Competing for the "Triple Stripe"

                                                                

Sorry I haven’t written in awhile, ladies.  I promise to catch-up on everyone’s posts as soon as possible.  I had no news to report over the weekend, as I was participating in Mind Games the entire weekend (playing and judging 30 board games in 40 hours…UGH!).  I managed to get through the games (with a total of 7 hours of sleep between Friday morning and Sunday afternoon)…and I didn’t cry or scream once…my hormones remained in-check.  The experience left me exhausted and sore, but it did keep me from obsessing over this cycle and, for that, I am thankful. 

Today I received good news (finally).  My uterine lining is AWESOME!!!  The highest measurement that my clinic gives is the “Triple Stripe” (when the two uterine walls are so thick that they touch in the middle, creating an image on the ultrasound that looks like three stripes).  “Triple Stripe” occurs at 12-13 mm.  After one week on Estrace, my lining is at 10-11 mm, and I have at least another week and a half on the meds, before transfer.  I feel like I should cut out a construction paper blue ribbon, or silver star, to paste on my shirt when I achieve “Triple Stripe” status.  I need something to acknowledge my entrance into the elite class of infertiles who are blessed with perfect uterine linings.  This morning, my nurse (who is all too familiar with my uterus) was very excited.  She said it was the best she had ever seen my lining look…from a size and quality perspective.  Yeah!  So, I’ll continue what I’m doing and weather the side effects for a little longer, knowing that I am already going into this cycle with a leg up on previous cycles.

All that I need now is an update on how the donor is doing.  The donor started her stimulation medication on Thursday, so it has only been 5 days.  My stimulation always took around 19 days, so I assumed it would be too early for the donor’s ultrasound to show anything.  But my nurse this morning confirmed that my donor was having an ultrasound and blood work today, and she said that I should be getting a call from the donor coordinator, updating me on the donor’s progress.  The suspense is killing me. 

In the meantime, because (so far) we are on schedule for a transfer late next week, my intralipid administration has been set up for this Friday.  This will be our first time trying intralipids and I’m oddly excited about doing it.  Who knew I would ever get excited about getting fat pumped into me through an IV? 

I think The Prince summed it up best in marriage counseling this weekend, when he said that he is confident about this cycle working for us because everything we are doing is different than what we tried in the past.  To him, “different” feels like “good” and it gives him hope.  He’s right.  Every aspect of this cycle is so different from our past cycles, so it feels like the outcome has to be different as well.  I haven’t felt this positive or excited about an IVF cycle in a long time.  I really missed this feeling.  It feels good to hope again.

*******UPDATE*******

I contacted the donor coordinator by email, after not hearing from her, and I said I wasn't rushing her but I just was wondering if we were going to get an update on our donor's progress after each of her appointments, or if we would only be told if something changed the schedule. 

Her reply - "The donor was in this morning for her first ultrasound since starting her medications.  She will return Wednesday and Friday.  Please contact me both days between 2 and 3 if you need an update." 

Irritated...but still desperate for information, I replied "Thanks.  I'll call Wednesday and Friday.  Was everything okay today, though?  I know it is still early." 

Her reply - "She has follicles developing.  They are very small.  Good night!!!"

Am I wrong in feeling like this woman seems abrasive?  The three exclamation points didn't help...but I guess it could have indicated excitement and not irritation (which is how I read it).  The last time I talked to her, she was so nice...but now we are back to normal again.  Am I being too sensitive?  I guess I'll find out how things are going on Wednesday.   Oh well...I'm not going to let it ruin my Hope High.



Learning to Say "No" When I Want To Say "Yes"

Fairy tales have a plot line.  No superfluous sub-plots or stories.  Everything is about the hero/heroine getting to the end of their journey quickly and linearly.  I’m trying to take a lesson from the fairy tales and streamline my life right now because I feel like my story is currently nothing but sub-plots.  I have friends having baby showers and babies and, while I am so happy that I have made it to a place where I’m not panicking about these things anymore and can look forward to the happy events, those events are still stressful, if only in a good but “busy” sort of way.  I have new infertility friends and old infertility friends that I am constantly writing to and saying, let’s make plans…but then I start to panic because I realize I am running out of time between doctor’s appointments, work, injections, acupuncture, etc.  I truly want to get together with everyone, but I keep making plans and sometimes I have to break those plans because I’ve made too many for my psyche to handle.  And the recent issues I was having with the pill (the health problems are improving, by the way) really cut into my schedule because for a couple of weeks it has been hard for me to do anything after work.

On top of all of this, I have the sub-plot of my sister-issues.  Thank you for all of the support on that front, by the way.  To update you on that, her husband got his notice that he is being deported in May because he did not finish one form that he needed to fill out.  Never mind that he has been given over a year by the immigration judge to get that form filled out.  Never mind that churches and family and friends have spent thousands of dollars trying to get him his green card.  He’s decided to walk away, knowing that he won’t be able to attempt to re-enter the country for 10 years (not that I’m exactly crying over that aspect of this situation).  To avoid being detained while he awaits deportation, he has opted to leave voluntarily before the deportation date.  He has bought a plane ticket for himself (and my nephew will fly for free) for April 15^th.  I spoke with my sister yesterday and she started to explain her reasons for sending my nephew away, insisting it is temporary and he will come back.  I told her that she has no custody order in a U.S. court so, even if the government of Belize would be inclined to honor a custody agreement, she will have no grounds at all for fighting to get my nephew back once he is gone.  Having fallen in love with my nephew on sight, I doubt that my sister’s husband’s family will be inclined to let my nephew go once they have been raising him for awhile.  I think it is more likely that, when my sister and my niece go to Belize this summer for a visit, no one will be coming back to America.  Given the urgency of the situation, the Prince and I visit my sister’s family next weekend (the 9^th and 10^th).  I told my sister that I do not want to talk about why we are there.  She knows how I feel about the decision she is making and I know her reasons for making the decision.  We are never going to agree on this, so why make things uncomfortable.  It is going to be so hard to say goodbye, but I’ve decided that it would be harder to regret not saying goodbye.  So there’s that going on.

Because I am now going away for that weekend in April, I have had to reschedule things I had planned for that weekend…moving them to the next weekend.  The problem is, that next weekend I am registered for (and have paid to attend) the annual MENSA Mind Games event…where toy companies submit prototypes of new games for MENSA members to play and judge.  You must play 30 games between Friday at 4:00 p.m. and Sunday at 9:00 a.m.  So, it is essentially a game marathon.  You aren’t expected to sleep.  I am also supposed to be attending a friend’s baby shower and marriage counseling that Saturday.  I have written to the Mind Games director and explained that I have a health issue that will make it next to impossible for me to fulfill my duties as a participant.  I will give my spot up for one of the people on the waiting list or someone who could not afford the registration fee, and will just volunteer as my “condition” allows.  Realistically…I’m not lying.  IF is a health condition, and how am I going to handle taking Lupron injections and estrogen pills, while playing games for 40 hours?  I know how I am on those meds…I’m liable to cry every time I lose a game…and cry every time I win a game.  Plus, I get so fatigued, I don’t think I can stay up for 40 hours straight.  I’m not even sure that it is a good idea to go to my friend’s baby shower, even if I can get out of Mind Games, because I foresee mental exhaustion and terrible hormone imbalances making me a mess that day.  Sprinkle in a little morning marriage counseling and it is really a recipe for disaster.

The medium/intuitive I saw on Wednesday night (I know…I have to get back to that at some point) said (as I was walking down the hall towards her) “Your mind is like a rolodex…stuff just spinning and flying all over.  You really need to slow it down.  Make some space.  Clear your social calendar and focus on making space for a baby.”  I’ve got to say, I feel like she’s right.  But it is so hard to say “no,” especially when there are so many things I want to do.  I keep crying today.  I don’t know if it is because of the Lupron/coming off the pill, because of exhaustion or because I am sending out all of my emails telling people I just can’t do things this month.  I wish I had some catchy April Fool’s themed post to offer today, but I don’t.  Even writing is taking a lot of effort today.



He said...She said...But They Really Meant...



There are no fairy tales (or at least none that I know of) in which the princess and prince speak different languages until magic steps in and causes the language barrier to crumble.  There should be.  With all of the other analogies to real life situations that fairy tales cover, why not an analogy for the most common problem between couples – miscommunication.

Last Saturday, the Prince and I went to marriage counseling.  The Prince, as usual, threw a bit of a fit about going…picking a fight as soon as I woke up and stating that he wasn’t going.  He openly admits to our counselor that he hates coming to counseling.  He even understands that he hates counseling because he is very uncomfortable dealing with feelings and emotions, whether they be mine, his, or someone else’s.  However, the Prince went to our appointment on Saturday and, as usual, he admitted at the end of the session that the counseling was helpful and that he wanted to schedule another appointment.  And I have a theory about why he values marriage counseling even though I think he does actually hate it.

My theory is that the Prince recognizes the magic that is occurring in the counselor’s office when the counselor translates between Man Speak and Woman Speak.  I also think that, somewhere buried deep inside the Prince, there is an “observer” that recognizes that being forced to sit in a room, as opposed to running away, while I cry and express my feelings about infertility is a valuable exercise for him.  He needs to hear what I have to say, but he doesn’t want to because it makes him feel “too much.”  Having to hear it in a safe and controlled setting must make him feel more connected as a husband, whether he is able to fully understand what he is feeling and why, or not.

On Saturday, I brought up my intense fear that the Prince is going to run away emotionally when things get tough this cycle…which they will.  The Prince feels that I am being pessimistic about the cycle and that he thinks it is going to work this time (yeah…at least one of us is Positive Polly).  I explained that I’m not talking about the outcome of the cycle, I’m talking about hormones swirling through my system as we go through our most critical cycle yet…right before mother’s day.  I need a plan for us to handle my mood swings and any potential set backs, so I can feel some security going into this cycle of the unknown.  The counselor pointed out to me that the Prince is being optimistic that this time is going to work and that I should feel comfort in that, using him as a rock when my hope falters.  The counselor also made the Prince remember a time when he was terrified of something that was out of his control (of course the Prince chose an example from when he was six years old), and asked him to remember that feeling every time I cried or asked for comfort.  At one point, the counselor even forced the Prince to follow the source of his aversion to answering a certain question until the Prince finally blurted out “It sucks that I can’t fix this!  What does she want me to do?  I can’t fix it.”  I started crying…tears of joy.  I’ve waited three years, hoping to hear the Prince say that.  Not because I want him to be frustrated or uncomfortable, but because every other IF husband I know of will say how badly he wants to fix the situation to spare his wife pain.  This counseling session was the first time the Prince indicated that his avoidance behavior was about his own pain and feelings of helplessness, as opposed to irritation with me.  It was the first time I heard him say that he wanted to make this easier for me and recognized that he couldn’t.  I know that’s not the exact words he used, but as the counselor pointed out…that’s really what the Prince said.  The counselor was able to break down the language barrier, turning Man Speak into Woman Speak for just a little while…and that takes magic.



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





A Life Well-Scripted

When I was a little girl, my friends’ parents hated me.  They would like me until they overheard me at play with their children, engaged in a "conversation" that usually consisted of only me being allowed to speak as I told the other kids, “Okay.  Now I’ll say [this] and then you will say [that] and then I’ll say [this] and you will respond [that]….Then you stand over there…No!!!  Not there…there!”  And, as if my playground dictatorship wasn’t already bad enough, I would frequently "pout" the other children into submission if they resisted my rule, sulking and crying when I didn't get my way.  No one likes that little girl…not even teachers.  I still have my nursery school “report card” from when I was three years old.  On it, my nursery school teacher described me as “a mother hen”…which I now realize was her diplomatic way of saying I was a "bossy brat."

I would love to tell you that I have grown out of my “bossy” phase, but I haven’t.  I frequently catch myself saying to my husband, “Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty?” Or, “You should have just stopped talking after [insert nice thing he said and delete obnoxious thing that came after].”  My husband’s frequent retort is “Just pretend I said that.”  It hurts my feelings when he says that to me, but someone has to keep my “bossy tendencies” in check, and I think that is what he is trying to do.   

Even the profession I chose feeds into my bossy nature.  As an attorney, I don’t get to boss people around, but my job does require me to persuade people that I am right.  Persuasion is really just a more subtle form of being bossy.  My job is to get the judge or clients, or whomever I am writing for, to say what I want them to say or to take the position I want them to take, without me coming out and telling them what to do.  One might say I’ve upped my game since nursery school…from “mother hen” to “professional manipulator.”  

It doesn’t give me any pleasure to admit these things about myself.  And, contrary to what one might expect, I don’t behave the way I do because I think other people are stupid or because I believe I am always right.  I simply have a need to be in control.  If you script a situation or a conversation, you have complete control over how things will progress…and you can be prepared for the future because you have seen what it holds…you wrote it.  By scripting my life, I’ve managed to choke out all the “messiness” that makes me scared of what is to come.  The problem with my approach is…life is messy.  Without the mess and chaos and spontaneity, there is no joy.  Life has become just a giant chess game for me.  I find myself spending so much time planning twenty moves ahead that I never actually move at all and I certainly don’t enjoy the game.

In my battle with infertility, I can’t script how each cycle will turn out.  If I could, I would have been pregnant a long time ago.  So, since I can’t script the outcome, I script every tiny detail of each cycle…obsessing about what supplements I take and when, producing inventories of my medications and needles, going through baby books to pick out names for a child I haven’t conceived.  I figure out when my due date will be if the cycle works, then modify it when the cycle changes, then modify it AGAIN when the cycle changes again.  Based on when the due date is, I decide what major holiday or event I will use as my big “I’m Pregnant” coming out party.  Two years ago I scripted how I will tell my husband that I am pregnant (I bought a maternity shirt that says “$$ Tax Deduction $$” on the belly, and I keep it hidden in my closet until the big day arrives).  I script and re-script how I will announce a pregnancy to our parents, our friends, and our employers.  And, when I have nothing left to script, I make a back-up plan for the cycle after the next cycle…so it won’t seem so devastating if the cycle I’m in doesn’t work out. 

Even this blog is a sort of script.  I write, as an author, the story of my fertility journey…pretending that I have total control over the ending of the story when, in fact, I don’t.  Maybe it is okay to have this crutch…this one place where I can pretend that I am scripting one of the most important situations in my life.  But the reality is, I don’t have control…and that is absolutely terrifying to a “mother hen” like me.