Positive Polly's Cousin - Grateful Greta - Saves The Prince's Royal Rump

I keep trying to be positive.  I know I need to be positive this cycle.  But I’m struggling.  There is so much I don’t have done.  There are so many frustrating things going on in my life that are completely out of my control.  There are so many fun activities that I have had to bail on…again.  There is so much to be grumpy about, and boy am I letting myself be grumpy about those things.  I may even be looking for things to be grumpy about at this point.

For example, the last few days I have wanted to kick The Prince right in his buttocks.  He is being his usual distant self now that injections of Lupron have started and the cycle has become “real.”  He spends more time looking at himself in the mirror and talking about his muscles and how his clothing doesn’t fit right because of his giant muscles than he spends doing anything else…including paying attention to me (what happened to the sweet little science geek I married?).  He refuses to help with spring cleaning.  He is moody and sensitive (I know…Pot meet Kettle).  This morning, he decided to watch a movie with horses in it (our girl dog is obsessed with horses on the TV).  Josephine barked and barked all morning until finally, at 6:30, I got up and asked him why he was just letting her bark…and why he was watching a horse movie knowing she would bark while I was sleeping.  His response “it’s not all about you.”  Really?!?  Is it all about you, two year old in a grown man’s body?  If I hear the phrase “But I don’t want to” come out of his mouth one more time…I swear I’m going to punch him in the nose (not really…but a girl can dream).

I am well aware that the Lupron is probably partially to blame for my irritation with The Prince.  It’s not like this stuff is particularly out of the ordinary for him, but it has only recently bothered me to the point of actual anger…so hormones must be at least a little bit of a factor.  But I can remember a cycle, not so long ago, when he was doing the same exact things…except I was in this “zen” place emotionally, and just let it all roll off of me, like water off a duck’s back.  I had been meditating and I think I had just finished reading Eat, Pray, Love.  I realized that being upset about his behavior would not change his behavior and that if I was getting upset with him, it was because I was choosing to allow myself to be upset…not because he was “making” me upset.  No one has that power unless you give it to them. 

In an effort to jump-start a more positive frame of mind, I am going to follow the lead of New Year Mum, in her Happy List Saturdays.  It’s not Saturday…but I am going to take a baby step towards more positive thinking by listing a few things I am grateful for. 

1. I am grateful that The Prince got me roses last weekend, and that they are still looking and smelling beautiful.  They make me smile every time I look at them.
2. I am grateful that The Prince is funny and that he sprinkles little bits of humor into our household, even during the grumpy times.
3. I am grateful that I got the dining room clean.
4. I am grateful that the donor egg cycle has started and I am not waiting any more.
5. I am grateful that my infertility veteran friend had a healthy baby boy yesterday.  She deserves to be a mother and I know she will be a great one.
6. I am grateful that my two furry babies are happy and healthy.
7. I am grateful that I have lost a couple of pounds this week without feeling deprived or starved.
8. I am grateful that my belly pain, even after house cleaning, is so much better than it was just one week ago.
9. I am grateful that The Prince has to do campus tours this weekend, which gets him out of the house for a couple of hours, so that I can get some housework done.
10. I am grateful for the sunshine and warm breeze (well…relatively warm breeze).
11. I am grateful for the possibility that I may be pregnant at this time next month.
12. I am grateful for this blog, which allows me to get out all of my thoughts and feelings, and I am thankful for all of the readers of this blog, who are so kind and so supportive every single day.

Ahhh.  I do feel a little better.  Perhaps The Prince will not get a kick in the rump after all. 

All By Myself...

After I sent the email to my husband yesterday, explaining what had happened at the doctor’s office and what my decision was regarding the future, I expected a call.  I fell asleep waiting for the call that never came.  When my husband came home last evening, he walked past my bedroom door and went straight to the dog pen, to take the dogs outside.  Then, after all of that was straightened away, he came in to see me.  By that point, I already knew that he hadn’t fully, or wouldn’t fully, grasp the enormity of what I was going through.  When we finally talked, it went something like this….

“I got your email.  Sorry your stomach still hurts.”

“Thank you.  The pills are helping.  It’s a little better.  What did you think about the other part?”

“What other part?”

“About me not being able to go through this again if this doesn’t work.  Are you okay with that?”

“It’s going to work this time.”

“But if it doesn’t…”

“It is.”

“But [Prince], if it doesn’t…I need to know you are still okay with the idea of adoption.  I need to know you won't leave me if I can't get pregnant.  I know that before you had said you were okay with adoption, but we haven’t talked about it in so long that…”

“Yeah.  You become rich and famous and make a million dollars so we can afford adoption and I’ll be fine with it.  How about that?  It doesn’t matter.  It’s going to work this time.  Sorry you are having a hard time.” 

And with that, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I’ve used denial as a coping mechanism often enough to recognize total denial when I see it.  The Prince isn't just being a Positive Polly about this egg donor cycle, he's in denial about the possibility of it failing.  There's a difference, and only one results in you slamming the door.  After the door incident, the Prince remained surly.  When I jokingly said to him, “You know women who are in lots of pain physically and emotionally claim that flowers from their husbands work wonders at making them feel better,”  he said, “You know, people who have personal training appointments just like to go to the gym without being bothered.”  Ouch!  

With the assistance of my pain med, I went out and had Indian food with my good friends last night, shortly after the Prince left for the gym.  It was important that I not sit next to the Prince all night, watching him shut me out emotionally.  That wouldn’t have been good for anyone.  He was pleasant enough when I got home, but he went to bed very early, in his own bedroom.

This morning, the Prince was laughing and joking…trying to make me smile by dancing around in his towel after his shower.  Later, when he got back from his morning workout, he brought me a dozen roses and a dozen donuts.  He’s not capable of having a serious talk with me about anything that is going on…but his actions speak volumes.  Even though both of us know that a dozen donuts is the last thing my hips need right now, we also both know that food is my drug of choice to soothe pain, and him getting me donuts is his way of saying that he wants me to feel better (even though he may later lecture me on eating healthier food choices).  The flowers are his way of saying that he is listening to me and cares about what I need/want.  It may seem like I’m reading too much into his gifts, but I know my husband.  He’s not so good at “using his words,” so his actions really do mean a lot and the messages in his gifts have to be deciphered.  Soon after he brought me the gifts...he left.

I’m all by myself now.  He decided that he needed a weekend alone and so he took off to a hotel, to be by himself, much like I did a month or so ago.  He’ll be back tomorrow evening.  At first I was livid that he could be so insensitive, leaving me when I am so emotionally frayed.  I wanted to yell: What part of “I feel so alone in all of this and need you to comfort me” are you not able to understand?  But I didn't yell.  I decided that him being here this weekend isn’t going to change my situation.  I’m sleeping most of the time because of the pain medicine anyways.  It would be nice if he was the type of husband who couldn't be dragged away by wild horses.  Who would stay at my bedside and shower me with affection until the storm clouds parted.  But he's not that guy.  I get why he needs to go away right now and it's okay.  He may not fully understand, but I do.  He needs to process what he’s feeling, but away from me…so he can feel what he needs to feel without worrying about saying or doing something that is going to hurt me more (like slamming a door).  In that sense, even if it is unintentional, he is looking out for me, too.  Plus...I'm not totally alone.  I do have donuts to keep me company. 



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.



Am I the Villain in My Own Fairy Tale?

Every fairy tale has a villain.  The nature of fairy tales is such that there needs to be opposing virtues to make the story exciting – good versus evil, beautiful versus ugly, mean versus nice.  For this reason, the hero of any good fairy tale must be opposed by a villain.  The villain generally engages in deceit and trickery, trying to harm the hero.  The villain gathers information to later be used against the hero and frequently convinces friends and family of the hero to play a role in the villain’s evil plan, thereby adding insult to injury.  The villain is the character that everyone can fear and hate, so that they are able to appreciate how wonderful the hero truly is.

I am concerned that I am the villain in my own fairy tale.  I’m the hero too, but that is sort of a given since this is my fairy tale.  I would like to believe that infertility is the villain…but infertility it not tricking or deceiving me.  Infertility is what it is.  It may be thwarting my efforts to reach my goals, but that makes it an obstacle, not a villain.  There is no person or thing that I can point to in my life that engages in the acts that you would expect from a villain, except for me.

I frequently harm myself emotionally during each round of ART, and even during the time in between cycles.  I trick myself into thinking that I can control the outcome of each cycle by engaging in certain activities or thinking in a certain way.  If I can keep my attitude positive enough, or if I can find the perfect IVF protocol to show my RE, I’ll get what I want so badly.  Only, that’s not true.  Those are lies I tell myself so that I won’t have to admit the truth…which is that I have no control over whether I am going to get pregnant.  Sure I have control over whether I try to conceive during a given month and what method I use, but at the end of the day, whether the sperm and egg take a liking to each other and decide to nestle down for awhile is totally out of my control.  Thinking otherwise is just a form of torture...an act that a villain would engage in, but not a hero.  It allows me, in fact encourages me, to kick the hero while she’s down.  It leaves me thinking, “Not only are you not pregnant, but it is your own fault that you failed.”

I also might be the villain because I use my family and friends to hurt me.  Not on a conscious level, but perhaps subconsciously.  I have told people about my infertility that I wouldn’t, in any other circumstance, tell anything important to.  I might love those people, but I know that they will use the information to hurt me and yet I give them the ammunition to break my spirit anyway.  For example (and I’m only choosing one of many here), I’ve talked to my mother about our infertility struggle multiple times, even though I barely speak to her about anything.  She has made such comments as: “Did it ever occur to you that you are barren because you just aren’t meant to be a mother,” “I really think that God has already made a child for you that is going to have parents who die or something so that you can step in and take over,” “Did you ever think that maybe your husband isn’t the man you are meant to be with for the rest of your life and that once you divorce him and find someone else you’ll get pregnant,” and, my favorite “It’s really ironic that your sister and I, two people who never wanted kids and never had a pot to piss in, can pop out more babies than we can take care of, but you can’t even have one.  Isn’t that a funny thing?”  Yeah…it’s freakin’ hilarious, Mom!  Why would I tell a woman, who I know will only hurt me, about every step of our fertility journey?  I know better and yet, there I am on the phone after every failure, bawling away to her and then getting angry when she says exactly what I would expect her to say.

I put myself down, stress myself out, sabotage my attempts at bettering myself, try repeatedly to follow the forks in the road that I know don’t lead anywhere, and put myself in harm’s way emotionally.  How can I not be the villain?  My only hope is that mine is one of those fairy tales where the villain turns out to be a sympathetic character that learns her lesson and changes her ways in time for “happily ever after.”