The Great Big IF...

This Too Shall Pass

2011-09-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

I let my blog go into disrepair for some time and realized that after reading about abandoned blogs elsewhere, mine was quickly falling into that category. It was eery to come here and see the blank picture images where my child's and father's pictures used to be and not having the technical wherewithal or energy to do much about it. I've always thought of this as my 'infertility blog' and could never quite move beyond that, but quite frankly, I could still wax poetical for a lifetime on this very subject. I am still living it. As others who are not 'fertility challenged' are moving on to their 2nd child, I do not even have the luxury of forming the concept. Life is making that so. A life that is lovely and blessed, but challenging. So, in short, I have been absent not for lack of content, but for lack of emotional energy. People, I'm spent.

We can all pinpoint times in our lives when we have been put to the test, spread too thin, bent almost to the breaking point, and this is one of mine. But unlike other times in my life when this was so, now I have more resources to handle it, both internal and external. It saves me from meeting that breaking point, but it doesn't necessarily make the ride significantly easier. Luckily, at this point, it is not the relationships in my life that suffer. For that I am so, so, so grateful. It is purely time and finances and the endless clock that ticks counting down the last minutes of my Mother's life and what is left of my dwindling fertility up against a pocketbook that cannot keep up with the days and months that steal away possibilities. With all of this, it is becoming harder and harder to juggle expectations and priorities. I know Mr. S feels it, too.

We find respite where we can. In the few minutes at the end of the day and in our time with little G, who is just amazing beyond my comprehension. He is so smart and witty and the biggest bright light in our lives. I know this would all be so much harder without him and I still can't believe my amazing fortune in the addition of him to my world. I remember in the summer of 2009 driving to a job a town away, placing my hand on my quickly growing belly and crying in joy and disbelief that it was actually happening. He's almost 2 years old, and I still think that way. I am still in awe. Anything can happen. The story is not over. I hold onto that hope, just as I did two years ago and boy does it get me through.

I can tell you this much: I have been better, but I have been far worse (and lived to tell about it) and am certain that this too shall pass.

On God's Plans

2011-05-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

In the few times before I was pregnant with my son that I attempted to come out of the 'infertility closet', I was met with some startlingly harsh commentary, but there is one remark that, although spoken some four years ago, still rings crystal clear in my ears,

"Oh, well this is just God's way of preventing more of these kids we work with from being born."

This was two-fold disgusting. You see, I work in special education and to do so, you must see the innate value and beauty in every person, whether they are 'typically' developing or not. This person (who was a special education secretary) not only pompously assumed that she had a direct line into God's intentions and how those played out in my life, but she revealed her true colors as to what she thought of the very children her position served on a daily basis.

My response? Nothing. Silence. And then I walked away.

Quite frankly, I was too stunned to speak. I mean, I felt like it was the equivolent of someone just squatting down in the middle of the room and taking a leak. You just don't do that in public, you just don't say that to someone, so when it happens, you're just...stunned.

I wish I could walk back in time for that moment. I wish it, but then I wonder, what would I have done differently? Launched into an equally ignorant dialogue, arguing points that might have appealed to logic which the audience would have continued fully lacking? Or would my response have made her think a little harder before opening her mouth again to me, or to someone like me? Could the right words have saved someone else grief in the future?

Regardless of where your beliefs stand, whether you believe God has a hand in everything or whether you believe he/she does not exist, no one is all knowing. No one has a direct line into any organized plan (if there is one) this universe (or God) has, whether that's to spare the world the birth of more children who do not fit her version of the 'master race' (seriously, doesn't this thinking sound nazi-esque?) or to make sure that naughty tattoo yielding, margarita-drinking people such as myself do not reproduce.

So, if this was said to you, what would have been your response? Even with the 20/20 vision that comes from looking back in time, I'm still stumped...

Roller Coaster

2011-05-02T14:31:00.000-07:00

After standing back and letting some time separate me and my myth submission blog entry, one thing became clear to me. I did not portay the full aspects of my pregnancy or even parenthood, most likely because in doing so, I might not have driven my points home in the way I intended. I wanted to illustrate to readers that my particular pregnancy experience did not happen after infertility but existed alongside it. I wanted to let people know that in the aftermath of treatment and loss, my pregnancy and subsequent parenting were not all puppy dogs and kittens and ice cream cones. That neither of them made infertility disappear. But at the expense of possibily stealing some of the drama that might have helped these points along, I can assure you that if any point in time in my life has ever been filled with the wonder and merriment of puppy dogs and kittens and ice cream cones, this has been it. Right where I am now.

That's not to say that I misled anyone. Everything I typed in that submission was real, but in the interest of persuasion, I made a few ommissions.

That is, this very moment, despite all its disasters, has made me the happiest I have ever been. The same was true for my pregnancy, in that despite all of the white-knuckling, heart-pounding moments I sat fearing the worst, the hope for the best still lived in me when I had thought it gone. Of course, that time was punctuated with anxiety, but that left for long enough periods of time where all was right in the world, when my dream was within perfect reach. And I can still smile to myself when remembering those moments and a warmth comes over me, one that I may never get back, but the memories are plenty.

And today, its even more so. My world sometimes feels like its crumbling down around me. Mr. S is still battling whatever it is he has, my Mother is in extremely poor health and difficult to deal with, my job has been pink slipped, medical bills are mounting, a chance at #2 is slipping farther and farther away, I can't keep up with the pace of life, and yet, my little boy's face, his sweet smile is more than enough balm to heal this open sore. I can forget everything outside my door when he runs to me after work, yelling, "Mama mama mama!"

If anything, my life now echoes prefectly what infertility often is for all of us: a roller coaster. Yes, there are heartbreaking lows, but its finding a way to focus on the highs that will keep us afloat. And let me tell you, I may be getting a headache from trying to focus this hard, but its better than losing my place.

Bust an Infertility Myth Blog Challenge: Pregnancy and Parenthood Resolve Infertility? I Think Not…

2011-04-22T14:45:00.000-07:00

*This blog entry is part of a public education campaign through RESOLVE to help celebrate National Infertility Awareness Week, held April 24-30 this year. The 'Bust an Infertility Myth Blog Challenge' seeks to ask, "What is the biggest infertility myth and how has it effected your life or the life of your friends and family members?" The following is my answer:

Had you attended my baby shower, witnessing my round belly and mile-wide smile, surrounded by blue streamers, or had you been at the hospital when my son was born pink and screaming, I appeared as any expectant or new mother would have. I talked about nursery patterns and breast pumps and pregnancy symptoms as if it were second nature, as if it were just something that happens for everyone, but I had a secret. I knew it didn't happen for everyone, and I knew that well. That belly of mine was hard-won. After many years of trying to conceive and undergoing fertility treatment, I can thankfully say that my dream of becoming a mother has been realized as I am the parent of a beautiful toddler boy via IVF. Yes, from the outside looking in, my infertility appears fully resolved, doesn't it? I won the prize, my backyard is littered with toys and the family Christmas card is complete with a kid. But, I ask you to look more closely, for the fight for that prize has altered me in ways I will never be able to describe.

Infertility was never an isolated event in my life, I know that now. It was with me all that time, well beyond the first positive pregnancy test, through my entire pregnancy. It was with me when I sat shaking before every obstetrician's appointment, wondering if that heartbeat might prove elusive. It was with me contemplating how to return an already assembled crib or how to bring myself to put another needle into my abdomen if my hard-won dream suddenly slipped away again. It was with me as I pretended to complain about morning sickness, but secretly delighted in it, knowing it likely meant he might actually stay. And it is with me today knowing that my son may never have a sibling.

Infertility is a thief for if you are lucky enough to finally be with child, it is with a trepidation that leaves you at first whispering your good news rather than shouting it from the rooftops as you might have done years before it trampled your heart, leaving the pregnancy journal empty for fear of jinxing your immense fortune. As I walked around with my full belly, growing with life, I would find isolated moments when I would feel like a fraud, as if I had tricked the general public into thinking that I was like any other. But I wasn't. And quite frankly, I still don't feel that I am.

You see, infertility taught me to expect the fall because after months and years of tests and doctors visits and hormones and needles and even after all that, "I'm sorry, you're not pregnant", and living in a medical existence as a patient and not just expecting the bottom to fall out, but actually seeing it happen time and time again, infertility has become an echo that has colored everything.

I know intellectually that being infertile was never a reflection of who I am or what I deserve, but it still shook the core of how I feel about my body, my femininity, myself, beyond conception and pregnancy. When I was overdue with my son and eventually induced, I silently blamed this on my body being 'too stupid' to know what to do. When I struggled to breastfeed and after many, many lactation consultants eventually had to plead defeat and go the way of formula, it felt like another cruel blow made by infertility. It was the failure of my body to do what should have been innate, what every other woman around me seemed to be doing with ease. And now, after almost a year-and-a-half after my son's birth, our savings have been depleted and I am faced with a small slice of time during which assisted reproduction will work. But because of money, I may not get the chance to add to my family again. My choices are depleting with every day that passes. I still resent the control it has over my life. Infertility never seems to leave my doorstep.

Even participating in something as benign as a Mother's group, I look around and wonder, are you one of us? Have you been in the trenches I know so well? Do any of you know the sting of failure month-after-month? The burn of a one-inch needle in your flesh driven by your husband night-after-night? Do any of you still cringe inside when you hear pregnancy announcements, even after having your own child? My questions are often answered quickly as talk of having a second or a third is passed around haphazardly, and I know that someone even close to my shoes wouldn't discuss it in this way. I still search for my IF sisters, knowing that at the end of the day, only they will not be driven away by my innermost thoughts, the wounds that still lay open.

But for all the bad it has given me, infertility has matched it with good. I know it seems unlikely with everything I mentioned above, but I have found surprising resources inside myself I otherwise would have never been aware of: resilience, persistence, empathy, sisterhood, gratitude. A chance to know what I was capable of. A chance to stand beside others and fight. A chance to experience a feeling beyond grateful, beyond blessed. Infertility has literally changed the lens of how I see the world, for better, for worse. For both. And well beyond conception and parenthood. Make no mistake. Even after claiming my 'prize', infertility is something that will always be a part of who I am, in my heart, in every breath I take, and when I hold my child, no matter how far I 'appear' to walk away from it.

Want to get better educated on infertility?

Learn more about the basics of infertility here.

Learn more about National Infertility Awareness Week, April, 24-April 30, 2011 here.

Well, Hello There, ICLW

2011-04-21T18:26:00.000-07:00

Hello fair ICLWers and ALI bloggers,

This is literally the first time in two years I've participated in ICLW, mostly because (enter excuses) life has gotten the best of me. Life lately has included my ever-rambunctious toddler (my IVF babe) and Mr. S (who is in the hospital currently. Though stable, he has unexplained GI symptoms and severe weight loss that they can't figure out). We have quite a few other things on our plate, but these two are the highlights (um, one of them being a lowlight) most recently.

While my IF 'resume' can be seen on the sidebar down below, I'll give you a brief history. Mr. S and I tried for two years to conceive before seeking out medical advice when we were diagnosed with male factor infertility (low count, motility). After three more years of treatment, including clomid, 7 IUIs, and a miscarriage, we finally went the IVF/ICSI route and found ourselves immensely fortunate to have our son in November of 2009 (17 months). We still have two frozen embryos, but time is running out. We are now facing elevated FSH and have been told that if we want a #2, we better move quick, but in the wake of the financial ramifications of TTC #1 and now Mr. S' health issues, our family building future is uncertain.

Thanks for stopping by!

PETA's Tasteless Campaign Mocking IFers

2011-04-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

Please read more at Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed regarding PETA's tasteless campaign mocking National Infertility Awareness Week and IFers and please sign the petition (link is at the top of Keiko's post) expressing your outrage. In the meantime, this is a snippet of the very brief two cents I added to my petition:

"As someone who is an animal lover and has historically been supportive of your organization, I am outraged and disgusted by your current campaign. I have suffered with infertility for over seven years and am saddened that millions of Americans who are undergoing heartbreak in the midst of their efforts to build their family are being mocked. We already face public silencing and stigma and had no need to be kicked while already down. Unless you can publically apologize, I can no longer call myself a supporter."

So Much for Anonymity...

2011-03-01T16:29:00.000-08:00

Just a few months back, I was steadfast in my decision to not post any recent pictures of baby G for the world to see (or rather, toddler G!), but I guess my being hellbent on taking RESOLVE's pledge to not be silent about infertility REALLY conflicts with this goal.

Exhibit A:

I know. It's almost comical that we're on TV again. How did this happen? I mean, surely we're not anything unique or special in the world of infertility. We're just...how shall I put this? Media whores, lol.

If you'll recall our Good Morning America appearance from last year, the same doctor who treated us was on that program as well. At that time, it was Good Morning America who initially contacted us as a result of Mr. S' blog and eventually they decided to include our doctor. This time around, it was our local news station on NBC who contacted our clinic regarding their 'shared risk' program and when they needed some patients to interview, my doctor contacted me as she knows we're certainly not camera-averse. Haha.

Yeah, maybe it's not the most informative piece and quite frankly, it was inaccurate several times (for example, I did not purchase a package of 6 IVFs, but 3 fresh and 3 frozen, however I know they're simplifying it for the general public, so I'll stop splitting hairs), but damn if my little miracle guy wasn't an adorable little ham.

And, oh my God, could I have said, 'ya know' more? I think I had an entire sentence composed of it. I'm sure speech and drama teachers everywhere cringed, leaving me to ask, "my God, in the hour of footage, why did they choose THAT moment?" (probably because I said 'ya know' constantly anyways)

In other news, FIF is still alive and well! (see below) Despite my intensive recruitment, however, it is limited now to a group of my real-life IF friends and not the expansive cohort of ladies from around the country I had originally hoped for, but nevertheless we are going to have TOO much fun. I'll be sure to post pictures of the ovary headband!

Also, I'm thinking of starting a peer-led support group in my county as one does not exist and I may beg, borrow and steal from more family members for #2. More on that to come!

I Need a Drink

2010-12-21T23:01:00.000-08:00

So...did some bloodwork. It turns out I now am the proud owner of a shiny new elevated FSH diagnosis.

AWESOME!

Doc specifically instructed us that he would not advise waiting more than a year or two for #2, so my feeling that the clock is ticking was right on. Problem is:

A. We have no money for treatment after the feds raped us this year, we bought a house, and we're still paying for #1. (at least not the treatment we need) and I don't foresee us stumbling on any 'spare' cash in the mean time.
B. And...surprise! Mr. S is not sure he even wants a second.

So, that stiff drink down my gullet may have to come MUCH sooner than FIF.

Again, FUCK infertility.

To Throw Yourself into a Group of Random People...well, it's weird, and kinda great. Trust me on this.

2010-12-20T08:50:00.000-08:00

So we have this little FIF 2011 going on, but a few of you (no, many of you) may be thinking, "ummm, yeah. I'm not going to show up alone to a group of random women in a city/state far from home!" to which I would have to say, I don't blame you. We are an unknown quantity and to throw yourself into such unknowns is a risk not for the faint of heart.

But trust me, we know each other better than you would think.

And trust me further when I say, this is a risk worth taking.

Yet even if you choose not to go or simply cannot join us in Vegas, I am hoping that you will take the leap and find others like us out there because in doing so it has quite simply saved my life.

Dramatic, yes. True, very.

I remember showing up to my first Open Path (an offshoot of RESOLVE) meeting over 2 1/2 years ago. Given my almost religiously zealous practice of punctuality, I was naturally the first one to arrive, and I sat in a tiny office in downtown San Francisco with my eyes glued to the adoption and RE brochures along the wall, feeling broken, even ashamed, and wondering which of these routes would eventually lead me to what I sought. I had been TTC for over four years and in that time, I had uttered only a few syllables to my husband of the devastating vice grip infertility had on my heart, otherwise no one knew. Four years of silence feeling locked in a fertile world, hiding my dirty secret, so you can imagine that sitting in that office I was a bottle stuffed to the core. To add to that, I had just experienced a miscarriage two weeks before, my first real chance at Motherhood given and taken away. Sitting there I had no idea how raw I was or how truly desperate I was to find others like me, but I knew I was drawn to this group and that somehow, I needed them if I wanted to keep my sanity intact.

Only three of us showed. That's not to say that there are only three infertiles in the San Francisco Bay Area, but at that time, there were only three women who could gather the courage and the need to find each other. And find each other we did. What happened in that group was magical. The first five minutes were spent sobbing. I mean, open the flood gates, 'where the hell did this come from?', 'oh my God I'm not alone' sobbing. And then the stories. And none of it was awkward. We fit. And when it was done, I hoped that the other two ladies would find their way back as I knew I would because we had a connection, perhaps even beyond infertility.

Throughout the months ahead, we did find our way back. And then there were others who found us as well. And we came together outside of the groups and formed a sisterhood I've written about previously. I can assure you that that sisterhood is not only still going strong, but still growing, including other women with the same need of camaraderie. While not all meetings were quite as powerful, they were always valuable.

That's really the short version of the story, but the point is, it all happened because I trekked myself to a place of unknowns. While not quite shy, it still takes me awhile to gather enough courage to throw myself into groups of strangers, especially when the reason for meeting is not as lighthearted as merely seeking friendship. But what made it easier is that I needed to find someone who understood. I just simply could not carry on in isolation any longer while shouldering infertility. Something so immense cannot be dealt with alone.

So, if you have considered FIF 2011, know that you will be met with open arms, but if you're not quite ready for that, try the place of unknowns just once. You might walk out with something much more than you had ever anticipated.

More FIF 2011

2010-12-13T14:39:00.000-08:00

Hi ladies! I'm all booked for Las Vegas (FIF 2011) and hoping to drum up more IF sisterhood interest. If you think you might like to join us, please let me know at redrivershel at gmail dot com and I will get you hooked up with more information. You are also welcome to repost this information on IF forums and websites!!

FIF 2011!! March 18-20, 2011

2010-11-29T19:15:00.000-08:00

Hi all!

For the few of you that are still sticking around (which is amazing considering my overwhelming absence) or for those of you who have just happened upon this, I am here to invite you to the ever fabulous FIF (f$#* infertility) 2011!! This is a fan-frickin-tastic event where IF ladies will get together March 18-20, 2011 in fabulous (and always notorious) Las Vegas, Nevada to completely indulge until they forget what cervical mucous or a progesterone shot in the ass even is. Personally, I think it'll take quite a few margaritas to accomplish this for me, but I believe I'm up to the challenge. And I believe that in doing so, I will be giving Jimmy Buffett a run for his money.

And truly, I invite all ladies from the ALI blogoshpere to join us.

Yeah, sorry, it's ladies only for now gentleman, because what fun would these guys be with the DHs in tote??:

(Lol...the irony is that my DH, Mr. S, located this image for me)

Ok, I confess, FIF 2011 looks sort of like a pseudo bachelorette party. But after all the shit we've been through, I think it's safe to say that we could use a few stiff drinks down our gullet. And perhaps a few laughable male strippers to gyrate in our direction because I've never seen male strippers before and I think it would be high-larious.

And don't be surprised if I show up on the Vegas strip come FIF weekend with a pair of ovaries attached to a headband (with a few cocktail monkeys thrown in for good measure), because this is just a different type of celebration. It's a celebration of survival and sisterhood and camaraderie and 'F infertility because I will not let it get the best of me or steal my enjoyment in life!!' And I guarantee it's going to be fabulous and healing and just all around AWESOME!! And that at the beginning of each night, we will toast 'f%$* inferility'!! And at the end of each night, we won't be able to remember why the hell we're even wearing ovaries on our heads!! (OK, no worries, I will not make you wear ovaries on your head---it will be strictly voluntary)

So with that, I invite all IF ladies. Whether you are newly diagnosed and have not been through treatment, whether you are in the throes of treatment, whether you have a kid or two at home, whether you have chosen to live child free, whether you are in the beginning stages of adoption or are newly paper pregnant, whether you have no idea where you are, or anywhere in between all that I've mentioned (or even a combination of the above), I invite you to enjoy the partnership and connection of those who 'get you' much more than many do. There is already an amazing group of IF ladies who have committed to this and they alone are with the trip out. So if IF has found a place in your life, I know you could use a place to unwind. Let the ladies coming to FIF 2011 help you do just that!

If you're seriously interested in joining us, please let me know at redrivershel at gmail dot com. Everyone is coordinating (ie paying for) their own travel and lodging arrangements, but I want to make sure that we all keep in touch.

Seriously...DO IT!!!

F* You, Infertility

2010-11-01T14:02:00.000-07:00

I've spent almost the last year (more if you count pregnancy) floating in a state of happy non-treatment. I cannot tell you how freeing and normalizing it felt to distance myself from anything that resembled a needle or a clinic waiting room or stirrups or two week waits so that when I sat in front of my RE today, I was surprised to be so completely reminded.

I'm infertile. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.

I mean, I didn't really almost forget, but the sick feeling of dysfunction, the overwhelming costs and treatment plans, the slippery grip on hope feeling like I may be getting back on this treadmill for nothing, well, it all came back again.

And suddenly my plans to organize Fuck Infertility Vegas 2011 (see below, especially if you're interested in joining us) took on a new meaning, new life. This visit breathed new fire into my hatred for infertility and all that it has robbed from me and my bloggy/real life friends. I was reminded that this is what it feels like to be infertile. It was nice to pretend that it didn't exist for a moment, but this afternoon was my return. I remembered life before my dream came true and although logic may convince others that we have a shot at a second child given the success of our first IVF, the years before little G dominate and convince me that it's likely all for naught and at once I'm defeated again.

Damn you, infertility. No, fuck you infertility.

Don't get me wrong. I am not defeated in the way I once was. I am over the top blessed with Little G, but this post is not about what is but about the memories and the mark they left on my heart. And the mark they continue to carve into the hearts of those I care about. My years of infertility taught me to think in such a specific, cautious, and even negative way. And it is such a wretched feeling to sit in that chair again.

You're probably wondering what brought us back to the clinic. #2? Well, yes, but not yet. I had no intentions of returning so soon (and trust me, I feel that almost 2 years is quite soon), but we recently met our high deductible on our new insurance and diagnostics are covered 80% until December 31st, so this is just about getting that over with to get more bang for our buck for future use. I'm not sure when that will be. We have two frozens--1 shot before we must return to discussion of a possible fresh and I recently learned that my Mother started menopause in her late 30's, so as far as I'm concerned, that clock truly is ticking.

In the mean time, I invite all of you pomegranate string-wearing, infertility-fighting lovely ladies to join me and my infertility sisterhood peeps in Vegas this Spring. We haven't nailed down a date yet, but late March is looking likely. Hate infertility? Let's toast! Loathe big needles full of progesterone in your bum? Put a few dollar bills in that Australian stripper guys thong.
Yeah, it's going to be that kind of trip. And you, my friend, are invited.**

**(more details to come)

PS For those that have requested access to my private blog...I'm sorry! I'm a spaz! I totally lost the login. I'll find it somewhere. I could use that therapy hour right about now...

I am breaking the silence as 1364 on October 15th

2010-10-15T06:55:00.000-07:00

iamtheface.org is a project that brings together those who have experienced miscarriage, infant loss and still birth to break the silence regarding these often taboo subjects in honor of today, October 15th, pregnancy and infant loss awareness day. Please light a candle at 7 PM tonight to remember all of us who have been touched by loss. I will do so in honor of my friends, bloggy and real life, and in honor of my angel baby, due 1/6/09. I will never forget that date.

Still Alive...and kicking!

2010-08-05T14:34:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's true. I still live, albeit in a very busy and usually exhausted state, but I am very much still here and keeping up with most people's journeys in my reader. I'm just a pitiful commenter. Oh, and how do you like my latest comments? That's right. You probably didn't know it, but I'm big in the Chinese porn community. I'm a multi-faceted lady over here. Infertility, Chinese porn. They go hand-in-hand, really.

I have a gazillion things I could moan and whine and bitch and complain about, but at the same time, I have just as many if not more things to be thankful for (the title of this post being one of them). I have always thought of myself as someone whose luck has never existed on a middle ground. I am either immensly lucky or immensly unlucky. And that's where I am right now. As I enjoy the aspects of my life that were brought to me through amazing fortune (husband, baby, health, friends, family), I am suffering through other elements that are so very opposite of these (but I won't list them as I promised I would not moan and whine and bitch and complain). That's my life in a nutshell. No happy mediums for this girl, but I suppose if that's how I get the extreme highs, then I'll make my way through the lows somehow.

Lately I've been finding myself on my clinic's and RESOLVE's facebook pages more often than I find myself on friend's pages, which made me realize I need to return here. I feel like there is just so much work to be done in the fight for infertility education, support and medical coverage and for so long I have felt the need to be a part of that fight. I just wonder how I might accomplish this. I have thought about doing a peer led support group with others and I have also thought about volunteering for RESOLVE, but between my baby and work and my Mother and a possible move and dental work (and, ya know, actually attempting to have real human contact with my husband and friends--oh, and sleep), I am at such a loss for time that its just something that must be put on the back burner for now. But I keep it in my heart constantly and know that one day I will be involved in some way.

And for some reason I've been reading about others trying for #2 lately, but I certainly don't feel as if this influx of discussion is a sign that the time is near for me. I suppose I am torn, but not incredibly so. On one hand I feel the clock is ticking. None of us are getting any younger. As I age, I also pay embie storage fees that add up over time. However, on the much larger hand, I can't begin to imagine approaching treatment this soon. I feel like I'm still reeling from the years of treatment that I endured and just now beginning to enjoy the fact that my body is my own. There have been no needle marks on this body for over a year and for that I feel spoiled. We also have no idea where we'll land as far as where to live (same town, different house), are still paying for our first IVF, and quite frankly having a baby is hard work. Doing treatment and/or being pregnant in concert with baby raising sounds like a nightmare to me.

And most importantly, this is G's time to be a baby. I want that time to be untouched-to be all his own, to be smothered with all the love and attention he can muster. At this point in time, I would not want my pursuit for something that may never happen to interfere. So obviously my mind is made up, for now. But then again, the clock is still ticking...

And yet, even with that question of 'when' lingering in my mind again, I am, for the first time in my life, living for today. For this moment. And damn it feels good.

6 Months Later

2010-05-17T21:52:00.000-07:00

**Kids mentioned.**

It's been ages since I've blogged about Baby G. And despite the drama that has filled up my blogging as of late, he is still the central focus of my life. And needless to say, he's growing like a weed...a very plump, round weed. :) Chubby baby rolls? Check. Chipmunk cheeks that look like he's smuggling walnuts? Check. Clothing that's has surpassed most 9-12 month sizes at only 6 months old? Check. A lovely little man that often laughs to the point of almost hyperventilating and stuffs everything into that little mouth of his? Check, check.

So here we are 6 months from the day G was born. Though I remember the feelings I felt before and during pregnancy with startling clarity-the longing to meet him, the deep hope for his safe entry into this world, it still seems that a thousand lifetimes have passed between this time and that, especially with all that has come to pass in just six month's time. I am tired from the trials that I have seen lately (all of which have had nothing to do with G), but simultaneously G has left me exhilarated. All of my heart's desires came to me when when I first held him and never before have I awakened so consistently everyday in awe of my life. It is what I imagined, and more. It isn't anything I imagined, either. But it is, quite simply, a miracle.

One of the biggest regrets I've had has been my lack of documenting his milestones. It hadn't dawned on me how much he has changed until I started watching a video of him as a 3-week-old newborn the other day. I was wondering whose kid I was watching, but at the time taking the footage seemed so mundane. What was once a fellow with a floppy little bobble-head and newborn squeaks is now a giggling, smiling, squealing, sturdy guy that 'talks' up a storm. He loves imitating raspberries and sticks out his tongue constantly and as of just recently has sprouted his first tooth. Strangely enough while he has not yet mastered or even cared for rolling over, he's been sitting up unassisted since 4 months old and does so with a posture much better than any I've ever had. He started solids a few weeks ago and while it was a slow start (he had the mechanics down, just not the pleasure for solid food), he's certainly coming around.

While I don't feel comfortable sharing G's pictures outside of my password protected blog (which is ironic, I know, considering I gladly gallivanted around on national TV courtesy of GMA), I am happy to share that he definitely got the best of us in both personality and looks. He is fiercely independent (he must control the spoon!) and has the best sense of humor. He can laugh so easily and uncontrollably and it is always the most breathtaking set of sights and sounds. G is also quite a people watcher and despite his mood, when in public, he is always content in just sitting back. In fact, I thought he was going to get whiplash this afternoon at the pediatrician's office. He couldn't pick out who he wanted to watch! While he has my coloring, he has more of Mr. S's features. He is quite simply the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

To be quite honest, there was a day not too long ago (during pregnancy) when I didn't believe that I would actually have a six month old. To have such luck didn't seem at all feasible, but now that I am here and I am blessed with such a charming, beautiful, bright little man, I have nothing more to ask from the world. All my debts are settled.

Mother's Day

2010-05-07T13:35:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, I'll be thinking about Mothers who have been lucky enough to bring their little ones home, those who said goodbye too soon, and those still waiting, who have fought just as hard if not harder for their children as any Mother out there. It is irrelevent that your children have not yet found their way home. This day still belongs to you.

And, of course, I will be thanking my lucky stars that my wait came to an end last year. It is still bizarre to me that I can call myself a Mother and it feels natural, commonplace when once upon a time I thought that perhaps I might feel like a fraud in saying it as it had been witheld from me for so long. When this shift took place, I'll never know, but I sank right into it. To call myself 'mommy' feels right and comfortable. After preparing for this role my entire life, I'm here and more than grateful.

What If?

2010-04-28T10:36:00.000-07:00

Given that the title of my blog is all about the big 'ifs' in life (and especially my big 'if), I found Stirrup Queen's Project IF fitting for me, like a well-worn shoe. I have mulled over the possibilities of different outcomes both in the present and the future so many times over that that well-worn shoe no longer has a sole. In fact I found this project so incredibly difficult simply because I had to narrow it down. My mind is full of what ifs. But the one that stood out for me the clearest was one that I am still living.

As many of you know, I lost my Father in February. While my husband and uncle were there in the hospital to help me make the big decisions-whether to continue life saving measures or not, I was alone in that there were no other siblings there to shoulder the same burden. Surrounded by people at his service, I ultimately was the only one who made arrangements, the only one to utter the word 'Dad' on that day. So, it got me to thinking about my son.

What if my son, as possibly an only child for good, is left in the same shoes I was in just a few months ago- standing alongside others during my and my husband's passing, but ultimately alone?

I am an only child also as a result of infertility, conceived also after 5 years, so I well know what it's like to be surrounded by loved ones at such a time in life but to not have a single person who is truly standing anywhere near my shoes, who shares my history, my roots, parented by the same people. Given some of the complications of my childhood and now my position with my parents later in life, I carry a weight that is unique to me alone and I have honestly many times resented that there was never another shoulder to help carry it. What if my son also resents this?

I am truly part of the sandwich generation-caring for a new baby as I look after my disabled Mother and it's exhausting. While I will do my best to avoid creating the same pitfalls for my son that I've recently stumbled over, I wonder: What if he is the only one who can care for us in our elder years? What if he is the only one to make the hard decisions as I reach the end of my days? What if he is the only one standing there in my hospital room wishing he had just one sibling standing beside him?

What if he is the only one?

I will never question how immensly lucky I am that he is here with us. I could have just as easily asked the question: what if I lived in a time when ART didn't exist? I can't begin to imagine that alternate reality. Well, I guess I could; I would just have to imagine life before he existed and yet still there was the possibility. But now that he is here, I look out over my experience as an only child and ache to think that he might find a table of three at Thanksgiving just as lonely as I did, that he might create an imaginary sibling as I did, that he might resent the quiet in his house and all of his unshared toys as I did. These things spell luxuries to some, but it always spelled loneliness for me.

Although I am never under the delusion that just because you have a sibling means you'll be the best of buddies, but to have someone out there in the world who shares a similar history must be of some comfort. I want him to have that. Perhaps even as an only child he will, for I was never surrounded by family, even extended, and I will make sure he is. But just the possibility alone that he might be the only one saddens me for him...and me. And although nowhere near the sadness the 'what if I never have even one child' gave me, it is still painful enough to remind me that infertility is still alive and breathing in my house.

And yet, what if he is not the only one?

Once upon a time, I questioned whether I would ever have a child. Doubted it, even. And it happened. Beyond my wildest dreams and after many years of treatment, it happened. My son is proof for me that despite dashed hope, despite doubts, miracles do occur in this world. Sometimes we just take a longer, harder path to find them. So what if I do get a second miracle? Yes, the odds are still low, but they're still there. I now believe in it more because I have seen what dreams coming true look like. My son is hope restored for me. And if he is an only child for good? So be it. I'll still count myself among the lucky. The 'holy s%$& I just won the friggin' lottery' lucky, and that's quite enough for me.

For more info on infertility and infertility awareness week, go to Resolve's website and learn more!

Letter to the Fertile World

2010-04-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

(I will be posting this on my regular family blog and facebook for the fertile world to see!)

In light of National Infertility Awareness week (April 24th-May 1st), I wanted an opportunity to describe what infertility is to those who have been lucky enough to walk outside its shadow; what it is like when every fiber of your body has ached for a child for years on end only to realize that it may always remain a dream unfulfilled. My words will most likely seem over-dramatic and yet will still underplay what infertility is to the millions of people who have experienced it.

What Infertility is...

Infertility is the deafening quiet of an empty house, the hollow 'extra' room that has echoed with a silence only your heart can hear.
Infertility is combing over your family tree and wondering whether your branch will end with you.
Infertility is walking past a children's clothing store and strollers, seeing a mother with her baby, hearing the song of children's laughter, all with your heart in your throat.
Infertility is not being able to plan or even know what the future may hold, turning it all into 'if' rather than 'when'.
Infertility is the family picture you get in the mail at Christmas and the knowledge that if you sent one out, all you would see is who is missing.
Infertility is the death of what could have been, and what may never be, ushering a grief you must re-experience. Every. Single. Month.
Infertility is a box of used needles, a bruised abdomen, an emptied bank account. And two weeks later, despite all that, it is yet another single line on the test stick.
Infertility is the cold rush of immense guilt as you cry tears of sadness rather than joy over a loved one's pregnancy.
Infertility is avoiding get-togethers, holidays-it is your life on hold so that you may not have to walk into another unexpected announcement or mask the utter devastation life keeps handing you.
Infertility is exhausting.
Infertility is innocence lost as you now learn to always expect the next fall.
Infertility is the deepest understanding that life is not fair.
Infertility is your heart's desire always on hold.
Infertility is the same longing others have-to feed, love and nurture your child, to feel their breath on your cheek, hear their cry in the next room, to see them grow and be a part of the world, and to know that all of this may never take place.
Infertility is not a sisterhood I signed up for, but nevertheless one that gave me amazing friendships with some of the strongest women I've ever met, ones who are still standing, still fighting.
Infertility is a silent loss, one that is so rarely recognized for what it is.
Infertility is NOT a choice.
Infertility is a theif for if you are lucky enough to finally be with child, it is with a trepidation that leaves you at first whispering your good news rather than shouting it from the rooftops, leaving the pregnancy journal empty for fear of jinxing your immense fortune.
Infertility is a crisis I lived through for almost 5 years that in the end made me stronger than what I was before, more understanding. Infertility made me a better friend, wife, and now, mother.
Infertility is something that will always be a part of who I am, in my heart, in every breath I take, and when I hold my child, no matter how far I appear to walk away from it.

And yet still, infertility is something I would have lived through a thousand times over to bring my baby boy home.

Back Story

2010-04-11T21:39:00.000-07:00

There was unfortunately a back story to my Dad's service, one that threatened to overshadow the day. I posted about it on my password protected blog. If you haven't already gotten a link to that, email me at redrivershel at gmail dot com.

Fond Farewell

2010-04-10T20:48:00.000-07:00

I said my final farewell to my Father who we laid to rest at a National VA cemetery yesterday. It was a very small affair as my Father, despite his unquenchable thirst for social contact with acquaintances, had unfortunately alienated himself from closer friends and family in the last dozen or so years. Nevertheless, I didn't feel as if it took away from the moments that we all shared to say goodbye.

I had to say that the Air Force honor guard that opened my Father's service was breathtaking. Two of the soldiers did a flag fold while another played taps on a bugle in the distance. Most eyes were filled with tears. At the finale, one of the soldiers presented me with the flag. This may sound a bit cheesy, but during that moment my heart was so full of pride for my country and for my Father and for the young, nervous soldiers standing before me. At once I felt lucky to be American (not that I hadn't before, despite our marred reputation worldwide). I know my Father loved this country and it was nothing less than an honorable tribute to a wonderful man.

My Father had requested no funeral, so instead I led the way in telling a synopsis of his life story and myriad stories from friends and family who couldn't make it all the while I stood behind a triad podium decorated with pictures, flowers, belt buckles and his gorgeous urn. Mr. S added a few stories before everyone congregated at the front. In short, it was as beautiful of a short service as I could have planned.

Most people followed us back to our house about 40 minutes away where we served beer and English food (bangers and mash) as a tribute to my Father's love for England and his time stationed there (and his English heritage). I spent much of those first moments letting G meet family and friends, showing a video tribute I made, and telling stories with my Uncle (dad's brother) who is the last surviving sibling of 13 (and no, that's not a typo and obviously someone wasn't infertile). All in all, it was a perfect, cloudless spring day, a day my Father would have loved. It was a good day. It was a day of tears and stories and laughter and memories and good times. It was a day I will never forget.

Farewell Daddy. I hope you are nothing less than honored by our farewell. Until we meet again...

Straddling the Fence

2010-04-01T21:21:00.000-07:00

In reading someone else's blog detailing 'one year ago our ICSI baby was conceived', I realized that it's been over a month since G's one year ICSI conception anniversary...one year since he was created. I had always looked forward to posting about it, to celebrating it, but it came in the midst of my Dad's hospitalization and just days before he passed away. I also neglected to take G's 3 month picture at that time as well. All of this is understandable, but leaves me with a sadness that time is passing all too quickly and as a result of life's stressors, many moments seem to be slipping through my fingers all too easily.

It seems just yesterday that G was sitting in a petrie dish as one of my 'rockstars'. And yet, it seems simultaneously light years away. The pain of treatment and living IF on a day-to-day basis is both distant and fresh. My mind and heart and focus are so filled with new motherhood, that sometimes I forget all it took to get here and then I read over my old blog entries, talk to my IF sisters and recall with sharp lazer point detail every emotion that flooded me as the nurse read my negative beta with a matter-of-factness that still sickens me. I am straddling this world and that and now I truly believe that it can be done.

The healing can begin, but will never be done. After our Good Morning America appearance, a surprising thing happened. While I braced myself for some silly, senseless comments, in turn I found myself in three different situations where not only did people start talking about their friend's experiences with infertility (without any of that, "and then they got pregnant right after they adopted" garbage), but they more notably started talking about miscarriage. Sadly, almost every single woman in every small group I spoke with had a personal story to share. But it seemed almost cathartic for each and every one of them and they all concluded that it was too hushed of a topic. And in sharing my own story, I found it more difficult to speak than I had anticipated. I found that during the interview as well. No matter how much my attention may be diverted, no matter how far away from treatment I walk, it is still a part of me, living and breathing. But it makes me hold my beautiful child that much tighter knowing that if I hadn't have fought, I would never have been so blessed.

New Blog: Password Protected

2010-03-22T22:50:00.000-07:00

I have been meaning to blog for awhile now, but between work and G and so many other life events, I simply have not had the time. There's also the lingering feeling that this blog is not as anonymous as I'd like. I mean, of course you all know my name now, but I'm not talking about being known in blogger land or even being known on national TV, but that perhaps real life friends or family may have found me here, which makes me clam up. So, in the mean time, I've started another corner of the blogosphere to commence emotional spillage, but most posts will be password protected. I've written the first entry and man, it feels like I just had a great vent session with a therapist (but it was free!).

I welcome you to email me at redrivershel at gmail dot com to get your very own password, that is, if you fall under one of these categories:

Either you are a real life IF friend and/or monkey sister
Or you have an identifiable blog that I can go onto and read all about your own exploits.

Hope to see some of you there!

**Oh, and I will still maintain this blog, but will have more of an IF focus. The other blog is just for general uncensored spillage, mostly of the non-IF variety.

5 vials M.enopur available!!

2010-03-21T16:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the MIA, but life has been, simply put, chaotic...and not always in a good way. Of course the chaos named G is always good, even when it's sorta bad. :)

So before I return to emotional spillage via blog, I wanted to offer 5 vials of 75 iu of M.enopur I came across this afternoon. They expire in June and while I'd love to say I will one day pursue #2, I'm not nearly masochistic enough to see that happen anytime soon. Email me at redrivershel at gmail dot com if you'd like to put it to good use.

First come, first served!!

Good Morning America

2010-03-07T17:11:00.000-08:00

In case you missed it when it aired at the butt crack of dawn Saturday morning, here it is!

Overall, I'm really pleased on how it came out. No horrific out of context editing that I could pinpoint, which is always a good thing. (of course, I am disappointed they didn't have their airbrusher on hand :) Let me know what you think!

Don't Worry About Me

2010-02-28T22:20:00.000-08:00

As I watch the clock, I see that it is just 4 days shy since my journey as a Fatherless child began. Since my Father took his last breath. While I had over a week to prepare for this farewell or perhaps even years in all honesty, I realize that it could have just as well been a century and I never would have been at a place where I was ready.

It began when my Mother found my Father, who was first diagnosed with emphysema and placed on oxygen in 1997, unresponsive a few weeks ago. From there, we spent hours in the ICU watching him breathe with the help of a ventilator only to learn that on that day, the day before his 75th birthday, he was diagnosed with pneumonia and his lungs were collecting fluid. For the first few days in the hospital, he was mostly unresponsive, mumbling unintelligably. As you might imagine, oxygen deprivation to the brain can make for significant confusion, especially in the elderly, and during my Father's hospital stay, this comes as bit of an understatement. At times he was grabbing at the air, threatening people (which is COMPLETELY out of character for him) and making odd statements. But after he came off the ventilator, there were a few statements he made that were crystal clear, one of which was,

"Don't worry about me. I've lived a good life."

He knew. All along, during equal moments of pure confusion and muted lucidity, all along he knew that his body, having fought so long and hard, was ready to hang up the gloves. I initially was made to face some tough decisions regarding the end of his life, but my Dad, in the few moments of clarity he had, took the decision out of my hands and let me know he was ready. And after he reiterated this, he told me to go home, get some rest, and be with my baby. So, I did. And he left this earth soon after.
And quite frankly, while I ache with sadness, I am at the same time relieved. He was tired towards the end, robbed of any quality of life and frequently spoke of a longing to move on. He did so peacefully, knowing he was loved. I could only hope the same for all others.

But he is far from gone. So much of the world around me and so much of the memories speak of him, whisper that he is still here with me. How could he be gone when they are not?

I recall a moment a few years ago. I was looking at a picture I had just taken of my parents out in front of their house and was thinking that while it felt like it was the 'same old' at the time, that I would one day look back at it as the past, as a time that would seem so distant and that I would ache from the memory. I already do as it is never to be again.

My Daddy is...

Paint speckled on whites and paint brushes soaking in a jar of water in the kitchen. (he was a house painter)
"You deserve a beer!" after he came home from work.
Taking my girlfriends and I to theme parks and concerts.
Arms, deepened into copper after a day's work in the summer sun, and decorated with a tattoo of faded air force wings.
Roller coaster rides in open air.
Baby poop jokes told in a thousand different ways depending on what we were eating.
Classic country playing through static on an 8 track, a stack of old cassette tapes on his desk.
A gleaming solid wood box brimming with lovingly collected coins.
A 1984 Dodge Pickup truck sitting out front.
A belt buckle from the local country music station.
Colorful stories of the Air Force, from Fort Bayne, Georgia to England.
A soft heart for animals he tried to hide from most others.
And most of all, a love for me that I never once questioned.

Daddy, you will be missed more than words will ever begin to describe. At last, peace is yours for the keeping now.

Well, for goodness sakes...Nervermind!!

2010-02-27T19:35:00.000-08:00

Postponed again!

It looks like GMA will not be airing our MFI piece this Sunday after all. I think that the next time they tell us an air date, I'm not letting people know until the evening before!

GMA Appearance Back On

2010-02-26T23:10:00.000-08:00

Sunday at 7 AM...tune in to Good Morning America to see Mr. S and I chatting it up about MFI.

I've had some big, awful things happen lately that have prevented me from updating, but eventually I'll be back on as usual. In the mean time, I'm just crossing my fingers that I didn't say anything too silly! (like accidentally call it in vitro insemination, haha! or talk about them 'implanting' our embryos!)

GMA Postponed

2010-02-12T15:04:00.000-08:00

So, it turns out our Good Morning America showing will be postponed due to Clinton's surgery. Poo! It's taken a lot to prepare myself to wince and groan at my post baby butt filling up the screen, but alas, I must do it all over again next week (as the piece will likely air next Saturday). I know it's been a year of madness for those in public life, but can the celebrities and politicians please have an uneventful next week? I need to get this waiting over with!

Lessons

2010-02-11T10:43:00.000-08:00

There are a number of revelations or rather, discoveries I've made since G was born. Being that he is essentially my first foray into babies, I never predicted the way I would think of him and how it would change the way I look at the world. It should go without saying that I adore G. I love him deeply and madly and well beyond what I thought possible. I study his every expression with wonder, every detail, from the pattern of his eyebrows and the fine layer of blond fuzz along his jaw to his tiny fingernails. His every sigh is heart melting. All he need to do to gain my adoration is breathe and yet he does so much more and when he does, my heart leaps. I know that all of you feel or will feel this way about your child, but it never dawned on me how much my love for him would make me think of other children. All children. Simply, every child ever born on earth should be adored in this way, but sadly, not all are.

The fact that this is the first time I truly grasped this, despite the fact that my job is children and especially disadvantaged children, is surprising to me. Sure, my heart has been tugged at so many times in the duration of my short career, but this is especially so now. The fact that a parent would even fathom not bothering to show up to a child's school meeting or worse yet, neglect their most basic needs (especially emotional) is beyond my comprehension. No matter how many times I face it, I will never understand.

Another discovery I've made since G was born is how miraculous it is that we all started out in the same way. Once upon a time, each and every one of us was that tadpole I saw on the ultrasound screen and later, we were all once that screaming, pooping and completely helpless little being who is no bigger than a football. School age children are my forte, so anything before the walking/talking and mostly independent thought never REALLY crossed my mind, so as I watch G grow and I see him stumble through one milestone to the next, I am in awe. It's amazing that most of us acquire language and mobility because frankly learning that looks like really hard work. I should know. After a short session of play and learning to roll on his side, my kid is fast asleep, snoring away the morning (let's hope he snores a little longer!--nevermind, his baby telepathy just set in and I caught a glimpse of eyeball!).

I guess overall what's amazing to me is that this one child has made me look at an entire world full of people differently. Tragedies seem more tragic, triumphs seem more miraculous. I experience others' pain more deeply. I now wonder when will I be able to watch the news without tearing up? But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

More IF Spokespeople in the Media

2010-02-10T21:52:00.000-08:00

Good for Celine Dion in coming forward and discussing IF, especially given how hard that is while being in the midst of treatment. I can't imagine relinquishing that much privacy during that time. Here's hoping that one more person stepping forward will pull the taboo on IF down another notch.

(however, I must add that I find it a little ironic that the article on the cover of People magazine is entitled 'my private heartbreak'. Sweetie, it's not so private anymore!)

GMA recapped

2010-02-08T14:16:00.000-08:00

You know you're infertile when...

A nationally televised program shows up at your house to tape and in the course of the process you find out your RE will be showing up to be interviewed as well. You discover you're more excited to see your RE than be taped for Good Morning America. Anyhow, I digress...

(Mr. S, me, and G with our amazing RE, Dr. H!)

(pardon me for the way I'm allowing my poor sleeping child's head to flop back!)

The day started promptly at 10 AM and to be quite honest, I walked into it without any preconceptions and partly wondering if it was a practical joke. So imagine my surprise when my entire house was suddenly filled with camera equipment. It certainly made the experience more real for me.

We began filming almost immediately upon the camera crew's arrival and started out with shots of Mr. S and I walking G around the marina near our house in his stroller. While it had been pouring non-stop rain for days on end and was slated to continue, the day of the shooting was not only dry, but the sun was out, boasting an almost cloudless sunny sky. We couldn't believe our luck.

Because of course so many of the shots are staged in TV land (giving me a very different perspective on reality TV), there were certainly times when I felt silly in front of the camera, but all in all, it was a fun, albeit long experience (especially considering that the 8 hours of filming will produce a segment approximately 3 1/2 minutes in length). They got shots of us sitting on a bench near our house, changing G, feeding G, putting him down for a nap, getting ready, blogging, and a final shot of us solemnly walking hand-in-hand without G, and then finally being joined by G, meant to be symbolic of our journey. Although contrived, it still jarred something in me. In fact, I was surprised that after all this time, after this many years of facing IF and processing it ad nauseum with so many people, that I still get choked up when discussing everything that's come to pass, especially when it involves our little miracle.

Then our interview came and although the actual correspondent is not present (their questions are read but then they fill in the other part in NY), I was surprised to find myself nervous and even tongue tied at times. As I sit here recalling some of my answers, I'm praying for the miracle of good editing.

During the interview, I was asked to describe the emotions that accompany riding the road of infertility and as I began, I realized the task at hand was completely out of my reach. In fact, it is so far out of the realm of language, that, as I've said before, it felt as if I was both over-dramatizing and under-dramatizing it. But I did give a one word description: HELL. Ok, not the most eloquent response, I'll admit, but I personally think it's pretty accurate. I think it took those in the room who were unfamiliar with infertility aback as it was so dramatic, especially since I sort of blurted it out without much thought, but I meant it. I went on trying to describe the last 5 or so years and felt as if I was doing a huge disservice to the depth and pain of the experience, so forgive me if they show that part and I haven't really been the best IF spokesperson. I tried!

Overall, the show focused primarily on male factor infertility and a few days before, the producer had asked me what my diagnosis was. To be quite honest, I didn't know and while my medical records had always described only male factor, I kind of assumed that I contributed to the equation. I'm embarrassed to say that after this many years I finally asked my doctor my diagnosis for the first time and was surprised to learn that I didn't have one. We are only male factor. Does this make me fertile? Hell to the no. As I've said before, WE are infertile. Once you have a life partner, you are only as fertile as they are.

Another question that was asked that left me dumbfounded was somewhere along the lines of whether we would do it all over again in the same manner (especially given that we took the least invasive routes to the very end). The final answer was, 'yes' and then my RE, who was standing off on the sidelines, added a beautiful point. Had we gotten pregnant 5 years ago, it would not have been G. So, yes, I don't believe I would have done anything differently. This was the road I took to the little boy I was meant to have all along and this is what I think of for all IFers struggling through their journey and what got me through ours.

Instead of documenting everything that was discussed during the course of the 2 hour long interview taping, I think I'll instead respond to the comments that actually make it into the final cut, especially if they come across the wrong way and I have some explaining to do! (you never know until the final edit!) I do want to add that my RE was amazing and eloquent and somehow was able to encapsulate IVF and ICSI in layman's terms, so that no one will be left confused, fertile and infertile alike.

And to leave you, here's a picture that comes full circle. In it, I was at the Good Morning America studios in NYC as an audience member (2006) pumped full of Clomid and just one week shy from our first IUI:

**Our segment actually airs on the weekend edition this Saturday, February 13th. Check your local listings for times (it's usually REALLY early, as in butt crack of dawn early)**

GMA!

2010-02-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

I am typing this as GMA is filming...omg indeed. They're getting a shot of us blogging since part of the show is about infertility blogging. It's one of many shots they've gotten. What an interesting (and all day!) experience so far that I can't wait to share. We gave a shout out to the ALI blogging community...hopefully they'll not edit that out!

Could My Dreams of Becoming an Infertility Rockstar be Coming True?

2010-02-04T14:02:00.000-08:00

You'll notice that some of my posts have either been heavily edited or deleted altogether. What once was my haven to spill about anyone or anything I wanted will likely disappear next week, making way for a more public and less anonymous forum...and I'm completely OK with it. Why?

Because we're going to be on Good Morning America next week talking about infertility, people!

Talk about REALLY coming out of the closet! I guess we figure go big, or go home.

We're not completely sure when it will be aired (and I'm fairly certain it will be on the weekend edition), but it should be sometime next week and when we find out, we'll let everyone and their Grandmother know. The focus is more specifically on male infertility and was prompted by a brief interview Mr. S provided to Conceive magazine awhile back. We just found out about this yesterday and after finding out that they'll be shooting at our house, you better believe I've morphed into a crazy cleaning lady and, 'oh my God I'm still wearing maternity clothes, I better get real people clothes' lady. Also, 'damn why couldn't this have happened AFTER I lost the baby weight?' lady.

Oh, and my real name is not Shelby, and although I considered just blogging under my real name after this, I think I'll maintain it. I'd like to think of Shelby as my infertility warrior name, kind of like Beyonce and her Sasha Fierce alter ego, except in real life and while using my real name, we're still infertile!

So stay tuned and we'll let you know the who, what, where and when. We already know the why!

New Year, New Me...Again.

2010-01-13T17:59:00.001-08:00

My weight loss history is almost as involved and convoluted as my IF treatment history (although personally I would much rather be overweight than infertile-losing weight is cheaper and easier than IVF!). Let's just face it, I could put a yo-yo to shame...or Oprah. Yeah, me and Oprah are totally weight loss soul mates.

It started after getting married. Previous to that I had never been considered overweight, but I can assure you that I have NEVER been accused of being a beanpole. When Mr. S and I married, I was a size 6 (of course, that was after the ever famous 'starve yourself two months before the wedding' diet). Within 2 years I added a 1 in the tens place of that size number. There were several times I lost 10 pounds here, 10 pounds there, but it wasn't until New Years of 2006 that I realized my quick climb up to a final size 22 was my call to Jesus (especially as I learned how it would effect my fertility). Over the next year and a half, I busted my ass and was back down to a 6 (which translated to 90+ pounds). Truly though, maintenance is much harder than weight loss and the following years certainly proved that.

After having lost that weight, I promised myself that I would not let myself slip again, but then pregnancy happened and moreover, I really, really let it happen. In fact, I gained 10-15 pounds in my first pregnancy alone, one that lasted only 10 weeks. Of course, the grief of loss also added to that. Then, my IVF and my subsequent pregnancy with G came around and I happily basked in the idea of flooding my beloved child with as many calories as he could muster. I'm not exactly certain what my final weight gain was, but if I had to take a guess, I would say that upon entering the hospital to deliver, I was probably close to 65 pounds heavier than I was walking into the transfer.

If there's one thing I'm better at than weight loss, it's weight gain. Wouldn't you say?

Surprisingly, I had textbook perfect blood pressure and no gestational diabetes to speak of during my pregnancy, so with that knowledge, I made a date with the local ice cream parlor almost nightly. So here I sit with the aftermath (praying the little one stays asleep for just 5 more minutes--let me finish this blog at least!) 35 pounds away from my pre-IVF weight and 45 pounds away from a more comfortable weight, one that I can at least live with. I've been a bad girl and penance is due.

I know, people hardly ever stick to New Year's resolutions involving weight loss, but somehow it has worked for me. That and the fact that I need to somehow squeeze my meaty carcass into a bathing suit come June and also have lofty aspirations to become a minor league MILF. Ok, maybe not that last part, but in the very least, to become healthier and set a better example for my little one.

Will I make it to my goal? Well, as my Mom used to say, if you want something badly enough, it'll happen. Just as with every other time, I want this badly. Unlike infertility, this is within my control and if my yo-yo history has taught me anything, it is the difference between my feelings as someone who is obese versus someone who is not. I'll take a helping of the latter, please.

Bittersweet Graduation

2009-12-29T16:23:00.000-08:00

I have had a lot of graduation days in my life...high school, undergrad, grad, etc. and of course the one all of us dealing with IF strive for: the graduation from my RE (well, I've had that twice but this time I didn't need to go back and re-do all of the coursework). Most of my graduation days have managed to be bittersweet, marking the end of an era and the beginning of another. Today was no different. I went to my OB for the last time as an 'OB' patient. Next time I'll call him my OB/GYN, with emphasis on the GYN part.

6 weeks postpartum I am moving on...from fertility treatments for now (YAY) and from pregnancy and all of the looking forward and anticipation that goes with that (YAY and BOO). You see, while it's easier said than done, I have a bit of assvice for all of you IFers currently pregnant or who will become pregnant. I know, you didn't ask for it, but I'm going to give it to you anyway, regardless of how difficult it is to follow:

Cherish this time.

Above all else, try not to let the terror of what might or might not be dominate you or your happiness. Try not to let guilt or fatigue rob you of the moment when you see that first heart beat or feel that perfect creature move inside you. Infertility might threaten to take away these moments, leaving you with more pause than celebration, but please don't let it. Pretend, as often as possible, that you are like any other pregnant woman and that you will undoubtedly come out of this unscathed and happy and most importantly, a mother.

I'm not suggesting that you'll return to a state of blissful naivete based on my assvice alone. You have been marked by the great big IF, never to return back. But if only I would have heeded my own words. While I never fully blogged about this (as I didn't want to give it anymore power than it already had), I was dominated by the what ifs while pregnant. When I bought that first piece of baby clothing, my immediate thought was not what he would look like in it but in wondering what crevice of my garage I would stuff it in should I lose him. Even at 31 weeks, I thought long and hard on how I would return all of my baby shower gifts in that same event. After I bought our minivan at 26 weeks, for weeks I questioned what it would be like to drive this same 8 passenger van empty while remembering my dead child. I can't begin to count the nightmares and the hours envisioning the worst on his 'quiet' days. I don't wish that on any expectant mother, least of all those who have been through what many of us have to even get there.

But he's here and he's safe and now, I regret these thoughts more than ever. I know they robbed me of moments that I could have been enjoying. And regardless of whether it turned out the way it did or not, I should have been honoring that time with him every second he was inside me. I'll never get it back. But as I said, that's easier said than done. Nevertheless, I can still say that despite this, my pregnancy with Baby G was the happiest time of my life. While I lived in a state of anxiety, the bliss was powerful enough to counteract that. This is where the bitter in bittersweet resides. On some days, I actually miss being pregnant and look at pictures of my pregnant belly and it feels surreal and a thousand miles away. But then I see where the sweet in this moving on comes from when I look at my quickly growing little baby, when I realize what this graduation day truly represents. I am standing in a place I never thought possible. I am so, so thankful for where I have been, but moreover, where I am going.

2009 in Retrospect

2009-12-28T17:29:00.000-08:00

If you have read my blog longer than a year, you may recall my 'real' Christmas letter last year. In that letter my ultimate goal was to have the seething sarcasm shine through like a diamond as it mocked the Christmas letters I so loathe. However in writing it, what I didn't plan for was how much it did allow me to reflect. Given all that had gone wrong in 2008, I needed that reflection or rather debriefing, because in many ways I felt as if I were leaving a war zone. So, in that same spirit, I bring to you the same type of reflection of 2009, but less with the post war zone trauma. Ok, I'm a little late for the Christmas thing, but we'll settle for the New Years letter, m'kay?

2009: The Real Story

Hello friends and family!

After the crap fest that was 2008 (see last year's letter), I began 2009 looking for some serious redemption. I mean, the powers that be owed me and they owed me big, but of course as any infertile will tell you, it doesn't work that way. Deserve all you want, but don't be surprised if after donating all your earthly possessions to charity and serving a Peace Corps mission in Sub-Saharan Africa that your entire family dies in a car crash. Sorry, that easy morbidity is the bitter infertile in me talking. Anyhow, I rang in the New Year with the hubby and a few friends having just completed my 7th and final IUI. While sitting there not drinking and pretending that it might have actually worked I guess I knew better and alas, I was right. It was time to take that final leap.

So two weeks into January not only am I met with a BFN for that 7th and final IUI, but my beloved dog falls suddenly ill and we were forced to make the immediate decision to say goodbye.

Happy freakin' New Years to me. This whole 2009 redemption thing didn't look too promising at this point.

As a result of our failed attempt, just a handful of days later, I officially popped the cherry on my IVF virginity- $27,000 worth to be exact (or a loaded mid-sized sedan). You might recall mention of these plans in the last letter. If you have any familiarity at all with the cost of fertility treatment, you might be surprised by our price, but I assure you it is a steal considering we purchased a package of 3. Yes, a steal as in 'take out a loan you'll be paying off for the rest of your natural born life'.

To assist in paying for it, I interviewed for an additional part-time job two days after Kyra passed away and the day after I started birth control pills for the IVF (yes, IVFers sometimes take birth control pills for IVF-I'll explain later). Needless to say I am completely nauseous for the interview but somehow manage to snag the job and the impossible task of actually fitting it into my schedule just a few weeks before the IVF. Also on the agenda for that month:

Jury duty, food poisoning, unfulfilled due date, in-laws staying over, multiple daily meetings, headaches, out-of-town conventions, friends coming in from out-of-state, birthday parties, dinner parties, giving myself injections in dark alleyways, etc.

So, I somehow manage to survive the process of IVF, a new job and the death of my dog without streaking down the street naked like a madwoman with a garbage bag flung over my head, which is a miracle in and of itself, but to be honest, I am not hopeful. It is too much of a feat after 4 1/2 years of infertility to maintain any semblance of hope for me and I am proven correct when I get what appears to be my period (I know, TMI for a family letter, but remember, this is the 'real' story). But...

I was wrong.

I learn that in the beginning of March, I am...(wait for it)...pregnant.

But as you might recall from last year's letter, I have been pregnant before and yet when my due date arrived, there was no baby to be seen. In fact, the day after getting the most recent news I went for a massage and confessed tentatively that I was 'sort-of' pregnant. Most of you who have had vanilla pregnancies might not get this and might think me Crazy with a capital 'c', especially when I tell you that I somehow managed to score an ultrasound almost every week until my second trimester, all the while spending my time in between each in heart pounding terror. And maybe you're reading this and thinking that having babies is the way life goes for most people and is not that big of a deal, but I somehow managed to have a vanilla pregnancy as well and this is beyond my WILDEST dreams.

And the fact that I delivered a healthy, full-term baby boy in November and that nothing during any of the months and years before this even matters (so I won't even bother covering any of it) is beyond my WILDEST dreams, as in, 'you just won the freakin' lottery, what are you going to do with your gazillion dollars?' dreams. Yes, babies are born everyday and you yourself probably had babies, but believe me when I say that I KNEW I would NEVER have a biological child of my own and yet, I did. I am simply stunned. Bravo 2009.

So, friends and family, redemption? More than redemption. In fact, every shitty thing before and after doesn't seem to matter.

So, 2009, you've outdone yourself and for once, I cannot wait for your follow-up act in 2010.

Happy New Year to everyone. I really hope the best for all of you as we all start anew again.

Breastfeeding Dropout

2009-12-17T18:44:00.000-08:00

Shortly before Baby G was born, I stocked up on various breastfeeding supplies like nipple cream, breast milk storage bags and breast pads. Today, I packed all of it away into a bag to bring to my friend as I no longer have any need for them. No longer is a misnomer. I never had any need for them and as you might have read earlier, I desperately wanted to.

I have always considered myself fairly aware of the messages society sends to me and as such, I've tried hard not to be dominated by them or to let them rule the way I feel about myself. However, in this case 'breast is best' haunts me and somehow not being able to breastfeed has made me feel like less of a mother. I am painfully aware of it every time I put a bottle to his mouth and I think I subconsciously liken formula feeding to mashing up McDonald's french fries and shoving them down his gullet. TOTALLY irrational, I know, and despite all of the examples of bright, thriving formula fed children in this world (Mr. S being one of them), I can't help but shake off this incredible guilt.

It all began just hours after his birth. While G latched on right away and nursed for 30 solid minutes after birth, his latch became tentative after that. Then he was diagnosed with jaundice and prescribed formula supplementation every 2 hours to help rid his body of the toxins more quickly. I wasn't a fan of the plan, but I was of course more devoted to his health and well being than my need to breastfeed. After he began his foray with bottles, his latch deteriorated from there and every time I went to breast feed him, he not only didn't latch properly, but became angry after a minute or two when it was clear that the breast was not giving at the rate of the bottle. Add onto that the myriad of nurses who came in, all with different techniques. As their shifts rotated throughout the few days, G and I became increasingly frustrated. Every time a new nurse started a shift, they had me 'demonstrate' for them. I swear I had my top down the entire hospital stay, whether in pumping or demonstration for yet another stranger walking through the door.

We were eventually visited by two different lactation consultants before we left the hospital. While their approaches were more similar, in combination with all of the nurses, my head was spinning. I decided that in the very least I would pump and provide him with breast milk that way, so before we left the hospital, we rented a hospital pump for the next month. However, I wasn't quite ready to give up the idea of breastfeeding.

Desperate, I made a one hour appointment with another lactation consultant after we were discharged. When we came into her office, the look on her face as I showed her how upset G got when we attempted to breastfeed said one thing to me: we were a lost cause. She prescribed a nipple shield (it's a plastic cover for the nipple and I'm assuming it works on baby's like G with nipple confusion and poor latch) and while he took to that much more readily, I was told that it was not a replacement and that I needed to continue trying to breastfeed without it and pumping after each feeding, which I did. Every time he fed, I tried breastfeeding first and every time I did this, G got upset. Then I tried the nipple shield and eventually, he got upset with this as well. It was disheartening to see this over and over again. Pumping, for those not familiar, is often a 15-20 minute process during which little interaction can occur with the baby given the equipment attached to your front side. And if used after each feeding, we're talking up to 200 minutes a day not spent interacting with your baby (and not spent sleeping!). This level of devotion is nearly impossible, but nevertheless I tried.

And then my Mom was hospitalized. Up to that point, I had been able to provide at least half of G's meals by breast milk thanks to pumping and my supply was steadily increasing. After 2 weeks of getting one, maybe two pumps in at best as I was taking care of my parent's errands, visiting her in the hospital, and living out of someone else's house, my supply just one day essentially stopped. It was bizarre. If I were to pump today, I might get 5% of his meal at best. So, I've given up pumping and will hand the rental in this week.

It makes me sad as my body reminds me of what it should do. Often when he cries and especially when he roots, I still get a small let down. The simple fact is, like most parents, I want only the best for G and I somehow feel as if formula feeding has failed him. I think infertility (as always) plays a large role in this. First, I wonder, is it yet another failure of my body? I also wanted that closeness and of course all of the nutritional and immune benefits so often described. On top of all of this, G has had some reflux and gas issues and although he seemed to have these even when he was taking in breast milk, part of me wonders whether formula is the culprit given that it is more difficult to digest.

So this is the end of the line. I'm officially a breastfeeding dropout (sung to the tune of Beauty School Dropout from Grease).

Love Letter to my Belated Baby

2009-12-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

Dear G,

I've been told that you'll never fully understand love until you have a child. Perhaps this is true for most, but I must have had a good idea before you arrived for the years spent seeking you were fueled by a motivation I can only describe as pure love, the type that leaves you without a second thought as you are plunging that syringe into your belly for someone whose face you've not yet even seen. I never once looked back as I knew that somewhere in that turmoil I would find you. As you now lay perfectly molded into my lap, I can easily say that I would turn back and take a million more syringes, spend a million more nights in heartache for you and somehow, I always knew it would be worth it. Your arrival has confirmed what I knew in my heart all along to be true.

What I didn't know and could have never planned for was how amazing you are. Today you're a month old and in that time, I've already learned so much about you. As you were entering this world, the nurse touched your head and noticed that your heart rate stabilized when she did this. You've loved to be touched since your birth, and when caressing your forehead, cheeks and head, your beautiful blue eyes begin to flutter to a close. You love music and especially to be sung to. As we dance around the living room together, your eyes lock on mine, unwavering as I sing along and for such a new creature, you already have so much depth behind those eyes and your gaze is already so intense and trusting.

You love nothing more than to be in just your diaper (or better yet, nothing, but we rarely brave that!) and despite your previous mood, as soon as your clothes are off, you are so instantly full of joy, earning you the nickname 'Dipey' (baby talk for diaper). Perhaps we have a budding nudist on our hands? At your happiest, you reward us with gentle coos and hints of social smiles. You make the sweetest squeaks in your sleep and have somehow in your short life managed to imitate every animal found at the zoo, including a baby elephant! I am so excited everyday to learn more, especially as you grow so quickly.

Almost as miraculous as you are is how you've managed to change your Dad and I overnight. We never could have imagined that we would be so comfortable incorporating baby talk into our regular vocabulary and find ourselves using it in public far too often. We somehow enjoy owning a minivan now and think an exciting night out on the town is a trip around the mall with your stroller. We have redefined our life in mere weeks and have done so happily. For you, I am certain, we would do anything and without a moment's pause.

This last month has seen me incredulous that such a perfect little man is now a part of my life. What did I do to deserve such a gift in life? Yes, we endured a lot to see you here, but the effort pales in comparison to the reward. So, my baby love, I want to thank you. Thank you for giving me this incredible experience of parenting you. It is already the most miraculous experience of my life, one that I would have easily waited the rest of my days for.

Not What I Had Pictured...

2009-12-12T17:29:00.000-08:00

There's a danger in idealizing the future. All of us who have fought IF know this well. Long ago we might have pictured what it would look like one day to surprise our significant other with a positive pee stick, yet for those of us lucky enough to get a BFP, there was a lot less surprise in something that took thousands of dollars and lab labor to concoct, especially when it was accompanied by a perfectly timed blood test instead. I've found the same to be true in childbirth and parenting. One may formulate a lovely version of what is to become, but the best laid plans are usually forsaken for a different path.

Take for instance arriving home from the hospital. I envisioned Baby G's first trip home like a Kodak moment. In fact, I already knew what the pictures would look like: me smiling wearily with G in my arms as I am wheeled out, Mr. S and I walking through the front door side-by-side with G in my arms. Perhaps there would be balloons or a sign awaiting us. But this wasn't meant to be. There were no pictures, no balloons. After Mr. S became very ill, he was forced to come home in another car, only to be separated from us for three days. Our trip home was a muted celebration. As Baby G, the child Mr. S had waited 5 years for, became acquainted with his new home, all Mr. S had to document this was by cell phone photos I sent him over the days. It was hard, but we understood it to be a temporary set back. I knew we had the remainder of his paternity and my maternity leave to make more Kodak moments and I was already forming those visions in my head. Once again, I was wrong to do so.

Several days later I got a call from my Mom. She had gotten sick at the hospital during G's birth, but her respiratory problems have been longstanding. While my Mother NEVER asks for anything, in this instance she was asking me to bring her to the hospital the next day. This is when I knew something was very wrong. Mr. S and I immediately packed little G up and drove the hour and 15 minutes to her house where I found her in no shape to be waiting overnight for medical intervention. Despite her resistance, I insisted on going to the hospital that night and as her breathing progressively worsened, it was clear that an ambulance was needed immediately. This resulted in almost a week of her being hospitalized and Mr. S, G and I camping out at my in-laws' house where our family alone time instead turned into everyone and their grandmother (literally) passing Baby G around. Once again, not ideal. The quiet alone I had idealized and planned for to get to know my child was not in the cards.

Ok, so after her discharge I figured that the previous few weeks were not exactly what I was hoping for, but we would make up for this. Kodak moments were still possible, right? Except that the day after her discharge, shortly after being up all night and an ER visit with G that resulted in a diagnosis of colic, I discovered that her condition had instead worsened, I'm sure due in large part to the fact that upon her discharge she went home and chain smoked like a chimney. A battle over her going to the hospital once again ensued, I once again called an ambulance, and once again, we camped out at Mr. S's parents' for the greater part of a week while it was discovered that in addition to emphysema and asthma, she was diagnosed with heart arrythmia and tachycardia. She was just discharged today and Mr. S is set to return to work tomorrow.

So that was the entirety of his paternity leave and 1/3 of my maternity leave.

I guess I shouldn't complain. I mean, I got my dream come true and even when parenting a newborn usurps every last shred of patience and sleep I possess, G himself never fails to be the greatest joy I have ever known, easily making up for any other hardships. But I can't help but feel deeply disappointed and resentful. This was our time, the time we had worked 5 years for and it feels like it was robbed. I know we have many years ahead of us, but I really wanted this. I guess I naively figured that after everything to get here the universe owed me the simple request of letting us be at least briefly.

I also never realized how much I idealized breastfeeding. This too did not happen in the way I had pictured. After G was diagnosed with jaundice and required formula feeding every 2 hours in the hospital to help get rid of it, he's not returned to latching on. Despite meeting with 2 lactation consultants in the hospital and one for an hour long appointment at our local womens' health center, he never did latch on again. He's quite fond of the bottle and through all of the upheaval of my Mom's hospitalization, I couldn't pump regularly and now my supply is pretty much gone. I never, ever fathomed how deeply upset this would make me or how much I wanted to breastfeed and while I know that he is healthy and getting what he needs, I am so incredibly disappointed that it brings tears to my eyes on a regular basis.

Although this post is negative and makes it look like I've had no happiness in the past several weeks, this couldn't be farther from the truth. After coming back from visiting my Mother in the hospital, watching her functioning deteriorate before my eyes (to the point where I question her ability to live independently with my Father who is equally disabled), all I had to do was return to Baby G, hold him against me, watch his big blue eyes track mine and everything was right in the world for that moment. I could easily find a smile for him, even when it seemed impossible just moments earlier. I miss him, even when he's in the next room and despite my exhaustion, I sometimes wake him up just to interact with him (which is a death wish with a newborn!). Although the past few weeks were not what I had imagined, Baby G is more than I could have imagined and that makes everything ok.

Birth Story

2009-11-26T08:14:00.000-08:00

I started this post a few weeks ago, but so much has happened beyond taking care of a new baby since then that it has been nearly impossible for me to return and finish it. Rather, I should say, so much is happening, as the drama continues. In the last few weeks, I have called the ambulance twice for my Mother (who is still in the hospital with chronic and severe heart and lung issues), Mr. S was, as you might have read, very ill leaving me alone for several days, and Baby G was so colicky one day that we were instructed to visit the ER at 5 AM (the same day as one of my Mom's 911 calls). Luckily all is well with the little guy. I will detail all of this later, but in the mean time, I'm instead compelled to write about the best experience of my life thus far. So, here it is:

Final birth stats:

Vaginal birth
27 hours active labor
3.5 hours pushing
One fabulous, 7 lb. 10 oz healthy 20 1/4 inch long baby

The Induction

We were set to induce Monday evening on the 16th of November. The plan was to have a foley catheter placed in my cervix and inflated in order to dilate it mechanically to approximately 3-4 centimeters before the need for drugs to help it along (not that I'm not a fan of drugs--clearly that's what got me here!). The family was all set to join us that afternoon, but when I woke up with contractions and some bleeding early Monday morning, we thought for sure the show was about to unfold on its own, and quickly. Everyone rushed up (they live over an hour away) leaving me to feel silly by afternoon. Except for some residual cramping and spotting, there were no other signs that any progress was being made so off I went to my final OB appointment that afternoon to get set up with my very own foley catheter.

As always, I researched the catheter and found that most people said, yes, it's placement is uncomfortable, but not excruciating. What I didn't manage to find was tales of having an immediate and believe me, very STRONG contraction right after getting it in, which is what I experienced. It took my breath away. As my abdomen hardened like a basketball, I grew instantly nauseous and left the office with severe cramps. While the nurse practitioner indicated that going into labor after the catheter placement is somewhat uncommon, my body managed to do just that and within a few hours, my consistent contractions were leaving me breathless at 5-6 minutes apart. While I was scheduled to check into the hospital at 9, I decided to go earlier and was already doped up with an epidural by the original appointment time. My goal has never been to be brave!

The Hospital Arrival

Speaking of which, epidurals are my friend. Seriously. Perhaps even my best friend. So, with a room full of Mr. S, in-laws and my Mom, we set out for a long evening. Despite the fact that the nurse was certain that birth would not take place before 8 AM, everyone insisted on staying overnight at the hospital, despite the fact that our house is only 20 minutes away and there were not enough chairs for everyone in the room (and a regulation preventing bringing more in).

The Scare

All in all, the 27 hours spent in labor were interspersed with epidural-fueled naps, internal checks and a few scary instances of Baby G's heart rate dropping as a result of the Pitocin. I can tell you, there is nothing more terrifying than waking up from a deep sleep to a few nurses rushing in and a baby heart rate monitor that says 60. Luckily, immediately after backing off the Pitocin and flipping me on my side every 15 minutes, his heart rate climbed back up. As labor progressed, his heart rate seemed to also decelerate following each contraction, but would climb right back up, which worried the nurses. While my OB didn't seem nearly as concerned, I spent so much of the time with my eyes glued to the heart rate monitor that I was getting cramps in my neck. They eventually gave me oxygen to help baby G and while everything seemed to stabilize, I still slept with one eye open.

I was also told that baby G was posterior (head down, but facing the wrong way) and that plus my previously diagnosed narrow pelvis, we still had no idea whether we were in for a C section or a vaginal birth until the very end. And if a vaginal birth was to happen, it would likely require a vaccum to get him out of my cramped quarters.

Time to Push

Someone commented to Mr. S. after Baby G was born, "Oh, you're the one whose wife was 10 centimeters for a day." Yup. That was me. My OB didn't mosey in until late Tuesday, but before that time, the nurse was measuring me at 9.75 for hours due to a 'lip' that was still in the way on my cervix. My OB decided later in the day that the 'lip' could be pushed out of the way. He's also a fan of a 'passive' active labor, allowing contractions to push the baby down to decrease push time (haha, I pushed for over 3 hours-how much longer could that be??). When the pushing began, it was without any fanfare. Just one nurse was in the room and my OB had yet to join us. When he did, he sat for about 30 minutes manually rotating Baby G's head to get him to face the right direction and managed to do so quite successfully. Mr. S's Mom held one of my legs, Mr. S held the other and while my Mother tried to hold my neck, she was too weak and shaky (and was wheezing in my ear, which didn't make for a quiet calm), so Mr. S. took over leg and neck duty. I was in a good mood and much of the time was spent talking

I will say this, pushing, especially nearing the end, was some of the hardest work I've endured (making me question whether I might end up blowing some blood vessels in my eyes), but I did so with a smile on my face and lighthearted discussion, despite the fact that I had dialed down my epidural and was feeling every contraction. Oh, that and I tore and also was gifted an episiotomy, but frankly, that didn't phase me. Let's face it, after all this time and effort just to get here, what's 3 1/2 more hours of pain and hard work? I had the ultimate motivation and before I had even realized all of that time had passed, Baby G made his way into the world (without the help of the vacuum!).

At first, it was surreal. His cry sounded like a baby bird's and as a team quickly descended into the room, they lifted his gorgeous little body up and declared him a healthy little man. This time went by in a flash-there were tears, hugs, and at some point, my OB had delivered the placenta and stitched me up, though I hardly noticed. When they placed little G on my chest, I was amazed. I mean, I knew there was SUPPOSED to be a baby in that belly of mine, but to actually see a baby, a real, live, healthy baby that came from ME and who was MINE, was the most miraculous moment of my life. In fact, as I type this, I feel like my words are so ridiculously understated.

So, in short (yes, that was actually the short version!), I had a pretty amazing and actually a somewhat 'normal' experience. Normality for an infertile chick with a crazy family is in short supply, so when it does come, it is not taken for granted. But truthfully, I would have been glad to endure more abnormality to finally see Baby G home.

Introducing....

2009-11-20T19:00:00.000-08:00

Baby G!

Born November 17th at 7:02 PM
7 lbs. 10 oz.
20.25 inches

After 27 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing, Baby G came into this world happy and healthy with a beautiful, sweet cry. I will update more and would have updated sooner, but Mr. S is horribly sick and quarantined away from us in our house, and given that our family is over an hour away, I am essentially single parenting and it's HARD. Living on 15 minutes of sleep at a time here, but at least I'm learning tp type with one hand! Hey, while our fairytale coming home was not given to us, our fairytale child was. My dreams have finally arrived. I am already completely and totally in love....

Baby G on day 3, staring up at me with his big, beautiful eyes:

Eviction Notice from the Baby Condo

2009-11-11T07:57:00.000-08:00

Dear tenant,

We are pleased that you have enjoyed your 9 month stay with us and have found the accommodations to your liking. This was our hope when you first took residence, however, I must inform you that your lease will expire Saturday, November 14th. A lease renewal is not available at this time. Because we understand this transition to be difficult, we have agreed to provide a brief grace period at which time you must immediately vacate the premises no later than Tuesday, November 16th. Although not as comfortable as your current residence, we will attempt to provide you with quite reasonable accommodations with a mandatory 18 year lease. A lease renewal at that time will be up for discussion. We wish you a safe moving day and look forward to seeing you into your next residence.

Sincerely,

Your very tired and large Landlady

We May Have a Date and Once an Infertile, Always an Infertile....

2009-11-09T17:29:00.000-08:00

So, according to the NP, the analogy of my cervix being like a steel trap is not far off. I had my 39 week check-up today and still no progress. The door is sealed shut, Fort Knox style. Early on in my pregnancy, I learned that I have a pretty narrow pelvis and that that could cause some complications (and increase chances of a c-section). Well, it appears this may be contributing to the steel trap. Baby G's head is resting squarely atop that little pelvis of mine, so while he is ready to engage, my body is not.

Huh. Sounds familiar. My body is not doing what it's supposed to? Story of my life, no?

A fellow IVFer friend of mine who recently delivered her little one became frustrated at the end of her pregnancy as she became overdue. Naturally she had lost so much faith in her body during the course of treatment, but pregnancy helped her reclaim some of this as it was finally beginning to do things 'right'. I mean, there is something so immensely powerful in being able to grow and nourish another human when for years your body and medical science seemed to be proving time and time again that this was not possible. To actually have things go the way they should is a miracle in and of itself. So for my friend, the fact that her body was not engaging in labor was threatening to rob that new-found faith. I feel that way in many respects. I swear that no matter how far you think you walk away from the evils of dirty IF thinking, you're never quite far enough.

In fact, I called this long before today. Call it 'waiting for the bottom to drop out', because after 5 years of infertility, I have been conditioned to think this way. All along I had a strong suspicion that either my body would deliver too early, way too late, or not at all without medical intervention. So the latter is the likely candidate now and we're scheduled to begin an induction Monday the 16th (with birth planned late Tuesday), if he doesn't arrive before then. But hey, if I somehow avoided more medical intervention as far as childbearing is concerned, it would be out of character. I have to say though, I am incredibly relieved to have a final date. As of now, I feel like I might be pregnant for the next 5 years. It's nice to know that won't happen.

In other news, Mr. S's brother and his wife had announced that they would start trying immediately after marrying. Well, they married a little over a month ago and guess who's already 4 1/2 weeks along? Yeah. While I'm excited to have a cousin so close in age to Baby G, I must ask: Why must I be surrounded by the mind-blowingly fertile? I mean, really?

Come out, come out wherever you are!

2009-11-05T08:10:00.000-08:00

I am still in full baking mode with 9 days left until the little guy's due date. It's funny. I spent the majority of my second trimester and the first part of my third trimester terrified of pre-term labor and now I am convinced that this kid knows a good thing when he sees it and will not make an appearance without some aggressive coaxing. So far, I've dilated, oh maybe a 1/2 centimeter (not even notable in the charts) and although my cervix is starting to soften, it's done very little. I'm convinced it's made of steel and it'll take the jaws of life to get this little dude out. And trust me, we've tried EVERYTHING but the jaws of life this week to get things moving, including but not limited to:

-Sexy times (although Mr. S is convinced that if it were daily, that would be the answer...haha, I'm 9 months pregnant. Easier said than done)
-Eggplant parmesan
-Plain old walking/activity
-Prego pizza at Skipolini's

(As you can see, my methods largely revolve around food, as most of my life does nowadays)

I can't complain an incredible amount about these last days, but I will anyway. :) Yeah, I'm large and in charge and climbing one set of stairs makes me see stars (which sucks given that I live in a tri-level). I'm sore all the time and have terrible insomnia, heartburn and pee every 15 minutes, but hey, if this is what it takes to finally bring our guy home, I'm all for it. I have more musings on this journey so far, but as my sporadic blogging can attest to, I've been feeling uninspired lately and will return when I have something more earth shattering to say!

Remember...

2009-10-14T18:10:00.001-07:00

In June of 2008, I said goodbye to more than just a dream unrealized. That's what people who have never experienced this sort of loss forget. I didn't lose a pregnancy. I lost a baby, a unique being who had a combination of my and Mr. S's DNA-our first child. I was at what I thought was 10 1/2 weeks pregnant, but unbeknownst to me until the ultrasound that fateful day, he/she had stopped growing at just past 6 1/2 weeks. It was, by far, the most devastating day of my life.

While I will not be at home at 7 PM tonight as I have been blessed enough to welcome my rainbow baby into the world and will be at a baby class because of him, I still will not forget my baby or the countless other children my friends have said goodbye to.

IF in the Media

2009-10-13T20:46:00.000-07:00

We need more spokespeople like her!

Shower Celebration

2009-09-30T09:17:00.001-07:00

Mentioned and shown: Baby shower, bump pics...

It was a day I thought would never come, and I'll be honest, as trivial as it may be to some, this day was almost important to me as my wedding day. My baby shower marked the welcome of a little person I have waited five long years for, a little person I wasn't certain would ever come into existance (at least not in this respect). It also marked a day that I 'came out of the IF closet' and a day I felt completely supported and loved. It was everything I could have hoped for and more.

Firstly, one of my closest friends, P, offered to host it. This may not seem like a huge deal, but she lives three or so states away in Idaho and carried a suitcase full of games, decorations, and favors weighing more than she does the distance (she's all of 5'1", 100 pounds). She put so much thought, care and effort into it, that Mr. S and I were floored (and felt a little like getting on our hands and knees Wayne's World style to declare 'we're not worthy') once she pulled it all out. She had personalized mint boxes with my name and shower date on the lid and adorable cloth bags filled with blue and white J.elly B.ellies (fitting as I live about 15 minutes away from the factory) for the favors. My new sister-in-law (Mr. S's bro just got married this past Saturday) has a fantastic high end bakery and so for the shower, she found onesie cookie cut-outs and made the most delicious and adorable onseie cookies covered in fondant to add to the favors.

The shower itself was held at my Mother-in-law's house who made the most amazing lasagna, bruschetta, appetizers, and strawberry lemonade. My Mom contributed one of those gorgeous edible fruit baskets, shrimp, salad, and cookies. And of course, no party would be complete in that household if we didn't have an assortment of adult beverages, so Mimosas (or just OJ) and wine were also served.

Meanwhile, Ms. S. was down the street at a family friend's house exacting his shower day plans, man style. He simultaneously held a 'Man Shower' (or beer shower) for the significant others, complete with a keg, hamburgers and junk food (they later joined us for post shower shots, and no, I was not a part of that 'us').

As they watched their sobriety slip past them, ladies began to arrive at our shower and I have to admit, I was really surprised that almost everyone who was invited was able to come (at least those who lived within driving distance). But most touching was the fact that one of my IF sisters, Sarang, came. She is still in treatment and I, as well as anyone who has been through the infertility ringer knows that getting a root canal sans anesthesia is generally a more inviting prospect than attending a baby shower, especially while in active treatment. While I gave her multiple opportunities to back out gracefully, she never once faultered.

As Mr. S. and I always say about her, "she is a better woman than I". I honestly don't know that I would have had the strength to show up or even consider it as an option. Two other IF sisters also attended, one of whom is due this Saturday and the other who is due a week or so after I am (and is one of those IF legends...yes, she got pregnant naturally after 3 or so years of IF!). All four of us are buddies, so you can now imagine how much more strength it took for Sarang to attend as not only was she at a baby shower, but all of her acquaintances at said baby shower were quite knocked up. So, in short, if you ever want to look up the definition of a true friend, be sure to look for her picture under the description. :)

And when it came time to share the book that would essentially de-closet me, I was shocked at how nervous I was! I certainly didn't think anyone would say anything too heinous, but I suppose the fact that I had lived for so long quietly covering up one of the biggest parts of my life from almost everyone in that room, changing the subject whenever kids came up, made it that much harder. I was an expert at keeping it under wraps (although after 9 years of marriage I would imagine that putting 2+2 together wasn't that hard, either). But I do know now that unlike times past when I would have admitted to feeling shame and that this would have essentially been the driving force that prevented me from sharing my IF, this is no longer on my radar. In fact, I'm proud. I am so proud of the strength that it took Mr. S. and I, of the strength of our union, and of the amazing people I've met along the way. I'm not saying I would have preferred to be infertile, but I am certainly saying that I was given an obstacle course I could have never foreseen and that I was proud to announce to everyone that I was still standing, whether I was successful or not. The fact that I will be lucky enough to see the fruits of our endurance is icing on the cake.

In the end, I do feel as if this was a celebration of weathering that journey as much as it was a celebration of welcoming Baby G into this world. The two are inevitably linked. I think every person who has stood through the storm of IF should be celebrated, whether they adopt, conceive or choose to live child free. We have all been through so much that if you consider yourself among the survivors, then that speaks to your strength of character and of all the reasons for a celebration, I think that's a pretty damn good one. I'll never forget my celebration.

MSN is all kinds of wonky today...

2009-09-24T15:39:00.000-07:00

Ok, first, how is that this woman has this happen when I had a free and clear uterus for 5 years and still only managed to fill it with one only after enormous medical imtervention?

And I'm praying that this will not resemble my story in the slightest. I mean, how it that even physically possible? Luckily last time baby G was measured, he was in the 54th percentile rather than the 1,000th percentile.

Last but not least, Happy Birthday Mr. S! Last birthday before the little one is here...might as well get sloppy drunk while you still have your designated driver!

Triple Dose

2009-09-16T07:13:00.000-07:00

I am utterly exhausted. I would write about my baby shower that was held on Saturday (which turned out to be phenomenal), and eventually I will, but instead I think I'll choose to embark on a tale that began Monday and ended in a paramedics visit, the emergency vet and finally, the death of a not-so-close in relation, but close in blood family member...all in one night. Needless to say, it was quite the day and I for one am so worn, I'm not sure how I'm going to walk from my car to my office this morning.

The paramedic visit began when I lost a huge filling 3 weeks ago. It was so huge that it felt like I had lost an entire molar. While I really wanted to postpone dental work until after delivery, I was told in no uncertain terms that my tooth would likely crack in half and be lost completely if I didn't act immediately, prompting an inevitable dental emergency (someone is clearly of English descent here :). So, they put a temporary crown on and I returned Monday afternoon for the permanent crown. The doc asked if I wanted anesthetic and indicated that some people go without but that the procedure can expose nerves and be 'uncomfortable' and 'sensitive' at best. Due to the fact that 'excruciating pain' didn't work it's way into his description and that I believe in the approach of 'the less meds the better' for the little one, I decided against anesthetic.

The procedure was...not comfortable. He scraped along some exposed nerves with his instruments, leaving me to audibly moan a bit, but it was over with pretty quickly. I was relieved when he went to fit the crown and said, "the worst is over. you'll not need any anesthetic after all." It was right then, just as he began meddling with the crown in my mouth that it all started. First, I began to sweat a cold, clammy sweat. The room temperature felt as if it had increased exponentially and then the nausea set in. I contemplated not saying anything for fear of being a drama queen but when I looked in front of me and noticed that instantaneously I fell dizzy and was beginning to see spots in front of me, I knew something was wrong and asked that the chair be raised (probably not the best move). From what I could tell, my dentist looked startled and was studying me nervously. Later I learned all the color had drained from my face. Although he was asking me questions, for the first time in my life I was actually unable to respond. When the framed dental poster in front of me began to fade and tunnell into black, I touched my stomach and said without faultering,

"Call someone. Call an ambulence."

My fear of being a drama queen had clearly left the building. All I could think about was the baby.

Just when I knew I was a second away from passing out, the dental poster began to flicker back into view slowly, as if someone was dialing up the lights in the room. The blood gradually returned to my face and the rush of heat in my limbs was emptying out. It took a few minutes, but I was able to come to enough to explain what had happened and also to realize that the ambulence was on its way. By the time they arrived, I was alert and although I felt slightly embarrassed, I had no apologies because of the baby. The little guy began to wiggle around and I exhaled a gust of relief. After they took my vitals, blood sugar, etc. (which all came back normal) I was feeling well enough to get up on my own.

I was still sitting there with an exposed tooth, so the team looked on as my dentist quickly cemented the permanent in. It's not everyday that you get dental work done with 5 of the fire department's finest standing in attendance, is it? I decided against the trip to the hospital and instead insisted on Mr. S picking me up to which they agreed given that all of the color had returned to my face and I was able to walk around. Mr. S arrived and I got into contact with my OB on the way to the hospital who sounded as unconcerned as a doctor could be. Apparantly, I had a vasovagal response.

Yeah, I'm not a medical professional, so don't go asking me what it is, but if you click on the link and scroll half-way down (or look it up on We.b MD or Wi.kipedia) you'll get a better idea. Apparantly it happens more frequently in pregnant women and is pretty innocuous, so we headed back for home. Now as far as the trigger, it could have been any number of things or a combination: stress (work has been eating me alive, the weekend had been non-stop, and the dentist is not exactly my place to party), pain (trust me, there was pain), and lying flat on my back. I've also had bad insomnia, anxiety and nightmares lately, which has had me keyed up. Perhaps it was a recipe waiting to be concocted. The straw that broke the camel's back.

So, Mr. S and I went home and figuring it would be a relaxing enough activity, I propped myself up in the nursery on a pillow with my laptop in hand as he put the crib together when our girl cat came in, wiggled her butt over the directions on the floor and peed. This is a cat who has never had any behavioral issues and within the last day, I had seen her spend all of her time in the cat box. So, we made a plan to go to the emergency vet later that evening (she looked really uncomfortable and everything was closed) when I checked the evil F.acebook. Two of my relatives messaged me to tell me that my half-sister (who I have not seen since I was 7 or 8) was found dead that afternoon. Oy.

When they say bad things come in threes, they're not kidding.

So, after I broke the news to my Mom who told my Dad, Mr. S and I took miss kitty to the vet and so far, she's not doing much better. She spends her entire day in the cat box or licking. I spend my days exhausted to the core and overwhelmed with work. I was planning on working until a week before I'm due, but after that incident, I think I'll be looking at closer to 3 weeks off beforehand. Life and work are starting to get to me. My capacity to handle everyday occurances has been whittled and I'm even wondering how I'll get through the next month. When people told me that I'd be tired during the third trimester, I truly had no concept of what they were describing. Until now.

Great Article

2009-09-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

I often get frustrated in having the lack of words to describe what infertility is like. While words will probably never truly do it justice, this article does a great job of going there.

IF Sister in need of meds

2009-08-31T07:34:00.000-07:00

A fellow IF sister, Jennifer, recently emailed me sharing that she's going into her first IVF cycle. As usual, she is another who is not insured and is paying completely out of pocket (because American health care coverage for IF SUCKS) and has had to really scrape it together just to get this one opportunity. Like me, she has also been trying to conceive for five years and has so far done two IUIs. If anyone has any spare medication that might help her out, please email me at redrivershel AT gmail dot com. Thanks!

Closet Door Sliding Open...

2009-08-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

This post mentions: PG, bumps, rather extensively...

Yesterday I entered my long awaited third trimester. Crazy. And in just a few weeks' time (September 12th, to be exact) my friends and family will be joining me at an event I NEVER thought would take place: my baby shower. It is there that I have decided to do what I've for so long spoken about: come out! Whenever I think of this, I get this jaunty little ditty in my head:

"I'm coming out
I want the world to know
Got to let it show
I'm coming out
I want the world to know
I got to let it show"

That's right. I will come out as the flaming infertile I am and I will do so proudly. But because this event is a celebration of baby G and not an educational seminar on general infertility, treatments, or even our particular infertility, we wanted to share our story in a way that simply highlighted how hard-won and long-awaited he was, giving us even more reason to dance in the streets upon his arrival. Without this acknowledged, it would have never felt right. To share this, we created a photo book through i.Photo, but I've decided in order to not let this be the theme of the shower, we will do the following:

A. Not pass the book around until I'm opening presents (so any potential asinine comments, with particular emphasis on the ASS, will not come until the end at which point I may be subdued from any bodily harm towards them by cake).
B. Any particular questions about treatment, IVF, infertility, etc. will be met with an appreciation for their curiosity and then an invitation to share over lunch or coffee in a less public forum. While I'm coming out, my medical information is still not something for which I will be sending out a public service announcement.

I'm not actually foreseeing anything too stupid being said, but you never know what will fly out of people's mouths about this sorely seldom spoken about topic, especially since there are a few people that are particularly um, old (and you know they never censor anything) and a few who are, well, a bit narrow minded. Luckily, most of my friends and family are awesome enough to not go there and in fact, this will not come as news to about half of them anyway, despite my being a generally private person. So needless to say, I'm nervous, but excited.

So, here it is: The Story of Baby G. You MUST watch it full screen to read the text (it's much more of a story book than photo book) and definitely watch it in HD. It doesn't exactly flow like a slideshow as it is a book, but I think it tells our story in a very authentic, but brief way. Enjoy!

Grateful

2009-08-11T07:58:00.000-07:00

This post mentions: PG

The nursery is painted, the window treatments are up and the rug has been laid. Even the baby clothes we have purchased so far have been hung. This is the first signs in that room that someone new will join us in three months' time and although this reminder is visible and tangible--I can walk in and see it all, feel him kicking against my ribs, after 5 years of waiting, I still can't quite fathom that perhaps my dreams are finally about to come true.

My guess is, a man starved for years on end will have a harder time believing in that steak dinner promised him than a man with an already full belly. In that sense, I have been starving for years and so I still feel out of place preparing for something that feels surreal. I am that starving man, sitting around a table with those well fed and mimicing their movements, placing a napkin in my lap carefully, as if receiving a meal is common place to me. In some ways, it feels absurd. All of the niceties we encounter each day, such as repeating how 'excited' we are, feel so trivial in the shadow of what's really going on for us and especially of what has already gone on for us. Little do most people know the level at which my longing for that ultimate meal resides, especially when it has been handed to them at their request.

I recall when Mr. S. and I were dieting (something we will need to return to shortly and mostly, desperately). We would reward ourselves at the end of the calorie-deprived, gym crawling week with one 'cheat' meal and I will tell you this: food had never tasted so divine. This is the nature of my pregnancy and the eventual arrival of our guy thus far.

Despite the ongoing anxieties and the inner turmoil over being infertile, yet pregnant, and the guilt over leaving others behind, I have been able to cherish most moments of this pregnancy. I might have complained about morning sickness, but I secretly delighted in running to the bathroom, knowing it likely meant he was getting stronger. I have had almost every symptom under the sun: heartburn, constant nose bleeds, increased acne (my personal 'glow'), headaches, sinus problems, gingivitis, fatigue, bloating, (TMI coming, much to Mr. S's chagrin) terrible gas, leg cramps, vericose veins, back pain, sciatica, among many others, and I have honestly LOVED every one of them (but still never gave up the opportunity to feign complaining, of course).

I adore learning his patterns of movements, the way he almost without fail goes nuts kicking a minute or two after I awaken. It's the best 'good morning' I've ever received. I wouldn't trade his little hiccups or his wiggles or his immediate reaction to loud conversation (especially when there's a high pitched female in the room) for anything and Mr. S. and I quite frequently find ourselves standing in Baby G's mostly empty room, just staring. To think, there will be a little person in that room in a few months, a little person we already love so deeply, beyond what I can grasp. I am still in awe. I will always be in awe.

99 Days

2009-08-06T19:52:00.000-07:00

If I am lucky enough to cook this baby until he's well done, I have an estimated 99 days until he is born. This makes me remember fondly the night I turned ten. As I fell asleep, something occurred to me and I excitedly called my mom in to tell her.

"I'm double digits now!"

She seemed amused by this observation, as she probably would be today if I told her this again. Much like that time, I don't think she'd really realize the weight of it for me. Simply put, I never thought I'd get this far. If luck continues to treat me with the same regard as it has in the past several months, I suspect I'll be saying this for the rest of my life.

If the next 100 days are anything like the last, they will be filled with pure anxiety, pure joy, pure disbelief and ultimately, a generally medically textbook pregnancy experience. I can only hope.

ICLW

2009-07-21T08:37:00.000-07:00

Hello ICLWers!

It's been awhile since I've participated, but I'm glad to have enough time this week to join in. Here's the skinny (or not-so-skinny nowadays) on my journey thus far:

I'm a 31-year-old chica from the Bay Area who had been trying to conceive baby #1 with my hubby of 9 years for almost 5 years. After 1 round of clomid/timed intercourse, 7 IUIs, 1 miscarriage, and I IVF/ICSI, we are now 23 weeks pregnant with our little guy, Baby G. Not surprisingly, I want nothing more in the world than to bring him home safe and sound in November and much of my current blog surrounds this.

My hubby, Mr. S, (also known as my 'hot piece of ass') also blogs. You can find his male perspective musings here. In the mean time, sit back, relax and read up, if you so wish!

Dodging Bullets at 3 AM

2009-07-20T17:05:00.000-07:00

This post mentions: PG

At 23 weeks, I shouldn't know what the inside of a labor and delivery room looks like at 3 AM, but after this morning, I do. After awakening with overwhelming chills and lower back/abdominal cramping and discomfort, the best way to describe what was happening was that something was very wrong. I have long heard this same description when talking about labor. Being the type of person who generally has to be doubled over before calling any advice line, I knew that I was in trouble when I immediately contacted the on-call OB without a second thought. It was a frustrating call at best as I could barely hear him over the muffled connection, but when he finally said 'labor and delivery', his words could not have been more crystal clear.

The 20 minute drive over to the hospital was punctuated by intense 'what if' scenarios running through my brain and for much of those early moments, I wondered how I could possibly go on if the worst were to occur. It's thoughts like these that I still have often, but being in a car speeding towards this place made it starkly real. We got there and were immediately led into a room and as soon as I spotted the baby warmer, I prayed that our much too young little guy would get a chance to wait many, many weeks before meeting it. They strapped a belt across my belly and immediately found his strong heartbeat, but on top of that, they discovered that I had an 'irritable uterus' and at one point in time, used the big 'c' word to describe it (contractions).

Although the nurses did not give the appearance of being alarmed at all, I broke out into a cold sweat at the mere mention of contractions at just 23 weeks. So why was this happening? As is the most frustrating of medical circumstances, they had few possible theories.

To calm my 'irritable uterus' they injected me with a smooth muscle relaxant, which helped calm it, and explained that while I was cramping, it was not officially contractions. On top of that, Baby G (as he will now be called), being the ultimate night owl I've learned him to be, was kicking and moving so much they couldn't keep track of him, easing my mind that all was well with him. But these weren't the best peaces of mind handed to me that night. That arrived when we finally got an explanation, something that often does not come this easily in medicine. The nurse walked in with a big smile on her face, declaring triumphantly,

"You have a raging bladder infection."

I have heard these words many times before in my life but I would have never guessed the delight I would feel in one day hearing them. A bladder infection! That, my friends, can be solved. Other things, like preterm labor, not so much. The funny thing is, other than ongoing frequent urination, which is common not just in pregnancy but in the girl with the world's tiniest bladder (that would be me), I had no other preceding symptoms before that night. But I was more than happy to take the diagnosis and run with it.

After the nurse checked my cervix, which was thankfully long and closed, we were out the door with a prescription in hand. While I'm having some minor cramps, it's nothing like what I felt last night (and may be GI related). Never before have I felt as if I truly dodged a bullet. In fact, I come to feel that way every day of my pregnancy. I recently read Murgdan's blog post at Fertility Authority about being grateful for the miracle of life and more than ever, I am. Every second that passes, eventful and uneventful alike, is a gift I will never take for granted. I'm just hoping that we have many more seconds to come.

Project Purge

2009-07-13T13:31:00.000-07:00

It's time to help a sister out.

No, I have not reverted back to morning sickness, as the title might suggest, but I have taken to getting rid of my crap. My mounds and mounds of lovingly collected crap. I am a certified pat rack, which doesn't bode well for someone who moves often. I come about it naturally. My Dad (who is 74, good natured, but has always been a notch beyond quirky) collects random stuff, wraps it in plastic, and stores it in the garage, never to be seen again. Stuff like figurines and styrofoam containers. Ok, did I say a notch beyond? Let's add a few notches to that belt, shall we? While I don't go quite as far as he does, in many respects, you can still say that I am truly my Father's daughter.

So here I sit, FINALLY with a good reason to convert that guest room/junk collection room into something else and yet I'm faced with these questions:

Where will I put every single card I've received over the last 25 years?
Where will my electric bills from 1999 go now?
Where will the multiple instruments (including a banjo and a fiddle) go that we were so compelled to have but never learned to play?
And most notably, where will the last 4 sizes of clothes I've steadily passed by in these last few years go?

So much for parking in the garage.

I have never been naturally organized and I admire, no, I look adoringly up at those who manage to pull it off. How do you do it? Perhaps you possess the ability to let go of things tangible, something I sorely lack? My first echoing thought is always, 'what if I need it one day?' How do you possibly get that out of your head? Don't get me wrong. My walls are not lined with stacks of paper or knick knacks. A quick walk through my house would not reveal my compulsion, but for the love of God, do not, I repeat, DO NOT open the closet doors.

So I stand here today, asking for guidance. I am a girl who keeps movie tickets from 1998 and a paper shredder that just isn't up for that type of challenge. Where do I begin and will you help me get there? Tell me about your clutter free life so I can drool in envy and perhaps learn a lesson or two.

Transition Post

2009-07-09T00:11:00.000-07:00

Ooops, I went on and on about how fantastic stirrup queen's post on blogging through life transitions was and never provided a link to the specific post, so here it is!

Baby Showers: A Possibly Skewed Pregnant Infertile's Perspective

2009-07-03T08:41:00.000-07:00

This post mentions: baby showers, infertility, and of course, pregnancy

Thanks so much to all of you who voted in the poll. Although I realize my posts may not always be everyone's cup of tea, such is life. But at least now I'll make a concerted effort to let you know beforehand when the tea might taste a little bitter. M from Hello, my name is M...and I'm an Infertile provided a valuable link to an article written in June by Lollipop from Stirrup Queens about this very topic. It was so helpful in clarifying for me where I wanted to go. In simply describing myself as a keeper of an online diary (or a diarist, which I avoid using as I'm not sure I'm pronouncing it correctly) rather than solely an IF blogger, this helps give me free range in not placing a restriction on what I say. Putting boundaries on thoughts has always led to the demise of my past blogs and given my absolute fondness for this one, I wanted to avoid such an ending.

In other news, last weekend I survived my first baby shower since beginning my IF treatment over three years ago and I have to say, if I weren't pregnant, ripping my eyeballs out of their sockets might've been a more enjoyable experience. It's not that anyone did anything too heinous, it's that perhaps in growing my tough outer IF shell, I may have inadvertently grown a little extra cynicism along with that. The cooing over and measuring of pregnant bellies, the lining up of said bellies in every other picture (yes, begrudgingly, mine was part of the 4 person line up), and the casual way in which people talked about the whole thing felt so...trivial and almost tasteless. I sat there knowing that my lens was likely different from most others at that party and trying hard to feel light hearted about the whole thing. But after 5 years of desperation, clawing my way up to that belly of mine, I wasn't about to stand sandwiched between 3 other 'preggos' and act as if I was one of them.

I guess the real question is, where is this coming from? I'll be honest. I still very much resent people who get pregnant easily. Lest I get any fire bombs aimed at my house as of this very moment, let me clarify. I completely understand that this is not a logical or fair conclusion. While I've said before, I will never, ever begrudge anyone their happiness, fertile or infertile alike. I wouldn't wish the past 5 years of my experience with infertility on anyone and I believe that no matter how easily you came about that baby, you deserve a chance to get that belly of yours oohed and awed over. Everyone should get a chance to feel what that's like. But I resent that not everyone will. In fact, I am infuriated that not everyone will. And in turn, I find myself inadvertently resenting the people who mindlessly float through such an experience.

It's not their fault that life sucks, but as I watch them standing there, talking about nursery patterns when my IF friends and I talk about failed cycles and lost babies, this becomes my natural reaction. And it's not even that I myself don't talk about nursery patterns, but part of me is like, 'they get all of this and all they had to do was have sex a couple times? That's bullshit!' Ok, I'm just being honest, people. Part of my reaction is that my innocence has been taken and I long for all of us in ALI to have what they have. In plain language, I'm still jealous. And yet, I wouldn't take back what I've been through for the world. What a strange dichotomy, huh?

I wonder to myself, how is this going to play out at my own baby showers? I don't want IF to rob anymore of my happiness, so will I find a way to be completely and mindlessly joyful as I celebrate the upcoming birth of my long awaited baby? I hope. I'd love to capture their innocence, even for just a moment during my own events, but then my prize might not seem nearly as sweet.

A Year

2009-06-29T07:59:00.001-07:00

Mentioned: Loss, PG

So much can happen in a year. This is probably the most cliche statement that can ever be made in the ALI blogosphere. As we approach 4th of July this Saturday, I am reminded of what I was doing in 2008.

This time last year, it had been two weeks since we miscarried. I was off work for the summer and was finding that the people in my life were dealing with my loss in very, very different ways. Some comforted me with flowers and cards, which I adored, and others, well, they decided to comfort me by telling me that "it's so common!" and "I had an abortion at 18, so I know exactly what you're going through" and my all time favorite, "at least you didn't lose a pet or a family member". Then, there was the de-invite.

Perhaps I'm making a bigger deal out of this than what it really was, but you know how it is when you're at your absolute lowest and then the smallest of kicks feels like a guttural punch? Well that's how this felt. I made the decision to not let myself drown in isolation. After sitting alone in my pajamas since my D&C, I got a last minute invite from an acquaintance to attend a 4th of July BBQ. Knowing that the hostess' pregnant friend would be there, I didn't immediately respond (waited a day or so), but then eventually decided that I had to face life again. It wasn't an easy decision, but I made it with every last shred of courage I could gather. Only after I accepted her invitation, she never responded back. Emails, phone calls and a text went unanswered. I spent most of my 4th sitting alone as Mr. S. slept and just sitting here, remembering how it was to feel as if I had hit the bottom makes my heart sink. I was infertile, had failed my only chance at motherhood in 4 years and now, I was unwanted. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

My guess is that she decided against my presence because it was too awkward. She knew about the miscarriage and had not spoken a word about it to me. No sorry, no lame platitudes to make me feel better. I don't think that she committed the gravest of sins, it was just the place I was in magnified it. She eventually called the next day and said that her phone was broken. I think I've seen her once since, but that's not the point. She has now come to represent a place I never want to return to, a place far from where I'll be on this 4th of July.

As I sit here a year later, marveling from the latest of this little one's increasingly strong karate moves to my stomach, I am not just counting a successful cycle amongst the changes this year has brought, but I'm also counting all of you. At this time last year, I had never read an ALI blog. I had never met someone who had openly battled infertility or loss and I had never stepped foot into an infertility support group. I was alone, in every sense of the word. As I celebrate the 4th this year with two of my new IF friends, I feel anything but alone. I have spent this last year surrounded by a warm circle of the type of support I never imagined existed and for that I thank you. What a difference a year makes.

20

2009-06-26T12:20:00.001-07:00

PG mentioned**

Wow. Half-way. Ok one more day, but I'll be too busy to post tomorrow. I never, ever, ever thought I would be here. I mean obviously when you embark on a 5+ year journey of trying to conceive (which sounds so flippant, it should be moving mountains to conceive, or MMTC), that is the plan. But being faced with failure after failure, the possibility becomes even more remote in your mind. There is not a morning when I don't wake up, touch my belly to see if it's still there and thank God for this and pray that it will stay and that he will be born healthy. With every mostly uneventful second that passes in this pregnancy, I am grateful.

This weekend, we are purchasing nursery furniture. It's funny. I got two of my pregnant IF friends some onesies the other night and one of them, who is about 27 or so weeks along, said that it was the first piece of clothing she had gotten for her little guy. Understandably, she's superstitious and gun shy and has not purchased anything baby related. I always thought I would be that lady, and I had even stated before that I would wait until my 3rd trimester to even set foot into a baby store. Now, I have at least half a wardrobe for our guy. So, what changed?

Well, I don't think I am any less superstitious than I was before. I think for one, Mr. S and I are the biggest consumer whores you'll ever meet. Any excuse to spend money brings us out of the woodwork (not that we have it to spend, especially after IVF!). But then there's the faith. Am I growing in my belief that this baby will actually be born safe and sound? I must be. But I still don't make these purchases lightly. I still have a slightly sick feeling in my stomach when I set the item on the store counter and I still have a plan B. Where will the furniture and clothing go if something happens? I've already decided this. But then I imagine our little guy in the room, his little chest rising and falling in sleep, and I am at peace. The roller coaster rides on...

We had our 20 week scan earlier this week and it was amazing. But still, for the first few minutes I held my breath. The god forsaken tech announced that she would be taking measurements of my anatony before going to the baby and all I wanted was to see a heartbeat, to hear that yes, your baby is still alive. I can't say it was the longest two minutes of my life, but I'm fairly certain I didn't breathe the entire time. This despite the fact that within the week prior I had had a live baby confirmation provided to me many times, once by my OB/NP after running to them following an evening of dead baby dreams and what I perceived as decreased movement, and a few times after finally caving and purchasing a doppler (in hopes to save us from unnecessary medical expenses).

The relief of hearing his strong heartbeat, of seeing him stubbornly turn away from the ultrasound, of seeing his now rounder limbs and beautiful proportionate body is too overwhelming to capture in words. So forgive me. I made what is likely considered a social blunder, but I just simply couldn't help myself. I posted the ultrasound pics on F.acebook. I know, bad. Of all the times I cursed others and here I am, claiming my hardy hypocrit crown. I have to get some props for not taking it that obnoxious step further by making it my profile picture at least, right?

It's just that to date, this is the most miraculous, amazing life event that I have ever experienced and I am beginning to understand how others (as in, ahem, fertiles) can be so thoughtless and shove it in people's face. The joy is hard to hide. This doesn't mean I condone thoughtlessness, but that I am catching wind of another perspective. But alternatively, F.acebook provides the lovely option of hiding news stories and such and after this feature has saved me countless heartache, I am hoping that if my sharing brings anyone the same grief I've experienced, that they'll use it in full force, too.

So here I am. Half-way. Ecstatic, but still partly terrified. He was the carrot that was always dangling in front of me everytime I put my feet up in stirrups, everytime I put a needle into my body, everytime I got a negative and managed to keep on. He kept me hoping that my long-awaited dream, our long-awaited dream, would finally be realized. If it is, it makes these last five years well worth it, as I always knew it would.

**By the way, thanks to all of you who have responded to the poll so far. For the time being, I will take both ideas and write openly while posting a little warning at the top of each entry for those that might have a harder time reading about PG on that particular day (or year, as it was for me). And for those who might have been regular readers previously, but have not continued, I obviously, completely understand. But then, you're not reading this anyway. :)

IF Blog

2009-06-25T09:37:00.000-07:00

While I never begrudged anyone their happiness, especially after enduring the hell of infertility, it always irked me a little when infertility blogs turned into full-blown pregnancy blogs. In fact, oftentimes, it made my heart drop just to see posts comparing offspring to various produce, littered with pictures of baby bumps just sitting in my reader. And yet here I am finding that it is only natural that in writing about my current experience, pregnancy will be one of the main topics of discussion. I never intended this blog to go in that direction and that is likely one of the reasons preventing me from regular writing (that and I am one lazy mo fo). In a way, I feel I am doing a disservice in not speaking about what's actually going on. I'm back to censoring, something that led to the demise of so many of my previous blogs and it defeats the purpose of having one in the first place. So, I'm stuck and I need your help!

I've posted a poll on the side bar looking for general opinions. Please share them openly! And if there's a choice that I've not included that you come up with, please share that as well!

Two Posts...in One Day!!

2009-06-10T15:09:00.000-07:00

This is a quick one for Mr. S. Today marks our anniversary...9 years! Through all the shit that has been thrown at us (not just IF, unfortunately), we're still here and still completely in love. Happy Anniversary!!!

And to the jackass of a bridesmaid who said we would never last to a friend of ours shortly after being in our wedding (by the way, she does not read this blog, nor has she been a friend for many years), I would like to loudly proclaim, SUCK IT! Ahh. That feels better.

Looking for the Rainbow

2009-06-10T14:52:00.001-07:00

I never intended to go so long without a post, but work has been beating me senseless. Once I arrive home, I have already spent all of the energy that could be devoted to anything more than staring blankly at a TV screen and drooling a little bit. Sadly, I'm probably not exagerrating on the drooling part.

Many have said that once you pass your 12 week mark, especially after the torrent of ultrasounds I've had, the anxiety lessens considerably. Ultrasounds are
met with more anticipation than fear. The plans of what the nursery will look like dominate any thoughts of what would happen if anything were to go wrong. While this is the case with me, it is only to a point.

Do you know how with infertility, everyday is a roller coaster? One day, you're up and feeling strong, ready to fight, and the next day, you're defeated and can barely lift your head up. Well, somehow I learned how to transfer that reaction straight over to pregnancy.

I'm wondering when I'll ever be able to speak of anything baby related light-heartedly without an inkling in my heart that perhaps this chatter will disappear tomorrow after a fateful ultrsound. Sometimes I even feel as if I'm lying to others when I say I'm due to have a child in November. But then the next day, I'm ready to shout it from the roof tops, especially on the heels of an OB appointment. At what point does this constant fear cross over from a natural reaction to infertility and loss to an unnatural anxiety that might rob me of possibly one of the happiest times of my life?

Don't get me wrong. I am happy, happier than I've ever been, but I'm aware that I have so much to lose at this point and am not naive enough to think that it could never happen to me. There are moments when I 'let go', when I let myself 'just be' in this pregnancy and wrap myself around the idea that in just a handful of month's time, my little boy will be home safe and sound. I imagine this is how it must feel to be fertile and pregnant, never having experienced loss. It's all consuming and with the way it feels, I can almost forgive them for their insensitive blunders. Almost. :) The feeling of this is enough to sustain me for a day at most, but then the battle ensues again between security and fear. It's a day-by-day journey, vascillating between hope and well, less hope.

My calendar this summer is packed. Every weekend is filled with weddings, baby showers (blech), bridal showers, out-of-town trips. And yet even at 17 weeks I am tentative to RSVP or book tickets for any of it, wondering whether when that date comes, will all be well? Rather than looking forward, I set myself up for catastrophe. I get my rain jacket out and wait for the storm all the while trying hard to appreciate the rainbow in front of me.

I think this difficulty in letting go is also a function of my personality and learning, not just infertility. While I'm generally happy-go-lucky, I do come from a family that does more than embrace reality, they embrace negativity, inadvertently so. Although my parents always mouthed the words, "you can be anything you want to be", when it came time to grasp it for themselves, they never did. They accepted their 'lot in life' and in many ways, believed that they didn't deserve more.

I'm telling you, children learn more from examples than words. I think I've been fearful to actually believe this baby will be born because "why would that happen to me?" I'm afraid to believe that a dream could come true, that I could experience anything beyond the misery and loss I've for so long embraced as my lot. I think as the days pass, I'm getting closer, but it's not without effort.

Opening the Doors: Coming out of the Infertility Closet

2009-05-16T21:01:00.000-07:00

I've long dreamed of what my 'coming out' would look like. Coming out of the infertility closet, that is. I have always known it would happen sooner or later as I feel a real responsibility to the IF community and future couples who will face IF to share at least part of my story. I mean, it's ridiculous that IF is still such a taboo or rather now a sensationalized subject when 1 in 8 couples have REAL stories to share (that do not involve 8 offspring at once). But I've run into some obstacles in conceiving of such a plan.

First, how could I possibly convey the depth and breadth of the IF experience, the pain and the ups and downs to someone who has never stepped near it? How could my descriptions not sound over-dramatic and yet under-dramatic at the same time? Then there's the issue with how much to tell. Now that we will hopefully be welcoming our IVF/ICSI baby into the world this November, how much of this story belongs to him? Should I respect his privacy and allow him the choice to share the story of his conception? I wonder whether those who remain ignorant despite my best attempts will think of him first as a product of IVF and second as a child. So many variables to consider, and yet still I feel a driving force to throw open the closet doors.

While some of my closest friends and family members know of our IF, most of them do not. I can easily count those in the know on less than two hands. While in the process of treatment, I didn't think it would be very helpful to have any more noses poking where they didn't need to be and quite frankly I never trusted that ignorant comments wouldn't change my relationship with them. I only told those who I knew would respond with tactful and supportive comments or rather, those who I was close enough to know that a silly comment here and there would not destroy our relationship. Now that I'm not actively involved in treatment, I feel the day is nearing when more will hear about our struggles and the fact that we are not alone.

I'm still in the planning stages, but I've considered several different formats for the 'outing'. First, I have another personal blog (where I rarely write, my last entry was in January), that I know some of my friends and acquaintances do read from time to time. There is no way to go.ogle me and find it so I know that the only ones on it have been through invitation only. I've thought about a post briefly describing our journey (no exact treatment details, just length of time and alluding to an 'involved' journey) with links to a few informative Resolve articles, an anonymously written excerpt, and the infertility awareness project video that illustrates the experience much better than I ever could. On the other hand, I've also thought of doing the same only through email in order to 'contain' and have more control over who my viewing audience would be, but then that would defeat the purpose of disseminating information to the general public.

I once approached 'coming out' in an even more public way. You see, L.ifetime was recruiting couples undergoing IVF at my clinic for a documentary and I readily signed up for it. The purpose was to illustrate the 'real' story of infertility. I thought, hey if I'm going to come out, it might as well be on national TV, right? (ha, I'll take my 15 minutes any way you slice them!) I was fully prepared to have a camera follow me into my retrieval and transfer and through the aftermath of a possible BFN because I thought that if I knew I would fail in describing the experience to others, I thought that showing would be far more effective. Despite being in a series of lengthy talks with the documentary makers, they informed me that the project was on hold indefinitely, although personally I find it suspicious that they said this after I sent them my picture, ha!

So, yes I'm torn, but one day, when I feel the time is right, I'll come out. I'll come out for my infertile sisters and brothers who are still walking the path to parenthood, for those who have walked in the past and most importantly, for those who will find themselves on it in the future. I'm realizing very clearly one of the reasons why I was made to walk it myself and soon it'll be time to fulfill that.

Saving Sanity

2009-05-14T17:39:00.000-07:00

I finally broke down and registered on B.aby c.enter. Having forgotten that I had registered this time last year, the system indicated that a login with my address already existed, so I took a guess at the password and immediately jumped to a screen that falsely, and more importantly, cruelly marked a time line that stopped last June. At the top of the screen, your child's age is marked. I never did go in and change it after we lost our bean. B.aby C.enter was a place in my mind I thought I would never return to. My child, had he or she survived, would have been 4 months old. That knocked the wind out of my temporarily confident sails. Instead of trying to figure their system out and removing this information, I promptly logged out and created another account. One for my rainbow baby.

To quell my weekly and regularly scheduled bout of insanity this time around, my new OB gave me ANOTHER ultrasound a few days ago during a routine check-up. And do you know what I learned from that ultrasound? I learned the following:

Word has likely spread via my chart and possible office chatter that I'm one of the insane ones.
My OB rocks. He is generous with the 'sanity' check ultrasounds, given my continuing status of slightly insane.
I have a really narrow pelvis and I better have a baby that is not much over 6 1/2 pounds. Seriously, if you knew me, this narrow pelvis thing would be a shock because I am a true pear-shaped girl who always considered herself to have 'child birthing' hips. Turns out, all that width was not my bone structure but my junk in the trunk.
Gender can be determined as early as 13 weeks, 3 days. Really.
And on that note, we're having a BOY!! I was shocked when I saw the boy parts as clear as day. Of course, nothing is 100%, but my doc said he'd bet money and although I'm sure the dude has money to spare, I'll go with him on this.

So, yes, many awesome things were learned in what did prove to be a sanity saving check-up. For today, I'm at the top of the roller coaster.

Quick! Act Fast!

2009-05-12T20:41:00.000-07:00

I would come up with a clever little competition, but I can't think of anything and quite frankly, there isn't much time before these babies expire!

What I'm talking about is some free meds one of my friend's friends no longer needs (I think I am only about 2 degrees of separation from every infertile in the Bay Area!). If you're in need of the following, email me at redrivershel at gmail dot com:

Full cycle of menopur (Bravelle brand) that will expire 7/2009.
If you know anyone who can use it and their insurance does not pay for it, I am happy to let them have it.
They cost about $2K without insurance.

More info on it:

have 12 unopened boxes with 5 vials of 75 IU menopur in each box.

I also have 3 vials in an open box.

Not sure what a 'full cycle' is referring to in terms of IUs, but I can find out. But in the mean time, being the middle man for this exchange is the least I can do after what Tara and Nikki did for me. (wish I had left overs myself. Well, I do...if anyone needs 3 estrogen pills and a few soggy suppositories, lol)

The 'Mommy' Club...BARF

2009-05-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

With each step of this journey through infertility, I am never quite prepared for my reaction to what eventually lies around the corner. The same is true for this infertile pregnancy. We have recently 'come out of the closet' about our pregnancy to most people (not infertility as I'm fairly certain I might still strangle someone for saying something completely ignorant). First, I was amazed that rather than feeling complete joy over finally revealing why I haven't participated in my usual booze fest at important parties, I felt like I was...lying.

Blood tests, ultrasounds (many, many ultrasounds): how much more evidence do I need to prove that this is real? And yet still I have walked around feeling as if I wasn't sure how I was going to cover up this enormous lie once November comes. On top of that, I discovered something that I've heard spoken of, but have never truly grasped until I experienced it: the instant inclusion to the 'Mommy' club. People who wouldn't have given me the time of day before are now somehow my self-appointed best friends. And it PISSES me off.

Almost every fertile woman over child bearing age would swim through shark infested waters to get to a pregnant chick on the other side just so they can talk birthing plans, breast feeding and crib choices. How I longed for this inclusion before and through no fault of my own, I stood on the outside looking in for years, wondering what it would be like once I got 'inside'. Now that I'm here (well, somewhat), I resent it. Although I longed for motherhood and toiled for my yet-to-be children as much as any Mother would do, I was never considered until I was "successful".

Today, as I sat in the OB's office surrounded by pregnant women and their partners, they all fell into a conversation: "Do you know the sex?", "when are you due?", and so on. Of course I was automatically included. I looked across the waiting room at a few women without their partners who were likely not pregnant and knowing that the OB also specializes in less intrusive IF treatment (diagnosis, IUIs, etc.), I wondered whether they were some of my infertile sisters. I noticed that one of them was staring downward as the happy pregnant chatter proceeded and I immediately resented 'the Mommy club' even more and found myself unknowingly fiddling with my infertility awareness necklace.

It's like this stupid exclusive clique in high school for girls who can only afford a certain brand of jeans. It is not based on deserving or merit, merely on whether you're lucky enough to come from a family with enough money to purchase this item. And if you just happen to scrape up enough to buy a pair one day, they all of a sudden invite you to all of their parties. You find yourself on the inside, but look around and realize that all of your girlfriends who you've left behind and are still working hard at gathering enough money just to buy one pair of jeans are far more deserving of this inclusion than any of these new friends and you suddenly begin to feel less enthusiastic about the whole 'instant inclusion'.

Perhaps it's a flawed analogy, but in many ways, it's how I feel. It's a combination of survivor's guilt, loyalty to my infertile sisters who are still struggling, and fear of embracing this new stage. I am not consciously trying to deny myself any joy in our little one, but moving from one land to the next is just not an option yet. I'll say it again: pregnancy after infertility and loss compared to 'fertile' experiences will never be the same. And yet still, after 5 years of hell, I wouldn't trade where I've been and most of all, where I'm going.

We Have a Live One!

2009-04-30T19:54:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to say that the ultrasound went great and was followed by the most amazing shower of relief. Even if it is only a temporary peace of mind (as I undoubtedly will start the cycle of freaking out in a little over a week's time again-I have it on a timer), I'll take it! The peanut filled the screen and has pretty much outgrown the dildo cam! Even crazier still is that it now has a distinct human profile, which was simultaneously creepy and amazing. But the fact that the little heart was beating away and that she/he was moving it's now long limbs this way and that gave me the most amazing security, something that has been foreign for quite awhile.

I will say this, though. I think the nurse practitioner thought I was totally bat shit crazy. As soon as she came into the room, I started crying and telling her how scared I was, giving her an unprompted miscarriage history, which she was already aware of. I'm not even sure we got as far as normal greetings before I started in with the waterworks. She got a panicked look on her face, thinking something must've happened, but no, you see, the lady is just crazy. I looked over at Mr. S who looked just as startled. You see, this is unlike me. While I'm not exactly stoic, I also rarely wear my heart on my sleeve, especially for strangers, but in the course of communicating how anxious I was, I also inadvertently communicated that I've officially lost it. Oh well. At least I can say that after today, whatever it was I lost, I got it back.

The Ghost of Miscarriages Past

2009-04-29T19:02:00.000-07:00

The more I step into the future, the closer I am to reliving the past. I've been avoiding writing at all for the past few weeks for fear that revealing my feelings and most importantly, my fears, will make them come to fruition. I realize now that I am no longer dealing in logic. Instead, this experience is becoming a practice in pure memory.

Tomorrow is another ultrasound to save my sanity and I am TERRIFIED. Yes, that deserved nothing less than all caps. The logic leaves when you realize that not only have I not experienced anything that would make me believe this pregnancy has come or is coming to an end, but that my symptoms are still in full swing for the most part. And no bleeding means good, right?

Wrong.

With my first pregnancy, I reached an ultrasound at 10 1/2 weeks wrapped in the false security that no bleed=awesome. Weeks upon weeks passed as I carried around my dead baby. I was cruelly allowed to get close enough to smell and almost touch that 12 week mark. And then one day, nothing. All gone. No warning. So, yes, I am simply terrified of the silence with which my last longed for child disappeared from my grasp happening again. And most importantly, I am terrified of what it would do to me and whether I would have the strength to re-experience it. I greatly underestimated how large of a shadow my first loss would cast on future pregnancies.

The stakes feel higher. I let myself believe this time, something I thought I might never do, potentially creating a farther distance to fall. I mean, so far, everything has been perfect-the levels, the growth, the heartbeats-a type of perfection and progress an infertile girl is simply not used to. Maybe is suspicious of. It feels too good to be true. I'm not used to things going right. I mean, am I really someone who could have my dream? Who deserves her dream? My beginnings and later, infertility and loss, assured me that I was not someone who would ever have her fairytale ending, so how could I possibly think that I could fool the universe now?

I have never experienced a panic attack, but if I came close, I can count two times this week it happened. Mr. S. seems to think it's pregnancy hormones, but part of it is the exhaustion of living in constant fear. I walk around waiting for the punch line, the imaginary voice once again saying, "ha! fooled you again sucka!" I'm tired, but still strangely enough, grateful. If I could endure the pain of infertility and treatment for a child, then I would gladly have a million panic attacks for them as well. So, if this is what I must experience, so be it. I just really hope and pray that all this worry is for nothing.

PG Stuff

2009-04-15T09:32:00.001-07:00

At the risk of sounding positive (whose blog am I reading??), we had our 6th (yes, you read that right) ultrasound yesterday and as always, despite my heart pounding terror sitting in the waiting room, it did not fail to astound. Of the 5 we had previous, only 2 were actually prescribed. The first extraneous one was just for peace of mind because our RE rocks and allows such things and then almost 2 weeks ago, we had a bleeding episode following a session of insanely tame sexy time which prompted an 'emergency' ultrasound at my HMO (emergency as in I was freaking out, despite the fact that the bleeding had completely stopped).

My HMO, in all their big corporate 'let's save a buck or two at the expense of up-to-date care' suckiness, had the shittiest machine imaginable. After being spoiled by the crystal clear images at the RE's office, we could barely see the flicker of a heartbeat with the HMO and in fact, the practitioner couldn't even identify the head from the bum or the source of the bleeding, so you can imagine that when my RE offered me another appointment later that day, I snapped it up. Yes, 2 ultrasounds in one day, but if it means sanity, then sign me up.

The equipment was world's different. Not only did we see the head, but we also saw the newly emerging limbs, the umbilical cord and best of all, movement. We also spotted a blood clot far away from my uterus that was likely the source of the bleeding. Thankfully, it's since resolved itself (I hear this can be common for pg women due to increased blood flow). It was the first time that I really started to grasp that there is a strong likelihood that at the end of all of this, we may actually have a baby.

We officially graduated from the RE's last week and had our first OB appointment yesterday. This was significant for us in a number of respects. During our last pregnancy, we were 'graduated' at a mere 6 1/2 weeks. There was an entire month between that ultrasound and the one I got at my new OB's and by then, the baby had been long gone. So, you might be able to imagine my utter co-dependence on my RE. Firstly, they have been AMAZING. Even on my week of 3 ultrasounds, they never made me feel as if I was a burden or completely over-the-top in my anxiety (which I probably was). They held our hand, spent time discussing everything, so when it was time to leave the nest, I was afraid. I mean, in my past experience, leaving RE=bad things. So as we sat in the OB's waiting room, I know that the last time we had been set free was still at the forefront of both of our minds. I could see the other waiting room as if it were yesterday. Thankfully, as we decided to go with a provider covered under my PPO rather than my HMO (and yet still in the middle of being double-covered I still never had IF coverage), we will likely never step foot into that other waiting room again.

At 9 weeks, 3 days, our little bean is measuring at 10 weeks 1 day and moving, twisting and waving up a storm. I was so relieved that I was seeing life on a screen outside my OB's office, that I actually screamed a few times (yes, when I get excited, I squeal like a little girl). I know that it was all in relief. My baby is alive. That's all I can think. I can barely attend to some of the details others were catching because of the joy I felt in just seeing proof that he/she had found a way to exist beyond the RE's office. At that point, it felt real. Of course, as one gets farther away from that experience, it begins to revert back to the surreal feelings bordering on disbelief. After explaining my heightened chance for insanity without frequent feedback, the NP gave me the option to come back when I want for an ultrasound. Awesome. I've found another enabler. Now I don't feel so lost outside my RE's doors. I do wonder, will there ever be a week during which I'll feel confident enough to not have an ultrasound to reassure me? Probably not, but I can say that compared to a few weeks back, I'm in a much quieter, calmer place.

An Infertile Pregnancy

2009-04-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

I have penned the draft of this blog a million and one times in my head, and each time I am faced with the competing dilemmas of the fact that there is simply too much to say and that I am not quite clear on where to go with this blog at the moment. I have always felt that 'if' I ever did get pregnant again, I would create a separate pregnancy blog. But I would never be naive enough to feel that at 9 weeks this one is for sure, so just as I'm not leaping out my front door buying onesies and strollers yet, I'm certainly not going to devote an entire separate blog to something that could still potentially be more of a memorial. I know, ever the positive Patsy. That's the infertile in me, folks. You see, yes I may be pregnant, but that's not where the story of infertility ends for me.

In fact, the farther I progress into this pregnancy, the more I envy those to which it came easily. I wonder, does their heart pump uncontrollably the second before they look at every piece of toilet paper inspecting it for blood? Do they question whether every twinge will begin a process that ends in another dead baby? Do they look at events several months in the future and feel the need to preface it, "If I'm still pregnant"? I wonder, do they sit in the OB's office awaiting their appointment, in half panic, with the memory of what a practitioner's face looks like when they discover your child has died seared into their memory and praying that they'll never see it again?

Or do they only imagine what their child will look like? How they'll decorate the nursery? What sex they'll be? What they'll name them? I won't lie and say that as the ultrasounds pass by one-by-one, these things have not flittered through my mind, but I wonder what it would be like to have these thoughts dominate. I know of someone who will be in a wedding in September with me. While she is not yet pregnant, she has announced she is trying and is so confident in her future pregnancy that she is already making plans to have a maternity bridesmaid's dress. As of now, I am pregnant and yet, I have requested to postpone any dress plans until at least June. How I wish I had the same blind confidence.

This is not to say that those who conceived easily do not have any of these worries, but coming from a place where for years nothing went right, I believe it's harder to imagine that they ever will. I'm getting there, though. Bit-by-bit, but I'm afraid to let go. It's like if I believe too readily, than perhaps this in and of itself will result in heartache. Oh, what a number infertility has played on my mind. For all of the things it has given, it does still remind me that it is something never to be ignored. It will always be there, threatening to take even the small victories. I hope that some day, I will finally be able to just 'be'. One step at a time, I guess.

Mr. S: New Blog! Check it Out!

2009-04-03T14:04:00.000-07:00

No need to accuse me of being one of those chicks who got what she wanted and is now hitting the road and leaving her infertility blog in the dust. That couldn't be farther from the truth. First, I have not yet gotten what I wanted (and until I leave a hospital with a live child this will continue to be the case) and second, I suspect I will have many continuing bones to pick with infertility well into my older years, regardless of how this all ends up. I have much still to discuss, but before I somehow muster the alertness to do so, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. S's brand spanking new infertility blog: Two Peas Waiting for Our Pod, or as Mel from Stirrup Queens calls it, the elusive male point of view. Enjoy, and in the mean time, I swear I will stop being a bad little blogger at some point!

Silenced

2009-03-11T20:37:00.001-07:00

First of all, sorry for not keeping up with commenting/reading on your blogs. Life/work has been a little bit crazy. So begins my saga...

Often silence from me signifies bad things (or possibly laziness). That's how this initial silence began. Last Tuesday night, I began cramping and spotting. Fearing the worst and yet still hoping for the best, I was finally met with one gush of bright red blood and immediately I knew it was all over. The wait for my beta or peeing on a stick would be unnecessary. I was in tears by the time I left the bathroom and I spent the night holding Mr. S in the midst of yet another bone crushing failure. I couldn't possibly begin to tell anyone at that point in time. I was too saddened to form words.

That was the last of the bright red blood. What followed was more cramping and spotting that began to subside and eventually, disappeared. Still, amidst my confusion I resumed my normal caffeine habit, prepared myself for plan B and awaited AF.

Fast forward to Friday night. One of my best friends was to arrive in town. Her sole purpose: to help me drink so much I would be floating by the end of the night and not even remember what IVF stands for, but then her flight was delayed by three hours. By then, all cramping and spotting had disappeared. I hadn't POAS and the beta was scheduled for the following morning, so I decided with the extra wait time to buy a few pee sticks and finally put this wait to rest. This would allow me to start drowning myself in Mr. Margarita a day early and also to see my negative right there in the flesh without audience participation. So, before Mr. S arrived home, I peed on that god forsaken stick to mark my final farewell to IVF #1 and within 30 seconds I saw:

Pregnant.

Yeah, right. Surely the 'not' must've gotten clouded by the excess of my super beta-free urine. So, I chugged several glasses of lemonade and by the time Mr. S got back home, it appeared again:

Pregnant.

Still, a girl with a history such as mine is not prone to wild, fanciful thoughts of onesies and nursery patterns at this point. I've seen it before and have no baby to show for it, and surely the cramping and blood couldn't have been a sign of good things to come, right? Saturday morning came and my doctor called with shocking news. The beta was 190 and the progesterone was 56.4. Shocking because I was not expecting those numbers. At all. Apparently my estrogen was so high she instructed me to discontinue the E.strace altogether. Now, these sound like great numbers, but it's even more significant to me when you consider what my numbers looked like almost a year prior during a pregnancy that struggled for weeks to stick. My beta at that time was below 20 (they never gave me the exact number but indicated I 'might' be pregnant), with a progesterone level of 9.4. While everything eventually doubled and the progesterone slowly rose to 'low normal' levels, it was ominous to begin with. This is not to say that numbers dictate everything. People with the lowest of betas can still see their way to a healthy baby and alternatively, people with seemingly great numbers can be met with loss. Nevertheless, my latest results were heartening.

And the little bleeding/spotting/cramping? The doctor said that she secretly likes when people call with those complaints before the beta as it is often a sign that things are going right rather than wrong. I did cramp quite a lot with my last pregnancy during 'implantation' (and had actually believed that AF was on her way then, too), but no matter how brief, I wasn't expecting the gush of red blood. I swear, just when I thought I was an IF master, I keep learning something new.

So the follow-up beta was 573. Tripled. Doc cautioned me that it could be a single or twins, but obviously you can't jump to conclusions based on numbers alone. Hey, I'll take what I can get. So here I sit, pregnant again, now silent from trying to process everything and trying to throw caution to the wind and just be happy in this moment. But the truth is, I'm terrified. I must exist these next few weeks on faith alone. I want this so, so badly and can't imagine the possibility of life after yet another loss. But as my doctor said, at least I'm in the game and for that, I am grateful.

100

2009-03-02T13:40:00.000-08:00

Welcome to post #100! There was a point in time when I first started blogging last July that I was having to restrain myself from posting multiple times a day. I mean, it was getting ridiculous, folks. I actually began thinking in 'blog' speak. Part of the reason for gratuitous posting was that I had the summer off to dilly and dally as I pleased (yes, now I envy myself for it) and the other part was that I had a lot to get off my chest. Now, 100 posts, a fantastic on-line IF community and an amazing group of real-life IF friends later, and I no longer feel as compelled.

This is not to say that I don't need and value my blog, but that I have processed so much emotion related to IF since then that while I still have more to say, the words don't come as urgently, or rather, the need comes in waves and is no longer the unending stream it once was. Nevertheless, I still need you, my beautiful blog and I still need you, my beautiful on-line buddies. Days like today remind me of this.

I've also been quiet lately because this has effectively been the most trying, mind-f%$*ing 2 week wait I have ever experienced. Every day that has pushed on since my transfer has made me feel more and more like I am completely losing my grip on hope. Not just hope for this cycle, but for all future cycles. Obviously this is not a new concept for me. Since the beginning of getting out 'the big guns', I've felt increasingly hopeless and I long to move on from that feeling, in one way or another.

I know what has made me feel this way: infertility. I am infertile. Even after almost 5 years, after 1,000 conversations discussing it, that statement still has the power to jar something deep in my chest. And my infertility has taught me to always expect the fall...too well. And there is nothing like day-after-day of prodding and sticking and pills and measuring and lab coats and bruises to make you feel so...ill. And to make you feel as if there is no cure. And then, at the end, all of the blood, sweat and tears, all of your hopes and dreams rest on one little blood test and no matter how much you try to will those beautiful embryos to grow and to stay, and no matter how much you've set the stage, they do what they will. I am powerless.

When I did my first IUI, I was pretty damn convinced that it was going to work. How I long for that initial naivete. Even if it makes the fall harder at the end, it will at least soften some of the edges of my steely jaded exterior. I sit, bracing myself, expecting the worst and no longer hoping for the best. I hate that. While I always intellectually grasped the very real and likely outcome of my first IVF failing, I never realized how terrifying that would be to face until I stood at the door, waiting for it to approach.

Day 5 Complete, Currently PUPO

2009-02-26T20:29:00.000-08:00

From the very beginning of this cycle, long before the first syringe touched my bruised abdomen, I said that no matter how many eggs were retrieved, I wanted at least 2 to transfer and 2 to freeze. While I would have been thrilled with more, I had my mind steadfastly pinpointed on this minimum. However, after learning that only 4 eggs fertilized, I was pretty certain that this hope would not be fulfilled and braced myself to forfeit one of my frozen cycles on s.hared r.isk. That is until they called me this morning and let me know that I was still 4 for 4. Miraculously, all of them made it to blast!

My expectations were exceeded. While this does not determine the outcome, I am still grateful that we have come this far. My worst fears are allayed somewhat. I came into IVF terrified that my eggs would not stand a chance. I mean, IUIs give you very little information other than the fact that you can collect BFNs faster than OctoMom can accept government handouts. Still, this experience was harder than I realized it would be. It was a true roller coaster, and, of course, continues to be.

When my doc called me this morning, she happily told me that the lab put a smiley face on the final report, which they rarely do. It's these little things I appreciate. After biting my knuckles through the blinding, burning need to pee, and after my embies decided to not leave the comfort of the catheter on the first try, they finally settled nicely into my fluffy triple layer where I hope they will find the accomodations pleasing enough to set up house for the next 8-9 months.

So, without further ado, our two dead sexy rock stars:
Our other two stars needed a little more time to grow up and will continue on to day 6 before they determine for certain whether freezing will be an option. I really hope so. In the mean time, I am officially PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise). Man, it's going to be a LOOONG 9 days...

The Current Break Down

2009-02-24T17:36:00.000-08:00

It could be better, but it could me much worse at this point:

13 eggs retrieved
7 mature :(
4 fertilized
3 of them are grade 1 (my clinic's version of super duper great) as of day 3
1 is grade 1.5 (it's like an A- rather than an A+, not too shabby)
Day 5 transfer scheduled on Thursday
Putting back two
And PRAYING that I'll have something to freeze!
Stay strong embies!

I hate how this is a numbers game. I've never been good at Math!

Longing to Believe in My Miracle

2009-02-20T19:48:00.001-08:00

I have been quiet as of late. Not sure what to write, but sitting here on the eve of my retrieval, I finally feel compelled to do so. This, my first IVF, has left me feeling a mixture of emotions:

Deeply disappointed at my body's poor response,
But not surprised.
Embarrassed...
And more infertile than ever.

At last count, and after many dosage increases, I had 13ish mature eggs at best (17 counting the little guys who will never be). My doctor was surprised by my slower-than-average response and while I prophesized that this would come to pass, I had no evidence to prove that it would be the case other than a deep intuition. Of course, then again, I had no evidence that I would miscarry last June other than my intuition and that happened as well. I think it's safe to keep listening to myself.

The feeling that this IVF was a lesson in futility and at best a 'trial' run to demonstrate my response for future cycles deepened as the days progressed. I suppose my absence here was an attempt to disconnect from that disappointment, but with each and every day I showed up for blood draws and ultrasounds, I was reminded. Nevertheless, I had so many saving graces along the way, the first being my non-blogger IF friend Sarang, the most thoughtful person on the face of the planet. I can't count the number of times she has surprised all of us IFers with thoughtful, hope-filled gifts. This time was no different. On a day when I learned that the doc postponed my retrieval by yet another day (3 days total), I got a package from her wrapped in a pomegranate ribbon. Inside was a beautiful silver necklace with two pomegranate beads, a pomegranate ribbon charm and a silver pendant engraved with 'miracle' dangling on the end of it. The enclosed card to me was simple:

"I believe in your miracle"

Insta-tears.

She believed and at once I realized, I did not.

When I think about all of this pain and effort, I don't think, "Hey, at least I might get a baby out of this." Instead I think, "This is necessary to move on. I must do this to accept that I will never have the child I've so long dreamed of."

So when you realize that others hold out more hope for you than you do yourself, it is powerful. It's powerful that friends I met just a handful of months ago have so much care and concern for me, so much understanding, many times more than friends I've known for years and it's powerful that I've allowed myself to give up, at least at this moment in time. Thank God for them.

When this is all said and done, I have big plans that I hope I will honor. If it's positive, well then, I guess my big plan will have already been put into place. Hopefully it's a plan that will stick (the words of someone who has obviously met loss). If it's negative, I think it might be time to take a break. I will no longer require myself to be a constant human petrie dish on a mad race against some undefined clock. I will take a moment to breathe, perhaps a small handful of months, and enjoy what it's like to no longer be a pin cushion constantly under the influence of artificial hormones and two week waits. I'll take a break from wondering how to explain my way out of a meeting because of a last minute ultrasound and I'll not pay attention to every single twinge in my body. There will be no pills to take, no shots to administer. And I'll do something about the 20+ pounds I let myself gain in grief. I'll try to begin to reverse that deep disappointment in myself. I planted it so deep that I know it will be hard to dig out, but I have to begin somewhere. Now is as good a time as any.

As you might be able to tell, I'm tired. No, exhausted. I'm coming off the end of 5 months of continuous treatment, still grieving my beloved dog, my lost baby, and I'm ready to turn my tired mind away from the singular focus that is infertility, even if just for a moment's time, knowing that this particular journey is not quite over...yet.

City Times and IVF

2009-02-09T11:15:00.001-08:00

Great success! I have not yet gone officially bat shit crazy. No shaving my head, no running down the street naked singing show tunes (good news for the general public). In fact, after a few days on the Looneypron, my workload and mood swings simultaneously subsided, leaving me to suspect life circumstances as a major contributing factor. I am now on day 3 of stims and so far, so good. At least as far as the side effects go (I don't notice any except for a little cramping/bloating). Luckily, I found a way to get in some relaxing activity this weekend in order to counteract any mood induced states waiting for me on the horizon.

Mr. S. and I, accompanied by our dog, escaped to San Francisco (a town that we visit often but never tire of). While there, I had a productive and wonderfully relaxing acupuncture appointment and as I suspected, my 'gut' may be hindering my fertility and causing some auto-immune issues. What can I say? If fried foods and candy are the devil, then I am having a diabolical love affair. I often enter a double edged sword territory when I'm stressed, because this is the time I both crave these foods and also have the most trouble digesting them. So, after my wonderful appointment during which my liver was more or less described as the unwitting victim of my lifestyle choices, I proceeded to pour a mixture of cupcakes, martinis, sweet potato fries, and calamari down my throat that evening. It was quite simply, divine. I will say though that this was my last hurrah until I either receive a BFN or deliver a child. My money is obviously heavily on the last one, but if the former were to occur, Mama needs to start fitting back into her pants again for heaven's sake.

It is still surreal to think that I am in the middle of an IVF cycle. Of course the multiple daily shots help bring me into this reality, but all the years I have spent on this ride have consisted of futile attempts to not go 'all the way'. I was walking around first base preserving my IVF virginity for longer than should have been tolerated. If IF were my boyfriend, he would have dumped my ass long ago, but hey, everyone needs to get to where they're going in their own way. Consider me deflowered.

Now here I am and I am astounded at how negative I am. I mean, I'm no glass-is-half-full type of girl to begin with, but I believe no less than:

1. This IVF will not be successful. BFN-already predicted here.
2. This medication will do little to jump start my ovaries into producing a quality or quantity worthy of this effort.
3. And in fact, I will never have a child of my own.

Do any of these beliefs have any basis in reality or even history? Well, as is often the case with my illogic-prone brain, not really. Of course, any one of them is a possibility, but I have gone beyond this and have already embraced them as my reality. I just can't possibly imagine becoming pregnant again or at most, actually delivering a child. This vision has been completely wiped clean in my brain. So you can imagine what an act of futility this IVF feels like. Not exactly a message of hope I realize, but it is what it is. This is so telling of how long I've been on this journey, how many years of failure I've been met with.

If this cycle is unsuccessful, I will be taking a break because I'm finally realizing that I should have done so before embarking on it. I have been in consistent treatment since October, completing 3 IUIs and 1 IVF in the span of 4 months and quite frankly, I'm exhausted. I thought it would be good to keep with the forward movement but if this one is yet another failure, I think I will need time to lick my wounds.

Looney on L.upron?

2009-01-30T16:54:00.000-08:00

I plan on getting up to date on A LOT of blogs this weekend. In the mean time, has anyone ever experienced mood swings on L.upron? I suspect that I was already in a state before taking it and just a little while ago I found myself crying uncontrollably over my dog growling at another dog (which never happens). As soon as Mr. S. gets home, he's going to take one look at me and blame the L.upron, but I suspect it's all of the other things happening, too. Dang, if I respond like this to one day of L.upron, what the heck am I going to be like on all the other medications? I'm so screwed. If I have a job by the end of the month, it'll be a flipping miracle.

What have you ladies done to curb the hormonal nose dives?

Breathe

2009-01-29T17:43:00.000-08:00

There's this ongoing joke amongst some of us IF girl's Facebook profiles that we've forgotten how to breathe or at least, don't have the time to. It's a leftover tribute to our increasingly annoying and insane mind/body instructor (who I've yet to pay real 'tribute' to, but will soon) after so many stomach turning sessions of her forcing us to meditate on our breath. Sadly, though, it's becoming less and less of a joke for me.

I am so stressed out, I am literally forgetting to breathe. I'm one of those people who keeps audibly sighing throughout the day as an involuntary attempt at getting enough oxygen to my sorely depleted brain. In the middle of stalking my UPS guy who should arrive any minute with the meds I need to begin NOW, I have been shuffling my schedule to acommodate my new part time job (yes, I got it), my multiple appointments for IVF, and the many other obligations I can't imagine having enough daylight for. Jury duty, food poisoning, in-laws staying over, multiple daily meetings, headaches, out-of-town conventions, friends coming in from out-of-state, birthday parties, dinner parties...can I just get a break, world? Will I ever learn how to say no? And worst yet, is all of this stress a possible BFN sentence for my upcoming IVF?

As you can see, there's only so much I can handle on my plate. It's all hunky dory until that last piece gets added and tips the scales. It seemed everything was manageable until a few weeks ago, right around the time I said goodbye to my dog, started my BCPs, and interviewed for the job all in the span of five days. I applied for that job in November and only heard from them mid-January. Great. It was as if the universe knew this was the one and only time I didn't want all of this and then heaped a big helping onto my plate.

I think the worst part of this is the people who keep expecting more and more, whether it be work or otherwise, requiring split second reactions and all of my energy devoted to them when I'm barely keeping my own head above water. I deeply resent it. I need to focus on my own priorities and as most women in this society are custom tailored to do, I automatically feel guilty for letting even a whisper of obligation slip. Well, for the sake of my dreams, for the sake of myself, I think I might be selfish this one time. I think I might say no or not return a phone call at the snap of a finger. There are plenty who won't like it and for that I say, too bad. It's time to finally take a breath.

Eight's Quite Enough

2009-01-28T18:15:00.000-08:00

Really responsible article about the octuplets in which they completely avoided the 'OMG fertility treatments are the devil!' stance. And better yet, my doc was interviewed...and she rocks!

IVF #1 is officially underway

2009-01-20T17:56:00.000-08:00

And in the middle of grief over my sweet dog and nausea from my BCPs, I somehow made it through a job interview this morning, albeit missing some sprigs of coherency. (it's just a part-time gig to supplement IVF costs--that is, if I get it) Nevertheless, the fact that I made it through without crying or retching should earn me a gold medal, no?

By the way, thank you so much to all of you who expressed your condolences. I was so touched and grateful. I love my online buddies!

Farewell Sweet Girl: Kyra, my dog, 1995-2009

2009-01-19T14:30:00.000-08:00

Tribute video to Kyra (best on high quality) or watch it here (text is hard to read, though):

Almost eight years ago, Mr. S and I arrived at the humane society in search of a companion for our dog when we found an unlikely candidate. She was a 5-7 year old Australian Shepherd (her age is still somewhat of a mystery) who hadn’t seen a comb in weeks and had been sitting in her cement cell after having been abandoned on the shelter doors almost a month earlier. As soon as we opened the door to our car, she leapt in and didn’t look back. When we cleaned her up, she was beautiful, with a full, shiny multicolored coat. Upon hearing this story, you might think that she was lucky to have gotten a second chance at life, but after saying goodbye to her this Friday night, I can assure you, we were the lucky ones.

She was everything we could’ve hoped for in a dog and more. Within a month of adopting Kyra, we learned that she needed surgery to remove bladder stones, so, as struggling young newlyweds, we embarked on spending everything we had to ensure this. She had a number of health problems throughout her life-reoccurring bladder stones, seizures, but each and every dime we spent was well worth it. She became the calming force our puppy needed. She was the one beside him when he somehow found his way out of the yard. They were two dogs, side-by-side, traveling a cement path to a place we finally found our way to more times than we care to admit. She took it upon herself to be his protector and when they were apart, she became sullen and anxious. They were two peas in a pod and to see them separated makes her absence that much harder to grasp.

Kyra was the epitome of unconditional love, a loving and sweet dog who never used her teeth on anything but treats dropped to the floor. Within ten minutes of teaching her ‘roll over’, ‘shake’ and ‘sit’, she was our star pupil, with a thoughtful intelligence and understanding of language uncommon to most dogs. Along with this intelligence came curiosity. You could never come home with shopping bags without finding Kyra rifling through them with her striped snout.

Sensing her gentility, the cats adored Kyra and always attempted to cuddle with her, but were met with comical indifference every time. She was also a girl who did not like strife. Even when Mr. S and I were playing around, she got upset and tried to get in the middle of it. She stopped this several years later, but I recall being tickled by Jay on our bed, screaming in laughter and suddenly being met in the face with a protective snout.

My dog, Luke, communicates mostly with his tail, but being an Australian Shepherd, Kyra did not have the luxury of a tail (leading us to always ask, "where's your tail, Kyra? go find your tail!"). So, instead, she communicated with her eyes. Kyra had big, beautiful brown puppy dog eyes that gave her more expression than words ever could have. She adored car rides with the windows down and for many years, we called her our speedometer as she would gladly hang her head out of the window for speeds below 50, but anything above, she promptly removed her snout.

Her loyalty to us was unbending. Always underfoot, Kyra never left our side, no matter how tired she was. If I was in the office, Kyra was next to me. If I was in the kitchen, Kyra was next to me. Even during a loud New Year’s Eve party last year, she stayed sleeping in the middle of the living room. I attempted to bring her upstairs, but before I could turn around, she was right back down, sleeping in the middle of us. In her younger years, she consistently greeted us with a buck in the air, which along with her beautiful long nose and knowing eyes, earned her the nickname of ‘noble steed’. Even in her younger years, she would occasionally have the energy to dance for us. While many dogs become grumpy in their old age, Kyra was still the sweet, happy girl we had always known, albeit a little more stubborn, a little slower, and a little more forgetful. Still, even with arthritis, she still found the strength to wrestle with Luke and find her way up and down our many sets of stairs.

Her condition was sudden, in most respects and our goodbye happened only within a matter of hours of learning about her condition. After collapsing on her walk and not having the strength to get up, she was diagnosed with a tumor at the base of her heart, which had by then enlarged and filled with blood. Given the new tumor growths over her body, anemia, and her recent weight loss, it was likely that the cancer had metastasized throughout her body. We could have had more time with her, performing a risky heart operation that could have either ended in her bleeding to death or best case, given us a day or maybe a week, but the same events would have taken place eventually, likely leading to a heart attack. We didn’t want to put her through that or chemotherapy, which at most might have bought us a few months.

By the time we made the decision to say goodbye, she had stabilized somewhat and was able to walk outside and enjoy a cheeseburger with us. She followed us back in to the room and for a dog that we always tried to get to lay on her bed many times without success, she immediately made herself comfortable on the bed made for her without prompting. To see her in better shape was a blessing and a curse. I didn’t want her end to be spent in pain or trauma, but it fooled me into thinking that we had more time with her. In the end, while it was the hardest decision I have ever made in my life, it was the right one for her. She passed peacefully in both of our arms, her last vision being Mr. S, the guy she completely adored.

I can now safely say that I feel emotionally gutted, especially as I walk around my empty house and still see the signs that she was just here remain. Her hair is still on the carpet. Luke still looks for her food dish to clean out after his meal. I still listen for her steps down the stairs or think I see her shadow in the hallway. I still walk more slowly than I need to on walks because of her arthritis. And then I realize.

She’s not here.

Someday, these signs will disappear. I’ll no longer reach out of habit for the spoon to dole out her food or for two leashes instead of one as I take Luke for a walk. I’ll no longer have to wait for my dog to make laps around the coffee table in excitement before I can put her leash on. I’ll no longer have to put the light on at night on my way to the bathroom so I don’t have to trip over her laying on the floor beside me and I’ll no longer have to carefully maneuver my feet around the dog right below me as I get off the couch. After eight years spent with her, I wonder how long it will take until these little traces of her disappear. How long will it take until walks with Luke no longer feel disjointed or until the house no longer feels completely empty, even while filled with people and animals? But one thing is certain: she will never disappear from my heart. I will never forget the eight great years I was lucky enough to spend with this amazing creature. She was as close to being a child for us than if we had actually had one of our own. Goodbye sweet girl. You will be forever missed.

No Stranger to Failure

2009-01-12T15:15:00.001-08:00

At least not now. To be honest, although my life has never been a walk in the park for a number of reasons, I had never been met with such back-to-back defeat until I met infertility. Even when I was a mediocre student actress at best, I was good enough so that constant rejection was not in my repertoire, but it came once in awhile. Eventually I got a part, and all of the auditions that I suffered through after which I did not see my name on the final cast list became worth it. In fact, that slice of pie was that much sweeter the more times I'd been denied it. I looked around at the stars of my school who were almost always guaranteed a part and wondered if they were just as grateful as I was to be up on that stage. Infertility is no different.

The reason why I bring this up is because of yet another BFN I received today. It's funny how the mixture of hope and a history of failure can produce the simultaneous reaction of being both surprised and not surprised by that negative. I'm surprised because the odds had never been better on an IUI for us. We got pregnant from 3 follicles and 5 mil pre-wash sperm before and this time, 4 follicles and 100+ pre-wash sperm over the course of two days still couldn't do the trick. But then I'm not surprised because that would fall too neatly into place for me to have my very last IUI work, sparing us the expense and effort of IVF. It just doesn't work out that way for me. If I were not a glass half empty kind of girl before, I sure am now.

Nowadays, I just don't expect that much from life. In my early twenties, I still lived with the delusions that I could somehow make it to that white picket fence life I had always dreamed of as a child. I pictured my children on a bright green lawn hard at play, coming into a house full of laughter and serenity. In the middle of just trying to make it through, that vision has long since dissipated from my view. I have that kind of home to give, but no one to give it to. And being someone who has always lived years in the future, and thus has a hard time staying in the now, I am leaping to conclusions. If these IVFs don't work, what then? We have decided that adoption will be our next step and although it is a daunting prospect emotionally, the most difficult part of it is this: my God, how long will that take? Will I wait another 5 years for my life to begin? Will I ever learn how to love my life in the mean time? All questions that cross my mind on a daily basis.

I'm no stranger to failure. Most of us aren't. But as I cross the stage to get my IUI diploma, I'm hoping not to become too familiar with the next road because I know the last one backwards and forwards and for me, it leads nowhere.

Why Celery is Bad for Sperm and Other Delusions...

2009-01-11T21:04:00.000-08:00

I was unceremoniously bent over the lap of the patron saint of 'customer service' so many times over the holiday season I started to lose count. Everything turned out to be either a colossal waste of money, time, or both. It started with the 3 separate trips to pharmacies made on Christmas Eve for a medication whose price made me burst into heart palpitations at each and every counter I stood before. On top of that, one Christmas present intended for my MIL did not arrive in time, thus forcing me to the stores on Christmas Eve (horror of horrors). After a few miscellaneous issues here and there with returning shoes and of course the requisite health insurance woes that needed to be straightened out (never knew a beta could cost $300!), I went headlong into my first acupuncture appointment a few Saturdays ago and let me sum it up this way:

OM-freakin'-G.

Word to the wise (as I will never be accused of this now): Never, ever find your practitioners solely based on the fact that their website is pretty and boasts links to infertility/acupuncture research. And just because they have several credentials after their names and happen to be an in-network provider for your health insurance is not a guarantee of competence. The lady turned out to be pure wackadoodle quack. She did nothing less than the following:

Asked me, in such broken English that I had to listen so closely to decipher her words my ears were practically bleeding, "why you rush babies? you too young to rush." She was not satisfied when I explained our 4 1/2 year stint in infertility and being in the emotional space of 'just wanting it over with'.
Shook her head disapprovingly when I detailed our treatment history. Explained that 'when sperm no good, IUI not work' without ever asking any specifics on count/motility, etc. When I explained that one of them had in fact worked but ended in miscarriage, she said:
"Sperm no good, baby not healthy. If sperm bad, you have baby that sick...or stupid or miscarriage."
Shook her head disapprovingly once again (this was a habit of hers) when I told her that I was doing back-to-back treatments, stating, "It not healthy."
When I told her that we were married in 2000, she literally had to count on her hand to figure out how many years ago that was. If that wasn't enough, I got shit about getting married too young, except that she said, "why you get married at 20?" I was 22 lady. The math is not that challenging. My guess: her Dad's sperm wasn't too healthy.
Asked very little about my health. Instead, chose to focus on asking about Mr. S's health, who is NEVER EVER going to be an acupuncture client, especially after this story, so don't bother.
Told me we have sex too often and that is why "sperm not healthy." Wow. Didn't know sex actually led to male infertility. We better stop that right quick.
Instructed Mr. S. to stay away from celery as it "not good, stop sperm from grow."
Instead instructed Mr. S. to eat the head of boiled shrimp that weekend.

At that point, you think I would've walked out, right? Wrong. I'm too chicken s$%#. Plus I knew I was going to have to pony up the money either way you slice it, so I was there to get poked with needles and I was going to get what I came for.

She continued:

Got the dreaded 'book of babies' out to show me all the miracles she was responsible for. Apparently there were a lot of celery eaters in the bunch.
With the door hanging open, had a conversation with one of the male acupuncturists while I was on the table with my pants down around my hips.
Proceeded to heat up Chinese food and eat it in the room next to us while I lay under a circa 1969 heating lamp. Oh, and the door was still open-while other clients were walking back and forth in the hallway. Not exactly the aura of relaxation I always imagined acupuncture to be.

I assure you this is a true story. Granted, I have an active imagination, but you couldn't make this stuff up, even if you tried. Of course, I had enough semblance to not return and I haven't given up on acupuncture. I've heard too many amazing things about it from friends who are practically on the verge of proposing marriage to their acupuncturists. So, I'll try someone who has actually been recommended and let you know how it goes. Next up: tales about our Mind/Body for Infertility instructor that will equally shock and amaze you!

Due Date

2009-01-06T07:14:00.000-08:00

Today would have been my due date. Although the reminder of this hasn't reduced me to the crying, shriveled mess I long supposed I'd be, it still stings. Luckily, I will be joining many of my fellow IF sisters for dinner tonight and there we'll keep a candle burning for what could have been.

Catch Up

2009-01-05T19:38:00.000-08:00

I have been fine tuning my skills as a neglectful blogger and subsequent lurker for weeks now and as of today, I have my certificate of completion. It's not that I don't have a lot to say, because I do. I mean, my long windedness even takes me aback sometimes. I could talk about the crackpot quack of an acupuncturist I went to or our brief but lovely jaunt up to Seattle or the fact that my 2 WW is coming to an end on Tuesday, which will likely lead me into getting my IVF cherry popped. But, before I do, I have some catching up to do. So, first and foremost, let's start with an award, shall we?

Lovely Brenda over at No Regrets bestowed the Silver Lining Award that Murgdan originated on me:

This award is given as a thanks to those who, despite the darkness of infertility, can still manage to brighten up other's days with a laugh. I have to admit, the real comedy on this site originated from Mr. S., so I will inform him that he too has a silver lined uterus. :) Anyhow, thanks Brenda!

Ah, and there are so many fantastic bloggers who have already received this award that I would love to give it to because they manage to save me from utter ruin in this charade. But that would be redundant and lame if I gave it to them again, so forgive me if I totally cop out at the moment and pass it on instead to a few 'real life' IF buddies, Banditgirl and Sarang, neither of whom have a blog (at least not one that's public anyway). These two ladies somehow manage to leave me in stitches, whether it's talking about 'fire p.enis' (a reference to having interc.ourse after having just inserted P.rogesterone) or where to locate fertility 'aids' (toys of the adult variety). Even if none of us will likely get our babies the 'old fashioned way', we might as well have fun deluding ourselves and trying, right? Seriously, though, these ladies completely take the sting out of this shit hole of a place called infertility and so, I pass my silver lined uterus on to them. :)

Oh, and I have one other person I'd like to pass this onto as well. I just started reading The Angry Infertile and B's post today made me laugh out loud. I could soooo relate. She very much deserves some silver in her uterus as well.

And being the lazy arse that I am, I completely dropped the ball on the meme that Jendeis at Sell Crazy Someplace Else tagged me for. I know this has made its way around, so I will refrain from tagging anyone and let you pick your poison. I apologize ahead of time for my lack of brevity.

Rules:
A. Link to the person who tagged you.
B. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about you.
C. Tag 7 random people at the end, and include links to their blogs.

1. When I lived in San Francisco, I lived a block east from the projects OJ Si.mpson grew up in. Yes, the projects were still there, but as is often the case in the city, it was surrounded by new, modern housing. A total cluster f$%&, but that's SF for ya.
2. I was a Re.ba McEn.tire fan all throughout my childhood (since age 7) and managed to run into her at a hotel when I was 14. I completely freaked and when she hugged my friend and I, I didn't have enough semblance to say anything beyond, "Oh my God!" When we went backstage after her show that night (you used to be able to when you were part of the fan club), the first thing she did was tell the story of my freak out and how she could still hear me saying "Oh my God!" seven floors below us in the elevator. She was really sweet about it and although I'm no longer a huge fan, I really cherish this memory.
3. On a related note, although I listen to country music selectively now, I used to be a huge fan and started a country music club in my high school. There were only five members, most of whom were just my friends trying to be supportive. Let's just say, I was country when country wasn't cool.
4. Ok, I'm totally on a roll with this country thing, so let's keep going, shall we? In 3rd grade, my girl scout troop had a fashion show and while everyone naturally dressed up as Madonna, I decided to rail against the majority and go as Loretta Lynn and wore a long flowing skirt and country top. Once again, I was not the belle of the ball, and I knew I wouldn't be going in, but to thine ownself be true, right?
5. It may not come as a surprise to you then to learn that I actually wanted to be a country music singer as a child and even contemplated attending college in Nashville just to try my hand, but came to my senses, thankfully.
6. The thing I am most worried about the process of IVF has nothing to with the needles. I absolutely hate having to pee and not being able to and liken it to Chinese water torture, so I'm terrified of the part where you must have a full bladder during transfer. I am so going to pee on the table...smallest. bladder. EVER.
7. I have a top 5 list. You know what I'm talking about ladies. At the top of it is David Boreanaz of Bones and Angel fame. *drool* What a beautiful hunk of man flesh.

Alright, that's all I have for you now. I know, only 50,000 words this time. I must be slipping. :)

Go Big or Go Home

2008-12-30T13:42:00.000-08:00

As I walked out of my HMO following my IUI today, a number of things occurred to me. First, I realized that this is likely the last time I will step foot on that campus. After a year and a half, 6 IUIs, thousands of dollars, and one brief pregnancy later, it is very likely that I will walk away empty handed. While I previously prepared myself for this, I'm venturing way too close to those inflated expectations again. It's hard not to do with the outcome of this one. After going all out on this last hurrah, the final stats were:

4 mature follicles (a 5th *almost* there)
12 mm lining
First pre-wash Semen analysis for IUI on Monday: 75 mil, 50% motility
Second pre-wash SA for IUI on Tuesday: 43 mil, 30% motility

If numbers alone were a factor, I'd be bracing myself for quads. But as we all know, they're not.

The other thing that dawned on me was that if this IUI is not successful, there will be no question in my mind that I have undiagnosed and unexplained female factor infertility because after Mr. S's miracle pills, he is floating right smack dab in the 'normal' range. In essence, his IF seems to have been 'cured' for the time being. Mine, not so much. A lot of people have asked, 'why do you always say you have female factor in addition to male factor?'. True, no doctor has ever given this diagnosis and true, all of my labs have come back normal for two solid years, but in my heart I've always known that I was infertile, even before we were diagnosed. I know that seems crazy and I know you can't diagnose on 'gut' feelings, but I also strongly believe in intuition.

What difference does it make anyway? I mean, IF is about WE not ME, right? Well, like other unexplained IF cases, just because a problem has not been found doesn't mean that one does not exist. I feel that as long as it goes undiagnosed, it will go unsolved, thus diminishing our chances at expanding our family, at least through fertility treatments. The chances are great that I will never have my answer.

So, as I take my graduation walk, I'll try hard not to get my hopes up, but when your nurse practitioner is unknowingly being cruel by telling you that she 'feels really good about this one' and that she thinks you won't even need that IVF after all, you need to start bracing yourself for the crash and burn at the end cause this BFN, folks, just ain't gonna be pretty. And you think I would have learned by now...

Last, But Not Least

2008-12-23T17:20:00.000-08:00

It used to be that when an IUI was around the corner, all of my sights were fine tuned to that direction. It was the big event of the surrounding months, one that much of my mental energy was devoted towards. My daytime thoughts often included, "oh, just 10 more hours until I pop the c.lomid!" or "just 5 more hours until I trigger!" Now, as I approach IUI #1,000, er, #7, I'm barely remembering to shoot myself full of drugs each night. I laughed when the pharmacist gave me the option for a consult, thinking, "lady, you have no idea what an IUI pro I am. I have a PhD in insemination, bitches!"

Our IUI is a double one this time: double the injectable meds, double the insemination, and likely falling on Monday and Tuesday of next week. We're going hardcore. But it actually took me a moment to recall these details. Despite the fact that I've been down this road a million times before, I should remember because as it stands, this is the end of the line, the last straw before turning to IVF. I did this cycle knowing that when I looked back, the 'what ifs' wouldn't be there to nag me, that I wouldn't be able to wonder whether I had blown through tens of thousands of dollars before riding the lesser procedure well into the sunset. Well, the sun is almost below the horizon now and it's clearly time to move on. This IUI is my graduation walk.

I have very few expectations, I guess mostly because I have so much of my emotion devoted to my upcoming IVF. But I must say, I accomplished the goal I set out to reach. After we miscarried in June, I promised myself that I would do an IUI in both October and November and look into a December or January IVF. I did better than that. I somehow managed to throw an IUI into December as well. 3 cycles, back-to-back, without taking a breath. Make that four if you count our upcoming IVF, which we'll begin immediately after the BFN from this one. Ok, so meeting this goal isn't exactly getting the Nobel Prize in Literature, but it was gratifying nevertheless and seemed to have saved my sanity by mimicking forward motion. For a girl itching to take off, running in place is a better option than sitting, I suppose.

2008: The REAL Christmas Letter

2008-12-21T18:12:00.000-08:00

I have been somehow fortunate enough this year to not have received any of those annoying ‘year in review’ Christmas letters from the few families I am still in contact with. You know, the ones detailing their many vacations and achievements and decorated with pictures of smiling happy kids on beaches, at dance recitals and holding soccer trophies? You know, the ones that silently mock, “haha, this is not you, yet again”? I have long considered sending out one of my own to rail against the unspoken practice that these letters are reserved only for families with kids. But then I realized that:

1. I am way too cynical to do something like that and not have my bitterness come screaming across the letter and
2. What would I say? "Oh, yeah, and in June we lost the baby we had been trying for for 4 years and now we’re going into debt for IVF"? That’s the real story, right?

Really, even with those smiling happy families, Christmas letters are scrubbed clean of strife, but because so much of my year has been composed of this, any attempt at a letter would read nothing like a fairytale (unless Grimm was involved) or rather, would read like pure fiction. So, I’ve been wondering, what would the unedited, façade-free version of my letter look like? Well, I would guess, something like this:

2008: The Real Story

Hello friends and family! Wow, what a year 2008 was for us! You see, it kind of sucked. No, it really sucked! Sure it was punctuated with some saving graces, but generally speaking, the highs were breathtakingly high and the lows were digging through the dumpsters, crying on a nightly basis low. I guess bipolar would be a word used to describe it. After riding the roller coaster of 2008, I’m frankly glad to see it come to an end. What an understatement!

Just after ushering in New Years 2008 surrounded by wonderful friends and the love of my life, I was struck with a deep foreboding about the year that lay before me (please ignore the smiling faces). Now, don’t get me wrong, friends, I am not psychic, nor do I really believe in most supernatural occurrences, but I knew that especially in the middle of a celebration, one shouldn’t feel so unsettled about their future, but I was. Don’t let the picture fool you. Around the same time, Mr. S. was spending many sleepless nights, grey hairs, and 3 weeks out of each month traveling for a job he despised. Our start to 2008 was shaky at best.

Shortly after the New Year, we were given the news that our landlord was going into foreclosure and we had 6 weeks to vacate before the bank took over the property. Good times! In the middle of packing, a move that would signify the 7th in as many years, we went through yet another ‘procedure’, which was a miracle considering Mr. S’s traveling schedule.

Now, as you might have noticed, after 8 years of marriage, we are still without kids. It might not come as a surprise to you then that we are animal-collecting infertiles who actually spend all of our energy and money on achieving something that comes naturally to most couples. January brought yet another failed attempt at a life that I know of only through your Christmas letters and gray stirrups in a doctor's office.

Meanwhile, we were hit with more real estate news: the house we own in Idaho that was supposed to have renters in it until mid-March was vacated early and the renters defaulted on their last month's rent. So, we sent the case to small claims court, put the house on the plummeting market and waited. And waited. Meanwhile, Mr. S. quit his job in disgust and somehow by God’s grace, found another. And then, we moved. Mind you, all of this happened by the end of February.

And then, something entirely miraculous happened in April. File this under a breathtakingly high moment, a true saving grace. We found out that our 4th procedure of this sort was successful…we are pregnant! But unlike others who happily announce the news at birthday parties, we are quiet and cautious, especially given that our first week of pregnancy is spent on ‘miscarriage watch’ because of our low progesterone levels and our 3rd week is spent wondering whether I was exposed to Chicken Pox (I was not and am miraculously immune although I don't recall having it). However, our little bean pulls through and we are able to see a strong heartbeat. I am completely unfazed by the fact that our house in Idaho still sits empty, collecting dust and hemorrhaging money, because I am happy in the little secret that I am pregnant after all these years. But come Friday, June 13th, a day before my long-anticipated 30th birthday party, and 10 weeks into our little one’s short existence, that heartbeat disappears. File this under the lowest of the lows. It’s likely you were invited to that party, which was eventually canceled, and yes, this was the back-story. I am now terrified that this is the closest I will come to a birth announcement in a letter of this sort.

While your family was busy barbecuing and watching fireworks, I was sitting at home on my couch just a few weeks shy of watching my dream die, alone and numbed, eating too much and having also been rejected from the 4th of July party I was looking forward to whose invitation it took enormous courage to accept to begin with. At that moment, I had never felt more alone, so I made a choice and found Open Path where I met my very first 'infertiles', live and in person. And guess what? They're REALLY normal! Actually, they’re amazing! No horns, no green, scaly skin. I know that’s hard to imagine as a fertile person, but it’s true! I started an infertility blog soon thereafter. After connecting with several women traveling similar paths through these routes, I found unlikely and amazing friendships.

And after figuring that I'll never be able to have a baby, I gave my SUV to my Mom (who needed a car) and bought a completely impractical 2 door convertible that symbolizes my total lack of hope for a child at this point and is probably more expensive than what we should have gotten, but by then, I didn't give a shit about anything. In fact, Mr. S. and I got our first tattoos together to signify our loss, our hope, and our united front.

July also brought a trip to Vegas where we were able to forget about our grief for almost 2 seconds- a 2 second time period that was likely fueled by yard-long Margaritas. And yes, I did double-fist 99 cent margaritas as well. I don’t remember much of the trip for this reason. It was great! In August, I got a new job, scaling my previous commute from an hour to 6 minutes. Oh, and I conveniently forgot to mention that over the course of a few months, I managed to gain 10+ pounds.

In both October and November we were visited by two more failed attempts at your Christmas letter life and attempted to host Thanksgiving at our house with disastrous results. We should just stop pretending that we’re normal already, right? Our small claims court case against our former renters was finally settled, but once again, they defaulted, this time with the court. Our property manager is now after their wages, we took the house off the market and rented it out again, at a loss. Awesome.

Finally, we’re in December, a place I must say that because of my steady distancing from people as a result of our failed pursuits for a full family, I am visited by very few happy smiling families on the Christmas cards in my mailbox. Thank you for that. It is only more reinforcement for me to hide away. As I force myself to listen to Christmas music and decorate our tree, I am reminded that I will soon be borrowing a huge hunk of money to increase our efforts to build our family. I am both excited and terrified by this pursuit. I wonder to myself what it will be like to pay that bill each month if we are unsuccessful, but try to step into the new year with bravery and hope. Despite all that has happened, both good and bad, Mr. S. and I still have each other and in the face of such loss, our union is strong. Despite everything, I am more than ready to move on to a New Year and hope the next one will bring us all better fortune.

DH's Guest Post 2

2008-12-18T16:08:00.000-08:00

The Stink Eye
When we first got our kitty, Willow, Luke, our rat dog, was obsessed with her. I'm talking Single White Female obsessed, or maybe even Kathy Bates in Misery obsessed. Our poor little Willow was a scared, itty bitty kitty, and Luke would just not leave her alone. In Luke's defense (even typing those words left a bad taste in my mouth. This was the dog that would eat light bulbs, CD's, and a whole fallen hamburger in a single bite) all he wanted to do was just sniff her, but we just wanted to give Willow a chance to adjust to her new surroundings.

Remember the scene from Jurassic Park where the Velocoraptors would cock their head from side to side to show the audience that they were learning? Luke gave that exact same look when he'd figure out a way around a new obstacle we put in his path in order to separate the two. Just like the movies, the camera zoomed in on us, and I fearfully whispered "He's Learning!" Eventually, I sprayed him with a water bottle every time he approached Willow. It didn't take long for him to associate Willow with getting sprayed in the face. So much so that long since then he would take these long, carefully plotted arches around her just to get where he was going, giving her the stink eye the whole time.

What does this have to do with IF? EVERYTHING!

Much like Luke and the spray bottle, Infertility also conditions us. We take these long and round about paths to reach what should be a simple thing that comes naturally to so many people. We're still in the middle of our long dance, but even then, IF has conditioned us. We've learned a new vocabulary, new medical procedures, and creative ways to pay for things and deal with the stress. We've also learned that it can change every part of life, relationships, and even simple moments.

Almost Perfect, isn't
Shelby and I go to this Mexican food restaurant that serves the best margaritas. Ever. I know you're about to ask if I've ever tried the margaritas at your favorite restaurant, but don't bother. The only thing that make yours better would be if they were delivered by non-English speaking buxom vixens where the only language they knew was of the non-verbal variety, and if that were the case, I doubt my last blog post would have existed because there'd be a porno about it. (Never mind the fact that the cheap SOB wouldn't have picked it out anyway, but I digress.)

Things are almost perfect at this moment. We're sitting on barstools that have been used so much that their golden varnish has faded to white, and the tables are beginning to match. It would be a crime to replace them, they just fit. We're enjoying our second round of margaritas, and enjoying each other's company. (Ok, I admit it, it was my second, and I already lapped Shelby).

We're enjoying our drinks, chips and salsa, but there is a heavy air around us. Infertility is an interesting and cruel animal. All its victims are cursed with its eye of providence. It's all seeing, almost omnipotent. Things should be perfect right now. I'm drinking too many margaritas with the love of my life and we're enjoying each other's company, but the curse of IF reminds us that not all is right in the world. It's unfair. I'm angry that I have to say "almost perfect" and not "perfect." It dominates all aspects of life. How are we going to afford it? When do we stop? What if our IVF doesn't work? What if it does!? These are questions that only have answers when you're forced to answer them. I'll be happy to answer the last question, others, not so much. I worry about these questions as I take another gulp of margarita. Maybe the stars aligned, or maybe the drink is just strong, but it's cool, sweet, and salty taste made me realize something. While IF is always there, there are times where things aren't heavy, depressing or stressful. There are these rare and unexpected moments when IF grants us a reprieve.

AF, BFN, CD, DH, DPO, OMG, WTF!!!
It must be our unconscious mind helping us find ways to cope. Because there are these times where you just have to laugh, try to be light hearted and enjoy each other's company while talking about how ridiculous this path we've been conditioned to walk really is. I'm thankful for these moments. No matter how hard another negative test is, or swiping my credit card for expensive medication, I am reminded that I have power in this too. IF is not killing us, it's making us stronger. Our relationship is transforming into an even stronger bond, and sometimes, just sometimes, instead of focusing on the worries, pains, and trials, we talk about the ridiculous, almost funny parts of our journey. It's only a discussion that people who suffer this road know.

As we sit in this crowded Mexican restaurant, drinking margaritas, our conversation turns lighthearted. We start trying to stump the other person with the abbreviations that are common in this world. I impress Shelby with my IF vocabulary. I notice a few glances from people around us wondering what the hell we're talking about, but we go on. As lighthearted as it is, it is still unfair. I shouldn't have to know what AF stands for, I shouldn't have to know BFN, and I shouldn't have to be drinking margaritas because of ANOTHER BFN. As unfair as it is, IF doesn't win this time and drag us down. It doesn't sour my mood, or cause the many concerns over money, stress, and pain to bring us down. My mood is still light and the laughter of my wife as she's trying to get me to remember what "DPO" stands for is like a drug. IF does condition us to walk a long path, but it's still our legs that carry us through it. We've seemed to exhaust our knowledge of abbreviations around the same time Shelby sips her last bit of margarita. I fear that the lull in conversation will bring the heavy IF clouds, but we still have a reprieve. With IF terms being exhausted, I begin to recount the other things that I've learned in this world of infertility.

Salsa Seems Less Appealing When Discussing AF
There are things that I shouldn't have to know, and then there are things that I didn't WANT to know. I liken it to dating. When you first meet someone, you do everything in your power to woo the other person. You talk on the phone until 1 AM, you see each other every chance you get, you buy flowers, you hope to first base. Eventually, the formal "dates" taper off, the flowers are less frequent, and first base is just means to a home run (hehe). You can't point out where the transition took place, and soon there is no such thing as first base stopping at first base. The line between shouldn't and didn't is like that. IF has taught me many things, and most are things I shouldn't have had to learn, or know.

I shouldn't…

· … have to bang on the reproductive clinics door at 7:30 in the morning in order to be let in so I can watch bad porn and try to produce

· … want to correct my last blog post and state that the Asian porno was actually called "Slanted Eyed Honeys"

· … have to tell a doctor that I had sex yesterday and my count may be low today

I know…

· … it's really true that women who hang out together eventually get similar cycles

· …the dates of said women's cycles and that they are only a few days different from Shelby's

· …that there are ramifications to taking progesterone and that they can last up to two days after stopping.

· … AF's flow and consistency vary every month

· …and, in detail, what this month is like

· …and more importantly, it's not very appetizing to dip a chip into salsa while discussing it

I also know that there are so many more things that Shelby goes though that I cannot fathom. It's hard on me, but I can't comprehend how hard it is on her. What I do know, however, is that we're strong and even stronger together. We're using every opportunity to become closer, more in love, more connected to each other. We're conditioned, but we're also conditioning ourselves to become better.

Spray Bottle
Infertility conditions us; it's the spray bottle with an unlimited water source. We've been conditioned to walk this long arching path around every aspect of our lives. Our relationships, behaviors, and even, at times, our self esteem is forced to take these long and careful paths around our dream. It's unfair that I resent my cousin's newborn baby because, oops, they weren't even trying and got pregnant. It's cruel that I know the look on a doctor's face when you find out your baby has died. It's vicious that my wife hurts so badly and I can't make it better. How can I compete with that?

Luke was obsessed with Willow because she was so close but out of reach. He just wanted to introduce himself and get a good sniff in. That's all I want too. The scent of a newborn was once so close, but is still out of reach. We've been sprayed in the face so many times; you almost forget what you wanted in the first place. Disappointments, BFN's, changed relationships, it's just become the norm.

All I can say is to remind you that each of us has a spray bottle too and it is stronger than infertility. I know that infertility will never conquer the love I have with my wife. I know that as long as we have that, we have power too.

We'll find ways to forget the constant beat downs;

We'll find ways to come up with money;

We'll find ways to keep trying.

Infertility does not wield all the power. It will never be stronger than my relationship with Shelby. It may have conditioned us to walk this long arching path, but there have been rewards given to me regardless of why we're down this road. It's making me a better husband, stronger person, and if we're lucky, a much stronger father than I would have been without these trials.

Steel Magnolias

2008-12-14T19:04:00.001-08:00

I am sitting here just a week shy of my infertility brain post, where I waxed on about being miserable and such, and have come to realize that this is a true illustration of IF's roller coaster for me. One minute you're up, one minute you're down. I happen to be 'up' in this very moment, but find me in a day, or perhaps even 30 minutes, and you might find my roller coaster plunging it's way down into a dark tunnel.

I'm fully expecting my beta tomorrow to be yet another BFN. Why? Oh, I don't know, it could be that my HMO completely missed my ovulation or that I logically grasp the odds of 1:1,000,000. We however, did not miss my ovulation, but conception with just drugs and intercourse alone would be a flat out miracle for us. For that matter, conception with just IUI would be a miracle. Screw that. Conception with IVF would be a miracle and boy howdy, I'll take it any way I can get it. Even if it means forking over our life savings and then some *gag* *cough* (still clearly reeling from the price tag over here). And although I am expecting this BFN tomorrow, it will certainly be yet another story of the downward ride. Some BFNs are worse than others (I'm guessing this is especially true after IVF), but each and every one of them suck just the same, reminders that what I have been fighting and longing for is just that much farther away.

I must say, the more I ride this roller coaster, the more I realize that women who can survive infertility and live to tell about it are some of the strongest women on Earth, true s.teel magnolias (which I was in during high school-as Dolly Parton's character-ha!). If I am among them at the end of this ride, that is, if I'm not sitting in a psychiatric ward babbling to myself about failed cycles, I'll be pretty damn proud of myself. Speaking of which, I met with some of my lovely sistas in crime today for what has become an almost weekly Sunday brunch/lunch meeting during which we loudly and publicly discuss sore boobs, messy Progesterone suppositories, panty liners and REs positioning their heads too closely to our nether regions. It is fantastic! I always try to spy the look on the faces near us, but so far I haven't caught anyone looking curiously in our direction. If I do, I'll just have to laugh, but I won't even begin to censor my words. First, that's not my personality, and second, this is too good of a thing to edit. They are all my true saving grace nowadays.

If you'll recall a while back, October 15th was National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, a time during which we were all asked to light a candle in memory of the little angels lost to miscarriage or still birth. I believe we don't need a designated day to remember or to speak up, especially as the time calls for it. As I leave you, I am hoping that you'll light a candle for a dear IF buddy of mine who just miscarried after an FET last month. This was her first little angel and I am praying, the last little angel she'll have to say goodbye to. Keep her in your thoughts.

Can I Send My Parents the Bill for My IF Treatment Now?

2008-12-14T08:20:00.000-08:00

I didn't just grow up in a house of smokers, I grew up in a house of CHAIN smokers. The consequences? Well, both of my parents have severe emphysema, my Dad is on an oxygen tank, and THIS makes you wonder long and hard. As a child, I always promised my parents I would one day become the president of the American Lung Association. If I didn't have enough motivation to do so before, I might now.

(dang. the above article got pulled. in short, it was a study linking second hand smoke exposure as a child/young adult to both infertility and miscarriage)

HOPE

2008-12-12T19:08:00.000-08:00

There is just something about having a real, solid IVF plan in place with your doctor with actual dates and numbers that makes a girl feel more hopeful and less...infertile, if you will. Today, I met with my new RE and felt really good about everything. I spent some time freaking out over costs and plans, but at the end of the day, we have a chance. We have a real, solid chance of bringing home our child. Of course, there still exists that great big if, as nothing is ever a guarantee, but at this moment in time, it feels more likely than it ever has. Even if this feeling is only fleeting and even if it turns out to be misleading, let me bask in it for a moment.

I will 'throw' in an IUI in a few weeks and after that BFN (don't ya love that positive thinking?), I will immediately starts BCPs and head into a long L.upron protocol, with an estimated mid-February retrieval and transfer. We've elected to buy a package of 3 fresh and 3 frozen (s.hared risk), with a guaranteed 70% back if we don't bring a baby home, which will leave us enough to turn around and adopt. Of course, if we bring a baby home before using all tries, we're out that money, but I would be happy to have this problem. Financially, this will be a hurdle, but one that I am more than willing to make sacrifices for. Today, I feel like the universe gifted me something I've been missing for some time: hope.

Somehow Even More Blasphemous Than the Last

2008-12-09T19:42:00.000-08:00

How is it that THIS woman is able to get pregnant and have a baby and I am not? Seriously. The universe keeps mocking me.

Um, I Don't Think So.

2008-12-08T06:51:00.000-08:00

I beg to differ.

Infertility Brain

2008-12-07T20:20:00.000-08:00

I have started and re-started this post about a dozen times, each time in hopes the next attempt will sound less negative than the one before it. I'm sorry, but I will fail again. I find that I go through periods of time when I am standing solid, feeling supported and ready to take on the IF beast and I can safely say that this is not one of those times. I'm tired. Disappointed. At times, hopeless, and my head is cloudy. For Murgdan's F*%&^%n Fertile Friday, she posted about a colleague's claims of pregnancy brain and decided that she would lay claim to this as well, even though she herself is not pregnant. Brilliant. I read this and thought, "that's it! that's what I have! infertility brain!" It is a very real thing people. Believe me, I know. The fact that I somehow messed up pancakes this morning when the only ingredient needed was water should serve as solid and disturbing proof. Mr. S. spent half the morning laughing at my sad culinary fumblings.

Speaking of Mr. S., I realized that I have yet to comment on his post. First, one thing that you might not know is that he edited that...a lot, and I mean edited in the sense that what you see is PG 13, but he was definitely rocking the R rating at one point in time. Offending people is something we both do well at times, but I must say I'm rather proud of his solid self restraint. He toned the color commentary WAY down, especially when he gave me more specifics on the porn. Second, this post still makes me laugh. Mr. S. is just as funny in person, if not more so. But unfortunately, everything he wrote was not an embellishment for comedic purposes. I've been in that clinic (luckily our HMO switched their contract to a more reputable place) and it smelled just as foul and the receptionist was just as brusque as his post illustrated. In fact, I remember walking in to collect the sample for IUI #2, being slapped in the face with the odor and then barked at by the Russian secretary to present my driver's license. At a time when I was at my most vulnerable, I felt unwelcome, almost shamed, and shivered to think what it would be like if I were asked to 'perform' in such a place. Luckily, after slipping the sample in my bra, I wasn't made to go out the back door (which became the policy after the clinic was sued by someone who ran into an ex in the waiting room...so lame).

I am of the belief that not only is stress relevant for a woman's reproductive response, but a man's as well, so after being in that environment, I was sure our sample numbers and motility were even crappier. Boy was I right. Funny thing is, his numbers and motility have gone up since our HMO switched to another clinic, but he's also now taking supplements. Perhaps a bit of both? Anyhow, I am looking to commission Mr. S. once again for the male perspective, but he's at a loss for what to write. I'm sure it'll come to him...someday.

In the mean time, I am looking to find any way to survive the holidays without turning into a deranged and infertile Scrooge. I went as far as *forcing* myself to buy a tree, hanging Christmas lights and purchasing Christmas music on iTunes. It also helped that the support group I met with last week assured me that it was perfectly OK to skip a family get-together on Christmas in which Mr. S's cousin's newborn would be involved. I was all ready to skip Christmas with the family altogether, bite the bullet and go off with Mr. S. out of town for those days, until he told me that his Mom (best MIL in the world, seriously) let us know that she would arrange the family get-together with the new parents and baby on another day, a day we 'unfortunately' could not attend. And thus, my Christmas was saved.

And yet still, all I can focus on is January 6th. As I was hanging ornaments, I was thinking to myself that this shouldn't be so physically easy, hopping up and down chairs, inching between the tree and the wall. I should have had a round belly that made reaching and scooting and hopping difficult and I would have been so grateful for that discomfort. I should have been able to buy that 'my first teddy bear' I saw at the store the other day and I should be thinking about nursery placement rather than IVF funding. But then, this should be the case for us all. We should all be dealing with morning sickness or poopie diapers rather than follicle sizes and daily injections. I feel supremely disenfranchised, shafted by the universe. Ok, let's call it. I feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry for all of us. And while I spend my energy trying to count my blessings, trying to be positive, the universe (also known as Tara) gifts me a surprise, reminding me that I shouldn't throw in the symbolic towel after all.**

**just in case you're wondering, Tara has very generously offered some leftover Menopur that will save me HUNDREDS. Super duper awesome.

Pretend 2 WW

2008-12-01T13:16:00.000-08:00

I am beginning this "2 week wait" (and I put this in parentheses as it's really more of a joke) with a strong mocha in hand to signify my complete lack of belief in this cycle, which is truly justified this time around. Of course, the last time I had this same lack of belief, I helped myself to a Martini during that 2 WW and discovered that I was actually pregnant after all. That was very naughty, but when you're lying on the table after the baby batter injection and your nurse is patting you on the shoulder, looking over your piss-poor, barely-there semen stats and advising you 'do not pass, do not collect $200, go straight to IVF', well, a lemon drop Martini sounds pretty logical. A positive pregnancy test does not. Go figure. Hence the mocha.

Nurse 'Dumber than a bag of rocks', or Nurse DTBR, the one solely responsible for my wasted IUI, gave nothing but a sheepish smile and no explanation for my beefcake, likely already-ovulated follicle, terming the procedure as a 'late IUI'. Oh, do you mean, a 'useless IUI' that you completely f$%&ed up? She didn't seem at all moved by any of it, so I will respond with a strongly worded letter to the powers that be, something I know I can accomplish seeing as how I'm completely useless in person. The lady is lucky I came down off my homicidal, c.lomid-fueled state otherwise she would have met the same fate as the Bev Mo lady.

Nikki mentioned something about the big ass follie being a possible cyst. That is an issue, and one that was considered, but both doc and NP DTBR (in her infinite lack of wisdom) did dismiss this given that a cyst would not have continued to grow at the rate my follie did. They both concluded that this was an unusual circumstance in which my body had already chosen a dominant. So, how do we avoid this in the future? Well, no longer seeing nurse DTBR is one way. And another? If I have ANY reservations about a cycle, I'm canceling. I will not waste any more time, heartache, or money on chances that equal zero. I did that for years. It's time to move on.

Wasted

2008-11-30T10:40:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Mr. S. and I needed to get away from it all, so we did. We ended up in Napa on a beautiful day and for just a moment's time, standing in the crisp late Fall air with a Cabernet (or two or three) in hand, I almost couldn't remember what I was trying to forget. The list seems to be endless nowadays.

First, I am still in shell shock from Thanksgiving. It was, by far, the worst holiday I have ever experienced. I won't go into the details, but I will say that Mr. S's family was delightful. Mine, not so much. I spent the meal trying hard to ingest what lay on my plate, but not having the stomach to do so. It was dysfunction of the grandest proportions and as someone who desperately avoids drama and has worked hard at having a serene life and a home that can be looked upon as my ultimate haven, I was sickened by it all. Needless to say, I was happy to see it end. Sometimes, family is not all its cracked up to be.

Napa came on the heels of another grand disappointment. We were scheduled for our pre-IUI ultrasound Saturday morning and before we went in, I expressed a number of concerns to several people, including:

1. On cd 2, I had a follie that was already at 12. My fear was that my body, in all it's messed-up glory, had already managed to select a dominant follicle and that no amount of drugs could correct this. However, my NP assured me this was not the case.

2. Originally, my IUI was slated to fall on Thanksgiving day, but the clinic was closed. I asked the NP if there was any way to navigate around this (perhaps within a day or two) and after some calculations on a calendar and some changes in timing with my meds, she said it could be done and that we would instead have our IUI on the following Monday. Monday...four whole days later. I thought that was odd. I was worried that even with moving the meds around, we would miss ovulation. I indicated that rather than risking such a thing happening, I would prefer to skip the entire cycle. However, again, she assured me this would not be the case and being that I am not a medical professional, I deferred to her.

3. After asking for a higher dose of Menopur, the NP recommended that I do another round of C.lomid instead, as I responded so well to it previously. Despite my initial protest, I took her word for it.

So, I had questions and concerns that still felt unanswered. After this initial ultrasound, my fears compounded, but with everything else going on in my life, I couldn't dig deep enough for the energy to correct it. So Saturday morning rolls around and we meet with a doctor (a first in this clinic as we've always seen NPs).

And those suspicions of mine? Yeah. Every single one of them came true, including:

1. On 200 mg of C.lomid, I only had one mature follicle. ONE. No, I take that back, not mature, overripe (almost 26). I had 4 other follies around 12-13. The doc said the other ones would have grown more had my body not already chosen it's star.

2. Judging by the size of that beefcake, it is entirely possible that we have already missed ovulation. For the first time ever, we were instructed to go home and immediately have intercourse, despite the fact that this may drive his count down for Monday morning. But at this point, Monday morning is a bust anyway.

3. The doctor was just as confused as I was about the C.lomid prescription. This was, as I suspected, a step backward.

So here I sit, an entire IUI wasted. It is quite possible that all of this could have been avoided had the nurse practitioner not been more concerned about the convenience of her clinic schedule. I made it clear that if there was any question, I wanted the cycle canceled altogether and moreover, I learned after the fact that there was a sister clinic in another town that would have been able to take us on Thanksgiving day. But after all of the emotion I've invested in everything else, it's hard to find enough outrage to make a big deal about it at this point. I will go in on Monday morning, go through the motions, go on the magic speculum ride, but I believe I've currently found the cure for keeping my expectations low this time around. In a way, it's strangely relieving. This 2 WW will not register on my radar. But hope is becoming more elusive as every day passes.

I will face one more IUI after this. I will request someone else to preside over it and I will demand to be pumped chalk full of Menopur. One last try before January and believe me, when that arrives, there will be no questions left unanswered.