Rest in peace, grandpa.

My grandpa passed on Monday morning and was laid to rest today (Friday). We just got home tonight, after getting to my hometown Wednesday afternoon and spending Wednesday and Thursday night in a hotel.

It was an exhausting, confusing, taxing, depressing, stressful, exhausting exhausting exhausting weekend. But also a tiny bit fun because I got to see so many family members. I got drunk, didn't sleep nearly enough, and pumped in both a closet at the funeral home and a men's restroom at the parish hall.

Traveling with a 15 week old is no joke - especially a 15 week old who has his first cold. Poor baby. He's had diarrhea and sounds like a little piglet when he tries to breathe. He also has a pathetic little cough. It breaks my heart.

He did not sleep well at all while we were gone, but did take some good naps because we packed up his swing, which was a pain in the ass but totally worth it. We co-slept in the hotel bed because I couldn't bear to listen to him snorting over in the crib.

I spent the better part of 6-7 hours preparing for this trip (packing, laundry, cleaning the house for our house sitter, etc), but luckily I think unpacking will go more smoothly.

Alex was my grandpa's first (and only) great-grandchild. There was a large flower arrangement on the casket: yellow roses, mums, and carnations, with white daisies. There were ribbons that said "dad", "husband", "grandfather", etc. And tucked in the corner of the casket, one tiny yellow rose with a "great-grandfather" ribbon. It went into the grave with him. He didn't get to know Alex very long, but he sure was special to him for three short months.

I look forward to the day I can take big boy Alex to grandpa's grave and tell him that there's a tiny rose from him resting with his great-grandpa.

I'm sad.

What a difference a year makes.

All summer I have been thoughtfully reflecting on the events of last summer.

On July 7, I turned 26. It was a long day with a fussy baby, but it beat the pants off of my 25th birthday, when I cried all the way home from the RE's office.

July 21 was one year from my first retrieval. July 24, one year from my first transfer. In the middle there was one of the hardest days of my life: our fertilization report. I can physically remember the pain I felt when I heard that all but one my eggs failed to fertilize normally. It cut right through me.

Tomorrow is our 4th anniversary. On our 3rd anniversary, I found out that our first IVF didn't work. I aptly described that day on this blog as full of "soul-crushing disappointment". A year later, I don't think that's at all dramatic. I remember walking around in a fog of horrible sadness that day, feeling like the past three years had been utterly fruitless.

I'd like to travel back in time and put my arms around that girl's shoulders on her 3rd anniversary. The pain of those difficult days is like a scar on my heart, just like the reminders of long ago burns and cuts on my skin.

A year later, and I have the sweetest baby anyone could ask for.

We have many more one year marks to reflect on, coming up. The anniversary of our retrieval and transfer that led to Alex. The day I first took a pregnancy test, the day we first saw Alex's heartbeat on the ultrasound screen, the day we found out we were having a boy.

I worked so hard to get here. But what did I do to deserve this new, beautiful life?

Love.

Blogging has been a bit difficult for me throughout this pregnancy, because I still feel guilty even being pregnant around here. So I haven’t been documenting as much as I normally would have.

One thing I cannot overlook anymore is the need to write about my husband.

A and I had a whirlwind romance. We were friends for a year, and dated for just about 9 months when we got engaged April 2007. We were engaged for 16 months and got married three and a half years ago in August 2008. We are coming up on six years of being together.

Looking back, I can’t really tell you why I wanted to marry A. I don’t mean that to sound rude. I only mean that I didn’t have any romantic notions about marriage; mainly, I just knew that A was very different from my previous boyfriends, and I wanted to mark that difference publicly and in front of my family.

I think the first year of marriage is rough for most couples, and we were no exception. Just about a year into marriage, we hit our first fertility hurdles, and I don’t need to explain to you how difficult that can be for a couple.

Somehow, we have made it work. As soon as we hit a true challenge like infertility, everything we had argued about in the previous months seemed so frivolous.

My respect for him grew deeper as I watched him put his life on hold to pursue treatments to start a family with me. His respect for me also grew, as he watched how dedicated I was in my goal of being a mother.

When I think about the TTC years with A, I always think about the day of my last egg retrieval. I was so, so ill, and I kept passing out every time I stood up. He was literally picking me up off the floor that day. But he picked me up off the floor so many times before that, figuratively speaking, that it seemed fitting.

My husband held me when our first IVF cycle came crashing down around us with a terrible fertilization report. While I cried through a heartache I had never experienced before, I asked him “Am I overreacting here?” and he assured me that I was not - I was grieving.

My husband held me on Mother’s days, he wiped tears from my eyes at countless appointments, and his job was not done when I got pregnant. He picks me up and puts together the pieces every time I need him. And he’s never asked for anything in return.

This kind of emotional intelligence and willingness to support me by validating my feelings is rare in men. I can’t say that my dad was this way towards my mom.

Not only is he supportive and kind, but we have fun together. We make each other laugh. We are best friends.

I want to raise a son just like my husband.

I have a friend who is in her 40s and single. She had a partner for 7 years but that relationship ended (badly) a year ago. Recently, she has suffered a disabling injury. She can’t drive, shower or dress herself, and can barely manage her pain.

Watching her suffer has opened my eyes to a whole new world of marriage. I can’t imagine living alone and dealing with incapacitating pain. I feel so lucky to have a partner who has proven his ability to stop caring about himself in order to care for me.

Occasionally I worry about how this baby will affect our marriage. I know it won’t be easy. But going into parenthood, our marriage is stronger than it has ever been.

This is what love is all about.

2011 in review

I don’t actually expect anyone to read this, it’s really for my own purposes.

I had already met my deductible by January 3 thanks to monitoring appointments for our first IUI! I was inseminated on Friday, January 7. It didn’t work. I had a pelvic exam to examine the weird vagina, AKA vaginal septum. It was at this appointment that my OB and I discussed that my bicornuate uterus could also be a septate uterus and that only a laparoscopy could tell. So after a great deal of tears, I scheduled the lap.

In February we had a giant blizzard that shut down the entire county for two days. I spent it curled up at home eating Crunch Berries and reading the Hunger Games. I had my laparoscopy, which revealed that my uterus is perfectly shaped and the HSG was just plain wrong (WTF?) and that I had mild endometriosis, even thought I had no symptoms (surprise!) and that I had ovulated on my own for the first time since TTC (hooray!).

In March my friend told me she was pregnant, putting a big strain on our already burdened friendship. We took a vacation and a quick break from trying. We went on a cruise to Turks and Caicos, Half Moon Cay, and Nassau. We went snorkeling in Turks and Caicos and horseback riding in the Bahamas. I drank a lot. It was a great time. To the surprise of my family, taking a vacation was not the magic cure they had hoped it would be. Still not pregnant!

On April Fools Day, we were inseminated yet again. This negative cycle tore me apart. Also in April, my already strained friendship with one of my closest friends completely fell apart. I spent the whole month in despair as we waited to see the RE. I went on Welbutrin.

I spent most of May partying and enjoying our break. On May 23 we made our first of many trips to the RE. Waiting to go into that appointment was the oddest type of anticipation for me. We liked him immediately and he gave us a choice between IUI w/injectables and IVF. It was a big decision to make, and I was so preoccupied the next day that I went to work with two different shoes on. Also in May, people actually started coming to my support group!

In June I got promoted at work and we quietly got the ball rolling for IVF #1. We got our infectious disease tests and I took BCP. On Tuesday, June 28 we did our very first at-home injection (Lupron).

We took one day in July to go to Six Flags and ride roller coasters/water rides and revel in not being pregnant. I spent my 25^th birthday at the RE and cried all the way home. I packed up my Lupron, Bravelle, and Menopur to begin stims for IVF #1 while visiting friends in Des Moines. We retrieved 8 eggs. 5 did not fertilize, and of the three that were ICSI-d, only one fertilized normally. I spend 24 hours crying (no exaggeration) over the fert report, because my eggs had failed me. We transferred a 6 cell embryo on day 3. My friend had a baby and I went to the hospital to meet him during my 2ww.

On August 2, our third anniversary, we found out IVF #1 failed. It was a dismal anniversary. Never in a million years did I dream we’d be married three years and have no child. On the same day that I took a big exam at work, we had our follow up phone call with the RE and he cleared us to go straight into another cycle, with no break.

On September 1, I again packed up all my injections and this time, flew with them for my second ever trip to California! I spent 5 days sightseeing with a dear friend and basically ignored the fact that I had a retrieval coming up. It was a great trip, the highlight of which was seeing Muir Woods. This time, I paid dearly for my 17 eggs with painful OHSS combined with a nasty reaction to the anesthesia. I cried myself to sleep in the ER, a nurse holding one hand and my husband holding the other, saying “I just want to be a mom”. We transferred a blast and an early blast on day 5 and froze a hatching blast. On Saturday, 9/24, I got my first ever positive pregnancy test.

October was the month of the ultrasounds, at 6 and 8 weeks. The days leading up to them were always frantic for me. After the 8 week ultrasound we told my grandparents we were pregnant. It was a much anticipated and emotional day. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day as long as I live.

In November I saw the Indigo Girls in concert for the third time. I hit the 12 week mark. I went to a baby shower and it didn’t feel like my heart was getting pulled out of my chest and stomped on.

In December I celebrated a happy Christmas with joy and gratitude in my heart. Our quad screening came back negative and we found out we are having a boy!

All in all, 2011 kicked the pants off of 2010. I would say the worst two days were

1) when I got the fert report for IVF #1

2) retrieval day for IVF #2.

The best two days were

1) the 12 week ultrasound, because the baby was so baby-like and moving around so much, it truly made me feel pregnant

2) when we found out it was a boy.

Also 3) the day we went snorkeling and got day drunk on the beach in Turks and Caicos – that was a marvelous day, too : )

Christmas (warning: belly pic)

It's almost Christmas.

Christmas 2009, I went off the pill and we officially started TTC. However, by that point I was already frantic for a child because I had spent months waiting to get good enough health insurance to start trying.

A few months before Christmas 2009, I went to a baby shower and cried all the way home because I wanted it to be my turn so badly, and we weren't even trying yet. So I really consider my infertility pain to have started prior to Christmas 2009.

Christmas 2009 was a very happy Christmas because my time was finally here. I was certain I'd be pregnant by June 2010, when I was in a friend's wedding and could share the news. I was glowing all throughout celebrations that year because of our secret. I was going to be a mom soon.

Things didn't work out and when I saw my (old) OB in May of 2010, she said we'll do a little Metformin, a little clomid, and "You will be pregnant by Christmas."

Christmas 2010 came and went and I hated every moment. It was nothing but a missed deadline. I especially hated my OB for turning my favorite time of year into a reminder of how I'd failed.

So that's my Christmas story. I know it's pretty silly compared to others who have been trying for longer and have endured more. But to me, it's reality.

The year 2011 included two IUIs, a laparoscopy, and 2 cycles of IVF. This year I am unspeakably blessed to look like this on Christmas:

12/17 -- 15w4d

7 weeks and very anxious

I have rounded the halfway point until my next ultrasound, which is a week from yesterday.

I’m still alternating between being sure this will work out and being terrified.

I have not had morning sickness, but I have felt dizzy almost all of the time. My nipples are still a little sore and dark. I still have blue veins on my chest, but they’re not as noticeable as they were.

I’m not quite as exhausted in the evenings as I was last week, although I slept pretty much all of Sunday and felt terrible that day. Yesterday I had about an hour of feeling yucky in the afternoon.

I had near constant cramps that petered out last week, came back full force on Friday, and now have been almost totally missing (although as I type this, they’re making a liar out of me and coming back oh-so-mildly).

I had some “spotting” last Thursday night. I put it in quotes because it barely even counted. There was hardly any of it, and it was a light, light brown or tan color. I knew it was probably nothing to worry about, but I still sat on the couch and cried in fear. I called my Dr. on call and he reassured me that it was nothing to worry about. It hasn’t returned.

I don’t know how on earth I will wait until Monday for another ultrasound. I’m terrified the baby has stopped growing.

I’m trying to get my husband to let me call the RE and request a scan with my OB here in town. I feel like if I told them 1) my symptoms were decreasing, 2) I had spotting last week, 3) I’m unbelievably anxious and 4) currently adjusting to life off of my anti-depressant, they’d definitely let me go in. A thinks this is a terrible idea and I should be able to manage my anxiety better than that. But…I cannot.

Please hurry up, Monday.

BFN

That's right. This cycle failed.

I knew yesterday because the positive HPT was way too faint. Today, 10dp3dt, it was just plain negative. No booster, no fetus, no pregnancy.

Yesterday was honestly a day full of soul-crushing disappointment. I could barely keep it together and I'm afraid I was a bitch to everyone at work. It was not a happy anniversary. I was blinded by this recent loss and couldn't see anything but three years of failure.

But really, look at what we have done in three years:

• A finished his master's
• we moved
• we bought our house
• we got a second dog
• we bought a car
• I quit my old job and got this current job
• A got his current job
• I've been promoted twice
• I've been to the ER
• I've been to California,
• A has been to Oklahoma
• We went on a honeymoon in Mexico
• We took a Caribbean vacation
• I got diagnosed with PCOS
• I've have a wisdom tooth extraction, HSG, laparascopy, and egg retrieval
• We've had two failed clomid cycles,
• Two failed IUIs,
• and a failed IVF

So that's quite a lot even though I'm still so heartbroken that we aren't parents yet.

Today I'm just angry and bitter and I know from experience that this will linger. Get ready. I plan to be drunk a lot.

Beta is Friday and I wish I could just save my time and money and skip it. We are definitely going to try again, as soon as we are able to.

For now, I have fun plans with friends this weekend while A is away, and I have a trip to California coming up in less than a month. 

I will get through this.

PS--we are making plans to skip Christmas this year.

8dp3dt

Apparently my threshold is 7dp3dt. That is as far as I can get without going crazy.

Yesterday I lost control. I woke up feeling like it didn’t work. I sunk further and further into depression so that by the time we got in the car to go to my mom’s house, I was crying and my heart was just so, so heavy.

I haven’t cried in a while, not since we found out Little E was going to make it to transfer, and those were tears of relief.

On Friday, I went to see my co-worker/friend’s two-day old baby and I didn’t even cry then.

Yesterday I started the mourning process for this first IVF cycle.

But then. Then! This morning I continued my pee stick routine. And there is no doubt about it (well, a little doubt, but not much). Yesterday and today (7dp3dt, 1 day post booster 3 and 8dp3dt, 2 days post booster 3) are a little darker than 1 day post booster 2 and 2 days post booster 2. Can you even read that sentence? I told you I’ve lost my mind. I even started posting photos of things I’ve peed on to twitter.

This could mean anything. HPTs are not reliable, let alone after a bunch of hcg boosters. The lines will either continue to get darker tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday until beta on Friday, or they will fade. I can deal with either result, I know I can.

I don’t think it would be so hard if our anniversary weren’t tomorrow. On my wedding day, I never, ever, EVER would have thought I would reach my third anniversary without a child in my arms. The fact that we have been married for three years without so much as one pregnancy is gutwrenching to me.

Furthermore, I’m so disgusted by how much of our marriage has been consumed with this bullshit. From the “longing to TTC but waiting for health insurance” stage, to “waiting for ovulation”, to “waiting for Metformin to work”, to “clomid”, to “do you have sperm or not?” (yes, thank God), to “is my uterus messed up?” (no, thank God) to “surgery time”, to “IUIs”, to where I am today…that’s our entire three years. It hurts.

Anyway. We shall learn a lot in the next 48 hours, ladies.

The death of a friendship

It’s hard to watch a friendship fall apart. I’ve seen a number of them come and go, but I’ve probably never stressed out about one as much as I am stressing about my failing friendship with J.

It’s hard to know where it all went wrong. It started with personality differences. Once I got some perspective, I realized I didn’t really like the way she conducted herself.

Then I felt that she didn’t support me in the right way with the infertility stuff. To be fair, I didn’t really know how to articulate my needs and I recognize that she was in a tough position.

Then she and her husband started TTC and that was the first major nail in the coffin. I couldn’t handle it and she showed an enormous lack of empathy. She had the guts to complain about how tedious sex was on her second TTC month, while I was gearing up for my first IUI and mourning the loss of sex in the baby making process.

In January she deeply offended me by pushing her religion on me. I responded too harshly and she was hurt.

Then she, understandably, went radio silence for a while when she found out she was pregnant and hadn’t told me yet.

When she told me she was pregnant, I thought I reacted very well. In fact, looking back, I probably reacted too well. She thought she could talk to me about her pregnancy and I wasn’t ready.

I told her I needed space and she honored that for a week or two and then stopped giving me the space I needed.

I was too firm with my demand for space.

She kept trying to make the “break” on her terms, and about her. I was in a dark place after my second IUI failed and she didn’t respect what I needed.

Then I emailed her inquiring about a mutual friend. Apparently, she didn’t like that. She was short with me in her response.

So I gave up.

Gearing up for our group dinner last month, I texted people and said “please don’t bring up my infertility. We can talk about it one-on-one if you’d like an update.” That was the agreement: no pregnancy talk, no infertility talk when J and I were together.

Then she stomped all over the agreement by talking about her pregnancy almost exclusively.

I was so mad when I left that I was trembling.

So now we pointedly do not talk. We do not communicate.

I am not going to her baby shower, although I will send a gift card. I’m not callous enough to let it pass by completely unnoticed.

Looking back, I’m not sure if I could have done anything differently. Some things are just meant to end.

update on my cycle/anti depressants

I have been on BCP for two full weeks now. The first week was terrible. I don’t understand, because I took BCP for 8 years and had no problems. But I guess getting adjusted to it is the hard part, because I was so hormonal last week I couldn’t stand it. It was worse than anything I experienced on clomid.

That seems to have resolved itself but now I have unpleasant physical side effects. My acne is worse than it has ever been and my hair is falling out in handfuls (literally). 

I am still going back and forth between excitement and stress. My support group met this week and while we are supposed to be supporting each other, they kind of made me want to turn and run the other direction.

I have worked my butt off to lose 10 pounds in three months and my pants have been delightfully baggy, but I know that by the end of the IVF cycle I’ll be giant again. I know it’s shallow but I’m not looking forward to the bloating. It is really going to throw a wrench in my self-esteem, which is already suffering because of the acne.

I haven’t said much here about antidepressants. Now that I have been on 150mg of Welbutrin for two months I can say that they have helped. I still have conflicting feelings on the medicine and I haven’t told anyone that I’m taking them besides A. 

My depression isn’t the kind where I can’t get out of bed in the morning or I weep every day. The main reason I knew I needed help was actually work. My work performance started really suffering. I didn’t have the energy to do my tasks as well as I used to, or even at all. 

That changed almost immediately after going on Welbutrin. Obviously, I’m not happy all the time. And it’s not a miracle drug. And I have to stop it once I get pregnant. But I think I made the right choice.

I start Lupron on 6/28 and take my last BCP on 7/5. I’m trying to decide when to stop drinking. Obviously after the transfer. But should I stop when I start stims? Or when I start Lupron? Or now? I only have one drink every now and then but I don’t want to give it up before I have to. I also need to ask the nurses when to stop going to the gym.

Hope everyone is doing well!

Poor me.

I have always known that infertility is isolating. I have understood that from the moment I went off the pill and got that gut feeling: this isn’t going to go down the way I want it to.

But lately I have learned this the hard way. Yesterday was one of the worst days I have had, and now I understand why.

When you’re pregnant, you get a lot of support from your friends. At dinner last night I’d say 25% of the conversation focused around my pregnant friend. People know the kinds of things you’re supposed to say and do.

People don’t know what to say or do around infertile people. I’d argue that my upcoming IVF cycle is just as big of an event to me as my friend’s pregnancy is to her. I think it carries just as many feelings of excitement, apprehension, anxiety and stress. There is just as much to talk about.

But do I get to speak about it at a group dinner? No. No one knows how to talk about it. It makes people uncomfortable.

People know to ask at 20 weeks about the gender. They know to tell you that you look great even if you look enormously fat. They know to ask about names, nursery colors, registries, birth plans, daycare arrangements.

They don’t know what to ask you if you’re infertile. They don’t want to debate the merits of IUI over IVF. The pros and cons of transferring one embryo vs. two. How your husband feels about his role in the process. How to administer injections. How badly the egg retrieval hurts. How to approach your boss about time off for treatments.

They don’t know how to celebrate with you on the day of your embryo transfer. They don’t know how to commiserate with you as you suffer through the two week wait. They don’t know how to mourn with you if it doesn’t work.

How many times do we hear “pregnancy brain” thrown around as an excuse for messing up at work? How many of you get cut some slack because everyone knows you’re waiting for the call about your fertilization report? I can’t speak for you, but I’d guess zero.

I don’t want special treatment. I don’t think the world should revolve around me. I just wish that I could be on the receiving end of some compassion and concern from someone other than my husband. I hate that the only people I know who get it are computer friends. I love you all, but you’re not there in person during the horrible moments when I just want to make eye contact with someone who understands.

If a friend ever goes through something that I know is hard but I don’t know the details of, I vow to research it. If a friend is diagnosed with breast cancer, I vow to read about it and educate myself. I vow to never let my ignorance get in the way of my ability to support someone.

That is, if I have any friends at all left after all of this.

IUI #3 cancelled

Cyst on left ovary (24mm). The ultrasound tech said she couldn't believe I haven't had pain since there seems to be a lot of fluid, indicating I've had at least one other large cyst burst recently.

I'm relieved. I didn't really want to cycle very much. I need some time off.

Thank you for your input yesterday. I spoke to a nurse this morning about getting some anti-depressants. She was very kind and understanding. We will see how it goes.

I need advice.

Here is something I have been pondering for several days.

Am I depressed?

My thoughts are so scattered and awkward that I can only express them to you in list form. So here is what I know.

1. I have a heavy family history of anxiety/depression disorders. My paternal grandmother has been on anti-depressants for 15-20 years. My maternal grandmother was hospitalized more than once for anxiety attacks. And it doesn’t end there (aunts, great-grandparents, cousins, etc).
2. I have been diagnosed with “major depression” by two therapists, each of whom I saw for a year before giving up on them, and neither of whom ever mentioned the idea of medication.
3. I am not, currently, the person I want to be. I am an angry, upset, rude, unkind, pimply, tired version of her.
4. I would rather stay home than go out into the world and inflict my negativity on people I care about.
5. I don’t feel that I will ever be completely happy, and I never truly feel worthy of friendship or love.
6. I can’t stop clenching my teeth at night. My jaw is always sore in the morning. This has been going on for about four months.
7. I’m losing interest in things I used to love. I don’t want to teach or take yoga anymore, even though a year ago yoga was my life. I don’t read as much as I used to. I dread book club because I have to see my pregnant friend there. I make excuses not to go to the gym even though I love going.
8. I’d rather stay home and watch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix than do anything. This is partly because, seriously, it’s an awesome show, but also because it allows me to ignore the world and my problems. I am already terrified of what I will do when I’ve watched it all.
9. I’m sick right now. So the past few days, of course I haven’t felt like doing anything. I’m also just getting over my latest BFN.
10. I’m going through infertility. Isn’t it natural to be sad all the time? But at the same time…
11. …When I look back on my life, I realize that I am sad or angry most of the time. There are a lot of photos of me on very happy days when I remember feeling completely exhausted or worried about something else. Not enjoying myself like I look.
12. My husband says I am miserable more than I am happy.

So what’s the solution? I’m over therapy. It hasn’t helped and I have enough medical bills as it is. Do I tough it out or do I ask for anti-depressants? How do you ask for those? Can I just call up Dr. Lovely and tell her what I just told you and ask for a prescription? Are there any that are pregnancy-friendly? How hard is it to get off of them eventually? Any advice on this topic would be very helpful. My husband is ready for me to try medication. I don’t know if I’m ready.

How do I know when I’m ready?