Monthly Archives: August 2014

Working It Out

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I am acting under the assumption that tomorrow’s beta will be negative.  I sort of feel like at 7.5, that’s probably the only real outcome here.  I mean, it was either on it’s way up, or on it’s way down when I had the first beta on Friday.  But, if it was on it’s way up, it was very, very low.  Which means, not likely.

So, I went to the gym today, and I had a great workout.  A safe workout, in the event that a miracle is brewing, but a good workout.  It helped get my mind off of things and re-focused.  One more PIO shot tonight, second beta tomorrow and this will probably all be done.

I don’t know if we try again.  Like, ever.  

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Oh, So We’re Doing This…Again.

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7.57 beta HCG on 9DP 5DT.

Not negative.  But not really positive.  Probably a chemical.  Again.  I go back Tuesday for another draw to find out how it resolves, but I’ve been down this road.  I know how this goes.

So, I’ve cried a little.  But I’m at work, so only a little.  And I emailed my trainer to set up a workout for Monday morning.  We’ll do a light workout, just in case.  No regrets, and all.  But, I know how this story ends.  

So…

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Tomorrow is D-Day.  And I would be lying if I didn’t say that part of me thinks there’s a chance this really worked.  I’ve tried hard to be realistic about the chances of this working, but I am human.  And my heart is in it.  And I want it really bad.  I had a crazy wave of nausea tonight, and I remember that happening with my son.  Of course, it could have been anything.  It could have been the unholy stench practically growing off of my child’s feet.  Maybe I was dehydrated.  Maybe I was hungry.  Maybe it was a side effect of the PIO.  But, it’s hard not to think everything means something when you are in The Waiting.

I did, however, today manage to go all day without thinking about the fact that tomorrow is D-Day.  I kept busy at work, and it wasn’t until I was leaving and realized I needed to let people know I would be in late tomorrow because I have a doctor’s appointment, that I remembered.  Right.  Tomorrow.  9DP 5DT.

 

Back-Up Plan & Healing

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Today a friend told me that she was impressed with all of the work that I did mentally and physically to prepare for this FET process, and that she wasn’t sure that she would have been so dedicated to getting healthy for it.  The interesting thing is that my mental and physical work on myself was never about trying to get pregnant again.  It was actually about recovering my life and myself from 3 years of being emotionally, physically, and financially destroyed by infertility and pregnancy loss.  It was about moving on, and moving forward.  It was about finding a point of control again and not feeling like everything I cared about was slipping through my grasp and I had no way to change that.   It was about conquering the encompassing  the depression that owned me after 3+ years of infertility treatments, failures, and losses.  It was about healing, and becoming whole again.  It was about taking back control of something in my life.  Because I took the time to heal, I finally felt like I could try this without falling back into “The Dark Place” if it does not work.  Don’t get me wrong, I will be distraught, sad, disappointed – I probably can’t come up with enough of those words to describe how I will feel if this didn’t work.  But I won’t fall back into “The Dark Place”, where the feelings own me.  And I was relatively sure of that before I started the process this time, and that was the only reason I went forward with it.  I had finally healed enough to not be broken by it again.

That being said, with the dreaded beta looming on Friday, I realized I need a back up plan.  I know, most people are excited about their beta day, but I have just had too many bad ones to think of it as exciting.  I dread the idea of having my hope smashed, it makes me a little sick to my stomach to even think about it.  But, I’ve had so much history with even getting a positive and then loss, that I know I won’t stop being worried even if it’s positive.  Hell, I’ll probably worry even more.  Because then there’s really something to lose – not just hope.

So, I need a back up plan in case this didn’t work and I don’t have additional worry to keep my mind occupied.  My back up plan will not involve making babies.  I was thinking about what I could do to challenge myself.  To occupy my mind and body, and have something to work towards.  I also know I need timelines.  So, I have decided my back up plan will be training for a 10K in January.

I was always the fat girl who thought that I could never possibly run a 5K.  Those were for other people.  Not for people like me.  But then the running industry got smart, and decided to make these events fun, low pressure, and accessible to people like me.  So, I did it.  And I’ve done several of them now.  It’s not problem – I could do them multiple times a week, and there for a while I was running about 5K about 4 nights a week.  Since I’ve been on the fertility drugs that has slowed substantially – my side effects from these things are intense.  These days I am lucky to be able to stay awake until 8:30 PM – I’m pretty sure the PIO shots have knocked me on my ass.  I have to set an alarm in the evening to wake me up so I can do my shot – all I want to do is sleep from about 7 PM onward.  But, I digress.

Since I conquered my fear of running, and being around “skinny” and “fit” people, I think this would be an excellent challenge for me.  I’m not intimidated by gym regulars, or people who are skinnier or in much better shape than me.  Who gives a flying fuck what they think?  And chances are, they don’t think anything at all – I’m just projecting my own insecurities.  So, a 10K it is.  And after that, a half marathon.   That’s going to be quite an accomplishment for a formerly painfully insecure, self conscious, fat girl.  I may still be a fat girl in progress, but my self esteem is recovering from a lifetime of negativity about my body – both externally and self imposed.

Back-up plan.  Check.

Progesterone, My Ass

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I did my first ever PIO shot tonight.  It was just about the only part of fertility treatments I had never experienced.  So, now we can mark that off the list, too.   I asked for a prescription for EMLA cream, which is a lidocaine/prilocaine cream. OMG- awesome.  I didn’t feel anything when I did the shot.  It was completely painless.

I’m slightly concerned that maybe I did it wrong, it was so painless.  But, needle stabbed into upper outer quadrant of buttocks (I really love the word buttocks).   Needle in all the way, injected oil.   Can I have screwed it up?

Anyway, highly recommend the EMLA cream.  I had to do the shot myself and that really, really helped.

Chowchilla, CA

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I forgot how these drugs impact me, but now I’ve been reminded.  I started Lupron, and within 2 days was thoroughly settled into the sulking rage that I had so conveniently forgotten that Lupron brought me.  That lasted about 7 days until I added the Vivelle dot estrogen patches.  Within a day, I slowly emerged from the sulking rage phase into the uncontrollably weepy phase.  Ahhhh, yes.  Sweet uncontrollable tears,  I had forgotten about you.  Look at me – I cry.  Breathe near me – I cry.  Shoelace tied too tight – I cry.  Unruly piece of hair that just won’t behave?  You got it – I cry.  I have to drink at least one extra bottle of water a day to rehydrate from all of the tears.  SAnd there are two other side effects from the Vivelle this time.  One oldie I had forgotten, and one new one.

I’ve never gotten sore boobs with Vivelle before, but holy crap!  They are big and achy!  I can’t even find a sports bra tight enough to keep these things from hurting.  That’s the new one.

But, the real other side effect is one I have never told anyone about except my wife. I feel like it’s time.  Because somebody, somewhere, needs to know that she is not alone.  Once, about 4 years ago, I was in this process, and I was in this same phase.  5 units of Lupron daily, 2 Vivelle estrogen patches changed every 2 days.  I was in the car, driving to a business meeting in Fresno.  The drive from Sacramento to Fresno is long and boring.  About 5-6 hours.  It’s directly down the middle of the state, on small roads, through farm country.  There are not a lot of stops, not many places to pull over, take a break, etc.  Just farms and countryside.

So, I’m driving to Fresno, all dolled up in a business suit for a fairly important meeting.  Well, about 4 hours into the trip, I have to go to the bathroom.  NOW.  It hit and needed to instantaneously be let out.  But, there was no option for pulling over, there were no exits.  No restaurants.  No gas stations.  No convenience stores.  Just fields as far as the eye could see.  5 minutes pass.  10 minutes pass.  Still nothing.  I started running scenarios in my mind on how I could pull over and go in a field….no.  I could not find a scenario in which this could be possible on this flatland as far as the eye can see.  But I had to go NOW.  I held it for like 20 minutes.  My colon was spazzing.  I was sweating, periodically groaning out loud, squirming in my seat, clinching as tightly as anyone ever has – it was seriously the most desperate I have EVER been to get to a bathroom.  And then I saw an exit…for Chowchilla.  Yes – they had a McDonalds!  There had to be a bathroom.

I jet off the exit, get into the parking lot, open the door and stand up.  And my ass explodes.  Explodes.  Not a little.  Explodes.  Not knowing what else to do, (I can’t get back into my car), I head into McDonalds, shitting my way through the restaurant, all the way to the bathroom.  It took me a good 20-30 minutes, and I did have to dispose of a few articles of clothing, but I eventually was able to get cleaned up.  I resumed my trip, significantly worse for wear, and held a successful meeting.

I had not forgotten The Chowchilla Incident.  It was such a substantial moment in my life, it has a name.  But, I had forgotten that it was Vivelle that caused The Chowchilla Incident.  So, this time around, I wasn’t as careful as I should have been.  You can see where this is going.  I was sitting at my desk at work, got the urge, and thought, “Well, I’ll just finish these last two sentences in my email and then go to the bathroom.”  Nope.  Big mistake.  I Chowchilla’d.  3 steps outside of the office bathroom door (which is incidentally no more than 25 feet from my office), with a co-worker about 4 steps behind me also headed to the bathroom.

So, other than the rage, the tears, and the pants shitting – I’m great!

And now you know my deepest, darkest, secret.