Miscarriage is a terrible thing. It doesn't respect your hopes and dreams. It doesn't respect your right to grieve.
Even if you're very open about your miscarriage, which I have been, there is no space for your grief in our society. My friends and family have been enormously supportive, and they have and will continue to hold me up, but it's still never going to be enough.
You see, our fetus, who never stood a chance at becoming a baby scientifically speaking, had two possible names. A due date. A nursery theme. A mother and a father and a big brother. A whole life to live.
Just because I know intellectually that with no heartbeat, this fetus would never amount to more than a tiny cluster of tissue and a few weeks of mild morning sickness and food cravings, that doesn't change the fact that, for one month, I was pregnant. I dreamed about my baby, made plans for him or her. Prayed for him or her to grow big and strong and become a beloved child of God. I bought maternity clothes and fantasized about getting round. I thought about purchasing a new breast pump through insurance, and whether or not we should spend money doing at 12 week NT scan, since it wasn't covered on our insurance. I started to plan my maternity leave and who would be my long-term substitute.
Now, I'm bleeding. I know it's the end. There is no more hope for those dreams.
What do I have to show for it? 10 pounds and a heart full of grief.
How do I get to say goodbye? By disposing of my dreams, one way or another. Take your pick: The baby and all of that hope will likely either be flushed down a toilet or thrown in the trash, waded up in a sanitary napkin. I likely won't even know when to say goodbye.
That is miscarriage.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Monday, September 29, 2014
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Weeks 1-2
Most people don't know that they're pregnant until they've hit week 5 or 6 or sometimes even much later. Really, only couples undergoing fertility treatments get to know and live weeks 1-2, since week one technically starts with the first day of your menses. Even crazier, IVFers can start the process at -2 (yes, NEGATIVE two) weeks or earlier depending on their protocols.
For me, this time, I started on day 2, week 1 with estradiol pills (estrogen to make a happy home) and lovenox (blood thinner to make sure the estrogen doesn't kill me or the embryo). Medically speaking, t's a lot less intense than rounds 1 and 2 of IVF that we've been through. Now that we've got a toddler? It's a whole different ball game.
Today was good, but yesterday? Oh goodness. There are no words for yesterday. Ok, there are some words for yesterday, but they're not really for polite company.
Hopped up on estrogen, I've been moody, confrontational, petulant, and extremely tired, which doesn't help with the first three. Two nights ago, Wisehubby and I had a wicked fight, but I realized that I was being pretty irrational, so I reined it in, called Wisesister, wrote down my promises for what I could do to improve the situation, and spoke calmly with him, eventually resolving the fight. Needless to say, I didn't get to bed exactly on time, and I had a hard time sleeping.
The next morning, instead of sleeping until about 7, which is typically for our son, the little guy (1 yo, mind you) woke up at 5. AM. Holy. Hell. You expect it when they're newborn, but mommies always say, "Don't worry! This won't last forever." Yes, 1 year of sleep depravation isn't literally forever, but it feels like it, for sure. On top of that, he's recently decided that being a toddler means that he is going to cry because things aren't going his way. A lot. That website, Reasons My Son is Crying, suddenly seems relatable instead of funny or cruel.
So, I had a meltdown--a throw the kid in the car and drive to the nearest mall to power walk your feelings into submission meltdown. I called Wisehubby at work to let him know I was spiraling out of control because I was tired and I was hormonal and I had forgotten to take my lovenox injection and I couldn't find the garage door opener and... and... and... Geez, there was a laundry list of other problems that I can't even remember now.
It was bad enough that he suggested I drop the kid off to be watched by my dad, who is currently being a bachelor for the first time while my mom is out of town. That wasn't a bad idea, but my crazy hormonal brain wouldn't give in. I knew I could conquer this by myself, well, and with the help of a little bit of fear of public shaming. "Get it together!" I thought, "There's no crying in mall walking!"
After a 3 mile walk through the mall and a stop at Chick Fil A for some comfort food for me and the babe, I managed to get him home for what was surely the world's shortest afternoon nap for two such exhausted souls. The nap and the walk were enough though, and we took the rest of the afternoon to play just the two of us. He pulled all of his books off of his book shelf, we watched Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, we filled the water table and kiddie pool, we took the dog on a walk, and we even went swimming with the dog our pool. Daddy brought home some take out, and I'd officially survived the worst day of all of my infertility treatments.
What's the moral to this tale? Even if the FET is supposed to be easier, being infertile and being a parent is something completely crazy. You're so grateful for what you have, yet that gratitude can make you less willing to admit when you are having a hard time. Once you do have a baby, the appointments and procedures and hormones are met with less ceremony and less support than the last time. I've done most of the procedures by myself, and Wisehubby hasn't helped me through a single injection. It's not that he doesn't care, because he does, but that he has someone else that he has to care for more--our son. Instead of taking in all of the crazy hormones and thinking promisingly about how they were going to change my life, I'm just so freaking tired. So tired. Please, please, baby sleep tired.
Would I change a thing? No. Stick me, prick me, hop me up on hormones. Give me a shot at a second baby and another year of my life lost to the beautiful delirium of sleepless nights and parenthood.
For me, this time, I started on day 2, week 1 with estradiol pills (estrogen to make a happy home) and lovenox (blood thinner to make sure the estrogen doesn't kill me or the embryo). Medically speaking, t's a lot less intense than rounds 1 and 2 of IVF that we've been through. Now that we've got a toddler? It's a whole different ball game.
Today was good, but yesterday? Oh goodness. There are no words for yesterday. Ok, there are some words for yesterday, but they're not really for polite company.
Hopped up on estrogen, I've been moody, confrontational, petulant, and extremely tired, which doesn't help with the first three. Two nights ago, Wisehubby and I had a wicked fight, but I realized that I was being pretty irrational, so I reined it in, called Wisesister, wrote down my promises for what I could do to improve the situation, and spoke calmly with him, eventually resolving the fight. Needless to say, I didn't get to bed exactly on time, and I had a hard time sleeping.
The next morning, instead of sleeping until about 7, which is typically for our son, the little guy (1 yo, mind you) woke up at 5. AM. Holy. Hell. You expect it when they're newborn, but mommies always say, "Don't worry! This won't last forever." Yes, 1 year of sleep depravation isn't literally forever, but it feels like it, for sure. On top of that, he's recently decided that being a toddler means that he is going to cry because things aren't going his way. A lot. That website, Reasons My Son is Crying, suddenly seems relatable instead of funny or cruel.
So, I had a meltdown--a throw the kid in the car and drive to the nearest mall to power walk your feelings into submission meltdown. I called Wisehubby at work to let him know I was spiraling out of control because I was tired and I was hormonal and I had forgotten to take my lovenox injection and I couldn't find the garage door opener and... and... and... Geez, there was a laundry list of other problems that I can't even remember now.
It was bad enough that he suggested I drop the kid off to be watched by my dad, who is currently being a bachelor for the first time while my mom is out of town. That wasn't a bad idea, but my crazy hormonal brain wouldn't give in. I knew I could conquer this by myself, well, and with the help of a little bit of fear of public shaming. "Get it together!" I thought, "There's no crying in mall walking!"
After a 3 mile walk through the mall and a stop at Chick Fil A for some comfort food for me and the babe, I managed to get him home for what was surely the world's shortest afternoon nap for two such exhausted souls. The nap and the walk were enough though, and we took the rest of the afternoon to play just the two of us. He pulled all of his books off of his book shelf, we watched Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, we filled the water table and kiddie pool, we took the dog on a walk, and we even went swimming with the dog our pool. Daddy brought home some take out, and I'd officially survived the worst day of all of my infertility treatments.
What's the moral to this tale? Even if the FET is supposed to be easier, being infertile and being a parent is something completely crazy. You're so grateful for what you have, yet that gratitude can make you less willing to admit when you are having a hard time. Once you do have a baby, the appointments and procedures and hormones are met with less ceremony and less support than the last time. I've done most of the procedures by myself, and Wisehubby hasn't helped me through a single injection. It's not that he doesn't care, because he does, but that he has someone else that he has to care for more--our son. Instead of taking in all of the crazy hormones and thinking promisingly about how they were going to change my life, I'm just so freaking tired. So tired. Please, please, baby sleep tired.
Would I change a thing? No. Stick me, prick me, hop me up on hormones. Give me a shot at a second baby and another year of my life lost to the beautiful delirium of sleepless nights and parenthood.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
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.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Clear for take off
In the last week I've had an FSH blood test and a hysteroscopy to make sure that I'm not suffering from any new complications since it has been a long time since I've done a work-up. I got the call last week that my hormones are A-OK, and today I got to see for myself that that my uterus is looking pretty during the hysteroscopy. What's next? Just a follow-up/planning session, a med order, and a period. Then, frozen embryo transfer, here we come!
The hysteroscopy is something that a lot of people dislike. I would put it on par with having a pap smear. The speculum is very uncomfortable, but it was removed as soon as the scope was in place. After that, you can just watch the monitor in amazement as your doctor points out the pin point holes that are your tubes. It's pretty cool. A little leakage and very mild cramping are the only side effects.
I'm feeling pretty stressed out right now, which I think is a combination of a lot of factors. A good friend of mine is going through a divorce, Wisebaby is turning one and getting ear tubes, we are getting our windows replaced and they keep pushing back the date, and then there is the make or break feeling of unfreezing our one and only embryo for the transfer. I had a pretty big melt down yesterday when I dropped Wisebaby's smash cake and destroyed the icing job before his birthday party. My husband saved the day, again, some more, but I think it was a good indicator that I'm more stressed than I would like and that I was letting myself think. I'm going to keep doing my yoga and trying to relax because I want to be a happy, healthy body for our frozen Wisebaby.
Anyway, that isn't my most well-conceived blog post--fertility pun intended--but, then again, we all just conceive however we can!
The hysteroscopy is something that a lot of people dislike. I would put it on par with having a pap smear. The speculum is very uncomfortable, but it was removed as soon as the scope was in place. After that, you can just watch the monitor in amazement as your doctor points out the pin point holes that are your tubes. It's pretty cool. A little leakage and very mild cramping are the only side effects.
I'm feeling pretty stressed out right now, which I think is a combination of a lot of factors. A good friend of mine is going through a divorce, Wisebaby is turning one and getting ear tubes, we are getting our windows replaced and they keep pushing back the date, and then there is the make or break feeling of unfreezing our one and only embryo for the transfer. I had a pretty big melt down yesterday when I dropped Wisebaby's smash cake and destroyed the icing job before his birthday party. My husband saved the day, again, some more, but I think it was a good indicator that I'm more stressed than I would like and that I was letting myself think. I'm going to keep doing my yoga and trying to relax because I want to be a happy, healthy body for our frozen Wisebaby.
Anyway, that isn't my most well-conceived blog post--fertility pun intended--but, then again, we all just conceive however we can!
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
We figured we had one on ice.
"Hey, y'all! Good to see you! Doesn't it seem like you were just here?" asks the male Dr. B.
"It's crazy, but we're back," I reply. "We figured we had one on ice."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That was the start of our next leg of the Quest for Wisebaby journey. It was maybe a little more lighthearted than our last IVF cycle, and definitely more light-hearted than the earth shattering news that got the whole ball rolling that culminated with our first IVF cycle.
We went in yesterday to talk about doing a frozen embryo transfer, FET, with Frostie, Wisebaby's lone surviving embryo sibling. Frostie was recently dubbed "Austin Powers" by a colleague who finds the idea of an bundle of human cells lying in a freezer, cryopreserved, a little funny. It's been helping me keep things light.
Anyway, the fruits of the appointment are this:
(1) Screening tests in July
(2) Drugs and FET in August
(3) Possibly a May 2015 baby
(4) FET is indeed a fraction of the cost of IVF with ICSI ($300 for meds instead of $3000, $3000 in medical and laboratory fees instead of $12000)
(5) The male Dr. B's bedside manner is still shitty, but he still respects my OB, Dr. B, and has a great track record.
(6) They're using electronic medical records now. Cool?
(7) I'm still on the hook for Lovenox shots for blood clotting. That sucks, but what can you do?
After the appointment, Wisehubby and I went to dinner to celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary and discuss the road forward. We both feel at peace going into this FET in a way that we didn't--or maybe couldn't?--feel during our last two trips towards an embryo transfer. We know that we have just one embryo to transfer, and that our track record gives that embryo just 2 in 5 odds of turning into a pregnancy and 1 in 5 odds of turning into a live birth. Those are shitty odds, and so we must face the possibility that we're about to spend $3300 to be disappointed again.
Why are we at peace then? Well, with an amazing Wisebaby in our lives, eleven months old and charming the pants off of us each day, we can lay this one more confidently in God's hands. We can pray for the expansion of our family or for peace if it is not meant to be. We can be happy being the three Wiseman, even if we'd be so full of joy to be the four Wiseman. It would mess up our Christmas cards, but it's a small price to pay. I promise we wouldn't sign it from Austin Powers.
"It's crazy, but we're back," I reply. "We figured we had one on ice."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That was the start of our next leg of the Quest for Wisebaby journey. It was maybe a little more lighthearted than our last IVF cycle, and definitely more light-hearted than the earth shattering news that got the whole ball rolling that culminated with our first IVF cycle.
We went in yesterday to talk about doing a frozen embryo transfer, FET, with Frostie, Wisebaby's lone surviving embryo sibling. Frostie was recently dubbed "Austin Powers" by a colleague who finds the idea of an bundle of human cells lying in a freezer, cryopreserved, a little funny. It's been helping me keep things light.
Anyway, the fruits of the appointment are this:
(1) Screening tests in July
(2) Drugs and FET in August
(3) Possibly a May 2015 baby
(4) FET is indeed a fraction of the cost of IVF with ICSI ($300 for meds instead of $3000, $3000 in medical and laboratory fees instead of $12000)
(5) The male Dr. B's bedside manner is still shitty, but he still respects my OB, Dr. B, and has a great track record.
(6) They're using electronic medical records now. Cool?
(7) I'm still on the hook for Lovenox shots for blood clotting. That sucks, but what can you do?
After the appointment, Wisehubby and I went to dinner to celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary and discuss the road forward. We both feel at peace going into this FET in a way that we didn't--or maybe couldn't?--feel during our last two trips towards an embryo transfer. We know that we have just one embryo to transfer, and that our track record gives that embryo just 2 in 5 odds of turning into a pregnancy and 1 in 5 odds of turning into a live birth. Those are shitty odds, and so we must face the possibility that we're about to spend $3300 to be disappointed again.
Why are we at peace then? Well, with an amazing Wisebaby in our lives, eleven months old and charming the pants off of us each day, we can lay this one more confidently in God's hands. We can pray for the expansion of our family or for peace if it is not meant to be. We can be happy being the three Wiseman, even if we'd be so full of joy to be the four Wiseman. It would mess up our Christmas cards, but it's a small price to pay. I promise we wouldn't sign it from Austin Powers.
Friday, November 23, 2012
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:
- We didn't have any major home repairs crop up during this IVF cycle.
- I wasn't taking graduate classes.
- My new boss is very easy going, so taking personal days and getting a substitute didn't stress me out.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- Dr. B reduced my stimulation drugs down. I felt much less uncomfortable throughout the process, and we got fewer and healthier eggs.
- Wisehubby was even sweeter this time than last, which I didn't think was possible.
- 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!
- 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.
- 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.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
It burns like hell
It burns as bad or
worse the nurse
warns, matter-of-fact.
Where am I supposed to
put four shots a day?
My already inky belly?
The fleshy bit of
my thigh.
Every night,
Every morning
he watches as I
stick myself.
It burns like hell.
worse the nurse
warns, matter-of-fact.
Where am I supposed to
put four shots a day?
My already inky belly?
The fleshy bit of
my thigh.
Every night,
Every morning
he watches as I
stick myself.
It burns like hell.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
IVF Playlist
I've got a new playlist for this IVF cycle, so I thought I'd take you through it a bit so you can get a glimpse into Wisehubby's and my head space, as well as our sense of humor.
The first part is an ode to the money woes.
"Circumstances", Shemekia Copeland
The words say it all: Circumstances in control of my life; circumstances gonna rule me till the day I die.
"Billionare", Glee Cast Version
Proof that I'm a nerd: I don't even know who originally sang this song, nor do I care to find out. Why? Oh, I want to be a billionaire so freaking bad, buy all of the things I never had.
"Bills, Bills, Bills", Destiny's Child
I kind of want to shout this at the male Dr. B sometimes: Can you pay my bills? Can you pay my telephone bills? Can you pay my automo'bills? Then maybe we can chill. I don't think you do, so you and me are through.
OK, here comes my fucked up section. Enjoy the cray-cray!
The first part is an ode to the money woes.
"Circumstances", Shemekia Copeland
The words say it all: Circumstances in control of my life; circumstances gonna rule me till the day I die.
"Billionare", Glee Cast Version
Proof that I'm a nerd: I don't even know who originally sang this song, nor do I care to find out. Why? Oh, I want to be a billionaire so freaking bad, buy all of the things I never had.
"Bills, Bills, Bills", Destiny's Child
I kind of want to shout this at the male Dr. B sometimes: Can you pay my bills? Can you pay my telephone bills? Can you pay my automo'bills? Then maybe we can chill. I don't think you do, so you and me are through.
OK, here comes my fucked up section. Enjoy the cray-cray!
"Bitch Went Nuts", Ben Folds
Oh, the bitch went nuts, but everyone thought she might, oh holy fucking shit. It's the stress that makes me crazy, not the drugs. I am prone to crazy ass mood swings, even when I'm not on the hormone therapy yet. Explain that one to me!
"Artificial Nocturne", Metric
Oh, the bitch went nuts, but everyone thought she might, oh holy fucking shit. It's the stress that makes me crazy, not the drugs. I am prone to crazy ass mood swings, even when I'm not on the hormone therapy yet. Explain that one to me!
"Artificial Nocturne", Metric
I'm as fucked up as they say. I can't fake the daytime, found an entrance to escape into the dark, got false lights for the sun. It's an artificial nocturne, an outsider's escape for a broken heart. I'm me. All that I believe, I set myself free. So take all the time you need, and let yourself be.
"Scar Tissue", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Blood loss in a bathroom stall, southern girl with a scarlet drawl. Wave good-bye to ma and pa 'cause with the birds I'll share, with the birds I'll share this lonely view. With the birds I'll share this lonely view.
Blood loss in a bathroom stall, southern girl with a scarlet drawl. Wave good-bye to ma and pa 'cause with the birds I'll share, with the birds I'll share this lonely view. With the birds I'll share this lonely view.
This southern girl actually stopped in a bathroom stall at a place called Country Burger to take a pregnancy test during her miscarriage. How fucked up is that?
"Breaking the Girl", Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Twisting and turning, your feelings are burning. You're breaking the girl. She meant you no harm. Think you're so clever..."
"Annie Wants a Baby", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Annie wants a baby now. Annie wants a baby any way she can. Missing pieces, she's got a lot of em.
Time decreases, I wish I thought of em before. Before it's time to close the store. Oh yeah. Installation,
A lonely sink of fame. Some liberation, the only seed we ever plant. I wanna help you but I can't. No, no.
"Hallelujah", Jeff Buckley
Baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know). I used to live alone before I knew you. And I've seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...
Enough wallowing, here comes the upswing! Wisesister will be so proud! Also, can you tell that my favorite band of all time is Red Hot Chili Peppers? Weird, right?
"Factory of Faith", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Be my wife, I think you right that we should mate. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. Late last night, I had a dream that it was great. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. I got a factory of... Faith. And love.
"Let Go", Frou Frou
I tried so very hard not to lose it. I came up with a million excuses. I thought I thought of every possibility.
And I know someday that it'll all turn out. You'll make me work so we can work to work it out. And promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get. I just haven't met you yet.
I might have to wait. I'll never give up. I guess it's half timing, And the other half's luck. Wherever you are. Whenever it's right. You'll come out of nowhere and into my life.
And I know that we can be so amazing. And baby your love is gonna change me. And now I can see every possibility...
They say all's fair in love and war, but I won't need to fight it. We'll get it right and, we'll be united...
I just haven't met you yet. Ohh, promise you, kid, to give so much than I get. (I said love, love, love, love...) I just haven't met you yet.
How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles, many the miles. How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles. But send me the miles, and I'll be happy to.
No wonder your heart feels it's flying. Your head feels it's spinning. Each happy ending's a brand new beginning. Let yourself be enchanted, you just might break through to ever ever after...
"Breaking the Girl", Red Hot Chili Peppers
"Twisting and turning, your feelings are burning. You're breaking the girl. She meant you no harm. Think you're so clever..."
"Annie Wants a Baby", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Annie wants a baby now. Annie wants a baby any way she can. Missing pieces, she's got a lot of em.
Time decreases, I wish I thought of em before. Before it's time to close the store. Oh yeah. Installation,
A lonely sink of fame. Some liberation, the only seed we ever plant. I wanna help you but I can't. No, no.
"Hallelujah", Jeff Buckley
Baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know). I used to live alone before I knew you. And I've seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...
Enough wallowing, here comes the upswing! Wisesister will be so proud! Also, can you tell that my favorite band of all time is Red Hot Chili Peppers? Weird, right?
"Factory of Faith", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Be my wife, I think you right that we should mate. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. Late last night, I had a dream that it was great. Tell your friends, I got a factory of faith. I got a factory of... Faith. And love.
"Let Go", Frou Frou
So let go. Jump in. Oh well whatcha waiting for? It's all right 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.
"When We All Get to Heaven", Brad Paisley
Let us then be true and faithful, trusting, serving every day; Just one glimpse of Him in glory will the toils of life repay.
"View from Heaven", Yellowcard
"When We All Get to Heaven", Brad Paisley
Let us then be true and faithful, trusting, serving every day; Just one glimpse of Him in glory will the toils of life repay.
"View from Heaven", Yellowcard
And I'm sure the view from heaven beats the hell out of mine here. And if we all believe in heaven, maybe we'll make it through one more year down here.
"Way Back into Love", Hugh Grant and Haley Bennett
All I wanna do is find a way back into love, I can't make it through without a way back into love, and if I open my heart to you, I'm hoping you'll show me what to do, and if you help me to start again, you know that I'll be there for you in the end!
"Book of Love", Peter Gabriel
The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago. It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes and things we're all too young to know. But I love it when you give me things, and you, you ought to give me wedding rings.
"Such Great Heights", Iron and Wine
They will see us waving from such great heights, 'come down now,' they'll say. But everything looks perfect from far away. 'Come down now,' but we'll stay...
"Broken Road", Rascal Flatts
Now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms. This much I know is true: That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.
"In the Waiting Line", Zero 7
Wasting my time in the waiting line. Do you believe in what you see? Nine to five, living lies, everyday, stealing time.
"Haven't Met You Yet", Michael Buble
I'm not surprised. Not everything lasts. I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track. Talk myself in. I talk myself out. I get all worked up, then I let myself down.I tried so very hard not to lose it. I came up with a million excuses. I thought I thought of every possibility.
And I know someday that it'll all turn out. You'll make me work so we can work to work it out. And promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get. I just haven't met you yet.
I might have to wait. I'll never give up. I guess it's half timing, And the other half's luck. Wherever you are. Whenever it's right. You'll come out of nowhere and into my life.
And I know that we can be so amazing. And baby your love is gonna change me. And now I can see every possibility...
They say all's fair in love and war, but I won't need to fight it. We'll get it right and, we'll be united...
I just haven't met you yet. Ohh, promise you, kid, to give so much than I get. (I said love, love, love, love...) I just haven't met you yet.
I just haven't met you yet.
"Many the Miles", Sara Barielles
Red letter day and I'm in a blue mood, wishing that blue would just carry me away. I've been talking to God. Don't know if it's helping or not, but surely something has got to got to got to give 'cause I can't keep waiting to live.How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles, many the miles. How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles. But send me the miles, and I'll be happy to.
"Happiness Loves Company", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Make time for love and your happiness. The mothers of invention are the best. We all learn and struggle with some loneliness. A tender mess for everyone I guess.
"God Put a Smile on your Face", Coldplay
Where do we go? Nobody knows. Don't ever say you're on your way down when God gave you style and gave you grace and put a smile upon your face.
"Dog Days are Over", Florence and the Machine
The dog days are over. The dog days are done. The horses are coming, so you better run.
"Ever Ever After", Carrie Underwood
Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true. Deep down inside we want to believe they still do. And a secret is taught, it's our favorite part of the story. Let's just admit we all want to make it to ever ever after.
Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true. Deep down inside we want to believe they still do. And a secret is taught, it's our favorite part of the story. Let's just admit we all want to make it to ever ever after.
Starting your fashion, wear your heart on your sleeve. Sometimes you reach what's real just by making believe, unafraid, unashamed. There is joy to be claimed in this world. You even might wind up being glad to be you... Though the world will tell you it's not smart... The world can be yours if you let your heart believe in ever after.
No wonder your heart feels it's flying. Your head feels it's spinning. Each happy ending's a brand new beginning. Let yourself be enchanted, you just might break through to ever ever after...
"Dance, Dance, Dance", Red Hot Chili Peppers
Dance, dance, dance, dance! All night long, yes all night long! Dance, dance, dance, dance! We got strong, yes we got strong!
"What I am", will.i.am and the Sesame Street monsters
If what I am is what's in me, then I'll stay strong; that's who I'll be, and I will always be the best"me" that I can be. There's only one me, I am it. Have a dream, I'll follow it. It's up to me to try. Oh! I'm a keep my head up high, keep on reaching high! Never gonna quit! I'll be getting stronger. And nothing's gonna bring me down! (no!) Never gonna stop, gotta go. Because I know, I'll keep getting stronger.
"Damn Girl", Justin Timberlake
That's got me saying, "Damn girl, you're so fine!"Wednesday, September 5, 2012
What's the plan, Stan?
Yesterday we had our final meeting of Dr. B(alls). Wisehubby will continue to go to him to be monitored for his hormone therapy, but we have beaten down the limited doors available to us on the male fertility end. Dr B(alls) admitted that although so many things have improved for Wisehubby--his ratio of estrogen to testosterone, count, motility, density--the morphology issue is likely to remain a permanent one, even with an otherwise mostly successful varicocele repair. He says that Wisehubby's case still indicates IVF with ICSI, and referred us back to our reproductive endocrinologist (RE).
I think Wisehubby is still disappointed that he went through so much pain and suffering, and we are still in the same place we were a year ago. I get the sense that he sees this as his problem that I must pay for with my body undergoing harsh procedures. Of course, that's not how I see the whole thing--it's OUR problem that we must work towards fixing through every possible treatment--but my opinion is neither here nor there.
Wisehubby is dreading the return of the twice daily sticks and frequent transvaginal ultrasounds because he loves me dearly and would gladly go through varicocele repair again if meant that he could spare me the pain and discomfort. Fortunately, after eight years together, I love him more deeply than ever, so I am down right eager for the twice daily sticks and frequent transvaginal ultrasounds because I know that the pain and discomfort is something that I can do to help us both achieve our dream of a family of three (or maybe even more!).
That brings me to today, where we met with our RE, the male Dr. B, to plan for our second IVF cycle. He remembered that we're both teachers, and made a point to honor our time and financial limitations in the creation of our plan. He spent time carefully reviewing the spreadsheet of medicine that Wisehubby had compiled so as to not spend money on unnecessary prescriptions; he "donated" some progesterone gel to us. We felt better about his bedside manner this time around, but maybe we're just used to his gruff, matter-of-fact nature. Maybe we were just so ready for a new plan that we over looked his less pleasant features.
So, what's the plan, Stan?
Our new plan will start with a fresh mock transfer, an ultrasound procedure done with a full bladder. There was a looming threat of some sort of uterine "stretching" which I hope does not come to bear. After that, it will be a waiting game for my next menstrual cycle, where I have my blood drawn for my FSH levels and then start on birth control to regulate my strangely short periods, and blood thinners to protect me from blood clots from my Factor V disorder. About three weeks later, I will start lupron to prevent ovulation. At the onset of my second menstrual cycle from now, I will stop birth control and start two different daily stimulation injections. We're going lower and slower with the dosing this time to avoid the hyper stimulation that lead to the removal of many immature eggs that did not lead to good, healthy embryos. After about ten days of stimulation, I will stop the lupron and blood thinners, and take one shot to trigger egg maturation. 36 hours later, the male Dr. B will remove about 15 eggs (the sweet spot amount) for fertilization in the lab, via needle. At that time, I'll start back on the blood thinners and add vaginal progesterone gel to my regimen--no progesterone in oil this time! Huzzah! Hopefully, about a week and a half later, a blood test will confirm that I am pregnant, and we will begin to plan for a pregnancy and then for a baby.
Did you follow all of that? Can you keep track? No? Honestly, I'm impressed that I can follow it myself.
My suggestion? Stay tuned to my Twitter and blog for updates as we go! If I've learned anything, it is that our quest for Wisebaby is full of twists, turns, and surprises. Let's just hope that this fall, we don't have our house coming down on top of us!
I think Wisehubby is still disappointed that he went through so much pain and suffering, and we are still in the same place we were a year ago. I get the sense that he sees this as his problem that I must pay for with my body undergoing harsh procedures. Of course, that's not how I see the whole thing--it's OUR problem that we must work towards fixing through every possible treatment--but my opinion is neither here nor there.
Wisehubby is dreading the return of the twice daily sticks and frequent transvaginal ultrasounds because he loves me dearly and would gladly go through varicocele repair again if meant that he could spare me the pain and discomfort. Fortunately, after eight years together, I love him more deeply than ever, so I am down right eager for the twice daily sticks and frequent transvaginal ultrasounds because I know that the pain and discomfort is something that I can do to help us both achieve our dream of a family of three (or maybe even more!).
That brings me to today, where we met with our RE, the male Dr. B, to plan for our second IVF cycle. He remembered that we're both teachers, and made a point to honor our time and financial limitations in the creation of our plan. He spent time carefully reviewing the spreadsheet of medicine that Wisehubby had compiled so as to not spend money on unnecessary prescriptions; he "donated" some progesterone gel to us. We felt better about his bedside manner this time around, but maybe we're just used to his gruff, matter-of-fact nature. Maybe we were just so ready for a new plan that we over looked his less pleasant features.
So, what's the plan, Stan?
Our new plan will start with a fresh mock transfer, an ultrasound procedure done with a full bladder. There was a looming threat of some sort of uterine "stretching" which I hope does not come to bear. After that, it will be a waiting game for my next menstrual cycle, where I have my blood drawn for my FSH levels and then start on birth control to regulate my strangely short periods, and blood thinners to protect me from blood clots from my Factor V disorder. About three weeks later, I will start lupron to prevent ovulation. At the onset of my second menstrual cycle from now, I will stop birth control and start two different daily stimulation injections. We're going lower and slower with the dosing this time to avoid the hyper stimulation that lead to the removal of many immature eggs that did not lead to good, healthy embryos. After about ten days of stimulation, I will stop the lupron and blood thinners, and take one shot to trigger egg maturation. 36 hours later, the male Dr. B will remove about 15 eggs (the sweet spot amount) for fertilization in the lab, via needle. At that time, I'll start back on the blood thinners and add vaginal progesterone gel to my regimen--no progesterone in oil this time! Huzzah! Hopefully, about a week and a half later, a blood test will confirm that I am pregnant, and we will begin to plan for a pregnancy and then for a baby.
Did you follow all of that? Can you keep track? No? Honestly, I'm impressed that I can follow it myself.
My suggestion? Stay tuned to my Twitter and blog for updates as we go! If I've learned anything, it is that our quest for Wisebaby is full of twists, turns, and surprises. Let's just hope that this fall, we don't have our house coming down on top of us!
Thursday, August 9, 2012
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!
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!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Well, balls!
I'm not going to get into major specifics here because I'm pretty sure Wisehubby would kill me for talking too graphically about his reproductive organs. Plus, I'd have to kill you, dear reader, if I knew you were spending too much time thinking about Wisehubby's reproductive parts.
As vaguely as an over-sharer like me can be, here is the story: his surgery went textbook perfectly on one side, and left things looking a wee bit abnormal on the other. His urologist brought him back in early for a follow-up and swears that the functionality should be fine. There may be ways to correct the abnormality in the future, if nature doesn't right itself.
I know that almost every time I post I use the expression "it's been tough", but I mean it this time. Wisehubby has been my rock and source of comfort through everything, but I've been struggling to do that for him. The first couple of days post-surgery, Wisehubby was sore and drugged and lying flat on his back, so that was pretty easy. I brought him ice, gave him medicine, cooked him dinner, and even learned to mow the lawn. Since he started being more mobile, it's been harder to baby him and keep him from comforting me.
I know Wisehubby doesn't like being made a fuss of, but he does deserve to be treated that way. I learned to love aggressively from my family, and I am so grateful that they have supported me in loving him aggressively both this week and during our entire marriage. Wisesister called a couple of times a day, just to check in, since she couldn't make the drive out to see Wisehubby. My parents didn't ask if they could bring lunch; instead, they asked, "What would you like us to bring over for lunch?"
So, my family, his family, our friends, and I fought the good fight this week, but I don't think it's made much of a difference. Wisehubby has had a long string of bad news related to his manhood, and it is starting to take a major toll. First, he's got weird-shaped sperm. Then, his hormone levels are off and he has low count, too. Then, he's told that IVF with ICSI will overcome our problems, but none of our 22 fertilized eggs survive either in the womb or for freezing. Finally, his urologist offers the panacea of varicocele repair, a painful surgery that will supposedly improve many of these issues and the health of embryos in the early stages of growth. Of course, you know how that works out.
What's hurting Wisehubby isn't the longer than anticipated incisions, or his swollen and bruised man-parts, or even the sore throat that he developed because of intubation. What's hurting him is that he feels like he's failing. He longs for a family; you can see it in the way he plays with our niece and our friends' children. He knows how much I long for a family; he's never been able to say no or disappoint me. He knows how much our families long for Wisebaby; he wants our children to grow up surrounded by love. He knows how much our friends ache to see our desires fulfilled; they talk about the day that we have prayed for for so long. So, yeah, he's not just disappointing himself or me, but a whole slew of people that he would do anything for.
So, we'll just have to keep trying to love Wisehubby aggressively as he deals with another set-back. Well, we can also make a few good ball jokes along the way; he seems to like those.
As vaguely as an over-sharer like me can be, here is the story: his surgery went textbook perfectly on one side, and left things looking a wee bit abnormal on the other. His urologist brought him back in early for a follow-up and swears that the functionality should be fine. There may be ways to correct the abnormality in the future, if nature doesn't right itself.
I know that almost every time I post I use the expression "it's been tough", but I mean it this time. Wisehubby has been my rock and source of comfort through everything, but I've been struggling to do that for him. The first couple of days post-surgery, Wisehubby was sore and drugged and lying flat on his back, so that was pretty easy. I brought him ice, gave him medicine, cooked him dinner, and even learned to mow the lawn. Since he started being more mobile, it's been harder to baby him and keep him from comforting me.
I know Wisehubby doesn't like being made a fuss of, but he does deserve to be treated that way. I learned to love aggressively from my family, and I am so grateful that they have supported me in loving him aggressively both this week and during our entire marriage. Wisesister called a couple of times a day, just to check in, since she couldn't make the drive out to see Wisehubby. My parents didn't ask if they could bring lunch; instead, they asked, "What would you like us to bring over for lunch?"
So, my family, his family, our friends, and I fought the good fight this week, but I don't think it's made much of a difference. Wisehubby has had a long string of bad news related to his manhood, and it is starting to take a major toll. First, he's got weird-shaped sperm. Then, his hormone levels are off and he has low count, too. Then, he's told that IVF with ICSI will overcome our problems, but none of our 22 fertilized eggs survive either in the womb or for freezing. Finally, his urologist offers the panacea of varicocele repair, a painful surgery that will supposedly improve many of these issues and the health of embryos in the early stages of growth. Of course, you know how that works out.
What's hurting Wisehubby isn't the longer than anticipated incisions, or his swollen and bruised man-parts, or even the sore throat that he developed because of intubation. What's hurting him is that he feels like he's failing. He longs for a family; you can see it in the way he plays with our niece and our friends' children. He knows how much I long for a family; he's never been able to say no or disappoint me. He knows how much our families long for Wisebaby; he wants our children to grow up surrounded by love. He knows how much our friends ache to see our desires fulfilled; they talk about the day that we have prayed for for so long. So, yeah, he's not just disappointing himself or me, but a whole slew of people that he would do anything for.
So, we'll just have to keep trying to love Wisehubby aggressively as he deals with another set-back. Well, we can also make a few good ball jokes along the way; he seems to like those.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A quake and its aftershock
I've got family and friends who live in Oklahoma, and so I have been keeping an eye on the earthquakes they've been having there this week. That entire state is going through mother nature's sick, twisted games.
Last weekend, they had a freeze, earthquakes, and tornadoes all in the matter of three days. This is in a state that never quite recovers from the last devastating fire/drought/ices storm/tornado/hottest summer on record before mother nature unleashes the next surprise. The earthquakes are definitely the shit sprinkles on top of their shit cupcake of natural disasters.
My life has been a lot like Oklahoma in the last year since our miscarriage, and I keep thinking that I'm going to catch a break just around the next corner. I was practically perky during my IVF cycle, which I don't think is a normal emotional response to being constantly prodded in your uterus, stuck with needles, and pumped full of hormones. My positive attitude was a direct result of thinking that I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Instead, we had another earthquake yesterday morning. On my potty run in between Student Council and first period, I noticed that I had started bleeding; my world was shaken apart. It turned out to just be spotting, but, combined with three big, fat negatives (BFN) on home pregnancy tests, I knew that my hope was unfounded. This was not going to be a happy ending. Our Wise-embies didn't take hold in my uterus. Our family is going to be just two people for another year.
The aftershock came today. I had to go into my RE's for a blood test anyway, even though I knew exactly what was going on with my body. "Well, you need to complete your file. Plus, you never know," says the unhelpful nurse.
So, in between our end-of-the-day tornado drill and practice lock-down drill--what is our world coming too?--I finally heard back from the RE. Sure enough, it's a negative. My world was rocked, but just a little. I'm not even shocked.
So, I texted my support group, which grew leaps and bounds throughout the process, to let them know what was up. I arranged for Wisehubby to eat dinner with my in-laws, since I have to go to my graduate class, where I happen to be typing this blog. I found Wisehubby before I left for the day, told him the news, gave him a big hug, and left him still shaking.
What am I going to do after my earthquakes? Maybe I'll weep and cry and gnash my teeth. Maybe I'll come up with a new action plan.
Let's just hope that a tornado doesn't blow through.
Last weekend, they had a freeze, earthquakes, and tornadoes all in the matter of three days. This is in a state that never quite recovers from the last devastating fire/drought/ices storm/tornado/hottest summer on record before mother nature unleashes the next surprise. The earthquakes are definitely the shit sprinkles on top of their shit cupcake of natural disasters.
My life has been a lot like Oklahoma in the last year since our miscarriage, and I keep thinking that I'm going to catch a break just around the next corner. I was practically perky during my IVF cycle, which I don't think is a normal emotional response to being constantly prodded in your uterus, stuck with needles, and pumped full of hormones. My positive attitude was a direct result of thinking that I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Instead, we had another earthquake yesterday morning. On my potty run in between Student Council and first period, I noticed that I had started bleeding; my world was shaken apart. It turned out to just be spotting, but, combined with three big, fat negatives (BFN) on home pregnancy tests, I knew that my hope was unfounded. This was not going to be a happy ending. Our Wise-embies didn't take hold in my uterus. Our family is going to be just two people for another year.
The aftershock came today. I had to go into my RE's for a blood test anyway, even though I knew exactly what was going on with my body. "Well, you need to complete your file. Plus, you never know," says the unhelpful nurse.
So, in between our end-of-the-day tornado drill and practice lock-down drill--what is our world coming too?--I finally heard back from the RE. Sure enough, it's a negative. My world was rocked, but just a little. I'm not even shocked.
So, I texted my support group, which grew leaps and bounds throughout the process, to let them know what was up. I arranged for Wisehubby to eat dinner with my in-laws, since I have to go to my graduate class, where I happen to be typing this blog. I found Wisehubby before I left for the day, told him the news, gave him a big hug, and left him still shaking.
What am I going to do after my earthquakes? Maybe I'll weep and cry and gnash my teeth. Maybe I'll come up with a new action plan.
Let's just hope that a tornado doesn't blow through.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
The Tale of Two Wise-embies
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times; it was the time for making babies; it was the time for emptying our wallets.
On Wednesday, my half-birthday, with the help of an anesthesiologist, I took a nap while my RE used a big needle to suck thirty-three eggs out of my swollen ovaries. Meanwhile, Wisehubby braved the ubiquitous man-room of the fertility clinic.
The nurses gave my eggs and Wisehubby's man stuff to a helpful lab rat. She washed and sorted the man stuff to find the best, albeit misshapen, sperm. She used a tiny needle and a powerful microscope to inject twenty-five eggs with sperm for fertilization.
Wisehubby took me home and put me to bed, as I was sore and achy. He pampered me and worried as we waited for a phone call from the lab.
At work the next morning, in the midst of teaching precocious seventh and eighth grade students, the lab rats gave us a call. Fifteen of our embryo babies (embies) were growing, safe and warm in a Petri dish just a few miles away. We were elated, but we couldn't celebrate just yet. Work has a pesky habit of getting in the way.
On Saturday, we received a call that graded our three-day old embies, which were about eight cells big. Four of them were excellent, seven were good, two were average, and two were poor. Wisehubby and I felt relieved, what infertility overachievers our embies were proving to be!
On Monday, we went back to the fertility clinic for a transfer of two embies into their new home, my womb! The nurse gave me a Valium--a first--so that I would stay relaxed during the process. The head lab rat brought us a picture of the two best embies, our Wise-embies ready for transfer. He showed us how the one on the left was stronger than the one on the right because of a stronger outer shell of cells.
Wisehubby and I put on hair nets and our gowns for surgery over our street clothes. I laid down on the bed, and Wisehubby helped the nurses push me into the operating room. They got me all positioned and turned on a monitor for Wisehubby and I to watch the transfer live.
First, they showed us our embies in their dish, all ready to go. The bottom of our dish was labeled with our last name--thank goodness, because Wisehubby was really worried that they might give us someone else's embies. Then, they zoomed in so we could see our embies floating placidly in the dish.
The moment of truth was upon us. They switched to the ultrasound view, and inserted the speculum,
**Side note: I think is that is the WORST part of the whole IVF process. I hate speculums.*** The RE inserted a catheter, which you could watch snaking into my uterus on the screen. Apparently, my bladder was too full and pushing on my uterus, so the RE was struggling to get the catheter in position. Out went the first speculum and in went a second, BIGGER speculum. Ouch. The RE repositioned the catheter and it really was the moment of truth.
The lab rat brought in our embies and gave them to our RE. I was a little bothered that someone without an MD--he's a PhD--was allowed to see my lady bits, but the Valium and the impending transfer of my Wise-embies kept me from protesting.
We watched the grainy screen for about ten seconds, but nothing seemed to change. The RE claimed it was over and removed the catheter and the speculum. Luckily, he had the sonographer rewind and show us exactly the moment of transfer. She was right; there was a little flash at the end of the catheter. Our Wise-embies had reached their destination.
Now, all we can do is stare at our picture of our Wise-embies and think longingly about baby names until we take our first pregnancy test.
Let's just hope this Tale of Two Wise-embies ends happily with them deciding that my womb would make a good home for nine months. Then, it really will be the best of times.
On Wednesday, my half-birthday, with the help of an anesthesiologist, I took a nap while my RE used a big needle to suck thirty-three eggs out of my swollen ovaries. Meanwhile, Wisehubby braved the ubiquitous man-room of the fertility clinic.
The nurses gave my eggs and Wisehubby's man stuff to a helpful lab rat. She washed and sorted the man stuff to find the best, albeit misshapen, sperm. She used a tiny needle and a powerful microscope to inject twenty-five eggs with sperm for fertilization.
Wisehubby took me home and put me to bed, as I was sore and achy. He pampered me and worried as we waited for a phone call from the lab.
At work the next morning, in the midst of teaching precocious seventh and eighth grade students, the lab rats gave us a call. Fifteen of our embryo babies (embies) were growing, safe and warm in a Petri dish just a few miles away. We were elated, but we couldn't celebrate just yet. Work has a pesky habit of getting in the way.
On Saturday, we received a call that graded our three-day old embies, which were about eight cells big. Four of them were excellent, seven were good, two were average, and two were poor. Wisehubby and I felt relieved, what infertility overachievers our embies were proving to be!
On Monday, we went back to the fertility clinic for a transfer of two embies into their new home, my womb! The nurse gave me a Valium--a first--so that I would stay relaxed during the process. The head lab rat brought us a picture of the two best embies, our Wise-embies ready for transfer. He showed us how the one on the left was stronger than the one on the right because of a stronger outer shell of cells.
Wisehubby and I put on hair nets and our gowns for surgery over our street clothes. I laid down on the bed, and Wisehubby helped the nurses push me into the operating room. They got me all positioned and turned on a monitor for Wisehubby and I to watch the transfer live.
First, they showed us our embies in their dish, all ready to go. The bottom of our dish was labeled with our last name--thank goodness, because Wisehubby was really worried that they might give us someone else's embies. Then, they zoomed in so we could see our embies floating placidly in the dish.
The moment of truth was upon us. They switched to the ultrasound view, and inserted the speculum,
**Side note: I think is that is the WORST part of the whole IVF process. I hate speculums.*** The RE inserted a catheter, which you could watch snaking into my uterus on the screen. Apparently, my bladder was too full and pushing on my uterus, so the RE was struggling to get the catheter in position. Out went the first speculum and in went a second, BIGGER speculum. Ouch. The RE repositioned the catheter and it really was the moment of truth.
The lab rat brought in our embies and gave them to our RE. I was a little bothered that someone without an MD--he's a PhD--was allowed to see my lady bits, but the Valium and the impending transfer of my Wise-embies kept me from protesting.
We watched the grainy screen for about ten seconds, but nothing seemed to change. The RE claimed it was over and removed the catheter and the speculum. Luckily, he had the sonographer rewind and show us exactly the moment of transfer. She was right; there was a little flash at the end of the catheter. Our Wise-embies had reached their destination.
Now, all we can do is stare at our picture of our Wise-embies and think longingly about baby names until we take our first pregnancy test.
Let's just hope this Tale of Two Wise-embies ends happily with them deciding that my womb would make a good home for nine months. Then, it really will be the best of times.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, October 24, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Wisehubby, the needle-phob, part one
Wisehubby is a bit of a needle phob. He shudders at the mention of shots. He will man up and get them, but he's not going to like it. Wisehubby is also the most gentle man on earth. When we have Wisebaby, he'll be the person to refuse to pull through tangles.
These things being said, Wisehubby has the unfortunate job of giving me progesterone shots here in a few weeks after my transfer. These are the big, scary needles that must be plunged forcefully into my tokus. I have this image in my mind of him tentatively trying to poke the needle in.
What's my plan, Stan? Well, this week I am making Wisehubby watch me give myself shots. This way he can see that I'm not scared of the needles. Next week, I'm going to make him give me a couple of the baby belly shots of Lupron. The needle is smaller and the target is softer, so hopefully that will help him get over his fears. If that doesn't work, I guess that is what Wisemom is for. :-)
These things being said, Wisehubby has the unfortunate job of giving me progesterone shots here in a few weeks after my transfer. These are the big, scary needles that must be plunged forcefully into my tokus. I have this image in my mind of him tentatively trying to poke the needle in.
What's my plan, Stan? Well, this week I am making Wisehubby watch me give myself shots. This way he can see that I'm not scared of the needles. Next week, I'm going to make him give me a couple of the baby belly shots of Lupron. The needle is smaller and the target is softer, so hopefully that will help him get over his fears. If that doesn't work, I guess that is what Wisemom is for. :-)
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Cheerful Griever
11 years ago, I lost WiseBrother in to a sudden and senseless death. I struggled during my formative years to overcome the crippling grief that I was living with, but I did learn at an early age what my grieving style is. I like to think of myself as the cheerful griever.
I'm a firm believer in mind over matter. If you have an intentionally positive attitude about things, you can generally enjoy life. Life--you see--is a series of miserable problems linked together by brief moments of peace, so it is important to cling to the good stuff in order to avoid crippling depression.
Mind you, I've had a long streak of miserable problems. In 1999, my WisePapa, the grandfather who watched me everyday after school, died. 9 months later, in 2000, WiseBrother managed to take his own life--whether he meant to or not, we'll sadly never know. In 2003, WiseMom was diagnosed with kidney cancer during my first semester of college. In 2007, WiseMom was diagnosed with breast cancer during my last semester of college. In 2010, Wisehubby and I got pregnant and rejoiced for 9 glorious days. Then, I miscarried our first Wisebaby at week 6. In 2011, we discovered--after dogging our OB/GYN for answers--that Wisehubby and I weren't getting pregnant because he suffers from several male factor infertility. Oh, yeah, please throw into that mix severe knee cap dislocations and surgeries in 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2011.
Sometimes, it has been trying to stay cheerful. Sometimes, I've stayed cheerful in an artificial way that has hurt myself because of its dishonesty. I try my best to only let positive things exit my mouth about my life, because speaking something makes it so much more real. When asked, "how are you?", I generally answer using the following scale of answers: I'm alive; I'm fine; I'm ok; I'm alright; I'm good; I'm great; and I'm pumped.
If you ever hear from me "I'm alive" or "I'm fine", you should probably take some time to talk to me. If the best thing that I can say about my life is that I am alive, you can bet that I'm teetering on the brink of implosion, If the best thing that I can say about my life is fine, then I am lying to you in a major way. My life isn't fine; it feels out of control.
I'm the cheerful griever, which makes me more socially palatable. Unfortunately, it also makes mornings like this morning so much harder for my friends and family. This morning, there were thirty minutes in which I struggled to pretend. I wanted to shout at the crowd assembled about the disappointments of my life. I wanted to vent and rant and gnash my teeth. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to crawl into a corner and leave life to other people.
My friends didn't get it. They are used to cheerful Wiselady. They don't know how to react to the Wiselady that has nothing to say. Wiselady is usually so full of words. I can't even face them when I feel like that. They just let me sit by myself this morning; I don't even know if I would have liked company.
I write this to say this: Being a cheerful griever has ups and downs. You can generally improve your mood by trying to see the good in a situation. However, you're not a superhero, so you're bound to have bouts of uncontrollable depression. Unfortunately, the cheerful griever may not find the support she needs when she decides to have a melt-down--unless, of course, she calls Wisesister, and then she's got a listening ear who understands exactly what it is like to grieve when no one knows what to do.
I'm a firm believer in mind over matter. If you have an intentionally positive attitude about things, you can generally enjoy life. Life--you see--is a series of miserable problems linked together by brief moments of peace, so it is important to cling to the good stuff in order to avoid crippling depression.
Mind you, I've had a long streak of miserable problems. In 1999, my WisePapa, the grandfather who watched me everyday after school, died. 9 months later, in 2000, WiseBrother managed to take his own life--whether he meant to or not, we'll sadly never know. In 2003, WiseMom was diagnosed with kidney cancer during my first semester of college. In 2007, WiseMom was diagnosed with breast cancer during my last semester of college. In 2010, Wisehubby and I got pregnant and rejoiced for 9 glorious days. Then, I miscarried our first Wisebaby at week 6. In 2011, we discovered--after dogging our OB/GYN for answers--that Wisehubby and I weren't getting pregnant because he suffers from several male factor infertility. Oh, yeah, please throw into that mix severe knee cap dislocations and surgeries in 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2011.
Sometimes, it has been trying to stay cheerful. Sometimes, I've stayed cheerful in an artificial way that has hurt myself because of its dishonesty. I try my best to only let positive things exit my mouth about my life, because speaking something makes it so much more real. When asked, "how are you?", I generally answer using the following scale of answers: I'm alive; I'm fine; I'm ok; I'm alright; I'm good; I'm great; and I'm pumped.
If you ever hear from me "I'm alive" or "I'm fine", you should probably take some time to talk to me. If the best thing that I can say about my life is that I am alive, you can bet that I'm teetering on the brink of implosion, If the best thing that I can say about my life is fine, then I am lying to you in a major way. My life isn't fine; it feels out of control.
I'm the cheerful griever, which makes me more socially palatable. Unfortunately, it also makes mornings like this morning so much harder for my friends and family. This morning, there were thirty minutes in which I struggled to pretend. I wanted to shout at the crowd assembled about the disappointments of my life. I wanted to vent and rant and gnash my teeth. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to crawl into a corner and leave life to other people.
My friends didn't get it. They are used to cheerful Wiselady. They don't know how to react to the Wiselady that has nothing to say. Wiselady is usually so full of words. I can't even face them when I feel like that. They just let me sit by myself this morning; I don't even know if I would have liked company.
I write this to say this: Being a cheerful griever has ups and downs. You can generally improve your mood by trying to see the good in a situation. However, you're not a superhero, so you're bound to have bouts of uncontrollable depression. Unfortunately, the cheerful griever may not find the support she needs when she decides to have a melt-down--unless, of course, she calls Wisesister, and then she's got a listening ear who understands exactly what it is like to grieve when no one knows what to do.
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