Whine & Wine

Whew!

What a week! It's amazing how much can change in just seven days. Last week at this time, I was hoping to be pregnant and now, I am hoping to for my period to start - still no sign of it.

What a whiner I have been this week. Sure, I probably have justifiable cause for a bit of whining her and there, but I have been boring myself this week with my "poor, pitiful ol' me" attitude. Sure, it kind of sucks that our last IUI didn't work, but a lot of really great things happened this week, and I am thankful for the fact that so many people are working together to make this whole IVF thing come together at such last minute notice.

The latest in the "it's all coming to together" is that I talked to my boss about everything yesterday. She knows all about our issues and has been incredibly supportive in the past. Even so, I was a little concerned that she might not like me taking so much time off during December. I had drawn up a calendar and a proposal for my time off, including asking a colleague to cover for me on the days when I would be truly out of commission. I even rehearsed my speech and then called her. She ended up being relieved because she thought that I was quitting!

Anyway, she couldn't have been more excited for us or more supportive. She told me to do whatever I needed and we would work out the time off/work from home days as needed. I was so thankful for her support and it seems as if this is all truly coming together.

Now, for the weekend!

We are off to Leavenworth, which is a cute little resort town about two hours from our house. It is a "Bavarian Style" village in the mountains and is so pretty at this time of year. A couple of years ago, a lot of wineries opened up tasting rooms in the little town area. I think there are a total of 16. We got a hotel within walking distance and plan to do a lot of wine tasting and have a great dinner. We are going with one of my husband's friends and his girlfriend that we really like. When we planned this weekend, I wasn't sure that I would be able to partake in the wine tasting. Of course, that would have been an easy sacrifice, but since I am not pregnant, there's no reason why I can't wine this weekend instead of the whining that I have been doing!

Cheers!

Can I Get A Side of Salt for My Wound Please?

I am still raw from yesterday.

Of course, it started with the BFN. I know that there are people out there that get positives later on, but for me, that has always been my threshold. Sure, I always hope that I am wrong, I even POAS this morning, because the tests are only a dollar, you know. BFN.

I tried to pull it together and did a pretty decent job, I thought. I had an early morning appointment and it was an important one. I didn't have time to cry or mope. I did manage call my RE's office and left a message for my doctor's medical assistant.

Surprisingly, friends, it was that message that would later become my undoing. See, here's the deal: This was our sixth medicated cycle. I have been doing A LOT of research and what I have found is this: if oral meds don't work within the first three cycles, they probably aren't going to. The success rates go down dramatically after that third cycle, and they aren't crazy high to begin with. This was only our second IUI, but the doctor had suggested doing two OR three cycles with oral meds before moving on to injectibles.

So my message to the medical assistant asked when Dr. M thought we should do next. I asked if we needed another face to face consultation or just a phone one.

T called back about two hours later and the conversation went like this:

Me: "So, it is 13 DPO and I got a negative pregnancy test today. Having been pregnant many times before, I know that I always get my positives by this point. I am pretty sure that this cycle didn't work. What does Dr. M think that we should do next?"

T: "Well, we always say, our patients know their bodies." (Said with a little undertone, meaning, I think, that I shouldn't give up hope yet for this cycle).

Me: "I won't stop taking the progesterone until tomorrow, just in case I had a late implanter, but I really think it didn't work."

T: "Okay. What can I do for you then?"

Me: "I wanted to know what Dr. M thinks we should do for the next cycle."

T: "I am reading your chart from your last appointment and it says that you wish to do two or three more cycles and then move to injectibles."

Me: "But what does Dr. M think?"

T: "I just told you. Two or three more cycles."

Me: "But I am not a doctor. Does she think that we should do another oral or just move to injectibles now?"

T: "I am reading your chart."

Me: "I know. I know what it says, but I would like to know what Dr. M says now that the two cycles have gone by. Does she recommend a third cycle?"

T: "It says that you wish to do two or three more cycles. So, I guess it's up to you."

I won't bore you with the rest of the conversation, which wrapped up in me making an appointment to start an injectible cycle. Here's the deal, though. Why am I making these decisions? Why isn't my RE being more proactive, taking the bull by the horns, and saying, "Let's go!" Why do I always have to be the one to pull the trigger on these things. Much as I consider myself the "expert," I am not. She is. So why can't she have a frickin' opinion? I even asked the MA what injectibles would do that oral meds hadn't done. She said that was a question for the doctor. Um, yeah, do you think I could talk to my doctor? Not a chance.

The other really frustrating thing for me about this cycle is that we cannot try in November. Usually, that is what gets me through a BFN. I ovulate early on meds, so our follicle scan is Day 10. I may be sad, but I can live ten days to try again. Unfortunately, a work meeting is Day 10 - Day 15. We will not be able to try this month.

So, December, here we come. Logically, I know that it will go by quickly, but emotionally, it sounds so very far away.

One more grain of salt to throw into the wound is that I have had amazing fertility insurance until this point. And I have never taken it for granted. I always have felt so fortunate to be able to make decisions without having to be too concerned about the financial portion. As of January 1, that all changes. We are going to be responsible for a huge portion of all of our fertility related medical procedures. Part of me wonders if we should just say screw it and see if we can't squeeze an IVF cycle in before January 1.

But I am scared to do IVF. It's the "last step." I have watched others be defeated in IVF and I have always wondered if I am strong enough to do it.

Sorry this post is so jumbled. I guess it's just a reflection of my feelings today. It's so hard to believe how happy I was last Halloween, seeing sweet Gummy Bear on ultrasound for the first time. And now I am so, so sad.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

Nothing To See Here

I imagine myself in a cage, huddled in the corner, tears slowly slipping down my cheeks.

Perhaps I am in the zoo or a museum.

A little girl walks by with her mother, points a chubby finger at me and asks, "Why is that woman crying, Mommy?"

Her mother pauses, reads the sign in front of my cage and sadly shakes her head. "Something awful happened to that woman."

"What happened, Mommy? What was so awful?"

"Hope died."

"Who is Hope, Mommy?"

"Not who, Sweetheart, hope is a what. It is the most important feeling to a woman and when it dies. . . Well, there is nothing left."

13 DPO. BFN.

Hope has died.

Making Something Out Of Nothing

I woke up this morning with mixed emotions. Yesterday, I allowed myself to get slapped around by the pee sticks again. Shortly after my post yesterday, my husband picked up my "negative" pee stick and said that he could see a faint second line. I grabbed the stick from him and, sure enough, the faintest of faint second lines was there. Of course, being me, I peed on two more sticks yesterday and both times, came up with faint second lines.

In the back of my mind, I knew it could be trigger. Even though the tests on Saturday had been blank, I just knew it could be trigger messing with my head. And mess with my head it did. All day yesterday, I played the "Maybe I am" game in my head. My husband was even a little excited.

So, it was this morning, with great fear and trepidation that I peed on a stick.

13 DPTrigger. 12 DPO.

BFN.

I know that I don't give up until Day 13. But my hopes for this cycle are really sinking fast.

Updated:

I am such an addict. Really, I am out of control. I have POAS twice more since this morning and still BFN.

This is why I keep peeing so desperately:

1) With Gummy Bear, I didn't test positive until 13 DPO and I did test on 12 DPO.
2) I am having to pee a lot, which is my #1 pregnancy symptom.

But there is really no logical reason to continue to literally pee away my money like this.

And yet I do. This is my insanity.

All Aboard!

Does anyone hear that? Off in the distance? It sounds like. . . could it be? I think. . . oh, no. Oh, YES! It's the Crazy Train!

And I have a one way ticket.

It is 12 DPTrigger and 11DPO. For those of you who have followed my craziness for other 2WW, you know what this means. Katie is gone. She has been replaced by an insane woman who will spend all of her time, pee, and latte money on pee sticks.

I POAS Friday and Saturday and trigger is OUT. As in even under the brightest lightbulb and blindingly direct sunlight there is no line OUT. As in not even an evap line OUT. So, now I am hoping for the second line to appear.

So far, nada. Just for anyone keeping score, I never give up until 13 DPO. So, please keep your fingers crossed that I am soon seeing double!

The No Joy Luck Club

Thank you so much for all of your prayers and thoughts for P. She had her D&C yesterday and physically is doing well. Emotionally. . . well, we all know that is an entirely different story.

P is now part of the infertility/miscarriage club. Like all of us, this is not a club that we ever wanted to join, and we find ourselves wondering how we got here. We have all paid our dues, but there isn't even a cool Members Only jacket.

Or perhaps there is. We all wear our pain in some way. I wear my pain when a friend tells me that she is pregnant, and I flinch. I wear my pain when someone asks my husband and me if we have children, and I have to search for the right words. I wear my pain when a friend, or even someone that I don't know that well, calls to tell me that they have had a miscarriage. I cry with them, because I know that pain and disbelief so well.

In some ways, this is how I honor my angels best: By helping other women through this terrible time. I am not going to lie, I wish that I had never known about this club we are in. I wish that you didn't know about it, either. But since we are here, I am so glad that we are here together.

Sharing the Hurt

Yesterday, I received a phone call.

No. Wait. I need to back up a minute. This summer, when we started trying again, a fellow coworker (P) shared with me that she was TTC #2. She is an "older" mom (her definition, not mine) at 39, and after having a beautiful little girl two years ago, they were eager to jump on the train again before her egg factory shut down (also her words). I then told her that we were trying, too, and she knows a little bit about our history, so we became cycle buddies.

In August, she called me up and excitedly told me that she was pregnant. I was happy for her, although I was more than a little sad for me. That was the cycle that I had a chemical pregnancy on, so I was also jealous beyond words. I had a few "why her and not me" moments, to be sure.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a meeting with P. We flew down together, worked together during the meeting, and then flew home. I tried very hard to be a good friend to her, and listened to her pregnancy woes. P is very tiny and this is her second, so at 10 weeks, she was already started to pooch out a little bit. It was so hard to spend all that time with her. I desperately wanted to be pregnant, she had what I wanted. I didn't begrudge P her happiness, I just wanted to be there with her.

This past Tuesday, we had another meeting, this time with my entire workgroup. P had ended up telling our manager about her pregnancy, but was not planning on making a big announcement to everyone until she was safely past the 12 week mark and her first ultrasound. Our manager "outed" her a bit early, by making the announcement that day.

I sat next to P later that afternoon and looked at her with what can only be described as envy. I did not wish any ill to P or her unborn child. But as I watched her casually rest a hand on her abdoment or happily eat a second brownie for dessert and say "For the baby," my heart just ached. I couldn't figure out why some people have it so easy and some people have it so hard.

P and her husband are great parents. She desperately loves her little girl and talks about her all of the time. They deserve to be parents as many times as they would like. I truly held no grudge against P becoming a mommy again. But as I looked at her growing stomach that day in the meeting, I felt the sharp edge of jealousy ripping through my soul. I imagined her getting bigger, watching her feel the baby kick, and of course, I knew that there would be a shower.

P was sensitive to me. She knows what we have been through. She never once flaunted her pregnancy in front of me. She was just a naturally, happy carefree pregnant woman, who was excited about being a mommy for the second time.

P's 12 week ultrasound was yesterday. I had asked her to call me with the good news.

I got a phone call yesterday. P's baby had no heartbeat.