Well, well, well. It has been a mighty long time since I last reported. The last months have been full on many fronts but first and foremost are body art and fertility treatments. It seems I have become a human pin cushion.
First, after our last failed IUI, I decided to return to acupuncture to see if I could liven up those follicles a bit. It certainly seemed to have helped for our only successful round of IUI. We took a few months off from seeing the RE, and I began weekly visits to the acupuncturist. During this time, I also continued working on the lower-leg tattoo sleeve. After the catfish, I had 2 more sessions to add the frog and dragon fly and the rest of the line work for the pond scene.
This time was relatively calm, in spite of the needlework. Somehow in my head the tattoos have become a chronicle of the infertility. I can't really explain how. I suspect it began by having three key elements (catfish, frog and dragonfly). Perhaps it was the doing it in pieces and the incomplete, open-ended nature of it. I don't know for sure. Still, after several months of acupuncture and then completing the line work spurred something in me, and I called up the RE and scheduled an appointment to do a baseline ultrasound to see how the follicles were doing.
I went in and things just went into overdrive after that. We had a good number of follicles. We scheduled a meeting with the RE to talk over our options. The short of it was: IVF with pre-implantation genetic screening (PGS). Insurance approved all but the ICSI and the testing. It all began. I started the pill and had two weeks to squeeze in my first bit of color on my tattoo. Natasha did the frog and then began the ultrasounds, the blood tests, the daily injections, and eventually the egg retrieval. First bad news: we went in with 16-17 sizable follicles, we came out with only six eggs. Next bad news a day later: only 2 eggs were healthy/mature. Both fertilized, but we had too few to do PGS. We did a Day 2 transfer. More shots this time: progesterone and Lovenox. Two agonizing weeks of waiting. Thank god for the estrogen pills. Those little blue pills provide a real pick-me-up. Friday the 24th I go in for the blood test. Four hours later, we get the call. Unfortunately, it was all for naught. We're not pregnant. Moreover, there is little chance of us ever getting and/or staying pregnant with my eggs. Twenty four hours and numerous tears later, I call to schedule an appointment for the next stage of my tattoo. I can't get in until October 17, but there's nothing else happening until then, so I can wait.
My doc wants me to come back in a couple of weeks to talk about our options. At this point we really have two options: donor egg or giving up. We'll keep talking about it, and I'll keep swinging back and forth from one extreme to another, but I really think it's done.
Now I am just stuck on *how* to give up.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
It's a Boy!
Not ours, of course, but I have a new nephew, and Eliot has a new cousin. On that side of the family there are now three boys and three girls spanning a six year range. Everyday it looks more and more like Eliot is going to be a singleton, so having cousins with whom he can be close and share history becomes increasingly important.
I only have three cousins, two a few years younger than me and one decades younger whom I never met. All three of them are singletons. Growing up, I shared more in common with one cousin than brothers. We're not super close now, but still comfort in having each other. I can wish for the same or better for Eliot. Regular summer reunions should help ground those relationships.
I only have three cousins, two a few years younger than me and one decades younger whom I never met. All three of them are singletons. Growing up, I shared more in common with one cousin than brothers. We're not super close now, but still comfort in having each other. I can wish for the same or better for Eliot. Regular summer reunions should help ground those relationships.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Running on Empty
I donated blood last Tuesday. Somehow in the thick of it last year, between missy #2 and missy #3, I managed to donate 3 times. Donating 3 times in a year at the Blood Centers of the Pacific (BCP) earns you a personalized desk calendar. It's a clever idea. The calendar marks the days that you donated (in the previous year) as well as your birthday. Mostly what it does - extremely well - is to make me feel guilty every day when I look at it and realize that I haven't donated in months.
So, last week I finally reached the blood-letting inertia escape velocity. Why? Because on Saturday, I finally got my first tattoo. Getting tattooed makes you ineligible to donate for 12 months. The guilt was/is intense. Still, I'm thrilled that I finally took the first step in the body art process. On Saturday I started the first part of a multi-part piece. I had a catfish outlined on my lower right leg. Next will be a dragon fly, a frog and a lilly pad. Eventually, I want an entire pond scene. My tattoo artist laughed that for my first tattoo, I wanted an entire lower-leg sleeve. But it makes perfect sense to me. I have been planning and thinking about this tattoo for several years, but like so many other things, I've been postponing having it done in our effort to have another.
It's insane how many things that I've deferred or balked at in case we got (or actually were) pregnant: vacations, graduate school, career pursuits and of course, getting a tattoo. Likewise, there are so many things that I've held onto for the same reasons. Eliot's closets have been stuffed from floor to ceiling with baby stuff. Our storage area overpacked with the stroller, tricycles, the bike trailer and more. None of which Eliot uses.
I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was the failed round of IUI we did in April/May. I did all the injections and ultrasounds and only managed to produce two mature follicles, and barely even that. So after I got my period, I packed up all of Eliot's baby stuff and gave it to a coworker. Boxes and boxes of stuff. I even gave away his Mountain Buggy. After that I got up the nerve to schedule an appointment for the tattoo.
I can't say that we've decided to quit. That's not the case. My coworker knows that we are trying and won't give away anything without asking us first. It's just that I'm so tired of the waiting. I need to get on with my life. Sustaining hope in the face of repeated and relentless failure is exhausting.
So, last week I finally reached the blood-letting inertia escape velocity. Why? Because on Saturday, I finally got my first tattoo. Getting tattooed makes you ineligible to donate for 12 months. The guilt was/is intense. Still, I'm thrilled that I finally took the first step in the body art process. On Saturday I started the first part of a multi-part piece. I had a catfish outlined on my lower right leg. Next will be a dragon fly, a frog and a lilly pad. Eventually, I want an entire pond scene. My tattoo artist laughed that for my first tattoo, I wanted an entire lower-leg sleeve. But it makes perfect sense to me. I have been planning and thinking about this tattoo for several years, but like so many other things, I've been postponing having it done in our effort to have another.
It's insane how many things that I've deferred or balked at in case we got (or actually were) pregnant: vacations, graduate school, career pursuits and of course, getting a tattoo. Likewise, there are so many things that I've held onto for the same reasons. Eliot's closets have been stuffed from floor to ceiling with baby stuff. Our storage area overpacked with the stroller, tricycles, the bike trailer and more. None of which Eliot uses.
I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was the failed round of IUI we did in April/May. I did all the injections and ultrasounds and only managed to produce two mature follicles, and barely even that. So after I got my period, I packed up all of Eliot's baby stuff and gave it to a coworker. Boxes and boxes of stuff. I even gave away his Mountain Buggy. After that I got up the nerve to schedule an appointment for the tattoo.
I can't say that we've decided to quit. That's not the case. My coworker knows that we are trying and won't give away anything without asking us first. It's just that I'm so tired of the waiting. I need to get on with my life. Sustaining hope in the face of repeated and relentless failure is exhausting.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
April Fools
Yet another large window has gone by since my last post, with much news to share. After the last described, failed round of IUI, we began a new regimen. This began with going on the pill for two weeks. Huh? You say? You're trying to get pregnant, so you are going on the Pill? Well.... it would seem that we do very well getting pregnant after we come off the Pill. Back in 2005, we went off the Pill, and instantly we were pregnant with Eliot. In 2008, we went off the Pill and bang (so to speak), we were pregnant with Missy #1. (We got pregnant with Missy #2 immediately after we lost Missy #1, so that one was a little different, but still follows a pattern.) Then after Missy #2 in Mar of 2009, nothing, until my last post in November of 2009. It turns out that my cycle goes wonky when left to its own devices, but the Pill gets the rhythm right with my cycle.
SO... we begin the Pill in November. I'm not working at all at this point because I don't know when I'm going to need to drop everything and run to get an ultrasound or blood test. On a whim, I decide to apply for a job at UC Berkeley Extension. Instead of doing classroom technology training, I would be using my MLIS to help design and develop online courses. By develop, I don't mean coding, but rather I would be working with subject matter experts to determine the best delivery mechanism for the content, I'd collect and edit the content, and I'd direct the creation of the online course. Pretty cool stuff. Lo and behold, I get the job. I would begin in January. In spite of some reservations about the salary and the state imposed furloughs, the prospect of working close to home and leaving coding behind me is tempting, and I accept the position.
After two weeks on the Pill, the doctor takes me off. A new refrigerated box of medicine arrives at my door when I start a new cycle. The regimen of daily shots and every other day visits to the doctor for bloodwork and ultrasounds ensues. Meanwhile, I'm visiting the acupuncturist once or twice a week and taking herbal supplements that have me constantly flatulating. I'm walking somewhere (fart), I get on the bus (fart), I'm at the grocery store (you guessed it), and I'm getting a vaginal ultrasound (and trying my damnedest not to fart). I actually went to see a GI doc, who had no idea why I was farting every minute of the day, before I traced it back to the Tang-Kuei Evodia I'm taking. Still, the embarrassment is totally worth it when it becomes evident that the IUI cycle is going to go perfectly. I've 5 mature follicles, the extra shot that I'm taking (Ganirelex) is keeping me from ovulating too soon, and we're ready to use the Ovidrel trigger shot to stimulate my ovulation. Exactly 36 hours after the Ovidrel, I go to the doc for the IUI. Earlier that morning Sandy had gone in to make his deposit. His numbers are stellar. Those boys can swim. There's not much to say about the IUI itself. I had to show ID to pick up Sandy's specimen, and I had to hold the little test-tube next to my skin to keep it warm. The procedure is quick and painless. The waiting for 2 weeks after the IUI is cruelly long, but on December 25, at my parent's house in Indiana, we get a positive home pregnancy test. A couple of days later, we go to Chicago to Quest labs for a blood draw and gestational table that is reported back to our RE in the Bay Area. Congratulations, we're pregnant.
Here's where I'm going to summarize a bit. As soon as we get the go ahead from the RE, I begin my daily shots of Lovenox in order to keep my blood thin in case that's why I'm miscarrying. These shots hurt a LOT more than the hormone shots. Still, we're pregnant. Mid-January, I start my new job at UC. I'm wringing my hands over the fact that I'm pregnant and starting a new job. I confess to Roxanne, my boss, who is a real mensch about the whole thing. I go to the RE for an ultrasound at 7 weeks (instead of 6 and 8 weeks because I don't have a lot of time off accrued at UC yet). All is well, and we see a heartbeat. I'm feeling nauseated, and we're elated. I go to the OB at 10 weeks for an ultrasound. Fetus seems a little small, but the doc isn't worried, we still see a heartbeat. We're almost out of the woods. We go to the perinatalogist at 12.5 weeks for the CVS, the final hoop (to mix metaphors). No heartbeat. Baby died in the last week. We're devastated, and needless to say I don't go back to work that Thursday. Friday I stay home and am on the phone to various doctors to figure out what we do next. My OB cannot perform a D&C because after 12 weeks it's considered a D&E. So we have to see a specialist in Lafayette. We get an appointment later that day to meet with him. He walks us through the procedure. I'll come in the night before for the insertion of laminaria sticks that will begin the dialation process. We schedule it for Monday afternoon, March 1st. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm having a procedure to remove my dead baby on my 40th birthday. Happy, happy birthday. The weekend, the procedure and the couple of days that follow the procedure are a blur of emotions and tears.
In the last month, we did a lot of soul searching and discussed our options with this new OB as well as our RE. Insurance will cover another round of IUI so we're going to proceed with that again. I'm 40 now. There's no time like the present.
SO... we begin the Pill in November. I'm not working at all at this point because I don't know when I'm going to need to drop everything and run to get an ultrasound or blood test. On a whim, I decide to apply for a job at UC Berkeley Extension. Instead of doing classroom technology training, I would be using my MLIS to help design and develop online courses. By develop, I don't mean coding, but rather I would be working with subject matter experts to determine the best delivery mechanism for the content, I'd collect and edit the content, and I'd direct the creation of the online course. Pretty cool stuff. Lo and behold, I get the job. I would begin in January. In spite of some reservations about the salary and the state imposed furloughs, the prospect of working close to home and leaving coding behind me is tempting, and I accept the position.
After two weeks on the Pill, the doctor takes me off. A new refrigerated box of medicine arrives at my door when I start a new cycle. The regimen of daily shots and every other day visits to the doctor for bloodwork and ultrasounds ensues. Meanwhile, I'm visiting the acupuncturist once or twice a week and taking herbal supplements that have me constantly flatulating. I'm walking somewhere (fart), I get on the bus (fart), I'm at the grocery store (you guessed it), and I'm getting a vaginal ultrasound (and trying my damnedest not to fart). I actually went to see a GI doc, who had no idea why I was farting every minute of the day, before I traced it back to the Tang-Kuei Evodia I'm taking. Still, the embarrassment is totally worth it when it becomes evident that the IUI cycle is going to go perfectly. I've 5 mature follicles, the extra shot that I'm taking (Ganirelex) is keeping me from ovulating too soon, and we're ready to use the Ovidrel trigger shot to stimulate my ovulation. Exactly 36 hours after the Ovidrel, I go to the doc for the IUI. Earlier that morning Sandy had gone in to make his deposit. His numbers are stellar. Those boys can swim. There's not much to say about the IUI itself. I had to show ID to pick up Sandy's specimen, and I had to hold the little test-tube next to my skin to keep it warm. The procedure is quick and painless. The waiting for 2 weeks after the IUI is cruelly long, but on December 25, at my parent's house in Indiana, we get a positive home pregnancy test. A couple of days later, we go to Chicago to Quest labs for a blood draw and gestational table that is reported back to our RE in the Bay Area. Congratulations, we're pregnant.
Here's where I'm going to summarize a bit. As soon as we get the go ahead from the RE, I begin my daily shots of Lovenox in order to keep my blood thin in case that's why I'm miscarrying. These shots hurt a LOT more than the hormone shots. Still, we're pregnant. Mid-January, I start my new job at UC. I'm wringing my hands over the fact that I'm pregnant and starting a new job. I confess to Roxanne, my boss, who is a real mensch about the whole thing. I go to the RE for an ultrasound at 7 weeks (instead of 6 and 8 weeks because I don't have a lot of time off accrued at UC yet). All is well, and we see a heartbeat. I'm feeling nauseated, and we're elated. I go to the OB at 10 weeks for an ultrasound. Fetus seems a little small, but the doc isn't worried, we still see a heartbeat. We're almost out of the woods. We go to the perinatalogist at 12.5 weeks for the CVS, the final hoop (to mix metaphors). No heartbeat. Baby died in the last week. We're devastated, and needless to say I don't go back to work that Thursday. Friday I stay home and am on the phone to various doctors to figure out what we do next. My OB cannot perform a D&C because after 12 weeks it's considered a D&E. So we have to see a specialist in Lafayette. We get an appointment later that day to meet with him. He walks us through the procedure. I'll come in the night before for the insertion of laminaria sticks that will begin the dialation process. We schedule it for Monday afternoon, March 1st. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm having a procedure to remove my dead baby on my 40th birthday. Happy, happy birthday. The weekend, the procedure and the couple of days that follow the procedure are a blur of emotions and tears.
In the last month, we did a lot of soul searching and discussed our options with this new OB as well as our RE. Insurance will cover another round of IUI so we're going to proceed with that again. I'm 40 now. There's no time like the present.
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