Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
A True Love Story
If this is your first time visiting my blog, and you'd like a brief ICLW summary, click here.
I love, love, love comments. Not only do they make me feel better, they make me feel HEARD. This is a feeling many of us struggle with during IF, I think. Knowing that unless you've been through this, you don't really understand it makes me feel sort of invisible in a way.
Anyway, I digress. I love comments. However, I feel the need to comment on a comment left recently on my blog. This was not a nasty "who the hell are you to say blah blah blah" comment left by some anonymous poster. In fact, I believe it was a compliment. However, it struck a nerve with me and I feel I need to clarify.
A day or so ago, a new reader commented that it sounded like Mo and I have a "true love story." This is not anything like any comment ANYONE in real life has ever made to us. Not because they doubt that we love each other -- within ten minutes of meeting either one of us, it is very clear that we do. However, our story is nothing like what I expected love to be when I was young(er). Or even when we got married, for that matter. Our "courtship" and marriage have been so full of ups, and downs, and twists and turns, potholes and detours and outright roadblocks that there are days when I wonder how we ever made it this far.
Our first challenge hit us just after we got engaged, several months before we ever made it to the altar. It was a "do or die" situation that I naively plunged straight into, not knowing just how much it would affect the next seven years. I stood by my husband in a time when many girls my age (just 21) wouldn't -- maybe couldn't? -- have.
We started our baby-making journey right away, though God in his wisdom perhaps foresaw that the timing just wasn't right. Because within just a few months of our marriage, we were hit with several more life-altering challenges. (I know I'm being kind of vague, here, but out of respect for Mo's privacy -- and perhaps a desire to avoid having to justify myself -- I just don't feel like "going there" right now).
You know those stress lists? The ones that list all the horrible things that can happen in life, and then tell you to check off the ones you are facing right now? And how, if you have dealt or are dealing with just one or more of those during the past year then you are under a tremendous amount of stress? Mo and I have faced every single one of those items (and a few more!) during the last six years, many of them simultaneously, and all of them ongoing.
I don't tell you all of this to make you say "Wow, they must be so strong! What a perfect couple!" because that is the furthest thing from the truth. Mo, you see, is NOT my white knight, or my Prince Charming. He is utterly, wonderfully, terribly human. He is weak when he should be strong. He is overly sensitive. He is stubborn. He can be gratingly annoying. He is as far from perfect as you can get.
And so, my friends, am I. As we have faced all the difficult things that life has thrown our way, we have made so many mistakes. I have made so many mistakes. We've argued, we've slept in different rooms. We've threatened one another with separation, with divorce. We've called each other out on all of our human failings. We've dragged the past into the present and thrown each other's mistakes and generosity right back into each other's faces.
We've also hugged and kissed and supported one another. We've cried on each other's shoulders. We've apologized and forgiven one another. We've looked toward the future, together. We've prayed. We've been there for each other, warts and all.
The one thing I have learned through all of this is that love is a choice. It's not something that happens to you, something you accidentally fall into or out of. It's a decision, a commitment. I choose to love Mo, even when he doesn't really deserve it. And, for some reason I'll never understand, he chooses to love me back. It's never easy; in fact, sometimes it's the hardest thing in the world. But it has never been a choice that I regret.
So you see, I have no sparkly tiara and Mo's white horse (if he ever had one) is probably out to pasture by now. A fairy tale we most certainly are not. But maybe, just maybe, this might turn out to be true love after all.
I love, love, love comments. Not only do they make me feel better, they make me feel HEARD. This is a feeling many of us struggle with during IF, I think. Knowing that unless you've been through this, you don't really understand it makes me feel sort of invisible in a way.
Anyway, I digress. I love comments. However, I feel the need to comment on a comment left recently on my blog. This was not a nasty "who the hell are you to say blah blah blah" comment left by some anonymous poster. In fact, I believe it was a compliment. However, it struck a nerve with me and I feel I need to clarify.
A day or so ago, a new reader commented that it sounded like Mo and I have a "true love story." This is not anything like any comment ANYONE in real life has ever made to us. Not because they doubt that we love each other -- within ten minutes of meeting either one of us, it is very clear that we do. However, our story is nothing like what I expected love to be when I was young(er). Or even when we got married, for that matter. Our "courtship" and marriage have been so full of ups, and downs, and twists and turns, potholes and detours and outright roadblocks that there are days when I wonder how we ever made it this far.
Our first challenge hit us just after we got engaged, several months before we ever made it to the altar. It was a "do or die" situation that I naively plunged straight into, not knowing just how much it would affect the next seven years. I stood by my husband in a time when many girls my age (just 21) wouldn't -- maybe couldn't? -- have.
We started our baby-making journey right away, though God in his wisdom perhaps foresaw that the timing just wasn't right. Because within just a few months of our marriage, we were hit with several more life-altering challenges. (I know I'm being kind of vague, here, but out of respect for Mo's privacy -- and perhaps a desire to avoid having to justify myself -- I just don't feel like "going there" right now).
You know those stress lists? The ones that list all the horrible things that can happen in life, and then tell you to check off the ones you are facing right now? And how, if you have dealt or are dealing with just one or more of those during the past year then you are under a tremendous amount of stress? Mo and I have faced every single one of those items (and a few more!) during the last six years, many of them simultaneously, and all of them ongoing.
I don't tell you all of this to make you say "Wow, they must be so strong! What a perfect couple!" because that is the furthest thing from the truth. Mo, you see, is NOT my white knight, or my Prince Charming. He is utterly, wonderfully, terribly human. He is weak when he should be strong. He is overly sensitive. He is stubborn. He can be gratingly annoying. He is as far from perfect as you can get.
And so, my friends, am I. As we have faced all the difficult things that life has thrown our way, we have made so many mistakes. I have made so many mistakes. We've argued, we've slept in different rooms. We've threatened one another with separation, with divorce. We've called each other out on all of our human failings. We've dragged the past into the present and thrown each other's mistakes and generosity right back into each other's faces.
We've also hugged and kissed and supported one another. We've cried on each other's shoulders. We've apologized and forgiven one another. We've looked toward the future, together. We've prayed. We've been there for each other, warts and all.
The one thing I have learned through all of this is that love is a choice. It's not something that happens to you, something you accidentally fall into or out of. It's a decision, a commitment. I choose to love Mo, even when he doesn't really deserve it. And, for some reason I'll never understand, he chooses to love me back. It's never easy; in fact, sometimes it's the hardest thing in the world. But it has never been a choice that I regret.
So you see, I have no sparkly tiara and Mo's white horse (if he ever had one) is probably out to pasture by now. A fairy tale we most certainly are not. But maybe, just maybe, this might turn out to be true love after all.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Sweet Dreams
*Be forewarned. TMI coming up!
This is the first cycle our RE has prescribed progesterone supplements following our IUI. I got the suppositories because they are cheap -- not knowing how utterly disgusting I would find them. I mean, I use tampons every month. How much harder could this be? Without going into too much detail, I'll just say that I feel "icky" all day long. Not to mention the inconvenience of trying to BD around insertion time -- it seems as though Mo is always "in the mood" right after I put the damn things in. I told him this morning that if I ever have to take these again I am going to "splurge" on the pills instead -- they HAVE to be more sanitary! Perhaps then we can resume a semi-normal sex life?
One can only dream!
Speaking of dreams, aside from sore boobies, that is the only side effect I've had. But what dreams they are! I am not one of those "every night" dreamers -- in fact, I hardly dream at all. But since starting the suppositories, I've had three or four dreams -- WEIRD dreams -- every single night. I wake up feeling as though I have hardly slept at all. The dreams have no common theme: in one I was chasing my husband who had decided to run away from home; in another I was a nun and ministering to my friend's kids in Ethiopia. There are several that I can't remember specifics, but I remember how I felt upon waking (mostly anxious / stressed).
Today marks my halfway point through the dreaded 2WW. I am counting the days until next Friday -- not so much to get the beta results, but more so that I can finally get some dreamless sleep.
I am sure that Mo will appreciate it as well.
This is the first cycle our RE has prescribed progesterone supplements following our IUI. I got the suppositories because they are cheap -- not knowing how utterly disgusting I would find them. I mean, I use tampons every month. How much harder could this be? Without going into too much detail, I'll just say that I feel "icky" all day long. Not to mention the inconvenience of trying to BD around insertion time -- it seems as though Mo is always "in the mood" right after I put the damn things in. I told him this morning that if I ever have to take these again I am going to "splurge" on the pills instead -- they HAVE to be more sanitary! Perhaps then we can resume a semi-normal sex life?
One can only dream!
Speaking of dreams, aside from sore boobies, that is the only side effect I've had. But what dreams they are! I am not one of those "every night" dreamers -- in fact, I hardly dream at all. But since starting the suppositories, I've had three or four dreams -- WEIRD dreams -- every single night. I wake up feeling as though I have hardly slept at all. The dreams have no common theme: in one I was chasing my husband who had decided to run away from home; in another I was a nun and ministering to my friend's kids in Ethiopia. There are several that I can't remember specifics, but I remember how I felt upon waking (mostly anxious / stressed).
Today marks my halfway point through the dreaded 2WW. I am counting the days until next Friday -- not so much to get the beta results, but more so that I can finally get some dreamless sleep.
I am sure that Mo will appreciate it as well.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
All Quiet on the IF Front. . .
Knowing the oh-so-slim chance that we have at conceiving this cycle has actually been a bit of a relief. I have absolutely nothing to report.
No "symptoms." No anxiety-ridden "what if's." I'm not overanalyzing myself or the possibilities of what may or (probably won't) be. I'm able to go about my day, knowing in my heart of hearts that I really could have that second cup of coffee. Or sushi for dinner. With a glass of wine (or two, or three. . .).
I am still taking progesterone suppositories (oh joy!), which I find quite ironic twice a day. Beyond that, I mostly forget about it.
Mostly.
No "symptoms." No anxiety-ridden "what if's." I'm not overanalyzing myself or the possibilities of what may or (probably won't) be. I'm able to go about my day, knowing in my heart of hearts that I really could have that second cup of coffee. Or sushi for dinner. With a glass of wine (or two, or three. . .).
I am still taking progesterone suppositories (oh joy!), which I find quite ironic twice a day. Beyond that, I mostly forget about it.
Mostly.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Lucky For Me, I'm Not Superstitious. . .Not Really
Believe it or not, I actually didn't realize today's date until I read Mel's post this morning. If I were a superstitious soul, I would perhaps be a bit perturbed by tempting fate on Friday the 13th. As it is, I see it more as a sign of the times.
Counts post wash were just over 1 million. Mo's quip: "Now, I can tell Junior that he is one in 1.6 million!" Ha, ha.
I know that it only takes one . . . but. There's always that but.
As we left this RE this morning, I prayed. "God, if this works, it is truly a miracle. Your miracle." Because, honestly, my faith in science is a little shaken right now. My RE followed all the protocols, and what did we get? Not much. Mo has changed his diet, started exercising, avoided hot tubs, increased his vitamins. What did we get from that? Not much.
I've never believed much in luck. Despite the title of this blog, I place more faith in what I can do than in a random blessing or curse. I am where I am because I worked hard, not because I was born under a particular star or because I never broke any mirrors. Lately, though, it seems as though there is not much for me to do. Aside from finding that insanely frustrating, it has made me more open to the idea of luck. God knows, I can use all the help I can get!
What about you? Do you believe in luck (good or bad?) How far are you willing to go to find / avoid it? Comment below and keep me entertained. . .I've got a long two weeks ahead of me.
Counts post wash were just over 1 million. Mo's quip: "Now, I can tell Junior that he is one in 1.6 million!" Ha, ha.
I know that it only takes one . . . but. There's always that but.
As we left this RE this morning, I prayed. "God, if this works, it is truly a miracle. Your miracle." Because, honestly, my faith in science is a little shaken right now. My RE followed all the protocols, and what did we get? Not much. Mo has changed his diet, started exercising, avoided hot tubs, increased his vitamins. What did we get from that? Not much.
I've never believed much in luck. Despite the title of this blog, I place more faith in what I can do than in a random blessing or curse. I am where I am because I worked hard, not because I was born under a particular star or because I never broke any mirrors. Lately, though, it seems as though there is not much for me to do. Aside from finding that insanely frustrating, it has made me more open to the idea of luck. God knows, I can use all the help I can get!
What about you? Do you believe in luck (good or bad?) How far are you willing to go to find / avoid it? Comment below and keep me entertained. . .I've got a long two weeks ahead of me.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
From Bad to Worse. . . .
Update from the RE came this afternoon. My lone folly actually measured in at 14.9, according to the good doc. The nurse went so far as to say it was "not likely" that this is going to be our cycle, and wanted to know what we wanted to do. I am starting to surge on my own, so we can't just keep going with the meds and hope it grows -- whether we trigger tonight or not, I'm gonna ovulate this weekend. Since nothing we are doing is covered by insurance, though, it's a rather expensive shot in the dark to go ahead with the IUI. On the other hand, it IS still a shot -- and IUI is a better chance than the old-fashioned way (for us anyway).
Foolish or not, we are going to go ahead. If you are the praying type, send a few our way tomorrow morning. We may very well be throwing our money away, but we came this far. . .it's hard to imagine quitting while there's still a chance. At least if it doesn't work we will know we gave it our very best. I am waffling between being hopeful (after all, many stranger things HAVE happened), and being pessimistic (that way I won't be disappointed). Behind all of this, though, lies confusion -- and a growing sense of frustration.
Apparently, that's all that is growing around here.
Foolish or not, we are going to go ahead. If you are the praying type, send a few our way tomorrow morning. We may very well be throwing our money away, but we came this far. . .it's hard to imagine quitting while there's still a chance. At least if it doesn't work we will know we gave it our very best. I am waffling between being hopeful (after all, many stranger things HAVE happened), and being pessimistic (that way I won't be disappointed). Behind all of this, though, lies confusion -- and a growing sense of frustration.
Apparently, that's all that is growing around here.
The Incredible Shrinking Follicles!
Yes, that's right folks, step right up, step right up! See the Incredible Shrinking Follicles right here! Meet the Woman Whose Body Rejects Modern Science! See the follicles, stimulated by drugs for over 16 days, do the exact opposite of what Nature intended!
Needless to say, the ultrasound appointment today did not go well. On Monday, I had four follicles measuring: 9mm, 10mm, 11mm, and 13mm. Not nearly what I had hoped for given we were already on CD16, but they were coming along.
Add four more days of mood swings, hysterical crying jags, uncomfortable injections, and general misery -- all for the good of those follies!
This morning I measured: 6mm, 8mm, 10mm, and 17.5 mm. Yes, that's right! THREE of my FOUR follicles have shrunk! As in reduced in size! As in the OPPOSITE of what the damned drugs are supposed to do.
I am sorry if I sound agitated. I am. I know that I should be happy; after all, I do have one good follicle. It's more than a lot of women get. The thing is, I usually produce one good follicle ON MY OWN. Without the drugs. Without the side effects. Without the &#!@*! $1500 price tag.
And, yes, I know that it only takes one. But when you factor in all our other issues (Mo's swimmers -- all ten of them -- are not setting any land-speed records here and my uterus is less cushiony than your grandmother's sofa), well, then, it seems we could use all the help we can get. The chances of one (ONE!) egg meeting up with Mo's few, courageous souls is just too depressing to think about. And then the chances of that actually implanting when my lining sits stubbornly at 7.5 - 8 mm?
It seems to me that if I am going to suffer the indignity of injectables, I should get more than one lousy folly. A consolation prize or something. After all that I, and infertiles everywhere have been through, we deserve SOMETHING for our efforts.
Don't you agree?
Needless to say, the ultrasound appointment today did not go well. On Monday, I had four follicles measuring: 9mm, 10mm, 11mm, and 13mm. Not nearly what I had hoped for given we were already on CD16, but they were coming along.
Add four more days of mood swings, hysterical crying jags, uncomfortable injections, and general misery -- all for the good of those follies!
This morning I measured: 6mm, 8mm, 10mm, and 17.5 mm. Yes, that's right! THREE of my FOUR follicles have shrunk! As in reduced in size! As in the OPPOSITE of what the damned drugs are supposed to do.
I am sorry if I sound agitated. I am. I know that I should be happy; after all, I do have one good follicle. It's more than a lot of women get. The thing is, I usually produce one good follicle ON MY OWN. Without the drugs. Without the side effects. Without the &#!@*! $1500 price tag.
And, yes, I know that it only takes one. But when you factor in all our other issues (Mo's swimmers -- all ten of them -- are not setting any land-speed records here and my uterus is less cushiony than your grandmother's sofa), well, then, it seems we could use all the help we can get. The chances of one (ONE!) egg meeting up with Mo's few, courageous souls is just too depressing to think about. And then the chances of that actually implanting when my lining sits stubbornly at 7.5 - 8 mm?
It seems to me that if I am going to suffer the indignity of injectables, I should get more than one lousy folly. A consolation prize or something. After all that I, and infertiles everywhere have been through, we deserve SOMETHING for our efforts.
Don't you agree?
Friday, February 6, 2009
Not So Fast!
I think that someone forgot to tell my ovaries that, "hey, we're doing an injectables cycle here!" Either that, or they have put their collective hands over their ears and are humming loudly. "Lalalalalala, we can't hear you!"
Ten days of Bravelle and my largest follicle is just 9 mm. Nine! My endometrium is a mere 5. Can they grow any slower???? I did better on my last Clomid cycle -- the one the doctor was "not encouraged" by. The nurse tried to remain positive ("Some people just respond slowly to stims!"), but I can't help but be discouraged. We had been shooting for Monday for our IUI (by "we" I of course mean ME, as I am the planner around here). Since today is CD13, that would not be an unreasonable estimate. Instead, Dr. Optimistic doubled my dose for the next three nights and wants another ultrasound on Monday (my third in a week! Can I get some sort of frequent-user discount?)
In the meantime, I'm crampy, cranky, and just plain cross with everyone. I've cried twice tonight -- once because Mo forgot to strip the sheets off the bed like I asked him to, and again when I spilled a can of Diet Sprite will trying to put said sheets BACK on the bed after washing them. My puppies, normally my favorite cuddly companions, seem to be constantly underfoot and are likely to get stepped on if they don't steer clear.
I don't feel like talking to anyone, which means of course that everyone is calling. It's one of those nights where nothing -- not even a head rub and a lengthy bloggy vent -- can make me feel better. Nothing, that is, except my go-to guys.
Teary breakdown #3: Ben & Jerry have left town. Apparently, they aren't listening either.
Ten days of Bravelle and my largest follicle is just 9 mm. Nine! My endometrium is a mere 5. Can they grow any slower???? I did better on my last Clomid cycle -- the one the doctor was "not encouraged" by. The nurse tried to remain positive ("Some people just respond slowly to stims!"), but I can't help but be discouraged. We had been shooting for Monday for our IUI (by "we" I of course mean ME, as I am the planner around here). Since today is CD13, that would not be an unreasonable estimate. Instead, Dr. Optimistic doubled my dose for the next three nights and wants another ultrasound on Monday (my third in a week! Can I get some sort of frequent-user discount?)
In the meantime, I'm crampy, cranky, and just plain cross with everyone. I've cried twice tonight -- once because Mo forgot to strip the sheets off the bed like I asked him to, and again when I spilled a can of Diet Sprite will trying to put said sheets BACK on the bed after washing them. My puppies, normally my favorite cuddly companions, seem to be constantly underfoot and are likely to get stepped on if they don't steer clear.
I don't feel like talking to anyone, which means of course that everyone is calling. It's one of those nights where nothing -- not even a head rub and a lengthy bloggy vent -- can make me feel better. Nothing, that is, except my go-to guys.
Teary breakdown #3: Ben & Jerry have left town. Apparently, they aren't listening either.
Monday, February 2, 2009
No News Is Good News? Really?
Whoever came up with that little tidbit has obviously never been through IF. I spent the entire weekend waiting for today's ultrasound, hoping I'd hear something encouraging this morning (Your follicles are beautiful! You're producing magnificent eggs! No one has ever stimmed better than this!) . Not receiving these compliments immediately upon leaping joyfully , reclining gracefully propping myself up in the stirrups, I prodded a bit (no pun intended).
"How do they look? Oooh, I see several spots! How big are they? Is that good?" I'm lucky she didn't ram that thing up to my throat just to shut me up. The tech was very nice, though, and explained all of my measurements, but failed to give me the thumbs up I was looking for. Undaunted, I decided that upping my dosage was probably the next step, and I looked forward to the afternoon "results" call. Hearing my own diagnosis reconfirmed will reassure me that, after all, I can Google, so I must know all there is to know about this process, right?
Only there has been no phone call. No news. I called and left a voice mail just before they turn their phones off, and got a return call saying that a return call would probably be coming soon. (Seriously, who does that?)
So I'm telling myself that no news is good news. Only no news is NOT good news, it is NO NEWS and NO NEWS is driving me up the wall. In fact, I'm feeling a more-than-normal amount of annoyance at just about everyone and everything right now. So, in place of my own news, I'm going to catch up on my blog reading and hope that the rest of you have some news to share. Anyone?
"How do they look? Oooh, I see several spots! How big are they? Is that good?" I'm lucky she didn't ram that thing up to my throat just to shut me up. The tech was very nice, though, and explained all of my measurements, but failed to give me the thumbs up I was looking for. Undaunted, I decided that upping my dosage was probably the next step, and I looked forward to the afternoon "results" call. Hearing my own diagnosis reconfirmed will reassure me that, after all, I can Google, so I must know all there is to know about this process, right?
Only there has been no phone call. No news. I called and left a voice mail just before they turn their phones off, and got a return call saying that a return call would probably be coming soon. (Seriously, who does that?)
So I'm telling myself that no news is good news. Only no news is NOT good news, it is NO NEWS and NO NEWS is driving me up the wall. In fact, I'm feeling a more-than-normal amount of annoyance at just about everyone and everything right now. So, in place of my own news, I'm going to catch up on my blog reading and hope that the rest of you have some news to share. Anyone?
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