Missing the Medal Stand

I'm over the Olympics. I know, I know. So very unAmerican, unpatriotic, unsportsfan, uncool. But the truth is, I can't take the sadness. I'm not sure if we're actually worse this Olympics, or if it's all in my mind, but for whatever reason, it just seems like we keep. missing. the. medal stand. I can't take the disappointment.

Every time I watch an event there's some shoe-in who just botched their last chance for a medal... ever, because they're the ripe old age of like 32 and all their hopes and dreams are O-V-E-R. Or there's some newbie who no one thought even stood a chance, and they're oh so close, but no. Every time I turn on an Olympic segment the announcers are telling some incredibly sad reason why so-and-so needs/deserves a medal. Ughhhh. The tears, the sadness, the disappointment… I just can't take it.

Bode Miller after missing the medal stand in the Super Combined.
Photo credit: Huffington Post

I swear, if Lolo Jones doesn't medal, I'm done. I don't necessarily love (or don't love) Miss Jones, I have no clue if she's expected to win, or if we even have a chance in her event, but after three Olympics and such heartbreaking misses, after training for years and even switching sports, this girl deserves an Olympic medal. Just give her one already.

And that, dear readers, probably gives you some insight into my mind these days… I'm over disappointment. Over it. In some weird way, I can sympathize with these Olympians... I just completed the Olympics of infertility treatments. I trained hard. It cost us a fortune. It took us forever to get there. We sacrificed and sacrificed and sacrificed to get there. The build up and anticipation was huge. THE EVENT was finally here... and then it was over. Just like that, all the traing, all the saving, all the hope. Gone. Over. And it'll probably be four years before we can go again... literally. Every time an announcer says that this is probably the last Olympics for someone because they'll be 24, or 27, or 33 or whatever, I kind of want to stab my eyes out. I'll be 32 at the next Winter Olympics... that's a long time to keep your eye on the prize.

I'm probably showing a little of my Millennial generation status here, but I just want everyone to get what they've worked so hard for. It doesn't seem like too much to ask. I spent my entire childhood being told I could be anything. Astronaut, lawyer, surgeon, Nobel Peace Prize winner... my limits were supposedly only set by my focus, my determination, my drive. Yet here I sit with the most basic dream, the one most people don't even dream of, they simply assume it will happen, and it feels like no amount of focus, or determination, or drive will change my circumstances. Needless to say, that's disappointing. And frustrating and about 100 other non-desirable things, but ultimately, it's just really disappointing.

I think disappointed pretty much sums up my feelings at this point. I didn't necessarily think our first transfer would be a success going into IVF... I knew the odds. But now that it's all over, I can see that going into IVF, I believed we'd get a good harvest of eggs, and that surely, surely we'd get pregnant within two transfers. Now I'm not so sure. I now realize that I was betting on one egg retrieval bringing our take home baby and maybe, just maybe a sibling down the road. That seems very unlikely now. So yeah, I'm disappointed.

And I'm just over disappointment these days. And I know that sounds pitiful, and whiny, and childish, but that's the reality of the situation. I just want some good news. If not for me, then for my friends. Suzanne has her hysteroscopy at CCRM tomorrow, Conceptionally Challenged has an embryo transfer coming up on Wednesday, and Run Away Stork goes in for her first beta on Wednesday... really hoping for some good news ladies! No more disappointment!!!

Thinking Thoughts

Ummm, yeah so some parts of Georgia may have slightly overreacted after the last snow storm. Today brings "wave 1" of Snowpocalypse 2.0 which means that it's currently snowing sleeting raining here in Athens. But hey, I can use a good rain day. In everyone's defense, it's all about the temperature. I talked to my mom this morning who lives about 30 miles northwest of me and she said it's snowing (and sticking) like crazy, so I guess it's all about the temperature in your area. Sad trombones for us here in Athens. Hoping "wave 2" packs a slightly more serious punch when it comes through tonight. If it's going to be cold and gross, it better snow buckets!

Anyway, the real purpose of this post is not to update you on the Georgia weather… I'm pretty sure the national news is waiting with baited breath to see us look like idiots again anyway. No, of slightly more importance than the rain/sleet/snow falling from the sky, is the follow up consultation I had yesterday. It would be better classified as a "follow up chat" because it lasted a total of twelve minutes and I didn't get to consult him about anything. Mm hmm, you read that right. I managed to get together an entire page of questions and I got to ask exactly one of them, and I got zero answers for my hard work. Ughhhh.

Essentially, Dr. Duffy apologized for our failed cycle several times, which I guess is nice, but I don't know, it just seemed like a waste… lets move on, especially if I only have twelve minutes of your time. He also said that he didn't want us to give up after this one IVF which kind of let me see the writing on the wall… he doesn't think we'll be successful from the FET(s). He said he'd like to add in growth hormone to our next IVF cycle. I was kind of thrown for a loop… I was thinking different protocol or something like that, but he thinks the biggest issue with the cycle was not my response to meds (I do) but oocyte quality (and that too), so growth hormone should help. He then spent several minutes trying to explain why I shouldn't be upset that we didn't use growth hormone for the first cycle because "no one would have predicted a woman at my age, and with my AMH would have poor quality eggs"… umm, I'm pretty sure I predicted that, but whatever.

The only two things he said regarding the FET is that he wants me to discuss two things with Sam. A- doing a day 3 transfer of our two best vs thawing and growing all six to day 5. And B- doing an Endometrial Function Test before doing the FET. Both of those things kind of caught me off guard. As to growing the embryos to day 5, why would we do that when he recommended a day 3 earlier? And why would we expect grade 3 embryos to make it to day 5? I'm just confused about that… I'm thinking about it like he requested, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think. As to the EFT, it was so out of left field. I'd specifically asked about the E-tegrity test (the Beta 3 integrin biopsy that CCRM uses) at our first consultation and he said there was no need, but now he's wondering about uterine quality… why? Have mercy, but if we have to overcome egg quality and a hostile uterine environment, we should give up now. I can't imagine how many cycles or how many transfers it would take to get everything just right with both of those issues in affect…. more than we have money for, that's for sure.

So essentially, I'm thinking, thinking a lot. I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to think about any of this. My one question that I managed to slide in before he ended our phone conversation was "what are our chances with any of the transfers?" He refused to answer with anything other than, "our current clinic success rate for FETs is about 40%"…. umm, so not helpful. I'm beyond frustrated and beyond confused. Where do we go from here?

I think the snow rain day calls for a little break from all of this thinking though… off to take Erika's recommendation and catch up on Revenge.

IVF: A Recap

I've been meaning to blog about this for a long time. I guess part of the delay is that thinking back through IVF is kind of painful. There were a lot of disappointments for us along the way. And part of the delay is just that I'm struggling. Struggling to stay relevant, to stay present in this moment. Hell, I'm struggling to get up in the morning and care whether my hair looks like a frazzled mess or my eyeliner is on straight. Every moment of time spent awake I'm pretty much counting down the hours until I can go back to bed. But I'm pretty sure that my misery is a terrible, horrible no good, very bad blog topic, so instead I'll recap IVF.

I really want to recap IVF not because I need a summary but because I want to take some of the fear factor away for others who might be considering IVF. I've said multiple times before that IVF was terrifying to me. It seemed monumental... like some kind of Mount Everest type endeavor. I was scared to death of the shots. I was worried what the medications would do, side effects, etc. It all just seemed overwhelming. And while I'm certainly not here to say that IVF is no big deal, it wasn't as bad as I expected.

We'll start with the injections. I whined about injections until I'm sure everyone was sick of me. I don't like needles, don't like shots, and don't like whomever has the task of stabbing a needle into me... que dramatic circumstances for IVF. Luckily, every single one of my injections was subcutaneous. So I still can't vouch for any intramuscular stuff... if I have to cross that bridge, I'm sure there will be more whining and worrying. But the subcutaneous ones were really not that bad. Really. You heard it here folks. I did Gonal-F, Menopur, Cetrotide, and Lupron... Menopur was the worst, no doubt. It burned and I'll admit there were some curse words shared, but it wasn't that bad. Two minutes of burn and then it was over most nights. Also, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I was forced to do my own injections towards the end... it was better. So if you're scared of the injections, at least try it yourself. And ice... ice, ice, ice. No one said I couldn't ice the area, so I did every time. The one time I didn't I really regretted it. But regardless of your system, I guarantee that there is a system that will work for you... so don't delay or give up on IVF because of the shots. It's ten to twelve days for most… anyone can survive that.

Another fear was the medications and the effects they might have on me. I'd heard all kinds of stories... people passing out, ending up in the hospital, allergic reactions. And of course there's always the stories of breast cancer and other terrible issues that arise later in life. I obviously can't speak to the increased cancer risk quite yet, but I can say that I had little to no side effects. It's crazy and I still can't really believe it, but it's true: I had more side effects from 100mg of Clomid than I did on all the IVF drugs. No lie. Some people report moodiness, uncontrollable rage, tears that just won't stop... I had none of that. I think part of it may be the lack of stress... I was in Florida, not working, hanging out with my mom or husband most of the time. But still, no tears were shed, no freak outs occurred. I never felt like I was out of control or that my body (or hormones) were betraying me. In addition, I had very few physical side effects either. I find that really strange. On Clomid, I had 3-4 follicles and felt like I had a sack of potatoes in my abdomen. On Follistim, I had 5 follicles worth note (around 7 total) and I felt like someone kicked me in the ovary every time I sat down. Both Dr. Slayden and I were worried about IVF and the pain. If an IUI on 75 units of Follistim for five days brought me to an 8 on the pain scale... IVF was sure to do me in. And I have absolutely no explanation, but I was never really in pain. There at the very end I started feeling some discomfort, but it felt more like ovulation pain than stabbing, miserable, excruciating pain. Dr. Duffy hypothesized that maybe the difference was drug related... regardless the side effects were not as bad as I expected.

In addition, I really thought that I'd be at the doctor all. the. time. For hours and hours while they stole pints and pints of my blood. In reality, I went in for the IVF start date, three monitoring appointments, the retrieval, and the transfer. That's it… well, actually I had to swing by once to meet with the nurse about the retrieval and pick up my Lupron since I had ordered hCG from the pharmacy. But essentially it was a total of six appointments… My first IUI was four appointments and my fourth IUI was five appointments, so really not all that much difference.

Let's look at some overall wins, shall we? First of all, if you, like me, have suffered through test after test to find an actual diagnosis rather than unexplained, IVF may just be your diagnosis dream come true... or not. It's certainly not a "win" to know that my eggs are less than stellar and only slightly better than abysmal, but IVF did answer some questions we otherwise would have been unable to answer. A second win: weight loss. I know what you're thinking... huh? But it's true, I lost about 10 pounds leading up to and during IVF. I'm sure a huge part of it was the diet choices I was making... cutting carbs eliminated about 75% of my daily caloric intake... it was hard to put calories back in the form of protein. But I'm pretty sure I'd have lost a little weight no matter what... post retrieval I just felt like crud and nothing sounded good. There were a few days when the bloat weight started to make me think I'd gain it all back, but I finally deflated and settled at about 10 pounds lighter. Now, admittedly I haven't weighed since the pregnancy test, so I have no idea if post IVF has led to weight gain... Starbucks, a dozen chocolate chip cookies, Ben and Jerry's, and Steak N' Shake milkshakes don't lead me to believe I'm still 10 pounds lighter, but ignorance is bliss.

And because I can't end on too perky a note, let's look at some losses. First of all, IVF is a gamble, there's absolutely no doubt. Doctors can make all the predications they want, but there's no real way to know how any one woman will respond to the different medications. It's all just an educated guess. We went in with predictions of success as high as 70% per transfer and left with about a 35% chance for our first transfer... definitely a gamble. I think it's probably wise to think of IVF like this: IVF#1 is a trial run... you may get lucky, lots of people do, but you may also need IVF#2 to learn from the first round. Womp, womp. In addition, the medication ordering system is difficult to pinpoint. I ended up buying medications three times because I kept running out, but then right after I ordered the last round, I got the call that my E2 was too high and I'd be stopping stims soon. I ended up with five vials of Menopur, one syringe of Cetrotide, and one multi-dose vial of Gonal-F left over... even with the discounts, that's over $500 in medications. It's so hard to know how much you'll need, but you don't want to be stuck without it. So I guess, the negative aspects of IVF all circle around the unknown... you just have to bite the bullet, take the plunge, etc.

Reading back through this, I'm not sure if I'm actually doing a very good job of convincing anyone to go for it. Admittedly, I am not the poster child for IVF the doctors thought I would be. But I guess if I'm coming out of IVF with mega disappointments and a failed transfer and yet still vouching for it, then there's really no higher recommendation needed. If you're on the fence, I'd say go for it. Do your research. Know your facts. But don't waste years because of fear... it's really not that bad.

Plan G-K

Our Plan A went out the window a long time ago... we all know that. It was just over two years ago that we moved onto Plan B also known as Clomid, but it seems ages ago... like seriously, lightyears ago. But it is what it is; plans change and we have to adapt and change with them. When one door closes, you can either try to pry it open, or you can move onto the next one.

My dear sweet husband has calmed my ever increasing anxiety over our FET by reminding me that it won't, in fact, take half a year or more to save up the funds. I completely forgot in my absolute panic that we take money directly out of my check each month and place it into our health savings account... $500 to be exact. Add in the fact that Uncle Sam owes us big time, and well, the FET isn't too far away after all.

Speaking of tax refunds: whoa friends, itemizing medical expenses is about as much fun as a root canal. Seriously, it took us all weekend to do our taxes. And while we are getting a pretty decent refund, it was also immensely depressing to see where all of our money went last year. In case you didn't know, if you spend a large chunk of change on medical expenses, you can choose to claim those as deductions if you itemize your taxes. And by large chunk of change I really mean it. You used to be able to claim medical expenses if you spent over 7.5%, but of course that recently went up to 10%. I don't understand tax jargon, but the 10% is based off of your adjusted gross income... whatever that is. Sooo, all of this is to say that we spent almost 40% (37% to be exact) of our income on medical expenses in 2013. And no, I did not have chemotherapy, a boob job, or get a lung transplant. Nope, that's 99.9% infertility treatments and testing. Lovely. Oh, and that doesn't actually include our entire IVF... everything that we paid for after December 31, 2013 doesn't count towards that total... we're just getting a jump on next year's tax return. But like I said, at least there is a refund with our name on it. It won't make up for not having infertility coverage, not by a long shot, but at least it's something.

Anyway, moving on. The FET will (fingers crossed) be my next cycle... which should start the first week of March. If not, then I'm certainly hopeful it will be the next cycle. But as I've said before, I can't get too excited about the frozen embryo transfers. Not with day 3, grade 3 embryos... it feels like a long shot at best. To keep myself from spiraling into the abyss that is "woe is me" I'm trying to look into some backup plans incase IVF and all subsequent FETs are a bust for us. I know that the research doesn't actually do anything, but it eases my mind just a bit to feel like there's a plan. If I focus all my energy and hope into these precious embryos that struggled for just three days of life, I will fall into despair at the mere suggestion that they will fail. But if there is a backup plan, failure doesn't seem quite as hopeless. Make sense? No, I didn't think so.

So what would be next for us after these FETs? I feel like we've been here before... in fact, I'm pretty much sure of it. "The plan" was to do one IVF, if the IVF failed (which it did) we would systematically move through the available FETs. If all of those failed (which they might) we would move on to adoption. Eeek! Screech! Bang! That's me putting the breaks on. Six months ago I was ready to dive into adoption. But I suddenly feel anxious when I think about adoption... I've got to sort through my feelings on this before I can definitively say that it is our next step. I've got to think this through a little bit. And wouldn't you know, Mr. I Don't Know How I Feel About Adoption, is ready to move forward. But suddenly, adoption seems very scary, very foreign, and very overwhelming to me. I can't explain why exactly, it just does. But I'm not eliminating it, it's definitely still an option, it's just... there are other options.

Typically, lists start with A or 1, but let's be real... none of these are our first option for our first baby. We'll start with G, that seems about right.

Plan G: CCRM... I know, I just said one fresh IVF. One and done, that was our deal. Whoever said IVF was addicting... they were right. A small piece of me doesn't want to give up the dream of our baby inside of me. A bigger piece of me wants to beat infertility. Like knockout style. I don't want to go out on a losing note. Is that reason enough to haul our butts all the way across the country to a place where I will most assuredly be unhappy (I get the feeling CCRM and I won't get along) on the chance that they can do better with the dreadful eggs my body offers up? I guess that's to be determined. Cost for IVF at CCRM approx $26,000… not including travel.

Plan H: Donor embryos. For some reason, donor embryos have been on my mind a lot lately. I love the thought that I can save someone's embryos from being trashed. I don't love the thought that we might be buying embryos of poor quality. I know that you know the grades going in, but let's be really honest: those embryos are another infertile couples' leftovers. Everyone works through their embryos best to worst, so it is safe to assume that any remain embryos are the poorer quality of the bunch. I'm sure some are excellent and destined to be beautiful children, but some are most likely not. However, donor embryos is significantly cheaper than many other options, so it's probably the most feasible for us. In addition, it gives us the added bonus of experiencing a pregnancy. Admittedly, this is probably a little more important to me than Sam, but I think a pregnancy would be special to him too. Cost for donor embryos approx $6,000-10,000.

Plan I: Donor eggs. This would essentially solve our two greatest desires for Sam and I... genetic connection for him, pregnancy experience for me... at a cost. A significant one at that. I think the most likely scenario for us would be to return to RBA and use their My Egg Bank program with frozen donor eggs. The cost is significantly less than a fresh donor egg cycle, but you only get 6 eggs... scares the dickens out of me. Cost for frozen donor eggs approx $16,000-18,000. Cost for fresh donor eggs approx $30,000.

Plan J: International adoption. It was always part of my dream. And maybe it still is. I don't know. I think I kind of had a rose colored glasses type of perspective on international adoption. I still think it's beautiful, I'm just not sure how to ensure it's beautiful rather than painful, violent, or heartbreaking. Jen Hatmaker's series on international adoption opened my eyes and I can't close them back. And there's the price tag, and the hurdles like: we're not 30, and we haven't been married 10 years, or another 800 things some of the countries require... I don't know if we'd even be accepted into an agency at this time. And lastly, at least for our first child (looking like only) I really just want a baby, not an 18 month old, not a four year old, a baby. Cost for international adoption approx $25,000-40,000.

Plan K: Domestic Adoption. Again, the blinders are fully off. I've known quite a few people who experienced failed adoptions last year... it's not as simple as it looks. And if I'm being abundantly honest, I'm kind of afraid of what it would feel like to raise a child who wants to know their "real mom"... I'm afraid I'd constantly have to compete with "the other mom". And we're quite a number of steps between now and bringing home an infant via adoption... no social worker would clear us in our current living arrangements. So a house or a much nicer rental location is required before we could even start the process. Cost for domestic adoption approx $30,000.

So like I said: when one door closes, you can either try to pry it open, or you can move onto the next one…. we haven't decided which plan we're going with. We might try to pry open the stubborn door of IVF with our own eggs and sperm, or we might move on to a different door. And who knows, we might circle around the doors a few times knocking to see if there's a bring home baby behind one. But for now, I guess we're focusing on FET #1… and researching on the side just in case.

Moving On

First of all, I just have to say thank you all so much for your comments from the last post. I guess maybe we all feel that way now and then… good to know. I got a ton of emails from ladies who don't blog but just felt that they had to share that they too had felt that way. Bless you all. I'll never take for granted the physical, in real life friends that I've been blessed with… there's nothing like a real hug. But just in case there was any doubt, Tuesday's comments sealed the deal… infertile sisters, you are my people. Infertility has molded me and changed me until I am a different person, and anyone who hasn't walked this road will never understand me, not really. It is a beautiful thing to know and be known. So thank you all for not hating me for the truth, the truth that sometimes I'm a wee bit jealous.

In case you've been living under a rock, or maybe you live in a county other than the US (I think I have a few Canadian, Australian and Russian readers), the South was hit with Snowpocalypse 2014, on Tuesday. Which means we got between trace amounts and, oh, about four inches of snow. Athens got the good part, the part that gets you out of work but not stuck for 10+ hours in your car. Have mercy. I'm the first to admit that Southerners are hilarious when it comes to snow. Like A snowflake falls and they all lose their minds, rush to the store and buy milk and bread… if I'm snowed in, I don't even want milk and bread. And really, do you mean to tell me that if by some miracle you really are trapped in your home for, I don't know, 36 hours, that you don't already have enough food to survive? So yeah, admittedly, Southerners have plenty of reasons to be made fun of in terms of Winter weather response. Tuesday was not one of those times. Atlanta and the surrounding areas failed miserably to respond appropriately, leaving thousands of people stuck on the interstates for hours. I can't even tell you how many people took to Facebook to find shelter for loved ones who ran out of gas or literally could not get past traffic accidents to get home. It was insane.

Meanwhile, the Greavus both made it home to share in a glorious day of nothing on Wednesday. Seriously, I didn't even get out of my pajamas until 6 o'clock (in the evening) and the only reason I did was because Sam wanted to go to the UGA basketball game. Then I came home and got back in my pajamas. Thank you snow. It was literally just what I needed. I wish I could say that after the day off I'm refreshed and ready to move on, but I'm not. Not really. I took the ultrasound photo of our two embryos being placed into my uterus off the refrigerator this morning…. I sobbed my eyes out. In addition to random outbursts of tears, I'm dealing with rage. Like fire breathing, steam boiling, RAGE. Like don't ask me for anything, or come in my personal space, or look at me the wrong way or I'm liable to rip your head off, RAGE. I'm 99% sure that this has to do with the loss of all of the hormones… everything plummeted along with my mood. At least that's what I'm telling myself. The only other option is that I'm possessed. I'm hoping that with the onset of a new cycle, the hormones will level out and life will continue at a slightly less volatile state. And hopefully I don't do any permanent damage before things return to normal.

Several of you have asked what our plans are for moving forward. Do we have frozen embryos? How many? What quality? When will we go back? Unfortunately, the news isn't that good in terms of our remaining embryos. I finally got the nerve to call and find out exactly what the grades are and well, I kind of wish I hadn't. If I was struggling to drum up enthusiasm over an FET before, I'm definitely going to struggle now. Here's the down low:

We had 18 visible follicles via ultrasound before retrieval.
Only 13 eggs were retrieved. (at least 5 follicles were empty)
Only 8 eggs were mature. (5 eggs were immature)
We transferred 2, grade 2, 8 and 12 cell embryos on day 3.
We have 6 embryos frozen on day 3 in groups of 2.
Group 1: grade 3, 9 and 8 cells
Group 2: grade 3, 8 and 4 cells
Group 3: grade 3, 6 and 3 cells

I know the grading part doesn't make a ton of sense. The grading system for day 3 embryos is confusing, even for people who understand blastocyst grades. It's so different. Essentially our first two (the two we transferred) were our best. They were both on track or ahead as far as cell division, all of the cells were the same size, and there was only minor fragmentation. Our remaining six embryos are either on track or behind in terms of growth, but the cells are not the same size, and there is some fragmentation. Day 3 embryos are supposed to have between 6 and 10 cells. Obviously, the 3 and 4 cell embryos are very behind. I honestly don't know what our chances are with any of the possible transfers. Maybe Dr. Duffy will have some insight at our follow up consultation.

As to when we will go back for our embryos, well, I really can't say. Unfortunately, everything about our time in Florida proved to be more expensive than we had planned. We spent every last penny in our IVF account and then some. So we're back at the saving up dimes and nickels stage again. I'm predicting it will cost us about $2,500 for a FET, including medications and travel. So as to when we'll have $2,500 to go again… your guess is as good as mine.

I'm in a hurry only because I'm ready to move on. I have never been more ready to move past this season of life. I'm officially tired of putting X, Y, and Z on hold for years (and years, and years) all because of infertility. If IVF in Florida with our own eggs and sperm is not going to lead to our take home baby, well I'm ready to know that so that we can move on. I really have no clue what out next, next steps would be... how long it would take... how much it would cost. I'm still trying to wrap my head around $2,500 at the moment. So yeah, we're moving on... ever so slowly. Did you really expect anything different from us?

Green with Envy

I'm going to come straight out and say that this is not my best moment... if you'd like to remember me fondly and think of me in a positive light, you should probably stop reading now. Fair warning.

I've skipped straight over denial and gone straight to anger (I think the BETA of 1 was pretty clear, no denial here)... this just sucks. Plain and simple. Despite the fact that there's a plan, despite knowing this time of longing will be redeemed, despite believing that better days are in our future, despite all of that, this current moment, this current situation, it just plain sucks. I just want a family. I just want a baby of my own. I just want to make my husband a dad. I just want to move on with our lives and get out of this season. There is so much more that I want for our lives than infertility. I'm just so mad that this is our story, that we aren't one of the "lucky ones".

Which leads me to the envy. I warned you, this is not my prettiest side. I'm battling some intense jealousy right now. I used to be jealous of girls who posted a positive pregnancy test on Facebook at four or five weeks. I wanted to scream at them that it could be gone in the blink of an eye, and yet I was jealous. Jealous of the ease with which they got pregnant, jealous that they had no fear, jealous that a positive home pregnancy test actually meant a bring home baby. That's where the jealousy started. But it's grown.

With every step along the way, with every failure we've endured, with every next hurdle cleared, there becomes someone else to be jealous of. I'm now jealous of the women who take Clomid and baby dance just a little more often and find their take home baby... and that's crazy because I remember being that person. I remember being scared silly of Clomid. I remember thinking timed intercourse would be the death of me. I vividly remember how hard those first steps were, so I want success for anyone who has to even take those initial steps... but I'm also jealous. Jealous that they got to get off the crazy roller coaster after what now feels like 45 seconds. Back then, the hot flashes, night sweats, raging attitude... it seemed like it would never end, but now the idea that swallowing a pill for five days and lying under the sheets with my husband... the thought that that could bring a baby, well it makes me want to scream. I'm so jealous of the success some find at this first stop.

I never in a million years thought I'd be jealous of couples who have to move onto to IUI. Have mercy, but I wasn't sure we were going to survive the decision to move onto IUI. It seemed so huge at the time. IUIs are expensive and stressful. I remember feeling like a nightmare walking during those three back to back IUIs. But now, the idea that someone would become pregnant from IUI seems kind of outrageous... like, "you mean that actually works?!?!" And now I'm jealous of couples who find success at this stop. I hate to admit it, but it's true. I would love to go back to IUI #3, what we thought of as our "Hail Mary" and find success. I'd happily go through the Clomid, the cysts, the testing, and the two failed IUIs if we could find success on IUI number three (or four, of five) And the idea that some couples succeed on their first IUI... simply mind boggling.

And then there's the surgeries: the laparoscopies, the D&Cs, the varicocelectomies, the stuff that cleans out, reshapes, resets everything. Surgery is absolutely no joke... I mean endometriosis and varicoceles certainly suck... they suck a lot. And for most couples, these types of diagnoses are life altering, and are often not solved with a one time surgery. However, there are those "lucky" few (and yes, I know that it's insane to think of anyone with Endometriosis as "lucky") who manage to get pregnant following a surgery of some type. I remember being absolutely terrified of my laparoscopy. If I wasn't crippled with fear of dying, I was sure they'd cut a fallopian tube or laser off an ovary. But I also remember the hope. There are always stories or those who are successful following a surgery... I wanted to be one of those people! I'm jealous of those people.

And then there's IVF. I feel like the lowest of the low to even say this, but I'm now jealous of those for which IVF works the first time... my word, I never thought I'd write that. IVF is enormous, it's crazy expensive, it's overwhelming, it's emotionally draining, it's hard on the body... I wouldn't wish IVF on anyone, but for those who find success after one fresh cycle, well, I'm jealous. I'm jealous because it's not me, because that's not my story, because for some unknown reason this is not our stop. It's not that I was certain it would be. I knew the statistics, and I went in knowing we might need every egg available to us. But I also knew that we might be a one and done family... that one IVF might be all it took to bring home our miracle. But it wasn't, and now I'm left to battle feelings of envy for those that found there family at IVF #1.

And I'm fairly sure that before too long, I'm going to be jealous of those who can afford multiple rounds of IVF. Are you disgusted with me, yet? I am. I hate this. I hate that I would ever be jealous of someone else's success, particularly anyone who has struggled to conceive. I want to be able to celebrate EVERY victory. And typically I can; I've always been able to celebrate and be truly, truly happy for the ladies who finally get off this crazy roller coaster. So forgive me for the icky darkness that I just leached all over the blog today. I promise that it's just a phase of dealing with the loss of our two embryos. And let me also be really clear, when I say I'm envious, not for one second do I mean I'm asking "why her?"... not once, not ever does that cross my mind. It's more of a "why not me too?" I don't want to take away anyone else's success, I just want the chance to join in.

I apologize for the ugly word vomit. I just had to get it all out. I know that I have a lot to be thankful for, that there are others who would still trade places with me. I told myself I could have this day, this one day to be angry, to be petty, to throw myself a pity party, to be, well, not nice. Tomorrow, we're moving on. Tomorrow we will focus on all that I do have.

Life happens... we've just got to pick up the pieces and move forward.

It's Over

It's officially over. BETA came back at 1 today. I was once again pregnant for the briefest moment... just a blip on the radar really.

From here I simply stop all medications and wait for a new cycle. We're not moving forward with a frozen embryo transfer this next cycle, so I guess it's back to life as normal. I went ahead and let them schedule a follow up consult with Dr. Duffy in a few weeks. The problem is I don't really have too many questions about future FETs; I do however have a lot of "what the hell?" type questions regarding IVF... unfortunately those don't matter. 

I'm obviously sad. I know this won't really make much sense, but I don't think I'm any more sad than if it had initially been negative... either way we lost two embryos. It just took us a little while to make it official. I also feel guilty because, well, I'm not quite as sad as I was after the first miscarriage. I'm definitely still sad, just not like a puddle of goo on the floor sad. I don't think it will wreck my life for three months like the first one. Give me a week and I think the random outbursts of tears will be over. The only way I can explain it is this: with IVF, there are only two options. The embryo becomes your bring home baby, or it dies. I guess I had resigned myself to that. I'm definitely sad, but I guess I just recognized the distinct possibility, the likelihood even, that we would lose some in this process. That's not how I felt about the first... a miscarriage back then kind of came out of left field and shocked me. I guess I was better prepared this time. Maybe preparation take some of the sadness away, at least at this early stage. 

And I suppose I'm sad for another reason too. The loss of the two embryos is certainly significant, but it also feels like the loss of our best chance. I don't know if the doctors would say any of ours had a "good" chance, but those two were the best shot we had. I can't help but think, if those two failed, how can the others stand a chance? I know it's a defeatist mentality, and hopefully I'll shake it before too long, but right now, I just can't get excited about a frozen embryo transfer. I know FETs often have better results because the body is less stimulated and less stressed, but that doesn't change the quality of what we have left. And honestly, I don't even know what that is. I know we have six frozen in groups of two, and that they were all frozen on day 3 (because they didn't think they'd survive to day 5), but I don't know how many cells each had when they froze it or what the grades are... I guess I need to call about that.

Tonight is one of those nights I really wish I enjoyed alcohol a little more... I nice glass of red wine seems in order, but I guess I'll make do with my drug of choice (Diet Coke). A long bubble bath seems like it's due as well as I haven't had a good soak since the night before the retrieval. And I might even treat myself to a Starbucks in the morning... yeah, that sounds about right.

Thank you all so much for your encouragement and your prayers. It was a long weekend, but now we can officially move on. We're simply trusting that our story is not over... onto the next chapter.