I found out today that a girl on a forum I frequent is PG. We got married on the same day, and she and her husband started trying a few months ago. I *should* be happy for her, and tell her how lucky she is, but I can't bring myself to do it. Ignoring her seems so childish, but at this point in time it's the only thing I can think of.
I should email and let her know happy I am for her, but I'm worried it'll come out something like this:
"Dear Jane,
Who the hell do you think you are getting pregnant? Yesterday you said you weren't even sure you were ready to TTC, and *now* all of a sudden you're ecstatic about your impending arrival. You don't deserve a baby, you whorish witch.
Rot in hell,
PB"
So now you see why ignoring her is a much better option than sending the flaming email above. I'm sure *I* would rot in hell if I sent that, but just writing it seems to be therapy enough.
Yesterday I had my u/s and bloodwork. Still no "measurable follicles" (there weren't any Sunday either), so they upped my Foll*istim to 112 IU. I have to go back tomorrow to get more meds from Dr. G, and Friday is my next u/s.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Blog Slacking and other musings
Geez, I've been a blogging slacker, haven't I? Of course there are the same old excuses: work is crazy (and will be until tax season's over), and I've been busy poking needles into my tummy.
The stimming has been going okay, at least from what I can tell. I have a few bruises, some hella crampiness, and the mother of all AF's won't seem to leave, but beyond that everything's good. Oh, there's also the crying at the drop of the hat. (On a sidenote-anyone watch Grey's Anatomy? The past 2 episodes I've been a blubbering mess, but this last one I cried through the. entire. episode. Hubby just sat there handing me tissues. He's a smart man, that one. )
Today is my only day to sleep in, because tomorrow I'll be at the RE's at 7 AM getting a vaginal u/s wand shoved up my vajayjay. Boy, doesn't that sound like fun?!? I want to know what masochist decided that 7AM on a Sunday was a good time for that? Would it *really* have been so bad if we waited until say 9 or better yet, 10?!? Let's chalk it up to another thing that sucks about IF. But I digress.
On the other hand, I've become quite good at the injections. My tummy's been so full and crampy (can't tell if it's because of AF or the Follis*tim), that I feel like if I bend over I'm going to pop a follicle. How silly is that? But it must be in the back of my mind, deep in my subconscious, because last night I didn't sleep on my stomach. And if you knew me, you'd know that I *have* to sleep on my stomach, or all hell breaks loose. So I woke up with a backache this morning from laying on my back all night. Hubby told me I should get used to it, because "when you get PG, you won't be able to sleep on your stomach at all." THAT is why I love my husband.
He's such an eternal optimist, and even though he knows the odds, the chances, and the statistics, he refuses to believe that we will not ever have our own baby. Sometimes I think his rose-colored glasses are the only thing that' s gotten me through the past 3 years. As an infertile, it's hard to have that hope for myself that "Yes, this WILL be the cycle". Negativity and doubt is so much easier than admitting that I'm hopeful too. That I would give just about anything to have our own precious baby. It's almost like admitting that I'm hopeful and I want this to be the cycle more than anything the world automatically sets me up for failure. So Hubby can be as naively positive as he wants, because secretly I'm praying and hoping that he's right.
The stimming has been going okay, at least from what I can tell. I have a few bruises, some hella crampiness, and the mother of all AF's won't seem to leave, but beyond that everything's good. Oh, there's also the crying at the drop of the hat. (On a sidenote-anyone watch Grey's Anatomy? The past 2 episodes I've been a blubbering mess, but this last one I cried through the. entire. episode. Hubby just sat there handing me tissues. He's a smart man, that one. )
Today is my only day to sleep in, because tomorrow I'll be at the RE's at 7 AM getting a vaginal u/s wand shoved up my vajayjay. Boy, doesn't that sound like fun?!? I want to know what masochist decided that 7AM on a Sunday was a good time for that? Would it *really* have been so bad if we waited until say 9 or better yet, 10?!? Let's chalk it up to another thing that sucks about IF. But I digress.
On the other hand, I've become quite good at the injections. My tummy's been so full and crampy (can't tell if it's because of AF or the Follis*tim), that I feel like if I bend over I'm going to pop a follicle. How silly is that? But it must be in the back of my mind, deep in my subconscious, because last night I didn't sleep on my stomach. And if you knew me, you'd know that I *have* to sleep on my stomach, or all hell breaks loose. So I woke up with a backache this morning from laying on my back all night. Hubby told me I should get used to it, because "when you get PG, you won't be able to sleep on your stomach at all." THAT is why I love my husband.
He's such an eternal optimist, and even though he knows the odds, the chances, and the statistics, he refuses to believe that we will not ever have our own baby. Sometimes I think his rose-colored glasses are the only thing that' s gotten me through the past 3 years. As an infertile, it's hard to have that hope for myself that "Yes, this WILL be the cycle". Negativity and doubt is so much easier than admitting that I'm hopeful too. That I would give just about anything to have our own precious baby. It's almost like admitting that I'm hopeful and I want this to be the cycle more than anything the world automatically sets me up for failure. So Hubby can be as naively positive as he wants, because secretly I'm praying and hoping that he's right.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Miss Crankypants
I'm so glad this week is over...work was crazy, home was crazy, and AF is just about here, so I'VE been crazy! We're remodeling our kitchen, so currently everything that was in the kitchen (about a bazillion appliances we've never used, 3 sets of dishes, and a bunch of other stuff, including the kitchen table) is now in the living room while Hubby and FIL install new cabinets. I was promised it wouldn't take more than 2 weeks, but we're in week 2, and so far the only thing that's been done is one side of the kitchen cabinets have been ripped out. UGHHH! The mess is driving me crazy. I'm an anal-retentive person by nature, and I like having everything in it's place. Having such chaos in the house does NOT make me happy, and it's been showing. I've been such a bear this week. The huge snowstorm we had this week didn't help. (But at least I got a snow day out of it, so I didn't mind *too* much!) Oh, and I have a sinus infection, so I'm all stuffed up on one side of my nose, and my head has been pounding all week. BOOO!
Yesterday after work I picked up my goddaughters/cousins V and K and their mom (my Aunt) and we drove to Connecticut to stay overnight for a cheerleading competition. They're 11 and 13, and I love them more than just about anything. (Which is why I drive them all over Hell's creation to watch them compete against other screaming, pre-teen, princesses LOL.) It was supposed to be a 3 hour drive, but that somehow turned into 5 hours with all the traffic. Between my stuffed-up sinuses and the idiot drivers, I think the girls got a nice lesson in road rage, courtesy of their favorite godmother :) Let's just say they probably learned some new swear words. Oops.
We finally got to the hotel around 10pm, and it was a dump. No, I take that back. Dump is a compliment for this place. We walked in the room, and the heat had been on full blast for who knows how many hours. We had to leave the door opened for a good 2 hours just to be able to breathe. (Did I mention we couldn't turn the heat down?!?) There were holes in the wall, burn holes in the ice bucket, and it had some nasty lingering odor coming from the bathroom. It was an Econo*lodge, so I wasn't expecting the Ritz, but I figured it wouldn't be too bad for only one night. I would've complained to the front desk, but the attendent there scared me. She looked like she would rather scratch my eyes out with her 5-inch bright green fingernails than give me the time of day. She was clearly sick the day they taught personality skills in kindergarten.
Because it was 1000 degrees in our room, and the people in the next room decided to have an all-night rager around 2AM, it was a long, sleepless night. 6AM came WAY too early, and the "continental breakfast" was neither "continental" nor "breakfast." I don't know who taught these people that a couple pieces of stale raisin bread (with no toaster) is considered breakfast, but I'm sure there's a special place in Hell for them. Luckily the competition was over around noon, so now I'm back home in my cluttered, crazy house.
Oh, and did I mention that on the way home today from CT my good buddy AF decided to show? Man, that beyotch knows how to make an entrance...in a highway rest stop, no less!
Yesterday after work I picked up my goddaughters/cousins V and K and their mom (my Aunt) and we drove to Connecticut to stay overnight for a cheerleading competition. They're 11 and 13, and I love them more than just about anything. (Which is why I drive them all over Hell's creation to watch them compete against other screaming, pre-teen, princesses LOL.) It was supposed to be a 3 hour drive, but that somehow turned into 5 hours with all the traffic. Between my stuffed-up sinuses and the idiot drivers, I think the girls got a nice lesson in road rage, courtesy of their favorite godmother :) Let's just say they probably learned some new swear words. Oops.
We finally got to the hotel around 10pm, and it was a dump. No, I take that back. Dump is a compliment for this place. We walked in the room, and the heat had been on full blast for who knows how many hours. We had to leave the door opened for a good 2 hours just to be able to breathe. (Did I mention we couldn't turn the heat down?!?) There were holes in the wall, burn holes in the ice bucket, and it had some nasty lingering odor coming from the bathroom. It was an Econo*lodge, so I wasn't expecting the Ritz, but I figured it wouldn't be too bad for only one night. I would've complained to the front desk, but the attendent there scared me. She looked like she would rather scratch my eyes out with her 5-inch bright green fingernails than give me the time of day. She was clearly sick the day they taught personality skills in kindergarten.
Because it was 1000 degrees in our room, and the people in the next room decided to have an all-night rager around 2AM, it was a long, sleepless night. 6AM came WAY too early, and the "continental breakfast" was neither "continental" nor "breakfast." I don't know who taught these people that a couple pieces of stale raisin bread (with no toaster) is considered breakfast, but I'm sure there's a special place in Hell for them. Luckily the competition was over around noon, so now I'm back home in my cluttered, crazy house.
Oh, and did I mention that on the way home today from CT my good buddy AF decided to show? Man, that beyotch knows how to make an entrance...in a highway rest stop, no less!
Monday, February 12, 2007
Another boring weekend
Sometimes I really look forward to weekends, other times I dread them. Interestingly enough, it's the weekends where I don't have any plans that I hate the most. Nothing to do but sit around on my barren ass and have a big ole' pity party. This weekend started out that way.
Spent Saturday morning curled up on the coach with my dog watching cheesy movies on TV, eating pizza rolls for breakfast. Mom called and invited me to this party at her work for this club she belongs to. Basically she pays an annual fee to belong to this "club", and they have a couple of events throughout the year. My stepdad's a member too, but since he's in Florida for a month she had an open ticket for the party. It surprisingly turned out to be fun. We pretty much sat around drinking for free for 4 hours, and had a prime rib dinner. They also had a great band playing, so we ended up staying out most of the night. Drinking, dancing, and just general debauchery. Hubby proved why I think he's the best thing since sliced bread by picking our intoxicated butts up, and he did so with a smile. I'm glad I went...I SO needed the distraction. I don't go out often, but when I do, I usually have a decent time. And I figured that if this is "the" cycle, this was my chance for one last drink-fest before the Fun with Needles begins.
Of course Sunday morning I was wishing I had stayed home all weekend crying into my Ben and Jerry's. I didn't have a hangover, but let's just say I was not in top form. I went to Target with my mom, and of course the first place she goes is the baby department. And before you get any ideas, no, it wasn't for me. My little sister is pregnant and due in June. It was like being in my own personal hell, strolling the baby aisles while my mom picked up every little baby item and cooed at it. Luckily I had such a headache that it didn't phase me too much. Until I saw this cute little onesie that said "Worth the Wait." Man, that almost broke my heart.
Spent Saturday morning curled up on the coach with my dog watching cheesy movies on TV, eating pizza rolls for breakfast. Mom called and invited me to this party at her work for this club she belongs to. Basically she pays an annual fee to belong to this "club", and they have a couple of events throughout the year. My stepdad's a member too, but since he's in Florida for a month she had an open ticket for the party. It surprisingly turned out to be fun. We pretty much sat around drinking for free for 4 hours, and had a prime rib dinner. They also had a great band playing, so we ended up staying out most of the night. Drinking, dancing, and just general debauchery. Hubby proved why I think he's the best thing since sliced bread by picking our intoxicated butts up, and he did so with a smile. I'm glad I went...I SO needed the distraction. I don't go out often, but when I do, I usually have a decent time. And I figured that if this is "the" cycle, this was my chance for one last drink-fest before the Fun with Needles begins.
Of course Sunday morning I was wishing I had stayed home all weekend crying into my Ben and Jerry's. I didn't have a hangover, but let's just say I was not in top form. I went to Target with my mom, and of course the first place she goes is the baby department. And before you get any ideas, no, it wasn't for me. My little sister is pregnant and due in June. It was like being in my own personal hell, strolling the baby aisles while my mom picked up every little baby item and cooed at it. Luckily I had such a headache that it didn't phase me too much. Until I saw this cute little onesie that said "Worth the Wait." Man, that almost broke my heart.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Foray into injectibles
I talked to my Mom today. She was telling me about my cousin's baby shower that she went to this past weekend. (BTW, said cousin is having twins.) She told them I came down with the flu, and that's why I couldn't make it.
Yeah right. Or I came down with a huge case of JEALOUSY AND ENVY! @*#^$&$%(@
Seriously though, I was grateful Mom didn't blast my infertility history over a loudspeaker at the shower. That's a first for her...usually she has no problem telling anyone who'll listen.
She likes to pretend that my IF is not a real problem. She's one of those "just relax" people. I loathe that statement. Especially coming from someone who could get pregnant just looking at my father. I love my mom, I really do. But dammit she can drive me into insanity like no one else can.
Yesterday Hubby and I went to the RE. And can I just go off on a tangent here and say that my RE was looking H-O-T yesterday? He's Italian (with a suave accent), and he had on this black turtleneck sweater and brown jeans. Plus he'd gotten a haircut since last time I saw him. Damn he looked fine. Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled program.
He said that we'd be moving to injectibles this cycle, since obviously doubling the Clomid dosage last time didn't work. He surprised me by saying that he thinks it's a good idea to start off with Timed Intercourse instead of the IUI. He thinks that if we can get my body to ovulate first, then everything else will fall into place. Luckily they had meds at the office, so I didn't have to pay for them since my insurance covers squat for IF.
After we met with him, we sat down with the nurse and went over the instructions for the injectibles. FWIW, I've determined that I am an IF retard. I had to ask the nurse to repeat the instructions 4 freaking times. It was like I had a huge mental block on the whole thing. I think I've got it now, but I have a couple of videos to watch for "homework."
I've also determined that I would never make a good crack whore. She had me do a practice shot with water, and I was shaking like I had Parkinson's or something. Finally she put her hand over mine and guided the needle into my stomach. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it's kind of surreal to be staring at your body with a needle hanging out of it. I don't know how heroin addicts do it.
I told Hubby this was his only legal chance to stab me for all those times I've stolen the covers at night.
Yeah right. Or I came down with a huge case of JEALOUSY AND ENVY! @*#^$&$%(@
Seriously though, I was grateful Mom didn't blast my infertility history over a loudspeaker at the shower. That's a first for her...usually she has no problem telling anyone who'll listen.
She likes to pretend that my IF is not a real problem. She's one of those "just relax" people. I loathe that statement. Especially coming from someone who could get pregnant just looking at my father. I love my mom, I really do. But dammit she can drive me into insanity like no one else can.
Yesterday Hubby and I went to the RE. And can I just go off on a tangent here and say that my RE was looking H-O-T yesterday? He's Italian (with a suave accent), and he had on this black turtleneck sweater and brown jeans. Plus he'd gotten a haircut since last time I saw him. Damn he looked fine. Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled program.
He said that we'd be moving to injectibles this cycle, since obviously doubling the Clomid dosage last time didn't work. He surprised me by saying that he thinks it's a good idea to start off with Timed Intercourse instead of the IUI. He thinks that if we can get my body to ovulate first, then everything else will fall into place. Luckily they had meds at the office, so I didn't have to pay for them since my insurance covers squat for IF.
After we met with him, we sat down with the nurse and went over the instructions for the injectibles. FWIW, I've determined that I am an IF retard. I had to ask the nurse to repeat the instructions 4 freaking times. It was like I had a huge mental block on the whole thing. I think I've got it now, but I have a couple of videos to watch for "homework."
I've also determined that I would never make a good crack whore. She had me do a practice shot with water, and I was shaking like I had Parkinson's or something. Finally she put her hand over mine and guided the needle into my stomach. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it's kind of surreal to be staring at your body with a needle hanging out of it. I don't know how heroin addicts do it.
I told Hubby this was his only legal chance to stab me for all those times I've stolen the covers at night.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
The Next Step
Tomorrow is my RE appointment, to discuss "the next step." The nurses aren't allowed to give patients the injectible drugs, apparently one of the doctors need to do it. Since I haven't O'ed using the Clomid (first cycle 100mg, second cycle 200mg), injectibles are logically "the next step." Even though I know it's just a technicality, and the doctor probably only wants to see me to make sure I'm okay with everything, I still have these crazy, irrational fears.
Crazy like I'm going to sit down in his office and have him start laughing hysterically telling me "NO! No baby for you...now get out!," like it's all been some cruel joke. Maybe it's a trust issue, I don't know. He's never given me any reason for NOT trusting him, I think it's more me not trusting myself, or allowing myself to trust anyone else besides my husband.
I remember this summer when I went to the RE's office after my second HSG, and he said that my next step would be Clomid and IUI. I left crying so bad that I had to pull over to the side of the road. I don't know why...I think maybe it was because it meant that it was finally a reality to me that having a baby naturally was not going to happen. I'd always had these high hopes that I'd magically get PG without medical intervention, and it was crushing to me to admit that it wasn't going to happen that way.
In the grand scheme of things, being told I'd need IUI and Clomid was really not that big of a deal. But to me it felt like the beginning of the end. Now we're moving onto injectibles, and while I'm scared, I'm not sad like I was before. I don't know what changed from August to now, but I'm pretty much at peace with having to use ART. Yes, it sucks, but at least there is still the hope that I'll achieve the desired end result I'm looking for. Hope is about all I've got left at this point. (Besides a damn fine husband and my electrifying personality, of course!)
Crazy like I'm going to sit down in his office and have him start laughing hysterically telling me "NO! No baby for you...now get out!," like it's all been some cruel joke. Maybe it's a trust issue, I don't know. He's never given me any reason for NOT trusting him, I think it's more me not trusting myself, or allowing myself to trust anyone else besides my husband.
I remember this summer when I went to the RE's office after my second HSG, and he said that my next step would be Clomid and IUI. I left crying so bad that I had to pull over to the side of the road. I don't know why...I think maybe it was because it meant that it was finally a reality to me that having a baby naturally was not going to happen. I'd always had these high hopes that I'd magically get PG without medical intervention, and it was crushing to me to admit that it wasn't going to happen that way.
In the grand scheme of things, being told I'd need IUI and Clomid was really not that big of a deal. But to me it felt like the beginning of the end. Now we're moving onto injectibles, and while I'm scared, I'm not sad like I was before. I don't know what changed from August to now, but I'm pretty much at peace with having to use ART. Yes, it sucks, but at least there is still the hope that I'll achieve the desired end result I'm looking for. Hope is about all I've got left at this point. (Besides a damn fine husband and my electrifying personality, of course!)
Monday, February 5, 2007
The Obligatory Intro Post
How many people set out trying to have a baby just *knowing* that they're infertile? That's me.
I've known since I was 18, when my doctor told me I'd never conceive children naturally. She didn't tell me why, she just told me I'd need medical intervention. I was upset at the time, but I didn't really have a clue how much that would entail, or the impact it would have on me.
Flash forward 7 years later, DH and I were just married, and beginning our TTC journey. I was hopeful, excited, and entirely too ecstatic (as most new TTC'ers are), but there was always something in the back of mind; this little cloud as that day in the doctor's office flashed in my mind. Even though I *knew* it wasn't going to happen naturally, I clung to the hope that the doctor was wrong. I read the TTC girls bible, Taking Charge of Your Fertility, bought a BBT thermometer, and got to baby making.
Three years later, no baby, and I've burned the TCOYF book and thermometer in effigy.
My RE says I have PCOS, so I've been on Metformin for almost a year. In June I had a laparoscopy and had fibroids removed. Boy, that was fun. I've done two unsuccessful cycles of Clomid, and we're about to move onto injectible meds with IUI.
I've jokingly told Hubby that with a little ingenuity and some turkey basters, we could make a bunch of money marketing At Home IUI's.
I've known since I was 18, when my doctor told me I'd never conceive children naturally. She didn't tell me why, she just told me I'd need medical intervention. I was upset at the time, but I didn't really have a clue how much that would entail, or the impact it would have on me.
Flash forward 7 years later, DH and I were just married, and beginning our TTC journey. I was hopeful, excited, and entirely too ecstatic (as most new TTC'ers are), but there was always something in the back of mind; this little cloud as that day in the doctor's office flashed in my mind. Even though I *knew* it wasn't going to happen naturally, I clung to the hope that the doctor was wrong. I read the TTC girls bible, Taking Charge of Your Fertility, bought a BBT thermometer, and got to baby making.
Three years later, no baby, and I've burned the TCOYF book and thermometer in effigy.
My RE says I have PCOS, so I've been on Metformin for almost a year. In June I had a laparoscopy and had fibroids removed. Boy, that was fun. I've done two unsuccessful cycles of Clomid, and we're about to move onto injectible meds with IUI.
I've jokingly told Hubby that with a little ingenuity and some turkey basters, we could make a bunch of money marketing At Home IUI's.
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