A New Hope

So it appears that improbable things DO happen to me after all.  A full eight years after Q and I were last able to make a baby just with tools we have around the house, I found out that I am pregnant again.  How did this happen, you may wonder?  I'll tell you when you're older.

Where I am now is 14 weeks along.  What we know so far is that the baby is a girl, she has normal chromosomes, is measuring on track, and the due date is November 9, which is the week of my fortieth birthday.  What we don't have any idea about yet is the state of the umbilical cord.  If you know of my history, you know this is a critical matter.  Until more is known about the condition of the cord, I hardly dare imagine what the future holds.

When I was pregnant with Anastasia, my older two kids were in school, so I had a little discretionary time each day.  I tried to compartmentalize all things pregnancy-related into that time - appointments, finding baby's heartbeat with the doppler, writing this blog, and worrying.  Of course, I was unsuccessful at compartmentalizing the anxiety, but it was nice to have free time for the other things.

This time I don't have any regular free time for myself and when school gets out in three weeks I'll have to cut back further, and that's really going to hurt.  In the past, I was able to write and read other blogs frequently and thus became part of a community of bloggers.  This time around, I'm simply writing for myself and to update friends and family, as well as for the benefit of anyone who suffers recurrent cord-related losses like mine.

My kids, who are now 12, 10, and nearly 4, know nothing of the pregnancy so far.  One of the most difficult things about our situation is the need to hide the pregnancy until it is far enough along that we feel there is some hope that the baby will live.  We have a high-level ultrasound scheduled at 19 weeks which we hope will yield good enough news that we could tell the kids.  I look back at how fun it was a few years ago to tell them I was pregnant with Anastasia.  But then I also remember when I was pregnant with Miles, who died just days before we were going to tell the kids I was pregnant.  This could go either way.  Not having much free time to think about this is not such a bad thing after all!

? at 11 weeks because the 14 weeks pics are even fuzzier!

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

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.

A Shocking Development

I've been dying to write a post saying I've got good news for a change and I was hoping today would be such a day. For the last two weeks, I've been feeling pretty great. We had a nice little vacation to visit family. Also we've been on lots of fun family outings nearby lately thanks to unusually warm and wonderful weather here.

It's totally off-topic, but this is pretty funny (must have some humor because the rest of this post sucks):



The best thing about the last few weeks is that I've had hardly any pain at all. I certainly took this as a good sign. I was finally able to get excited about IVF #2, which would feature much higher stim doses and Lovenox from transfer. I felt these would be two big improvements over last cycle. I dared to be a little optimistic. Stupid me. I should know better by now.

I've been on Lupron for 10 days and took my last pill Wednesday of last week. But nothing happened. No bleeding. No spotting. It's quite bizarre that after years of desperately hoping my period wouldn't come, I am now desperately hoping that it will.

By yesterday I knew that something was very wrong, so I went into today's ultrasound with dread in my heart. The endometrioma is still there, same size, but has now been joined by what appear to be TWO MORE endometriomas. One ovary. Three endometriomas. *sob* The antral follicle count is eight, which seems pretty dismal. Last time there were eleven. But it is completelly irrelevant at this point because obviously I can't move forward. I have to bleed first, and there's no sign of it happening. Also my estrogen is too high (192 - should be under 50). My doctor called and said to stay on 20 units of Lupron and come back on Friday. IF I bleed and get the estrogen down, I might still be able to proceed, though not with much optimism. If not, this appears to be the end of the road for me.

Financially we cannot proceed with treatment after January 1, 2011. Months ago we paid for a three try cost-sharing plan under which we get our money back if we don't end up with a baby. Try #1 failed, try #2 could fit it this year but is now in jeopardy, and time constraints make it impossible for there to be a #3. The plan we're on covers the actual IVF but not the drugs or monitoring, which easily total $7000 per cycle without insurance. Right now we're fine because we have great coverage, but as of January 1 the COBRA plan we're using for infertility will no longer provide any coverage. No coverage is available through hubby's new employer. In just days we lost the hope of a third try and also quite possibly a second. Without the IVF, we have NO hope.

I am so grateful for my two living children. Without them I could not get up in the mornings. Ending my family with burying two babies, though, has left gaping wounds. It has caused such destruction in all aspects of life that some days I wonder if hubby and I will be able to keep our little truncated family intact. The person that my husband married died in 2007 and I am a very poor substitute.

I fought SO hard to have this chance. Dodged bullet after bullet . . . the stupid counselor, unemployment, and horrible insurance just to name a few. Next week I turn 35 - the dreaded fertility drop-off. What a heartbreaking plunge it might be. It can't end this way. It just can't.

What Not to Watch

One evening when I was bored, I considered watching this on Netflix:

Has anyone seen this? I ended up watching something else and I'm glad I did. A friend has since told me it's quite scary and offers little in the way of hope for the chronically stressed. The title alone is enough to stress me out - Stress: Portrait of a Killer.

We all know that many health problems are caused or exacerbated by stress. According to this documentary, prolonged stress can "shrink our brains, add fat to our bellies, and even unravel our chromosomes". After nearly four years of extreme unrelenting stress, I don't even want to think about how badly my body has been damaged. Or how much my life has been shortened.

My vacation was quite relaxing and actually almost pain-free, which was fabulous. The insurance issue, though, has continued to be a major source of stress. I was unable to get any clear answers regarding what my new insurance covers. The benefits manager at my husband's work was likewise unable to get any straight answers. Finally today the clinic's financial coordinator called to say that she finally got a response from the insurance company. They will cover exactly nothing. Not ultrasounds. Not blood tests. Many insurances that don't cover infertility will at least cover that. But not mine. Figures.

I think keeping COBRA coverage under these conditions is legitimate, although I'm sure some would disagree. It's a grey area I plan to take advantage of because it's high time something works out in my favor. We have $1200 in infertility coverage left on that policy and I intend to milk it. I'm glad to finally have some answers, painful as they are, just in time to get the COBRA premium paid. Why do we always have to cut these things so damn close? [Speaking of cutting it close, don't forget to enter my contest (see last post). There are just three days left!]

This employer-based insurance system really doesn't make sense. Why should an employer dictate my insurer and coverage? Having the government do it would be worse still. I want to be able to compare insurers and plans. I'm smart enough to decide what makes sense for me and my family. So are you! Power to the people!!

A Drug Deal Gone Bad

I actually had been handling Monday's bad news (IVF delayed because of cysts) rather well, I thought. Maybe it's because cysts are no surprise at this point. It's more of a surprise if I don't have them. I got the dates for IVF #2 soon after learning that IVF #1 had failed, but I never really let myself believe things would go according to plan. Never told anyone what the dates were. Never put any of the dates on my calendar or on this blog. I did joke to hubby, though, that if the IVF worked I could have big sore Boooooobs for Halloween. What a treat that would have been.

Anyway, I was managing very nicely until my drug shipment arrived yesterday along with a nasty surprise - my $10K drug coverage has just been exhausted. Price tag for the package - $4832!!! I thought we still had enough coverage for this next cycle, but it turns out that the pharmacy my insurance makes me use is the most expensive of them all for the drugs I'm on. Therefore, the $10K drug coverage was burned up after just one IVF and 3 Follistim IUI cycles. The pharmacy was supposed to call me in advance with the post-insurance cost of this cycle's drugs, but they didn't! They were also supposed to email me when they sent the package out, but they didn't. If they had, I obviously would have only ordered what was covered by insurance.

Q and I had a very tense 24 hours wondering if we'd be stuck with this bill. We thought we had this IVF thing figured out so could handle it without ending up in the poor house or the nut house or in separate houses, but this latest drama had me worried we'd be pushed over the edge. We were feeling the burn in our wallets, and then...

Finally this morning the pharmacy called me back to say they will take the drugs back since they screwed up by not calling me. Hallelujah, I'm saved!! *HUGE sigh of relief!*

Thanks to my cysts, I now have ample time to shop around for more reasonably priced drugs. Yesterday as events were unfolding, I got an email from another blogger who has leftover Follistim and is Lucky enough not to need it. How awesome is that? Can't get over the timing. Since I have some drugs left from last cycle, it shouldn't be too expensive to get the rest of what I need - certainly not $4800. Good thing, because we're still recovering from the recent bout with unemployment! So, that's the latest here at Cradles and Graves, where nothing happens without a great deal of unnecessary drama!

Return to Poo Corner

First, some happy news. My mother will not be coming to visit during my next IVF cycle after all. Whew!

Now, remember the plant in poo corner? If not, see here and here. Currently it is happily producing a healthy full-term tomato despite being hopelessly diseased:

And here I sit, feeling hopelessly diseased and NOT currently producing an offspring of any sort. Yes, the plant in poo corner and I have parted ways. And I am jealous. Of a tomato plant.

Embryo ICU

The embryologist called this morning to say that of the twelve eggs retrieved, six were mature.  Four fertilized, but two did so later (not sure how this is possible with ICSI?).  The plan is to transfer the two frontrunners tomorrow and watch the two laggards a little longer to see if they're good enough to freeze. 

It's so wonderful to know that we have embryos growing, but strange that they are growing in a distant lab and not in me.  It feels a little like when my first son was in the NICU after he was born.  He was in the hospital for five days but I was discharged after one.  I felt terrible leaving my tiny baby there.  He should have been OK, but somehow my body hadn't worked right and he hadn't been able to grow properly.  I should have been able to take care of him and give him everything he needed, but instead I had to leave him in the care of others.  And now again, my body doesn't work right.  My embryos have been left in the care of others.  I actually wish someone else could continue growing them for me for the next nine months, but tomorrow they will be in my Womb of Doom.  Please pray they survive.

A New Clinic. Maybe.

Yesterday was the consult at the new clinic we'd go to if we get to try IVF, which can only happen if we know we'll have insurance going forward. Interview #1 did not result in a job offer for hubby and he hasn't heard back on Interview #2 yet. We're hopeful, but there is nothing else on the horizon if this one's also a "no". Meanwhile, hubby continues to go into a hostile environment at work every day since his boss is STILL not being clear about when he's out of the current job. It's a genuinely bizarre situation. Friends and family keep telling us they've never heard of anything like it. I tell them we specialize in things you've never heard of before.

So anyways, this clinic (which I will refer to as Clinic 2) was a radically different environment than the clinic we went to previously (Clinic 1). Clinic 1 recently relocated to fancy new digs and Clinic 2 appears very old and run-down. Clinic 1 plays comforting Muzak in the waiting room; at Clinic 2 our nervousness was allayed by the soothing strains of "Play that Funky Music White Boy".
However, Clinic 2 does feature some big financial advantages: the cost sharing program is $1000 cheaper than Clinic 1 AND they'll bill our insurance (we still have $4K in coverage), which is expressly forbidden by Clinic 1's program. Result: Total savings of up to $5K. Also Clinic 2 covers ICSI and cryopreservation in the package cost, while Clinic 1 does not. Success rates are similar at both clinics.

Great. Wonderful. And depressingly pointless unless the job drama is resolved expeditiously. For now, we're just trying not to buckle under the stress of it all. At least we know hubby has a job for today (we're well aware that many don't) and we still have our daily bread:

A dear friend recently sent me these matryoshka doll measuring cups. Aren't they cute? They're a fun reminder of the adventures we had together as teachers in Russia. Thanks, Lins!

A Moment of Peace

For years now I've felt that I'm stuck in a nightmare and cannot wake up. I'm sure many of you can relate! In all that time I can never remember feeling even a moment of peace, until last week when paradoxically, I escaped the nightmare very briefly in my dreams.

I dreamt I'd had boy/girl twins through IVF and was holding them while hubby and our two kids David and Tania stood close by. I remember thinking how astonishing it was that the tremendous weight of recent years was lifted so completely and I felt perfectly at peace. I didn't think this was possible after everything that's happened. And then I woke up to my nightmare again.

I would do anything....anything!...to make that peace a reality. I know lots of people think my rainbow-baby-chasing is crazy, for which reason I rarely mention my efforts anymore to anyone in the "real world". You may call me crazy if you wish, but to quote Lance Armstrong, "We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or Fight Like Hell."

Lest anyone suggest this dream was some kind of vision or premonition, I can assure you that it was not. It was no doubt inspired by photos we recently received of my sister-in-law's new IVF boy/girl twins. Also because if I could pick a perfect ending to our story, boy/girl twins would be my ideal.

The very next night I dreamt that we did IVF and got a reasonable number of eggs considering my lone ovary. They fertilized at the expected rate, but all died before they could be transferred. We were told that all my eggs were rotten and never to try again. Surprisingly this one made me feel no worse than I feel already, which I suppose only goes to show how low I've been for so long.

It's interesting to note that I almost NEVER remember my dreams - in fact maybe only once a year, but this time I vividly remembered two in a row. Too bad they cancel each other out - I could use a vision just about now to tell me what to do. I don't wish to brutalize myself or my family by pursuing further treatment if it will be all for naught (or worse - further loss and trauma), but neither do I wish to be stuck in a nightmare forever if there is any hope of waking up.

Trying to Get Our Ducks in a Row

For the longest time I have been either immersed in infertility treatment or sidelined by months-long cyst-induced bouts of pain. I am quite enjoying not being in either stressful situation at the moment, but only because as I write this I am still hopeful it's not officially The End for us. We're trying to get our ducks in a row.

Next week hubby has two (yes TWO!) interviews for jobs within his company. We just have to hope his current boss doesn't undermine it. This guy, who I may have mentioned is a spectacular jerk, returns from China tomorrow and will presumably tell hubby exactly when he is out of his current job.

Also next week we have a consult at the clinic we'll transfer to if IVF becomes a reality for us. In the meantime, I've set a few goals to help get me through the Wait of Indeterminate Length:

1) Run the equivalent of a marathon in one week's time, with the last 10 miles in one day to beat last summer's record of 9 miles in a day. This will be tough considering I only logged 14 miles this week.

2) Get my house in order. This means cleaning everything and organizing everything. That way it's ready in case we have to move. Or better yet, if we stay I can then be a slacker for awhile with the housekeeping.

3) Prepare home-school materials for my kids for this summer. Yes, I'm a mean mom. But since my kids have the incredible opportunity to be in a Chinese Immersion program at our public school (another reason I don't want to move now!) that means I'm responsible for teaching them English reading, spelling, grammar, and vocabulary.

These projects and the bliss of being pain-free almost all the time (yay!) will hopefully keep me sane for the near future, even with this super-high level of stress.

Before signing off I'd like to thank everyone who has followed along on this bumpy ride (lurkers, too!). Thanks for your kind comments, encouragement, for sharing your stories, and for listening when no one else seemed willing to hear. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend! Here's what I've been working on for Easter:

A New Vocabulary

Recent years have permanently altered my perspective on just about everything in life. Here are but a few things that have taken on entirely different meanings courtesy of loss and infertility. Anyone have any others to add to the list?

Beta then:

Beta now:

Note: "Beta" refers to the blood test to check for prenancy. You go to the clinic to get blood drawn and they call you later in the day with the results.

Baby Dust then:

Note: People who are trying to conceive (TTC) often wish each other "baby dust" on message boards, etc. as a way of saying "good luck".

Baby Dust now:

Belly Shots then:

Belly Shots now:

What to Expect When "Expecting" then:

What to Expect When "Expecting" now:

Update: All is not doom and gloom for us on the TTC front, despite recent posts. There may be hope yet, on which more later.

As Expected, Not "Expecting"

Words cannot convey the magnitude of this depressing news, so I won't even try. This was our last chance. *

* Unless something fabulous happens quickly for hubby on the job front, because health insurance = IVF

Wouldn't It Be Loverly?

I'm in the midst of examining Xtreme Measures for family building. Tragically, all of them have one thing in common - all require a five-figure sum of $$$$$. The figures are daunting, especially given the sorry state of the economy and the fact that hubby's job is in some jeopardy. Since I have always been frugal (some may say cheap) the thought of spending that much money with no guaranteed result tends to make me a little nauseous. But thanks to years of frugality we already have the five-figure sum in the bank at this moment, so no debt would be involved. Still, that's A LOT of money and the last thing I want to do is add financial stress on top of everything else.

Looking at our options and essentially planning for failure this cycle has thus far prevented hope from growing in any meaningful way. Who knows what kind of wreck I'll be in two weeks time, however, when the results are in for this last cycle with Follistim? I'm guessing it could be ugly.

Today's ultrasound showed three mature follicles (and another that's a bit too small I think) so in mere moments I will inject the Ovidrel and also give my ovary a stern warning: "This is a stick-up! Quietly hand over the eggs to the tube, or next time the needle may be in you!"

Yes, IVF may be on the table after all. I've found that some of the four local infertility clinics don't automatically disqualify me from the cost sharing program due to my lone ovary, and there's some chance I could get in despite my three losses in a row.  It'll take some more research, paperwork, and consultations to get a firm answer. I just have to hope that at least one clinic will buy the "cord-related losses are just random bad luck" theory.

For now, though, we're focused on giving this cycle our best shot. Whacking Day falls on the Sabbath this time. Please pray for us! May our time in the Porn Room/Stirrups be blessed with success! I don't have high hopes, but wouldn't it be lovely if it actually worked?! It would be so wonderful not to endure the intense stress of further infertility treatment and all the needles and probing that go with it, to say nothing of being able to use the $$$$$ we've saved for a house, as intended.

All I want is a room somewhere
Babe and I in a rocking chair
An answer to a prayer
Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?

What we need are some good gametes
Then baby smiling in the back seat
Wee face, wee hands, wee feet
Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?


UPDATE: Sunday morning 11 am - Sperm count at IUI 10 million with 50% motility. Not the greatest number. Insert expletives here.

Death Lives On

It's official. Failure. Again. There's nothing more depressing than to fail at such a fundamental thing as keeping your children alive, and at this point, even managing to conceive at all. I try distracting myself from this failure by trying harder to succeed in other things I have some control over, but I seem to fail at everything. And even if I did have some small successes, no success can compensate for the failure to fill my home.

This cycle generated more hope than I've had in quite some time. Four follicles - my personal best. Still, hope disappeared rapidly once The Wait began and by the end of it I couldn't even muster up enough hope for the one second it takes to, um, administer the progesterone. Just couldn't do it. I HATE that progesterone, not because it's icky, but because it encourages false hope with its evil side-effects, especially sore Milk Cups (this is what my four-year-old daughter calls breasts).  How pathetic is it to obsess for days over whether my boobs are sore from the drugs, from pregnancy, or from constantly being poked at to see if they're sore?

Hope is simultaneously killing me and keeping me alive. Every time it dares rear its increasingly ugly head, I do all I can to smash it down. It entices me with visions of happiness, and then drops me into progressively lower levels of hell. And yet I keep falling for it because sometimes that vision of what may be is the only thing that keeps me going on the darkest days. I have only one cycle left to try, maybe two. With Hope out of the picture, I'll be left to hang out alone with Despair. How's that going to work out?

WHY can't I just quit and do what soooo many people have told me soooo many times . . . "just be happy with the two you have". Ah, there's that "just" again - as if it could all be so easy if I'd only heed the advice of people who have no idea what they're talking about. My family is my greatest joy and I bitterly resent it every time anyone dares imply that if only I were more thankful for them, everything would suddenly be fine! I AM grateful for my family - I love them and live for them (though some days I feel I'm not doing them any favors by doing so). If I'd known what was going to happen, I never would have gotten pregnant again after I'd had David and Tania. Then I believe I could have been HAPPY with my two. As things are now though, with a body full of pain and a head full of horrific images, happiness is only a distant memory and my love and thankfulness for my two living children doesn't change that. I wish it did.

The last few years have destroyed me. The truth is that this is not simply about having a baby. Yes, I desperately want a new life in me and then in my arms, but I also want to be alive again myself. I felt death inside me when it came to take my babies and even after they were delivered and buried, death stayed with me, casting a cold dark shadow over every aspect of life.

One woman who has lost many babies once told me that the experience taught her a lot about death. Truly, you can't get any closer to death than to have it inside you and not die yourself. I've grown weary of having such a close relationship with death. Death lives in me, killing not only any child I manage to conceive, but also my friendships, family relationships, faith, and functionality as a wife and mother. Everything I touch seems to die.  Quite simply, I want life to drive death out of me. And that, quite simply, just isn't happening.

In a Happier Place, If Only Briefly

Well, we've survived Whacking Day again and arrived at that happy place, Week One of The Wait, with some hope of good news in twelve days' time. The stats this time are as follows: 4 mature follicles in me, 43 million swimmers from hubby delivered via catheter, plus two deposits at home the fun way.

Last year at this time I was pregnant, but didn't know it yet. That of course ended in yet another loss. Will I still be in this awful place next February? It's all I can do to think positively for even a day, but assuming my anatomy hasn't been too severely damaged by the endo and cysts, we may have a shot at it this time. All I can do now is hope and say a little prayer: Dear God, gimme a break, man!

Also, I'm putting up a pic of the T-shirt hubby got on a recent business trip. Funny, but I don't think I'll let him wear it out in public:

The Ice Cream Diet

First of all, congrats to The Steadfast Warrior for winning my recent giveaway. I will be making her a pysanky (Ukrainian egg) and sending it off soon.

Secondly, I've added a new section to my sidebar just under the Blog List. It's titled Some Desperately Needed Laughs and has links to some funny websites and video clips. Check it out - and if you know of more funny links I can add, please send them my way!

So ... if you saw my last post you know that this month (Cycle #1 of Follistim) resulted in a BFN. This did not come as a shock, since I had ovary pain beginning on Whacking Day and lasting for an entire week. I suspect something went very wrong so that ovulation didn't go quite right(despite all the positive signs indicating that it did) or that there is some mechanical difficulty such as adhesions or damage from the many large cysts I've had lately. In any case, I am very cynical about our chances for success in the future. Just under a year ago I got pregnant on my first Clomid cycle and even though that ended in an early miscarriage, I had high hopes that I was what every infertile girl wants to be: Easy, Fast, and Cheap. Sadly, time has proven me wrong.

This recently ended two week wait has been awful, though not as awful as the last one back in September when my brother died the day before the IUI and we had to pile in the car the day after the IUI to get to the funeral in a distant state. When I heard the news that he had died, I was shocked by it and also shocked by my reaction, which was simultaneous sorrow and jealousy. That's where these years of physical and emotional pain have gotten me - I'm jealous of the pregnant and the dead.

So in comparison, this wait wasn't sooo awful. But I was stuck in the house for over a week worried about my two sick kids and in a state of dark depression due to the odd combination of 1) being unable to get a moment away from the constant "I want mommy" of my sick kids and 2) not being able to end my family with another little person constantly clinging to mommy.


Being depressed and stuck in the house resulted in the consumption of A LOT of potato chips and ice cream. Apparently, despair and anxiety burn a lot of calories, because I've lost six pounds that I didn't need to lose. That's right - I'm complaining about losing weight. My waistline has been shrinking and hubby's has been expanding. This is exactly the opposite of what we're going for here.

Now we have, at most, three days to decide how to proceed. Of course there's the option of doing the same thing again and hoping for different results. I could have surgery again before continuing with treatment. My endo is dramatically worse since the last one (in 2008) and I'm worried about adhesions. But the last surgery was a disaster that made things much worse, so doing it again doesn't seem very promising. Or we could explore Really Extreme Measures that are very expensive but much more likely to work. I hate making these decisions!

More Rain and No Rainbow

Once again, I can't even get a pink line, much less a rainbow baby. A rainbow baby, for those who don't know, is a baby born after loss, bringing light and color after a dark and terrible storm.

In Greek mythology, the goddess of the rainbow is Iris. She used the rainbow to travel down to earth to deliver messages from the Gods and to transport women's souls to the underworld. This is the only kind of rainbow I have gotten. Since my first loss I've gotten pregnant twice more, but the hoped-for rainbow babies never arrived. Instead, Iris's rainbow transported me to hell. I've often wondered what message God is sending me on this rainbow. He takes my babies again and again, but offers no peace, no comfort, and no guidance in the aftermath. I don't know how to live with this kind of a rainbow.