Inconclusive

I had a sinking feeling from the very beginning that I wouldn't get the all clear from my Mammogram. They found "A concentration of calcification" and they "want to rule out anything abnormal". I should preface this with exactly what the doctor told me. That 80-85% of the time it turns out to be nothing. But the other 15-20% finds either pre-cancerous cells, or early stage cancer.

My appointment was this morning. They had me scheduled for a mammogram and a breast ultrasound. They told me the appointment would run about an hour and fifteen minutes or so. Within 15 they had me in the room and undergoing the mammogram. I thought it seemed odd when several of the other women I had come in before, had already come and gone. Then the technician came back and told me we needed to take some more pictures. And my heart sank. After they got the extra shots they immediately took me back for the u/s and the technician did her thing (they of course, can't tell you anything) and when she finished she didn't tell me to get dressed. She said to stay put and that the doctor would be right in. The tech noticed me trembling and brought back a warm blanket, while I starred blankly at the ceiling.

When the doctor came in she was smiling and very perky. Which at the very least distracted me for a moment. She said "Okay, you look terrified so let me first say.... I did not see anything in your xrays that screamed CANCER, or anything big bad and scary. What I did see was a concentration of calcification." She went on to tell me that I would need a "Stereo-tactic Core Needle Biopsy". She said that she had had one herself and it turned out to be nothing, she does them on a dailly basis and most of the time they are nothing. I asked her to clarify, if it is SOMETHING, what's next. She said it could be pre-cancerous, which is technically not even cancer. Or it is in the very, very early stages of cancer. 

I know that the odds are descent that all of this will in fact be fine. But I can't help but feel terrified and completely out of control.  My immediate thoughts go to anger and death. The anger part of me says "FUCK YOU CANCER, and immediately makes me want to sign up for a double mastectomy with reconstructive surgery. And the other part says, I cannot leave my daughter and husband.  I cannot fill her early years with me in the hospital, and sickness. What the fuck???? I don't mean to come off dramatic, I am just really really scared. The doctor was the head of the department and she will be doing the biopsy herself. She was really nice and very clear about how scary it feels. How the next few days might be rough ones. She said the worst part is right now, when you have no answers. And I thought, Fuck, I know. I've been there before...

Lie To Me

At what point does leaving the house become NOT such a monumental undertaking? So far, I've only gotten grocery shopping down...And even that requires mental preparation. 

So I'm either over thinking it, completely incompetent (entirely possible) or it is actually really fucking hard when kids are this age. 

It seems like I end up exhausted or regretful with just about everything else I attempt. Please tell me I'm not alone and how soon it will get easier. 

If you don't have good news - just lie to me. 

Oh Right, We're Having A Baby

Despite the fact that we’ve had two showers and completed all of our birth classes (totaling 18 hours). And spent the last 255 days convincing myself that I really am pregnant. Sometimes I forget we’re going to have a baby. Like being pregnant and having a baby are two totally separate things. I guess in some ways, and in some tragic scenario’s, they are. But I’m not planning on any tragedies. I’d say we deserve a few years of mind numbing commonalities, no? (As do all of you, as well.)

Seriously, it’s just starting to hit me that we are going to have a child. Like, the next time I need an oil change, there will be a car seat in the back of my car with a little person in it.  Bananas... This whole time all everyone has ever talked about is “when the baby comes”, but the only thing I could ever focus on was the fact that I was actually pregnant.  And apparently staying that way. Yes, part of me acknowledges that there is the child we’ve wanted so badly growing right here and my womb, and I am so overjoyed and anxious to finally meet him or her. But somehow my mind never let me fully acknowledge that we might end up being parents in December. 

Now here we are... I’m 37 weeks along, which is technically full term. I can feel our little monkey’s movements so clearly that I can also tell that he or she is swiftly running out of room in there. Still head down, back and bottom is on/against my right side. (The placenta is on the left). But it’s hitting me now. REALLY hitting me. And I am SO fucking excited. 

Mothership

I took this week off of work, and with the exception of my boss/bff, everyone thinks I had an emergency appendectomy.  I'm totally in the closet at work, but in 10 weeks when I have real news to share I'll probably tell most of them the truth.  I knew that I would want this week to recover from the retrieval, (and boy was I right on that), but I also knew that I needed some down-time for myself. To be still. With my heparin and PIO shots being the only things with significant directive over my day.  And I'm grateful to inform you that I have accomplished just that.


I found quiet.


I found sunshine.


I found some long sought-after peace.


My week has been pretty fantastic and I'll likely share about it at a later date, but I've been getting all kinds of endearing harassment from a select few of you asking for an update. And I can't tell you how much that means to me - you know who you are. Part of me feels bad, because I assumed with having taken all this time off that I would be updating like crazy, but I've just spent a lot of time being a lazy bum and enjoying the sudden onset of gorgeous weather in the Bay Area.


Yes, we had our transfer yesterday morning. It went well. And wow, it was so much more emotional than I ever expected. The first part of our appointment was spent in Dr. 3's office, going over our embryo report. We have five little guys left:


1 Grade I - Blast, which by the time our actual transfer came, was a borderline Expanded Blastocyst
2 Grade II - Early Blastocyst
2 Grade III - Early Blastsocyst


At that point Dr. 3 talked to us about just how many we planned to transfer. He said aside from our one little rock star, based on the quality of all the rest of the blasts we might want to consider transferring three. This was something Brian and I have discussed but not really recently. And the weight of having to make a game day decision on this suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. Brian began to speak saying that he of course wants the best chances of us having an actual take-home baby but... Then he looked at me and I couldn't help but take the lead and ultimately say what felt like the last word. I want more than anything than to increase our chances of becoming parents BUT, I just can't imagine putting myself in the position to have triplets, nor do I want to be in the position to have to selectively reduce. I know ladies out there who've been in both situations; keeping High Order Multiples and Selectively Reducing - and you're incredible women. And I couldn't think more highly of you all - it's just not something I can willingly put myself in the middle of. So I turned to Brian with the most sincere open hearted stare looking for his approval, and he nodded. Then I looked at Dr. 3, and asked him to transfer the best two. Dr. 3 said if I were 38, and not 32 he would be pushing for three, but he thinks we made "a fine decision"... 


The discussion closed with some information about the rest of our embryo's. The lab will let them grow to day six to see where they end up. Best case scenario we get three frosties. But more likely is the case that we end up with one or none to freeze. That part part hurts. I had put quite a bit of faith in the fact that we would have frozen embies hanging out somewhere. We'll probably find out tomorrow what, if any made it.


Brian and I were taken to the very back and given gowns and hair nets. I got a Valium, while he got to keep his pants on. I laid down on the table and they prepped me for the transfer. Then a nurse brought in a folder with the picture of our little blasts. And I lost it. I wept softly, while Brian and I looked at each other and the picture with sheer awe and amazement. Dr. 3 came in with a huge smile and demanded to know if mine were tears of joy. Of course they were. We're here. We've made it so far. And I'm the closest to being pregnant that I've ever been. 


My beta is Sunday April 10th. 


I have no idea if I'll test before then.

Proceed Follies, Proceed.

First things first, I'm happy to report:  No crazy dreams leading up to the first monitoring appointment. My hoo-hoo wasn't displayed on a Megatron, picture window, or skype for that matter. All good things. As I type this I can only wonder if the whore-bag cyst had anything to do with that. The official report is that she's gone for good! I was super nervous going in that I'd have one giant follie the size of Rachel Zoe, and end up getting cancelled fo' shiz. But Dr. 3 was quite happy with my progress and didn't see that hooker anywhere.

So with all this excitement I have no choice but to whip out my bullet points. (oh my)

• Left Side: 8 follies, all measuring 12 - 13mm
• Right Side: 9-10 follies, all measuring 12 - 13mm
• Lining: 8.3mm
• Estrodial: 587
• Prolactin: 18

Dr. 3 was all smiles this morning, and said that my progress was on the higher side of the median he likes to see. I feel good about that. I think. I go back on Wednesday for another monitoring check, but he thinks I could trigger as early as Wednesday night, possibly Thursday. Which meeeeeans, my ER could be Friday or Saturday!!!

I really, really can't believe our time is finally here. I'm so ridiculously happy right now.  My pants are unbuttoned, and I'm smiling like an idiot - I just can't believe we'll have our very own embryo's this weekend. I love them already - is that weird?

So next up: Meds are the same tonight and tomorrow, except that I'll add in Heparin which brings me to four shots per night, oy. I know that it'll soon be two, once I'm off the stims and start the Progesterone in Oil. Which I've heard is heavenly (she says sarcastically). So again, I ask for your wisdom and experience - what are the best ways to minimize the ouchiness of the POI shots? I've heard horror stories of welts, and sore spots that last for MONTHS. I'd like to avoid that, please and thank you. So, spill it.

New Year, New Way for Life To Point And Laugh At Me

Holy Hell people, the last few weeks have been such a whirlwind, I hardly know where to begin. Oh wait! Happy fricken' 2011! Sweet Jesus was I glad to see 2010 go. I learned a lot, I grew a lot. I'm OVER IT, and ready to kick some mayjah infertile ASS, à la a viable pregnancy. Savvy?

Good.

There have been lot of changes in the last few weeks, lots of ups and downs - none of which I have blogged about. Mostly because I've been trying to process everything internally, and with Brian. I don't mean to make that sound scary, and no I'm still not running for Governor. We've recently had an epiphany of sorts regarding finances and really just how far we're willing to go into debt to make this whole parenthood thing happen. And well, it made me feel pretty blue at first. The reality of how much your financial parameters impacts your ability to pursue treatments really sucks balls, and I threw myself a little pity party in lieu of.

Realistically we are able to do this IVF cycle. And I know there are plenty of others who can't afford to get that far. But my eyes were a little bigger than our pocket book and the long term actuality is such that the two package deal we wanted to do is a little out of our grasp. We can afford the cost of the package itself, but if we have to do additional cycles we'd have a hard time coming up with the gravy to cover additional meds. Meds for a fresh cycle will run us about 6k, and FET's will be at least 3k. Not something I could have know until we got all of our prescriptions from Dr.3. So. Since we're about two shakes from knocking of a liquor store to pay for this cycle as it is, we decided to draw the line at one fresh IVF (and of course any FET's, if we're lucky enough to end up with frosties). And if after all that we wind up with empty arms, we can move on to Foster Adoption knowing we gave it the old college try, without putting ourselves in financial ruins. It's really the most sound decision we've made since the determination to take last year off, and it feels so right.

So last week we signed our lives away and I wrote the biggest check I've ever written (my hand was actually shaking as I wrote it, and for a split second I forgot how to spell "thousand"). And yesterday afternoon I ordered and paid for all the meds we'll need for this cycle. Pickin' em up tomorrow! Wooo!

And about an hour after the confirmation from my pharmacy for the meds, I got a call from the University where we got our second opinion. Can you guess where this is going? Cause I sure as hell couldn't. Like three weeks ago I finally got the bill for the consultation we had LAST January, so I thought this was a "where's my money, fool" call. But, no. This was from the Research Department. For Clinical Trials. She wanted to know if I would be interested in adding my file for review of eligibility for an ALL EXPENSES PAID Cycle of IVF, under an FSH study. Seriously. And SERIOUSLY?!?!

The review for candidates wouldn't be for a few more weeks, so asked to keep my name on the list. After we hung up, I pulled my jaw off the floor, and started to process all of the information she gave me. Here is what I realized 1. I am being reviewed for eligibility, so this isn't even a sure thing. And 2. Even with that phone call, as much as it took my head clean off, I don't regret having signed and paid for our current IVF cycle with Dr.3 - mostly because I genuinely believe it's going to work the first time. But also because it gives me the tiniest bit of hope that if it doesn't, we might, maybe-a-little-bit, have the possibility of qualifying for a clinical trial at some point and that all hope of someday being pregnant won't ride on this single cycle.

Up until this phone call I had forgotten that a few months ago in a brokeass and hopelessness induced fit, I had called their research department regarding clinical trials only to find out we didn't qualify for anything - at that time.

So in summation: Life goes on. The plan is this, A) Obviously go on with our current cycle, it's fucking paid for now. B) Wait for her call. If she calls next month I'll see what the time lines are like and ask for an extension until the end of February, when I'll know where we stand. C) Hope for the best on all accounts. If there is one thing I learned during my 2010 recon mission, it's patience, and that I truly believe things work out the way they are supposed to, which I know from experience means: never the way you planned, so get over it. Quick. So as for the new year, I have no fricken idea what 2011 might bring me, but at this very moment I have a buttload of hope and aspiration for greatness.

Something That Could Have Been Brought To My Attention YESTERDAY

Or two fucking years ago, before we spent six months and thousands of dollars on DIUI's that were NEVER GOING TO FUCKING WORK.

I have Ovulatory Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Different than "Classic" PCOS.

(Thank you Meg, for the link.)

Yeah, I've never heard of it either.

Maybe I would have, had I been diagnosed TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO. Because then I would have known that one of the symptoms of OPCOS is an elevated blood sugar level which can hinder implantation - KIND OF A BIG FUCKING FACTOR don'tcha think?!?!

So yesterday I had my CD3 Antra Follicle count. Our new RE (I need to come up with a name for him) wanted to see my ovaries in an "unchallenged state", meaning before there was a dominant follicle present. He quickly counted eight resting follicles on my left, and 12 on my right. FYI, the average for most women is about 10-12 total between the two ovaries. I have 20.

He mentioned something about this on the phone consult Saturday, but honestly I didn't have any idea what he was talking about, because I knew I didn't have any of the "Classic" Polycystic symptoms. But evidently he saw it coming because I have a 30 day cycle, which is a indicative of women with OPCOS. The only good thing about this is that it means I am likely to yield a higher reserve of follicles on a low dose of stims.

He wants me to start on Metformin asap. He says it will essentially make me "more fertile". And thanks to the link Meg sent me, I now know that is because the Metformin will regulate my insulin levels therefore bypass any implantation problems. He also said he will keep me on it until I am 12 weeks along, because it can also decrease the risk of miscarriage for someone like me.

I know I should be happy about the fact that it's finally been diagnosed, and our RE just kept reassuring me that it's actually a good thing because it means I'll be a better than average responder. But just having found out - I'm pretty hung up on the fact that this wasn't caught sooner. It kills me to think about how much time and money was wasted, but most importantly how the failed cycles caused such an epic amount of unnecessary heartache. Really the time and money was one thing, but the depression that followed not only comprimised my marriage but has forever changed who I am as a person.

Oh and now I have to sit with what else could come back from the rest of my blood tests. And all TWENTY-FOUR vials that they took!!!! It was twenty three, but the lab called later yesterday afternoon to tell me they had forgotten one. GAH. And fuck, what if the insurance deception doesn't work?!?!

Commence Meltdown.
(Number One)

The Unexpected

So I think it's fair to say Christmas was definitely a low point for me. I'm a little embarrassed about my post because it was so raw, but I don't under any circumstance, regret it. That's how I felt in that very moment. And as much as I wish I didn't have to hurt so much, it is was it is. I do want to thank you all for your incredibly thoughtful and supportive comments. I wish I could properly express just how very much they mean to me.

I've felt a lot better since writing that post. I've been able to really see how beneficial this break is going to be for me and Brian. I'm looking forward to not having any monitoring appointments or popping any pills- orally or otherwise. I'm also looking forward to a consistent flow of wine. And rebelling against everything I've felt as an infertile, I'm finding a sort of peace in knowing that any twinge I feel below means nothing. No wondering how many follicles I'll get, or having a two week wait to endure. I'm learning to let it all go. I don't know where this sense of calm came from. But I could tell it was real because I wasn't worried anymore about how soon we'd be able to cycle again. And I knew that even if we had the money I wouldn't want to cycle this month. Or even the month after that. And yes the fact that we're in between RE's effects whether or not we're doing treatments. But I feel like that is just another reason to support this break. My sense of peace and acceptance of this hiatus is pretty unexpected. I was sort of prepared to be tortured by knowing I wouldn't have any of the things that I just listed. But for some reason I just felt like I was going to be okay.

I can honestly say that a lot things that happened to us this year were unexpected. Choosing to use Donor Insemination to start our family. The support I've found in the IF blogosphere. Six failed IUI cycles. Okay I'll admit that I always knew the failed cycles were a possibility, but definitely not six of them in a row. Another thing I didn't see coming was the incredible generosity we would encounter sometimes from unlikely sources.

I don't often talk about my childhood, but I feel like there are a few things in my past that are relevant to the rest of this post. My parents divorced when I was four, and my dad got custody of my brother and I. My best friend Teresa and her family lived down the street from me for most of my life, and I always thought of myself as part of their family. Teresa's mother is one of the warmest, and most genuine women you could ever hope to meet. And she's always been like a mother to me. Of course her father is wonderful too. He's an amazing man, and love him to pieces. I just have so much respect for them. They live a very honest life, and I think they raised a couple of amazing children. I haven't ever really talked to them directly about our situation, mostly because the times that I see them are in very social situations and just inappropriate for the setting. But I knew that they knew, and in passing her mom told me she was praying for us. Which I was grateful for. There was always a sort of advocacy in her eyes, an unspoken vow of support that was clear as day when ever she kissed me hello. But when she and her husband came to my office yesterday, and pulled me into a private room, I had no idea what they were about to do. They started by telling me how much they love Brian and I, and how badly they want to see us succeed at starting a family. And while they were doing that, "mom" reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope, and slid it across the table to me. While their generosity is no surprise, this gesture was thoroughly unexpected. I won't say how much it was, but I'll tell you it's more than enough to get a good start on our next cycle. We fully intend to pay them back, and while they said they weren't expecting it, we feel it's something we must do. Not because of the monetary value alone, but based on the principal of repaying their generosity. They've already done so much for me, in so many ways. I'm just overwhelmed by their compassion and kindness.

Then today, while still riding the high of yesterdays surprise, I got a call from Brian while I was at work. The type of work he does involves working closely with people in their homes. One of his most recent clients, is a lesbian couple who used donor insemination to start their family. Brian is an incredibly open person, and has had more than one conversation with them about our struggles, which I was well aware of. But imagine my surprise when he called to tell me that they had offered us their remainder vials. Now there is A LOT involved in considering their offer, but again I feel overwhelmed at the gesture of their generosity. Not only is that a gift worth a lot of money, but we could potentially share a genetic link with their children... That is a big gift, and a huge leap of faith.

I just don't know what to say. I'm so very overwhelmed by the recent gifts that we have been offered. I hardly know how to express my love, and gratitude... I feel so, so lucky. This is all just so unexpected. If for some reason I don't sound appropriately grateful it's because I am still in shock. Actually,"in shock" doesn't even begin to cover it.