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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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?

Welcome!

Thanks for clicking through! If you have found this site, you probably read my other blog and decided you were curious enough to continue on this journey with me. For that, I am more grateful than any of you realize.

Why the new blog? First, the name change. I chose my first blog name as a play on words (duh) that, at the time, I felt was pretty creative.

Apparently, so did several others -- when they picked THEIR names. After realizing there were many Myrtles out there, I decided I needed to be more original. I got tons of advice from fellow bloggers, the best of which was to find something that applied to ME on a deeper level. Oh, and to check with Mr. Google before publishing!

My first choice, after much thought, was My Girl Friday. I loved this idea, particularly because my maiden name means "Friday" in German. Cute, right?

Check with Mr. Google. Apparently, Girl Friday is a very popular, trendsetting MN gal who writes a weekly column and blogs for a living. It also is considered a sexist term in some circles.

Not wanting to infringe on someone else's payday, or appear sexist in any way, I went back to the drawing board. My next idea? Bittersweet. This, I thought, very much described the process of IF. All the bitterness (toward others, ourselves, our mates, our God) that is tempered by the sweetness of a successful end to our journey. Plus, I thought, this would translate well if I ever do end this journey and move to the other side -- all those bittersweet moments of childhood, you know.

As you can tell by the actual blog name here, that idea was taken also. (By a very talented cook, I may add, whose recipes I will definitely be snagging).

By now, I was quite stumped. How could I find a cute, catchy blog title that 1) applied to me and 2) wasn't already taken?

For some reason, I began thinking about my father-in-law. He recently lost a four-year battle with cancer and died over the summer. He left a very rich legacy behind, having been a musician and community "legend" for over fifty years. In fact, it was a part of this legacy (the financial one) that enabled Mo and I to begin this journey again. Was there a way I could honor him in my blog name?

It turns out that the very first recording my FIL ever did was a 45 titled "Mojo Works." A take on the Muddy Waters classic, at 21 it launched his music career. Mojo is a good luck charm (who doesn't need that?). It's also slang for -- well, let's just say that Austin Powers lost it and went to great lengths to get it back!

For all these reasons I thought that I could definitely use a little mojo. Plus, it lent itself very well to new nicknames for myself and Hubby. He is a very private person, and I have to be careful to keep my posting anonymous. Henceforth, I will be known as "Jo" and he as "Mo."

When and if our infertility journey ends, MoJo Working will be appropriate then also. We are both teachers and so will need to continue to work as we raise our children. Our goals will inevitably change, but our ability to work together as a team to achieve them won't. Right now, Mo and Jo are working to have a baby. What will they work on next? Only time will tell.

Finally, I switched to Blogger simply because I could tweak my page much more than with Typepad. For free. Did I mention I'm a teacher? Going through infertility treatments? In my world, Free = Good Stuff.

So, here it is. I hope you like it. But if you don't, that's okay. I do -- and that, in the end, is really what matters.

Here We Go Again. . . .

Remember how Zen I was feeling a few weeks ago? All "if it doesn't happen this cycle, I'm still confident it will happen, blah, blah, blah? " Well, not so much anymore.

I have to admit I am both excited and nervous. It has been almost a year to the day from my last negative beta, following our 2nd failed IUI. I can clearly remember how positive I was it had worked, and how devastated when it didn't. I remember feeling so frustrated, angry, and depressed. Even my husband, who can ALWAYS make me feel better, could do nothing to console me.

One year later, we are in a much better position. Our marriage is stronger, having endured some extremely difficult, (non-IF) circumstances. We are still coming out from some of them, though every day feels better than the day before. Financially we have been blessed: a year ago, we struggled to come up with the $500 per cycle for the IUI, and now we are able to tell the RE "whatever it takes." It comes at a price, though: my children will never know their grandfather, nor the wonderful gift he left that made their existence possible. Through our trials (perhaps even because of them?) my faith in God has been restored; my anger toward Him has dissapated and been replaced with hope. For all these reasons, I'm excited to begin again.

I'm nervous, though, too. What if this doesn't work? How much longer can we endure this? My husband says "whatever it takes." What if THAT doesn't work? How much are we willing to spend: emotionally, financially, spiritually? Can my recently renewed faith withstand another negative? Can it withstand 2 or 3 more? I just don't know. I want to say, YES! Without reservation. Yes, we can do this. But ---I just don't know.

Either way, here we go again. Some of it is new territory (daily injections), some of it is old hat (ultrasounds, trigger shot, IUI, the long, long, 2WW). I'm going to keep trying to stay positive. I'm going to keep praying that this works. And I'm going to keep hoping that one day, we will have our little blessing. Because if there is anything I have learned this past year, it's that you have to keep going. Even when we are not sure where exactly we are headed.

What's In a Name?

I've begun expanding my blog-reading list in anticipation of the commentathon that begins this week. In doing so, I've seen so many creative, funny, descriptive names for the blogs themselves -- and too many that make mine seem unoriginal. There are several that are almost identical to mine (I swear, I did not know this when I began).

So, I've decided to change the name of my blog. Since I currently have very few (if any) readers, this should not be too problematic. However, I am hoping that one or two of you who stumble here through IComLeavWe might be able to offer some suggestions.

To help you out, a little about me (without revealing too much): I am a teacher and a wife. I love my two labradors, cooking, reading, and writing. I have been dealing with fertility issues for almost seven years, although actively TTC for just over six. We have been diagnosed with low sperm counts, low motility, PCOS and endometriosis. We have two failed IUI w/ clomid cycles and absolutely ZERO pregnancies. I am active in my church, though I have struggled a lot with maintaining faith throughout this journey. I like to think I have a good sense of humor. Oh, and I love anything pink or sparkly.

You would think, working with words every day, I'd be better at this -- but I am drawing a complete blank. Any suggestions/ideas from you smart, funny, wordy women would be greatly appreciated!

Return to the World of IF (Treatment, That Is)

After a long, semi-intentional, almost year-long absence, Mo and I are once again boarding the roller-coaster of infertility treatments. After TAB for approximately six months, our baby-making plans were halted by some intense family stress, including the death of my father-in-law over the summer. While we attempted to put our lives back together, we somehow managed to get in the recommended laproscopy (result = mild endometriois, treated), bloodwork, and injection-teaching. We spent a small fortune on Bravelle, Ovidrel, and progesterone supplements and are now simply waiting to begin the next phase of this long, winding journey.

Perhaps it is everything we have been through this last year, or perhaps another year of "wisdom" as I age. . .(yeah - right)! . . .but somehow, this time seems less intense. Is it simply "old hat" - this routine of doctor's visits, medication, ultrasounds, waiting and prayer? I don't know. What I do know is that I am still hopeful - in fact, perhaps more so now than ever before. Somewhere, in the quiet place of my soul, I KNOW that I will be a mother - somehow, someday. More so, I feel confident in saying that the day will come soon. I don't know where that confidence comes from, especially since everything I can see points to the opposite being true. But somehow, despite the setbacks, the disappointments, the failed cycles I still have it. It's more than hope - I have faith. Someday, I will join those women on the "other" side - the ones who talk so casually about pregnancy, birth, children, and motherhood. Someday I will forget the long, long road it took to get me there and the heartbreaks I encountered on the way. Someday, this rollercoaster will be nothing but a memory.

Someday -- soon.