The Idiot

Week 19:  I went to the perinatal office for the thorough mid-pregnancy ultrasound just two days before we were leaving for a family reunion.  My hope, of course, was that we could see that the cord looked normal and thus have a more relaxing vacation.  Having the vacation during weeks 19 to 21 of the pregnancy was far from ideal given that we lost our boys at 19 weeks and 21 weeks.

I saw a different doctor this time, but unfortunately he too absolutely refused to do ultrasound of the cord.  Everything else looks lovely - heart, other organs, growth, etc.  That's good obviously, but did nothing to alleviate my concerns about the cord.  The doctor and I had a lengthy discussion about this refusal to look at the cord.  I should point out that I was very cordial and non-confrontational.  He was a good deal more affable than the last doctor, but still managed to take a condescending tone.  And these are the same doctors at the same clinic that I saw last time!  It makes absolutely no sense!

My view is why the hell would you NOT look at the cord given my history of recurrent cord-related losses? It's not as if it's hard to look - they're doing the ultrasound anyway and getting paid a hefty sum for it.  I cited Dr. Collin's work on recurrent cord pathology.  His reply was that they will not be ordered around by patients or other doctors.  He also argued that since nothing could be done at this point if the cord is malformed, there's no point in looking at it.  I countered that I'd at least like to know what the situation is given the fact I'll be traveling out of state during the same time period we had our prior losses.  And also that we want to know the state of the cord before telling our kids that I'm pregnant.  He said something along the lines of "these are issues a psychologist is more qualified to deal with".  I am so done with this clinic!

Clearly, there was no way for me to win here, so I left with the satisfaction of having wasted far more of his time arguing (30 minutes) than he would have spent just doing the ultrasound (1 minute). And he doesn't get a penny more for the extra time spent.  Ha! Shame I don't still have Doctor Dammit - he would have gotten a well-deserved beating.

The next couple of days were busy preparing for the trip.  Our first day's drive took us as far as Illinois, where we picked up our oldest daughter who had been staying with Q's parents for two weeks.  She asked if I'd been exercising much while she was gone.  Good thing we'd already made plans to tell the kids our news - it's obvious I'm getting bigger!

 I'd made Anastasia a shirt that says "Jie-Jie" on it.  That's Chinese for big sister.  When she showed the older kids there was confusion at first - "But she's not a jie-jie!".  And then they got it.  We had wanted to wait longer before telling them, but since the kids have already noticed my increased girth and our family reunion will involve swimming suits, we felt forced to tell them now.  So they know and we just hope for the best.

Mei-Mei is very excited about being a Jie-Jie!

"Another sister?!"
"Another SISTER!!"

Inconceivable

Due to lack of time, I haven't been able to document this pregnancy like I did for the last one, so I'm just going to have to summarize the last three months and try to do better going forward.  Let's hope there will be five more months of going forward.  Here's the timeline so far:

March 3-8:  Family vacation in Texas.  Besides visiting tourist sites in San Antonio and Dallas, we also met with a couple of friends, including Cindy (see here), her husband, and two youngest kids!

March 10:  Back in Minnesota, I realize that my period is late.  Although I expected my period during the trip, it didn't happen so I just figured I must have miscalculated.  There could be no other explanation, right?  Wrong.  I bought a pregnancy test.  Positive.  One might think I'd be overjoyed to get pregnant without trying after years of infertility and I do hope to get there in time.  But if one knows what recurrent pregnancy loss is like, then one knows why I said A Very Bad Word.

The first item of business was to inform Q, who unfortunately could not be reached by phone at that moment.  So I sent him the following text:  "Turns out it wasn't the Whattaburger that made me feel ill."  This is in reference to the time I felt a little sick after eating a Whattaburger in Texas.  I thought it was just the result of days of eating meals that featured few fruits and veggies and precious little fiber.

Also sent Q this photo, because what man doesn't appreciate getting a message
like this in the middle of an important meeting at work?

After spending years of our lives and tens of thousands of dollars on fertility treatment, we had been enjoying the compensatory benefit of saving tens of dollars on contraception for these last few years.  We thought that pregnancy was inconceivable for us and this news is shocking beyond expression.  

After calling my sister and talking to Cindy, I called my doctor.  With my last pregnancy, I had to do a little doctor shopping to find someone willing to prescribe Lovenox from embryo transfer instead of making me wait until week six or seven weeks when a heartbeat could be seen, which is standard practice.  Luckily, no one gave me any crap this time about starting Lovenox right away.  I started about two weeks later than I did with Anastasia, but about two weeks earlier than it would normally be allowed.  Also, I am taking the same vitamins/supplements as before (baby aspirin, folic acid, calcium, vitamin D, prenatal vitamin).   

Shootin' Up!

April 7 - 8, no 9 weeks along

This was my first doctor appointment.  It was supposed to be on April Fool's Day, which seemed apropos since the whole thing still feels like a joke. However, after realizing that prenatal care is no longer covered as "preventive care" under our insurance, I decided to see my regular OB rather than the high-risk clinic at least for now, since there's nothing anyone can do right now if things go wrong. Might as well save some $$$.

At this point my hope was that either A) everything goes well with this pregnancy and I get to bring home a live baby or B) I miscarry early - the risk at my age is over 20%. Although I'd obviously prefer scenario A, I feel I could live with either of these.  What terrifies me is the possibility of suffering another late loss.  Having done it twice before does not make me better prepared for this. More knowledgeable about the process, yes.  But better at doing it?  No.  NO!!  Burying babies is not something one gets better at with practice.

In the ultrasound room, we see that not only is baby alive, but also measuring a full week ahead!  My due date gets changed to November 9 and I am officially nine weeks along.  Nice to have an extra week under my belt that easily.  This means that I successfully produced a mature, viable egg by day 7 of my cycle, a feat I never managed previously even with the aid of powerful drugs.  Also, Q managed to produce sperm capable of going the distance and finding that egg, and this despite his very low testosterone levels.  Inconceivable!

April 24 - almost 12 weeks

Another ultrasound.  Baby is measuring on track.  We did a blood test which extracts fetal cells from my blood to determine the presence of Down Syndrome and other chromosomal defects as well as gender.  The baby is a GIRL and has normal chromosomes!

My survival mechanism so far is denial.  I've been sick and tired in the first trimester, but that hasn't made it seem real.  Also, I thought doing injections again would drive home the point that this is happening.  It was a little weird taking up needlework again, but only for a couple of days.  It had been so much a part of my life for so long that it really does seem like a perfectly normal thing to do.

Alas it's midnight and so I'll have to finish later!

Next time:  Annie Argues with Stupid Doctors 

Suicide Bombs and Sleeper Cells

One of the many great delights of being pregnant was that it put my endometriosis in remission.  Now that I am breastfeeding, my hope is to enjoy at least another full year of feeling fabulous.  I also hope to keep my knees together and stay out of the stirrups, 'cuz I'm a lady.  

These days, my mind is usually occupied with happy things, but sometimes I worry about what awaits me when the endo becomes active again.  I picture the endometrioma(s) on my lone ovary as suicide bombers just waiting for the chance to blow it all to hell.  

And of course there are all the other endo implants lurking who-knows-where.  Right now they're sleeper cells,  but they may become quite menacing once activated. 

I've already had some familiar, though short-lived pain since Mei-mei was born.  Alarmed that the sleeper cells may be reactivating so soon, I reported this to the proper authority.  According to my doctor, the pain is likely caused by my innards yanking on some adhesions as they shift back into place.  

My doctor also mentioned birth control.  Ha!  He said he's seen miraculous post-IVF pregnancies, but I don't think that will happen to me.  Improbable things don't happen to me!  I don't know whether a do-it-ourselves pregnancy is impossible or just extremely improbable.  Maybe adhesions have distorted my anatomy.  Or maybe my only tube is blocked.  I have no intention of doing any sort of tests to find out:

As far as reproduction is concerned, Q and I are taking a laissez faire approach. I'm 99.9% certain that we can't make another baby just with tools we have around the house.  While we would welcome another living child, we have no intention of messing things up by risking another traumatic loss.  Not that it's up to us anyway - thanks infertility!  The objective now is to relax and enjoy our lives sans fertility treatment.  For me, no more charting, no more injections, and no more planning my life around doctor appointments.  For Q, no more Wacking Day, no more Uplifting Reading in The Back Room, and no more dealing with an erratic hormonal wife.  Ok, so maybe he's not totally off the hook on that last one.  

Since our story has reached a very happy ending and there will be no trying again, the time is nigh for signing off on this blog.  But first we will be having a little contest and giveaway, so stay tuned!

If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course,  on where you stop your story.  -Orson Welles

Mere Insanity

Twenty weeks today!  The ultrasound looked good and the doctor was quite enthusiastic about how the cord is looking.  With each passing week there is more hope that this will be a cord that giveth and not a cord that taketh away.

Still, there are scary moments, especially in the mornings.  According to Dr. Collins, when babies die it more often occurs at night, perhaps because of changes in maternal blood pressure.  Just one more thing to worry about.  I go to bed quite late and then wake up too early in a cold sweat, though sometimes I can get back to sleep after confirming that Mei-mei is still alive.  Will I actually end up sleeping better if I have a demanding nocturnal newborn?  I hope to find out!

March has been very hard and there's still another week to go.  Thus far I have managed to avoid going insane.  This is largely thanks to my Doppler, the weekly peeks at Mei-mei, and reassurance from my doctors that the cord is looking fine so far.

It also helps that I'm taking a break from dealing with my mother.  Back in February I told her that I won't speak to her again until April at the soonest because I just don't need the extra stress.  It's horrible to say, but letting go of that deeply shallow relationship has been a joy and I don't relish the thought of discussing the weather with her again come April.  Just hearing updates from my siblings about the goings-on and insanity back at the homestead is all I can handle.  This week's episode:

Mom's hoarding reaches a new low when she rescues 17 pounds of long-expired and partially liquified cheddar cheese from the dumpster after a brave family member threw it out.  Brother tries to perform an exorcism on the cat, not realizing that demons cannot be cast out of cats because cats are demons.

Some of THE cheese.  Yes, really.

Doppler Dud

What's wrong with this picture?

a) Minnesota weather is so rough that Annie started to grow hair on her tummy just to stay warm!

b) Annie somehow miraculously appears 9 months pregnant at only 11 wks!

c) The Pocket Fetal Doppler is crap and will give you a number on anything and even in midair!!

If you chose C you are correct.  We just bought the doppler off Ebay. Warning - Chinese knockoffs are abundant! When I lived in Taiwan and China, I saw plenty of folks pulling gadgets apart so they could make a knockoff version. Luckily, Annie found a friend who was selling an extra. So until it arrives, Annie is in hyper-anxiety hyper-drive!!!! 

We did get some good news - Annie won the drug battle. She was able to convince the mail-order pharmacy to take the drugs back since they were exposed to sub-zero temps during shipment. The package was supposed to be picked up by UPS today, but it is still sitting out on the porch. Those drugs are definitely frozen now, in spite of  the "special packaging!" 

Annie has just informed me that my sexual privileges have yet again been revoked because it's just too stressful for her. I am off to bed alone!!!!!!! :(  The leopard print was good while it lasted.  Dry spell ahead!

A Touch of Sin

After each of my losses, I would inevitably hear comments such as "He was too pure for this earth" or "Now you have an angel in heaven", which made me want to punch the commenter in the face.  Heehee...you can tell that I'm not too pure for this earth.  I am hoping the Current Occupant of my uterus has an evil streak like me so that heaven won't want him/her back for a long, long time.  The last thing I need is yet another angel in heaven.  I need a little hellian who will wake me at all hours of the night and later fight with his/her brother and sister and write on the wall with permanent marker.  A lot of moms complain about these sorts of things, but that's what I want.  More than anything.

Early last week, I was delighted to finally have some pregnancy symptoms, namely mild nausea and sore boobs.  But last Thursday all symptoms stopped suddenly AND I woke up to some cramping on Sunday morning.  You can imagine how distressed I was this weekend.  By "distressed",  I mean sobbing and unable to function.  Yeah, being pregnant after three consecutive losses really messes with your head.  I am pleased to report, though, that my lab numbers look good today and I'm feeling a bit nauseous.  Also, my boobs feel sore when prodded, so I prod them a lot to help ease my anxiety!

So, a rough weekend and it didn't help that we were snowed in.  Seventeen inches of snow.  Our annual gingerbread party was supposed to be Saturday.  Other years we've had at least a dozen candy-crazed kids running around our small house on party day.  My kids were very disappointed that no one could come this year due to the storm.  However, we were able to decorate our gingerbread projects: a sleigh with reindeer and the Tardis from the British TV show Dr. Who:

The Tardis, complete with working blue light on top and Doctor Who action figure.
David Tennant can be my Doctor any time! 

Finally, not just one but three bloggers recently nominated me for the Cherry on Top award. They are Maria at Mission: Fertile Soul, Oak at The Acorn Chronicles, and runnyyolk at Yolk.  Awww, thanks girls! I'm finally getting around to passing it on:

1) Meim at Tears Are For Babies.  Make sure to stop by her blog as she should have beta results soon!

2) Shandrea at Loving My Angels.  She just had surgery, which hopefully will help her get her long-awaited rainbow baby!

3) Landert at Not a Fertile Mertile, who is transitioning to adoption mode after a long hard infertility fight.

4) Megan at Illuminating Sadness, who is a very good writer but seems to have gone missing from the blogging world lately.

5) Nicole at Caroline's Family, who is missing her very recently stillborn daughter. 

Whew - it's hard to pick just five!  Now it's up to you ladies to pass it on.

I Did Not Have Sexual Relations with That Woman...

...but she's knocked up anyway.  Annie's husband Q here.  Now that I have got your attention, we got good news on the labs today.  Over four days, beta rose from 88 to 746.  Also, progesterone is now in the normal zone at 60. 

As you know, Annie has been aggressively seeking ways to increase the size of our family for quite some time. It was fun at the start, but after months of failed efforts it started to get a little scary.  Honestly, it is quite stressful for a man to come home and be required to perform on command. Call me old-fashioned but I prefer a little romance leading to the moment.

Sex on Demand

Once we learned that the traditional method of having children wasn't working, we began IUI. Annie has done a great job covering the science behind this so I won't go down that rabbit hole. However, I will provide a glimpse into what the man must do for his part of the process. Let me start by saying that as a kid growing up in a religious house, one was expressly forbidden to "shake hands with an old friend". Likewise, lad mags were a no-no, although I have come to find that the articles are great.

Any-hoo, when it was time for me to contribute for IUI or IVF, I would haul myself into the reproductive center for some personal reading. Each time I arrived, the nurse would have me submit my government ID to prove that I was the man I claimed to be. They then would have me wait in a small closed area until a room became available. During the wait, I would encounter other men's wives who would give me the "I know what you're going to do, you sick pervert" look while they sat in the same area waiting for their husbands to complete the exact same task.

Once a room was available, the nurse would walk me in and provide the necessary instructions on how to dim the lights, raise the volume to the music, and where to put the deposit once finished. From that point forward it's a race to see how fast you can get done with your business. No kidding, I have seen guys go in and come out in about 2 minutes, as if the staff is gonna charge for every additional minute in there. My thoughts are, what's the rush?

Okay, maybe it's the awful music they play in the room. I mean come on, Michael Bolton, really??? Great to wake up to for the wife after a retrieval, but for us guys? I have gotta have a beat - at least play Michael Jackson's "Beat it" or something. Also, what's up with the paper thin walls? I didn't enjoy hearing about the staff's plans for the weekend or grocery ideas when I was trying to focus on the task at hand. No matter how loud I blared Michael Bolton, I could still hear them.  When the deed was done and in the cup, I headed back to work, knowing that was the most action I was likely to get that week or the next.

Word of advice to the wives:  Have your man purchase his own reading material. Basically, it's just wrong handling something that was handled by another guy in that same room. Uuggh!! Nothing is ever too clean there. Besides, Hugh needs some more cash to support all those bunnies of his. For me, I had never bought this sort of reading material before. I quickly learned to have Annie go with me or I would go late at night when women were less likely to be out and about. Oh, the shame of it! People would give me looks when I went with Annie, probably wondering why I needed that lad mag when I already have a hot wife.

Now, after weeks of sex deprivation, I'm still not able to score with the wife. For our 9th anniversary last week, Annie bought a little something from Victoria's Secret and then refused to put out until the OK is given by the doctor. So please persuade her to cave in so I can have sexual relations with that woman.

[Bad news for Q.  Instructions from the clinic clearly state:  It is advised that you avoid intercourse and/or orgasm until your ultrasound appointment with your doctor around 6-8 weeks gestation if you have undergone in vitro fertilization.  So there! - Editor]

In the Closet

First, a cycle update:  Today is Day Six of stims and the first ultrasound.  There are seven follicles between 10 and 16 mm.  This appears to be a great improvement over last cycle, which had just two measurable follicles at this point.  I wonder, though, if one or two of these are actually shrunken endometriomas?  One definite endometrioma is at 2.7 cm.  Sure wish I didn't have this confounding factor to deal with this time around.  Trigger is projected to be on Tuesday, after just seven days of stims.  That's three days shorter than last cycle.  As always, I'm wondering if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  More appointments tomorrow and Tuesday.  Until then, I'm trying not to obsess about everything too much (ha - too late!).  And I'm definitely not talking about it anywhere but here.

I've never been very public (in real life, at least) about my infertility.  It's easier to keep it quiet with secondary infertility.  Plus, since I've had two late losses, I imagine many people think I've just given up.  So for this IVF cycle, I've decided to go with a strict Don't Tell policy, except with a few family members and geographically distant friends.  I'm just trying to prevent the news from getting out in my immediate circle so I don't have to deal with unexpected questions and comments when I'm out pretending to be a normal person.

I wish I didn't have to lock myself away in the infertility closet, but it's just not worth the effort and aggravation of being "out".  I'm not willing to risk platitudes, stupid comments, judgment, and gossip.  I know that being "out" can help others better understand the difficulties of infertility and how to be more sensitive towards those who struggle with it, but I'm too beaten down to care. 

How about you?  To what extent are you in the infertility closet?  Do you try to help others understand what infertility and/or loss is like?  Do you want family and "real life" friends reading your blog or do you try to limit readership to others in the loss/infertility community? 

None of my local friends and acquaintances know of this blog (except other local bloggers I've met - Hi girls!).  I aim to keep it that way.  If everyone around me knew, I imagine that blogging about such intensely personal matters would begin to feel something like this:

Back in Fighting Position

My body has decided to cooperate after all. Yesterday I was blessed with The Curse. Today's ultrasound showed further shrinkage of the suspected endometriomas (now 2.7 and 1.2 cm). The third is likely masquerading as an antral follicle, which are numbered at nine. Stims begin TOMORROW!

In other good news, my brother finally arrived yesterday, a month later than planned, and will be staying with us for the near future. This is a mutually beneficial situation, as he is now able to study away from the hostile environment of our parents' house and I no longer have to stress about finding child care on short notice when I have to go to the clinic. Plus he is awesome with the kids!

So tomorrow: the protocol this time around is 5 units Lupron and 150 IU Menopur in the morning and 300 IU Follistim in the evening. That's double the Menopur and triple the Follistim I started out on last cycle. I'm hopeful the higher doses will improve my chances, but of course I have no idea how the endometriomas will affect things.

My greatest fear is that this will end badly and the hope that has sustained me these last few years will die a sudden and horrible death. I'm not sure how to live with that. Because of all the drama going into this cycle and the fact that it may be the last, it's been hard to feel ready. Frankly, I'm shocked that I have any fight left in me at all at this point. I guess it just goes to show how desperately I want this. So I'm hoping very hard that this will be our last cycle because it works and not because financial or physical constraints prevent any further attempts.

What I Did For Summer Vacation

This next week will be spent playing hard with my kids and getting them ready for school the following week. Tania, who despite my best efforts remains the baby of the family, will be off to kindergarten. Since it's nearly back-to-school time, here is my essay on What I Did For Summer Vacation:

I spent my summer vacation doing drugs and getting medically assaulted. Lots of people saw my increasingly public privates. It was no fun and I didn't even get knocked up. The end.

Well, that's the end for the summer but my battle drags on. I finally got to talk to my doctor and the plan is to do the long Lupron protocol again for the next IVF cycle. This time, though, I'll be on higher doses of stimulation meds from the beginning. Since I'm already on The Pill, things could move along very quickly assuming I don't have another cyst to mess it all up. Also, we found out hubby doesn't get insurance at his new job until November, so we'll still be on our COBRA insurance.

The perinatology clinic finally called me back to schedule a consult. Yay! That appointment is scheduled for the 8th. Now I have to go through stacks and stacks of medical records and research so I can throw around some medical terminology, sound really knowledgeable, and maybe even get taken seriously!

Fun with Math: PIO Shots

For the past few days I've been doing Progesterone in Oil shots. Yes, all by myself!  Because the progesterone is in a sesame oil base, it is not only thick and difficult to inject, but it also contains fat. While I was on my two days of post-transfer bed rest, I decided to figure out exactly how much fat I will be injecting into my backside before the pregnancy test:

1 T of sesame oil contains 14 grams of fat, therefore . . .
1 cc of sesame oil contains .946792 grams of fat
There are 12 PIO shots before the pregnancy test

That means I'll be getting as much fat as there is in a Snickers bar, but with none of the satisfaction.

Hmmm...how would you prefer to plump your posterior? A:

Or B:

(This represents the actual amount of oil I'll inject into my booty by beta day)

That's a rhetorical question if ever there was one!  "A" is looking pretty good, but sadly Snickers has not been shown to increase the odds of successful pregnancy. If it did, I'd have half a dozen kids by now. Of course, if I actually get pregnant again I will be delighted to continue with the PIO shots. For now, I'm choosing C: Both.  Mmm-mmm...bootylicious!

The Verdict is In

Today's ultrasound showed that my small follicles had all grown a dramatic 3 mm in just one day. Predicted mature egg yield now stands at 7, so I'll actually be having my eggs harvested! Previously it looked like we'd get maybe five which is a borderline number - great for IUI but not enough to justify IVF.

Thanks for all the encouraging words in recent days. This week has definitely been manic-depressive with all the wild ups and downs. I assure you I'm still seriously so sane, though. It's just that I get scared stiff sometimes when I think of all that's gone wrong in the last few years, and all the things that have to go just right to get a rainbow baby. The nurses yesterday and today were decidedly more cheery and that helps. Today's nurse even got me another prescription for Follistim and Menopur so I can get them now while I still have great insurance. That way I have a stockpile in case this cycle doesn't work. Strategery.

Still stimming tonight and tomorrow morning, then one more ultrasound and I'll trigger tomorrow evening. It'll be my first encounter with the big needle and I'm a bit apprehensive about it, but I'll get over it. I intend to do the deed by myself, although obviously rear shots are logistically more difficult than belly ones.

So that's where we stand. Retrieval should be Wednesday and I'm assuming we'll do a day three transfer on Saturday.

It has nothing to do with the topic of trying to get knocked up, but I'll leave you with an amusing anecdote involving a sexy babydoll nighty: After dinner this evening, my five-year-old daughter came into the kitchen wearing a babydoll nighty she'd found in my closet. "Mommy, why don't you ever wear this?! It's beautiful!" Pretty funny. Although it is sad that a sexy babydoll nighty no longer has anything at all to do with trying to get knocked up :(

The Lone Ovary Rides Again

The Lone Ovary is moving along at a trot, but at least it hasn't completely fallen off the horse. It's stim day 8 and this morning's appointment showed five measureable follicles: 17, 13, 12, 11, and 11. Lining grew from 3 on Wednesday to 7 now. So we're moving in the right direction but I am still bummed. I was hoping (still hoping I guess) to get at least 8-10 eggs. With only one ovary, I knew going into this that the number wasn't going to be the impressive 20+ that some women can get. I had reasonably low expections, but so far I'm not even meeting those. My hope is to get enough eggs to I can end up with two good embryos to transfer.

Wednesday's appointment left me so depressed that I decided to go running that evening. Running is my drug of choice - love that endorphin high. Unfortunately the endorphins were countered by the disheartening realization that all that bouncing around didn't make my ovary sore. Not one little bit. For months I've been dogged by ovary soreness because of stupid cysts, and now when I desperately want my ovary to be big and swollen and sore - nothing. Still not sore at all.

This morning it was nice to meet up with Baby on Mind after my appointment (we go to the same clinic and both had appointments this morning). She had her beta today, so make sure to stop by her blog.

Anyway, today is less depressing. Maybe I'll go out today instead of lying around the house weeping. Or maybe not. The doctor herself called me a moment ago about my poor response. You know that's not a good sign. Blah. She predicts I'd get 3-5 eggs if I go through with this.

Dentist vs. Gyno: What's Your Vote?

Next week I have to go to the dentist for a routine checkup and I'm so not looking forward to it - spreading my jaws in front of total strangers, having my gums prodded, people seeing my naked uvula. Oh, the indignity!

So I'm taking a survey: Which is the lesser of two evils - going to the dentist or going to the gyno? I'm talking routine dental checkup and cleaning vs. routine "yearly" (*laughs bitterly*) gyno exam. If you had to submit to one or the other right now, which would you choose?

My best friend can attest that I was a hysterical, pathetic wreck before my first gyno exam ("They're going to do what to my WHAT?! And I have to do this every year??" Sheesh. If only.) Now, though, I would choose the gyno and I stand by my choice even though my friend thinks I am a freak. Here's why:

• I find it easier to "zone out" when someone is commiting acts of medical care on my far end than when they're right in my face

• I prefer quickies - the gyno visit is much shorter than the dentist visit

• After enduring two horrible surgeries, upwards of 60 (!) transvaginal ultrasounds so far, IUIs, saline and radioactive dye forced into my uterus, and a whole lot of other Bad Things, a "routine" exam would be nothing short of delightful.

Sidenote: Q is obviously not qualified to vote on the dentist vs. gyno question since he lacks the necessary body parts (lucky!). He has nevertheless indicated that were the choice between a dental exam or watching a gyno exam, he would choose the latter.

So cast your vote.... what's your pick and why?

Beware the Ides of March

There are still four days left of The Wait as I finish up my last cycle on Follistim. I fully expect the results to be negative thanks to the relentless attack endo has been waging for months near my one and only tube and ovary. That's the only place that ever hurts, and boy does it hurt. Also the sperm count was pretty rotten at IUI this time around. A few hours after the IUI, during church, I could swear I felt an egg popping out! So I seduced hubby there in the pew. We ditched the kids at church and I made him take me home immediately to make another (hopefully better) deposit before he had to rush back to church to teach a lesson. I'm a desperate woman.

I've been passing the time researching IVF and hoping to find out before Beta Day whether it's a viable option for us. I needed to know if bad news on Friday means The End For Good or just The End For Now. After much research and many phone calls, I was shocked - shocked, I tell you - to get accepted for the Cost Sharing Program at my clinic despite my losses and one ovary. Things were moving along at breathtaking speed so that we could get started next month! This might really work! Of course it might also be an even more painful and expensive way to fail, but I was cautiously optimistic. Recent years have turned me into a big pessimist and it felt good to have a little optimism, even just the small cautious type. Yes, I dared feel a little bit happy about the possibility of Something Good finally happening. That, of course, is the cue for Something Terrible to occur.

Hubby got fired! At this point, it is unclear exactly why he's fired or exactly when he's cut off as he's expected to work until the replacement is brought on. Since he works for a very large corporation, there's some hope (though not a whole lot in this economy) of finding work within the company by using the many contacts he's been cultivating in anticipation of this very event. But for now we are in survival mode (wait - isn't that where we've been for years already?!) unable to plan on ANYTHING - not income, not insurance, not spring break in exotic Illinois, and certainly not stressful and expensive IVF. No future plans of any kind. Now there's even more stress piled on when we already felt stressed nearly to the breaking point.

On second thought, I don't think I'm a pessimist at all. I'm just a realist - and life really, really sucks right now. Oh, things could be worse. We know that because they've been getting progressively worse for years now. But . . . at least we have some savings and aren't tethered to a house, which we're absolutely giddy about. And we're all reasonably healthy with no deadly diseases - just endo which sometimes makes me wish I were dead. See, I can look on the bright side. I'm a pessimistically optimistic realist.

Whacking Day

We are now in the 2 week wait, having survived a weekend of double IUIs. Whacking Day, as it's affectionately known around here, is inevitably more stressful for hubby than it is for me. He has to enjoy it on some level, if only for a few minutes, in order to do the dirty deed. On the other hand, I am free from this particular pressure. I actually don't mind the IUI itself, having survived much more painful and invasive indignities along this road, but the stress of being in this situation at all always sets off a couple of day's worth of heart palpitations every time we make it to this critical juncture.

Post IUI #2, I drove home in an optimistic mood, which is rare for me as you may have noticed. The stats looked good. Two mature follicles. Two seemingly well-timed IUIs. 190 million sperm, which hubby managed to crank out despite being ill with a bad cold, proving once again (as if there were ever any doubt) that all of this infertility agony is my fault.

Since supposed ovulation, however, I'm despairing over two days of pain which have me wondering if I ever did actually ovulate at all. Hubby and the clinic have done their parts, but I never can seem to hold up my end of the deal. This was supposed to be a week of pain-free optimism typical of Week One. Week Two is always a different story, as you well know if you've been subjected to a great many ultimately fruitless two-week-waits. Ten days to go!

A Not-So-Craptastic Christmas?

This picture pretty much reflects the way I see Christmas these days. It scares me.

The last three Christmases in a row have been downright horrifying for me, so I am pleased to report that thus far this December, no calamitous new misfortune has befallen my family. Well, my husband did learn that his job is in jeopardy, but at least for now he still has one.  Could 2009 be the year we finally have a Not-So-Craptastic Christmas? Here's a quick review of our last 3 craptastic Christmases:

Christmas 2006: In late December 2006, our son Jeremiah died at 5 months gestation, though we didn't find out until January 2 of 2007. I can't look back on that Christmas with any degree of fondness knowing that my son was dead inside of me.

Christmas 2007: After losing Jeremiah, I was able to get pregnant again quickly and our son Miles was due at Christmastime 2007, but instead he also died at 5 months gestation. Christmas 2007 was abysmally depressing because I didn't get what I wanted for Christmas - a new baby under my tree.

Christmas 2008: Having just been diagnosed with secondary infertility, hubby and I were finally able to bury Miles' remains with his brother during a visit to my hometown. Jeremiah had been buried, but we had to have Miles cremated due to logistical and financial issues and unsupportive family.

I very much doubt that Christmas can ever again be the joyful time of year I once loved. Instead a happy Christmas is now simply one where nothing tragic or traumatic occurs. This year has been far from gleeful, thanks to several failed fertility treatment cycles, eight months (!) spent on the PILL thanks to painful cysts, a miscarriage, and the recent sudden death of my brother, but we've suffered no additional loss in December. I'll take what I can get.

For my family, this Christmastime is an improvement on the last three. We chopped down our own tree, which my 6-year-old David likes to "bask" under and has declared "exquisite". My adorable four -year-old Tania has been singing "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" over and over. We hosted a fun gingerbread-house-making party at our house, which was the social event of the season. AND the cyst I'd feared would wreck this Christmas by landing me in the O.R. again instead still has me in wait-and-see mode and in pain - but not surgery. Hooray!

Here's hoping that my family and yours can have a happy trauma-free December this year, and that next year will be far better still.

Doctor Dammit

When you're just fed up with doctors
Who don't listen, care, or try
And pain has made you go insane,
Lose your cool and cry.

When every doctor's clueless
And your future is in doubt
Then here's a little dammit doll
That you can't do without.

Just grasp it firmly by the legs
And find a place to slam it.
And as you whack the stuffing out,
Yell "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

If "dammit"s not a word you say
Then wring its little neck
As as you rip its head off
Shout "Oh heck, oh heck, oh heck!"

You may have gathered that I'm a bit frustrated with doctors. Yesterday was yet another disheartening visit to check the status of my "functional" cyst, which measured 6 cm last month and just under 5 cm this time. By the way, the five weeks between these two appointments is the longest I've gone without a doctor appointment in 3 YEARS! I wish I could have enjoyed it more, but I was in pain more often than not.

No doctor has ever had anything more useful to say about these frequent painful cysts than "Huh. I dunno". So very little is known about functional cysts that there's no effective means of preventing or even treating them. To make matters worse, my other issues - endometriosis with resultant infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss - also leave doctors stumped. There just isn't enough known about these conditions (why they happen, how they work, how to treat or prevent them) for doctors to be of much help to me, even if they tried.

Endometriosis has long been recognized as a serious disease in women, and yet there is still so much about it that is unknown. Certainly progress has been made, but you'd think it would get more attention and research given the fact that 10-15% of women suffer from it.

Imagine that 10-15% of men suffered from a painful, chronic, and progressive disease of the reproductive system. Imagine that the drugs to treat it made them hormonal basket cases and killed their sex lives. Imagine that the disease would often lead to multiple surgeries and the lopping off of a testicle or two just for starters. I suspect that enormous amounts of money would be devoted to the cause. The best and brightest in the field of medicine would be on the case. The road would be long but they would act swiftly and boldly to find effective treatments and ultimately, a cure.

Great advancements would have been made by now if men suffered this way. Instead, women are still being dismissed and patronized when they talk to their doctors about the pain they are suffering. And there's no hope for a cure any time soon. Dammit, dammit, dammit !