As I say good-bye to 2011, I also say good bye to the 11 hopeful attempts to get pregnant. The last of which was a shot in the dark. My doc had already speculated that getting pregnant "this way" was probably not going to work for me. Seeing as how I still had one more vial of swimmers hanging out at Kaiser, I figured I might as well go for it, rather than renting a tank, picking up the lil guys and paying for them to be stored at my sperm bank.
So, I went for it. Like the other medicated cycles, I went in for frequent sonograms, gave myself nightly injections and followed the doctor's orders. About a week and a half after the insemination however, I said to hell with the orders and danced hard, had a drink at a Superbowl party and didn't run from second hand smoke. I pretty much knew I wasn't pregnant. Who knows how I knew, but I did. And I was right.
Well, at least I didn't pay for the last insemination - when I checked in for the insemination, the clerk at Kaiser didn't ask for the usual $180 payment for the procedure. Confused, I double checked and clarified with the clerk that I didn't have to pay. She checked her computer, nodded and confirmed - no payment. Hmm, ok. I went with it, expecting that they would figure out the mistake and stop me on the way out. But they didn't. Go figure. Chrissy, my "partner" at my insemination and I joked that I must have filled up my "frequent artificial insemination card" and this was my buy 10 get one free day!
So, the doc was right. This method (IUI) of getting pregnant did not work for me. Time to move on. The dreaded letters I-V-F. For those of you confused by all the acronyms, here's the low down on In vitro fertilization (according to good ole Wikipedia)...In vitro fertilisation (IVF) is a process by which egg cells are fertilised by sperm outside the body: in vitro. IVF is a major treatment in infertility when other methods of assisted reproductive technology have failed. The process involves hormonally controlling the ovulatory process, removing ova (eggs) from the woman's ovaries and letting sperm fertilise them in a fluid medium. The fertilised egg (zygote) is then transferred to the patient's uterus with the intent to establish a successful pregnancy.
So there you have it. My eggies will be removed from my body, injected with my donor's sperm and placed back into me once they fertilize. Clearly, this method is far more invasive, requiring much medical attention and therefor highly costly. In addition to the costs of the doctor visits and care, I'll have to continue taking medications which will add to the costs. In the United States, IVF may cost between 13-20k. That's a one time deal, no guarantee. Some states offer insurance assistance and others, like Hawaii allow women to try again for free should the first attempt be unsuccessful. California offers no such support, which means I take on all expenses in full.
This is why I've decided to do this procedure abroad, where the costs are 1/3 of the going rate in the United States. After scheduling several phone consults with local fertility clinics, I cancelled them all. I came to the realization that if I go ahead with IVF in the states, I may not have much $$$ left to raise a child! And, I have been itching for a vacation...
I've decided to go with a clinic in Barbados http://www.barbadosivf.com/. I had also considered Thailand, though flights are cheaper to Barbados and the distance of course, much closer. Should I need to freeze eggs at the clinic and return for another cycle, Barbados is far more accessible. I've done a bit of homework and discovered that the clinic was founded my a female Irish doctor who opened her business in Barbados to cater to women and couples seeking IVF at low treatment prices. She advertises an "IVF vacation" and will even set clients up with air fare, lodging, and a cell phone to use while staying on the island to communicate easily with the clinic.
I contacted the clinic and they very promptly responded to my inquiry with a large source of information to study. I soon plan to take the next step and request a phone consult with the doctor. Before doing so however, I need to set up an international phone plan with AT&T or look into Skype. Finding time to chat may be tricky considering the time change and my inability to pick up a phone during school hours.
In the meantime, I'm keeping busy with work and play. Report card season is upon me, so I probably won't take any further steps until I put those to rest - way too much stress to take on all at once. I also scored another job! I applied for a Hot Hula position and was offered the position. I will soon be teaching a class Friday nights. I also decided to compete in solo competition again this year, so I've been busy dancing hard, brainstorming costumes and toning up my body. I've shed a few pounds, my clothes are fitting comfortably and I'm feeling pretty good. It's nice to not have to stress over whether I'm pregnant or not.
Looking to head to Barbados after the school year - end of June. I've got a few lovely friends who are on board to vacation with me on a beach and to care for me the few days I'll be in recovery. I'm getting excited planning for the trip - I've already figured out where we'll be lodging and have an idea how much the air fare will cost. If my body doesn't give me a baby after this attempt, I'll at least get a vacation out of it, right? Gotta find the good in every situation!
Well, that's how my 2012 has kicked off. Since I'm taking a break until IVF in Barbados, I may not have too much to blog about. Perhaps when I start researching in depth, conversing with the clinic, choosing a new donor, and making concrete plans to head over, I'll have more to share. Until then, as always, thanks all for following and caring.
Peace and love!
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Friday, December 30, 2011
Saturated in Sadness
Once again my gut has proven correct. Not preggers.
Christmas may be over, yet the Grinch still resides within. Yup, I'm still grumpy, disenchanted, and above all, sad. Simply sad. Sure, I've made my way out from the depths of my bed covers, mingled with friends (a bit), and have done my best to get out and enjoy my winter break. Though through it all, my heart is heavy, my spirit depleted and sadness runs its course throughout my veins. I see this as progress, however. Whereas I once blocked my emotions, and did not allow myself to "feel," I view all this current boo-hooing, sniffles and heavy sighing as progress.
Day to day I allow the sadness to meander throughout my body. It sits heavy upon my chest, before working its way to the depths of my belly, wringing itself into tight knots, making me sick to my stomach. On its way to my head, sadness lingers in my kidneys, replenishing itself, infiltrating my blood. Finally, sadness finds its way through my constricted throat, weakens my mind, and wells up behind my eyes, where finally it is released in droplets of tears.
I have so much sadness within that it is sometimes overwhelming. I am sad I am not pregnant. I am sad I have been trying for 14 months to become pregnant. I am sad I have tried 10 times to conceive. I am sad I have spent thousands of dollars on sperm, doctors visits and medications. I am sad I may need to move on to IVF. I am sad I do not have the money to finance IVF. I am sad having to share and relive this over and over. I am sad for my comrades who travel a similar journey to my own and feel the same suffering I do. I am sad each and every time I hear of another failed attempt. Sadness has found its home in me.
After spotting for two days, I finally got my period yesterday. I went to Kaiser today for my baseline sonogram. I'm going through with one more medicated cycle. I'm not exactly sure when I made that decision. I'm not sure I even made the decision consciously. In response to some sort of rote behavior, I picked up the phone and called Kaiser as soon as I washed up and discovered I'd gotten my period. Guess I've gotten so accustomed to doing so.
On my way to the appointment today, sadness worked its way through my body and revealed itself yet again. I tried to push it all out in the parking lot before heading upstairs. I may have been directed to the psych ward had anyone seen the distressing state I was in. But sadness fought hard today. Again it made its way to the surface in the waiting room. I had to stop reading my girl's blog detailing the tragic results of her last attempt. It was too much. It was no wonder the nurse practitioner handed me a flier for a "Mind-Body" wellness infertility class at the closure of our meeting. Guess I'm officially "infertile." Woo hoo, do I get another medal?
Well if sadness made its way to my eggies, I'm unsure. All looked normal. Eight potentials on the left and five-ish on the right. Looks like we're back to strength in numbers on the left side - pretty typical except for that last cycle in which the big guys were on the right. I headed out the door with $800 in meds. Whoa! That's an all time record! The steep increase was because the docs decided to up my dosage to three vials of Menapur (egg stimulant) from two vials. In addition, the NP doubled the prescription in case I need to turn to IVF next. The reason being - all IVF procedures and meds are not covered under my insurance. So really, she was hooking me up. She didn't have to and I appreciate that she was looking out for me. I had to suck it up and pay the big bucks, and if it turns out I'll need the drugs, then it will have been for the best.
Has the word "crazy" come to your mind yet? If so, I understand. I've had many moments where I too simply shake my head and wonder if I've crossed into the crazy zone. Perhaps I really do need to spend some time in a psych ward? Am I crazy to try this hard to get pregnant? Am I crazy to spend all this money? Am I crazy to even consider IVF, a treatment I can barely afford? Perhaps. Though, thanks to my savior, *S, my sistah also using 5696, she has reminded me that though this whole bureaucratic process may be crazy, I am not crazy. It is not crazy to want a child. What is crazy is that clinics and doctors have capitalized on infertility. It is a money making business run by CAP & PAT.
Let's stick with the crazy talk. If you don't already think I'm crazy, just wait to you hear what I've been looking into...IVF in Thailand. Yup, that's right. Medical treatment across international boundaries. Now that's crazy, right!? Well, I've always thought so, anyway. I'm one to always raise an eyebrow when I hear reports of women going across the border to get a tummy tuck or breast enhancements. Certainly the costs are much cheaper, but how about the quality of care and the state of the medical equipment and clinic? Trust me, I'm taking much into consideration and I've only spent a few hours researching. I've still got a long way to go. But really, if all pans out, I could take a well needed vacay and get pregnant - for 1/3 the cost! Yup, IVF is only about $5000 in Thailand, whereas it's anywhere from 13-20K in the US! Now that's crazy!
In the short time that I've been researching, I've discovered that there are very few IVF clinics in the Bay Area. I could stick with Kaiser, though I would need to travel to Fremont as that's the only Kaiser location that provides IVF treatment. And, I would not be at any other advantage as my insurance does not cover a dime of IVF treatment. Yes, lucky me, since I live in the state of California, infertility is not covered by insurance. There are a handful of companies that make exceptions, however. So, unless I want to quit my job and work for Chevron or Williams Sonoma, I'll have to pay out of pocket.
I've got my eye on three or four clinics, should I need to take the IVF plunge. While I proceed with this next medicated cycle, I will continue to research these clinics, have phone consults with their pyhsicians, go to orientations, compare their success rates and ask my fellow SMC gals for advice and recommendations. That's a lot of homework. Ugh, very overwhelming. And, there's always the chance that this final medicated cycle may take and I won't have to pursue any of the clinics. How wonderful would that be?
Christmas may be over, yet the Grinch still resides within. Yup, I'm still grumpy, disenchanted, and above all, sad. Simply sad. Sure, I've made my way out from the depths of my bed covers, mingled with friends (a bit), and have done my best to get out and enjoy my winter break. Though through it all, my heart is heavy, my spirit depleted and sadness runs its course throughout my veins. I see this as progress, however. Whereas I once blocked my emotions, and did not allow myself to "feel," I view all this current boo-hooing, sniffles and heavy sighing as progress.
Day to day I allow the sadness to meander throughout my body. It sits heavy upon my chest, before working its way to the depths of my belly, wringing itself into tight knots, making me sick to my stomach. On its way to my head, sadness lingers in my kidneys, replenishing itself, infiltrating my blood. Finally, sadness finds its way through my constricted throat, weakens my mind, and wells up behind my eyes, where finally it is released in droplets of tears.
I have so much sadness within that it is sometimes overwhelming. I am sad I am not pregnant. I am sad I have been trying for 14 months to become pregnant. I am sad I have tried 10 times to conceive. I am sad I have spent thousands of dollars on sperm, doctors visits and medications. I am sad I may need to move on to IVF. I am sad I do not have the money to finance IVF. I am sad having to share and relive this over and over. I am sad for my comrades who travel a similar journey to my own and feel the same suffering I do. I am sad each and every time I hear of another failed attempt. Sadness has found its home in me.
After spotting for two days, I finally got my period yesterday. I went to Kaiser today for my baseline sonogram. I'm going through with one more medicated cycle. I'm not exactly sure when I made that decision. I'm not sure I even made the decision consciously. In response to some sort of rote behavior, I picked up the phone and called Kaiser as soon as I washed up and discovered I'd gotten my period. Guess I've gotten so accustomed to doing so.
On my way to the appointment today, sadness worked its way through my body and revealed itself yet again. I tried to push it all out in the parking lot before heading upstairs. I may have been directed to the psych ward had anyone seen the distressing state I was in. But sadness fought hard today. Again it made its way to the surface in the waiting room. I had to stop reading my girl's blog detailing the tragic results of her last attempt. It was too much. It was no wonder the nurse practitioner handed me a flier for a "Mind-Body" wellness infertility class at the closure of our meeting. Guess I'm officially "infertile." Woo hoo, do I get another medal?
Well if sadness made its way to my eggies, I'm unsure. All looked normal. Eight potentials on the left and five-ish on the right. Looks like we're back to strength in numbers on the left side - pretty typical except for that last cycle in which the big guys were on the right. I headed out the door with $800 in meds. Whoa! That's an all time record! The steep increase was because the docs decided to up my dosage to three vials of Menapur (egg stimulant) from two vials. In addition, the NP doubled the prescription in case I need to turn to IVF next. The reason being - all IVF procedures and meds are not covered under my insurance. So really, she was hooking me up. She didn't have to and I appreciate that she was looking out for me. I had to suck it up and pay the big bucks, and if it turns out I'll need the drugs, then it will have been for the best.
Has the word "crazy" come to your mind yet? If so, I understand. I've had many moments where I too simply shake my head and wonder if I've crossed into the crazy zone. Perhaps I really do need to spend some time in a psych ward? Am I crazy to try this hard to get pregnant? Am I crazy to spend all this money? Am I crazy to even consider IVF, a treatment I can barely afford? Perhaps. Though, thanks to my savior, *S, my sistah also using 5696, she has reminded me that though this whole bureaucratic process may be crazy, I am not crazy. It is not crazy to want a child. What is crazy is that clinics and doctors have capitalized on infertility. It is a money making business run by CAP & PAT.
Let's stick with the crazy talk. If you don't already think I'm crazy, just wait to you hear what I've been looking into...IVF in Thailand. Yup, that's right. Medical treatment across international boundaries. Now that's crazy, right!? Well, I've always thought so, anyway. I'm one to always raise an eyebrow when I hear reports of women going across the border to get a tummy tuck or breast enhancements. Certainly the costs are much cheaper, but how about the quality of care and the state of the medical equipment and clinic? Trust me, I'm taking much into consideration and I've only spent a few hours researching. I've still got a long way to go. But really, if all pans out, I could take a well needed vacay and get pregnant - for 1/3 the cost! Yup, IVF is only about $5000 in Thailand, whereas it's anywhere from 13-20K in the US! Now that's crazy!
In the short time that I've been researching, I've discovered that there are very few IVF clinics in the Bay Area. I could stick with Kaiser, though I would need to travel to Fremont as that's the only Kaiser location that provides IVF treatment. And, I would not be at any other advantage as my insurance does not cover a dime of IVF treatment. Yes, lucky me, since I live in the state of California, infertility is not covered by insurance. There are a handful of companies that make exceptions, however. So, unless I want to quit my job and work for Chevron or Williams Sonoma, I'll have to pay out of pocket.
I've got my eye on three or four clinics, should I need to take the IVF plunge. While I proceed with this next medicated cycle, I will continue to research these clinics, have phone consults with their pyhsicians, go to orientations, compare their success rates and ask my fellow SMC gals for advice and recommendations. That's a lot of homework. Ugh, very overwhelming. And, there's always the chance that this final medicated cycle may take and I won't have to pursue any of the clinics. How wonderful would that be?
Friday, December 23, 2011
Bah, Humbug!
DISCLAIMER: This entry is highly depressing, quite the downer and not at all happy-go-lucky. So, if you're looking to enjoy your holiday season, then stop here.
Just a little over 24 hours ago, I was merrily bobbing along, reveling in the holiday festivities, admiring the twinkling decorations in windows and gaily singing "Jingle Bell Rock" while cruising down the freeway. Christmas shopping done, presents wrapped and under the tree, DVD's lined up for cozy evenings snuggled under the covers - I was all ready to enjoy the holiday to the fullest. After last year, which was easily the worst Christmas I've ever had, I was looking forward to a very "merry" Christmas this year.
All was going well until the distressing phone consult with my doctor yesterday morning. As I expected and nervously anticipated, the news was exactly as my overactive mind had conjured, the day the nurse informed me that my doctor wished to speak with me.
Power of the mind or a gut feeling?
Perhaps I shouldn't have future tripped and entertained such dreadful thoughts? Did I jinx myself by putting out too much negativity into the Universe? Did I set myself up for this? Hmm, well...
I'd like to bank that this time was more of a gut instinct. Somehow, even before picking up the phone and listening to what the doc had to say, I inherently knew what I was about to hear...and I knew it wasn't going to be good.
Indeed, it wasn't good news.
It was those three little letters I dreaded hearing I....V....F. I knew it was coming, I felt its presences weighing in on me, I could feel the beast harrowing down upon me. I had avoided the enemy like the plague, refused to consider the infertility treatment as an alternative; wouldn't even go as far as to research the procedure in great detail as I deeply felt I would never need to take the IVF route.
I can't believe this day has arrived. I'm utterly astounded. After three times, five times, eight times, I am frozen in bewilderment. Starting off I once thought that 7-8 times, the average number of times it takes women to conceive using IUI, was an astounding number. I thought to myself, "Geesh, I'll be pregnant way before that!" Alas, here I am, number 10, above average. Way to go, T. Where's my medal?
So what, you ask, did my doctor say other than those horrid three letters? He explained that in the last three medicated cycles I've undergone (the injections), I have just about reached a year's worth of eggs. What does that mean? Even after asking for clarification, I'm not sure I entirely understand, as after I heard those dreadful three letters, I wasn't hearing anything too clearly. From the pieces of the conversation that I can put together, the doc said that my body has made about eight eggs (I guess 12 would be a year's worth? One a month, right?). A production of a year's worth of eggs appears to be Kaiser's scale for, "Uh, this is not working." The doc said that if I'm not pregnant on this cycle, than (and I quote), "It is unlikely you will get pregnant in this way." In this way, meaning medicated injections followed by an IUI.
I think it was at this point, when I heard the glaring word, "unlikely," that I fell apart. I tried oh so hard to keep my composure, hold it together and be a big girl. "Unlikely" made me crumble and collapse. There I was in the gym parking lot, a blubbering fool, with an empty tissue box. I drove home, sunglasses on, to shield the teary, puffy eyes, hyper-ventilating, full of anxiety, and damning the ridiculous Christmas songs on the radio.
I am just so damn pissed! Why must this be so difficult!? Women get pregnant every day! Some of which who aren't trying nearly as hard as I've been in the last 14 months. The little brat in me just doesn't understand why I'm not getting what I want so badly. I feel like plummeting face down into the carpeted floor, kicking, screaming, wailing, and pounding my fists into ground like a two year old having a tantrum. I've been a good girl this year - really, ask Santa. I'm a good person, I don't deserve this. Not that I'd wish this torment on my least favorite person.
Doc says I can try one or two more medicated cycles. I ask, what's the point? If I've reached the "year's worth of eggs" point, and I'm designated as "unlikely" to get pregnant, wouldn't I be beating a dead horse? Sorry, I'm clearly a "glass half empty" kinda gal right now. The only Christmas tune playing in my head right now is, "You're a Mean one Mr. Grinch."
So where am I? Well, waiting. Oh yeah, I'm mid cycle. Technically, I could be pregnant. Isn't that terrible? All this drama and sour news has taken my hope and squashed it to pieces. It's true, I really can be pregnant. I haven't got my period. It's just been awfully hard over the last two days to think happy, positive thoughts while this IVF crap terrorizes my well-being. Anyway, the Grinch in me feels not pregnant. I'm still not feeling any different than the previous "above-average" times.
Next steps? Well, for starters, crawl out from beneath the covers. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, followed of course, by Christmas day. I'm expected to be cheery, delightful and present. Places to be, people to see. Ugh, not looking forward to faking a smile and nodding pleasantly when someone asks how I've been.
Next? The waiting game. Hold out a few more days. Period followed by a whole lot of pouting or pregnancy and the perfect Christmas gift? Which will it be??? Only time will tell. Let's hope the magic and mysticism of the season prevails.
Just a little over 24 hours ago, I was merrily bobbing along, reveling in the holiday festivities, admiring the twinkling decorations in windows and gaily singing "Jingle Bell Rock" while cruising down the freeway. Christmas shopping done, presents wrapped and under the tree, DVD's lined up for cozy evenings snuggled under the covers - I was all ready to enjoy the holiday to the fullest. After last year, which was easily the worst Christmas I've ever had, I was looking forward to a very "merry" Christmas this year.
All was going well until the distressing phone consult with my doctor yesterday morning. As I expected and nervously anticipated, the news was exactly as my overactive mind had conjured, the day the nurse informed me that my doctor wished to speak with me.
Power of the mind or a gut feeling?
Perhaps I shouldn't have future tripped and entertained such dreadful thoughts? Did I jinx myself by putting out too much negativity into the Universe? Did I set myself up for this? Hmm, well...
I'd like to bank that this time was more of a gut instinct. Somehow, even before picking up the phone and listening to what the doc had to say, I inherently knew what I was about to hear...and I knew it wasn't going to be good.
Indeed, it wasn't good news.
It was those three little letters I dreaded hearing I....V....F. I knew it was coming, I felt its presences weighing in on me, I could feel the beast harrowing down upon me. I had avoided the enemy like the plague, refused to consider the infertility treatment as an alternative; wouldn't even go as far as to research the procedure in great detail as I deeply felt I would never need to take the IVF route.
I can't believe this day has arrived. I'm utterly astounded. After three times, five times, eight times, I am frozen in bewilderment. Starting off I once thought that 7-8 times, the average number of times it takes women to conceive using IUI, was an astounding number. I thought to myself, "Geesh, I'll be pregnant way before that!" Alas, here I am, number 10, above average. Way to go, T. Where's my medal?
So what, you ask, did my doctor say other than those horrid three letters? He explained that in the last three medicated cycles I've undergone (the injections), I have just about reached a year's worth of eggs. What does that mean? Even after asking for clarification, I'm not sure I entirely understand, as after I heard those dreadful three letters, I wasn't hearing anything too clearly. From the pieces of the conversation that I can put together, the doc said that my body has made about eight eggs (I guess 12 would be a year's worth? One a month, right?). A production of a year's worth of eggs appears to be Kaiser's scale for, "Uh, this is not working." The doc said that if I'm not pregnant on this cycle, than (and I quote), "It is unlikely you will get pregnant in this way." In this way, meaning medicated injections followed by an IUI.
I think it was at this point, when I heard the glaring word, "unlikely," that I fell apart. I tried oh so hard to keep my composure, hold it together and be a big girl. "Unlikely" made me crumble and collapse. There I was in the gym parking lot, a blubbering fool, with an empty tissue box. I drove home, sunglasses on, to shield the teary, puffy eyes, hyper-ventilating, full of anxiety, and damning the ridiculous Christmas songs on the radio.
I am just so damn pissed! Why must this be so difficult!? Women get pregnant every day! Some of which who aren't trying nearly as hard as I've been in the last 14 months. The little brat in me just doesn't understand why I'm not getting what I want so badly. I feel like plummeting face down into the carpeted floor, kicking, screaming, wailing, and pounding my fists into ground like a two year old having a tantrum. I've been a good girl this year - really, ask Santa. I'm a good person, I don't deserve this. Not that I'd wish this torment on my least favorite person.
Doc says I can try one or two more medicated cycles. I ask, what's the point? If I've reached the "year's worth of eggs" point, and I'm designated as "unlikely" to get pregnant, wouldn't I be beating a dead horse? Sorry, I'm clearly a "glass half empty" kinda gal right now. The only Christmas tune playing in my head right now is, "You're a Mean one Mr. Grinch."
So where am I? Well, waiting. Oh yeah, I'm mid cycle. Technically, I could be pregnant. Isn't that terrible? All this drama and sour news has taken my hope and squashed it to pieces. It's true, I really can be pregnant. I haven't got my period. It's just been awfully hard over the last two days to think happy, positive thoughts while this IVF crap terrorizes my well-being. Anyway, the Grinch in me feels not pregnant. I'm still not feeling any different than the previous "above-average" times.
Next steps? Well, for starters, crawl out from beneath the covers. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, followed of course, by Christmas day. I'm expected to be cheery, delightful and present. Places to be, people to see. Ugh, not looking forward to faking a smile and nodding pleasantly when someone asks how I've been.
Next? The waiting game. Hold out a few more days. Period followed by a whole lot of pouting or pregnancy and the perfect Christmas gift? Which will it be??? Only time will tell. Let's hope the magic and mysticism of the season prevails.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Plagued with Panic
Just a week ago, on my 36th birthday, I visited Kaiser for my second sonogram of this 10th cycle. I actually had to reread a few entries in my blog to be sure this was the 10th try. Over a year has passed and so many procedures have become routine along this journey, yet each attempt brings with it something new and meaningful.
The second sonogram oddly, showed no growth on my left ovary. Odd I say, because at the first sono, there were five little ones discovered and it looked as if the candidates would once again be from my left ovary, as they most often have been in the past. I found it peculiar that a week ago at the first sono there were five potential eggs and then suddenly, nothing. Really now, where exactly did they go???
Even more odd, was that my right ovary had produced two considerably large eggs in a very short amount of time and were both close to mature. My doc told me I could expect to be ready to go on Monday (it was Thursday). I was shocked. This was much quicker than the previous rounds with injections - I hadn't expected to be ready for another week. I had it all planned out - I would have the procedure just as school let out for winter break and then I would post myself on my couch to rest up.
Well, my body had another plan for me. I did spend quite a bit of time on the couch, though that was because I got rather sick the weekend of my birthday. I ended up inseminating on Tuesday, rather than Monday, as my third sonogram on Saturday showed that there was a third egg that could potentially be in the running, so we wanted to give it a bit more time to allow it a fighting chance. So, I had three potentials - not the greatest odds I've had, but hey, I wasn't gonna pass them up!
I called in sick Monday, went in for the procedure Tuesday (still sick), and spent the rest of the day curled up, expecting much cramping and uncomfortableness. Strangely, there wasn't much at all. Everything, despite being sick with the flu, went surprisingly well. No blubbering in the exam room, no aches of loneliness, no emotional outbursts. I was a cool cucumber. After the quick and easy IUI, I propped my legs up on the table, made note of the time and cracked open a book. I was more perturbed by my dissatisfaction with my book than anything else this time around.
Wednesday I returned to work, got caught up and then got called into jury duty that afternoon. Lucky me, the very next day in the court house, I was chosen to serve on the trial. So, instead of having a pancake breakfast to celebrate the winter holidays with my students, I had the pleasure of listening to a landlord and tenant battle out their woes in court.
Today, during a brief recess, I received a call from Kaiser. My buddy, Yvette. She called to tell me that she booked me an appointment with my doctor. I figured she must have made some kind of mistake as I had already undergone the IUI. She explained that she understood that I am mid cycle and awaiting results. She continued - it was Thursday and the doctors had had their weekly meeting to discuss each patients' progress, as they do each Thursday. My doctor requested to speak with me should this cycle not work and I need to take next steps.
Ugh, an anxious, queasy, unpleasant sensation turned over in the gut of my belly. Ugh, the reality of it all - the potential for yet another unsuccessful cycle. Up until this moment, I hadn't even considered it - I've been in such a positive, peaceful mood. Between nursing myself back to health, writing sub plans nearly every night and spending 7 hours in court each day, I hadn't even given the disturbing thought a moment's consideration.
As Yvette rattled on over the telephone, the anxiety from my belly welled up and made its way into my head, where panicked, terrorizing ideas came to mind. Oh no, have the doctors discovered that I'm unable to get pregnant? Have they decided that I've tried too many times and that I'm a lost cause? Do they want to change my plan? Higher dosage of drugs? Or even worse, IVF? Holy crap, my heart races even now thinking of the possibilities.
What my doctor wishes to consult with me on, Yvette would not say. I am left with my agonizing thoughts. With still, 10ish more days to go, I have a distressing wait to endure. I have to wait another week for my phone consultation with my doctor. Until then I will need to battle the uneasiness in my belly, quiet the saboteur in my head and refrain from torturing myself with the angst of the unknown. It is out of my control. I cannot allow myself to assume. I need to get out of my head and back into my heart. That positivity and peace can't be too far gone. Deep breathes...
The second sonogram oddly, showed no growth on my left ovary. Odd I say, because at the first sono, there were five little ones discovered and it looked as if the candidates would once again be from my left ovary, as they most often have been in the past. I found it peculiar that a week ago at the first sono there were five potential eggs and then suddenly, nothing. Really now, where exactly did they go???
Even more odd, was that my right ovary had produced two considerably large eggs in a very short amount of time and were both close to mature. My doc told me I could expect to be ready to go on Monday (it was Thursday). I was shocked. This was much quicker than the previous rounds with injections - I hadn't expected to be ready for another week. I had it all planned out - I would have the procedure just as school let out for winter break and then I would post myself on my couch to rest up.
Well, my body had another plan for me. I did spend quite a bit of time on the couch, though that was because I got rather sick the weekend of my birthday. I ended up inseminating on Tuesday, rather than Monday, as my third sonogram on Saturday showed that there was a third egg that could potentially be in the running, so we wanted to give it a bit more time to allow it a fighting chance. So, I had three potentials - not the greatest odds I've had, but hey, I wasn't gonna pass them up!
I called in sick Monday, went in for the procedure Tuesday (still sick), and spent the rest of the day curled up, expecting much cramping and uncomfortableness. Strangely, there wasn't much at all. Everything, despite being sick with the flu, went surprisingly well. No blubbering in the exam room, no aches of loneliness, no emotional outbursts. I was a cool cucumber. After the quick and easy IUI, I propped my legs up on the table, made note of the time and cracked open a book. I was more perturbed by my dissatisfaction with my book than anything else this time around.
Wednesday I returned to work, got caught up and then got called into jury duty that afternoon. Lucky me, the very next day in the court house, I was chosen to serve on the trial. So, instead of having a pancake breakfast to celebrate the winter holidays with my students, I had the pleasure of listening to a landlord and tenant battle out their woes in court.
Today, during a brief recess, I received a call from Kaiser. My buddy, Yvette. She called to tell me that she booked me an appointment with my doctor. I figured she must have made some kind of mistake as I had already undergone the IUI. She explained that she understood that I am mid cycle and awaiting results. She continued - it was Thursday and the doctors had had their weekly meeting to discuss each patients' progress, as they do each Thursday. My doctor requested to speak with me should this cycle not work and I need to take next steps.
Ugh, an anxious, queasy, unpleasant sensation turned over in the gut of my belly. Ugh, the reality of it all - the potential for yet another unsuccessful cycle. Up until this moment, I hadn't even considered it - I've been in such a positive, peaceful mood. Between nursing myself back to health, writing sub plans nearly every night and spending 7 hours in court each day, I hadn't even given the disturbing thought a moment's consideration.
As Yvette rattled on over the telephone, the anxiety from my belly welled up and made its way into my head, where panicked, terrorizing ideas came to mind. Oh no, have the doctors discovered that I'm unable to get pregnant? Have they decided that I've tried too many times and that I'm a lost cause? Do they want to change my plan? Higher dosage of drugs? Or even worse, IVF? Holy crap, my heart races even now thinking of the possibilities.
What my doctor wishes to consult with me on, Yvette would not say. I am left with my agonizing thoughts. With still, 10ish more days to go, I have a distressing wait to endure. I have to wait another week for my phone consultation with my doctor. Until then I will need to battle the uneasiness in my belly, quiet the saboteur in my head and refrain from torturing myself with the angst of the unknown. It is out of my control. I cannot allow myself to assume. I need to get out of my head and back into my heart. That positivity and peace can't be too far gone. Deep breathes...
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Taking Time Out
Wow, what a bummer that last post was! I just got finished re-reading my last entry and geesh, whatta party pooper! Thankfully, that day and those troubling emotions seem ages ago. In fact, it truly was quite some time ago - three months ago!
Why the long absence from blogging? A few reasons. One, as I stated in my last blog, I really had no Plan B...or perhaps I should say "Plan Z," by now. I truly didn't know whether I was going to try again.
On the drive home from work, the day after the terrible toilet incident, I received a call from Yvette at Kaiser. (Yvette is my new BFF - she books my appointments, dishes out advice and follows up with me after my inseminations, as she was doing on this particular day.) She was calling to inform me that the doctors had met to discuss my plan and they had "approved" me for another go, with a slightly different plan, should I not be pregnant on this round. Still unsure whether I wanted to proceed, but rather intrigued by this new plan, I booked a consultation for the following day.
When checking in for my appointment, the clerk requested the standard $127 for the baseline sonogram. My mind still wavering, I didn't want to fork over the dough just yet and requested to speak with my doctor first. Since a nurse practitioner was scheduled to perform my baseline sonogram, the clerk suggested I speak with her. No, I wanted to speak to my doctor. Well, this just about sent the entire office into a tailspin. Kaiser is so accustomed to treating their patients like cash cows, that when one actually exercises their rights, they get flustered and frenzied.
In my doctor's office, he explains that they would like to proceed with a "mini-flare," opposed to a "flare," which I just completed. What this meant is that I would start the injections immediately, instead of taking the birth control pills first, which had apparently quieted my ovaries down - practically putting them to sleep. For the first round of injections, this was a safe and conservative way to go - and probably the smartest way to get started, as who knows how my body could have reacted to the drugs. Now that is was clear I wasn't super fertile and producing a few dozen eggs, the docs felt it was safe to try again, full throttle.
Feeling uplifted and full of promise yet again, I am on board and following my doctor into the sonogram room at the end of the hallway. The sonogram shows a healthy uterus and that I have a few eggs growing on each side. The doc prescribes the same dosage of Lupron, Menopur and Estridiol and tells me to return in a few days for my next sonogram.
For the next two weeks, I give myself my nightly injection, visit Kaiser for my regular sonograms and tell no one. Still hurt from the last lone insemination, I convince myself it's best to do this one on my own. That way, I can't have such high expectations of anyone. Guess it was also the stubborn, rebellious, teenager in me saying, "I don't need you, I can do this on my own!"
Two weeks later, it's insemination time! Yup, that quick. The turn around time was awesome. Not like having to wait a whole month when I used to count days, take my temperature daily and pee on a stick to track my ovulation. Nope, the drugs and docs had complete control of my reproductive system. With the turn around time being so snappy, it was easy to fly under the radar and no one even thought to ask if I was going to try again.
Well, I did tell one person. My teacher. And it wasn't until the day of my insemination, just moments before pulling into the Kaiser parking lot. Why did this rebellious teenager buckle? The Work. For the last few weeks, my teacher had been forcing me - no, helping me - to feel my emotions. I had entered into a dark pattern of not feeling my emotions, suppressing them deep down and telling myself that everything was hunky dory. Not allowing my emotions to surface was my way of dealing and saying, "See, I'm ok. I'm holding it together." But truly, I wasn't ok.
I was finally making some progress and beginning to trust The Work. I needed to tell my teacher so that I wasn't doing this entirely on my own - like I did the last time. That was another pattern I needed to break - trying to do everything on my own, not asking for help.
My teacher is another reason for the long three month hiatus from blogging. I was banned from blogging and only allowed to journal - physically with paper and pen. Blogging IS my therapy, I complained when I was given orders. Yes, but you screen your thoughts and focus too much on grammar and punctuation was her response. She wanted me to scribble, scratch, scorn my emotions into paper and then burn it, if necessary. Despite my argument that this blog is pretty darn raw with emotion, I must admit, the physical act of gripping a pen and allowing the thoughts to release through its point was quite empowering. In the last few months, I've learned a lot about myself, how take care of myself and how to communicate my needs effectively. The power of the pen - wow.
Fortunately there was no toilet drama this time around. I had come a long way since the previous month, worked on dealing with my emotions instead of containing them and was in a better place. When Yvette called to perform her regular follow up call, I didn't even cry, wail or complain when she said the doctors suggest a month off. I knew. It was time for a break. I had been toying with the idea of taking a break and when Yvette shared the news, I was sure of it then. I was sad, yet I knew it was time to finish what I had started. I needed to keep working on myself.
So the month off turned into two months off. Not at the recommendation of the docs, just because. Because I needed it. My gut told me so. I delved into a world free of baby stress, anxiety, injections and hospitals. I embraced change, and sought out ways to express my creativity. I had an insatiable appetite to dance, exercise, use my hands, and expand my neural pathways. I hit the gym, no longer worried about jostling my precious eggs around. I welcomed back my waistline, free of hormones and bloating. I attended trainings and workshops to become a Hot Hula instructor, allowing me the opportunity to teach dance in a fun, relaxed way. I dusted off the sewing machine, made my Halloween costume and have fabric lined up to make my next quilt. The sense of artistry and expression is allowing me to finally feel the emotions I bottled up for so long.
I feel healthy, balanced, peaceful and hopeful. Yoga has been a great outlet for me. Breathing has been a joy. I never thought I could enjoy the act of simply sitting and breathing. Acupuncture has been amazing for me as well. Now three months into a weekly, one hour session, I undoubtedly feel the results. A sense of calm, serenity and ease has come over me. Life is simple, effortless. Ahhhhh.
These two months off have been just what the doctor ordered - or not ordered for that matter. As I ease into my next cycle, the anxiety and stress have attempted to creep back into my life, though I am doing my best to not let it overcome me. As I planned a few weeks ago to order my swimmers and pick it up to deliver to Kaiser, I felt a sense of anxiety rush over me. Though once I physically set out accomplish the task, I realized the stress was all in my head. The order and delivery were accomplished without a hitch.
Today I visited Kaiser for my baseline sonogram. Other than showing a healthy uterus, my right ovary is host to three eggs, while my left ovary is yielding 5. Not a terrible grand total, though I was hoping for a few more. I return Thursday, on my birthday, for a progress check. I'll be wishing for a few more eggs to appear that may have been playing hide n seek today.
I started my injections this evening as well. As with the other formalities, some stress and anxiety swirled in my head, holding me back from piercing the syringe into my belly. Once done however, I giggled, it was over in no time - all in my head, once again. My head - seems to be one of my biggest challenges - more challenging then any of this baby-making stuff has been.
Luckily, I am not the same girl who cried into her hands, perched on a toilet, a few months ago. I am in a better place physically, mentally and emotionally. Here's to hoping that this peace and harmony infuses every cell of my body and helps to create an attractive, nurturing home for baby.
Why the long absence from blogging? A few reasons. One, as I stated in my last blog, I really had no Plan B...or perhaps I should say "Plan Z," by now. I truly didn't know whether I was going to try again.
On the drive home from work, the day after the terrible toilet incident, I received a call from Yvette at Kaiser. (Yvette is my new BFF - she books my appointments, dishes out advice and follows up with me after my inseminations, as she was doing on this particular day.) She was calling to inform me that the doctors had met to discuss my plan and they had "approved" me for another go, with a slightly different plan, should I not be pregnant on this round. Still unsure whether I wanted to proceed, but rather intrigued by this new plan, I booked a consultation for the following day.
When checking in for my appointment, the clerk requested the standard $127 for the baseline sonogram. My mind still wavering, I didn't want to fork over the dough just yet and requested to speak with my doctor first. Since a nurse practitioner was scheduled to perform my baseline sonogram, the clerk suggested I speak with her. No, I wanted to speak to my doctor. Well, this just about sent the entire office into a tailspin. Kaiser is so accustomed to treating their patients like cash cows, that when one actually exercises their rights, they get flustered and frenzied.
In my doctor's office, he explains that they would like to proceed with a "mini-flare," opposed to a "flare," which I just completed. What this meant is that I would start the injections immediately, instead of taking the birth control pills first, which had apparently quieted my ovaries down - practically putting them to sleep. For the first round of injections, this was a safe and conservative way to go - and probably the smartest way to get started, as who knows how my body could have reacted to the drugs. Now that is was clear I wasn't super fertile and producing a few dozen eggs, the docs felt it was safe to try again, full throttle.
Feeling uplifted and full of promise yet again, I am on board and following my doctor into the sonogram room at the end of the hallway. The sonogram shows a healthy uterus and that I have a few eggs growing on each side. The doc prescribes the same dosage of Lupron, Menopur and Estridiol and tells me to return in a few days for my next sonogram.
For the next two weeks, I give myself my nightly injection, visit Kaiser for my regular sonograms and tell no one. Still hurt from the last lone insemination, I convince myself it's best to do this one on my own. That way, I can't have such high expectations of anyone. Guess it was also the stubborn, rebellious, teenager in me saying, "I don't need you, I can do this on my own!"
Two weeks later, it's insemination time! Yup, that quick. The turn around time was awesome. Not like having to wait a whole month when I used to count days, take my temperature daily and pee on a stick to track my ovulation. Nope, the drugs and docs had complete control of my reproductive system. With the turn around time being so snappy, it was easy to fly under the radar and no one even thought to ask if I was going to try again.
Well, I did tell one person. My teacher. And it wasn't until the day of my insemination, just moments before pulling into the Kaiser parking lot. Why did this rebellious teenager buckle? The Work. For the last few weeks, my teacher had been forcing me - no, helping me - to feel my emotions. I had entered into a dark pattern of not feeling my emotions, suppressing them deep down and telling myself that everything was hunky dory. Not allowing my emotions to surface was my way of dealing and saying, "See, I'm ok. I'm holding it together." But truly, I wasn't ok.
I was finally making some progress and beginning to trust The Work. I needed to tell my teacher so that I wasn't doing this entirely on my own - like I did the last time. That was another pattern I needed to break - trying to do everything on my own, not asking for help.
My teacher is another reason for the long three month hiatus from blogging. I was banned from blogging and only allowed to journal - physically with paper and pen. Blogging IS my therapy, I complained when I was given orders. Yes, but you screen your thoughts and focus too much on grammar and punctuation was her response. She wanted me to scribble, scratch, scorn my emotions into paper and then burn it, if necessary. Despite my argument that this blog is pretty darn raw with emotion, I must admit, the physical act of gripping a pen and allowing the thoughts to release through its point was quite empowering. In the last few months, I've learned a lot about myself, how take care of myself and how to communicate my needs effectively. The power of the pen - wow.
Fortunately there was no toilet drama this time around. I had come a long way since the previous month, worked on dealing with my emotions instead of containing them and was in a better place. When Yvette called to perform her regular follow up call, I didn't even cry, wail or complain when she said the doctors suggest a month off. I knew. It was time for a break. I had been toying with the idea of taking a break and when Yvette shared the news, I was sure of it then. I was sad, yet I knew it was time to finish what I had started. I needed to keep working on myself.
So the month off turned into two months off. Not at the recommendation of the docs, just because. Because I needed it. My gut told me so. I delved into a world free of baby stress, anxiety, injections and hospitals. I embraced change, and sought out ways to express my creativity. I had an insatiable appetite to dance, exercise, use my hands, and expand my neural pathways. I hit the gym, no longer worried about jostling my precious eggs around. I welcomed back my waistline, free of hormones and bloating. I attended trainings and workshops to become a Hot Hula instructor, allowing me the opportunity to teach dance in a fun, relaxed way. I dusted off the sewing machine, made my Halloween costume and have fabric lined up to make my next quilt. The sense of artistry and expression is allowing me to finally feel the emotions I bottled up for so long.
I feel healthy, balanced, peaceful and hopeful. Yoga has been a great outlet for me. Breathing has been a joy. I never thought I could enjoy the act of simply sitting and breathing. Acupuncture has been amazing for me as well. Now three months into a weekly, one hour session, I undoubtedly feel the results. A sense of calm, serenity and ease has come over me. Life is simple, effortless. Ahhhhh.
These two months off have been just what the doctor ordered - or not ordered for that matter. As I ease into my next cycle, the anxiety and stress have attempted to creep back into my life, though I am doing my best to not let it overcome me. As I planned a few weeks ago to order my swimmers and pick it up to deliver to Kaiser, I felt a sense of anxiety rush over me. Though once I physically set out accomplish the task, I realized the stress was all in my head. The order and delivery were accomplished without a hitch.
Today I visited Kaiser for my baseline sonogram. Other than showing a healthy uterus, my right ovary is host to three eggs, while my left ovary is yielding 5. Not a terrible grand total, though I was hoping for a few more. I return Thursday, on my birthday, for a progress check. I'll be wishing for a few more eggs to appear that may have been playing hide n seek today.
I started my injections this evening as well. As with the other formalities, some stress and anxiety swirled in my head, holding me back from piercing the syringe into my belly. Once done however, I giggled, it was over in no time - all in my head, once again. My head - seems to be one of my biggest challenges - more challenging then any of this baby-making stuff has been.
Luckily, I am not the same girl who cried into her hands, perched on a toilet, a few months ago. I am in a better place physically, mentally and emotionally. Here's to hoping that this peace and harmony infuses every cell of my body and helps to create an attractive, nurturing home for baby.
Monday, September 5, 2011
From Table to Toilet
Two weeks ago, I laid crying on an exam table, in a cold, sterile, lonesome room. Today, again, I found myself crying alone, but this time in my bathroom, sitting on my toilet, and crying for a very different reason.
Two Sundays ago, I visited Kaiser for insemination #8. The two follicles on my left ovary had grown to sufficient size, I had taken the trigger shot the night before and I was ready to go! After a long hiatus since insemination #7, I was super excited to try again! All the nervous excitement bubbling within felt similar to my very first time trying (oh so long ago).
When the deed was done however, after the doctor had performed the insemination and left the room, as I laid waiting, alone, by myself, I suddenly became aware of how different this time around felt. I felt truly alone. And I started to cry.
This was a surprise to me. I had been to inseminations alone before. Why should this occasion feel any different? After some reflection, I realized I was hanging on to the hope that I wouldn't have had to go through with #8. I had recently reconnected with the love of my life and I think there was a glimmer of hope that we would follow through with what we once spoke of - living together, getting married and having kids. Lying there on the table, 5696's sperm inside my body, reality hit. My prince charming wasn't going to barge through the door and stop the doc from proceeding.
As I laid there, for the suggested 20 minutes, my thoughts continued to focus on my solitude. My phone was not buzzing with texts, missed calls and messages. I didn't have a sistren in the room with me holding my hand. I was all alone.
I thought back to my first few inseminations - my sistrens shared in my excitement, texting me before each insemination, calling me to follow up after. Shoot, I even had two sistrens in the room with me at my last insemination! Now it was just me. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was old news for everyone. "Oh, there goes T trying to get pregnant again..."
I know much of this is all in my head. And, I know that I'm not the best at reaching out and asking for company. If I asked, I know my girls would be at my side. I guess I miss having my loved ones share in my excitement. I don't want to discount the loving and thoughtful texts I still get. Like I said, a lot of this is all in my head and I'm once again, grieving the thought of having to have a baby on my own. Nevertheless, I am still confident that this is my path.
Part of me feels horrible sharing this truth. I know that my sistrens love and support me. I still have sistrens who check in with me, reach out to me and offer their support. And still, it's different from one year ago.
So, as I laid there, legs propped up on the exam table, praying the little swimmers would meet their destination, tears streamed down my face. It was a strange mix of emotions, though. Yes, I was disappointed that I didn't have company and sad that rekindling an old romance was not going to happen. Though oddly, I was also elated. I was thrilled to be finally trying again! Number seven was way back in May - that felt ages ago! So, mixed in those tears of sorrow, were also droplets of relief, excitement and hope. A strange concoction of emotions.
Thankfully, after I released and had my moment on the hospital exam table, the next two weeks went by rather smoothly. This time around, my two week wait probably felt the longest ever. Partly because I went back to work and was putting in some really long days setting up my classroom. Sure there were a few stumbles along the way. Remember my co-worker who was pregnant with twins via InVitro, using donor sperm? Well, even though she's not teaching this year, she was on campus and I got to see just how big and beautiful she looked. Two days later I learned that another co-worker that I work closely with is pregnant and that a few others are trying with their partners. Oh how nice it must be to have a partner to give it a go with each month...
Truly, despite my sarcasm, I had a good two week wait. I felt positive, hopeful and open. I took care of myself going for long walks, visited my acupuncturist regularly, went to church to satisfy my spiritual self and even felt I was handling my first week back to school stress quite well. I must say, I was quite proud of myself. As the two weeks ended and my period hadn't shown up, I was feeling even more positive and hopeful.
As instructed, I headed into Kaiser for a blood test, exactly two weeks following the insemination. I was told to not use a home pregnancy test as the hormones I injected into my body may cause a false positive/negative reading. So, yesterday after church, a vial of my blood was taken at the laboratory. Which of course meant more waiting. I was told it would take 1-2 days to get the results. With Monday a holiday, who knows, maybe longer.
Well, turns out I won't have to wait for the results. This afternoon, as I sat on the toilet and peeled my pants down, I noticed the red stain. "Nooo," was all that I could say. "No, no, no." I didn't want to believe it was true. I felt the hope that kept me so uplifted the last two weeks inflate instantly. Crouched over, elbows propped on my knees, I cried into the palms of my hands. I could only repeat, "No, no, no..."
Frustration. Hurt. Rage. I let myself have my cry and pulled myself together as I was expecting company soon.
I am deflated. I keep seeing an image of a balloon full and afloat, and then slowly, yet steadily shrinking and shriveling. I am at a loss. I just don't know what to do. I don't even know my next steps. I was so hopeful that this was "it" that I didn't even consider next steps. In fact, I didn't even want to taint my mind with such thoughts and jinx myself.
Try again? Hormones? InVitro? Take a break? I just don't know...
Two Sundays ago, I visited Kaiser for insemination #8. The two follicles on my left ovary had grown to sufficient size, I had taken the trigger shot the night before and I was ready to go! After a long hiatus since insemination #7, I was super excited to try again! All the nervous excitement bubbling within felt similar to my very first time trying (oh so long ago).
When the deed was done however, after the doctor had performed the insemination and left the room, as I laid waiting, alone, by myself, I suddenly became aware of how different this time around felt. I felt truly alone. And I started to cry.
This was a surprise to me. I had been to inseminations alone before. Why should this occasion feel any different? After some reflection, I realized I was hanging on to the hope that I wouldn't have had to go through with #8. I had recently reconnected with the love of my life and I think there was a glimmer of hope that we would follow through with what we once spoke of - living together, getting married and having kids. Lying there on the table, 5696's sperm inside my body, reality hit. My prince charming wasn't going to barge through the door and stop the doc from proceeding.
As I laid there, for the suggested 20 minutes, my thoughts continued to focus on my solitude. My phone was not buzzing with texts, missed calls and messages. I didn't have a sistren in the room with me holding my hand. I was all alone.
I thought back to my first few inseminations - my sistrens shared in my excitement, texting me before each insemination, calling me to follow up after. Shoot, I even had two sistrens in the room with me at my last insemination! Now it was just me. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was old news for everyone. "Oh, there goes T trying to get pregnant again..."
I know much of this is all in my head. And, I know that I'm not the best at reaching out and asking for company. If I asked, I know my girls would be at my side. I guess I miss having my loved ones share in my excitement. I don't want to discount the loving and thoughtful texts I still get. Like I said, a lot of this is all in my head and I'm once again, grieving the thought of having to have a baby on my own. Nevertheless, I am still confident that this is my path.
Part of me feels horrible sharing this truth. I know that my sistrens love and support me. I still have sistrens who check in with me, reach out to me and offer their support. And still, it's different from one year ago.
So, as I laid there, legs propped up on the exam table, praying the little swimmers would meet their destination, tears streamed down my face. It was a strange mix of emotions, though. Yes, I was disappointed that I didn't have company and sad that rekindling an old romance was not going to happen. Though oddly, I was also elated. I was thrilled to be finally trying again! Number seven was way back in May - that felt ages ago! So, mixed in those tears of sorrow, were also droplets of relief, excitement and hope. A strange concoction of emotions.
Thankfully, after I released and had my moment on the hospital exam table, the next two weeks went by rather smoothly. This time around, my two week wait probably felt the longest ever. Partly because I went back to work and was putting in some really long days setting up my classroom. Sure there were a few stumbles along the way. Remember my co-worker who was pregnant with twins via InVitro, using donor sperm? Well, even though she's not teaching this year, she was on campus and I got to see just how big and beautiful she looked. Two days later I learned that another co-worker that I work closely with is pregnant and that a few others are trying with their partners. Oh how nice it must be to have a partner to give it a go with each month...
Truly, despite my sarcasm, I had a good two week wait. I felt positive, hopeful and open. I took care of myself going for long walks, visited my acupuncturist regularly, went to church to satisfy my spiritual self and even felt I was handling my first week back to school stress quite well. I must say, I was quite proud of myself. As the two weeks ended and my period hadn't shown up, I was feeling even more positive and hopeful.
As instructed, I headed into Kaiser for a blood test, exactly two weeks following the insemination. I was told to not use a home pregnancy test as the hormones I injected into my body may cause a false positive/negative reading. So, yesterday after church, a vial of my blood was taken at the laboratory. Which of course meant more waiting. I was told it would take 1-2 days to get the results. With Monday a holiday, who knows, maybe longer.
Well, turns out I won't have to wait for the results. This afternoon, as I sat on the toilet and peeled my pants down, I noticed the red stain. "Nooo," was all that I could say. "No, no, no." I didn't want to believe it was true. I felt the hope that kept me so uplifted the last two weeks inflate instantly. Crouched over, elbows propped on my knees, I cried into the palms of my hands. I could only repeat, "No, no, no..."
Frustration. Hurt. Rage. I let myself have my cry and pulled myself together as I was expecting company soon.
I am deflated. I keep seeing an image of a balloon full and afloat, and then slowly, yet steadily shrinking and shriveling. I am at a loss. I just don't know what to do. I don't even know my next steps. I was so hopeful that this was "it" that I didn't even consider next steps. In fact, I didn't even want to taint my mind with such thoughts and jinx myself.
Try again? Hormones? InVitro? Take a break? I just don't know...
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Grow follies, Grow!
Five days after starting the Menopur injections, I returned to Kaiser for my second ultrasound. It had been less than a week since my first ultrasound, though frequent visits are necessary to carefully monitor the growth of follicles and egg development. Because the drugs may overstimulate my ovaries, I could be at risk of producing too many eggs. We all know what that means, I could be at risk of becoming the next Octomom. Yikes!
I was excited to discover what was going on in my insides. Back in the ultrasound room, tucked away at the end of a long hallway in Kaiser's Reproductive Endocrinology Department, I sat restless awaiting my doctor. Instead of my doctor however, I was seen by a nurse practitioner. Hmm, ok. Familiar with the routine, I laid back, propped my feet into the metal stirrups and relaxed my knees apart. As the NP inserted the probe we followed its journey throughout my uterus, around my ovaries, and saw....absolutely nothing. Boo. Even after gliding back and forth from the right ovary to the left, maneuvering the probe this way and that, pressing firmly on my abdomen to get a better view, we still saw - nothing. Dislike.
Sweetly, the RN comments, "Well, it appears your uterus is very quiet and your ovaries are being patient and taking their time." Ugh. Really? That's all fine and dandy, but seriously after 10 days of injecting myself with hormones designed to purposefully stimulate follicle growth, there really, truly isn't anything? Say what!? I just don't get. The NP asks me to get dressed and meet her in her office. I pull on my clothes, pick up my pouty lower lip and trudge down the hallway.
In her office, the NP tells me that she is going to continue my regiment of Lupron and two vials of Menopur for the next three days and she will see me again on Tuesday. By then, she explains, we should see some action. (For goodness sake, I hope so!) On my way out, I hit up the 4th floor pharmacy, fork over my credit card for another batch of Menopur and kiss another $240 bucks good bye (not too mention the $127 I paid for the sonogram to view ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!).
Back at the ranch, I take a hit of Menopur each night, and slowly I begin to feel the awakenings of follicle development within the depths of my body. I've become very attune to my body's reproductive system since I started this journey. I can read every tinge, twitch, cramp and gurgle in my belly well. I was sure that when I went in for the next ultrasound that there would be a party going on in my ovaries - and I was positive the action was happening on the left side!
And boy was I right on! Tuesday afternoon, same place, same sonogram machine, same NP. On my back, propping my head up to see the monitor, the NP points out two fuzzy black dots inside the left ovary - follicles! Woo hoo! She makes a few clicks with the mouse and measures them - 10 & 12mm. Not bad, but the optimal length to pop out an egg is 18-20mm. She moves on to examine the right ovary...she looks, and looks....and looks, and looks. And nothing. She seems perplexed, which worries me. Um, where's the party? She tries slanting the probe up, down, all around, pressing her palm into my abdomen and still nothing. Humph.
After the exam, I meet the NP in her office. She is pleased with the progress, explaining that at my age we would hope to see at least 2-4 follicles. Now that my body is developing these very precious egg factories, the NP instructs me to give up all aerobic activity (eek!) and she would like me to continue with the same dosage of Menopur for another three days. We all know what that means! Cha ching! $$$$$ Back to the pharmacy I go. Handing over my Mileage Plus United credit card, I think of all the miles I'm racking up and where baby and I will go someday. I leave Kaiser that afternoon happy for my two follies and a bit worried about the vacant lot on my right side.
For the next three days I am antsy, crawling up the wall and pouting like a little kid. I've been so active this summer, going to the gym, dancing, and religiously attending Bikram yoga classes that I was going stir crazy not able to exercise. I did what I could - took long walks, only danced slow hulas and switched over to Hatha yoga (minus the inverted poses). As I watched the girls sway their hips, looked on as my yoga peers held their bridges, and dilly dallied with wimpy barbells, I reminded myself that it was all necessary to protect the little follies on the inside.
The day before my appointment, I decided to request a visit with my doctor instead of the nurse practitioner. I'm sure she knew her stuff and was performing the ultrasounds to the best of her ability, though I just felt like I needed to see my guy. Perhaps the last two visits with the NP - the first visit a big fail with absolutely no development and the second visit, the mystery of the right ovary - discouraged me from wanting to see her again. Call it bad juju, I guess. I was informed that the nurse practitioners regularly perform the ultrasounds, though my doctor happened to be on call that day, so they would accommodate me. Yippee!
Earlier this afternoon, I went into Kaiser feeling positive, uplifted and sure that I was going to get a good report card. Sure enough there was a follicle on my right side! It was just a baby one, at 9.5mm, nevertheless there was something there, which made me again wonder whether the NP was being very diligent in her practice. Though this little guy won't be of much help this cycle, it was comforting to know that my right ovary had some life to it and rid me of any discouraging thoughts.
On to the left ovary. The two follicles that the NP had discovered at the last appointment had grown considerably; 17 and 19mm! These were very promising and Dr. Huang was pleased with the progress. After completing the exam, I was surprised when he informed me that by the end of the day the follicles would grow another 2mm and I would be ready to go! I just needed to pick the day I wanted to be inseminated - Sunday or Monday! Wow, just like that!? I get to pick? What a change from the guessing game I once had to play with the ovulation testing kits!
Since neither day was better than the other (chance wise) I went with Sunday, the lesser of my busy days. The doc asked me to meet him in his office after getting dressed. As soon as he exited the room, I hopped off the reclined chair and did the happy dance. I was thrilled with the progress, ecstatic that this meant the end of injections and giddy with excitement to try to get pregnant again! It's been awhile since the last cycle - May - and I've been looking forward to this day all summer long!
In his office, Dr. Huang explained the procedures for the final injection - a dose of one final hormone that will trigger ovulation - to be taken at precisely 10pm that evening. I was told to cease all intake of Lupron and Menopur, but to continue the Estrodiol pills. He sent me down to the pharmacy to pick up the last of my hormones and two boxes of suppositories to take for two weeks following the IUI (those sound like good fun). He gave me the "ok" to proceed with my regular physical activities, including dancing! Hooray! I left his office with a spring in my step, and a smile on my face that not even the $200 expense at the pharmacy could take away!
So now, it is Friday evening, and it is done. I bailed on a date to stay home and give myself the final injection, the trigger shot, just over an hour ago. I am hoping and praying that this injection will indeed be the final shot. I can't bear to think of repeating the hormone treatment. Over the next day, my little egg (or perhaps two eggs; one from each follicle) should be making its way into my fallopian tube where it will hang out and await fertilization by the sperm, soon to be introduced to my body this coming Sunday. I pray that this is my time. #8, my lucky number...we'll have to wait and see. Pray for me!
I was excited to discover what was going on in my insides. Back in the ultrasound room, tucked away at the end of a long hallway in Kaiser's Reproductive Endocrinology Department, I sat restless awaiting my doctor. Instead of my doctor however, I was seen by a nurse practitioner. Hmm, ok. Familiar with the routine, I laid back, propped my feet into the metal stirrups and relaxed my knees apart. As the NP inserted the probe we followed its journey throughout my uterus, around my ovaries, and saw....absolutely nothing. Boo. Even after gliding back and forth from the right ovary to the left, maneuvering the probe this way and that, pressing firmly on my abdomen to get a better view, we still saw - nothing. Dislike.
Sweetly, the RN comments, "Well, it appears your uterus is very quiet and your ovaries are being patient and taking their time." Ugh. Really? That's all fine and dandy, but seriously after 10 days of injecting myself with hormones designed to purposefully stimulate follicle growth, there really, truly isn't anything? Say what!? I just don't get. The NP asks me to get dressed and meet her in her office. I pull on my clothes, pick up my pouty lower lip and trudge down the hallway.
In her office, the NP tells me that she is going to continue my regiment of Lupron and two vials of Menopur for the next three days and she will see me again on Tuesday. By then, she explains, we should see some action. (For goodness sake, I hope so!) On my way out, I hit up the 4th floor pharmacy, fork over my credit card for another batch of Menopur and kiss another $240 bucks good bye (not too mention the $127 I paid for the sonogram to view ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!).
Back at the ranch, I take a hit of Menopur each night, and slowly I begin to feel the awakenings of follicle development within the depths of my body. I've become very attune to my body's reproductive system since I started this journey. I can read every tinge, twitch, cramp and gurgle in my belly well. I was sure that when I went in for the next ultrasound that there would be a party going on in my ovaries - and I was positive the action was happening on the left side!
And boy was I right on! Tuesday afternoon, same place, same sonogram machine, same NP. On my back, propping my head up to see the monitor, the NP points out two fuzzy black dots inside the left ovary - follicles! Woo hoo! She makes a few clicks with the mouse and measures them - 10 & 12mm. Not bad, but the optimal length to pop out an egg is 18-20mm. She moves on to examine the right ovary...she looks, and looks....and looks, and looks. And nothing. She seems perplexed, which worries me. Um, where's the party? She tries slanting the probe up, down, all around, pressing her palm into my abdomen and still nothing. Humph.
After the exam, I meet the NP in her office. She is pleased with the progress, explaining that at my age we would hope to see at least 2-4 follicles. Now that my body is developing these very precious egg factories, the NP instructs me to give up all aerobic activity (eek!) and she would like me to continue with the same dosage of Menopur for another three days. We all know what that means! Cha ching! $$$$$ Back to the pharmacy I go. Handing over my Mileage Plus United credit card, I think of all the miles I'm racking up and where baby and I will go someday. I leave Kaiser that afternoon happy for my two follies and a bit worried about the vacant lot on my right side.
For the next three days I am antsy, crawling up the wall and pouting like a little kid. I've been so active this summer, going to the gym, dancing, and religiously attending Bikram yoga classes that I was going stir crazy not able to exercise. I did what I could - took long walks, only danced slow hulas and switched over to Hatha yoga (minus the inverted poses). As I watched the girls sway their hips, looked on as my yoga peers held their bridges, and dilly dallied with wimpy barbells, I reminded myself that it was all necessary to protect the little follies on the inside.
The day before my appointment, I decided to request a visit with my doctor instead of the nurse practitioner. I'm sure she knew her stuff and was performing the ultrasounds to the best of her ability, though I just felt like I needed to see my guy. Perhaps the last two visits with the NP - the first visit a big fail with absolutely no development and the second visit, the mystery of the right ovary - discouraged me from wanting to see her again. Call it bad juju, I guess. I was informed that the nurse practitioners regularly perform the ultrasounds, though my doctor happened to be on call that day, so they would accommodate me. Yippee!
Earlier this afternoon, I went into Kaiser feeling positive, uplifted and sure that I was going to get a good report card. Sure enough there was a follicle on my right side! It was just a baby one, at 9.5mm, nevertheless there was something there, which made me again wonder whether the NP was being very diligent in her practice. Though this little guy won't be of much help this cycle, it was comforting to know that my right ovary had some life to it and rid me of any discouraging thoughts.
On to the left ovary. The two follicles that the NP had discovered at the last appointment had grown considerably; 17 and 19mm! These were very promising and Dr. Huang was pleased with the progress. After completing the exam, I was surprised when he informed me that by the end of the day the follicles would grow another 2mm and I would be ready to go! I just needed to pick the day I wanted to be inseminated - Sunday or Monday! Wow, just like that!? I get to pick? What a change from the guessing game I once had to play with the ovulation testing kits!
Since neither day was better than the other (chance wise) I went with Sunday, the lesser of my busy days. The doc asked me to meet him in his office after getting dressed. As soon as he exited the room, I hopped off the reclined chair and did the happy dance. I was thrilled with the progress, ecstatic that this meant the end of injections and giddy with excitement to try to get pregnant again! It's been awhile since the last cycle - May - and I've been looking forward to this day all summer long!
In his office, Dr. Huang explained the procedures for the final injection - a dose of one final hormone that will trigger ovulation - to be taken at precisely 10pm that evening. I was told to cease all intake of Lupron and Menopur, but to continue the Estrodiol pills. He sent me down to the pharmacy to pick up the last of my hormones and two boxes of suppositories to take for two weeks following the IUI (those sound like good fun). He gave me the "ok" to proceed with my regular physical activities, including dancing! Hooray! I left his office with a spring in my step, and a smile on my face that not even the $200 expense at the pharmacy could take away!
So now, it is Friday evening, and it is done. I bailed on a date to stay home and give myself the final injection, the trigger shot, just over an hour ago. I am hoping and praying that this injection will indeed be the final shot. I can't bear to think of repeating the hormone treatment. Over the next day, my little egg (or perhaps two eggs; one from each follicle) should be making its way into my fallopian tube where it will hang out and await fertilization by the sperm, soon to be introduced to my body this coming Sunday. I pray that this is my time. #8, my lucky number...we'll have to wait and see. Pray for me!
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