Logistics

This is a super lame, boring post. If this is the future of Genuine Greavu, we're doomed. However, it took me for-ev-er to discover how to handle the following problems, and I thought, well, I should share. Sharing is good, right?

Okay, so all of you blogspot bloggers out there, this is for you: Many of you probably already have this set up, but for those who don't you may be interested to know that you can respond to comments via email. Let's say you have an awesome post that drums up lots of interest. The comments start pouring in. You'd like to respond to some (or all) of them, but you don't want to do so on the blog. Well, there is a way to respond to that individual commenter privately through email.

Let me show you what this looks like:

Okay, so my friend Allison already has this all figured out, so we will use her as an example. Allison commented on one of my posts.

Comment from Allison on the blog.

Now obviously, I can view Allison's comment on the blog. And it shows up when I log into blogger too. But I also receive all of the comments posted on the blog directly to my email. So that's step one. You do this by setting up your "Comment Notification" settings.

So all the comments on my blog are sent directly to my email. Here is where the best part comes in. I can respond directly to Allison through email. It's private and it doesn't junk up the blog feed. I don't know about you, but I NEVER click "Notify me of Further Comments". Some people receive a GAZILLION comments. I don't want to be notified every time. And I never, ever go back to see if someone responded to my comment. This prevents these problems entirely. Here's how it works:

Gmail response to Allison's comment on the blog.

Now Allison and I can go back and forth and neither of us ever have to return to the blog. But here's the thing, this only works for certain people. Why? Because unless you manually change your settings, your default email address is noreply-comment@blogger.com. See?

Okay, so how do you set all of this up? Like I said it took me forever to figure it out. Someone spent time writing about it, and I figure, "why reinvent the wheel," right? So here's a link to a great step by step tutorial of how to set this up. I know some people like anonymity on the blog, but it allows you to enter any email address. You can make one up entirely for your blog and remain anonymous.

Everybody with wordpress, you're on your own. I'm sure there is a way, but I don't know what it is. Sorry.

On a completely separate note, let's discuss what "following" does and does not do. Following means you love me. So all of you lurkers out there and real life friends go on and click that little button to the right. Show me some love. I'm not asking for a Tiffany's ring or anything, just a little commitment. I know, I know, shameless self promotion is so tacky. If you have a google account, it will allow you to stay up-to-date with the blog (and any others you may stalk) through Google Reader. I currently try to remember to post a link to the blog on Facebook with each new post, but let me tell you, this may not continue forever. If another outbreak of baby announcements occurs in which 10 zillion friends all announce pregnancies within two weeks, the Facebook account will probably get deactivated. Sorry. And I know you would be sooooooo sad to miss out on these exciting updates from the Greavu household. So do yourself a favor and follow me already!!! Following the blog will not fill your email up with spam or hack into your personal accounts. It's safe, I promise. You can also get updates via the "email option", but that doesn't show the love in quite the same way. Boo.

So, now that you're fully updated on your many blogger questions, I'm off to find something to do with myself. It looks like we have a long weekend ahead of us--full of resume building and cover letter writing for Sam! Big boy is starting to APPLY FOR JOBS!!!! Show me the money!!!!

Anomaly XB-6783746

So apparently, I'm an anomaly. No really, I'm quite unique. Kind of like him:

Michael, aka Anomaly XB-6783746
Yea, I know I'm the only person who watched season 5 of Fringe

My doctor called on Tuesday. This is the first time that an RE has actually called me, so of course, I thought I was dying. Thankfully, he's just a nice guy. One of the nurses was out of the office and he offered to call patients to give test results. At my last appointment we ran a couple more tests, and guess what? More GRAY!!!! He actually laughed and said that I'm interesting. People, that's what I call winning!!! 

So what else is gray about the Greavu's besides the aforementioned?

Let's return to the AMH debacle. You might remember that I tested WILDLY different the previous two times. 5.7 in May of 2012, and 2.54 in November. Huh??? He was hoping that it would come back close to one of those two, ruling out the other as a fluke or an error. I was simply terrified that it might have taken another nose dive. Well, don't you know, it's 4.3. He was quite frustrated as that is practically equal distance from the previous two scores… smack dab in the middle. It is however on the higher side of the AMH scale. He, of course, said that this is one more grain of sand thrown on the PCOS pile. He said that PCOS can get worse with age, so it might not have been an issue a few years ago, but that's its developing into something now. Maybe, nothing conclusive. Again. Lovely. And, despite my incessant claims that I do not have the symptoms, I'm kind of thinking it's possible. Last month my chart was a disaster and I didn't ovulate at all. This month, FertilityFriend seems to have found a possible O date, but I'm not so sure. If I did, I'm guessing my progesterone level is a 4 or something awful like that.

January 2013 BBT chart

My doctor also tested my CA-125. Don't google it, it'll scare you to death like it did me. You googled it anyway, didn't you? I tried to warn you. He wanted to see if my number gave any insight into endometriosis. He said that 34 is generally the cutoff for "no endo". My result was 39.6. Technically higher, but still significantly lower than the norm for endometriosis, which is 60-80. It seems to me like a lot of people would fall between 34 and 60… what do they do with those people? Scope them. Yep, you heard me. One week after the conversation about laparoscopy being a waste of time, we are back to debating it's usefulness. He said it is totally reasonable to believe that we could do the surgery and find NOTHING. But, he described himself looking over my chart searching for clues, and when you're "interesting" (aka difficult) little things add up. So not getting pregnant in two years, plus painful cycles, plus my CA-125 leads to a possible reason to perform the surgery.

It just never ends. The one and only good thing out of all of this is that my doctor finds me "intriguing". Now, that sounds awful. I'd love to be textbook. But since I'm not and Sam's not, well then, at least we are interesting enough to pay attention to us. We have become a problem that he has to solve, and I'm okay with that. I feel like we are a team. He's working on it, the information I give him is valuable, he's engaged, he's dedicated. He wants to solve the problem, find the answer… he wants us to succeed. 

Warding off Divorce

I feel icky just typing that word. The "d-word"... we don't say it in the Greavu household. However, several things have occurred that have gotten me thinking about it.

For one, several bloggers that I follow are going through divorce. These girls break my heart on so many levels... Infertility sucks. Period. In any and every circumstance it sucks, but when it tears apart your marriage... Well that's another whole level of suckiness entirely.

Secondly, more and more friends from my past, either college or high school, are getting divorced. Most often I see this on Facebook. I see so and so's name and think to myself, "wasn't she married?" Or "didn't she have a different name?" Only to discover that yes, the marriage has ended, the maiden name is back.

And most recently, my friend Aubrey wrote a blog about the tough times in marriage. She received some great advice from her dad on her wedding day, but it wasn't until her battles with infertility began, that she realized just how true his words were. And her words got me thinking.

Divorce isn't a giant leap, it's a slippery slope. Prevention is essential. Now, hear me when I say that there is no condemnation from me. If you are or have been divorced, I'm not judging in the least. I think I'm probably one of the only kids who prayed that her parents would get a divorce. Believe me, I see its purpose. But I also believe that a lot of good marriages end because of a lack of intention.

When we were in premarital counseling, our minister's wife shared with us something that has helped her in her marriage. She shared how you have to be on guard against divorce. Just as a garden left alone will be overrun by weeds, a marriage that is left unattended will wither and die.

She shared the 7 steps to divorce. These steps were first published by Dr. Sheila Kessler, a psychologist from Atlanta. My friend took her steps and elaborated on them. Take a look.

We all start here: Bliss.

Stages of Divorce:

1. Disillusionment

It isn’t long after we are married that the fog of infatuation begins to clear in our relationship and we begin to realize that our spouse has some faults. We may notice a tendency toward control, anger, or self-centeredness with his or her family of origin. Among the worst of faults are deficits in integrity and fidelity. Too often these issues are not addressed until they become full blown in mid-life and by then intense damage has been done. If a couple does not immediately address these issues the marriage is often headed for divorce.

2. Erosion

If the issues in stage 1 are not dealt with one or both partners will begin to lose respect for the other and intimacy will suffer. Instead of continuing to share life together each spouse tends to chart his or her individual course in life.

3. Detachment

In an effort to avoid being hurt spouses often isolate from each other. Very little communication takes place and anger and resentment sets in. Thoughts of separation come to mind.

4. Physical Separation

When separation occurs spouses often experience conflicting emotions such as relief (that the arguing has stopped) and loneliness, fear, and feeling like a failure. People who are not committed to reconciliation may prematurely by pass the grief process and immediately become involved romantically with another person.

5. Mourning & Letting Go

When divorce does indeed occur a grief process must occur that often takes 1to 2 years to complete. It is critical that this process occur before becoming romantically involved again. It is a time to mourn the loss of a partner and of the one who we assumed would be the love of our life. It is a time to accept reality and resolve sadness, anger, guilt, fear and revenge. Often this process involves one step forward and two steps back, that is, you may have to work through the stages of grief several times before emotions are healed and you can sense recovery.



6. Second Adolescence / A New Life

Here, one is able to look to the future instead of ruminating about the past. Here the goal is to have learned from the past, especially as it relates to your contributions to the failed relationship. New insight enables you to make healthier choices in your new life. Negatively, if insight has not been gained, individuals may become obsessed with finding that new life in drinking, partying, and seducing, in a desperate attempt to squelch loneliness.

7. Hard Work / Healthy Adjustment

With God’s help, time and hard work there can be abundant life after divorce.

The goal is to be wiser and stronger and operating with increased insight into God’s purpose for your life. As God leads you are ready to move on, under His direction, to a better life.

As you can see, these steps weren't intended to be a prevention method. Dr. Kessler's purpose was simply to outline the stages, sort of like the stages of grief. However, by knowing the general trend, you can be better prepared to fight for your marriage. The first step on the slippery slope is so simple. In fact, I don't think anyone even intentionally takes that first step. It's just the natural course following the wedding. 

If infertility has taught me anything, it is that my marriage needs to be in fighting condition every day. Life is going to happen, expectations will be unmet, the plans will change, and we have to be ready when dreams meet reality. For most, infertility will not be the trial. It will be something completely different, yet equally trying. But the biggest take away for me is that you never know when it's going to happen. Most married couples say vows to love each other and stay together in spite of sickness, in spite of debt or financial troubles, and in spite of the just plain bad times; however, when we say them, for most of us, all of that seems infinitely far away. Sam and I never dreamed for one second that infertility was waiting for us. We had no idea that two of our first three years would be spent in doctor's offices. We never foresaw the pain and heartache in store for us when we said "I do". None of us can see tomorrow, and that's why a strong marriage is so important. And part of that strength comes from standing guard. If you're married, lets all take a few moments to do some assessing and then go to war against the weeds that might have taken root. 

Life Crisis

I'm suddenly having a crisis. I know... we aren't cycling, we aren't planning to cycle, we have no surgeries scheduled, what could I possibly have to write about in regards to infertility? This is an understandable question, and one that I'll have to figure out soon. This blog was never intended to be an infertility blog, but it was pretty boring before all of that, I have to admit. Anyway, I digress.

Back to my crisis. I have NO idea why, but suddenly, today, I started experiencing extreme anxiety over my miscarriage. And not what you would expect. The anxiety doesn't stem from fear of another. No, I'm suddenly FREAKING out over knowing whether it even happened.

Let me pause here to present the facts. Those of you in the infertility world, pay attention; I want your opinions. Okay, so first up, here's my chart:

August 2011 BBT chart

I wasn't using OPK's, checking CM, or any of that yet. We'd only been trying for four months. Of course FertilityFriend loves multiple sources to confirm ovulation, but the dotted crosshairs aren't too unusual for me even when I have more than one. And ovulation on CD22 is not too unusual for me either. It's at the end of the spectrum, but not unheard of.

Let's move ahead to CD35, Monday. I actually felt pregnant. I was EXHAUSTED. I went home everyday that week and laid on the couch. Some nights I even went to sleep before dinner. I had no appetite. Nothing sounded appealing. I never specifically had morning sickness, it was more like all day nausea. I had made a deal with myself that I was not going to use a box of HPT's every cycle. Plus, I was starting to wonder if my brain was creating pregnancy symptoms, you know, like Mr. Schuester's ex-wife in GLEE? But I caved and tested. Now at this time I knew NOTHING about HPT's. I assumed a positive meant two dark lines. I received the world's faintest second line on a First Response Early Result (a sensitivity of 25), but assumed that meant negative. It confirmed my theory that I was going crazy and had a hysterical pregnancy just like Terri. I spoke to my mom and told her how I was feeling one evening, but that I was obviously not pregnant. I downplayed everything to her and Sam because I didn't want them to think I was crazy when my period showed up. She recommended I test again.

I waited until Wednesday, CD37 and retested that morning. A super duper faint second line showed up on a First Response test again. I thought that I was certifiably insane and swore I wasn't testing again. Thursday I felt HORRENDOUS, but I did not test. Friday, I spent the entire workday googling what an ultra faint second line meant. Everything said pregnant. I even read (from "super reliable" sources on pregnancy boards) that the amount of dye in the test varies and a darker line doesn't mean anything. A line is a line. So with unrest in my soul, butterflies in my stomach, and a smidgeon of hope in my heart, I bought Clear Blue Easy Digital (a sensitivity of 50) tests on the way home. Like a good TTCer I intended to wait for the morning. Like a normal TTCer, those tests were burning a hole through the bag. I HAD to test as soon as I got home.

PREGNANT

That's what is said. My heart stopped. It was pretty much the best night of my life.

And then the morning came. I woke up and simply had to see it again. I tested again.

Not Pregnant

I stopped breathing. I showed Sam. I ran to raid the closet for more tests. I found an Error Proof Test (a sensitivity of 25). I dipped. No doubt about it: absolutely NOTHING. I cried. Cue the worst, most stressful weekend ever. I had 48 hours before I could call my OBGYN.

Looking back, I should have called my general practitioner. The office had weekend hours. I'm sure they could have tested. But in my head, a pregnancy test required an OBGYN. So I waited 48 hours. I called the moment the doctor opened. I went to a separate lab for the blood draw by taking an early lunch. The blood was drawn at 11:30, 66 hours exactly since the positive test Friday afternoon.

My HCG was 2.1. My progesterone was .66 (is that even possible?).

Now, at the time, I knew NOTHING about what those numbers might mean. In fact, I didn't even the results. What I got was a phone call on Tuesday morning from a triage nurse (the one that took my call the day before) informing me that I was pregnant. She told me my number was low and that this could mean one of two things. 1- it was really early. I implanted late. 2- I was in jeopardy of miscarrying. She recommended that I go home to rest. The doctor called me three hours later and informed me that based on my positive HPT on Friday and my numbers now, I was, in fact, miscarrying. He was the nicest man EVER about it. He talked with me forever and listened to me sob. He told me to make note once the bleeding started and to track the bleed. If it was heavy, to call him back. Otherwise he wanted to see me on Thursday for an ultrasound and another BETA test.

He never said anything about an ultrasound that day. Every RE I've talked to since then has asked me what the ultrasound showed, but I didn't have one. I don't know what was visible, if anything.

An hour later I started spotting. By mid-afternoon it was a full flow. There were lots of clots (which I tried not to notice) but honestly, that's not super unusual for me. I've had many "normal" cycles that were clot heavy. My bleeding was never very heavy, in fact maybe even lighter than normal, it was definitely more than 50% clots. I was in pain, more so than a normal period, but not like I was dying or anything.

I went in Thursday morning for the ultrasound. The ultrasound showed nothing as far as I know. I never heard specifically what was seen, but he confirmed that I would not need a D&C. My HCG level was recorded as <1 .="" p="">
Now, here I am 14 months later, and I've never seen another positive, faint positive, imaginary positive… nothing. Tonight, I'm replaying all of the comments that my RE's have made over and over in my head:

My doctor at ACRM treated it as if it was a confirmed pregnancy and miscarriage. She marked it in my chart, based on my period date, as a 6 week pregnancy.

At my one and only appointment with Dr. Massey, he told me (as if i didn't know) that with numbers like that it wasn't called a miscarriage, but a chemical pregnancy (same thing in my book).

My current RE hypothesized that I might have had an ectopic pregnancy. He reiterated that a 2 HCG level is actually considered not pregnant. He said that within 5 days of the first faint test, using ANY HPT, I should have had "a nice dark line". The facts: that my line never got darker, my numbers were ultra low, my cycle was super long, all made him curious if it might have been ectopic. But there was no ultrasound to refer too.

Knowing what I know now, a 6 week pregnancy should have had numbers 100x what I had. Even taking into consideration the late ovulation date, it should have been MUCH higher. Was I ever pregnant?

Why am I having a crisis here? I've mourned like crazy for over a year. I've cried over that loss of life like I'd known her all my life. It would be a serious shock to the system to find that I mourned no one (am I starting to sound like Manti Te'o?)

While it would be wonderful to not have had a child die, I'm selfishly scared to death of finding this out. I know. I'm super insane. Let me try to explain. I've heard at least 100 times from Sam, my mom, friends, and doctors this phrase: "well, at least we know that you can get pregnant". I've clung to this information for months. When all seems completely lost, I tell myself it can happen again. Even when looking to IVF, I've held like a life raft onto the fact that sperm and egg have met before. I'm terrified to lose that life raft. I would have no proof that I can get pregnant. My confidence in my ability to do so would be next to nothing going forward.

So, what do you think? Was I pregnant? Was it a false positive from the digital test? What about the ultra faint lines the days before? Is it possible to have a positive HPT and then 15 hours later, a negative?  Is it possible to have a BETA high enough to show up on an HPT, yet be considered not pregnant 66 hours later? Is it possible for your BETA to drop from, worst case scenario, a 50 to 2 in three days? Am I going crazy?

Pause

Do you ever feel like your life is paused? Like the screen is frozen in the most awkward moment? You know that if you could just find the dang remote and press play you could get that awful look off your face and relax.

Ugly face moment from NBC's Do No Harm.
Poor guy, I think he's really intelligent, but he looks quite dumb here.

That's how I feel. My life is stuck on pause and I lost the remote (or Sterling ate it). I've realized lately that I've pretty much stopped living. Literally, the only thing that gets me out of the house is church on Sundays and my small group one night a week. There are soooooo many things that I want to do, but for one reason or another, I don't.

Take running for example. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago I trained for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day. The training sucked a lot. But my mom, the slave driver equivalent to Jillian Michaels had me scared out of my mind. So I trained, and I trained. I was in such good shape by the time the 3-Day actually arrived that the 60(ish) miles in 3 days was actually easier than the first 10 mile training walk. Now, I didn't lose a pound during all of that training, but Sam lost like a gazillion. It was disgusting. So, whenever we get really frustrated with ourselves, we say that we should train for something. Training = motivation. Sam always wants to run. Now, I can't run… like at all. But I figure, I couldn't walk 10 miles at first either. So running sounds ultra hard, but plausible. And then the fear sets in. What if, by some insane miracle, I got pregnant, didn't know it, and went for a run, and well, you know where this is going… What if running caused a miscarriage? I would NEVER get over it. Ever.

The same can be said for Zumba. Zumba looks fun(ish). If I had a partner in crime who was equally uncoordinated and new to Zumba, if we went out and bought new workout attire like Erika recommends, and if we stayed waaaaayyyyy in the back, then Zumba might help get rid of these extra pounds I'm carrying around. But then I think, "what if I bounced my baby loose?". See what goes on inside of this head? It's not fun, I tell you.

Then there is the financial aspect of living. The original plan was to buy a house this year. Sooner rather than later. We figure we got dealt a pretty crappy hand as far as graduating in the middle of a recession, but as far as the housing market goes… it couldn't really be better. We wanted to take advantage now, while a mortgage payment is actually less than rent, rather than miss the boat and watch home ownership sail ten years out of the picture. But that was the plan before we learned that becoming parents was going to cost us BIG bucks. I don't know how to be a home owner and a mom on the same budget. So if I have to choose, well owning a home is possible at 40, while getting this lady pregnant is probably, well, not.

And as far as posterity goes, my plan was to document our life really well with beautiful photos. I've wanted professional photos of us for over a year. I look like a moron 99% of the time in photos, but people like Chris + Allie can make just about anything beautiful. Here's proof:

Engagement photo of Sam and I in Fall of 2009.
All the credit goes to the*Reason for making me look lovely.

See what I mean? I'd love a photo session, but I keep holding out expecting to need maternity photos before too long. Plus, I feel guilty paying for photos of just us.

The pause on life is literally at all levels. When I really thought pregnancy was right around the corner, I wouldn't let myself buy any clothes because obviously I was about to have to buy a whole new wardrobe to fit my baby bump. I've slacked a bit here because everything I'm buying now is larger and therefore more likely to last into a pregnancy, but still the thoughts are there.

Sam and I planned to go on some great vacations. I thought maybe our five year anniversary would be somewhere fabulous like Hawaii or Europe. But we would need to start saving soon to pull off a trip like that sans credit cards. But lets get real, there is at least $15,000 needed before the Hawaii fund gets started, so that will probably never happen.

As far as jobs go, I delayed applying for jobs initially because I didn't want to have to deal with a new employer who wouldn't let me off for an appointment. Plus, I didn't want to have to explain what I was doing or where I was going all the time to a new boss. I figured that there weren't too many employers out there that would be very excited for a new employee who was trying super desperately to get knocked up.

I'm not happy in any way with this pause in my life. I'm so ready to move on, try new things, reach a new status in life. Of course, I'd really like to fast forward a bit, but normal speed would be much better than this stalled out, frozen thing I've got going on. As you may have surmised from the pitiful post from the other night, we are done with medically assisted trying to conceive for a while now. With that HUGE chunk of my life missing, I've got to figure out how to live again. There HAS TO BE joy in the waiting, you know?

Anybody else, fertile or infertile, ever feel like somebody pushed pause on the movie of your life? Did you ever find the remote? Are you still paused or playing away?

Throwing in the Towel

Do you ever feeling like throwing in the towel, waiving your white flag? That's what I feel like tonight. My back's against the wall. The only way forward seems to be to admit defeat. Admit that, at this stage in our lives, we can't get pregnant, naturally or with the help of modern medicine.

I HATE the thought of living child-free. It makes my stomach roll, makes my skin crawl, makes my heart break. But maybe that's just the way this cookie is going to crumble. I keep waiting for a break. Waiting for a direction. Waiting for something to confirm we are on the right path. And yet, no breaks, no direction, and no confirmation can be found. So maybe it's time to throw in the towel and admit defeat.

Infertility is beating us. Bad. We've spent all the money we had and then some. We have no insurance coverage. We have no income. We have waaaayyyy too much student loan debt to qualify for another loan, and even if we could, my husband wouldn't take it. We have no monetary donors. We have no means to pay for one more thing for infertility and it makes me sick.

I asked my doctor at yesterday's appointment about going back on Femara. It seems low risk-moderate reward for me. My ovaries aren't overstimulated like on clomid so there's little risk of cysts. It gives me a nice squishy lining and an early ovulation date. However, he doesn't recommend it. Why? Because we've been there and done that. His explanation was that we've already done two femara cycles that were textbook perfect with IUI and neither resulted in a pregnancy. Repeating Femara again if there was an improvement in sperm survivability might be worth it, but otherwise, we're just spinning our wheels. Let me get my towel ready.

I'm so tired. I feel like I've been pushing against a concrete wall for a solid 18 months (ever since the miscarriage). I've put my back into, feet sliding in the sand, and yet I haven't moved an inch. I am bruised, beaten, and broken. Infertility has chewed me up and spit me out. So is it time to wave my white flag?

Of course my immediate response is that I can't give up. If I did, I would regret it later. And I would; there's no doubt. But I can also see myself regretting how much I've given up, regretting the sacrifices to our quality of life I've made five years down the road if we're still stuck here. So maybe the best thing today is to say,"until tomorrow." Maybe in a different season of life things will look better. Maybe our bodies will be functioning more normally, maybe we will live in a state with insurance coverage for infertility, or maybe our finances will be more settled.

Maybe in the next season, we can retrieve out towel, put the white flag away and go to war against infertility. But right now, it seems futile. And I don't know if I can, nor do I want to stay in the trenches forever.

It's a Gray-View

About half of you get the pun intended title, and the other half… not so much. It's completely applicable to my follow-up appointment with my new RE yesterday, but it's also how you say my last name. Greavu=gray-view. Or at least, that's how we say it. I'm sure our fellow Romanians across the pond pronounce it slightly different.

Anyway, wit aside. Yesterday's appointment made me want to SCREAM! Don't get me wrong, I still love my doctor. He's the first doctor to come to an appointment super prepared with something to say other than, "do you have any questions?". However, if he said "you're in a gray area" one more time, I swear, I was going to lose it. Let's look at all the gray zone in our lives.

Testosterone- mine's a little high. It was 29 and 31.5 the two times it was tested. It could be a symptom of PCOS, or it could just be a slightly elevated level.

Endometriosis- I might have a mild case of endo, like stage 1 or 2. I have some of the symptoms such as pain and cramping throughout my cycle, not just during my period. But there is no visual evidence.

AMH- If you remember, my AMH has been tested twice, and it varied WILDLY, which it shouldn't. It was 5.7 in May of 2012 and 2.54 in November of 2012. It could be a botched test somewhere. It could be the difference in labs (seems extreme). Or it could be a sign that I'm going into PREMATURE OVARIAN FAILURE basically overnight. 2.54 is still a respectable number, but it's the rate of decrease that is super scary. If it drops again like before, we don't have time to save for IVF.

Tay-sachs- yep, you heard me read it. Sam and I ran a genetic screening through our current RE. It was a super awesome service that screened for the most prevalent things for our ethnicity. I'm "in the gray zone" when it comes to Tay-sachs. I might be a carrier, but they can't tell for sure. Thankfully, Sam is most definitely not.

Sperm Survivability- the sperm definitely have something going on. But what is it and how pertinent is it? Well that's not clear. The diminished survivability might be the reason for the failed IUI's, but it might be something else entirely.

So basically NOTHING is definitive other than this: We're still not pregnant. Oh my FREAKING gosh! I sure am thankful that my insurance has covered all of this blood work because I would want a refund!!! In 9 months of treatment, we've learned next to nothing of value. There is no definitive answer as to why we can't get pregnant. I can't even begin to describe the frustration. I love my doctor, but I have to admit: it feels like we're all blindfolded and throwing darts at a moving target.

It's starting to look a little cloudy with all of that gray in the forecast. However, there was one ray of sunshine in the whole mess. I asked my doctor about finances… what is the "magic" number we need to reach for IVF? $16,000-$18,000. Nope, that's not the ray of sunshine. The bright spot in the whole conversation was this: he doesn't recommend buying into a refund plan. A refund plan offers the patient piece of mind that even if IVF #1 fails, IVF #2 of FET #1 is already paid for. Plus, if the patient completes the program and does not take home a baby, there is a refund of a percentage of the money. It sounds like an awesome deal, until you think about paying DOUBLE the cost if IVF #1 is successful. But the bigger issue for us is the delay. The delay to reach an even greater amount of money. Why does he not recommend a refund program? He believes that with my youth (I love when people tell me I'm young), current AMH level, antral follicle count, and response to medication that I could reasonably expect to get enough embryos in one round of IVF to create our entire family. Pretty sweet, right? Now of course there is the AWFUL possibility that the missing piece in all of this is that my egg quality is sub-par. But once again, I'm in the "gray zone" here. And there is no way to know until after IVF. Some piece of mind, huh?

On a completely relevant side-note: Another item to be thankful for- living in the 21st century. If you aren't up-to-date on Downton Abbey, skip ahead, but for everybody else… Aren't you THANKFUL that you're medical care isn't left up to some pig-headed doctor and your DAD?!?!? Ughhhh! And I'm even more thankful that if I'm going to be infertile, I live at a time and in a country where something can be done about it. Poor Matthew!

Matthew: I wonder now whether the injury might have affected my ughh…. I suppose I mean my fertility. If it may have limited my chances of fathering a child. 

Pig-headed doctor: Is everything working? 

Matthew: Well, yes.

As if the key to a pregnancy is simply one moving part… If only it were so simple.

And on that note, I'm off to drum-up some more bright spots of sunshine because there is entirely to much GRAY in the Greavu household.