Thank God, the end of the worst year of my entire life is finally here. It could not be more appropriate that this disaster of a year we've had is topped off, on New Year's Eve, by the realization that my period is starting and this last IUI cycle was a bust. Mimicking what I've seen done on two other blogs, I thought I'd end the year with a list. Hopefully future years in review will be less dark.
1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
Took over 100 painful shots of very expensive medications in both butt cheeks (permanently ruining my rump roasts, says the beef farmer in me). Finally experienced the shock and awe of my first pregnancy. Had a second trimester miscarriage. Saw what my babies look like, and felt the most primal unconditional love a mother could ever feel. Cried in public - everywhere, all the time.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
For the first time in my adult life, I didn't make any real resolutions for 2011. I had some vague ones about blogging more and eating more vegetables, but nothing really written down. Given the way I feel right now, 7 hours away from the New Year, no, I don't think I'll be making any for 2012.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes. Me.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
My children, Aliya Amy and Bennett Paul.
5. What countries did you visit?
None.
6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
A living child or children. The hope and optimism I've lost in the second part of this year. A work life that's not so full of business-wide strife.
7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
May 11th, the date of our first IUI of the cycle. May 25th, the day of my first positive pregnancy test. May 26th, the date Dr. M. called to congratulate me on my pregnancy. June 15th, the first time we saw our babies and heard their heart beats (at 7 weeks 0 days). July 26th, the day of our NT scan at University of Washington, where we learned our babies were very unlikely to have genetic disorders (at 12 weeks 6 days). August 3rd, the sixth and last time I saw my babies thriving and healthy on ultrasound (14 weeks 0 days). August 4th, the day my water broke and the worst day of our lives. August 5th, our babies' birth (and death) day (14 weeks 2 days). September 16th, our (miserable) 5th wedding anniversary. And today, the day we found our our 6th IUI (and 5th injectible cycle) failed.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Having any ability to function when at times I would have rather been dead.
9. What was your biggest failure?
The deaths of my children, that my body couldn't do it's job properly. Not standing up for myself and my babies the many times people have said hurtful things (or nothing at all) to me about their loss. The complete loss of all trust in my body.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Heartbreak. Also, I've read that grief is a actually a disease and I'm clearly still suffering with it.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
I suppose our 2011 Honda Pilot in October (which can fit 5 rear-facing carseats, should that ever be necessary)...it was not a thrilling purchase all things considered, but better than breaking down in my formerly trusty Subaru with its leaking head gasket and radiator problem (and back seat that could only fit one rear-facing carseat at a time). Oh, and our pair of new Scottish Highland females, 7-year old Roxanne and 20-month old Xoe, were a good purchase, too.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
All the amazing people in my life who have made a point to check on Paul and me and done amazing things to show they remember Aliya and Bennett. And our three favorite nurses at Providence St. Peter Hospital.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Many. Oh, and our (as of tomorrow, former) HMO's OB department, with the sole exception of Dr. A., who was a light in the darkest point in our lives.
14. Where did most of your money go?
To infertility treatments in February, May and December (plus a multitude of extra tests and procedures in between).
15. What did you get really excited about?
Finally getting pregnant for the first time...and staying pregnant into the second trimester despite nearly 7 solid weeks of bleeding and spotting. It really sucks that sharing our excitement with the world feels like the cause for our "punishment" of loss.
16. What song will always remind you of 2011?
The Band Perry, "If I Die Young." The second line about the rainbow makes me cry every time.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
– happier or sadder? Does that even warrant an answer? Duh.
– thinner or fatter? Fatter. I was my thinnest in years the week after my loss. Since then I've hovered around my pre-pregnancy weight, but with a slightly thicker shape (thanks, twin pregnancy) and much more bloat (thanks, drugs).
– richer or poorer? Poorer, both emotionally and financially...I mean, financially we're still making it fine, but it has really sucked to bleed out cash all year long for fertility treatments.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Enjoying my pregnancy and letting myself be really excited to be a mother. I'll never take that for granted again, no matter how sick and sore and miserable I am.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Simultaneously puking and peeing my pants. Grieving, but the only way that would be possible is if my babies hadn't died, and that's NOT possible.
20. How did you spend Christmas?
Survived by the skin of my teeth...faking calm and hating nearly every moment of it. It could not be over quickly enough.
21. Did you fall in love in 2011?
Yes, with my children, and also even moreso with my husband than ever before. He's going to (hopefully) be a wonderful daddy some day.
22. What was your favorite TV program?
NCIS
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Myself. Oh, is that not a good answer? My body, then.
24. What was the best book you read?
None...with the exception of "What to Expect When You're Expecting and "When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets or Quads."
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Silence
26. What did you want and get?
Pregnant. I should have been more specific, obviously.
27. What did you want and not get?
The happy ending we thought we deserved.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?
We don't go to the movies much. I borrowed "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day" and adored it, though.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I can't remember. (We are a clean and sober household, so no, I don't have a "good" reason why.) I've never liked the odd-numbered years, anyway, and this was my 37th birthday.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Ending the year 35w3d pregnant with healthy, thriving 5-6 lb twins like I should be today.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
Same old, same old until May 2011, when ART drug bloat took over, followed by mass-belly-expansion via twin pregnancy. With the exception of a few weeks here and there, it's been Bella Band every.single.day. My pants no longer fit, be it from pre-pregnancy bloat, pregnancy, post-pregnancy-stomach-shrinking or ART drugs. My body is no longer shaped the same as it used to be.
32. What kept you sane?
I'm not.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Guiliana Rancic.
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Every bit of Congress not doing its job for America's suffering citizens...and the Republican race, THE single most entertaining cluster I've ever seen!
35. Who did you miss?
Aliya and Bennett. And my Grandpa Wes, who died in 2006 and is hopefully fighting with Paul's beloved Grandpa Kenny over who gets to hold the babies next.
36. Who was the best new person you met?
My friend, Heather B. And after Heather, our fellow peeps in our support groups.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.
The great capacity for love Paul and I have for eachother and our children. I could also say "That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger," but I so HATE being told I'm strong or to stay strong or the like when I'm at my very, very weakest. I've heard that a lot these past (almost five) months.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
A fellow BLM blogger chose this one. I've never heard it, but it reads perfect to me. This Groove Armada song, "Hands of Time."
"Keep looking through the window pane
Just trying to see through the pouring rain
It's hearing your name, hearing your name.
I never really felt quite the same
Since I've lost what I had to gain
No one to blame, no one to blame.
Seems to me, can't turn back the hands of time."
Here's hoping 2012 brings all of us the peace and joy we deserve.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Survival
As expected, Christmas was really hard. I felt like I faked it, made it pretty well through the motions, sort of in a fog, wanting to rush through to the other side, and *poof* - here we are. We actually did survive it, despite several times me feeling like I'd really rather not.
The holiday was not without its difficulties, especially Christmas Day. A (unexpected, for some reason) multi-family event - sort of like two separate families celebrating in one house together, but not - was thoroughly booby trapped with a pregnant girl (39 weeks, I believe), who I didn't find out might be coming until we pulled out of our driveway (ah, yes, my husband, deliverer of last-minute surprises/bombs), plus a rather rude girl who was there last year with her toddler and this time showed up with a 3-month old, too. Fabulous. What things make me the most anxious? Very pregnant women. Check. Toddlers. Check. People fawning over said pregnant women and/or small children when I.am.sitting.right.there.God.damn.it! Check, check, double check. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate, and had to walk outside in the drizzle with my husband for awhile to regain my composure. (Paul told me later when he saw these strangers - the pregnant girl and the small family - come in the door, he was fully prepared to scoop me up and take me home. By some miracle, that wasn't necessary in the end, perhaps because I stayed away from pregnant girl and small family. I feel a bit rude for not talking to the pregnant girl - who happens to be related by marriage - but I'm sure if anyone told her that we lost our babies, she'd probably have understood. I was certainly not going to be the one to say it.)
All was not lost that day. Paul's younger brother and our sister-in-law presented us with a beautifully wrapped package to unwrap together. Inside were two velvet stockings, a dark red one with "A" and a dark blue one with "B" embroidered on them, and inside of each was a little Christmas ball with the appropriate baby's name, two hearts and 2011 written in metallic ink. They were precious and I burst into tears immediately. They made sets for each of the other family members' trees, too, which meant the absolute world to me...the mama who is so terrified our babies will be forgotten. It makes me cry just thinking of it now. (I'm sure the other family wondered what the Hell was going on, since we were all crying and hugging.)
Debriefing the holiday, though, we both realized it felt very unbalanced and quite wrong, almost like the world was singing off key and it hurt our ears. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't fun, and we're both very, very glad it's over with. We have all year to plan for next Christmas, and this will be the time we really start changing the traditions that are important to us. "Normal" and "usual" feel - and are - so abnormal in light of our loss. We plan to host his family for Christmas next year, and it's our turn, anyway, since we haven't done it since 2008. The rest of the holiday? I don't know. We'll see.
I apparently had been pregnant and miscarried again, perhaps at 13 weeks. My baby's body (yes, just one) was laying on paper towels on the counter in an exam room and looked at first quite a bit like Aliya and Bennett. Dr. M. was there and said we needed to do some testing on both me and the baby to see what had gone wrong this time. He covered the baby with more towels, but one little foot was sticking out, and I noticed I could see the shadow of a nail bed on the big toe (a detail I couldn't see on my babies in real life).
I got closer to examine the perfect little foot, remarking on how the baby seemed more developed than A and B, which was weird because he (yes, he) wasn't as far along. I pulled the towel up to look at the other foot and saw fingers attached to each little toe. Clearly, something was very, very wrong with my baby, but being the scientist I am (or was), I was fascinated rather than horrified and was not crying in my dream. Dr. M. took a drop of blood from me and put it on a card, then poked me and said, "Look, it turned red here, which means you have a MTHFR disorder." (That's a genetic blood clotting disorder that can cause early pregnancy loss, which neither A and B nor this dream baby were.) I've been replaying it in my head all day, hoping it's not a sign of things to come.
The holiday was not without its difficulties, especially Christmas Day. A (unexpected, for some reason) multi-family event - sort of like two separate families celebrating in one house together, but not - was thoroughly booby trapped with a pregnant girl (39 weeks, I believe), who I didn't find out might be coming until we pulled out of our driveway (ah, yes, my husband, deliverer of last-minute surprises/bombs), plus a rather rude girl who was there last year with her toddler and this time showed up with a 3-month old, too. Fabulous. What things make me the most anxious? Very pregnant women. Check. Toddlers. Check. People fawning over said pregnant women and/or small children when I.am.sitting.right.there.God.damn.it! Check, check, double check. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate, and had to walk outside in the drizzle with my husband for awhile to regain my composure. (Paul told me later when he saw these strangers - the pregnant girl and the small family - come in the door, he was fully prepared to scoop me up and take me home. By some miracle, that wasn't necessary in the end, perhaps because I stayed away from pregnant girl and small family. I feel a bit rude for not talking to the pregnant girl - who happens to be related by marriage - but I'm sure if anyone told her that we lost our babies, she'd probably have understood. I was certainly not going to be the one to say it.)
All was not lost that day. Paul's younger brother and our sister-in-law presented us with a beautifully wrapped package to unwrap together. Inside were two velvet stockings, a dark red one with "A" and a dark blue one with "B" embroidered on them, and inside of each was a little Christmas ball with the appropriate baby's name, two hearts and 2011 written in metallic ink. They were precious and I burst into tears immediately. They made sets for each of the other family members' trees, too, which meant the absolute world to me...the mama who is so terrified our babies will be forgotten. It makes me cry just thinking of it now. (I'm sure the other family wondered what the Hell was going on, since we were all crying and hugging.)
Debriefing the holiday, though, we both realized it felt very unbalanced and quite wrong, almost like the world was singing off key and it hurt our ears. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't fun, and we're both very, very glad it's over with. We have all year to plan for next Christmas, and this will be the time we really start changing the traditions that are important to us. "Normal" and "usual" feel - and are - so abnormal in light of our loss. We plan to host his family for Christmas next year, and it's our turn, anyway, since we haven't done it since 2008. The rest of the holiday? I don't know. We'll see.
*******
In other news, the past week of chaos has really helped make the first half of my two-week wait (2ww) fly by. Today I'm 8dpiui and definitely feeling some things, but who knows whether they're pregnancy-related or PIO-related. I did have an odd craving this afternoon for sparkling cranberry juice and cold food - mostly vegetables - which I satisfied when I got home. The latter really brought me back, because during my twin pregnancy I could really only stomach cold foods, and actually craved them a lot of the time. I've also had the usual cramping/pulling/sharp ovary pains, boob pain, irritability, sleep issues and vivid dreams I've experienced before, but again, it could be the PIO at work. I still have no intention of peeing on a stick (POAS) any time before 13dpiui - the same point at which I got my first positive big fat positive (BFP - pregnancy test), if I do it at all.
*******
Speaking of dreams, I had the most fascinating/disturbing series of pregnancy dreams last night. In one, I was at a baby shower for a fellow BLM blogger who also lost twins (and is pregnant again now) but whom I've never met and probably won't. It was super, super vivid and took place outside, in the spring or summer. W.E.I.R.D. but not as weird as what followed...I apparently had been pregnant and miscarried again, perhaps at 13 weeks. My baby's body (yes, just one) was laying on paper towels on the counter in an exam room and looked at first quite a bit like Aliya and Bennett. Dr. M. was there and said we needed to do some testing on both me and the baby to see what had gone wrong this time. He covered the baby with more towels, but one little foot was sticking out, and I noticed I could see the shadow of a nail bed on the big toe (a detail I couldn't see on my babies in real life).
I got closer to examine the perfect little foot, remarking on how the baby seemed more developed than A and B, which was weird because he (yes, he) wasn't as far along. I pulled the towel up to look at the other foot and saw fingers attached to each little toe. Clearly, something was very, very wrong with my baby, but being the scientist I am (or was), I was fascinated rather than horrified and was not crying in my dream. Dr. M. took a drop of blood from me and put it on a card, then poked me and said, "Look, it turned red here, which means you have a MTHFR disorder." (That's a genetic blood clotting disorder that can cause early pregnancy loss, which neither A and B nor this dream baby were.) I've been replaying it in my head all day, hoping it's not a sign of things to come.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
O Christmas Tree
I know my last post was incredibly, well, ugly. It's real and it's how I feel. But...I do love the lights and the smell of our Christmas tree, but mostly love some of the precious ornaments adorning it this year and for every year going forward.
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| Handmade ornaments from Auntie and Ron, using my Great Grandma's sandbakkel tins. |
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| Our (messy) tribute to our babies, made at the TEARS Foundation holiday remembrance. |
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| Beautiful antique-y glass hearts. Thank you, Lena and Susan. |
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| Loving tribute to my babies, from my friend and former supervisor, Michelle. |
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| Our tree, a partially groomed Noble fir we cut from our neighbors' tree farm. Pretty and bittersweet. |
Ugly
Judging from the numb, detached feelings I felt earlier in the week about this impending holiday (or, I guess *current* holiday, whatever), I really thought I might be able to get through it quickly and move the Hell on.
I was so, so wrong...because in reality, once I got all the other important, non-grief-related crap off my plate (two sets of supplemental questions due this past Monday for my layoff process, the stress of two IUIs, a twice-rescheduled informational interview, then 8 hours to complete another set of supplemental questions yesterday), all my ugly, bitter, hateful feelings about this Christmas came roaring in.
I am NOT ok. I could not be further from ok. Peaceful? Piss off. Merry? Yeah, whatever, bite me. All week I've been wishing a Merry Christmas to others somewhat blindly...wanting to mean it, and probably actually meaning it at some level, but rushing through, wanting it to all go away.
Two nights ago I told Paul I felt like this weekend was yet another thing to be gotten through since our loss. The past 4.5 months have been filled with them. He totally disagreed. To him, this two-day holiday extravaganza (I say that with much bitterness) is just another weekend.
This Christmas is nothing it's supposed to be. We shouldn't have to do any of this at all. It's all wrong. It will forever be all wrong. I just want my babies. I want our joy back. I want everything that feels impossible - and some of which actually is.
I hope someday I feel a tiny bit of joy and excitement at Christmas, at least for the babies we hope to add to our family one day. This is a holiday for children, and this year that fact hurts us both to the center of our beings. We both had uncomfortable newborn baby experiences last night, mine at Michael's and his at Things Remembered. I was stuck in line, checking out, with a bitchy new mom with a week-old baby girl behind me, and was *this close* to whipping out a photo of my beautiful dead babies and letting her know she has no right to be angry about ANYTHING. (She must be running on post-pregnancy hormones, for what kind of idiot new mother brings a newborn shopping - to a craft store, for God's sake - the day before Christmas weekend?!) Paul, fortunately, was able to turn and flee the store and the baby.
I do want to wish all of my darling fellow BLMs a peaceful, loving Christmas. So many of you have been where we are now, have survived that first post-loss Christmas. Right now I don't know how to survive this. I wish for you everthing I just can't imagine for myself.
I was so, so wrong...because in reality, once I got all the other important, non-grief-related crap off my plate (two sets of supplemental questions due this past Monday for my layoff process, the stress of two IUIs, a twice-rescheduled informational interview, then 8 hours to complete another set of supplemental questions yesterday), all my ugly, bitter, hateful feelings about this Christmas came roaring in.
I am NOT ok. I could not be further from ok. Peaceful? Piss off. Merry? Yeah, whatever, bite me. All week I've been wishing a Merry Christmas to others somewhat blindly...wanting to mean it, and probably actually meaning it at some level, but rushing through, wanting it to all go away.
Two nights ago I told Paul I felt like this weekend was yet another thing to be gotten through since our loss. The past 4.5 months have been filled with them. He totally disagreed. To him, this two-day holiday extravaganza (I say that with much bitterness) is just another weekend.
This Christmas is nothing it's supposed to be. We shouldn't have to do any of this at all. It's all wrong. It will forever be all wrong. I just want my babies. I want our joy back. I want everything that feels impossible - and some of which actually is.
I hope someday I feel a tiny bit of joy and excitement at Christmas, at least for the babies we hope to add to our family one day. This is a holiday for children, and this year that fact hurts us both to the center of our beings. We both had uncomfortable newborn baby experiences last night, mine at Michael's and his at Things Remembered. I was stuck in line, checking out, with a bitchy new mom with a week-old baby girl behind me, and was *this close* to whipping out a photo of my beautiful dead babies and letting her know she has no right to be angry about ANYTHING. (She must be running on post-pregnancy hormones, for what kind of idiot new mother brings a newborn shopping - to a craft store, for God's sake - the day before Christmas weekend?!) Paul, fortunately, was able to turn and flee the store and the baby.
I do want to wish all of my darling fellow BLMs a peaceful, loving Christmas. So many of you have been where we are now, have survived that first post-loss Christmas. Right now I don't know how to survive this. I wish for you everthing I just can't imagine for myself.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Expectations
I'm in trouble. After being forced to wait to move forward the past three months, slogging through extra days of additional medications to get my follies to grow, and laying on my tummy last night after my IUI procedure, a switch started to flip...that switch between "yeah, right" and "it's totally gonna work again". Tonight, laying on my tummy after our second successful IUI (10 million sperm post-wash!), the circuits lit up and I found myself imagining we might actually have a baby (or babies) to celebrate Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year's Eve with in 2012. I can even picture the little orange onsie and matching cap with pumpkin stem.
Crap.
The thing is, expectations are very dangerous. There's this horrible acronym in the IVF world that's bestowed upon women who have undergone embryo transfer: PUPO. It means Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. I'd never heard of it until Paul and I had our Little Embryo That Could, the 5-day blastocyst, transferred to my uterus in February's IUI-turned-IVF cycle. Another IVF patient in one of my (many) private online chat boards for infertility congratulated me on being PUPO. I was fine up until I Googled and saw what it meant. What a bunch of crap! WHY WHY WHY would you intentionally set a woman up to believe she is pregnant unless/until it's proven she's not? That's the dumbest, cruelest damn thing I've ever heard. It pissed me off immediately, especially after every emotional up and down Paul and I went through to even get to embryo transfer stage. (I guarantee Dr. M. would never be so flip as to tell a woman she's pregnant until proven otherwise.)
I certainly don't consider myself to be PUPO now. Heck, I'm only 1 day post-IUI (1dpiui), and fertilization of the egg (if it happens) by a sperm cell (if one makes it) can take up to 3dpiui (which would be Thursday). After that, said fertilized mass must travel down the length of my (right side only, boys!) fallopian tube into my (spongy, ready-to-rock-and-roll) uterus, burrow in, and continue dividing and growing and living into a healthy embryo, one that starts producing human chorionic gonadotripin (hCG, the pregnancy hormone) that is picked up by my scheduled qualitative beta blood pregnancy test on January 2nd, 14dpiui.
And yet, the daydreaming/wondering/trying-really-hard-not-to-plan-and-jinx-myself-ing has begun.
One day at a time. Breathe. Don't dress your babies before they're even created.
Today, both IUIs are complete. Overnight I ovulated (as evidenced by the horrid right-side Mittelschmerz which woke me up at 4:00 a.m. and caused me to be unable to walk upright to the bathroom at 5:30 a.m.). Tomorrow night I start my progesterone in oil (PIO - in cottonseed oil, because the standard soybean oil makes me itch like mad), 0.5cc daily until either I get a negative beta or 11 weeks if it's positive (or beyond, depending on what Dr. M. wants to do differently this time).
Without being able to help it, and because I've done it so freaking many times in the past, I'll start analyzing every twinge of my ovaries and uterus, feel myself up several times a day checking boob soreness, all the while comparing to the real early pregnancy symptoms I had in May, yet knowing full well the PIO mimics both premenstrual and pregnancy symptoms simultaneously. Our pregnancy in May took us both completely by surprise. Now that we know it can (and did) happen, and that superovulation IUI was the trick, how can we help but wonder whether it's happened again?
We both must now seriously manage our expectations. I know from experience (many, many experiences) that those low expectations seem to work best for me, but I don't know how well that will work this time.
Crap.
The thing is, expectations are very dangerous. There's this horrible acronym in the IVF world that's bestowed upon women who have undergone embryo transfer: PUPO. It means Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. I'd never heard of it until Paul and I had our Little Embryo That Could, the 5-day blastocyst, transferred to my uterus in February's IUI-turned-IVF cycle. Another IVF patient in one of my (many) private online chat boards for infertility congratulated me on being PUPO. I was fine up until I Googled and saw what it meant. What a bunch of crap! WHY WHY WHY would you intentionally set a woman up to believe she is pregnant unless/until it's proven she's not? That's the dumbest, cruelest damn thing I've ever heard. It pissed me off immediately, especially after every emotional up and down Paul and I went through to even get to embryo transfer stage. (I guarantee Dr. M. would never be so flip as to tell a woman she's pregnant until proven otherwise.)
I certainly don't consider myself to be PUPO now. Heck, I'm only 1 day post-IUI (1dpiui), and fertilization of the egg (if it happens) by a sperm cell (if one makes it) can take up to 3dpiui (which would be Thursday). After that, said fertilized mass must travel down the length of my (right side only, boys!) fallopian tube into my (spongy, ready-to-rock-and-roll) uterus, burrow in, and continue dividing and growing and living into a healthy embryo, one that starts producing human chorionic gonadotripin (hCG, the pregnancy hormone) that is picked up by my scheduled qualitative beta blood pregnancy test on January 2nd, 14dpiui.
And yet, the daydreaming/wondering/trying-really-hard-not-to-plan-and-jinx-myself-ing has begun.
One day at a time. Breathe. Don't dress your babies before they're even created.
Today, both IUIs are complete. Overnight I ovulated (as evidenced by the horrid right-side Mittelschmerz which woke me up at 4:00 a.m. and caused me to be unable to walk upright to the bathroom at 5:30 a.m.). Tomorrow night I start my progesterone in oil (PIO - in cottonseed oil, because the standard soybean oil makes me itch like mad), 0.5cc daily until either I get a negative beta or 11 weeks if it's positive (or beyond, depending on what Dr. M. wants to do differently this time).
Without being able to help it, and because I've done it so freaking many times in the past, I'll start analyzing every twinge of my ovaries and uterus, feel myself up several times a day checking boob soreness, all the while comparing to the real early pregnancy symptoms I had in May, yet knowing full well the PIO mimics both premenstrual and pregnancy symptoms simultaneously. Our pregnancy in May took us both completely by surprise. Now that we know it can (and did) happen, and that superovulation IUI was the trick, how can we help but wonder whether it's happened again?
We both must now seriously manage our expectations. I know from experience (many, many experiences) that those low expectations seem to work best for me, but I don't know how well that will work this time.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Underway
The first IUI of the pair for this cycle is complete. Paul's washed count was 25 million (rock star!), the procedure didn't hurt me for once (I normally cramp, but I chalk the lack of pain up to having given birth), I laid on my tummy the requisite 20 minutes followed by 10 minutes on my right side (where the follicles are), and we're all set to go for our second IUI tomorrow evening. :)
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Wish fulfilled!
Folks, we've had a miracle! Dr. M. had wanted to peek at my two follicles today to be sure they weren't ready, thinking he'd see me again tomorrow for another ultrasound. Well, those follies grew a bunch the past 24 hours! This morning they were 21-20-12 mm. Those first two are ready; the second may grow a tiny bit and be somewhat viable. There was also a fourth tiny one hiding amongst the other three that likely won't amount to anything.
My uterine lining still looks good (7.6mm), although it's crooked, which is strange. Dr. M. isn't concerned. He had his weekend medical assistant, a youngster (probably early 20s) named Mimi, give me my hCG trigger shot in the behind (she did a good job!). The follicles should burst about 40 hours later (so, around 12:00 a.m. Tuesday). Our first of the two IUIs will be tomorrow at 5:00. Paul will have to go in one hour earlier to provide a sample, which the embryologist, Dr. C., will clean and prepare, and then we'll do the IUI. (For those of you who want to know, you can read more about sperm preparation and IUI in these frequently asked questions.)
I can't believe we're actually ending this cycle with extra Menopur in the fridge! Hopefully we'll never need it again, but just in case, we'll have 6 extra ampules "in the bank" if this cycle doesn't work and we have to try again in February or March.
The rest of our day is full: I have to finish my responses to two sets of written interview questions for the bump/layoff process (due tomorrow) while Paul puts the Christmas lights on the house. We hope to finish both in time to attend a TEARS Foundation holiday remembrance gathering tonight in Puyallup. We've been unsure how to get through the holidays while keeping our babies in the fronts of our minds, so this event feels like a good start. I'd better get busy!
My uterine lining still looks good (7.6mm), although it's crooked, which is strange. Dr. M. isn't concerned. He had his weekend medical assistant, a youngster (probably early 20s) named Mimi, give me my hCG trigger shot in the behind (she did a good job!). The follicles should burst about 40 hours later (so, around 12:00 a.m. Tuesday). Our first of the two IUIs will be tomorrow at 5:00. Paul will have to go in one hour earlier to provide a sample, which the embryologist, Dr. C., will clean and prepare, and then we'll do the IUI. (For those of you who want to know, you can read more about sperm preparation and IUI in these frequently asked questions.)
I can't believe we're actually ending this cycle with extra Menopur in the fridge! Hopefully we'll never need it again, but just in case, we'll have 6 extra ampules "in the bank" if this cycle doesn't work and we have to try again in February or March.
The rest of our day is full: I have to finish my responses to two sets of written interview questions for the bump/layoff process (due tomorrow) while Paul puts the Christmas lights on the house. We hope to finish both in time to attend a TEARS Foundation holiday remembrance gathering tonight in Puyallup. We've been unsure how to get through the holidays while keeping our babies in the fronts of our minds, so this event feels like a good start. I'd better get busy!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Movin' right along...finally
We went in this morning for ultrasound #4. The firs thing Dr. M. said was, "Let's see how your expensive follicles are doing today!" Yeah. That about sums up this cycle.
Two days ago the three follies were 15-13-12 mm. Today, they're 18-16...and 11 mm. The good news is the drugs kicked up the growth rate from 1mm/day to 1.5mm/day, not quite the 2mm we'd hoped for, but better than before. The bad news is my third follie appears to have decreased in size. It's possible that it's just sandwiched in between the other two so not measuring correctly (i.e. longer front to back than it is wide), but Dr. M. said sometimes they do shrink. Bummer.
The plan is to go in again tomorrow morning for follie scan #5 (eek!) while continuing with my normal meds...meds which will be gone tomorrow morning (Gonal-F, the "magic" drug) and Monday (Menopur). He is being cautious and yet hoping for continued growth. He'd really like the lead follicle to reach 20mm and the second to reach 18mm before triggering with hCG (human chorionic gonadotripin, which will cause the follicles to burst and release the eggs that are hopefully inside). It's likely I'll have to go in Monday for follie scan #6 (OMG), when hopefully the follies will be perfectly sized, his nurse will give me the trigger shot and (please please please) we'll have our IUIs Tuesday and Wednesday.
(I mentioned to Dr. M. how I was concerned we were getting too close to when he leaves for his ski trip. He smiled and said how "cute" it was that so many of his patients - both infertility and pregnant-due-in-January are so worried, but that it will all be ok. Whew.)
This will have been our second most expensive cycle ever (the first being the IUI-turned-IVF in February). I shudder to think what the final tally will be on this cycle: somewhere over $3000 total (not including early pregnancy care, if we get to that point). Thankfully, our $1300+ worth of drugs were paid for by cash. We'll still have another $70/mo in progesterone in oil, which, if we conceive, I may have to take the entire pregnancy, depending on what Dr. M. decides (we know I'll take it past 11 weeks next time). All the bloodwork, lab fees, IUI fees, the ultrasounds and the trigger shot will be billed to us.
Good thing we didn't have any big gifts planned this year (we may not buy eachother anything, actually...we're not really in the mood for that, but we'd like to donate somewhere or contribute to the local Adopt a Family in memory of our babies). Merry Christmas. Geez.
Two days ago the three follies were 15-13-12 mm. Today, they're 18-16...and 11 mm. The good news is the drugs kicked up the growth rate from 1mm/day to 1.5mm/day, not quite the 2mm we'd hoped for, but better than before. The bad news is my third follie appears to have decreased in size. It's possible that it's just sandwiched in between the other two so not measuring correctly (i.e. longer front to back than it is wide), but Dr. M. said sometimes they do shrink. Bummer.
The plan is to go in again tomorrow morning for follie scan #5 (eek!) while continuing with my normal meds...meds which will be gone tomorrow morning (Gonal-F, the "magic" drug) and Monday (Menopur). He is being cautious and yet hoping for continued growth. He'd really like the lead follicle to reach 20mm and the second to reach 18mm before triggering with hCG (human chorionic gonadotripin, which will cause the follicles to burst and release the eggs that are hopefully inside). It's likely I'll have to go in Monday for follie scan #6 (OMG), when hopefully the follies will be perfectly sized, his nurse will give me the trigger shot and (please please please) we'll have our IUIs Tuesday and Wednesday.
(I mentioned to Dr. M. how I was concerned we were getting too close to when he leaves for his ski trip. He smiled and said how "cute" it was that so many of his patients - both infertility and pregnant-due-in-January are so worried, but that it will all be ok. Whew.)
This will have been our second most expensive cycle ever (the first being the IUI-turned-IVF in February). I shudder to think what the final tally will be on this cycle: somewhere over $3000 total (not including early pregnancy care, if we get to that point). Thankfully, our $1300+ worth of drugs were paid for by cash. We'll still have another $70/mo in progesterone in oil, which, if we conceive, I may have to take the entire pregnancy, depending on what Dr. M. decides (we know I'll take it past 11 weeks next time). All the bloodwork, lab fees, IUI fees, the ultrasounds and the trigger shot will be billed to us.
Good thing we didn't have any big gifts planned this year (we may not buy eachother anything, actually...we're not really in the mood for that, but we'd like to donate somewhere or contribute to the local Adopt a Family in memory of our babies). Merry Christmas. Geez.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Sorry for the sudden "darkness"...
Hi all,
If you're able to read this, it's because you're currently a follower of Our Tiny Angels (official or otherwise known to me) and I sent you an invitation. Thank you for accepting!
I do apologize for the very abrupt privatization of my blog and the fact that it will not send new posts to your feed reader while it's set to private. Now that it's incognito, I'm a bit more free to share that I received a letter notifying me that my (union-represented) position is being bumped by an employee with more seniority. I have a heap of footwork to do so that Human Resources can find a different job for me to bump into; my "stuff" is due Monday and my options will be revealed on the 29th. (Yeah, Merry Christmas!)
Meanwhile, I was directed me to check out a position coming vacant on Monday that might be a really great fit for me. However, realizing I would be having an "informational" interview with the hiring manager, I decided it would be prudent to hold my personal tragedy and current attempt to conceive tight to my vest for now. (Best not to reveal my continued need for occasional FMLA usage and deep desire to land myself on maternity leave - hopefully during 2012 - oh, and oopsie, potentially at least four weeks of prescribed bedrest, too...Will that be a problem? I can work from home... Ha!)
Anyway, I'm grateful you're still with me. I love the support I receive through sharing my thoughts and feelings. It really helps me to process this crazy life of mine. As soon as things settle down on the job front and I feel safe doing so - hopefully no later than mid-January, but preferably sooner than that - I'll delete THIS post and make my blog public once more.
By the way, I'm also changing the way I accept comments on posts, so I'm hoping this will encourage more of you to share your thoughts with me. No more pesky Captcha image or buggy Google login.
P.S. The timing of my blog darkness is interesting, given I'd been grappling with whether or not to share our current TTC outcomes publically. I had decided I would, for three reasons: it felt like the braver choice; I know how much hope and support I get from reading the journeys of other babyloss mamas in their first pregnancies after loss and hope I could provide the same to others; and, frankly, in the event we do get pregnant (fingers crossed), I wouldn't have to manage the inability of some folks in our lives to keep secrets (my hubby included, which was a HUGE bone of contention during our pregnancy with Aliya and Bennett). I find it rather ironic that the blog has gone private for totally different reasons in the middle of our current IUI cycle after I'd already decided to keep it public. The best laid plans...
If you're able to read this, it's because you're currently a follower of Our Tiny Angels (official or otherwise known to me) and I sent you an invitation. Thank you for accepting!
I do apologize for the very abrupt privatization of my blog and the fact that it will not send new posts to your feed reader while it's set to private. Now that it's incognito, I'm a bit more free to share that I received a letter notifying me that my (union-represented) position is being bumped by an employee with more seniority. I have a heap of footwork to do so that Human Resources can find a different job for me to bump into; my "stuff" is due Monday and my options will be revealed on the 29th. (Yeah, Merry Christmas!)
Meanwhile, I was directed me to check out a position coming vacant on Monday that might be a really great fit for me. However, realizing I would be having an "informational" interview with the hiring manager, I decided it would be prudent to hold my personal tragedy and current attempt to conceive tight to my vest for now. (Best not to reveal my continued need for occasional FMLA usage and deep desire to land myself on maternity leave - hopefully during 2012 - oh, and oopsie, potentially at least four weeks of prescribed bedrest, too...Will that be a problem? I can work from home... Ha!)
Anyway, I'm grateful you're still with me. I love the support I receive through sharing my thoughts and feelings. It really helps me to process this crazy life of mine. As soon as things settle down on the job front and I feel safe doing so - hopefully no later than mid-January, but preferably sooner than that - I'll delete THIS post and make my blog public once more.
By the way, I'm also changing the way I accept comments on posts, so I'm hoping this will encourage more of you to share your thoughts with me. No more pesky Captcha image or buggy Google login.
P.S. The timing of my blog darkness is interesting, given I'd been grappling with whether or not to share our current TTC outcomes publically. I had decided I would, for three reasons: it felt like the braver choice; I know how much hope and support I get from reading the journeys of other babyloss mamas in their first pregnancies after loss and hope I could provide the same to others; and, frankly, in the event we do get pregnant (fingers crossed), I wouldn't have to manage the inability of some folks in our lives to keep secrets (my hubby included, which was a HUGE bone of contention during our pregnancy with Aliya and Bennett). I find it rather ironic that the blog has gone private for totally different reasons in the middle of our current IUI cycle after I'd already decided to keep it public. The best laid plans...
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Desperately seeking a miracle
Today's (third!) follicle scan was not what we had hoped for. Yes, there's been some growth, but it's happening more slowly than it should. Two days ago my three follies were 13-12-9 mm. Today's measurements were 15-13-12. That's half the expected/normal 2mm daily growth.
(Per Dr. M., the documented pregnancy rate is 95% for follicles 21mm+, 80-ish% for follicles 19-20mm, and in the 70%s for 17-18mm. Bah humbug.)
SO...the plan is to continue with my current dosages of mini-Lupron, Gonal-F and Menopur and come back for follie scan #4 on Saturday morning.
I'm not feeling very optimistic about several aspects of this cycle. For one, I'll be out of the pricey Menopur and Gonal-F by Monday. I've never used this quantity of drugs in my previous cycles, always having several ampules of Menopur ($38.75/ampule, plus shipping from Europe) left over for the next time. That doesn't appear likely to happen this month, meaning if we don't conceive, we'll have to pony up for 30 vials of Menopur (unless Dr. M. decides that drug just doesn't cut it for me anymore). On top of that, I predict, based on my current 1mm/day follicle growth, I won't hit the recommended 21+mm size for the lead follicle until Wednesday...which would mean that not only will we have to fork over more cash for additional drugs to last through Wednesday morning, but we'll also have to pray that Dr. M. will let Sierra do our second of the two IUIs on the 23rd, since he'll be on his way to Canada for Christmas.
The silver (uterine) lining is that my (uterine) lining is looking "good" and shows the much desired triple stripe. Yay lining.
Now, if we can just make some magic happen so that we have strong potential for something burrowing into that lining, we'll be golden.
(Per Dr. M., the documented pregnancy rate is 95% for follicles 21mm+, 80-ish% for follicles 19-20mm, and in the 70%s for 17-18mm. Bah humbug.)
SO...the plan is to continue with my current dosages of mini-Lupron, Gonal-F and Menopur and come back for follie scan #4 on Saturday morning.
I'm not feeling very optimistic about several aspects of this cycle. For one, I'll be out of the pricey Menopur and Gonal-F by Monday. I've never used this quantity of drugs in my previous cycles, always having several ampules of Menopur ($38.75/ampule, plus shipping from Europe) left over for the next time. That doesn't appear likely to happen this month, meaning if we don't conceive, we'll have to pony up for 30 vials of Menopur (unless Dr. M. decides that drug just doesn't cut it for me anymore). On top of that, I predict, based on my current 1mm/day follicle growth, I won't hit the recommended 21+mm size for the lead follicle until Wednesday...which would mean that not only will we have to fork over more cash for additional drugs to last through Wednesday morning, but we'll also have to pray that Dr. M. will let Sierra do our second of the two IUIs on the 23rd, since he'll be on his way to Canada for Christmas.
The silver (uterine) lining is that my (uterine) lining is looking "good" and shows the much desired triple stripe. Yay lining.
Now, if we can just make some magic happen so that we have strong potential for something burrowing into that lining, we'll be golden.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Mixing it up
Today's transvaginal follicle scan wasn't what we'd hoped. I have three follicles, all on the right side, and nothing on the left. The three are currently 12mm, 13mm and 8mm...the latter is pretty far behind and not looking very promising.
Given the state of affairs and the fact that I would otherwise run completely out of Menopur on Friday night at the current dosage, Dr. M. suggested we try Gonal-F, another, more powerful follicle stimulating hormone, in place of my morning Menopur dose.
The good news is it comes in a rechargeable pen, so that with each dose I just attach the needle/drug mechanism, dial in the dosage (150 iu), stab myself with it, remove the needle thing and toss it in my sharps container (a.k.a. empty detergent bottle). It's a subcutaneous injection, like my mini-Lupron, so I can easily do it myself without too much fear/tweakiness. Plus, I won't have to get up with Paul in the mornings since I can wait until my "normal" (i.e. right before breakfast) time instead of having to rely on him to give me an IM injection.
The bad news? Well, it was another $300 (at 50% off, actually a huge savings, but still $300 we hadn't expected to spend), and it's not necessarily guaranteed to work. Actually, there are no guarantees at all, well, unless you count the fact that there's no way we'll have to worry about overstimulation this time. The best we can hope for is that at least the two dominant follies grow (relatively rapidly) to sufficient size that we can do our back-to-back IUIs. If we get the third to grow, that's an added bonus.
Now we wait on pins and needles (pun intended) until Thursday morning, when I go in for my third (unexpected) follicle scan and more blood work to see whether I've had sufficient change. I feel like we're up against the clock (or calendar, as it were), since Dr. M. leaves for his Christmas holiday on December 23rd. Ah, well, plenty of time to work out my mistrust of my own body, I suppose...
Given the state of affairs and the fact that I would otherwise run completely out of Menopur on Friday night at the current dosage, Dr. M. suggested we try Gonal-F, another, more powerful follicle stimulating hormone, in place of my morning Menopur dose.
The good news is it comes in a rechargeable pen, so that with each dose I just attach the needle/drug mechanism, dial in the dosage (150 iu), stab myself with it, remove the needle thing and toss it in my sharps container (a.k.a. empty detergent bottle). It's a subcutaneous injection, like my mini-Lupron, so I can easily do it myself without too much fear/tweakiness. Plus, I won't have to get up with Paul in the mornings since I can wait until my "normal" (i.e. right before breakfast) time instead of having to rely on him to give me an IM injection.
The bad news? Well, it was another $300 (at 50% off, actually a huge savings, but still $300 we hadn't expected to spend), and it's not necessarily guaranteed to work. Actually, there are no guarantees at all, well, unless you count the fact that there's no way we'll have to worry about overstimulation this time. The best we can hope for is that at least the two dominant follies grow (relatively rapidly) to sufficient size that we can do our back-to-back IUIs. If we get the third to grow, that's an added bonus.
Now we wait on pins and needles (pun intended) until Thursday morning, when I go in for my third (unexpected) follicle scan and more blood work to see whether I've had sufficient change. I feel like we're up against the clock (or calendar, as it were), since Dr. M. leaves for his Christmas holiday on December 23rd. Ah, well, plenty of time to work out my mistrust of my own body, I suppose...
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Lag
Dr. M. called today with the results of my last two estradiol blood draws (Friday and this morning): my hormones are "lagging." So, starting tonight, we double up on my p.m. Menopur dosage; I'll be on 2 ampules a.m. and p.m. I have another blood draw tomorrow, and then the second follie scan and another blood draw on Tuesday at 1:00. Chances are my follicles (praying for more than 1!) won't be ready Tuesday, but perhaps they will be later in the week.
I have felt twinges of pain in each ovary since Friday afternoon, so while my values are lagging, I know something is happening...otherwise, I wouldn't be feeling anything. (The pains are from follicles growing and changing.) Those pains make me smile, even though once I ovulate post-trigger shot they'll really, really hurt (they always do).
In other news, we're trying to get in the Christmas spirit over here. Yesterday we headed down to Portland for a nice (and early-with-the-blue-hairs) steak dinner at Sayler's Old Country Kitchen, then over to Voodoo Donuts for a take-home snack, and then braved the (horrid!) traffic on Highway 26 plus about 25 minutes of trying to find a parking spot to attend Zoolights at the Oregon Zoo. (For the record, their version of Zoolights is mediocre. We rode the train (not the steam train, but the diesel-powered one, judging from the fumes we choked on going through the tunnel) and walked every part that was open, but saw only a few animals (including some sleeping primates). Really, Pt. Defiance Zoo and Aquarium's Zoolights is much better and more interesting, plus you get to see more animals, but we wanted to try something different and aren't sorry we did. The one bonus of standing in line for over an hour to ride the train was realizing we don't ever want to be those parents who are so clueless and self- (or child-)absorbed that they will blindingly hold up an entire line of hundreds of people while they futz for the 50,000th time with their child's shoes/blanket/mittens/stroller. Oh.My.God.People. (Oh, and I will do my best not to run it up the legs of the poor person in front of them, too.)
The one thought that kept running through my head, standing amongst countless babies and toddlers and little kids and strollers was, "I just can't imagine what it would feel like to be here with Aliya and Bennett in a stroller." Granted, we couldn't have been there with them even if they had lived...because if they were here now, they'd still be in the NICU for 2-3 more weeks, and then we'd be forbidden to take them out among strangers for 2-3 more months after that for their own immune systems' safety. Still, I'm finding myself more wistful around infants (not newborns so much - yet) and also kids up to about age 3. That magic "due date" of January 18th, that 38-weeks'-gestation goal I'd set for myself, will be here in no time. Ouch.
I have felt twinges of pain in each ovary since Friday afternoon, so while my values are lagging, I know something is happening...otherwise, I wouldn't be feeling anything. (The pains are from follicles growing and changing.) Those pains make me smile, even though once I ovulate post-trigger shot they'll really, really hurt (they always do).
In other news, we're trying to get in the Christmas spirit over here. Yesterday we headed down to Portland for a nice (and early-with-the-blue-hairs) steak dinner at Sayler's Old Country Kitchen, then over to Voodoo Donuts for a take-home snack, and then braved the (horrid!) traffic on Highway 26 plus about 25 minutes of trying to find a parking spot to attend Zoolights at the Oregon Zoo. (For the record, their version of Zoolights is mediocre. We rode the train (not the steam train, but the diesel-powered one, judging from the fumes we choked on going through the tunnel) and walked every part that was open, but saw only a few animals (including some sleeping primates). Really, Pt. Defiance Zoo and Aquarium's Zoolights is much better and more interesting, plus you get to see more animals, but we wanted to try something different and aren't sorry we did. The one bonus of standing in line for over an hour to ride the train was realizing we don't ever want to be those parents who are so clueless and self- (or child-)absorbed that they will blindingly hold up an entire line of hundreds of people while they futz for the 50,000th time with their child's shoes/blanket/mittens/stroller. Oh.My.God.People. (Oh, and I will do my best not to run it up the legs of the poor person in front of them, too.)
The one thought that kept running through my head, standing amongst countless babies and toddlers and little kids and strollers was, "I just can't imagine what it would feel like to be here with Aliya and Bennett in a stroller." Granted, we couldn't have been there with them even if they had lived...because if they were here now, they'd still be in the NICU for 2-3 more weeks, and then we'd be forbidden to take them out among strangers for 2-3 more months after that for their own immune systems' safety. Still, I'm finding myself more wistful around infants (not newborns so much - yet) and also kids up to about age 3. That magic "due date" of January 18th, that 38-weeks'-gestation goal I'd set for myself, will be here in no time. Ouch.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Roller coaster
If life is a highway, I'd prefer to be on a back road about now.
On the IUI front, we're progressing forward. I had my baseline follicle scan on Monday via transvaginal ultrasound, and found there's just a tiny residual cyst left (2x5mm) that shouldn't interfere with ovulation, so I got my plan, refilled my prescriptions for needles and syringes, and went on my way. The weird thing is the Lupron apparently *totally* shut down my hormones so that my antral (resting) follicle count was zero. Talk about confusing...looking at the screen, expecting to see white-outlined cirles in each ovary and instead seeing only white-outlined circles outside my ovaries - which turned out to be my intestines in cross-section - was pretty disconcerting. Dr. M. furrowed his brow a bit but said he thinks the cycle will be fine, it may just take a few more days of meds than usual.
So, I started my mini-Lupron shots yesterday morning (he had me mix my own mini-Lupron from the Lupron I had leftover from last month, so that was a money saver), and Paul christened my ass with my first of many 21 gauge, 1 1/2" needle "kisses" of Menopur this morning. The protocol is 2 ampules of Menopur in the morning, and one in the evening, with 0.2cc of mini-Lupron both morning and night. I go in for my first follow up blood draw tomorrow afternoon to check my estradiol level, which will tell Dr. M. how well my ovaries are "waking up" at this point. I'll go in again Sunday and Monday, and then Tuesday (CD9) will be my next follicle scan. The past two injectibles cycles, my follicles were "big enough" on CD9. In May, his nurse gave me the trigger shot in the office right after the ultrasound, and then Paul and I came back for the IUIs over the following two days. And, of course, we got pregnant with Aliya and Bennett.
This time, I'm not sure what to expect to see on CD9. I'm hoping I'll have 4-6 follicles growing, even if they're not the right size by then. I have to say, the past four months I've felt like my body has been ruined, that it's no longer predictable and I can't figure it out. I hate that feeling. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything goes ok this time...
Meanwhile, life took another sucky turn yesterday. I'm really not at liberty to say much about it due to some folks who read this blog, but things will happen pretty quickly so I'll be able to soon. In a very non-specific nutshell, those of us who have lost babies are counseled not to make any major life changes for the first 12 months...and unfortunately, I might be forced to make one. I'm really struggling with it, trying hard to stay positive and believe everything will work out ok, and on the other hand, damn it, why is all this shit happening to us? "Life is unfair" is currently the understatement of the century.
Once again, I am so glad we have a support group meeting tonight. I've ugly cried several times this week already and I have a feeling there's more where that came from.
On the IUI front, we're progressing forward. I had my baseline follicle scan on Monday via transvaginal ultrasound, and found there's just a tiny residual cyst left (2x5mm) that shouldn't interfere with ovulation, so I got my plan, refilled my prescriptions for needles and syringes, and went on my way. The weird thing is the Lupron apparently *totally* shut down my hormones so that my antral (resting) follicle count was zero. Talk about confusing...looking at the screen, expecting to see white-outlined cirles in each ovary and instead seeing only white-outlined circles outside my ovaries - which turned out to be my intestines in cross-section - was pretty disconcerting. Dr. M. furrowed his brow a bit but said he thinks the cycle will be fine, it may just take a few more days of meds than usual.
So, I started my mini-Lupron shots yesterday morning (he had me mix my own mini-Lupron from the Lupron I had leftover from last month, so that was a money saver), and Paul christened my ass with my first of many 21 gauge, 1 1/2" needle "kisses" of Menopur this morning. The protocol is 2 ampules of Menopur in the morning, and one in the evening, with 0.2cc of mini-Lupron both morning and night. I go in for my first follow up blood draw tomorrow afternoon to check my estradiol level, which will tell Dr. M. how well my ovaries are "waking up" at this point. I'll go in again Sunday and Monday, and then Tuesday (CD9) will be my next follicle scan. The past two injectibles cycles, my follicles were "big enough" on CD9. In May, his nurse gave me the trigger shot in the office right after the ultrasound, and then Paul and I came back for the IUIs over the following two days. And, of course, we got pregnant with Aliya and Bennett.
This time, I'm not sure what to expect to see on CD9. I'm hoping I'll have 4-6 follicles growing, even if they're not the right size by then. I have to say, the past four months I've felt like my body has been ruined, that it's no longer predictable and I can't figure it out. I hate that feeling. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything goes ok this time...
Meanwhile, life took another sucky turn yesterday. I'm really not at liberty to say much about it due to some folks who read this blog, but things will happen pretty quickly so I'll be able to soon. In a very non-specific nutshell, those of us who have lost babies are counseled not to make any major life changes for the first 12 months...and unfortunately, I might be forced to make one. I'm really struggling with it, trying hard to stay positive and believe everything will work out ok, and on the other hand, damn it, why is all this shit happening to us? "Life is unfair" is currently the understatement of the century.
Once again, I am so glad we have a support group meeting tonight. I've ugly cried several times this week already and I have a feeling there's more where that came from.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Four months
Today is the four-month anniversary of the saddest and most beautiful day of Paul's and my lives - the day I gave birth to our tiny angels, our perfectly gorgeous daughter and son, Aliya Amy and Bennett Paul.
I took today off work, fully expecting to be a wreck like I was at the three-month mark. So far, I'm doing pretty well. I've cried many, many tears for others today...today is also the first birthday of two angels who were stillborn, Addison Eloise and Andrew, both lost due to cord accidents. Addi's day weighs especially heavy on our minds, because her wonderful parents, Brian and Keleen, have been so helpful to Paul and me during our journey the past four months.
Today is a gorgeous day so far, a beautiful winter day. The heavy frost of last night still lays white on our fences and plants, although now, finally, at 10:15 a.m., it's warmed up to 36 degrees and the frost is melting from the lawn. I don't remember anything specific about the weather the day our babies were born. I didn't even look outside...our room had no windows. (That's odd, isn't it? We really must have been in the depths of the Family Birth Center to have no windows, although it is in the basement.) The day my water broke, on August 4th, I remember I was wearing my purple maternity t-shirt and dark khaki maternity cargo capri pants with my beat-to-crap Birkenstocks, no socks. I had painted my toenails the day before, so they were nicely red, OPI's "I'm Not Really a Waitress", I think. (I have this thing where I always make sure my toes are painted before an appointment where I'll be sockless - thus any infertility procedure, OB appointment, ultrasound...and of course, the day I delivered, ironically.) I took those clothes off in the emergency room and changed to a gown, and that's all I wore for the next 30 hours. My clothes and Birks and wrist watch were placed in a bright green plastic bag with drawstring closure. We still have that bag (it's a nice, sturdy one), but so far I haven't been able to reuse it. Too many bad memories attached.
I think I'm doing more ok today than expected because while four months is a long time to miss our babies and I still can't believe it's been so long, there aren't any milestones attached. Three months is a measure of a quarter. In my work, we talk quarters all the time. One quarter, three months. I'm guessing here that six months will be much more painful than today is. The day I had set as my delivery date goal will be one of the most painful, I think. But today is kind of ok.
It's a good thing, too, because today my period started. This is significant, as it marks the start of our next IUI cycle, if - knocking on everything made of wood right now - my ovaries are cyst free and I have enough antral (i.e. resting) follicles to begin the injections. Our Menopur has been waiting in the fridge since early September. Tomorrow is my baseline ultrasound to take a look at my ovaries and get my Menopur and mini-Lupron dosages. If all goes well, I will be beginning my mini-Lupron shots on Wednesday morning and the Menopur on Thursday morning, moving toward (and hoping for) back-to-back IUIs in a couple of weeks.
The timing could not be more coincidental. I remember my first two periods after losing the babies being so horrified and traumatized by the sight of blood, even though it was expected this time. Thankfully, now I'm ok with it. More back to normal in that respect, so to speak. We both feel ready to go through the ups and downs of another IUI cycle this month. Having four months between us and our loss has been much needed and helpful, I think, moreso than we could have imagined even last month.
So, today, I feel fond memories of my children (I'm looking at their beautiful picture right now), and hope for tomorrow's appointment and the coming month. Somehow it feels like Aliya and Bennett might be sending peace to my heart today.
I took today off work, fully expecting to be a wreck like I was at the three-month mark. So far, I'm doing pretty well. I've cried many, many tears for others today...today is also the first birthday of two angels who were stillborn, Addison Eloise and Andrew, both lost due to cord accidents. Addi's day weighs especially heavy on our minds, because her wonderful parents, Brian and Keleen, have been so helpful to Paul and me during our journey the past four months.
Today is a gorgeous day so far, a beautiful winter day. The heavy frost of last night still lays white on our fences and plants, although now, finally, at 10:15 a.m., it's warmed up to 36 degrees and the frost is melting from the lawn. I don't remember anything specific about the weather the day our babies were born. I didn't even look outside...our room had no windows. (That's odd, isn't it? We really must have been in the depths of the Family Birth Center to have no windows, although it is in the basement.) The day my water broke, on August 4th, I remember I was wearing my purple maternity t-shirt and dark khaki maternity cargo capri pants with my beat-to-crap Birkenstocks, no socks. I had painted my toenails the day before, so they were nicely red, OPI's "I'm Not Really a Waitress", I think. (I have this thing where I always make sure my toes are painted before an appointment where I'll be sockless - thus any infertility procedure, OB appointment, ultrasound...and of course, the day I delivered, ironically.) I took those clothes off in the emergency room and changed to a gown, and that's all I wore for the next 30 hours. My clothes and Birks and wrist watch were placed in a bright green plastic bag with drawstring closure. We still have that bag (it's a nice, sturdy one), but so far I haven't been able to reuse it. Too many bad memories attached.
I think I'm doing more ok today than expected because while four months is a long time to miss our babies and I still can't believe it's been so long, there aren't any milestones attached. Three months is a measure of a quarter. In my work, we talk quarters all the time. One quarter, three months. I'm guessing here that six months will be much more painful than today is. The day I had set as my delivery date goal will be one of the most painful, I think. But today is kind of ok.
It's a good thing, too, because today my period started. This is significant, as it marks the start of our next IUI cycle, if - knocking on everything made of wood right now - my ovaries are cyst free and I have enough antral (i.e. resting) follicles to begin the injections. Our Menopur has been waiting in the fridge since early September. Tomorrow is my baseline ultrasound to take a look at my ovaries and get my Menopur and mini-Lupron dosages. If all goes well, I will be beginning my mini-Lupron shots on Wednesday morning and the Menopur on Thursday morning, moving toward (and hoping for) back-to-back IUIs in a couple of weeks.
The timing could not be more coincidental. I remember my first two periods after losing the babies being so horrified and traumatized by the sight of blood, even though it was expected this time. Thankfully, now I'm ok with it. More back to normal in that respect, so to speak. We both feel ready to go through the ups and downs of another IUI cycle this month. Having four months between us and our loss has been much needed and helpful, I think, moreso than we could have imagined even last month.
So, today, I feel fond memories of my children (I'm looking at their beautiful picture right now), and hope for tomorrow's appointment and the coming month. Somehow it feels like Aliya and Bennett might be sending peace to my heart today.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Dear Santa...
Dear Santa,
I know it's been years and years since I've written to you. I'm sorry about that. I guess I figured I'd outgrown you or some silliness. I hope you'll forgive me.
I'm writing today because I need help. Christmas is almost here and I'm having a really hard time finding my Christmas spirit. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy thinking about Christmas lights, Christmas trees, happy families, even different ways to decorate (I seem to have a bit of a Pinterest addicition), and even seeing those things is a little nice. We will probably even put up our own Christmas lights and tree and wreath, since who knows, maybe it'll help. (Plus, I do like the bright lights when it's so dark outside.) When it comes to the actual celebration of Christmas, though, being around friends and family at a time when my life feels shattered and unfixable, well, the entire thought makes my heart race and makes me want to puke or crawl into a hole and not come out until April.
Here's the thing: what should be "the most wonderful time of the year" is nothing but a huge reminder of the tragedy Paul and I have experienced the last (nearly) four months. The idea of having fun right now seems impossible. No, it doesn't seem impossible, it IS impossible; everywhere we look we see only reminders of what should have been this holiday for us: children and newborns, smiling faces all around, people planning get togethers and meals, navigating what could be difficult weather. Joy.
I know you'll forgive me for my meltdown last night when Paul asked me, in a cheery, teasing voice, what I want for Christmas. To say that question was a dagger to my already bleeding, torn heart is a gross understatement. I sit here typing with eyes still in desperate need of cold spoons or cucumber slices to combat the swelling from all the crying I did. Thankfully, he understands my response. He, too, feels exactly the same way, he just has a hard time putting it into words sometimes.
I know people call you magical and a miracle worker. I know, too, though, that there are probably some miracles you can't fulfill. But just in case, here's what Paul and I would like for Christmas...only these things. I don't generally care much about Christmas presents anyway, but this year, not at all.
1) Please give us a different life, one where I'm still pregnant, enjoying feeling my babies move inside my womb, where we're decorating the nursery, dealing with and lamenting the physical strain twins would be inflicting on my body at this stage of gestation and the burden having to continue to do *everything* would have on Paul, or
2) We would like to be agonizing over every breath and stat and blood test of two babies in the NICU for Christmas, even though that, too, would be a terrible reality (nonetheless, it must be infinitely better having broken hearts and two dead babies).
3) If you can't pull those off, and I know they're a long shot, then please, please give all the other friends and family members in our lives the ability - and desire - to talk about our babies with us, to ask us questions or remember them not just this holiday, but forever, to use their names in conversation, to do good things for others in their honor and tell us about them. More than anything in my life, I need to know - and HEAR - that others miss Aliya and Bennett, too, and hold us all in thoughts and prayers, and wonder what life would be like if they had lived.
4) If you can't pull that off, then, I guess, please just help Paul and me make it through the holidays. We may not be able to participate in usual traditions, and may need to avoid family and friends right now. Please help them to understand that we.just.can't.cope.
I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Santa, for all that you do.
Thanks.
Sincerely,
Amy Alyce
P.S. If you could also maybe help us to relax and be calm during our IUI session this month - if it's still in the cards for us - I'd appreciate that.
I know it's been years and years since I've written to you. I'm sorry about that. I guess I figured I'd outgrown you or some silliness. I hope you'll forgive me.
I'm writing today because I need help. Christmas is almost here and I'm having a really hard time finding my Christmas spirit. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy thinking about Christmas lights, Christmas trees, happy families, even different ways to decorate (I seem to have a bit of a Pinterest addicition), and even seeing those things is a little nice. We will probably even put up our own Christmas lights and tree and wreath, since who knows, maybe it'll help. (Plus, I do like the bright lights when it's so dark outside.) When it comes to the actual celebration of Christmas, though, being around friends and family at a time when my life feels shattered and unfixable, well, the entire thought makes my heart race and makes me want to puke or crawl into a hole and not come out until April.
Here's the thing: what should be "the most wonderful time of the year" is nothing but a huge reminder of the tragedy Paul and I have experienced the last (nearly) four months. The idea of having fun right now seems impossible. No, it doesn't seem impossible, it IS impossible; everywhere we look we see only reminders of what should have been this holiday for us: children and newborns, smiling faces all around, people planning get togethers and meals, navigating what could be difficult weather. Joy.
I know you'll forgive me for my meltdown last night when Paul asked me, in a cheery, teasing voice, what I want for Christmas. To say that question was a dagger to my already bleeding, torn heart is a gross understatement. I sit here typing with eyes still in desperate need of cold spoons or cucumber slices to combat the swelling from all the crying I did. Thankfully, he understands my response. He, too, feels exactly the same way, he just has a hard time putting it into words sometimes.
I know people call you magical and a miracle worker. I know, too, though, that there are probably some miracles you can't fulfill. But just in case, here's what Paul and I would like for Christmas...only these things. I don't generally care much about Christmas presents anyway, but this year, not at all.
1) Please give us a different life, one where I'm still pregnant, enjoying feeling my babies move inside my womb, where we're decorating the nursery, dealing with and lamenting the physical strain twins would be inflicting on my body at this stage of gestation and the burden having to continue to do *everything* would have on Paul, or
2) We would like to be agonizing over every breath and stat and blood test of two babies in the NICU for Christmas, even though that, too, would be a terrible reality (nonetheless, it must be infinitely better having broken hearts and two dead babies).
3) If you can't pull those off, and I know they're a long shot, then please, please give all the other friends and family members in our lives the ability - and desire - to talk about our babies with us, to ask us questions or remember them not just this holiday, but forever, to use their names in conversation, to do good things for others in their honor and tell us about them. More than anything in my life, I need to know - and HEAR - that others miss Aliya and Bennett, too, and hold us all in thoughts and prayers, and wonder what life would be like if they had lived.
4) If you can't pull that off, then, I guess, please just help Paul and me make it through the holidays. We may not be able to participate in usual traditions, and may need to avoid family and friends right now. Please help them to understand that we.just.can't.cope.
I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Santa, for all that you do.
Thanks.
Sincerely,
Amy Alyce
P.S. If you could also maybe help us to relax and be calm during our IUI session this month - if it's still in the cards for us - I'd appreciate that.
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