waiting for the phone call

If every person's hell will be individualized to what they're most afraid of, or with what they can't deal with very well, mine could very well be waiting for the nurse's phone call. (I feel bad for the nurses to have to make those calls - they are very kind women, and it must be emotionally exhausting to deal with all the bad news. But then again, they all have children waiting for them at home, so whatever.)

DH is coming home from work at noon to wait with me, to hear whether our lone embryo is alive or dead.

I did a great job of staying calm during the last 10 days or so, as I wrote previously. But tonight all went to shit again, and I had crying fits almost all evening. I sat at the edge of the bathtub and screamed into my hands. I miss all my babies, and I can't wrap my head around the idea that we're thawing the last one tomorrow just to let her die. So I drank half a litre of wine, but that didn't help. Threw in a Vicodin, too, and now I'm calmer. Not sure what I'll do when the Vicodin runs out. Still can't find a family doctor, and without one, I can't get that kind of drug. I'm sure they'd want to put me on antidepressants, anyway, and I don't want that, on the off chance that we adopt - I can't have antidepressants on my record. Isn't that a stupid rule?

The most bizarre thing was laughing through my tears. Hawkeye on M*A*S*H still gets me every time. I don't even have to know what the one-liner was - I see him laughing, and then I laugh. I have been in love with him since I was 5 years old, seriously. And today, the weatherman was on TV, warning us all about ARCTIC-MAGEDDON temperatures - minus fifteen degrees Celsius. I screamed out laughing amid my crying because that was truly hilarious. -40 is cold. Not -15.

But I digress. DH says he's afraid he'll come home one day and I will have left him. He prayed yesterday - begging for a miracle. I don't know why we have to beg. We've been grovelling for years - I practically have scabs on my knees - and it's not as though this is some kind of special favour, like winning the lottery. What to believe? That God is in control? Well I think he is cruel, then, as well as incompetent. Should I believe, rather, that God is not at the helm of this, and that he grieves with me? I don't know; that's kind of like letting him off the hook. Should I believe that God is 'testing' me? He'd better not be because I am SICK OF THAT. I mean, look at Job in the Old Testament. He got tested for no good reason at all, imho. And then he gets 'rewarded' in the end, but at what cost??!! Look at all the dead bodies left in the dust (e.g., his dead spouse and children, animals, etc. - why did they have to pay for that 'lesson'? - no, it's all about Job). My theology is all messed up. It's hard for me to believe in God anymore. I don't want to stop believing - it's not as though I'm looking for reasons to ditch my faith - but this infertility crap really screws with all of that. And I know I'm not the only infertile woman who feels this way. If God is screwing around with me, he's definitely not a good judge of character. Because if he was sending me this tribulation in order to test my patience and to bring me closer to him, he'd've been better off caving in and allowing me to get pregnant (and to stay that way) last year, when I was still thankful, in some bizarre way, for the infertility (because it did teach me patience and a deeper understanding of parenting). Now I'm just so over it all. Done and done.

Shouldn't've scheduled this FET during the holidays. I'm sick to death of all the 'Christmas is about family' garbage (since a family is a family only if there are children, of course); I try hard to be good to my family, to friends, and to strangers all the time, not just at Christmastime. I'm also tired of the music about a miraculously-conceived child, the glut of consumption, the rude people in the stores, presents no one wants, and bad weather. Why can't we just all be nice to each other all year long? Why is it all reserved just for Dec 25?

DH's work Christmas party is tomorrow night. So I'll have a dead embryo, and a smile plastered on my face. Open bar, but I don't like getting drunk (contrary to what I must sound like on this blog), especially because I get silly, and I wouldn't want to embarrass him in front of his colleagues. So we are going home when I say so; DH was fine with that.

Wish me luck. I wish the same for you in return.

what if?

I've been in a more mellow mood during the last few days. I think my body's trying to calm my mind down, just in case a hospitable environment is needed on Saturday (the day after The Big Thaw). I didn't consciously try to come out of my misery; it is what it is. So I accept it. It's nice to not feel miserable. And to be able to get some work done.

Just keep thinking 'what if.' What if the embie doesn't die on Friday? What if it makes it to Saturday? I know it won't. The odds of it just surviving the thawing process are 50%. The chance of a clinical pregnancy with it is 13%. Unlucky 13. I was born on 13th day of July. Hm. Too bad I don't believe in that kind of stuff. But I still caught myself today thinking 'What if...?'

Today, the barista at my coffee place asked me what my sign was. I said Cancer. He said that meant that I was the great mother, and that I could be in charge of, and care for, everybody. (I have odd conversations with people whom I don't know. It's fun. lol) A sign? Hm. Again, I don't believe in horoscope-type stuff. But I still thought 'What if...?'

I hate that b!&^% Hope. :( I wouldn't say that I'm hoping, but I am still looking to Friday with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. After I get the phone call that the embie didn't make it, will I accept it, knowing that that was the most likely outcome? Or will I be devastated all over again? I don't know, and I don't know if I can cope with any more reasons to grieve.

There are a whole lot of thoughts resting on one frozen embryo, whom DH has named Katharina. It is suspended in time in a freezer two miles from where I am. I live in a high-rise apartment, the windows of which face the direction of my embryo. I look out the window, every day.

monitoring

I had the most tragic-comic start to the day. Ok, I live on the 35th floor of my building (in which the elevators are ALWAYS broken). So this morning I couldn't get any service at all. I waited 20 minutes for an elevator, then gave up and hoofed it down all 35 flights of stairs.

Then the weather worked against me. Hallmark Movie of the Week: 'The Infertile Woman Against the Elements.' (Except please do not get Tori Spelling to play my part.) The temp outside was actually lovely, but it was crazy windy and rainy. So I hobbled along on my jelly legs (going down stairs sounds easy, but I guess it's not, even though I am in shape) to the clinic, which is two miles away, and arrived, soaked and exhausted and 30 minutes late, for my booty call. lol

So, my lining is up to 10, which is great (and I am so grateful, since I know a lot of TTC'ers struggle with that). The doctor said he's guessing that my estrogen will have risen to an appropriate level, since I'm taking half of the Estrace vaginally (which is apparently more efficient), so he booked the FET. I start the progesterone tonight. Friday is the thaw, and if the embie survives - which is highly unlikely, I might add - the transfer is Saturday morning.

Apparently I have no follies, even though I'm on CD12. Not that it matters for an FET, but I'm concerned: how long will it take for my ovary to go back to 'normal' from the IVF drug assault?

Anyway, decided I would stop at a coffee shop for a few hours to dry out, wait for the elevators to be fixed, and read a thesis-related book. (And enjoy my last cappuccino until af arrives.) So I ordered my drink, sank into a lovely chaise, and then realized that I'd forgotten to pack my Estrace, and I needed to take two of them within an hour. I mentally cursed myself up and down, and now here I am at home, having fed my cervix with a little green pill. Lalala.

Oh, was going to say something about the Estrace. I saw green-tinged ewcm yesterday on the toilet paper, forgot I was on Estrace, and thought forlornly, "I really am a mutant." Then remembered that I'd shoved little green pills up there. lol DH is very grossed out by it all, so the only booty call I get is at the clinic. Haha.

Monitoring

First monitoring appointment. Lab tech almost made me tear out my hair when she said, "Well, you'll be waiting a while (*insert my stopped heart here*) .... no follicles yet." Um, I already said I was doing an FET, so thanks for the heart attack for nothing! (Am wondering, though, why there are no follies. That IVF really put my ovaries through the wringer.)

Anyway, got the blood and ultrasound done just before 8, and picked up the progesterone supps, just in case, since my lining is already at 9 mm (doc wants to see 8). The nurse also pissed me off when she chirped that the early morning monitoring sessions were "good practice for babies who cry all night." I was having none of that, and said sourly that I'd LOVE to be up all night and early in the morning for a baby, but not this waste of time. Can you tell I'm not a morning person? lol

Then DH decided that we needed to go shopping in Buffalo for the day, which was really great. I got a few tops on sale at Macy's, we had lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, etc. (Of course, I had to be privy to a fifteen-year-old girl's pregnancy announcement to her friends, right in the middle of the Macy's Christmas rush. And her friends all counselled her that she shouldn't have had unprotected sex ("just for the two days in the middle of your cycle! - any other day would've been fine!"). It was surreal. I didn't know if I should jump in to enlighten them or what. ???

DH insists that this cycle will work. He's getting the 'prayer team' (his sister and one of his brothers) on board, without actually telling them what it's about. He says we're having a girl, and that all of the excess estrogen running around will be the death of him; he'll most likely have to build an apartment above his garage and live there. I pleaded with him not to get my hopes up. I'm happy that he is hopeful, though. Just because hope doesn't live here anymore doesn't mean that I don't want others to feel it.

Now, the message from the clinic is that my estrogen level is at 1105 (I think?), which the nurse says is low, but not "too bad."So now I have to take half of my Estrace vaginally, to try boosting the number. Woo hoo, party in my cervix! Bring your own fluids! Haha.

my dh

Another reason to feel bad about being hard on DH:

His work buddies are having an all-evening Christmas party today, so I didn't expect to see him until late. But as I was walking home around 4'ish, he stopped beside me in his truck, and I hopped in. He was on his way home because all the guys were going to the strippers (for three hours before heading to a restaurant at 7), and he didn't want to go. Awwwwww...

And then before he left at 7, he put his head on my knee and whined that I was making it hard for him to go, and that he'd rather stay home with me. :)

Yeah, we've been married for over 8 years. The cashier at the coffee shop laughed in my face today when I referred to 'my husband' - she thought I was joking. I guess I look younger than I am. She thought I was around 24 or 25. So infertility hasn't aged me too much yet, at least not on the outside. lol

monitoring tomorrow

Had a relatively decent day - hurray.

Anyway, I have my first FET booty call (I call it that because of the dildo cam, aka: transvaginal ultrasound, which I hate - don't we all?) tomorrow.

I'm nervous because my ewcm disappeared yesterday, and so I'm wondering what happened to my estrogen. I've never done a frozen cycle before, and have never used Estrace, so I don't know what to think. I keep wondering if I somehow ovulated already and ruined everything. But I'm on CD 9, so that's way too early to ovulate! So where did all the estrogen go? I can't afford a delayed cycle - the clinic will cancel it, then! Urgh...

for my cyber-friends...

My laptop is still screwed up, so I can't send messages from hotmail or from my Facebook. :( So in case you've sent me a message in the last week or so and you're wondering where I am, I'm still here. It's so weird - I can see who has sent me messages, but I can't read them and can't respond.

the christmas letter i'd like to send to family

Annual Christmas Letter

Dear Family and Friends:

Wow, we can hardly believe that 2008 is almost over. What a crazy year!

January began with a bang, as my brother was, and is, still MIA, although he phones up my mom from time to time to harass her. Can't be good for dad's heart, but I'm sure he'll be fine.

Then, DH’s father passed away due to medical negligence. We flew home immediately when it was apparent that he was getting worse, and missed saying goodbye to him by 30 minutes. We buried him on a frozen Manitoba winter day – with the windchill, it was -56 degrees Celsius (-68.8 degrees Fahrenheit, for you Americans) – and our little nephew, who is four years old now, still believes that his granddad is playing an underground joke on all of us.

DH and I didn’t know what to do, so we flew to Cuba for two weeks. We tried to conceive naturally, as we’d been doing unsuccessfully for the past six years; of course, since we believed all of the profound life advice that people love to share, we just knew I’d get pregnant this time – after all, it was a horrible time of life and, on top of that, we were on vacation, ‘relaxing.’

Surprise! I got my period! And we celebrated by getting drunk and waiting for the RE to say – after a year-long delay - that we were finally ready to proceed with injectables and, yes, artificial insemination (for all you farm family members, break out the chuckles! – yes, just like you do to the pigs and cows!).

That first IUI cycle, which was around the April mark, turned out to be the only one we tried, as we found out that DH’s swimmers suck! He can’t get one past the goalie! Who knew? What a great sense of relief for me, as I found out I wasn’t the only ‘problem’! I could blame it on DH, poor guy! ;)

So the RE recommended IVF, and we cried for joy in her office upon hearing that news.

The IVF itself was so tightly orchestrated, so organic, so easy on the body and soul, so … sooooo. I mean, thank goodness it happened, anyway, just so that we’d have a place to spend that extra $10,000.

After overstimulating, we only retrieved 11 eggs. Most amusingly, DH’s swimmers went into hiding! It was so reminiscent of childhood to us, like an endearing game of hide-and-go-seek. Our hearts even pounded, wondering where those little normal spermies had gone! Ha ha! In the end, the sperm definitely beat us, those little buggers. Only five eggs fertilized, and two of them died on the third day, thanks to the bum sperm. We transferred two and froze 1. I tell you, since I know none of you have been through IVF before, there is nothing as romantic as the embryo transfer at the clinic, with a host of doctors and nurses and techs peering at your vagina, a light beaming down on you, your womb exposed on a screen, and your dear partner holding your hand. I mean, it’s such a group effort.

After a crazy two week wait, I discovered, with shaking hands and screaming heart, that I was pregnant. And then I lost it 3 days later. It was a comfort to learn that my body is healthy, though, and that my PCOS is not interfering with my reproductive capacity. It's that bum sperm. DH and I celebrated all of this news by taking a romantic vacation in Pennsylvania, and drinking a lot. I mean, if you’re not expecting, you may as well enjoy yourself, right?

In the meantime, I attempt to work on my thesis, even though I’m restless and I cry all the time. Isn’t that funny? – it’s the work I love to do the most, but can’t quite keep my mind on it. I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. Maybe we need another baby-making holiday. It’s so hard to decide on where to spend our money: a hot holiday or another IVF? You’re all right about our fabulous childfree lifestyle, in which we can pick up and go at every opportunity. We're so thankful.

Yes, that’s about where we’re at right now! Oh, I’m on a frozen cycle, and so I’m on estrogen for that. (Yes, my menopausal aunties, we’re on the same drugs, and I’m only 30! Isn’t that a riot?) Our embryo has a 50% chance of coming out of freezing in one piece. It’s like a glass half full, when I think about it. We have a 13% chance of clinical pregnancy with it, so I'm sure you'll get a happy phone call sometime in March to share our joy.

Ah, I almost forgot! The crème de la crème! The cherry on top of the Christmas cake! DH’s brother has cancer.

It’s all just too much, really, and we count our blessings at every opportunity. I guess we should get more Christmas spirit, since it doesn’t really show in our surroundings. We haven’t purchased any gifts, we don’t decorate anything, we haven't been to church in ages, we don’t send Christmas cards, and we don’t have any Christmas baking lying around. And no, we don’t have any ‘surprise’ news to spring on you on the 25th. But thanks so much for asking us about all of that at every opportunity. It lets us know that you care.

We hope that your year was as fabulous and action-packed as ours, and although it’s difficult to believe that 2009 could top it, we wish even more blessings for you in the coming 12 months.

Especially to my cousin, S-----, who will give birth at the same time that I was due. It’s a real gift to read about every piece of pregnancy news in your Facebook status updates, especially the sarcastic ‘Oh the joys of pregnancy/nesting/motherhood’ one-liners. My heart bleeds for you.

From our non-family to you and your family,

One-Hit_Wonder and DH

not sure where the line is (repost from 12/8/08)

From 12/8/08 (had to delete original and repost - long story):

Feel as though I'm losing my mind. I was afraid today that I'd need to go to a walk-in clinic because my sadness is debilitating. At what point do I need medical intervention? I don't know. I have a history of anxiety and depression (runs in my family - e.g., a close family member was just hospitalized for mental illness, my mom had to be on 'nerve pills' when she was a teenager, etc....), both of which flare up in certain contexts. Meaning that for me it's situational; e.g., once I had the teaching job from hell, and the resulting depression and anxiety were crippling. It hasn't been this bad since then - when the job ended - and that was 3 or 4 years ago.

I've lost everything. I've lost the one pregnancy I ever had (I should be 13 weeks pg, as of yesterday, and should be phoning my parents to tell them they're going to be grandparents), lost interest in my career (don't want to teach if I can't have my own children, since it's painful to care for other people's children), lost most of my faith in God (I'm terrified about dying), lost my chance to be a mother, lost my chance to be a grandmother, lost so many friends because of infertility (they're all parents, so we have almost nothing in common anymore), losing my closeness to DH (I just can't talk about this crap to him anymore, and I've got nothing else left to say), etc., etc.

Doesn't help that the one thing I was looking foward to - a group trip to Albuquerque in February to co-present our work at a conference - has been cancelled again. Just found out. No one's really interested in going, and/or they can't take the time off work/school, and/or they don't want to pay to go (even though they've had over a year to save up the $500 or so that the trip would cost). I'm so effing pissed off about it, too. They cancelled last year, too, because they felt that we were unprepared. Meanwhile, I am READY to present, plus I've paid the registration fees, I've arranged for my university to cover my costs, and it's the only thing in my life that I had going for me. Now I have nothing to look forward to.

I'm being crushed, physically and mentally. I feel as though I'm on uppers and downers at the same time - or Vicodin and espresso simultaneously - and it's disorienting and scary. DH wants me to talk to him, but I can't say anything. He prayed for me, and it made me feel worse. He mentioned his dad's funeral, just in passing, and then all I could think about were the kids that day - my three-year-old nephew wanted to be only with me, my 8-year-old niece held my hand the whole time, and my three-year-old great-nephew rubbed his cheeks all over mine and kissed my eyelids oh so gently. It was one of the worst days of our lives - burying my wonderful father-in-law - but I'll always remember those three dear children and how wanted and needed they made me feel. Wish I could have that in my life more than just once in a while.

Think I wore DH out - he went to bed at 8:30. I can't live this way, I said to him. I can't go on like this.

Can't find a family doctor, so if I still feel this way tomorrow, I'm not sure what I'll do. I could go to a walk-in clinic, but they won't prescribe any kind of drug that might help me. So what's that gonna help? Earlier, I drank myself into numbness, just so that I could get dinner prepared. I cooked enough food so that I don't have to worry about preparing dinners and lunches for a couple days. And now, I took a Vicodin and a Flexeril from my American stash, but I've got only about 12 Vicodin left and 3 Flexeril; I do need them for back/neck pain, and can't get them from Canadian doctors, so I should save them for pain flare-ups, but ... yeah. Vicodin evens out my mood temporarily, and I need to chill out, so there ya go. I never thought I'd become the self-medicating type, but you do what you've gotta do. I'll phone DH to come home if I feel bad; he's got a few sick days that he can use up before the end of the month.

I won't be on here for a few days - I've effed up my computer (my fault - downloaded something I shouldn't've, so it's full of viruses), and it's gotta get fixed. Sucks, too, since writing is what fuels me these days (my thesis and this blog), and now I can't have that, either. Handwriting isn't the same - I don't know if I've got some kind of disability in that area, but I have a hard time writing by hand - the letters my hand writes often aren't the ones that my brain wants. I have no problem typing, though. Weird. Anyway, I'll be back in a day or two.

In the meantime, I'll obsess about my physical symptoms, I guess. The Estrace is making my estrogen zoom, so I've got ewcm already, even though af isn't even finished yet. I have my first monitoring appointment on Saturday morning, so we'll see what my lining looks like and what my estradiol is at. Talk to y'all later, and thanks for reading. I'm very appreciative of the people who read my blog.

male infertility

Apparently good dental hygiene can help improve sperm parameters: htttp://parenting.ivillage.com/ttc/ttcprep/0,,456x,00.html

I've brought this up to DH, but haven't pressed the issue. I'm embarrassed to say this here - and he'd kill me if he knew I was writing about this - but he's not really concerned about his teeth. He doesn't go to the dentist, etc. Which is a crime, really, because his teeth are perfectly formed and straight.

But, if regular dental care would make a difference in his swimmers' quality... (?)

stuff

Af has gone easy on me this time. I thought she'd dropkick my ass, considering that she'd avoided me for two months. But I've had no cramps (I always cramp up bad on CD1), and had an even lighter flow than usual. I wonder if it's gone easy because of the Chinese medicine? I'm not going to see my TCM doctor until the 23rd, so maybe I'll e-mail her to ask. Anyway, it's the 4th day of Estrace, and no side effects, thank goodness.

Other than that, went to an AHL hockey game tonight, and was miserable because everyone was there with their 4-, 5-, and 6-year-old kids. 'Family time' for everyone except DH and me, since we're not considered by western standards to be a family in and of ourselves. I'm sure you all know what I mean when I say that. It's worse in this particular month, too, because of Christmas. Again, not telling you something you didn't know.

DH says he thinks...

...that the embie will live, and that we'll have a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes (like me).

I told him not to get his hopes up. Apparently he is not a vet yet, but maybe that's a good thing. Someone's gotta be strong for me; I've been strong for everyone else for so long.

semi-normal day

Had an actual semi-normal day, even despite the presence of af, and was teary-eyed only twice.

Dh and I got our blood drawn at the IF clinic, since our infectious diseases panels had expired, and then we splashed out on non-organic food: pizza, chicken wings, naughty desserts, and margaritas.

Rented 4 movies; got through Prince Caspian (his choice, not mine), and I fell asleep at various points - it's a crime that the Narnia series was made into films! I love the books so much, even though they're misogynistic and they make fun of vegetarians. lol

more about mf

Daytime was lovely. Met my thesis advisor/boss and fellow research assistant at a bistro for lunch, and then my advisor and I went shopping for a bit at Holt Renfrew's (we looked for underwear and makeup - lol - we don't have a typical advisor/advisee relationship) and walked through the University of Toronto campus.

She and I talked about my infertility issues - she went through infertility in the '80s - and she was lovely about it, as always. It is odd to talk to someone in person about what I've gone through. Even weirder to be talking about sperm and cervical mucous to someone who's technically my boss/advisor. But she is not like every other professor - she never talks down to students and she's brilliant, so I love her. lol

My fellow research assistant, who is Mediterranean, is cool, too. She told me today that I have a southern European (i.e., Portugese, Italian) sensibility, not Canadian. She asked me, then, why my reputation around our university is that of a cool and distant person, unapproachable. She told me that she doesn't understand this, and so she tells everyone what I'm really like, and the things she proceeded to say about me were so very nice.

I get that a lot - people thinking I'm a snob. I'm really not; at least, I don't think I am. I'm super-shy, for one thing; almost paralyzingly so. Also, I am an oddball, and I'm aware of that, so sometimes I don't talk because I know certain kinds of people will dismiss me as an airhead, and I'm not. The other thing is that I live in my dreamworld - I have a rich interior life, and often forget to pay attention to the 'real' world. So I guess I come across as distant, until you get to know me, and then I'm a good friend. ;)

Anyway, things went downhill after that. There was no particular trigger; I just got sad, sad, sad. Picked up my Estrace, went home, and was quiet all evening. It was a long night. Finally DH tried to take my laptop, then yelled something about wanting to spend time with me, and stormed off to bed. I let him cool down a bit, and then went into the bedroom, and we talked (we weren't fighting, and he wasn't really mad - that's just how we communicate sometimes during a frustrating situation).

He wants me to talk, especially when I'm sad, because otherwise my sadness makes him feel guilty, as though he's done something wrong, like forgetting to do the dishes or something. But I can't talk - as I said to him, what else can I say without hurting him? I said I feel like life is too long and I wish it were over.

He thinks that what needs to change next time is more prayer, more church, more Bible-reading, etc. I'm inclined to think that that won't make a difference. This infertility business has shot my spiritual beliefs to hell, and when I grieve for my missing children, I'm grieving for my missing faith, as well. If he wants to pray, go to church, etc., I will do it, though.

He offered to 'step aside,' but I don't want another guy. I want to raise a child with him - I think we'd be good together. :(

He asked about adoption, but that's not for us, for dozens of reasons.

I did broach the donor subject - very tentatively - and let him talk. He says he'd feel ashamed every time he saw a baby that wasn't 'his,' since he didn't get the job done, and it's his fault. I did say: So if one person can't have a genetic link to a baby, the other person can't, either? (He didn't seem offended by this.) I reassured him that the sperm thing wasn't his fault - I mean, it's not as though he screwed up his swimmers on purpose. And we left it at that.

Usually he will come around to things that are important to me, even if he is vehemently opposed at first. I'm hoping that this will happen here. We'll give it all we have with our own genetic material, first. For now, he just asked for 3 or 4 months before trying another IVF - to lose weight, keep eating healthy, taking the extra vitamins and supplements, etc. Yes, of course.

After that, if we face more disappointment, I don't know what we'll do. I don't know how to live with so much pain.

the brat that i am

Ok, my bratty episode of FB status-manipulation has backfired on me. *Siiiiigh* The only people who commented/e-mailed were my fellow infertiles, so that makes me feel bad. And my DH says that I am definitely not getting lobster ravioli or champagne this weekend. So my childish episode is over. lol

To console myself, I've made carrot cake with cream cheese frosting (all organic, whole grain, etc.). And it tastes delightful. I don't like chocolate (yes, I told you I'm odd), but I'm very fond of 'old granny' desserts like date squares, apple pie, homemade doughnuts, lemon meringue pie, etc.

Anyway, af didn't start today by my clinic's standard (must have gotten a heavy flow by 4 p.m.), so tomorrow counts as CD1, and the first day of Estrace. Must remember to pick the drugs up.

Also, didn't go to the support group, after all. I don't feel that it'll do me much good (so DH said not to worry about it). I mean, what could be said that hasn't been said before? And if anyone told me to keep my hopes up, I don't know how I'd react, and I couldn't be held responsible for any damages. I don't know. Probably, if the group is led by a capable and sensitive facilitator, my relationship could stand to benefit from the meetings. I mean, DH doesn't talk to me about our situation - he just listens to me blather on about it - but he'd be more likely to speak with other people around, particularly since most of them would be in a similar situation. Maybe we should give it a chance? I'll ask DH if he wants to try a January meeting - we can always leave if we don't like it.

In the meantime, I'm off to Toronto tomorrow for a meeting - maybe I'll get some shopping in. Must buy new underwear, since I am in fact allergic to almost all my current undies. Ok, now I'm just talking nonsense.

ok, this is a fun thing to do

Make fertile people feel jealous because of my fabulous child-free, jet-setting, powdered diamond-snorting lifestyle. Ha.

So for 'shits and giggles' (as my DH would say in his deliciously uncouth way), I just wrote the following on my Facebook status: One-hit_wonder "wants lobster ravioli and champagne. Maybe this weekend... :)"

I know some of my friends and cousins are going to e-mail me complaining that they can't do the same thing because they don't have a baby-sitter, don't have enough money, can't drink cuz they're knocked up, blah blaaaaaaaaaaaaah. HAhahahahahaha.

(Uh, but I see that one of my dear friends from SC has commented on my status, and if you're reading this, you know you don't count in my make-fertiles-jealous campaign because you're a turtle, and so I luv you too much, you know!)

I tell you, I'm a mean and nasty person.

Things to avoid

I e-mailed my TCM doctor, since af seems to have arrived, and said I thought we'd try the FET on our lone frostie, if the clinic isn't already booked up.

She said I should continue my medications (they're mostly to restore good circulation and to warm my body), and said I'm supposed to:

• eat lots of red meat (barf), seafood, and two eggs every day (1 in the morning and 1 in the evening)
• stop heavy exercise
• listen to nice music, like CBC Radio 2
• avoid unpleasant things, like the news (and how can I do that? - have you seen the Canadian political soap opera lately?)

She said, as well, that I should think positive. (Of course.) Can't remember the other stuff, and can't get into my e-mail account to check it. I've buggered up my laptop somehow.

I guess I should phone the clinic to say that af has begun. And pick up the meds, and all that jazz. Blah, wonder how I'm gonna pay for this. We also have to repeat our infectious diseases panel, since our previous results have expired.

We'll be at the clinic tonight, as well, since the monthly support group meets today. We've never gone before; I'm going only for DH's sake. If anyone tells me to think positive, I'm outta there.

Back to 'avoid unpleasant things.' Here is a preliminary list of things to avoid, then:

• the newspaper (my paper of choice is featuring appalling details of court cases involving child abuse and murder, so can't look at that)
• home (which is 2000 km away, thank goodness)
• Facebook (baby updates and ultrasound pics in every woman's status, and when they write on my wall,they leave behind their u/s pics for me to see every time I look at my FB - yay)
• malls (new mommies pushing prams around and bitching about their lost figure and lack of coin and lack of sleep - aw, so sad)
• TV (there is not ONE thing on right now that doesn't involve babies and/or pregnancy and/or 'family' talk, especially since it's Christmastime)
• telephone (inevitable talk about all my friends and cousins who are expecting)
• Disneyland (unfortunately, since DH and I were tossing around the idea of going there later this month - it's a cheap vacay)
• my iPod (unless I lose all the depressing music on it)

So the gym is safe, but I'm not really supposed to work out. What else? A hoity-toity (sp?) organic fair-trade coffee shop, as long as I ignore the stacks of newspapers ready for perusal. Oh, and must avoid coffee, so that's a problem. Um... An R-rated flick at the movie theatre, but I don't really care for movies. And R-rated films aren't going to be calming. lol (Any suggestions for movies, by the way? I do think I want to see Twilight - though, most shockingly, I haven't read the book yet.)

Guess I've gotta insulate myself somehow, though, to give our '13%-chance-of-working' frostie a shot.

In the meantime, DH's new vitamins and supplements arrived in the mail, so I'll get him started on all that today. I don't expect that they'll make a difference, but I guess it doesn't hurt to try it out.

Ciao for now,

One-hit_wonder

Today

I was working today at a coffeeshop; it's about a 30 minute walk from our apartment. I like to work on my thesis there - the atmosphere is usually calming for me. I order a coffee (oops, not supposed to be drinking that), and then usually a tea, and they don't kick me out, so it's all good. I've made friends with one or two of the baristas, as well. But I had to leave after an hour today. Just couldn't take it. My mood takes a downturn, my body feels heavy, and I feel tears coming on. All I do is look at clocks, watching seconds tick by, waiting for my life to end. So it was time to go. I didn't want to leave - what was I going to do at home? Get into a crying fit and upset DH for the zillionth time?

When does it get better? When will I stop having these meltdowns? I thought time was supposed to heal all wounds, blah blah. It's not getting better; it's getting worse.

I managed to pull myself together without leaking more than a few tears - I made an intricate dinner to distract myself - before DH came home. He remarked that I seemed ok today; I said that I wasn't in the afternoon, but it was better. At least we ate well, even better than usual.

Speaking of which, the organic kick is going quite well, except we can't go to restaurants (wahhhhh!). And that it's expensive. And we have to eat seasonally (but that's better for the environment, and I'm down with that). And that we have to ease up on dairy and meat (I don't mind meatless meals, though). And that I spend nearly all my spare time in the kitchen, cooking everything from scratch and cleaning all the extra dishes. :(

Despite all the shortcomings, I do like the diet. The milk is great - it tastes almost like the raw milk we grew up on. We love the organic cereals - there's a brand made with hemp and granola that is super-tasty. I've been making a lot of nasi goreng (Indonesian fried rice), using medium-textured tofu along with eggs (no meat), and that is delish beyond delish. I could eat that all day.

Today I made a 'Mexican' (using that term loosely, as I know this isn't Mexican) cornbread casserole. I fried up a pound of lean hamburger with a bunch of black beans, onions, canned tomatoes, and homemade HOT red enchilada sauce (plus salt and pepper, etc.). Layered cheese on top of that. Then I mixed cornbread dough with diced jalapeno peppers, homemade creamed corn, and sour cream; slapped that on top. Baked it for half an hour and served it with salsa and the leftover creamed corn. V.v. good. And hey, even though it took ages to prepare, at least my frame of mind was a bit better.

Today, part II

Went to my TCM doctor today, and she says that my kidney stagnation is about 80% better than when I began treatments, but that she still sees some fire on it. (She says that the fire could be attributed to any number of things, including diet and past medications.) This correlates to what I've seen in my body, including less back and neck pain, plus sleeping is becoming a bit easier, except for when I'm having TTC-related meltdowns. So I can stop taking the nasty and expensive teas, and start the generic pills, hallelujah.

(Of course, she had to mention her agony over deciding for sure if she would have another baby in 2009. She wanted to know what I thought about it. Why do fertile people do this to infertile people? I don't know. It's like bragging about your steak and baked potato and beer to a starving homeless person. I didn't answer, so finally she stopped talking about it. *Rolls eyes* She's great, but why did she have to bring that up?)

I also got acupuncture - yummy. Love it. Dozed off intermittently, and strange images flashed in front of my eyes. (Reminded me of my nightmare last night, though, in which I dreamed that all of my teeth, except for three molars, fell out. I used to get that kind of dream quite frequently.)The only image I remember is that of a red flower in the middle of either a hallway or a road, and the light was soft all around.

Any dream interpreters out there? Can you help me with the teeth thing, or with the flower? Apparently falling-out teeth often means death. Hurray. I don't know about the flower. Maybe af is on her way? Or am I being too literal?

About a week after I miscarried, I had a vivid dream. It was a beautiful sunny day. I was with my identical twin sister (I don't have a sister in real life). We are both pregnant with triplets. We're hanging out outside; we both feel as light as air; we're happy. I posted this on a dream interpretation site, but didn't feel confident about the responses. I do believe that most dreams are trying to tell us something, but I don't think it's safe to take them literally.

Anyway......if you are a regular reader, you may have noticed by now that I never stay 'on-topic.' lol

Today, part 1

Sorry I create such boring titles for my posts. I'm not a 'title' person. I often forget to add a title to my academic work, too. lol

I don't think DH and I are doing that well, still. We were tense all evening, for a zillion little TTC-unrelated things. Just now before he went to bed, he asked if the roses he'd bought made me happy. (He's been asking similar questions for the last few weeks: "Does ____ make you happy? I did ____; does that make you happy?" Etc. My answer every time: "I'm not happy, but thank you for trying.")

He asked if we could go to the monthly support group that's run by our clinic; it's being held on Wednesday. We meant to go in November, but missed the date. I wanted to go, initially, but now I don't really care. What difference will it make? But he said that it was important to him, so I agreed that we'd attend. He's not a 'therapy' kinda guy, so ok, if it's important to him, all right.

I got a creepy feeling about it all. Beneath the surface, I sense bleakness, an unsettling feeling. There's so much unsaid between us, and I felt it haunting us as he lay in bed and I sat beside him, in the dark.

Why I'm horrible and mean.

In case you want to know more about how horrible I am for resenting DH for my current baby-less state: on Thursday, he (a MAN'S man if you ever saw one) bought roses for me; he also included a card and wrote a beautiful message inside it. When he gave it all to me, he hugged me and said, "Let's go buy some plants and flowers to have around here; everything is so dead." (Um, he's not a plant or flower kind of guy, although his dad sure was. He's also not a 'writing' person, in stark contrast to me.) I was touched, to state the obvious.

Plus, after my weekend meltdown, he decided he was going to buy a puppy for me. (The turnaround of all turnarounds - we're both 'farm kids,' and mostly not into the idea of indoor animals, although he's more opposed to it than I am.) I said no, that was ok (I don't have any experience with indoor pets, so I don't know if I'd be good with that), but I'm still kicking the idea around in my head. I'm so lonely - maybe a dog and I would be good for each other.

DH is trying so hard to help. He keeps asking what he can do, and I'm silent. What can I say? I want a baby, but I can't have one. I don't want to make him feel even worse than he already does. I don't know how to tell him I'm intensely and everlastingly bitter toward him about withholding something I need, but that I don't love him any less, if that makes any sense at all.

So since the day that the doctor mentioned the idea of using donor for half of my next batch of eggs, I haven't broached the subject. I know that if I kept bringing it up, he would eventually give in, and I don't want him to feel coerced. I think that that would damage our relationship, as well as hurt any potential child.

DH said fiercely that he could not love a child who was not 'his.' I respect his position on that, but I find it difficult to believe that he wouldn't love a baby we could achieve with the help of donor sperm. He's incredibly loving toward all children; kids gravitate to him. We never go anywhere together without him playing little games with the children he meets. He's the favourite uncle. He phones many of his nieces and nephews regularly to check up on them and to pound on them with tough love, when necessary, and the older ones have occasionally lived with us when they needed somewhere to go. Blah blah, it's all a cliche, I know (i.e., the silently infertile Favourite-Aunt-and-Uncle).

I realize (as much as I can, considering my non-existent experience) that a pregnancy with donor would be a different situation than all that, of course. I can't imagine being a man and watching my partner have a child with no biological connection to me. I don't know what that's like, but it seems pretty clear that there'd be a lot of issues to work through for both parties involved, not to mention friends, family, and the child her/himself. (My apologies if any of my readers have used donor - I'm sorry if I'm shooting my mouth off here.) But I can say that my DH would adore the child; I know this to be true.

Anyway, to return to my main point, I am a hideous soul for being mad at him (plus a liar for hiding my feelings). But maybe I redeem myself by not forcing the 'issue' (ha ha, no pun intended) on him? I am trying to be a good partner, but it's been tough lately. :(

Black Friday for American Infertiles

This is brilliant: http://murgdan.blogspot.com/2008/11/infertile-black-friday.html

What's bugging me today...

...is petty, I know.

DH and I want to go on a hot holiday. We'd never done that before last Feb, when we flew to Cuba on an all-inclusive holiday. DH really needed the time spent elsewhere, as his father had just passed away. And Cuba was indeed fabulous; he's said a few times that that vacation came along at the right time. We went to Varadero, Havana, Santa Clara, Cienfuegos, and Trinidad, plus some of the stunning countryside. What an amazing country, with amazing people. I learned a lot of Spanish, too, which was cool.

DH has got a week off at Christmas - and I'm a grad student, so my schedule is flexible - so we are desperate to go away, especially since we're in eastern Canada for the time being, where flights are cheap in comparison to our prairie homeland.

Normally, we'd have the means to pay for this. He makes a decent living in trades, and I've been government-supported for the duration of my degree.

But not now. IF, as I'm sure you all know, has drained our wallets. It takes up all of my income, plus much of DH's.

Wah, wah, I know. Boo hoo for us. At least we have a decent apartment, good food, etc., etc. More than most of the world has. We know, and we're grateful. Very grateful.

It's just that 2008 has left us emotionally bankrupt. Empty arms, my brother is still missing, death of DH's father, unsuccessful IUI plus new male factor diagnosis, IVF, miscarriage, my dear father is developing severe health problems, and BIL has terminal cancer. It's a colossal understatement to say that we're looking forward to 2009.

We love going away. We are explorers. We like to see how different people live. We reconnect while we're away. It's a pity that we'll be stuck at home, in blah Canadian weather, with no family around and nothing to do.

At least I won't have to deal with children. As much as I adore my in-laws' kids and grandkids, it's so much to handle for me, especially during the holidays. As if I need the reminder that I'm already a great-aunt four times over, and not a mother yet.

I'm being a suck, I know, but I wanna go somewhere warm and think about nothing for a whole week!

...

God is tearing my life apart. So THANKS, big guy.

Now that the problem is male factor, and not me so much, there's not ONE THING I can do about not having a child. Yeah, I can put DH on vitamins and supplements. I can scour the internet and the library and the bookstores for information. I can get him to exercise and to eat organically. I might even be able to get him off booze (the little bit that he does drink) and junk food, and to make sure that he doesn't take hot baths.

But I know it won't do anything. Science doesn't know much about male factor, in the first place, and especially very little about morphology, which is DH's biggest problem (although motility is horrendous, too).

Oddly, I was somewhat relieved last spring when we found out that PCOS was not only to blame - it was mf, too. Some of the pressure was off. But since then I've discovered that PCOS isn't really to blame in my case, since it's all controlled, except for one wonky ovary. The other ovary works. My lining is good. Bloodwork is normal. I'm at a healthy weight. I don't smoke and hardly ever drink. Etc., etc.

So now this is a different game. I can tell DH feels horribly guilty. And I feel like the worst person in the world for saying this, but I'm bitter toward him. Not because of the mf - I know he can't help that. But because he won't even consider donor sperm. Our RE recommended, for the next fresh cycle, doing half DH's swimmers and half donor, but DH flatly refused. I'm more open to it.

If the problem lay solely with me, I would go for donor eggs in two seconds. Hard? YES. But I'd do it, since we both want children so much. So yeah, I'm bitter that he wouldn't consider doing the same from his end. I feel that he is withholding something from me and from our marriage.

I thought that we wanted to be parents together. He says he'd sooner adopt than go with donor. But if we could have a child who had at least one genetic link to us, then why not go that route? Why deny me the genetic link just because he can't have it, too?

He's got loads of nieces and nephews. His mom is a grandmother and great-grandmother many times over. My family has none. My youngest brother is MIA (long story), and if he has any kids, we don't know about it. My middle brother and his wife don't have children yet, but I've wondered if they won't have IF problems, too, since she has problems with her af. (They're going to start trying in the next 6 months or so, which is painful to know, anyway.) My parents would love to have grandchildren, and my brother wants to be an uncle very badly, but it may not happen. Makes this even harder, since I'm healthy and apparently fertile, but I can't do ONE THING about it.

So today DH and I are fighting. I thought this m/c thing was supposed to get easier, but it doesn't; it just gets harder. I couldn't sleep last night; just panicking about my life and about what to do. Then just now, we were on our way to buy groceries when a STUPID Alan Jackson song came on about a 'southern man' and how his greatest contributions were his 5 children (1 of whom was 'unplanned,' of course). I said bitterly that by that standard, I have nothing to give. DH got mad, and then I got mad and started crying, so here we are, back in our apartment. DH is lying on his bed in our room, and I'm in the living room, typing this.

It's horrible that I'm bitter toward him, I know. I can't imagine how difficult it would be to consider using another man's sperm to impregnate your own wife, so I don't even try. I do know how hard it is to learn that you are reproductively screwed, though. This is all so stupid.

So God is tearing my life apart, and I hope he's happy. I am married to a great guy, but things are falling apart because we want a child and can't have one. It's a dark joke.

Decided

Who knew that one teeny tiny little white object could become the source of such anguish? We TTC'ers, that's who! Methinks that I should write an ode to Provera. In the meantime, I just popped the top of the container and downed one pill. Enough thinking; we need more doing.

I wonder what women did BP (before Provera) to induce af. Surely they knew what to do (I've heard that parsley can get things moving, but I've never tried it). So much of that knowledge has been lost, most unfortunately. But don't get me started on that topic unless you want to read a feminist rant about western history! lol

To Sweetmomi: Hi! Sorry, you commented, and I lost it somewhere. But I have decided, thanks for asking! I am The Decider, a la George Bush! Hehe. I am neurotic and have had too much icewine today.

False alarm!!!

Noooooo!!!

*Pouts*

The Charge: The thing is, with PCOS (as most of you already know) you have to expect weird bleeding (or non-bleeding). I can go for months without af - and have gone up to a year without being on the rag - and then suddenly hemorrhage for 3 weeks straight. However, I saw spotting, and assumed that af was finally arriving.

The Conviction: I'm obviously a dummy, as I don't learn from experience when it comes to my cycles: I never learn to expect the unexpected.

The Defence (which comes too late, of course, in honour of the spirit of PCOS-style menstruation): Well, your Honour, my cycles were becoming more and more 'normal' over the past 3 or 4 years. *Sits on her couch and pouts*

Sentence: More waiting!. Urgh.

Sorry, the courtroom-style post is lame, I know. I don't even know how court proceedings go, since I don't watch Law and Order. Haha.

I know, I know what you're thinking...

Ok, she stops posting for half a year, and then suddenly she posts 3x/day? Wth? She sounds like an obsessive personality, and perhaps I should step away from her blog, just in case her Ebola-baby-rabies makes my own case of it even worse...

I wish to reassure you that I am just a regular Jane. Whatever that means. I have something of an obsessive personality, even where TTC is not concerned, but everyone's got tics. (Just because I do not allow my food groups to touch each other on my dinner plate doesn't mean anything, contrary to what my DH believes.)

Anyway, I just had to post an update. I'm spotting. So, unless my flesh is playing a nasty trick on me (which is possible - I am really hoping that this is not just breakthrough bleeding), that's the first time in my recorded history that I had an anovulatory cycle (I know, boo hoo for me). Usually, even if a cycle does drag out for months and months, I will ovulate before the old gal shows. Anyway, I guess the Provera issue is put to rest. Now I just wonder if it was the Chinese medicine and acupuncture that did it?

If I were not a vet, I'd be wondering if I should POAS in the morning. You know, 'implantation bleeding' and all. Alas for any eager readers out there, I will not. To me, any pregnancy that didn't result from IVF is just an urban myth. Science fiction, if you will. I've had too much unprotected sex with too few BFPs to believe otherwise.

Back to regular programming: To FET or not to FET? (to borrow a hackneyed quotation)

I have to decide by midnight if I want to do the FET, using our one frostie (with its 13% chance of success), before the clinic closes until January. Why tonight? Because I'd have to start the Provera in, like, an hour, since otherwise I will be riding an indefinite cycle until I hit menopause, probably. *Grooooooan* What to do, what to do?

Have I mentioned that I'm on a time crunch? Must try to get infertility treatments in by June, because that's when we're moving back to my pathetic province with its pathetic lack of infertility care. The next time I'd be able to cycle would be the summer of 2010, and I'd have to fly to another province.

I don't know if my body feels ready, though, for the FET. Or my heart. And then there's always the money question...

An explanation

I need to explain what I wrote in a previous post, namely the following:

I can’t take ‘newbie-isms’ anymore, such as:

(((HUGS)))
I’ll pray for you!
Just think positive!
It only takes one!
It will work!
I have a good feeling about this!
You will be a mother someday!
God wouldn’t put this desire in our hearts if he weren’t going to fulfill it!
*Baby dust!!!*

I bought into most of this stuff for years – as I said, I was once a newbie, too – but I’m finished with it, and felt this way even before the first IVF. I don’t actually get mad about people saying they’ll pray for me – I appreciate that, still – but I can’t take the other comments. I feel more on the vet side of things now. Yet I haven’t gone through nearly as much as a vet.

I don't want my friends and readers to feel bad for similar things that they may have said to me. The thing is that anyone who feels bad is likely not someone I would 'blame' in the first place. I don't know how to explain what I mean. Hm... It's the people who don't get what we're going through (e.g., fertile people and often people who've just begun TTC treatments) who should think before saying things like "Just believe and it will happen." I hope that makes sense. It's a weird thing to try to explain.

I don't mind being prayed for, truthfully, although I don't know what to believe about God at this point. Oh, and to be perfectly honest, I don't mind hugs. ;) So here is a (HUG) for you all.

Ways in which to torture thy infertile self: TV edition

Watch the following TV shows and commercials:

1. Jon and Kate + 8

2. 17 Kids and Counting

3. that stupid Brooke Shields mini-van commercial

4. Bringing Home Baby

5. A Baby Story

6. any ClearBlue commercial involving sophisticated technology that you pee on

Bah, brain freeze. These are just the most obvious ones I can think of right now.

I'm reminded of that TV show in the Netherlands (aka: Holland, aka: Cheese-Windmill-Pot-Tulip-RedLightDistrict-land). I lived there for a year. Anyway, the show was kinda like A Baby Story, in which all the details of birth were broadcast to the nation, except it contained fewer blurred effects on anatomical areas. This was shown at suppertime, on a major network. It was considered a family show. Interesting. Can't remember what it was called. I wonder how infertile Netherlanders dealt with watching that. I imagine that they'd be more vocal about their infertility, given what I learned about their general temperaments, but I don't recall meeting any infertiles there. They are mega-healthy people.

Anyway, how did I get from Jon and Kate to Dutch infertiles? I'm going to bed.

can't sleep - Christmas season banging me on the head

Last Christmas, I swore up and down that that was the last childless winter. Something had to give. I said to DH, "Next Christmas, I will either be expecting or I'll have just given birth. I swear this to you. This is the last Christmas with just the two of us."

We are inundated with children at DH's family get-togethers. I don't even know offhand how many nieces and nephews and great-nieces and great-nephews we have. Wherever the young ones play, I see the spaces where my children should be. If I'd gotten pregnant fairly soon after I first started trying, we'd have a child in kindergarten this year. Plus maybe another one or two babies, if we were so lucky. So lucky.

Last Christmas was the final one we spent with DH's father before he passed away. He never got to see his youngest son become a father. He cried when DH told him we weren't able to have children.

I guess I have to break that vow to DH. Yes, I should have been expecting during the holidays. Should've been passing to the second trimester. Should've been thinking excitedly about Christmas 2009 with a baby or two in our arms. Instead, I'll be in the current state of barrenness (oh I hate that word). Cursing at the TV for all its scenes of joyful family togetherness. Since no one considers a family of two to be a real 'family.'

Here's what would have to happen in order for me to be pregnant by Christmas (excluding, of course, 'natural' conception):

1. ovulation
2. af
3. successful thaw of embryo
4. successful embryo transfer
5. BFP

Fat chance. I still haven't ovulated since I miscarried in early October. And af has to arrive in the next 10 days for me to be able to get the FET in before the clinic closes for the holidays. Plus the embryo would have to actually make it out of the freezing process (from what I hear, there's a 50-50 chance of that - and a 13% chance that I'll actually achieve a clinical pregnancy, which is better than the current .2% chance, but still...).

I'm thinking there's no chance, really, since our embie quality was not hot. DH's sperm don't appear to be willing to drive embryonic development, which puts a damper on things. I don't know what the point of the FET is, really, since I don't believe that the frostie will survive (and listening to anyone tell me to think positive won't help, sorry). And it's so much money. I'd rather save up and start a fresh cycle in spring, and keep that last embie as a last resort. I want to be pregnant NOW, so I want to use whatever will give me the best odds. DH wants to do it, though, and our clinic says it's not ethical for them to do a fresh cycle before finishing a frozen. Blah, blah. I think I'm looking for a new clinic.

So I don't know. I have an open tab on Provera, pretty much, so I could break into that bottle, but I don't know. Maybe I should just let my body reset itself, no matter how long it takes. And I don't think my Chinese doctor would really want me to take Provera. She's added an af-inducer to my thrice-daily regime of odd-tasting tea. Maybe it's working. It's possible. I did feel my left ovary tingle today, on and off (I do always feel ovulation pain), so maybe it's gearing up to try spitting something out, even though any forlorn eggie would be way past its expiration date. I don't have ewcm yet, though, and I usually get that for 4 or 5 days before I ovulate. *Siiiiiiiigh*

See, the thing is, too, that we're on a time crunch for this cycling crap. We're moving in June or July to my home province - the one with crappy infertility care. So if I want more IVFs after that, I'd have one opportunity each year - during my summer vacation - and I'd have to travel out of province. I don't even know how DH would get the time off from work.

So yeah, Christmas sucks. I hate it and I wish it were over. And people wonder why I don't decorate for the holidays. Or why I don't do Christmas baking. Ok, primarily because I am not so much of a domestic person, and although I am artistic, I don't think I'm really 'crafty.' But really, I don't do it because who would I doing it for? Thank goodness we're not going home this Christmas (it costs waaaaay too much to fly that time of year). Excellent timing there, at least.

Ugh, that's all I can write right now. Too much for me.

Shopping: An Expensive Distraction

Went shopping today. DH took a pre-planned sick day so that we could cross the border, eat brunch at IHOP (we've got nothing like it where we live), and then go shopping. It was pretty nice. I'm a clothing fiend, so I picked up some cute tops at Macy's and Target. Plus boots and a Free People winter scarf, since my Chinese doctor says that I DO NOT dress warmly enough for late fall/early winter. I scoffed at this notion, since I'm in eastern-ish Canada, and I'm from the west, so to me, -2 degrees celsius does not a winter make. lol

Anyway, the mental day came at a good time, otherwise all I can think about is my cousin's baby, and how shiteously unfair this all is. She's already got healthy b/g twins, and now a 'surprise.' Thank goodness I live too far away to be invited to the baby shower.

Daily Check-Up

External appearance: Developing a massive rash underneath my chest - it's spreading to my belly and back. Is this from my bra? Chafing? Stress? I was wondering if it was linked to the problems some consumers are having from Victoria's Secret's bras - there's a class-action lawsuit going on right now claiming that the bras contain formaldehyde, which causes rashes, chafing, itching, etc. Not something I want to have on my boobies, thank you very much. Don't even want formaldehyde in me when I'm dead. Anyway, my bras are from La Senza, which is apparently owned by Victoria's Secret. I'd like to go to the doctor to get the rash checked out, but I haven't found a family doctor yet.

Internal appearance: Not too bad today, actually. Maybe that Chinese medicine is finally kicking in - I've been on it for around 5 weeks straight. I did get my hair cut and highlighted a few days ago, which was nice. It's good to be very blonde again. :) I was listening to bouncy music all day on my iPod, so I guess that's good. Lots of Madonna and Corb Lund - the fun stuff. If you like country, you might (might) like Corb Lund (he's a fabulous alt country musician from Alberta) - check this out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hp5TbQQTQA0.


10:10 p.m.
ETA: Gah, I hate Facebook right now. My pregnant cousin just announced her first ultrasound on her status, and the due date is June 9. Five days before my due date. How can I distract myself before I fall apart again tonight? At least I selected the option on the status feed to 'see less of' my cousin's news.

The Undemocratic Republic of Infertility. (Warning: Grab a cup of coffee first.)

In the vein of Guns ‘n’ Roses’ upcoming album, Chinese Democracy – and I can think of many other examples to illustrate what I’m about to say – democracy among involuntarily infertile women ain’t gonna happen. (Although I do hear that G ‘n’ R’s disc is finally scheduled to drop next week, after a 10-year wait. lol) Although I don’t see democracy as the be-all and end-all of political systems, I thought for the longest time that infertile women did experience a real kind of democracy, one from which we all benefited.

I believed:

• that we were all equal in our trials;
• that all of our voices were, therefore, equally valid; and so
• we could all minister to each other regarding our collective pain.

That was a dumb creed. Partisan politics are at work here, just as they are elsewhere. What I’m thinking of, in terms of the infertility wars, is the newbies versus the vets.

To describe newbies, I cannot do a better job than Tertia. Here is part of her infamous ‘IVF Barbie’ post, which is frequently copied and pasted to infertility boards:

Newbie Barbie: Newbie Barbie, also known as BabyDust Barbie is a bright, perky Barbie, filled with optimism and confidence that IVF Will Work. She is thinner and usually younger than the other IVF Barbies. Her accessories include rose-tinted spectacles, a positive bank balance, healthy insurance coverage and a million questions. Newbie Barbie has lots of other Newbie Barbie friends and they congratulate each other on a job well done. This Barbie only says pleasant, optimistic things and believes that Attitude is Everything. Their motto is Think Positive!!

Re: vets, here is a description from Tertia:

Veteran Barbie: Veteran Barbies are the Anti-Barbie. They are a whole lot plumper than the Newbie Barbies, less perky (in boobs and attitude), have grayer hair, a largely negative and over-drawn bank balance, plenty of bruises and marks and a slightly cynical attitude. They are dressed in comfy track pants with elasticated waistbands. Their accessories include a wealth of knowledge of reproductive procedures and protocol, the ability to practically do their own cycle, a snarky attitude, little tolerance for stupidity, a well defined sense of humor, the ability to laugh at themselves, a fondness for wine/beer/crack and a aversion to pineapple, baby dust and Newbie Barbies. This aversion in its more severe form can be allergic and acerbic. Veteran Barbies tend to swear quite a bit (especially when playing in the Barbie House with Newbie Barbies and Pregnant Newbie Barbies) and parental guidance is advised.

All infertility, apparently, is not equal.

Newbies look up to the vets, yet of course do not believe for one moment that they’ll ever be ‘like that’: that cynical, that old, that unsuccessful, etc. Newbies want endless assistance in deciphering their cycles, and can’t understand why vets are too tired and unwilling (and too filled with Lupron/Suprefact) to help, and why they are so sensitive! Why, they wonder, must every post in infertility chat rooms be labeled ‘m/c mentioned,’ or ‘success mentioned,’ or ‘pg mentioned’ (or any combination thereof)? Why can’t they just say whatever they want? “We’re all in this together!!!” Etc., etc.

In the meantime, although vets remember their own days as newbies, they’re too damn tired of it all; they’re just trying to cope. But when you reach your personal breaking point, they are listening; they get it. They’ve saved you a seat at the bar, just in case.

Nevertheless…

Boxing Match Royale: Newbie versus Vet

Announcer #1: “Well, here we are in Infertility-Land, witnessing a battle of epic proportions between the shiny Newbie in the blue corner and, in the red corner, the much more established and experienced Vet. We’ve seen countless rounds thus far, and who knows how the battle will end?”

Announcer #2: “Well, you’re absolutely right. Throughout this longstanding rivalry, we've witnessed many ups and downs. The Vet certainly has experience in her corner, and nearly knocked out her opponent in the last round when Newbie sprinkled baby dust all over her head. But, as we’re all aware, Newbie has her young age on her side, and so she pulled herself off the mat and rained retribution all over Vet by getting pregnant and then slugged her in the face by chirping, “See, you just have to believe, and it will happen!” Vet is ready to strike a blow … let’s see what will happen!”

Terrible, I know. It shouldn’t be this way.

I don’t know exactly where I fit in on the Newbie-Veteran TTC spectrum. I’m definitely no newbie. I’ve been in this TTC battle for over six years. I’ve been through PCOS, 4 rounds of Clomid, one injectable/IUI cycle, and one IVF, plus the HSG, hysteroscopy, laparoscopy, etc. Only one chemical pregnancy to show for it, plus a new diagnosis of severe male factor. Many vets will laugh at this list, as it’s not much. I’ve spoken to women who’ve tried to conceive for 20 years, who’ve endured dozens of medicated cycles, miscarriage after miscarriage, stillbirths, burst tubes, screwed up endometrial linings, OHSS, near-death experiences, and more. Sometimes I feel embarrassed for feeling like a vet, since I haven’t done nearly as many cycles as most have. The partial reason for this is because I’m Canadian, and due to the hugely inefficient structure of infertility care in my particular province, I haven’t been able to do any more than that. In SIX whole years.

E.g.:
-It took 12 months to get my intake appointment with the first RE.
-Another 12 months to complete the most basic of basic diagnostic testing.
-Another 12 months to get an appointment with the second RE.
-Etc., etc.

I was a newbie at one point. We were all newbies. So I know I should be nice – and I am really a nice person in real life – but I can’t take ‘newbie-isms’ anymore, such as:

(((HUGS)))
I’ll pray for you!
Just think positive!
It only takes one!
It will work!
I have a good feeling about this!
You will be a mother someday! God wouldn’t put this desire in our hearts if he weren’t going to fulfill it!
*Baby dust!!!*

I bought into most of this stuff for years – as I said, I was once a newbie, too – but I’m finished with it, and felt this way even before the first IVF. I don’t actually get mad about people saying they’ll pray for me – I appreciate that, still – but I can’t take the other comments. I feel more on the vet side of things now. Yet I haven’t gone through nearly as much as a vet.

So I’m in a liminal space right now – a doorway – and not sure what my political stripes are. I used to love posting on SoulCysters, but now, after my miscarriage, I see it as more of a Newbie venue. I can’t take the hope there anymore. It kills me, since I have dozens of wonderful friends there. I miss them terribly; they haven’t done anything wrong. I just can’t take the hope on SC anymore. And it’s impossible for me to deal with the friends who got pregnant at the same time as me: I cannot handle hearing about everything I’m missing out on, and don’t know if I’ll ever get to share. So I’ve stayed away.

I’ve been hanging around a bit on the Vet board of ivfconnections.com, but am unsure about my ‘vet’ status, and don’t want to be laughed at or yelled at for not being a real vet, so I don’t post much. I think they’d be ok with it if I did – they seem like really cool, smart, funny women – but I just don’t know. I miss my Mutant girls on SC.

I don’t know what this liminality makes me, in political terms. An independent? Fat lot of good that does. Just warming a seat for no good reason at all.

Looking for distractions (aka: life with infertility)

Living as an involuntarily childless woman means that everything not involving cycling is just a distraction. Noise. Background music. Vicodin. It's nearly impossible to sustain an interest in anything other than achieving the prize, a baby, so I welcome anything that can divert my attention for a moment.

My distractions:

• travel (I get to go places for free because I'm a grad student - yay for me)
• reading
• writing (poetry, memoirs, essays, and more; I also love writing my thesis, which is a memoir)
• watching old TV shows (M*A*S*H, All in the Family, The Nanny, Titus, SATC)
• photography
• working out
• cooking (although, oddly, I hate doing it)
• gardening (but I sold my house for the sake of my grad degree, so I'm in an apartment, with no vegetable plot in sight)
• family and friends (but I live 2000 km away from all of them, so that doesn't do me a lot of good...)
• cats (but I'm not allowed to have any)

It's hard to keep up with hobbies/interests (read: distractions) when one is infertile, especially when you're a TTC vet. You know, when you're depressed you basically just want to lie in bed or sit on the couch all day. It doesn't occur to you to listen to music. You don't realize that you've worn the same outfit for 4 days straight. That's what this is like. Chronic unwanted infertility = chronic depression. Alice Domar has done work on the this topic, and has found that depression rates among infertile women are around the same as those of women battling cancer. Crazy.

Today I got distracted, though, and it felt ... well ... almost good. I worked on the intro to my thesis, wrote a book review, got my hair cut and coloured, helped out someone who needed assistance, sat in on a meeting for an upcoming literary festival, and just made my DH's lunch for tomorrow. I was so busy all day; it's been over a year since I've accomplished so much in a 24-hour time span . It didn't help me, per se, but at least my attention was directed elsewhere for a while. How did I work up enough motivation and energy for all of this? I don't know.

Now what to do tomorrow? Nothing is on the agenda, other than my thesis. Perhaps I should make myself busy. But that requires energy. And I don't have any because I want to have a baby, but I can't. How to stop thinking about that? Get busy ...

It's a tautological thing. A dog biting its own tail. A cycle. Just goes on and on.

TCM (traditional Chinese medicine)

Oh gosh, where do I start on this one? I get a lot of questions about TCM, which is an acronym for Traditional Chinese Medicine. I'm definitely no expert on it, but I am a regular TCM patient, since I have pretty much given up on much of western medicine. I happen to be fascinated by Chinese culture, in general, and I am planning to go to China for the first time in June 2009.

Chinese medicine (TCM) works in a really different way than western medicine. The goal of TCM is to balance your body ('chi,' 'yin and yang,' and all that). So if you're sick or something's wrong with you, TCM doctors try to determine where you're unbalanced, and then they give you medicine (herbs), dietary recommendations, and acupuncture (and sometimes other stuff, too) to correct it. Their treatments are a lot more natural and uninvasive. They do take longer to work. E.g., my current doctor wants 3-6 months to work on me before another IVF treatment.

I figure that if millions of people have used TCM for thousands of years, there must be something to it.

I started using acupuncture a few years ago, after I had been in a series of car accidents. I was desperate to relieve the chronic pain, and among other things (e.g., NUCCA chiropractic, neuromuscular therapy, physiotherapy), I found that acupuncture and 'cupping' (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_cupping) provided some much-needed help.

I thought that Chinese medicine, in general, might be of use in infertility treatments. (Of course, this was back when we thought that our infertility problems were all 'mine.')

So I started to see a practitioner last summer. I wasn't very happy with him, though, since he charged so much money for the acupuncture and herbs: $140/week, and we're living in an economically depressed city, so that seemed pricey. I also felt that he was rushing me, and I do not like to be rushed on anything, ever (I mean, it takes me an hour just to eat supper! lol).

I also got the weirdest periods when I was under his care; this may or may not have been good, I don't know. The pain was incredible. Reminiscent of my tequila episode last weekend, the pain of that first period drove me to down a whole bottle of wine, just to manage the cramps. Isn't that awful? Again, I am not a heavy drinker - I down maybe 1 or 2 drinks per month. He seemed bemused by my body's reaction. I had seen another TCM doctor prior to this, in my hometown, and I knew that I could find someone better, who would spend more time to find out what was going on. I don't mind if doctors don't have all the answers, but I do want them to be interested in exploring the possibilities.

I got a recommendation on the web site ivf.ca to see a different doctor in my city. My first consultation with her lasted 90 minutes, and she asked piles of questions, checked my tongue, felt my pulse, and checked my blood sugar. She is a very knowledgeable, compassionate, and direct person. She says that her goal is to help my body get back into a balanced state before the next IVF, and she says that she's had some success with patients, but not with everybody. I appreciate that honesty. One thing that's been very positive is that she determined that I don't need the drug Metformin, since it's making my blood sugar crash after I eat breakfast (hallelujah - Met makes me feel so tired). Metformin is often given to PCOS patients as a first-line defence, and it doesn't work for everyone, but this is another story. My RE is going to be unhappy about my drugless state, but oh well.

This new doctor is very busy, and is frequently called out of the room, but I don't mind that at all - it gives me time to digest what she's saying and to think of what questions I want to ask. Again, I don't like to be hurried along, so this is fine with me. :)

So far, she's just had me take medicine (a custom-blend of powders, which I brew into tea, to combat my insomnia, anxiety, back pain, and current lack of ovulation), which I found odd, since I'm accustomed to using acupuncture, as well. I understood at first that she thought I wasn't strong enough for it yet. But I really wanted it. :) Acupuncture is very addictive - it feels like a natural drug. You lie on a table, and the doctor inserts very small, thin needles into precise locations on your body, and you stay still for a prescribed period of time, usually around 30 minutes. Some doctors will attach electric pulses to the needles (this is very pleasurable) and/or put infrared heat lamps over the needled area. This all sounds awful, I know, but it feels so good. Good, good, good. The needles don't hurt - at most, they pinch a bit while they're being inserted - and the resulting relaxation is worth every penny.

I insisted today that I wanted acupuncture, and it turns out that she rarely uses acupuncture in her practice because most people hate it and say that it is torture! What???!!! I know so many people who love acu, so I couldn't get over this. She was surprised that I wanted acu, and said that she just uses medicine for North American patients, since it's more cost-effective for them - she said that in China patients go 5 days in a row, then take 2 days off, and that they keep up that rotation until they are better. She said that the western once-a-week method is ineffective. I said I wanted it, though, because I love it, so she laughed and said that she'd do it. Yay - it felt soooooo good. Afterward, my tight neck muscles slowly 'popped' and relaxed, and my eyes looked bloated, as though I'd just slept for a solid 10 hours. Yum! My mental state is also better.

I've read a lot about how just the acupuncture can help with IVF treatments. My RE even recommends getting treatments immediately before and after embryo transfer, and she says that there is research to support this. I didn't do it for my IVF - I couldn't afford it at the time - but I will for the next one.

Here are links to a few books that you might want to look at, if you're interested in learning more about how TCM might help your infertility:

http://www.amazon.com/Infertility-Cure-Ancient-Wellness-Pregnant/dp/0316172294

http://www.amazon.com/Fertility-Wisdom-Traditional-Medicine-Infertility/dp/B0013TFBOW/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226119399&sr=1-3

http://www.amazon.com/Tao-Fertility-Healing-Chinese-Medicine/dp/0061137855/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226119399&sr=1-8

Hope this information can help someone out there!

Regards,

One-hit_wonder

P.S. My doctor mentioned to me - out of the blue - that most TCM practitioners in China fall into this profession because they receive such good benefits from the treatments when they are ill. I laughed and said, "Well, maybe I should do that. I like Chinese culture, in general, anyway." She replied, "I know - your eyes light up when I say the word 'acupuncture, and I can tell you are interested.'

And just now, she replied to an e-mail I had sent, and happened to add: "You really should learn this. I feel you have gut." I was flattered!

Is this the career change I've been feeling around for? I dunno!

Hopefully this is not a case of further self-delusion

I have been doing intensive research on supplements for my man (sorry, 'my man' sounds archaic, I know, there's a reason for it that I'm too exhausted to explain - I am v.v. tired, as Georgia Nicholson would say). And this is what I'm putting him on (being the good sport that he is about most things, he has agreed to this daily regimen):

-Ultra Vita Man (a twice-daily vitamin and mineral and supplement mash-up)
-Pycnogenol (the trademarked brand - dosage to be determined)
-Coenzyme Q10 (200 mg)
-extra calcium, since he's consuming fewer dairy products
-ground flaxseed on his cereal
-a small glass of organic concord grape juice (which he LOVES)

I've been reading some good things about the Pynogenol (especially re: morphology, which is a huge concern in our case) and the coenzyme q10, in terms of boosting overall male fertility. (If you're interested in sources, I can find them again and post them here.) DH was on a vitamin and a few supplements before the IVF, but I realized too late that the vitamin was quite low on some vitals, such as vitamins C and E, as well as zinc and selenium, all of which are important for male fertility.

In addition, we have gone organic. All of our food and household products are organic and natural. So are most of my cosmetics. I'm trying to find suitable personal products for DH, although he is partial to his Zest soap.

The reasoning behind the organic move is that we're both rural people, and we know it's better to eat local, natural, in-season food. We both grew up on farms, and we know the difference between organic and non-organic food (as well, we are painfully aware of how much poorer food is when it's grown commercially - we can't get over what 'city' people think passes for a tomato). We know that chemicals and pesticides and sprays are bad for people, animals, and the environment. Case in point: I grew up near potato fields - which are heavily sprayed - and my father has noted that the spray pattern affects the fertility of his cattle: he sees more deformed calves, miscarriages, etc., as a result. So that can't be good for people, either.

I see in academic research that male infertility is linked to non-organic food. This makes sense to DH and me. So even though organic food costs a fortune, and it's difficult to find where we live, we have decided to move in that direction. This means cutting back on meat and dairy, which is hard on DH, but he says he's done it before (i.e., when he lived in Europe, where meat tends to be more of a condiment than the featured dish).

DH has been pleased to discover that the new food tastes good - he was nervous about what we were going to eat, since meat wasn't going to be the main show anymore! I've made pad thai, which he adored, plus soups, bean dishes, and more, and he has liked all of it (except for bean soup, so whatever). I also baked organic whole-grain chocolate chip cookies (with millet! - what a weird ingredient!: that's cow's feed where he comes from), and they were the best cookies ever. We ate the whole batch in 2 days. :) I can post the recipe, if anyone's interested. The millet lent a nice crunch to the cookie experience.

My delusion? It's that these changes might actually boost his fertility, and that we could skip infertility treatments altogether. I would certainly not call this a hope, per se - I gave up on that concept a long time ago. It's just that, really, if you think about it rationally, going at this au naturale might make a difference. After all, my body seems to be in the clear. I ovulate, my lining is good, eggs are good, I get ewcm, my weight is a healthy number, etc. (I haven't been tested for immune factors, etc., but let's leave that, since I can't be tested for it unless I have another 1 or 2 miscarriages.) It's DH's swimmers that are more likely the 'issue,' no pun intended. The embryologist said he had a hard time finding any normal sperm for the ICSI, even though DH's total count is usually 20 million. So if he could boost the motility and morphology by exercising more often, eating organic, drinking filtered water, and taking supplements (which include tons of antioxidants), it is possible that something could happen. Again, this is not a hope, but I do hope that I'm not deluding myself.

Anyway, to wrap up what happened yesterday, I slept until about 4 in the afternoon, after drinking way too much tequila - will never do that again - so it was a short day for me. I felt a little bit better. DH is sending me for a massage and a hair appointment this week because he doesn't know how else to help. It won't fix anything, but the gesture is nice.

So I'm still sitting at home...

I didn't go out, so I'm 'safe.' Whatever that means.

DH woke up at 5, and tried to comfort me. Until I got pissed at him for offering 15000 times to help me somehow. He can't help; I'm alone. I'm acting so bitchy, I know. It's actually very much out of character for me. I'm very much a people pleaser. Trained to care about what people think. I am a Mennonite, after all (look that up if you don't know what I mean, or ask me if you care to find out - I just don't know if it's worthwhile to post that here - oh, there's the people pleaser in me coming out. lol).

He is a wonderful and kind person, and I did really feel bad for being mean, so I apologized. He knows I have a good heart, too, so he was fine with it. We sat up together for a while. He just went back to bed. And I just broke into a bottle of tequila. If you knew me in person, you might burst out laughing, because I have never been drunk in my life. I'm very much an in-control person. An in-control, prim, proper, prude people-pleaser. Hm. Yes, I've had too much tequila, but at least I can laugh at my alliteration skills!

I did tell DH that having children is a non-negotiable thing for me. I never planned on saying that to him, but the booze helped. Maybe that was a good thing. I was tipsy enough that I could say it without him feeling threatened, since he knew I'd had too much to drink. But at least the subject was broached.

Ok, I need to chill out now. Maybe eat some sunflower seeds and watch The Nanny until I fall asleep.

Before I go.

Before I decide what to do with the rest of the night, maybe I should tell about what happened during the IVF/ICSI.

First, here's the timeline of the 2ww. I'm copying and pasting this from my siggie on SoulCysters:

Sept 21: 11 eggs retrieved (OUCH!)
Sept 22: 10 mature eggs, 5 fertilized
Sept 23: 5 embies, still progressing
Sept 24: 2 embies died overnight; transferred 2 average-quality embies and froze 1
Oct 3: negative hpt
Oct 4: not testing
Oct 5: I can't read these stupid pee sticks!!!
Oct 6: BFP!!!!!!
Oct 8: beta

October 6th, the day I got the BFP on a digital, was the happiest and best of my life. The following is what I wrote about it.

Before today, I was starting to wonder what was going on in my body, given the following signals:

• Lots of thick white cervical mucous (which I didn’t think was due just to the Crinone discharge).
• Feeling little ‘zingers’ in my breasts, although they’re not sore at all (and they normally always are during the luteal phase).
• Vivid dreams. I dreamed that I had sextuplets and was trying to exclusively bf them all. I can be very naïve in my dreams. lol
• The last 3 or 4 days (I don’t remember when this started), I’ve been getting distinct, sharp twinges in my uterus. Mostly on the right side, but a few on the left. (*Gulp!*)
• On Saturday, I got two little pinpricks of dark brown spotting, one right after the other.
• On Sunday, a quick flash of abdominal cramping – felt like my period was arriving, but I was sure that it wasn’t, since it felt ‘different’ somehow – and it went away right away.
  Also, I was starting to think that Saturday’s test had given me, in fact, a positive result, since the more I looked at results of other similar tests online, the more I believed that what I had seen wasn’t an evaporation line.

Last night, I started to feel sure that I would see a + on the digital test. I felt calm and giggly. I don’t know how to explain it: I was just certain, for once in my life, that I was going to have a great peeing experience the next morning! Ha ha.

I didn’t tell DH because I didn’t want to raise his hopes for nothing, but I was sure he could tell from my face that I was pregnant. I tried to stay calm, though. I decided that I would go find him the next day at work to tell him, so that we could be excited together.

So I woke up at around 8 – I don’t know how I stayed asleep that long - and my heart started pounding … more like galloping! Got another fast wave of abdominal cramps, and then it disappeared.

I POAS – in a shaking body with a pounding heart - and it said ‘Pregnant/Enceinte.’

I had a tear in my eye, but mostly I was just hyperventilating and exclaiming, “No way, no way, no way!” I got dressed and did my hair and makeup, all the while with that pee stick beside me on the couch so I could keep glancing at it for confirmation. I paced the apartment for at least an hour because I didn’t know what else to do!

At 10:40, I hopped on the train, and happened to get into a weird conversation with a huuuuuuge dude – who said he was enamoured with my eyes (lol) - about murder and other unpleasant business, and how Stephen Harper (our prime minister) was no good for the Canadian justice system. All the while, I thought, “Argh, I don’t want to hear about this, I’m pregnant!”

Finally, after a few misdirected steps, I got to DH's workplace. It was 30 minutes before his lunch break, but I had him paged, anyway. He phoned to the front to find out why, but the secretary just said, “Someone’s here for you.” He says he had no idea that it was me. He came to the front – decked out in his hard hat and goggles – and I said, “Um, yeah, I forgot to pack part of your lunch” (which was true). Then I walked out, into the (more private) foyer, and he followed me. I turned around and said, “Hi, Daddy.” And then I don’t remember what he said! Probably: “Are you sure?” I said, “Yes.” He looked completely overwhelmed, and then hugged me tight. He stepped back and commented dryly, “You know, all this proves is that you can pee on a stick properly.” I said, “Whatever – can we go out for lunch?”

We drove to Kelsey’s to eat, and that’s the only time I really cried, when I said what shitty timing this was, since his dad died in January and won’t get to be a part of this. He would have been thrilled that I’m expecting.

Lunch was great – we talked and talked – and oddly (ha ha) we’re in agreement on almost everything; e.g., not finding out the sex(es). I put forward a new middle name, though, that I’d like to give a baby girl, and strangely enough, he didn’t hate it!

He wanted to know how I felt, and this is what I said: I didn’t trust my body; I never have. This PCOS, along with infertility, damaged my faith in my body. I thought it didn’t know how to behave. When I was diagnosed as a cyster, I started taking care of myself: I ate well, exercised, worked at managing stress, laughed every day. When we found out two weeks ago that my body was fine – just my right ovary is wonky – and that I am, in fact, reproductively healthy, I was in awe. I could have faith in my body, after all! It knows what to do! I don’t feel anxious because I am confident that my body holds wisdom about this entire process.

We’re going to wait until we fly back home in February to tell family and friends. It will be hard to keep this secret from everyone until then! My parents will be so excited – this will be their first grandchild.

Oddly, DH's sister knows that something is going on. She told him last week on the phone that she could feel that something was wrong with me, and she had been praying specifically for me every day. I wonder if my mom gets that feeling, too – wouldn’t be the first time!

DH was insistent that I write this all out today so that we could have it in our memories for the rest of our lives.

Wow, it hurts to re-read what I wrote.

Three a.m., listening to Blue Rodeo, and can't sleep

Just found out that a cousin is expecting, and is due around the time I would've been, in late spring. We grew up together, and I'll see her and the child at every family function. How lovely to have a tangible reminder, for the rest of my life, of what I'll never have. Will it be too obvious if I stop attending family gatherings?

She announced her impending arrival on her Facebook status, of course. I'm thinking of deleting my Facebook, as much as I love it, for it is now how I find out about:
-hints about early pregnancy (e.g., X is feeling under the weather! Tee hee!)
-pregnancy announcements (e.g., X is thrilled! We're having a baby!)
-pregnancy illness (e.g., X is miserable! When will it end?)
-pregnancy jitters (e.g., X is scared! We have to buy baby stuff but we're broke!)
-shower news (e.g., X is excited for all the baby stuff!)
-labour updates - I 'kid' you not - my niece did this when she was in labour earlier this year (e.g. X's water just broke)
-baby announcement (e.g., X's baby is here! She's darling, looks just like us, and she's perfect! After a whole 7 months of struggling to conceive, we finally have her in our arms!)
-complaints about said baby (e.g., X will never ever sleep again!)

What would happen if I were truthful in my Facebook status updates?
-I am changing my name to Loose Lucy because everyone in this city's medical establishment has now seen my vajayjay! Tee hee!
-I am scared shitless that my embryos won't make it until my transfer tomorrow morning!
-I'm miscarrying twin embryos! Thank God they didn't make it to 'fetus' status - it would've hurt even more!

F#*% it. I can't deal with this. Nice joke, God - good one, man. Why don't you rub it in a little bit more? Don't feed me that crap about crying along beside me - I don't believe it anymore.

I know I have to prepare myself. I know one of the next announcements will be my sister-in-law - my brother's wife. My brother, who's the 'middle' sibling, told me about six months ago that they would start trying within a year. His wife, whom I do adore, wants eight children, and goes to great lengths to describe what they'll be like. She wants them to look like me, and I am glad that she's Mexican and I'm Dutch: it would absolutely kill me if her babies resembled me.

Maybe it would be good if I heard about that one on Facebook. I'm not sure how I'd react if I found out in person.

Not sure what to do tonight. I'm not sleeping, that's for sure. I'm a chronic insomniac, anyway, and this miscarriage shit has made it worse for the last two months. I did sleep 10 hours last night, but that was partly because I took two Gravol pills (nice sleeping aide, in case you've never heard of that). I know I'm not going to bed tonight. My husband is going to freak because I didn't come to bed. I feel like going for a long walk, but we don't live in the safest part of town. I don't care, though. If I don't write more tonight, it's because I'm going out for a while.

Current Facebook status: Dead.

An essay I wrote a week ago.

Misplacements, displacements, where-did-I-put-you
I can’t recall

Gone, lost, not-found-as-yet:

favourite CD (the fourth time I’ve replaced it)
the only purple blouse I’ve ever owned (cotton, with white embroidered flowers)
clear nail polish (from my French manicure set)
1-cup measuring cup (although recipes are still turning out well)
a fresh pillowcase (mine is coated in mascara and saliva)
photographs destroyed in a downpour (two summers ago)
When Alice Lay Down with Peter (unreturned favourite book)
the language of my childhood (enough sticks to make it sting harder)
a brother, three grandparents, my father-in-law (stillborn niece and nephew)
my piano-playing ability

You think I exaggerate, I know. 6 years of lessons,
and they may as well never have happened.
Although I sing better now than I ever did in choir practice.

My landlord gave me an iPod that he found in a vacated apartment. I’ve been listening to it constantly since I miscarried two babies one month ago today. Lots of U2 – the more obscure and underrated, the better. Miss Sarajevo, Numb, Stay (Faraway So Close), more. Norah Jones: “Love in a time of war isn’t fair / He was my man but they didn’t care.” Blue Rodeo, but not the commercial stuff lately. Kenny Chesney for easy tears.

After I received the phone call that my beta number was too low, and I was already bleeding, I met my husband on the street – pouring rain, of course – to pick up books I’d had sent by courier. He asked what we could do, what could I take, surely there had to be medicine. Well, I said, there’s no glue to make embryos stick if they can’t stay. We got to the library, and of course my books weren’t there – they were lost somewhere en route. A day of miscarriages, I think to myself, what a pathetic metaphor. Must I insert Derrida into my story of loss? Really?

What can I say without sounding whiny? No one wants to read about personal tragedies if there is too much whining. Everyone wants hope – we look for it just as we can’t help but construct meaning from all kinds of text, whether or not it’s there. Book reviewers scavenge new texts for hope, all the more better when it’s a Holocaust novel, Rwandan massacre novel, etc. No one wants to hear otherwise. People want to believe that things will get better, that they’re in control of their lives. After you read this essay, if you’re at all interesting in what I’ve written, you’ll skim it again, looking for reassurance that things will end well. And if not, you’ll probably want to say to me Just adopt before you walk off without a care.

I read many books of tragedy, and think I should feel better. I had breakfast today: homemade bread, peanut butter, banana, milk (a childhood combination to which I always return). My cyclical disappointments should disappear in contrast. Should, should, should, don’t. My coffee cup says: “When I was young I was misled by flashcards into believing that xylophones and zebras were much more common.”

A reappearance

I had decided to let this blog go, since infertility was exhausting me so much I wanted to die, really.

But since I stopped blogging, I've been getting so much mail asking me to continue, I had to reconsider. I was shocked that anyone was reading my pathetic little blog on my pathetic IF story, including the author of Hannah's Hope (which is a well-known book among Christian infertile women). I mean, I am a writer, anyway, but even in that capacity, I'm surprised when anyone says they've read what I've written. lol

So, here I am again. I have to decide if I have the time to find the things I've written in the meantime for the purpose of posting them here. Because I've been through a hell of a lot since the last time I wrote here, and perhaps the story could help someone else (?).

Here's the story in a sentence: I endured the first IVF, found out that my DH's swimmers are (ahem) 'delayed' beyond belief, got pregnant, and miscarried shortly afterward.

And that's why I'm sitting on my couch, thinking that life is too long.