Archive for April, 2009
Blog for Courage Day Post
I’ve been so full of the bummers lately that it’s lucky I left a happy post before I went and got an bad case of writer’s block.
I’ve been working on one post in my head, though, for Fostering Pride’s Blog for Courage Day. Before I continue with my meager entry, it’s important to send a huge shout out of congratulations to this amazing MARRIED couple for their courageous steps in bringing marriage equality to Iowa. Congratulations!
…..
My act was neither groundbreaking nor civil-rights-extending. It was a tiny act of courage that I hope I won’t regret.
Last Friday, I said no to extending my TTC process.
For those of you just joining my circular loop of “I’m Sad! This is almost over! I’m Sad! This is taking so long! I’m Sad! Why can’t this just be overalready?! I’m Sad!” (ad infinitum) it may bear noting that a year ago, M and I agreed that I would stop trying after 12 vials. That leaves me with two more.
Not that there are vials just laying lying about anyhow, since Tree Guy (our unknown donor) retired from the program when Kiddo was an infant. Back when I assumed that my fertility might be a bit challenging (you know, maybe even seventries or something horrendous like that), but nothing quite like the seven BFNs, two BlindinglyFaintPositives and two early losses I’ve racked up.
Assuming FAIL. But I digress.
Last Wednesday, M got a call from Fair.fax Cry.obank telling her that she had risen to the top of the waiting list.* There were two vials available for purchase, and we had until Friday to decide.
Great news, right?
That wasn’t my first reaction, surprisingly. Instead, I found myself thinking, “Really??? I thought this shit was over.”
Knowing I might change my mind, I kept that thought to myself.
M, on the other hand, surprised me with her willingness to go forward. Even though she’s more than done with this chapter of our life, she recognizes that a huge sea change is coming for me. She worries that I’ll carry resentment towards her** if she forces the end point. She left the decision wholly in my court and said that she would support either answer.
As I thought about buying the vials (and therefore extending my TTC process), I found myself looping back to that first reaction. As difficult as it has been to accept the impending end, I realized that my end point is important to me.
It was a hard thing to do, and it surprised the heckito out of M, but I chose to tell Fair.fax no. No more vials, no more waiting list.
I said no.
Then I cried. And cried some more. Quietly, what with the Invasion of the In-Laws upon us.
M pointed out, not unkindly, that if Fair.fax had never called, I would be in exactly the same position I am now. Which is true, and may disqualify me for the Medal of Courage, but…
It took courage to say no, and I said it.
—–
* We joined the waiting list in 2006 after purchasing the last six available Tree Guy vials. We naively assumed that I would get pregnant somewhere in my first six tries, but thought it would be a nice insurance policy to get on the waiting list.
Fast forward to a year ago, and we found ourselves with just three vials left. The RE advised either getting more vials or trying one more IUI then trying IVF. We chose to get more vials, which proved to be a real challenge.
M worked her tail off to contact another family on the Donor Sibling Registry who sold us six of their vials. Before we made that purchase, M and I set the upper limit at twelve. (M was worried I would want to go on indefinitely, whereas I wanted to give myself ample chances yet still have an end point.)
** Do I carry resentment? Absolutely. Tons of it. None of it is based on this end point discussion, though. What I really resent is that she hasn’t been as excited and supportive as I was during her short-and-successful TTC process. Not that her attitude would have changed my outcome, but I know it would have changed my experience. It is cathartic, however, to realize that I don’t resent her at all for wanting an end point. I want one too.
Super Happy Fun Times
Before I started blogging, I was always an “Everything’s fine! Nothing to see here!” sort of person. Thus, after dropping something so sad like yesterday’s post, I want to balance it with something happy.
I’m going to do a little Q & A (starting with myself) about the things that make us happy. Let’s all tap into our happy, at least for a moment, mkay?
(A quick note: If you feel like answering this whole thing, fantastic! If this looks like homework, just pick the one question that makes you smile while you’re answering it. Or make up and answer an entirely different question.)
1. What was the first song that made you Jump-On-The-Couch excited to hear on the radio? Sweet Dreams Are Made of This (Eurythmics)
2. What other songs have made you smile through the years? True Blue (Madonna, duh), Hey Ya (Outkast), the Chicken Dance (any oompah band worth their salt), The Story (Brandi Carlile), Anchorage (Michelle Shocked), Heavy Things (Phish), Tripping Billies (Dave Matthews), Matthew (John Denver), Intergalactic (Beastie Boys)
3. What summer fruit do you most look forward to? Nectarines
4. If you could have any type of animal for a pet, what would it be? A pygmy marmoset. They’re so tiny, they can ride around hugging your thumb. Or in your pocket. But I haven’t really thought about the particulars of carrying one of them around, of course.
5. If you had to watch one television series or movie for a full weekend, what would it be? Arrested Development. I love it so. Just hearing Gob’s music cracks me up.
6. Where is your happy place? The Cinque Terra (a collection of five towns on the northwest coast of Italy). Oooh, and the Bavarian-theme town of Leavenworth, WA. Oooh, and Disneyland, especially the turnaround by the train station where we watched the parade most nights.
7. What was your first introduction to humor? Paddington Bear, for sure. Also Winnie the Pooh, although I didn’t notice the humor until I read the Tao of Pooh in my teens.
8. What makes you feel perfect and content? Wearing longs* and Tevas. Laying in the sun. Floating in a kiddie pool. Rolling a perfect Yatzee with Kiddo.
9. What small thing can you do today to make yourself a little happier? Put my hair in pigtails (instead of a boring pony tail) for soccer this afternoon.
10. Do you feel happier having finished this Q & A? Yes. Especially as I was thinking about Gob’s music. It’s stuck in my head and I like it that way.
—–
* My take on capris… shorts that go past my knees… which isn’t hard at my height. Thus, they are longs.
Protected: Going all Cognitive Behavioral on My Ass
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Whoa… We’re Super Official Now
It turns out that I am not on the pulse of our state legislature. I know that budget squabbles have taken center stage in the last few weeks, and (incorrectly) assumed that the domestic partnership bill wouldn’t make it to the house floor for a vote during the regular session.
Just a few hours ago, I said to M, “You know, I think the bill is going to get stuck in the rules committee this year.”
I was wrong. Gloriously wrong. The bill just passed and will be signed by the governor shortly.
For all of our struggles, I am absofuckinglutely thrilled that M surprised me with our trip to the capitol in March.
To all my other Washington peeps… congratulations! Whether you’re already DPed or not, you now have access to a whole new set of rights and responsibilties. This is a solid step in the right direction.
On Choice
Coming 2 Terms has a post up about choice in the world of infertility which is beautifully written. Rather than paraphrase, I’ll just encourage you to go and read it.
When I think about the concept of choice in regards to TTC, I think of four things:
- When I first started, I was under the illusion that I could choose the number and spacing of my children. I can’t.
- Through the process, my thinking about choice and control has shifted. While I can’t choose or control the outcome of my TTC process, I can choose how I respond to it.
- When I find myself judging others’ reproductive and/or parenting choices (especially a certain Angel.ina Jolie poseur with serious mental health issues), I’m reminded that Freedom of Choice doesn’t just protect the choices that I would make or sanction. I’m also reminded that without FoC, I might never have access to reproductive services or donor sp.rm, since there are many people who don’t sanction gay families.
- Although TTC has taught me how little choice I have about biology, I still have one powerful choice ahead of me. I can choose to walk away from treatments and proceed with my life. I expect that I’ll always feel sadness about walking away, but I can choose to be a barren yet blessed non-bio mom to an (unitentionally) only child. This choice is mine, and I look forward to having control over at least one stoooopid thing in this horrid process.
TTC has been an exciting phase of my life, full of possibility and hope and new plans and near-certainty that I would be a bio-mom at the end of the journey. Maybe it would take awhile (as is common in my family), but I would accomplish this long-held dream.
TTC has also been soul-crushing, introducing me to a level of failure I’ve never experienced before. It has left me raw and bitter and has exposed a jealous and judgmental nature that I would rather not acknowledge. It has been my trigger for craziness and self-doubt and depression.
And yet, even though I knew how much TTC could hurt me (I knew this just three tries in when a crushing depression forced a long hiatus), I have chosen to try nine times. I will choose to try twice more, knowing that either of these tries could result in another loss, knowing that a loss could send me back into the dark, and knowing that my partner does not want the financial and lifestyle disruptions of another child.
When I started my TTC process in November of 2006, I was under the incorrect impression that I could choose the number of children in our family and the age range between those children. That choice was not mine to make.
When I came back from hiatus last May, I tried a new way of looking at the process. While I couldn’t choose the outcome of the process, I could choose to take each (potential) negative in stride. This strategy worked pretty well, at least in retrospect. The fourth/fifth/sixth negatives were disappointing, but they didn’t hurt as acutely as the first three.
The process got harder once I crossed the threshold of six IUIs, but I’m pretty sure that I chose to have a reasonably good attitude for cycles seven and eight. (I’ll have to check the archives of my old PWP blog to double-check that assumption.)
When number eight led to a BlindlinglyFaintPositive that led to a low-but-doubling-and-tripling beta that led to the Empty Uterus Incident, I chose to be agressively optimistic about the next cycle. I latched on to the idea that my chances of success would be elevated for a few cycles post m/c. I chose to put off true mourning for another time.
When number nine led to another BlindlinglyFaintPositive, I chose to ramp up that agressively optimistic tone, celebrating each step, clinging to possibility.
Since number nine went to sh.t (which I knew it would even in the midst of the aggressive optimism), I have chosen to be angry as hell. I am bitter about M’s views on pregnancy loss (that you can’t claim anything “worked” until you deliver a healthy baby, to paraphrase). I am furious with my body for taking so long to get pregnant then failing to stay pregnant. I am critical of the RE’s office, even though they’ve really only screwed up a few things. I feel something akin to hatred for my pregnant SIL. I burst into tears when a heroin addict on Inter.vention gets pregnant and delivers a healthy baby (despite the fact that the baby had to endure drug use and detox in-utero).
When I look over the progression of my feelings through this process, from optimism to despair back to optimism to unbelievable sadness and rage, I can see why the choice to walk away has grown so appealing.
Funny thing… the only area where I don’t feel any illusion of choice is these final two tries. In order to walk away, I need to know I did everything I could. I need to close the door tightly shut behind me. If I don’t try these last two times, I’ll beat myself up for dropping out of the race two miles short. If I don’t use up these vials, they will taunt me with their faint glimmer of possibility.
I know it’s going to be one of the watershed moments in my life, the completion of TTC. It’s still possible that I will end up with a successful pregnancy (and potentially a failed relationship on account of it), but it’s also possible that I will have to woman up and walk away. I wish someone else could make this choice for me. Barring that, I wish it were done already. This point in time sucks.
When “No Big Deal” is Actually an Understatement
I left the office one hour and fifteen minutes ago, and I’m already back.
The results: “Your uterine lining should be smooth… just like, well, just like it is.”
There’s not a thing in there to be concerned about.
The ARNP who supervises the injectables cycles and her nurse were the ones who did the procedure. They’re my favorite people at the clinic, were very reassuring, and couldn’t understand why a very normal looking CD3 u/s became such a three-ring circus.
She said that with my history of losses, it makes sense to do the SIS just in case, which I agree with. Just for fun, I asked her to take a look at my ovaries. Completely unmedicated, I still have a dominant follicle (a modest 11.9 mm on CD10 instead of the 22 mm I saw on CD9 with injectables) and everything else looks fine.
I could choose to raise a fuss about the stooopidity last Monday, which effectively cancelled my cycle for no good reason, but this month just wasn’t supposed to be The One. When I examined my true feelings about it, I didn’t even want to cycle this month.
Anyhoo, that’s an All Clear, and thanks for the good thoughts. Much appreciated.
SIS in One Hour
I just took 600 mg of ibuprofen
M is coming with me to the appointment, and for that I’m very grateful
I find myself very very teary about this whole thing. It’s not like I think they’ll really find an alien or that rollerskate I lost in fourth grade, but the unknown is a little scary. (Although I do know that the procedure itself is no big deal… at least I have that reassurance.)
I’m of two states of mind on this:
- Since a polyp or other unwanted addition to my uterus may explain the “inadequate implantation” that my doctor suggested in our RPL meeting, it would be good to find something fixable.
- If there is a polyp or something else that needs to be removed, that’s one more hurdle (and likely one more month on the sidelines) until I can finish the last two cycles and put this stage of my life behind me.
Despite my unfortunate wish last week, I don’t want to sit out any more cycles. This last week has been very hard, and I’ve leared that the sideline isn’t a good place for me depression-wise, not this close to the end.
—–
Wishing good SIS luck to Jen, who’s also having hers done today (in the midst of a possibly-too-many-eggs cycle). I hope you’re brings reassurance!
Happy Easter!
May the plethora signs of fertility this Easter (and/or beautiful spring Sunday for my Jewish and non-religious peeps) bring you good luck in the year to come.
Much love and chocolate bunny ears to all.
Elevenses
Not sure if any of you are/were Padding.ton Bear fans, but if you were and if you remember his love for orange marmalade, then you’ll appreciate that I’m having Elevenses now in the proper way.
To my left: a cup of Earl Grey
To my right: an M-made currant scone with large quantities of orange marmalade.
Follow Up Bullets
- I know that the MAs weren’t being malicious or deliberately dumb on Monday. They were temporarily lacking leadership and guidance.
- In retrospect, I understand why they got flustered when That-One-Weird-Patient-Who’s-a-BFP-Fucktard-and-May-Have-an-Alien-Lifeform-In-THERE crossed their paths.
- Yesterday I decided not to wait for permission and just schedule the sonohysterogram (they refer to it as an SIS… fancy). It’s set for Monday afternoon.
- While I was scheduling, I got a voicemail telling me that my RE was reached and I have permission to schedule the procedure.
So that’s scheduled, we have a big day in kitchen world tomorrow (cabinet purchase/pickup/inspection at IK.EA), and I have a little time to prepare for the Invasion of the In-Laws.
Maybe I’ll even take a few days off from Riteous Indignation Mode, although as I’ve written before, if I stop being angry I might just have to be sad. I’m doing everything I can to save off the sad, as I can sense depression lurking, a huge ugly depression that will swirl around my choice* to walk away from treatments.
—–
* It’s interesting that I still see this as a choice, like I ever had control over this fertility failure. Stopping treatments, especially with 2-7 years left in my fertile window, is a tough and potentially-regrettable decision. It’s hard to walk away knowing that I haven’t exhausted all avenues… not just IVF, but also not switching donors. (I especially wish I had pursued using a known donor, but don’t even have prospects in that area. Literally none. The one guy I could ask is adopted and has big issues around donor conception on account of that, which is a big red flag for problems with termination of parental rights.)
All those What Ifs aside, though, I really can’t wait to be done. The positives of getting my life back from the vise-grips of this obsession will likely outweigh the regret.
If that doesn’t work, at least I have the boo.b job to look forward to. I promised myself that if I have to be Forever Barren, I’m going to be One Hot Barren. With awesome boo.bs. And yes, I’m aware that boo.b jobs aren’t cheap and will be hard to justify when one chooses not to pursue further treatment for financial reasons. Just let a Barren dream, mkay?
Project Kjetil 
