Knowing vs. Hoping: A Little Story That Puts Infertility Into Perspective

Below is a little story that I think sums up how infertility is different than other problems people might encounter in life. It's a little bit deep, but I think you all can catch on. ;-)

Here goes:

When I was about 22 years old, my boyfriend called me last minute on a Friday and asked me to join he and his family at the Lake of the Ozarks for a weekend filled with sun, fun, booze and boating. (For those of you not familiar with Missouri, the Lake of the Ozarks is just a humongous lake spread out over 55,000 acres in Missouri. It's a breeding ground for good times and bad decisions.)

Of course when this invite was extended to me, I wanted to go. A whole weekend with my boyfriend while working on my tan? Sign me up! Problem was, I didn't get off of work until 5:00 and boyfriend planned to leave at noon. In order for me to go, I would have to drive down on my own and meet up with them later. No biggie, this is what maps and directions were for, right?

I agreed and he hastily gave me the name of the condo in which they were staying and mentioned something about getting on a highway and driving for 3 or so hours. He would give me further details when I got off work. Done and done!

5:00 hit and I ran out the door and into my car, loaded up with gas and speed dialed boyfriend for more concrete directions. Straight to voicemail. Not a big deal, I had a 3 hour drive in front of me and could connect with him at some point down the road.

Fast forward 2.5 hours. I'd called boyfriend 392 times. All straight to voicemail.

I started to get a little worried.

There comes a point on the way down to the Ozarks when your phone will no longer work. We're talking "Deliverance" type territory. All that's around you are cows and people in overalls. Other than my phone having sketchy service, I also realized my battery was rapidly dying. I didn't have a car charger.

I knew I was getting close to the spot where I would need to turn off to find boyfriend's condo, so I couldn't just keep on driving willy nilly. The sun was setting and I was running out of gas. I pulled into a Walmart and charged my phone in a bathroom enough to hear my phone if boyfriend's call did manage to come through. I called boyfriend again and again. Voicemail voicemail voicemail.

What was I going to do? I was in the middle of nowhere with no directions where to go. I was literally stranded. I pulled my car to the farthest section of the Walmart and tried to rest until my phone rang.  It didn't go well. I saw one homeless man pee on a dumpster and I'm pretty sure I also watched a drug deal or two go down. For a 22 year old girl, this was just too much.

And so I cried. I cried because I was scared and alone in a strange place. My parents were on vacation and had no idea I had decided to come here. Literally no one knew where I was. I cried because I was pissed at boyfriend for clearly abandoning me in my time of need. I cried until the tears wouldn't come anymore. Was I going to die out here in a friggin' Walmart parking lot? Was this what was to be my life?

It was the lowest I remember feeling prior to my experiences with infertility. I just felt like I was stuck with nowhere to go and no one to help me. And then I had a thought that cheered me up. This wasn't going to be the end for me. I had no need to be so dramatic. Eventually my boyfriend would call. And eventually I would find where I needed to be. At the very worst, I could turn my car around go the hell home. This was not going to change my life for the better or the worst.

And right then, a light bulb went off.

I remembered that the name of the town where boyfriend was staying was named after a woman. Leila? Leslie? Laurie? Leanne? I couldn't remember. With new life breathed into me, as a last ditch effort, I drove to a sketchy gas station and asked the woman with two teeth behind the counter if I was near any towns that had a girl's name. Jackpot. I was 15 minutes outside of Laurie, MO. That had to be it!

Huzzah!

I got directions from two-teeth girl and headed toward Laurie. I remembered something about turning off on the second street once I got to Laurie and the condo having a steep driveway. And so, I drove through Laurie with only vague memories to guide me. I must have passed 15 different condo complexes with steep driveways. But I kept going. What else was I going to do?

And then suddenly, it was there. Boyfriend's dad's Tahoe. It was even right underneath a lamp post so light shone on it like it was delivered from heaven itself. I had made it.

Ironically, as I pulled up to the Tahoe, I also noticed two figures approaching the vehicle. Two young guys, freshly wet from swimming in the lake all evening and slightly buzzed from one too many Natural Lights. Boyfriend and his friend. Boyfriend's mouth hit the ground when he saw me. He launched into a huge story about how he thought his phone was lost but he had just realized it was in the Tahoe and was on his way to call me right then. (I constantly thank my lucky stars this is not the man I ended up with.)

But it didn't matter his excuses. I had done it. I had gotten to this god forsaken place by myself, and I hadn't given up. And no one could take that from me.

*****

Okay, so you can probably see some parallels here and maybe you can even see where I'm going with all of this. It may have taken 4 hours longer than it should have, and I may have had six mental breakdowns in the process, but I made it to my destination in the Ozarks and I made it there with nothing but pure determination (and maybe some rage).

My point is this...infertility was a lot like that ridiculous car ride down to Hickville for me. There were so, so many times where I just felt alone and scared and stuck, afraid to turn down the wrong road, end up in the wrong place. The difference, however, is that in my journey to the Ozarks, I had that moment of clarity where I knew that things would eventually be okay. This was all just a longer than expected chapter of my life, and someday I would be able to laugh about it. And that feeling was comfort enough to keep on trying.

With infertility, there is no comforting feeling or knowing that it's all going to work out. Ever. The best you can do is hope it all turns out okay. You never know if there's an end to the road. It could just go on for infinity with no no two-tooth Sally to help you choose the right path, because there is no right path. And that feeling of hopelessness? It never leaves. Even when you get good news that lifts you up, there's still that little devil with a pitchfork telling you "this might not work". There are no safety nets with infertility. You really might end up in that Walmart parking lot for years and years...and your only option might ultimately be to give up and just head home.

I was lucky in that my path did end with a pregnancy, and I am one of the fortunate ones. So many women and men dealing with infertility don't get the good news I got. They don't get that positive on the pregnancy test. Yet they still have to hear from friends and family and co-workers, "oh, it will all be okay eventually."

BUT IT MIGHT NOT BE OKAY EVENTUALLY. I wish everyone could understand that, and I think we'd all be better off.

Here's to an infertility journey that ends you safe at the condo, my friends.

XOXO,

The Pregnancy Symptoms Post: AKA I Didn't Have Any

I like to believe I'm a smart gal when it comes to my body. After all, I've had it for 33 years. For example, I know that when a particular part of my hand starts to ache, I'm destined for a cold or stomach bug. When my big toe pops a lot, I'm super dehydrated. When my right side feels funky and twinges, ovulation is just around the corner.

With all of my expert knowledge surrounding my body and its weird signals, I was confident that when I finally became pregnant, I would KNOW it. After all, for 48+ months, I documented every cramp, hiccup, sore breast and frequent pee I experienced. And for 48+ months, no pregnancy resulted.

To me, the logical assumption was that the month when a BFP did finally appear, I'd already be well aware of it. I read countless articles online, I asked friends, I asked relatives...it seemed everyone knew they were pregnant the second it happened. I would hear the stories and think, this is what will happen for me. 

But it didn't. Because it doesn't work that way for everyone. In the spirit of speaking up for those of us who didn't see any signs they were pregnant, here are my top "I knew I was preggers" stories that I call total and complete BS on. (And some of them aren't BS, but can be misleading for those of us who symptom spot every second of the day.) 

1) The Psychic:  Hell yes, I knew. I felt it happen, I swear to God. I was laying there after, ya know, we did it, and I just knew. I can't explain it. 

Why you may not have it: Sorry, Miss Cleo. You can't explain why you knew because you flat out didn't know. No one does. Besides, implantation (which is possible to feel) doesn't happen until several days past ovulation. What you felt was likely indigestion from the lasagna you ate. 

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Doubtful. However, hindsight is 20/20. After getting that plus test, you look back and remember allllll the times you even remotely suspected that it finally happened. Maybe on the night you and your Hubs got sideways you did have a little extra twinge of hope. That's believable. But no, no one feels conception happen the moment the egg meets the sperm. So don't get discouraged if you didn't "feel it."

2) The Boob Whisperer: Oh, I knew because my boobs were KILLING ME. Like, I could not even put a shirt on. Seriously, if your boobs hurt, that's the number one sign. 

Why you may not have it: Okay, this one is legit up to a point. A lot of women feel tenderness in their tata's and their nipples. But here's the thing - so do women that are PMS'ing. In addition, for those of us that are taking progesterone and patches and injections, those medications can also cause breast tenderness. It can go either way. And also, some women experience no pain in their breasts. Mother Nature can be such a crafty little bee-otch.

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Yes, of course it could. Looking back (remember that whole "hindsight is 20/20 thing"), my little ladies were more sore than my average period. But nothing that made me feel like I AM TOTES PREGNANT. So don't freak if your boobies are just averagely sore - you still might be getting a plus sign.

3. The Sleeping Beauty: Oh girl, I was so tired I couldn't even climb a flight of stairs without passing out. I just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep. I'm usually so active and full of energy! So I totally knew when I was that exhausted.

Why you may not have it: Trying to get pregnant is an exhausting proposition in and of itself, especially if you've been trying for awhile. Feeling out of energy is a sign of stress and frustration just as much as PMS or pregnancy can be. 

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Absolutely. If you are pregnant, your body is starting to go through some major changes and that can wear you down. But it isn't the same for every person. For me, I felt a little tired (again, looking back), but certainly not exhausted to the point where I could barely function. Don't wig out if you aren't falling asleep during your morning commute. 

4. The Happy Cramper: I had these weird cramps a few days after I ovulated. They felt kind of like a weird pulling in my stomach. Way different from cramps. I knew that was implantation happening.

Why you may not have it: Personal opinion? I think implantation cramps are impossible to decipher from PMS cramps. Trust me, I just went through it. Now yes, everyone is different, but you have to remember that every one of the people telling you these stories are those that are looking back after they've experienced it. A math test makes way more sense if you have the answers right in front of you, right? Yes, it's true that many women feel implantation. It's also true that many women don't. Unfortunately, there's no way of telling which camp you'll fall into.

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Yup. And this is what I want to shout from the rooftops. Everyone is different. Some women feel cramps, some feel zilch. If every women could tell she was pregnant immediately, we wouldn't have amazingly awful shows like "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant."

5. The Spotty McSpotterton: I had a little spotting a few days after ovulation. Just a little faint pink after I wiped. I knew it was implantation and I was pregnant!!!

Why you may not have it: Implantation spotting is a real thing. But it doesn't happen to everyone. I asked 10 friends who had experienced pregnancy if they ever spotted prior to a positive test. Two of them had. The other eight laughed at me.

Could it still be a sign I'm pregnant? Most definitely. Implantation spotting is a very tell tale sign that something is going on in there. However, that doesn't mean you should give up and throw yourself off a cliff if you don't experience it. Remember my 2 out of 10 friends. And myself! I never spotted. Not once. And I got a positive result.

The moral to this entire post should be glaringly obvious. Everyone experiences the days up to their positive pregnancy test differently. Think about how different all of us are. Tall, short, skinny, athletic, overweight, underweight, blonde, brunette - the list goes on. Do you really think we'll all feel the same effects when we get pregnant? No way.

As someone who relies on the internet to blog and connect, I don't want to discourage you from checking your symptoms against those on pregnancy threads. Just do it with the understanding that looking for symptoms that aren't there can be a real downer. Believe me, I experienced it. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I truly thought I would know when it happened because I assumed it would be so different from all the other failed months. But it wasn't. It was like any other month...except with a positive test at the end.

Even today, as I write this, I still have very few symptoms (let's hope I can keep that going for 8 more months). Could I be a weird case? Yeah, I could. But I think you'll find that a lot of people who had 'symptoms' of pregnancy didn't really realize that's what they were until after they found out they were pregnant.

So hang in there, my two week wait friend. Don't despair because your boobs aren't on fire or you aren't peeing every 38 seconds. If it's happening, it's happening and no amount of worrying is going to make it happen any faster. Hang tight and breathe in and out. You'll know soon enough and if you get a positive, we'll all be here cheering for you.

XOXO, friends!

Coming Up Positive: The Story of My (finally) Positive Pregnancy Test

You know that age old saying, that when you wait for something for so long and it finally arrives, you'll have a total brain meltdown and won't be able to function for a bit?

No? No one's heard that one? Probably because it only exists for weirdos like me.

I've waited four years to write this post. Four agonizing, emotional, stressful, infuriating years. I imagined in my head how the whole thing would go. I imagined that the road ending in a positive pregnancy test would be all rainbows and unicorns. Hubs and I would find out together, side by side, hands tightly clasped together. The words "you're pregnant" would come through the phone, sending us into a celebration that could only be described as a mix between joyous and beautiful, psychotic and sort of scary. And then I would hop onto my beloved blog and share my story in an endless stream of thought provoking and poignant poetry that would make even the most doubtful of infertile's alive with hope.

It totally didn't happen that way.

Here's what happened:

We had our 5 day transfer on January 6, 2015. It went by the book. All was well, and I totally made it through like a champ. Okay, that's not true. I actually cried a lot because I was completely freaking out that it wouldn't work. But then the doctor gave me this amazing thing called Valium and I got all sorts of okay. 

Anyhoos, it all went great. We took pictures of the embryo hatching (which I will save for just us because...I don't know, it feels weird to post it). We left shortly after and went straight back to our hotel, proceeding to live out the next two ordered days of bed rest by watching two straight seasons of Game of Thrones.

(If this baby comes out with a weirdo English accent and a sword, we know who to blame.)

During the bed rest, I didn't feel any different. I thought I might feel some tugging or something but no...not a thing. Subsequently, after we returned home, I also felt nothing (remember this post?) and started to worry that it didn't work.

And I mean, I really worried. I just knew it didn't take.

I couldn't concentrate at work. I couldn't sleep. One reason I was so sure was because I KNOW MY BODY, DAMMIT. And I felt no different than any other time before. In fact, I was so sure of our imminent IVF failure that I brazenly told Hubs that if the result turned out to be positive, I would declare that from that day forth, I would leave all decisions concerning my own health to be decided by him and him alone because I was a cotton headed ninny-muggins.

He accepted the terms really quickly.

So, despite all my lovely Twitter friends and blog buddies assuring me that all would be well, I continued to be a Debbie Downer. The Thursday morning of the blood test arrived and I headed to the doc. As the nurse took my blood she said, "Today's the big day, eh? I hope I see you here in a few more days to test your HCG levels again!" I wanted to take the blood draw needle and shove it in her eye.

I left the doc's office still feeling dejected and pissed off. The nurse would send my results to my doc in Colorado, and then Colorado would be calling me sometime between 1:00 and 5:00 with my surely negative results. Whatevs.

Then something happened. At around 1:15, I got a weird twinge in my gut that I'd never felt before. Also, I had a spell of tiredness that had me considering pulling into a Wal-Mart parking lot to take a quick nap. What was this??? I'd heard that these could be early signs of pregnancy. But couldn't they also be PMS? Surely they were PMS, because I wasn't pregnant. I knew deep down in the catacombs of my vagina that no baby was being made in my womb. 

But a teeny, tiny ray of hope began to break through my gloomy outlook. Maybe the blood results had a small change of being positive after all.

The rest of the day passed and soon it was 4:45. Hubs and I were at my stepdaughter's basketball game when I heard the special ring of Colorado on my phone. This was it. We were about to find out. Hubs and I ran out to the lobby of the middle school gym to take the call.

Bad reception.

The nurse said something I couldn't understand. I ran out into the parking lot and, out of breath, asked her to repeat herself.

"...so sorry....so we'll need to...as soon as possible."

Feckety feck feck feck. I knew it. Negative. I asked her to please repeat the last part so I could know what to do next.

"I'm so sorry, Kim, but we still don't have the results from your local doctor yet. So we'll need to get the results faxed over from them as soon as possible. It's almost 5:00 your time, so if you can get them sent in the next 15 minutes, that'd be great."

A-ha! I was down, but not out. I speed dialed my local doc and got no answer. They tend not to check their voicemail after 4:30, so I knew I was in for a long night of waiting. Awesome.

That night crawled by. Hubs said no news was good news at this point, while I proceeded to make up a load of insane-crazy scenarios as to why the results hadn't arrived in Colorado. I'll spare you the crazy for another day.

It was a sleepless night.

The following morning, Hubs kissed me goodbye as he left for work. He reminded me to a) think positive and b) remember to conference him into the phone call when Colorado called with the results so we could hear together. That way, if the test was negative, we had each other to get through it.

I won't lie, I really thought about going to my bathroom vanity and pulling out the last pregnancy test I had and pee on it before anyone called. But I restrained myself.

At around 8:15, I figured it was safe to take a shower. It was still 7:15 in Colorado, and the clinic wasn't open yet for them to call. I hopped into the shower and got all shampooey, trying to wash the negative vibes away. And then the phone rang. 

I didn't even rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I just turned off the water, got out of the shower and grabbed my phone, water and suds dripping off of my completely nekkid body. I looked at the caller ID. It was my local clinic, where I had the blood draw. WTF? Why were they calling? I decided it must be to tell me they had just faxed the results over to Colorado.

"Hello?" I said, a stream of shampoo sliding into my mouth. Mmmm. Soapy.

"Hi, Kim, this is Mel over at the clinic and I'm just calling to tell you that your positive test has been sent over to your Colorado clinic. Your HCG levels were 225 and look great and..."

I have no real recollection of idea what she was even saying. I couldn't think. I couldn't process. Did she say positive?

"Wait, I...uh," I stammered, gripping the phone with a Kung Fu grip so I wouldn't dare drop it.  "I just, uh,...it sounded like you said my test was positive. Is that...I mean, did I hear you right?"

"Yes!" Mel said joyously, completely unaware she'd just changed my life with one word. "Congratulations! Your Colorado doctor will likely want to order you another blood test on Monday to make sure the levels are doubling, so we'll wait to hear from them. So we'll talk soon! Congrats again. Bye bye!"

I remember as I heard the line go dead, I raised my eyes to see myself standing there in my bathroom, soaking wet and naked as the day I was born. I took a deep breath and said aloud the words that were streaming across my brain like a sports ticker. "I'm pregnant." At that moment, all the energy left my body and I shriveled into a ball on the floor. Huge, gulping sobs of relief and emotion and disbelief came pouring out of me in a way I can't quite describe, even now. I have to think I went quite insane for a moment because I was so happy and yet sad and yet scared and confused. My body wasn't really sure what to do with itself. 

I had done it. I had endured painful tests, inquisitive friends, needle after needle, medication after medication, negative pregnancy tests, low bank accounts, low estrogen counts, high estrogen counts, high follicle counts, potential OHHS, delays, more delays, airplane flights, bad hotel food, arguments, make-ups, deaths in the family, births in the family...and it all led to here. For me and Hubs, our time was no longer "someday", out there in nowhere land. It was finally here.

Moments later, my hands trembling, I called Hubs at work. When I heard his voice, I could barely even speak. Later he would tell me he thought the news was bad because I was crying so hard. Ultimately he heard through my incoherent blubber that we were pregnant and just said softly, "I knew it, babe."  Yes, we were both disappointed that we weren't able to hear the call together as we'd planned, but infertility has done a great job of reminding us what happens when you attempt to plan any part of life.

After I finished my shower, the jaded part of me was still in a state of disbelief, and I decided a home pregnancy test was the only way to be sure I hadn't just dreamed this whole phone/shower scenario. I drank about a gallon of water and waited until I was sure I had to pee. I went to my bathroom vanity and dug through the maze of tampons and panty liners, looking for the one pregnancy test I knew I had left. Where the hell was it? I had it RIGHT HERE. And then I remembered. I actually didn't have any left. I used the last one on purpose last month so I wouldn't be tempted to test after the transfer.

Mother eff.

I hopped in my car with water dripping down my back and drove to the grocery store. I bought two pregnancy tests and some dog food (I can't neglect my current babies, right?) and headed home as fast as I could. The test took less than 30 seconds to display the result.

                                                     

   Clear Blue don't lie, honey.

So there it is, bloggies. In living color. I am pregnant. After four years of stopping and starting, giving up and and then gearing up, crying hard and then crying harder, it has all come to this. On or around September 24th, I will (God/Buddah/Allah/Tom Cruise willing) become a mother.

I realize how lucky I am. There are so many infertile's in this world that are on their 3rd, 4th, maybe even 5th IVF cycle. There are women who have had multiple miscarriages or invasive and painful surgeries to even have the hope that they can carry a child. There are those who won't ever have the financial ability to even attempt infertility treatments. I am a very fortunate gal and I am thankful all the way to my friends and family for their support in getting me to this point.

For now, I am happier than I have ever been, and I think I have to let that soak in. Relish it. As I tell my friends, I am happy with a small helping of cautiousness on the side. I know this is just the beginning of a very long journey. It could all end tomorrow. After all, I've never been pregnant before, and statistically, miscarriage is always a possibility. But if the two week wait taught me anything, it taught me that when it comes to this pregnancy stuff...I really don't know jack.

And yes, Hubs was quick to remind me that he gets to make all medical decisions for me going forward and I am, indeed, the most cottonest of the cotton headed ninny-muggins. 

And he'll never let me forget it, either.

XOXO,

My IFV Retrieval, Part II: Taking it with lots of grains of salt

This is Part II of this previous blog entry...

When last I left you, I had learned that my 33 little follicles were growing like weeds and in turn, jacking my estrogen levels through the roof. So it was good news/bad news. Good in that I was making enough follicles to create a football team, but bad in that the spiked estrogen levels would have to result in a frozen cycle rather than fresh.

Meh.

Before I could focus on the fact that my IVF cycle would now be a frozen cycle, I still had to get through the retrieval. I was done with all injections except one: the two-part trigger shot. I had experience with trigger shots with both of my (failed) IUI's. Their basic purpose is to make sure you ovulate at just the right time so they retrieve the follicles correctly. Or something like that. They weren't a big deal back then when I did IUI, and they shouldn't have been a big deal now. But for some reason, I struggled with them. The two injections were taken about 12 hours apart from each other. The first was at 11 PM on Monday night.

Let me teach you a valuable lesson. If you're like me and often pass out fall to sleep somewhere in the 8:00-10:00 vicinity, SET AN ALARM. Hubs and I settled on the bed and began watching episodes of "Parks and Recreation" (because I'm a massive Amy Poehler fan), and thought we'd be fine until 11:00.

Uh, not so much. 

I woke up at 11:00 to a blaring A-WOOOGA! A-WOOOOOGA! sound from my Hubs' iPhone alarm. It's a good thing I have a smart partner that thinks ahead, because otherwise, we would have slept straight through. I was half asleep, so the injection went quickly and without drama. I rubbed the pain away at the injection site, crawled under the covers and sawed logs.

The next morning we ventured out for Christmas shopping and knew we'd be at the stores when it came time for my 11:00 AM injection. We ended up at a sporting goods store when the time came, so I went in search of a bathroom. Let me tell you, a department store bathroom built in 1998 is not an ideal spot for shooting yourself up. How, and I ask this in all sincerity, do diabetics EVER get used to this process? Balancing the needle in one hand while fiddling with the vial of medication and wiping your injection site with an alcohol swab...it's like a three ring circus inside that stall.

Long story short, the last trigger shot hurt. In fact, it took me four tries to even get the needle in. My guess is that I was just worked up knowing that I was less than 24 hours from retrieval and my nerves were kaput. Regardless, it didn't feel great. 

And the lady pooping in the stall next to me didn't romanticize things much.

Anyways. Injections finished and now it was time to wait until 8 AM the next day when I'd go in for the retrieval.

The next morning arrived without incident and I felt ready. Traffic was light, parking was easy. We arrived at CCRM at promptly at 8:00 and checked in. But I knew what was coming.

The IV shot.

The god. damn. IV shot.

I hate IV's. I hate IV's the way Kim Kardashian hates poor people. (Okay, I'm speculating.) Every time I have ever had an IV in my life, it's been dramatic. Once the nurse put an IV through my vein and said, "Oopsies! Sorry about that!" Another time they poked me in 4 different places until they found a "good vein." I just knew this time wouldn't be any different than all the times before.

To my surprise, the IV went swimmingly. My nurse was quite possibly an angel. She put a numbing medication in first (which yes, stung, but not like a straight IV would) and it really helped calm the whole process down. She had a fantastic bedside manner and set my mind at ease. Next thing I knew, the doc came in, gave me a short shpeel about what they were going to do and started wheeling me out. I remember waving at Hubs and heading into the operating room and...blackness.

The nurse woke me up gently. She reminded me where I was (which didn't matter because I forgot 20 seconds later) and told me I had done beautifully. She said she was off to get Hubs for me and would be back in a sec.

Obviously when you come out of anesthesia, you're a little loopy. Hubs said I was quite entertaining. I cried because they didn't ask me to count down from 100 when I went under and it pissed me off. Then I asked where my mom was. Then I asked if we were at our hospital at home. Then I asked for crackers and fell asleep. It went on like that for awhile.

Here's the basics of what you need to know about retrieval. The soreness is legit. You will feel it. I'm not really sure how to describe it, other than imagine you ate an entire salt lick. You're just crazy bloated. This is not a great time to have yourself photographed because the ability to "suck it in" is just gone. 

The nurses will likely tell you to eat as much salt as possible, in conjunction with lots and lots of water. Basically, you'll have quite a bit of fluid in your tum tum and the salt helps to absorb it so you can pee it out. (For a salt addict like myself, this eating salty stuff diet was not difficult to adhere to).

For me, what sucked most was all that fluid. It's almost impossible to lay on your side and you certainly can't lay on your tummy. But if you try and lay flat on your back, all that fluid travels up into your chest and then you can't breathe. It's way fun.

Not.

As in my last blog entry, I will not be showing you photographs of my swollen gut. It's just not a pretty picture. Use your imagination.

That afternoon I was ordered to go home and lay flat as much as possible, yet pee as much as possible. These are two conflicting instructions. Ultimately, you have to pee or the fluid just stays in there, which is no bueno.

I am so grateful to my husband for taking such excellent care of me. He got me heating pads, chips, Gatorade, crackers, soup...you name it. He's going to be amazing whenever I do get knocked up.

My best advice for recovery from retrieval is to sleep, drink, pee. It won't be fun, but the faster that fluid gets out, the better off you are. For me, it only took 24 hours and I was back to feeling pretty normal. Still bloated, but the worst was over.

Hubs and I headed back home the next morning. He drove and I laid down for much of the journey. The best news was when CCRM called to tell us they retrieved 26 of the 33 follicles. DAMN! I was quite impressed with myself (even though I really had nothing to do with it).

As it turned out, of those 26, we were able to inseminate and grow out 14 embryos total. And they are amazing quality. It makes me happy to know that after all the injections and tears and hormones and ginormous boobs that what was supposed to happen actually happened. It all went textbook, and that's good enough for me.

Next step is transfer and that will occur at CCRM next Tuesday. Stay tuned to hear how it goes! :)

XOXO, friends.

famous last words

Earlier this week I complained on Twitter that my monthly friend was taking longer than usual to get here. For once, I needed her to arrive so I could begin my lovely Depot Lupron shots for two months prior to my retrieval and transfer. I was tired of waiting and pissed off that my period would decide that this was the month we'd enjoy a 34 day cycle.

I went to the bathroom each day and hoped and wished for AF to arrive. When she didn't, I would whine to Hubs and bitch about AF's failure to just GET HERE ALREADY. Poor Hubs. It was such a departure for him to hear me complaining about AF being late. For months on end, he's heard me hope for her late or non-existent arrival, and now I'd turned everything on its head and hoped for her arrival as soon as possible.

When finally my monthly friend showed up on Sunday, I immediately got excited, ready to start my injections and get this damn show on the road. But of course, AF wasn't going to go without a fight (my injections will make her disappear for two months). This has been one of the ickiest, crampiest, American Horror Story-esque periods of my entire existence. 

Naturally, I whined to Hubs about it.

"OWW!" I screamed from the bathroom. "Why does it HURT so much this month. And why is it so heavy this month? JESUS, I HATE HAVING A PERIOD!"

"Babe," replied Hubs, incredulous. "Two days ago you were begging for this, remember? You wanted your period to show up. You said you'd be excited when it did. I don't get it. YOU ASKED FOR IT."

Those four words: you asked for it. They haunt me. Mostly because they're true. I have been asking for my period for a week. But, it doesn't mean I really WANT it. I just needed it to get here so I could move on to the next step. There's a big difference between wanting something and needing it. I want to get pregnant. I needed Flo to show up in order to get what I want.

I feel like I need to warn Hubs to tread carefully in the next few months, because I'm going to get a lot of things that I've "asked for" in the name of getting knocked up. Injections, blood work, general anesthesia, cramping, bloating, pain, misery...they're all coming.

And guess what? It won't stop there. 

If I get pregnant, the list of things I've "asked for" is just beginning. If we're successful in IVF, I'm likely going to get a sundry of new discomforts: swollen ankles, weight gain, hemorrhoids, mood swings, back pain, withdrawl from my nightly glass of wine, etc. The list will go on and on.

But here's the thing. Just because I've technically "asked" for these things doesn't mean they are any less painful or annoying or upsetting. Injections are painful whether you ask for them or not. Hot flashes are annoying whether you ask for them or not. PREGNANCY is painful and difficult, even if you beg for it.

So all of this begs the question: does "asking for it" mean I don't get to hate it a little bit? 

Does the fact that, for the last four years, I have begged on my hands and knees for a pregnancy mean that if I get one, I'm not allowed to bitch when it's miserable?

That doesn't seem fair to me.

I worry that when I finally do have my retrieval and I'm laying in my hotel room, moaning to myself about it hurting or being uncomfortable, I'm going to have to hear, "Babe, this is what you wanted. You asked for it."

And he will be right. I will have asked for it. Is it selfish of me to want him to be sympathetic just a teeny weeny bit longer? Will it be selfish of me to want him to be sympathetic for the FULL 9 months that I am (hopefully) pregnant? I don't think so.

I realize it sounds like I'm dumping on Hubs and I promise I'm not. I can't imagine what it's been like for him, sharing his home with a living, breathing one-woman circus of emotions every day. But I need him to understand that even though I've asked for all of this, at the same time, I didn't ask for it.

I didn't ask to be infertile. I didn't ask for endometriosis. I didn't ask for ovaries that don't seem to work right. I didn't ask for a huge portion of our savings to go toward medical treatment that may not even work. I never asked for any of that.

All I'm asking for is a solution to it all. And the path that we're on is, hopefully, the solution. And that solution will make me crazy and ridiculous and nutso. Together, we're going to have to get through what we've both asked for...no matter how hard it gets.

Ultimately, we're going to get what we've asked and begged and hoped and done voo-doo dances for all along. And then, it will all be worth it.

cause and side effect

In a few days, Aunt Flo will arrive (the dumb beeotch), and I will begin taking Lupron injections. I don't even know if I spelled that right , but basically, I'll be going through menopause for two months in the hopes that my body will then produce some protein that helps my little eggs implant into my uterine lining.

Whee.

Hot flashes, weight gain, headaches, nausea. What a gas.

I was chatting about this very medication on Twitter the other day with @LoveYouPotato, and we agreed that for all we go through with infertility (that will hopefully result in us getting pregnant and miserable for 9 months), there should be a payoff on the front end.

In side effects. 

And so, without further ado, here are my list of preferred side effects for infertility drugs and procedures:

Progesterone:  WARNING: Progesterone is sometimes used with another medication (a type of estrogen) as combination hormone replacement therapy (HRT) in women after menopause. Progesterone can have a varying amount of side effects, including but not limited to:

• stomach firming
• gas that smells like a flower garden
• dizziness experienced when you've drank just the right amount of alcohol, and no hangover
• an increased IQ, sometimes by as much as 10 points in some patients
• breast firming, swelling and lifting; call your doctor if your breasts reach your chin.
• cough that produces rainbows
• increased hair growth and thickness on the head
• an increased sense of humor, allowing many patients to handle nosy friends and neighbors who don't understand what infertility actually is or why it's a legitimate medical issue.

Lupron Injection (leuprolide acetate): WARNING: Lupron Injection is used in men to treat symptoms of prostate cancer, and in women to treat symptoms of endometriosis (overgrowth of uterine lining outside of the uterus) or uterine fibroids. Common side effects include:

• numbness and inability to feel sad; particularly when you get bad news regarding fertility
• stunted facial, bikini area and underarm hair. Some patients experience 4-6 weeks without return trips to the salon
• dewey skin, similar to Jennifer Lopez.
• ass lifting, also similar to Jennifer Lopez and/or Beyonce.
• increased sex drive, with most patients resulting in a pregnancy
• insomnia that results in amazing advances in your personal life, such as writing the next, great American novel
• sporadic toning of muscle groups, such as triceps and the gluteus maximus
• shinier hair
• accepted insurance claims that were previously rejected. Some patients experience completely covered IVF cycles, though results vary. Contact your doctor if you experience three rounds of free IVF.

Follistim: WARNING: (FSH) Follistim is used to treat certain fertility problems in women and men. In women, it helps stimulate healthy ovaries to produce eggs. This medication is usually used in combination with another hormone (hCG) to bring about the growth and release of a mature egg (ovulation). In men, it helps stimulate healthy testes to produce sperm. It is also used in combination with hCG. Potential side effects include:

• easily achieved orgasm. Contact your doctor if you experience orgasms lasting three hours or later. Or just lay there and enjoy it.
• unbridled happiness for no reason. 
•  an unusual tendency to find joy in the 4,010th daily broadcast of Iggy Azalea's "Fancy."
• deposits of random, large amounts to your checking account, not seen by the IRS.
• many patients experience their clothes fitting looser, even after binge eating Taco Bell at 3 AM for 5 nights in a row.
• tenderness in husbands' actions. Many patients experience flowers delivered for no reason, a random back rug or a trip to a luxury hotel without being asked.
• unexpected promotions at work, complete with higher pay and corner offices with a view.

Ahhh, if only...

what a tangled interweb we weave

Three years ago when I finally came to grip with the fact that Hubs and I needed help in the baby making department, I became best friends with a horrible, nasty, awful bee-otch.

Her name is Internet.

Don't get me wrong. The web is good - maybe even great - for all sorts of things. If it weren't for the Internet, I wouldn't have this blog and access to all of you ladies and gents who can share in my reproductively challenged misery. After all, without the Internet, I would actually have to ask my doctor in person, "now where exactly are my ovaries again?" Thanks to the magic of Google (and not Bing. Never, ever Bing), I can just bring up a wonderfully explained and graphically colored diagram of my inside lady parts and figure it out on my own.

Too much of a good thing, though, is not so good. And after about three months into our fertility treatments, I found out just how not great the Interwebs can be for me and other ladies like me.

Take for example, my dive into Clomid. I knew Clomid helped me ovulate and therefore produce follicles, but the Internet opened me up to all kinds of things that could go wrong with Clomid.

Hot flashes (those turned out to be legit)
Weight gain
Decreased urination
Increased urination
Chest pain
Vision Changes
Insomnia
Nausea
etc. etc. etc.

As usual, reading the list completely freaked me out, but I knew that not all side affects will hit every person that uses the drug. So I did the logical thing and went to some infertility message boards on Clomid.

OH. MY. GOD.

I planned to be there only a few minutes, but got sucked into this huge thread where a girl used Clomid and it made her gain 20 pounds and bleed internally and she puked three times a day and her husband left her and her dog died.

Okay, it wasn't that dramatic, but her story was scary as hell. Which prompted me to call my husband at work and relay the entire story. It went something like this:

Hubs: Hello?
 
Me: Carrie gained 20 POUNDS on Clomid.

Hubs: (shuffling papers) I'm sorry, what? Who is Carrie?

Me: This girl on an infertility message board. She gained 20 POUNDS, babe. TWENTY! And she puked a lot.

Hubs: Is this someone that's being treated at our clinic?

Me: Um, no. She lives in Andover, I think.

Hubs: So you don't know her personally and she doesn't live anywhere near us?

Me: No.

Hubs: Is she the same height as you?

Me: No.

Hubs: Is she the same build? Are her circumstances anything like yours?

Me: No. Actually, she doesn't ovulate ever. And I think she has PCOS. Her dog's name is Gino.

Hubs: You don't even have PCOS, babe. And you ovulate every month. So she's nothing like you and you don't know her situation. (mumbles to his co-worker about where to eat for lunch) You're making yourself crazy. Stay off the Internet.

Me: BUT WHAT IF I GAIN 394394 POUNDS? Will you still love me?

Hubs: I'm hanging up now.


***

But I can't stay off the Internet. In the early days, before IUI's and potential IVF cycles, I would get online right around cycle day 27 to symptom spot for preganncy. And I always had them all.

Dizzy?   Check! (Although I did forget to eat lunch until 3:00 yesterday. That could have contributed.) Let's see what else there is.

Discharge?     YES! 

Sore boobs?    YES! But always yes with the sore boobs. Every damn month.

Metallic taste in mouth?     OMG I TOTALLY HAD THIS ON SUNDAY. I remember my Cheetos tasted like pennies. I am so pregs.

And then Flo would appear three days later and my heart would be crushed and I'd want to die. And Hubs would - once again - remind me to STAY OFF THE DAMN INTERNET.

The real issue is, the Internet gives me hope. I see all those flashing emoji's that say "BFN on 5-12!" and I think to myself, "that could be me next month!" I want to have a flashing emoji!

So I hope. I carry it with me every day.

My current fertility doctor encourages hope, but vehemently discourages going online because there is such a huge amount of misinformation out there. If every time I come to his office I have a list of all the reasons he's treating me incorrectly, then what the hell am I paying him for? I mean, we want our doctor's to be experts, but then we second guess them? And while there is nothing wrong with being your own advocate and researching options, at some point, we have to just 

LET. GO.

We have to try and trust in our doctors and believe they are doing all they can to get us knocked up, short of crawling up in our vaginas and implanting the damn egg themselves. 

So ladies, use the Internet. Use it for support, use it for laughs, use it to look at funny cat photos, use it to shop. But if you can, steer clear of using it to self-diagnose and second guess your doc. Your job is to lay back (literally), put your feet up (literally) and let the magic happen.

And try not to gain 20 pounds.