Adjusting...

There is a lot more to absorb emotionally with all this pregnancy business than I was prepared for. I’ve followed dozens of bloggers throughout their pregnancies, and I definitely recall your emotional battle, particularly in the early weeks. But I have to say, I kind of assumed you were just trying to be nice.  Like a peace offering to those of us still in the trenches – “DON’T LEAVE ME, I’m still infertile at heart!!!”… But the truth is you suddenly feel like you don’t belong to the one place you hold dearest, and though you finally fall into the category you wanted the most, it’s not what you thought it would be... I’m 6 weeks 3 days today, but really all that means is two weeks ago some blood work suggested that I’m pregnant. It’s like I know it on an intellectual level, but my heart is still trying to catch up. I suppose our first u/s this weekend will make everything more real. Then again, maybe it's just the fog of fatigue that's muffling my giddiness.

Physically, I’m feeling less and less like my old self. Which is comforting. The fatigue is definitely there. The cramping has subsided, just a few pangs here and there, mostly at night. Bloating, oy the bloating. I had to cave and buy one of those Be.lla band things. Not because I’m by any means showing, but the OHSS bloat comes back with a vengeance in the afternoons and it’s really uncomfortable to have any kind of pressure or constriction on my abdomen.  Am I lame? Did anyone else need “assistance” this early??? And to tell you the truth, I’ve always been a big fan of elastic waistbands, now I have a really great excuse to wear one every day. Here’s to not sucking it in for the next eight months! The girls – they are still extraordinarily sore. A big thank you to Carli who text me about opting for a sports bra at night – holy hell that saved me… But I have to say the most difficult symptom is the slowed bowels. I am popping Colace like tic tacs over here…. Ugh. But I’m not complaining. I’m incredibly grateful for the reason(s) I have each one of those symptoms. Seriously, I smile through every trip to tinkle at 12, 2, 4, and 6am.

So our ultrasound is this weekend. It was initially set for Saturday, but we had some family stuff come up and I had to move it back one day. Even though it sucks to push it back, it’ll be better for everyone this way.  Brian and I are obviously pretty excited. As of right now, I’m thinking it’s just one. Actually I’ve always felt that way, but I suppose we’ll see soon enough. You’ve all been exceptionally amazing with your thoughtful and helpful comments. And I continue to be truly grateful.

Killing Me Softly, Via Delayed Results

It appears as though my twelve grand is up, so Dr.3 is making me go to a regular lab with regular people, and boring nurses lest I stay with him and pay out of pocket for all future blood work. Or any work for that matter. My u/s at the end of the month is OOP, as well.  But I’ve come to love my clinic. My nurses are great, and they’re sweet, and good at what they do.

But, the lab; It’s full of the sick people. And the techs; They seem to be much less discrete about asking people for urine and OTHER samples. Which shouldn’t weird me out, but it does. And holy crap did my phlebotomist SUCK. I have very easy veins, I’ve been told this many times. And while this chick didn’t actually miss my vein, my only guess is that she was very, very angry with it. At least that’s all I could come up with. It felt like she was jamming a chopstick into my arm. And I’m thinking, 'WOMAN, this is ALL you do – ALL day long… How could you not be at least decent at it???'

Any. Way. The last week has gone by pretty well. Meaning I haven’t made myself too crazy. I stopped POAS Wednesday because it was making me more neurotic. But I did decided to use the last one in the box Sunday morning, cause well, it was just sitting there. All dry and clean…. I was thrilled when the test line appeared to suck up most of the dye, leaving the control line pretty faint. And actually the control line took a while to even be visible.  In the way of symptoms there is still not a whole lot going on. I’m getting a little tired in the afternoons, my girls hurt so bad that it wakes me up at night. I read an article that suggested wearing a bra to bed, but that sounds about as appealing as wearing a studded belt with my nightgown. But the pain is kind of getting kind of ridiculous, so I might give in. The cramping has quieted down a little which seems scary, but I’m doing my best not to completely over analyze the lack of twinges. Because the bottom line is, I’m just so grateful to have gotten this far.

So I'm guess the suspense must be killing you, because I'm already dead from waiting forever and a day for Beta#3 results. I got my blood drawn at like 9 am (after waiting 45 minutes) and silly me, I asked the lab tech when the results would be available. She said they'd be to my clinic by NOON. Which meant every second after 11:59 am Pacific Standard Time, went.........by........like........t.h.i.s..... So I called to harass them around 3:30 but chickened out of opting for the emergency line and left a breezy voicemail, like I was just wondering if they might happen to have an idea. By any chance.... At 4:30 still no call back, and I know that they kick the night mode on at a quarter to five, so I hauled ass out to my car and called them again. This time choosing to speak with an operator. They finally got me to a nurse and she politely explained that the results must be seen by Dr. 3 before they can call the patient.... Then she said "Your results were great. 4,873"... Progesterone dipped a little to 43, but she said that's normal, and they're happy with it. They want to see anything between 9 - 50, at this point in the pregnancy.

Holy fucking shit.

I really am pregnant.

I Love You, Man.

Holy Crow, where do I even begin? You guys. Well, you Just. Fucking. Rock. I can’t tell you how amazing it’s been to read all of your incredibly thoughtful and supportive comments. And hearing the personal experiences has been a big, BIG relief. Thank you, thank you for the bottom of my progesterone saturated heart.

I’ve been doing my best not to freak out about the Beta results. I realize that the number was by no means a harbinger of the worst possible case scenario, but for a minute, that’s what it felt like. I think the hardest part about this is the fact that I’ve seen too much. I know what possibly can go wrong, and I’ve seen it happen to way too many really great people – so why should I be any different? Please, please understand how grateful I am to be here. And I’m happy. And excited.  But this part of being pregnant is really scary. And I did not see it coming.

I felt a little better Wednesday because I had read, and reread all of your fabulous comments three or four times. Also I was consistently mildly crampy the entire day. Then yesterday I felt SO bloated and tired – exactly the same way I felt during the worst day of stims, which I am praying meant that my Hcg, E2 and P4 were all blowing up. But today – I feel nothing. No different. I know, I’ve heard symptoms come and go. But well, that just sounds like a cop out. I’m so hopped up on PIO shots, and Progesterone and Estrogen Suppositories; I should at the very least being seeing spots by now… I don’t get it.  This is hard. Not harder than being infertile – but hell, at least I know how to do that…

So here’s where I am treatment wise. I had my Intralipid infusion Wednesday. Even though my follow up NK Assay came back a 0 out of 5 (normal), Dr. 3 prefers to follow up with at least one infusion right after a positive pregnancy test.  All of the nurses who were there for our retrieval and transfer were in the area where they do the Infusion. It was nice to see them all again, but weird because they kept giving me hugs and offering congratulations… Which was cool, but very surreal. Our first ultrasound (gulp) is scheduled for April 30^th, I’ll be 6w6d. Seriously – so weird to say that.

I just want you all to know how insanely grateful I am for all of your support through this – and especially from those of you who’ve delurked.

I'm really just so, so thankful for each and every one of you.

Counting the minutes till Tuesday.

A Watched Pot

The last few days have been kind of a whirlwind. I go from busy and going about my routines to suddenly remembering my extraordinarily good fortune and my breath catches in my chest and a little snarffle-type-whimper/laugh escapes my lips as I picture those positive pee sticks still sitting on my nightstand. I pretty much carried them around the house all day Saturday, and if I didn't think it would have been obnoxiously inappropriate I probably would have made a necklace out of one. And then all at once I feel like it's happening to someone else.


I also go back and forth between feeling SO ready to move on with the rest of my life (See: potentially recklessly over optimistic), and feeling like I'm still in limbo. Like I can't make certain plans for the next few months, only instead of wondering if I'll be cycling, wondering if I'll still be pregnant. And then maybe I will be cycling with our frozen embie (pleasedon'tletthathappen, pleasedontletthathappen). I'm going to be a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding this September and we're going to have to pick out and order the dresses ASAP. What if next week I order a dress for me at six months along and then two months from now I dont' need it? Yikes. That also means I'm going to have to spill the beans to my future SIL (whom I adore, btw) and at the very least the other bridesmaid. Hmmm.


So I FINALLY got a hold of my nurse, I told her I was about to go into a meeting and didn't want to miss her call. I went in this morning at 9am, and got through to her at 4pm! That was really frustrating. So the news is not bad, but it's not fantastic. Dr. 3 wants to see AT LEAST a 60% increase for Beta #2. My increase was at 62%... Putting my number at 233. My nurse said neither she, nor Dr. 3 are remotely concerned. She warned me about Dr. Google and also said that it's possible one of the two embryo's in arresting. Or she said sometimes the second Beta is just wonky - She's seen much stranger beta's result in babies, and then reminded me that IVF is rarely cut and dry. Physically I'm feeling fine, still really no symptoms to speak of which freaks me out just a little bit especially knowing my second beta number now.... I have some minor cramping, and towards the end I of the day I feel bloated. But that's about it. They want me to do another Beta a week from today, as previously planned. (This is where my nurse stressed that if they were concerned they would have me come back Thursday). At that point they'll want to see a number no less than 954. And that's going by the 60% range again.

So. I wait. I'm trying to keep the faith in the unseen, and not freak out too much. Do me a favor and send a prayer or two my way when you get a sec. Thanks in advance.

A Sight Unseen

The first thing I should tell you is how convinced I was that this cycle had not worked for us. I had no symptoms. At least nothing that screamed "Successful IVF cycle". There was nothing that couldn't be a potential symptom of the PIO shots. My boobs started getting sore the day after I started the Progesterone, which was before the transfer had even taken place. I had some lower back pain - but that is not an uncommon occurrence for me. I also had some minor cramping, but again that could have easily been the PIO shots or suppositories, or the left over enchiladas I kept eating for lunch. And what I considered to be the kicker was the fact that by Thursday (7dp5dt), my jeans were fitting normally and my weight was back to pre-IVF. I thought "Shit, no influx of OHSS - we're screwed". Oh, and did I mention that I came down with a cold the day after the transfer? No fever, but a sore throat, congestion, runny nose, yada yada. I figured we were doomed and I had all but uncorked the expensive bottle of wine I'd picked out to be my 40 ounces to freedom.


Though there had been a slight bit of wavering on his part, Brian and I had agreed to test together Saturday morning. Friday night we stared wide-eyed at each other before we kissed goodnight and did our best to get some rest. Which went surprisingly well until about three am, when the dog wanted out. From three am on we vainly tossed and turned until about four, when Brian leaned over and asked if we could watch TV already. I laughed and we decided to watch the Top Chef Reunion Special. It was really good, and very funny which brought some much needed comic relief. When it was over we knew it was time - we both wanted to get it over with. Just before we walked into the bathroom together I confessed that I didn't think it had worked. Something I hadn't told him because I didn't want to ruin his week just yet. I sat down, peed in a cup, then dipped the test in, put the cap back on the test and handed it to him. We both wanted him to deliver the results. We took the test and went back in to the bedroom where I collapsed on to the bed, bracing myself, and feeling guilty for making him be the one to have to give me the bad news. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at the test, then cover it up and rest it back on his knee like he was still waiting to see something. I said "it's negative, right?"... He then, ever so nonchalantly mumbled "well there's a line, but it's really faint..." I bolted upright and grabbed for the test - he said I blurted out something along the lines of "Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?", but I remember no such thing... All I remember was seeing the test and screaming that even if it was light, a line was a line and it was positive!!!!


We're pregnant. 


We hugged and cried and laughed hysterically. I don't think I've ever experienced such unfettered bliss. I sobbed and giggled and shook my head. I thanked god aloud, and when it finally occurred to me that a positive hpt doesn't always equal a take home baby, I thanked god aloud again for letting us at least get this far. 


Two lines. 


We have two lines. 


We looked up our due date. It's mid December. I have a due date, how bizarre is that? We each sent out a few texts to the select group of people we'd let in our our little secret, (those who don't know about this blog, anyway). And really and truly just enjoyed the day. I know that it's a possibility that we may not make it to the end of this journey happily, but I am so incredibly grateful that at least we know something can stick, and for these fleeting moments we know what it's like to be on the other side. And however long we're here I'm going to do my damnedest to revel in every second of it. 


My Beta draw was at 9am this morning, they just called back and my level at 10pd5dt is: 144, Progesterone 56.


I go back Tuesday for a second check.


I can't begin to thank you all enough for your support and enthusiasm on my last post. I cried while reading each one. Hard. I've been offering those same words for so long, it's remarkably strange to realize they are for me. 

This Is Only A Test

Wherever we go; this is further than we've been.

Talk About Your All Time Backfires

At some point in late February while still delayed in this IVF cycle by the Whore-bag Cyst, I began to feel a little restless. So I made the decision to look into the Foster Adoption program within our county. I signed us up for the April 5^th Orientation which was less than five miles away from our home. Since at that point I had no idea how long we would be delayed by the cyst, or if we would even be able to move forward with this attempt, I felt really good about taking the first step toward something we’d been discussing for a while anyway.  And in the days leading up to this meeting I continued to look forward to getting more information on what might be our path to parenthood. But this is where I have to make a confession. Though I had drafted a post about this, I never made it far enough to actually get the guts to publish it... 


Umm, IVF is fucking hard. And I don’t know if I ever want to do it again. Aside from hoping for the reason I’ll never have to do it again – I seriously don’t know if I want to. And yes, I know it’s early and I could change my mind. And that’s fine. But as of now, I can’t say it’ll be my first choice in moving towards being parents. The ‘feeling like a pincushion’ cliché could not be a bigger understatement, my stomach is black and blue from the heparin shots, my ass is KILLING me from the PIO shots, I’ve missed a lot of work due to monitoring appointments and recovery and acupuncture. Doing three shots a day takes up a good hour of my time, drawing up the meds,  icing before and after the Heparin, applying pressure. Heating whichever given side of my ass in prep for the PIO shot, laying there while Brian massages the injection site, then walking around after, then sitting with the heating pad again… Granted my cycle lasted a little longer than most - an extra two and a half months to be exact - and I’m not saying that all this won’t have been worth it if we wind up with a baby at the end, but damn it it’s fucking hard. I really don’t know how so many of you have done multiple cycles. I mean, I do. But…. If I feel like I deserve a fucking metal for all this, you guys deserve like, royal titles, and towns named after you. Cause, shit. This was really hard.  And all of that made one more giant reason why I was looking forward to the orientation for Foster Adoption.

We arrived promptly at 7pm, and by the time the County Worker got started there were two other couples, what appeared to be a single guy – I’m fairly certain he was a cop. And one woman, who was married but her husband was at home looking after their daughter. We signed in and grabbed a packet and began listening closely as the County Worker started her Power Point presentation.  I can’t remember what precisely changed for me, but all of about 15 minutes in I felt a noticeable shift in my comfort level. Substantial enough that I scribbled a sentence on the outside of the envelope packet and pushed it toward Brian.

“I’m not ready for this.”

We glanced at each other, but slowly gave our attention back to the County Worker. Well maybe Brian did, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It felt so surreal, at some point I felt like I was watching myself from outside of my body knowing I was about to have a breakdown. I’m very aware of the fact that childrens circumstances in Foster Programs aren’t the same as kids in standard adoption facilities. These are not all infants with unwed, or incapable mothers – these kids have been removed from their homes. Due to abuse and/or neglect. Occasionally there is a Voluntary Surrender, where the parent(s) concedes that they just can’t care for their child(ren). But it’s less than 1% of the time in our county. I don’t know if it was the fact that she had to describe all the different types and severity as well as what exactly constitutes abuse or neglect, or if it was her emphasis on the fact that the County’s main goal is Reunification with the Biological Family. But it all just became too much. And I suddenly found the tears falling down my face faster than I could catch them. I discretely excused myself to the bathroom, and did my best to pull myself together. But the moment I sat back down in my chair I started to lose it again. Brian made a quick scribble, and pushed the envelope back to me. “Just go, I’ll take care of it”. It took me another minute to get the courage to walk out, but thank god we just happened to be sitting right next to the exit. I don’t know what Brian said to the room or the County Worker, but I’m sure they figured out that I wasn’t just bored. I got about three steps from the door and the second I heard it click I began to sob. I’m just not ready for that. I thought that I would just go and be proactive, and get some information. But holy crap, I’m not ready.

And I’m suddenly reminded of how little control we have over all of this. And just how very open-ended things are for us at this moment in time.

T minus four days until Beta.

Wordless Wednesday - 6dp5dt

No, I haven't test yet. 

And okay, so this post isn't all that wordless.

I just wanted to show you something that makes me smile. 

(fyi, posting a picture of a picture instead of a scanned file goes against everything I believe in, 

but I just had to get these up)

My babies. 

That dark mass in the shape of Montana, is my bladder. If you look below that near the most South-West corner, you can see a faintly highlighted white line with a computer graphic circle on it. Inside that circle are the embryo's safe in my uterus. Aside from the fact that it's probably a CYA for them, I just love that they gave us this picture as well. 

Maintaining My Hatred of Progesterone

I can appreciate the fundamental necessity of Progesterone, but in my life even before ART, it has proven to be a thorn in my side. My breasts are typically sore from the time I ovulate, to a few days after my period starts. Which is just over two weeks at a time. So now that I am post transfer, Standard Operating Procedure is to supplement the bodies own production with messy vaginal suppositories and painful intramuscular injections that require a 25 gauge inch and a half long needle in which to deliver the goods. I'm on day six of said injections and I already find myself wincing as pull my jeans over my backside. And after the shot on the day of the transfer I took the bed rest order a little too seriously and chose not to walk around after the injection. The burning sensation in my left asscheek had me tossing and turning until after 1am.  And last night within ten minutes of starting those bastard little suppositories, I had noticeable cramping.

I use a heating pad before and after the shot.
I've warmed the part of the needle with the progesterone in it, to thin the oil
I walk around after
Is it still normal to be SO sore???
The shot itself doesn't hurt - it's the next day that I feel it.

Oh and my girls are already sore.

That said, here's to eight more weeks of it! 


I'm feeling much better in general. Though I continued to feel bloated and tired from the OHSS, the Gatorade liquid restriction made a huge difference. And after the retrieval I felt exceptionally better with each passing day. The only thing I've noticed is that my belly is still a little distended, anyone else have that? 

Oh, one bit of good news. We have one little guy that made it to freeze on Day Six. A Grade II Blastocyst. I had really prepared myself for the possibility of not having any at all, so to say I'm relieved would be an understatement. I promise I'll get my transfer day pictures up soon - we've gotten a new printer and I haven't managed to figure out the scanning function yet. With all the amazing advances in technology I must say there is still no love for the printer...

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.

We Have Embryo's...

I woke up this morning feeling only slightly better than yesterday. Which isn't saying much. My retrieval was scheduled at 11am, but Dr. 3 was running behind. They had arranged my procedure to be the last of the morning because I had the most follicles of their patients also scheduled for the day. 17-18 that they could see. They wheeled me back to the  - what is that? an OR? - Whatever the name, it was a little surreal, let's just say that. I proceeded to lay on the table in the padded stirrups for what felt like an eternity while the nurse babbled on about my husbands chosen profession. In reality it was only about 25 minutes, and I was long gone within about a minute and a half of Dr. 3 gracing us with his presence. Afterward they managed to wake me up just before transferring me from the table to a gurney and I could hear the doctor telling me it had taken less than 20 minutes and that I'd done very well. I remember asking how many eggs they got, but he said he wasn't sure yet. Still, I persisted "lots?"... "Did you get lots of eggs?" And I'm pretty sure I remember them laughing at me.


The next thing I knew I woke up crying in recovery and asking the nurse for Brian. She gave me a heating pad for my abdomen and shot of a pain killer in my IV.  I remember several people asking me why I was crying, and to tell you the truth I'm not sure I could narrow it down to one specific thing. I felt relieved that this part was over. I felt grateful to see my husband standing over me with concern. But I also felt violated by the fact that I even had to go to these lengths to achieve such a common human experience. Parenthood. And suddenly none of what I was doing there made any sense.  How do blood draws, and stabbing myself in the stomach repeatedly with fine gauge needles, and procedures that require general anesthetic, and lab technicians, and petrie dishes... how does all this lead to motherhood? It felt so unnatural. Unfair.


But maybe that was just the pain talking. Because my mood quickly elevated from there. They gave me a box of apple juice, and propped me up so that I could feel a little more normal. Shortly after that I felt decent enough to change back in to non-assless clothes, and before we knew it Dr. 3 came in to sit down with us. First he reviewed the follow up "NK Assay" blood panel they had taken earlier in the week. Great news: The Humira and Dexamethasone had done their jobs and all of my levels were normal. This meant that I wouldn't be required to do the ($700 per session) Intralipid infusion until after a positive pregnancy test. The plan they initially set for me required one at the retrieval, one after the transfer and then every few weeks after positive betas. Whew, deep breath. Then he told us they got 19 eggs. Nineteen... We were  thrilled. 


I spent the rest of the day in bed with my new best friend Mr. Heating Pad. Seriously, if you have a retrieval pending be sure to pick one of these bad boys up. Brian took great care of me, getting up and down, going back and forth with my every whim. Dr. 3 told us that we'd likely get a call by "lunch-time" today with our fertilization report, but they tortured us until a little after 1pm. Out of the 19 retrieved, 11 were mature, and 9 fertilized normally. That's an 82% fertilization rate. Which is pretty good. Which is why I feel like a total asshole for being a bit disappointed that we didn't have more mature eggs. But such is the life of a PCOS gal. We can produce quantity, but not always quality. Intellectually I know that nine embryo's is good.  And I will keep telling myself that. NINE IS GOOD. But my poor little infertile heart wanted more. More mature, more to choose from, more to freeze. I know we're lucky to have this many and to have even gotten this far, so I'm going to end it on that. Nine is good, and we're lucky.


I won't hear anymore about the status of our embies until Thursday, when we go in for our transfer.  Please keep our little ones in your thoughts until then. Thanks again for all of your support.

Livin' Large

It's official. I'm incredibly uncomfortable. I can't button my pants, my lower back is killing me. I have to pee ever thirty-eight minutes and I think I can feel my ovaries in the back of my throat. I started feeling my (other) girls the day after I started stims, which was both exciting and remarkably comforting at first. And actually even up to Monday evening. But starting Tuesday night they woke me up whenever I rolled over. You know how if you tap one balloon in a bouquet of ballons that they all ripple in turn. That's what my ovaries feel like every time I move. Bending over, sitting down, getting up, coughing. All of that makes them ripple, and it's not cute anymore.

But I can see the light. We're almost there. Even after having four shots and blood draw on Monday. Five shots on Tuesday. (Oh, I added Heparin twice a day beginning Monday night.) I calculated everything and I'm 88 shots in with a whole fucking lot more to go... I'm not a needle phob by any means, but I'm starting to get some serious bruising from all of the shots. And the Heparin is only going to make things worse according to my nurse. I want you all to understand how grateful I am to be here, period, but the physical toll of IVF just hit me like a Mack Truck, and I can feel the effects head to toe. This shit is hard.

But I know I can do it.

My appointment went well this morning despite running AN HOUR late. Follies on the left measuring  15 -16mm, Follies on the right measuring 16 - 17mm. I was instructed to "coast" tonight. No Follistim, No Menopur. Just Heparin and Lupron. I'll trigger tomorrow night (WOO HOO!!!) And my retrieval will be Saturday morning! If I don't sound more enthusiastic it's only because my rising levels of Estrogen are making me feel EXHAUSTED. And a bit weepy. I cried last night when Bethany asked Julie to be Bryn's Godmother. Okay, I might have cried over that anyway, but I'm playing my IVF meds card and there's nothing you can do about it.

While explaining my current experiences to Dr. 3 and the nurse, they both agreed that I'm at the very early stages of OHSS and have placed me on a liquid restricted diet. I can have no more than one liter of Gatorade per day. No soup, no milk - which means no cereal (balls!), and no smoothies. Like the one I had been dreaming of getting on my way back to my office, but oh well. I know there is more stuff I wanted to say, but I'm kind of out of it right now. Any questions, ask away!

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.

Me, On Stims...

Stims are going well so far, I'm happy to report that the Follistim Pen is not nearly as complicated as I imagined. I don't know why, but I was feeling very intimidated by the concept of it alone. Maybe because if you don't pay close enough attention to what you're doing you can destroy $900.00 in meds fairly easily. Thank gawd I can trust Brian not to screw it up.

I'm three days in on stims, and I have to say three shots a day is already getting old. (remember I've been on Lupron since January 16th) AND HOLY CRAP is Menopur a dirty tramp - Why the hell didn't anyone tell me how much that shit stings?!?! If you think I curse a lot here, you should have heard me when the stinging first kicked in. I can handle the shots themselves, it's a little pinch then it's over. And I think I have a pretty decent pain tolerance but good lord... So I did a little research I found that icing helps. I iced for close to ten minutes before injections last night and barely felt a thing. And quick question. How soon into stims did you start to feel anything? I'm not uncomfortable in any way, but I noticed a different type of pressure yesterday. Like, a fullness. Very subtle. Am I nuts? Anyone else notice it this early?

My first monitoring appointment is on Monday, and I'm super excited. I'll go in first thing in the morning and pray that the whorebag cyst hasn't come back to suck up all my meds. I also hope to get a decent preliminary count of follies. This is where it gets tricky because I am constantly reminding myself to not to keep any expectations. SO. HARD. NOT. TO though...

Lastly. I must thank you all for your beautiful enthusiasm when I got the green light. Every one of your comments put a huge smile on my face... Thank you so much for that.

Grow follies, GROW! 
(butnottoofast) 
(HOLY CRAP, I've been saying that for so long, I can't believe it actually applies to ME.)
WOOO!

Aspiration Cancelled

Cause the bitch is GONE.

I thought long and hard about how to write this post in a way that would melodiously lay out the details of the entire ordeal without revealing the conclusion until the very end. But when have I ever been that tactful?

So yes, the cyst is gone. HOT. DOG.

We rushed to our 1pm appointment yesterday (we got bumped) because despite the fact that I had reminded everyone and their mother that yesterday was daylight savings, I neglected to heed my own caution and forgot to set my clocks forward. And being the torrid pile of lethargy that I am, had only gotten out of the shower about ten minutes before we were actually supposed to leave. (12: 30pm) The reason that's a big deal is because it takes a beastly load of effort and dedication for me to not look like a slovenly hobo before I leave the house.

So we get there on time, only to sit in the waiting room for twenty minutes while some jackass ignores is obnoxiously loud seven year old son, who is jumping up and down in place trying to hit the top of the 6 foot high magazine rack. And as much as I wanted to poke both him and his father in the eye, if the dad had left the room for just half a second I would stuffed my sock in that kids mouth to muffle his screams while I grabbed him and took him home to be our new son. A nurse I had never seen before walked in to the waiting room and called my name. She took us back to a room that had already been prepped for my impending detonation. It was fairly terrifying to see all of the paraphernalia laid out. I don't know even know what half of the instruments were, but it made me think of a scene from Fire In The Sky where Travis Walton was... Anyway. It was scary though, believe me. 

Dr. 3 entered the room just briefly after I threw a tantrum because Brian couldn't think of anything to talk about while we waited, (Yay for Lupron doing enough to make me a raving bitch!) He shook both of our hands and didn't waste a second before grabbing the wand to "have a look at things first". 

Left side = Good. 
Lining = Good. (still at 4mm)
Femoral Artery = Working. (YEAH, I'VE SEEN IT BEFORE, MOVE ON.) 
Right side with cyst = ..... No cyst located. Ovary quiet. Antra follicle count = As expected. 

Yippe kai yay, mutha f-.

Dr. 3 said everything looked great and pending another E2 check, I'd be able to start stims asap.




Soooooooooo, I just got the call back from my nurse and my E2 was 26!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I START STIMS TOMORROW!!!

Too Close For Missiles, Switching To Guns

While I haven't exactly hung my hat on the idea that aspirating my cyst will be the answer to my prayers,  the concept of it getting me to the point of finally being able to start stims and actually finish this cycle has at the very least, appeased the impatient foot stomping 12 year old in me.


This week began promising when I noticed spotting first thing Monday morning. Though it was pretty light, it seemed promising enough. By yesterday morning however, it was gone. Since my lining was at 4mm last Thursday, part of me wonders if that was a period... Dr.3 said nothing of spotting, he specifically told me to look for a period, so who knows. I sent my nurse an email to let her know about the spotting and to ask if there's anything I need to know or do for prep. I'll go in Sunday around 11:30am, and pray that this will be the nail in that whorebag's 27mm coffin. 


In the mean time, Brian and I have taken our first tiny step towards Foster Adoption. The county we live in holds orientations twice per month, so we agreed to go to the first one in April and I emailed an RSVP for that date as well as requesting an information packet. I don't know how close we are to moving forward, or if I/we are even 100% ready to move in that direction yet. Part me thinks it's my way of giving this cycle a hardy Johnny Cash-esque, middle finger coping with the monumental disaster that is our first attempt at IVF. And a small part of me sees our four year ttc anniversary steadily approaching and can't imagine drinking my way through one more of them without having something solid in the pipeline. It's just fucking time for us to be parents. I can't take this limbo shit anymore. 


Anyway. Wish me luck on Sunday. And if you've been through it before I'd be grateful for any tips or warnings. Thank you all again for your unwavering support. I'm just so grateful for all of you. 

Hey Progesterone: You Suck.

Sorry for the delay, yesterday was super chaotic at work and by the time I got home I just didn’t have it in me to post. My morning began with another peculiar dream. Dr.3 was running late, so a nurse came in to instruct me on how to complete my own u/s. I checked my lining, it looked like… my uterus, I guess so that was good. But before I could move on to check for my whore-bag of a constant companion I was interrupted by another nurse who wanted to administer a rather unorthodox remedy for my situation. This part however, is truly too humiliating to describe. Even to you. But while I lay there on the table waiting for their remedy to cure my cyst, I noticed that Dr.3 was in the room working with another patient. This is where it got weirder. He was hunched over talking to the patient and his scrubs were just low enough on his backside that I could see he was wearing… a thong. The nurse cackled loudly while bringing it to his attention and they both ended up having a good chuckle about it. But I was, and am profoundly mortified by it even as we speak.. I was seriously still so disturbed by the image, that I could barely look him in the eye at my appointment. Oh, but there were no picture windows this time. Bonus.

In reality Dr. 3 was right on time and started the u/s without me having to lift a finger. But not before he complimented my polka-dot socks. Which he’s done more than once and I have to say I’m a little weirded out by it. Not because his mentioning my socks is in anyway inappropriate. I actually think it’s his way of breaking the ice – by being nice and offering a compliment. But I only recently started keeping my socks on during my stints in the stirrups, so I’m a little self-conscience about it. Honestly, up until last month I always removed my socks before an exam but one day before one of my other monitoring appointments while waiting for Dr. 3 to show, I had in internal debate over whether or not to take them off. But before I could make up my mind, Dr. 3 came in and effectively made the decision for me. Do you leave ‘em on, or take ‘em off? I digress.   So. My lining.  Down to 4mm, from 5mm last week. A very good sign. Left ovary – still politely behaving as expected. Righty, whom I’ve named Satan’s whore, still showed a large cyst. But it’s smaller it’s at 27.5 x 27.5, from 25.5 x 35.5. This is when I made my move. But instead of spewing my infertile rage at him I sheepishly confessed that I was extraordinarily frustrated with the now six week delay, and was hoping he’d be open to taking a more aggressive approach.  He then of course made me sorry for the desperately written rant filled with misguided anger that I published yesterday. He told me he had been baffled by this delay and truly felt that the cyst should have resolved itself considering the amount of Lupron I was on. He said in any other situation a person on my dosage of Lupron would have seen menopausal E2 levels a few weeks ago…

He explained further: Because my E2 levels dropped so significantly at my last appointment and based on the fact that my cyst measured smaller today, he had a feeling that my levels would show another substantial drop. The Estrogen was what was feeding the cyst – so that number going down would be a great indicator. He genuinely believes that my period will come in the next week. (I know, check’s in the mail, right?) But if it doesn’t he wants me to come back in so that he can aspirate it. He booked me for the appointment for next weekend to do so, still believing that AF will finally show before then.

Later in the afternoon the nurse called me with my E2 number. It’s 45. A very, very good thing- and exactly what Dr. 3 said would happen. However my Progesterone is at 1.7 (should be under 1.0), so at this point it’s the only thing that is holding up my period. The nurse explained that once my body realizes my Estrogen is so low, it will recognize get this: I’m not pregnant; my progesterone will drop and I’ll get my period… And at that point, I will be able to start stims right away. Or we aspirate the little fucker, my estrogen and progesterone drops – I get my period – then start stims.

None of those things are happening as quickly as I'd like but Dr. 3 prefers not to interfere if possible, and I was grateful for the time he spent with me yesterday to explain all that. A big thank you to all of you, who've been so supportive and put up with my schizo posting. You're thoughful comments have meant the world to me, I'm sorry I haven't been giving back as much as I'd like to in that department.

Coming Undone

I’m losing faith in this cycle.  And more than that, I’m losing faith in the concept of IVF ever making us a family to begin with… Nothing with Infertility ever seems to work out to be cut and dry. Nothing Textbook. Nothing as planned. At least for me, anyway.

I’m overwhelmed with the feeling that my journey here isn’t remotely close to coming to a conclusion. Intellectually I can comprehend the fact that three and a half years compared to a lifetime is relatively small stretch of time. But it is so fucking hard to keep any conviction in the fact that this awful period will be someday be a distant memory when you’re chest deep in the shittiest parts of it.

I'm just exhausted from all of this. Exhausted from not fitting in with my friends. From shots and pills, that aren’t making the slightest fucking difference. I’m forty five shots in and have nothing to show for it. Still. No. Period. I’m exhausted from pining and aching for this person I’ve never met. From dreaming about babies that will never be mine…

Since my period STILL hasn’t shown, I’ll be going in for another u/s and E2 check tomorrow as planned . I want to scream at Dr.3, and tell him whatever fucking method he was going by clearly isn’t working and he needs to figure this shit out. Quick. That I didn’t just hand him my life savings, but every ounce of faith, every dream and every part of me that aches to become a mother. And he needs to start treating me and this cycle as such. Like every bit of my happiness is resting on his shoulders. Because it is.  I’m tired of watching our future hanging in the balance. And wondering when or if it might fall.

But I won’t because I’m chicken shit, and as soon as my pants come off and that paper dress goes on my mind goes blank and all I can manage are simple phrases and sentence fragments. I sincerely hope this is the Lupron talking and not really my entire belief system crumbling before me. Because it sure fucking feels like it.

Defying Science

Ninety-nine percent of women using Lupron for more than 38 days would have seen a cyst/follicle collapse, and experienced bleeding shortly thereafter.

But not me.

According to Dr.3, my body is "defying science"…

Yesterday was CD30, so with no spotting to speak of I promptly picked up my phone and left a message for one of the nurses at my clinic. She called me back and with sincere sympathy asked if I’d be free for an u/s and blood draw first thing this morning.

I woke up early after being startled by a dream where at my ultrasound they found two more cysts and my lining was at 30mm (can you imagine? That would be the period to end all periods) Oh and the clinic was set up downtown and my room had a big giant picture window on the corner of a busy street. Making my hoohaa part of their window display. Dr.3 kept telling me not to worry about thaaat...

I didn’t go to this u/s expecting great news. I went in praying to receive a glimmer of hope and at the very least some information as to what the crap is going on.

The cyst is still there. And it’s bigger. BUT it’s bigger laterally – as in not round. It’s an oblong shape which implies that it’s in the process of collapsing. And my lining is down from 8mm, to 5mm. Which is good. The Lupron and my body are doing what they are supposed to, just at a profoundly slow rate. Dr. 3 thinks I could see my period within the next week, but to be safe they scheduled me for an u/s and blood draw for a week from today in case I don’t get my period by then.

I have mixed feelings about this information mostly because it appears as though my body is doing everything it's supposed to but at a snails fucking pace.  And then there are the mysterious goings on that have led to nothing: A)Three weeks ago I felt Ovulation pains. It's a very distinct type of pressure, that is to me, unmistakable. But obviously this thing is still around - so what the hell was that then??? 2) The Rage - what the crap was that all about? I literally felt crazy and I have the blog post to prove it. C) The other pms symptoms I usually get have come and gone... Oilier than normal hair and skin, sore/swollen breasts, bloating. Now nothing. I feel great. And what's worse is according to Dr.3 I should be having significant hot flashes as an indication that my estrogen is going down.  But, nope. I'm right as the mail. 

I feel angry and cheated by my body and circumstances. I wanted a January cycle, and with the long lupron protocol scheduling, I ended up in February. Now with this stupid delay I'm looking at a March retrieval and transfer. I STARTED THIS DAMN CYCLE IN DECEMBER- there must be a metal or badge or free fucking toaster for having the longest IVF cycle ever recorded. In the whole wide world. EVER.

But on a better note, I just got the call and my E2 is down to 125. From 346, and 414, and 391. So thank fucking Karl Lagerfeld for that. Except if my levels keep moving down at the same rate I'm looking at another nine days before I'm below 70 to get the go-ahead for stims. So I'll hang on to my white flag, and continue with obsessively check the toilet paper for some sign of menses. ANY SIGN.

Thanks for putting up with my ridiculousness. And mood swings. At least most of you can be thankful you don't know me in real life. Save Brian... Poor monkey.

Melissa G. - OUT.

Of Voracity and Rage

My period is still MIA.

Today is CD23, precisely 15 days after I'm sure that thing ruptured. And I'm feeling, how shall I say it... A little punchy-stabby.

But if I'm being honest, I'd gauge it more along the lines of homicidal. It feels almost out of body. Like I can picture my rage in a box, and then I can see myself throwing my body over the top of it to protect those around me, lest it detonate and wipe out the greater Bay Area.

I'm hoping this is my body's way of saying "You're period will be here any second so you can get on with the debt-riddling-baby-making gig you've been planning on for the last 14 months, already..." Because I certainly don't think this has anything to do with Lupron. I've been on it for exactly 30 days now, without the slightest symptom (I'm lucky, I know). So this wrath is puzzling to me, because while I'm certainly capable of a little circumstantial rage, the volatility of my fury is very uncommon and just the slightest bit alarming.  

I'm also binging on sugar and grease like a suicidal junkie. I gave up all sources of caffeine including chocolate weeks ago, but the snarling voice in my head forced me to inhale half a bag of Valenti.nes Day Dov.e Chocolates that I got from the 50% off bin at the drug store. I am literally shaking from the excessive sugar and caffeine intake, but oddly enough I feel a little less like impaling the UPS guy with my letter opener, so I guess that's a step in the right direction.

I still don't understand what the hell is going on with my body. And there is literally nothing I can do until my period shows. Thanks for all of your thoughtful comments, now please send some menstrual thoughts my way because if things continue like this I fear for the safety of the people around me.

GOD SPEED AF, GOD SPEED.

When Will I Learn My Lesson?

It appears as though I've already followed through on my promise of setting a new standard for what would be considered "mentally unstable"... As I've just reread my last few posts and - Oy. 

While I understand there's no need for me to justify my reaction to the likes of you, I feel it necessary to document just how exactly the wheels fell off. 

Expectations. 

Expectations screw me every time. And the worst part is, I spent like a year in therapy examining my own situations to substantiate just how damaging expectations can be. 

And on top of that, as we were getting ready to start injections I lectured Brian about 'how shit goes wrong' with IVF cycles. 

They get delayed. They get cancelled.

Shit goes wrong, and it happens when you least expect it.

(earth-shattering news to all of you, I'm sure)

I know better. I listened intently to your advice. And to the counsel of a few close IF friends, who reminded me gently to take it one day, one shot at a time.  

And yet we hit the first rough patch and I lost every ounce of lucidity and balance. 

When will I learn my lesson?  

Probably never. 

But thankfully I have all of you to keep me in check. 

And thankful is an understatement. You've all been so incredibly supportive especially during this last week. Thank you for sharing your experience and knowledge. Your support has been invaluable.

Oh, hey, while I was seesawing in batshit crazy nation I got a few awards. But I was entirely to daft at the time to respond properly or thank the people who presented the awards.

A big thank you to the following ladies who thoughtfully bestowed these awards upon me. Many thanks, sorry it took me a millenia to get them posted.

Aramelle

Christa

Let There Be Sims

Krista

Sarah S

A Miracle 4 Us

So I'm supposed to thank the person(s) who gave me the award. Check! List seven things about myself, and pass the award on to 15 (aye carumba) other bloggers. Well gawd bless those of you who had the time to do all that. To be honest I haven't come across too many other blogs who haven't already received an award. That's because you're all awesome. But you knew that. 

So. Will you still love me if I just post the wacky fun facts about me? 

Oh well, here they are anyway.

1. I love the smell of Carbon Copy paper.

2. I just bought my first Cast Iron skillet. After I seasoned it properly, bacon was the first thing I cooked in it. It was Fantastic.

3. I won't leave the house without makeup on. Ever.

4.The last concert I attended was jack Johnson at the Berkeley Greek Theatre.

5. I hate the sound of pooring liquid.

6. I'm going to be 32 next month. Gah.

7. I hit 200 posts in December and my 3rd Blogiversary was last week. I was not entirely motivated to post about either of them because acknowledging them is bittersweet.

And a quick update. I saw my Acupuncturist Saturday and she believes that I did indeed ovulate . Apparently the pulse on your left side is stronger after ovulation. So good news there, and now I just wait for AF. AGAIN. 

Waiting It Out

I’m pretty sure I must have been a complete asshole in my past life. I’ve come to that conclusion because there is no other possible explanation as to why this cycle is going the way it is.

It’s taken me three days to write this post because I’m having a hard time breaking down the information enough so that my tiny brain can even process the basic facts, but here's what I've got.

On 1/25: My E2 was 346 (no u/s) which was CD2 for reference

On 1/27: Went back for an u/s which showed a cyst/follicle at 23mm, E2 was 414, Progesterone 2.0

Dr. 3’s Notes: Surprised that you were able to have a period while your E2 was so high.

Melissa’s notes: Fucking figures.

On 2/1: Morning u/s #2 shows an increase in size of cyst/follicle at 24.5 mm

Dr. 3’s Notes: We have to wait this out. Stay on 10 Units of Lupron. Call me when you get your period. Good luck with that.

Melissa’s Notes: Dr. 3 = Cyborg. All hope of having bio children fades. Break down -Open bottle of wine. Shortly after glass of Sauvignon Blanc I get pains similar to Ovulation. Of course.

On 2/2: Find out 2/1’s blood test results: E2 was 391, Progesterone 1.4 DOWN FROM 1/27. Email Dr.3 because the multitude of questions over what the crap is going on with this cycle is keeping me up at night.

The gist of that email went a little something like this:

Me: Am I being stimulated instead of suppressed by the Lupron? Could my lower E2 suggest that the follicle was getting ready to rupture? Is staying on the same dosage of Lupron possibly delaying the ultimate goal of getting this thing to mature and collapse? Will the Lupron shorten my luteal phase? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING???? SOMEBODY HOLD ME.

Dr. 3: You had one rogue follicle that was not suppressed by the Lupron. It will either mature and rupture on its own or the Lupron will suppress it and it will shrink. There is nothing you can do about it. There is nothing I can do about it. We have to let the meds and the follicle take its course. CALL  ME WHEN YOU GET YOUR PERIOD.

So that's it. I'm done. I'm exhausted and so is my Zen. I'm trying not to give myself a hard time for losing my shit over all of this, but I wish I could have processed everything with a little more grace. But graceful, I am not. And that's what makes me, me. So I'll call Dr. 3 when I get my period, and I'll do my best to catch my breath from here.  And I promise if more shit goes wrong with this cycle, I will set new standards for what it is to be considered "mentally unstable".

Namaste.

Still A No-Go.

The whore-bag cyst is not only still entirely present, but has grown another 1.5 mm. Putting her at a vast 24.5mm total. And my lining is growing like it would in a normal cycle. Fuck.

I am so incredibly disappointed.

Dr.3 wants to wait it out, so I’ll be staying on the ten units of Lupron. Which by the way, makes no fucking sense to me at all. Why would we do anything to prohibit or suppress this thing from maturing/rupturing??? And if the Lupron isn't suprressing me enough, than staying on it is really just slowing the down the inevitable right??? I wish I could say I thought to ask him all this, but I was concentrating on not bursting into tears and looking like a complete douche. 

Yeah, he’s the RE and I’m not, and I do trust him entirely – but dammat I really wanted to be given a plan of attack if it got to this point. It’s been five days since my last u/s and I’ve had follicles get at least as big as 27mm, so at the rate I’m going it could be another ten days before this thing ruptures. And on top of that he wants me to have another period before we move forward. He checked my lining during the u/s and it’s thickening up like it normally would because of the high levels of estrogen and progesterone.  He did explain that we’re not looking at another 30 day wait for my period, it’s more likely to be 6-10 days before I bleed again (if that thing collapses soon). But that is very little consolation considering that today should have been my first monitoring appointment, and my retrieval could have been this weekend.

I can’t even explain the level of disappointment I’m feeling right now.

This fucking blows.