...I am hosting a baby shower.
Yeah, am I fucking nuts or what?
The quick story behind the baby shower is that I agreed to host it while in the happy throes of pregnancy #1 last fall. I have two very good girlfriends from MBA school. We all landed in Portland and see each other often. Complete coincidence but we all ended up getting married in the same year. And now we’re all in baby mode. So we agreed during lunch one day that we would take turns hosting each other’s baby showers.
This was before I became "the-friend-with-the-fertility-problems."
This was before I even imagined I would miscarry once. Not to mention twice.
By the time it came around to actually planning the shower, it was too late to back out.
Part of me wanted to challenge myself with this. "You are strong-like-bull, Ms. Planner" I told myself. In some weird way, graciously hosting this shower and being genuinely happy for the new mother would prove to myself that I have this whole fertility thing in rational perspective. That I haven’t let it rule my life. If I wasn’t struggling with this, I would still host a shower, right?
The other part of me desperately doesn’t want to become THAT friend. You know, the one who you dread calling with your happy pregnancy news. The one who everyone tiptoes around at social events. The one who everyone asks curiously, "so how are you doing?" Mostly because I’m not there yet. Seriously, with the exception of my friend who went off the pill in January, doesn’t chart, barely knows when she ovulates and is now pregnant with twins due on my due date, I have not been upset when others have shared their good news. In fact, I swear that my heart has nothing but happiness for them. In short, to me, turning down my obligation to host this shower would be an admission that I had in fact become THAT friend.
But really, I must admit that the major reason I didn’t think hosting this shower would be a problem was because I honestly thought I had a great shot of being pregnant for it. Probably a good thing I didn’t bet money on it.
That last part of my rationale makes me sad.
If it is any consolation, the new mom (this is a post-baby shower, so the new little guy will be co-guest-of-honor) also suffered a miscarriage with her first baby and then took almost a year to get pregnant again. And she is a year older than I am. So I have her story, which gives me hope.
And, Ms. Planner loves nothing more than to throw a party. What with all of the menu planning, decorating, baking, cleaning! Goodness! I’ll be in heaven.
So I have made a conscious decision to be as positive as possible about this shower. But, just in case, I am planning a little pick-me-up for the day after: a pedicure and a look-better-naked-exfoliation treatment. I know, probably waaaay TMI, but it is finally shorts weather up here and my skin has been under wraps of jeans, wool and cashmere since September.
Will update after the shower.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Today is Memorial Day in the U.S. We’re supposed to be honoring soldiers but most people just use the three-day weekend to barbecue & drink. I did.
I’m thinking about something very specific that a lot of veterans deal with: post-traumatic stress disorder. I recently listened to an NPR story about a therapy technique whereby soldiers suffering from PTSD re-live stressful episodes complete with video, sound and even a vibrating chair to mimic the rumble of a hum-vee.
Therapists talk the soldier through their experience; deconstructing the chronology of the terrifying episode and stopping to address specific feelings that crop up as the soldier re-tells his story.
I had a similar experience at my first meeting with the IF shrink, which took place last week.
We started the session discussing why I was there: two miscarriages in seven months; biological clock going at warp speed; undergoing testing to see what (if anything) is wrong with me; blah, blah-blah, blah.
I explained to her that I have two consistent thoughts that plague me every day:
1. It will take us a long time to get pregnant.
2. When we do, I will miscarry again.
These thoughts have become central in my life. Nearly every discussion, every argument, every self-confidence pity fest comes back to the same irrational fear: I will not be a mom.
OK, she said. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about your first miscarriage.
Wha? (Cue sound of tires screeching to halt).
See, while I replay the story of my first miscarriage in my mind every single day, I have not talked about its details.
I am very shy when it comes to talking about private things out loud. I would much prefer to write about them or just let them ruminate in my mind.
So I quietly launched in…It was hard for me to do.
It also proved to be amazingly cathartic.
She stopped me at points in my story. We talked about how I went to work every day while I was miscarrying. And how odd it is that we don’t really know how to treat a miscarriage. It’s like having a really bad period. And we go to work when we have our periods, right? But in this case we’re losing a child.
I talked about the ultrasound and how I saw the heartbeat, but it was slower than it should have been. How I left my OB’s office thinking there was hope. How I was in denial the weeks following. How I bought OPKs and a Cookie Magazine when I stopped into the store to buy more pads on my way home from the ultrasound.
I thought talking about this would put me a blue mood for the rest of the week. But when I left the shrink’s office, I felt like a tremendous burden had been lifted from me. I swear the sun was shining a bit brighter that day.
And now I think back over the past few days and realize I haven’t replayed scenes from this miscarriage in my mind. In fact, today is the first day it’s even entered my thoughts. And that is only because I really wanted to document the experience of telling my story out loud.
It seems so amazing to me that by simply letting the story and all its sad details out into the open, it doesn’t seem to occupy such a big space in my mind any longer. Almost like I can see it happening but this time I am an objective observer instead of playing the lead again and again.
It doesn’t make sense to me yet. But I feel a bit lighter. And less anxious. For a few days at least. I’m glad I went.
* * *
Other quick updates:
HSG went well. The doc said her cursory look revealed no blockage, no endo, nada. It was only really painful for about 5 seconds and then I just felt mild cramps for less than 10 minutes afterward. I give full credit to the pre-HSG acupuncture session for the easy procedure. But, man, fallopian tubes are a lot swiqqlier than I thought. I always imagined they looked kind of like macaroni, not spaghetti.
Clomid Challenge Test = normal range. My Clomid side effects were that I felt dizzy in the afternoon and had night sweats for 3 of the 5 nights I was on it. They did not measure my lining or do another ultrasound on Day 10. So far my cervical fluid seems okay. I started a little Robitussin as a precautionary measure after I finished the Clomid.
So my ovarian reserve is normal. My reproductive organs don’t seem to have any major issues. Two tests down. One to go. My immunological work-up is due back this week.
I’m thinking about something very specific that a lot of veterans deal with: post-traumatic stress disorder. I recently listened to an NPR story about a therapy technique whereby soldiers suffering from PTSD re-live stressful episodes complete with video, sound and even a vibrating chair to mimic the rumble of a hum-vee.
Therapists talk the soldier through their experience; deconstructing the chronology of the terrifying episode and stopping to address specific feelings that crop up as the soldier re-tells his story.
I had a similar experience at my first meeting with the IF shrink, which took place last week.
We started the session discussing why I was there: two miscarriages in seven months; biological clock going at warp speed; undergoing testing to see what (if anything) is wrong with me; blah, blah-blah, blah.
I explained to her that I have two consistent thoughts that plague me every day:
1. It will take us a long time to get pregnant.
2. When we do, I will miscarry again.
These thoughts have become central in my life. Nearly every discussion, every argument, every self-confidence pity fest comes back to the same irrational fear: I will not be a mom.
OK, she said. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about your first miscarriage.
Wha? (Cue sound of tires screeching to halt).
See, while I replay the story of my first miscarriage in my mind every single day, I have not talked about its details.
I am very shy when it comes to talking about private things out loud. I would much prefer to write about them or just let them ruminate in my mind.
So I quietly launched in…It was hard for me to do.
It also proved to be amazingly cathartic.
She stopped me at points in my story. We talked about how I went to work every day while I was miscarrying. And how odd it is that we don’t really know how to treat a miscarriage. It’s like having a really bad period. And we go to work when we have our periods, right? But in this case we’re losing a child.
I talked about the ultrasound and how I saw the heartbeat, but it was slower than it should have been. How I left my OB’s office thinking there was hope. How I was in denial the weeks following. How I bought OPKs and a Cookie Magazine when I stopped into the store to buy more pads on my way home from the ultrasound.
I thought talking about this would put me a blue mood for the rest of the week. But when I left the shrink’s office, I felt like a tremendous burden had been lifted from me. I swear the sun was shining a bit brighter that day.
And now I think back over the past few days and realize I haven’t replayed scenes from this miscarriage in my mind. In fact, today is the first day it’s even entered my thoughts. And that is only because I really wanted to document the experience of telling my story out loud.
It seems so amazing to me that by simply letting the story and all its sad details out into the open, it doesn’t seem to occupy such a big space in my mind any longer. Almost like I can see it happening but this time I am an objective observer instead of playing the lead again and again.
It doesn’t make sense to me yet. But I feel a bit lighter. And less anxious. For a few days at least. I’m glad I went.
* * *
Other quick updates:
HSG went well. The doc said her cursory look revealed no blockage, no endo, nada. It was only really painful for about 5 seconds and then I just felt mild cramps for less than 10 minutes afterward. I give full credit to the pre-HSG acupuncture session for the easy procedure. But, man, fallopian tubes are a lot swiqqlier than I thought. I always imagined they looked kind of like macaroni, not spaghetti.
Clomid Challenge Test = normal range. My Clomid side effects were that I felt dizzy in the afternoon and had night sweats for 3 of the 5 nights I was on it. They did not measure my lining or do another ultrasound on Day 10. So far my cervical fluid seems okay. I started a little Robitussin as a precautionary measure after I finished the Clomid.
So my ovarian reserve is normal. My reproductive organs don’t seem to have any major issues. Two tests down. One to go. My immunological work-up is due back this week.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I AM (freakin' finally)
I was nominated by fellow Northwesterner Coffeegrl for the I AM writing assignment about a gazillion years ago. I actually got emotional writing this because I often don’t know who I am anymore. Or maybe it was the Clomid making me a wee bit weepy?
Bottom line is that I don’t feel like myself at all these days and I’m not comfortable with it. But writing this made me think & think. I started to remember the woman who a year ago laughed easily and saw the world filled with so much opportunity and promise. Some days I feel like my world has shrunk to a dark little box. This writing exercise made me remember the person who never put her life on hold for something or was scared to make a move. It made me want that person back.
And, so, here I am:
I am a planner and organizer.
I am both intuitive and analytical.
I am competitive, driven and tough on myself. Sadly, I admit, I am – at times – tough on others, too.
I am a devout yoga practitioner.
I am soothed by being in the mountains.
I am someone who believes that new and full moons really do affect our bodies & behavior.
I am a recycler and take immense satisfaction in the fact that our recycle bins are fuller than our trash bin on garbage day.
I am anal about folding the laundry.
I am rather old fashioned about manners and will insist my children call their elders Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So rather than by first name.
I am the daughter of high school sweethearts who have been married for nearly 40 years.
I am a sister, sister-in-law, daughter-in-law and aunt.
I am Mommy to the sweetest, most sensitive golden retriever on the planet.
I am raised Southern,
I am East Coast experienced, but
I am a West Coast girl at heart.
I am just as happy sleeping in a zero-degree sleeping bag in the back of a pickup truck as I am sleeping under a down comforter in a fancy hotel.
I am a traveler who likes to visit rugged parts of the world.
I am a writer, but only as a hobby.
I am a girl who just wants be happy and full of promise again.
I am a friend who remembers to send birthday cards.
I am a supporter of parks, libraries, food banks and animals.
I am a woman who has questioned at times whether she might want children in her life.
I am a woman who has decided that, yes, she really desires children in her life.
I am a woman who has had two miscarriages, which I am still very sad about.
I am a wife who tries to make her wedding vows mean what they say. Every single day.
I am a true Taurus with all the good and bad that goes with the sign.
I am trying to find some peace and patience on this path: succeeding on some days, failing on others.
There's a couple people who (maybe) haven't done this ever or in awhile, so I nominate:
Von at Murphy is a Bastard (who is in need of some serious support right now)
Watson at My Dear Watson
The Oneliner, but only after her curtain call.
Alice at Into the Rabbit Hole
I am really looking forward to reading these from you ladies.
* * *
Quick RE update:
Both Clomid Challenge Test Day 1 results in the good range:
FSH = 9.8
Estradiol = 39
* I started Clomid on Tuesday. Taking through Saturday.
* Friday is my HSG (I am getting nervous but have scheduled acupuncture prior to the appointment for a little relaxation).
* Sunday is Clomid Challenge Day 10.
Bottom line is that I don’t feel like myself at all these days and I’m not comfortable with it. But writing this made me think & think. I started to remember the woman who a year ago laughed easily and saw the world filled with so much opportunity and promise. Some days I feel like my world has shrunk to a dark little box. This writing exercise made me remember the person who never put her life on hold for something or was scared to make a move. It made me want that person back.
And, so, here I am:
I am a planner and organizer.
I am both intuitive and analytical.
I am competitive, driven and tough on myself. Sadly, I admit, I am – at times – tough on others, too.
I am a devout yoga practitioner.
I am soothed by being in the mountains.
I am someone who believes that new and full moons really do affect our bodies & behavior.
I am a recycler and take immense satisfaction in the fact that our recycle bins are fuller than our trash bin on garbage day.
I am anal about folding the laundry.
I am rather old fashioned about manners and will insist my children call their elders Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So rather than by first name.
I am the daughter of high school sweethearts who have been married for nearly 40 years.
I am a sister, sister-in-law, daughter-in-law and aunt.
I am Mommy to the sweetest, most sensitive golden retriever on the planet.
I am raised Southern,
I am East Coast experienced, but
I am a West Coast girl at heart.
I am just as happy sleeping in a zero-degree sleeping bag in the back of a pickup truck as I am sleeping under a down comforter in a fancy hotel.
I am a traveler who likes to visit rugged parts of the world.
I am a writer, but only as a hobby.
I am a girl who just wants be happy and full of promise again.
I am a friend who remembers to send birthday cards.
I am a supporter of parks, libraries, food banks and animals.
I am a woman who has questioned at times whether she might want children in her life.
I am a woman who has decided that, yes, she really desires children in her life.
I am a woman who has had two miscarriages, which I am still very sad about.
I am a wife who tries to make her wedding vows mean what they say. Every single day.
I am a true Taurus with all the good and bad that goes with the sign.
I am trying to find some peace and patience on this path: succeeding on some days, failing on others.
There's a couple people who (maybe) haven't done this ever or in awhile, so I nominate:
Von at Murphy is a Bastard (who is in need of some serious support right now)
Watson at My Dear Watson
The Oneliner, but only after her curtain call.
Alice at Into the Rabbit Hole
I am really looking forward to reading these from you ladies.
* * *
Quick RE update:
Both Clomid Challenge Test Day 1 results in the good range:
FSH = 9.8
Estradiol = 39
* I started Clomid on Tuesday. Taking through Saturday.
* Friday is my HSG (I am getting nervous but have scheduled acupuncture prior to the appointment for a little relaxation).
* Sunday is Clomid Challenge Day 10.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Self Help Books
I am reading Dr. Alice Domar's book, Conquering Infertility. I really like the book, except the part about not exercising for three months. I tried not exercising for a month. I got pregnant and promptly miscarried. And all I was left with was rage because I didn't have an outlet for it. So I can tell you from experience that the whole don't exercise thing is a sham. Doesn't matter what you do as long as it's in moderation.
I was super bummed, however, when I reached for Conquering Infertility this weekend and couldn't find a chapter on this subject:
"Coping-when-your-good-friend-who-you-see-nearly-every week-calls-you-on-Saturday-and-tells-you-she-is-pregnant. With-twins. And-her-due-date-is-yours*."
*Had you not miscarried a month ago.
For serious. Someone is surely testing me with this one. I guess I deserve this after refusing to even look at the dueling pregnant ladies who crashed yoga class in matching outfits last week.
I cried. Of course. I do not begrudge my friend her good fortune. She has a 2-year-old. And wasn't even sure she wanted a second child. But her husband did. Anyway, she gets overwhelmed with the 2-year-old so the twin thing is not going to be easy on her.
But I cried mostly because it is just so ironically cruel. Honestly. Ever time I look at her, I will be reminded of baby #2 and what we would have been doing together at that time.
I can't & don't want this to affect my friendship with her. She truly is a very good friend. And I am so appreciative that she called to tell me even though she hasn't announced the pregnacy to anyone else yet.
But, COME ON, universe. If I pass this test do you promise we'll get a baby?
Sigh.
I was super bummed, however, when I reached for Conquering Infertility this weekend and couldn't find a chapter on this subject:
"Coping-when-your-good-friend-who-you-see-nearly-every week-calls-you-on-Saturday-and-tells-you-she-is-pregnant. With-twins. And-her-due-date-is-yours*."
*Had you not miscarried a month ago.
For serious. Someone is surely testing me with this one. I guess I deserve this after refusing to even look at the dueling pregnant ladies who crashed yoga class in matching outfits last week.
I cried. Of course. I do not begrudge my friend her good fortune. She has a 2-year-old. And wasn't even sure she wanted a second child. But her husband did. Anyway, she gets overwhelmed with the 2-year-old so the twin thing is not going to be easy on her.
But I cried mostly because it is just so ironically cruel. Honestly. Ever time I look at her, I will be reminded of baby #2 and what we would have been doing together at that time.
I can't & don't want this to affect my friendship with her. She truly is a very good friend. And I am so appreciative that she called to tell me even though she hasn't announced the pregnacy to anyone else yet.
But, COME ON, universe. If I pass this test do you promise we'll get a baby?
Sigh.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Clean Slate
That is what yesterday felt like. It was CD 1 so I called Dr. Stretch, my RE, to schedule my Clomid Citrate Challenge Test and HSG. We also elected to have an immunological work-up done.
After some quick math from a couple different resources, we surmised that these 3 tests will cover between 90-93% of all the known and most frequently occuring physiological reasons that can cause recurrent miscarriage. We are saving the his-&-hers DNA karotype analysis, which affects between 7-10% of couples who have recurrent miscarriage and cost $800 a pop, for later.
"Are you available to come in today?"
And with that, we were officially whisked into the world of assisted reproductive therapy.
14 vials of blood, 2 perscriptions (one for mothers-little-helper Clomid & one for a pre-and post-HSG antibiotic) and one dildocam later, we were on our way.
Actually, I was on my way.
While Cowboy's been SUPER through this whole RE thing, he's nicknamed Cowboy for a reason. Sensitivity is not in his bag of tricks. Neither is talking about "lady" things. The poor guy already had a full scale drawing of a uterus and fallopian tubes shoved in his face during our initial consult with Dr. Stretch. So I wanted to spare him the dildocam experience.
Puh-lease. It's not like we have to share everything.
Although he would have been right proud because apparently I've got a "great looking uterus." What a random thing to announce. But, then again, I was proud of my ute and ovaries, which are housing 14 follicles at the moment. I don't do all that yoga, acupuncture and nasty Chinese herb swilling for nothing, you know.
Oh gosh, what's this?
Why, Ms. Planner, it sounds like something called, "hope." You know Hope. I believe you referred to her as a cruel, fucking evil mistress a few months back.
Oh, yes. Her.
Of course, there was Hope peering her head around the corner. She made me feel pleasant and bouncy on what is normally a lousy CD1. Like all of our baby problems would be solved by this RE's office.
The obviously despondent patient scanning her calendar in the reception area as I checked out brought me crashing back to earth.
You see, I was starting to expect that this might be easy street: Have a few tests; take a few drugs; do it on Day 12,13 & 14; and presto! pregnancy that makes it all 9 months.
But I MUST remember that this will be a much longer path to mom-hood. I'll need the endurance and positive outlook to make it in one piece.
The low down:
Day 1 FSH & Estradiol report back on 5/21.
Clomid taking commences 5/22 - 5/26.
HSG scheduled for 5/25.
CCCT part 2 on 5/27 - right in the middle of Memorial Day weekend.
Immunological results back on 5/30.
What a month May has turned out to be.
After some quick math from a couple different resources, we surmised that these 3 tests will cover between 90-93% of all the known and most frequently occuring physiological reasons that can cause recurrent miscarriage. We are saving the his-&-hers DNA karotype analysis, which affects between 7-10% of couples who have recurrent miscarriage and cost $800 a pop, for later.
"Are you available to come in today?"
And with that, we were officially whisked into the world of assisted reproductive therapy.
14 vials of blood, 2 perscriptions (one for mothers-little-helper Clomid & one for a pre-and post-HSG antibiotic) and one dildocam later, we were on our way.
Actually, I was on my way.
While Cowboy's been SUPER through this whole RE thing, he's nicknamed Cowboy for a reason. Sensitivity is not in his bag of tricks. Neither is talking about "lady" things. The poor guy already had a full scale drawing of a uterus and fallopian tubes shoved in his face during our initial consult with Dr. Stretch. So I wanted to spare him the dildocam experience.
Puh-lease. It's not like we have to share everything.
Although he would have been right proud because apparently I've got a "great looking uterus." What a random thing to announce. But, then again, I was proud of my ute and ovaries, which are housing 14 follicles at the moment. I don't do all that yoga, acupuncture and nasty Chinese herb swilling for nothing, you know.
Oh gosh, what's this?
Why, Ms. Planner, it sounds like something called, "hope." You know Hope. I believe you referred to her as a cruel, fucking evil mistress a few months back.
Oh, yes. Her.
Of course, there was Hope peering her head around the corner. She made me feel pleasant and bouncy on what is normally a lousy CD1. Like all of our baby problems would be solved by this RE's office.
The obviously despondent patient scanning her calendar in the reception area as I checked out brought me crashing back to earth.
You see, I was starting to expect that this might be easy street: Have a few tests; take a few drugs; do it on Day 12,13 & 14; and presto! pregnancy that makes it all 9 months.
But I MUST remember that this will be a much longer path to mom-hood. I'll need the endurance and positive outlook to make it in one piece.
The low down:
Day 1 FSH & Estradiol report back on 5/21.
Clomid taking commences 5/22 - 5/26.
HSG scheduled for 5/25.
CCCT part 2 on 5/27 - right in the middle of Memorial Day weekend.
Immunological results back on 5/30.
What a month May has turned out to be.
P.S. I have been tagged by a couple of my blog friends for the 8 Things and I AM memes. I promise I will work on them this weekend.
Friday, May 18, 2007
I just learned how to post images to That Was the Plan. How nifty is that!
This one seems appropriate enough to start with, eh?
Cowboy wanted to use this photo as our annual holiday postcard. See, since we have no human baby, our fur baby adorns the card each year.
Lest you think we are sickos, we didn't try to get Gus to do this. Seriously, he does exactly THIS whenever we are around snow (which is a lot). It only happens when it is snowing. And only to Cowboy. I should point out that Gus has been neutered for more than a decade. Super random.
Notice how Cowboy is shielding his eyes to protect the not-so-innocent. Tee hee.
Here he is for real. Awwww!
Anyone else out there treat their pets like the children they don't have yet? Yeah, I thought so. At least you can keep them in the garage when you have a dinner party. (Actually, now that he is so old, Gus sleeps through our dinner parties).
CD 1 - FINALLY! Scheduling Clomid Challenge Test, HSG & Immunological work-up today.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Forward Progress (Kind of)
First, I want to thank everyone very much for their supportive comments and kind thoughts posted and sent my way. I am really grateful for each of you.
I often feel this journey is 3 steps forward, 1 step back. The past couple days – commencing with Mother’s Day (go freakin’ figure!) – have been real wringers for me. Dark and stormy patches all around.
While this journaling is certainly therapeutic, I’m seeing the real power of blogland: connectedness. It’s easy to spin downward into a spiral by only focusing on the bad stuff in my neck of the woods. But how long can I wallow in my own self-pity, negative thoughts & resulting behavior when there are wishes, prayers and positive vibes that need sending to women struggling with IF across country and continent? It’s not like I’m all Pollyanna and shit, but focusing my thoughts on this community truly helped me put my own issues and concerns into a more rational perspective. And contributed to helping me pull out of the nosedive I was in.
So the dark and stormy patches have moved on (for now). I need to learn that they will certainly return and prepare for what I can do to cope when they do.
I also made an appointment with the infertility shrink. It is next week. I will definitely update on That Was the Plan after our first meeting.
More news: As if my body needed to provide ANY more convincing that I’m not really in charge here, I am on CD 28. Now, I’m a 26 day gal. And when you’re trying to get pregnant and take a month off, it seriously fucks with your mind if you are late.
“I can’t be pregnant.”
“Maybe you ovulated late and the FIRST s3x you had in a month did the trick?”
“Seriously, YOU are not pregnant. Do not EVEN think about using that HPT you have stashed in a secret hiding place.”
“But my temps are way up and, well, um, it is the last day of the 2ww…”
This is what goes through my head when I’m getting ready in front of the mirror in our bath.
Granted, my temps are up but they’ve been so wacky this cycle, which commenced with miscarriage #2. I did not use OPKs, but I have been charting other signs, too, so I am pretty sure we dodged the good days.
Bummer #1 is that AF’s delayed flight into town means no ovulation s3x over an alcohol-soaked (but caffeine free) Memorial Day weekend, which just happens to be Cowboy’s birthday.
Bummer #2 is that AF’s delay also delays that start of my testing for whatever the hell is wrong with me. It's super fun to be a holding pattern!
Never thought I’d been wishing for AF to show up after a two week wait. Yep, it is fo’ sure. Oh, I get it alright:
I am so not in control here.
I often feel this journey is 3 steps forward, 1 step back. The past couple days – commencing with Mother’s Day (go freakin’ figure!) – have been real wringers for me. Dark and stormy patches all around.
While this journaling is certainly therapeutic, I’m seeing the real power of blogland: connectedness. It’s easy to spin downward into a spiral by only focusing on the bad stuff in my neck of the woods. But how long can I wallow in my own self-pity, negative thoughts & resulting behavior when there are wishes, prayers and positive vibes that need sending to women struggling with IF across country and continent? It’s not like I’m all Pollyanna and shit, but focusing my thoughts on this community truly helped me put my own issues and concerns into a more rational perspective. And contributed to helping me pull out of the nosedive I was in.
So the dark and stormy patches have moved on (for now). I need to learn that they will certainly return and prepare for what I can do to cope when they do.
I also made an appointment with the infertility shrink. It is next week. I will definitely update on That Was the Plan after our first meeting.
More news: As if my body needed to provide ANY more convincing that I’m not really in charge here, I am on CD 28. Now, I’m a 26 day gal. And when you’re trying to get pregnant and take a month off, it seriously fucks with your mind if you are late.
“I can’t be pregnant.”
“Maybe you ovulated late and the FIRST s3x you had in a month did the trick?”
“Seriously, YOU are not pregnant. Do not EVEN think about using that HPT you have stashed in a secret hiding place.”
“But my temps are way up and, well, um, it is the last day of the 2ww…”
This is what goes through my head when I’m getting ready in front of the mirror in our bath.
Granted, my temps are up but they’ve been so wacky this cycle, which commenced with miscarriage #2. I did not use OPKs, but I have been charting other signs, too, so I am pretty sure we dodged the good days.
Bummer #1 is that AF’s delayed flight into town means no ovulation s3x over an alcohol-soaked (but caffeine free) Memorial Day weekend, which just happens to be Cowboy’s birthday.
Bummer #2 is that AF’s delay also delays that start of my testing for whatever the hell is wrong with me. It's super fun to be a holding pattern!
Never thought I’d been wishing for AF to show up after a two week wait. Yep, it is fo’ sure. Oh, I get it alright:
I am so not in control here.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
May Day, May Day
I need to get help.
I am hopeless. I cannot concentrate. I am sad most of the time. I don’t even find pleasure in yoga and skiing (yes, we are still skiing up here) anymore.
Cowboy and I started seeing a marital counselor occasionally after a big blow out about ovulation sex last winter. She’s a nice lady and I like her, but she’s just been cheerleading me on. And I don’t need a cheerleader. I need someone who really gets what this fertility shit (or lack thereof) can do you.
I am afraid that I’ve let it get so far that depression may be a factor in my fertility as we continue.
So I found two shrinks who specialize in infertility in our town. And I’m calling them both today.
God, I need to get control of this before it ruins everything.
I am hopeless. I cannot concentrate. I am sad most of the time. I don’t even find pleasure in yoga and skiing (yes, we are still skiing up here) anymore.
Cowboy and I started seeing a marital counselor occasionally after a big blow out about ovulation sex last winter. She’s a nice lady and I like her, but she’s just been cheerleading me on. And I don’t need a cheerleader. I need someone who really gets what this fertility shit (or lack thereof) can do you.
I am afraid that I’ve let it get so far that depression may be a factor in my fertility as we continue.
So I found two shrinks who specialize in infertility in our town. And I’m calling them both today.
God, I need to get control of this before it ruins everything.
Friday, May 11, 2007
True North
The day after m/c#2, I collapsed in a heap in front of my bedside table and started sobbing. It was the middle of the day on a Saturday. But, for me, everything was black, dark and shady.
I was convinced that I would never have a child. I saw my life stretched before me like a desolate road across a desert in the winter. Sure, I was taken care of and there were even moments of happiness, but there was this big hole of regret and longing that could never get filled. . .for the rest of my life.
I was afraid, no, make that terrified, to get pregnant again. But even more worried about what my life would look like without a child.
As much as this sucks, not being a mom would suck even more.
A bright pink book from the stack of fertility books stacked by the bed caught my eye. I forget the title but the book is an IF and ART primer, which reads kind of like the “Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy.” I don’t know why, but I flipped to the back of the book to the chapter on adoption.
A sentence caught my eye: “Someday, you will be a mom. Whether your child comes through the birth canal or from the international arrivals terminal…”
All of a sudden, I saw it. Cowboy and I standing in line at customs with an older baby in my arms. I imagined exactly what we’d be wearing. I could feel myself holding back tears of joy as Cowboy handed 3 passports over to the customs agent. I started sobbing again.
I knew in an instant that this might be our path.
Cowboy gave the green light. He’d be open to adoption. In fact, he was attracted to the fact that we’d be giving some child in a pretty hopeless situation a brighter future.
I started researching adoption* right away. I was desperate. I needed to hang onto to something, anything to prove to myself that I would be a mom someday.
What scared me the most was that, even with ART, there is no guarantee. Go to Cyclesista and it seems like about 3 or 4 of every sister ART cycling hits the jackpot each month. Everyone else, thanks for playing.
I know this seems harsh, but it's the truth.
And I don’t know if I could go through serious ART and for it not work or to miscarry again after these previous miscarriages. Could I physically survive it? Of course. Would it break my spirit? Damn near. Would I be brave enough to try again like some of the tenacious women out there in blogland? I seriously doubt it.
And where would I be in the worst case scenario? Right here where I am now, only in worse shape emotionally, physically, financially and spiritually.
I’m not sure I can sign up for the potential of it. How chicken shit is that?
My therapist and OB strongly suggested I see an RE. Don’t give up, they said. I think they saw my immediate attraction to adoption versus ART as a defense mechanism.
But several weeks later, I still get the mental image of the three of us coming through international arrivals and I start to cry. Happy tears though.
Is this just the picture I’ve created to hang on to the dream of motherhood? My security blanket for when I'm feeling frantic?
Or is this truly the path to motherhood that I feel the most comfortable with?
Will I mourn never being pregnant and giving birth? Will I forever long that my child won’t have Cowboy’s twinkly blue eyes?
Or will I be content with simply being someone’s mother no matter how I got there?
Today I feel like I’m at a crossroads staring at these paths, trying to decipher a map, guessing at which path will take me to Destination Mom and be the most gratifying along the way.
So with these questions weighing on my mind, I wish each of you a Happy (pre) Mother’s Day. Because I know everyone who wants to be a mom will get there one way or another.
I hope you are content with your motherhood path. I hope I find my path soon because right now I'm hanging out at the trailhead. Slacker.
* Depending how far we get on the adoption decision, I’ll save the international versus domestic adoption issue for another post. After quick research, for our family, international seemed the most logical choice but I know it is not the answer for everyone.
I was convinced that I would never have a child. I saw my life stretched before me like a desolate road across a desert in the winter. Sure, I was taken care of and there were even moments of happiness, but there was this big hole of regret and longing that could never get filled. . .for the rest of my life.
I was afraid, no, make that terrified, to get pregnant again. But even more worried about what my life would look like without a child.
As much as this sucks, not being a mom would suck even more.
A bright pink book from the stack of fertility books stacked by the bed caught my eye. I forget the title but the book is an IF and ART primer, which reads kind of like the “Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy.” I don’t know why, but I flipped to the back of the book to the chapter on adoption.
A sentence caught my eye: “Someday, you will be a mom. Whether your child comes through the birth canal or from the international arrivals terminal…”
All of a sudden, I saw it. Cowboy and I standing in line at customs with an older baby in my arms. I imagined exactly what we’d be wearing. I could feel myself holding back tears of joy as Cowboy handed 3 passports over to the customs agent. I started sobbing again.
I knew in an instant that this might be our path.
Cowboy gave the green light. He’d be open to adoption. In fact, he was attracted to the fact that we’d be giving some child in a pretty hopeless situation a brighter future.
I started researching adoption* right away. I was desperate. I needed to hang onto to something, anything to prove to myself that I would be a mom someday.
What scared me the most was that, even with ART, there is no guarantee. Go to Cyclesista and it seems like about 3 or 4 of every sister ART cycling hits the jackpot each month. Everyone else, thanks for playing.
I know this seems harsh, but it's the truth.
And I don’t know if I could go through serious ART and for it not work or to miscarry again after these previous miscarriages. Could I physically survive it? Of course. Would it break my spirit? Damn near. Would I be brave enough to try again like some of the tenacious women out there in blogland? I seriously doubt it.
And where would I be in the worst case scenario? Right here where I am now, only in worse shape emotionally, physically, financially and spiritually.
I’m not sure I can sign up for the potential of it. How chicken shit is that?
My therapist and OB strongly suggested I see an RE. Don’t give up, they said. I think they saw my immediate attraction to adoption versus ART as a defense mechanism.
But several weeks later, I still get the mental image of the three of us coming through international arrivals and I start to cry. Happy tears though.
Is this just the picture I’ve created to hang on to the dream of motherhood? My security blanket for when I'm feeling frantic?
Or is this truly the path to motherhood that I feel the most comfortable with?
Will I mourn never being pregnant and giving birth? Will I forever long that my child won’t have Cowboy’s twinkly blue eyes?
Or will I be content with simply being someone’s mother no matter how I got there?
Today I feel like I’m at a crossroads staring at these paths, trying to decipher a map, guessing at which path will take me to Destination Mom and be the most gratifying along the way.
So with these questions weighing on my mind, I wish each of you a Happy (pre) Mother’s Day. Because I know everyone who wants to be a mom will get there one way or another.
I hope you are content with your motherhood path. I hope I find my path soon because right now I'm hanging out at the trailhead. Slacker.
* Depending how far we get on the adoption decision, I’ll save the international versus domestic adoption issue for another post. After quick research, for our family, international seemed the most logical choice but I know it is not the answer for everyone.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Rookie ISO Help w/ Progesterone Protocol
Today’s good news is that my RE said that we only had to wait one cycle before trying again.
In about 5 days I get to whip together a new chart. Oh, the possibilities! Yeah. Whatevs.
Then, out-of-the-blue my OB called to follow up on me. While I had her on the phone – usually an impossible feat to manage – I asked her about the progesterone supplement protocol. When should I start taking it? How do I get it from her office? Etc.
See, the day before I miscarried Junior #2, I had a beta (= a pitiful 9, so I knew what was coming). I also had a progesterone test done (= 2, yeah a tad underachieving as it should have been at 21 or so). Hmm. Kind of like the math percentile score on my first GMAT. Okay, let’s save that one for another post.
Anyway, my luteal phase has never been over 12 days. Usually it is around 8-10 days. Given this they are just assuming I have a progesterone deficiency. YAH THINK?
So here’s what my OB said: call her office after we nail the target dates. (Absolutely no pun intended.) Start on a prescription of progesterone immediately. Before we even know if one of Cowboy’s ponies successfully jumped through the ring of fire.
I assume this will be the suppository kind (yuck), as we are completely untrained in the fine art of injectables (save for Watson’s step-by-step video).
So, I am actively seeking out ass-vice. What did progesterone do to you? Did it completely whack out your cycle? What kind were you on?
This sounds a little OMG-where-did-you-get-those-totally-cute-jeans, but I am at a loss as to what to expect. And while I plan to have a long sit down with Dr. Google tonight, I know you ladies will give me the goods.
Thanks in advance, Ms. Planner
In about 5 days I get to whip together a new chart. Oh, the possibilities! Yeah. Whatevs.
Then, out-of-the-blue my OB called to follow up on me. While I had her on the phone – usually an impossible feat to manage – I asked her about the progesterone supplement protocol. When should I start taking it? How do I get it from her office? Etc.
See, the day before I miscarried Junior #2, I had a beta (= a pitiful 9, so I knew what was coming). I also had a progesterone test done (= 2, yeah a tad underachieving as it should have been at 21 or so). Hmm. Kind of like the math percentile score on my first GMAT. Okay, let’s save that one for another post.
Anyway, my luteal phase has never been over 12 days. Usually it is around 8-10 days. Given this they are just assuming I have a progesterone deficiency. YAH THINK?
So here’s what my OB said: call her office after we nail the target dates. (Absolutely no pun intended.) Start on a prescription of progesterone immediately. Before we even know if one of Cowboy’s ponies successfully jumped through the ring of fire.
I assume this will be the suppository kind (yuck), as we are completely untrained in the fine art of injectables (save for Watson’s step-by-step video).
So, I am actively seeking out ass-vice. What did progesterone do to you? Did it completely whack out your cycle? What kind were you on?
This sounds a little OMG-where-did-you-get-those-totally-cute-jeans, but I am at a loss as to what to expect. And while I plan to have a long sit down with Dr. Google tonight, I know you ladies will give me the goods.
Thanks in advance, Ms. Planner
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Fun Times with Blue Cross Blue Shield
After my miscarriage with Junior #2, my OB referred me to an RE. The city I live in does not have a recurrent miscarriage specialist clinic, so REs usually handle the habitual aborters by default. Lucky them.
The RE, Dr. Stretch, ordered 2 of the 4 tests given to recurrent miscarriage patients: (1) Clomid Challenge, which indicates how good my eggies are, which in turn can clue us in to whether the embryos are more likely to have abnormal chromosomes and (2) an HSG to rule out things like endometriosis, cysts, and the like. He also suggested we consider to other tests: (3) DNA / karotype analysis for me and Cowboy, which is done by analyzing a blood sample and gives us info on potential abnormal chromosome issues and (4) immune work-up for any clotting issues or antibody concerns for me, again, requiring a blood sample.
Since I’m risk averse by nature, I like to cover all my bases. Why not have all the tests? Let's put the issue(s?) right out on the table and see what we are dealing with. Plus, a looksy into what kinds of tricks Cowboy’s ponies are up to. Why waste any more time? Fo’ sure I am not getting any younger.
Sounds like a plan, right?
Only today I found out that because our insurance company excludes infertility treatment, including diagnostic treatment, exactly NONE of these tests, which cost about $3,000, will be covered by insurance.
So let me get this straight. Finding out why someone has massive bleeding and jaw-dropping cramps for days, not to mention the following hormonal imbalance and emotional trauma each time they get pregnant (by accident or not) is considered infertility treatment and is thus excluded from coverage?
Yep.
But – and just so I’m clear on this – drugs so a guy can get an erection are covered? (Sorry to anyone’s whose partners have ED. I am sure it is not cool at all, but I am just trying to make a point).
Yep.
If ONE man ever had to go through the physical trauma of a spontaneous abortion, missed abortion or a D&C, I can guaran-freakin'-tee you that the procedures required to solve this shit would be legally mandated to be covered by insurance companies.
I realize that three grand is chump change as far as infertility treatments go. The shit ain’t cheap. But we’re talking three K just to find out what is wrong. Treatment is, for sure, not included.
If you ask me, all 50 states should mandate ALL types infertility treatment be covered by insurance companies. Period. It’s not like you choose to have this happen to your body. And it is debilitating as all get out, both physically and mentally.
But, gosh, I mean, GOSH. Not covering the diagnostic tests just to find out why I keep having miscarriages?
This. (Sigh). Is just insulting.
The RE, Dr. Stretch, ordered 2 of the 4 tests given to recurrent miscarriage patients: (1) Clomid Challenge, which indicates how good my eggies are, which in turn can clue us in to whether the embryos are more likely to have abnormal chromosomes and (2) an HSG to rule out things like endometriosis, cysts, and the like. He also suggested we consider to other tests: (3) DNA / karotype analysis for me and Cowboy, which is done by analyzing a blood sample and gives us info on potential abnormal chromosome issues and (4) immune work-up for any clotting issues or antibody concerns for me, again, requiring a blood sample.
Since I’m risk averse by nature, I like to cover all my bases. Why not have all the tests? Let's put the issue(s?) right out on the table and see what we are dealing with. Plus, a looksy into what kinds of tricks Cowboy’s ponies are up to. Why waste any more time? Fo’ sure I am not getting any younger.
Sounds like a plan, right?
Only today I found out that because our insurance company excludes infertility treatment, including diagnostic treatment, exactly NONE of these tests, which cost about $3,000, will be covered by insurance.
So let me get this straight. Finding out why someone has massive bleeding and jaw-dropping cramps for days, not to mention the following hormonal imbalance and emotional trauma each time they get pregnant (by accident or not) is considered infertility treatment and is thus excluded from coverage?
Yep.
But – and just so I’m clear on this – drugs so a guy can get an erection are covered? (Sorry to anyone’s whose partners have ED. I am sure it is not cool at all, but I am just trying to make a point).
Yep.
If ONE man ever had to go through the physical trauma of a spontaneous abortion, missed abortion or a D&C, I can guaran-freakin'-tee you that the procedures required to solve this shit would be legally mandated to be covered by insurance companies.
I realize that three grand is chump change as far as infertility treatments go. The shit ain’t cheap. But we’re talking three K just to find out what is wrong. Treatment is, for sure, not included.
If you ask me, all 50 states should mandate ALL types infertility treatment be covered by insurance companies. Period. It’s not like you choose to have this happen to your body. And it is debilitating as all get out, both physically and mentally.
But, gosh, I mean, GOSH. Not covering the diagnostic tests just to find out why I keep having miscarriages?
This. (Sigh). Is just insulting.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Thinking Blogger: Tag! You're it.
Last week Sticky Bun graciously awarded me a Thinking Blogger dealio for my post about our male partners who are riding the fertility roller coaster with us. I’ve been reading Sticky Bun’s thought-provoking and eloquently written blog since last December so I was totally honored. Also, I was nominated by My Dear Watson who I liken to the most popular girl in school because not only is she a great writer but is now knocked up with twins – hence, the "popular" part (naughty girl! just kiddin').
The Thinking Blogger award stipulates that nominees respond by nominating 5 other blogs that really make them think.
If I have nominated you (and assuming you’ve read my blog), you are supposed to nominate 5 other blogs that make you think. It’s kind of like a modern day chain mail. But, hey, didn’t it make you feel cool and all when you were 8 and got a chain mail letter? No? Okay, maybe I was just a pathetic little nerd.
In a nutshell, here are mine:
(1) Thalia’s Infertility Journey: Hopefully More Comedy than Tragedy. Anyone who had a category titled, “Fuckwittage” has my vote. Fo’ shizzle. Thalia’s posts make me think because one day she will write the most educated, scientific post filled with tons of information. (I have become more educated from Thalia’s posts than I have been from my OB and RE combined). The next day, she’ll completely let loose with a major “What the fuck, people!” tirade. I feel a lot like Thalia’s posts these days: calm and reasoning one day; WTF! the next. By the way, after 3 failed IVF’s and, I think, an FET, Thalia got pregnant NATURALLY 10 days before her 40th birthday. And if that’s not a little comedic in the world of IF, I don’t know what is. She doesn’t know me, but I am delurking myself because I am so happy for her and thank her for her educated posts.
(2) A Brief History of You. I love Anns’ posts because even though it sounds like we are very different people, we are going through very similar heartbreaking circumstances at exactly similar times. Only she approached the whole TTC again with more gusto than I thought was possible in those dark days post m/c #1. Check out her post as she gets prepped for the Sperm Meets Egg Plan – a web page which is urban legend in the TTC world. You gotta admit it, her enthusiasm and youthful vigor are infectious. Next time you’re dreading sex-on-demand, read this post from Anns and get stoked to get busy.
(3) Into the Rabbit Hole. Alice at Into the Rabbit Hole has had three recurrent miscarriages. In one year. Life is so effing not fair sometimes. Alice is currently going to a clinic that specializes in recurrent miscarriage. I wish we had something like that in my city. She’s about a month ahead of me in my quest to find out what is going on with my body so I find her posts incredibly helpful and practical. I truly hope she finds answers soon so she can get on with the gettin’ on.
(4) Erin at the Vicious Cycle of Cycles was also nominated by Sticky Bun. And, don’t know if this is against the rules or not, but I nominate her, too. Erin is hi-LAR-ious. Check out this post about dealing with friends who announce they are trying to conceive. I think we all have these conflicting feelings from time to time. Our friends announce they are thinking about starting a family. We want to be good friends and give them the scoop about what to expect when you’re trying to expect (you know, entry level stuff like OPKs). A little part of us completely fears that we will be so jealous if they hit it out of the park on the first try. And sometimes we just want to spare them our trials and tribulations. I have a few good friends who are starting on the fertility path, which really should be an exciting time. I don’t want my misfortune to ruin it for them. And, even though I know they are the best of friends who will support me no matter what news I bear, I often am sensitive about sharing too much bad spew with them.
(5) Finally, I nominate Von at Murphy is a Bastard (great blog name). Von started her blog the day before I did, but she has been through way more than I on her fertility quest. Seriously, please go to Von’s blog and lend this sister some support. Plus, she has amazingly beautiful photographs and lovely quotes that provide for a calm moment of reflection. Which I for sure need from time to time. Well, actually, a lot of the time. Thanks for this great quote, Von.
Until next time...yours in kissing the plan good-bye,
Ms. Planner
The Thinking Blogger award stipulates that nominees respond by nominating 5 other blogs that really make them think.
If I have nominated you (and assuming you’ve read my blog), you are supposed to nominate 5 other blogs that make you think. It’s kind of like a modern day chain mail. But, hey, didn’t it make you feel cool and all when you were 8 and got a chain mail letter? No? Okay, maybe I was just a pathetic little nerd.
In a nutshell, here are mine:
(1) Thalia’s Infertility Journey: Hopefully More Comedy than Tragedy. Anyone who had a category titled, “Fuckwittage” has my vote. Fo’ shizzle. Thalia’s posts make me think because one day she will write the most educated, scientific post filled with tons of information. (I have become more educated from Thalia’s posts than I have been from my OB and RE combined). The next day, she’ll completely let loose with a major “What the fuck, people!” tirade. I feel a lot like Thalia’s posts these days: calm and reasoning one day; WTF! the next. By the way, after 3 failed IVF’s and, I think, an FET, Thalia got pregnant NATURALLY 10 days before her 40th birthday. And if that’s not a little comedic in the world of IF, I don’t know what is. She doesn’t know me, but I am delurking myself because I am so happy for her and thank her for her educated posts.
(2) A Brief History of You. I love Anns’ posts because even though it sounds like we are very different people, we are going through very similar heartbreaking circumstances at exactly similar times. Only she approached the whole TTC again with more gusto than I thought was possible in those dark days post m/c #1. Check out her post as she gets prepped for the Sperm Meets Egg Plan – a web page which is urban legend in the TTC world. You gotta admit it, her enthusiasm and youthful vigor are infectious. Next time you’re dreading sex-on-demand, read this post from Anns and get stoked to get busy.
(3) Into the Rabbit Hole. Alice at Into the Rabbit Hole has had three recurrent miscarriages. In one year. Life is so effing not fair sometimes. Alice is currently going to a clinic that specializes in recurrent miscarriage. I wish we had something like that in my city. She’s about a month ahead of me in my quest to find out what is going on with my body so I find her posts incredibly helpful and practical. I truly hope she finds answers soon so she can get on with the gettin’ on.
(4) Erin at the Vicious Cycle of Cycles was also nominated by Sticky Bun. And, don’t know if this is against the rules or not, but I nominate her, too. Erin is hi-LAR-ious. Check out this post about dealing with friends who announce they are trying to conceive. I think we all have these conflicting feelings from time to time. Our friends announce they are thinking about starting a family. We want to be good friends and give them the scoop about what to expect when you’re trying to expect (you know, entry level stuff like OPKs). A little part of us completely fears that we will be so jealous if they hit it out of the park on the first try. And sometimes we just want to spare them our trials and tribulations. I have a few good friends who are starting on the fertility path, which really should be an exciting time. I don’t want my misfortune to ruin it for them. And, even though I know they are the best of friends who will support me no matter what news I bear, I often am sensitive about sharing too much bad spew with them.
(5) Finally, I nominate Von at Murphy is a Bastard (great blog name). Von started her blog the day before I did, but she has been through way more than I on her fertility quest. Seriously, please go to Von’s blog and lend this sister some support. Plus, she has amazingly beautiful photographs and lovely quotes that provide for a calm moment of reflection. Which I for sure need from time to time. Well, actually, a lot of the time. Thanks for this great quote, Von.
Until next time...yours in kissing the plan good-bye,
Ms. Planner
Friday, May 4, 2007
TCM and shit
I freaked out on my acupuncturist today.
Since late February, I have been – faithfully I might add – going to an acupuncturist who specializes in fertility every week. I have paid the co-pays, sucked down the awful tasting herb teas. I have maxed out my annual complementary insurance coverage.
On her advice, I have quit doing Ashtanga yoga, which I love, in favor of yoga-lite classes at our corporate gym. I have stopped running as much as I used to, and it wasn’t like I was training for a flippin’ marathon. Just a friendly little trail run or jog.
During our first meeting, she asked me to commit to 1x per week for 3 months. She said that was all she thought I needed to get me back on track. I was sooo hopeful, so I agreed and honored that commitment. I also incorporated every suggestion she made.
After today’s session, I casually noted that we were coming up on my 12th visit. She looked stoically stunned (is there such a thing?). She wanted to know why I didn’t want to continue with the “treatments.”
I mumbled something about her comment 2 weeks ago – while I was in the process of miscarrying Junior #2 – that perhaps my issues were beyond the scope of what she can provide.
She (stoically) admonished me. TCM doesn’t happen quickly. It can take months. And, in my case, since she has come to know my body, she thinks it will be another 6 months at least until my kidney yin & yang issues are fixed. She goes on that she had merely suggested I seek out other practitioners, such as a naturopathic doctor, because she sensed that I was frustrated that my getting – and staying – pregnant wasn’t happening according to my timeline.
Well, fucking excuse me! I am sorry if I am a little anxious that on May 15th I will have been charting for exactly 1 year. And June 23rd is Junior #1’s due date. That right now I should be hugely pregnant. Oh, or starting to have morning sickness with Junior #2. Let’s not forget about the middle child.
So, yes, this is SO not according to my plan. My plan is now chucked out the window. Actually, I have angrily ripped my plan off the wall, wadded it up in a ball and taken a blow torch to it. So I have no plan. My fucking “plan” each day is to keep myself from breaking down and crying at my desk. I’ve stopped wearing eye make-up to work for chrissakes.
Yeah, um, so that -- the aforementioned tirade. That’s what kinda happened in the zen little space of my acupuncturist’s office today.
And now I’m embarrassed to go back. I think it is because every visit there reminds me of what a failure my body is. Every visit there makes me either (1) hopeful for like 2 seconds or (2) completely despondent. Jeez, not only is my body so effed up according to TCM but I’m also horribly impatient. And I left wondering how it can be good for me if it makes me feel so bad emotionally?
But my RE said that acupuncture was good. And I should keep going.
So I am torn. Not to mention how stupid I feel for putting hope in this. I mean, it’s not like my acupuncturist has ever asked for my info from my Western doctors. But she has supposedly built her practice around this fertility shit. I don’t know what to trust.
So much for the daily meditation I have added to my regimen. RUHLLY fucking helped me today.
Since late February, I have been – faithfully I might add – going to an acupuncturist who specializes in fertility every week. I have paid the co-pays, sucked down the awful tasting herb teas. I have maxed out my annual complementary insurance coverage.
On her advice, I have quit doing Ashtanga yoga, which I love, in favor of yoga-lite classes at our corporate gym. I have stopped running as much as I used to, and it wasn’t like I was training for a flippin’ marathon. Just a friendly little trail run or jog.
During our first meeting, she asked me to commit to 1x per week for 3 months. She said that was all she thought I needed to get me back on track. I was sooo hopeful, so I agreed and honored that commitment. I also incorporated every suggestion she made.
After today’s session, I casually noted that we were coming up on my 12th visit. She looked stoically stunned (is there such a thing?). She wanted to know why I didn’t want to continue with the “treatments.”
I mumbled something about her comment 2 weeks ago – while I was in the process of miscarrying Junior #2 – that perhaps my issues were beyond the scope of what she can provide.
She (stoically) admonished me. TCM doesn’t happen quickly. It can take months. And, in my case, since she has come to know my body, she thinks it will be another 6 months at least until my kidney yin & yang issues are fixed. She goes on that she had merely suggested I seek out other practitioners, such as a naturopathic doctor, because she sensed that I was frustrated that my getting – and staying – pregnant wasn’t happening according to my timeline.
Well, fucking excuse me! I am sorry if I am a little anxious that on May 15th I will have been charting for exactly 1 year. And June 23rd is Junior #1’s due date. That right now I should be hugely pregnant. Oh, or starting to have morning sickness with Junior #2. Let’s not forget about the middle child.
So, yes, this is SO not according to my plan. My plan is now chucked out the window. Actually, I have angrily ripped my plan off the wall, wadded it up in a ball and taken a blow torch to it. So I have no plan. My fucking “plan” each day is to keep myself from breaking down and crying at my desk. I’ve stopped wearing eye make-up to work for chrissakes.
Yeah, um, so that -- the aforementioned tirade. That’s what kinda happened in the zen little space of my acupuncturist’s office today.
And now I’m embarrassed to go back. I think it is because every visit there reminds me of what a failure my body is. Every visit there makes me either (1) hopeful for like 2 seconds or (2) completely despondent. Jeez, not only is my body so effed up according to TCM but I’m also horribly impatient. And I left wondering how it can be good for me if it makes me feel so bad emotionally?
But my RE said that acupuncture was good. And I should keep going.
So I am torn. Not to mention how stupid I feel for putting hope in this. I mean, it’s not like my acupuncturist has ever asked for my info from my Western doctors. But she has supposedly built her practice around this fertility shit. I don’t know what to trust.
So much for the daily meditation I have added to my regimen. RUHLLY fucking helped me today.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
My First RE Appt
I’m such a newbie that I totally spruced up my va-jay-jay AND shaved my legs for our first appointment with the RE. Just in case. Stop laughing. Damn rookie move.
I’ve named our RE, Dr. Stretch. Because he is about the tallest person I’ve seen in my life and since I am 5’1”, THAT is saying something. Also because Sticky Bun's new RE is Shorty (he IS your new RE, right Sticky Bun?), Stretch and Shorty sounded kind of fun.
Dr. Stretch starts by drawing graphs of the probability of women in their 30’s getting pregnant and bringing home a baby in the course of a year. I found it amusing that he drew these graphs with colorful Cray0la markers, like using the orange marker was going to take the sting out of his little chart.
He listed out each age 31,32, etc., all the way down to 40. I started to get insulted since I’m on the lower end of that Y axis, but then realized he’s just making a point. Showing us our odds in the most objective way possible.
Then he goes through the four things that can cause miscarriage and talks about how they will test for each one. This was all old news to me since I’ve read Jon Cohen’s “Coming to Term” twice in the past week. But it was good for Cowboy to hear. In short, we’re offered these tests:
(1) Abnormal chromosomes. Test = Karotype testing (DNA testing) on both partners.
(2) Immunulogical. Test = blood test. He put me on 81 mg of baby aspirin just in case. Baby aspirin and prenatals…the gateway drugs.
(3) Hormonal = clomid test and progesterone test.
(4) Physical Abnormalities in Ms. Planner’s girly bits = HSG.
Side note: to explain what happens during an HSG, Dr. Stretch brought out photocopied science drawing of the female reproductive system. I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to stop from cracking up because I was wondering what was running through Cowboy’s mind. We don’t even talk about AF in our house. Seriously, talking about periods (for him) and going #2 (for me) are off limits. And here he is being confronted by a full scale representation of ovaries, fallopian tubes and the uterus. Flippin’ classic. So what if I’m completely immature sometimes.
So I’m off for 2 of the 4 tests beginning CD 3 of my next cycle:
I’ve named our RE, Dr. Stretch. Because he is about the tallest person I’ve seen in my life and since I am 5’1”, THAT is saying something. Also because Sticky Bun's new RE is Shorty (he IS your new RE, right Sticky Bun?), Stretch and Shorty sounded kind of fun.
Dr. Stretch starts by drawing graphs of the probability of women in their 30’s getting pregnant and bringing home a baby in the course of a year. I found it amusing that he drew these graphs with colorful Cray0la markers, like using the orange marker was going to take the sting out of his little chart.
He listed out each age 31,32, etc., all the way down to 40. I started to get insulted since I’m on the lower end of that Y axis, but then realized he’s just making a point. Showing us our odds in the most objective way possible.
Then he goes through the four things that can cause miscarriage and talks about how they will test for each one. This was all old news to me since I’ve read Jon Cohen’s “Coming to Term” twice in the past week. But it was good for Cowboy to hear. In short, we’re offered these tests:
(1) Abnormal chromosomes. Test = Karotype testing (DNA testing) on both partners.
(2) Immunulogical. Test = blood test. He put me on 81 mg of baby aspirin just in case. Baby aspirin and prenatals…the gateway drugs.
(3) Hormonal = clomid test and progesterone test.
(4) Physical Abnormalities in Ms. Planner’s girly bits = HSG.
Side note: to explain what happens during an HSG, Dr. Stretch brought out photocopied science drawing of the female reproductive system. I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to stop from cracking up because I was wondering what was running through Cowboy’s mind. We don’t even talk about AF in our house. Seriously, talking about periods (for him) and going #2 (for me) are off limits. And here he is being confronted by a full scale representation of ovaries, fallopian tubes and the uterus. Flippin’ classic. So what if I’m completely immature sometimes.
So I’m off for 2 of the 4 tests beginning CD 3 of my next cycle:
- Clomid Challenge Test / Progesterone which happen at different days in the cycle.
- HSG on day 12.
Cowboy apparently gets off scott free. LUH-CKY. He’s missing out though because he was going to get one fantastic care package full of porn if he had to whack off in a cup.
However, is it strange that Dr. Stretch didn’t even ask for a swimmer sample? I don’t know how I feel about this. What if Cowboy’s swimmers have poor morphology, which is contributing to a nonviable embie? Perhaps they just want to get the more obvious tests out of the way.
On the other hand, I am happy to spare any of this for Cowboy. He’s got enough stress with his job. This would only add to it.
Maybe Dr. Stretch thinks that because we’ve gotten pregnant twice before, the problem is not with Cowboy’s swimmers. Unless Cowboy’s got some freak DNA, which we’ll learn about during the karotype test.
Has anyone out there had karotype testing? It’s expensive and I’m not entirely sure it is covered by my insurance. The reason to have it is that if one of us has messed up DNA, we have a 75% chance of miscarrying every time we get pregnant. Only 7-10% of couples who miscarry have DNA issues. Wouldn’t I be just that lucky? But still, if you have DNA issues you usually go right to IVF with prenatal genetic diagnosis and voila! baby. We’ve got a couple weeks to decide on this. Any thoughts?
Other news is that Dr. Stretch suspects that progesterone is major player here. My cycles are between 23-26 days and I’ve never had a luteal phase beyond 12 days.
I had to sit on my hands to keep from snarking, “Yes, Dr. Stretch. I’ve long held the suspicion that I might have progesterone issues. In fact, I know 2 other women who had miscarriages and were put on progesterone -- no questions asked -- the minute the next time they saw 2 lines and they both went on to deliver healthy children. Instead of testing my progesterone levels after miscarriage #1, I was told to simply ‘focus on getting pregnant,’.” And we all know how that turned out.
But I couldn’t throw my OB under the bus because Dr. Stretch performed my OB’s IUI (which worked by the way). So they’re old buddies.
Anyway, Dr. Stretch wants to do the clomid test to check my FSH levels so he knows what kind of eggs he has to work with and the HSG just to check regarding possible abnormalities that would cause implantation problems.
But the most shocking take away from our meeting is that our best odds of success = IVF. Yep, we have better odds of taking home a healthy baby if we have IVF with PGD than if we conceive naturally (and, of course, once we correct whatever issue(s) I may have).
How about them apples?
I am a research geek. I am so down with the 4-1-1. I love statistics. I love facts. And when it comes to this particular fact, I am simultaneously fascinated and terrified.
So you mean I bypass all the IUI’s? No warm-up runs? We play the odds naturally? Or, we go right to IVF?
Holy…still trying to process that one. *Gulp*.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Major Mea Culpa
I just realized what a dick head I was in my last post.
I apologize.
I think Watson said it best to me when she commented (and I’ll paraphrase) that some of us spend our entire lives trying to get pregnant and the others easily get pregnant but would do anything to stay that way. Either way the journey is NO FUN.
I know from lurking on your blogs that some of you reading this would give your right arm for just a single or another BFP. Would give anything just to BE pregnant. Please know that I SO want that for you, too, and would in fact dedicate a few fingers or other appendages to the cause. I will read your blogs, commiserate, cheer you on and cyber celebrate with you when you do get your BFP...because you WILL.
And for those with me on the other path, I will read your blogs, commiserate, cheer you on and be there for you during the simultaneously frightening and joyful days after your next BFP. Because there will be one. And you WILL be okay.
Fine. Enough of the freakin’ cheerleading. We’re all in this together. One common goal. A healthy baby (or babies, God willing, but I don’t want to look greedy and all).
I will post about my first RE appt shortly. I'm still trying to process all the information given to us. And trying to come up with a fun name for my RE.
I apologize.
I think Watson said it best to me when she commented (and I’ll paraphrase) that some of us spend our entire lives trying to get pregnant and the others easily get pregnant but would do anything to stay that way. Either way the journey is NO FUN.
I know from lurking on your blogs that some of you reading this would give your right arm for just a single or another BFP. Would give anything just to BE pregnant. Please know that I SO want that for you, too, and would in fact dedicate a few fingers or other appendages to the cause. I will read your blogs, commiserate, cheer you on and cyber celebrate with you when you do get your BFP...because you WILL.
And for those with me on the other path, I will read your blogs, commiserate, cheer you on and be there for you during the simultaneously frightening and joyful days after your next BFP. Because there will be one. And you WILL be okay.
Fine. Enough of the freakin’ cheerleading. We’re all in this together. One common goal. A healthy baby (or babies, God willing, but I don’t want to look greedy and all).
I will post about my first RE appt shortly. I'm still trying to process all the information given to us. And trying to come up with a fun name for my RE.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Mo-LAS-ses
While we all know the 2ww is the absolute worst. I think I’ve found something even worse. Think the 2ww is a bitch? Try the 2 month wait.
Wanna see some nifty math?
Junior #1 lasted 7 weeks. Junior #2 lasted 5 weeks. 7 + 5 = 12 lovely weeks of being knocked up.
Recovery from m/c #1 = 8 weeks. Recovery from m/c #2 = 8 weeks. 8 + 8 = 16 weeks recovering from m/c’s.
Sigh. By the end of this recovery period I will have been recovering from my pregnancies longer than I’ve actually been pregnant.
First RE appt is today. I feel like such a rookie. Oh wait, I AM a rookie. Wish me luck all my sisters who have gone before me. Welcome to club. Promise you’ll show me the secret handshake later?
Wanna see some nifty math?
Junior #1 lasted 7 weeks. Junior #2 lasted 5 weeks. 7 + 5 = 12 lovely weeks of being knocked up.
Recovery from m/c #1 = 8 weeks. Recovery from m/c #2 = 8 weeks. 8 + 8 = 16 weeks recovering from m/c’s.
Sigh. By the end of this recovery period I will have been recovering from my pregnancies longer than I’ve actually been pregnant.
First RE appt is today. I feel like such a rookie. Oh wait, I AM a rookie. Wish me luck all my sisters who have gone before me. Welcome to club. Promise you’ll show me the secret handshake later?
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