Can't I Just Go Back To Bed and Try Again Tomorrow?

I had my first monitoring visit for our FET last week. My lining wasn't great, but it wasn't horrible either.  She thought I'd be fine by this week.

Not so much.

My day started when I literally tripped into the clinic.  Yes, literally in the real sense of the word,  not the way people butcher it now.  I somehow walked right on out of my shoes and landed flat on the concrete, cutting my knee and scraping my chin.  That should've been my first clue that today was destined to suck.

My lining has actually shrunk.  What was a 6.5 is now a 4.7 and I still have a bunch of mucus in my uterus.  They pushed back my transfer to the 23rd and I'm adding Vivelle dots.  Two of them twice a week.

I cried the whole way to my office.  As much as I've tried to remain cool, I don't think I really tuned into how emotionally ramped up I was about this cycle.  I can't stop crying.  I can't get it together.  I'm all E2ed up and I can't. stop. crying.  I guess all of this estrogen is just going to my emotions and my ass.  Both seem out of control lately.  I hate FETs.  I think I've mentioned that before.  I also think my lining did this before.  Swell.

I went to fill my prescription.  Insurance apparently only pays for one box a month, not two.  So I filled the one box, cried again, and will hope that the angel nurses at the clinic can fix this shit sometime in the next 15 days so I don't run out of patches and can get them filled before I have a new deductible to tackle.

I hate this.  I hate the drama.  I hate watching my body fail again.  I hate worrying about insurance and money.  I hate over analyzing everything I do.  I hate being sad when I should just be enjoying the holidays with my healthy, happy two year old.  I hate it all.  This SUCKS.  It all just sucks.

And my chin hurts.

Rough Day

I will get through today.  I will focus on the happy and I will get through today... after I lay all of this out in the blogosphere.

I've been struggling the last few weeks with infertility demons.  It seems that everyone and their sisters, even the infertile ones, are having their second babies.  It hurts way more than I thought it would.

I'm happy with our family of three.  I know that the embryo we have  on ice is very unlikely to stick.  I know that I do not want to go through the rigmaroles of IVF again.  I know we had extremely poor fertilization.  I know there were likely implantation issues.  I know the realities of the situation and yet, it hurts so much to know that my family building choices are not my own.

Chipmunk is amazing.  I want to give her everything I can, and I can't give her a sibling.  I know there is no guarantee she'd want a sibling or even like one she ended up with, but the choice is out of my hands.  It's the one thing most people can give to their children that I can't.

All of this is compounded by my coworker who is in labor right now.  She's chosen a name.  The same name we planned to give a boy if Chipmunk were a boy.  The name that has come to represent the child we couldn't have.  The one we mourn in our own way.  Now I have to hear that name every day and meet a child that it now belongs to.  A child that deserves to be celebrated.

I feel so selfish for even feeling this way.  We are so amazingly blessed.  We really truly are.  I have a child for crap's sake.  A child I didn't think I'd be able to every have, and she's amazing as all get out.  I just can't shake this sadness lately and I don't know how to get a grip.

Prayers For A Friend

Today, my friend is saying goodbye to a much wanted pregnancy.  They found out that the baby they had tried so hard to conceive is not expected to survive.  At her early ultrasounds, she found she'd lost a twin. Then they learned that there were heart concerns and likely chromosomal abnormalities.  At the last ultrasound, they saw not only major heart malformations, but insurmountable brain and limb issues as well.  The prognosis was grim and they decided to terminate.  She's about 20 weeks at this point.

We all know there is no way to wrap your head around such a thing.  I can't imagine the pain they went through arriving at this decision.  If you pray, please remember J, R, and their baby today.  I know she'd appreciate it.

So That Wasn't Great

Chipmunk only made two days worth of growth in the last seven days.  The heart rate is still strong at 145, but my RE is concerned.  We didn't graduate today as expected.  I go back next Friday to see if there has been any growth.

I can't stop thinking about what's going on in there and how I can't do anything about it.

Facing the Possibilities

I had my first in a set of three monthly Lupron Depot injections this morning.  I had to bring it in to get it done at the RE’s office.  It was a complicated little thing with chambers and what not.  This was an IM shot, but the needle was WAY thinner than the PIO shots, so it didn’t hurt at all.  Now we wait and see what happens I suppose.  Bring on the hot flashes!

J and I have been having a rough time lately.  We both realized that part of our reluctance to stop treatment was because we were afraid of the grief that would follow.  We just weren’t ready to face it.  So we’ve been letting a little in, learning to face the possibility of a life without children.  Thanks to wonderful role models in our community like Pam and Loribeth, it doesn’t seem as scary as it once did.  It’s not the alternative that we are hoping for, but we will certainly be able to live a happy and fulfilled life just the two of us.

But here come the holidays.  They are smacking us on our asses.

We have suddenly found ourselves gripped with fear over what holidays could be like when we’re old and don’t have grandchildren.  We have such a lovely and supportive family as it is that as long as we still have siblings to tag along with, we’ll be fine.  What happens when those siblings have grandchildren and we don’t?  Do we still hang with them on the holidays?  Will we be weird Auntie Lisa and Uncle J who don’t have their own grandkids to fuss over?  It’s probably ridiculous.  We’ll make our life up for ourselves as we go and I’m sure it will be fine, but it’s really made some realities sink in.  If we don’t have kids, we won’t have grandkids either. Not only will our immediate future be very different than what we envisioned, but the far future will be as well.  We don’t have role models for that yet.

I had a long talk with my mom about all this.  She said she already knew how I was feeling and that she thinks the fact that my brother is planning a wedding doesn’t help.  She’s right on some level. I love my future SIL and I’m thrilled for them, but they are in the happy lovey stage that will probably continue on for them.  They will get married and not have to worry about infertility, unlike J and I who have been TTC since before our wedding.  They’ll have happy healthy babies and all will be swell.  I truly hope it works out that way for them, but I worry about where I will fit in with my mom if this last cycle doesn’t work out and my brother brings along a brood of grandbabies.

So that’s where I’ve been.  Pondering and plowing through thoughts.  My Reader now has more blogs in the “pregnant” folder than the “still trying” folders.  I’ve slowed down on adding new blogs to my reader because I feel like I’m collecting fresh blogs to torture myself with.  I don’t mean that to sound harsh.  I want to be as supportive of this community as possible, but it feels like whenever I start reading a new swath of bloggers, I watch them all get pregnant one by one while I’m still facing the stark white windows.  No matter how happy I am for them, it adds to my sadness.  Whenever I open my reader these days the post titles are full of bump dates and it breaks my heart a little.  It’s awesome to see so many people coming out on the other side, but I’m feeling left behind while I watch all of you go on to your happy shiny lives?

Where are all of my sisters in massive failure?

Why My New RE Is Awesome

A nurse called yesterday to give us the results and told us to schedule a WTF.  Later that morning I was with a patient and saw my phone light up with the clinic's number.  Dang it!  About 30 minutes later my husband's face appeared on my phone.  Double dang it!  He never calls my cell at work because he knows I keep my ringer off (I have a fear that I will turn on a kid's implant for the first time right when my phone rings and my ringer will become the first sound they hear).  As soon as my kiddo left I called J back.

He said that Dr. Awesome called him after he couldn't get in touch with me and sounded almost upset when relaying his reaction to our negative beta.  He was really hopeful that we would have a positive since everything went so well in the lab.  He thought the addition of HCG to the medium and the additions of Medrol and baby asprin to the regimen would do the trick.  Dr. Awesome didn't have any brilliant ideas right off the bat, but he promised to comb through the records from the old clinic, look at the cycle sheets from round 1 and round 2 and see if there is anything he would do differently.  He couldn't promise that there was since I stimmed so well both times and made seemingly good embies on round two, three of which cultured to blast for our FET.  J pointed out that 6 embies have now been transferred, 4 of which were certified as dang good, so could there be an implantation issue?  Dr. Awesome was honest in reporting that we don't really know and probably never will.  My ute looked good on hysteroscopy and we treated the questionable endometritis aggressively.  There's also still a question of embryo "goodness."  As we all know, looking good under the microscope doesn't really mean much in the end.

I can appreciate that so much of what happens with implantation is crazy complex.  Hearing is the same way.  Believe it or not, there is a lot we don't know about the function of the ear and most of the time I can't tell a family why their child is deaf.  It's just too complicated to know.  Too many genes involved, cells, vasculature, ion exchanges, mechanical and chemical reactions.  I'm sure implantation is a similarly complex.  It's just so frustrating to not have answers and to not have something to "fix."  We've tested negative for MFI, clotting disorders, PCOS, thyroid issues, STDs, tubal issues, parvo... wait, that was the dog.

I'm really grateful that he called, and even more grateful that J and I are open enough with each other that he was able to ask all the questions I would have been able to come up with in such a state.  I'm glad that Dr. Awesome is honest with us and that he's willing to dig around to see if there is anything he can do for us.  In the meantime, I'll wait for our WTF and gather my thoughts.  If he can't think of something new to try, we probably won't do another fresh.  If he can, we probably will after the new year.  I'm nervous about taking a few months off because I know that our biggest benefit right now is riding the wings of a recent lap.  I also know that that magic 35th birthday is looming oh so closely.  I just don't want to attempt an IVF cycle over the holidays, we're plumb out of dough, and I need to get some weight off.  Until then, I'm going to be healthy and try to turn my body into something I can at least tolerate for the time being.  I'll work on actually liking it when this is all over, I suppose.

Beta

Sorry for the lack of posting.  We were out of town and I was trying to avoid my crazies.  What a bunch of crap.

Beta this morning was a big fat 0.  I was really hoping, y'all.  Really hoping.  We are very, very sad and aren't quite sure what to do next.  Another fresh cycle is tempting, but if we have more frosties... then what?  We drag this out some more with more FETs we have no hope for?  We still have the one frostie, but we're reluctant to base a whole cycle on that one little guy, unless we're ready for our Hail Mary FET, which we aren't sure about.  As ridiculous as it sounds, at this point I feel like I'm sending perfectly good embies off to their deaths.  Unfortunately I have to submit my FSA contribution info by the 26th and my WTF isn't until the 30th.

I don't know what to do.  I really don't.  We are so broken-hearted.  My poor husband cried his eyes out.  Nothing hurts more than the feeling that I've robbed him of a biological child.

On Friendship and Infertility

I had recently forgotten some detail of treatment, but remembered that I had emailed my mom about it.  So I searched my email for "IVF" and of course hit the information jackpot!  So I shuffled through them as best as I could and ran across an email I had sent two girlfriends when we found out we had to move on to IVF.  An email that went completely unanswered.

Truthfully, it's been amazing to see the support we've gotten from unexpected places.  A friend back home from grade school has been a wonderful shoulder to lean on as has a cousin I'd lost touch with.  People who I always knew were in our corner have been nothing but amazing, and of course there is Farrah.  Two special friendships have essentially ended, though, and it breaks my heart.  I'm certain that when you deal with any life crisis you find your circle of friends shifting.  With infertility, it feels like a particular slap in the face when your girlfriends leave you stranded.

When I sent this email back in March, I thought I was letting two of my closest girlfriends know that I was about to embark on the most difficult ride of my life.  When they didn't respond, I thought I had done something wrong.  Did the words "transvaginal wand" offend them?  Did I not express enough interest in their lives and their children?  Was I being selfish?  I beat myself up about that for a long time and eventually just decided that for whatever reason, they didn't agree with my choices in family building, and while that made me sad, I just let it go.

Re-reading this email has given me a different view.  I was begging them for support and they completely ignored me.  I asked them to call me and tell me what was up in their lives so I could talk about something other than my infertility.  I told them I missed them.  I told them I was afraid of our friendships struggling and how afraid I was of being left out of life.  They didn't even answer the email.  I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't silence.  Even an "eff you" would have been better than silence.  They completely let me down, which I guess means that they weren't true friends to begin with.  When it comes down to it, J and I have been going through the most difficult thing(s) we have ever experienced and right in the middle of it, two women decided not to be our friends anymore.  It makes me angry and it makes me sad.

Even though I have many friendships that have been strengthened and new friendships discovered through infertility, why is it that the loss of these two friendships breaks my heart and overshadows the good?

How have your friendships changed while experiencing infertility?

Pain and Decisions

Right now I'm full of anger, hinged with a tint of sadness. What the hell happened? We had so much hope. Everything went so much better this cycle, we didn't think it was possible to have another failure. It seemed like the lap "fixed" the root of the problem, but I suppose we were wrong on that. There's more to the story it seems. How can there be more? For shit's sake!

How did we get here? I always knew in the back of my mind that we wouldn't get pregnant right away. I thought it may take us awhile or we may need a pill, but I didn't think it would come to this! Three failed IUIs, surgery, and two failed IVFs. They had to force my husband's sperm in my eggs because it couldn't happen on its own. Our gametes couldn't play nicely together. The love of my life and my best friend. I feel like we've been robbed. Worst of all, I feel like I've stolen a chance at fatherhood from him. That eats at me like nothing else.

I told him before we even got engaged that I might have a hard time having children, but like I said, I didn't think it would be this difficult. He's meant to be a father. I know that we would be good at it, dammit! Not perfect by any means, but good. Whenever I see the pain in his eyes after another failed cycle, I feel a part of my heart fall out of my chest. He deserves so much more than what I can give him, and yet he still loves me. It's hard to feel deserving of that when my body keeps failing him.

I feel like I'm one of "those" people. The woman who can't get pregnant. What everyone fears and yet feels free to judge at the same time. "Give up and 'just' adopt." "Why do you keep doing that to your body?" "Maybe it just isn't meant to be." "I'm sure you can give all of your love to the children you work with." That last one came to my brother. I know he meant well, he's young, and he doesn't know what else to say, but if you could bitch slap someone through a text, I would have done that last night.

Yes, the snothead who leaves broken toys strewn all over my office, launches a block at me when I tell him "no," and somehow gives me ringworm in the 60 minute visit we have every 6 months is definitely benefiting from my childlessness.

We've decided to go to a different clinic. I know I can find a clinic that doesn't require me to leave a message for a nurse every time I call. I can see from reading everyone else's posts that there are clinics with accessible staff. The turnover is eating at me. I'm tired of being half naked on an examining table only for someone new to walk in and have a look at my lady parts. I'm sick of fellows and residents making decisions about my care all of the time. I hate that they only do three day transfers. I feel like we could get a lot of information by trying to culture a couple more days. The new clinic director used to run his own clinic - it bore his name. The stats at that place were abominable. 29% for women under 35. I wouldn't have stepped foot in that clinic and that dude isn't coming near my embryos again. Our transfer was full of tension because the old guy couldn't find where everything was. I can't shake the feeling that something went wrong that day. And you know what else? He put the speculum in and TWICE he let go of it when he was searching for buttons on the ultrasound machine. That effing hurts! The nurse actually made a little gasp and looked up at me the first time he let go.

Yes it's right across the street from my office, yes they had great stats in the past, yes I've bonded with some of the staff, and yes they are a big name, but my gut is telling me to run. J and I agreed in the beginning of this journey to go by the rule of threes. We did the three inseminations and we've now completed two fresh cycles. We intend to do a frozen, but if we need to do another fresh and it doesn't work out, we don't want to look back and wonder if we should have gotten another opinion. It's time for fresh eyes.

Which brings me to my questions. Have any of you ever had to move frozen embryos to another clinic in the area? How did that work? We're likely going to end up in a clinic 30 minutes from our current one. J is really anxious about this part. So is my mother for that matter. I'm pretty sure there is a solution. People must do this all of the time. We're pretty set on a clinic, but if you have any recommendations in the Triangle area I'd love to hear them. My final question is how to tell your clinic you're transferring care and how best to make sure all of your records get transferred. I'm one of those idiots who doesn't like to hurt feelings. I know - get over it. I don't mind when my patients get a second opinion, but they are usually passive aggressive about it and just end up disappearing. I'm going to have to say something and I don't know what to say!

No Big Suprise

Negative.

I'll write more later, but right now I'm going to go either throw things or clean things.  I can't decide.

11dp3dt

POAS this morning (used a FRER).  Figured it was safe since many girls seem to have betas at this time.  It was stark white.  We aren't feeling hopeful anymore.  My beta is Friday.

COMPLETELY PANICKED

I was sitting at work, minding my own business, when the power went out.  Oh tee hee, how funny.  We all get to go home.

Driving home, I noticed that the power outage was major.  Super major.  Then I remembered that my clinic is on the same street.  The clinic does not have power.  My retrieval is scheduled for 9 AM tomorrow. 

There are about 15,000 people in the area without power and they don't know when it will be turned back on. That in itself is a bad sign around here. They at least string you along hour by hour.

I'm not sure if they have generators or what.  I mean I'm sure they have some for the embryology lab, but for the procedure room too?  Maybe?  Hopefully?

The phones must not be working at the clinic because when I called it went to the "the clinic is now closed" message before the clinic was actually closed.  I'm trying not to lose my shit.

Please, please, please, please power people.  Get to my clinic and get the power back on.  I've got a shit load of eggs and nowhere else to lay them.

Anxiety

We have a saying in our office.  It's kind of tongue in cheek and kind of true.  "Leave 'em where Jesus flung 'em."  Sometimes we see kid who has such a complicated lot in life, that any intervention on our part would make it even more complicated.  When we hit the wall with a situation that is just beyond us, we say "poor kid's done been flung."  Sounds callus now that I'm tying it out, but it's really not meant that way.  Sometimes I wonder if J and I have been flung and we just don't know it yet.


Tonight, we start Gonal-F injections for IVF deux.  The days leading up to some point yesterday were filled with so much hope.  Since last go around, I've had a lap to have endo removed, a hysteroscopy where they removed some "irregular lining," a month of doxycycline, and we're adding in ICSI.  "How can this not work?" we were asking ourselves.

At some point yesterday it hit us.  What if it still doesn't work?  What if we've been though all of this and we still have crappy fertilization?  What then?  It could happen.  There are certainly no guarantees.  All of the sudden, we're feeling really anxious.  We feel like we're heading down a rabbit hole and the wonderland on the other side will be either awesome or awful.  If we get a good fert rate, but I still don't get pregnant, I'd feel good giving it another go. If we still get a shitty fert rate, I'll probably like I've done gotten flung.

I'm not ready to face that reality yet.  As much as I talk with J and my family about how okay I would be without a biological child, I'm not ready to face the thought of giving up on my body.

Please let this work.

A Lesson On Trips To The Pool

I wish I could figure out how to be happy and truly be satisfied with what I have right here and now.

We have an awesome neighborhood pool.  I will never again live in a development that doesn't have a pool because I love having a pool around so much.  The area is growing quickly and of course this means new, young families hanging out at the pool.  The pool opened last weekend, but it was rainy, so we were really psyched to hit it up this weekend.  Apparently, so was everyone else.

When we got there, we could not find a place to lounge.  All the lounge chairs were taken, many with just a folded towel sitting on them (Which pisses me off!  If you are planning to spend the whole time in the pool, please don't reserve 10 spots for yourself and all of your pals.).  We finally found a set of chairs by a table and figured we'd hang out there until we saw a couple of lounge chairs open up.  I hate sitting in regular chairs when I'm in a swim suit.  Especially when I'm still trying to get my post IVF pounds off.  You ladies know the deal.  A 45 degree angle is crucial.

I was looking down at my ginormous, white thighs and sat back to try and relax.  As I was getting comfortable, I noticed the sounds around me.  Giggling, nervous laughter, squeals, some tears.  I opened my eyes and right in front of me were a plethora of babies.  Little one's toes being dipped into the pool for the first time, eyes wide with worry.  Babies being tossed into the air by their daddies, with their little hats flopping around while their moms stood nearby ready to catch them in case dad missed.  Toddlers seated on mom's lap, squealing their way down the big slide.  Big sisters helping little brothers wade into the shallow end while they tiptoed tentatively under the bucket dump station.

I completely lost it.  I started to ugly cry right there at the pool.

We gathered our belongings as quickly as possible and started the trek home.  We got as far as the sidewalk outside the gate when I couldn't hold it back anymore.  J held me and I bawled and snotted all over his shirt.  I just said, "I'm sorry.  I couldn't do it.  All of those babies.  I'm sorry," over and over.  I felt swallowed by pain.  I knew people were staring, but I really didn't care.  I was mad at them.  Mad because their everyday state of being was happy.  Jealous that they didn't have to fight for their happiness.  I wanted them to be uncomfortable.  I wanted my pain to rub off on them in hopes that they would appreciate the many blessings they had.  It was rational, but it was what swept over me in a torrent.

On our walk home, I thought about my many blessings.  I thought about how much I prayed for J and how badly I wanted a good man in my life.  So much of my life has been spent wanting what I don't have.  An education, a job, a happy family, a husband.  I have most of those things now.  Why can't I be grateful for that?  I think J said it best.  We're still going through this.  We're still fighting and we aren't ready to stop.  So for today, I don't have to be okay with it.  I can still fight.  I can still be sad.

And next time we will get to the pool EARLY so we can have a guaranteed spot near the deep end.

Negative

I just got the call that the test was negative.  Stop all meds and wait for my period.  I went ahead and POAS on Saturday, and I'm glad I did.  It helped soften the blow today.  It's strange.  I'm sad for the little embabies and so is J.  I know they were a tiny bunch of cells and I don't see them as people, but I do see them as living things that we created and now they're gone.  They didn't even have a chance to become people.

Part of me falls into the trap of "not meant to be."  I know that J and I would make good parents, but would we make a healthy baby?  If we can't get our sperm and eggs to play well together, is it wise to force it?  Are we tempting fate?  I know plenty of people have had crummy fertilization and have gone on to have healthy babies after ICSI, but we all know how it is when that little voice in your head starts talking to you.  And talking to you...  And talking to you...

I'm going to have some wine, and probably some ice cream, and try to buck it up tomorrow.

Peacin' Out This Week

I'm back from the conference... and gave a concert yesterday.

Whenever I'm presenting at a big conference like this one was, I get a bit of an emotional let down when it's over.  After a concert, I get an even bigger let down.  A conference and concert smack in the middle of a TWW from an IVF cycle is askin' for it.

I'm so happy for all the gazillion BFPs there have been this week.  Truly.  I really am so happy to see them.  On the flip side, my gut and my head both remind me that statistically, we can all have successful cycles.  I had a hormone check today and while my P4 is good, my E2 is low so I have to add in Estrace.  Swell.  What the hell is up with my body and estrogen?  Seriously?  And how many hormones can I jack in there at one time? 

I'm officially up 10 pounds since BCPs started.  I know they told us to expect that, but it messes with my head.  I bawled my eyes out today after I got off the scale.  I know that if this cycle is not successful I will need to wait until I get this weight off before having another go or else I will need a new wardrobe.  I've never written about this on my blog, but I lost around 50 pounds about 10 years ago.  As a short girl, I was solidly into the obese category and managed to squeak myself into the normal range.  10 pounds means back into the overweight side of things for me.

Anyway, I'm not in the happiest of places right now and need to just take a step back.  I'll update after my beta on the 14th (that seems so very far away).

A New Kind of "Unexplained"

When I have bad news to relay to a patient's family, I sit on it.  All day long it languishes on my "to-call" list until the last minute.  Apparently, REs do the same thing.

We wanted to avoid ICSI unless we really had to and there was no reason to believe we needed it.  I didn't like the increase in abnormalities (albeit very small) and if we could do one thing naturally in this process I wanted to do it.  So we had a semen profile where they went over J's sample with a fine toothed comb for any known issues that would result in a need for ICSI.  He passed with flying colors and we opted not to do ICSI.

All 26 eggs were mature, but only 5 fertilized.  He said there was no reason for it and just something that happens for some couples.  My eggs looked great and the sperm was perfect.  They were all still alive and kicking this morning, but for whatever reason, they just didn't fertilize.  The 5 embryos we do have looked good today, so we're still hopeful, but there probably won't be anything to freeze.  We're going to do a three day transfer on Sunday.

I asked if this was the reason for our infertility and he said that it most likely was.  He said that for that reason alone, having the answers, he thinks we made the right decision to not to ICSI.  I agree wholeheartedly.  And I know, we should be so happy to have 5.  Some people don't get that far, but I'm still in tears.

I spent years of heartbreak and soul searching to find my J.  I hate the feeling that no matter how much we love each other, our gametes don't really like each other much at all.

The Real Reason I'm Not Getting/Giving Any

One of the blogs I like to follow is from The Infertility Therapist.  She recently made a post on sex and infertility and I was really excited to read it.  I miss what my sex life used to be like, and while I know we will get it back at some point, I hate what it is now.  I realize that it all stems from me.  So when I read her article, I was a little disappointed.  She hit the highlights.  The stuff everyone says is the cause for the deplete-o libido, but it didn't really resonate with me.  I know I've posted on this subject before, and I even submitted that post to Mel's Analogy Project. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, though, and for me at least I think there's another reason for my lack of excitement about sex.  So I'm gunna bare it all here, ladies.  I'm sorry if this post puts my blog into the "high" category of your internet smut-o-meter.  I'll try to keep it classy.

Infertility has tried to take the mystery and intimacy out of sex for us.  Between wandings, charting, IUIs, discussions, semen profiles, and endless stirrup encounters, my lady parts and what is done with them has been under intense scrutiny.  Even with all of the intimacy infiltrations, the actual act of sex is between J and I.  Just us.  We don't have to be in the same room to attempt to make a baby, but when the lights go out at night, it's just us.  It's our time to be husband and wife.  That's when my guard comes down.  That's when I can shed the shell of normalcy I built to get through the day.  J is the only person I do this with.  The only person I trust with this.  I'm the only person he trusts to hold his armor.  I'm honored to be that person and I'm filled with gratitude that I have such an amazing man to hold on to mine.  But when our armor is off, we are at our most vulnerable. Sex amplifies that vulnerability, a billion-fold. 

When everything is said and done, I will cry.  I will lose control and I will cry that cry that I know you all know.  That cry that comes with sounds you didn't know you could make... that comes from a place you didn't know existed.  That cry. I hate that cry.  I hate making J see that cry.  I hate what I feel when that cry comes on.  I don't want to do it.  I don't want to get to that place.  I don't want to lose the only semblance of control I have in this mess.  I don't want that kind of sadness to be constantly entwined with intimacy.

So our sex life suffers.  I'm afraid to enjoy it because I don't want to get to the crying part, but I don't want to lay there like a dead fish either. (So much for the classy!)  Instead, I avoid it, which isn't helping anything or anyone.

I'm putting myself out there, sisters. Please tell me this resonates with someone else.

Negative

Nothing but a bunch of white space. This is hitting especially hard because it suddenly feels like a new layer. We can't do it on our own, we can't do it with a little help. We need a lot of help. There are no more layers after IVF on the biological child onion for us and that scares the crap out of me.

Just Frickin Sad

It's been a shitty couple of days.  Today just made it worse.


One of my families brought their 1 year old hapa baby in today.  I hadn't met her yet.  This mom and I talk a lot about being married to Asian men and I really like her.  I was psyched to meet her little one, but man it hit me hard.  She was so freakin' adorable.  Smiley and happy.  She actually had blond hair and blue eyes!  I had to get my shit together in the bathroom.  I did not cry.  I was proud of myself for that.

Ultrasound was this morning.  I have one lonely follicle to work with this month.  If I couldn't get pregnant with five, I doubt I'll get pregnant with one.  I can ovulate one without the shots, thank you very much.

With this whole FSH crap, I kept holding on to the fact that I respond well to stims.  Scratch that!  My body totally changed it's mind!  I had an AMH drawn today and the RE wants to move on to "something more aggressive" if this month doesn't work.  Let's face it - it ain't gunna work.  I'm assuming "something more aggressive" means IVF because I don't want to screw around with a totally injectable cycle.  I'm already on Menopur and Femara.  Triggering tonight.  IUI is scheduled for Friday.


Thanks for all of your positive thoughts on the FSH front.  It was good to hear success stories.  Right now I'm just wallowing in self pity.  I'm sure I'll get out of it.  I was just holding on to a lot of hope and I feel like it's been taken down a notch or two.  So I apologize for my lack of commenting.  I'm just... blah.