Follow the yellow brick road! Friday, Jul 31 2009 

emerald cityToday at baseline monitoring I told my nurse,

“This is becoming part of my routine, and I’m pretty sure that’s not a good thing. I’m over it.”

We then proceeded to have a half hour conversation about attempting one round of IVF with a low responder protocol (like estrogen priming) with the knowledge that it would probably be converted to sexing or IUI. I have been thinking a lot about what I need in order to feel like I’ve given this my all, and I think I need to know that we grabbed all of the really expensive drugs, complicated protocols, vats of estrogen in various forms and methods of delivery, and the possibility of needle aspiration through my vagina and said,

“Yes , please.”

Unfortunately, this is a very expensive way to gain closure, especially as I’ll most likely do donor egg if this last ovarian assault is undertaken and fails (which statistics say it will), and the money might be more practically used to just go straight to donor egg. Obviously we have more thinking to do on our own and as a couple. We also need to trick a doctor into IVFing me.

My RE is on vacation. I will have a consult when he returns.

Through luck, timing, fine phone finesse, and a sympathetic scheduler I managed to score a consult next week at one of the top poor responder clinics in the US -the Emerald City of the Ovarian Short Bus. I happen to be visiting said city, and I decided this morning to see if there were any cancellations. There was one. It is now my appointment.

We will just be gathering information. I don’t know that either the Ovarian Short Bus Lovers or my clinic will agree to give me a try. I don’t know that we can afford it even if they do. But, I do know that I won’t know unless I ask.

In the mean time, I stick to the routine. I started Follist.im tonight.

So? How about that local Sports Team!? Thursday, Jul 23 2009 

…and my, my, isn’t this an awful lot of weather we’re having?

Karen, here, in for Barren.  I thought maybe I could distract you from the beta news with talk of the weather.  But the weather here sucks, which, unfortunately, goes along rather well with the suckitude that is the news that I got from Barren today regarding her (negative) beta.  I can only hope that the weather is better where she is, and that she’s busy drowning her sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of vodka or tequila or whatever strikes her fancy right now.

I went out with her last night and had a good time with her, as always.  I wish either of us had had more optimism about our own futures with regards to treatments, especially her.  She was a bundle of optimism for me, though, which was much appreciated, but punctuated by the heartwrenching knowledge that she didn’t hold out the same hope for herself.    I even had the opportunity to peer at her collection of pee sticks and I could have sworn there was a second line on one of them… but… then I remembered that I see double.

It was worth a shot, right?

Well, the silver lining is that I think I’ve stocked Barren with enough Follistim to get through her next cycle.  It’s the least I can do, because she’s been my lifeline the last few months.  I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Beta-cation Thursday, Jul 23 2009 

I’m off to a land with no internet connectivity, but first a stop at the RE for my beta. A guest has kindly offered to post the news later today on the blog so that I don’t have to come back next week and tell you about my negative. I know there’s still a chance, but 5 pee sticks later, and all I’ve got to show for it is an evaporation line on the cheapie. Lame.

Prometri.um and pleather Wednesday, Jul 22 2009 

Long ago I used to derive pleasure from the items that came into contact with my lady parts. Now, I consider it a win if in exchange for dropping my pants and saying hello to the camera dildo I’m able to score an ultrasound showing a follicle for my refrigerator, and I think I deserve applause when I manage to get the prometri.um tucked behind my fem.ring in such a way as to minimize leakage. I feel like my vagina is the no fun zone.  I’m worried I’m becoming the no fun zone.

Instead of thinking about sex, last night I had a dream about a chocolate donut. It started with fantasies of a perfect chocolate cupcake with white icing and baked in chocolate chips. The baked goods ideal evolved as I rested in bed watching the clock tick tock past 11, 12, 1 and too many other numbers. At somepoint during my eventual slumber the cupcake morphed into a Starb.ucks chocolate donut. Apparently even my pastry dreams go slummin’. This morning, unable to concentrate on briefing papers, phone calls, or plans for this evening, I took a donut recess from work and gleefully sauntered off to the ‘buck, sure that this donut would be the answer to my crappy outlook and cranky attitude. I bounced into the store eager to receive the treat.

No chocolate donuts. I asked the surly woman behind the counter. Perhaps there were stacks and piles of donuts secretly tucked in the back cooler just waiting for me?

No secret chocolate donuts.

I almost started crying, ordered a drink, and reversed my route- uphill this time, back to home, work obligations, a difficult boss, no HoneyBee (he’s still out of country), a probably unsuccessful cycle, and the weight of the world on my shoulders. And then I saw it….a non-descript luxury car with tinted windows parked illegally in a loading zone-the kind of vehicle often squiring diplomats or middle-aged CEO’s shuttled from very important meeting to more important meeting. The door opened and out stretched a pleather-clad leg, a pleather so tight it straddled the line between pants and  legging status. The head dipped into view, and the plastic pants creature unfolded to full size: a 6+ foot tall 30something  man who looked like a Brooks Brothers model from the waist up proceeded up the street.

And my mood changed. I may be a barren, childless, hormonal wreck, who misses her partner and is feeling quite sorry for herself today, but at least I didn’t lose the bet that man must have lost in order to require him to march up a busy metropolitan street decked out in skin-tight, shiny,  fake leather.

Cheers to you, Pleather Legging Man. Thanks for the laugh.

Thank you, ma’am Monday, Jul 13 2009 

HoneyBee was supposed to fly home on Wednesday. Thanks to travel delays of the most curious and original fashion he didn’t arrive until 11:00 Friday morning (I kept taking meds Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights).

He texted me at 6:00 am to say that he was making his connection and I should trigger. Due to magical cell phone forces, I did not receive the text. I figured he was still delayed; his phone was off again (as he was on the final leg of the travel nightmare) and after two days of wait and fly, I wasn’t triggering until he gave me the all clear. He called to say he was at Our City airport. I hung up on him, ran to the kitchen, tore off my pants, and triggered. I called him back. He came home, I tore off my pants again, and we had wild monkey sex repeatedly. Fine, I’ll admit it-I never bothered to put my pants back on. I’m lazy like that.

Five hours later he had to leave, as due to scheduling he couldn’t change his return flight. Next time, he has to buy me dinner first. After all of the drama, I even screwed (ha!) up the trigger shot timing. Awesome. This is the lamest excuse for a 2 ww ever.

I know that there is probably some woman somewhere out there that became pregnant under equally, if not more, ridiculous circumstances. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be that woman. I’ll be glad when I can put this behind me and start a new cycle.

Question for the peanut gallery-I don’t remember from my past cycles. When does the ovary pain go away? It is obnoxious and annoying.

Break up with me already! Saturday, Jun 27 2009 

Thanks for all the thoughts and funny posts. If only humor raised e2 levels. I’m back to an e2 of 130ish (they always manage to call when I’m away from a pen and flustered from the call). And yet, RE said to keep us the stims until Tuesday and return. I’m more shocked by his optimism than I am by the drop. I feel like this cycle is dead in the water, but I guess we’ll see. Frankly, I’m more frightened by my RE’s perserverance. It makes me nervous he’s thinking this is the last chance he wants to authorize. I hope I have a few more in the pipeline because this looks pretty done to me.

Dude, where’s my follicle? Saturday, Jun 27 2009 

The RE did my monitoring this morning. Still nuthin a brewin’, but he said, “Hey the e2 went up. We’ll have to see what it does today. I don’t know why I can’t see anything” My boobs hurt like a bitch which is my best guestimate that the e2 isn’t exactly dropping. Or, I’m just poking them a lot to see if they hurt.

I appreciate my RE’s honesty , but this is getting ridiculous. 11 days of stims and no visible follicles? . It’s like a bad break up that doesn’t end. If this cycle is on I want it to be as invested in in the relationship as I am.

I’m setting an ultimatum: the follicles need to show up to monitoring, be present, and fully commit to our relationship in order to take it to the next level: a few follicles that properly mature, fertilize, and become my precious baybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

I get the e2 results at 1:00

So, I have a plan. I like plans. They bring me pleasure. Not as  much pleasure as I guess the fruit of my loins would bring, but a close second. If  I have to start this all over in approximately 2 weeks with another cycle I’m kicking it old school-straight Foll.istim, no Luve.ris. That worked to get me to ovulate repeatedly a year ago. I can’t make myself a year younger, but like an athlete and her lucky socks, I’ll go back to my treatment of superstision. Maybe I’ll ask about a higher does; it isn’t like we are worried about multiple follicles. I can’t even get one these days.

Everybody’s doing it Friday, Jun 26 2009 

wheatgrass It tastes exactly like it looks.  The frozen cubes come in a little tray (like my photo on the last post), and when they thaw, they are watery with pureed grass-matter. They aren’t delicious. I don’t crave them, but they aren’t horrible. I’d trade you an aggressive nurse wielding a camera up the vag the day of trigger for a few shots of wheatgrass any day. Considering all of the crap we endure for a chance at a baybee, a sip of lawnmower sludge seems pretty low on the “sucky things we do for a pregnancy and baby” scale.

I just bought 2 more boxes. I plan to take 4 shots a day (for no scientific reason, it just seems like enough to be some degree of overkill, but not so much as to be terribly wasteful) for the rest of this cycle. The box calls 2 shots a serving. I think they are using the same scientific decision-making that I am employing, ie: bullshit.

Yes, you heard that right. the cycle is still on. Maybe. Yesterday they saw nothing, but my e2 went up to 237 (or 8) I forget, exactly. I go back in tomorrow for another lookee and bloodletting. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.

You like me! Sunday, Jun 21 2009 

Thanks to Preheated Oven for this award!

honestHere are the Honest Scrap stipulations:

1. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design
2. Show the 7 winners’ names and links on your blog and leave a comment informing them that they have won the “Honest Scrap Award”
3. List at least 10 honest things about yourself.

Sell Crazy Someplace Else

Not A Clown Car

The Young and the Infertile

Bottoms Off

Honest Things:

1. I will pick pizza over chocolate any day

2. Sometimes I wish I could be religious

3. I am a vocal feminist

4. Last week my hours at work (I’m a consultant for this company) were cut by a third. I have been looking for a different job for a few months, and I’m pissed that they have started reducing me before I was able to reduce them

5. I am a Ph. D drop out

6. I don’t know if I believe that fertility treatments will ever work. Sometimes it feels like going through the motions until I can’t take it anymore and I come to some level of peace or resignation with my ovarian failure

7. I never follow directions very well (hence the 4 blog links and 7 truths)

oh, wait, I have an 8! It kills me that “blog” shows as a misspelling in wordpress spell check

Come back, symptoms! Saturday, Jun 20 2009 

I freaked out this morning when for many hours I felt nothing. No twinges. No fullness. No bloat. No awareness of my growing ovaries (you all know what I mean, right? ). I anxiously poked my boobs repeatedly, actually I just did it again right now, and I was mildly reassured to find that they were and are still sore, but what happened to  my symptoms of follicle growth? Did I misplace them? WHERE DID THEY GO? Obviously, I’m a bit more emotional than usual today. The ovary awareness is back now (probably from poking my abdomen). Phew. That was close. I need to find something to distract myself. This is getting obsessive.

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