The Prince is Pouting



I am still aglow from yesterday’s very positive retrieval/fertilization outcome.  I foresee myself staying that way straight through Tuesday, but am going to keep myself busy (can we say mani/pedi?) just in case.  There is only one potential wrinkle in my plan of basking in LaLa Land…The Prince.

Given The Prince’s relative positivity about this cycle, I really expected yesterday’s news to make him as ecstatic as I was.  I even thought that the news was so good and such a surprise that it might break down the wall he keeps up and he would show some excitement.  I WAS WRONG!  Not only was The Prince’s reaction not very positive, it bordered on the line of "freaking out." 

When I told him we had 12 fertilized eggs to work with, the first words out of his mouth were “Oh…that’s good…I guess we will have a second or third try if this time doesn’t work.”  (WHAT?!?  “If this doesn’t work?”  Where did that come from?) 

So, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction, I said “Come on…this time will work and we will just have potential siblings on ice for the baby we have this time around.  Positive Polly, right?” 

He said “I don’t think so.  Unless you want to wait three years or so, which isn’t really an option with your health condition.  Do you know how much it costs to have two kids in daycare at the same time?  I do.  It’s $3860 per month...for the discounted on-campu one.  We can’t afford that…unless you want to go back into private practice and try to make more money, which I don’t think you want to do.  I think we could give the extra embryos up for adoption, because it would be good to have more ‘me’s’ in the world (he said that with complete seriousness)…but we aren’t going to try for two kids….And we are only going to transfer 2 embryos…that hasn’t changed right?  We don’t have to do more, do we?  Because I don’t want to.  It’s bad enough…”

I cut him off there because…well…he was killing my buzz and I didn’t want to know what was “bad enough.”  With the hormones I’m on, he already had me crying.  I told him that he was being a jerk and that, even if he felt that way, he should really just let me be happy for a day or two…or at least until transfer….without having to stress out about my husband having a mid-cycle crisis.  I told him that he clearly has issues he needs to work out about all of this but he should have done that already…like any time over the last three years.  I chastised him for not seeing his individual counselor during this cycle, like he had promised me and our marriage counselor he would do, because his counselor would have helped him to work through these issues, or at least learn how to vocalize them in an appropriate manner at an appropriate time.  At that point, he did stop vocalizing his “freak out” session.  He went into Pouty Prince mode, and, for the most part, has remained there.

I’m not going to let The Prince’s reaction take away my happiness about this.  In fact, I am going to do what I frequently do in these situations…look at him as if he were a young child, learning how to feel emotions and express himself.  I'll just wait for him to work through his tantrum and “catch up” to "big boy emotions."  It is hard to be mad at a young child…you just pity the child’s struggles.  I’ll tell myself that he is like a slightly spoiled only child who is pouting because he learned that he is getting a new brother or sister.  That makes me want to say, “Ohhhh Honey, it will be okay” instead of “What the heck is your problem?”  I just wish, that for once, we were completely on the same page…mentally and emotionally…so we could enjoy the big milestones together as a couple.  The only time that ever happened was on our wedding day...when he completely surprised me with how amazing, emotional, funny and supportive he can be. 

The Prince’s pouting about haveing a great number of fertilized eggs (good news) is making me seriously rethink my “We’ve got a Situation” pregnancy announcement plan.  I’ve bought the T-shirt and, if he reacts as one would expect, it would be a great happy, humorous moment.  But what if he doesn’t laugh?  What if he doesn’t smile?  What if he says something stupid like “I told you I thought it was going to work”…or worse…starts quoting the costs of pregnancy statistics to me?  I’ve dreamed of the “pregnancy announcement” moment for years now…built it up in my mind and watched us come together as a couple in tears of joy.  I deserve that moment.  When I was going through shots, or sleeping on the bathroom floor because I couldn’t stop being sick with grief over another failed cycle, I kept thinking about how awesome the “pregnancy announcement” moment was going to feel…how it would all be worth it.  Now I’m thinking…he’s going to ruin this for me.  I don’t just want a certain reaction from him…I NEED a certain reaction in that situation…but I don’t know if he’s capable of giving it to me.  I know…you probably are thinking that I’m seriously jumping the gun here, but I’m a planner and I need a plan to avoid what happened yesterday from happening again on my happiest of occasions.  I’m believing wholeheartedly that this cycle is going to work…so I have to consider this issue.  Maybe not today…but sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Any advice on how to think about this/work through this situation?  I’m guessing there are some other “princes” out there like mine.  He cannot be the sole little boy in a big boy body.     



100 Miles Away...But There In Spirit

This morning, an amazing woman we’ve never met will go to the fertility center, sport the awesome “cap, gown and booties ensemble” that I know so well, and will have her eggs removed…eggs she is giving to us (and another couple).  It is strange to know that this is happening…this monumental step in what could be the beginning of my happily ever after…but I’m not going to be there.  I should be so grateful that the hard part is being done for me but, instead, I’m feeling really sad that it’s not me in that room today.  I want my legs up in the stirrups (never thought I would hear myself say that).  I want to be surrounded by beeping machines and a flurry of release waivers.  I want to feel the lovely “sleep” wash over me as the anesthesiologist pushes the magic plunger.  I want to be physically close to those eggs, sending them love and willing them to find a nice sperm, settle down and get married (or at least fertilized) right away.  I want to tell the immature eggs to grow up and act their age like their brothers and sisters…immediately!  I guess I just want to be important right now…and I feel like I’m not.  I’m removed from this situation, and that makes me sad.

With that said, I am also filled with a million (okay maybe not a million…but many) happy emotions, as well.  I feel pride that The Prince has made the trip on his own this morning and is determined to show me that he can handle the tasks at hand (there we go again with the mastrubation puns)…I just need to give him more credit and have a little faith in him.  I feel gratitude, more than ever, for everything our egg donor has endured over the last month and a half.  I am humbled by her beautiful, kind and generous spirit.  And I feel joy that this leg of the journey is almost over.

I get sick on roller coasters (great transition, right?  Very smooth. Stick with me, it's worth it).  In fact, I have always gotten sick on roller coasters, ferris wheels, carousels, and just about any other moving ride (including swings).  Despite this fact, I have continuously tried…and tried…and tried to ride these things, believing that I would have “outgrown” my stomach’s violent response to spinning motions.  I am always…always…always wrong, and there are many unhappy people who have been on these rides with me in the past that will tell you just how wrong I am.  I tell you this because there is a point during these rides when I am trying so hard not to embarrass myself by tossing my cookies that my mind becomes incredibly focused…and I "will" the conductor with all my heart to please stop the ride.  For a long time, it seems as though my telepathic pleas fall on deaf ears and then…the magical moment occurs and I realize that he is slowing the ride to a stop...that I only need to hold on for a little longer and I can get my feet back on the ground and try to feel like myself again.  That is the exact feeling I have right now – after what seems like an eternity of intense focus on a singular plea that no one was answering, relief that the ride is coming to a halt and I am going to be on solid ground very soon.

You know what I don’t feel this morning?  Worried.  Maybe I’m too emotionally exhausted, or maybe there is no room for another emotion in my heart right now.  For whatever reason, even though I know that there are a lot of things I have no control over which could still derail this whole cycle, I am not worried or anxious.  It’s out of my hands right now.  I’m just going to jump right past thinking about how many eggs are going to be retrieved and instead focus my hope on this morning’s “The Dating Game – Embryologist Style.”  As many of you ladies have said to me in the past…it only takes one good embryo to make a baby.  So eye on the prize. 

And, litle eggs, if you can hear me from over one hundred miles away, please heed my earlier advice and know that the prize for getting this one right is a nine month stay in a luxurious uterus (recently redecorated in a fluffy pink lining which won the prestigious “triple stripe award”), with meals of your choosing, spa treatments, live entertainment (there's a prince who's a real comedian...even when he's not trying to be one) and all the love you can handle included for free.  So try little ones…please try!  I may not be there with you this morning, but I love you already.  Please try.



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. 



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