Cycle 23, CD 2

I wish that I had been able to chronicle the events of the last month so that maybe someday I could look back on it and reflect, maybe allow for some extra processing, and not keep you guys in the lurch. But it has just been too intense. I simultaneously feel like each day goes by in blink and like each day is a long battle that has no end.

At some point I owe you all an explanation of what happened. Why my marriage failed. What went so horribly wrong. But right now I'm still too close to it. It's still too raw. The betrayal and anger are coloring my world too vividly right now. I need distance and a bit of perspective to be able to dissect it better. Please bare with me for a bit.

Logistically things are moving forward very quickly. I have filed the preliminary divorce paperwork. Mike has signed. Our home went on the market two weeks ago. By some miracle, we are already in escrow. If things continue to work as they should, my home will be occupied by its new owners within the next few weeks. The cogs are in motion.

A friend asked me a simple question the other day, "How are things going over there?" I used humor in an analogy. I told her that if a priest came to my door, he would immediately douse it in holy water because the evil energy is so palpable. I think a hefty dose of garlic might be in order too- you know, just in case. Sometimes you need to laugh in the face of pain. In a normal divorce (is there such a thing?) one or both people move out immediately. But due to finances, neither of us were able to do that. We have been, and continue to, live under the same roof. It is a hell I don't wish on anyone. My days are lived in dread of  hearing that front door lock un-hitch and seeing Mike walk in.

I used to think this was the man I would live my life with forever. Love unconditionally. Be the father of my children. But now he has morphed into the man that makes my stomach lurch and feel the raw emotion of hatred. How is that even possible?

Last Sunday I went to breakfast with a good girlfriend of mine. We were supposed to go shopping but got too caught up in our migas and Bloody Marys on the beach. I had wanted to get some new Converse sneakers for the long road trip back east (my new landing spot), but it didn't happen. Toes in the sand, a bit of numbing alcohol, and the warm sun on our faces seemed too good to rip away from. No regrets; we had a wonderful, healing afternoon together. So much better than retail therapy.

But tonight as I stepped out to walk the dog, I was surprised to find a package on my doorstep. It wasn't something I ordered, but it had my name on it. Confused, I gingerly pried it open. The box contained a brand new pair of bright red Converse. I was immediately hit by a sense of overwhelming... love... friendship... compassion... understanding.

Kind of like the symbolic socks that Cristy sent me after my last miscarriage, I immediately knew that these were more than just new bad-ass new sneakers. These were a modern version of my own ruby reds. And they are going to take me home.

All I need to do now, is click my heels.

8 weeks, 0 days

I'm exactly where I was when I lost my last pregnancy. The significance of this day is not lost on me. If I find out on Wednesday that we still have a heartbeat, this will officially be my longest pregnancy to date. Ironic that it is the unhealthy pregnancy that lasts the longest.

I'm not looking forward to this week. Actually, I have a feeling it's going to be an all time shit-fest.

• Wednesday: Followup u/s with Dr. D. As I see it, there are three possible outcomes: 1) No heartbeat and grieving escalates 2) Slowed heartbeat and prolonged waiting for the inevitable end or 3) Continued "normal" heartbeat and more agonizing over the 'what if's' and, of course, more waiting. Yeah, no good options in there. 
• Thursday AM: Appointment with the fetal development specialist (if we get that far). For some reason the idea of seeing this doctor scares me to death. I also hate going to new doctors- the fear of the unknown is daunting. What if their super-powered u/s machine shows me something I don't want to see? Though unlikely, this thought plagues me. 
• Thursday PM: Remember my friends that found out they were pregnant exactly as I lost my last pregnancy? (No? You can read about it HERE). They are flying across the country to stay with me for 4 days (the trip was planned 6 months ago). Since my last miscarriage our friendship has struggled quite a bit. There has been a distance that has never been there before and I don't know if it is my fault or theirs or a combination of the two. I'm just dreading the thought of seeing my friend's partner's swollen belly for days on end. In my home. I have weird fears about their visit too. Like, I'm worried that if she voices one little pregnancy complaint, I will be down her throat. Or, that she will unconsciously cradle her swollen belly with her hands. I don't even want to hug her at the airport because I don't want to touch it. It sounds crazy, but this is where I am at. If hotels in our area weren't $300/night, I might have asked them to stay elsewhere. But they are, and so I can't. I'm not going to be able to handle this gracefully. Truthfully, I don't want them here. It's the worst timing imaginable. But I'm stuck and have to get through it somehow.

I fired my therapist, Zsa Zsa. My appointment last Monday was the final straw: 

1. I was talking to Zsa-Zsa about how hard it has been for me to relate to the rest of the world. I used an example of a friend of mine who texted me a few days prior. She was venting about her horrible day. It turns out her three-year old twins were going through a "phase" and she was beyond frustrated and angry. I found it impossible to text back any kind of support because, the reality of it is, I would cut off both my arms to have her problems. When I finished, Zsa-Zsa turned and angrily scolded me: "Tutti, you have NO idea how hard it is to raise children. You have NO idea." I sat there shocked. I couldn't even manage a reply. And though it's not right of me to play the Pain-Olympics, it also wasn't right for her to reprimand me for voicing my struggles in therapy. I shut down for the rest of the session. 
2. I realized that though Zsa-Zsa has been a sympathetic ear for the last eight months, she hasn't helped me. I have asked her a number of times for ways to cope and strategies to deal with all this grief and pain. But there has been nothing except the advice that 'time will heal'. Gee, thanks. 
3. At the end of the appointment Zsa-Zsa said, "I know you said nothing is really helping you right now, so would you like to cancel your appointment for next week?" Way to support a girl in crisis. Talk about feeling abandoned. So I cancelled my appointment next week. And all future appointments. 

Now I have to find a new therapist. 

I realize what a horrible place this blog has been. Looking back, there are few (if any) upbeat posts over the last several months. This place has been consumed with sadness, fear, pain, grief, anger, and sadness (deserves to be mentioned twice). And truth be told, it is not chronically this bad in real life, this is just where I feel safe voicing these feelings. So it becomes a dumping ground. However, I hope that at some point there will be light and happiness too. Maybe even some hope (don't want to get too far ahead of myself though). I just want to thank each of you for sticking with me. I know it's not easy to read and I know how difficult it is to find the right words to say sometimes. But with each comment that is left, I feel the support and love. And it helps so, so much. I gather so much strength from you all, strength that is so badly needed right now.

Cycle 19, CD 44 (26 DPO)

After my last beta, they scheduled me for my first ultrasound. Based on my LMP,  I should have been 6 weeks yesterday.

I was working on getting to a calmer place mentally but facing that first ultrasound gave me quite a bit of angst. First, because I still have those last u/s images swimming around my head. As crazy as it sounds, I felt like it was going to be a scene out of a horror movie where I saw a dead 9 week old fetus instead of the tiny blip of a 6 week old embie. Crazy, I know. But those are the tricks my mind plays on me. Secondly, Mike is out of town on business. So, I was going to have to this all by myself. Que panic.

But I didn't have any choice so yesterday I put my big girl pants on and marched myself into the clinic.

Dr. D and my favorite nurse S innately understood my anxiety. They were both holding their breath along with me. I was mostly ok until that probe was finally in. Those first few moments of silence when your doctor intently studies the monitor and you frantically study your doctor's face in attempts to figure out if it is good or bad news, is almost too much. It's probably only a few seconds, but I could hear the blood in my ears, my heart thumping out of my chest. It's a dreadful moment.

We did see a gestational sac. And a yolk sac. And what looked like a teeny grain of rice floating in the abyss. But no heartbeat. Dr. D was quick to say that it might just be too early. She didn't realize I knew when I ovulated (I only happened to pull out the OPKs because I wanted to be sure my miscarriage didn't totally fuck up my body) so based on this new information, I'm actually only 5w4d. With that recalculation, it is very unlikely we would see a heartbeat this early.

Dr. D then went on to say that when she was pregnant and did an u/s on herself (I couldn't help but laugh at that image- to which she smiled and said, "it's one of the perks that come with the job") she only saw a tiny grain of rice too. But I know it's a numbers game at this point. At my u/s next Tuesday we could see a heartbeat or... we could not. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it in the meantime, except hope.

The good news is I made it through this ordeal by myself. I didn't do it willingly but I did feel a sense of empowerment. Like, maybe I'm not as weak as I thought. Mike will still be out of town on Tuesday so at least I know now that I can indeed do this without him. I just wish he could be there, you know, just in case it is good news.

Cycle 19, CD 27 (10 DPO)

[Click here for more information about Emhart's September Photo Challenge]  

Prompt: Cozy

When my eyes first blink open in the morning and I see this, it almost makes the day ahead seem tolerable. It also makes it exceedingly hard to get out of bed. Ms. B and Hunter have a love affair that their respective species would not condone- but is oh so sweet at its very foundation.

PICTURE REMOVED

Things have been rather busy around these parts. There have been quite a few good days even. And then the walls start crumbling again. Mike and I are fighting and my libido is the culprit. Mainly because I just don't have one. Add it to the list of things infertility has taken from me. It's not good for our marriage though and I'm at a point I don't know what to do about it anymore. 

In other news, I'm now at the point that I'm ready to be put back into the game. No more bench warming for me. I'm traveling the next few days so this morning I had an u/s with Dr. D to make sure I was cleared to play. And I am. Lining is nice and thick, no cysts, and my ute is gearing up for a touchdown. 

I'll be harassed by TSA for carrying meds with me through security. I'll have to pull out my little letter explaining why I need to carry a bag with pointy things, tiny vials of liquid gold, and ice packs onto the plane with me. They'll yell at me from the end of the scanner and ask if I'm diabetic. Everyone will hear and I'll yell back, "No sir, I'm just infertile!" Sometimes I just like to see the looks on peoples faces. 

Which leads me to my newest little anecdotal gem. See, I'm in this weird stage where I feel like I have to out myself to anyone I talk with longer than 5 minutes. I'm not sure why because the conversations *never* leave me feeling good. But anyway, I was at the hairdresser last Friday and sometime after the scalp massage and sometime before the layers were shorn, I spilled the beans to my stylist. She's 34 and though she's little Ms. Edward Sissorhands and works magic with my shiny locks, she's not the sharpest tool. And you know her advice after I went though my spiel? She said, "Well, maybe you just don't want it enough. You know, you really have to want it in order for it to work." I sat there gap-mouthed staring at myself  in the mirror as she naively clipped away. 

"Which way are you going to go with this Tutti?" I asked myself as my hand slipped into my purse and wrapped around the handle of the sharp fork I always carry with me for situations such as this. 

Instead, I decided to challenge her logic and said, "Well, how do you explain my 2 miscarriages then? Did I only want it kinda bad so it only kinda worked or did I stop wanting it bad enough, and that's when I lost them?" 

She thought for a second, tilted her head and said, "I think to finally become pregnant you have to visualize holding your baby every day or it won't work." 

Stupid girl didn't even know I was fucking with her. 

Cycle 18, CD 41 (31 DPIUI)

My delay in posting was not intentional. I got my beta #2 results back late 6/21 and I was on a flight out of town early the next morning. I only just got back and with a free minute to post . The good thing is, all that blood, sweat, and crazy hours I've been putting in for the last 4 months is finally... over. Now we're back to regularly scheduled programming folks!

Rewinding a bit, I left off with a pretty low first beta. I sobbed myself to sleep for 4 days leading up to my second test. And if I'm really being honest here, I sobbed through the actual blood draw too. I worked myself into a complete frenzy and was convinced something was wrong. Nagging in the back of my mind was the idea that nothing as wonderful as being pregnant could possibly happen to me. But the 2nd test came back with strong doubling numbers. And that, from what they tell me, is all that matters.

It was tough knowing that instead of retesting in 2-3 days, I had to wait 11 full days because I was headed out of town again. I was fine for the first few, then I worked myself into a tizzy again. Not just normal fretting, but full on anxiety and certainty that something wasn't right. I woke up thinking about it. I fell asleep thinking about it. I glared at where I estimated my uterus to be and cursed it for making my life so miserable.

Beta #3 came back yesterday. HCG = 3967. Progesterone = 32.92. TSH = .591. It felt like I took my first gulp of air in over a week and a half.

I've always hated reading blogs of recently pregnant women that were consumed with fear. I'd think to myself, "Shut up! I'd cut off my left arm just to be where you are right now." But right now, that's where I am. Absolutely and completely consumed by fear. Fear that I've been given a tiny taste of what it feels like to be pregnant and it is going to be ripped from me. Fear that my body will reject this tiny human that I so desperately want to grow. Fear of having to return to fertility treatments. I never used to be like this; infertility has seriously fucked me up.

I toggle between elation and anxiety every 5 minutes. I feel like the luckiest girl alive yet cursed because the fear is eating me alive. Somehow, I have to figure out how to just... breath.

I've also been hesitant to write this post because I know that every person struggling with infertility that is reading this right now just got kicked in the gut. I don't care how long we've been following each other or how hard we've been rooting for each other, I just hurt you with my news. I feel absolutely horrible for that. I know how it feels and it's devastating. Even though having a child is what we all are shooting for, the last thing I want to do is to make any of you hurt any more than you already do. My stomach is in knots over it.

Cycle 17, CD 4

When my Dr. D walked in the room at my CD2 appointment on Tuesday, I exclaimed, "I missed you! It's like we broke up for a few months, but now we are back together!" I'm glad that: 1) I am comfortable enough with her that I can say stuff like this because, who are we kidding, I see her more than my closest friends and 2) she puts up with my crazy.

A summary of how things went:

• I didn't get the answers I was looking for regarding the miscarriage, but I knew I probably wouldn't. "It was early, it could have been a million things, there is just no way to know..." Moving on. 
• My TSH came back at 1.58 which means that we can proceed with this cycle. That news alone made me break out into a smile big enough to make my cheeks hurt. 
• When I explained that I had no ovulation bleeding this month, Dr. D looked puzzled. And right on cue, she suggested that I switch up my medications slightly:  
• Starting Follistim 50 iu until next follicle check and then we'll see if we need to readjust.
• Adding Estradiol mid-cycle (maybe). I'm a bit nervous about this because estrogen pushes my TSH numbers up (as we saw last time). My Endo instructed me to increase my Synthroid dosage preemptively if I take it again. I hate tinkering with things that make my thyroid numbers go wonky because: 1) it reacts violently to small changes and 2) the window where things are optimal for fertility purposes is exceedingly small. 
• Changing up my progesterone type. I've already been on Crinone and Endometrin but she said there was one other kind she'd like to try some sort of compounded progesterone? This is because when I was pregnant (but didn't know) and stopped the progesterone I immediately began bleeding and so thinks I may be extra sensitive to even small changes.
• I head back on Saturday for a follicle check. 
• IUI is scheduled (tentatively) for a week from next Saturday. 

Guess I'm officially back on the gravy train. 

Cycle 17, CD 1

I can't begin to tell you how nice it was to get out of the city- even if it was just for a few days. Our little get away was amazing. It was this wonderfully little artsy place out in the middle of nowhere. Mike and I indulged in the sun, the silence, and the complete tranquility of it all.

And then this morning I woke up with my period. Which I knew was coming because I've been spotting for the last 4 days (no progesterone this month). So tomorrow at 8:00am I'll see Dr. D for the first time in a long time, talk about what went wrong, and how we are going to move forward from here. I'm scared and relieved and apprehensive and excited all at the same time. Nothing like coming out of a waiting pattern to drum up the 'ole emotions again.

Cycle 16, CD 8

I hate it when I get behind, and I feel like I've been doing that a lot lately. I have 874 blog posts in my head and only have time to write .75 of one. Blarg.

So let's catch up. After my BFN last week, my RE called from her cell while running out for lunch. I don't know why, but that meant a lot to me. I guess I felt like she was thinking about me, even when she didn't "technically" need to be. Our conversation went as follows:

Dr. D: I'm really sad and frustrated right now. I want this as much as you do.
Me: Yeah, I am too. So WTF?
Dr. D: I have a consult set up with 4 other RE's today to discuss this crazy bleeding issue that's going on. I'm going to do some extensive research when I get home. I'm determined to figure this out.
Me: I really appreciate you putting in the overtime on me.
Dr. D: How could I not? Hopefully we'll have a plan for you when you come in for your CD2. Oh, and I feel pretty strongly that you should start acupuncture. I know there is a cost to it, but I think western medicine has failed you. Let's try eastern. I know a great fertility acupuncturist in your area. It usually takes 3 to 4 months to get into see him, but if you are up for it, I'll pull a few strings and get you in as soon as possible.
Me: I think you might be right, and I appreciate the sting pulling.
Dr. D: Don't worry about it, we're in this together.

So yeah, I think I needed to hear all that from her. I needed the reassurance that she was just as worried about me as I am. And to know that she was consulting with other doctors about me? Huge. I might have even given a little fist-pump after I got off the phone. And I'm not even from Jersey.

On my CD2 appointment, she said that all the doctors she consulted with felt like this bleeding issue was hormonal. The theory is, is everyone's estrogen drops during ovulation, but maybe mine is dropping further and longer than it's supposed to for some reason. This can coincidentally cause unexplained bleeding and breast tenderness (gosh that sounds familiar, no?). Treatment for this month: Estradiol in the form of a pill everyday, and once I get that positive OPK, I'm going to double up on it. The only complicating factor is that I have a big juicy cyst on my left ovary (a lingering reminder of the $1500 we spent last cycle?) so I'm on a lower dosage than she originally wanted me on. Stupid cyst.

The only thing I'm struggling with is that I am forced on, yet another, natural cycle (besides the estrogen & progesterone). I mean, I know it doesn't make logical sense to go forward with Gonal-F and an IUI, because until we figure out this other issue, it's all a waste of money. But emotionally, it's hard. It's hard because I feel like time is slipping away. It's hard because I know that no matter what happens this cycle, the chances of me getting pregnant are less than 1% (sadly, a hard scientific number, not a ficticious-Tutti-being-drama number). So yeah, I'm sad about that. But at the same time, I know it's the only thing that make sense. Going back and forth between my head and my heart is taxing.

There is more to this story though, and I'm kind of excited for tomorrow. More to catch you all up on! There is a little, tiny light at the end of my tunnel.

Ewww. Was that too literal? I meant it figuratively speaking of course.

Cycle 14, CD 6

When I called to set up my CD2 ultrasound earlier this week, the nurse told me that Dr. D wanted to see me and Mike for a WTF consult instead.

Fuck me. This is going to be the big IVF conversation, isn't it?

But it wasn't and I think sitting down with my doctor and finally getting everything out on the table was a good thing. After all, this was the first consult we've had since starting with this clinic back in June. In fact, for my (and Mike's) sanity, I wish we had done it sooner. Those 10 minute u/s appointments only leave you about 30 seconds to ask questions once the vag-cam is finished its probing. Ugg. I hate that thing.

Here are the highlights:

• My stinking thyroid: We are going to continue testing my thyroid every month from here on out. Dr. D confirmed that conception was probably not a possibility with it being as high as it was. The problem is, it went wonky sometime during the previous 6 months but we don't know exactly when. So all that Clomid, the IUI, Gonal-F, freaking out, was most likely all for naught. But we will never really know. I had it tested after the consult and it is currently at .773. Not between the target of 1 to 2 that we want, but not low enough for my RE to change my Synthroid dosage either. 
• Stupid Gonal-F: She thought the bleeding and crazy sore boobs sounded like it was due to a huge spike of estrogen brought on by ovulation. She's attributing it to the Gonal-F, though she's never seen or heard of anything like this before (go figure). The fact that it's only happened during the two cycles I've been on the Gonal seems like more than a coincidence. Not what I wanted to hear but at least it's a reason. She also said conception was probably never a possibility the last two months (which is what I was afraid of) because even if there was an embryo, it most likely would have been flushed out with the blood. So much for the last 8 months of trying. Fuck me. 
• Plan for this cycle: Dr. D suggested that we do a natural cycle this month. Of course, my stomach dropped and my gut reaction was to whine and plead like a little girl that wanted the newest talking teddy bear, but I need to trust her. She wants to see if the bleeding happens without the Gonal this month (I have a feeling it won't). And though I know our chances of conceiving are only 2% on an unmedicated cycle, I know that giving my body a break isn't a bad thing either. I will follow along, if not begrudgingly. 
• More tests: She also wants to do a sonohysterogram this cycle to look at my shiny uterus (I'm not sure if it's really shiny, but that's how I see it in my head) to see if there are any polyps. And if my ute gets the A-ok, then she will go a step further and do an endometrial biopsy to make sure there is no infection in my lining. My eyes just about zoinked out of my head when she mentioned this last one. I had an endometrial biopsy 4 years ago. Yeah, it didn't go so well and I ended up passing out on the side of the road after I left my Gyn's office. I woke up in an ambulance with the worst stomach pains I've ever experienced in my life. No joke. If I had a gun, I would have used it on myself. And I don't say things like that lightly. I have a fucked up vaseovegal response (inherited from my mom) which proves to be tricky in situations like this. As in, this is exactly what triggers it. Needless to say, I'll be going armed with vicoden and Mike to that appointment on Tuesday. Lord help me now. 
• Reviewing old tests: Dr. D is going to request the original films from my HSG. She said that it's not too common, but she has caught mistakes in the original reading of these things. Wouldn't that be a kicker? 
• Future plan: Provided the natural cycle is a bust (which of course it will be), we will continue with injectables (more than likely not Gonal) and IUIs. The stats show that our chances go up to 9% (big leagues) with medications and IUIs. So we'll be all over those like white on rice. She said we'll see how it goes, but at least 3 more IUIs and then we'll talk... 
• Future-future plan: IVF. Naturally, it's a last resort but she said that if we indeed have incompatible eggs/sperm, than this is our best bet (I don't know what she is talking about, I get along with everyone). She said it's too early to go the IVF route at the moment (which was reassuring to hear) but that we'll be looking at it in the next 6 months if nothing else works. Sweet, we have 6 months to save up $20,000. Maybe I'll have a yard sale...

Like I said, it was helpful and both Mike and I left feeling a little better. Like we had a plan. Mike was able to shoot a bunch of over-my-head questions at the doctor, and apparently she answered them satisfactorily. Which is good because it makes Mike feel better, which in turn makes me feel much better. So for now, we are able to put some old issues to bed and concentrate on the future. A future that I desperately hope has a positive ending.

No pun intended.