy or very early miscarriage. I’ve been doing my darndest to avoid both the “p-word” and “m-word.” I didn’t ever consider myself pregnant even after the positive beta. First of all, I never expected it to work, and secondly, I knew that our chances were beyond slim given that low beta. I don’t really know how I think of it, but I need to admit to myself that this was different than the other BFN’s.
When I went in for my appointment with my OB/GYN on Monday, the nurse asked me all of the standard questions. Then she asked, “Have you ever been pregnant?” I didn’t know what to say. I finally said, “Well, it depends on your definition of pregnant.” I then had to explain the whole beta situation. I don’t think I could ever answer that question with a flat out “Yes.” The nurse then asked my age. When I replied that I was 27 she said, “Oh, you have plenty of time to get pregnant then.” UGH! I politely replied that it didn’t matter how old I was that if it wasn’t working then it wasn’t working. I hate that “oh, you’re so young” crap. Don’t even get me started.
I digress. Anyway, I guess my point is that I don’t really know how to think about what happened. I don’t know how to categorize it. It’s a loss. That’s all I know. I guess that’s all that matters.
Well, That Was Predictable February 28, 2005
I had my follow up appointment with my RE today. I don’t know why I was looking forward to it so much. I knew I wouldn’t get any answers.
My RE thinks our failures are caused by a sperm issue. She went on to say, though, that if I was older she would blame it on my eggs. Um, ok. Basically she doesn’t know why the hell this isn’t working, but I’ve heard that song and dance before. I’m totally over it.
I had the foresight to make an appointment with my OB/GYN for tomorrow. I knew I wanted to get some more blood tests done, and that’s the way to go if I want to have any chance of our insurance paying for it. I have to have that repeat beta just to confirm that my numbers have dropped all the way even though my body’s been confirming that all weekend. I’m also going to see about karyotyping, thyroid testing, and having a miscarriage panel done. My RE is totally not into the whole immune issues thing, but I’m going to ask my OB/GYN’s opinion. She specializes in infertility, and I’ve found her pretty knowledgeable in the past. I think my battle plan will be to just go in there tomorrow and have her run any and all tests that she’ll run for me.
I’m going to have a sonohystogram and endometrial biopsy done in a few weeks. I’m going to have both the standard endometrial biopsy, and the one that tests for the beta 3 integrin. The sonohystogram and standard EMB should hopefully be covered by insurance. The beta 3 one won’t be, however. I think it costs $500-600. Plus, I’ll probably have to drop another $500 to have the whole shebang done under anesthesia thanks to my wonky cervix.
I also have a call into my husband’s urologist to find out his opinion on SCSA testing on MESA sperm as well as to see about karyotyping for my husband. From what I’ve read, I’m not sure if the SCSA test will be applicable in our situation, but we’ll see.
I thought I’d be totally into all of this testing, because I’m dying to know what the hell is causing all of these failures. I have to say, though, that I’m dreading it all. I don’t want to go through all of that and spend even more money to find out nothing. On the other hand, I wouldn’t feel comfortable cycling again without doing the testing. My RE is doubtful that we’ll find anything definitive through all of the testing, but I guess there’s always a chance we could discover something that’s playing a role in all of this crap.
It’s so hard to keep fighting. My husband’s convinced his sperm is crap and that nothing we do will work. Who knows if he’s right. The thing is, though, that neither of us are ready to move on to other options: donor sperm, adoption, etc. We’re just not there, but my husband doesn’t think it’s a great idea to keep doling out tens of thousands of dollars for a zero chance of this IVF stuff working. I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep putting ourselves into debt with nothing to show for it, but I’m not sure that we don’t have a chance if we keep trying. I think if we had made crappy embryos then I might be able to jump ship more easily, but we didn’t. We’ve always had a good number of embryos make it to blast. I just don’t get how I keep killing them. [Yes, I know that there’s no real way to know why those embryos aren’t sticking, but that’s how I feel. I feel like my body is failing me.]
What to do, what to do. My husband just wants to be done. I do, too, but only when I’ve got a child in my arms. I guess we’ll see what comes of these tests. Maybe a consult with another RE is in order at some point. I just don’t know. I hate that I have more questions than answers. Can someone please pass a crystal ball?
The Floodgates Have Opened February 25, 2005
The wrath of the post IVF period is upon me, and holy crap, it sucks. Thankfully, I still have a few Vicodin in my stash to get me through the worst of it. It would be preferable, however, just to have someone knock me the fuck out for the next few days. This is just too much fun. Oh, and I’m thinking that repeat beta on Monday to make sure my levels have dropped to zero might be a tad redundant at this point.
Dusting Off the Boxing Gloves February 24, 2005
The fight’s definitely still there. I think one way I know I’m not done with this crap is that my urge to determine the next step is still there. Maybe even stronger than ever. I need to know what comes next. It’s driving me crazy that I have to wait until Monday for my follow up appointment. I even called back today to see if I could get in this week. No such luck, though.
I know I deal with these damn IVF failures in an atypical way. Well, at least that’s the way it seems. So many of my IVF buddies keep throwing that “take a break” phrase at me. I don’t want a break, damn it. I want to keep going. I want to figure out what the hell is wrong and attempt to fix it. I know it helps a lot of people to try to get away from the IVF world (as much as is possible) after a failed cycle. That’s great if it works for them. It doesn’t work for me. I need to be doing something about it. I told my husband the other day that I missed my shots, and I do. It’s not that I miss having a big 1.5 inch needle shoved into my flesh every day. I miss the feeling of doing something about all of this crap.
Since I can’t do anything physically right now, I’ve been researching the hell out of everything I can think of. I’ve been on the internet playing RE for hours and hours the past few days. My head is swirling with stuff like immune testing, sperm dna fragmentation testing, endometrial biopsies, and the list goes on. Sure, I may be driving myself crazy with information about things that may or may not be applicable to our situation, but so what. I’m already crazy. At least I feel like I’m doing something.
Some would call me obsessive. Ok, most would. That’s ok. If this is what it takes for me to get through this shit then so be it. I tend to think I’m a tad obsessive, but I like to think it’s more determination than anything. I’m determined to get through another heartbreak. I’m determined to get answers. I’m determined to try again. I am determined to have a child. One way or another I know that my husband and I will be parents. I have no fucking clue what that way will be or when it will finally happen for us, but I’m not going to retire these boxing gloves until that day arrives.
My Brain’s Too Fried to Think of a Title February 22, 2005
Right now I’m reading When Bad Things Happen to Good People. I actually requested it from the library before I got the results of this cycle. I had a feeling it might come in handy.
There was one part in the introduction to the book that really hit home with me. The author talks about an experiment that was performed to study pain. Participants were tested to see how long they could keep a bare foot in a bucket of ice water. It turns out that they could keep their foot in twice as long if someone else was in the room. The author goes on to say:
The presence of another caring person doubles the amount of pain a person can endure.
I completely agree. Knowing that all of you are “in the room” with me makes me believe that I get through this pain once again.
The fight that I know is in there somewhere will come out one day, hopefully one day soon. I will get through this just like I got through the other heartbreaks. It’s definitely harder this time, though. Much.
I’m not going to pretend I’m ok right now. I’m not. I got drunk last night, slept in til 10 this morning, didn’t take a shower until 2, and had nothing but chocolate to eat until 3. Not pretty. It will get better, though. It has to.
What’s really hard for me is not being able to jump right back into things. I’m sure my body will enjoy a break. Poor thing hasn’t had an unmedicated cycle since July, but my mind doesn’t handle the waiting well. I need to be doing something or it drives me crazy. The thing is, though, that I don’t have a fucking clue what to do. It’s obvious that we can’t just go jumping into another cycle willy nilly. That’s just not working. I have a follow up with my RE when I go back to have my “we need to make sure your levels have bottomed out to a big fat zero” beta on Monday. I’m not holding out hope for groundbreaking answers, though. I’m sure one of these years we’ll figure out what the next step will be. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.
I guess I got sidetracked from my point. Can you tell I’m feeling a tad discombobulated? Anyway, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. How the hell would I make it without you guys?
Why Can’t I Get a Fucking Break? February 21, 2005
It’s over. Beta was 37. I’ve been told to discontinue meds and go back in a week for another beta to make sure it’s dropped to 0.
Where do we go from here? I honestly don’t know. It breaks my heart to think that this might never happen for us. As much as I tried not to get my hopes up, I couldn’t help but feel different after I got a positive beta. What if I never get to feel that again?
After my two previous failed cycles I was devastated but still had some fight left in me. I was determined not to let one/two failed cycles throw me off the track. Now I’m just devastated. I don’t know how to keep fighting. I hope that determination will come back soon. I don’t think my heart could handle it if I had to give up on my dream. I don’t think I’d make it.
So, how do you keep going? How do you keep pouring tens of thousands of dollars into something that has gotten you nowhere? How do you let yourself be vulnerable to sheer and utter heartbreak again?
All I know is that my heart still yearns for a child. That hasn’t changed. Each failure makes me realize even more how much I want this. I’m scared that it’s never going to happen, though. I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life.
But I Was Doing So Well February 20, 2005
I was proud of myself for staying calm, cool, and collected under the circumstances this weekend, but I guess it couldn’t last forever. I am so damn nervous right now. I think there may be actual knots in my stomach. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. I’m just terrified that it’s going to be a devastating day.
Hanging In There February 19, 2005
I guess there’s really not much else to do at this point. Of course I’ve been googling every combination of words possible in reference to low beta situations. I’m not driving myself crazy, though. I know that this could go either way. So, while I’m definitely not celebrating or letting the “p-word” cross my lips, I’m not freaking out either.
I think the reason I’m not in panic mode is because this doesn’t seem real. It’s like I’m watching it happen to someone else. I never expected to get a positive beta, so everything from yesterday’s phone call on has seemed like some kind of weird alternate reality. I guess it just hasn’t sunk in yet.
Monday will be here eventually, and we’ll have more to go on after we get the results of beta #2. I am keeping my fingers crossed that we get a great number, but as we all know, nothing is predictable in this crazy IVF world. I just hope I don’t get snapped right back into reality.
I Guess That Explains It February 18, 2005
The mystery of the shadow lines has been solved. My beta came back at 46, a low positive. Of course this is further than we ever gotten before, but I’m worried. The average beta at 11dp5dt is about 200. According to the IVFer’s HCG Levels in Early Pregnancy Page, a beta in the range of 25-50 at 16 days past ovulation (exactly where I am) results in an ongoing pregnancy at 20 weeks gestation less than 35% of the time.
I know I should stop obsessing over stats. I know I should just be happy to have gotten this far, but it’s hard. I’m wondering how much harder it will be to get a negative after having gotten a positive. I guess the stress and worrying never ends, does it.
I’m going back on Monday for a repeat beta. I’m sure this will be one hell of a long weekend. I guess there’s really nothing I can do at this point, though. I sure won’t be dancing around shouting out the “p-word” at the top of my lungs. No siree. One day at a time, I guess. One fucking day at a time.
Complete Meltdown Mode February 17, 2005
I’m losing it. These HPT’s are completely fucking with my head. Why do I continue to torture myself? I guess once you get on a runaway train it’s not so easy just to hop off.
I took another FRED first thing this morning. I got a very, very faint second line. It’s like a shadow of where a second line should be. When I compared it to the FRED from yesterday morning it looked a lot lighter, but now that it’s dried it looks just a little lighter. I just took another Answer and got the damn shadow line again. What the fuck? I just don’t know what it means.
I’ve been told by many people that the trigger should be totally out of my system by now. It’s been 16+ days, so it really should. I just don’t know what to think of the shadow lines. One second I’m sure that this is over and the next I’m wondering if it’s not. Torture.
The waiting sucked, but this sucks even more. I go in for my beta tomorrow morning and should get the results about 24 hours from now. What a long 24 hours it’s going to be. I feel like such a freak right now. My emotions are out of control. I hate not being in control. I’m definitely ready to get this shadow line situation resolved once and for all. Bring on the beta.
I Hate HPT’s February 16, 2005
Why do I do this to myself? I know that breaking out the HPT’s will only make things worse, yet I do it anyway. My bladder woke me up at 3am this morning, but I was determined to try to wait another hour since it had only been 3 hours since my last trip to the bathroom. I managed to lie there for an hour and got up when I thought I was likely to burst. I pulled out FRED from his box, gave him a good tinkle, and set him down on the counter. I looked over after less than a minute had past and saw white. Fuck. I looked back after only a few seconds and saw a very faint line. I couldn’t believe it. I stared at the damn thing for quite a while, and sure enough there was a very faint second line there. I me
an it was super faint, but it was there.
I tried to go back to sleep with no luck so I got on the computer until my husband’s alarm went off at 6:45. I crawled back into bed with him, and he tapped on my head and whispered, “Do you know?” “No, I really don’t,” I answered. I led him into the bathroom and thrust FRED into his hands.
Me: “Do you see it?”
Him: “I see something.”
Me: “Is it a line?”
Him: “I don’t know.”
My husband didn’t want to talk about it anymore after that. He didn’t want to get his hopes up which I can completely understand.
Obviously there was a tad bit of HCG in my system this morning. The question remains, though, was it the remnants of my trigger shot? You wouldn’t think so, since my trigger was 15 days ago, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been burned by the trigger before. Remember this? My husband and I sure do. That super faint line this morning was just a flashback to that.
I decided to get a second opinion. I went and bought a couple of Answer tests which are supposed to be sensitive to 25 mIU just like FRED. I tested this afternoon with the Answer test and got a shadow of a second line right away that faded into oblivion after a few minutes. This was not a welcome result. It’s looking more and more like my test this morning could in fact just be a result of leftover trigger. Tell me this, though. How the fuck do I still have HCG from the trigger in my system if the half life of Ovidrel is 29 +/- 6 hours when I took 500mcg 15+ days ago? I don’t know how, but it’s seems to be sticking around.
I really don’t have much hope now. I fully expect to pee on another stick tomorrow morning and see nothing but white. I’m sick of this crap. Just sick of it.
Terrified February 15, 2005
I’m terrified of another failed cycle. I’m terrified of another negative beta. I’m terrified of another “I’m so sorry” phone call. I’m terrified of having my heart broken yet again.
I’m still dying to know, though. I’m sure once I get the result I will be wishing I could rewind back into not knowing land, but I still wanna know. I’m really not good with this waiting stuff.
I really don’t feel any different than I did during the two week waits of my other cycles, and that makes me nervous. What makes me the most nervous is the cramping. I know that it can be caused by the progesterone, and I know that some people even think that it’s a good sign but not me. I’ve had this same type of cramping the other two times, so it doesn’t bode well in my mind.
This is torture. It truly is. I am trying my hardest not to get my hopes up, because I know the chances of having the happily ever after ending are slim to none. I want it to have worked so badly, though.
I’m really scared of having to pick myself up off of the floor again. I’m scared of having to pick up the teeny tiny pieces of my heart again. It is so hard. I just don’t know if I have it in me. I’m terrified that I don’t. I mean, how many times can one person survive that?
The FREDs have not come out of their boxes yet, but they are getting rambunctious in there. They want out as soon as possible. I want to let them out, but I don’t. I’m just so scared of seeing that one line again. I know that I’ll break them out sooner rather than later, though. I have to know. I can’t put off the inevitable forever. I just wish this stuff didn’t scare the crap out of me.
Are You Sure It Hasn’t Been Two Weeks Already? February 13, 2005
Time is dragging by as it’s known to do during the two week wait. It seems as though Friday will never get here, although I know it will. Hell, I’ll probably be wishing I was still in the dark come Friday.
As usual, there’s no way I’m waiting until beta day to find out my fate. I know HPTs are evil, but I don’t care. I need to know before I get that phone call. I stocked up on FREDs this weekend. I sure as hell hope I bought the two lined variety this time. You know, they should really start marking that information on the outside of the box. I know there are people out there who really want the one lined ones and end up purchasing the double lined ones, and of course there are people like me who manage the opposite. I think if the damn things were labeled properly we could all just get what we want.
I’ve been really good about documenting all the facts of my three cycles: E2s, follicle sizes, lining measurements, embryo quality, etc. However, besides the bitching and moaning about Lupron headaches and post ER soreness, I haven’t really been good about leaving a record about how I’ve felt physically through all of this. I keep asking my husband things like, “Was I bloated at this point last time?” and “Did I have cramps at this point past transfer?” Like he remembers. I guess it’s a good thing that I have selective amnesia about past cycles, though, because I’m sure I wouldn’t be on cycle #3 otherwise.
I just want to know if the same outcome is on it’s way. Not that any of that info would really help. I’m fully aware that everything I’m feeling right now is due to my friend, PIO.
The sore boobs, the mild cramping, the frequent urination, the vivid dreams. All credit to the mighty progesterone. Why does this crap have to fuck with my brain so much even though I know better? I guess it’s because even though I’ve been in this same position before it does nothing to help the “not knowing” factor. I’m really not good with that.
I think the two week wait crazies have hit me harder this cycle. I think I did a better job of staying calm during my other cycles. I think this time I’m even more anxious to have this work. I just don’t know how many more chances I’ll have at this. It just keeps feeling more and more like it’s now or never.
What’s My Deal? February 11, 2005
Unfortunately I know the answer to that question. I’m just one big hormonal mess these days, but what’s a girl to do. I swear, I really need to get a grip on this crying thing. It’s getting old fast.
I’m feeling a little better than I have been, but it’s tough. This progesterone stuff is kicking my butt. Not quite as literally as my past cycles (I can still sleep on my side and walk around without wincing) but I’m sooooo tired. Thank goodness I can sleep in or take a nap when need be. I just don’t know how working gals survive. I think I’d be falling asleep on the job if I had to work right now.
I’m also a pretty cranky thing. I’m letting anything and everything get to me. Last night my husband and I wrote our thank you note to his grandparents, and it literally took me 30 minutes and 3 different notecards to finish my part. I had even typed out what I had wanted to say on the computer so I could just copy it, and it still gave me fits. At one point I almost just printed out my Word document and just glued that sucker to the notecard. I finally managed to get the darn thing finished, but man, I was definitely having words with the notecard at that point. I guess I really should type less and write more, so this doesn’t happen so often in the future. I doubt that’s going to happen, though.
I’ve also been having fights with my brain lately. It keeps going into “what if” mode, and I will have none of it. I don’t mind if it starts thinking along the lines of “what if this doesn’t work yet again?” It’s ok to go there, but what I cannot handle is when the darn thing starts in with “what if this actually does work?” I just have to put my foot down there. It’s being a very stubborn thing, though, my brain.
I’m trying hard to stay neutral. I can’t help but get nervous, though. I’m also trying hard not to totally lose it, but I’m pretty sure my husband would say that I’m not doing too well with that either. I know I’m going to make it through this darn 2ww, but it’s going to be one hell of a long week until my beta.
I’m Tired February 8, 2005
I’ve been trying to figure out a back up plan in case/when this IVF fails. I’ve blogged about it before and have continued to think about it, but I still don’t have the foggiest notion about what comes next. It’s tiring to have to be constantly trying to come up with another Plan B. Haven’t we gone through enough of them already?
It’s hard to be staring at the end of the road. I can look out and see where the damn thing just ends out of nowhere, and we’re getting closer and closer. IVF is tough, but it’s a billion times tougher when you’re nearing the end. Before we started our first IVF I had hope that it would work eventually. I don’t now. I’m all hoped out.
Our options are becoming more limited. It appears that my cervix is closely related to Fort Knox, and will do everything possible to keep anything and everything from entering the premises. This would include catheters containing our embryos, donor embryos, or donor sperm. It seems that my cervix does not like any of the options under the ART umbrella. Well, there may be one exception: ZIFT. Having our embryos inserted laparoscopically into my tubes would bypass the whole cervix situation. Of course this is even more expensive than a regular IVF cycle and carries with it the same uncertainties that we’ve already been dealing with.
Then there’s adoption. I’m trying really hard to educate myself about adoption. I’ve checked out an armful of books from the library, perused adoption agency websites, and scoured adoption message boards, but the more I try to look into adoption, the more unsure I become. Maybe I’m scared to move on. Maybe it’s just not right for me. Maybe I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I guess I need to table operation Plan B for now. I know that it will make for a harder landing if I don’t have a backup plan come beta day, but I’m getting nowhere right now. Maybe I just need to wait until after cycle #3 comes to an end. I’m just worn out right now. So damn worn out.
*Disclaimer* I know it seems as though I have given up all hope that this cycle will work. Basically, I have. It’s not that I don’t want it to work. I want it to work with all of my heart. I can’t even begin to explain how much I want to see a second line this time. I’m just having a really tough time with the fact that this could be the last chance we get at having bio kids. Who really knows what we’ll decide to do should we face another failed cycle, but I have to acknowledge the fact that this could be it. So, I’m going to have to ask for a big favor. Could you guys just hope for me? I just can’t bring myself to do it again. It’s too hard. I hate the fact that I’m sitting here in tears right now, because I can’t bring myself to have hope for these three little embryos. I want this so badly, but it’s just so hard. So hard to let myself hope. It just hurts my heart, ya know.
I was literally about to hit the “Publish Post” button just now when the phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, and it was my RE’s office. I figured someone was just calling to see how I was doing. That was partially true, but then my IVF coordinator gave me some news that shocked me to the core. The embryologist continued to culture our “stuck” embryos overnight and three of the 8 celled ones made it to blast and were frozen. They went from 8 cells yesterday to blast this morning. I guess they decided to make up for lost time or something. One is grade 4 and the other two are grade 3, so they’re not awesome blasts, but I don’t care. I’m just so relieved. My IVF coordinator said that grade 3 is average and that they’ve seen pregnancies result from grade 3 blasts before.
I hung up the phone and IM’d my husband to call home when he got a chance. He called right away but could not understand a single word I was saying because I was bawling so hard. I just can’t believe it. Here I am writing a post about the end, and I get a call telling us that we have another chance should this cycle not work. When I was on the phone with my husband I kept sobbing, “It’s not the end” over and over again.
I thought about just deleting the first part of this post and writing a new “good news” post, but I decided to leave it all. It just goes to show that IVF is full of unexpected twists and turns that can hit at any time. Holy crap. We have frozen embryos.
Could I Please Make It Through One Transfer Without Crying? February 7, 2005
I wish I could write some awesome post about how many perfect embryos we had or how smoothly my transfer went, but if you know my luck, you probably knew that wasn’t going to happen. Things definitely could have gone better today. Of course they could have always gone worse, too.
Immediately after being called back I wanted to know how our embryos were doing. I didn’t like what I heard. Only 3 of our embryos made it to blast. So much for our great track record. Two of the other ones got stuck at 4 cells, and the other five got stuck at 8 cells, all sucky grades. It made our decision about how many to transfer easy, though. We transferred 1 grade 5 blast and 2 grade 4 blasts. We’ve only ever transferred grade 5 (the highest) blasts before, so this report was not what I had hoped for.
My IV was quite an experience. The anesthesiologist decided that my bruised hand was probably not the way to go, so she decided to use my left hand. I told her that the last IV that was placed in that hand was very difficult going in. So, what did she decide to do? Just stick the IV in there without shooting my hand up with Lidocaine first. Of course, I didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late, but holy crap that hurt. She said that difficult veins often get more difficult with the use of Lidocaine, so she made the call to do without. I’m sure that’s easy to do when you’re not the one getting the IV. After she was done with the torture she said, “Now this is a quick and easy procedure.” I quickly replied, “Well, you’ve never been in one of my transfers before, though.” I would soon have her eating her words.
My transfer sucked as usual. I shouldn’t expect anything less. My cervix would have nothing to do with the catheters, so my RE decided to dilate my cervix like last time. Well, my cervix would have nothing to do with that either and refused to dilate. So, my RE went back to the “yank at the tenaculum and keep trying different catheters” method until she finally got one to slip past the 90 degree turn and scar tissue in my cervix. It took about 40 minutes total. Afterwards I was told that my transfer would have literally been impossible without the anesthesia.
I really wasn’t in the best of moods today. Who could blame me? What didn’t help was the fact that everyone else was so damn chipper. I swear if I had hear “Stay positive” or “It just takes one” one more time I would have lost it. I hate that crap so much. Sure it’s easy to stay positive if you haven’t already gone through two failed cycles and don’t have the whole difficult transfer thing to worry about, and I made that point known.
I got my beta scheduled earlier this time. I asked my IVF coordinator about it before my transfer, but afterwards she said, “So we’ll schedule your beta for two weeks from today.” I reminded her that we agreed that I could come in on Friday the 18th instead. You want to know her reply? “Sure thing. Whatever Amanda wants, Amanda gets.” It wasn’t a snide remark at all. She was totally being sincere. I guess the fact that I was sitting there in tears couldn’t have hurt in the sympathy department.
To be honest, I’m not holding out too much hope for this cycle. We used embryo glue this time, so I guess in theory that could make a difference, but who really knows. I just don’t know what I’m going to do if none of these embryos decide to stick. I really need to get working on that backup plan pronto.
I Can’t Sleep
I’ve been awake since 5am and have been tossing and turning to no avail since then. I finally decided that it was doing me no good to lie there with thoughts spinning through my head. I might as well get them out. This is the first time I’ve been really nervous this cycle. I guess it makes sense. Transfer day is not one of the easiest parts of an IVF cycle for me like it is for most people. In fact, it’s one of the most difficult.
I’ve got to deal with the whole IV issue again. Not that IV’s are usually that big of a deal, but today should be interesting. I can’t decide whether to go with my left hand with the “thick walled vein” that gave the anesthesiologist so much trouble, and thus me so much pain, during my last transfer or to go with my right hand that is still a lovely shade of green from my IV on Wednesday. This isn’t just a little bruise where the IV was inserted. Oh, no. The entire top of my hand is green with some red blotches thrown in for good measure.
I’m really worried about two things, though: our embryos and the actual transfer. Our day three report did set my mind at ease a bit, but who knows what could have happened in the two days since then. Will we have enough to transfer? Will we perchance have some to freeze so that I don’t have to think of the forthcoming negative beta as the end?
The actual transfer scares the crap out of me. Not because I’m worried about the pain factor like the first time. That’s what the anesthesia’s there for. No, It’s just that I know that with every additional manipulation comes a drop in our chances of success. Use the tenaculum? Well, I guess it could be worse. Have to manually dilate my cervix? Oh, we’re screwed now. Difficult transfers don’t make for great success rates, and whether or not I actually feel or remember any of it makes no difference.
Hopefully I’ll have good news to report later today, but who the fuck really knows. All I know is that I want it to be over already.
Sometimes It Pays to be Pushy February 5, 2005
Maybe I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m pushy, but I definitely make every attempt to get my way when something’s important. I’m sure I bug the crap out of the staff at my RE’s office. I’m the patient who asks any and all questions that pop into her head. I’m the patient who grabs a notepad and pen anytime a dildocam is in sight. I’m the patient who requests a butterfly needle for blood draws even though the phlebotomist is only given so many a month. I’m the patient who needs to find out every piece of information that goes into her chart.
My RE has a few policies that I don’t quite agree with, but I’ve found that I can get away with a lot of things that “aren’t usually done” if I ask. One of these policies regards betas. My RE has her patients come in for a beta 14 days past transfer even for 5 day transfers. Now 14dp5dt is just too long to wait in my opinion. For my first cycle I got my beta scheduled for 13dp5dt. For my second cycle I got it scheduled for 12dp5dt. For this cycle I’ll be pushing for 11dp5dt. I wonder how many other patients bargain for their beta date.
Another policy that gets on my nerves is that if the decision is made to do a 5 day transfer then the patient is given no information on their embryos after the fertilization report. You’re just supposed to wait until you show up for transfer to find out how your embryos did. Not gonna cut it for me. I need a day 3 report darn it. I asked my IVF coordinator to request a day 3 report from the embryologist for me even though my day 3 fell on the weekend. Again, I don’t know how many people do this, but I imagine the majority just go along with what they’re told.
My persistence paid off, and I got my day 3 report today. Out of our 10 embryos we have (grade 5 being highest):
6 eight cell grade 5
2 eight cell grade 4
2 four cell grade 4
I’m pleased with that. This is a very comparable report to last time, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll have some good looking blasts on day 5 again. At least now I’ll be able to sleep knowing that we’ll probably have at least something to transfer on Monday.
I have no qualms about being a pushy patient. It’s not like I’m ever rude about it. I always ask nicely, and thankfully I’ve always gotten what I’ve needed. I actually think that the staff at my RE’s office feels sorry for me. Part of that stems from the fact that I’m on cycle three, but I don’t think that’s all of it. I think that anyone who was in the room during my first ET has a little extra sympathy for me. Hey, I’ll take it. Something good had to come out of that excruciating experience. So, I’ll continue to ask my questions and bug everyone with my requests if that’s what it takes to help me through all of this.
Couldn’t Ask for Much Better February 3, 2005
I just got the call. All 11 of my eggs were mature, and 10 fertilized with ICSI. I am beyond relieved. We’re scheduled for a 5 day transfer on Monday at 9:30 unless something dramatic happens between now and then. Apparently, all 10 of our embryos look normal so far, so that’s good. Last time two-thirds of our embryos made it to blast, so hopefully we’ll have at least a few left by Monday.
I’m still really sore. Yesterday required three doses of Vicodin, but so far I have managed to survive drug free today. I’m still in bed, though. Sitting all the way up is just not going to happen today. Thank goodness for wireless.
Thank Goodness for Vicodin February 2, 2005
We got 11 eggs at retrieval this morning. I’ll get the call sometime tomorrow letting me know how many were mature and how many fertilized. I’m hoping to get enough to be able to go to blast again, but who really knows. I was in quite a bit of pain by the time I got home, so I popped a Vicodin and took a nap. I don’t know what I would do without pain meds.
I spoke to my vet this afternoon about the treatment options for Dixie. We decided to start with meds. I had been leaning toward the radioactive iodine treatment, but there’s one major problem with that. I want to get her started on treatment ASAP, but that would mean bringing a radioactive cat into my house during the 2ww. They keep them at the kitty hospital until they’re at a safe level, but they’re still emitting radiation when they come home. I’ve read some about it, and it’s not a good idea to do during pregnancy. I seriously doubt I’ll actually get pregnant this cycle. It’s not like I’ve got a stellar track record, but I can’t risk it. We’ve been through too much to get to this point. I did find out that the thyroid medication is available in a transdermal lotion that you can just apply to the ear. That’s what we’ve decided to try first, since Dixie cannot stand to take pills. If she doesn’t tolerate the meds then we can always do the radioactive iodine treatment at a later date. I think this is a good starting point, though, given her age and my 2ww situation.
older posts »