less traveled

I have a friend with whom I recently reconnected, well I guess it's been 3 years now. We met in college and then she went west and I stormed east. Somehow we both found ourselves back here in this college town in the midwest, much to our surprise and, often disappointment, but that's a whole story unto itself. Anyway, we got in touch, had lunch, caught up, and arranged a time for our new husbands to meet at a dinner for four. It was a lovely evening, lots of laughter. I felt great relief, really, knowing that there was another soul, two actually, and thus making a whole couple, that we could hang out with and share our adventure. Sean has great friends back in NY and we often feel like we are missing something without such close frineds that share so much in common with us here. So this, this was BIG!

We talked about life and what we were hoping to make of it. I truly felt I had found an island, and where people spoke my language! What are the chances? They love the outdoors almost as much as we do and we talked about taking trips together, skiing, camping, exploring. What great fun we would have. We talked about wanting to have kids and how fun it would be to share that together as well. She is a few years younger than I, 3 to be exact, and they were just starting to think about kids. We had been trying a few years, on our own, still foolishly optimistic with no idea what kind of infertility journey lay ahead of us. I had been fighting enodmetriosis awhile, but back then, we still had great hopes that the kid thing would happen any minute. It's all a matter of time, right? We had already put in our time, or so we thought. I thought the chances would be good that kids for both of us would happen in close proximity.

That night, our newly reconnected and newfound friends went home and decided to start trying, just like that. And would you believe it, they got pregnant.

She didn't say a word to me until about 3 weeks later. We joined them at their new house for a fantastic dinner. She asked me if I wanted a tour of the new place, "Of course!" We set out, her showing me the rooms, this is the living room, this is our bedroom, the guest room, my craft room, and this is the nursery. I smiled at her, and thought, yes, when that happens this would be a great room for that. But there was this pause, she didn't turn on her heels to show us the other rooms, and it hit me. She meant it right NOW this is the nursery. I looked at her and she was beaming, I faked it the best I could and congratulated her trying to disguise my own tears of disappointment for tears of joy for her.

This was the first time I had had that feeling. I had heard others talk about this feeling with other women, but I hadn't felt that way before. Up to that point, I really believed our time would come (and that is was right around the corner) and I could geniunely be joyful for the newly expectant mothers making their baby announcments everywhere around me, but this time I was plagued with heartache and guilt. It was awful. The months passed, I started my infertility treatments that were followed by one negative result after another, and it continued to get harder and harder. I don't think she's an insensitive person, I don't, but she really didn't seem to get that any of this could upset me. So the gushing from her would occur and my own private pain continued. We'd meet for lunch, she was having a difficult pregnancy, so we would talk all about how she was handling it. I'd support her as she would complain. We'd meet for tea, for a walk, and we'd talk all about her pregnancy, I secretly making deals with the devil that I would take the discomfort if only I could also swim in the joy of having a healthy baby.

She finally had the baby. We met them at the hospital right after he was born. We shared in the celebration with her family. We came for the baptisim brunch, we went to their house for dinners. She would let me bathe him and help put him to bed, but this all was getting to be too much for me. I would leave and hit rock bottom. I decided I could still have lunch with her, only her, and not do the whole family thing. Somewhere I read it didn't make me a monster to feel this way. I slowly pulled back, I tried to explain why, but I don't think she ever understood.

We bought our house, a fixer-upper, so I had a great excuse for awhile why we couldn't get together. But being such great people they really wanted to help out. I finally gave in and the three of them spent a day with us. The men worked on the difficult crown molding in the bedrooms, and she and I and the little one spent time playing down at the edge of the lake and with our new puppy. Then she came into the house and my dear Sean picked up their son and my friend and he cooed over him in the kitchen together for a lifetime and it sunk me. I didn't want to watch, but it was like having a train wreck happen in front of you, you can't help but look, even if it was going to be gory. That was it, the breaking point, and I couldn't take it another minute. I didn't say a word outloud, but I'm sure I turned a deep green while I began screaming terrible things in my head like, "Get out of my kitchen! Step out of my dream! It isn't yours to have! Please don't do this right here in front of me!!" I was so relieved when they finally left that day.

She keeps asking us over and wants us all to get together. I feel horrible, but I just can't do it. Honestly, I don't know if I ever can. I know my husband thinks I'm rotten for feeling this way, yet, I can't change my feelings.
Another email from her came today. I must come up with yet another excuse. All the while the guilt washes over me.

We managed to get through another IUI this morning. I wore my festive striped red, orange, turquoise, and navy blue knee high socks for the occasion. Everyone seemed to like them. Before the procedure it was just Sean and I and my eggs in the room. I decided to have a little heart to heart with them. "Look, I said, I know you think you don't need anyone's help. I know you think you can do this all on your own. But even I, yes, I, had to ask for some assistance on this one, and it's time you, too, accept the help. We need the Y, girls, no matter what you think. We need the Y. Please, let one of those gents through. They may seem repugnant. I thought so, too, initially, we all do. But it's a yin-yang thang, and we need each other." I looked up from my belly and realized Sean was listening in. I shrugged my shoulders and raised my eyes brows, "My eggs, babe, I'm talking to my eggs." He smiled and said, "Check," and then I realized he said, "Czech", as in my damn stubborn Czech eggs. I said, "Czech. Check," and gave him a nod. He then continued as if he needed to, "Your dad was stubborn, wasn't he?" I shook my head while I stuck my legs out straight in front of me to see the party going on on my socks. I smiled. "And your grandmother?" "Nope," I said, swinging my party now, one leg at a time, watching the funky stripes. Then I stopped, looked up at him and we both laughed. Outloud.

We had a good count. 92% remained after their spa treatment. We sent a total of 38 million soldiers to march on, Braveheart style, fighting towrad my playing hard to get eggs, fighting whatever bad evil endometriosis it may find. Sean yelped out loud, "This is MY island!" We said lots of encouraging words.

I finally got the nurse I wished for today. I told her I secretly had wanted her to be my nurse and I was so glad I finally would have her to do my IUI. See was always so kind when she would get the other women from the waiting room. She seemed so confident and I was sure she must be the good fairy. I must have jinxed her, because for whatever reason, the procedure was quite painful today and took about 40 minutes. I broke into a hot sweat from the pain. The nurse became a bit frazzled and went to get a doctor to help out. I waited there on the table, speculum in place, catheter, too, for what seemed like days. The doc finally came in and he looked just like Sean's brother-in-law. Sean quizzed him on where he was from. He began to tell us all abut his family line and that he was the last male Mr. S He is from out east, but no relation. Me, still lying on the table...ah-HEM! It was odd having my brother-in-law step in as a pinch hitter for the nurse, but I was glad when he finally did. The catheter apparently was stuck and bumping, rather obnoxiously, into the back of my uterus and was not cooperating at all. The nurse explained that we needed it to go with the countour of my overly retro placed uterus, but it was being stubborn and trying to go THROUGH my uterus, or so it felt. I was not expecting that at all. I was soaked by the time it was all over, but slowly the cramping subsided.

So, the 2 ww begins. We have our long awaited IVF appointment set for March 10th, 3 days before the PG test. Again, if this cycle works, great, I'd be ecstatic, very surprised, but ecstatic, however, my chances are slim and I realize that. I'm glad we have the IVF to look forward to, if you can look forward to the needles and the bloat and the mood swings and the fatigue. I guess you look beyond all that to what seems like out final hope.


So, throw your pennies in the wishing well, my friends, and don't tell me what you wish for, but I'm hoping I might already know, and I think I'll still let myself dream a little.

Triggered last night. Sore ass. IUI tomorrow morning.

So, I had the ultrasound. Things look ok, I guess. One follicle measuring in at 23.5, one at 15.5, and one at 15. We have at least one that will mature, the other 2 are both possiblities, they say. Do you think they mean longshots? I don't know what to believe anymore. We trigger tonight. So, why I'm feeling so bummed and melancholy, I don't know. I'm just not excited this cycle. I'm more in the disheartened, hopeless, impossibly bleak, and despondent camp.

My endometriosis is terrible. My fears about the drugs making it worse has not exactly been put to rest by the lack of pain. I ask questions ahead of time thinking I'm being a good avocate for myself, only to realize several times along the way that nobody was listening to me when I asked all of those questions. So, even though I make it a point to discuss something, it seems to fall on deaf ears, although at the time they seem like they are listening and they give me anwers, but later when I bring it up again all I get is this glassy-eyed glazed over look from the nurse or a doctor which makes me know they didn't note it when I did. Or they told me what they thought I wanted to hear and then pushed right on by the landmine I had so carefully buried for them. I mean besides the critical questions about my treatment and all the things wrong with my body that could interefere with said treatment (not to mention the time, money and emotional hell) imagine how you would feel if after a few years they suddenly realize, or more accurately DIDN"T FREAKING LISTEN when you told them about all the endo and pain and laporoscpies in the first place, but now, given this NEW information, this treatment may not be the right thing for you, but uh, oh, now you are 37, if only you were still 33, like when you first walked through the door, everything would be different, but now there is no way you can get pregnant.
My ride today at the appointment went something like this:
Yesterday I called and asked again about what I needed to do today ( I always get in trouble for not doing it correctly, even though I follow thier directions). They tell me go to the front desk and check in, everything will be waiting for me, have the blood draw first then the ultrasound, then appt. Today I go to check in at the front desk ( where they usually send me to the back desk in waiting room 3, that usually sends me to the waiting room, where I sit for an hour, while all the other women come and go and come and go, and then someone finally calls my name and they ask why I am sitting there and why didn't I go to the front desk? ) I tell them I have a blood draw and ultrasound today and the blood draw should be first. She doesn't make eye contact with me, continues looking at her computer screen, eventually she hands me all my paperwork and stickers and tells me to go to waiting room 3, do I know where that is? Yes, I tell the same woman that has sent me there for the last year at least 60 times. But, I say, I think I'm supposed to go the lab first, for the blood draw. Oh, no, you go to Waiting room 3. But when I called in yesterday, I try to say, she cuts me off, No, you need to go to waiting room 3, do you know where that is? Yes, I say, again. I go to the back waiting room 3 and check in. (This is where I always get in trouble) and explain that they sent me back here before the blood draw and...She cuts me off, Sit down and wait, someone will be back for you. So, I dutifully do so. Ultrasound done. Check. I tell them I need a blood draw. Go back to waiting room 3, do you know where that is? Yes, I mumble. I go back to waiting room 3 try to tell them tht I still need a blood draw, again, no eye contact. Have a seat, she says. Women come and go and come and go. I mean seriously, even one guy said to the nurse when they were called, But that lady was here before usTo which the nurse turns to me, asks, what's your name? I tell her. Yeah, you'll have to wait. Finally my nurse comes out and asks about the blood draw. Why hadn't I had it yet. I try to explain, I told them at the front desk, and then at the ultrasound, and then back here in 3, but they... You were supposed to have that done first, she says. I tried, but... She tells me to keep waiting.

Finally I'm in the appointment getting the timing down for the trigger shot and lining up the IUI for Thursday and I have more questions about the endo. I tell her how bad the pain has been the last few months,each month worsening, and I ask again, is it really true that the meds won't make the endo worse? She avoids the first landmine altogether by changing directions completely. IF you get pregnant, the endo pain will usually disappear. Yes, usually, I understand, but what if I don't acheive a pregnancy through this treatment, will it make the endo worse. Silence. Glassy eyes look back at me. So, you have endo? UM, YEAH! HellOOO! You might want to talk with the doctor about that. Umm, I have, several times. We just went round and round on the merry-go-round from there until I just decided it wasn't fun anymore, no matter what animal I chose to ride.
I'm frustrated today.

OH! and a big fat PS today:
If my dear husband suggests one more time that all my endo pain could disappear with a chiropractic adjustment I will, without a doubt, be giving HIM one major adjustment.

This weekend we learned that:
1. When the phlebotomist answers yes when you ask if she's good at what she does, she's probably lying.
2. Contrary to what the nurse said, you don't always get an extra shot out of the Follistim vial.
3. My E2 levels were at 306 and we'll continue with the shots.
4. I have another E2 test and ultrasound on Tuesday
5. Don't leave your pan of leftover mushroom and spinach manicotti outside unattended even for one minute while you run back into the house for one last thing if your neighbor's dogs are named Char and Tess.

The last 3 days I have been a grizzly bear. I am tired and grumbly and sore, and sorry about all the previous. My endo has been screaming at me and I haven't slept in the same room with my husband for the last 4 nights. 3 of which I slept on the couch and last night he slept downstairs and let me have the bed, hoping I could finally get a good nights rest. I did sleep more (cried only for an hour around 2:30-damn endo!) maybe that's why I'm feeling a little bit better today emotionally.

My right leg is really sore and bruised, way more than last cycle. I've been having all the shots go in that poor right side because my left leg always burns like hell and then I turn white and get all nauseated and feel like I'm going to thow up or pass out, but damn, my right leg aches. I may bite the bullet and try the left side tonight. Note to husbands doing the sticking (yes-I'm one of the weenies that can't do it herself, so I know I shouldn't complain-BUT here goes anyway) make sure you have the doseage dialed up BEFORE you stick the needle in the leg. The less time you spend noodling around in your sweet wife's subcutaneous layer, the better, for ALL of us. (I know you didn't mean to forget.)

My mom had planned a trip over this weekend, but I just don't know if I'm in the mood for the Eternal Optimist right now. I love her dearly, I do, but for this adventure she needs to join me in the world of Reality, or at least visit me here once in a awhile.

I'll have news about my E2 levels to share on Monday. Other than that, I'll try to keep my eyes open and my grizzly on the INside. No promises.

This is a lonely journey full of both great hope and devastating disappointment. And lots of comments from people who can't even imagine the severity of their words. Dumb asses. I'll leave it at that today.

Yesterday was a particularly low day. I didn't sleep much the night before as I was up with my endo pain. I cried a lot through the night and felt tired and moody when it was time for work in the morning. I did NOT want to go back to the clinic and redo this treatment. I was hoping for some respite, looking forward to preparing for the next big hairy ordeal (IVF) I will put my body through. I was getting used to keeping my eyes open for more than six hours a day. I am reluctant to become a zombie for the next 3 weeks, but here we go.

We've decided to try another round of injectables while we wait for IVF (March 10). The doctor thought I responded well to the meds last month and that, even if a cyst would present, there would be sufficient time for it to resolve itself before we would start the IVF preparations. So, I dragged myself to the hospital yesterday for an ultrasound and they gave us the green light to try again, no cyst there to stop us. I was secretly hoping for a tire screeching sized cyst. No luck.

Honestly, my belief is that my endo is causing all of our problems with fertilization either by killing the sperm in my fallopian tubes or hindering the ability for the egg to even reach the uterus at all. So, with that theory dancing around in my head, it feels pointless to even try this. This time around I am doing it for Sean. I think he believes it could work, and I want to continue to let him hope. My money is on the IVF procedure, if we have a shot at all.

We commenced the shots last night. I'm not going to waste any hope on this cycle. I fear the well may run dry.

All the hoping in the world didn't make if happen for us this month. I went to the hospital today for a pregnancy test, hoping, of course, that the nurse would come bounding around the corner, her arms bursting with a dozen red roses, arm outstretched with a positive test in her hand for me. I should've known better. What kind of soppy sap goes in for a test on Valentine's Day anyway? What a dope.

Guess I'll have that glass of red wine tonight after all, and as much chocolate as I can fit, after some lovely raw sushi, and a side of blue cheese and then chase it all with a hot cup of caffeine-filled java to wash it down.

Blasted.

This afternoon I started spotting light pink. All the questions began flying around my head like a million mosquitoes.
How can my period be this early? Can I even get a period while I'm on progesterone? I am just not producing enough progesterone and that's my whole problem? Do I need to call the doc? What a Valentine's gift. Hmph! The girl grasping at straws and not wanting to give up hope throws out a Hail Mary, could it be implantation bleeding? Is that why I had that sharp pain this morning and mild cramping ever since? Do you get cramping with implantation bleeding? Are my boobs still sore? Check. No, wait, not as sore. Oh, my. Stop it.
After a thorough google I found this reassuring chart that does say implantation bleeding can happen this late. The truth is all I can do is wait.

And the music starts playing again in my head.

All I can hear in my head is Tom Petty belting out, "The way-yay-ting is the hard-est part."

Dear Ron,

I'm thinking about you and Dad this week, as difficult as that is.

Remembering that almost 2 years ago we sat together in a hospital in Tyler, Texas fighting for Dad's life, and winning. Dad fought so hard for all of us. We were terribly scared and tired, taking shifts watching him all night, policing the nursing staff, questioning everything, wanting desperately to do the right thing. We were a damn good team. I'll always love you for what happened between the three of us that week. And we were blessed with one more year with him.

Then last year at this time we prayed for guidance and answers, and more than anything we prayed for a miracle. We lost Dad then, but maybe the miracle was given; God came and welcomed Dad home peacefully. Thy will be done. His pain ended, but our lives without him began. I know how much you miss him.

It's still difficult and painful and impossible. I have to thank you for your support during that time last year, especially. I couldn't have gotten through it without you. I love you so much and can't imagine my life without you as my brother. I'm very thankful.

I'm sorry for our loss. I'm grateful for not having to endure it alone.

Your loving sister,
Jill

If I count my lucky stars I could stop after I got to ONE, after I've counted my dear husband, and I would have all I need.

I had a plate full of a crumby day yesterday and Sean worked late. He found me on the couch asleep by the fire waiting for him to return from his day. We didn't have a chance to talk at all and share our crumbs with each other. We went to bed. He tired after a long day, me in my drugged hormonal stupor.

This morning as I climbed into the shower he asked about my yesterday's morsels. My eyes brimmed as I tried to share with him that it was a day full of people saying the wrong things and me feeling low, battle fatigued. I tried to explain how I just didn't feel pregnant and if I am, I just want to know right now, and if I'm not, I never want to know. I told him I had received news of another new pregnancy that was delivered with good intentions, but sunk my spirit with a myraid of comments. "They are just overjoyed to be pregnant. You should see the two of them. When will you be?" "Maybe you're just too old, you waited too long." "Oh, I wouldn't know about that. I got pregnant so easily each time. No troubles at all." "Well, So-and-So has tried really hard, too. She's done 4 IVF's gotten pregnant, but miscarries each time. I think it's God's way of telling her she shouldn't be a mom." The final blow. Tears spill over as I tell him this last comment and mix in with the water from my shower. He stands there, having pulled the shower curtain back to listen to me, grimacing with each comment in his suit, oblivious of the water spray, only worrying about me and my heart. He says to me then, "Listen here, I love you. Do you understand? I LOVE you." I look away and nod and blubber a bit. The shower and I cry together; he still standing there being a sponge. "Look at me", he says gently, and I look up into his ocean blue eyes, "You are so good for me and I love you. No matter what." My squashed heart tries to swell up again. He says it'll be a better day today, and if not, then tomorrow is a new day. He leans into my morning wash and kisses me. I can't help but smile at him.

Alone again in the shower I count my lucky stars, "One," I whisper into the water and stop. I take a deep breath.

One more week.

Today is a low. Next week feels like light years away and I'm already tired of waiting, and frankly, I don't feel pregnant. Not that I really know what that feels like, but I just don't feel that much different. Other than the anxiety and dread that I feel from the progesterone, and I might add here, I don't need any more help in that category.
Tomorrow is Friday and at least then I'll be able to say, one more week.

Yesterday's high was a gorgeous hike in the freshly fallen snow. The skies dumped a glorious 12 inches on us and the park. Work shut down and I couldn't wait to get out in it. The sun broke through and chased away the clouds and we found ourselves in a magical winter scene. Quiet and serene. My favorite hike since we've been living out there. Yummy.

Lots of nail biting and toe tapping and turning blue going on, not much of anything else...

Well, game on. Everything went smoothly this morning. Had a great count today of 94% and 42 mil. They washed the little sperm buggers up, gave 'em a nice close shave, splashed 'em with cologne, and sent them on their way. May the best man win. Please win. Please.

Now it's the waiting game again. Let's hope these next 2 weeks (Tick) go quickly (Tock).

And, I will write this, I wasn't going to, but it's my secret hope that this is our month. It'll be the one year anniverary of my father's death, and if it's a go, I know I will not be able to help feeling connected to him. Please, let it be our time.

At 10:30 sharp! the needle went in. Sean did a great job handling the Waffler and Negotiater. The first time over each new hurdle is a bit unnerving. I'm glad to be done with all of the needles this time around. Now the progesterone begins, twice a day. Curious thing, though, while looking at he bottle this morning I saw 2 red warning stickers. One told me not to operate any large machinery or drive until I know how this will affect me. Ok, so, I've seen that one before, I'm guessing this may make me drowsy (Get in line progestrone, get in line). The other one told me not to use this medication if I am pregnant or plan to become pregnant. Hmm. Really? Isn't that the point? Must investigate.

Another new lovely side effect has popped up. I have large red blotches on my face now and the doc said they may not go away. Apparently the drugs can affect the pigmentation in your skin permanantly. Might have been good to know that ahead of time.

Besides being sore from over-sized ovaries I'm doing pretty well, oh, and the injections, besides that, and, well, being totally exhausted, and feeling like I want to cry for no apparent reason, and the splotchy red spots on my face, and besides the bloated extra 5 pounds that has me rifling through my closet to find ANYTHING that fits on this now sausage shaped body, and the ridiculously timed head cold that jumped me in the parking lot last night, other than all of THAT, good, yep, I'm doing just fine.

Tomorrow is IUI.