Secrets of an Infertile Mom

Integration

2009-09-24T12:50:00.000-07:00

I'm going to stop posting on this blog.

(I'll give you a moment to regain your breath. I hope you were sitting down when you read that!)

I took up residence here when I needed an outlet to talk about our struggles with secondary infertility. During the active stages of TTC, there's a lot to discuss. The daily mechanics of the treatments and the rollercoaster of emotions that accompanies them.

And at least for me, being pregnant and parenting after infertility does not completely silence the aches and pains of what we went through. Is life easier? Yes. Do I think about infertility every day? Hell yes.

Because I wouldn't be pregnant with twins right now if I didn't have trouble conceiving.

And I think about that. Constantly. Among the other ways I have been changed (for better and for worse) by my IF experience.

However.

In my first post, I talk about how this blog is a way to compartmentalize my infertility. Instead of allowing it to seep into every relationship, every thought, and every thing like I did the first time around -- I wanted to get it all out here and leave the joyful areas of my life alone. And I was able to do that with a fair amount of success, which was in no small part thanks to the fact that our journey to #2 and #3 has (so far) been incredibly less horrible than #1.

But I think it's time. For integration.

I will still be writing about parenting after infertility, because it is part of who I am just as much as my tendency to get bruises from bumping into furniture or my weakness for things that have glitter on them.

But I'm going to do it among other topics on my other blog, Sunny in Seattle.

I am probably jinxing myself in a huge cosmic way, not even being out of the first trimester yet. If (God forbid) something bad happens to this pregnancy, maybe I will revive this blog. But I'm doing my best to think positively, to focus on recovery instead of dwelling.

I hope you follow me to my other digs. But I understand if you don't, if that's not where you are right now. It feels rather counter-intuitive to close this blog, which gets more hits than my other one. However I can't manufacture more infertility posts than are truly in my heart, and although I still have much to express, it's not enough to support an entire blog at this point.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for commenting. Thank you for praying, wishing, supporting. Whatever you are striving for in your own life right now, I hope you find your great reward.

And as my Dad would say, I'll see you on the flip side.

Phew.... still two

2009-09-18T12:48:00.000-07:00

Our patience was rewarded. With two strong, beautiful heartbeats. Hopefully no more spotting, no more scares.

They were still measuring ahead, this time six whole days. (Overachievers.) (Naturally.)

So my new due date is April 16, 2010.

That makes me 10 weeks along today.

Now let's see how much longer until I have the courage to stop the progesterone.

Sinking in and moving on

2009-09-16T12:19:00.000-07:00

Life has been crazy in the past couple of weeks and it's hard to find a moment to blog! On top of that, my laptop has decided to be entirely uncooperative, I can't sneak ~~hours~~ moments online while Bean happily chucks his ball around the house. And with those excuses out of the way, a quick update.

The best news is that I haven't been spotting in at least a week now. Yippee! Of course there's still a drumroll in my head that accompanies every trip to the bathroom, which I'm guessing will continue throughout the duration of the pregnancy. But it adds that air of drama and anticipation to my day, so it's all good.

Despite the lack of spotting and the increased desire to hurl at every second, I am very nervous about my ultrasound later this week (which has been moved from Thursday to Friday, because again, needing drama and anticipation). I am mostly worried about Vanishing Twin Syndrome, which is when one of the twins... well, vanishes. Except it lacks the X-Files appeal that it may suggest. I am still freaking out about the prospect of double the newborn action, but I'm already attached to these two little blobs, and to only see one heartbeat on Friday -- let's just not talk about it.

I am slowly doing better as I process the likelihood that we will be a family of five in April. I no longer lay awake at night worrying, I manage to contain all of that to my waking hours. I am basically rewriting the future I see for our family. Because that's what we do all throughout infertility, right? Revising that timeline we so carefully crafted for our lives. First it starts on a small scale (from "I'll be pregnant by Christmas with the first of our eight kids" to "Well, maybe the first one by next Christmas") and then it gets bigger (to "I'll have two kids by 40, right?" then "FINE! ONE BY MENOPAUSE!"). In my case, of course, I am lucky to go in the opposite direction. Nevertheless, even though this is a huge blessing, I'm erasing and replacing how I pictured next year. And the year after, and the year after, and all the years until I have three adult children and I finally turn to DH and say, "Well, that wasn't so hard after all!" (Because I have a bad memory by then, of course.)

On the bright side, all of this worrying and processing has kept me from being bitter about the fact that I will never know what it's like to conceive a child without instructions to "don't forget to pay your outstanding balance on the way out." Or the fact that infertility has taken yet another thing from me -- the ability to grow my family one child at a time.

HOORAY FOR NOT BEING BITTER!

(Even if it's temporary)

And now for a question that has been weighing on my mind. Although I have no history of low progesterone, my doctor has me on these ~~leaky~~ lovely suppositories two times a day until I hit week 10. I am a mere 8 days from that milestone, and the thought of putting away the pill bottle makes my heart do little leaps of happiness in my chest. But I feel like weeks 10 and 11 are such a critical time, I'm nervous about stopping. I'm wondering: If you were on progesterone supplements following your IUI into a successful pregnancy, how long did your doctor have you take them?

The ungrateful infertile?

2009-09-10T12:38:00.000-07:00

First, quick update on Spot Watch 2009. It comes and goes, but it's always very light when it's here. I still feel like complete crap, so I'm trying to remain positive that there are still two healthy beanlets in there. Anxiously awaiting next Thursday to see them again. All of your comments make me feel much better, thank you.

*****

It's hard to post on this blog about my struggles with processing the news that we are pregnant with twins. Because many of the people who read it are still in the IF trenches. Which sucks a lot more than the worry about how I will manage to gestate and care for two babies at the same time. I don't want to sound... ungrateful. Because DEAR LORD am I grateful. There was a time I thought I would never be a mother. Never know what it was like to parent a child with my beloved husband.

Now, God willing, I will hopefully be the mother of three in seven short months.

I even remember those first weeks of pregnancy with Bean. Harboring the secret hope that there would be twins, because HOORAY! we wouldn't have to go through treatment again to reach our goal of having two kids. Literally, two for the price of one. That would be convenient, no?

But in reality, having twins is not just a fun bonus. There are serious risks to my health and the health of the babies. And when they are born -- well, it was hard enough to breastfeed and stay up all night with one infant, I shudder to think about handling two. The sleep deprivation was more horrible than I ever imagined. Worth it? Of course. But not romantic and cute, as it seemed before.

And it's not like I can call my Mom or MIL when I'm feeling stressed. "Hey guys, can one of you hop on a plane and fly across the country to watch the kiddos so I can shower for five minutes? Super thanks, bye!"

After the initial burst of help, I am going to be on my own, all day, alone with three children under the age of two and a half. I worry constantly (day and night) about how I will handle that, and how it will affect my son, who is never happier than when he's snuggled into my arms.

I realize that this is the direct result of choices I made. The choice to begin treatment again so soon. The choice to continue with the IUI, knowing there was a chance for twins or triplets. I accept responsibility. But that doesn't mean it's not difficult.

When I first started thinking about having newborn twins and a two year old, I began second-guessing my decision to try for another child. I mean, we are a happy family right now, the three of us. After overcoming our initial incompetence at parenthood, DH and I made up some ground and have fallen into a great rhythm. It doesn't feel like another child is missing from our lives, that we are incomplete or unfinished.

I had to remind myself why we wanted several children in the first place. Because although right now, at 18 months old, our son needs nothing more than his mommy, daddy, and a big stick to drag around the yard -- he will eventually want more socialization. Unfortunately, with the distance from our families, he will not have cousins to bond with. The people we have met through our various activities are really fantastic, but we think he will benefit from having siblings close in age. I have one brother, and DH has three siblings. We both have wonderful memories of growing up with them, and we want that for Bean, too.

Prior to this round of treatment, DH and I had actually talked about having three kids, revising our initial plan of two once we realized how much our son rocks. I thought DH was just wanting to further postpone getting the big snip-snip (he's not a huge fan of the concept), but he assured me that's not the case. And the big grin he gets when he whispers, "father of three" -- well, that's enough to convince me. We of course hoped to manage this one baby at a time, but beggars can't be choosers. DH's wholehearted excitement over the prospect of twins has helped my own acceptance, I'm just hoping that I am confident enough to calm him when he inevitably gets to his own freak-out stage.

So although I'm fearful that I won't escape the first 12 months with my sanity, there's really so little of it left anyway that it won't be a great loss. We will survive, and seeing how much easier things become as my son learns new ~~tricks~~ skills, I can see a future where I might actually function as a human being once more.

I do, however, reserve the right to completely panic about the twinklets throughout the duration of my pregnancy, and for an indefinite time afterwards. In fact, I plan on it.

But please always know that this infertile is eternally grateful for this opportunity, if scared out of her mind.

Holding on

2009-09-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

My pregnancy with Bean was pretty easy. As easy as carrying an extra 40+ pounds and having your internal organs pummelled all day (and night) can be, at least.

Sadly, these twinklets seem to not have the mercy of their brother, so far at least.

The spotting continues.

Ugh.

It was light at first, I was determined not to be worried. Then it got -- well, I'll spare you the details, but it was bad enough to be worrisome yesterday.

Now it's back to being light and less concerning.

But still.

My RE said I can come in today for another ultrasound, if I need the reassurance. But it would be quite an effort to get me and Bean downtown, plus DH would want to take off work to join me -- and as important as the twinklets are, there's nothing that can be done at this point anyway other than calm my nerves, so we are doing our best to stay positive and wait out the weekend.

On the bright side (I guess?), I feel stronger morning sickness today than I have previously. I constantly have the urge to hurl, I can hardly force any food down my throat. Hooray?

My next ultrasound is scheduled to be September 17, just under two weeks away.

Holding on.

Two heart(beat)s are better than one

2009-09-01T16:27:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your prayers and positive thoughts.

They must have worked.

I'm pregnant with twins.

Two beating hearts, two babies measuring right on track.

YIPPEE!! and OH SHIT!!

The irony is not lost on me. The infertile ends up with more children than in her "plans." (Thinking positively that they'll both come home, of course.)

Well played, universe.

And thank you.

The waiting game

2009-08-31T11:45:00.000-07:00

I wish I could say I haven't been posting because I've been off dancing in Pregnancy Heaven. Blissfully designing the nursery, eagerly speculating about the gender, and just generally GLOWING as I go about my merry day.

But no. It's Pregnancy Hell.

I am finding this first trimester infinitely more difficult than when I was pregnant with Bean. The main reason for this is probably denial -- or more accurately, the lack of it. Last time, my brain took its time accepting the fact that there was, indeed, a small life growing inside my tummy. Because, again, stuff like that just didn't happen for me.

But this time, it seems more within reach. I did gestate, and quite successfully, a 9 lb. 14 oz. child for a full 40 weeks. It is possible, my brain is more prepared for this.

And also, last time the thought of an actual BABY at the end of the pregnancy was quite nebulous. I couldn't imagine what it would be like, holding MY baby, taking him home, feeding him, changing him, loving him with more of my heart than I knew existed. It was far away and foreign. But this time, I am more focused on that moment. Meeting my child and welcoming him/her into the family. My heart is more on the line, knowing what I could lose.

My ultrasound is tomorrow.

Today, I started spotting.

My doctor, predictably, is not worried. (How nice for him!) It's fairly common for women to experience this during the first trimester, it doesn't always mean Bad Things... of course I do know this. But it's not a comfort. Every moment between now and 11:30 am tomorrow is painful. I can't get comfortable, I can't relax.

I am preparing for the worst.

And it sucks.

Absolute zero

2009-08-20T11:34:00.000-07:00

As infertiles, many of us suffer from certain "triggers." Pregnancy announcements, baby shower invitations, innocent inquiries (so when are you two going to have a baby?), ignorant comments (you are so lucky you don't have kids, they are such a pain!), swollen bellies in line at the grocery story, a pregnancy appearing in the storyline of a favorite television program... the events that make you simultaneously feel a stabbing in your heart, a swelling in your throat, and a clenching in your stomach.

While we are in the waiting-for-BFP phase of IF, I think many of us imagine that seeing two magical lines on a HPT will suddenly make things All Better. That attaining the goal, the sweet and precious reward of all of our efforts, will make the world look rosy and we'll shop for itty bitty clothes and share a secret smile with DH when the baby kicks and OH LAWD isn't every second of life just Heaven?

Of course, getting pregnant after IF is a wonderful gift. I don't mean to discount how much happier it is to take a progesterone supplement than a Follistim shot. It's a far, far better place.

But it's not The Cure.

(I apologize if I just got "It's Friday I'm in Love" in your head. Go listen to it on youtube.com three times, that should get it out. Click HERE for the link. Because I care.)

When I was first pregnant with Bean, the triggers for me were just as strong as while we were undergoing treatment. I remember being less than two months along, and I went to get my hair cut. I loved my stylist, she was young and fun and friendly and great at her job. On that particular day, I was greeted with a hug and the exciting news that HOORAY! SHE WAS PREGNANT! I was thrilled at her obvious baby bump, especially knowing that she had suffered two miscarriages in the past. But despite my sincere happiness that she was baking a very sticky bean, and the private knowledge that I, too, had an early life growing inside my tummy, it was a trigger for me. As soon as I got back into my car, I started sobbing uncontrollably.

Weird, huh?

But infertility had burrowed itself so deep inside of me, that just getting pregnant was not enough to erase my response to the triggers. That's me, Pavlov's dog -- just ring the bell.

Over time, the conditioning weakened and the triggers changed. After Bean was born, there were no more tears when a birth announcement came in the mail, just perhaps a slight stiffening.

When we began to look toward having a second child, I would feel that dreaded physical response only when I saw a pregnant woman who had one child with her. A baby bump alone was not enough to punch me in the gut, which I was grateful for. And my reactions never did seem as strong as they were when we battling IF the first time. Probably because our situation never got as bad.

So here I am, pregnant again. Hopefully for another eight more months. I do feel my triggers slowly -- very slowly -- losing their power. When I see a pregnant women with her kids, I am drawn to stare, with a bit of envy. I wonder if she knows what it's like to struggle to conceive. I wonder what it would be like to conceive with my husband, just the two of us, in private. To not have that heavy weight, that dark burden, that lingering question: Will there be a child, or won't there? To take for granted that there just will be.

On one hand, I can't imagine myself being a grandmother one day (God willing) and still having a reaction to these triggers.

But on the other hand, I can't ever imagine myself not.

Like the graph of an asymptotic function where the line slowly dips lower and lower, approaching zero but never arriving.

It makes me wonder. After you've lived through infertility and felt the pain of its associated triggers, can you ever get to absolute zero? When the only churning in your stomach at hearing of another "accidental" pregnancy is yearning for a bite of that yummy-looking bagel sandwich she's eating? Is it possible to achieve complete extinction from that level of IF conditioning?

Special thanks to my cousin J for the math advice and Truth Be Told blog for the graph image.

Too easy

2009-08-13T12:21:00.000-07:00

So here I am in Preggoville... at least, I think. It's morbid, I know, but I wake up every morning and wonder, "Is my baby still alive?" I really have no way of knowing. I still have pregnancy symptoms, but I don't trust them. Isn't that the definition of a missed miscarriage... your body still thinks you are pregnant, even when you are not?

My first ultrasound is 2 weeks and 5 days away. But who's counting? And another month and a half until I'll start renting a doppler so I can listen to the baby's heartbeat at home. DH nodded his head heartily when I asked if we could get one again. "I saw how much it calmed you with Bean," he said. Many women complain about their reliability, or find them useless after they can feel the baby move. But every night, DH and I would sit on the bed and listen to our baby's heartbeat. I could fall asleep relaxed and increasingly connected to our child. For an hour, at least, until he got the hiccups and started kicking the crap out of my liver.

Right now I am totally disconnected from this pregnancy. I am aware of every emotion rolling through my body... various shades of excitement and fear. But it's as if these are occurring on another plane. Because on the surface level, I am very calm now. More so than I have been in months. Like there is just me and DH and Bean and our pooch... not an actual itty bitty person doing somersaults in what is apparently my ginormous womb. (My uterus must be very excited to do its job again, as I already look 4 months pregnant. The kid has enough room to play nine holes of golf.)

I am in absolute denial. I can't even say the word -- when I do, my tongue feels all heavy, and it sounds to me more like pwegwant. I have experienced more than 30 failed TTC cycles total, and even with one healthy son under my belt (literally under my belt, the kiddo can't ever be close enough to his mama -- in fact, I'm hoping he doesn't catch wind of the extra room in my uterus) I still believe that I do not get pregnant.

Other women, yes, they get pregnant. But me? Nah.

I do not get pregnant.

And even if I do look at a belly shot from early 2008 and remember with horror how absolutely humongously pregnant I indeed can get... then I think, Well, but this was too easy.

Compared with the utter torture that was TTC #1, this time in the IF gauntlet was far too quick and relatively painless.

It's almost like the treatment never even happened.

And I am not pregnant.

Charting the course

2009-08-10T12:53:00.000-07:00

I've given some thought to how I want to handle this blog, now that I am pregnant. I've still got a long way to go before I have a living baby in my arms, and I won't consider myself out of the "active" phase of infertility until that happens. If, God forbid, something bad happens to this pregnancy, I will blog about it here.

But just maybe the Universe is on my side, and come mid-April, from my abdomen will spring a real live actual human baby.

Between now and then, I plan to use this blog to talk about pregnancy and parenting after infertility. I first joined the blogosphere when I was pregnant with Bean, and I wished I could have found more women talking about what happens to an infertile after the BFP. More specifically, I felt different than a "normal" pregnant woman, and I wanted validation and support with that.

I won't be sharing baby bump photos, ultrasound pictures, and nursery designs here. You won't find a due date countdown on this site. I've decided to keep all of that kind of stuff on my other blog, Sunny in Seattle. (Which is under construction right now, by the way. Please forgive the dust and debris.) This will remain the place where I can talk about my feelings about infertility, how it affects me as a preggo, and how it affects me as a mother.

If and when the baby comes, I will re-evaluate. But for now, that's the plan. I hope you'll stay.

Just pretend like you didn't already guess that I'm pregnant

2009-08-08T07:56:00.000-07:00

The verdict:

I'm not quite sure how this happened. I mean, I am... but... wow.

On Monday, at 8 DPO, I got a call from a friend asking if we wanted to join her on a walk. I got dressed, looked in the mirror, everything was in place... got the kiddo ready and out we went. When I got home, I caught another glimpse in the mirror, and I had changed. My stomach had popped out considerably. Like I had gone to Old Country Buffet and eaten enough for an entire family. And I started having cramps. Could be AF or the effects of the progesterone of course, but I started to get *gasp* hopeful that it could be my BFP on the way.

On Tuesday, at 9 DPO, I went against my better judgement and used one of those home pregnancy tests. That's the problem with having 12 of them in the cupboard, no cause for restraint. And I got a very faint line. Could have been an evaporation line (false positive), but those are gray. And I swore I saw pink. Took another cheapie test after lunch, same very faint line. Two evap lines? Less likely. A third very faint line that evening when DH was home from work.

On Wednesday, at 10 DPO, I used the digital. DH and I sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched the window with anticipation. Blink... blink... blink...

Pregnant.

I called the nurse and arranged for a blood test that morning. My hcg level came back at 33. Which is a rather low number in and of itself, but when taken in consideration that I was only 10 DPO, it's relatively high. According to Betabase.info, the average hcg of a singleton pregnancy at 10 DPO is 16, and a twin pregnancy is 31. You can't base everything off those numbers, because what day your implantation occurred makes a big difference in your results. But looking good.

On Friday, at 12 DPO, I went back for a follow up blood test. They want to see your hcg number double in 48 hours. Mine was 109. So it more than tripled. According to the same web site, the average hcg of a singleton pregnancy at 12 DPO is 37, and a twin pregnancy is 66.

I am, it would seem, with child.

It's extremely early, I am only 3 weeks pregnant today. (Due date is April 22, for those of you playing along at home.) And there has been so much devastating pregnancy loss in the community lately, that the fragility of my condition isn't lost on me.

I'm not excited yet, but hopeful. Please pray for me and my little one.

Thanks for holding on with me.

(hold music)

2009-08-06T16:18:00.001-07:00

Thank you for your patience. Someone will be with you shortly.

This is not a pregnancy announcement

2009-08-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

But let's talk about them for a minute, k?

Now this is a difficult post to write, because I have to first get around my defense mechanism that is screaming THERE IS AN 80% CHANCE THAT YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT! DO NOT GET YOUR HOPES UP! THEY WILL CRASH AND BURN, AND RUNNY MASCARA IS NOT A GOOD LOOK FOR YOU! As if my mascara won't run when AF arrives, just because my "hopes aren't up." Actually I hardly ever wear mascara these days. This whole situation is really just beyond sad.

But all I have to do is look over at Bean to be reminded that, well, miracles do happen. So this post is necessary.

Today I am 9 DPO. And my ~~gut~~ uterus is telling me that I will know the answer to The Big Question by the end of this week. I'm not sure when AF is due, based on the new variable of progesterone supplements entering the equation. But she could be here as early as Thursday, and as late as... well, who the hell knows.

Flashing back to my pregnancy with Bean. Even after two awesome betas and a tiny little heartbeat, I still was not excited to share our Big News with other people. I wanted to keep it just between me and DH, preferably until the child was born. In fact, although we did end up telling family and friends earlier than we had wanted because of the timing of a visit home, I kept tight-lipped at the office until a coworker eyed my belly in the kitchen area one day when I was 14 weeks along and asked loudly, "Are you pregnant?!" I immediately decided it was finally time to tell my boss.

I think this reluctance comes from many factors. Although we had let that team of highly trained, specialized medical professionals invade the most intimate part of our marriage, I still felt like IF was something DH and I had weathered largely on our own. I also appreciated the support I got from the few family and friends who knew about our struggles, but really it was just the two of us in the trenches. It seemed like the result, this baby, was now a part of our private space, and it was hard to suddenly let others in.

Second, part of the wounds of IF left me feeling like no one would care that I was pregnant anyway, so why tell? While I was isolating myself during treatment, frozen in the moment of BFN, everyone else was going on living. Getting married and having lots of children. Everyone was wrapped up in the exciting changes in their own lives, so why would they bother to take notice of mine? Absolutely ridiculous and unfair to my very caring friends. Lots of faulty thinking to be explored under this one... I'll save that for a rainy day.

And finally, of course, was the denial that this was actually happening after so long. And the fear that it would suddenly be yanked away.

So to make a long story short (too late!), especially during the first part of my pregnancy, I was still quiet and feeling reserved about the whole situation.

This time is entirely different, of course. I am open about our treatments, willing to share and generally in a better place overall. Generally.

DH asked me the other day, "So how are you going to deal with your blog, if you are pregnant?"

Of course this is something I struggled with before I even started this blog. I knew I wanted a place to share, vent, and get support -- as others hopefully feel the understanding and encouragement I give them on their blogs. But how to do it? Totally anonymously? That would be easiest, of course. I could be more open about things, knowing that no one IRL would find my words.

But I finally decided that even though I try not to give too much identifying information on here, I still wanted to share my web site with my friends and family. Let them decide how much (or how little) they would know about my uterus. I guess pseudo-anonymous is the best way to describe that?

I'm not sure how many of them actually read this blog, as they are kind enough not to bring up my uterus in conversation. But I always assume that they are, just to be safe.

So while I don't want to go posting a BFP picture in the first hour of its reveal, I also think it's unfair not to tell you the results as soon as possible, seeing as you have been so wonderful in taking this journey with me so far. And if I experience another chemical pregnancy, or a miscarriage, I'm sure I will want to blog about that anyway.

I guess I'm just asking for a little patience with me... I don't know the right way to handle this. A BFN, I do know the right way to handle. Chocolate, a box of tissues, heating pad, and the latest installment of "Twin Peaks." But the BFP territory is much less known to me, especially since I am now Out of the IF Closet.

I promise to update as soon as I can. I'm not sure exactly what day that will be, depending on how things play out, but if the news is good, it will be before the baby is born.

Most likely.

Because obviously I am not hopeful

2009-08-01T09:18:00.000-07:00

(Oh, and in case you are wondering -- no, I do not feel pregnant with triplets. Or twins. Or a singleton. I am 6 DPO and counting.)

So... do I sound pregnant?

2009-07-27T16:08:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all the good thoughts yesterday. The IUI went off perfectly.

As perfectly as having a catheter shoved up your hoo-ha can go, at least.

Isn't this fun?!

We showed up at 8:30 am for our *ahem* deposit. Then we had over an hour to kill before our IUI. I knew my brain was going to start bleeding if I heard another John Secada song piped into the waiting room, so we decided to bolt. Fortunately Jen had suggested beforehand that we go to Grand Central Bakery down the street. DH and I both got coffee (decaf for me -- not giving the pregnancy fairy another reason to pass me over) and bread pudding. Yum.

We got back around 9:45 am. DH and I read our books while we waited: "If you Deceive" for me and "Firestorm: Allied Airpower and the Destruction of Dresden" for him. I thought it would be funny if we sat down and started reading each other's books. You know, DH getting engrossed in a romance novel with two lovers on the front, their bodies passionately entwined under a Scottish tartan thing. Not that anyone there would have noticed. Infertiles are generally a serious bunch in these waiting rooms. The tension! Even my karaoke version of a Mariah Carey song went unappreciated.

The nurse who performed the IUI was friendly. It went smoothly, no problems. DH and I stayed another 15 minutes after our menage a trois so I could keep the old hips propped. Then it was off to our romantic anniversary brunch!

DH had made reservations for the two of us at Salty's on Alki Beach, which is famous for its amazing brunch buffet and views of Puget Sound and downtown Seattle. I was reminded yet again that although I have many talents, buffeting is not among them. There's just too much pressure when you have limited stomach space and an enormous spread of food that stretches around the room. How do you know you got the best combination? Plus, I generally don't like breakfast food or most seafood, and well... yeah, this was a seafood breakfast buffet. Didn't really think that one all the way through. Nevertheless, I did find some delish dishes to nosh, and the view really was spectacular. Not to mention the company.

Now I am 1 DPO. I feel like I've had this giant "1" following me around all day, like the "U" that followed Lionel Riche around on Sesame Street while he sang "Stuck on You." That totally freaked me out when I was little, it was all clinging to him and he looked upset trying to pry it off. I assume he got that thing off eventually, but as a kid I was worried! Anyway, yes, the TWW has begun, and I feel every second of it.

This wait will be different, as it's the first cycle I am on progesterone following ovulation. My blood test did not indicate that I have low progesterone, but Dr. Downtown's motto is, "Why not?" (My answer: "Umm... my time, effort, and money. Not to mention the lovely leakage. But you're the doc!") So anyway, this progesterone is going to throw off all my normal symptom analysis. And I was also looking forward to the shorter LP that comes with injectible cycles, but now I'm wondering if the progesterone supplements will lengthen it again? Time will tell.

Just because I'm a downer like that, I constantly remind myself that even under the best conditions, the most optimistic success rates for IUIs with injectibles is 20%. So a whopping 80% chance that I will have to do this again next month.

I'm exhausted already.

Happy anniversary to us!

2009-07-26T06:40:00.000-07:00

If you'd like to read my tribute to my wonderful, amazing, and adorable husband, click here.

If you'd like to wish us luck on our IUI this morning, comment below.

But I won't hold it against you if you do neither.

I might, however, love you a little bit more if you do both.

A round of applause for my uterus, please updated again

2009-07-24T11:41:00.000-07:00

My lining measured at more than 15 mm today. Wow! That sounds so comfy, even I would like to crawl in there and gestate for nine months.

Okay, not really.

I'd miss the last season of Monk.

I know, I could get the DVDs later.

But it's not the same.

Get on with it!

The follies are also looking great. One on the right ovary is 17 mm, then a 16 mm and 15 mm on the left. With the right being my "lucky" side, I'm thrilled with this outcome. Hoping for one -- ONE! -- perfect little baby.

I will trigger tonight right before bed, and if I can ever get through to the clinic to schedule the appointment, the IUI will be on Sunday morning.

T-minus two days.

Edited to add: HOLD YOUR APPLAUSE! I just learned from Dr. Google that when the lining is 15 mm or greater, it may be too thick for implantation. And could be related to my endo. Shite.

And again: I emailed Dr. Downtown about my concern over the thickness of my lining. He maintains that Dr. Google did not specialize in fertility and said that he is still optimistic. I am struggling to be the same.

Deja vu

2009-07-23T12:53:00.000-07:00

(Or: When hope and hopelessness collide)

This morning was my first follicle check since starting the Follistim. For those of you who haven't needed a bunch of people in labcoats present when you conceive (but I highly recommend it... sexy!), the doc was looking at two main things during this ultrasound: the thickness of my lining, to make sure it is substantial enough to support implantation; and what size my follicles are. When the follicles are big enough, they will have me give myself a trigger shot of HcG in order to force ovulation. Then the IUI is timed 34ish hours later, which is when ovulation should be occurring based on the trigger shot timing. And then, wham bam thank-you-ma'am, I am with child.

Or that's the theory, anyway.

So on to the appointment. The doc was pleased to find that my lining is measuring 13.1 mm. This, my friends, is impressive. For reference, 10 mm is the point considered more than adequate by most REs, so clearly mine is kicking some major ass. I am thinking of having my uterus host a seminar on growing such an impressively cozy home for potential embryos. Just to help offset the cost of the medication.

Now, drumroll please.... the follicles.

Right side: 14 mm

Left side: 15 mm and 13 mm

Some of you are nodding appreciatively, while some of you are thinking that this makes about as much sense as that bizarre fog beast thing on Lost. For the latter, a bit more explanation. (About my follicles, of course. You are on your own with the fog beast.) The doc saw three dominant follicles doing their thang in my ovaries. One on the right side, two on the left. Those are their measurements.

On the generic clinic paperwork I have, it says that the doctor will have me take the ovulation trigger shot when a follie hits 17-18 mm. Which is right in line with what my previous RE had me do. However, Dr. Downtown has noted specifically that he wants me to trigger at 16 mm. Unfortunately I didn't see him today so I couldn't ask him why so early. But his partner (who read this in Dr. Downtown's notes) said that I should come back tomorrow for another check, and if we hit the magic number, it's trigger time.

It also means: the possibility of triplets. In fact, the doc specifically stopped to discuss with me that each follicle is a potential baby. I loved that he did this. One of my biggest pet peeves about infertility is when doctors DO NOT monitor the follicle development and DO NOT inform the couple of how many eggs could potentially be fertilized by the IUI. I find it extremely unethical and sloppy. (This is what I believe happened with Jon & Kate Plus Eight, by the way.) Before DH and I started injectible treatments two years ago, we sat down and discussed what our opinions were on this subject. Because we didn't want to face the possibility of higher order multiples -- and selective reduction is not an option we'd personally consider -- we agreed that if I had four or more follicles, we would not proceed with the IUI. I realize all too well that it is costly and inconvenient to have follicle checks during treatment, but the consequences are just too severe for the parents and the children when the "off chance" occurs and there is a basketball team in there. I'm sorry for going off like that, but it's obviously a subject that hits a nerve for me. (And yes, I realize that triplets would still be higher order multiples and a risky pregnancy. And yes, one embryo can split into identical twins naturally and unexpectedly anyway. I'm just talking about being informed and carefully weighing these life-sized decisions.)

*stepping off soapbox*

So we will be going ahead with the IUI. Personally I'd be surprised if all three follies make it to ovulation, especially based on this questionably early trigger. I have to go to the office tomorrow for another follicle check. The doc expects them to be big enough for a trigger shot late on Friday, with an IUI early on Sunday. Which happens to be our wedding anniversary. Harry Potter, out. Turkey baster, in. Romance, anyone?

And just for fun, let's remember our first Follistim + IUI cycle back in May 2007, shall we?

Outstanding lining, three ripe follies, Olympic Gold swimmers, a perfectly timed IUI.

And?

BFN.

Edited to add: I emailed Dr. Downtown as the brilliant Martha suggested. He explained he was concerned that waiting an extra day would give time for a fourth follicle to mature, which is definitely too many. Excellent point! Ideally I would like 2-3 follies between 16-18 mm tomorrow morning, then I would be happy to trigger tomorrow night.

Up

2009-07-21T08:29:00.000-07:00

When they say infertility is a rollercoaster, it's really quite true. One minute you are up -- buoyed by good news at the RE's office, a well-timed ovulation, or was that a twinge in my uterus? during your TWW. Then you are down. AF has come, insurance won't pay, the diagnosis is grim.

After the little whine-and-cheese party I threw in my last post, I'm feeling better this week. Which I'm sure is in no small part due to my hormones recovering from the AF swing. But today I'm going to be positive for a change and share the small blessings that have brought me back up from the most recent low.

* Yesterday, the mailman brought the giveaway package I won from Martha at A Sense of Humor is Essential. I am sipping coffee from the mug as I type this post, and if you were sitting next to me, you'd catch the light, summery scent of the body lotion.

* Speaking of the mailman, I also got two new cloth diapers in the mail yesterday. They are so adorable that I almost nibbled them to pieces right out of the bag. Even DH likes them, and he ~~hates cloth diapering with a burning passion~~ is not exactly the "poster husband" for cloth diapering.

* April of April Showers Blog Design finished the first draft of the new look for my other blog, which has outgrown its theme. It is WAY too cute. Coming soon!

* I am halfway through the second book of the MacCarrick Brothers series by my favoritest author, Kresley Cole. I was so giddy reading it last night that DH commented with a smile, "I think I'm going to have to commission more Kresley Cole books for you."

* Hubby is in a great mood, too. He says it's because I'm happy, which always makes him happy. But I'm thinking it might also be a bit of IF denial (He asked: "Is it just me, or does it seem like we are NOT in the middle of a treatment cycle right now?" Answer: "It's just you.") or even GASP! some of that elusive hope that I am so lacking (He asked with a grin and wide eyes: "Can you imagine, we could be holding a newborn baby in nine months!" Answer: "Only if one of our friends is getting knocked up this month.").

* I got an email from one of the moms in my preschool group. (I am "out of the IF closet" with them, and they have been so wonderful to me!) She said she's been thinking about me and wants to offer support any way she can, especially knowing that my family is far away. Totally, totally sweet.

* My calendar is jam packed for the next couple of weeks, and not just with doctor appointments! I will definitely need the distraction. Among the highlights, more outings with bloggy buddies! Involving two of my favorite things about Seattle, no less: the amazing cupcakes and the beautiful outdoors.

* DH and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary on Sunday. I have the babysitter coming over, we are going to see Harry Potter and then get dinner. I am so excited! For gifts, we got ourselves tickets to see the play Wicked in early September. I can't wait to go out on the town with my man.

* As I was leaving a MOMS Club activity yesterday, I felt especially grateful for the wonderful women I have met out here. I wasn't thrilled to move in the first place, especially to somewhere so far away and unknown to me as the Pacific Northwest. Of course I researched schools, housing prices, commute, amenities, etc. in picking exactly where to live in the Seattle area. But the one thing that is difficult to assess beforehand is how well you'll mesh with the locals. I had low expectations of fitting in, being a consummate Midwesterner myself. But wow, I would never have imagined how friendly and welcoming everyone has been to me.

* The pooch got a bath, she's super soft again. It's impossible to be too sad when there is a fluffy white creature lounging around your couch. You know, resting up after a three-hour nap.

* My happy little toddler loves his mama more than anything in life. Cuddles to prove it.

So what is making you happy today?

Poke

2009-07-19T09:08:00.000-07:00

This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Not the injection part. That was actually even easier than I remember. I found it incredibly empowering to give myself the first shot last night. As I've mentioned before, I used to have a terrible phobia of needles. I've known from a young age that a medical profession was not in my future. Generally they prefer if you don't pass out at the sight of your patient's blood.

But that was before infertility.

Now: I'm so BA (that's "badass," for those of you without an 18-year-old sister-in-law), I didn't even wait until the Follistim was room temp before shooting myself up. The most painful part was when the alcohol swab touched the cut on my finger. Yeouch.

Total badassness aside, I have been blindsided by how much this treatment cycle SUCKS. Partly financially, but mostly emotionally. I guess infertility treatment is like childbirth. You develop selective amnesia about the event, so that you'll do it again in the future when the time comes.

I thought -- having been there, done that, got the t-shirt -- that this would be a relative walk in the park. That the biggest challenge would be finding a babysitter for the munchkin on my endless trips to the doc.

Not so.

Putting this much time, energy, and money into the dream of growing our family... well, it's overwhelming. The pressure, the waiting. To know. Yes... or no?

I feel my defense mechanism kicking into place. I am now, at CD 4, one measly shot into the protocol, completely positive that I will NOT get pregnant this cycle. I just can't let myself hope it will work.

And I've already seized on The Why, because this helps my defense mechanism sell this inevitable failure to the rest of my mind. It's because my dose of 75 ius is lower than the 100 ius that I was on when I got pregnant with our son. Too low.

It doesn't matter that this dose was recommended by our doc, and was entirely what DH and I wanted at our consultation meeting. To lower the risk of multiples, which scares the beejezus out of me almost as much as another BFN.

It is The Why. No sale, do not Pass Go, do not collect $200.

End of story.

I'm already planning to email Dr. Downtown and asking him to up the dose to 100 ius -- or even 125 ius -- for next cycle.

Which is also the last IUI treatment cycle that we can afford.

I will say this about secondary infertility, though. There is certainly a comfort in knowing that no matter what the outcome this time around, I am a mother. That role is not in question. DH and I will be raising our son together, God willing. It may not be the family as I've always pictured it, but my darkest fears are not even remotely as dark as they were with primary infertility.

In the meantime, my Frank's Big Ones cookies have arrived. I've heard them described as larger than a baby's head, and I wanted to see how they compared to my toddler's ginormous noggin.

Pretty damn well, I'd say.

And also?

Yum.

It's on like Donkey Kong

2009-07-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

My Follistim has arrived, on time.

My AF has arrived, blessedly on time. (Taking pity, perhaps?)

And now the time has arrived for pinching, poking, pinching, poking, praying, pinching, poking, pinching, poking, praying, pinching, poking, prodding, pinching, poking, pinching, poking, prodding, final poking, inseminating, more praying, inserting, praying, inserting, hoping, fearing, inserting, praying, inserting, fearing, hoping, inserting, worrying, inserting...

You know, conception.

One of my friends asked that I explain my protocol as I go along, remembering that not all of my readers have been initiated into the World of IF. So here's the low-down, it's pretty simple.

Starting on the Saturday, I will inject myself with 75 ius (units) of Follistim once a day. Follistim is an FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) drug that works directly on the ovaries to produce more/better follicles. It mimicks the natural FSH that women's bodies produce. A follicle, by the way, is the little house that the egg grows in while awaiting ovulation. We can't see the eggs in ultrasounds, so we just have to trust that there is a good one in every follicle. Normally, a woman produces one mature follicle each month, it releases the egg at ovulation, and when the egg gets fertilized and implants in the uterus, you have a baby. On Follistim and other drugs, you often end up with more than one mature follie (and thus egg), which explains the increased risk for multiples.

After five days of injections (so that's next Thursday morning), I will go in for blood work and an ultrasound. This is to prevent me and DH from ending up with our own TLC show in which the entire world is witness to the end of our marriage and a haircut so horrendous I would be mortified in like ten years when I looked back on the show and really SAW my hair with fresh eyes. Cute kids, though. Anyway, if I have too many follicles ready to pop, we will ~~find an agent~~ cancel the cycle. If the follies are lagging, we can up the dose. Hopefully we will find one or two that are almost ripe for the picking. In any case, the treatment from that point forward is determined by the results of the ultrasound and blood work... so stay tuned!

How is Follistim different than Clomid, which is taken orally? Clomid blocks estrogen receptors in your brain, fooling your body into thinking you aren't producing enough, so it spurs more natural FSH production. The ideal result, like Follistim then, is more/better follicles. However, Clomid works indirectly on the ovaries (through it's trickery) as opposed to directly on the ovaries like the FSH drugs. So Follistim is a heavy hitter in the ovulation-inducing category, with a greater chance of success.

When my friend Mary was going through her IVF, she kept her FSH drugs in the fridge next to a carton of eggs for good luck. (Did I mention the meds need to be refrigerated? In case you were thinking Mary was nuts or something.) Considering the intent of the medication, I thought this was very clever! And it obviously worked, as she now has two beautiful children as a result of that IVF. Unfortunately, we only have fake eggs in our fridge right now. But I'm hoping for the same bit of luck.

ETA: Dr. Downtown just let me know that my prolactin level came back at 12. The normal range for women in general is 20 or less. So it's perfect! Gee, heard that one before... Cynicism aside, he's given us the green light for this treatment cycle. Barring any scary discovery tomorrow during my baseline ultrasound and bloodwork, of course. (cue dramatic music)

Winning and losing

2009-07-13T11:56:00.000-07:00

Let's start with the losing, shall we?

So it looks like our "Hail Mary" pass fell a little short. The clock has run out, no more downs, blow the whistle, game OVER. Thanks for playing, it was a team effort.

BFN.

Technically, the cycle isn't quite over yet... AF is due on Thursday, and hopefully that's when she'll come, so we don't have to redo our beautiful medication / IUI calendar. But although the axe hasn't fallen, the AF lumberjack has buttoned his red-and-gray flannel shirt, rolled up his sleeves, and he's sharpening the blade with my name on it.

(Apparently I could have also titled this post, "Convoluted Infertility Metaphors." AF lumberjack? Really?)

Bizarre imagery aside, indeed this cycle was not the miracle we've been hoping for. I'm surprised at how depressed it's made me... I didn't expect to get so emotionally invested in a last-ditch natural attempt. I guess because everything was lined up perfectly this month -- from ovulation to timing to progesterone. When it will stop surprising me that we can't pull this off on our own, I have no idea.

But with that being said, let's move on to the winning.

So waking up to the knowledge that I am not in the early stages of gestation obviously put me in a foul mood. (Aside: When first I typed that last sentenced, I accidentally wrote "fowl mood." Which I guess means I was craving chicken, and as anyone whose ever been with child knows, pregnancy hormones and chicken do NOT mix. Which is another obvious sign I am not knocked up.) With my grumpiness polluting the house, I think DH was only too happy to hop in the car and go to work this morning -- although he'd never say so, God bless him. So I did the only thing that a reasonable woman WOULD do in my situation.

I got on the computer, and I ordered some chocolate.

Not just any chocolate. I've been hearing the buzz around the IF blogosphere about Frank's Big Ones Bakery. It's a new shop on Etsy, recently opened by Kymberli's husband Frank. As soon as I read about them and saw pictures of their delicious goodness, I knew -- if AF cometh, so do those ginormous cookies. And alas, the wheels are in motion. The silver lining on my dark cloud.

Then I got a note from Martha at A Sense of Humor is Essential. Guess what, you will never believe this...

... I totally won her Pay it Forward Giveaway!

How's that for turning my mood around? So generous of Martha, I can't wait to get it in the mail. And making it all even sweeter, she is sending a special package to Michelle at TO BABY AND BEYOND, whom I nominated because I thought she could use an extra pick-me-up right now. How frickin' awesome is that?

FRICKIN' AWESOME.

But, the winning doesn't end there. This morning Bean and I had the pleasure of meeting Coffeegrl and her beautiful daughter for cupcakes and coffee. The only thing better than enjoying cupcakes and coffee is doing so with a bloggy buddy you are meeting in person for the first time! It is so neat to see the people behind the computer screen, it brings a whole new level to sharing their slice of life. Blogging rocks, people. But I don't have to tell you, of course.

And last but not least. I strapped Bean in the car seat to head home after our fun excursion, and I searched the backseat to find something to occupy him. I found an old CD flip-book thingy. I unzipped it so he could play with it... and what do I discover...

My Sarah Brightman Dive CD!!

I thought it was loooong gone, and I've been meaning to replace it from iTunes for ages. Saved myself $10! I listened to it as we drove, I still remember all the words. It totally reminds me of high school, and my friend Sarah. I think she first introduced me to Sarah Brightman, which could be why I have the association. Or because they both have the same first name. I'm not really sure.

So the lesson of today: You win some, and you lose some. But if there's chocolate involved, you're always a winner.

The diagnosis conundrum

2009-07-09T13:13:00.000-07:00

As many infertiles can attest, waiting for test results during the "well, let's see what's wrong here" phase of problematic TTC is tense for many reasons. After you've welcomed a team of highly trained, specialized medical professionals to take a stroll around your internal girlie parts -- please pass the hor d'ouevres! -- you anxiously await their word on what they find.

Is it good news, doc?

But it's not as simple as that. Because there are two main outcomes, and neither one really helps you sleep better at night.

The first, which is what DH and I have heard most of the time: "Wow, those are some good looking internal girlie parts." My ovaries have gotten more compliments than all the rest of my parts put together. (And, fortunately, they are all put together. And they will hopefully stay that way for a long, long time.) This would initially seem like the ideal outcome, right? Ones reproductive organs being lavished with such praise as beautiful and gorgeous? Hormone levels being so spot-on that they are textbook? Well, sure... if you don't mind undergoing MORE tests... because sorry ma'am, you are still not pregnant, and we still don't know why not.

In the second scenario, you hear the words you've been dreading: we found a problem. And it's PCOS/endometriosis/high FSH/blood clotting disorder/MFI/*insert fun term here*. Which I don't deny is usually crushing news. But on the (small) positive side, you now know the enemy. You (hopefully) won't waste time on IUIs if both your tubes are blocked. It is easier -- although not on an emotional level -- to plan treatment when you can point to something and say, This is the culprit.

When we were undergoing testing with Dr. Lou (this is the nickname I'm giving our St. Louis doctor -- am I clever or what? Wait, don't answer that), as I said above, he was thrilled with all of our test results. Except the laparoscopy, where my OB/GYN who did the surgery found a small amount of endo. However, both of these doctors agreed completely that due to the location of the endo and its mildness (fortunately neither said this while I was sucking down Motrin on the couch, moaning and clutching my heating pad for dear life, or they both might have been rendered infertile as well), that it was NOT a factor in my infertility.

The best explanation that Dr. Lou could offer me as to why I was not pregnant was: "Nature is inefficient."

Yes, I partially wanted to kick him in the shin for saying that. But truly he is a great doctor and a very nice man, so of course I didn't. That and I have never kicked anyone in the shin in my entire life and can't really imagine myself ever having the nerve. So basically DH and I fell under the category of "unexplained infertility." But I always personally considered us more "suspected female factor." Which is not to be confused with "suspected Fear Factor," which is when you find out that you may have accidentally eaten some pickled bull testicles.

So I hid behind that "Nature is inefficient" explanation for a long time. Even as I did, though, I was obviously conflicted. I would tell people, "I suspect the endo is causing harm." But then, against my usual modus operandi, I didn't do much research on endo or connect with it emotionally as a diagnosis.

When we made the appointment with Dr. Downtown (thanks to Liv for this nickname, I like the suggestion) here in Seattle, I was dying to hear what he would say about the endometriosis.

Or so I thought.

As I mentioned in my post about the consultation, he agreed with what I'd suspected deep down inside -- that it was likely the endo causing my uterus to become a hostile environment for the poor sweet, innocent potential babies.

Which is really too bad, because otherwise my uterus is so loving and compassionate.

I thought this would be a relief. Because seriously, how can the reproductive systems of two healthy individuals be so totally kick-ass yet NOT produce offspring without medical intervention? I finally had affirmation that Something Is Wrong, and This is It.

But you know what? It didn't bring the sense of relief I expected.

I'm angry now.

I'm angry that something inside ME is actively sabotaging my efforts at conception. As I go about my daily activities, washing my hair, getting dressed, eating Frosted Mini Wheats, watching Judge Milian rock The People's Court -- there is this endometriosis inside my OWN BODY that is PLOTTING how to ruin my day/week/year/20s/hopefully not 30s.

I feel betrayed by my body. When before I could simply curse Nature for being a lazy bitch, now I have to point the figure right back at myself. Of course I can intellectually understand that it's out of my control. I can't simply command my endometriosis to Play Nice, Now. I repeat it as a mantra when I start feeling broken: I am NOT defined by my body's ability to get pregnant.

But that's easier to say than to believe.

Do you mind if I crawl back into "Nature is inefficient"?

Sisterhood of the Traveling... Award

2009-07-08T19:38:00.000-07:00

Recently, I was honored by Alana with another award! Clearly she has awesome taste in bloggers. Thanks Alana, I truly appreciate it.

Infertility is the ultimate sisterhood, in my eyes. We come from all walks of life, all ages and circumstances. None of us want to be in this group, and none of us would wish this on the others. But I am so grateful for the women I've met, who have shared their stories, their wisdom, and their encouragement. It's become hard to imagine life without them.

The guidelines for this award are:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.

2. Nominate at least 10 blogs with great attitude and/or gratitude. Be sure to link to your nominees in your post.

3. Let your nominees know they have received the award by leaving them a comment on their blog.

4. Be sure to link this post to the person who nominated you for the award.

Without further ado...

1. Allison at The Second Time Around. As far as friends go, she's as good as they come. Better than I deserve, that's for sure!

2. Mary at Our Crazy Life with Twins After IVF. What would I have done without Mary when I was going through IF the first time. No really -- WHAT WOULD I HAVE DONE?

3. Holly at Seriously Holly. Like Mary, she was there to pick me up each time I fell to the floor during treatments to conceive the Bean. And she's frickin' hilarious.

4. Jen at Despite the Best Laid Plans.... My guide for all things infertile in Seattle. But more importantly, a sympathetic ear over coffee and bagels.

5. Coffeegrl at Okaasan Mommy and More. Raising her daughter in a bilingual household, doing her best (and a great job at that!) to balance cultures and languages.

6. Liv at The Life of Liv. She has been through a LONG wait to be a mother, and her turn is finally coming. Hooray Liv and your Spanish-word-for-bean (frijole?)!

7. IF Optimist, then... at IF Optimist, then.... She introduced me to cold banana cinnamon smoothies and gave me the heads up on the new Wallace and Gromit movie, for which I will be forever grateful.

8. Furrow at Out the Kitchen Window. She and I are in very similar places right now... hoping what worked with #1 will do the trick for #2. Prayers up for both of us!

9. Nicky at Grad Ovaries. She's currently juggling new motherhood and her career/education. Here's hoping the funding comes through that she needs for her brilliant graduate work!

10. Michelle at TO BABY AND BEYOND. She is struggling to keep the faith during a layoff and her 9th year of infertility. I am holding great hope -- she is going to be a wonderful mother.

Wow, I'm feeling pretty emotional after going through that. *sniff sniff* You ladies are all so wonderful, I appreciate you and pray that all your dreams come true!

Talk about pressure

2009-07-05T07:54:00.000-07:00

So this is it... our "Hail Mary" cycle. The 40-yard pass to the end zone in the final seconds of the game when we are down by four points.

I am now 3 DPO. AF is due next Thursday, July 16. And DH and I know that if we don't get our BFP naturally this time, the next cycle will have a huge price tag. Financially, emotionally, and physically.

It feels good to know that we have a plan, a more proactive approach if and when AF shows her ugly mug. But we secretly hope to be one of "those people" who end up pregnant right before starting treatment. The pressure of $1000+ riding on this month's conception.... it gives you pause, I'll say that much.

In the meantime, I got a nice email from our nurse. First the awesome news -- she has a coupon for a free vial of Follistim, and she's letting us use it! That will save us $250 in meds next month. Hooray! She also attached a calendar of my injections and appointments. At my old clinic, only the IVFers got their own calendars, so I was feeling pretty frickin' sweet when I opened it.

Here are the major dates as determined so far, for posterity. (No, there won't be a quiz. Unless you're really an overachiever and would like one. In that case I'm happy to write one for you. Just speak up.)

July 16 - Day 1 - AF arrives
July 17 - Day 2 - Bloodwork and baseline ultrasound
July 18 - Day 3 - 75 IUs of Follistim (25 IUs less than before to lower risk of multiples)
July 19 - Day 4 - 75 IUs of Follistim
July 20 - Day 5 - 75 IUs of Follistim
July 21 - Day 6 - 75 IUs of Follisitm
July 22 - Day 7 - 75 IUs of Follstim
July 23 - Day 8 - Bloodwork and ultrasound to check follicle growth
(future protocol determined based on results of Day 8)

I can't really say how I'm feeling about all of this. My initial reaction would be to say I'm handling it really well, not bitter (at the moment) about having to go through this instead of just buying a bottle of wine and getting knocked up the easy way. It's a huge relief to be getting the help we (I) obviously need to conceive, and I'm both grateful and excited. But I've also been rather grumpy lately. It's either because I have a lot of repressed IF anxiety, or because I've run out of M&Ms.

Your guess is as good as mine.

Oh, the irony

2009-07-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

There are a couple of tests we want to have done before starting our IUI + Follistim cycle later this month.

To schedule them, I called the number for the nurse that our RE gave to us.

Turns out it was the wrong number, which I found out when I dialed it.

I had reached a cruise agency instead.

So now apparently even the Universe is telling me, "What you need to do is to go on a vacation, then you'll get pregnant."

Very funny, Universe. Hope you got a nice giggle out of that one.

Barren Bitches Book Brigade (or: I can read!)

2009-06-29T00:01:00.000-07:00

Although I have been a fan of the Stirrup Queens blog for several years now, I have never before participated in the book club. Mainly because the books I read are more likely going to be reviewed on this site. But the arrival of my copy of Navigating the Land of IF by Melissa Ford (yes, the Stirrup Queen herself) coincided with the open invitation to read it with the Barren Bitches Book Brigade, so I decided it would be fun to participate this time. Below you will find my answers to three questions submitted by other barren bitches (or sperm palace jester, as the case may be) regarding this book.

Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at Stirrup Queens (http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/). You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: "Moose" by Stephanie Klein.

Mel weaves the navigating theme throughout the book. How have you navigated your own infertility journey? Discuss some of the highs and lows of your personal journey and ways you saw your story as you were reading the book.

I first got my ticket to the Land of IF in the spring of 2006. Our "natural" attempts at conception had met with constant failure, so my OB/GYN prescribed Clomid. From there we experienced the usual tests as ordered by our OB/GYN and later the RE (bloodwork, HSG, semen analysis, Clomid Challenge Test, post-coital test, laparoscopy) with no concrete diagnosis, although suspected female factor. We collaborated with our RE to determine a course of action; I read books and combed message boards for medical information and personal anecdotes. I felt the need to be proactive, it gave me some sense of control in a situation in which I really had little. We endured treatment after treatment, culminating in our fifth IUI (second one with injectibles) that resulted in a successful pregnancy. Now we are back on the island to TTC a second child. I hoped and prayed -- and dared even thought -- that we would be one of the lucky couples who didn't have to struggle again after primary infertility. That was almost the case, as we had a BFP on Christmas Eve, but it quickly revealed itself to be only a chemical pregnancy. Now we are heading back to the RE for more injections and turkey basting... thank you, sir, may I have another?

The highs for me had to be the few times that I had hope a treatment would work, mainly when starting a new protocol. I got worse and worse at the "hope" thing as time wore on, but it would show up sometimes anyway. It made me giddy at the first round of Clomid (This is all we'll need, the doc said!). The first IUI (Wow, all those swimmers put just in the right spot, how could this NOT work!). The first round of injectibles with IUI (This is hard core... I'll probably end up with triplets!). And when each one of those failed, the lowest of the lows. Other than the constant and unstoppable arrival of AF, two particularly difficult times for me were hitting the one-year mark and being told I would need a laparoscopy to check for endometriosis. When we hit 12 months TTC, all of the milestones I created in my head came crashing down around me (e.g. I'll have the cutest baby bump next Christmas, or I'll be holding my baby on my next birthday, etc.) and I realized that this was going to be more trouble than I thought. Not only could I not count on being pregnant by any specific future date, I could not count on being pregnant EVER with complete certainty. I was -- I am -- infertile. And shortly after that unhappy anniversary came the recommendation of scheduling a laparoscopy. I was so terrified of surgery that I left the RE's office absolutely shaking. I missed my turn on the way back to my workplace, tried to turn around in someone's ridiculously steep driveway, got stuck on an ice patch, had to call a tow truck, and missed a meeting I had with a client. I laughed about it with my coworkers (who didn't know about my IF), but it was not exactly a banner day. On the bright side, when the time came, the surgery wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared.

Reading Mel's book took me back to those early days of IF when I was learning about hormones and treatments for the first time. Wondering how far we'd need to go to get pregnant, hoping it wasn't to the next step (whatever that might have been at the time). Being unsure of many things, especially wondering if I was strong enough to survive this. This time I am much more familiar with the process, and as I read, I was nodding along instead of nervously marking down questions like I did with IF books three years ago. And there's one thing I am certain of: I am strong enough to survive this, even though it will hurt like hell for a while. I overcame a needle phobia and stabbed myself in the stomach for a week. I'm pretty certain I could fly if I really needed to.

Navigating the Land of IF covered many different aspects of infertility. What topic do you wish had been added or expanded on?

I think the comprehensive nature of the book is one of its strengths; there is something for everyone, and because you often don't know where the path will take you next, it's great to have all topics available (e.g. male factor diagnoses, IVF, adoption, child-free) whenever you need to reference them. That being said, there wasn't a lot covered on secondary infertility specifically. I think partly because the physical issues are the same as with primary infertility, and the emotional issues greatly overlap as well. I certainly wasn't expecting much on this topic anyway -- I bought the book for a refresher as we head back to the RE -- but I would be very curious to see how a chapter or perhaps an entire book on secondary infertility (especially after primary infertility) might read. I am just starting to navigate this area of the island, so it would be valuable to me to have some idea of what to expect. For example: So far, secondary infertility has been a little bit easier for me than primary. (Although still ridiculously high on the Shitty Scale.) I'm almost holding my breath waiting for the same wave of depression that hit me last time to sneak up and crush me. Although I'm certain it's different for everyone, I'd love to hear what have other women experienced as their journey for subsequent children drags on. Any special emotions or pitfalls I should be keeping an eye out for?

The "From Me to You" section—how did that touch you? Have you ever wished you had a best friend in your pocket to get you through a day? What would you say to your best friend in a note if you thought she was going through the same thing?

The book arrived in my mailbox from Amazon.com the same day we were attending a family potluck held by the moms club I belong to. Admittedly, events like these now are immensely easier than, say, heading to a baby shower while I was experiencing primary infertility. But throughout these sorts of gatherings, even with my son in tow, I have a knot in my stomach watching the other moms wrangle their multiple children, seeing siblings interact and play together, and holding my breath in fear that someone will burst out with a pregnancy announcement as my latest cycle is failing. As we were gathering our food and bag to head out, I impulsively grabbed "Navigating the Land of IF" off the kitchen table and flipped through. My eyes settled on the final page of the "From Me to You" section, where Melissa presents a personal note for the reader to xerox and take to a difficult party, offering moral support and permission to secretly feel crappy until safe at home again once more.

As soon as I read it, my heart sighed in my chest, and tears welled in my eyes. It's what I love about Melissa's blog as well -- she simply gets it. She has had a cry in the bathroom at a baby shower, she has stepped outside for a few minutes to collect herself, she has sneaked into the liquor cabinet for a drink. (I picture her using that gum-like stuff from Mission: Impossible to blow open the lock. Although I guess that wouldn't really be sneaking. Maybe she has a special quiet sort of gum explosive that makes a small blast that no one notices.) I whole-heartedly appreciate the support of all my fertile friends and family, I couldn't survive without them, but the comfort I get from the empathy and encouragement of a fellow IFer is unparalleled for me. And I think that's why the letter immediately spoke to my core. Melissa used her beautiful words, again, to remind me that although IF is major suckage, it's not the lonely island it sometimes appears to be. I closed the book, sniffed, and blinked my eyes so my husband wouldn't see my tears and ask me what was wrong. We packed the car, headed off to the potluck, and my heart was lighter than it had been all day.

I absolutely have wished for a tiny infertile best friend to hide in my pocket to help me get through the day. This imaginary IF BFF would no doubt be saying snarky things about strangers behind their backs, which is of course extremely rude (shame on you, naughty IF BFF!) but she would make me snicker nevertheless.

If I had to write a note to a friend going through the same thing, I would probably say something like:

I am so proud of you for coming to this, even though you'd prefer to stay home in bed with your ice cream and DVRed episodes of Wipeout. (Is there anything funnier than watching people getting knocked on their asses?) You are such a strong woman, even when you don't feel like it, and it is kind of you to attend for the sake of the host. You have my permission to pull yourself away, or ignore a conversation, or daydream about those people getting knocked on their asses when you need a break from the celebration. Even though I am not there now, I am with you in spirit, thinking about how amazing you are and praying the minutes tick by quickly. You can absolutely get through this, and when you do, there's a giant tub of ice cream with your name on it. I hope we'll be celebrating your happy blessing one day very soon, and I'll be the guest with the biggest smile. (And cutest dress.) (But not nearly as cute as yours.)

Lots of love,

Me

Because it feels good to have a plan

2009-06-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

DH and I have agreed on a TTC plan.

1. Max 2 IUIs with Follistim, first cycle in July, ony one IUI per month (not back-to-back). If not pregnant, then...

2. Max one more year "natural" TTC. If not pregnant, then...

3. ~~Discuss option of IVF.~~ ~~Beg DH to agree to IVF.~~ Devise way to steal DH's sperm and undergo IVF without his knowledge. If not pregnant, then...

4. The end. Family vacation! Wally World, anyone?

Okay, so maybe we didn't quite "agree" on #3. But we are making progress. Gotta love any plan that reduces the worst experience of my life (IF) to four deceivingly simple bullet points.

Does it make me sound twisted... if I admit that I can't wait to stab myself in the stomach with that damn Follistim pen?

Why hello uterus, I've missed you

2009-06-25T14:11:00.000-07:00

Whew! It's only 2 pm as I'm starting this post, and I feel like I've lived through an entire week since I woke up this morning. Yes, today was The Appointment.

Hoo-ha, meet the new RE. Mr. RE, this is my hoo-ha. A pleasure, I'm sure.

I drove into Seattle with the morning rush. Actually it wasn't so bad. On the way in, I turned up my music REALLY LOUD (which I can't normally do because of my pint-sized passenger) and belted out the lyrics to the Missy Higgins CD that my friend Al had made for me. It was kinda like having her with me for moral support -- thanks Al, I love you! As I drove and sang (using the word "sang" loosely) I could feel my body buzzing with emotion and anticipation. I tried to identify the individual thoughts and feelings, but I really couldn't. I was a giant mess of nerves... leaving Bean home with this babysitter for the first time, wondering how our appointment would go, contemplating whether or not we'd end up with a baby at the end of it all.

The first thing I had to get over was the fact that this clinic is very different than our last one. I loved my RE in St. Louis, and he's the standard by which all others will be judged. I'm sure it's some sort of psychological defense mechanism that I remember only the good things about our last experience with the doctor; the rose-colored glasses of the mind. Going into this office, I was struck by how hard core it seems. Everything from the giant official logo on the building to the super-professional waiting room and fancy offices overlooking the water. This is Serious Business here.

DH met me there and we patiently waited to meet Mr. RE. (Sorry, I have no creative nickname for him like others do for their doctors. If I think of something more amusing I'll be sure to let you know.) Apart from enjoying the comfy chairs and beautiful view, we were assaulted by a constant stream of offensive lite rock ballads from the early 1990s. I sang along with every single song, from Michael Bolton to Whitney Houston, and we pondered what it says about me that I knew all the words. DH and I were both in agreement on that: nothing good. Nothing good whatsoever.

But despite the less-than-happy reason we were there, it's always a nice treat to see DH in the middle of the day. We sat and talked and laughed while we waited... we are truly in this together. As I looked at the other couples, I felt a little guilty knowing that we had a child at home already (although I'm sure some of them did, too). No matter what happens this time, I'll be spending my life with my soulmate, raising our son. God willing, we'll have family vacations and baseball games and high school graduation and grandbabies one day. That blessing wasn't lost on me. Secondary infertility has been very different than primary for me so far... I'm sure I'll have more to say on that subject in subsequent posts.

We finally shook hands with our new hope for the future, Mr. RE. We sat down together, and he rendered useless all the time we spent filling out a huge packet of paperwork by asking us to give our history. He struck me as a very sharp man, he was very "quick" with everything (not like rushing us, more like he was processing things in his head very quickly) as we talked history and treatment planning.

In the middle of our consultation, my cell phone rang. Fearing it was the babysitter, I grabbed it from my purse and looked at my caller ID. It was one of the moms from preschool. I was hoping she was calling because she wanted to get together today, and as I would learn when I listened to her message on the way home, I was right! My insides did a little jig of happiness seeing her name on the small screen... and if you've read this post, you understand why. As stressful as the day was, there were a lot of good things happening too.

How did the meeting go? As good as these sorts of meetings can go, I suppose. We discussed what worked and didn't work in the past. He gave me an ultrasound to check out the old uterus and follies. (Hi ladies! It's been a while!) He saw a small fibroid on the outside of the uterus, which he said was a non-issue at this point, and remarked that otherwise my insides are "beautiful." Spotted one dominant follie on my right ovary... hopefully I'll be popping that baby off next week. Who knows, maybe I'll get pregnant and not need to return to the office. HA HA HA! *snort* Excuse me while I recover from a fit of laughter...

He agreed with me 100% that it may very well be the mild endo that's creating a hostile environment for implantation, despite the assurances from my previous OB/GYN and RE that it was not. His suggestion was that we reduce the amount of Follistim this time (to aim for 1-2 follies instead of the 2-3 I got last time, lessening the chance of multiples) and then proceed with an IUI. He wants to do some CD3 bloodwork when my next AF arrives, but he said that he expects everything to come back normal, and if it is, we can go ahead with treatment that same cycle if we are ready. As in: JULY! NEXT MONTH! Otherwise we can think about it for a while longer and give him the green light at any point in the future.

Regarding the breastfeeding issue... this is what I was most nervous about. He did raise an eyebrow when I mentioned I was still nursing. I shared with him that it's infrequent and quick these days, and I would like to proceed with treatments without weaning. He said "on the record" he would advise me to wean first. Mainly because prolactin, a hormone associated with breastfeeding, can inhibit conception. He said if we are investing so much in a cycle, he wants us to have the best shot possible. Which of course I entirely agree with. However, he is willing to go ahead if that's what I want. He suggested that we do some additional bloodwork to check my prolactin levels, and if they are very low, he doesn't see a problem with the Follistim + IUI protocol. I was satisfied and more than a bit relieved with this answer.

He also recommended doing back-to-back IUIs, when you get to meet Turkey Baster two days in a row at ovulation time instead of once. This of course doubles the cost of that portion of treatment. Our previous RE said that when he reviewed the literature, he saw no increased success with the back-to-back approach, and so why make the cycle more expensive that it already was? With him we only did one IUI each time. This doc did admit that the research in medical journals was split on this issue. But his argument was that (again) you are already investing so much in the cycle, what's another $350 to put twice as many soldiers in position? I could see his point if we were doing IVF, which is a lot more expensive and would require financing for us anyway... but an extra $350 is a lot for an IUI cycle, I think. Still undecided on this.

After the appointment, I kissed DH goodbye, called the babysitter to confirm things were a-okay, and hopped over to where Jen works nearby so we could grab some coffee together. When she suggested this last week, maybe it was because I was sappy from AF hormones, and maybe she just wanted an excuse to take a break from work anyway, but I was really touched! As we ordered, she insisted on treating because of my difficult morning, and it was wonderful to debrief with someone who had not only been-there-done-that with IF, but been-there-done-that at this same clinic.

I am such a lucky girl to have these people in my life.

I'm still a swirl of thoughts and emotions, and unfortunately DH is going to be working late tonight to make up for the huge chunk of time we spent at the doc, so we can't compare notes for a while. But so far, here are my thoughts.

1. I think the appointment went just as well as I could have hoped. Other than finding out I was indeed correct that our new insurance is a bastard and won't cover ultrasounds or bloodwork, so each cycle will be twice as much as they were in St. Louis. But everything in Seattle is twice as much as it was in St. Louis, so really that shouldn't be a shocker.

2. The RE and I were on the exact same page as far as treatment planning goes. I'm pretty sure I could be an RE right now, if I could just get past that whole cutting-up-a-cadaver thing to get a medical license.

3. Seeing as the cost of one (yes ONE) cycle is $1500ish, are we ready to start immediately? The chemical pregnancy in December has given me just enough hope to wonder if we should try longer on our own first. I think 51% of me is ready to give it a go, but the other 49% is pretty convincing too.

4. If we do go ahead, do we do one IUI per cycle or spend the extra $350 to do back-to-back IUIs? I'm leaning towards one, especially if the problem is endo/implantation and not the performance of DH's little men.

5. Am I willing to risk the chance of multiples at this point? If we have twins on top of a two-year-old, with no family within 2200 miles to lend a hand, we will be SKEE-ROOED.

I'd love your thoughts, as always. You are so wise!!

Not me

2009-06-23T16:03:00.000-07:00

Early in my graduate studies, which I guess would be 2003/2004, I learned that a classmate of mine was having trouble getting pregnant. I remember one day specifically, we were gathered outside the building during a break. She and the other smokers were taking drags of their cigarettes while the rest of us tried to stand upwind without being obvious.

She smiled brightly and her voice bubbled with excitement: "My doctor said it's just a matter of my eggs not being mature enough when I ovulate. I'm going to take Clomid to help them get there. Then we'll be all set!"

No pregnancy announcement came, no baby bump appeared.

A year and a half later, I was walking down the hall when I saw her leaving a classroom in tears, wrapped in the comforting arms of another woman. A moment later I saw a mutual friend leave the same room, and out of concern I whispered, "Is she okay?"

Our friend frowned. "She did one of those turkey baster things, and she just found out it didn't work."

I sat down in my own class and mulled this over. How unfortunate for her, she and her husband were both generous, compassionate people who would make exceptional parents. They deserved a whole football team of kids if they wanted them. I was sorry they were suffering.

Then followed the thought: I'm so glad I won't have to go through that. When we're ready, it'll happen right away.

Another year or so later, I was sitting in the waiting room at my OB/GYN's office. Although my first Clomid cycle had failed, my doc was entirely certain that those little pills would get me pregnant within three months, and I was all aboard that train. A woman walked through the door with a small child and a hugely pregnant belly.

She handed the receptionist a disposable plastic food container. "I had to use injections to get pregnant with my son, and I have the used needles in this container. I didn't want to throw them out in our garbage in case a child or someone else found them."

The receptionist looked a little disconcerted but took them with the promise to dispose of them properly. The woman pleasantly thanked her and sat down with her son.

I immediately empathized with her struggles, and I looked at her with respect and longing for her happy results.

Then I thought: I'm so glad I won't have to go through that. I'm terrified of needles and wouldn't be able to do it.

Yes, absolutely, most of my response was just plain naivete. Like most women, I had no reason to think I wouldn't get pregnant right away. I had prevented pregnancy for years with such unwavering determination, and I knew all we had to do was pull that goalie and BAM! SCORE!

Parenthood. Just like that.

But I could point to genetics as suggestive evidence of our abundant fertility, too. Between me, DH, and our four collective siblings, at least half of us were "accident" babies.

Clearly we are missing something.

Even now, after having gone through invasive and embarrassing tests, surgery, countless blood draws, pills, injections, IUIs, and lots of head-banging-on-the-wall-WHY-ISN'T-THIS-WORKING to conceive little Bean man...

When I read or hear about other infertile couples TTC their second/third/ninth child for 3 or 4 or more years...

I think: I'm so glad I won't have to go through that.

This time, although there is an aspect of that naivete remaining ("It worked with injectibles+IUI last time, we can go there immediately to get the same results!"), I believe that's much less what it is about.

This time, I am already half-drained before we've begun. I was almost ready to give up on Bean, right before we got our BFP. Many couples do it much, much longer than two years, but I didn't think I had it in me anymore. The treatments were too demanding, my life was on hold, I was hardly breathing as I waited to get pregnant.

I would hate to not give a fair try at producing a sibling for our son. I don't want to be a quitter: "Fine, Universe, you don't want me to get pregnant? I WON'T!"

But I am not starting from scratch here. I am picking up where I left off, bruised and beaten.

Victorious, yes.

But that doesn't mean I can fight forever.

(On a happy note, that classmate of mine did conceive a beautiful daughter on their last-ditch FET cycle, after several failed IVFs. They kept trying faithfully for years and years, and they finally received their precious gift.)

Hope, fear, and the what if's

2009-06-18T10:44:00.000-07:00

Following our bout with primary infertility, I was ready to go back to the RE and start TTC a second baby when I was about 6 weeks pregnant with Bean. I looked at his heartbeat on the ultrasound machine screen and thought, "Well, shit, it worked! When can we schedule the next IUI?"

When I was 7 months pregnant, I had a dream that I did actually get pregnant with a second child. I carried them together for two months, delivered only Bean, and then gestated the second child to full term.

At my 38 week appointment with my OB, I asked, "When can I start trying for another baby?" She wisely advised me to wait until after I had delivered Bean. I guess that's why they get paid the big bucks.

I think it's because of the momentum and continuity of my IF experience. I have been in TTC mode for almost four years now, and as painful as it is, I want this phase of my life to be over as. soon. as. possible. Getting pregnant put our IF in remission, but it didn't erase or cure it, and I know I can never fully begin healing from the trauma until we completely close the door on our reproductive years. Which means getting knocked up again ASAP. Ha.

For the past six months, I have been aching to go back to the RE. Longing. Yearning. Because my hope that we can conceive on our own is very, very low. Like Al Green's singing voice or the chance that I won't eat chocolate today. To me, the RE represents the only possibility that we may actually get pregnant again someday.

And now that the appointment is only one week away, I'm terrified.

In the big picture, I do have a small amount of hope that we will have another child. It's a low-grade, general hope, when I don't think about the details of how it will happen. When we sat down and reviewed all the tests and surgery with our last RE, right before we started the IUIs, he offhandedly gave us a 90% chance that we would conceive. Considering that now we have one successful pregnancy behind us, and a chemical pregnancy unassisted, I would imagine that RE would give us at least the same estimate that we will conceive again.

But when I think about TTC on a specific cycle level, I have very little hope. Despite the advice of the IF book I am currently reading, I think I actually fight the hope. I don't want it. Go away. When it creeps in, it can elevate my mood to an almost giddy excitement, but it also augments the heartbreak and tears that come with AF. It's a double standard, because I have hope for others, and I want them to have hope for themselves; but it's just not for me. Like sushi and camping.

Now that I am facing the specifics with the RE because of the appointment, I am feeling scared and strangely... disappointed? Even when I put aside all the logistical annoyances (starting over with a new RE because we moved, and trying to find childcare for constant trips to an extremely inconvenient office location), seeing the doctor is not the relief I thought it would be.

I'm afraid. And that's when the "what if's" creep in.

* What if treatment is too expensive, and we cannot afford enough cycles to get pregnant?
* What if I can't find anyone to watch Bean when I need to go to the doctor?
* What if the doctor wants to spend months redoing all the tests we did 2-3 years ago, including the laparoscopy?
* What if the doctor tells me he won't start treatment until I wean Bean?
* What if my husband and I don't agree on how many/which treatments to pursue?
* What if we do the same protocol several times and don't get pregnant?
* What if we exhaust all of our treatment options and come home without a baby?

If I were still working as a counselor and had myself as a client, I might encourage myself to begin answering those questions to reduce their power.

But I don't feel like it right now.

I'm back (and better than ever)

2009-06-14T19:09:00.001-07:00

Okay, maybe not that second part.

But I'm back.

Our vacation was wooooonderful. Last time we traveled to visit our family, the Bean was 8 months old and woke up every 1-2 hours all night long for TWO SOLID WEEKS. Ugh. This time, he usually only woke up once a night for quick milkies and back to sleep. Thank you Jesus! It was hard to leave, but it's always nice to be back in our own bed.

Now it's back to reality.

I am not pregnant.

I called our potential new RE's office again to reschedule an initial consultation. Despite the highly irritating commercials they constantly play on the radio about "part of you" worrying about the mortgage payment but "all of you" wanting a baby. Seriously?

The appointment is on June 25. I was writing it on the calendar and winced when I realized I agreed to drive into downtown Seattle during rush hour traffic. Ouch.

It will also be the first time Bean stays with a babysitter.

Big day.

My ovaries and I need a vacation

2009-06-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

So off we go! Today, DH and Bean and I are leaving to go to Michigan to visit our families. DH's sister is finally graduating from high school. Not "finally" because she's like 25 or anything. She's only 17. But "finally" as in his parents have had kids in school since around the time the wheel was invented. Which would make DH and I basically ancient because he's the oldest sibling and we are the same age. ... Yep, that's about right.

The timing is perfect, because I just ovulated on Tuesday night so I will be fully distracted during yet another interminable TWW. The exciting thing is it was CD 17/18, which is much earlier than my previous post-baby O days... could we be back at pre-baby hormone levels? Bean has been sleeping through the night lately and nursing much less. We shall see. The disappointing part, though, was that it's my unlucky left side again. Gotta take the good with the bad, I suppose.

Also, I have decided that when AF comes (can't really hide my lack of hope for this cycle), I am going to call the RE again and make a new appointment. I've been down this ridiculous "maybe it will happen naturally" road before, and I'm just not willing to put myself through it again. Stick a fork in me, 'cuz I'm done.

So anyway I won't be posting here for at least a week and a half, but if you just can't stand being without me for so long, I will probably be putting some vacation pictures on my other blog. I will also be very behind on reading and commenting on your blogs, but I promise to get caught up when I get back. Don't do anything too exciting while I'm gone!

I am so loved!

2009-06-03T11:14:00.000-07:00

Imagine how honored I feel at getting an award from Alana last month. Which I totally deserve, of course, but still, it's an honor. ;) Thank you Alana!

The rules of accepting this award are simple: list seven things you love, and pass the award to seven bloggers you love. Here goes!

Seven things I love:

1. Family and friends. I am including this first because I ~~feel obligated~~ love them all very, very much. My husband, my son, my parents, my brother, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole bunch of in-laws, friends from my hometown, friends from college, friends from grad school, friends from work, etc. etc.... I'm not sure how I got so lucky to have them in my life, but I thank God that I do. I am so inspired and encouraged by such amazing people. And it doesn't mean anything that I keep moving farther and farther away from you all. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Really.

2. The Internet. This is obviously a common entry for others receiving the award, but it's just too important to leave off. Before the Internet, I really don't know how people survived infertility or figured out who starred in that one movie about that little robot guy that came out in the mid 1980s (it was Ally Sheedy and Steve Guttenberg). I have learned valuable tips from the experiences of others and gotten so much support during the hardest time of my life, it is still amazing to me that "virtual" friendships can be just as strong and true as IRL friendships. And speaking of the Internet connecting us to information and people we otherwise wouldn't have had access to: If you remember this Show & Tell post, I wrote about a book signing where I met my favorite historical romance author, Jayne Ann Krentz, aka Amanda Quick. I actually posted a link to it on her blog so she could read my post, and then she wrote a response to me on her blog! (The comment is under the post "Jayne and the Case of the Missing Fern.") I was so excited when I read it that I almost had to change my own diaper. Anyway, I'm sure that like me, you are all glad that Al Gore invented the Internet so you can read about what my wonky ovaries are up to. Fun times.

3. Air conditioning. When we first moved to Seattle, we discovered -- horror of horrors -- that most homes here do NOT have air conditioning. Being from the Midwest, this was absolutely mind-blowing and we almost canceled the relocation. "Oh, don't worry," all the Seattlites assured us. "You won't need it." Who knows, maybe they meant that when you live here long enough, your skin grows a layer of cool gel that protects you from the heat. I mean, sure, the weather here is beautifully mild and I love that we can have the windows open and enjoy fresh air for so much of the year. But today the temperature is 86 degrees, and even if it won't stay that way for long, I am thanking God that the previous owners of our house had the good sense to install AC. It may not be green, but every blast of artificially cool air in my face is like a breath from God. If you think I am exaggerating, you obviously have never lived in a hot climate without air conditioning. Especially with a baby.

4. Mountains. As soon as we got married and DH started searching for his first job out of college, I begged him to find something in Colorado. Ever since I was a young teen and my Dad would take my me and my brother skiing there every year, I have been in absolute *love* with the state. Then when I was Matron of Honor in my friend's wedding in Colorado Springs, I met an awesome group of llamas belonging to another bridesmaid's mom, and I felt the call of the mountains even more. (That makes perfect sense in my mind, by the way.) The bad news is that we overshot this relocation by about 1400 miles. But the good news is... THERE ARE MOUNTAINS HERE! And I love them. Despite my reluctance to agree to this move, I have found myself feeling more at home here than I have anywhere else in years, and I really think the mountains are a big part of that. I'm surprised we haven't caused any car accidents because we are constantly gawking at the Cascades and Mount Rainier. We can already hear the exchange in the car in eight years. DH: "Look! The mountain is out! Can you believe we actually live here?" Me: "No, truly I can't. It's absolutely breathtaking." Bean: "You guys have been saying that since I was born. Please stop." He's ungrateful sometimes.

5. The HOV lane. Speaking of Seattle, another new concept to me is the HOV lane (aka "high occupancy vehicle" or carpool lane). All the highways have them, and they are fabulous. I finally -- after 14 months -- remembered to research how old a child has to be to count as a passenger in the HOV lane. And guess what? It's from BIRTH! Bean and I now rock the HOV lane like it's our job. It's kinda cheating because we are not really the originally intended users, but if people can get away with using blow-up dolls in the passenger seat, I will count my son without shame. I do have one plea to other HOV drivers, though. This wonderful lane is not in existence simply to organize the cars on the highway by how many people are riding in them. They were invented to SPEED UP the flow of traffic. So if you are driving SLOWER than the normal lanes, please do NOT get in the HOV lane. Congratulations on having your wife in the car with you, but you do not need to show off your marital status by riding in this lane. You will receive dirty looks from the rest of us who are trying to use it to get to our destinations in a timely manner. Please and thank you. I'm glad we had this talk.

6. Driving. Speaking of driving, it makes my heart sing. No, not the times that I am stuck in traffic because some dolt is clogging the HOV lane and Bean is screaming his head off. I am talking about road trips, especially ones where I am driving on an open highway all by myself and can belt out the lyrics to an All-American Rejects song without offending any passengers. I don't do much -- well, any -- of this sort of driving anymore, but I think back fondly to my college days, driving home from Chicago or driving across Michigan to see my future DH. In fact, on days when I was particularly dissatisfied with my journalism coursework, I would imagine quitting school and becoming a cross-country truck driver. It's still something I consider now and then, for when Bean is in school and DH ~~insists~~ suggests that I go back to work. Ten four, little lady.

7. Chocolate. There are few things in the world that are as perfect as chocolate. I don't think I need to say much on this topic, because I think you all know what I'm talking about and it's impossible to do it justice with mere words. Let's just say it has saved my life and the lives of those around me during several PMS-induced crazes. I adore chocolate to such an extent that I am naturally suspect of anyone who claims not to like it. In fact, unless you have a great many other positive attributes to overcome this deficiency, you will probably not be my friend.

Seven bloggers I love*:

1. Michelle at TO BABY AND BEYOND because she is a huge Red Wings fan and we are going to totally rock this championship!

2. Eve at Infertility Rocks! because she is going to my old RE (kinda) and I am beyond jealous.

3. Al at The Second Time Around because she's timing a 7-hour drive to Michigan ALONE with both kiddos around our visit so we can kick it.

4. Beautiful Mess at Life Induces Thoughts, Mostly Random because she is an awesome cook and has promised to send me some of her yummy food. (Right?)

5. Liv at The Life of Liv because I recently started reading her and I *heart* her already.

6. Nicky at Grad Ovaries because she's a Smarty McSmarterson like my hubby, I enjoy her intellectual style.

7. And lastly, NOT to Deb at Postcards from the Edge, because like my son, she can sometimes be ungrateful. (Just kiddin' Deb. I know you already have this award anyway. Couldn't resist the tease, though.)

*sorry if you already have this award, just ignore me :)

Show & Tell

2009-05-30T22:08:00.000-07:00

I am almost afraid to post this Show & Tell, because I fear that I am going to end up with thousands of women hunting us down and busting in our front door, trying to steal my awesome DH away from me. Not that I couldn't kick the crap out of all of them, I'm just saying.

In spite of the great risk, today I am sharing one of my most favoritest possessions, a gift that DH gave me in college.

First a quick background for those coming from Mel's. DH and I go waaaay back... to elementary school. I've had a crush on him since I was 10 years old. Unfortunately he was always way too short for me. Until! The fall of our junior year of high school, we started the new year and I noticed he had finally gained about 5 inches on me. Time to make my move. (Bat eyelashes here.) Yadda yadda yadda, he asked me to the Homecoming Dance and we've been inseparable ever since. Except those four years when we went to college in different states. We were pretty separated at that point. Physically, at least. Emotionally, though, we were still LIKETHIS.

In high school, my future DH was extremely romantic. I am not exactly sure where he got his mad skillz (with all due respect to my father-in-law), but he really swept me off my feet. One Valentine's Day, he "stole" my car without me noticing, and quietly returned it filled it with chocolate and red paper hearts he had cut out. He had also arranged with all my teachers to put a rose on my desk in between classes, so when I arrived at each period throughout the day, there was a beautiful red rose waiting in my assigned spot. On my birthday, he set up a treasure hunt through my house and had my mom lay the clues the night before for me to discover when I woke up, with my gift at the end. Another V-Day, he pretended that he was taking me out to dinner, but after he picked me up we returned to his house because he "forgot" something. I soon discovered that he had transformed his basement into a romantic picnic for two, complete with blanket, picnic basket of goodies, and his sister's Beanie Baby ladybug. He had even borrowed those GIGANTIC reams of colored paper they have in art class at school (remember those?) to cover the ceiling in blue. I could go on, but I'm guessing you have the point.

As we went off to college, with him in Michigan and me in Illinois, the distance made romance dificult and my sweetie became consumed with numbers and circuits and copious amounts of beer. His biggest show of love was borrowing his family's car to make the drive out to see me once a month. And there was nothing that could have made me happier.

Every now and then, however, I had a glimpse of the old high school DH. On a Valentine's Day visit, he brought me the following present.

FRONT:

BACK:

I like to think there was no motive behind the shirt other than to show his love. But I suspect it's because I was constantly asking him in our phone conversations, "Why do you love me?" and he always responded, "I don't know, I just do!" (He may have been romantic in action, but my guy is no poet, God love him.)

He certainly shut me up with this shirt. On that topic at least.

Unfortunately, the shirt was made for my small college body, and if I put it on today, we'd have a scene of Incredible Hulk shirt rippage going on. But on a positive note, those days of insecurity are behind me and I never think to ask that DH that question. We have grown even stronger throughout life's trials, and I need no further proof than the unwavering support he gives me every day. I can't imagine being myself without him next to me. Plus I have his kid now, I'm pretty sure he's not going anywhere.

Please head back to Mel's and see what the rest of the class is showing! Single file now.

Cross-posted on Sunny in Seattle.

There'll be sad songs

2009-05-26T12:48:00.001-07:00

Like most people I'm sure, there are songs that remind me of specific times and places in my life. When I hear those tunes on the radio, I am instantly transported. "Don't Speak" by No Doubt: to high school, the year DH and I started dating. "Come Away with Me" by Norah Jones: the three months that I worked at Bed Bath & Beyond as we prepared to move to St. Louis. "O" by Damien Rice: the bus tour of Ireland that we took with 30 retirees who shamed us with their ability to stay out late drinking while we collapsed in exhaustion in our beds. (Yes, that's beds plural. Apparently old people prefer not to sleep together, so all the rooms on the tour had twin beds. Either that or they were totally screwing with us.)

Sometimes it is just coincidence that marries a song with a moment, like the summer before high school when I was on a church trip to New York, and I was waiting to use a pay phone outside an Espirit outlet and heard "Tempted by the Fruit of Another" by Squeeze. I have absolutely no idea why that particular association has stuck with me all these years, but it's in there permanently now. Wasting valuable brain cells, obviously!

Most times, though, it is more intentional on my part. I love putting together collections of songs -- or what we called "mix tapes" back in the Dark Ages -- that become a soundtrack to a certain season or event. Yes, iTunes loves me, and the feeling is mutual.

When we were going through IF the first time, my iPod and CD player in the car were chock full of Patty Griffin, Damien Rice, and old Counting Crows. What my Dad would call "suicide music." (I completely disagree with that label, for what it's worth. He listens to talk radio, which makes me want to commit suicide more than any song I've ever heard, ever.) Anyway, there was an obviously melancholy quality to the music I listened to then. But it was comforting... like the artists understood the depth of pain that follows a failed cycle. They experienced it in a different situation (usually the end of a relationship) but we were going through the mourning together. We cried together and clung to hope for the future.

After Bean was born, I couldn't listen to those songs anymore. My heart just wasn't there... life was different. I didn't feel that pain and I didn't want to. I spent a year apart from Patty Griffin and her haunting lyrics, even though she was so crucial in getting me through treatments.

Luckily Patty doesn't hold a grudge, because I'm back at her door now. My CD player in my car still plays upbeat tunes as Bean and I happily cruise down the road. But my iPod has been refilled with the sad songs, which I listen to sometimes while doing chores as Bean naps. It's my continued effort to compartmentalize (which is still going pretty well by the way) and purge the sadness and fear in private, leaving me free to appreciate and enjoy my daily blessings.

I personally don't feel that listening to Tori Amos singing about how she's "cried a thousand oceans" increases my despondency. On the contrary, it's almost like a support group. Bottling up is SO not a good idea, and this way I can recognize my emotions, live with them for a moment, and then continue with my day. I can understand why some people don't get it, but really I believe it's healing for me.

So how about you? In your own life, do you find yourself influenced by music (life imitating art), or do you more often seek out music to fit your mood? What interesting song associations do you have?

Okay insurance company, I'll play your twisted game...

2009-05-20T19:04:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all the suggestions and sympathy following my previous post about insurance woes. Here's the deal. Yes, we did have to change insurance companies when we moved. Health insurance is regulated by each state and many insurance companies are regional (even the "big names" -- they have local subcontractors). So by necessity DH's employer offers different insurance providers based on your location. Thus the plan we have now is very similar, but not identical, to our old one. Coincidentally, this weekend is DH's annual benefits enrollment, so we'll be renewing our plan (or picking a new one). I am almost positive that there is nothing offered with better IF coverage than we have now, but obviously we'll look into it. And I'll be doing happy dances all over this blog if the news is good. But don't count on it.

What really steams my vegetables is that the insurance company will pay for medication and lab work if you then go home and make a baby in your own bedroom. (Or wherever you choose to do the deed, I don't judge. Good for you for keeping it exciting.) But if instead I want to PAY FOR MY OWN IUI, they snap their wallet closed and shake their fat finger at me scoldingly. I mean, it's absolutely none of their business how I get myself knocked up after they give me the drugs. Next they'll be saying they want to watch, just to make sure there are no basters involved. Sickos.

I was feeling resigned to continue waiting... waiting... waiting... until something hit me while I was supervising Bean in the bathtub tonight. It was his plastic fishy ball, he loves to throw that darn thing. Then I had a thought. Would it be that bad to try Clomid again? I swore up and down I would not get near the stuff this time around. Two main reasons.

1. It didn't work for me. Eight times.

2. It turns me into a raving lunatic Queen Bitch.

But if what I really want/need isn't covered, and my ovulation is a mess these days, is there a reason NOT to try it again? Okay, sure, there is #2 above. During those five days of pills, I morphed into the meanest person I have ever met in my entire life. But to be fair, I haven't met all that many mean people. Seen them in television interviews from prison perhaps, but not actually met them.

The other good thing about Clomid is that I can (probably) get a prescription from my OB/GYN, so I don't have to go through an inconvenient and possibly expensive consultation with the new RE's office. I am due for my annual exam anyway.... (hmmmm....)

Now if I do decide to gulp down the evil drug, which I'm guessing would be more of an emotional boost than any real physical help at this point, there is still the issue of BFing to contend with. The only side effect that some women report is a reduced milk supply, which on the other hand many also report not experiencing. Although there isn't a definitive answer, most sources say that there is no reason to believe Clomid would harm the baby, but (of course) talk to your doctor first. Because hopefully your doc has more scientific and proven knowledge on the subject than you do, just reading random articles you find online. But probably not.

In a Hail Mary, I am also going to call the insurance company again tomorrow (when they are open... how DARE they go home to their families when I need ANSWERS NOW!) and see if they will cover Follistim without IUI. I would be surprised, because in three years of hanging around the IF crowd I have never heard of anyone using Follistim and NOT doing an IUI or IVF. But the insurance company is clearly illogical anyway, so who knows. "Gather your own information," my Dad likes to say. Right on, Dad.

So what do you think? Is taking Clomid now worth the risk of 1) my husband divorcing me, 2) my son growing girlie parts from the drug getting into my breastmilk, and 3) suffering more emotional pain from the rollercoaster of IF treatment that likely won't even work?

Or should I *gasp* be patient a while longer, save some dough in order to do the treatment that worked the first time, and allow the kiddo to wean first? (I'm almost pissed that you even suggested it.)

Crushed

2009-05-19T10:09:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, just as predicted, the wicked witch of AF did indeed crush me with her flying house. And based on the weight of impact, the bitch must live in Buckingham Palace.

To revisit the breastfeeding topic again, each BFN increases my panic and conflicted feelings about continuing to nurse. Actually, let me rephrase that. I have NO conflicted feelings about continuing to nurse, because neither Bean nor I want to stop. But it raises my fury that as an infertile, I can't move forward with TTC because of the unknown effects of fertility meds on nursing children. The thought of short-changing this relationship between me and my son, with the risk that nothing may come of treatment anyway, boils my blood.

I have employed the "don't offer, don't refuse" strategy during the day, so our BF sessions having naturally evolved to just before a nap (1-2 times per day), before bed (1 time), and during the night to sooth him back to sleep if he awakens (0-2 times). Each session is less than 5 minutes long. Although it may not seem like much, it's the emotional connection and comfort that we both obviously love.

But feeling the pressure to return to the RE, on Saturday I decided to try to put him down for a nap without nursing him first. He was not happy about it, of course. I snuggled him for a while and put him down in his crib. He cried briefly in protest, I closed the door. I could almost HEAR my heart being crushed in my chest, I certainly felt it.

He didn't end up falling asleep. I'm not sure if it was because he didn't nurse beforehand, it could go either way. But we tried again a half-hour later -- this time with the boob first -- and he smiled as I put him in his crib for a peaceful nap. We both felt better, I knew it wasn't time to wean.

But I was still antsy to go to the RE. Going back to the doctor represents hope that keeps me going when I fear this is a lost cause... the feeling that we did overcome this in the past with medical intervention, and we can again. Our life will not always be ruled by infertility, there is something we can do.

So despite my concern about the nursing issue, this morning I called and made an appointment. June 30th.

The receptionist reminded me that if insurance does not cover the office visit, they will need $250-$300 paid the day of the consult. I told her that I did expect insurance to pay, but I would call to find out.

When we lived in St. Louis and conceived with the help of a fabulous RE there, our insurance company paid for diagnosis but not treatment of IF, which is what our new Seattle insurance policy states as well. I don't know how the St. Louis doc was able to code our visits and procedures, but he significantly reduced the out-of-pocket expenses for us. A month of injectible medication with an IUI (including countless blood draws and ultrasounds) was $850, down from what I would guess would be up to $2000.

After making the appointment with this new RE, I immediately called our current insurance company to verify the coverage.

Turns out these bastards won't pay for ANYTHING if it relates to artificial means of conception. Which to them means they will gladly pay for some Clomid, for example... unless I want to have an IUI done with it, then sorry, out of luck. Same with a consultation. Oh, you want to talk to the doctor? Of course, we are your medical insurance, we will pay for it. That's the point of having medical insurance, silly girl! Wait, you will be discussing doing another IUI? Well, in that case, you'd better bring your credit card.

Did I mention they are bastards?

The representative spoke with her superior just to clarify the rules of what is and is not covered. As we reviewed everything, my lungs slowly started crushing in my chest. I took as deep of breaths as I could manage in order to stay collected. "Well, that's a devastating blow," I remarked. I thanked the woman for her time and hung up.

Then I called the RE and canceled our appointment.

Crushed.

Edited to add: Right after I published this post, the following song came up on my iPod:

This is a song I listened to frequently during our first tangle with IF. During the darkest days, it reminded me that this, too, shall pass. I wonder if my iPod is reading my blog. Technology really is amazing these days.

Which old witch? The wicked witch!

2009-05-15T10:52:00.000-07:00

Yes, the nasty AF witch has her sights on me again. She just chucked a gigantic house in the air, and it's scheduled to drop unceremoniously on my head sometime in the next couple of days. (Yes, I know I mucked up the metaphor. But I'm PMSing... do you really want to argue with me? Didn't think so.)

I'm glad to be seeing the end of this wacky cycle. I'm not even sure I ovulated. But I think my body at least tried to O around CD 18 or 19, which is a big improvement from my other post-partum cycles, so I'm trying to look on the bright side. (Great, now I'm going to be hearing the Monty Python crew singing "Always look on the bright side of life" for the rest of the day. Well, it's better than "Living la vida loca" or something. .... SHIT!)

Fortunately, the universe seems to be feeling bad for it's past transgressions and has planned a nice weekend for me.

On Saturday, we will be attending a potluck dinner with a some other families from the MOMS Club. It's a "mixer" where there are a few families hosting, and the attendees are all assigned one of the houses for the evening. You plan a theme, a menu, lots of fun ensues, etc etc. On a day when DH and I must have been smoking something, we volunteered to be one of the hosts. Well, we narrowly dodged that bullet because due to some last-minute declines from a couple of the families, we and the remaining family decided to disband and join other groups. So no cleaning and decorating, which is awesome because DH has been working 12-14 hour days this week, and frankly I don't think we have the time or energy to whip the house into shape by tomorrow night.

The only down side to this new plan is that the menu theme of the party we'll now be attending is "light and healthy." Which is in marked contrast to the theme I was trying to push through our original group, "heavy and fattening." Oh well. We are bringing fruit and cheese and bread, which is easy enough to get at the store, and I have ice cream in the freezer for when we get home.

On Sunday, I have plans with Jen to get some deliciously delectable cupcakes at a local coffee and cupcake joint. I can't think of any better way to drown the AF blues than with about 3000 calories of frosted goodness. (How many cupcakes will that be? I can't wait to figure it out.)

Hope your weekend is just as sweet with none of the sour.

A rose by any other name

2009-05-13T13:48:00.001-07:00

So long, CJ. Hello, Sunny!

Just a housekeeping announcement to let you know that my new bloggy name is Sunny. Yep, CJ is out the window. This change was born from my other blog, and if you'd like to read how it came to be, click here. So if you see a comment on your blog from someone named Sunny, it's either from that new intern on Scrubs, or it's me.

My only hesitation in eagerly donning this new nickname was that it doesn't really fit with this blog. When I talk about infertility, the last thing I feel is sunny.

The fact is, though, unlike primary infertility (when it was All Depression, All The Time), my life during secondary infertility is more Bipolar so far.

Because I absolutely adore being a mother to my son, and I am deeply and deliriously happy being home with him. He is truly a blessing, and I couldn't be more grateful for each moment that I can gaze on his sweet little face.

In that way, my life has never been sunnier.

But of course the infertility is the crappiest of the crap. Are there worst things that could happen to me? Certainly. I can still count my blessings and be really super pissed off and bitter.

Right?

Anyway, this is Sunny. Signing out.

Show and Tell

2009-05-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

I love to read.

I have loved to read forever, since spending hours in my room holed up with R.L. Stine and The Babysitters Club. No, even before that, I'm sure. When I was a toddler and my mom would find me in bed "reading" to Snoopy. (The book was upside-down, no less. I was a talented child!)

I wish I could claim a working knowledge of classical literature and literary fiction; I'd love to be up on Oprah's latest pick. But honestly, the books I devour will not be found on any book club list. You won't overhear two intellectuals discussing them over espresso at a trendy cafe: "What was your take on the bodice ripping in chapter four?" "Why, that bosom heaving left me grappling with its contraposition of existentialism and deterministic fatalism!"

Some call them trashy. I call them perfection.

On my nightstand, you'll find nothing but historical romance and my new obsession, paranormal romance. (Which is like "Twilight" for grown ups, for those of you who shop in the more high-brow areas of the bookstore and are unfamiliar with this genre.)

I recently had the honor of listening to a speech by one of my favorite authors. Her keynote address at the "Romance Extravaganza" (yee haw!) was about the struggle of popular fiction authors -- those who write romance novels, thrillers, mysteries, etc. -- to get the same respect given to their literary fiction counterparts. Not surprisingly, being a consummate wordsmith, she was able to define something that was more nebulous in my own mind. The major difference between the two categories (popular fiction v. literary fiction) is like comparing black-and-white to gray.

In popular fiction, there are good guys and bad guys. Right and wrong. Problem and solution. The reader begins the book knowing one thing for certain: there will be a happy ending. All the questions raised will be answered, except maybe Does the author get embarrassed when her parents read the sex parts she's written? Literary fiction is the opposite. It explores the human condition without definite resolution or capital Truth, pushing readers to examine the unknowns of life and love and choices and God and all those other fun things that make your head spin and send you to the freezer for another scoop of ice cream. (Or is that just me?)

(She also said that many readers will only read one area of romance, like historical or contemporary. Which is very true for me. Nothing contemporary unless it's in the paranormal. Because I have a really hard time believing that "normal" guys these days would say any of those cheesy touchy-feely lines, and the books just lose all credibility for me. But a pirate or a vampire... whose to say they wouldn't talk like that?)

This particular author's apt description of the two subcategories of fiction solidified in my head why I avoid any books that require me to do much contemplation. One of the most valuable lessons I learned in studying and then practicing counseling was that if you don't accept the grayness, uncertainty, and relativism in life, you can run yourself into some mighty serious mental problems. This was news to me, previously having lived mainly in black-and-white myself, and although it was a struggle at first to be comfortable in the gray, it was actually a huge relief to take that pressure off. Infertility became a prime example. As much as I craved immediate answer, only time could reveal What fertility treatment will work for me? or Will I actually ever get pregnant? I had to accept that.

But even though I can now (mostly) embrace a life that includes black, white, and all shades of gray, that doesn't mean I'm not comforted by the occasional escape to places like sitcom land, where trouble never lasts for longer than 30 minutes. (Unless it's a Very Special episode that requires two parts, of course.) Which is why at the end of the day, I seek comfort and refuge with my trusted old friend The Romance Novel. I prefer this explanation to one that might dismissively label me as simply shallow and, well, horny.

This post is already longer than I had intended, but we are just now getting to the good part! The part where I realized it was my destiny all along to move to Seattle so I could meet my favorite historical romance novelist of all time: Amanda Quick. (Or Jayne Ann Krentz, which is her real name, if you want to get technical.)

She resides in Seattle, because as I am constantly reminding you, SEATTLE ROCKS. And as an extension of that rockage, the King County Library System is arguably the best in the country. Among other reasons, they are the brilliant, generous hearts that brought the "Romance Extravaganza," and thus Amanda Quick, to the lives of rabid fans such as myself.

Leaving DH and Bean home for the afternoon, I drove to the library with knots in my stomach. I tend to get very star struck, like the time I saw Jerry Springer walking in downtown Chicago or spotted Mr. T's limo on the highway. I arrived 30 minutes early, purchased a copy of her newest book, and sat gripping it tightly in my seat. I glanced around and finally spotted her, looking surprisingly normal as she chatted with a group of women. (Did I expect her to glow?) When she presented the keynote address as discussed above, I found her to be incredibly funny, smart, and confident... not unexpected, considering those adjectives describe every one of her female main characters. And I would know, having read all 25 (now 26) novels.

After she spoke, I quickly took my place in line for her to sign my new purchase. As I inched forward, my heart raced faster and I frantically searched my mind for something clever and witty to say, which would of course then prompt her to laugh heartily and respond, "Would you like to join me for coffee after the event?"

Me and Amanda Quick, BFFs.

Unfortunately, in reality I stood in front of her like an idiot, barely remembering how to spell my own name as she flashed a smile and scrawled her signature.

"Not that I would expect you to remember me, but I comment on your blog as CJ," I offered lamely.

My head swam as she responded pleasantly and thanked me for following her blog.

I smiled and nodded, all ability for coherent speech having left me by this point.

After a brief silence, she politely added, "It's a nice varied collection of authors we have on the blog."

I managed a weak "yep."

With that, she handed me back the book, and I was left to return to my seat and suppress the bile that had risen in my throat.

I will never forget meeting her, it was such a thrilling experience to interact (even moronically) with an author I have loved and admired for 10+ years. As I squeaked excitedly to DH before I left that morning, "It'd be like you meeting.... (glancing down at his current read) ... Kurt Vonnegut!" He shot me a look that said you are out of your mind, but to each his own, I say. Now if I could just meet Kresley Cole and Jane Austen, I can die a happy romance reader.

Whether you read that entire post or just scrolled down for the pictures (I don't blame you!), we have finally arrived at my show and tell. Pictures from the book signing and the coveted dedication.

Now go back to Mel's for more Show and Tell fun!

(Cross-posted on Sunny in Seattle.)

That's what friends are for

2009-05-06T14:19:00.001-07:00

In addition to the obvious suckage of preventing parenthood, IF has numerous unwanted side effects. One being its uncanny ability to slowly erode away even strong relationships, from marriage to family to friends. Fortunately, I know of this mainly second hand from reading other IF blogs and can't speak much from personal experience. My marriage can still lift 100 times its weight and leap tall buildings in a single bound. And my sibling and siblings-in-law are younger, unmarried, not TTC, and were largely unaware of our struggles the first time around anyway. Let's hope for no *ahem* accidents while we are dealing with this a second time, huh, guys?

Any repercussions of infertility on my friendships have been relatively slight, compared to what I've heard from others. (Although you, my IRL friends, may have a different story. Which you can kindly keep to yourselves, because it will ruin this entire post. I appreciate it!) Shortly after we got married, DH and I moved away from all of our friends and landed in beautiful St. Louis, Missouri. During those first few years, we were both working full time, attending graduate school in the evenings, and recovering from the four years we had a long-distance relationship in college (read: lots of smoochy smoochy). So although we made new friends with some awesome people there, we didn't really have the time to be as social as we should have been. And I did keep in touch with friends from high school and college who were scattered everywhere from San Diego to Boston, but again the time factor plus my undeniable and totally uncool aversion to using my cell phone meant that contact was sporadic and mostly via email anyway.

Then came our infertility. In the "old" friend category, the baby bump fairy was busy. I was of course thrilled for my friends when they started reproducing, and as a bonus, I had a built in buffer of distance so I could share their joy without being overwhelmed by reminders of my personal pain. I didn't have to watch the bellies grow, listen to constant pregnancy chatter, or pretend my heart wasn't wilting at baby showers. Meanwhile in St. Louis, although we finished our degrees, DH and I were just too spent from our frequent doctor visits to grow any sort of social life. Something about pouring all of your money, energy, hopes, and dreams down the treatment toilet doesn't really make you the best company for happy hour after work. We kept up the friendships, but we hid at home a lot more than we would have wanted otherwise. And when we finally did get our BFP, it was time to move again: we were Seattle-bound.

One of the hardest things about a major relocation (aside from finding out your new grocery store doesn't carry Count Chocula or caramel apple Toaster Strudels) is missing your old friends and having to start over in building a social network. Finding people who ~~appreciate~~ tolerate our dry sense of humor, our obsession with the local teriyaki joint, and our inability to keep our nerdiness entirely in the closet.

Now let's just pretend that I don't get really nervous when meeting new people and say things that may sound humorous in a blog but come across as awkward, confusing, and esoteric in real conversation. (Hell, let's also pretend I'm 15 pounds lighter and a couple million richer, too, while we are at it!) Now that this thin, wealthy, hilarious, confident version of myself is meeting lots of other moms through various activities, I worry how secondary infertility will affect our ability to find a new crew of friends.

So far, none of the local moms we hang with has announced her next pregnancy. A handful are done multiplying altogether, in fact. But I know a few are trying, and it's just a matter of time. What happens when DH and I are heading back to the RE and descending into turkey baster madness again, and the women around me are giddily making room for their newest additions? My bonds with them are still fragile, and I'm afraid I'll pull away to protect my heart and end up alone with Bean at the mall every day. (Okay, so that doesn't sound entirely bad now that I say it out loud...)

While, in a way, it's comforting to have IF as a scapegoat for any lack of new friendage after our move (certainly it's not us! we are witty and charming!), I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. If anyone on either side of the IF fence has any thoughts, I always love to hear. Just be sure to type your response via comment or email, as I don't answer my cell phone.

And now it's time for... What's With Those Ovaries?!

2009-04-30T15:43:00.000-07:00

(You know, I can't help but feel a bit ridiculous typing a post all about my ovaries. I think to myself, "Does anyone out there in the world really give a f#$% about my ovaries? Why am I publishing this?" But then I remind myself that I read tons of IF blogs about other women's ovaries, and I never once think to myself, "I don't give a f#$% about this woman's ovaries." I guess it's just the nature of the beast. So I proceed.)

My ovaries are acting suspicious. Not like sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night wearing dark clothes and coming home with used stereo equipment... more like having long, whispered phone conservations and then answering "wrong number" when asked who it was on the other end.

I'm all like, What's the deal, ladies?

And they are all like, Who... us?

After the soy isoflavones debacle of last month, I never did really figure out whether I had/have a cyst or not. Needless to say, those pills are at the very back of my vitamin shelf this month. Actually, I have a lazy susan in there, so sometimes they are in the back, but every now and then they are spun around to the front when I am looking for something else. But you know what I mean. I am still taking the vitex supplement, though. Illusions of control, anyone?

To familiarize you with my ovaries (here we go!), when I am doing a cycle au naturale, they are generally very quiet, except the day that I ovulate, when it feels like I am being stabbed. On cycles when I am on drugs, they start the chatter early, and I can hear them doin' their thang more days than not.

So this cycle, I should not be hearing them whatsoever. (The vitex doesn't really affect the follicular phase, it does more for the luteal phase that comes after O.) But I am on CD15 now, and they have been squawking away for several days. And the worst part is that it's lefty again -- second cycle in a row! Righty seems to be my lucky side, I was hoping for her this month. I'm really confused now.

Possibilities:

I will O very soon, like a NORMAL PERSON!! (Not likely. Normal? Ha.)

There is some residual effect from the soy isoflavones from last month, and it is stimulating the ovaries again. (I've heard of this happening with Clomid.)

I do have a cyst on old lefty, and it's craving attention more than Miley Cyrus or Paris Hilton. (My cyst is famous! That is so hot.)

Or is it something else entirely???!!!!

So, my lovely Internet contestants, anyone care to play my hypothetical game show: What's With Those Ovaries?! Grand prize is a slightly opened bottle of soy isoflavones.

The universe strikes again

2009-04-28T21:02:00.000-07:00

I recently volunteered to be on the board at Bean's preschool. Next year I will be the co-chair of fundraising, sharing the role with another mom whom I have not yet met. I'm really looking forward to working with her, as I've heard such great things about her and our back-and-forth emailing has been pleasant.

But today she mentioned that she's pregnant.

Due the same week that I would have been, if my chemical pregnancy hadn't just been chemical.

Really, universe? Was that necessary?

All's quiet on the reproductive front

2009-04-25T16:30:00.000-07:00

Due to my unusually long follicular phase (probably because of breastfeeding), the time between AF and O is an extended snoozefest. Which I suppose is a good thing this month, because my parents are staying with us for 8 days on a visit from Michigan. Let's just say... awkwardness averted and leave it at that.

Anyway, stay tuned for next week, I have a couple of topics rolling around in my head that I'd like to get out when I have more time to focus on the blog. Oh, and if you have any questions, or if there is something you'd like to hear about, please do post in the comments or send me an email. I'd love to address them!

Ambivalence

2009-04-20T19:03:00.000-07:00

When AF shows her face, it's disappointing. But there is a part of me that breathes a sigh of relief.

One more month to enjoy Bean's babyhood without focusing on a second child.

One more month of our nursing relationship.

One more month of feeling physically good to hold Bean and play with him.

One more month that DH and I outnumber our offspring.

One more month filled with the hope of a pregnancy one day in the future (as in: it's not all over yet, this isn't the last time, God willing).

It was a big transition when Bean was born -- it almost felt like he was an intruder, interrupting the well-oiled machine that was me, DH, and pooch. But now we are doing so well. We have a happy rhythm. We are three first borns (and, well, whatever the pooch is). Would another person fit in? As an eldest child, would I be able to understand the mystery that are youngest children?

I know these are common fears of second time mothers. And I'm sure as Bean gets older and we still don't have a bun in the oven, this will change. But for now...

... it's actually okay.

Tools of infertility

2009-04-16T06:52:00.000-07:00

AF came today. Ugh. But damn if breakfast wasn't delicious!

You might be an Infertile if...

2009-04-14T15:27:00.001-07:00

... you have been to the dollar store buying home pregnancy tests so often that you have to bite back the urge to say something to the clearly disinterested clerk like, "I work with at-risk teens" or "If only you sold the tests so I could figure out who the fathers are!"

... you choose which check-out line in the grocery store not for the shortest length but for the lack of pregnant bellies and babies.

... you have hidden in the bathroom when a coworker brings in her newborn during her maternity leave.

... you know the difference between "transferring" embryos and "implanting" embryos, and it annoys you to no end when the media gets it wrong. (And they always do.)

... your friends have had multiple children in the time you have been trying to conceive one.

... sex no longer figures into your TTC plan.

... the baby clothes you naively purchased in eager anticipation when you went off birth control have since gone out of style.

... you have considered quitting your job, going on welfare, and getting addicted to crack, because those women never seem to have trouble getting pregnant.

... if asked, you could provide your basal body temperature for any of the past 365 days. (With corresponding chart, of course.)

... if you do get pregnant using your own gametes and deliver a real live baby, you and DH quickly scan your newborn to find physical traits of both of you. You know, just to make sure the doc grabbed the right tube.

A thank you

2009-04-10T15:30:00.000-07:00

In the blogosphere, it's not hard to identify a woman who has struggled to conceive a child. It may be mentioned in the "about me" section, or evident from the links to infertility-related support in the sidebar, or in the title itself. (Which was what I was going for on this blog, I'm guessing you picked up on that.) I'm sure many women who have been touched by infertility choose not to mention it in their writing, but there are enough who do -- and are loud enough about it, thank goodness -- that the online IF community is strong.

In the real world, however, it is much more difficult to play Spot the Infertile. Which is part of the reason why many of us withdraw and don't offer up our stories as readily as we can on the Internet. You are more likely to get a "You know, my friend had problems so she adopted a baby and then she finally got pregnant!" or "Have you tried propping your hips?" than a "I've been there too, I'm so sorry."

I'm not sure how many other infertiles are guilty of this, but when I am in a room full of other moms, I automatically assume that they all got pregnant quickly and easily. Not accurate, obviously, but my self doubt feeds this notion. Back when I first had Bean, I would not only imagine myself to always be surrounded by the fertility gifted, but I would subsequently feel like I was a lesser woman, a lesser mother, because of that.

I couldn't do it on my own.

They could.

Line drawn.

As Bean has gotten older, this thinking error has lost a lot of strength. Perhaps it's because having a smiling, healthy son has empowered me to some degree, or perhaps I've reflected more on what I've been through (I overcame a fear of needles to give myself shots, I'm pretty sure that makes me awesome on SOME level), or perhaps it's because time wounds all heels. Or something like that.

But now that we are TTC again, some of that old insecurity has slithered back into my heart. Not as bad as it was before, hopefully it won't be. But I look at the other moms with two kids close in age and wonder what they did right -- and what I am doing wrong -- to achieve pregnancy so readily. (And do not say propping her hips. I'll glare at you menacingly.)

Which brings me to today: the MOMS Club Easter potluck lunch.

Let me set the scene first. About 46 of us (moms and kiddos) RSVPed. It was held at a local church, the food set out in one area while the kids burned off energy in the playroom. It was absolute mass chaos. I have been a member of this group since January, but because of Bean's two-a-day nap schedule, it's been very difficult to make it to events. This was by far the biggest gathering I had been to, and I knew only a couple of the other moms. It was very overwhelming for both of us, so upon arriving, I took Bean to the corner to play with some blocks where we could interact more quietly with whomever was nearby.

I chatted with one mom whose 3-year-old son took interest in the blocks as well. After a brief discussion on the difficulty in finding a reliable auto body repair shop, she looked at her son wistfully and said out of the blue, "He's going to be our only child."

Never having met this woman before, I was so surprised at her candor that all I could reply was, "Oh really?"

After a pause, she continued. "Yes. We went through a lot to get pregnant the first time."

"We struggled quite a bit with him, too," I replied, nodding at Bean. "We are hoping for a miracle again."

She ruffled her son's hair. "We often call him our miracle."

With that, her son went bolting out the door into another room, and she excused herself with a smile to follow him.

Wow, did that really just happen?

After the Easter egg hunt, it was time for lunch. I sat down with two other moms. One of them, who I do know from previous events, has two young kids who are Asian (she's Caucasian). It's possible her husband is Asian, but as neither kid seems to have any of her physical traits, I'm guessing they are adopted. The second mom sat with her 6-year-old son, I had not met them before. They were very nice and I enjoyed the conversation. In sharing stories of our kids, the second mom said, "The other day, my son asked if he could have a sibling." She laughed easily and naturally before continuing, "I told him that we had tried but it didn't work out."

"I want a sibling because I'm bored," her son piped up to inform us. "My friends are always sick."

His mom went on, "He said he wants a sibling by the time he's eight. I told him even if he has one now, it will be a baby and won't be able to play with him for a long time."

The topic flowed naturally to other subjects, but of course my mind was stuck there. If the situation had been different, I would have loved to have talked her to more about secondary infertility, however it was obviously not the time.

Maybe I don't get out much (okay, I definitely don't get out much), but I was surprised that two women I had known for no more than five minutes each had chosen to share even a small piece of their struggle with infertility with me. It was a great reminder that I cannot assume to know what another woman went through to conceive. And I don't have a monopoly on IF heartbreak, no matter where I am. When I open my ears, I can hear in real life what I hear from so many others online.

So to those two women today, I want to give a shout-out, props, thanks, etc.

By being open about your IF, you are doing more of a service than you realize.

I took soy isoflavones to boost ovulation, and all I got was this lousy cyst

2009-04-08T09:42:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm not entirely sure I have a cyst. Unfortunately, having a personal ultrasound machine in your home is rather cost-prohibitive, limiting it to the rich and insane. So this is just a guess.

To rewind, last month I ovulated on CD 25. Which sucks. A general rule is that if you ovulate after CD 22, your follicle did not produce a good egg. (Kinda like overcooking a cake in the oven.) So this cycle, I decided to try using soy isoflavones, which is a supplement you can take that is supposed to work like Clomid does to produce a stronger ovulation. Of course, Clomid didn't work for me in the past, but I don't have a lot of options.

I took the soy iso for five days early in my cycle. I could definitely feel "something" happening, and on CD 22, I finally ovulated. Not fabulous, but an improvement over the previous month.

Ovulation was strong and hurt like a bitch, similar to what it was like when I was taking fertility meds. However, even now that I am several days past, I can still feel something in my ovary. It's not pain. Just... something. Like a pebble or a poke, usually when I bend or turn to the side.

Possibly a cyst.

Developing cysts while on fertility treatments is a dreaded, but common, side effect. It can derail treatments faster than a lapse in insurance coverage. I never had a single cyst during the 13 months I was taking the drugs before, but there's a first time for everything. If my hunch is right about this, I am definitely out this month. Five weeks and a bottle of riesling wasted. (Okay, maybe not entirely wasted...)

*sigh*

So, what's wrong with me

2009-04-06T15:14:00.000-07:00

(I strictly mean in the TTC sense, of course.)

(We don't have the time to get into everything that's wrong with me.)

Let's talk diagnosis, shall we?

When we first started TTC, I charted my daily basal body temperature and fertility signs. After several months passed and we weren't pregnant, I noticed a troubling pattern in my charts that seemed to indicate that I wasn't ovulating every month. Most OB/GYNs won't discuss infertility testing or treatment until 12 months of unsuccessful TTC (being that we were 25 and otherwise healthy), and my own doc subscribed to those guidelines. A friend and coworker of mine suggested that I talk to her OB/GYN, who had delivered both her sons, as she found him to be more proactive in general than others she had seen.

I went to see him, charts in hand, and was immediately glad I did. He looked them over and declared that some of them suggested annovulation. "We'll put you on Clomid, and in a couple of months, I'll see you back here pregnant," he smiled warmly and confidently. I was thrilled and relieved! In the meantime, he ran bloodwork on me to detect hormone levels, sent me to flush out the tubes via an HSG, and tested DH as well (perfect results each time). But still, BFN after BFN. He raised my dose of Clomid... another BFN. I met with him in the office again, this time he was somber, and almost seemed apologetic. "Well, I can either keep you on Clomid and start monitoring you with ultrasounds and bloodwork during the cycle, or I can refer you to an RE." He seemed to lean that way, so I gratefully (but fearfully) accepted the referral.

By the time we sat across from the RE, we had been TTC for one year. Like my OB/GYN, the RE was optimistic that we could conceive. "I give you a ninety percent chance," he stated. Step right up, place your bets on baby! Odds are 9 to 1! The RE was friendly, took the time to talk to us, and had a wonderful staff. We were in good hands as we began another round of tests. This time, more invasive: the Clomid Challenge Test and the post-coital test. Lots of needle pokes and ultrasounds and embarrassing procedures we don't need to go into (no pun intended, ha ha ha). As before, all the results came back perfect. A relief on one level, it was also frustrating not to get any answers. As the BFNs kept rolling in, the RE looked me in the eye and said the words I dreaded hearing: "I am going to send you back to your OB/GYN for a surgical procedure. We need to do a laparoscopy to check for endometriosis."

Being a total wuss in the face of pain, I was devastated. But when the surgery finally rolled around, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. I even got souvenir photos of my internal girlie parts! (My friend and TTC buddy Mary told me that I have beautiful ovaries, I will never forget that. Am I lucky to have awesome support or what?) When he was poking around in there, the OB/GYN found mild endo, and he lasered off the areas that he could. However, both he and the RE agreed that the location and degree of my endo was NOT a factor in why I could not conceive. Considering that the occasional annovulation was corrected by the Clomid and everything else looked perfect, I received the label of unexplained infertility. "Nature is inefficient," my RE explained. I resisted the urge to kick him. He is a nice man, after all.

Then in February it was time to step up the treatments. We agreed at the start to do five IUIs (three with Clomid and two with injectibles) before having "the talk" about what to do next. It feels wrong to gloss over this part, as it was the most trying time of my life to date, but maybe it will be a subject for another day. Suffice it to say, on that fifth and final IUI, we got our coveted BFP. And at exactly 40 weeks pregnant, I delivered our healthy, gorgeous, wonderful, perfect, fantastic, beautiful son.

Thinking about what is causing this -- because it's too hard not to know -- my feeling is that the main culprit is the endo. I've read a lot about it, and its effect on fertility just isn't well understood by doctors. I personally think it is making things "hostile" and screwing with implantation. Only God knows... maybe the doc is right, and Nature is being inefficient.

Maybe she needs a new organizer.

Anyone want to chip in to get her a Blackberry?

The boob for a baby?

2009-04-02T10:09:00.000-07:00

To recap my experience with breastfeeding the Bean, it started off rocky. And by rocky, I mean I was supplementing the baby with formula and trying to get him on the breast constantly and pumping like mad to increase my supply, meanwhile getting hardly any sleep and crying my eyes out daily.

It took weeks of 24-hour dedication, but I was *determined* to exclusively breastfeed this little guy. I felt like I had failed conception (IUI), failed delivery (C-section), and now I was failing at motherhood by not nourishing my child on my own.

Yes, I realize this is unfair and unrealistic. And if anyone who dealt with IF and/or a C-section and/or BF trouble tried to pull that "I'm failing" crap, I would go and kick them in the shin. Because come on, that's ridiculous.

Double standards aside, when my efforts paid off and I could stop supplementing Bean, I was overcome with an enormous sense of relief and accomplishment. While I carried a lot of self doubt from IF, I was so proud of myself for persevering in this area. Because it was damn hard. And I did it. Maybe I could be a mother after all.

I hated BFing at first, I was resentful even as I was determined. Then around six months, it wasn't so bad... I enjoyed it, kinda. And then we hit one year, my personal goal for us. Finally the ambivalence is gone, I love the bonding between us and the nutrition I give him -- makes me feel better about the fries he had for lunch the other day. I am also blessed with a super supportive DH, who never once has asked me when I plan to wean the Bean. (I'm guessing the main reason is that he enjoys having a free pass out of soothing Bean at his night wakings. The guy's not stupid!)

Now that we are hoping to add to our family again, the main challenge (beyond my questionable fertility) is that we are breastfeeding. Although AF returned early at 4 months post partum, she has been anything but reasonable since then. Cycle lengths and ovulation days are all over the board. I have the feeling that I would regulate again if I weaned the baby, but the thought of stopping before at least one of us is ready makes me want to cry. We worked so hard to get here, and it's finally so lovely!

I am surprised myself at my reluctance to wean. But I suppose it comes down to this reality: I might not have another biological child. This might be the only baby I nurse. If I knew for certain that if I weaned him, I would get pregnant in the next few months, I would start tomorrow. But if I wean now and I don't get pregnant again, I will be crushed to know that I ended before either one of us was ready.

It's the lesser of the evils, I suppose. I've given up enough for infertility, I'm not going to add breastfeeding to the list.

**Disclaimer: I pass no judgement on moms who chose not to breastfeed, it's just another decision that we all have to make on our own based on circumstances and resources. I do take issue, however, with the misinformation and lack of support out there for new moms, especially among doctors and L&D nurses. It makes me really sad when a mom isn't able to reach her BFing goals because of bad advice. But that's a soap box for another time.

Where we are now

2009-03-29T19:46:00.000-07:00

DH and I had been planning to ride the "not trying but not preventing" wave as far as our tolerance would let us, but the chemical pregnancy ground that to a screeching halt. For me it did, at least; DH is decidedly less concerned with TTC than I am this time around. I know my ovulation signs like the back of my hand (hey, where did that mole come from? hardy har har), and I have made myself much more aware of the timing.

I think I delayed emotionally processing the chemical pregnancy because I thought we could do it again the next cycle.

But we didn't.

And although it's only a few cycles into this journey, it feels like we are on month 25 of the pregnancy quest instead of month 3. It's like muscle memory for my mind... infertility was quietly biding its time, waiting for me to easily slip back into the old rollercoaster of hope and disappointment.

I know plenty of lucky couples who have not had any trouble conceiving subsequent babes after a tangle with the old IF the first time around. I have not read any formal studies, but in my experience in the community, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that it happens that way more often than not. But I also know that there are scads and scads of women who have to jump through equal, if not greater, hoops to continue to grow their family. I don't know where we'll fall on that spectrum, obviously. I could certainly turn up pregnant in three weeks, and I'm not sure what would become of this blog. (What a great problem to have!)

The subtitle of this blog is "Achieving baby, the hard way. Again." That may be a bit premature, as we haven't seen an RE since our discharge to the OB with Bean. Because we have moved, we have to select a new clinic, meet with a new doc, review history, get an opinion, formulate a plan, etc. We also have new insurance to understand -- equivalent to our old one, we think, but unfamiliar in that specific coverage. On top of that, we live a good bit of distance from the clinic I intend to use (or any clinic, for that matter), we have a munchkin and no convenient babysitter for the frequent trips required, we are minus one salary for the costly treatments, and we have no local support system should the outcome result in a multiple pregnancy/birth. For now, vitamins and cheap wine will be our chosen protocol. But even so, I still think of this as trying "the hard way."

Because for some of us, doing it on our own is the hard way.

The chemical

2009-03-27T11:15:00.001-07:00

It was Christmas Eve, and DH and I were out running errands with the Bean in tow.

"I'd like to stop by the dollar store and grab a home pregnancy test, just so I can be certain I'm not pregnant and stop thinking about it." I shifted in the passenger's seat.

DH whipped his head to face me. "Do you think you might be?" We hadn't been trying exactly, but we hadn't prevented since Bean was born.

"Well, no," I answered slowly. I didn't. Right? "Actually, let's not go. It will just be a waste of money."

"Oh, we're going!" he announced, leaving no room for argument.

And we went.

At home, there didn't seem to be a second line in the result window. Or was there? Upon close inspection, we could see a faint pink line. I rushed to the Internet to google "evap lines on HPTs." Evaporation lines, which are false positives of sort, are always gray.

Not pink.

We were pregnant.

Disbelief. Elation.

The next day, the line was still faint. I was nervous.

"I don't think it's going to stick," I told DH. "The line should be darker."

He was optimistic and thrilled. "Accept it, you're pregnant. Be happy!"

Meanwhile, I was feeling pregnancy symptoms. I had to pee constantly. My milk supply was definitely affected, Bean didn't want to nurse. DH was certain it was a girl, he nicknamed her Sugar Plum. Christmas Eve and all.

But the lines were still faint.

And then, a couple of days later, there were none.

Shock. Devastation.

AF came.

It was over as quickly as it had begun.

A chemical pregnancy is when the egg gets fertilized and the embryo implants, thus triggering the brief span of BFPs. But the baby doesn't grow, and AF comes a few days later, usually extra heavy.

I try to focus on the positives. I got pregnant -- sort of -- on my own. Hooray! We weren't able to do that in almost two years of trying last time. But my body couldn't carry the baby. Which then prompted a memory from summer 2007 when we had our first pregnancy ultrasound with the RE. He saw two embryos on the screen, but only one (Bean of course) was viable. The other had implanted but not grown. "It's very common," he remarked casually. I gulped and nodded, thinking about Bean's almost twin. It wasn't something I dwelled on, but of course I will never forget.

Now after having the chemical pregnancy, I think of it differently. That lost embryo also would have been a chemical, had Bean not gotten cozy in there. So that means my track record includes one live baby, and two early miscarriages.

One step forward, two steps back.

Ain't that infertility for you.

Compartmentalizing, or Welcome to my Uterus

2009-03-26T20:24:00.001-07:00

When we were TTC the first time, I had a couple of false starts in the blogosphere. I would post and delete... post and delete. I just couldn't find my voice, and in the end I walked through IF quietly with DH and a very small group friends, mostly online. And then, miraculously, we got pregnant. When we were (relatively) safe in the second trimester, I started my first blog to keep in touch with friends and family as we moved across the country with our baking Bean.

However, even as I enjoy every blessed day with my one-year-old son, infertility still colors who I am and casts doubt on the future size of my family. I struggled with whether or not to write about IF, and if so, where to do it. It doesn't seem to have a place on my other blog -- one where I focus on the joys and challenges of motherhood. My friends and family want to see pictures of my darling boy, not hear about how pissed I am that I haven't ovulated yet.

I finally decided to take the leap and start a new blog, the birth of Secrets of an Infertile Mom. This one will be an aside to Sunny in Seattle, a place where I can bitch about the IF curse and post updates on the status of Infertility, Part Deux. Unlike the first time, I now have the comfort and distraction of the sweetest little munchkin, who makes me grateful for each day we have together. It is important to me that my IF does not affect my ability to parent him... well, as much as possible.

So just as I endeavor to compartmentalize my IF fear and disappointment in my daily life, allowing myself to feel without losing myself completely, I plan to dump into this blog and leave it here. I hope it's cleansing for me. And for my IRL friends who didn't know about my struggle the first time, it's a window into that secret part of my life. Several of you expressed regret that I didn't open up so you could have the opportunity to support me, and that means more to me than I can say. I have no expectations, but if you want to join me, I'd love to have you.

Thanks for reading.