Thursday, March 31, 2011


First, I'm having my TSH ran again. As well as T4, and thyroid antibodies to check for Hasimotos. I went ahead and started the Synthoid today, but waiting on the results to come back. I researched online about the elevated Thyroid levels, infertility, miscarriages and everything... I came prepped with points to bring up at my appointment, questions to ask. But of course, my doctor is so amazing she touched on all the points I wanted to without me even bringing them up.

And on to the monitoring. I am waiting to get my estrogen level back, but we have a bit of a snag. Sooo, my past injectable cycles I needed 225iu a day consistently, and barely made 1-4 follicles. But I made them consistently, and without any snags. This time my estrogen rose quickly, and my follicles seemed like they were starting out the same. Not so much today. One or two of these may be wrong, but here's the gist of it... on one there was a 12, 13, 14 and 14. On the other, 11, 12, 14, 16, 17. So right now there is 1-2 mature. I had three options. I could trigger today and maybe have 1 or 2. Or I could coast without meds today, and recheck tomorrow to trigger, hoping that one or two of those 14s would catch up. Or I could do a really low dose, like 75iu, of meds tonight and hope that gives them a little boost so that a few extra will mature.

I definitely did not want option one, I would really like a few more follicles. I really wanted 4, to be honest. So I decided to push it with option 3. Pending my estrogen level, of course.

My doctor wanted option 2, but is fine with option 3. She said she's willing to take a little more risk with me, given my history, but she doesn't want to take too much of a risk and have me end up high order multiples either. So there's a very fine line right now, and we're hoping not to cross it!

I go back for a recheck tomorrow... fingers crossed, and lots of positive thoughts.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Are you freakin' kidding me?!-

So finally got my E2 levels (CD7), it was up at 496. So they want me to drop my dose to 175iu... I'm pretty freaking apprehensive about that. I don't respond so well to lower doses, and I only had 4 maturing follicles the other day.

Not only that, they inadvertently ran my TSH. Someone accidentally marked it, and it was ran. Seriously. It came back at 4.87, which is high. So I'm supposed to start Synthroid at 50mcg and have my levels retested in a month. Umm, yeah. How about I take it until Thursday, and ask them to re-run it to rule out lab error? If it's that high I DEFINITELY want to get it down, but I want to make sure first. When I had my level ran in 2008 it wasn't elevated, and I believe I had it retested in 2009 with no issues either. I don't understand, and I'm a bit more than apprehensive. I've been assured there was no lab error, and told I can wait to have it retested to start the meds... but I'm going to just go ahead and take it and then ask for a retest.

I am... frustrated.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Monitoring update-

So after 4 days of stims we have an 11 on the left, and a 9, and two 10's on the right. It's CD7 today, and I'm waiting on my E2 results to find out about my dosing. I'm really hoping it stays the same, since I only have so much medication right now.

I go back on Thursday for another check. If this cycles shapes up like my last injectable cycle, hopefully I'll be able to trigger on Thursday too. Time will tell.

My last two inject cycles were slightly different. I had more follicles on them initially, and they were growing a bit faster then too. At least, I think they were. But, I do have 4 follicles taking the lead. Which is good.... if I'm extremely lucky, they'll all keep growing. That would be wonderful.

Oh, bit of a rant. My clinic almost gave me a heart attack this morning. They gave me a paper notifying me of some changes coming soon to their billing. I asked about it, and it shouldn't affect me too much. But, they raised the price of their IUIs from $250 to $300... effective April 1st. My IUI might be on April 1st if things go well... go fucking figure. I could get charged $50 extra dollars because my cycle timing is a day later than their policy change. That's crap. I'm hoping I can talk them into letting me slide with the old price, since I wasn't notified of this until mid-cycle. The nice nurse already said she might be able to get me in on the $250 since I'd be a day off. We'll see what happens. I still think it's kind of crappy.

My insurance covers some of the stuff at my current clinic, but it doesn't cover everything. So it's good to know I'm in better (and cheaper) hands. Aside from the IUI, which isn't covered and I am a little upset that the price is going up. Not that we're going to be doing many IUIs since we aren't planning on pursuing any treatment, at least not for awhile. Maybe we will change our minds and come back next year, but maybe we won't ever. Still, uneasy knowing prices are going up is all.

But their other prices are so good. Really.

My old clinic charged $350 for your baseline ultrasound and $250 for each subsequent u/s. They also charged $170 per E2 test. Yeah, that all added up fast on the super slow cycle where Dr. BlowsSunshine didn't want to up my damn dose because I'm "young" and who knew what could happen!!! despite NOTHING happening.... for 20 damn days. I got billed $2000 in ultrasounds and roughly $1,000 in b/w. (*super angry face*) For a cycle I didn't even end up ovulating on! They wasted all my free Gonal-f from the Serono program (*super sad face*) Their IUIs were $350 too (unless they've increased their price too since then.) So more expensive there too.

(*DEEP BREATHS*) I am so glad I left their office.

My new clinic only charges $20 per E2 out of pocket. And their ultrasounds are only $175.

So up yours, old reproductive clinic. You greedy bastards.

Ahem... so, I may still be very bitter about the way Dr. BlowsSunshine handled my second miscarriage, all testing, and that injectable cycle. And well, everything.


Friday, March 25, 2011


Okay, so I thought I would have to do three injections today but I got away with just one!

The 75iu Gonal-f my RE gave me was in vials, not injection pens. Yay! I was able to just mix all the vials together like I used to for my Bravelle, and I was good to go with one shot. It wouldn't have been bad doing three injections, but it would have been a hassle (and kind of annoying).

Yeah, it's the little things that make me happy.

Also, I forgot how pleasant using Gonal-f is compared to Bravelle.

My Bravelle stung like hell going in, and even afterward. I literally don't feel the Gonal-f at all. Even the needles are smaller than what I was using with Bravelle, so I don't have any issues with that either. Nice!

Granted, I had better luck cycle-wise with the Bravelle... but we'll see how this goes.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

All clear!-

Cysty is gone, and I've been cleared to start shooting up tonight!

So 225iu a day, and I go back Monday morning to see what's cooking. Yikes, it's been awhile. Some days I'm going to have to do 3 shots a day since the donated Gonal-f pens are only 75iu each... but it's okay. The Gonal-f needles are really fine anyway, I've never even felt them at all.

So, onward!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

And so it begins again-

CD1, finally.

I go in Thursday morning for my baseline, and I am seriously hoping that the evil cyst is gone and there aren't any new ones.

I'm not wanting to get my hopes up, it's been almost 4 years and my body just gets stupider and stupider every year. I can't count on anything anymore.

I'm down 20lbs, so I did make my mini-goal before this cycle started. Probably not going to help at all, but it makes me feel better. Like I've finally gained back some control from the beast known as PCOS. So that's something.

Monday, March 21, 2011


Nothing like a nightmare about a failed adoption to start the day... stupid brain. Because it's not bad enough I have nightmares* about infertility and miscarriages, let's add nightmares about failed adoptions to the list? Seriously though, note to self: before drifting off to sleep, don't dwell on how you're never going to be a parent. bah!

Last night I was crocheting the trim on some baby blankets, and my mind wandered to how much worse this Christmas season is going to be than it was last year. Because there will be another new baby, in that crowded house, and I just started crying. I don't want to live another year like this, I can't... I just can't. But I know, I know, we're more likely to be right where we're at than not. It would take a miracle for things to work out otherwise... and I don't put much stock in miracles these days.

My body is still messing around with me, I better see CD1 today or I am going to be livid. I am tired of the spotting, not spotting, spotting, not spotting, spotting, not spotting.... MAKE UP YOUR MIND YOU JERK. My lady bits hate me.

I have to take my dog Pokey to the veterinarian tomorrow. She has a lump on her throat, and she's been having trouble walking. She is old and very obese. But her issues are getting worse, she has a lot of trouble with the stairs now and getting up after she's been laying for awhile. Which is all the time, because that dog doesn't like doing anything. She just lays there, all day. The only time she gets up is to eat/drink/follow me, because she has to be in whatever room I'm in. If she can't get in said room because the door is shut, she'll lay outside it and wait for me. Sweet, yes. But when you have an unstable 100lb+ dog following you around the house, tripping over her own feet, and worrying that she's going to fall down the stairs again... not so cute. More nerve wrecking. I might have to move the baby gate to stop her from taking the stairs anymore. My poor girl. I love her so, it hurts watching her struggle like this.

* honestly, most of my nightmares are about zombies.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Stupid body-

So I'm still on my BCPs. And I'm still spotting. Yay me. It's went from brown to pink, and may be picking up. Boooo. Fine, I give up. I will go ahead and take my BCP tomorrow, but I'm stopping Sunday. I'm just trying to time AF so my CD3 isn't Monday, my doctor isn't in on Mondays... and I'd rather see her than one of their other REs. My new cycle should start promptly on Sunday then (but I'm not holding my breath on that, since my body is so uncooperative). If not... hopefully soon after at least.

So, any day now.

Please please please please let that nasty cyst be gone.

eta... I just realized that I've been blogging here for three years. Wow. Three years... I bet I've drove so many people absolutely nuts in that time ;)

I remember when I came here, needing support and a voice, hoping to help others like me by letting them know they weren't alone. It doesn't feel like I've been in this place for that long. I've changed the course of this blog, changed the course of my life, and soon I'll be doing that again. Shortly after I came here, I experienced my first pregnancy. And shortly after that, my first miscarriage. It was a very difficult time, and I couldn't even begin to imagine what followed.

Thanks to everyone who's been there for me. It really means a lot.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Really now?-

- Okay, so I took my birth control pill a few hours late today because I worked lastnightthismorning (graveyard shift is so confusing sometimes). And now, yeah, I'm spotting. What the hell?

I'm thinking this type of BCP just doesn't like me. I've used it before to get rid of cysts, and while it worked it also caused issues with spotting... if I'm remembering correctly. I think last time I ended up stopping it early too. I have a week left, but was thinking of stopping it a few days early... now, I don't know. I'm going to keep an eye on the spotting. If it picks up, I'm just going to ditch the pills and let my body do it's thing.

I swear, I feel like my body is just so stupid sometimes! I'm just frustrated.

- The new pregnant sister in-law (the one who hasn't even told us that she's pregnant yet) is still going post crazy with her pregnancy complaints online, without ever coming out and saying she's pregnant. It's really annoying me, so I hid her newsfeed on FB. I don't want to deal with that.

- But don't think me a totally bitter person (Maybe I am, but shhh!) I am working on baby blankets. After all, going to be an aunt again, and a great-aunt too... man, that feels weird to type... so, look. It's keeping my hands busy-

It's a simple basket-weave baby afghan, but it's nice and thick. It works. I took it to work with me because sometimes it gets quiet in there at night, and someone asked me if I was expecting.

I kept my reply simple, but still... No, never for me. Always an aunt and never a mother.

Passing the time-

Well, I have one week left of birth control pills. I'm considering stopping them a few days early, but I would feel guilty if I stopped early and the cyst was still there. But the rational part of my mind is saying that a few days isn't going to make a difference if it still is.

I'm really hoping that sucker is gone. I've never had that happen on a natural "cycle." My body doesn't usually do anything on a natural cycle, not ovulate, and certainly not get a cyst. I mean, I get little classic PCOS cysts... but nothing this major.

I do worry. I mean it should be gone, it shouldn't be an issue. But what if it's still there? I really don't want to think about it. Another month of BCP, possibly another laproscopy? Ack. It should be gone though.

I hesitate to look for my sharps container. I didn't dig it out before last appointment, which was just as well since I couldn't use it. I have trouble believing I'll need it this time. My body is so stupid.

I want to do this cycle, but part of me just feels like the universe is screaming STOP at me. I mean, a cyst? Really?! I reached a place awhile back where I pretty much assume now that it's just not going to happen this way. My eggs, and his sperm, are just not the right combination. I mean, even on the rare occasions they connect... it still leads to failure. I suppose it's just as well that this is our last cycle for a very long time.

I can't help but hope, although I hate it. I don't want to hope. I don't want to think about it. I want to let it go, all of it. I just can't. Part of me hopes this final cycle will be lucky, that I'll get pregnant and this time we'll have a living child. That part of me is so stupid. We're at war. See, that hope is just wishful thinking. Most of me is based here in the cold reality of my life: almost 4 years, 3 miscarriages, no living children. The odds aren't in my favor, and don't I know it. I've hoped so much in all these years, and I've gotten so little in return. Why should now be any different?

I feel defeated. We've fought a long hard battle, we even won small squirmishes here and there... but we've lost the war.

In a couple of weeks, it will officially be 4 years. Not 3 years and 11 months like it is now. It will be 4 years. 4 years of love, 4 years of hope, 4 years of pain, 4 years of hell. It'd be fitting if we're able to go through this coming cycle, if we don't get sidelined again. Our last cycle, possible forever, on our 4 year anniversary. If. Who knows if we'll even be able to.

And of course, now I worry about what's going to happen to me when we do stop. I stopped for like three months and I get a giant cyst... I never had to worry about monitoring my PCOS before infertility. I didn't even know I had it. Now I'll have to make the decision to risk more cysts and stay off BCPs... or to go on them and hopefully prevent them... and also give up all hope of pregnancy. Really, the choice is simple. I go on BCPs. I don't have to live with hope, I don't have to live in fear. That's what I want, right? But to close that chapter... to live knowing that there's no chance at all while we save money and research options? It's what's best, I know, but it's hard to think about. I just spent 4 years trying... to knowingly prevent, willingly prevent... it goes against everything I've wanted all this time.

I have so much to think about, so much to process. And we're just waiting to do this damn cycle, this final hurrah. I don't count on it working, but how I would love it to. I just don't feel like it's in the cards.

One more week.

Until then, I'm just passing the time. I'm probably not doing it in the best manner either... I'm crocheting baby blankets for pregnant family members. It keeps my hands busy, which is good. But it certainly doesn't take my mind off things, does it?

Monday, March 14, 2011

So much-

For almost a month now, I've suspected that SIL2 was pregnant. She's younger than SIL1 (SIL1 had a baby last September). No one in the family has said anything to us, but due to the miracles of FB I confirmed it the other day. She didn't post on her wall, but MIL and SIL1 had commented on SIL2's Fiances wall, so the comments showed up on their walls (is that confusing enough?).

Anyway, yup, she's pregnant with number two. And due to the miracle of FB, I know they heard the heartbeat the other day, and she's due October 8th, and SIL1 has the family bassinet if they want it and plenty of hand me downs. So, all the family (and FB) has known since the beginning of February actually. And they still haven't told us.

This is my complete lack of shock.

My own sister, she's going to be a grandma in a matter of months now. That's right, I'm going to be a great aunt. I still can't wrap my head around that.

Speaking of which, my sister called me today. She bought a book about infertility, but when she got it she realized it was geared more towards her religion than mine. So she kept it, and put it in her bathroom (where her boys couldn't get it) and she read it. She said it made her cry. We talked some about it, and what I was going through, and she seemed to understand it all a little better. Before, she really didn't get it at all. She'd listen, but she didn't understand how I could just "give up"... but today, it seemed like we made a better connection.

When I got off the phone with her, I felt like crying. Sometimes people talk with me, but none have ever actually made the effort to understand. But she did. We've had so many differences over the years, so many falling outs, and for once she actually tried to look at things from my perspective. No one else had went that far. I post things on my FB hoping some of them would read it, but that was certainly no guarantee. When we've tried to talk to some of them they always just brushed it off with "Well, someday something will work and you'll be great parents." Which I always felt was a cop out, a way of ending the subject. And they never brought it up again, and never seemed interested in hearing about it. So I was left alone with dumb silence. But for once, just this once, someone heard me.

It just made my day after such a rough month.

She also let me talk about my miscarriage, something not many people do. We talked about our dead babies, her still born daughter and my miscarriages, and how hard it is. She talked about waiting 24 hours to deliver, knowing her baby was dead. And I talked about my week to two weeks where I waited. We shared sadnesses and battle scars. We talked about differences between our situations, and how we couldn't imagine how hard it must be for the other one.

Dead babies... who ever thought it would be a sibling bonding issue.

It sounds really weird, or morbid, to say that it was a good conversation given the subject matter, but it truly was. It was a nice change from the absent conversations I often have, the turned gazes, the changes in subject. Sometimes you need to talk about the raw emotions with another person who is really, and I mean really, willing to listen. And I think it was good for us as sisters, because we don't talk often and things have been difficult since our last falling out.

It was really good, and meant more to me than I'm able to express. I didn't expect it, and I've been in such a funk because of the apathy I meet everyday relating to our struggle. I've been faced a lot lately with so many people who just don't seem to care at all, who think everything is fine... it was nice to know that not everyone is looking the other way while we suffer, and someone remembers what we've been through.

Saturday, March 12, 2011


Two years ago was the worst night of my life. I've been mourning off and on all week, since last month... since it happened really.

Two years ago I finally miscarried our second pregnancy after a very long drawn out process. I started bleeding on February 17, and the ultrasound showed a gestational sac like it should. My beta was right where it needed to be, and it rose. But after a week on bed rest, there was barely any growth. A week later, no growth. My doctor confirmed my miscarriage. And almost two weeks later, my body still wasn't letting it go. I took medication to induce, which led to the absolute worst night of my entire life. That night still haunts me.

Today, I am just chilling at home away from the world. We did venture out earlier, we tried to catch a movie... missed it... planned on catching another one, and missed that too. So we gave up and went home. It wasn't a total waste though, we did hit the book store and I got some books that made me happy; a cook book, a large book of Alice in Wonderland illustrations (to be framed and placed in my art room... and maybe someday in a nursery, should we ever be so fortunate), and a crochet book called Creepy Cute Crochet. I have a feeling I will fail miserably when I try to make any of the little cuties, but I'm going to try anyway. It was good to get out, but just as good to be home now.

I've been bawling off and on all week, and today I've found a strange calm. Grief is weird like that. It hits you hard and you get knocked to your knees sometimes... and you cry until you have nothing left to give. But then you pick yourself up again, shaken and hallow, but you get back up just the same and go on. Maybe it's just me. I don't count on this mood lasting, and I don't count on it not, but right now I am sad but okay. Well, as okay as anyone can be given the circumstances.

I should feel good today, by all rights. I got some nice books, I'm down 18lbs, I put on a pair of shorts that were really snug last summer and they're loose today, and it's truly a beautiful day out, the sun is shining, the sky is clear, it's almost springlike... if it were any day but today, maybe I would feel good about today. I'm not feeling horrible, but over all this there is a heavy memory that still haunts me. This sadness that I can not dislodge from my soul.

Monday, March 7, 2011

10 things that changed-

I saw this post, 10 Things That Changed When They Showed Up, and I had to pause. I think most infertiles can understand why. We all know that life changes when you have children, but there are so many posts or articles telling us that very thing. And maybe they're right, maybe we don't. Not totally, not completely. Having children changes everything... but then again, so does not having children.

I think that the other side of the coin is talked about a lot less, and often people don't realize how much your life changes when they never show up. When you venture forth, and you never have anything to show for your labors. It's easy enough to assume that someones life continues just the same as it did before they didn't arrive, that whatever you did before infertility holds true now... but I assure anyone reading- my life has never been the same since the day I realized they weren't going to arrive. Not knocking the original article, it's true that your life does change when you have kids, and I know she didn't mean to jilt those of us who may never be there... it just inspired me to write this post. I just think that the other side is far less known, and I want to take a moment to talk about it.

So here's my list, here's my infertile response, the other side of the coin.

10 Things That Changed When They Never Arrived:

1. Your choice in food/drink changes drastically. You debate whether this food, or that food, will harm your fertility. You read studies on foods, plant phytoestrogens, and wonder constantly if you're hurting your chances because of what you decided to eat. What you eat during certain parts of the months varies, some women may be downing pineapple like it's going out of style mid-month, avoiding lunch meat at another point of the month, or cutting carbs out completely. The men may be getting encouraged to eat all sorts of citrus fruit because their wives want them to get more vitamin C for conception. Alcohol may be limited for fear of messing with fertility treatments. Caffeine may be eliminated as well, because who knows how and when it could affect your risk of miscarriage. What everyone does is different, but you have to admit that most of us have changed our dietary habits because of infertility.

Personally? I eat what I eat, but there have been major changes. I switched from being a vegetarian to eating meat because it helped me reduce carb intake. I limit caffeine and alcohol a lot, for a variety of reasons. I no longer drink caffeine at all during TWWs. I down vitamins, and make my husband down some too.

2. Your income versus spending ratio is devastated. So you both have jobs, without the expense of kids? You should have loads of excess money, shouldn't you? Hahahahahahahaha, yeeeaaahhh right. I tell you what, before I realized they were never going to show up, we were doing alright. Now, not so much. I've thrown thousands of dollars away on fertility treatments, THOUSANDS. Most infertiles do. One month of treatment for me is $2,500... maybe a good indication as to why we aren't still pursuing that eh? Even on lesser treatments, we were still paying about $500 for monitoring, medications, and an IUI. I've had to pay off hospital bills for testing and procedures, up to $500 for one month of treatment, my laproscopy/hysteroscopy was $11,000 (thankfully covered by insurance though!). This stuff ain't cheap. Yeah, by all means we should be doing alright. We make a fair living. But when you factor in the beast that is infertility? Unh uh. Didn't stand a chance.

Suddenly you have more money going out the door, but not more coming in. And for some of us, you eventually come up against a brick wall of financial burden- you realize you may never become parents because financially it may just not be possible. Not that you couldn't afford to raise a child, but because you can't even afford to get pregnant. Yes, raising children is expensive... but I tell you what, when you actually have your child you do not have to pay $11,000 up front to the doctor for a 45% chance of taking your child home someday. That's it, a 45% chance that maybe you can take your child home finally. And, yes, your child could have medical problems, you could have to spend a lot of money taking care of them in the long run... but so could we, after we're already spent every last penny just conceiving them. It's really not the same thing.

3. Instead of having a good time, you're laying on your back at the doctors. Screw going out with your friends this weekend, and who needs date night, moreover who needs a vacation, you're more likely to be at the fertility clinic being probed. Sure, you could spend that money on a cabin rental, or a nice dinner, but why would you do that when you could be throwing it away on monitoring? Okay, sure sure maybe that monitoring might pave the way for you to have a child... maybe. But I tell you what, I've had more ultrasounds than the Du.gger momma, and I still ain't got no baby. I've spent more holidays and weekends laying on that table than a normal person should. Would I rather have been laid up in a cozy cabin? Hell yeah! But I want a baby more than I want a cozy cabin, so I spend year after year being probed instead of going on a vacation... I'd say it was a fair trade... but that's yet to be seen.

4. Your fridge is suddenly overrun with medication, you feel like a drug addict, and/or you have your own kit for shooting up. I have a drawer in my fridge specifically dedicated to fertility medications... and yogurt. Every time I open the fridge, there it is. Anyone who opens my fridge can see it, and wonder what on earth is going on here. Moreover, that fridge has been that way for... oh, two years? Oh yeah, I'm classy. I used to have a basket just for shooting up. I kept my alcohol wipes in there, hand sanitizer, spare syringes, medication, my bio-hazard box, gauze pads, and band aides. I still have it... somewhere. I tell you what, I never thought that would be my new normal. Hording medication for a better day, filling my fridge up with it, keeping a kit. Oh, how the times change.

5. You learn lessons in dark humor when the norm shifts. If you'd told me 4 years ago that one day I'd be shooting up in a Starbucks parking lot, after getting my medication out of my Starb.right lunchbox where I'd kept it cool on ice packs, I wouldn't have believed you. Now, ummm... bwahahahahahaha! That's one of my favorite stories (Didn't I mention that I'm classy?). Or how about the day I made fun of the "optimum" "prime" screen saver on the ultrasound machine, and suddenly we're wondering why Opti.mus Prim.e is violating women in fertility clinics. You learn to laugh, because otherwise your heart might break. Yes, this isn't normal for everyone else but it's your new normal. So you either roll with it, or you break.

Honestly, sometimes it feels like I have war stories, but it was a war I fought with just my husband by my side. And we lost.

6. You learn a new language. While you're friends are deciphering baby talk, you're busy trying to figure out what "omg, my hsg hurt so bad. but AF is here, time to start watching my BBT. Hoping this is the one. CD1! When should we BD?" or "I just had my IUI, DH was so silly. Mot 65%, 22Mil. Woot! Testing 11dpo! Hoping for a BFP!"

Yeah. Good luck with figuring that all out.

Not just acronyms though, you have all these medical terms to figure out. Diagnoses to understand. Going in, I didn't even know about progesterone production in my cycle or estrogen's role. Now I now about hysteroscopies, laproscopies, mullerian anomalies, IUIs, using steroids to conceive, hysterosalpingograms, saline sonohysterograms, etc... well, I guess the bright side is I'm more educated about my womanly parts. But, I'd still rather be learning baby talk. Thanks.

7. Your view on pregnancy may change forever. It did for me. They never arrived and I realized how very fragile pregnancy is. There's nothing magical about it, and there never was. There are no guarantees. It goes from something solid and guaranteed, to something fragile... breakable. Something unattainable, unrealistic. Mythical even. I've become embittered to it. Now, I never assumed that pregnancy always worked out... but I thought that getting pregnant would be easier for me, I thought that pregnancy would work out. Now, I assume it never will. It's just easier that way after so many years. I went from being happy for pregnant women, to feeling jaded and bitter. I know all these things that can go wrong, and I envy them their naivety. I envy how they can smile, how they can be so happy, how they can assume.

8. You and your partners intimacy undergoes changes. Suddenly you find yourself in a doctor's office telling them all your intimate details, how often you do the deed, how many people you've done it with, and your bits are under scrutiny. Next thing you know you're doing a treatment cycle, and your doctor is prescribing you s.ex. For reals. It might seem funny at first, you might laugh, but as time goes on it becomes more and more a chore. You try to lighten it up. You try to find ways to spice things up, keep it fresh and fun. And you might succeed. But as time wears on, as years pass by, it takes a toll. It wears you down. And suddenly your making love to a bowl of ice cream more than you are to your husband.

9. You make constant sacrifices. Not to the gods of fertility either. No, you sacrifice the life you had for the life you hope to have. You sometimes stay at the same job, even after you reached the point where you feel like hitting your boss in the face with your stapler (note: no bosses have been harmed thus far). You do this for a lot of reasons: your insurance coverage or benefits (if you're lucky enough), the income (so you can afford treatments), the flexibility (so you can actually go to treatments), the convenience, and so on. Or you make other life sacrifices. You cancel your cable, you downsize to a single car household, keep a clunker instead of replacing it, you wait until your clothes start getting holes in them to replace them, you don't go on trips or go out with friends anymore, etc... things that you took for granted before, are now cut. Sacrifices you didn't have to make before infertility, now you are. Just for the hope that someday it'll be worth it.

10. Your friend list undergoes some changes too. As in, people don't want to come near you with a 10 foot pole. And when they do, WHOA buddy you wish they hadn't. Well, most of the time. People don't know how to handle infertility, so often they refuse to acknowledge it or they say the most asinine things. Maybe they mean well, but when you're struggling it hurts. A lot. And then you have some that you talk to, but they never listen, and eventually it comes to a head and you explode on them because you can't take another "Why don't you just relax," or "It'll happen in it's own time, I know it." You know, despite you telling them over and over that you have X, Y, and Z medical issues to contend with. Yup, relaxing fixes everything. Or the "friends" that judge you, they definitely come out of the wood work too. Suddenly, you are a bitter ugly person who should just adopt or wasn't meant to be a parent (that's why your parts are broken, don't you know?). It hurts. Having people you used to rely on suddenly turn against you, stop listening to you, refusing to understand. But then you have the ones that do, the ones that actually listen, that actually try to understand. And you have a great divide, the people who you used to think would carry you through hell and back... and the people who actually have.

I've lost several friends because of infertility and my miscarriages, many personal relationships have been severely scarred. But some relationships have become so much stronger. The core list is smaller, more resilient. It still hurts, losing what we had with all those people. I still wonder why they didn't make the effort, why they said the things they did, why they wouldn't listen, why they stopped talking... and I'm not ever going to have an answer. And sometimes, I don't want one.

So yes, your life changes drastically when they arrive. But it changes still when they never do. It's a living hell, and you get little acknowledgment for the struggle you go through. But it's there. People may joke about how we have more time to have fun practicing, or they may assume that everything is the same as it was before, that we're doing just fine... but that's just a cop out. Maybe our pain is too much for them, maybe our reality threaten theirs, maybe they just don't care... but I wish people knew this about infertility: it doesn't just change your life in the obvious ways, it changes it in unimaginable ways. 4 years ago, I never would have imagined all this. I mean, I knew it changed because I couldn't have children, and that made me very sad. And I knew that simple fact would change things irrevocably too. But I didn't imagine how much more infertility itself would change every decision I make, every move I make, every thought I have, the way I live while trying to overcome it.

Or how all these people, in such close proximity to our lives, never even take notice of it.

Horror shows-

Some memories are more like nightmares, and I wish I could banish them as easily. My anniversary of the second miscarriage is fast approaching, yet the wound in my heart still feels like it just happened yesterday. An entire month from start to finish, bedrest to loss. I wish it were as easy as the simple word used to define it, but things seldom are. When did I lose it... when it stopped growing, when I passed it at last? So quickly things turned from joy to sorrow.

Saturday is two years since I passed the second miscarriage. I honestly can't believe it's been that long. When I remember it, it's hazy, surreal. I try not to remember the physical pain, and thankfully all the vicodin I was on makes it a cloudy memory. Like I can remember, but I can't. It was intense, it was undaunting, I was on fire. I was screaming. It hurt like nothing I've ever felt before, but the edge is dulled in my memory.

When I started down this road, I never imagined I'd know what a gestational sac looked like outside the womb. Intact, so perfect, seeing the tiny little spot where it had implanted on my lining and held it for weeks after it stopped thriving. Or how much pain I'd be in from losing it. I'm not just talking emotional, I mean tangible physical pain. Howling through the night as contractions tore through me. pain like I've never known before.

I still relive it. All the time. Like a broken record just going round and round warped points in my mind:

Here I wake up in the middle of the night, and find myself covered in blood. I calmly shower, wake my husband, then fall apart on the living room couch.

There I clutch the ultrasound photo. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. At that point, still on track. At that point, future uncertain. Still, there was hope.

Then, another ultrasound. Things not on schedule. The doctor saying, "I feel confident in calling this another miscarriage."

Later, howling. Wondering why it wouldn't stop. Howling to god for the pain to stop. Six hours of contractions; because of the medication I took to finally induce it, because for weeks I'd been walking around knowing my baby was dead inside me. Weeks waiting. And I couldn't take it anymore. I needed it to end. Never did I expect what I got instead.

The next morning, raw and bruised. Laying in bed, feeling like I was half dead. My husband brought me doughnuts, a breakfast sandwich, and iced coffee. I remember it so clearly, every detail. I ate it, and I cried. And then I called off work. And then I cried myself to exhaustion.

Sometimes I'll be in the bathroom, and I'll remember that awful night. And it feels like I'm remembering a bad dream, the worst nightmare I've ever had. Except it's real.

How did two years go by? I feel like time keeps slipping by, and I'm losing ground. Further and further away. That means it's almost been three years since the first. I can't believe that. Where did all that time go?

March 12th is 2 since we lost the 2nd one.
April is 4 years since we started trying.
May 4th is 3 years since we lost the 1st.
And the week of Thanksgiving is 2 years since we lost the last one.

And still the nightmares continue.

Except they aren't nightmares.

It's amazing that through everything we've been through, people still seem to be under the impression we're doing fine. It's not that we're putting up a good show, (because those that truly know me know better), but rather because most of them don't really want to know. Sure they'll ask, and I tell them exactly how things are... but they never seem to listen. Like, they listen to the words but refuse to accept the meaning. I can tell them and tell them that things aren't easy, that it'll be years before we become parents- if we become parents- and I'll tell them in great detail all the hurdles we'll have to cross, and yet their standard reply is, "Well, it will happen someday." Which is no support at all, and no help. Because there is no guarantee it will happen someday. The statement is used to pacify, to end the conversation, to say, "I don't know what to say, so I'm going to say nothing." And they never bring it up, never ask questions, never even to ask how we are... and then we can never bring it up again because they seem disengaged the entire time. And it's easy enough for someone to say that it'll happen when they aren't the ones putting themselves through hell time and time again, they aren't the ones coughing up every spare penny they have, it isn't their lives that have been altered forever. It's ours. All ours. Sometimes the weight of that is deafening.

I know someone might say how our situation affects our parents, and such. That the weight isn't solely on our shoulders. But when each of your parents has 5 kids, and already have a multitude of grandchildren... trust me, ours barely notice us. Sure sometimes they say nice things to us, but mostly we've just been cut out and snipped away. They focus on the grandchildren, and the parents of them who sometimes struggle. What struggles could we have when the norm for them is people have kids, then they struggle. Our world is not their world. I get that. But this wasn't our world originally either. They assume that we're doing fine because we both have steady jobs, we don't have kids, we have a car that's paid off (even if it's a clunker), we've been living in the same place for 4 years with no issues, and we keep to ourselves. Next to some of the siblings who have children and are frequently unemployed, we look like we have it all together. Except for the part where we probably spend more money on medical bills than all of our siblings combined. Which, as much as we tell them so, they never seem to hear. Because, we have everything. Don't we?

I'm sure that it doesn't help that we can't actively participate in conversations much these days. The question, "What's new with you guys?" Stings. Our standard response is, "Nothing." And the horrible truth about that, it that is is the truth. Nothing changes here. We have the same car, the same house, the same jobs, the same routine. Nothing ever changes here. Thanks to infertility; we still can't afford to move; we still can't afford to replace our car or get a second one; we still can't risk switching our jobs; we still can't have children. We spend our days working- me cleaning the house, my husband writing programming code. The evenings, we try to find ways to pass the time. We play games, read, work on projects, surf the internet, play with the animals, listen to music. Sometimes the night feels like it just keeps going and going, and I have nothing left to do or say.

Some days I'm good. Some days, not so much. I often come on here on bad days, so please don't assume I'm struggling 24/7. But I do struggle, and I do have my moments. And all these things that I've been through in these 4 years weighs heavier all the time. I don't know where I'm going, or where the wind beneath my sails has gone. Right now, I feel like I'm adrift on an endless sea. And I have no idea which way the wind is going to spring from, but I will gladly go with it. Because if there's one thing I've learned in all this time, it's that no matter how much I try to sway the cards in my favor... in the end, it's always come down to the luck of the draw.

I'm jumbled up, and I know it. I had a bad weekend recently and the hits kept coming. And then today, I just remembered with clarity what date it is. I thought of it often all through February, I remembered how differently that February was from this. But it didn't hit me with the force that it did today. Because Saturday... Saturday is the 2 year anniversary of when I finally passed it. When it finally ended. Ended, but it's never over. An endless loop in my soul, playing again and again. My other miscarriages, I think about from time to time and I miss so much. But this one alone haunts me.

And I can't talk about it to anyone. It's a topic that most people don't want to breach. And I honestly didn't tell most people what really happened that night, I didn't even post it all on here. A majority of people just know I lost it, so few know the details. And I've only just recently told my close friends what happened. It's hard to talk about. I feel like screaming it from the rooftops, howling the pain out again, saying, "Look what happened to me!" The term miscarriage is so decieving. Such a tiny little word, so easy to say, yet so heavy. Some people hear it and brush it off because, well they happen. To which I howl and screetch that they don't understand. It is so much more than that. Before I had one, I knew they were painful and it was sad. I didn't realize how much heavier it was than that. The emotional heartbreak, the physical pain, the blood, the agony, the waiting, the way your soul howls in saddness and in rage, in pain and in grief. And when it happens again and again, how much more loaded it gets with each experience.

Yeah, I'm totally random right now. That's grief for you.
Just a lot of things processing.

Thursday, March 3, 2011


I may have jury duty next week. Please send me some anti-jury duty thoughts.

I work graveyard shift, so I'd be getting off work at 8am and reporting for jury duty at 9am. Seriously. And I'd be on call until the end of April, which ugh... going to conflict with that last round of treatments. I am mad, and just defeated.

I know, it's just jury duty. But when I have a messed up schedule as it is, and I'd be adding an injectable cycle on top of things with it's own scheduling issues? I'm screwed! Those meds just expired, I would like to use them as soon as possible :( My doctor is expecting me back in April for this cycle.

I am really hoping I get out of it, I did last time I was pulled as a potential juror. I was freaking out then too because I had a full course load in college, worked full time, and needed every penny I brought in for bills.

I feel whiney. I've just had a really bad weekend, and really don't want to deal with this. (*sigh*)

Feeling a little better-

I think I'm on the mend from my cold. I mean, I'm still stuffy and sick and feeling very blah, but I think I'm a little better.

I also started the birth control pills today. I'm really hoping that cyst goes away without any issues. Really really hoping. If things go according to plan, we'll be set up for the final cycle around April. Which coincidentally is exactly 4 years since we started trying to become parents. I think it's sort of fitting in a way. Our final cycle, on the anniversary of when we went down this road.

In the meantime, I'm resting up and watching a lot of older movies. I don't know, I've just been in that kind of mood. I find them comforting. I like the way films used to be when films were just beginning to feel themselves out. I love the acting, the richness of them. The screwball comedies from the 30's to 50's make me happy. And I love the goofiness of 80's movies, how you can time stamp them just by the quality and directing.

I had a bad weekend. I'm just trying to find comfort where I can. That's my goal this week, finding comfort. Whether that be in books, old movies, foods, or sleep. I'm just going with it, and it's helping.