Dreams and False Alarms

The somewhat big-ish meeting with Dr Calm

The big news is, there is no big news just yet. Dr Calm doesn't have the pathology report yet, so she wasn't able to tell us WTF happened with Fishy (that is what we named this one, after the fact).  We did tell her that we didn't want to know the sex, and she made a note of that. Unless it is clear that it was related to Husband's translocation, we'll be looking at ye olde eggs as the culprit.

Also, my darling doctor friend looked up my harebrained Vitamin K theory and said this:

"Vitamin K is a cofactor which allows your liver to make certain blood clotting factors (actually factors that allow you to make blood clots AND ALSO factors that dissolve clot - keeping you in balance). There is no scientific data that I could find that suggests that having too much Vitamin K makes you hypercoaguable (while having too little Vitamin K definitely puts you at risk for bleeding as your body can not make its normal clotting proteins). The amount of clotting factors is highly regulated and no matter how many times over the recommended dose of Vitamin K you take, your liver won't make more clotting factors than you need.

Love again,

Your friendly neighborhood M.D."

And yet another omnipotent "I'm the cause of all bad things" theory bites the dust. It's ok. I wanted less reasons to blame myself.

So back to the visit: I was wanded, and my uterus is clear of clots (unlike last time, when there was one that was allegedly going to come out with my next period, but instead got me a hysteroscopy after an evening of hemorrhaging).  Also, all's quiet on the ovarian front, so I'm thinking we may not see a period until about 6 weeks from the D&C which was on 12/16, somewhere near the end of January.

I have to wait two cycles before I can do anything uterine related, so that is clearly March-ish.

Also, we decided to not go back on the DHEA. She isn't impressed, and I don't need another pill to take.

We talked about Donors in their program, and things of that ilk.

Basically, no matter what the pathology report says, the decision we make will be based on what we think we can bear. 

-If it was Husband's translocation, and my FSH is below 10, can we bear to do 3 more IUI's?

-If it was my egg, can be we bear to say "Well, at 39, the miscarriage rate is 20%, so let's roll the dice?"

-Or do we go to the bank, write the big check and say "Donor Eggs better work or were SOL on the pregnancy front."

We won't be able to put it all together for a few weeks, and in some ways, we'll just need to let it stew. Nothing like time to make things clearer, eh?

As anyone whose been reading this blog for any time knows, I like to stay one step ahead of the current situation.  My preparation for the meeting was to spend a an hour and half absorbing an adoption agency site that a friend directed me to (email me for the name, if you want it). I read over the letters to birth mothers, looked at the pictures, and found myself edging towards a funk.  We are not athletic. We don't come from cookie cutter happy families, we are not Christians, we don't live in a suburb, and we are not obsessed with cleaning products. Ok, the last one was from a profile that sort of freaked me out, the woman asks for cleaning supplies as gifts! I'm at least a little more approachable than that!

Anyhow, I started composing a letter to a birth mother in my head. At first, had more in common with David Sederis's Christmas Letter from the Pierce's, but as I went along, I realized, we are pretty awesome, and if I were a birth mother with a sense of humor, and a wish for an honest couple who loves, respects and LIKES one another, we'd be a shoe in. Try it. Try writing a letter to a birthmother, and you might just find out how awesome you are. 

So, it seems one must say something about 2009.

So here goes:

2009 was truly one of the absolute worst years of my life. It was the year I faced and worked through what it meant to lose this life long dream of easy motherhood, of being genetically related to our children, and the loss of my husband's genetic relationship to our children.  It was one of the Dark Nights of my Soul. And yet...and yet, it has strengthened me in ways I would never have allowed myself to imagine as I was in that cold hellish place. Also, I have made some amazing friends, and I have allowed others to see me at my most vulnerable, not so easy for me.

So, yes, 2009, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. So long and thanks for all the growth. I hope 2010 is less personally...challenging, yes that is the word. 

A new kind of limbo

I don't know if I'm delusional, or dissociated, but I am not as slayed by this miscarriage as I was the last. Either that is good, or that is bad, I can't figure it out.

I know I was more willing to enjoy the moments where I felt happy, and careful to not project myself too far into the future. Maybe that helped, or again, maybe I'm to out of it to feel like I should. Or maybe, this is ok. I wish I knew.

Tomorrow we meet with Dr Calm. Either she will have results from the analysis, or not (or not ever, as it was with Sparky). I really hope she does, we need some sort of way to make a choice about what to do next.

One thing I intermittently obsess about is whether or not my calcium supplement might have killed the baby. I know, sounds crazy,but it had 500% of the vitamin K the of the RDA, and I have a minor clotting issue (one copy of MTFR gene) and vitamin K 'helps' with clotting. Ultimatly, unless Dr C comes back with "baby was fine, but we found huge blood clots" it's probably just another way for me to try to have some sense of control in this situation. I also feel like an ass for not reading the bottle. I never would have taken it if I looked at it, but alas I didn't. Shit. Ya know?

Husband and I don't want to know the sex of the baby--I guess it would make it too real for both of us. Maybe not letting him/her be real is our defense against being totally slayed by this.

We are looking at two donors. One has had 3 great cycles with varying numbers of embryos to freeze, and all cycles have resulted in babies (twins and singletons) and the other has 3 cycles, a 4th is under way, but even though she's had live births with all of the cycles, only one of the cycles has resulted in frozen embryos. Somehow to me this just doesn't seem good. Sure it could be a sperm issue--but all three? Ok, maybe couples with sperm issues are drawn to her...

Warning:Petty Details Mentioned that Make us look Shallow.

The choice seems clear based on previous cycle data, but there is an appearance issue--the donor's mother has olive skin, and Husband and I are fair (although he's got dark hair), and oddly enough we are worried about the child feeling as if they fit with us, if the they do have the olive skin. He told me about a former work co-worker of his whose parents both had fair skin, she had olive skin, and throughout her life people commented on it. Since we are able to choose, should we choose an option that doesn't create more attention? And then I think, no matter what, we can't choose what is going to happen, how the genes will combine.

Ultimatly, I just like the donor with FE's better--since it's all fantasy anyway, I have a sense of her as sweet, well our doctor said she was a sweet person, so maybe that is in there, but I 'like' her.

Also, as I said in my last post, we may find out that my husband actually got me pregnant through the usual means, and scientifically speaking, trying with my eggs isn't a crazy idea.

For us, the question is what can we stand. Can we stand to try with my eggs and withstand the terror through the amnio? Or do we need to stop this madness, spend all our moula on DE and just get on with it.

At this point, I don't want a baby from my eggs more than I want the DE baby. I just want a baby. I want to get on with the loving and growing and being a mother part of this mishigas.  I am very good at being infertile. One more miscarriage and I earn my "Habitual Aborter" badge (sorry, gallows humor).

So the new kind of limbo is about not being a mess, not being sure, but just being here all over again. I also feel absurdly hopeful. Why? I have no idea. I guess the dividend of all this loss and growth is that I can more quickly dispense with the sense of humiliation and shame that accompanies these reproductive failures.

I talked to an old friend that just adopted, and she pointed me towards her adoption agency which looks great. It works with singles, same sex couples and us types (I won't work with one that doesn't), and has a very approachable website. Also, I think I could write a statement now--We rock, give us your baby. Sounds about right, eh?

I also had a bit of a spiritual epiphany on while listening to Fresh Air on Dec 23. Greg Epstein, a Jewish Humanist Rabbi, has a new book called "Good without God" and here is what he said about death and loss, which really resonated with me, and what I have come to feel more clearly over these last 3 years:

"Mr. EPSTEIN: And if you think God is mystery, well mystery is not a great source of comfort in the face of death. You know, at least I didn't find the mystery to be all that comforting when my father died or when I lost other loved ones and what I was really wanting was not, you know, the presence of a mystery but the presence of people to love me and care for me. And that's what I try to offer in the face of death to the members of my own community, is the sense that, look, there is no justification for the tragedies that happen. There is no good reason that we could ever come up with for why the Holocaust happened, for why innocent children are ripped away from us every single day, every minute.

There's nothing that one could say that would say, oh, this makes it better. Or there - you'll be rewarded in haven. No, it's not sufficient. And what, to me, the only thing that we can say is that we care, we love, we acknowledge. Death is real. It's final. It takes tremendous, tremendous courage to cope with. And we have to love one another because that's what we get. We get this world, this one shot."

I know for many of you God and Jesus are a great comfort, for me, it has never felt real. The closest I could get was the Jesus was one really smart guy who was very right about a lot of things, but I don't find comfort in God or Jesus. For me, I find comfort in the love of my community that acknowledges and helps me to bear my pain and loss, and in helping others to bear their pain and loss. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, each and every one of you who has shared my pain, buoyed me with your humor, your anger on my behalf, and your gentleness with my heart and losses. I could not have gotten to this new kind of limbo with out you, and I am profoundly grateful.

Long time no see

I'm pretty sure if I looked in my archives, I'd find that I've got quite a few posts that say some variation on "long time no see".  Sorry about the silence. Since I didn't post my negative last week, some people were still writing to wish me luck. Sorry for the confusion!  I was actually very busy, then it was my birthday on Thursday, and I was exhausted from all the busyness earlier in the week. Also, I was just in a bad place before then and I didn't even want to hear myself talk, ya know? 

So! Well! Where to start?

I don't have breast cancer, so that's good. 

I went for my paranoid mammogram on Monday, got a call on Tuesday from my OB saying they wanted to do a diagnostic mammogram and an ultrasound because of a suspicious mass in my left breast, so I promptly mobilized, and used my PPO insurance to get myself an appointment the next day at a one of the best hospitals around, and had my answer ( a simple cyst), just under 24 hours from when my doctor first called.  I did a remarkably good job of holding it together--every once in a while I would stray into "well it's so early, it will be a good prognosis, but that means no pregnancy, and who will let a woman who has had breast cancer adopt etc etc.", but I managed to not go there. Thank god I got seen so quickly!

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We picked a donor.  We were looking at 5 donors, all vaguely resembling me, all proven, but 3 were from my clinic, which saved us about 5K, so the choice was clear in some ways. The donor is the same age as one of my nieces, taller than me, but the same coloring, and well, I guess she seems nice. At some point I had very high ideals about who and what and where and how she should be (also known as trying to replicate myself in another person...), and then I just got to a place where I realized that she needed to be a good person, and she needed to be willing to meet the child when they were 18.  I was quite worried that I would have to compromise on that, if I ever wanted to get this party started, but she is willing to be contacted.

We do one more IUI, sometime in the next 5 days (today is cycle day 8), with endo.metrian for the luteal phase, and then if the beta is negative, then we commence with the DE cycle. Luckily, our cycles are already somewhat synchronized (she'll get hers the same week I do in Nov), so we might even have a transfer before Dec 31!

I am still ambivalent about doing the IUI--still scared that even if I do get pregnant, and even if I don't miscarry, that my age puts me at so much risk for Downs and other genetic issues that it will be harder to feel excited than I would like. At this point I'd like a DE cycle for the price of an IUI. Shall I dream on?

******************

On Wed my mom called me to let me know that one of her dear friends had died in her sleep. For those of your just joining in the story now, my mom and her contemporaries are in their 80's, and so these losses may be piling up. 

Her name was Joan. She was at the hospital when I was born, and there for every significant milestone in my life until I was in my mid 20's when she and her husband moved about 4 hours away.  She was my buddy. She was a terrible cook, but ambitious--she introduced me to crème fraîche and many other delights. She was a snappy dresser, and always let me rummage around in her closet. I was allowed to try on her clothes, and model them--often combining things in new and different ways, which she always gave me credit for when she wore the outfit. In sixth grade I was going through a very awkward phase and took the worst school picture of my entire life (I am rather photogenic,and enjoy having my picture taken--drivers license pictures included).  She worked for a photographer, and that year had portraits taken of me, which she paid for. My Senior pictures, my wedding pictures, all of them paid for by her. 

She made me beautiful SARAH pillows when I was about 10, velvet, satin, corduroy.  I finally gave them to another little girl named Sarah, but right at this moment, I wish I had them back. She also took some of the most lovely baby pictures of me, did quite a lot of photography, and batik. She had a practical elegance that I can see so clearly in my own fashion choices--any type of herringbone, or nubby wool trouser strikes me as a Joan outfit. She was, I think, an artist stuck in a 50's housewifes life, and although she broke out and did do art in middle age, I wonder what her life would have been like had she known from the beginning that that was who she was.   But what I want to hold onto is that she didn't let it stop her, she did those things. Maybe I can too--maybe I can start holding my own art in a little higher esteem.

She was an early proponent of seat belts--I never wore one unless I was with her. She worked in the library, and I thought for a long time that being a library assistant was a glamorous job. Not because it looked glamorous, not because she always seemed so important--But because she had an air about her and she could find my favorite children's book, or let me know when it would come back. Very important to a girl obsessed with Mushy Eggs (out of print, but on it's way to me).

She would often start out a sentence with "Well Sar.." and then go on to tell me about something she was thinking about, something she'd seen or respond seriously to my thoughts or feelings.  She had lovely looping handwriting--somewhat like my own if I concentrate.  I recently unearthed a postcard she sent, which she made out of a picture she took of me, wishing me luck in my 'new adventure' (changing high schools), and teasing me about a teacher I'd clashed with who'd resigned.

The picture below is of the two of us, me probably wearing her kerchief--I recall being fascinated by them as a small child, and always asking for one.  She was probably asking for my opinion, and taking it seriously.

I love you Joan--thank you for ever little piece of you I carry inside of myself.  You live on in my heart, in my wardrobe, and in that special place where I know that I was loved, and adored and enjoyed from the moment you knew I was on the way. Rest in Peace, rest in peace.

 

 

 

Mid season replacement

Dr Calm's nurse called and said my progesterone is a little low, so they want me to start Endo.metrian and continue through next Wednesday. Husband and I both reacted oddly--essentially "really? Isn't it a bit late for that?". But they assure us that it's not too late.

Darling that she is, my nurse dug up two samples that will get us through the next 6 days.

I feel mixed about this. I want to increase our chances, but I didn't want to 'think' about this cycle, and now, every 12 hours there will be a little reminder in a foil pouch.

Oy.

A shot in the dark

We did an IUI this morning.  No ultrasound to check out the dimensions of my lining or my follicles, no trigger shots to give us the sense of 'perfect' timing, and no progesterone supplementation to screw with my mind and give me gas and sore boobs.

Like sex with one's husband, but so not.

I feel sort of...hopeful enough to go through with it, but not hopeful enough to worry about how the due date will inconvenience my hectic (hardly!) schedule in 9 months.

We're starting to seriously talk about DE, and when to do it. I want to do it sooner, Husband want's to do it later (me: start with cycle mid oct, him: start with cycle in Nov).  We'll probably do the latter--husband needs his time to get used to the idea, and of course, all this is dependent on the donor being available and agreeable to both of us. 

---------------------

Do you ever go through those phases that are just annoying? The kind where you feel it all freshly again; feelings you thought you'd mastered rear up again?  I think overall I'm doing better, but there are times when I look at Fa.ceboo.k and it feels like one more place where happy people show pictures of their children and talk about cheerfulness (not kidding on the last one, former cheerleader and cheerleading coach posted something about cheerfulness being infectious etc). I'm sure it is, but all I could think was "nice you can be so fucking happy all the time."  For a person who's been eating a lot of shit sandwiches for the last 3 years, I'm pretty happy, but ugh. Geeze. Yeesh.

And on the other hand, I want to have an easier, happier life, like other people do (cheerfulness weirdo not withstanding), and today I can't feel like I'm a part of that life; not to say they (amorphous they don't wnt me, they do!) but it just feel as if it hurts too much to know how easy (some)things are for others.

I think that resemblance talk just kills me.  I love it for a moment, and it's so true in many cases, but it just hurts to know our children will resemble us in many ways, but not physically, and as little as that will matter in the long run, it is a loss. 

One odd thing is that I can't seem to find an egg donor who resembles me. In many ways that's fine, it is less important to me than it was before, but it's just odd.  I sort of look like Ellen DeGeneres (big smile), Cate Blanchette (long face, sharp nose), Kate Winslet (Similar eyes, and holy crap we have the same boobs) and a little Princess Diana thrown in. Where the heck are all the egg donors who look a little bit like any of those people? All the women seem to have round faces and little eyes. Ok, that is an exaggeration, but really, what is up with DE and round faces around here?

Clearly, I'm all over the place, taking shots in the dark in many ways.  To sum up: IUI, feeling jealous, wanting to know why egg donors are roundy faced.

Meeting with Dr Calm tomorrow to discuss Donor Egg process. Oy.

In which I compare failing at IVF to The Chicken Ranch

Hi.

Sorry about just dropping out like that. I'm not sure of what to say, of how much I even want to know about what I'm feeling and thinking at this point. This could turn out to be a long post, or a short post...

I am crushed.  Yes, partially by the negative--even though I was ambivalent and scared of a positive, it would have also have been wonderful. I literally feel crushed.  I think that the weight of what I've been doing for the last three years, and in the case of IVF, for the last year and half, finally came down on me.  I think that my way of coping was to repress how hard it was (not completely, but enough), and to keep my eyes on the prize.  As negative and as anxious as I was, I really believed that IVF could help us, and my faith was renewed when we found out about the translocation--maybe I really did have the same chance as a lot of other nearly 39 year olds.  This last cycle seems to indicate that my eggs are kaput.  Whatever it is that they need to have produce a healthy embryo/baby is just not there. Maybe in 20 years they'll know what that is, but for right now, it's unknowable.  In some ways that is a relief--to have a knowable problem, and to not be able to solve it would be a different kind of hard.

Another way that this has all crashed down on me is financially.  At the beginning of the cycle I kept having the idea that infertility treatment is like the Chicken Ranch, a movie that those of you who took Women's Studies classes in the '90's can probably remember. The scene that has always stuck with me was the girl Mandy who at one point in the movie, after a particularly lucrative session, is talking about how great it is to be a prostitute, and then later when she's pissed off the madam or the owner is forced to the an 'around the world' for the cost of a lesser act.  She is crying, she is raging, she is humiliated, she is ultimately fired for her outburst.  I think that scene has stuck with me all these years because it so clearly illustrated how when you are doing something hard, with the idea that you will get something good at the end (money in her case, a baby in mine), the humiliation, the hardships, the endurance that it takes to just get through the damn thing is tied to the end result. When you don't get it, the reality of what you've just put yourself though comes crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. In the past there was always the next cycle, the next idea, the next last thing. And now it is over, and it is sad, a relief, a huge loss, and more than I can even articulate.

I am exhausted. I am heartbroken.  If the DE/DS cycle doesn't work, we will be broke and still without a child.  I realize that may sound like catastrophizing, but just because we came out on the wrong side of the odds this time, doesn't guarantee we won't again.  Someone has to make up that 40% who don't get a baby with DE--I really fucking hope that isn't us for once.

It is getting pretty hard to keep taking money out of the savings account and telling ourselves that it is going to get us anything--pretty soon there won't be anything to take out...ugh.

***********************

While I am grateful for what we do have (each other, our kitties, some version of healthy, a good job (husband) and a job that I love, I can't help but feel all that we don't have at the moment, and the dwindling resources we have to get a child. If we were to stop all this pregnancy stuff, and move to adoption, the cost would be about the same as a DE cycle, and the wait would be 2 to 3 years.  I know that county adoptions move faster, but not always as fast as people think.  It could still be 2 to 3 years.

I feel very isolated--not because people don't care, but because it feels so impossible to explain how profoundly and utterly lost I feel at the moment. And I don't want to hear that it isn't the cards I'm dealt, but how I play them. I want to hear "This hand sucks, and that's all there is to say."  It isn't that I don't want to feel hopeful at some point, but right now this is just fucking awful, and there isn't a silver lining.

I know that eventually I will feel better, but I think at this point I am really feeling the damage this has done to me. And I think that is reasonable. It has kicked my ass, and no amount of endurance has changed the fact that no matter how much we spent, or how hard I tried, or how good I was, or how stoic I was in the face of failure after failure, this didn't work, and it's not going to work, and it was harder than most people can ever imagine. I have been through some very very hard times in my life, but the difference was that I could do something to change them. I could leave my ex-husband, I could go to college, I could go to therapy, I could find a better man. I can't do anything about this. This is what it is. It is just over, broken, fucked, unfixable.  No child, no matter how they come to us, will change the facts of the last 3 years.  They may soften the blow, fill us with more joy than we can imagine, but this is immutable.

This is the end of an era. This is the end of IVF. This is the end of the idea that I can be helped. This is the end of feeling like every penny is worth spending if it gets us our child.

*********************

Compared to most people, I don't have a lot of pregnant friends and baby showers to contend with.  But a friend and his wife are having a baby in November, and their shower is in a month.  I looked at their registry and thought "You two are missing so many really important things, and have way too many of the 'hyped but useless' stuff on here."  I felt so...annoyed. Here I am, having collected and observed, and thought through all this stuff for YEARS, and I'm still on the fucking sidelines.  In the end I bought them two things that I know have been lifesavers for my friend with twins, and left it at that. They'll figure it out, and I don't have to do a thing.  But ya know, it just killed me to do it again, to buy a gift I'd like to have for myself, to have for my child. And here I am again on the sidelines.  In this case, it was pretty painful, probably because of where I am (duh), but also because I feel so invisible. With my friend who has twins I don't feel invisible, and that makes it so much easier to really get in and enjoy the babies. With most people though, I'm just invisible. Of course I don't have to be but, what do you say? "I'm so happy for you, but I just got a negative pregnancy test for a cycle that cost 12K and buying you a baby gift is pretty much going to rip a little more of my heart up." No, I don't say that. I buy the gift, Husband and I lean on each other for support, and leave as early as possible.

Argh, I'm rambling.

We went to a bbq on labor day, all of the people there have kids. We didn't know 2 of the couples at all. The host and another couple were more of known quantity.  Somehow the subject of 'snowflake babies' came up, and embryology, IVF and all sorts of other things were just being mangled. Husband and I both just sat there dumbstruck. I knew that If I said something it would come out somewhere between a strangled cry and bitchy, and I just couldn't do it. The host is a dear, and she has been nothing but a true friend through this whole awful ordeal, but it struck me just how hard it is to be in 'mixed company'--I have limited myself so much to people who are in the know, that I've forgotten how hard it is to be with regular people who don't have to know the intricacies of embryology, or cryopreservation or the difference between IVF and insemination. 

When the hell with this stuff just be a bad memory?  I'm exhausted.

IVF: It's all fun and games until someone spends their life savings and doesn't get a baby

I had a few days of hope that maybe this cycle had worked, but on Tuesday, that started to shift.

To recap the reasons I had hope:

A compacting embryo on day three

Pink spotting on day 5 and 6

Tender breasts that couldn't tolerate an underwire

Zinging cramps that I remembered from my pregnancy with Sparky

On Tuesday I had the distinct feeling that things were shifting and not in a positive way. My breasts felt less tender, and seemed to be deflating. I told myself that it was probably my imagination. But on Wednesday, I had the distinct dropping progesterone feeling of feeling weepy about everything, and the breasts were clearly smaller and not sore. Last night I didn't even need to wear my sleep bra.  I'm going commando right now, and not a tender spot in sight.

Of course there is nothing to do but wait until Sunday, take the pills, do the shots, but in my body, it feels like it is over. Please don't encourage me. I just don't want any encouragement.  This is the pattern my 3 early pregnancies had the first year we were trying. If I wasn't on the progesterone, I'd probably be bleeding by now.

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I am ambivalent about this. On the one hand I am extremely sad, and exhausted by this whole process, and on another, I'm sort of well, not exactly relieved, but something like relieved. When I did think I was pregnant I found myself feeling ambivalent about how I would feel about a positive result. In one way it would be wonderful, but in another, it would be excruciating.  I have lost faith in my eggs, and their performance with the donor sperm was the final nail in that coffin.  Using my eggs feels like putting broken embryos into my body to die--not to live. To be pregnant this cycle, with my day three embryo (since only one of 5 was of any quality) would be terrifying. If I were to make it all the way to the second trimester, I would feel that I had to get an amnio because until I got those results I wouldn't be able to feel confident that the baby was healthy. 

For the last 3 years it mattered to me that my eggs could be proven to be strong, healthy, and good. They felt like an extension of my own strength, health and goodness. For most of my life I've been consumed by my own fears and feelings of defectiveness, but at this point I feel that I am strong, healthy and good, but my eggs aren't. I am ready to let go of my eggs, and ready to let go of this phase of my life.

And this is where the title comes in: If money were no object, I'd be doing DE/DS cycle by November at the latest. But financially, it makes more sense to do 3 IUI's with my eggs and donor sperm and to see if one of them works. Why? We've never tried that--all our data comes from translocated sperm and IVF, and maybe I'm one of those people who's eggs don't develop well with extra gondrapins.  Also, a monitored IUI costs 1K, a donor egg cycle costs 25K. If we get lucky, and one of my eggs decides to be a superstar, we'll have saved 25K. 

The worst part of this is that I don't want to do it. I just don't want to do it at all, but I will.  I will be vigilant, and responsible. I'll go to acupuncture, and pee on sticks every morning, and I'll refrain from taking all my favorite meds for 2 weeks (flex.eril, amb.ian, suda.fed).  In the long run I know it would be easier for our child if they had at least one genetic link, but really, I just don't want to do it. I don't want to use my old tired eggs. I don't want to go through this any more. AT ALL.  I will do this, but don't ask me to be hopeful, or to like it, or to believe in it.

I feel grumpy and cornered. I am cornered by logic and reason, and good sense, but in terms of what I want, I don't want this. It has gotten to the point that I don't want a child who shares a genetic link with me--I want this to be over.  Yet, money doesn't grow on trees, and there isn't more money coming from where the last chunk came from, so we can't just do what feels right, we have to do what is right all around. ARGH.

Just laying around hoping for the best

Thank you so so much to everyone that has commented over the last 24 hours. I usually respond individually, but I don't have a laptop, so I'm posting from my phone, which is tedious.

I'm at a loss for tv at the moment--I'm all caught up on on show I rented, and the other (in treatment) is too nerve wracking. Husband will go out later and stock me up on the good stuff.

Even though this cycle is merely in the middle, I am thinking ahead to the "what if's". Our plan has been to move on to donor egg and donor sperm, which is doable. But there are moments when I say to myself "is this really me? Is this really my life? Am I really faced with these choices? These losses?" The feeling I have when I ask these questions is disbelief. I'm not angry, or feeling persecuted (which I've felt quite a lot of), but shocked and suprised at the burden my family will carry. Even if we were to adopt, there would be this disjuncture. There will be times when things are seamless, and other times when the stitches we used to piece our family together will be undeniable.

One thing I'm suprised at is that the question on "why" now holds so little interest for me. I don't particularly care to worry about what is wrong with my eggs (if there is anything wrong with them aside from age). I used to fell plauged by this question, but now it is not as important to me.

While I dearly hope that I'm pregnant, if I'm not, I'm getting ready for what, and who(m?) comes next.

Things that make you hmmmmm

That would be this cycle.

So, the monster follicle was probably two follicles with an invisible septum, the doctor made that determination because the monster was gone and I gained a follicle. So, that is positive.

Lefty is still a bit ahead of righty, but they think one more day of stims and the little ones will catch up enough to have a chance of having a mature follicle in it.

All in all, this is not a great cycle, but it isn't total crap.  Husband is feeling pretty pessimistic, and I'm feeling sort of...optimistic-ish(?)  I don't think it's a slam dunk, but I'm feeling like there is some little chance that one of my leathery old eggs might just work. Call me crazy, just don't call me late for breakfast!

We paid for ICSI, but we went back and forth about whether or not to just plan on using it. I'm feeling like we should, but as it stands, we are going to take their recommendation on the day of the retrieval.

I have another scan and blood work appointment tomorrow morning, and we'll find out tomorrow afternoon if we are going to trigger Friday for a Sunday retrieval, or Saturday for a Monday retrieval.

The good news is that I have a great plan for distracting myself during the two week wait: A new Kitten! For the moment she is nameless, but we're very close. If only naming our children will be as easy.  Once she has a name I'll post a picture. She is a tuxy like Zoe, but she has a different personality, and will likely be long and lanky, instead of uber petit.

Keep all those fingers crossed for us, we need 'em.

If you don't want to hear me whine about something silly, just keep moving

So, about a month ago husband and I went on a little vacation (5 days away, 7 days here, really nice). I ate a lot of things I don't usually eat (pastries, cookies, ice cream, vodka tonics etc), and then went on Endom.etrian for 14 days.  The understandable result of this combo is a bit of bloat, and bit of weight gain.

Fast forward to today.  I am feeling a bit fat. I know, I know, I'm in an IVF cycle, what do I expect?

I never really lost the endometr.ian bloat, and since my craving for sweets didn't drop off until I got of the Endme.trian, I didn't really lose any of the weight, and now my pants are tight. Let me correct that: my fat pants are tight in the waist, still pretty comfy in the butt, as were my skinny pants (to be clear, we are talking size 12 and 14, not 2 and 4), but the waist is really uncomfortable. Add to that a nice collection of belly bruises, and I'm looking at the next week and wondering what I am going to wear. Ugh.  I know that summer is the time of dresses, and if it were warmer here, I do have 3 I can wear that will be very comfy, even on my estrogen swollen boo.bs.

But somehow I feel sort of disappointed that I am starting out this cycle in a bad place physically.  I have a good diet, and I've been upping my veggie intake and lowering my wheat and other carb intake, but all that will do is aid my digestion, not make my pants feel better. Ms Estrogen and her magical bloating abilities will make sure I gain, not lose.

One thing I never realized when I was hearing other infertiles talk about the bloating that happens in IVF was that they weren't just talking about belly bloat, but allover body bloat. 

I am one of those annoying people who has a hard time concentrating when my clothes feel wrong.

Maybe I'll head to Marshalls and see if I can get some comfy things to wear to work while I'm in this state.

I know it is silly to complain about these things. They are problems with solutions, but isn't it always the way that when one's body is involved there are often feelings of shame and of feelings of loss of control. Maybe it is a way to symbolize the out of controlness of an IVF cycle. Or maybe it is that my pants are too tight. Oy.