Five

It's hard to take in a day like today being where I am in my life right now. This is the first time I've posted on this day as a woman that failed infertility treatment.

Past tense.

I am a face of recurrent pregnancy loss. I lost five opportunities to have more joy around our dinner table. Five dreams that will never come true. Each taking a little part of me with them.

Please keep those you love close to you today, and imagine your life if they weren't here.

And hold them closer...

Close, but no cigar...

I've been thinking about my miscarriages.

Well, the loss is always on my mind... but I am thinking lately from a different perspective. I've come to the conclusion that the drive to keep going is due, in part, of almost succeeding.

Think about this. If you play the lottery, and you spend $10 on one of those mega jackpots and LOSE, it's easy to just walk away thinking "maybe next time". You might play every week, but the money lost is secondary.

So, continuing with this analogy... what if you were a finalist in a huge giveaway, and you had a 1 in 4 chance of winning the jackpot. And then maybe the pool is whittled down to JUST you and someone else. You have a 50% chance of winning.

And you lose.

Does it hurt more than that 1:1,000,000 chance? Yeah, it does.

To come SO CLOSE and lose? It's a blow to the psyche.

Now, think of yourself having those great odds in the second scenario, and picture yourself losing five times in a row.

It's no wonder I'm screwed up.

I mentioned that S. and I are weighing options. Well, truth be told we had maybe two conversations about it and then decided to wait until after the holiday to get down to business. I am damn tired of of all this ruining the last 4 Christmases. Sick of it.

In fact, I was scheduled to have the follow-up appointment with the RE today from my failed FET. I rescheduled to next week simply because I don't want to talk about it today. Nurse T basically told me that my insanely poor thaw was a first for their clinic. That my bad luck was a random occurance that never happened before IN THE HISTORY OF THE CLINIC. I decided to make the consult with Dr. Nerd and lay it out on the line. Just not today.

Drilling it down:

Another Donor Cycle
We are all cash now. No insurance. If I am crazy enough to lay down a wad of cash, I'm going to do it at a better clinic. I've done some inital research, and am pondering a couple clinics within driving distance from Jersey. One intriguing option exists at Shady Grov.e in the DC area. If you cycled there (especially if you did the Donor program) I want to hear from you. Likewise, if you cycled at IVF.NJ.

Adoption
This is not an alternative to Option #1, in fact, we are leaning heavily this way at the moment. I researched the hell out of the International route about a year ago, and let's face it... there's nothing going on there. Even for the countries we qualify for, the wait is excruciatingly LONG.    I can't do that.

Domestic adoption is something we never really explored in-depth, but we intend to dive in. There are some local agencies I've heard good things about... but if you have a recommedation... PLEASE e-mail me!

Embryo Adoption
This is the least costly of the options, but considering my last disaster of an FET, I am not hyped up about this at all. Too much legal crap and money for a low odds of it working.
__________

Of course- our last path is stopping treatment, halting the bleeding out of money, and hanging up our hat. It is reality now, and as much as I wish it wasn't... it may be our final decision to escape the infertility hamster wheel for good.

So much to ponder...  so much.

Got any lottery tickets??

The last chapter...

For the inquiring minds: I tested this morning. I stared back at nothing. Not even a whisper of a line.

Please, do not tell me it's too early. It's not.

So this is what it feels like to really fail at something. To exhaust every path, to endure every last available technology.  To pump myself full of chemicals that have god knows what affect down the road.

Almost five years of misery. Five years of loss. Five years of chasing a dream only to come up empty.

Empty in mind, body, spirit, and finances.

No next step. No back up plan to the back up plan.

Just sadness, regret, and unbearable pain.

Compassion

October 15th is like a ticking time bomb for me. It's a reminder that I am still in the trenches of infertility and loss.  I will always be no matter where my journey ends.

I've blogged on this day over the years, and each time I do... I feel emptiness reflecting back on such sorrow.  For the first time since the start of my infertility journey in 2005, I did not experience a pregnancy loss in the last year.  In fact, I haven't even had a pregnancy since February 2008. 

The RPL'er looking for one good egg now can't even get pregnant with a good egg.

How rich in irony that is.

Please take some time today to consider that while some of us are very much "out of the infertility closet" (bloggers, anyway) that many women do not have a place like this to vent, and cry, and commisserate with others.

Show compassion. 

Listen.

Sometimes the ugliest scars on a person who has experienced loss are not visible.  Sometimes they are hidden very well. 

It does not mean they don't exist.

Peace today to all of my sisters-in-loss,

Watch your step, there's danger afoot...

The first time I had a panic attack was in February of 1999. I was traveling for work (a week in Austin, TX) and the morning I left home I was to leave Austin and catch a connecting flight in Memphis, TN to get home to Philly.

Unfortunately, when I got to Memphis, I found my connection was cancelled. Seems there was a roving snowstorm covering much of the Northeast. I happened to have a first class seat, which back then gave me the ability to walk the terminal to any airline and get the first available seat on any plane (I doubt the airlines follow this agreement anymore).

Anyway, I got a seat on a flight to Cincinnati that would connect me again to Philly. I got there after a long delay only to be cancelled again and find a new flight that would finally get me home. Well, you get the idea. I flew from airport to airport only to get more bad news. In that time, I ate little, and had about 5 Venti Lattes. I was hyped up on caffeine. I got on the last flight out of the airport (it was nearly midnight) and we sat on the tarmac waiting to take off.

And we waited.

Soon the pilot's voice came overhead, "weellllllll..." (you know it's never good when you get the drawn out 'well') "we are #29 for takeoff... hopefully we will take off before they ground all flights again."

I just about lost it.

In fact, I did.

My face flushed, my hands went clammy, my heart started beating a million miles an hour, and my head started to practically blow off. I couldn't breathe.

It was a panic attack. And the only reason I did not completely lose it was the nice businessman who talked me down and gave me all of his supply of Tic Tacs and bored me with tales of his sales calls as a consultant for a prosthetic supply company.

After that day, I became completely claustrophobic.

I had "almost" panic attacks many times since then. All being when I was in a confined area. The next most memorable one being the time my family and I were trapped in a hot elevator. Remember that?

So much so that I am fearful of elevators now. If I have the option to hoof it on the stairs, I will. I am still "uncomfortable" in planes. Especially the small commuter planes that only are 3 seats wide. I will myself to stay calm, but inside I feel like I could almost pass out.

Why am I telling you this? Well, recently I had another panic attack.

In Targ.et.

In the baby aisle.

You see, we still buy tons of baby wipes and bubble bath. So as much as I would like to avoid that section, I can't.

One Saturday, S., David and I went for our normal trip to stock up. The boys were still in the Toy section. I happened to walk down the aisle to grab a box of wipes and realized I was on the wrong aisle. I was about to course-correct, and a very pregnant woman dropped something on the floor in front of me. It was (I guess) her own registry or maybe someone else's, and I immediately bent down to help pick up the papers on the floor for her. She looked relieved and thanked me. I can't remember exactly what she said but something like "I am overdue." and I smiled. I turned to walk away and ended up on the baby accessories aisle to make my way out and I caught my eye on a teething ring.

David had the same teething ring as a baby. For a moment I thought 'hey, weird! they carry the exact same teething ring as the one I bought (maybe here- even) 6 years ago.'

And then, I felt my face drain, I was hot, my heart started to pound, and I had the faint ringing in my ears. At that point, I saw S. and David with the cart, threw my items in, and made a bee-line to the bathroom.

S. didn't notice my mental state as I walked away. To be truthful, I attempted to hide it. I stood in a bathroom stall for a few minutes until I regained composure.

It was horrifying.

Since that day, I had another close call at a store (that sells high-end baby stuff) when I took David to buy a backpack for school. I knew I had a baby gift to buy as well (and heck I was already THERE), so I literally ran though the infant section expecting it might happen again. I didn't. But the person at the cash register was slow, and I almost just walked out because I was at the verge of overwhelmed (I could have fainted at any moment when I felt my heart pick up speed).

Can I tell you how this is so unlike me? I am a complete wreck.

I am so embarrassed to talk about it. Over this weekend, I just have come to the conclusion that Infertility has pissed on me again in the worst way possible.

I have many years of gifts (birthdays, Christmases, and otherwise) for babies in my future. My friends and family have children, and certainly they will have more.

I will have to walk into these stores many times in my life, for the rest of my life.

And now, I have this completely new, ridiculous phobia.

A blogging friend, Rebeccah, recently wrote about PTSD rearing its ugly head during her latest trip to the GYN. And Cecily wrote about an equally horrifying experience too.

The triggers are like landmines on a minefield. Always one step away from disaster.

You can't expect to live through so much loss and disappointment and be able to escape unscathed. There is no amount of compartmentalizing... no cure. Even beating the crap out of Infertility and experiencing success doesn't give you the ticket out of Hell. There is always that unlikely trigger, just around the corner... waiting.

Nothing guarantees your sanity. Not in a doctor's office, in a Tar.get, or even in the safety of your own home.

Infertility is the gift that keeps on giving.

I am convinced now that this is true.

Hope Floats

Hope and I... we've had a very twisted relationship.

I remember back to the days when I thought I would always be the lucky one. I never "hoped" for anything really... I just "expected".

In fact, if we are being brutally honest, when I look back on my life so far, I've had a bit of an easy ride. I took much for granted. And along the way, I was able to mow down any roadblock standing between me and any goal I set out to do.

Done and done. Everything had a fix.

I distinctly remember (after my 2nd miscarriage) having a total meltdown. How dare I be denied anything? Me? Are you kidding me??

I would shake my fist in the air and challenge the universe to stop me from succeeding.

[Picture Scarlett O'Hara... "As God is my witness... I will
never be (barren?) again!" Ok, I fudged the barren part.]

But you know what? The universe still kept on slinging sh!t at me.

Which made me even more angry. The anger spilled over into everything I touched.

And then, something changed.

I became a weepy, introspective vision of my former self. I took off the battle gear and laid down my weapon.

I gave up.

Or so I thought.

I started hoping instead of fighting. I lit candles and prayed. I begged. I bought countless boxes of tissues and cried more than I ever have in my life. I made plans and then "hoped" they would work. I never assumed anything ever again.

With S. we set a plan. Do this, then that. And if we fail, then this. And then if that doesn't work resort to Plan X,Y,Z. And then...

..and then?

So, seriously... when people outside of this blog hear my sob story of five miscarriages and failure... often they will comment about the strength I have to keep moving forward. And I hate that, because I don't see myself as strong. Resilient? maybe. Strong? far from it.

At the root of it, I've held on to Hope. It's been the ONLY THING that has gotten me from point A to point B. The only thread of consistency throughout all these years. And then it dawned on me...

Hope is strength in disguise. Just not as obvious.

So instead of wielding an ax ready to fight, I sit here at my desk holding onto Hope.

Even after everything...

6dp5dt

I bet you hurriedly clicked over to this post thinking...

"OMG, has she tested yet??"

and the answer is NO.

To further disappoint my readers/friends/family and Peeveme, I've made a decision to not buy any pee sticks at all. I'm not even tempted.

Really.

Many of you have been commenting here and in e-mail saying how "disciplined" I am, and let me tell you... far from it. The operative word is FEAR.

That's right folks, FEAR. I am too afraid to test. If you know my history, you might understand. Six pregnancies, five miscarriages. For me, a BFP is merely the first step in what I like to affectionately call the "Pregnancy Obstacle Course from Hell", fraught with roadblocks, betas that look great but NOT!, and ultrasounds that feel like walking The Green Mile (for my Stephen King fans).

Symptoms? Yep, the are still here. Saturday was kind of a lull, but yesterday and today they are back. The trifecta: Cramping, low back pain, sore boo.bs

Strangely, if I weren't on enough meds to choke a cow, I would say.. "Yep! This is it." However I do know that progesterone can mock every pg symptom in the book.

I miss the days when I could get pregnant on my own... at least I knew when I was pregnant even before I reached for the pee stick. Yes, it's the upside of being pregnant so many times. I know too much for my own damn good.

I will give you one nugget of info that weighs on my mind. The feelings and symptoms I have this time (as compared to the failed IVF attempt last summer) are completely different... even taking the meds into consideration. What it means? I don't know.

Take from it what you will.

For my blogging friends that DO test before beta day, I salute you. You are a brave bunch.

I am a wuss.

And time marches on

You know what stinks?

I am growing bored with my secondary infertility label. In fact, my lack in speaking about my upcoming donor cycle is directly related to the funk I am in.

I cleaned my Google Reader today. And I am a category lover, so it won't surprise you that of the 250 or so blogs I follow, I have categories so I know what I am looking at.

One of my categories, which was full for years is "SIF/TTC" or "IF/TTC" (Secondary Infertility/Trying to Conceive and Infertility/Trying to Conceive). The joyful part is over the years there's been a complete turnover. About 95% of my bloggy buddies passed through this category in my reader to "SIF/IF PG", "IF/SIF Adopt", "Off the Hamster Wheel For Good" (self-explanatory), or "Friends/Moms".

I have just two blogs left in my SIF/TTC category. One is a newer friend, the other... a blogging buddy who started TTC#2 the same time I did and curiously has had 5 losses as well (what are the odds, friend?).

While I am genuinely happy for all my buds who passed onto the other side (a few after a quest much longer than mine), or chose another path after much consideration, -the fact remains that I am still stuck in the same place.

And I'm still licking my wounds.

And some days I am fine.

And some days I feel like my heart could drop out of my chest because it hurts so bad. I don't want to reach the milestone of 5 years TTC. I just don't.

------------------------------------

Two weeks from today, I will be on vacation, far away from this situation... and honestly, it can't come at a better time. I am just exhausted talking about it. I don't want to talk about it.

So, just as a warning... my posts in the future specifically about what's going on with the DE cycle may be non-existent, or erratic at best.

Right now, everything is fine. The Donor passed my litmus test I talked about here. Donor is getting her Day 3 u/s and labs done while I'm on vacation (we missed the window.. her consult/interview was on Day 6 so we had to wait a whole month... figures). Basically, I should know a lot more after Memorial Day when I get home. Perhaps a June calendar if we are lucky.

I have an appointment next week for another trial transfer, sonohysterogram, and new blood cultures (mine expired from the last time I had them drawn). S.'s bloodwork expired too, so he has to go in for a redraw.

My mammogram is due, and my Pap is due (which means another visit to the place I can't stand).

Reminders that my journey just gets longer and longer.

For now, that is all. We now return you to regular programming.

National Infertility Awareness Week

So how is it that I almost missed National Infertility Awareness week?

Oh yeah, they moved it. Now I can forgive myself.

I've had a lot to say over the years each time this week rolls around. Hell, pretty much any week of the year.

Instead of writing a long post to summarize why this week is so important to so many of us, I encourage you to read my friend Cecily's post about it.

She sums up every reason why it sucks to be infertile. And how each of us will always carry it with us, no matter when or how our journeys end.

How did you get here?

Often, I giggle when reading the keywords that bring people to this site. Sometimes I roll my eyes, or even cry a little on the inside.

I guess having a blog spanning three years provides many opportunities to pop up on a Google search now and then. Some of the most searched items on my blog have little to do with the content of my blog, but that's of no surprise.

My personal favorite, from years ago... "human dingbats". Oh yes, I've met a few, but not of the non-human variety. Zombie dingbats? No, not here.

Of course every time I mention a celebrity or current event, I end up on the radar. I think some people have a Google Alert set up on specific search terms, and if you mention the secret word, BOOM, you get spammed or get a ton of out of line and ignorant comments to a post.

Imagine the horror of someone searching for a po.rn site and ending up on BagMomma. lol. I guess the beauty of discussing female parts over the years can be misleading... can't it?

"5w3d and my boobs don't hurt"

Yeah, like that.

The majority of search terms other than those related to handbags are those infertility related. No surprise there.

But sometimes, the keywords grab my attention, and I wish the person would come back so I could converse with them.

"RE dislikes my weird cervix"
"my stinkin lazy ovary"
"POAS syndrome"
"coming to grips with secondary infertility"
"6w3d no heartbeat"
"over 40 IVF a waste of time"
"pregnancy loss"
"recurrent pregnancy loss and depression"
"why can't I have a baby"
"my friends ignore my infertility"
"scared of d&e"
"losing hope for pregnancy"

I envision the folks googling, like I've done so many times... looking for validation, or someone who has been through what they are going though. Haven't we all been there?

There was a point after my last (5th) loss that I Googled for anyone who had a success story after having so many miscarriages. I knew someone out there existed, I did find a few, but more than that I wanted to find another blog that I could identify with and one that would re-engage hope. Being broken, well, it's also natural to want to find others that know what's it's like to be broken. It's hard to exist in a circle when you are the only one left in it. It's lonely. And any infertile will tell you, when all your blog friends have met the one goal you can't reach yourself, it's also natural to want to widen your circle to find someone still in the trenches.

I wish I had an internet robot of some sort that could help me gather those who happen upon this site by way of Internet search on certain terms. Something that would open a pop-up box to say "Don't leave, we have more to talk about!"

Over the years I've also happened upon a few anonymous posters who left such eloquent and meaningful comments but provided no way to track them down. This is frustrating to me, especially when the majority of anon posters are just trolls looking to pick a fight.

The Internet is a vast place. A place of mostly passers-by sprinkled with some really lovely people you meet along the way.

So if you are reading this post via a search, and you need an ear... I'm listening. Because I've been there too.

What you don't know...

So, it's almost been a year since the last failed pregnancy. The "almost" perfect one that ended too soon.

The weird thing is even though I am now in Year Four of this huge mess, this is the longest time I've gone without being pregnant.

That seems a little odd saying that. In fact, I giggle a bit because at first glance seeing that sentence you might think I was Miche.lle Dugga.r. But you would be wrong. Because none of my last five babies were born alive.

Granted, for the last 3 months, we've guarded against a "spontaneous" conception (for you fertile types, that's how the other 99% of the world gets pregnant). The last thing I need is another pregnancy with my broken eggs.

Lying in bed last night, I realized that I can only remember the dates of the first and the last miscarriage. I am envious that my fellow sisters-in-loss can remember each anniversary of each positive HPT, each loss, and each unfulfilled due date.

I cannot.

I remember the first. It was on a Saturday in April. I was watching the "Chronicle.s of Nar.nia" on DVD with my husband and D. I was 11 weeks pregnant. By Sunday, I was not. I should have been due on my husband's birthday. I had just turned 38 years old, and my own OB/GYN came into the recovery room after my first D&E and told me I had "PLENTY of time left to have another baby."

PLENTY, I remember that word like it was yesterday. And that sentence echos onward. How wrong she would be.

My last pregnancy that looked so promising ended after the dreaded viability scan. I had just seen a heartbeat, a perfect one, and thought that pregnancy #6 would be THE ONE. It was not, and on a cold February morning one week after, I had another D&E.

In between loss number one and five is just a hazy history. A trail of broken dreams and hearts.

Some people still wonder why I am still marching down this road. They have grown weary of my trek, and lost interest. I don't blame them at all, and I have finally reached peace with that.

The hard thing is looking in people's eyes... and I know what they are thinking...

... they think I am crazy.

Well, I should say the ones who think THAT certainly aren't infertiles, moms, or compassionate women/men themselves. The are either very naive or very ignorant. Sometimes both.

The difference now between that old me and the battered me is I am able to more easily move from that conversation, or just go about my business knowing that not everyone will understand.

They will never understand.

Occasionally, the few who do are life lifeboats on a vast ocean. I used to be the type of person that dealt with my pain alone, but infertility has changed that. Instead of reaching for the lifeboat I would doggie paddle to keep my head above water. I would suck it up and wade in the ocean even if my legs went numb and I was gasping for breath.

Now, when I feel too burdened by myself, I swim.

And swim.

Until I find a lifeboat. That lifeboat is now a such a welcoming oasis. It is all of you, my bloggy friends, and a select group of real life friends and family who are commited to standing next to me.

Or swimming, as it were.

I never knew how much I would appreciate a community that can listen to my dribble- really listen, and despite my failed history... still be my cheerleaders.

I've done nothing but fail lately, but here I am about to embark one last time, and there you are still wishing and praying for me.

For that, I say Thank You.

Remembering

Today, October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day .

Especially poignant for me, as Oct 15th, 2008 also marks yet another due date I never reached. My most recent pregnancy that ended far too soon. Today, I would have had a baby in my arms.

For the last 3 years, every time I remember this day I have more losses to add to the list. It becomes so incredibly painful to remember them all.

And to be honest, there have been so many that the months and days start to run together. A mish mash of missed dues dates and dashed dreams.

As a favor to me, if you have any close friends of family that have experienced loss, please reach out to them today. If for anything just to say hello and you are thinking of them.

And to my fellow sisters-in-loss who have been there, I am thinking of you.

Heavy

I woke up this morning, put David on the bus and settled in for my work and a large cup of coffee when I came across this post from my blogging friend, Melissa. For those of you not connected to the infertility realm, Mel is one of those people who has a heart of gold and has been a champion for all of us who have fallen into the wrong side of the statistics. There have been times during my own struggle when her blog saved me. This fact I am not exaggerating.

But sometimes those we look up to and commiserate with have their own bad days too.

Her post hit me like a brick.

A very large brick.

Go read it, and come back here.

No really....

I'll wait...

I think the overriding feeling that I took away from her post is that never-ending wish that things weren't so damn hard. That all of our dreams were more easily attainable.

And (yeah, I'm gonna say it)... that life was FAIR to all of us.

I need to spin off of Mel's post on this subject, so bear with me here. Not sure where my thoughts will lead to... but this post and a certain piece of info I learned about yesterday sent me careening off the rails.

It was troubling news that angered me. It propelled me into THAT place. I can't go into any specifics, but someone in my real life is pregnant and has no freaking business being pregnant.

I wish I could give you all the whole story. You'd choke. You'd gasp.

Yeah, it's THAT BAD.

In any event, I spent the remainder of the day thinking... where is the fairness in this? To bring a baby into the world that will need and want and have no provisions available. To be born into a bad situation. No opportunity to thrive. A dysfunctional and potentially dangerous situation.

And all the while here I am. Spending thousands of dollars to get to a dream that is wasted on someone who has no right. Not knowing (ever knowing) that my investment of time, money, and love will produce ANY tangible result.

(Whew, let me breathe for a moment).

Here's the thing...

Infertility has taken away so much from me and my family. It has invaded every last corner of my little world. It has made me less of an outgoing person. It has destroyed my body image. It has made me fearful for my only child (because WHAT IF something were to happen to him!?!). It has drained my emotional resources, and my financial resources.

The perfect life that I envisioned slips away, little by little. Sucking the life out of it.

All the while people are getting married, making plans, deciding on how many kids to have. Having babies, planned and (ooops!) unplanned. Not even THINKING anything could go wrong. They have no idea how quickly their world can be stripped away. No idea.

Until they end up here like us. The misfits.

To end up in a vacuum like so many of us. Where the world exists in a holding pattern. When time moves from cycle to cycle rather than calendar month to month. Where sitting down to dinner at a table that seats 3, 4, 5, or more people makes your heart ache for the empty chairs that have no living children sitting in them.

Knowing that a decision to stop treatment could mean feeling like that forever.

Constantly feeling empty.

This is what keeps me going. I see the future of unfulfilled dreams and I turn and run. I run as if my life depends upon it. Because the alternative is just too hard to think about.

Quoting from Mel: "It's just that you never expect that you're going to be infertile when you're skipping back down the aisle at your wedding, your heart literally traveling out of your chest like a released balloon."... "It is possible, I've heard, that you can change your dream. You can adapt to anything. These are just the growing pains of holding a dream away from your heart and examining it closely. Dreams don't like to be separated from the body; they howl. They cry."

I could not have expressed this better or as eloquent as she.

To carry the burden of infertility and loss is like carrying the universe on your back. It's heavy, dark, and sometimes it seems just too infinite to measure.

Hitch your wagon to a star

Often, I think about infertility and the sheer madness of all of the emotions around it. The highs are so high, and the lows are just shattering. Rarely is there a middle ground.

Back around my 2nd/3rd miscarriage (who's counting, right?), I remember writing a post about trying to not put my life on hold any longer. I started planning vacations for whenever I felt like it, and S. and I no longer thought of the distant future, because trying to plan our future was like searching for a specific grain of sand in the ocean... it was just pointless.

Footloose and fancy-free, we started making plans inviting the heavens to rain on our parade. Somehow it seemed logical that if we made/PLANNED our lives this way we'd laugh one day when we were suddenly caught with a new baby and a bad circumstance (oh my, we'll have to cancel that $10,000 non-refundable dream cruise!... oh no, now that we threw away the baby gear... looks like we needed it! Let's just buy a REALLY small car... hell, we don't need it!)

But you know what? Tempting fate hasn't worked that well either.

So, with this IVF cycle looming close on the horizon, I am a bit annoyed that I MUST clear my calendar for July/August. Ok, maybe annoyed isn't the right word. Maybe it's worrisome. Because all my previous plans never worked, so I am already looking ahead at failing because it requires that I make a PLAN. And hell, I've already proven that planning=failure.

I know, not a fabulous mindset to start this with.

But among all of this... for some crazy, unknown reason I feel like I could be on the cusp of something big. I don't know where the feeling is coming from. Almost as if I am teetering and swaying JUST A TOUCH closer to having a little bit of (I'm not gonna say it)... okay, but just this once... luck.

How in the world could this wave of positivity surround me now? After everything that's happened... how in the world am I capable of feeling like the tide could change?

Eternal optimist? That was something I always defined myself with. I lost so much of that recently, but to my surprise, the optimist in me is STILL there... just covered up with all of the intense emotions I have had to endure over the last three years. But it's there.

I think I am just starting to understand that even if my life isn't how I planned, maybe it CAN be okay if I just give it my best shot and roll with it.

Maybe I need to stop PLANNING and forcing all this reverse psychology on myself.

Maybe I just need to let go. It's the one thing I haven't tried yet, and maybe it just might work.

The Shape of Things to Come

Today I had my "group" consultation with the IVF Nurse. The best part was there was no group, just little old me and my notepad.

Which was pretty nice. Nurse B and I go way back to the beginning of this hell called Recurrent Pregnancy Loss, and I admire her honesty and genuine feedback.

Today marks CD1, or what we are calling the TEST cycle to precede the real start of my IVF cycle. I had a blood draw for some basic stuff (prerequisites, if you will), a CBC, and some immune tests to ensure I am 'clean' for a go. S. has his blood draw tomorrow for a shorter list of stuff. Plus, a script for both S. and I for some antibiotics.

I feel like we are astronauts preparing for a space shuttle departure.

I have a pelvic evaluation next Tuesday and a sonohysterography with Dr. Nerd so he can ensure my uterus is still in good shape. Hopefully not as painful as the HSG I had last year.

After that, I will get the go/no go for my cycle start. Which should be around the first couple days of July. Then onto BCP's for a predetermined time, and the real fun.... stims.

For shits and giggles because I am (ahem, old), I mean, 40, I will start on a special cocktail of Gonal-F and Menopur for the stims.

And so on.

I'll stop there because I am getting winded thinking about it. Basically, my calendar for the summer is cleared.

Nurse B and I chatted about the last miscarriage (she was in the room when I had the 6w u/s, when we saw that little heart beating), and she shook her head reading my chart since that day... commenting how good everything had looked back then (great betas! great progesterone!) until that fateful u/s where the heart stopped beating. Just bad luck rearing its ugly head again.

"It's time for some good luck!" she said as she closed the file and we parted ways.

Yep, Amen to that.

Don't ask, don't tell

The line between keeping some level of privacy during fertility treatment is hard. I am not generally an ultra-private person, but in some aspects of my life I am. Other times, I WANT to say something (especially if the person is a closer acquaintance), but opening the door is, well, HARD.

At work, for example, the only person who knows what is really going on with me is my boss. My manager is also a long time work friend (she was a confidante before she ever became my boss) so it's a relief that I don't have to feel uncomfortable talking to her. If it were anyone else, I'd probably keep the details general... just enough to know why I might be out-of-pocket, or taking a sick day. As far as the other co-workers I talk to on a daily basis, they have no idea.

I also have a hobby on the side which involves a group of ladies I've known for years. Even though they know generally that I've been trying to have another baby, I spare them some of the details. I had committed to taking a girls trip with them in July and I just canceled but haven't told them yet. I didn't want to, but the dates conflict with my upcoming cycle. I am struggling with the right words to tell them I have to pull out.... I know they will understand.... but I am a wee bit uncomfortable thinking about how much I want to share.

I am getting used to infertility invading all of these types of relationships.

Scenarios that totally wreck me are those like one I experienced recently with a Mom I've spoken to for the last 4 years at David's daycare/school. Her daughter is the same age as David, and they've been in the same classes since they were 8 months old. She has since had another child and is working on a third, and she asked me recently if I intended to have any more children.

I get that question A LOT from acquaintances, and god I hate to answer it.

I usually try to change the subject. Or, if I know the person pretty well, my stock comment is.... "well, we've been trying for a long time, no luck yet." At that point the other person usually gives me that sad-sack look of pity and simultaneously runs for the hills (like on Scooby Doo, when they are all running in place).... OR, they say something completely dumb, like
"Oh, it will happen, don't worry" or
"If you don't think about it, it will happen" or
the ever-popular "well, at least you have David."

Worse yet is when people just start spouting tips and hints on getting pregnant.

This scenario has manifested itself often lately, and perhaps I am just being a bit high-strung, but one of these days this may be the comment that flows out of my mouth in response to the dumb comment(s):

"Thank you for your concern, but I am so damn tired of people giving me advice about trying to conceive, cause honestly I've been there done that a million times and it's NOT WORKING. There is no HINT or ASSVICE you could possibly give to me that I haven't heard. Unless you have a CRYSTAL BALL or something and can tell me with absolute surety that all the pain and anguish, money, peesticks, bloodwork, poking, and false hopes will ultimately result in a LIVE BABY instead of a DEAD BABY.... just don't open your mouth. Just don't."

aaaah, that felt good. I'll never say it, but at least I got to write it here.

The train is leaving the station

Since I will be talking about my upcoming IVF cycle at length, I decided I should create aliases for my RE's.

I hereby pronounce the formerly named Dr. V to be Dr. Nerd, and his accomplice (formerly Dr. P) will now be known as Dr. No. There are 2 other doctors in the practice I go to.. but 90% of my appointments are with Dr. Nerd and Dr. No.

I should explain.

Dr. Nerd reminds me of the guy from the Revenge of the Nerds movies, the skinny dude with dark hair and glasses. You see, Dr. Nerd is a pretty nerdy doctor. He's got the education and the credentials out the wazoo. Always has his nose in his work 24/7. Softspoken but laser focused. He's the kind of doctor that when you try to joke around with him he has that nervous laugh. Drives me nuts.

During the drama of miscarriage #4 last year (remember? the natural/medicated m/c and the hCG drama?) he called me so much to check in on me I asked him one day if "he added me to his fave five" (as in cellular phone). He *almost* laughed out loud (giggled really, which is a stretch for him). My husband cracked up when I told him about that conversation. I imagine that outside his office, Dr. Nerd is a nerd in real life too. In fact, I am sure of it.

Dr. No... as in, the villain from the Bond movies who was a bit of a mad scientist. Dr. No has a little of that in him... he's into a little experimentation to get to the issues, which I like. But he's brash and the older dude of the practice, so he's probably just annoyed that he works along side of younger punk doctors. I kid, I kid. Dr. No is a get 'r done kind of doctor. When the other doctors had problems threading the catheter for my HSG last year, he tackled my cervix issue like it was no big deal. No patient is too difficult for Dr. No.

So, moving on... yes, I went to my RE consult. I met with Dr. Nerd yesterday and we talked about how I am the Queen of Bad Luck.

No, really.....?

Then we talked about my age. Oh, it was wine and roses in January, when I was still the tender age of 39. In February, when I hit 40 I guess I aged 10 years in the infertility realm. Because Dr. Nerd was quick to whip out the IVF statistics for the age range 0f 40-45. Which, as most of you know is bleak. And then I protested, insisting I'm barely 40! why must you group me in with a 45 year old?? He asked me if I looked on the SART website at the stats for their practice.... and I was like HELLO?? are you kidding? Been there a trillion times. Then he nervously giggled and said, well, the good news is that age is your only *known* barrier at the moment.

ummmm, and the bad luck with the five miscarriages... how about that Dr. Nerd? (he only counts four since my second was a chemical, a mere blip of pregnancy).

Then we talked FSH. The good news is I've had 5 FSH/Estradiol (Day Three) draws in the last year, and the highest FSH was an 8. Mostly 6 and 7. But, of course these are not accurate because they vary greatly. So I wonder why we are put thru this torture test of bloodwork if it can be wrong, wrong, wrong a lot of the time?

FSH in normal range means I have lots of eggs left. They may be all bad, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

Next point of goodness is I am a pretty normal cycle girl. 28-30 days, still ovulating on my own regularly. Apparently they don't see many of my type, perfect inside/outside on paper but unable to birth a second child. Go figure.

We went over my history (again) for the millionth time), and decided that since I am almost at my insurance out-of-pocket deductible for the year, we may as well use it up to get to 100% coverage. It doesn't do a damn thing for the cost of the meds, but at least I'll save some money.

Protocol: We're going with the generic "antagonist protocol". A shot of a couple days of BCP's, hopefully still using my leftover (paid for) Gonal-F to stim, and the egg police, Ganirilex. Icing on the cake? My RE's office (as well as many others) has changed progesterone protocol for 2008. No more PIO! Crinone gel exclusively. No shots in the ass, I can dig it.

So that's the plan for now. I have bunch of other bloodwork and paperwork to take care of in the near-term. Also, I will have a sonohysterography beforehand since my uterus was questionable in size and shape when I had my D&E.

I've got two IVF cycles. The first one will be my eggs, hubby's swimmmers. We will cross our fingers and toes and pray the fertility gods have mercy on us. And if it doesn't work, we may do it again, maybe not. If we go a second time, we may make the leap to donor eggs for our swan song.

Mind you, we are still working the adoption angle. At this point I would like to ask that if I have any long lost relatives that are wealthy and reading this, to please consider gifting me about 50 grand. That should be all we need.

The IVF train is about to leave the station. Hop on and join me for more drama.

Complicated

This post has sat in my drafts folder for a a few months. Reading it, you'll understand why.

*****

When I first started blogging almost three years ago, I blogged for me. I didn't care who read my blog... I was just excited to take all the thoughts swimming in my head and write it down, because I am a writer. Not by profession, but in life.

I have notebooks of short stories and poems. Writing was an outlet for me as a young girl. It even got me in trouble more than a few times. I lost that in my early twenties and coming here to THIS BLOG was my re-emergence into writing. I found joy in that.

My early posts were all over the map.... thoughts on parenting, life, people... and things. Handbags.... favorite foods.... likes/dislikes. I was never part of the elite "mommy blogger" circle. I stayed under the radar.

And around the same time as this blog was born I had my first miscarriage. And then another, and another, and another.

Somehow I crossed the line of writing about "stuff" to writing about lots of deep feelings. Over the course of time, I started reading infertility blogs and making connections with others. Developing common bonds.

And then it got complicated.

All of a sudden I was an infertile. My posts became heavily slanted to infertility. My readership went through the roof. Women came in droves to support me.

Just as many sent me hate mail. Because, having secondary infertility is different to some. I once got an anonymous comment to a post after one of my miscarriages that "I was SELFISH.... " and, "You should be happy that you have ONE child because some of US have NONE".

Well, well, I guess you set me straight.

I deleted that comment, because it stung so bad. But as level-minded as I was at the time, I figured, well, there's always one idiot in the bunch... and I ignored it. But guess what? I got e-mails like that more and more. I even had some (again, anonymous) that deemed me "CRAZY for putting my BODY though five miscarriages."

Oh, there were many days I could have just wrote a post with this phrase "Fuck Off".

But just as welcoming it was to be a part of a virtual network of "positive" support.... that support that I treasured started to wane. Comments started to slow down, and as my fellow infertiles became pregnant and had their beautiful babies... I was left in the dust. And I, the doormat to the blogging world, still reading their blogs... but they are not reading mine. Crazy, since among all this infertile mess, I am still a Mom, and so are they.

How is it that a person can just disconnect so easily? For me, I never set up my RSS reader to ignore my pregnant blogging friends, so why were they ignoring me?

I blogged many times over my real-life family and friends who ignore me. This isn't an exaggeration... it's the truth I hate to think about. It's as if I have a disease, and if they ask how I am doing they might catch it. It HURTS so deeply when I shared such intimate detail of my treatments that no one asks how I am. It's the purest form of rejection.

But I never, EVER expected my blogging friends to give up on me too. But, many have.

Is it because I am not truly a textbook infertile? Is it because they are sick of hearing how often I keep failing?

Somehow, along the way I got wrapped up in the feedback and the comments. There were many days that the comments kept me from totally going nuclear. I loved the support (I still do), but now I find myself in the same place with the blogging community as I am with my real life-community.

I am invisible.

And, for this reason my love for blogging is waning. I am tired of being judged. So I censor my posts (if you've been wondering why my posts have been so generic). And that makes me more angry because THIS is my blog. This started as a place for me to be me.

I know that this situation is not unique. Two of my fellow bloggers are pondering "where do I go from here?" for entirely different reasons.

The truth is... I've shared almost 500 posts to the world (on this site, anyway). And I am just now understanding that you can be just as exposed and hurt on the internet as you can anywhere.

Where to go from here.... I don't know.

A confession

You probably have realized that I've been absent a bit.... not posting as I normally do, lurking, commenting on others blogs. And I'm not ignoring you (or going away for that matter, heavens, no...)

Last month, you might have remembered a post where I talked about figuring out where to go from here... infertility-wise.

After a ton of soul-searching, we are pretty close to making some life-changing decisions.

I've realized something very important, or should I say "we" in that my husband is totally on-board with this too...

We don't need another biological child to make our family whole. That being said, we agree on one big thing... being a family of three isn't the end for us. Someone is still missing.

I've pretty much abandoned the idea of traipsing the U.S. looking for a new RE that can pinpoint the cause of my recurrent pregnancy loss. Sure, if I were wealthy, and had all the time in the world I might spend thousands of dollars to find "a reason", but a reason does not necessarily equal a baby. And the most magical RE in the world can't promise a baby.

After 5 miscarriages... let's be honest... I am starting to bet against myself. Realistically, the chances of us having another pregnancy that works is pretty low.

I think our plan now with the RE is perhaps try one IVF (perhaps w/ PGD) for shits and giggles in June. If it doesn't work, I can still pay the medical bills and call it a day.

MY BODY won't be the focus anymore. I don't want it to be. I have been on this road for three years and frankly, I am done. I know people who can ride the Infertility Rollercoaster for years upon years, but I know in my heart that I can't do it anymore. This has ruled my life, my every moment. And it's a freaking crime.

I want my life back, and by this summer I will.

So, the big news I guess... we are 99.9% ready to roll on adoption. As you know, I've been researching for a month now, and we are very close to choosing an agency. We decided to pursue international adoption.... Domestic is too much of a gamble and even that isn't a "sure-thing". We are tired of gambling money and emotions, and are quite fine with having to wait awhile, so long as there is a child at the end of the road.

We are considering the "waiting child" program... for those of you not familiar with what that is... it's the program all agencies offer that includes children with mild to moderate special needs.

The goal is to complete our family, and I am starting to feel very confident that this is the path we are meant to take.

Remember when I talked about wishing someone would "send a sign" to let us know we are making the right decision?

Well, the signs have been coming fast and furious... and I can't ignore them.

Crossroads

Yesterday, I went to the OB/GYN for my post-op visit. Let me preface by saying that although I do like my doctor there (and her refreshing opinions compared to my RE's) I hate to go there.

Y0u know why. The onslaught of pregnant people and babies.

Unlike my RE's office, which is a child-free zone, I got to experience what I've been missing in the last two years of my infertility treatments.... Grumpy pregnant women. One sat across from me, lamenting how uncomfortable she is, and she wish her pregnancy was OVER. It took all the power in the world for me not to roll my eyes. Or club her.

I had a women sit next to me with a baby carrier in tow. She sat down and sighed. I attempted not to make eye contact with her. Then she turned to me and said, "my baby is four months old, and here I am again, pregnant with #2. I can't believe this is happening to me. I am so upset."

I wanted to slug her.

I wanted to vomit.

I felt my blood pressure rise, and my face flush, and I turned to her ready to spout something terrible that would make her feel like a peon. But I didn't. I sat for another 45 minutes feeling like I wanted to disappear. I would have rather been anywhere but there.

Now weepy and pissed, I finally get to the exam room. When Dr. D walks in we talk about my recovery. Which has been, thankfully, uneventful physically. Blah, blah, blah, expect your next cycle to start in a couple weeks. Call the RE for a consult next month and talk to them about next steps.

Then she stops and looks at me and says... "You need to decide your tolerance here. Think about what is best for you emotionally and for your family." It was as if I had every emotion written on my face at that moment and she saw it. We talked more, about trying again, the emotional and financial toll, adoption, and when it's okay to say... I'm done.

I got home and decided to look into the infertility counselor referral my RE gave me. Then I spent the afternoon surfing the 'net Googling more adoption links and ordering some books on Amazon.

Last night, S. and I had another serious conversation about all of this. We already decided we want to seek adoption, no matter what. So how does this fit in with closing the book on trying on our own? I have two insured cycles left (if we take advantage of them, we'll do IVF in May-June). I am still wondering if I should be investing all my time in adoption, or these last two cycles.

The odd thing is.... for the first time EVER... I thought about just letting go. Save the money for adoption. I guess I am just waiting for a sign. I know that's silly, and a lot of you don't believe in fate and all of that. But it seems like this may be the turning point.

I just wish someone would point me down the right path and say GO THERE... that's where you are meant to go.

In the meantime, I just really, really want to hide.