When you least expect it...

Here's a post that I wrote back on December 14, 2014:

As I grieved the loss of our miscarriage a few months ago, my sister told me that I could accept that this was it--that we were to be a family of three--but that she refused to accept it. She was convinced that we would end up pregnant when we least expected it. She imagined that our son would be headed off to college when we became pregnant. Her first prediction was right. Her second? Not as accurate.

The ACOG suggests you wait three months after a miscarriage to try to conceive again. Three separate doctors have reviewed our records and indicated that it is highly unlikely that we could ever conceive without intervention. Two doctors want me on Lovenox, a powerful blood thinner, when I am pregnant to prevent clots and loss. I had decided to take some time off of my prenatal vitamin and go back on caffeine and alcohol pretty hard for me. I was definitely not expecting a late period just one month after my cycle reset. Nor did I expect an elicit run to the drug store while on vacation with my in laws. Nor a positive pregnancy test while bathing our son.

Holy shit! We are pregnant, and we definitely didn't expect it.

Our Little Engine that Could

Praise and thanksgiving! Our Little Engine that Could is making slow progress safe and sound in my uterus. I have an at risk pregnancy, but a pregnancy, nonetheless. I'm 6w3d pregnant from my FET, but the gestational sack and yolk sack measured proportionally at 5w2d. The amazing ultrasound technician said that there is a margin of error of about a week, and that she has seen slow developers go on to be healthy pregnancies before. She didn't make promises, but she said to be hopeful for two weeks until we return.

Dr. B basically said everything that the sonographer said, but with less tact. He was fairly polite for himself, but he just drops bombs in a way that Wisesister thinks is unnecessary, and I am inclined to agree with her. For example, he could have avoided scaring me half to death that I was having an ectopic pregnancy and was facing internal bleeding and certain loss. All he had to do was say, "Your blood work is irregular. Let's bring you in for a sono to learn more!" He did suggest that in his experience about 50% of cases like mine result in healthy pregnancies, which is a big improvement over the 15% we had been hearing for the last week.

We're proceeding as if we have a healthy baby. In two weeks, we'll have a make or break sono where we will learn if there is a fetus developing slowly in the the yolk sack. If there is a fetus and a heart beat, we won't necessarily be out of the woods, but it will be 8w3d, and that's a pretty great place to be. If not, then we'll know that we've lost the pregnancy and we'll be able to grieve and start to decide where to go from there.

The Other Shoe

When you're battling infertility and walking the path towards conception, you are constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. We must have an amazing shoe wardrobe because it seemed to be years of escalating bad news, plenty of dropping shoes:

miscarriage

zero normal morphology

low testosterone (pills)

low count

failed IVF

no embryos for freezing

Leiden Factor V blood clotting disorder

bizarre physical effect of varicocele surgery

no improvement in sperm morphology or count after varicocele surgery

lower testosterone (more pills)

lower testosterone (shots)

induction instead of normal delivery

lots and lots of blood thinner delivered through lots and lots of shots

Finally it seemed that we'd go barefoot for a while. We had Wisebaby. He came via the natural start of labor that I had given up on. He weighed the right amount, and he was a nice height. Perfectly average. We could breath easy and wander around, letting the grass and sand and and carpet and water tickle between our toes. 

I've realized though, that I never gave up holding my breath for some sort of set-back. We've taken them all in, seething, grieving, adjusting, surviving, thriving. I keep waiting for some major set-back to happen with Wisebaby, and it has and it hasn't. Yeah, he's stubbornly refusing to walk even after his first birthday. Yeah, he wouldn't eat solid food for a while, four months if you must know. Yeah, he's been doing crazy things with his nap schedule since day one. Yeah, he's been to the doctor a lot--slow gainer after birth, tongue tie, nursing difficulties, five ear infections, RSV, strep throat, hand foot and mouth, rashes, colds, and ear tubes. Through it all, I've said to Wisehubby a million times, "I know he's been sick a lot, but don't we have just the best kid?"

Maybe a lot of other mommas would freak out as the shoes all start dropping, but I've just sort of been rolling with the parenting punches the way I learned to roll with them when we were just TRYING to become parents. Maybe we had a bit more practice at dashed hopes and altered expectations than the average fertile couple? As it is, I'm holding my breath and waiting to see if a shoe will drop on us during this frozen embryo transfer cycle. If it does, we'll just dodge it and keep on trucking.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The Good:

We're rolling on down to our FET. Just one more procedure stands in our way, a mock transfer. Other than having to fill and hold your bladder, that's an easy and comfortable procedure, relative to everything else. We're on track for a FET during the week of August 11-14, which would put us on track for an early May baby! The best part of the timing is that both Wisehubby and myself are off work for the last time before school starts up that week. Couldn't be better!

The Bad:

Dr. B's bedside manner, or lack thereof, just continues to astound me. If he wasn't "holding our embryo hostage" as Wisehubby puts it, we'd be working with another doctor. I was there for a hysteroscopy exactly a week ago, and he didn't remember. It's fine if you don't remember, but at least look at my chart in advance of the appointment, dumb ass. He also asked about 10 questions that we paid $50 copay to answer about one month ago, and he also didn't read his notes from that appointment. Ugh.

The Ugly:

I had to get a script for Lovenox today. Joy. As much as I look forward for the possibility of another pregnancy and Wisebaby, I do not look forward to a daily injection of blood thinner. It's the ugliest aspect of this whole thing.

We had a baby 30 weeks ago.

Thirty weeks ago, I gave birth to my son, baby W. For a pregnancy that was planned every step of the way, he was a bit of a surprise at thirty-seven weeks and five days; he came a week before my scheduled induction! My water broke all at once--a gross rupture, as the nurse put it--at about 4:00 PM, and we welcomed Wisebaby to the world at 10:15 PM. Despite the blood thinner, I was clotting enough to have an epidural, which was awesome. No other interventions were needed, which was pretty great considering it took 368 needle sticks to get the little guy gestated safely.

My college roommate recently shared her fertility struggles with me, and she's even started her own blog. She credited my blog as part of her inspiration to open up about her trials, and it inspired me to come back and give the site a little look. Of course, I realized that I hadn't shared anything since I was nineteen weeks pregnant, other than timeline updates, and that made me a little sad.

Of course, the last thirty weeks have not give me a lot of time to blog. Wisebaby is a ball of energy, a terrible napper, and a people person. That means we spend a lot of time playing, cuddling, and talking to him. When he finally does go to bed, it's pretty much bottles and laundry until we drop. Parenthood is fantastic. It is everything we had hoped for and more. It is our dream come true, even though he's been sick with RSV, developed an ear infection, and cut two teeth in the last week.

19 Weeks

Every morning I wake up, say a little prayer, put my hand on my belly, and remember that my dreams are coming true. The bump is definitely growing; there is no denying that our quest for Wisebaby is more than halfway done.

Ok, so gestationally speaking, at 19 weeks 1 day, I am a few days shy of halfway, but our journey has been too long to count in weeks, so I feel more than half through.

Everyone keeps asking if I feel ok; the sonographer asked if we were always so calm. The truth is that even though we're 19 weeks into our pregnancy, everyday feels like a very special miracle, and all of the little annoying things about pregnancy don't even register when I'm watching my belly grow because of a little baby boy--that's right, it's a boy! I am too awestruck to be weepy or antsy. Just like on the day that Wisehubby proposed to me, I am mostly at a loss for the right words to describe the peace and happiness that God has brought into our lives as we begin to transition our lives into their next incredible stage.

Speaking of the sonogram, we had our anatomy scan and everything about our little boy seems completely perfect. On our 19 week mark, he measured a little ahead of schedule, 19 weeks 4 days, weighing in at 11 ounces. His head is on my left side, and he is lying on his back. There are four chambers in his heart, he's got a brain growing strong, his kidneys are there, the stomach is clear, and his cord blood is flowing properly. He's got two arms and legs, ten fingers and ten toes. He used his little hand to wave at us and then he stuck out his tongue. We could even see his little face. We're completely in love with this little guy, and all we've see of him have been a few grainy pictures and a glamour shot of him way back when he was growing in the petri dish.

Now that I've written this post, maybe I'll not have to touch my belly tomorrow morning to check to see if this all is real or not. I doubt it though; it is nice to have a reminder that your dreams are coming true.

Post-script: We're also 189 shots in! Sweet Wisebaby is worth every prick.

An Ace in the Hole

We've been calling our Wisembies Ace and Base over the last few weeks, and today we got to see for sure if one or both of them stuck.

Our sonographer was running behind, so it was maybe more hurried than we had anticipated because I needed to get back to my school by 1:05 for my sixth period class. She did give me a big hug and a congratulations, which felt so real and genuine  Wisehubby and I both agree that she is by far the best part of our fertility clinic.

Anyway, the big news is that we have an Ace in the hole! One of our Wisembies implanted and flourished. We were exactly 7 weeks today, but little Ace is measuring 7 weeks 1 day, and his heart rate (131.58) is very strong. We could see his heart beating with no problem, and it was crazy that we could see the yolk sack and umbilical cord distinct from Ace's little blobby body. He measured 10.81 millimeters long!

We feel like we've been playing the long game and have finally scored; it is amazing to see that something you have chased after for so long is truly coming to fruition. We know that the weeks and months ahead of us are long, and uncertain, but we're excited for this next phase in our quest for Wisebaby!

Thanksgiving

After ninety-three shots, I am starting to believe that this pregnancy thing might just stick. This cycle went so much more smoothly than the last one; not just because it actually worked, but for several other reasons. I am so thankful for the following changes in circumstances:

1. We didn't have any major home repairs crop up during this IVF cycle.
2. I wasn't taking graduate classes.
3. My new boss is very easy going, so taking personal days and getting a substitute didn't stress me out.
4. Someone--or many someones--in every aspect of my life (work, church, family, friends) knew about our cycle. Having people asking after you makes dealing with an exciting and stressful situation more pleasant. 
5. As much as I bitched about Lovenox, it is relieving to know that the male Dr. B crossed every t and dotted every i in order to make this cycle perfect. Factor V probably didn't cause my early miscarriage or failed IVF cycle, but it definitely won't be the complication in this pregnancy.
6. Wisehubby bravely put his balls on the line in order to get an improvement in his sperm quality that is barely quantifiable. There is no way of knowing how important this factor was, but we got much better quality embryos this cycle.
7. Dr. B reduced my stimulation drugs down. I felt much less uncomfortable throughout the process, and we got fewer and healthier eggs.
8. Wisehubby was even sweeter this time than last, which I didn't think was possible.
9. Dr. B helped us with the costs of the lab, which is especially good considering the cost of the Crinone and Lovenox prescriptions is outrageous! Crinone costs $263 and Lovenox costs $200. The pharmacist at Walmart keeps asking if I really want my prescriptions. Uh, yeah!
10. We got a frostie! Having a frozen blastocyst takes a lot of pressure off of the transferred ones. We probably couldn't afford another fresh cycle for a few years, so it is great to know we've got a back up hanging out in a lab down the road.
11. So many of my infertile friendships are also in a good place right now. IWF, Dear Friend, and MyLazyOvaries (Twitter friend) all have had BFPs, and that is such a wonderful thing. 

Relaxing a touch

I'm relaxing a touch now that we've gotten through both blood tests, and my HCG levels are rising appropriately. I cannot wait to see the Wisebaby(ies) via ultrasound on December 5, but I guess I will have to.

BFP! BFP! BFP! BFP! BFP!

So, I swore to Wisesister when she went with me to CVS to buy pregnancy tests that I wouldn't be that crazy lady who tortured herself by taking a million pregnancy tests. It turns out that I lied.

Sunday was six days past transfer, and by 5 PM I couldn't stop myself from peeing on a stick. Luckily, I was rewarded with a nice pink line. It's faint in the picture, but I swear it is there. It is about half as dark as the control line. I repeated my tests in the afternoon on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The only day that was really crazy to do was Wednesday, since I had already gotten the call from my RE that we were BFP according to the blood test. My HCG was 112, so that's good according to the nurse--I have zero frame of reference on this one.

Tuesday did freak me out because the line faded visibly from Monday, but I'm ninety percent sure it was because I chugged some water in order to try to pee again in a short period of time. I was done in by my over-hydration.

Since the only experiences that I've ever had with conceiving have ended with a BFN or a chemical pregnancy, I'm feeling decidedly anxious. However, always a believer in positive thinking, I am just chanting to myself BFP! BFP! BFP! all day long as I anxiously await the results from my beta HCG tomorrow to see if things are indeed rising the way they should.

Join me now: BFP! BFP! BFP! BFP! BFP!

Eight

I'm ecstatic about how we have eight excellent quality embryos growing on day three. Eight is an auspicious number, and I have such a good feeling about all of this. It is beginning to feel like all of Wisehubby's pain last winter is coming into fruition. Either that, or I was right when I flipped through my organized curriculum binder and told Wisehubby, "We can finally get pregnant now that I've figured out how to stay organized at work."

Silly Ovaries

As of this time tomorrow, I should be about twenty eggs lighter, which is no joke because as of Monday, the sonographer--who is normally one of the most confidence inspiring medical personnel I've ever met--temporarily mistook my left ovary for my right. "Silly ovaries," she quipes, "you're too close together!"

Ah, shit! My ovaries are so swollen that they had seemingly merged on the sonogram machine. What?

My meds dropped down to the bare minimum dosage for Saturday and Sunday nights, and we were rewarded on Monday with thick uterine lining, growth on the follicles that were more mature on Saturday, and slowed growth for the immature follicles. My right ovary is out-producing my left, both in size and quantity. Either way, my sonographer swears that I'm overachieving and doing great. They scheduled me for a 7:30 trigger shot on Monday, which meant no more Lupron, Follistim, or Menopur. I also dropped the Lovenox, but that will come back tomorrow night.

Hurricane Sandy kept one of my very favorite people in town for a few extra days, so instead of quietly triggering at home, like last time, I packed up my insulated lunch sack and headed out on the town. I triggered in the women's restroom at a Turkish restaurant, which is probably weirder for a Texas girl than the sports bar of yester-cycle.

Today was a great day at work, despite a rough parent phone call, and I finished it up with a late meeting with my district curriculum writing team. I work with some amazing men and women, and it was really nice to see them all in person and hear their well-wishes for our retrieval tomorrow.

I'm just a little anxious, and I'm determined not to toss and turn, so I am just watching Dancing with the Stars and trying not to notice my seriously swollen, very silly ovaries.

Time off for good behavior

After my last post, Wisesister called and suggested that my coping mechanisms weren't doing the trick. She commended me for using Twitter and Blogger to express my feelings, but pointed out that I was becoming increasingly negative and hopeless. She suggested that I take a break from the internet, talk to a counselor, and focus on the positive things while we waited for Wisehubby to heal. I was skeptical at first, but Wisesister gives the best advice, so I took it.

Wisehubby and I called the male Dr. B's office and asked for a referral to a counselor. We set up an appointment with Ms. B--no joke, we found another infertility medical professional with a last name beginning with B. It was a good visit, and it served to ease our fear that we were not communicating or handling our struggles in a constructive way. She commended us for being on the same page, and recommended that we try to take some time off to focus on our relationship. Our homework was to spend our summer vacation relaxing together, setting aside time once a week to have infertility check up chats. Her advice sounded shockingly like Wisesister's, so I felt a little silly for needing to spend some money to hear a second opinion.

We did great with focusing on our relationship this summer. Wisehubby and I have had little pool parties where we watch trashy TV or the Olympics several times a week. We went to movies and made new recipes. We drove 2,400 miles through Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado, camping for four days where we could not get cell phone reception.

When we were off of the grid and seeking shelter from an afternoon rain storm in Mesa Verde National Park, we talked about what our life would be like without kids. We could travel, spend time volunteering, give ourselves over to our students and Godchildren, spoil our dogs rotten, and generally have a good time. I think that talking specifically about how we could not just survive but ENJOY having our dream of children permanently deferred allowed us to relax about the future. We still want to conceive more than anything, but we know that no matter what, we've got a happy family, just the two of us.

We're nearing the end of summer, which brings new challenges to our plate. I'm at a new campus doing the same job next year, and Wisehubby is starting a new position after two years of chasing that promotion. We're also looking at the nine month post-op mark at the beginning of September, so I scheduled an IVF planning session with the male Dr. B today. It brought back a whole flood of feelings, but it wasn't overwhelming or depressing in the way it was four months ago. After all, taking time off for some good behavior was just what the doctor (Wisesister) ordered!

Inspired by grief

I had the opportunity to meet Jordan Sonnenblick, the author of several moving novels for young adults including Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie and Notes from the Midnight Driver this week at school. He gave my students a talk about how he was inspired to write his first two novels. Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie was inspired by a student of his whose brother was sick with cancer. Her experience, though challenging, was positive and moved him profoundly.

Notes from the Midnight Driver, on the other hand, was born of a few challenging situations. Sonnenblick had an eighth grade class from hell that gave him grief. In the midst of struggling with his students, he reflected on his dark times as a teenager, while his parents were getting divorced, and how his grandfather was his rock. As an adult, his grandfather was slipping away slowly because of Alzheimer's. Sonnenblick took a combination of those dark situations in his life and created a beautiful novel about a kid learning to move beyond the shit in his life that he couldn't control.

Afterward, I made a point to introduce myself to Sonnenblick. His novel, Zen and the Art of Faking It, is what inspired me to start writing my own novel for young adults, something that I've set aside a bit during my IVF struggles. I mentioned it ever so briefly to him, and he made a point to encourage me to keep writing.

Most of all, I was encouraged to hear him talk about how powerful it is to write about the nasty crap that is going on in your life. That's what this blog is all about, the fall out from the uncontrollable reality of our infertility. That is what my novel is about, the fall out from the untimely death of my brother. Writing can be a healing process.

I'm stricken with grief because of infertility, but I'm inspired by it, too.

Into the fire we went: Our marriage

Last Tuesday, Wisehubby and I had come to the devastating conclusion that we weren't going to be getting pregnant with our first IVF cycle. I had peed on a stick several times, and there wasn't anything going on. I felt decidedly not pregnant, and we began to reflect on what this meant for us.

We've not moved on to our next step; we haven't put away our picture of the Wise-embies that we lost. We haven't even gotten up the courage to call and schedule our follow-up meeting with our RE to talk about what went wrong.

We have decided on a couple of things though. This process, in its own strange way, has been a little bit good for our marriage, which is now at the four and a half year mark. We had a pretty easy go of it until last year, so we have been forging our marriage in the firestorm of infertility.

Wisehubby and I met in college, at a time of relative peace and happiness for both of us. We had both struggled with difficult family situations in high school--he was caught in a particularly nasty custody battle; my brother killed himself. By the time we met, we were both pretty happy to have put some distance between ourselves and our dark pasts.

Don't get me wrong--we've talked about our pasts, but we've generally been living happy lives. Wisehubby graduated first and got a job as a school teacher. We got engaged the summer before I graduated. We married when I was just twenty-two, a newly minted college graduate. I got a job soon thereafter, and then we bought our dream home. We adopted a puppy and later got a new car.

That's about time the firestorm started. If you want to read details of it, might I suggest the following posts: Male Factor Infertility, Out of Control, and Darkest Day.  We've been struggling with our infertility now for a while, and we finally sat back and talked specifically about what it has been doing to our marriage.

Wisehubby and I agreed that, while our lives have been full of frustration, disappointment, and loss in the last year, our marriage has become a deeper partnership. We have made concerted efforts to understand how we both deal with darkness in our lives.

Wisehubby has learned to open up and create a network of friends and family for support, largely because he knows that I would collapse under the weight of it all if I didn't. He's graciously allowed me to tweet and blog, and share my story with many more people than he would have chosen to tell. He even stood there with me while I gave myself every shot. He has been my rock.

I've learned to give Wisehubby some space to process before instantly making him talk about things. He doesn't always know what he feels or wants to say right away. He may need a day or two of chilling, playing NCAA Football 2011 or watching Stormchasers, before he can meet me half-way and talk about stuff.

What I can say after coming out of the other side--at least for now--of all of our disappointment is that our marriage is stronger than ever. This last year has bonded us together in new ways that we couldn't have anticipated when we were young, carefree college students falling in love. Let's just pray that we're tough as steel since we've got a long fertility road ahead of us yet.

IVF Update and Baby Names

1 Samuel 1:20--So in the course of time Hannah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel,^[b] saying, “Because I asked the LORD for him.”

Wisehubby and I were driven to distraction this morning waiting for our update phone call from the endocrinology lab. I wasn't the world's best teacher today; I didn't feel well and my mind was preoccupied. If I worked a job that didn't require elaborate sub plans and an abandonment of 11-14 year old students to the hands of often incompetent subs, I would have stayed home, curled in the fetal position.

We did get the call right at my lunch time. They retrieved thirty-three eggs yesterday and injected sperm into twenty-five of them. Fifteen beautiful embryo Wisebabies were growing in the lab, as of this morning. We'll know more about our count on Saturday. It will probably go down again.

With our transfer on Monday, Wisehubby and I are really feeling positive about this IVF experience. For the first time in a year, we feel like we have reason to hope.

On Tuesday, we chose to share our struggles with our pastor, and he directed me to the story of Hannah. I was touched by her willingness to give her unborn children up to God; it's a feeling that I've had since we've started trying. Like Hannah, I have dropped to my knees in prayer in the last year, asking for my heart's desire, children, in exchange for raising a family dedicated to God's good work.

For a long time, Wisehubby and I have know what we would name our first son and our first three daughters--Wisehubby wants a gaggle of daddy's girls! All of those names are meaningful, beautiful, and old fashioned, my top criteria. With the distinct possibility of twins on our horizon, I have been wracking my brain for a boys name that meets those criteria and hasn't been given to one of my eight uncles or thirteen male cousins. With our new found sense of hope and the inspiration of God's word, we've settled on Samuel as our second boy's name.

Why? Because we've asked the Lord for these Wisebabies growing a few miles away from us, and we pray that He's been listening.

Male Factor Infertility

With our egg retrieval scheduled for Wednesday, I've thought a lot over the last few days about our infertility. It's male factor, which is a blessing and a curse.

What does our male factor infertility look like? 
Well, Wisehubby has the double whammy of hormonal imbalance and varicocele veins.

What exactly does all of that mean? How is that a curse? 
The hormones lower his count and motility. These things are treatable in the short term with hormone therapy using Tamoxifen to lower estrogen production. Unfortunately, this is not a great long term solution as fertility treatment is not covered by insurance. Furthermore, the hormone treatments have increased how much sperm he produces and how well it swims, but we have another problem.

Wisehubby's varicocele veins super-heat his man factory. This is what gives him 0% normal morphology, our real problem. Abnormal morphology means that the sperm is misshapen and cannot penetrate the egg. Corrective surgery has only been touted as a serious option by one of three consulted medical professionals--of course, that professional was the doctor trying to sell Wisehubby the surgery. Female-centered fertility treatments are also limited for couples with such poor morphology. Cheaper alternatives like IUI and drug therapy do not address the core issue: how do you get the misshapen sperm into an egg?

Do I consider myself an infertile?
Yes. God blessed me with a sound reproductive system, but I am also bound in Christian marriage to Wisehubby. I have been given just this one person to build a family with, and we are determined to be parents. For as long as we both can remember, having a stable, happy family has been our number one goal in life. His infertility is my infertility. His sorrow is my sorrow. If I have to give myself shots everyday for weeks and undergo two separate surgeries to conceive his children, then my pain is his pain.

So, what's the blessing part of all this? 
That all sounded pretty terrible, huh? Well, male factor infertility has some of the highest success rates for IVF, especially with ICSI, a technique that involves injecting good sperm into eggs in order to bypass the morphology problems.

My uterus is young and healthy, and my ovaries have been overachieving by everyone's standards throughout this IVF cycle. My womb is going to be a happy healthy home to our embie babies, and I have a lower chance of miscarriage than if I had one or more of the issues that plague so many infertile women.

Plus, I'll never have to take birth control again. Since I hated what the hormones did to my body and libido, that is wonderful news.

High pain threshold

I've felt a little fatigued and had a few headaches since we started our IVF cycle, but I'm not entirely sold that it is the injected medicines.

Mind you, I don't particularly enjoy shooting myself up. Wisehubby has been pushing the plunger for the last couple of days to help him get up the courage to stick me. He accidentally made me bleed two nights ago by pulling the needle out crooked.

The Lupron burns when it goes in. The Follistim has given me gas--or has it been my fall diet of chili and jumbo?--and a hyper awareness of the presence of my ovaries.

I'm pretty sure that the fatigue and headaches are still within the realm of normality. I was at the ENT about potential sleep apnea because of my giant tonsils and fatigue before all of this started up. I don't have sleep apnea, so my ENT pointed out that it is probably just my idiosyncratic need for 8-9 hours of sleep at night. Head aches have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I get sinus headaches from my chronic rhinitis. I also grind my teeth pretty wildly at night, and that isn't at all helpful. I have woken up with  a headache about 2/3 days for my entire adult life.

What has changed is my ability to take my favorite regime of OTC meds. I know that many of you have heard me harp on this, but giving up Pregnancy Class C drugs has been a battle for me. All that is left in my arsenal is Zyrtec, my antihistamine. I've given up Sudafed, my decongestant; Mucinex, which loosens my mucus; and Ibuprofen, which reduces swelling and kills pain.

This has all been a challenge, but I haven't felt too bad. Wisehubby gave me a piggy back ride to cheer me up the other night. At Walmart last night, I even ran when I returned my shopping cart because it was cold. I'm feeling fairly normal, despite the fact I can feel my ovaries.

My high pain threshold has probably come from years of frequent dislocations of my kneecaps and joint pain. After you knee cap ends up in your thigh, you take uterine cramps like a champ. Another explanation may be that our infertility is 100% male factor. I'm very blessed to be doing this without endo or PCOS like so many of my infertile Tweeps.

I guess that I will have to wait and see before claiming that I am above all of the pain that most women claim during their IVF cycles. Until then, wish me luck!

Counting my blessings

I'm on the brink of starting injections of Follistim that will stimulate my ovaries to grow follicles for retrieval. IVF is about to get very real, and there is a chance that I'm about to go out of my mind from the hormones in the meds. Just in case, I am going to write about counting my blessings before it it's too late.

Wisemom had me over for a final glass of wine and a long talk a few weeks ago before I started my meds cycle. She presented me with a little purse-sized notebook and pen in a handy carrying bag. Inside was a lovely letter asking me to count my blessings during the trying times that were before me. She started each page of the notebook off with a way in which I had blessed her life. I bawled like a baby, and it was one of the happiest moments that I've had in a long time. Wisemom said that I could lean on her words when I was tired and crabby, even if I couldn't think of blessings of my own.

I've tried to add at least one blessing each day. Today, I even sat down and listed my closest friends and the ways that they have enriched my life. One girlfriend, in particular, made a point of asking me if I was doing ok yesterday; she had noticed that I had been blue the last several times she had seen me. It surprised me pleasantly that she cared enough to notice that, especially since I try very hard to put on a happy face.

Anyway, I write this to encourage anyone else who is struggling with infertility or other disappointments to try to do the same. The blessings don't cancel out my problems and struggles. Counting them just makes it a little bit easier to see beyond my uterus.

Things I thought I'd never do...

Today, I was filling in my dear mother-in-law about our IVF cycle. She's been super supportive, and has shared with me her struggles with a tubular pregnancy and TTC Wisehubby and his baby sister. I was telling her about the meds when my dear father-in-law came in. I kept talking because I feel comfortable with them, and it is such an important part of my coping process to talk about what I am going through with multiple people--it helps me unload my stress.

"I couldn't do it," he says in reference to self-administering shots.

I replied something along the lines of, "It's really not too bad," but I wish that I had said this:

There are a lot of things in my life I thought I couldn't or wouldn't do--some of them insignificant and some of them terrifying. I've ended up doing a lot of them anyway.

When I was a kid, I thought that I couldn't ride a roller coaster that went upside down. Wisemom drug me onto the Shockwave when I was in the sixth grade; she didn't want to be stuck constantly waiting at the bottom of the ride with me. I cried--nay--I wailed all of the way up the climb hill and down the first drop. I started laughing in an uncontrollable giddy frenzy part way through the first loop. Wow, it was actually fun to ride these roller coasters that had scared the tar out of me. Now, I drag Wisehubby on roller coasters that have him using words that are normally not in his vocabulary. The new Texas Giant caused him to attempt to become one with his seat with the death grip to end all death grips.

I write about this not to compare shots to roller coasters. No, I don't particularly enjoy giving myself the shots that I thought I couldn't give myself when I used to watch my diabetic grandfather stick himself on a regular basis.

Life is the roller coaster in this clumsily drawn metaphor--what can I say? The IVF meds make me sleepy. There are thrilling ups and terrifying downs. Sometimes, your world will go topsy-turvy. In the end, the attitude that you have about it will determine your ability to see the pleasure in your life.


Hopefully, when the loops are thrown in your way, you have a supporter like Wisemom forcing you to keep going and a partner like Wisehubby riding next to you, for better or for worse.