Oh, The Places You'll Go!

For those of you whose jobs are not entirely kid-focused, you may not be aware that the infamous Dr. Seu.ss has a birthday coming up.  In my classroom, we've been practicing reading some of our favorite Dr. Seu.ss books to share with the younger students later this week.

To launch this unit, I read one of my favorite Dr.Seu.ss books, "Oh, The Places You'll Go!"  I read it because I had a copy that I picked up for five bucks at Ko.hls a few years ago.  It's the same copy I read to Bebe #2 during a shamefully optimistic period (you know, after a reassuring ultrasound and before the rug was pulled from underneath my feet).  I remember it being sweet, and uplifting.

And then I read it aloud to a room full of fifth-graders.  And, somehow, didn't lose my shit completely.  I'm still not quite sure how I managed this feat, especially with lines like this:

Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't. 

Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so,

But sadly, it's true.

That Bang-ups 

and Hang-ups

can happen to you.  

You can get all hung up

In a prickle-ey perch.

And your gang will fly on.

You'll be left in a Lurch. 

You'll come down from the Lurch

with an unpleasant bump.

And the chances are: then,

that you'll be in a Slump. 

And when you're in a Slimp,

you're not in for much fun.

Un-slumping yourself 

is not easily done.  

Sound familiar yet?  Keep reading:

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.

Some windows are lighted.  But mostly they're darked.

A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!

Do you dare to stay out?  Do you dare to go in?

How much can you lose?  How much can you win?

If that's not a perfect description of this gamble we're all taking, then I don't know what is.  But, believe it or not, it gets even better:

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right....

or right-and-three-quarters?  Or, maybe, not quite?

Or go around back and sneak in from behind? 

Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find 

for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.  

You can get so confused that you'll start in to race

down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace

and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,

headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place. 

Ah, we know that place all too well, don't we?  It's....

...for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go

or a bus to come, or a plane to go

or the mail to come, or the rain to go

or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow

or the waiting around for a Yes or No

or waiting for their hair to grow.

Everyone is just waiting.   

Waiting for the fish to bite

or waiting for the wind to fly a kite

or waiting around for Friday night

or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake

or a pot to boil, or a Better Break

or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants,

or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. 

Everyone is just waiting.  

Now, it wouldn't be Sue.ss if he didn't encourage you to pick up your feet and DO something about it.  And he does.  But then he follows a bit uncharacteristically with this gem about things going your way:

Except when they don't. 

Because, sometimes they won't.

I'm afraid that some times

you'll play lonely games too. 

Games you can't win, 

'cause you'll only play against you. 

Seriously, Se.uss?  Are you just fucking with me now? 

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not.

Alone will be something 

you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance

you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.

There are some, down the road between hither and yon,

that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.  

Somehow I manged to keep those crocodile tears contained within my chest in front of my kiddos.  They've seen me tear up at stories before, but how could I explain the emotions that cut me so deeply -- from Dr. Seu.ss, for crying out loud?!? It made me curious, though, how a man could be so adept at putting into words all the crazy emotions on this particular rollercoaster.  And so I turned to my trusty Wiki.pedia (shhh!  don't tell my students!) and learned that, despite being married twice, dear Theodore Geisel remained childless his entire life.  

Yes, you read that right.  Dr. Seus.s was an infertile.  So take heart, my friends!  I know I will.  As silly and superstitious as it sounds,  I will be thinking of Seu.ss and his words as I make my six-hour trek to see Dr. Down-to-Earth on (coincidentally? ) what would have been Teddy's 108th birthday.  Not the downers that he describes, above, of course, but the more heartwarming words with which he ends this story:

But on you will go, though the weather be foul. 

On you will go though your enemies prowl.

On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. 

Onward up many a frightening creek.

Though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. 

On and on you will hike, 

And I know you'll hike far

and face up to your problems

whatever they are.  

You'll get mixed up, of course,

as you already know.

You'll get mixed up with many

strange birds as you go.

So be sure when you step, 

step with care and great tact.

And remember that Life's 

a Great Balancing Act.  

Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. 

And never mix up your right foot with your left.  

And will you succeed?

Yes!  You will, indeed!

(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

Though my odds may be slightly less optimistic, I will take what I can get.  And I'll try to keep my eyes on the bigger picture, and the wisdom of a children's book author who walked this path long before I did.  

Happy birthday, Teddy.  And thank you.   

Reassurance

Thank you, ladies, for your support and advice regarding the HSG.  I am going to voice my concerns at our appointment next week and see what he says.  Perhaps we can at least try a saline ultrasound, since Dr. Google thinks that most fibroids can be visualized via ultrasound, but scar tissue cannot.  Even if it means a delay in cycling -- so far I am only out a few bucks spent on Estra.ce, so it's not too much of a waste.  I think that having some reassurance (whether its his opinion that we need further testing or not) is worth at least mentioning.

I got a little more reassurance last night, though on another (related) subject.  I've become so bitter and angry as an infertile (despite my best intentions), that there are days when I wonder if I will even make a decent parent.  Will I resent the intrusion on my well-established routines and alone time?  Maybe we have waited too long -- and maybe I am too angry -- to ever really be happy again.  Sometimes I fear that my heart, out of pure necessity, has simply iced over.

I am pleased to say that is not the case.  I spent last night with a good friend whose cousin is staying with her temporarily.  The cousin has two young daughters (18 months and almost 3) and she went out for the evening.  She hired a sitter, but since Good Friend and I were not going anywhere, we let her go home.  An hour or so after putting the babies to bed, I heard crying from downstairs.  I didn't have to, but I went to the littlest one, scooped her up, and returned with her to her room.  I held her and rocked her until she fell back asleep.  As I swayed there in the darkness, her small head buried on my shoulder and her tiny fingers grasping my arms, I smiled.  I am, it would seem, NOT as cold-hearted as I would have all of you (and myself) believe.  Maybe, just maybe, I'm still able to do this after all.

New Worries

For those of you who are new 'round these parts, you may not realize that there is quite a lot riding on this FET.  We have previously done two fresh transfers and one frozen and we have gotten pregnant every single time.  And then miscarried, all at various stages during the first trimester.  The past ten years of TTC (yes, you read that right -- TEN YEARS) have taken a heavy toll on my marriage and my sanity.  While Mo (the husband) and I are currently on the same page as far as treatment plans are concerned, this has not always been the case.  Suffice it to say that we have agreed that we will not pursue IVF again in the future.  The financial burden alone no longer seems worth the gamble -- especially because the doctors can find no "reason" for our repeated losses.  All of our bloodwork, chromosome testing, physical exams, HSG's, etc. have all been perfectly normal.  Are we really just THAT unlucky?  It would seem so.  

Our next step is likely to move forward with donor sperm.  While I am okay with this (the MFI may or may not be linked to the miscarriages -- no one really knows), I know its a devastating blow for Mo.  This treatment cycle is likely his very last hope for a genetic child.  That's a lot of pressure for me, no matter how "relaxed" I try to be about all of it.  

I am doing everything I can to make sure this is cycle is a success.  We're doing all of it -- the vitamins, extra folic acid, baby aspirin, even the anti-inflammatory Claritin/Pepcid combo.  We are basically just throwing darts and hoping that something sticks.  The one niggling thought I've got, though is a passing comment Dr. Optimistic made before our fresh transfer (way back last summer at our initial consult).  He mentioned that there may be scar tissue in my ute from the D&C after pregnancy #2.  He never insisted on an HSG, though, and I didn't press for one. (My first HSG was about six years ago, and all was clear, and I had a lap in 2008 that revealed mild endo but nothing very concerning).  I've had a gazillion u/s since that loss -- but would scar tissue show up on that?  What about fibroids?  I've never been told I have one of those....but, given how much is riding on this transfer, I worry that maybe that's gone undetected for far too long. 

So this veteran is looking for some advice.  Should I insist on an HSG before our transfer?  I am traveling six hours to see Dr. Optimistic for an ultrasound next Friday.  He wanted to do it personally (as opposed to doing it locally with my OBGYN because, as he stated "these embryos are too valuable.")  If that's the case -- shouldn't I make sure that there isn't some sort of obstruction that would prevent implantation before we move ahead?  Would doing an HSG mid-cycle complicate things?  I can't remember 100%, but I thought I had to schedule my first one on a specific cycle day.  

There are so many variables in the world of reproduction -- so many things to be checked and rechecked and new problems that arise every day.  I know that eventually we will have to just go for it -- you can't predict / prevent / anticipate every single little thing.  Everything could be picture perfect and it STILL might not work.  But this is our last shot -- don't I owe it to my husband to make sure that it's as close to perfect as it can be?  

Wondering How Crazy Crazy Can Get?

Crazy with a capital C, that's for sure!  I started the Est.race for our last-chance FET this week.  This is a different protocol from our last one (then we did Viv.elle patches), so its kind of new territory.  You may recall that AF showed up later than expected (CD40) and when she did she brought her friends Massive Cramps and Clotty Mess with her.  It was awful -- for about a day and a half.  And then she disappeared.  Hi, nice to see you, adios -- all within a hair's breadth of each other.  While I am sure that this is because of the increasing doses of est.rogen I am pumping into my body, you couldn't even imagine where my brain went (for just a second, I swear!) before I snapped it back to reality.

It's all because of my chemical.  For those of you who are new (or just stopping by), we had a very brief pregnancy after IVF #2 back in August.  Brief as in the two lines showed up at 6dp5dt, but by 10dp5dt the official beta had already begun to drop (14.5) and by 12dp5dt it was at zero.  12dp5dt is the equivalent of CD31 peeps.  So, what I had was a positive pee stick from about CD 25 - CD29....and nothing after CD30.  Which got me thinking -- how many times have I been late (I mean, really late) and not tested until at least CD35?  And got nothing?  And AF showed in an exceptionally menacing fashion a week or so later?  It hasn't happened often (I am fairly regular usually), but I can think of 3-4 times in the past 10 years when we have not been actively cycling where it HAS happened.  And it makes me wonder.  What if we DID get pregnant on our own -- and I never knew?  I didn't think it possible....but that cycle makes me wonder.

So you have that element of crazy, combined with another exceptionally late period that starts heavy and disappears quickly....and you can imagine the fleeting (and highly entertaining) conversation in my head this past week.

I've got to run -- the nice men in the white coats are here to take me away.  :-)

FET #2 Kicks Off Tomorrow!

CD1 is finally here, which means I am set to start my Es.trace tomorrow.  Dosage increases slowly over the next two weeks, with an u/s scheduled with Dr. Optimistic on Mar.ch 2nd.  If all looks as it should, we will begin PIO injections then and transfer will occur one week later.

I don't really want to let hope in, but I'm afraid she's dancing around in the dark corners of my mind anyway.

Either way -- ready or not, here we come!

Melancholy

For the first time in a while, today was one of those days.  You know the ones -- those days when you feel like curling up in a little ball and hiding from the world for no reason at all.  Except you have a (very good) reason.  But it's a reason you can't explain, or even fully understand yourself.  You simply ache, overwhelmed by sadness, for that thing, that person, who is missing.

I am surrounded by babies and fertile people.  For those keeping track, I've got my co-worker next door (just gave birth); my good friend from HS (just gave birth), three more co-workers (all due in June), and now two former high school classmates (thanks, FB!) are due in August and September.  Both my sister and my SIL are actively TTC and will probably beat me to the punch (again).  That's just in IRL -- please don't get me started on all the bloggy friends I've had who have recently or will soon cross over to the other side.

While my rational brain tells me otherwise, my heart is convinced today that I will never, ever, see that side.  I may be given a brief glimpse sometime in the future, but I know that it can't last.  I feel doomed to this state of perpetual WANTING.  I want what they have -- and I truly feel like I will never have it.  I know quite rationally that this FET might work.  An adoption through DHS might work.  A friend of a friend of a friend who knows our story may reach out and a birthmother might fall into our laps.  There are a million ways that this could be resolved.  So why am I so dismal?  Why do I feel like none of those options or opportunities will actually pan out?

I am still (relatively) young.  I will be 31 in May -- I still have plenty of time to make this happen.  If I want it bad enough, if I am willing to fight for it, anything is possible.  I know this.  But today, I am all out of fight.  I feel resigned.  Don't mistake this for contentment with my lot -- I am bitterly resentful of it, without a doubt.  But I am also so very, very tired.  Tired of waiting, tired of wanting, tired of fighting and clawing and TRYING so damn hard.

Tomorrow I will get up, I will go running and go to work and make plans and cross things off my to-do list.  I will fax documents and mail checks and order medications and arrange for time off to visit with specialists.  I will pretend that everything is fine, until one day it is.

But tonight?  Tonight my heart hurts for all that isn't, and all that will never be.

Tried and True

Last-chance FET is officially on the books.  We are waiting on CD1, which was supposed to be Tuesday.  Here it is, Friday, and still no sign of our favorite aunt.  So, I am going to do the tried-and-true method of getting her to show her face: post on this blog that she is MIA.  It never fails to bring her to my door.

Oh, AF, wheeeerrrrreeee aaarrreee yoooooouuuuuuuuuuu?  For once I'd be grateful to see you stop by, and sooner rather than later.