A Little Bit of This...A Little Bit of That

Lots of things have happened since my last post. Here’s the quick highlights version (I don’t have the energy for anything better than that):

• My mother-in-law announced my pregnancy on her Facebook page and, after receiving messages and questions from people who saw her post, I decided it was time to announce my own pregnancy.  I believe I made a tasteful and sensitive announcement…I hope so.  I would be lying if I said that it doesn’t feel wonderful to have everyone know about my pregnancy and to see the outpouring of love and support from family and friends.  Also, I was surprised to find out that many people knew (or at least suspected) that The Prince and I were struggling to get pregnant.  The beautiful messages of support and sincere congratulations have helped me to be a little more at peace with what we went through during those three long years of infertility.  I’m realizing that I wasn’t as alone as I had thought.

• My hyperemesis came back last night and this morning…with a vengeance.  I thought I had at least gotten past that aspect of the “rough pregnancy.”  No such luck.  For whatever reason, my blood vessels all burst in my face this time, so I have giant red spots and blotches in certain areas, and tiny freckle-looking spots in other areas.  Perhaps the worst is that a blood vessel broke in my eye, so it looks like I have some disease that is causing me to cry tears of blood (no blood is actually coming out of my eye…but it is down in that part of my eye…not pretty).  I’m embarrassed and tired of the HG.  But, I’m determined to beat this, so I am going to just keep eating and drinking, no matter how many times I get sick.  I’m determined not to end up back in the hospital.  I also just keep rubbing my belly to remind myself that there is a lot of good going on along with the bad.

• The Prince and I had an argument last night about the “doula” issue.  He believes (with all his vast medical knowledge) that I am going to end up having a planned C-section because of all of my surgeries, adhesions, etc.  Accordingly, he feels the money we would spend on a doula could be better spent on other things.  I am sympathetic with his position about the money, but, even if he ends up being right about the C-section…which is a big IF, I’ve read about the support a doula offers during C-sections…and I want that support!  The father travels with the baby to the nursery, after the baby is taken out of the belly, and the mom remains on the table for 45 minutes to an hour, being stitched up, usually with no information about what is going on with the baby (and The Prince knows this because his sister just went through it).  When you have a doula, she stays with the mom in the OR and coordinates with the medical staff to give the mom updates on the baby’s progress.  She can also advocate for the fastest possible return of the baby, so that the bonding and breastfeeding can happen as quickly after birth as possible.  I want that!  I printed out articles for The Prince to explain why it is in his best interest for us to have a doula and we had a more civil conversation about the issue this morning.  He (possibly to avoid having to read the articles) has agreed to let me pursue whatever option makes me the most comfortable.  Hopefully he will stick with that…as I’ve already contacted three doula candidates to set up interviews.  I’m really hopeful that, during one of the interviews, everything will click and we will just know who we are meant to share our miracle with.

• I got the three egg donation children’s books that I ordered.  One of them is a glorified pamphlet…the size of a CD cover…and I could have written it in my sleep.  Very disappointing.  The other two are a little better.  Having the books gave me this weird proud feeling about our choice of using egg donation to conceive.  I thought the books might make me sad, as they would sort of “confirm” that I am going to tell our child that there was a third party involved in the child’s conception.  But that isn’t how I felt at all.  Instead, I felt confident in our decision to raise our child always knowing about his or her origin.  I feel ready for this…and the egg donor part of our story (at least for now) doesn’t scare me.

That’s about it.  I have no other exciting news to report and nothing clever to write about.  I’m really hoping that my second trimester honeymoon period kicks in soon and I can get back to being the blogger that I want to be…instead of writing my posts in a stupor.  Thanks to everyone who is sticking with me through this.

Did They Put Happy Pills In My Intralipids?

Today has been one of those “sun breaks through the clouds and birds fly around your head singing their sweet melodies, while flowers bloom under your feet” kind of days (cue Nina Simone's "Feelin' Good").  My alarm went off at 5:15 a.m. and I thought “What do I want to do today?”  It didn’t take me long to have a response… Sleep in!  So…while I can’t indulge in that particular wish every day, I decided to take a couple hours worth of vacation time at work and sleep in, guilt-free, because that was my “pleasurable thing for the day.”

I went directly from home to the fertility center, for my intralipids.  I didn’t realize I would be in one of the procedure rooms, but that ended up being great because the temperature control in those rooms is awesome and the table/chair is actually really comfortable when you don’t have your legs up in the awful stirrups.  I even was able to stay dressed...completely dressed...no gown!  One of my favorite nurses went over the paperwork with me, explaining that research indicates that intralipids may help with pregnancy by attacking natural killer cells, but noting that there is no definitive study proving intralipids’ effect on pregnancy outcome.  The nurse explained that the intralipids, a little bag of milky white substance, was only about 100 calories…but 100 calories of pure fat from eggs and soy beans.  I was told that I would need to drink 80 ounces of water, at least, today and that I should be peeing opaque white urine for a day or so.  I’m really glad she told me that last part because the doctor probably wouldn’t have appreciated my late night call, inquiring as to why I was peeing milk.  After the paperwork was out of the way, the IV drip was started, the lights were dimmed, I was given a lavender eye pillow and was ordered to relax for a couple of hours. 

I did relax, eventually…but initially I called the donor coordinator for my update.  She was pleasant (I told you it had been a great day) and she said that my donor is definitely a split cycle donor – she has lots more than 15 follicles, it was just too early to be accurate before.  Because the donor has just really gotten the bulk of the follicles growing, the egg retrieval date has been bumped.  So now, it looks like next Wednesday will be the retrieval day, as they anticipate the donor will be ready for her trigger injection when she gets checked on Monday.  So, my schedule has changed and I still have to wait for another update, but I’m not freaking out about it.  I’m just so elated that I can stop obsessing about the number of eggs to embryo ratios.  And “lots more than 15” was a perfect way for the donor coordinator to describe it to me…because I can’t develop a chart of possible outcomes with “lots.”

After hearing our happy news, and listening to The Prince whine over the phone about how he wished the egg retrieval was still Monday (who was that, a couple of days ago, that was telling me to suck it up and roll with the punches because we can't control these things?), I put my lavender eye pillow on (they seriously make the intralipid infusion a spa treatment at my fertility center), and relaxed.  I dozed for awhile and then…a knock at the door.

My RE had come in for a surprise visit.  I joked that I hadn’t ever noticed how tall he was since I could never see over my legs in the air, and he joked that he hadn’t noticed what nice eyes I had…or that I even had eyes.  He asked me how I was doing.  But when I launched into how the cycle was going he said “That’s great.  But how are you doing?  How’s work?  Have you been doing anything fun outside of the joy of infertility?”  Myabe this doesn't sound like a big deal...but my RE is busy.  Super busy!  And I know that he had been doing procedures all this morning and that Friday is his only day of the week that he can go home early.  I was so moved that he came in just to chat with me.  We talked about books and how irrational humans are and about how he is disappointed that he won’t be the one doing my embryo transfer but he is so pleased that he will get to experience my prenatal ultrasound with me and The Prince.  Have I mentioned how much I adore our RE?

So anyways, I now have the whole weekend to rest, or clean, or go and visit with my husband’s family on Easter.  I smile every time I think about our egg donor and this cycle.  I’m sure the rollercoaster isn’t over yet, and I know there are still twists and dips ahead, but it really feels good to be sitting at the top, looking out and feeling like all is right with the world, at least for today.



The Poster Child of Flexible Thinking Takes A Tumble From Her Pedestal

I feel like this cycle, even more than my other cycles, has been a lesson in learning to be more flexible.  But I also feel like I’m not a very good student.  I’ve been so proud of myself for adjusting from my initial attitude about using donor eggs.  I started out seeing this cycle as an admission of my own failure, but now realize that having a life growing inside of me is what I want, and it is okay if that happens in a way that I hadn’t anticipated initially.  Yep.  Lately I have been patting myself on the back, crowning myself The Poster Child of Flexible Thinking.  But then…today happened.

You may remember that the donor coordinator told me on Wednesday that I should call her today, between 2:00 and 3:00, for an update on my donor’s progress.  So today, after staring at the clock for hours…willing the second hand to move faster… I called the donor coordinator at 2:01.  She answered my call by asking what I needed.  She had completely forgotten that I would be calling for the update.  I ignored the initial pang of irritation I felt, as I was still excited at that point…waiting to hear how great things are going with the donor.  Instead, the donor coordinator said: “It still looks like Monday may be our likely egg retrieval day.  The donor is doing well and has about 12 to 15 follicles developing.” 

I know…in a normal cycle 12 to 15 follicles is great.  But we are doing a “split cycle,” so we only get half of the eggs to work with, and some of those will inevitably be immature.  Of the mature eggs, some won’t fertilize.  And out of those that are left, some won’t divide properly.  That’s not great odds anymore.  In our donor's past cycles (in which she's had 25 eggs each time), the recipients (who were not splitting the 25 eggs) ended up with 7 to 9 embryos.  So...halve that for the split cycle (3-5) and halve that because she has half the follicles now (1-3)...and you can see why I am concerned.  This math occurred instantaneously in my head when I heard the phrase “12 to 15.”

Panicking, I asked the coordinator “What happened?”  She said “What do you mean?  It’s early still.”  I said “But she usually has 25 eggs, so shouldn’t she have twice as many follicles as she has now, since some of the follicles will be empty?” 

The coordinator (who has clearly tired of my constant pestering) said “Well we don’t always carefully measure all of the follicles and, like I said, it is early.  But 15 is a good number.” 

I wanted to scream “That’s easy for you to say.  You’re not the one pinning all of your hopes (and a large sum of money) on this cycle.”  But I didn’t. 

Instead I called my husband and complained to him.  The Prince told me to knock it off…that 15 is a good number.  I went through the explanation of everything I mentioned above, and he said “Whatever…it’s a good number.  You can’t plan your way into getting more eggs, so let it go.”  He wasn’t being mean, but apparently he has tired of my constant pestering as well.  Perhaps I should send The Prince and the donor coordinator to lunch some time so they can both get a break from me and my constant worrying.

I am so upset with this situation.  First, why would the fertility center not measure every follicle when there are two recipients who are waiting to hear how many follicles have formed?  It isn’t much of an update if “12 to 15” could mean “12 to 15” or “20 to 30.”  Second, shouldn’t the coordinator know if this is a normal number for my donor at this time…and whether the donor will show 12 to 15 now, only to have almost double that at retrieval day?  This is my donor’s third cycle.  Why do we not have a better idea of how long her cycles take and what is typical for her at this stage?

As I type this, a little voice inside of me is saying “What is wrong with you?  Even with only 15 follicles, you would still probably have at least 4 or 5 good quality eggs to work with, and you are only planning on transferring 2 embryos…not such bad odds.  And give it a rest with the donor stats.  Even with the same person, each cycle is totally different, remember?”  But that little voice is getting pummeled by the much larger and very unreasonable part of me…the part that had her heart set on having 9 to 10 mature eggs to work with, based on the donor’s past cycles. 

Why can’t I take this news and say “It’s quality not quantity that is important” or “I know how quickly cycles can change and it is way too early to even react to this news because it could be meaningless” or “It’s so great that things are moving forward on the anticipated timeline so I don’t have to adjust my schedule.”  Why am I so rigid and controlling that I freak out about anything that falls outside of the scope of the fairy tale I’ve written in my head about where this cycle is headed?  I’m not just disappointed with the news from the coordinator…I’m really disappointed in myself and my very negative reaction to information that isn’t even that negative.  I know that we all have internal dialogue and we all have the ability to choose which voice we place our focus on.  So I guess I will just have to try to keep focusing on that poor pummeled whisper that is telling me I’m crazy to let this rattle me and to stop being such an obsessive worrier.  Perhaps that voice would like to attend the aforementioned lunch as well.

Getting Burned



I was reading a study this morning, about how brains interpret the emotional pain of heartache in the same manner that brains interpret getting physically burned.  The gist of the study’s findings was that the activity in a person’s brain, when that person is thinking of a recent romantic heartbreak, is similar to the activity in a person’s brain when that person is being burned on the arm with a hot cup of coffee.  I am very curious about what the results of the study would be if the heartache used was that associated with infertility and pregnancy loss, as opposed to romantic loss.  Both types of heartache cause physical symptoms in most people.  Both types of heartache are exhausting.  It stands to reason that the brain would respond similarly, regardless of whether romantic loss or fertility loss was involved….and that got me thinking about the similarities and differences between heartbreak in the “traditional” sense and heartbreak in the “IF” sense.

As I’m sure many of us have, I was once dumped by someone I loved.  I was dumped by my high school/college boyfriend, 3 ½ years into our relationship, because I was not ready to drop out of college and become the wife and mother he wanted me to be.  And even though I was an active participant in the break-up, choosing graduate school over him (and the children we ould never have), I felt abandoned and betrayed.  I felt a physical pain like I had been kicked in the stomach.  I was unable to eat and frequently threw up from anxiety.  I had constant headaches and there were times that it literally hurt to breath.  Every muscle ached and I had no energy to do anything other than sob.  And all of those fun symptoms went on for a good couple of months until…just when the symptoms started to pass…I learned that he was getting married six months to the day from our break-up.  It was as if fate knew that I had finally recovered from the heartache, and chose that exact moment to reopen the wound and rub salt in it.  I was certain I would never get over that pain.

I initially did the whole “rebound dating” thing.  That lasted only a couple of months.  I quickly figured out that I was not over “college guy” and was too angry and too fearful to be looking for a Mr. Right.  So, for a couple of years, I didn’t date…at all.  I figured out who I was, got other areas of my life in order and only went back to dating when I was in a place where I didn’t feel like I “needed” a partner, but rather that I “wanted” one.  It was okay if a first date didn’t go well because I wasn’t in any hurry.  And, because I waited until I was ready, I didn’t have to kiss too many frogs before finding my Prince. 

Now for infertility….After my first failed IVF, I felt like I had been abandoned by a God that I wasn’t sure if I believed in, and betrayed by my own body.  I physically felt as though I had been kicked in the stomach, I was sobbing so hard I threw up, and I couldn’t force myself to eat or get out of bed.  I was fatigued and depressed and angry.  And, although those symptoms came and went, they lasted for months…until I started my next IVF cycle and became high on hope again. 

Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat… 

Maybe that is what has made infertility so much harder for me than surviving that one break-up.  I came up for air after the break-up, but there’s been no time to take a real breather from fertility treatments.  My endometriosis is a ticking time bomb, and I don’t have the time, even at age 32, to dawdle when it comes to trying to conceive. I think I just have to keep telling myself that this donor egg cycle is nothing like the IVF’s and IUI’s of the past…just like the Prince isn’t anything like my old college boyfriend.  The Prince is different…and (in every way that truly matters)… he is better.  Here’s hoping that I will be able to look back at my fertility journey and say the same thing about this donor egg cycle – It was different…and (in the only way that truly matters) it was better.



The Last Shot

Today I came to the most devastating conclusion of my life.  If I do not get pregnant this donor cycle, I am never going to be pregnant.  I’m giving you fair warning.  This post is going to be long.  This post is not going to be a happy one.  There will be no tie-ins to fairy tales and no attempts at clever analogies.  Just reality and sadness.

As many of you know, I have been having pain and spotting for three weeks now…with the pain getting worse since I started the birth control pill a little under two weeks ago.  Well, the bleeding has been getting heavier and last night and this morning, the pain was so bad that I had difficulty standing up straight and walking.  I called my fertility center, and being the awesome and sympathetic people they are, they got me in immediately to be examined.  I’ll spare you all of the details, but the bottom line is that the pill is evidently messing with my estrogen level and irritating my endometriosis to the point of this unbearable pain and bleeding.  On April 3^rd, I will stop the pill and start taking Lupron (which is what they use to treat endometriosis).  So, at least this pain and bleeding is temporary.  Also, because I will be on Lupron the rest of the donor egg cycle, through egg retrieval, the endometriosis won’t interfere with my chances of conceiving.

With that said, it has only been seven months since my last (very aggressive, four-hour-long) surgery to remove all of my endometriosis.  I travelled to one of the top surgeons in the country for the surgery, and he had assured me that he got it all…and by the way I felt after the surgery and the horrid pictures of what my bladder, bowels, uterus, ovary and abdominal wall looked like after the surgery…I have no reason to doubt that he did get it all.  But, my endometriosis has been getting progressively more aggressive.  The length between my surgeries has been getting shorter and shorter.  Each surgery, more implants and adhesions are present, and more organs are involved.  My doctors, and there have been a lot of them throughout the years, have all told me that I needed to get pregnant as soon as possible because a total hysterectomy was imminent.  That advice started at age 16. 

Today, the amazing (really, she is a beautiful human being) head nurse at the clinic hugged me as I was crying and comforted me as much as she could.  She said “We just need to get you a baby in that uterus, and then you can have a hysterectomy and this will all be over, honey.”  I replied, “When I was 16, they said the same thing…and where I grew up, being pregnant at 16 was not necessarily outside of the norm.  Maybe I should have listened.”  She said “No ‘what ifs’.  We just need to get you that baby.”  From your mouth to God’s ears, kind and wonderful nurse.

They gave me Tylenol with Codeine to help with the pain, and said to take it easy for awhile.  So that is what I am doing.  Missing yet another day of work, thinking about how many days of work and school I’ve missed because of endometriosis pain and surgeries.  Thinking about how many days of school and work, and other activities, I’ve missed because of fertility treatments, likely necessitated by the effects of the endometriosis.  It is very hard not to “what if” about the past, but, when I got home from the pharmacy, I felt like I needed to look to the future instead of the past, and so I did.  Unfortunately, that analysis has been equally upsetting.

I realized I can’t do this anymore.  I wanted to be pregnant and give birth to my baby so badly that I was able to make the leap to giving up a genetic connection to my child to achieve pregnancy.  But I can’t keep going through surgery after surgery.  My last surgeon said that the next surgery was going to have to be a hysterectomy…and I think he was right.  I can’t keep experiencing this excruciating pain, nausea and fatigue.  I’m out of treatment options, unless I want to be on pain meds for the next few years.  So, I’ve decided…if I don’t get pregnant from this donor egg cycle, I’m having a hysterectomy and moving on with my life.  Hopefully adoption will be part of that future.  Hopefully the Prince will be okay with my decision and not opt to go find a wife who can give him children.  Hopefully I will not spend my life wondering if I should have tried to suck it-up a little harder and stuck it out a little longer.  But the bottom line is, endometriosis has won.  I am putting up one last battle by continuing with a donor egg cycle…but if it doesn’t work…I’m admitting defeat.  It breaks my heart to have come to that decision, but it is breaking my spirit to live like this.  I know that someone out there will be thinking that I shouldn’t make this decision while I am in pain and emotional, but that is exactly when I need to make the decision.  It is too easy to forget how much this hurts and how obvious it is that I can’t keep going through this, when I’m not in pain and I am obsessed with getting pregnant at all costs.  Some costs might be too great…even for a pregnancy.  God it hurts to say that. 

I emailed the Prince about what happened today and what my choice is regarding the future.  He is always busy with students at work, and I thought that it would be easier for him to hear this news without me choking it out between sobs over the phone, or while he prepares to go to his physical training appointment tonight.  I told him that I know he can’t fix this, but he can help me to feel better by being kind and sympathetic.  I told him that I know this has to be hard for him too, but he is the only one who can give me what I need right now – the support of my best friend…my life partner.  I pray that he is able to be my rock right now and to surprise me by being a little emotional…a little empathetic.  It’s a lot to ask and it’s a lot to throw at him, but I can’t help it.  I know I can’t get through this decision alone.

The pain killer is finally kicking in, so I am going to stop writing this novel without a plot and try to sleep a little.  I know that there are a lot of you out of there who are supportive and I am comforted by that support already, even though I know you haven’t even read this yet.  Thank you for helping me feel cared for.  It is strange to have close friends, who know my darkest secrets and most intimate thoughts, whom I have never met.  But I am so grateful for you.



Once Again...Bloggers Save The Day!



Yesterday, after reading the lovely and informative comments to my post about the ethical dilemmas involved in using an egg donor, I went in search of further information.  Most of the blogs that I read on a daily basis are general infertility blogs.  So, I sought out some blogs of others who are going through the donor egg process.  I looked at the largest blogroll I am aware of – the stirrup queen’s list – and went through the blogs in the donor section, one at a time.  With the exception of two (one of whom had decided to adopt and one who had stopped trying to conceive for personal reasons), each one had either become a pregnancy or motherhood blog, or the blog had ceased after pregnancy was achieved.  At first I was sad that this meant there wasn’t anyone really writing from the same perspective as me right now…but then I realized how great it is that almost every person got pregnant.  That’s a great sign.

When I couldn’t find blogs of anyone actively going through a donor egg cycle from the recipient’s perspective, I started perusing the blogs written by egg donors as they go through the process of donation.  Just as the comments from all of my blogger buddies who have been egg donors were extremely helpful to me, the blogs of egg donors really put my mind at ease.  Not one of them expressed regrets…even years later…even if they are now facing infertility of their own because of endometriosis or some other non-egg related issue.  Many of them did feel an abstract loving bond with the children they had helped to create, but not one of them referred to the baby as “their baby,” or seemed sad that they had genetic offspring that they would likely never see.  They were happy just to have been able to give the gift of motherhood to someone who wanted it so badly.  I get teary-eyed just thinking about it.  Also, I was a little relieved to see that they approached each cycle the same way I do…with fears about how it is going to turn out.  They are emotionally invested in each cycle…wanting desperately to produce a pregnancy for the recipient couple.  They obsess over follicle counts and what to eat and what not to eat the same way I would.  They really put their heart and soul into making someone’s dreams come true.  That is not the actions of someone being coerced or acting upon financial motivation.  I left those blogs feeling so good about my decision to use an egg donor.  

Immediately after the flood of relief upon reading the donor blogs, I started crying to my husband.  I told him that I was so scared this wasn’t going to work.  He told me: “I think it is going to work.  There’s nothing to be scared of.”  But there is…the idea of this cycle not working is scary.  It wasn’t until that moment that I recognized that getting caught up in the analysis of whether my use of an egg donor has some great evil purpose is just a coping mechanism I used to keep my mind distracted from the real issue that I continue to want to hide from…what if it doesn’t work?  In my heart, I already knew that egg donation was a noble act on the part of the donor and a reasonable (not evil) act on the part of the recipient.  But I let myself get sidetracked with that issue based on movies and a few random comments of others, because, for the first time in my IF journey, I don’t know what the next chapter in my fairy tale is going to be if this chapter ends in another negative pregnancy test.  I always have a plan…a mental and emotional safety net for potential disappointment, to cushion the blow of a negative pregnancy test.  Not this time.  I just can’t fathom the “beyond” if it doesn’t happen for us with donor eggs.  But, I’m not going to distract myself with concerns over whether it is “right” for me to use an egg donor anymore.  It is.  I know in my heart that my smiling, self-described “spunky and fun-loving” donor is not a victim…she is an angel…a fairy godmother.  She is my best hope for a “happily ever after” and I truly believe that she is selflessly seeking to Bippity Boppity Boo me right into motherhood.  And I’m not going to spend one more second feeling guilty about letting her do it.



When does the acceptance of a gift become wrong?



In fairy tales, people frequently face ethical dilemmas.  Generally, those characters that make the right choice and go the altruistic route do well for themselves, while those that choose to do what is in their own interests don’t fair so well.  There are a lot of people out there who believe that I would be in the latter group when it comes to using an egg donor.  And being the dual personality (logic versus emotions) that I am, I sometimes struggle with the idea that they could be right.

In the last week, I have watched the movies “The Island” and “Never Let Me Go.”  For those of you who have not seen these movies, I will try not to give anything away.  But I will say that they both raise questions about the creation of people and/or clones for the express purpose of having those people/clones provide organs or reproductive capabilities to people who need them.  In both movies, it is clear that the message is that this is a horrific prospect and that there are lines we must be careful not to cross.  The problem is, when I was talking with a friend/coworker about these movies (a friend who doesn’t know that we are using an egg donor), she said “That’s the world we’re headed to.  They are already exploiting young girls and paying them to sell their eggs or their babies so that rich women can have children they aren’t meant to have.  Other women are being coerced into acting as incubators for other people’s babies.  People are meant to die.  Some people are not meant to have children.  Our population control depends on these things.”  I smiled and said “Oh.  I didn’t really see it that way.”  Then, I quickly walked away so I could hyperventilate in my own space.  This friend is not stupid, uneducated, cruel or excessively religious.  If she feels this way, how many other everyday people feel this way, too?

I guess I’ve always known that these attitudes exist.  But, every time I am actually confronted with someone expressing these attitudes, there is a small part of me that questions whether I am contributing to a moral slippery slope that could result in the world becoming the one that these movies depict.  I am taking the gift of someone’s reproductive tissue in order to fulfill my dream of being a mother, and I worry about how my donor will feel in the future about the decision she is making now.  But I choose to push that concern out of my mind so that I can be okay about using her eggs because emotionally, I have to. 

I understand that these aren’t the egg donor’s vital organs and that she is willingly giving her eggs to me, but she is being financially compensated (as well she should be), and I have heard people say “What is the difference between an egg donor and a poor person selling his heart to someone rich in order to get money to take care of his family?”  Other than the fact that one is a vital organ, I don’t know the answer.  The heart donor could say that he is donating for altruistic reasons.  And even though I do not believe that my egg donor is donating her eggs because her financial situation requires her to do so (there is no desperation or anything other than an altruistic attitude exhibited in her profile), what if I am wrong?  What if she looks back years from now and regrets her decision?  My mother gave a child up for adoption when she was 18 and living out of her car.  Even though she knows it was the best thing for the baby, she has never gone more than a couple of days without mentioning how sad she is, not knowing where and how her son is.  She still sees him as her son.  What if my donor feels that way?   

These thoughts make me crazy…usually in my dreams…but sometimes when I am awake.  I feel like the logic of the arguments against egg donation must fall apart somewhere…but I can’t find the flaw in the reasoning.  I don’t know if I can’t find the flaw because it doesn’t exist or because I am so close to this issue, I’m not able to view it without my emotional self getting in the way of clear thinking.  If anyone out there has some logical argument that I am missing here, please share it with me.  I could really use the peace of mind.



Royal Pain in the Butt...



Today I received our consent forms for the cycle.  The “royal decree,” if you will.  As in most fairy tales, we need to know what the rules are for the next leg in our journey.  I thought it would be exciting to get the forms...more information (ahhhhh sweet information)…a catalyst of sorts.  Something that would sling me into a “go-getter” attitude about this donor cycle.  It wasn’t everything I had hoped for.  Instead, the more I read, the more I cried.  Instead of being a royal decree, the forms have been a royal pain in the a$$.

The donor coordinator messed up the medications she had previously told me I needed to supply, meaning I have to pay $1500 more for meds than I had anticipated.  The financial information is also different from what I had been told.  I was told I would pay $4200 and my insurance would be billed for the rest…and that I might even get a refund from the $4200 depending on what the insurance covered.  But the consent form says that I have to pay $6200 up-front or $4200 and $167 per month for 12 months.  There is no mention of my insurance coverage or of any reimbursement.  I’m so frustrated.  There is other paperwork (like our expected medication schedule) that is not filled in.  There are medication directions that are contrary to what I have been told by my clinic and contrary to what I have been taking right along.  It all just makes me sick.

I know, in my head, that this is okay.  The important stuff (like my name, the Prince’s name, our donor number, etc.) is correct on the forms.  It is just clear that the donor wasn’t paying very close attention…okay…not paying attention at all when she filled out the majority of the consent forms.  It will be okay.  Even if we have to pay more money up-front, it’s not like we don’t have it in the bank (barely).  I won’t be happy…but I know it will be okay.  Nothing so far, even the medication screw-ups, is a deal-breaker for our cycle.  But for someone as detail-oriented as I am, this is like a slap in the face.  I want to yell “Don’t you understand how important this is to me?  If your only chance at getting the most important thing in your life depended on you getting information right…I’m betting you would pay closer attention to what you are doing!”  I won’t yell, though.  And I know I’ll even stop crying (soon).  But right now, I’m really angry.  I don’t know what is going on in this woman’s personal or professional life that might account for the oversights, and I probably should be more understanding and less quick to judge.  But if being an egg donor coordinator was my job, I know I would be empathetic and would make sure that I made everything as smooth as possible for the couples involved.  This woman does not do that.  She clearly did not even proofread the “royal decree” before she sent it to me.

My husband was told in marriage counseling this morning that he needs to be “the rock” this cycle.  He needs to step in whenever he can to help out.  The Prince has always been willing to deal with the donor coordinator…since the first time she made me cry.  But I am never willing to let go.  I think I feel like everything is so out of my control…I have to keep the communication with the coordinator as “mine,” because it is control over information…and that’s something.  However, when the Prince said today, as I cried and complained about the forms, “Let me deal with her from now on.,” I said, “Okay.”  I will make the phone call on Monday to try to straighten things out…only because I am the one that directly received information from the coordinator contrary to the information she is now providing.  After that, any more bumps in the road are going to be handled by the Prince…even though he doesn’t know an egg from an embryo (still).  “Let go” is frequently my yoga intention (the thought or goal you strive for and focus on during a yoga session).  So…I’m practicing letting go by taking this one step…and it is really scary.

And They're Off...

The long awaited event has finally arrived.  My donor started her period yesterday, so we’re off to the races.  The donor coordinator didn’t call to let me know (big surprise), but there is an online “patient portal” where you can view your lab work, u/s results, instructions, consent forms and flow sheets for each cycle.  The flow sheet for my donor cycle had been updated with anticipated dates for the beginning of the cycle and apparently the consent forms, and the bill, are in the mail with my instructions. 

The patient portal says I will have my baseline ultrasound on April 1^st, to check that I am not pregnant, etc.  Then, if I am still suppressed (which I appear to be, as my period “scare” last Friday was a fluke that only lasted a few hours), we all move forward with medications (Lupron all around…assuming I need it) starting on April 3^rd.  The donor should get her period by the 8^th or 9^th, and she will have her baseline ultrasound on the 9^th.  Then, presuming all is well (pleeeeeeeze let it all be well), she will start her stimulation medications and the other recipient and I will start estrogen.  If the donor has an average stimulation cycle (8-12 days), egg retrieval will be around the 21^st.  Making my beta test right before Mother’s Day.  I guess better to know than not to know, right?

I had anticipated this schedule, and had told the Prince to hold open all of late April.  So, what does he do?  He schedules a surgery for himself for April 21^st!  He scheduled it last week.  I asked him to change it.  He refused.  And here we are…right where I expected us to be.  Realistically, we can get from the city where he has to drop off his "contribution" on egg retrieval day to our city within a couple of hours.  So…getting back by the time of his afternoon surgery won’t be a problem.  But really?!?  We need more stress right then?!?  Plus, he is having cartilage removed from behind his ear (a revision surgery of his prior “ear-pinning-back surgery” in July).  So he has to wear a bandage wrapped around his head and he will be on pain meds for a week after the surgery.  That means, come embryo transfer day, I will be driving to the other city (and back) and he will be attending what could be one of the most important events in our lives high on oxycodone…or worse…grumpy from pain.  He is adamant that he won’t reschedule and I am trying not to be angry with him, but it’s tough…with all of the sacrifices I am making…I just feel like he should be able to make this one sacrifice.  he would have to wait until July if he doesn't do the surgery now...but I feel like...it's cosmetic surgery...who cares?

So, bottom line, I am really excited that things are finally moving.  And I finally have a plan (phew!).  But, at the same time, I am frustrated with my husband.  I am scared about whether this is going to work.  I am concerned that things are starting without me being in a mentally positive place…something that has never happened before.  My track record shows that the power of positive thinking is crap…but what if it isn’t?  I feel like I need to believe this is going to work…and I’m not there.  I am also a little emotional about using a donor.  I know that the time has passed for me to be wavering on whether I am okay giving up on having a child that is genetically mine…and I know that if I get pregnant it won’t matter whose DNA is coursing through the baby’s veins.  But I still feel conflicted about giving up on that child I had dreamed of…the one with my eyes and my hair and my crooked smile.  My ultimate dream, right now, is being able to enjoy this cycle.  I want to not stress out about every little thing (including my husband’s toddler ways) and just be happy that I have an opportunity that so many women never have.  I want to be thrilled that my chances of getting pregnant are insanely higher than they’ve ever been.  I want to be grateful for the gift the donor is giving me.  I just wish wanting to change how I feel was enough to cause the change to occur.  For now, I will have to settle for going to yoga and acupuncture tonight, and praying for a breakthrough.

P.S.  Thank you so much, ladies, for following this blog and posting your thoughtful and kind comments.  I don’t get to go back and comment on your comments very often, but I want you to know that they make all the difference in the world to me and I can’t imagine doing this without you…whoever you are.  J





All-In, Baby!

I’m still waiting to hear about the retreat…it may be full.  So, I can’t give an update about that yet.  I really want to be able to post like everyone else about day-to-day developments in my fertility journey.  But I can’t, because there are none.  I’m sure people are getting bored with my constant self-evaluations, but I am STILL waiting for our egg donor’s period to begin, even though it has been over 29 days since the donor coordinator said “I’ll call you when she has her first day of her menses.”  So, I have nothing exciting to report about.  Sorry.  I do, however, have an amusing anecdote about my RE and my addiction to infertility treatments.  So with that glowing introduction, here is today’s blog soup de jour.

Back in the fall of last year, my very wise (and hilarious) RE was trying to help me accept the cancellation of an IVF cycle.  I had been taking large doses of stimulation meds for something like 29 days, with zero follicles to show for my efforts.  When the RE recommended canceling, I bawled and bawled.  I just felt like I had given so much to the cycle…how could I quit?

He said “[Princess], this is not quitting.  Look at it like a poker game.  You got dealt a crappy hand this cycle.  It looked like it might be a good hand when you started betting, but now it is obvious that the hand isn’t good.  Is there a chance you could get a good card on the river that would save the hand?  Well…there’s always a chance.  But are you really willing to go all-in on this cycle when you can keep what chips you have left now and try for a better hand next time around?  It’s up to you, but there’s an obvious choice that takes your emotional and physical health into account.  You are not quitting the game…just folding a hand that is a stinker, so that you can hopefully get better cards in the next deal.”  (If you are not familiar with Texas Holdem’ poker, this reference was probably just lost on you.  You’ll have to trust me that it is clever!)

Thinking about canceling the cycle in those terms made me feel a little better about it.  I still cried but, every once in awhile, I would laugh through the tears, thinking about my RE trying so hard to convince me that canceling was the best move without making my emotional status any worse.

His analogy not only rings true when looking at an individual IVF (or IUI) cycle that isn’t going well, it also ties in nicely to my theory that infertility treatments are an addiction.  When I’m in an IVF cycle, all I can think about is getting to the end of the cycle and winning with a pregnancy.  When things don’t work out, I have an urgent need to get right back into another ART cycle.  An old New York Lottery slogan – “You have to be in it to win it” - comes to mind.  I don’t play the lotto.  Mainly because I am a big fan of math and it is hard to buy a lottery ticket when you have a solid understanding of statistics.  And yet, when my RE said I had a 5% chance of getting pregnant with my own eggs, I wanted to jump right into another IVF cycle…IVF cycle #7 to be specific. (Lucky number 7, right?)  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the Prince is also a fan of statistics and his analytical mind said that a 5% chance of success was not worth what we were going through each cycle.

So, now we’ve moved to a new “game” – a donor egg IVF cycle.  In this game, I’ve been given 50/50 odds of walking home with the prize.  Sometimes I think to myself:  “If I had six thousand dollars, and was told I could put it on a game with 50/50 odds of doubling up, I would pass on the game and keep the six thousand bucks.”  I’m risk-aversive.  But when the prize of the game is getting pregnant, I’m all-in, every time.  And even the ultra-conservative Prince is on board with 50/50 odds.  So, I just have to wait to be dealt in…and the waiting is killing me.  After all, I’m due for a big win.  And this IVF cycle is the new Lucky  #7.  Yep…I’m definitely an addict.  

The Pouty Princess

What happened to me?  I am on this emotional rollercoaster and I haven’t even started treatments.  Looking back through my last few posts, I started out in a pretty rough place, but as the posts went on, I saw myself getting happier and more rational.   Then, last time I wrote I was talking about battling the “glass half empty” feeling.  Now, today, the darkness is rolling in.  I’m watching myself and I want to change what I see happening, but I feel powerless to do so.

This morning, my husband came into my bedroom (we sleep in separate rooms whenever one of us is sick, so as not to contaminate the other person) and woke me up in, what I considered to be, an obnoxious way – turning on the light and yelling “It’s wakey wakey time!”  I yelled back, “No…if it was wakey time, I would be AWAKE!  I’m not two years old…I’m old enough to decide when I need to wake up.”  That was a great start to what was destined to become a “great” day. 

Next, I slipped on ice outside of my house, getting into the car to go to work.  So I spent a half and hour in the freezing cold, with my cold, salting our driveway.  When I emailed my husband from work to let him know I’d salted, there was no appreciation.  Instead, he informed me that he already salted this morning.  I wanted to say “Clearly not well enough” but at least had enough self-control to avoid that fight. 

I’m still sick and am coughing so hard that I actually have a headache from coughing.  I can’t focus.  All I can think about is “why hasn’t the donor started her period yet?”  It’s been 23 days since the donor coordinator (D.C.) told me that she would call when my donor started her AF.  So…being the obsessive person that I am, I started thinking that at this point, assuming a 28 day cycle, my donor would have had to be on day 5 of her period when the D.C. told me we were waiting for the donor to start her period.  So after that thought, I got angry…because the donor coordinator never mentioned that my donor was in her cycle at that time and it would be another month before we would get started on anything.  Then, I thought, “What if this wasn’t the D.C.’s omission, what if there is something wrong with my donor and she has an irregular cycle?”  I can hear how ridiculous this sounds as I type it, but that’s where my mind went.  I am an extremely logical person, but logic went out the window, just then.  At that point, obsession had kicked in and I couldn’t do any work.  I just sat there and stewed.

So, like a person fresh out of a break-up, who makes that drunken 3 a.m. phone call to “the ex” that is regretted for years to come, I emailed the D.C.  I didn’t even attempt to conceal my insanity.  I came up with a pretense for emailing her and then launched into a barrage of questions…Was everything okay for the cycle to move forward?  Were we still waiting for the donor to call with her Day 1?  Was everything okay with her cycle, because it was seeming a little long and I would be concerned if she is having an off cycle?  Was the primary recipient couple (i.e. – the other couple we are sharing the eggs with this cycle) ready to go?  You (the D.C.) had said we would be starting in February, but it seems like we won’t be since we have to wait three weeks after the donor has her first AF day before we take the meds.  Oh…and “thanks for your patience.”

In her typical fashion, my D.C. was less than warm and fuzzy in her response.  She and I have very different personality types, and it is difficult for me to not take her brief and sometimes unresponsive replies to my questions as her being snippy with me.  She always puts “Have a great day!” at the end of her messages…but I feel like she is just plastering a bandaid on a black eye that she just gave me.  My husband reads the D.C.’s messages and sees nothing wrong with them…so I guess this is just a problem with my perspective.  But, in my defense, she has a reputation for being very matter of fact and not particularly sympathetic.  Anyways, I digress.  She responded to my email, saying “The donor will call in with the first day of her period and I will let you know when that happens.  The primary recipient couple is doing their mock cycle right now.  Have a nice day!”  Ugh!  First, I got pissed because my questions weren’t really answered.  Then I got pissed that the other couple is doing their mock cycle now, when I had been told at the end of January that they were finishing up their mock cycle.  So…either that couple is having issues that could hold things up or someone lied to me. 

What the hell is wrong with me?  I’m even cursing like a sailor in this post.  I feel the darkness creeping in.  I’m writing my blog post at work (something I’ve never done).  I really want to go to bed right now and sleep the rest of the day away (but I can’t because this stupid cold has already caused me to use too much of my sick leave).  I don’t want to speak to my husband because I’m mad at him, even though I know there is no reason to be angry.  I feel like a puppy that got spanked…sad and fearful…waiting for the next assault.  I get it that this is all crazy.  But why am I here right now, in this dark place, when I was doing so good just a few days ago?  Princesses aren’t supposed to be moody and crazy (see, I managed to tie it in with the theme, even if it’s a crappy tie-in).  As I type this, with tears falling down my cheeks, I keep thinking “I hate infertility.  I hate it.”  That says it all, really.