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.

The "Others"

It is rare in a fairy tale for the princess or prince to meet other princesses or princes.  It is rarer still for the “others” to help the principal character in the story to achieve the “happily ever after.”  Usually there is antagonism and sabotage involved in the relationship.  Not so in my fairy tale.  I have met so many other princesses (and even a prince or two) who are helping me along my journey by inspiring, teaching and supporting me.

Last night I had my infertility support group.  There were only three of us there…the smallest showing by far.  One woman is just starting her journey and is dealing with the initial emotions that go along with an infertility diagnosis.  The other woman was on day 12 of her two week wait, and started spotting during support group.  She had tried to do her first IVF, but was converted to another IUI due to lack of response by her ovaries.  Prior to that, she had dealt with a miscarriage.  She is relatively new to the world of infertility, but she is struggling as her positive attitude tries to slip from her grip with each disappointment.  Then there was me…swinging wildly from hopeful to depressed, depending on the topic of conversation.

Last night we discussed how to avoid “what if’ing,” which we all do on a regular basis.  

I distract myself with lists and spreadsheets and planning. 

The newer IF’er has started a “bucket list” of sorts, filled with things she wants to do but won’t be able to do with a baby.  When she is between cycles, she checks one or two things off the list.  Sky diving is her next endeavor.

The intermediate IF’er approaches negative thoughts by putting a positive spin on everything…she really is the embodiment of Positive Polly and I adore her for it.  When she had a miscarriage, she thought “the baby would have been sick, so it just had to happen to save the baby from pain.”  When her cycle seemed to be slipping away last night, she said that perhaps this wasn’t the right time for her…that the perfect child for her wanted to come into her life during her next cycle.

All of us last night had ideas and strategies for coping that helped the rest.  And we all shared in each others pain.  As I listened to the new IF’er choke back tears while she explained that she never dreamed she would be sitting in an infertility clinic, I remembered feeling those emotions three years ago…in shock…but believing that all we needed was a little help to get pregnant.  I try to remind her that “a little help” is all it takes for the majority of IF’ers, but there are just some of us who have a longer journey. 

And then there was the pain of Positive Polly.  She didn’t let a single tear fall during support group, even though you could tell that she wanted to bolt out of the door from the beginning and just go cry it out at home.  I am NOT a hugger…but I hugged her when she left…and cried for her.  I tried to tell her that progesterone can do funny things and maybe this isn’t what she thinks it is, but as she said “We know our bodies.  We know when it is a period.”  I am still praying she is wrong….

I’m excited by my cycle…excited at the prospect of being pregnant.  But something occurred to me last night.  I don’t want to stop supporting my IF friends.  I don’t want to stop sharing in their pain…or offering advice.  I know that many of them won’t be able to stay friends with me when I get pregnant.  I get it and accept that.  But I want to remain a part of their story.  I want to give back, and that will never change, no matter what the outcome of this cycle.

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. 

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.



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. 



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.