Is This Normal?

I woke up on the first day of the New Year excited.  My cycle started.  I felt normal.  To me, it was a new beginning.  I was feeling so good that I even wished the Witch Doctor happy New Year, as I notified her via email that my period had finally come.  Yesss!!

The Hubs and I went to breakfast, chatted, laughed, then BOOM!  I got the mother of all cramps.  OMG.  I have had some bad ones in the past, but these were pretty strong.  And guess what?  We only had one freaking advil pill in the house.  OMG.  I was pacing back and forth.  My uterus was angry and she spread her disgust to my digestive system.  Let's just say I had stuff coming out from both ends.  This was NO BUENO.  Hubby rushed to store to get more advil, pick up a heating pad and get me some real pads.  The body was not happy with my choice of tampons.

And speaking of feminine products, there are so many options.  My Husband called me frantically trying to figure out which package would be best.  He's such an awesome man.  My Dad refused to buy pads for me, as a teen when he went grocery shopping.  So this beautiful man of mine having the guts to pick them up in my time of crisis, is just wonderful.

Once again I digress.

I emailed Witch Doctor to update her on my situation.  I was like, "Is this normal?"  She said, "Yes!"  What?  She said since there was a "pregnancy" things would be rough. Ugh! Then she called and wanted me to describe the pain.  I won't lie.  I am not good at that at all.  I said something like, "It hurts straight across the middle and down to my feet."

She told me to keep her posted because she wanted to make sure that she didn't miss the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy.  I was thinking.....NO WAY! She is obviously crazy.  Anyway, she told me to get day three blood work, along with another beta.

Two days later, I got the job done, which probably surprised her since I'd been rebelling lately.  Get this: my beta was a 10.  Yes. A TEN!  Just like before.  So now I have to go back again on Monday to test and make sure this particular ten is the result of the numbers going down.

Strangely, I am not upset or nervous.  I was for a second and threatened to spend my weekend on Google, but Witch Doctor says she is Dr. Google and has all of my answers.  I was thinking--- oh no she didn't!  I'm the real Dr. Google.

Anyway, I really don't think anything is wrong.  I think the numbers are going down.  The Husband and I are just trying to understand our insurance a little better.  We think it counts an FET as a full IVF, so we won't be wasting insurance on an FET for that solo embryo, as we are only covered for three cycles.  (Did I mention my butt is still sore from those progesterone shots?  That stuff is the devil!)

I know everyday my plan for the future changes, but at the moment we're pretty content with the idea of stemming for eggs in March.  I'm back on thyroid medicine.  Ugh!  Apparently, a TSH of 5 isn't a good sign whether you're seeking infertility treatment or not.  It's on the cusp of high.

I feel good better now, but I really think the meds did a number on me this time.  I mean, I'm still not entirely excited about my job, but I can HANDLE the frustration the way I'm used to dealing with stuff.  Last month while I was pumped full of estrogen and progesterone, I was ready to quit and move to a homeless shelter.  I had no fight left.  Ridiculous!

I'm dumping the shrink too.  I went through all of this and didn't need or want to talk to her.  I'm tired of talking to her about it.  I definitely needed her when I started, but I don't think it's necessary now.  Plus, she's a really strong defender of the Witch Doctor.  It's hard to vent my frustrations to someone who is apparently her friend.  I knew they were colleagues, as Witch Doctor gave me her name, but I didn't know they were Besties.  Ugh!  But I don't know.  Next week, I might lose my little mind again.  So, we'll see.

Is It Over Yet?

Is 2013 over yet?  No?  Dang.

Anyway, I spent the weekend going from sad, to angry, to FURIOUS.  My poor husband was sick with a cold, and I took it all out on his ailing behind.  *sigh*  I am a sorry excuse for a wife, right?

I feel awful for the way I treated him.  I'll do better next time.  I promise.

My period still hasn't started yet.  It only took three days to start, after the last failure.  It looks like this time, it will take at least five days.  Witch Doctor told me to come back for another HCG to make sure the numbers are dropping, but I decided to be MATURE and IGNORE her (I hope you felt the sarcasm in that statement).  I'll go if my cycle doesn't start by day six.  If there's one thing my body is really good at, it's NOT being pregnant.  I don't want to start doubting its abilities now.

Some people may question that decision and my decision not to take drugs an extra day.  I feel like I should kind of explain why.  There's a story in the Bay Area.  A 13-year-old girl went in for tonsil surgery, and later died from complications.  She's brain dead.  Her parents won't accept it.  They have forced the hospital to keep her on a breathing tub.  My heart breaks for them.  I feel so passionately about them that when people say mean things about them, I defend them like they're my family.  I can't imagine their pain.  So when Witch Doctor told me my numbers weren't meeting standards, I knew that for my own mental health, I had to immediately let go.  I won't even write chemical pregnancy on my timeline.  It was never a pregnancy.  It's a failed attempt.

So back to me and the wait for my period: I figure since my butt is still lumpy from those progesterone shots, and (TMI WARNING) I still leak small globs of the progesterone gel, my body is still coming down off the hormones.  I took considerably more drugs for this FET than the last one.

I can honestly say the emotional pain is not nearly as bad this time, which scares me a little.  It hurt.  There's no denying that.  But the day isn't colored black like before.  The day sucks, but it's not black.  I will call that a small victory.  I'm still bitter, but I think that's normal (?).

That's all from me.  Happy New Year to all.

Oh Wait, don't pay for PGS.  It's not worth it.  I've flushed four chromosomally normal embryos down the toilet.  #awesome.

10

Today my Beta was a 10.  Hooray for failure...again.  Guys, this hurt so bad.  I balled my eyes out in a parking lot next to my job.  I really wish Witch Doctor would have just called it a failure on Monday.  At least I would have had two days off to recover.  Instead, I spent Christmas angry.  Now, I'm at work ashy-faced because I can't stop crying.

I told Witch Doctor that we didn't want to transfer the last embryo.  I told her we'd go straight for the next egg retrieval.   It's mainly because I hate those progesterone shots.  But I'm pretty sure it's not the right move.  I don't know.  I really need a new doctor or something.

Anyway she said my TSH levels were a 5.5.  I guess I should have stayed on those meds, huh?  I'm still not sure about that situation.

She tried to give me that false hope again saying I could stay on the meds another night and maybe something miraculous would happen.  While I still believe in God, I'm not in the business of believing in petty miracles.  A miracle to save my Mom?  Yes.  I'm all game.  A miracle to save a weak "pregnancy?" No thank you.

So I guess I get to add the ol' Chemical to my timeline.  Never had that before.  The funny part is that I've still never seen a real positive home test, except for the time after my IUI.  I thought maybe home tests just didn't work for me, so I peed on one when I knew I still had HCG from the trigger in my system.  It was amazing to see that positive.  But I digress....

My poor husband isn't taking this so well, and I'm of absolutely no help to him. I'm too angry to offer any comfort.

You chicks who keep doing this...I don't know if anyone has told you, but you're amazing. AMAZING.  People don't even know.

So...anyone want to take bets on when my period will start.  I'd appreciate anything past a week from now and preferably on a Saturday.

Thanks, Google

I spent a little time today googling what a Beta of 5 means.  Uhm...it's a negative.  I'm not pregnant.  It's not even a maybe.  I think it was a little unfair of Witch Doctor to leave me with that little string of hope.  Perhaps she didn't want to ruin Christmas for me.  But I was okay with a negative, until she carefully crafted that lie over the phone of a positive.

Something about the way she said it made me ask for the actual number.  I could tell she was hiding something.  I really think she is hoping a miracle will happen by Thursday, but it won't.  It's not right to do this to people, especially when I was open to acceptance.  I took that negative home test in stride.  I was going to be ok.  Now, I just want to cry, but I can't.  I have house guests.  I have to pretend I'm ok, which never works out well for me.  Anyways...

These progesterone shots hurt and I really don't want to take them, if there's no need. Plus, that's wasting precious, expensive medicine.  I'll need those meds for FET #3.

I really really hate 2013.

Beta 5

Yeah.  My beta results came back as a FIVE.  Low enough to be heartbreaking and high enough that I have to take more progesterone-butt-shots and refrain from holiday boozing.  Next test is Thursday.

How do I feel, you ask?

happy? confused? calm? confused?

Did I say confused?

I'm out of home tests.  I had to really search to find the one I used.  I guess I'll pick up some when I head to the store to buy a crock pot and the ingredients to make some dessert called Monkey bread. 

Because I am sure you are just as tired of me as I am of myself, I leave you with two pictures of my furry babies.  They are truly annoying little blessings:-)

 

Wally is very self-important, like all celebrities.  He is aware when he is photographed and is quite curious about it.  Hence, the cocked head in each pic:-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Negative

I went to the doctor and got my blood drawn, but I couldn't wait for the results.  I knew she'd call me with them at work, and I knew I couldn't handle that.  So, I did what any self-respecting person, suffering from a patience problem would do.  I took a home test.  Per usual, it was negative.  The one thing I love about the way I test is that there is never any question or doubt.  I don't have to wait five minutes.  The thing immediately shows a negative.  I'm ok...a little crestfallen, but ok.

This morning the doctor asked me if I was still on thyroid medication.  It's the first time this entire cycle that she's mentioned my thyroid.  How fitting:-)  I thought we were both half-assing it, and we were.

Now to figure out what's next.  Right?  I have one decent embryo left.  I think I'll just save up and pay for that transfer out of pocket so that I don't waste anymore of my precious IVF insurance coverage.  I won't be returning to this Witch Doctor.  This last visit to her office left me with a sour taste.  Her new assistant walked up to me with an attitude and said, "why are you here? a blood test?"  After the doctor drew my blood, my husband wanted to ask her a question.  So we waited for Witch Doctor to return.  That same assistant walked up to the receptionist and not-so-surreptitiously asked, "why is she still here?"  Obviously, I'm not a person to be treated with courtesy any longer, despite spending thousands at this place.  It's okay.  I often have problems making change and literally have to be kicked in the ass to make a switch.  I guess this is it.

Once FET #3 is done.  I'll be done for a while.  I'll be shopping around.  I will visit several doctors, thoroughly research their proposed protocols and make my decision from there.  I don't have anymore time for mistakes and insecurities.

Oh well.  I'm off to prepare for work.  The best part of all of this?  I'm done with those progesterone shots!  Yessssss!!!!

Game On

Soooo...It looks like this month I will be transferring the "Rotties."  However, after a lot of thinking, I've decided to name them TLC.  You know? After the girl group from the 90s... I figure those girls were just as wild and rotten as my remaining embryos.

I had my third HSG this week.  It was far better than the last one.  Even though I got it done outside the doctor's office, the Witch Doctor came to the hospital to perform it herself.  Thank Goodness.  You know I like to insult her, but I have to give credit where it is due.  She made the process a lot easier.  However, there was still drama in the radiology room.

Witch Doctor: "(to me) I'm sorry, I didn't warm up this instrument for you.  It's going to be a little cold. Ok?

Me: "Ok."

Other Doctor:  "Why don't you use a plastic one. It won't be cold?"

Witch Doctor:  "The plastic one hurts so much.  Metal is better for comfort."

Other Doctor:  "But you can do so much more with the plastic."

Witch Doctor:  "I'm okay with using the metal on my patients."

Uhhmmm...It felt like 'Other Doctor' didn't realize a real human being was on the table listening to all of this.  I was glad Witch Doctor stuck to her guns.  The insertion was no problem.  Of course when that dye went through my nether regions, there was a painful amount of cramping.  It wasn't anything I couldn't handle.  Keep in mind, I didn't take any meds.  I forgot to bring my ibuprofen along with me because I'm clearly a genius.

So now I'm waiting for the results from that.  As it stands my protocol will be different from the last transfer.  Witch doctor has prescribed estrogen shots.  She says, "they go in your tooshie.  you can totally handle it."  I'm glad she's all-knowing.  I haven't had to deal with any butt shots, so this is a new endeavor for me.  We shall see how it works out.

Once this transfer is over, I'll likely disappear from the TTC world.  I'll still blog and read blogs, but I won't undergo any procedures.  I need to save up for the next round of complete IVF.  My insurance covers a decent amount, but not all of it.  I'm NEVER taking out a loan for something like this again. Remember! No cash. No IVF.  Defeat is much easier when the impact of debt does NOT follow it.

One of THOSE women

I cried myself to sleep last night, as I continued to chant how much I still want babies.  You've probably read this statement a lot on my blog, but I thought I was past this phase.  I'm tired of crying and being sad about being infertile.

There's something I've been tossing around.  I think I'm going to stop lying when people ask me why I don't have children.  I lie to keep them from feeling awkward, but it just leaves me feeling sad.  Why should I protect them at my own expense?  I mean REALLY!  It's one thing to ask someone if they have children.  It's entirely something else when you follow up with, "why don't you have children?"

I would pose all of this to my shrink, but she will be on vacation this week.  Let me tell you, I'm kind of freaking out about this.  I've become one of "those women."  I need my damn shrink.  Why do shrinks need vacations anyway?  What do they do all day?  Talk to people?  Who needs a vacation from that?

I've been told that the process of mourning takes a year to work its way through your psyche.  I'm three months in.  I thought I was on the accelerated track, but after last night, I'm pretty sure I'm average.

If I had been special, blessed or privileged enough to have a successful FET, I would be three months pregnant now.  Buuut...woulda, coulda, shoulda, right?

Shrink says the desire for children won't ever go away.  Isn't that shitty?  It's like I'm chasing my tail trying to find peace, but that damn tail just keeps getting in the way.  So my new job keeps my mind off the baby thing during the week, except when nosey folks ask why I don't have children.  I guess the weekends are when it all blows over and I short-circuit.

It Ain't Over

I got a new job.  I'm going to the competitor of my old employer.  So!  My old boss walked me out, after I handed in my two week notice. That means I'm sitting in the house chilling until my new job begins.

That gives me lots of time to think about my infertility, my shrink and my embryos.  You're probably wondering how and where my husband fits into all of this.  Well, he's omnipresent in all of those things.

Anyway back to my soap opera entitled, "As The Infertility Turns."

Before the show begins, we should have a recap of the past.  

The long-suffering and hard-working infertile, Erika failed in her IVF attempt.  She spiraled into a strange depression, took too many pills, went to a shrink and is now on the road to recovery?

Now onto the new episode.

After weeks of visiting a shrink, crying and spilling her guts, Erika's not-so-secret cloud of anger has dissipated.  Instead of nearly killing herself trying to get over her desire for children, she's embracing it.  (some may consider that dumb.  It's kind of like the crackhead embracing the desire for crack? Whatever!)

Erika has come to terms with the fact that she will return to the infertility world at some point because she has three embryos and she's tired of paying for their frozen dorm.

Alright, I'm dropping the third person. It's strange.

I've decided that at some point, I will transfer the three remaining embryos.  This time it's not with the hope of having children.  It's to be done with the entire situation.  It will probably be a year before I do it because I'm starting a new job.  I need to concentrate 110% on that.  An FET wouldn't allow for that.

Anyway I've decided that it will kind of be like an infertile version of 'Survivor.'

Can my three girls survive that mine field that is my body?

I won't deny my desire for children because that was part of my mental break.  I have to just deal with the desire and the sadness it brings.  It's not bad and I can still smile.  I can still cry over it and it's not the end of the world.

Now back to, "As The Infertility Turns!"

Erika must now tuck her tail between her legs (I've been hanging with my dog too much.  I'm starting to mimic her), and go back to the witch doctor.  Erika needs a Pap smear and doesn't want to deal with a gynecologist and answering all of those questions about her troubled lady parts.  The witch doctor already knows about them.  Erika's insurance likely won't cover the visit, but Erika is willing to pay just to avoid telling another soul about this tricky infertility journey.

More Shrink Talk

My shrink told me I don't know how to handle pain and sadness.

I was like, "Whaaaaat?"

She says you have to teach yourself.  It's kind of like  learning to hold your breath under water for as long as you can, until your defense mechanisms kick in and propel you back to the surface.

I was like "Huh?"

 Who WANTS the ability to deal with sadness?  Shouldn't you do all you can to make it go away immediately?  You smile, push away the pain and sadness, and eliminate all reminders of it.  And Bam!  Things are right with the world again.

 

Anyway, the shrink's words tumbled around in my brain all day.  I realized that whatever she paid for her degrees,  may have helped her stump me on this one. HA!

I couldn't push away the pain of my FET failure and I couldn't get rid of all the reminders.  When I failed at the "make-myself-ok" mission I'd successfully completed so many times  in the past,  I snapped.  I lost all control and tried to make myself disappear because I was the reminder of the pain. 

"What does crying get you?  Nothing!" 

That's what my Mother used to tell me.  It was my motto for a long time.  As I 

got older, I allowed myself to cry more, but I viewed it as a growing weakness.  

I mean...I guess what I'm trying to say is sadness is a weakness to me.  That's why I tried so hard to quickly get over my FET, but all of my attempts failed miserably.

I still don't understand how one learns to handle sadness and pain, without being just a sad person to be around.  I guess I have to work to understand that, but I did realize that my ideas about sadness are the real weakness.  I hope to correct it in the future.

I don't know what's next for me, but as usual, I hope it includes weight loss:-)

Shrink Wrapped

Holy! Crap!

I went to a shrink.  I actually went...and I hated it!!  I hated it, but I'm going back.

Here's the breakdown: She says I'm depressed.

My secret response: No shit, Sherlock.

My husband accompanied me on this particular journey and he was very helpful.  It turns out that I don't like talking face-to-face with  strangers about personal situations.  As you can probably guess,  I cried.  I cried a lot!!

She didn't talk as much as I thought she would, which was odd.  I don't know how you fill an hour with the delicate verbal dance of, "how does that make you feel?"

We laughed at her and me when it was all over, but then... I don't know.

She said people never feel better after the first session and boy was she right. I could barely get through work.  The next day? I sobbed before work.  Sobbed.

The drive to the office didn't help to calm my emotions.  So I called the shrink and made another appointment.

I don't really know how that will help. I'm in a strange place.  I needed help to continue to fail at trying to conceive and now I need help with the tragedy of it all.  A margarita is nicer, stronger and cheaper.  Of course I think the overindulgence of it causes more wrinkles and weight gain. I'm good at weight gain.

More Money

Me:  I would like to request a copy of my records.

Doctor's office employee:  It takes about a week.  Do you want them sent to a doctor or to you?

Me:  Send them to me.

Doctor's office employee:  We charge $35.


Of course they charge $35.  *sigh*  I paid the fee.  I really wish I had bought a fancy car, instead of trying IVF.  I shall repeat my mantra of late, "IVF is for suckers!"

Listen To Me!

If you are considering IVF and you can't pay cash for it, DON'T DO IT.  Listen to me, PLEASE!  It sucks being in debt for something that failed. Seriously! If  you don't have the cash, don't do it.  It's that simple.  Don't fall for the con job.  No cash, no IVF.  That's it.  I used to think people who advised this were bitter.  They are.  They are bitter and smart.  They know. LISTEN!

I took out a $20,000+ loan for this crap based on the doctor office's calculations.  Well guess what?  I just got a bill in the mail for another $1700 dollars.  It's for stuff that should have been covered in the money that was already sent to the damn office.  I sent a detailed and nasty email to them, to which I received a response saying they will investigate.  GREAT!

Also, keep up with all of your receipts.  Don't be an idiot like me.

Anyway back to the bill.  The Doctor sent me two detailed sheets of my charges and payments.  Apologized for including the $1300 FET, which was already paid.  She also said she'd waive the additional charges since they weren't properly explained to me.  She dropped this gem too.

"I don't get involved in things like this but in this case, I have decided to be the one to follow-up because of how important you are to me."

Important my ass.  Once again, I told her I didn't want her charity.  I sent her a check (I didn't call in my credit card number because someone forgot to post the payment I tried to make in June so I could be done with this sh*t) for the near $400.  She's really getting on my nerves with that crap.  Either she was cheating me to begin with, she knows she did something wrong or she thinks I want a handout.  I won't begin to explain the stereotypes that conjures up for me.  It really angers me.  I don't want anything for free. I know it was my choice to undergo those treatments.  I don't expect anyone to pick up the tab, but me.  I just don't like STUPID mistakes.

For the most part, her staff is excellent, but seriously! To charge someone for something they've already paid for, after it has failed.... Why don't you just stab me in the stomach?  No really.  That would be easier to handle.

There is a good part to all of this.  As I mentioned before, I did a piss poor job keeping up with receipts and such.  Well, now they are all printed out on a nice spread sheet.  Plus, I paid for everything with a credit card, so I'm able to print out the payments for meds.  I'm not sure exactly what I can use during tax time, but I'm sure it's something.  Now I don't have to ask for this stuff later.  Hooray for me!

Now, I'm just hoping to be done with all of this for good.  I've paid every bill that's come my way.  Hopefully no more will arrive.  I need to just be finished with it.

Remember!  No cash, no IVF.  Say no to IVF loans.  Just say NO!

Failure, Periods and Planes

So my transfer experience seemed to be ideal up until the last days.  8 days past transfer, I walked into a Quest diagnostics lab to have my blood drawn in Florida.  I asked the lab tech if my doctor would get the results that day.  She said yes.

Uhm...yeah I didn't get those results until Tuesday, which was 11 days past transfer.  The lab left a message on my phone apologizing for the delay.  That was one call I wished I hadn't missed. I wanted curse until the cows came home.  Oh well.

I already knew the truth. Monday I took a home test and just like all of my previous home tests, it was negative before the pee could dry.  I emailed the RE to ask when my period would start.  That Broad convinced my husband that there was a high chance that the home test was wrong.  Excuse me!  I didn't know you needed a medical degree to read a home pregnancy test.  Sooo, my demands that he fly me back home fell on deaf ears.  I'm still angry with him about that. I was stuck in Florida at my best friend's house dealing with the fact that my body killed my twins, I'm $30,000 in debt and I'll probably never have friends again because they are all getting pregnant and we have nothing in common at this point.

I didn't want my Bestie and her Fiance to see me like that. I basically avoided her the rest of the trip.  Just looking at her made me cry.  It was horrible....torture really.

Anyway, Hubs and I went to lunch and I immediately ordered a margarita.  Do you know that a$$ had the nerve to try to stop me?  He begins a secret email conversation with the witch-doctor known as my RE, which leads to her calling me.  I didn't even answer. She is the only person from a blocked number who calls my phone.  I knew it was her and I handed the phone to him.

She asked him to put me on speaker and she went through her spiel. "Erika, this is the hardest part of my job."  I was thinking, "REALLY?! Why don't you try walking in my flip flops, Jerk!"

The rest of her speech sounded like this,  "blah blah...infertility science isn't perfect...blah blah...the good thing is you still have three frozen embryos ready to go home...blah blah...I think you need another HSG....I think your right tube may have fluid...blah blah...Erika, just keep showing up."

Whatever! I'm not showing up, People. I am out of money. I am more broke than I've ever been in my entire life.  Sometimes you have to know when to throw in the towel.  It's my time.  So, I'm mourning my twins.  It hurts.  It hurts to know I killed them.  Now, I'm just learning how to navigate knowing I'll never have kids.  I don't want to adopt and all of that other stuff, so it's cool.

So back to failure, periods and planes....

That jerk of an RE told me my period would start four to five days, after I stopped medication.  SHE WAS WRONG...AGAIN!  My period started exactly three days after I stopped medication.  That meant I was stuck on a plane with the worst cramps ever.  I popped eight advil on that plane, while my husband complained that I was going to make myself sick.  I rarely want to kill that man, but if I would have had a loaded weapon anytime from Monday to Wednesday, I would have shot him without blinking an eye.  I wouldn't have been on a plane with cramps, had he booked my emergency flight home on Monday, like I asked.

The drugs finally kicked in and I slept until we reached our layover.  That's where I found out why the pain was so bad, I was trying to pass a clot.  You can't really do that with a tampon rammed up your privates on a plane.  I took six more Advil and I've been fine since, minus a cramp here or there.

I was so pissed at the witch doctor that I sent her an email to let her know that she was WRONG about the start of my period.  That a$$ wrote back, and asked me to make an appointment for early next week.  I told her no because I am out of money and can no longer afford her.  She replied that she wouldn't charge for the visit.  I really must have dumb a$$ written on my forehead.  I've already been charged for the visit.  It's included in the FET.  It's the failure chat. Ugh!  I just don't want to see her in person because I'll probably end up in jail.  My Mother would be mortified.

I politely replied, "don't you have children to feed?  You don't need to do charity cases.  Take care."