One

It's going to be a long one...

I had my follow up appointment today - CD7. What a horrible experience. It feels so sterile and isolating in the waiting room. It's a newly renovated space, with modern leather seats and a small water fridge, but it lacks warmth and character. No one talk to anyone so you can hear a pin drop. It felt so much like an assembly line. They were calling us in by 2's to get the blood work done. One woman woul go into a curtained off area while the other would wait outside in a chair. The chair happened to be back where they did the procedures. I heard a woman getting ready for her egg retrieval, then I was called in to get my blood drawn. It was a man today, I didn't really catch his name. And, even when I corrected him on the pronunciation of my name he still said it wrong. He then had me sit down and he looked at my left arm. No good. Then the right arm. Again no good. Apparently I don't have good veins. He then drew blood, I think, from one of the bigger veins in my right arm. I told him I wasn't good with needles and to warn me when it was going in. He mustn't have heard me. I didn't get a warning. And, it hurt. More than it's ever hurt having blood drawn before. He didn't even apologize. Then I was sent back to the morgue, waiting room. whatever.

Did I mention a woman came with her Mom and her baby? The Grandmother was Eastern European and kept saying "come on be good" sternly to the crying baby. I mentioned the child was screaming - right?

Then I was called in for my ultrsound. This time there was no confusion about where I was supposed to be. I hopped up on the correct bed, cooter cam was inserted and I started asking a few questions. Did they check for antral follies the last time. Answer, yes, and he only saw the two on my left ovary. Oh. Again, after 5 days of Letr.ozole, nothing on the right and wait for it, one follie, 1.54 cm on my left ovary. And, oh, oops the other one wasn't a follie it was my artery. Great.

I was then told that we were done and to go see Nice nurse for my meds. Injections began today. Nice nurse gave me the meds and sent me on my way. I was forced to ask questions about when to give the meds, if it had to be at the same time each day etc, in the lobby, in front of everyone. I then paid my bill, forgetting to have my parking validated, and rushed out of the clinic.

I cried all the way down the elevator, out of the building, across the road, into the parking lot and down to my car. One fucking follicle. one. The Let.rozole did nothing.

I got home and held it together for a while. But, this afternoon I really broke down while talking with H. I haven't cried like that at any point along this struggle.

I was incredibly disappointed in the clinic and how impersonal the whole process was. I thought I would meet my nurse and she would talk to me at each visit. That there would be the opportunity to ask questions and get reassurances. It truly felt like a baby factory. These are the people I'm putting my faith in?!

So, that brings me to tonight. I gave myself my first shot. I was going to wait until 8pm, but I was so nervous that by 7:15 I couldn't wait any longer. I decided to just get it over with. I went in the kitchen and assembled my pen, I stood shaking and red-faced as I sunk the needle into my belly. It didn't hurt. I was suprised and how much it felt like I was pushing a needle into really heavy sponge.

I'm on 100iu of Pur.egon. I do not have faith that it will do anything for me. I realized during my meltdown with H. that this cycle will be about seeing what works for me. I'm sure that the next cycle they will up my Let.rozole. And, on Tuesday when I go back they'll up the Pur.egon.

The other thing that happened today was that H. and I really talked about what we want to do. How far we want to take things. I realized that adoption is not an option I want to explore, at least not right now. And, H. is on the fence about it. I'm not opening this up to a discussion on the merits of adoption. We know what is right for us. We also agreed that we will not beat a dead horse so to speak. That we'll talk about where we are in the process as we go along and see if it makes sense to continue. We'll definitely do another IUI and we'll do at least one IVF. But, we're both hoping that depending on how my body responds, that we'll know when to throw in the towel.

I know that this is sounding so down and doubtful. I do have hope that we will get pregnant. But, today really brought home what we are up against. It opened my eyes that this will probably not be a walk in the park.

Last Post

I have taken down the last post because I don't know how to mark it as private or even if I can mark a post as private in blogger. I am linked to another blog that my friends could happen upon and I am not ready to have a discussion with them about the last post.

CD3 Blood Work & Ultrasound

I made it through and it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. The worst part was the nurse who was taking my blood. She didn’t seem very confident about actually getting any blood out of veins – too deep and little, one false move and it can be a huge bruise. I thought I was about to become a pin cushion, but luckily she was moved with stealth and took the sample.

Back to the waiting room I went to sit with my hubby. H. was kind enough to sit with me and hold my hand so to speak. Except that we argued the whole time – awkward! Totally packed, quiet, waiting room full of other infertiles and hubby decides he wants to discuss everything about our relationship. I, of course, didn’t make things better because the more he pushed and prodded me to talk the more I dug in my heels not to. I don’t know if any of the other people noticed – there noses were buried so deep in their papers and magazines, but I’m sure they did. I was completely embarrassed. You see in H’s family if you have a problem or want to discuss something you just do it, if it enters their head they share it. It doesn’t matter where you are or with whom. I on the other hand come from a family where it doesn’t matter if 5 minutes before you were going to leave for a party everyone was at each others’ necks spewing venom, the minute you were out that door the smiles were pasted on and everything was hunky dory. No one thought my family ever had quarrels because we never aired our dirty laundry in public. These two very different mindsets collided this morning in the RE’s office. Add to it that I was extremely stressed about what was going to occur – I was about to be violated by a man holding a wand – and well, I’m sure you get the idea.

We arrived at the clinic at 8:20 (I slept through my alarm, I wanted to get there for 7am), had my blood work within 20 minutes and then waited until 9:40 or so for the ultrasound. Here’s where I was the ultimate newbie. They called my name and I followed the nurse down the hallway, she pointed to a room and said go in there to get changed there’s a sheet on the counter. I went into the exam room, got undressed, put on some socks ‘cause I was wearing smelly shoes and didn’t want the doctor overwhelmed by my smelly feet, hopped up on the bed between the stirrups and covered myself with the sheet. And, waited. Then I heard faintly Sweet Georgia you can come in now. Thought to myself “hmm, there must be another Sweet Georgia since I’m in here already” then I heard them say it again. “Why would they be calling me when I’m already waiting for them and how come the sound is coming from the next room behind the adjoining door” I groused. Then the adjoining door opened and a little Asian man stuck his head through the door inviting me to join them next door. How was I to know? This was my first time. In my haste and through many apologies on my part, I never did get the little man’s name as he wanded me. There was a woman in the room as well, after asking me several personal questions (when did your period start, how many pregnancies, so no live children blah blah blah) she finally introduced herself. The little man said that my right ovary was quiet, but on the left I had two follicles one 1.3cm and the other 1.4cm, also my lining was .5 I believe. He said that we’d have to check my estrogen to make sure they don’t turn into cysts. After the appointment I put my clothes back on and headed back up to reception. I had to pay an admin fee of $200 and an additional $300 for the IUI. I was also given my prescription for Letrozole.

So now I’m just waiting for the call with the results of my blood work.

Just a minute

Hmmm, if you think about things long enough some times they actually come true. The clinic just called me. I’m not pregnant (all the blood and the low temperatures had already confirmed that), my FSH is 7.2 (Down from 12!!!!!!!) and my Estrogen is 115.

I’m ecstatic.

Now I’m off to get my prescription filled. I go back to the clinic on Saturday.

On to IUI #1

When I’m talking to a “fertile” about my problems and hear the hyperbole that is spat back at me, there’s a quote from Dirty Dan.cing that always gets stuck in my head “Baby? Is that your name? Well you know what Baby? You don't know shit about my problems.” I say this to myself, while I’m nodding and agreeing that of course I just have to relax and go on vacation.

IUI #1 starts this week. Tomorrow I go for Day 3 blood work and ultrasound. My first ultrasound while on my period. Yuck. I know most fertility challenged women have to go through this, but oh my gawd, I find this disgusting. I mentioned it to a friend and she said I’m sure the Dr.’s have done it before so they won’t find it disgusting. Um, I was talking about me. Having some foreign object shoved in my nether regions while bleeding. Blech. At least I don’t need a full bladder for it.

I was hoping against hope that it wouldn’t come to this. That I would be one of those lucky women that narrowly avoid the procedures by getting a “miracle, natural pregnancy”. I snort in their general direction. Not that I really care about a natural pregnancy. I don’t think it makes it any better or worse – a pregnancy is a pregnancy. I was just hoping to avoid having to give needles to myself. I am willing to do whatever is necessary to get pregnant, but the needles give me the heebeegeebees. Especially the trigger shot.

But, here I am putting the cart before the horse; I have to pass my bloodwork first. It’s time to see if the FSH has skyrocketed or not. If my FSH is too high will they cancel the procedure? What if I don’t have any antral follicles (I think that’s what they’re called)? I know I’ll handle whatever comes and I do just need to relax. (did I just say that?!)

Update on my Dad. He’s out of the hospital and home. He had another small heart attack last week and has inflammation around the stent. He will be fine. He’s got a really good cardiologist and will be starting rehab soon. Neither he nor my Mom is sleeping through the night. My Mom has lost 8lbs in a week and a half due to the stress. I’m worried that she’s going to make herself ill.

Thank-you to everyone for your kind words and support around my Father’s illness, it is really appreciated.

wow

So many comments! I forgot that ICLW was starting. I apologize for not doing my part yet. My father is back in the hospital - hopefully out today. It's been another stressful week - he's been in the hospital since Tuesday. He had another heart attack - just a small one this time. They had to do another angiogram. They found a small clot, but it's at the end of a small branch of a vein and there isn't anything that they can do for it. Also, there's some inflammation around the stent, so he's taking tyle.nol every 4 hours to see if that will bring it down. I hope it works.

Catharsis

It’s hard for me to put into words what my parents mean to me. I never had to worry about whether they loved me or not and because I was so sure of my love I really abused it when I was a teenager – particularly my Mom’s love. I don’t know what it was or why I did it, but I rebelled. Not in a violent or self-abusing way, not criminally or with drugs, in a much meaner way – mentally. I just basically rejected her, took her for granted and drove her crazy. It shames me, how I treated here. I have to remind myself that I was a teenager, a child, and that I wasn’t completely in charge of myself at that time. I have apologized many times. I don’t know if the damage caused by those years can ever be erased, but I know that we are forming, have formed, a much stronger relationship as adults.

As for my Dad, he seemed to always take a backseat to my Mom. I know, knew, that he loves me. He was always there, but I never really had much of a relationship with him. We didn’t do things together. A few times we went skiing or to baseball/hockey games, but other than that not much. I think he didn’t know how to relate to me as a teenager, but as a kid he could wrestle with me or tickle me until I almost peed my pants, just be goofy. Despite that I worshipped him, was totally Daddy’s little girl. My Mom used to say I was exactly like him and that made me glow inside. Wherever he was in a room I wanted to sit beside him. I still feel like I idolize him a little. No man will ever truly measure up to him. Don’t misunderstand me, H. is an amazing husband, he loves me so much and takes care of me. He is an equally good man, but he’s not my Dad (thank gawd, or that would be a little weird).

I think my Mom got a bit of a raw deal because she was the one that got the brunt of everything with me. She was the one laying down the law, doing the work of raising me. I think she always thought I loved my Dad more. I didn’t it just was different.

Thinking about having a baby and what it really means to be a parent has made me think a lot about my childhood. There are a lot of things I would do the same as my parents; there aren’t many thing that I would change. I think the only thing I’d do a little more is praise my child a little more, let them know that they’re loved and that they make me proud every day. Also, try to realize that saying things in anger can be extremely hurtful and can change a child’s view of themselves.

I remember when I was around 14 and being a complete bitch, arguing with my Mom she yelled at me that she loved me because she had to because I was her daughter, but she didn’t like me very much. It hurts as much today to think about it as it did 23 years ago. There’s a part of me still that is not sure that my Mom really likes me as person. Our relationship has changed for the better so much, but I’m still seeking her approval.

For the record, there were many many instances of great love expressed and shared in our home, laughter and tears and fun. It’s a shame that one angry argument can cast a shadow on all of it.

Sigh. This is really getting away from why I started this post. My point was really to say that I love them both and am proud that they’re my parents. I hope that I can be as good a parent when it’s my turn.

Hope or not

Do you ever feel like there’s a finite amount of good luck around at any one time? In this world of IF I have the feeling that only so many of us are allowed good news at any one time. A girl on one of the IF boards I post to announced that she’s pregnant. I am absolutely ecstatic for her – she’s really had to slug it out to get to this – still an early beta of 650 have to confirm doubling etc – but she got the BFP. Now there are other people in my world that are about to test – as am I if I make it a few more days – and it started me thinking. We can’t all get BFPs – it just doesn’t happen that way. So, who will be the “lucky” ones that do and who will be the ones that don’t? How is it determined who will and who won’t? I wonder sometimes if it’s all random or if there is some divine power saying yes to you, no to others. My FIL would probably be able to spout some mathematical equation that explains the outcomes.

I don’t know, I just feel like I am always the one who has to wait in this scenario.

I’ll let you in on a little secret – I have hope again. She snuck in during the night. She’s planting ideas in my head that maybe that twinge I felt was really something rather than just gas, that the heartburn is a symptom rather than just the aftermath of a late dinner. On the one hand I’m kind of glad that she’s here because it means that I haven’t given up, but on the other hand it means that I am being set up for all kinds of disappointment.

It makes me wonder, is it better to have hope or not?

Oh the Irony

First things first – my Dad is doing fine. He’s at home now. It was a whirlwind few days, but he was very luck in that he had the worst of the heart attacks at the hospital where they were able to treat it quickly. Because of this, the damage to his heart muscle was minimal, he now has a stent in one of his arteries and the heart should repair the damage that the heart attacks caused. Now, he’s home and can’t drive or play golf for 4 weeks. That is true punishment for him.

An extraordinarily nice thing happened as well, when we got home from the hospital on Thursday night, one of the neighbours had come and cut my parents’ lawn. It’s a pretty big property and was really appreciated. It’s amazing how people just kind of circle the wagons and pitch in when there’s an emergency.

Now onto my little bit of irony – I ovulated. According to FF, I O’d on CD17. You may remember this post , well, seems I was wrong. My chart doesn’t look ‘normal’ in comparison to past charts, but anyway apparently I did. We did the deed like crazy over that time period, so who knows? I thought we were completely out of the game, so it’s nice to know that at least we gave ourselves a really good chance of getting pg and if we don’t then I’ll be happy to move on to IUI.

I have said it before that I really want to have kids now because #1 I don’t want to be too old to enjoy the kids and #2 I don’t want my parents to be too old to enjoy their grandchildren. The heart attack made me even more aware of the ticking clock.

In case your interested - here's my chart.

Family Emergency

I'll make this a quick one. My father had a heart attack on Wednesday - oh ya, yesterday. He's fine. He had an angiogram today and is having an angioplasty tomorrow. It's been a very stressful 24 hours. It feels like it's been much longer than that. I'm glad he's ok. Wow, is that ever an understatement.

As for me - no ovulation this month. Oh well. I should have AF by next Wednesday and then it's on to IUI #1.

One of the big stresses for me around my fertility or lack thereof, is that my parents are older, but still young enough to be active grandparents. I know that they cannot wait to be grandparents. The thought that my Dad might not be around to see his grandkids scared the living crap out of me.

Sorry I haven't read your blogs/commented lately - I will do better!

A Dark Day

Today is CD17 and I still haven’t ovulated. I have never ovulated this late in a cycle and I am getting very upset. As I’ve said before, this is our last cycle before IUI & injectibles. We really wanted to give it one last try at a natural pg prior to the IUI route. How can we give it one last try if I don’t ovulate?!

Then there is this mental game I’m playing with myself – the” well it could still happen, but what if it doesn’t happen”, “stop worrying about it you’re putting too much stress on yourself.” “Oh ya, I must keep a positive attitude, don’t want to stress. It won’t happen if I’m stressed out.” one. The stress from not stressing is really getting to me.

On top of everything else, as this cycle continues, I’m realizing that I really don’t want to do an IUI and I really don’t want to give myself injections. I am not ready for that next step. It’s such a quandary because I don’t feel ready, but I feel a very real sense of time running out. So, I don’t really have any other option but going forward with it.

Most of all I’m so scared that the IUI won’t work. H. and I haven’t discussed how far we’re willing to go, how much money we’re willing to spend etc. I have read so many blogs or seen people’s stats on the high FSH boards, where the women have been through procedure after procedure after procedure with no baby at the end. It terrifies me.

Superstitious

There are so many things I want to write about, but I feel like if I put them out there in the world that I am tempting fate. Things about this being our last natural cycle before the medicated IUI. Or, the fact that I haven’t ovulated yet.

I feel like if I actually talk about good things that I think are about to happen for me or my family that they actually never materialize (or good things I want to happen). For instance, H. is still looking for a job and in the past I have talked about big interviews that are coming up for him that I think he’s got a real shot at. Then nothing comes from them and I’m left saying “nope, he didn’t get it” and thinking that damn I shot my mouth off again.

So, I won’t write my thoughts down, but perhaps through mental telepathy I can send my thoughts to you.

On a completely different note – I am a bit weird when it comes to my health. If I have something wrong with me, I automatically think the worst (like the time I found a lump on my back and it turned out to be my rib. Seriously.) I am taking DHEA and I’ve heard its virtues expounded – recently I’ve heard of some of the side effects that can happen. For instance, if you have a cancerous growth then you shouldn’t be taking it because DHEA will make it grow more rapidly. So, now I’m thinking – geez, what if I had a small growth that I didn’t know about and now I’m taking the DHEA and that small growth is growing and growing. What if it starts to spread? Could I be killing myself while trying to get pregnant? Then the sane part of myself says “Get a hold of yourself, you don’t have cancer and you’re not killing yourself” I know logically I’m fine. I know physically I’m fine. But that little part of me that worries about anything and everything can sometimes get me going down very dark, depressing paths.

Hi

The med-teaching session went pretty well. I will be doing pu.regon (100 per day) so the nurse wasn’t sure if I need to use the pen or a regular needle with vials. So, I was taught how to use both. I didn’t actually have to inject myself instead I used this squishy square thing that was supposed to simulate what it’s like to inject my big fat belly. Ugh. I was so nervous, but managed to follow the instructions to a ‘T’. The nurse even had me use the big needle to suck all of the meds out of the vial. She wanted to make sure that I don’t end up wasting any of it. It was slightly traumatic for me – I hate needles! But, the needle does look kind of insignificant. I know when push comes to shove that I will be able to do it. I’m such a wimp – I know it’s going to hurt, but not a lot and I’m making this into such a bigger deal than it needs to be.

We had a good weekend, it was a long weekend here in Toronto – Monday was Simcoe day. We didn’t do much, but we did go to a BBQ at my parents’ place. It was nice; the food was good, there were lots of bottles of wine and lots of laughs. Definitely a great way to spend the evening.

Today I heard a story about a friend of a friend’s wife’s sister. Just when you think you’ve got things bad, you hear one of these stories and then you feel so much better about your own life. The story goes that a year ago, the woman was 6 months pregnant and her husband owned his own trucking company. One of his trucks crashed into a government protected sanctuary and its oil dumped into the pone. The clean up cost $300000 and the man had let his insurance lapse. So, he had to declare bankruptcy. They lost their house and had to move into a trailer. Then the man got a job driving trucks. Now, I don’t know if you’re familiar with trucks at all, but the gas tank has a dipstick similar to the oil dipstick in your car. You use that dipstick to find out how much gas is left in the tank. Anyway, the guy was dipping the metal stick into the gas tank and somehow he scraped it against the side of the tank – causing sparks. The gas tank blew up throwing the man back from the truck and subsequently burning the man’s face and upper body. While he was in the hospital, his pregnant wife took over his truck route so that he wouldn’t lose his job and that they would still have an income. He is severely scarred, but is now out of the hospital, he has taken back his truck route and his wife had a healthy baby. Things look to be getting back on track, but they had a horrendous year. My heart goes out to these people at the same time somewhere in me, guiltily, I don’t feel quite as bad about my life.

The Ball is Rolling

Guess what I’m doing this afternoon? I’ll give you a hint it rhymes with schmuregon pen. I’m going to a med-teaching session this afternoon where I will be learning how to inject myself with a pu.regon pen. I am feeling a little freaked by the thought of injecting myself.

Earlier this week I emailed my clinic to say that we will be starting our first IUI cycle later on this month (BTW – can you believe it’s August already?!) and I wanted to know if there was anything that I should be doing to prepare for it. I also wanted to know how the process works.

A wonderful part-time nurse, let’s call her, Friendly, called me yesterday to give me the 411. First she asked if I’d been taking all of the supplements that Dr. Handsome had suggested (DHEA, CoQ10 etc). Then she said I would need to come in for a med-teaching session since I will be using the magical pen. Lo and behold, they had a cancellation for Friday afternoon – can I make it? So, I said yes.

In two hours I will be learning how to inject myself. I’m feeling a little apprehensive. Will I have to actually give myself an injection this afternoon? OMG I think I might be sick. I know thousands of people do this every day, and I know it’s not the end of the world – the needles are tiny etc etc. I just never thought that I would be one of them.

The rest of the call covered the IUI process. Call them on CD1, blood work on CD2 or CD3 to test my hormones (I’m already starting to worry that my FSH will be sky high), ultrasound to check out the ovaries for any old follies then the injections start, then monitoring to make sure the ovaries respond accordingly, then trigger and then the magical IUI. We won’t know until that time whether it will be a single or double IUI.

It’s good to know what to expect. I’m going to try not to worry too much about things until they actually happen.