Be Nice!

So if I've learned anything over the past 2 1/3 years, it is that the more you beat yourself up the more you live down to those ideas of yourself.  The uglier I felt, the less I cared about my appearance.  The fatter I felt the less I worked out and more I ate gluten.  The more I called myself lazy, the less I did.  I tore myself apart.  I got myself to the point that I felt like I deserved infertility.  I lived down to a person who I subconsciously thought DID deserve infertility.  I am pretty confident that I didn't invent this wheel.

We are human, and we want so much to control and understand everything.  We want good things to happen to good people, and bad things to only happen to bad people.  When it doesn't happen that way, we immediately try to pick apart why the bad thing happened.  Since we can't usually control the bad things, we turn to the "good person" and try to figure out the "reason" they deserved this.  It is a way for us to try to console ourselves and reason why it would/could not happen to us.  People do it all the time...think of the rape victim that was wearing a short skirt at night.  We blame her for wearing a short skirt or for being alone at night, or for both.  I must say, I've worn a short skirt before, and I've been alone at night, but I feel pretty confident saying I don't deserve to be raped. I may not be the prettiest, thinnest, smartest young woman in the world, but that doesn't mean I deserve cancer, to be abused, to have endometriosis or infertility.  Nobody does.  

So to occupy myself with all the free time I have while in nursing school, I am really working on not victim-blaming myself.  I mean, I'd be totally nowhere if it weren't for me. Not to mention, I don't foresee an immediate future where I wake up as Britney Spears, Katy Perry or Princess Kate, so I guess I'm stuck.  Therefore, I can choose to beat myself up all the time over what I don't have or can't do, or I can choose to be thankful and happy for what I do have.  

It's so easy to become so narrow-visioned when dealing with infertility...you put all your time, energy and assets into having a baby that you totally lose sight of everything.  When things don't go well, instead of turning to the things we do have, we seem to turn on ourselves.  Again, I can't remind you enough how infertility is mean enough on it's own.  You don't have to help it beat you up.  You can fight it from tearing you down by taking steps back, looking around and appreciating the things you have in your life that you want to eventually share with a child.  

(Since it's kinda blurry...)
Be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace in your soul.

Peace and loving myself so I can best love you,

Mary Katherine 

"find though she be but little, she is fierce" ~Shakespeare

We Don't Know

Today was the appointment that every seasoned fertility patient dreads.  The "Free Follow-up" you hope you get to skip because you have an OB appointment instead.  Instead, you sling your head really low in the waiting room ashamed of being on the wrong side of the statistics again and wish you could disappear.  Two new patients came in today.  They were both much older than BJ and I, and the females were both extremely overweight which means they probably have poly-cystic ovarian syndrome.  They have a tangible problem and even with their age probably have better odds than BJ and I do of having our own children.  It's more salt in the wounds.

My mom has been with me all weekend and went with us as a support to this appointment as well.  Dr. Donesky immediately pulled up our files and talked about how much improvement we did have.  We had a genuine grade-able blast.  He gave it a grade of 3AB (not the 3AA- which does not surprise me at all...I've been pretty confident Susan made that up for my behalf all-along) which is still considered excellent in quality and some clinics would have only recommended transferring it, alone.  We will never know if it was the 3AB blast or the early blast that implanted, but we do know it survived for a while and continued progressing to the point that HCG was circulating at detectable levels through my system.  We won't ever know if something was wrong with the baby, or if it was me, or if it was simply misfortune that caused the miscarriage.

Dr. Donesky did say that if he had to guess which couples would find success with IVF and which wouldn't, he would choose the couples who had a biochemical pregnancy over the ones who have never had a positive anything.  It's strange to not be classified in that group anymore, yet having nothing to show for it.  I wish I felt more confident about it.

He allowed BJ and I to ask questions.  I asked about doing a reproductive immunology panel, and he said he'd be happy to do it, but the research and results just did not seem to be promising. Studies are not showing increased success with the treatments for the immunological problems affecting fertility.  Reproductive immunology is a very progressive field, and there are lots of medical professionals that do not buy into it.  I don't know enough nor can I find enough research to make an educated opinion about it, but I'm certainly keeping my eyes peeled and am rooting for the people who I've met online that are doing it.  If I'd had multiple losses with perfect blasts everytime, I think Dr. Donesky and I, both, would be more interested.

Dr. Donesky had high hopes for the embryos we transferred this time.  BJ and I certainly did.  He told us we could take the easy way out if we wanted and try a donor egg cycle.  Knowing that BJ and I are not on the same financial level as Bill and Guilliana Rancic, it would probably be the closest thing to guaranteed success Dr. D can offer us.  For the life of me, though, I cannot accept being in my 20's, producing a strong number of  nice-looking eggs, and there still being something wrong with them.  You can't google "poor oocyte quality" without getting information about advanced maternal age and poor ovarian response, neither of which applies to me.  Dr. Donesky is not ready to throw in the towel either, and I promise you he knows a lot more about this stuff than I do.  He told us we have 10 years or more to try donor eggs, but if we want to try with mine, now is the time.

My mother chimed in at this point with a "What would you tell your daughter to do?"  Dr. Donesky said he'd tell her to try again.  He'd tweak things a little bit.  We talked about timing, endometriosis and the pain I've been having, again.  Endometriosis is an auto-immune disease, which kills me to say because it makes me feel like I'm really sick.  I don't feel like a sick person for at least two-thirds of most months.  It is possible that the endometriosis is creating an inflamed environment in my pelvis that may be harming my eggs.  He told us that eggs are on a 72 day cycle.  Dr. D has seen some endometriosis patients get better results after being suppressed for longer.  

After discussing with BJ and me for a few minutes about when we'd like to try again. He wrote a prescription for 3 months worth of depo Lupron.  Yes, more needles, but only 1 a month.  I will officially be in a medically-induced menopause.  This means no more pain, but no more trying to conceive either.  It means I have to learn how to live again.  In March, if BJ and I are feeling plucky and have found hope again, I'll switch to sub-Q Lupron and we can go for it again.  If we've found a happy place in this 3 bedroom + bonus house living child-free, then so-be-it.  We obviously still have that option...

Peace, Love and ?,

MK   

This is Hell...

It really is.  I asked my nurse if we could just go ahead and schedule a hysterectomy.  She said it was way too early for me to even be asking, but where was she when I was puking my guts out at 3:00am because my stomach couldn't tolerate even ibuprofen at that point.  Where was she when I was biting my pillow to keep from screaming? Writhing in pain doesn't really begin to describe how my nights have been going since Tuesday, but I'm banking that at some point I will crash and sleep. However it doesn't seem like tonight is that night...

In my best moments I'm drugged up to the point I don't care about the pain, (like this present moment) but I'm still in pain.  It's like my entire abdomen has collapsed in on itself. My back aches, and I still feel so tender and bruised.  My stomach is still pretty messed up.  I'm mentally exhausted from the physical pain.  Not to mention that I've just lost the one thing I wanted most in the world.  In the breaks from the cramps the emotional pain seems to flood back in.  It's just a horrible feeling that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Thank God for my mother.  She's here nursing me through this weekend.  Helping BJ and I put back the pieces of our childless lives back together.  Packing up the meds, putting the ultrasound pictures away, and clearing the path for us to resume our lives as they were, but BJ and I are forever different.  We both know pain like it's a close friend.  Disappointment, grief, sadness have etched themselves into our bones.  Thanksgiving will always be that holiday that we lost our first child.  What a juxtaposition?

I've said from the beginning that there are never any guarantees. No one can tell us if/when/or what the ending of this story will look like. Any decision we make has the real possibility of ending poorly. As many things can go wrong and do go wrong with adoptions as IVF cycles.  Paperwork gets lost, birth-mothers change their minds, agreements fall through.  There is not an easy way out for us. The only easy way out is to be fertile to begin with, and that has never been an option for us.  Deciding not to parent at all is the choice that is easiest to refuse.

Ask me if I would go through all of this pain again not knowing if we'll ever have children, and I will tell you yes.  I would walk through Hell for my child whether I ever get to experience them in this realm or if I have to wait until I get to the Flipside.  It is a lot easier to write this knowing I have the full support of my life partner, BJ.  In addition, we have the rest of our family behind our backs, too.  We still even have a few friends who haven't disowned us just yet.

I don't know what our future looks like and for a planner like me, it seems completely asinine, but that's apparently how it's going to be.  We have a follow-up on Monday with Dr. D and from there is anybody's guess.

Peace, Love and a little sleep would be nice,
MK

What they don't tell you...

All-in-all, for someone having a miscarriage I've been pretty functional at work.  If I could work 24-7, I'd be just peachy.  I've only banged my head against the desk because the pain got so intense a few times today. I only teared up for a little bit after I helped a student get proof of enrollment so her new baby could qualify for TennCare.  I should probably volunteer to restock the community ibuprofen and tylenol bottles myself, but it's not like I get an employee discount anywhere...so they can lump it.

They tell you to expect a heavier and more painful bleed.  You say, "But I already have endometriosis, can it really get worse?'  They say, "It is definitely worse."  I haven't even started yet, and I've been taking 1000mg Ibuprofen staggered with Extra Strength Tylenol in-between every two hours, and I'm still rocked off my feet with cramps.  My back my thighs and of course my abdomen. When I'm not cramping I feel bruised from the belly button down like I've been kicked in the uterus.  I don't think this is headed anywhere I really want to go but what choice do I have?

They tell you because you had a pregnancy you need to give yourself at least one "unmedicated" cycle in-between because your hormones are going to be out of whack for several weeks.

When people say, "Well, at least you know you can get pregnant!" They probably don't know that it took you over $50,000 (thank God for the little insurance we do have) one major and two minor surgeries, over 160 needle-sticks not counting acupuncture, 8 months of fertility treatments including 2 IVF cycles, and a priceless amount of heart ache.  So, no, I'm really not too convinced that I can "get pregnant."

They don't tell you how heart-breaking and cruel it is to go from "It's positive," and two hours later tell you, "It's not viable."

They don't tell you how much self-loathing you'll feel in the sense that you couldn't even keep your own baby alive.  You flashback to your adolescence.  You were never pretty enough, thin enough, talented enough, good enough, smart enough, funny enough, or tough enough.  You look in the mirror and you realize your teenage self was exactly right, so why would you think you'd ever be good enough to be somebody's mother?

They don't tell you what to say when people tell you, "Well don't you think it's just not meant to be?" and "Maybe God has other plans for you."

They don't tell you how much it really hurts when your heart is broken.

They don't tell you if you'll ever be brave enough to try again.

They don't tell you how long you'll feel like this.

They don't tell you what the right thing to do is.

And they can't tell you why this is happening. Nobody can.

Peace, Love, and that is all I have,
Mary Katherine

Supression check - Check!

Today was the day, and a day it has been.

Firstly, because I'm not going to sit here and lie on my own blog, I want to tell you how Negative Nancy I've been.  I cried on the phone to my mother last night for a half hour because I just knew this cycle was not going to go well.  I keep having these flashes of my mother stepping off the plane to me, in tears, devastated and unable to compose sentences again.

This morning in the parking lot of the fertility clinic, I told BJ I didn't want to get out of the car.  I said, "Let's not and say we did."  BJ replied, "C'mon, let's go."  So I did...I do listen occasionally, but it's by free will.

Before you yell things like, "It's not going to work if you don't want it," and "Your thoughts are powerful." may I remind you of the fact that positive thinking only got us to round 2 of IVF with nothing but a huge dent in our bank accounts. Would you tell a cancer patient that if they relaxed and thought positively (maybe throw in a macrobiotic diet) they would get better?  That worked so well for Steve Jobs.  (Sorry if that's too soon for my geekier friends, I hate that he's gone too. Damn granolas and their holistic bs...)  Scientifically/philosophically speaking, things are gonna go how they go just like they went how they did in August.

I was ashamed that I felt so negatively last night.  Too ashamed to tell my husband.  But I did this morning, and he told me about the Stockdale Paradox.  This Stockdale guy is pretty amazing and describes my situation perfectly.  I'm not comparing myself to a POW, or a cancer patient, but please realize I do have a disease, and I am a patient. I think that is one of the most difficult things for breeders to understand when a friend suffers with infertility.

Relaxing, head-standing, adopting-to-induce-spontaneous-conception or any other natural method is pretty much giving the macrobiotic diet a whirl in lieu of chemotherapy and radiation.   I'm not sure this IVF cycle will work.  I want to have a baby more than anything in the world.  This is my paradox and if you take the link, you'll see it's not only rational to have these conflicting thoughts, it can save your sanity.  So I read it, and now I feel better.

So much so that I am willing to share my results.

Estrogen Level:  20.0    August Baseline 37.3  Desired results <50
So I'm over-achieving in this area, but I don't think how low necessarily makes a difference so long as it's below 50.  One website says the lower you are the better your response to stims...so YAY!

Progesterone Level:  .333  August Baseline .252   Desired results <1.5
Little higher than last time, but still nowhere close to 1.5, so I think it's all good.  We want this one to stay low until after the retrieval, and then I want it at 40 by 5dpt.


LH level:  2.86  August Baseline 4.16  Desired results <7
Better, it means my ovaries are "quieter" as the specialists like to call it.  They are more easilty taken hostage by stimulation medications.


Baseline Scan:  12-15 follicles on each ovary  August Baseline 5-7 on each  Desired results 10-12
Yeah buddy!  That's potentially a lot of eggs and I just need 1! 


So, yeah, I'm a little bit excited again.  I also know I'm gonna be alright no matter what.

Peace, Love and Last One of These,

Mary Katherine

I am infertile, hear me roar!

SHIT!
[That was my roar...It's my favorite word, after all (Sorry Mom, but it is...).]

Yes, it's a fact.  BJ and I have unexplained infertility.

Wait a minute!  You said you had endometriosis and BJ had mighty morphan sperm...or whatever...


True and true, but neither of them are significant enough to explain the problems we had with our embryos. Any-some-how, it's where we are.  It's what I am...unexplained...although lots of people would probably have said that about me before Dr. D did.

I got some more blood drawn, because I had some free time on my hands, and I hadn't been to the fertility clinic in almost a week... I'm kidding, but I did have a thyroid panel run for fun and giggles...and possibilities.  It's past all it's previous tests, and I would suspect it would still be fine, but you just never know.

I also started acupuncture again, because I'm addicted to needles. So I have a new acupuncturist with a new philosophy and a travel schedule that is less demanding.  I already feel better because he's just as much of a philosopher as he is a healer.  He asked some hard questions.  "When are you going to stop?"  "What if you never get pregnant?" "What if you never have children?"

I can't answer a single one of those questions because I'm scared shitless.  That was my 'aha' moment. Sure I'm sad that it didn't work, but I can try again.  I'm scared to pieces of it not working, of not having children, yadda, yadda...What I realized, today, though, is that I'm completely consumed by fear.  When you are buying organic, $1.05 a serving yogurt at the grocery store and have a mini-meltdown because you think of all the crack-addicts that get pregnant, you realize that this stuff is starting to get to you.

So my project for the next little while is to accept my fear and start enjoying my life again.  I'm doing all these things to have a baby, but really I need to do it for myself and let the baby come when and how it's going to.  I can't just talk the talk and go through the motions, I have to do these things with the right frame of mind.  Instead of being angry at my body for it's failures, I need to accept it for where it is.  We've gone through a lot together...and all-in-all, it's held up pretty well.  I bounced back from ACL reconstruction on either knee, I was running and exercising less than a week after my laparoscopy...I've been pretty darn healthy.  So it's just this one thing that I've not been able to do on my schedule.  I have got to forgive myself of that and remember that I'm making these changes for me and that is enough.  The rest of the time I need to live. Not just countdown the days until my next IVF cycle.

So, SHIT, this sucks, but I'm not going to sit here and let infertility steal any more of the good things happening in my life.  Infertility is a thief and will take anything it can.  Your marriage, your happiness, your ability to be happy for other people, whatever you let it have it's gonna take.  Well, shit!  I'm going to take it back.

Peace, Love and Merde, (SORRY MOM...again)

MK

Falling Slowly

Have you ever had a song on your iPod for forever and then something in your life happens and all the sudden the song strikes a whole new chord? So yeah, that happened...

Ladies and Gentlemen, Glen Hansards's song from the Motion Picture, Once: 

Falling Slowly

I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice

You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing it loud

I also want to say thank you for the continued prayers and well wishes.  I'm a pretty lucky lady to have so many wonderful friends and family members sticking by my side through what has easily been the most difficult and painful experience of my life.  

To BJ,

I have no words to express how grateful I am that I have you in my life everyday.  You are my hero, and I could never have survived this without you.  I am so proud that I get to call you my husband.  You are truly an amazing person.  I love you so much and I want you to know that I still believe.

That is all,

MK

Survival

I laughed today.  I don't even remember in what context, but I laughed. It surprised me at how easily it came.  I was ashamed of myself for a fleeting moment, but then I let it go.  I don't need to wallow. I can mourn and live at the same time.

I couldn't sleep last night because I took medicine for the cramps that have been off the charts.  While the medicine takes the pain away it leaves me too jittery to sleep (I know, I'm strange).  So it was me, my sleeping husband, my snoring cat and my despair.  What if this never happens?  What if our embryos are just as poor of quality?  How will I live through this again?  What if we just stop? Should we stop? That's when my chest heaves and I can't breathe.

We can't stop.  Not yet.  Only time will tell if we are delusional or not.  I know some people think I'm crazy for wanting to go through this again, but I'd be willing to bet none of those have had infertility.  Look at Celine Dion who recently conceived twins on not her 4th, 5th, but 6th cycle of IVF.  Dr. Sher, who is one of the leading infertility doctors in the country said, "Statistically speaking, a woman under 40 years of age, using her own eggs, having selected a good IVF program is likely to have a better than 70% chance of having a baby within three completed attempts."  

The only people I knew personally who went through IVF were successful on their first attempts.  Now I know people who weren't successful until the 4th, 5th and 6th.  I hate it, I really do.  The thought of the stress and angst can be overwhelming, but again what choice do I have if I want my own child?  I'm not ashamed to say that adopting is not my first choice.  It's far from off the table, in fact I have an attorney on retainer (thanks, Daddy), but I do want to try for my own, and I can.  

Maybe that's the difference.  Maybe having a doctor that still believes that I can get pregnant, that wants to try something new, that is even willing to call other RE's and do some research makes a difference.  It could be my husband cheering me on.  It could be my parents and in-laws who've been so supportive and want me to try again.  It could be God whispering 'don't give up'.  

I cried a lot today, too.  I cried when people told me they were sorry.  I cried when one of my co-workers hugged me.  I cried when people just asked how I was doing.  I enjoyed working, though.  I enjoyed working with students.  I'm  not gonna lie, I stuck with mostly college planning and hopeful things, but I loved hearing the excitement and enthusiasm in my students' voices.   Everything was going swell until a student asked me if I was going to have kids after looking at a picture of my husband and I.  It took my breath away for a moment.  You think, 'oh sweet child, if you only knew'.  I looked at the picture she was looking at and I said, "Yeah, I think so."

Peace, Love and Thinking so,

MK

Picking up the Pieces

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yesterday was hard, and today isn't exactly easy, but it's progress.  The hole in my chest is definitely still there.  The little reminders such as my med calendar, a prescription bottle, a wandering consent form still bring tears to my eyes.  I didn't go to work today.  I can't face my job, yet.  Yesterday the only thing I could do was breathe, so I didn't think I was ready to be counseling others.

I'm still suffering.  I locked the door to the woulda/shoulda/coulda been nursery.  I know what it looks like. I know what I want it to look like.  I don't need to go in there to be reminded of my failures.  When I am ready to work on it, I'll unlock it, but for now it's time to lock it down and move past. I just gotta let go a little bit.

I wonder when I'm going to be okay, again?  I'm not asking for great; okay will suffice. I wonder when my body will decide to expel my dead babies.  I wonder if "ass-hole" couple conceived. I wonder when we'll be able to try again.  I wonder when I'll be able to go out again.  I wonder when I'll be able to answer, 'How are you doing?' without breaking down.  I wonder when my husband and I will be content again. I wonder how many people think I'm absolutely crazy for not giving up.  I wonder why I still care about what people think.

Today, I've scoured the internet for a success story that matches my own. I cried when I thought there would be yet another family vacation without a baby.  Not just a baby, my baby.  My dream of having a child before I was 30 is officially gone *POOF*.  I laugh that just 16 months ago, I thought I was buying the last box of tampons I would need for a really long time. I bought the single pregnancy test, because I was sure that is all I would ever need.  I want to go back in time and shake that young woman.  I want to warn her.  I want her to not want so badly...I kinda want to kill her, but I guess she's already dead.

Then, I realized I needed to stop.

So here it is.

God,
I ask for the strength to endure your plan for me.
I ask for help accepting my future be what it may.
I ask for mercy.
I ask for forgiveness for being so conceited as to think I had any control.
I'm done with self-imposed deadlines and ultimatums.
I'm ready to hand over the controls.
In Jesus' name, Amen.

I really mean it this time.  I'm just gonna coast for a bit.  I'm gonna accept my family for what it is.  My husband, my parents, my brother, my siblings-in-law, my niece, my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my goofy cats Lucifer and Gaius, our beautiful puppy Emma Grace, and, of course, our friends.

But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna fight the battle.  BJ, myself and our little angel army are gonna keep our appointment with Dr. D in week.  We're going to let him do the research this time and he's planning on doing plenty.  I'm gonna let him do the worrying for me for a while.  I'm going to concentrate on being as healthy as I can. No alcohol, no caffeine (not even a chocolate chip), no artificial sweeteners.  Lots of water, protein, dairy and royal jelly.  Royal jelly is nasty, but it helps the queen bee lay thousands upon thousands of eggs and live up to 6 years while the rest of the worker bees live only 2 months.  It's thought to help egg and embryo quality in humans, so I'm gonna suck it up and swallow 2 dreadful teaspoonfuls a day.  It's not an herb, so according to Dr. D it falls in the "can't hurt, might help" category. I can exercise again.  I can catch up on chores. I need to go shopping to find something nice to put my precious babies' pictures in.

And so for the next week or so, that is all I can do, so that is what I'm gonna do.

Peace, love, and enduring hope,

Mary Katherine

And the sun sets...

"I guess I really am infertile" ~Tamara Blaich

"Well, your test result is negative."

Just 6 words is all it takes to bring your world crashing down, smash your heart to pieces, and bring worse pain than any endometrial biopsy or endometriosis ever could.  I can honestly say I never thought I'd be here.  Although, I never thought I'd have trouble having a baby to begin with, so I guess it's a given.

I've just gone through the granddaddy of all fertility treatments and failed.  This must put me in a new category of elite infertile.  It's not like I fizzled out and failed.  I crashed and burned.  I have nothing to fall back on, no frozen embryos.  I've almost killed as many babies as the Atlanta Child Killer. I've lost 17.  I'm no closer to being a mother than I was 18 months ago.  So what now?

Now, you just cry.  You try to get it together long enough to ask the doctor a few questions, but then you can't remember what you asked or what was even said.  You clutch your chest as if that will hold the pieces of your heart together.  You bawl when your mother packs up your medicine and needles because it really is over.  You offer your husband a freebie divorce, again.  You wait for your period/miscarriage to start, again.  You pray you survive it's wrath, again.  But mostly you just breathe.

It's a chore right now, breathing.  I have to concentrate to pull enough air in because it feels like someone is sitting on my chest.  I have to think about taking one breath at a time.  I'm not bawling when I'm focused on breathing. So that is what I do, just breathe.  Despite the struggle and stopped-up nose, I'm a successful breather, and that is something.

You can't distract yourself with television.  There's a Pampers ad, a Tampax ad, a First Response ad, and even a Plan B ad as if you'd ever be so fortunate to have an unplanned pregnancy.  All reminders about how everybody else can have what they want or hell, don't want, and you can't.  You, ma'am, you are different. You must wait because it is still not your turn.

You can't walk because the children in your neighborhood are playing and laughing and you'll just have a panic attack.  You can't have a drink because that is something you can do differently this time.  You can't go shopping because someone is pushing a stroller, patting their pregnant belly, and holding their screaming child's hand.  You can't go out because you look and feel like hell.  You can't call anyone because you can't complete a sentence.

Your mother longs for you to get over this hurdle because she has a sneaky suspicion you knew all along anyway.  Your husband wants desperately for you to be happy again.  You just want to live through the minute, hour and possibly even the week.  Your doctor wants you to take some time.  As if 16 months is not enough time.  What do I do with this time?  Think about how hard my life has become?  Think about how many of my teenage students will get pregnant this school year?  Think about all the abused children out there? Pray to a God I'm not sure is listening?

That's not fair...He is listening.  I'm pretty sure He's the only thing keeping me going at this point.

For now we mourn that which will never be.  Those two clumps of beautiful potential.  The only children I've ever had the honor of carrying if even for such a short time.

We love you and can't wait to meet you on the other side.

So I move forward.  I keep breathing.  I understand that I have an army of 17 little angels who will all be behind their mommy and daddy for the rest of their time.  I have a husband who wants to fight this with me a little more.  I have breath, therefore I have hope.

"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey." ~Kenji Miyazawa

Mary Katherine

The sun keeps coming up.

No matter how bad I feel.  No matter how sad I am.  No matter how many times I cry in a single day.  The sun keeps coming up.  We need rain.  Seriously, the grass is crunchy, the pool keeps evaporating faster than normal, the puppy is too hot and miserable to take walks outside, yet the sun continues to shine.  The sun is a stubborn beast of a star.

I had another blood test at the fertility center yesterday.  In just three attempts they were able to get enough blood to assess my progesterone levels.  They must have been great b/c they didn't call to tell me to change my meds.  This is excellent news in the sense that I'm perfectly capable of carrying a pregnancy with a little hormonal support.  Although, there is a cost to this "support."  The occasional misfire of the needle can leave you with a bloody mess.

Sorry if it's too gruesome for you! This is only the 2nd time, but I hit another vein and it is a little disconcerting.
I'm going to have to start drawing X's on my butt on the bad spots. Won't that be sexy!

Dr. D's medical assistant was awesome.  She told me that Dr. D has never had a patient my age that he has given up on and she couldn't think of one that didn't go on to have a baby.  She asked Dr. D to take time out of his schedule to talk to me.

I don't know that I will get bad news on Tuesday (the day of my blood pregnancy test) for sure at all. However, I need to know what (if any) contingency plan there is.  Afterall, the frozen embryo transfer is out the window because my poor little ones were unable to make it to the blast stage.  I can't be stuck with horrendous news and not have something to look forward to.  That just won't work for me.  I can't be crazy with devastation and not have a lighted path to walk on.

Anyway, Dr. D, graciously gave up some of his time to talk to me.  He immediately reiterated, "I've done transfers that I was positive were going to be a complete waste of time.  You're embryos were not in that category."  He went on, "If, IF, we have to do it again, we have some different things to try. I feel confident that you can carry a pregnancy, we may have to look into some different options, but you can get pregnant.  Going to donor eggs at this point would be taking the easy way out with you, and I'm not ready to do that."  He went on to describe a few options which I'm not going to get into in this blog, because it's a bit premature.

It made me feel better.  Fertility clinics are (SHOULD be if they have any credibility) big on reporting their statistics, and IF this doesn't work, I hated to think I was going to be one of those patients that the clinic gets scared of. According to Dr. D and his nurse, I'm far from that category.  Is it sad that I'm starting to love these people?

I felt a little better, and trucked it to work where I cried when the secretary asked me how it went.  I cried when the new assistant principal who struggled with infertility asked me how it went.  I cried when my boss asked me what I was willing to go through to have a child.  I cried when I was in my office alone.  My co-counselors were amazing.  They didn't ask as per my request.  They treated me as normal as they could considering I'm a walking time-bomb.  All-in-all, it still went much better than I thought it was going to go.

Today was better, I only cried once before our in-service started.  I did kind of brush off one person I wasn't expecting to be a blog-reader who told me her heart was going out to me.  I was caught off guard and I didn't want to start bawling, so I nodded and sat down.  After a few more speakers I was able to go back to her and tell her I appreciated her concern and apologized for walking off without tearing up.  She completely understood.

Then I got home, played with my beautiful puppy, Emma Grace, got a little acknowledgement from one of my cats while doing some chores, and then got on my computer to check some blogs I've been following.  That is where I found this blog post on my blog's dashboard.  I was moved to tears to say the least.  People like the Slocums are why the sun keeps coming up.  They give BJ and I a reason to act somewhat normal, attend social events, and remember that we aren't lepers even though I feel like I am.  Thank you guys so much!  I cannot convey  in words how much your friendship has meant to us, or how fortunate we are to have people like you in our lives!

So the sun came up today and although I was dizzy, queasy, crampy and tired, it's been a blessed day.

Peace, Love, & Friends,
MK

What can you do?

"The greatest oak was once just a little nut who held its ground." ~Author Unknown

What do you do when you are barely 3 days past a 5 day embryo transfer and you wake up at 5am with pain and bleeding? You scream.  Fortunately for my neighbors, I'm still too hoarse to scream so not a sound came out of my mouth but a faint strain. Then I got it together and called the emergency line at my fertility clinic.  I woke up my RE's poor partner.  He asked me if I was using Endometrin. I said yes.  Well, that is what is causing it.  Apparently it can be really irritating to the cervix and cause the cervical cells to ooze blood.  LOVELY!  Then you feel really stupid and email your doctor's nurse and ask if there is anything you can do for the pain.  Most people can't feel their cervix, but not so with me.  Mine HURTS.

This morning my nurse emailed me back and said to switch to progesterone shots twice a day.  GLADLY!  This Endometrin stuff is not for the faint of heart.  It's a nasty little pessary that kinda looks like a yeast infection treatment and is extremely messy.  'Snot fun.  So yes, I'll gladly switch back to two-a-day progesterone in oil shots with a 1.5 inch needle and large bore, thank you very much.

So aside from having a near death experience this morning, I'm doing ok.  I'm getting over the cold or whatever it was that made me so hoarse for so long.  I'm starting to feel a little queasy especially when my stomach is empty with all the hormones I'm pumped up on.  It's that kind of nausea where you feel like you might throw up, but it's not worth the energy to go to the bathroom and lean over the toilet.  I seriously have enough hormones in my body right now to support a man through a pregnancy.  The Promtetrium makes me a little dizzy even while lying down. I'll be supine and feel like I'm on a boat. My boobs hurt if you look at them too hard.  I'm achy from not doing anything. This all sounds good, right?  Except that it's all just potentially side effects from the hormones...but just maybe!

Mentally, well it's still a toss up between hope and fear.  Really though, what is hope?  If you weren't afraid of anything, then you wouldn't need hope.  Hope and fear go hand in hand and I have tons of  both.  I'm scared for my little ones. I'm scared about my genetics.  I'm scared of my results on Tuesday.  People keep asking me if this is the longest week ever, and you'd think it would be.  It's not.  It's going way too fast.  I'm pregnant until proven otherwise and Tuesday is the day we find out if it is the otherwise.

Until then, I carry on being the best a little bit pregnant mommy I can be.  Tomorrow I have my blood drawn to check my progesterone levels, then I head back to the real world.  I'm glad to have something to do, but I know I'm going to cry every time someone asks how it went.  I can't help myself.

I think people misinterpret my tears with hopelessness.  No, it's just fear and disappointment.  I totally believe in my two little fighters.  I, however, haven't totally wrapped my mind about how my other little embryo babies did not make it.  Again, no one was expecting this, so how could BJ and I expect to understand why or not be concerned?  We are grateful that we had 2 to transfer and praying for their continued development. [You got this, babies!  Just keep going! I love you!]

I was doing a little research last night, and read where they compare infertility patients second to cancer patients in fighting for a cure. It made me realize that I'm not crazy for feeling like I'm in a fight for my life, because I am.  It may not be my literal life, fortunately, but it is the life that I wanted and expected.  It's a fight for my dreams. It's a fight for my children's lives that just aren't quite here yet.  Why else would I stab myself with needles, spend hours exposed in stirrups, endure painful procedures, and subject myself to the worst emotional pain I've ever had again and again?

Because I so very much love the children I don't have in my arms just yet. Because I believe in my dreams, in my husband, and in my doctors.  Not trying is dying, and I'm not ready to let my dreams die.

Peace, Love, and implanting embryos,
MK

I believe in miracles. I have to.

"We must try not to sink beneath our anguish...but battle on." JK Rowling

Well, that did not go as planned at all...

I went in for my transfer this morning.  First they took a progesterone level and then took me back to the same prep room they use for the egg retrieval.  No drugs or IV's involved, all I needed was a full bladder (UGH).  It was the normal drill of "disrobe from the waist down and someone will be with you shortly."  This time the someone was supposed to be the embryologist.

A few minutes later, the embryologist, the nurse, and Dr. D came back to the prep/recovery area.  RED FLAG! Susan, the embryologist, told us that our babies were progressing slowly.  There was also some fragmentation.  Out of the 13 embryos remaining the two best looked like they were 4 day morulas instead of 5 day blastocysts.  She did not think any of the 11 remaining would make it to freeze, but she was going to give them an extra day change their fluids and do as much as she could for them.

This is a Day 4 Morula. (image from ivf.net)

These are my precious babies on day 5.  We could really use a miracle, right now. On the right one at about 2 o'clock you can see where Susan performed assisted hatching on the outer layer to help them that much more.  

A Day 5 blastocyst which is where my babies were expected to be. (image from ivf.net)

I tried to be brave and hold it together, but it is really disheartening.  They hugged me and told me not to lose hope, and I haven't, but it still feels like I've been shot through the heart.  I could be losing all 17 of my babies. That is just dreadful to think about.  It is such a strange place to be.  I never expected this and certainly was not prepared for this blow.  Embryo quality did not seem like it was going to be an issue for us.  Our issues were sperm morphology and low hormone levels in myself. Nobody warned us that this could be a real possibility.

It's so bizarre to be in this situation of hope through despair.  I've got to be the best possible mom-to-be to my premature wee ones, but also balance the reality that their odds are diminished.  It's really hard.  I want to scream and cry and have a fit, but I can't.  I want to be elated that I have two of the most beautiful living beings right where they need to be, but I can't.  

Dr. D told us, "It's not what we want to see, but we've seen uglier embryos go on to create some cute babies." I guess he's implying that my embryos are ugly.  I asked him if he'd transferred lower quality embryos and he told me he's done some where he thought the transfer was a complete waste of time and they ended up with twins.  He said not to lose hope.  I haven't, but I'm certainly not in the state of mind that I was hoping to be in for the next 9 days.  Susan also told me that I was a much better incubator than they could recreate in the lab.  So here's hoping.

We signed yet another consent to have both of those transferred and had to be told that the chance of miscarriage, stillborn, and maternal death all increase for multiple pregnancies.  That will just have to be Dr. B's problem if I'm so fortunate.  With a blanket wrapped around my waste and BJ at my side, I followed Dr. D, Susan and the nurse to the operating room.  The procedure was not bad at all.  I barely felt anything but pressure from having a full bladder.  I could see on the ultrasound screen where my two babies were deposited. My progesterone level was great and you could see I had a nice cushy lining for them to snuggle in to if they can hang on for a bit. Hopefully they'll stick around for a while. 

The worst part of the procedure is not being able to pee.  They want you to remain reclining for 20 more minutes.  They rolled me back in to the recovery area on the stretcher and closed the curtain.  That is when BJ and I both broke down for the first time at the same time since this whole process of trying to conceive began. It was an awful 5 minutes, but we realize as potential first time parents, we have a job to do.  I have to take care of the babies I have now and a blubbering jag is not going to help.  

The time creeped by but, eventually, they let me pee.  I got dressed, and BJ drove us home.  I don't think BJ or I said three words to each other in the car.  All you could feel, however, is the strength we have as a couple.  I love BJ so much.  I know we will survive this come what may, I just wish I could give him the family he wants.  

If this cycle doesn't work, Dr. D told us that this did not mean we'd have to use donor eggs or sperm.  If we do have to do another cycle, then, we have every reason to expect things to go well.  He said he would tweak a few things to help ensure my embryos were better quality.  I have no clue what that will involve, but I'm sure it's just more or less medication.

In the meantime we hold vigil for the two babies I've got and their 11 siblings.  Pray that they continue to grow and develop so that some make it to freeze.  I'll take any help anyone has to offer on the prayer side of things.  We've come a long way, but it still feels like we have a bare cliff-face to climb.

Dedicated to my only children.  Mommy and Daddy love you so much!

MK

Wiggin' out...

Well, it's for real. I'm trying to pack, and I can't get it together long enough to concentrate on what I need so I thought I'd blog instead. I'm bouncing between apathy and freaked out. I want to not care. I'm tired from the past 15 horrible months of failures. I'm tired of my life revolving around my ovaries. I'm tired of disappointment. I'm tired of feeling terrible. I'm tired of crying.

What's weird is I thought I'd be crazy-excited and stupid-happy, but alas...I can't even do that well. I'm scared that my eggs won't be any good. I want to not care about my eggs. I'm so freaked out about my eggs it's exhausting. I should be freaked out about the large-bore 12" needle that will be shoved up my...well, hell, beav. I could care less about that part. I just want it to be over so I know if my eggs will fertilize, how many will fertilize, and how many will actually make it to the transfer.

As with everything else in my life I wish I was a step ahead of where I actually am. I know (I mean I'm a damn counselor for goodness sakes) that I should enjoy the moment. Whoever the hell ever came up with that mantra clearly was not suffering from infertility. I'm having a hard time figuring out what about this moment I'm supposed to be enjoying.

Well, I need to get going...pray for happy eggs and sperm!


Thanks,
MK

Don't read this. It's whiny.

What are you doing? I said DON'T read this!

Out of the blue, I've had a terrible day. Anytime I have a moment to myself I start crying. I don't have any medication to blame, so it's just me being a candy-ass. Although, maybe it's the $2,000 bucks in unexpected bills I've received in the last couple of days? $1,000 of yet which will probably be resolved, but that still leaves us with a chunk of change that our insurance unexpectedly did not cover missing from our "rainy day" funds. I think it's also a bit of reality setting in.

When I get in a funk like this I spend too much time on fertility treatment message boards. These do nothing to uplift my spirits and usually only remind me how awful things can go. Today one woman found out her fifth and last IVF cycle did not work. I can't even fathom having to subject yourself to this process that many times, and then for it to not work, beyond unfair. There are always a few success stories. Several first time IVFers have come forward, which you'd think would be encouraging, but it kinda feels like the chances of your cycle working are statistically decreasing.

The other thing about message boards is that they are cult-like and confusing. You need a decoder ring to interpret most of the posts. For instance, "I'm 5dp3dt and HPT is still BFN. Bhcg is not until 12dpt." In English that would be, "I'm 5 days past a 3-day embryo transfer and my home pregnancy test is still a big fat negative. My beta HCG blood test is not until 12 days post transfer." There are a bunch more acronyms some of which I still don't understand after 6 months of reading this infertility Greek. And what is with the big fat positives and big fat negatives? I only like to hear the words 'big fat' associated with my paycheck. I'm not sure why big fat is standard, but it makes me feel silly to say it.

When I first started visiting these websites, I always scoffed about how I would never be like these women, and lo, here I am. While I refrain from the big fats, I'm now officially a member of all these boards. They can be useful in getting a better idea of what things are going to be like. In fact, none of the ladies have said an IUI is just like a pap smear. In that sense, they can be useful. However, you need to be on top of your game mentally and realize that once women become pregnant they tend to drift off and leave us still-barren folk to our despair. I can't blame them. We are a pretty dreadful group. We do give each other a lot of support and "(((hugs)))", but it isn't the same as talking to people in person. If only more people would open up about it before they were cured I think it would be easier on all of us.

It is starting to become real for me. I'm taking my last "pill" on Monday and things will get real serious real fast. I have my baseline on Thursday, which I'm just now realizing is a make-or-break day. If I have any cysts, I'm done for at least another month. Boo! The birth control should resolve any that I may have had, so I have no reason to think I will have a problem. Except that in the past year everytime something "shouldn't be a problem" it's turned into a problem. Through this whole process I keep thinking the tide has to turn, but I need to come to grips with the reality that it might not. Just as I don't deserve infertility, I don't deserve IVF to work. I want it to, but it's not as if the more despondent or sad I become the better my odds are or the more deserving I become.

Well, I need to suck it up and enjoy my last weekend night before school kicks up. There will be better days, but for now I think I'll have some wine with my whine.

I told you not to read this,
MK

The costs of infertility...

The costs go way beyond the financial. Infertility is extremely taxing. It's mentally exhausting, physically demanding, financially depleting and emotionally draining. Your self-worth comes into question (mostly by yourself). There is the guilt...

I wonder almost everyday what I did to cause this. I feel like if I knew that, I could "fix" it and be cured. Did my disordered eating (crash diets, and the like...) in high school and college make me infertile? According to my doctors, probably not. Was it the depo provera shots I took for almost 4 years? My gyno says no, I had menstrual issues long before that...The frustrating thing with infertility is that a lot of us don't ever find out what is wrong and get slapped with an "unexplained infertility" diagnosis. How can you fix something if you don't know where the break is?

Any-some-how, infertility has cost BJ and I a lot more than money, and it's cost plenty of that, too. Here are the things that are bothering me the most...

1. Care-free attitude. BJ and I both will never be able to take for granted the things that come easily, which is good, but I miss the days when we were just blissfully unaware of how messy life can be.

2. The romance. Our relationship is strong, but we both have a goal of making a baby. It's a cloud that hangs over us constantly. There is nothing romantic about watching your wife in stirrups wincing while having another man probing and trying to impregnate her. Our child will be a love child, but in a totally different sense. I still mourn that there will be no conceiving on vacations or friends' weddings. It may be a little thing, but it's something you breeders (to steal a term from my homosexual friends) take for granted.

3. The element of surprise. I'm never going to get that 'I just peed on a stick and now I'm running around the house like a mad woman out of joy' moment. Out of the team of people that are working with us to help us procreate, we'll probably be the last to know when it does happen. Everything is done for me. I just have to show up to my appointments and take the right doses of medication. My doctor and nurses control when I ovulate (well, that is the idea, anyway), when I get a shot at fertilization, and when to do a pregnancy test. Again, not very romantic...

4. The innocence. I'm not going to be able to get pregnant and be blissfully happy. I'm going to be scared $hitless, and worried about staying pregnant. I'll be a high-risk pregnancy, which is frustrating because I'm an otherwise healthy 20-something. I'll have a weekly goal of staying pregnant from one doctor visit to the next. My mother ran throughout her entire pregnancy, and I had always imagined myself staying active and being relatively carefree while pregnant. Instead I'll be nervous about lifting heavy things, every little twinge, and concerned with beta numbers and progesterone levels (things in your blood that indicate you have a healthy pregnancy). It's just not what I envisioned for myself nor what I wanted, but I'll gladly take it if it helps me keep my baby. I just hate feeling like I'm an invalid...

5. Friends. Unfortunately, this is not an uncommon side effect of fertility treatments. If you read yesterday's post, you can guess that I'm not functioning on all four cylinders. I've not had the energy nor have I put the energy into keeping all my close friends satisfied. I've been accused of being flaky, and I have been. Things that sound like a great idea when your treatments are going well and you have reason to be hopeful, just don't seem like fun anymore after you've just found out that all that money, time and angst ended up in another negative pregnancy test. Oh, and let's not forget the drugs I've been taking. Some make me nauseous, some put me in a coma, and others make me so hormonal I can't think straight. While I understand I may have hurt feelings, it hurts that people I thought were so close can't cut me a break when I need it the most. I've not set out to intentionally hurt anyone. I don't have the energy or the time to invest in any nonsense like that. All I can do is apologize...

I'm sure I sound extremely whiny at the moment, and I don't mean to. Infertility has also given me some things, too.

1. My husband, BJ. Ok, so I already had him, but I never would have gotten to see just how amazing he is. He is one of the manliest men I've met. It takes an amazingly strong person to put up with a rabid, maniacal bitch that is me on Clomid and Prometrium. Not only does he take it, he stays with me while I'm having a fit and soothes me. It also takes a strong man to accept that he has an issue, and make an effort to fix it. When we found out he had poor morphology, he didn't get angry or shut down like a lot of men would. He just said, "What can we do to make it better?" He's as tough as they come. I truly feel like I have a teammate in this battle, which is not always the case with some couples.

2. Endurance. Oh the things I can endure...not once have I had a meltdown with a crazy student, even the pregnant ones who offer me a chance to baby-sit their child. Physically, I've endured more pain, and more side effects from drugs and procedures than should be allowed. I've felt so bad, that I have thought if this were a treatment for a terminal disease, I think I would just prefer to die. Seriously, between the endometriosis and the drugs that make my endometriosis worse, it's real bad. Yet, I'll take the pain and discomfort if it gets me to my baby.

3. Perspective. Before we started trying to spawn, BJ and I had the typical try to find a job with a journalism degree in this economy kind of stress. (Well, he did...I got hired as a school counselor before I graduated.) Anyway, he did get a job, but it isn't what he wanted. So we've spent the first couple years of marriage dealing with trying to find a career for BJ. We thought this was stress. I, myself, have slept, ate, and breathed my job for the past three years. Aside from being a good wife, my job has been my priority. Now, all the sudden, I have this emergent need to be fixed and have a child. The life I had planned where babies would come easily, doesn't exist. Life is much more precious than I thought, and it doesn't come easily. So this summer, I'm not near as stressed that one of my kids doesn't like his fourth block class during second semester for next year. I know I'll get it fixed, but I'm not ashamed that I don't get panic attacks from reading stressed emails from parents about their child's schedule anymore. It also doesn't mean I don't care, either. On the contrary, I think it helps me look at work dilemmas with a more functional attitude, that hopefully my principal will appreciate.

4. Patience. Well, it's still a work in progress, but I'm trying. I'm sure every new mother is absolutely in heaven when they have a child, but I can't imagine how sweet that moment is going to be when I finally have my baby in my arms. Gosh, this makes me tear up just thinking about it...

5. Loss of control. No, my computer did not mess up and put this in the wrong section. I'm a control freak who had a master plan that is gone with the wind. It's OK. My life is going to play out like it was designed to play out. This is not the road I would have chosen, but it's the only road I've got. I'm happy that I have the support and resources to go down the war-worn path of infertility. I'm here for the long-haul so bring it on with the unknown!

Well, I'm going to curl up with some Lifetime Movies, ice cream and fuzzy socks and have a good cry. Just kidding! I hope I haven't totally depressed you, but I appreciate your interest!

Peace, love and spawning,
MK

The emotional tests...

After spending the last couple of blogs sounding like I work for a fertility clinic, I thought I'd take the time to explain the non-biological side of things. Knowing that everyone is going to experience their own life struggles with a unique perspective, I realize I can only give you a taste of what it has been like for me. According to the message boards for fertility treatments and websites on dealing with infertility, I follow a pretty typical pattern.

Overview...Cycle Day (CD) 1 being the start of your period...

CD 1- Devastation as you are clearly not pregnant
CD 5- starting to feel hopeful despite your best efforts to remain realistic
CD 14- about the time you ovulate, you are super excited and trying hard if you get my drift...
CD 18- anxious beyond anxious, and over-analyzing any possible symptom that may or may not be directly related to pregnancy, even though it's way, way too early.
CD 21- for me anyway, I bounce between despair and hope, despair and hope...
CD 25 to start of next cycle- Depressed...Endometriosis gives you tons of painful symptoms as a preview of the hell you will experience when your period actually starts (for me, anyway). At this point, I pretty much know the battle for the month is lost.
CD 1- Devastation and repeat!

Sound like fun? It's not. Talk about an emotional roller coaster ride...I know I'm a Type A personality and a little more high-strung about things (my husband is looking at me like, "Ya think?") however, that doesn't diminish the anguish that even the most patient of souls experiences while on this ride. The worst part of the roller coaster is that you can't disembark. Well, you can, but that means you have chosen "child-free" living as infertility types like to call it (sounds pretty awful to me at this point). I suppose you could always take a break, but for me, I am scared of missing a chance. Even if I tried to take a break, I would still know when about I was going to ovulate and when I could start expecting symptoms one way or the other...so again, I'm stuck on this ride until either I give birth, or hit menopause.

OK, so you deal with all that in a typical month, and that is just what you alone are dealing with. Add in, of course, your partner. He is at least disappointed and probably worried about you if not worried about the lack of success. Throw in your job and the turmoil that is life outside of you, and you can be totally sucked into a pit of despair. Your plate is pretty full, so little things drive you over the edge. For instance, you break one of your favorite glasses. It's completely your fault, the stars are aligned against you, [insert Higher Power] has abandoned you, etc. and so forth...not exactly a fun place to live.

Anytime you want something you can't get, your brain begins to home in on it. Suddenly I began to notice that everyone was pregnant. It sure feels that way. College teammates, sorority sisters, co-workers, and friends were all sharing their happy news. Even better, people that brag that they weren't even trying or are completely honest that it was not planned. I work in a high school, and thanks to sources like MTV glorifying teen pregnancy, I get to spend part of my time coming up with graduation plans for my teeny-bopper mothers-to-be! It's a combination of being hyper-focused on one thing, and the fact that 92% of the population doesn't have any problem conceiving.

In May, for instance I had three friends that were due on three consecutive days. I am genuinely thrilled for all of them, but it was also a punch in the gut because it reminded me of my own shortcomings. I found out about these pregnancies in early fall while BJ and I were still trying on our own. So it was especially difficult when May came around and I was no closer to getting knocked up than my husband was. I'm not an idiot, and I know that there is no finite number of babies that are allowed to be born in a given time period. Am I jealous? Of the fact that most other people don't have any problems, yes. That I have less than 2% chance of making a baby with my husband the romantic way while everyone else can, yes. But of their babies? Hell no. They are three of the cutest babies I've seen, and I'm thrilled that I may get to be a small part of their lives. Plus, when I do have a child, I totally expect to get a ton of hand-me-downs...and with the money we are spending, we could use it! (I'm kidding, but there are some months where it sure feels that way...)

Tons of fertility support services suggest not going to baby showers, not doing hospital visits, etc. Well, if it works for you fine, but the last thing I need is to ostracize my friends anymore than I already have. I got to visit one of the new moms and take her some dinner. I ended up holding that precious baby girl for hours. It totally re-energized my efforts and reminded me why I was putting myself and my husband through this Hell. I opened up to my friend about what we were dealing with and she was totally perfect about it. Very supportive and positive, and not being able to wait until I had super-chapped nips. She treated me normally which is just what I needed. Thanks!

The thing I struggle with the most when continuing to try to function in the "real world" is the stupid things people say. Maybe, it's being in the south, but apparently once you get married, it is an invitation for people to ask, "So, when are you gonna have kids?" I think even I'm guilty of this from before I had any clue I'd have difficulty. My plan had always been to be tenured before giving birth. So the first couple of years I carelessly answered with, "We'll probably start trying during our third year of marriage." No problem, right? Except, now lots of people knew when to start asking again, because we still haven't produced an heir. What do you say? If you say you are trying, you either end up with tons of unsolicited (not to mention totally unhelpful and frequently inaccurate) advice, or phrases like, "You aren't giving it enough time," and, my personal favorite, "It will happen when God wants it to happen." My response to that is He sure gave a lot of people the skills and talent to help those of us with fertility issues, and how do you know He doesn't want me to be knocked up right now, too? For the most part I find myself telling distant relatives and acquaintances that BJ and I are happy to have each other for the time being. The best part of this response is it's not even a lie. I can't imagine how I'd get through each day without him. I thank my lucky stars everyday to be matched with my perfect mate.

Recently I've hit a rash of, "why don't you just adopt?" As if wanting to have your own child is selfish?! None of the people who asked me this were childless, nor were they adoptive parents, so in hindsight it's easier to take it with a grain of salt. First off, neither BJ or I are ready to give up on the idea of having our own child, and no doctor has given us any reason to think it's impossible for us. Secondly, our odds of coming home with a baby after one round of IVF are higher than coming home with a baby from our first attempt at an open adoption. Domestic adoption is more expensive than even an IVF cycle. So right now we are choosing to spawn our own child with a little help.

Anyway, it probably doesn't sound like I'm the most fun to be around right now, and you are right. I have good days and bad, the bad can be real bad (like don't get out of bed, answer the phone or even turn on a tv, bad). There have been a few days where BJ gets to come home to un-showered wife still in her pjs weeping. My happy-go-lucky glow has certainly diminished. I'll be the first to admit that an anti-depressant wouldn't be a terrible idea, except for the issue of potential birth defects. (Have you seen those bad drug commercials? Well, I'm convinced...) Also, I have enough fleeting moments of hopefulness and excitement, that "happy pills" wouldn't allow me to experience, either. So I deal the old-fashioned way and try to keep myself super-busy. I try not to give myself time to be sad, which is definitely harder during the summers as a school employee. None of this seems like a permanent condition, and I do think my happy-go-lucky glow will come back, but I do feel forever changed by this experience. We take so much for granted, and I've had to take a step back and learn to re-appreciate the things I do have.

Peace out,
MK