Growing Up

And the suck-fest continues, folks.

We got a phone call on Sunday night (whilst at dinner at G&A's)-my mom was rushed to the ER (ironically, the one where she's a supervisor) after having a stroke. They gave her tPA (a "clot buster") and airlifted her to a hospital in Trenton, where the AWESOMEST neurosurgeon is (like, he's in the top 10 neurosurgeon's IN THE NATION. And he's single and good looking, which doesn't hurt, either). She was doing okay on Monday, then started becoming lethargic and more unresponsive. The ICU nurse immediately rushed her for a CT scan, where they found a huge clot by her brain stem, and they took her into surgery and were able to remove the entire thing, which was no easy thing due to the amounts of tPA and heparin she was on.

So, what caused it? Well, Dr. Hotness thinks that it was a combination of narrowing of the arteries in the head (due to years of smoking) and one of the chemo drugs, cisplatin, which has a risk of inducing strokes. But, she's a fighter (she was already trying to do things for herself when I left last night) and she'll fight this.

She's still in the ICU but is doing much better-her right side is affected, and she really can't talk much due to the muscle weakness. She's more alert and is aware of what's going on (she keeps asking what her blood pressure is....the nurse in her can't take a day off, I suppose), which is a positive. She'll be moved soon to an acute rehab facility where she'll stay to do her therapies.

So, there we are. It was a scary few days, since it was very touch-and-go on Monday. I still can't comprehend that there was a very real chance that she could've died or become completely incapacitated on Monday had the doctors and nurses at the hospital hadn't moved as quickly as they did. The two hours that she was in surgery were probably the scariest time in my life, and watching my father go through this was difficult for me. I'm not ready to lose my mother yet. But, I feel like I'm also not ready for this, either. I've suddenly had to become an "adult" in a few short days, and I'm not liking it either. Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter.

Adulthood, here I come.

Bitter And Not Really Liking It.

Thank you, all of you out there on the 'Net, for your words of comfort. You get it, and I know that-you don't have to say anything more than "Shit, that sucks. Sorry" and I know that you truly understand. And, a special thanks goes out to Shelli-you're such a wonderful, giving, caring person, and I love you lots. LOTS!

I'm doing okay. I have moments that I'm so fucking angry that I want to scream and throw things (last night I looked at Sean and had the almost irresistable urge to punch him squarely in the face. Obviously I didn't do that, because then I'd be blogging from a prison common area rather than the comfort of my couch), alternating with times of just wanting to either cry, or hide and wait for the world to go away. I just want to wake up and it be nine years earlier, when I was younger, newly married and ignorant to infertility. Maybe if I knew then what I know now, I'd have made different decisions. But, shoulda coulda woulda, right?

Needless to say, it hasn't been fun. I go back to the RE next week to have the WTF conversation, along with a saline sonogram to make sure that everything has passed. We'll just have to wait until then to see what is the next suggestion. I'm thinking that she's going to suggest PGD, but I guess we won't know until Thursday. Unfortunately, since nothing was frozen, we'd have to start from scratch yet again. But, the real question du jour is this: do I want to do another cycle? Right now I can't even contemplate it, but if Dr. Pipsqueak feels strongly about doing another cycle and give me a good enough reason that we should, then maybe. Maybe doing PGD will help-at the least, it will lower the miscarriage rate due to the fact that we'd be transferring embryos that are chromosomally normal (that is, assuming that we'd have enough to transfer-I've learned the hard way that nothing is guaranteed with IVF). I've had every test under the sun to see if there's another underlying problem that's causing both the implantation failure and chemicals, and they've all come back as normal. So, what the fuck is the problem?

To say that Sean and I are both miserable fucks is putting it mildly. This hit us both really hard, especially since it was such a great cycle in the sense that we had great stats with my retrieval/fertilization rates, I didn't over respond, and we had so many blasts. It doesn't help that most people can't really fathom what we're going through, unless they've been through it themselves. And, even then, once they've made it through to the "other side" it's like a distant memory and they can't really relate. I also can't help feeling that every time, EVERY TIME we do this, something fucked up happens and it doesn't work, although it does for someone else. We're pregnancy magnets! Seriously! Unfortunately, the magnet also seems to repel any success for us. I can trace every single one of our friends children, with the exception of one, to a failed IVF or FET cycle, or a miscarriage. That's a lot of babies, people. And, yeah, perhaps it's negative thinking on my part (as was recently suggested to me), but it's also the truth. I'm the only one of my friends (excepting one couple who decided to be childfree) who doesn't have children. Hell, I'm the only one left from my original Fertility Friend group, from my bloglist. I'm the Last Woman Standing, and not by choice. I didn't do it to myself-no amount of negative or positive thinking, acupuncture, herbs, eating right, eliminating caffeine, meditation, tarot readings, praying to Saints, Guardian Angels, God/Allah/Buddha/The Flying Spaghetti Monster
has made this work for us. Oh, I guess statistically, it DID work, twice-it just didn't stick around long enough to grow into a baby who would later ask mommy to buy eyeliner and ask for the car keys. And I do realize that it's farther than some people have gotten in their reproductive treatment. But, dammit, I want it to be MY turn. Not my brother's, not my friend's or even the woman who's been sitting next to me for two weeks in the clinic waiting room. Yes, it's selfish and immature, but I think that I'm allowed to be bitter and angry and selfish and immature-sounding about it. I've been doing this long enough to be entitled to my feelings.

My feelings are really the only tangible thing that I have right now.

13dp5dt

Yeah, well.....it's not a good ending.

Beta 9.9 I have to stop progesterone, be back on Friday for more bloodwork to make sure that the beta is going down, and make a follow-up with the doctor.

I also get to do the Rhogam therapy tomorrow at the hospital, due to being Rh negative. Yay....another sick day taken due to this. Wonderfuckingful.

Oh, did I mention it's also my anniversary? Yeah. Happy Anniversary Sean. Too bad my gift to you is another dead baby. Who knew we'd be having THIS MUCH FUN nine years later.

What. The. Fuck.

11dp5dt-Beta Hell

Today's beta shows that my levels did go up, however, not as much as they hoped. The nurse said it was "20" (as to the exact number I don't know...guess I'll have to find that out tomorrow). So....from 15.6 to 20 pretty much sucks big monkey ass, right? The nurse who called me said that Dr. Pipsqueak still wants me to continue on the meds for two more days, then come in for Beta #3. When I asked her how realistic this pregnancy could be, she replied that "it doesn't look too good", but then again, sometimes things actually work out (which is why they're keeping me on the meds, I suppose). On one hand, it's good news that it DID go up, but not so good that it didn't double like they wanted. As to whether or not it will be considered viable....well, it's anyone's guess at this point. I've been trying to research on the 'Ol Interweb to see if there are any cases of women with low betas/doubling times that have gone on to have successful pregnancies, and there are women out there, so I guess there's always hope for me. The odds are against me, but there's always a chance, right?

It's odd-I didn't get really upset when I got the phone call (probably because I was in the middle of a faculty meeting), and I'm not totally gutted right now. Maybe I'm still in a state of shock over the whole fucking thing, but I just have a peaceful feeling about this (at least, at this point in time). Sure I want this to work, but it's not up to me, ultimately. That embryo just needs to either make it, or it won't. I've been through this before, and yes, it sucks royally. But at least I know what to expect, unlike the last time. Last night, as I was lying in bed, I had a little talk with the Man Upstairs (as well as St. Anthony, St. Gerard, St. Rita, St. Theresa and the ever-appropriate St. Jude....patron saint of lost causes) and just asked for a sign that this will all work out for the best. Needless to say I went to bed without a definitive answer.

On the way home today I was driving up the Parkway when I looked up at the sky. It was a partly-cloudy day, where the clouds are all puffy and look like cotton balls. Anyway.....so I was thinking about the game I used to play when I was a little kid, where you would look at the clouds and see what objects you could "see" in the clouds, when I looked at the cloud formation that was directly in front of me. It was in the shape of an early fetus, lying on it's back. You know what I mean-that picture you see when it's around 6-10 weeks old. Yeah.

My question is: is it wishful thinking, or is it that sign that I asked for? The jury is still out on that one.

9dp5dt-Beta Day

I did two more Evil Pee Sticks of Anxiety this morning, and the faint positives are still there, probably a little bit darker than yesterday.

Beta came back at 15.9, Progesterone at 27. I stay on meds for another two days, then go back on Monday for a repeat to see if the numbers have doubled.

I'm trying to stay positive and focused, because Nurse Blondie said that it isn't necessarily a bad number (lower than they'd like to see, but still better than a single-digit). I personally don't give a fiddler's fart-as long as it consistently doubles, that's enough for me. It's going to be difficult, since I've been here once before, and you all know how THAT ended up.

So, all of you out there in InternetLand, please pray to God/Buddha/Allah/The Flying Spaghetti Monster/Whoever that this works. I can't go through the awfulness a second time.

8dp5dt-The Night Before The Morning Of

Thanks for your support guys. It's sort of blown over, I think. I still haven't talked to my brother, and I won't until we know about the results of tomorrow's beta (then, depending on the results....well, we'll see). I did talk to my dad for his birthday the other day, and it wasn't mentioned by either of us, and I haven't talked to my mother yet, although her treatment is next week. *Sigh*. Hopefully they'll have learned their lesson about thinking before speaking, but I doubt it. It's just best to distance myself for now.

As for the 2ww front: well, nothing yet. I've been having cramps in varying degress all week long, and the girls have been killing me. I mean killing me and then once I'm dead KILLING ME AGAIN. Oddly enough, they hurt more at night than in the morning. The other night they were literally throbbing from the outside and in towards my center. Ugh. It's like taking off my bra and feeling like a bag of rocks dropped out. I'm tired, hungry, constantly peeing, sore and starting to get lumpy from the PIO. What else is new, right? That's why PIO sucks-it gives you the pregnancy mind fuck.

As for testing...........sorry Heather, but I did cave. I can't help it-I'm of the mindset that I need to be prepared, so that if it's negative it's not a total kick in the ass. I started on 6dp5dt, which was BFN. Then again the next day, which was "sort-of" negative (kinda ambiguous, so I'm going to say BFN). Today, I did three more, one in the morning (the CBE +/- kind), and two this afternoon when I got home (a FRER and a CVS brand, which is supposed to be like a FRER). The CBE had a really really faint "+" line (like you had to really look at it), but the FRER had a more defined line (but still very faint, though). The CVS one also had a really faint line, but not as strong as the FRER. The upshot of all this? I'm not sure. It's definitely not an evap line, because the faint 2nd line came up within the 5 minute window. If it IS positive then the beta could come up as really low, which isn't a good sign (and I've been there before). If it's negative, then it's just a fucking bad karmic joke. However, three different test coming up as (sort of) false positive? I'm not sure that could be happening-it's too weird. Either way, there are two tests left (a FRER and a CVS) so I'll test tomorrow before I leave for the beta and let Sean look at it (he doesn't know-I'm a closet POAS'er!! HELP!) to get a second opinion.

So friends, hold your applause, because we're at that "maybe.......not sure" stage of the 2ww. We'll all know tomorrow, one way or the other. I know which way I want it to go, though.

4dt5dt-Self-Preservation Is My New Best Friend

So far, so good. I've had a little cramping off and on, but I'm really not feeling anything else as of yet. Of course, we all know that progesterone is a little bitch in regards to side effects screwing with your mind, so I'm trying not to read into anything as of yet, since it's too early to tell anything.

Yesterday we got a little shock when we got a phone call from my brother and sister-in-law, who were visiting my parents. They kept asking us if we were going to be there, but we wanted a weekend to ourselves, so we decided to stay home.

I'm glad now that we made that decision. My brother announced (after asking that we put him on speakerphone) that he and his wife are expecting. They'll be married six months on Sunday. Nice, huh? I couldn't even talk to him-I managed to choke out a "congratulations" and had to walk out of the room. After Sean hung up the phone I just lost it (pumped up by My Buddy Progesterone)-I mean, LOST IT. I cried for two hours, because it seems like EVERY CYCLE we have, someone else gets pregnant (and, I'm not kidding-I can connect almost every one of our friend's or family member's children to when we've done an IVF or FET cycle)............and it's never us. I couldn't help feeling that it's a bad omen of what's to come.

Of course, my mother had to call later and bitch me out because I was "wrong" to act the way I did. Hello? Really? I got into an argument with her (yeah, thanks again hormones!) and told her that perhaps, PERHAPS, she should've told him what was going on (since they didn't know we were doing a cycle) and maybe they should've waited to call me until we find out what's going on (they aren't far along anyway, why the frig are they telling us NOW?). She said that she did tell him, and that he wasn't sure to call, but my mother "didn't think that it was a big deal, because everything's going so well (JINX!!) for us". Yeah, because it's not like we haven't done this before, and things have gone well in the past......and we know how that turned out, right? I told her that there is no guarantee that this will work, and it was shitty of her to be so naive. She tried to put me on the phone with my father, but I just didn't want to talk to any of them. I just freaked out, and they were pissed off at me and hung up on me (after my father angrily told me that my brother doesn't want us to tell anyone. Great. I didn't want to be told, why would I broadcast it?).

Of course, Sean is upset. We were both thrown by the news. But he's more upset because he doesn't want me to be stressed out, because he thinks that my stress levels and the outcome of this cycle are connected. I just couldn't help reacting the way I did. Sean actually called my parents later and tried to explain how I'm feeling to them, that, although they are supportive, they will never know the hell we've gone through in regards to infertility. That the hormones I'm taking aren't helping my reaction, and that even he can't fully relate to it, because he's not the one who is being poked, prodded, injected, hooked up to things and having surgery to have what others have. He told me later that he thinks she has a better idea, but she still has "her opinions" on the matter (whatever), and that she does care about we're going through. Sean just thinks that she's just the type of person who isn't totally involved emotionally, which he's right.

My family, who is SUPPOSED to be supportive of us, can't understand why I'm so upset, that it's not fair to them (true, but again....HELLO?) and that we "should be happy for them". Yeah, well perhaps if I wasn't in the throes of what is my last IVF cycle and in 2WW hell, I could've probably mustered up an acceptable theatrical display of oohing and ahhing. But I feel like my mother, MY MOTHER, should've tried more to protect my feelings on this. Instead, she's all happy happy, because she's getting her long-awaited grandchild; and, like I always felt, it won't be from me. Even if this does work, it's like the thunder has been stolen from it, because he got there first. Yeah, it's selfish and babyish of me to think that way, but when the Only Son of the family announces that he's knocked up his wife, everything else in an Italian family just isn't as important. I should be used to it, but I always, stupidly think that it'll change and my parents will magically *POOF* realize that. Nah.

So I've decided that I won't talk to any of them right now, and if we're lucky that this works, we still won't tell them until we have to. I'm tired of being the one who always worries about what my family thinks. It's time to think of myself first. Yes, I know that at this point there's not much more I can do for those embryos, but I can try to help myself.

1dp5dt, Times 3

Well, folks....the deed is done. There are now embryos safely smooshed between my uterine walls, to hopefully do their little thing. I'm kinda counting on them to know their role and attach, but you know how kids are.....they NEVER do what you want them to. Unless it involves massive amounts of Jolly Rancher candies, McDonalds and XBox video games. But, I digress.

I show up at the surgery center almost promptly at 1pm, with my bottle of water in dutifully in hand, and do the usual melee of signing away your life (or those of your embryos) in paperwork. I was the only one in the waiting room, and it didn't take long for someone to come and get me to prep for the transfer. I get my rockin' hot designer outfit of gown (open in the back, of course), slipper socks (grey) thick, fluffy robe (that tries to make you almost believe you're in a spa, but then you suddenly realize that the only "massage" you're getting involves a metal speculum. WITHOUT LUBE), and a blue paper hat that makes you look like a lunch lady and sit in my little recliner (complete with warm towel-see what I mean about the spa part?). They take my vitals, blah blah blah, and I sit and wait for the RE to come in and give me the news. And she gave me a whole lot of news.

Now, as we last left our little saga, we had 18 eggs retrieved, 16 mature and 12 fertilized, which are pretty damn good stats. As of yesterday (day five, remember) All 12 were STILL GROWING. Yeah, you read that correctly. I still had all twelve as of yesterday. It was better than they could've hoped for. So......the recommendation was to transfer in three blasts. I was a little apprehensive at first, given that blasts are more likely to succeed, but they want to take a "more aggressive approach" this time around. What worried me is the higher-order multiple risk, but the doctor assured me that the triplet rate is only around 5%. However, the twin risk is around 35-40%, which is probably higher in my case, given that twins run in both sides of my family (there have been five sets in my family, and three are still living-my mom's brother and sister are twins, and we don't have any as yet in my generation of family members). Whoo hoo-double trouble!! So I made the decision to go through with it, and off I went to the OR and had them transferred in.

So here we are, at 1dp5dt. And I'm really okay about it, so far. I'm not overly obsessive yet, and I was pretty calm during the drive up there. Really calm, in fact. Which is pretty much my attitude throughout this whole cycle-there really hasn't been any anxiety over anything. As for the remaining blasts-well, they will check them today to see if they meet freezing criteria, and will freeze what's okay. Hopefully we'll have some frozen, because I like to hedge my bets. But, seriously.....I'm actually pretty peaceful about it all. I'm taking my prenatal vitamins, eating well, sleeping well (except having to get up at night to pee-damn progesterone!!), not having too much progesterage and Sean still has all of his body parts. What could be better than that?

Other than the obvious, of course. Beta is scheduled for October 3rd.

Well, Well, Well.....

Got another surprise this morning at around 9:30, but in a really good way.

Dr. Pipsqueak called while we were having breakfast-my embryos are doing really well ("the best we've ever seen" is what she said) and are going for a day-5 transfer on Thursday-TBA. We'll know exactly when later today.

Did I mention exactly how great the new place I work is? I went in yesterday morning and had a talk with my principal (who I've been honest with about our whole journey, so she knew that we were going to do this) and told her that we weren transferring on Tuesday and I'd need the day off. She told me it was absolutely no problem; and, in fact, I should also take Wednesday off to "rest and relax". I told her that it was really not necessary, but she insisted. She's already told me that she really wants this to work for us, and that she'll do whatever she can to make it happen. How cool is she?

I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm scared shitless. I know that blasts have a higher implantation rate, and from my own experience the only success I had was with a blast, despite it being a FET. But, the fact that it failed also is sitting in the back of my mind too. This whole cycle has been one big surprise in the way that nothing went as planned, from the cysts to actually getting to transfer at all. Perhaps this is the ending we all want? I'm afraid to hope for it, so I don't jinx it.

It all seems so weird. I know that I didn't post this, but for my retrieval my anesthesiologist was the same guy that I had when I had my hysteroscopy ages ago with Dr. Vest (which was right before I started my first cycle), and we recognized each other. Now, I'm (fingers crossed) about to have a blast transfer, like I did for my first FET, which did result in a pregnancy (albeit briefly). Perhaps everything is parallelling because it's coming full circle, and this is really the cycle for us? Am I reading into too much? Hmmm......

I don't think that I've ever heard Dr. Pipsqueak so excited about our results. She said that she told the embryologist that "this is it....this is the cycle where she gets pregnant".

From your mouth to God's ears. We'll know soon enough.

Wrenches

Holy crap, has it been like two weeks since I've last posted? Sheesh. Sorry y'all, but the past two weeks were a kick in the ass in relation to time-management. But, I do have updates! Woot!

Lets see......what's new? Oh, we got another cat! She's an adorable six week old kitten that we've named Callie. She was part of a litter that my MIL rescued (she's kind of the crazy cat lady of her neighborhood) when they were about a week or so old. She raised them, and we decided to take one of the litter. She's really sweet and loooves to cuddle, but has all that crazy kitten energy that has resulted in little claw marks all over my legs. We've kept her seperate from Peachy for now, since she's so small (she's in the office, which is partly why I haven't updated-the computer is in here and every time I try to get on she wants to play....typical), but I'm sure in a week or two she'll run havoc around the house.

Mom's doing well-she had phase two of her chemo treatment that, honestly isn't as much "fun" as the last time. She had to go into the hospital for three days for partial IV chemo (1 day) and then they also inject a dose directly into the port that's in her abdomen. Then they flush her body with 1000 cc's of fluids so the port chemo doesn't stay in her system-kind of like marinating her insides. So she's feeling a bit nauseous this time, not to mention the bloating and constant peeing from the fluids. She's lost about 15 or so pounds through this journey (she's down to 97 pounds) so it's important that she eats, but she wasn't hungry because of the fluid push-hopefully that will change. Not fun, but necessary.

Now, onto the main event....my cycle!

When we last left our saga, I was starting Lupron and going back for monitoring that Thursday. I started the FolliSTING that night (75IU, can you believe it!), overlapping with the Lupron and stopped the BCP's. So, I was plugging along on the same dosage (I'm still amazed at that small amount of stims....unreal, right?) and going every two days for monitoring, which really sucked because I had to get up at 4:30am in order to get to the clinic and to work on time-with the new job it now takes me an hour to get to work from there. Starting this past Monday I was going every morning (double suckage), and they let me trigger Thursday, with the retrieval being Saturday morning. Then Dr. Pipsqueak decided that she wanted to throw a small wrench into the plan by calling me on Friday and letting me know that there was a "distinct possibility" I could have a fresh transfer this cycle, since I did so well with the stims (her words were that I didn't "explode like you usually do"). So I had to get PIO and Medrol from the office, since it was never ordered for me. Luckily I was already in the hospital visiting mom and I could just walk over, and I already have tons of leftover PIO needles!

I had the retreival yesterday (LOVE those drugs ,btw!) and they got 18 eggs! We'll find out today the fert report and whether or not we'll do a fresh transfer this cycle or not. I did start PIO last night (yeah, forgot how much THAT sucked!) just in case.

Let's hope that the wrench in the plan is a good one.

**************update***************

Nurse Blondie called late this morning with my results:

18 retrieved, 16 mature, 12 fertilized. Day 3 transfer scheduled for 12:30pm on Tuesday.

Here we go again.

The Ganirelix Love Affair

First of all, thanks for all the comments and support. Honestly, I thought that, because I've been neglectful of this here blog, there would be nobody really around these parts, but thanks to you (and LFCA.....you rock like a aging heroin punk groupie on the Bowery) I know that I'm still not alone, even though I've been at this shit for as long as I have been. I'm the crusty old infertile that sits in the corner of the room talking about the "good 'ol days", when men were men and women were.....well, you know what I mean.

And, I apologize for leaving anyone hanging out there in regards to what's going on with my girly-bits. I went back to work on Tuesday (kids came on Wednesday) so it's been pretty crazy right now with getting back into the swing of things, and then adding in getting up at the ass-crack of dawn (the ass-crack being 4:30 am to get out of the house by 5:30 and getting to the office by 5:50am)to go to BIC for monitoring and THEN going to work, which is an hour from the office (with some traffic).....all to make it in time for my homeroom. Sheesh.

So. I went to the RE on Sunday morning, bright and early for my bloodwork and wanding. Of course, I was also killing a few birds with one stone, because my RE's office is attached to and affiliated with the hospital where my mother was recuperating from her cancer surgery (more on that in another post, but the streamlined version is that they did the total hysterectomy, didn't have to remove any of the bowel, the cancer cells were 99.9% gone according to the surgeon, and they installed the intra-peritoneal port for course #2 of chemo under her skin.). I drag Lovely Sean with me into the wanding room, where he proceeds to yet again prove his lack of common decency by asking me if he thought that Dr. Pipsqueak would find it odd if he asked her if he could lick the probe afterwards, like a Kohr's Frozen Custard on the Jersey Shore boardwalk. Really. I can't make this shit up, I swear.

And, no......I didn't let him. Although it would've been worth it to see the reaction he got, I DO have some pride left in me throughout this.

Yes, people-I STILL want to reproduce with this man. And make him partially responsible for any offspring I might release from my loins. Um....yeah. Of course, since any child we have will be half mine and half his genetically, and Murphy's Law being what it is, they'll more than likely inherit this lovely trait from him. Wonderful. I'll be the future gestator of probe-licking children who have no "filter" button. Can't wait for Back-To-School Night already!!

Oh, sorry......anyways, the upshot of this whole thing is that, once the wand was inserted, we all find out that the cysts are GONE. Buh-bye! It was like Ganirelix is the Wonder Drug Of The Fertility Universe. Like, I'd marry it if it were legal. Hell....I'd even let it not put the toilet seat down afterwards. Because THAT'S how much I love this damn medication. I even read something online about a study that was recently done using Ganirelix on high responders and those at-risk of OHSS, and it worked in lowering fast-rising E2 levels without compromising egg quality-better than lowering doses or coasting. I mentioned it to Dr. Pipsqueak and she got a big shit-eating grin on her face and agreed that the findings were pretty cool. It's like Ganirelix was MADE FOR ME! Hallelujah!

I got the call Sunday night to start Lupron (10 units) and overlap with the BCP. And, OH MY GOOD GOD, I forgot how much injecting suuuucks. I've been at it for almost a week and I'm still getting over that "my hand is trying to stick a needle in my body" mental override that you have to do. I mean, for the first time EVER I bruised badly enough that I still can't inject on my right side. It was bright purple and about the diameter of a golf ball, I swear (but is now starting to turn that pretty shade of yellowish-pink). I even had the school nurse look at it, to make sure that I wasn't internally bleeding to death (she didn't think so, btw). It still freaks me out looking at it.

I had to go back to BIC for monitoring on Thursday (how I made it through the day I have NO IDEA-thank God we only had the kids for a half day) and got the all-clear call from Nurse Blondie-I could stop BCP's, and start the Folli-STING (75IU-can you believe it? It's like the dosage for an IUI!!) tonight. Woot! Sean also got to start his Doryx today. I get to go back on Tuesday for monitoring and we'll take it from there.

Wow.....we're FINALLY on the ride! I thought we'd never get here. I am a bit excited now that the process has started. Of course, once I start daily monitoring (probably the middle of next week) I'm sure that if you asked me, I'd say that I'd rather have a dirty spork sticking out of my eye than stim. But, I'm feeling good about it at this point in time.

And, that'll do for now. Quite nicely, in fact.

Chemical Cocktails Aren't Very Tasty, But The Souvenir Glass Is Nice

Well, friends.....in our newest installment of "Who Wants To Be A Down-Regulator", we found out that (1). the HCG shot worked in the sense that my LH and E2 levels have somewhat gone down, (2). My P4 levels have gone up, and (3). one of the cysts is shrinking.

However, my E2 and P4 levels haven't changed as much as they need in order to start Lupron (my reading is 2, and it needs to be 3......isn't that a har-de-har?), and the cyst on my right side has gotten bigger (4cm). So, after Dr. Pipsqueak reviewed today's latest bloodletting, she has come up with a new plan to try to suppress me enough to start Lupron. Starting tonight I get to start BCP's (yay.....my favorite!) and add in Ganirelix for the next four days, then go in on Sunday for more bloodwork and a date with the wand. If everything looks good, then Lupron is a go (I have until Sept 1st to start Lupron for this lab series). If not.....then the plan is to stay on the BCP until the next series starts in October. Which blows big monkey balls, but there's not much that I, or anyone else can do. I had to go pick up my meds at the office and got to speak to Nurse Blondie, and I did ask whether or not I should be concerned about the cyst bursting or getting bigger, and she said that Dr. Pipsqueak doesn't seem to be overly concerned and that the cyst is pretty small compared to the size it could be if I didn't take the HCG. But, that cyst is still creating hell and havoc, much like a middle-schooler. How ironic.

Nurse Blondie suggested having a "talk" with my ovaries, and I told her that I've begged, cajoled, bribed and threatened those little fuckers, and that the next move is a well-aimed punch in the cooter. Oddly, she didn't find that as funny as I thought. Hmmm. Perhaps I shouldn't have used the word cooter.

So.....that means that I get to start a new chemical cocktail, starting tonight. Anyone out there take Ganirelix and have any input? Is it more, or less shittier than Lupron? How about side effects? The only thing I could find on my trusty Dr. Google is that it's a GNRH-antagonist, which is like someone telling me in Russian that I should try black caviar. And, I HATE BCP's....hate, hate, hate them! Ugh, nothing like being a moody bitch right in time for the new school year, huh? Heads are gonna ROLL next week with my 7th grade homeroom! Grooowwwwl! Let's hope that it really doesn't make me crazy.....or, at least, not as crazy as Loopy Lupron does.

Seriously, though, I am disappointed-I won't gloss over that-but not totally gutted by it. Perhaps now is not the right time to do a cycle, and, with everything else that's going on with school starting and my mother's illness (she's doing well, btw....the tumor has shrunk to the point that the CAT scan can't pick it up, and they've moved her surgery up to this Friday, instead of in November). I just can't help feeling that time is slipping away from me with each passing month that we don't conceive. I'll be 37 my next birthday; and, although it is still technically "young", even by infertility standards, it sure ain't 30. It's the age where I have to start worrying about upped miscarriage and Down's syndrome rates, CVS and amnio testing, and all the crap that I never gave a thought about when we started this whole mess. To be honest, I idealistically thought that we'd have more than one child by now, and we wouldn't have to worry anymore. That the world of infertility would be just a distant memory for us.

Boy, was I wrong on that one.