Questions

Do IUIs really even work?  I mean aren't they just sex, without the sex?  If I can't get pregnant through sex, how will an IUI do the trick?  I prefer to call the procedure WOM, waste of money.  Hopefully, the insurance picks up most of it:-)

SERIOUSLY?!  Why is my life so difficult?

Why does the lunchroom keep making delicious rice crispy treats?  I can't resist them, especially when I'm I the middle of an infertility tragedy.  Damn!

AND AND, my freaking pants are unbelievably tight today.  Did that stop me from purchasing the rice crispy treat? NO

Is it really ONLY Monday?  Where is the mercy, Jesus?  Show it to me now!!!!

Alright. Meltdown over.  I will return to my beloved rice crispy treat and continue to pray that my tight pants refrain from ripping.

 

IUI #2 -- DONE!

Do I get a badge?  I should get a badge because I just finished IUI #2 like a champ.  That torture device they put in my nether region tried to break me down, but I was strong and endured.  Of course I cried in the 15 minutes Witch Doctor makes you wait after the procedure.  It was a short burst of sadness for the state of my reproductive life.  Hubby sang to me and well, I couldn't be sad after that. There's something about a man whispering, yet singing an r-n-b song as hard as he can, that just melts all the troubles away-- temporarily.

When it was all over, I came home to my sweet pups and resumed my role as Dog Park Mom.  So life goes on....

I Should Be Pissed

I should be pissed.  This IVF is a failure and is being converted into an IUI, but at the moment I don't care.  What?  The Hubs and I triggered last night and we go in for the "catheter dance" tomorrow morning.  I've got about four or five follicles, but only one really big one.  Witch Doc, thought she could get one blast out of that, but understood it wouldn't be worth risking our IVF insurance on it.  So, IUI it is.

Now the surgeon...Whew!  My appointment was at 11:30am.  His office is an hour drive from my home, without traffic.  We got there at 11am, fill out papers, get comfy and then....DUDE IS NOT IN THE OFFICE.  His staff claimed he was in emergency surgery.  (uh huh Sure!)  They asked us to return at about 12:30, but at 12ish, I got a call saying it will be closer to 1pm.  I got UPSET and cancelled the damn appointment, but my level-headed husband made me call them back and reverse that decision.  UGH! However, I let them know that it was totally unprofessional for them not to call us ahead of time.  I understand emergency surgeries, but that is why surgeons hire a staff.  It is the staff's duty to make sure all meetings are cancelled and all impacted parties are notified.  They apologized, but it didn't change the fact that this mess turned into a 6 hour doctor visit.

The Surgeon never touched me.  His niece, who is a doctor, examined me.  She explained how they would do the procedure very thoroughly and she was actually quite nice and contrite about being late.  We didn't see the Surgeon, until about 4!  He was also apologetic, but here's the thing:  I wanted to see him, so I could hate him and NOT have to worry about this surgery anymore.  I did NOT hate him.  He was very pleasant, confident and appeared honest.

I left confused and cried in the car.  It wasn't the "woe-is-me" cry.  It was more like the "what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do" cry.  *sigh*

Anyway, I'm glad I took the day off work for those shenanigans because I was a mess.  I thought I would get really sad, and there were moments when I almost did, but my husband kept working with me.  In the end, I was ok.  All in all, it was a good day.

Now back to the IUI.  WHAT IN THE HELL?  What am I supposed to do with a damn IUI?  It is like a really bad joke, right?  I can't wait until Saturday.  I am going to drink so many mojitoes that I may just sleep at the bar.

Lame!

This cycle is looking quite lame.  It's so lame that Doc told me there is a chance we may have to convert to IUI, so that I don't waste any of my insurance money.  Yikes!  I've got about four follicles popping at the moment.  That's a far cry from the 11 that were doing back flips during the last cycle.  So what have we learned?  Maybe acupuncture really does work.

Of course Witch Doctor delivers this news with the most positive spin, so I didn't immediately freak out.  I should also add that it was really early in the morning for me (I work the equivalent of a second shift, so I prefer to be a late riser.  However, Wally has taken that away from me).  I started to cry a little in the car, and Hubby consoled me.  I really don't have time to feel sorry for myself at the moment because I just went through the dogs' morning routine.  This is my first chance to sit down.  It's 11am.  I got home from the doctor's office at 8:30am.

Doc says these are the results she expected from me during the last IVF.  This is more in line with my DOR (bad eggs).  *sigh*  Anyway, I go see the surgeon on Wednesday, so I better get off of here and go fill out my new patient forms.

If you pray, and you want to pray for me, don't pray for my IVF or the quality of eggs.  Please  ask that I'm strong enough to accept whatever the outcome is.  Thanks.

Now, off to fill out forms that ask way more questions than I care to answer:-)

I'm A Fool

Happy April Fool's Day!  Want to know a secret?  I start stemming tonight for an egg retrieval.  I don't know who is paying for this mess.  My insurance changed.  Yes. Changed.  That means it no longer offers the three tries.  It only offers ONE.  AND, I need some pre-authorization.  I may truly be screwed, but I figured I'd pay the little pre fees and if I can't come up with the rest, oh well....PAYMENT PLAN.


That makes me a what?  A DAMN FOOL (that's worse than being a sucker).  *bows and waives to the crowd*

In case you're wondering what's in my medicine bag this time around, I'll drop a few expensive names. I have menopur, follistim, ganirelix and HGH.  Woot Woot!  The insurance covered 85% up to $5,000.   I apparently went over because I got hit with a $1300 bill.  I wondered how that happened, since last time I paid out of pocket and I don't remember topping 5 grand.  Well, last time I had bravelle.  That stuff is cheaper because it comes in powder form and doesn't need a fancy pen and needles like follistim.  I wish Witch Doctor and the gang would have let a Player know.  I would have gladly gone for the powder.  Truthfully, I don't think bravelle was on my insurance list.

We are just hoping for a few good eggs.  If our pockets allow, we'd also like to genetically test them, but that's definitely counting the chickens before they hatch. (I just rolled my eyes at myself)

Next Wednesday, I have an appointment to see the man who will likely chop up my uterus.  Wednesday night, I'll probably drink margaritas and cry.  Ain't life grand?

By the way, I probably spelled all of those medications wrong.  I paid enough for them to disrespect the spelling any way I like.

New Title

In light of my current childless and infertile situation, I have decided to give my self a new title.  I'm a Dog Park Mom.  You know, instead of a soccer Mom?  Pictures of my furry children are below.

If you know anything about Australian Shepherds, you know that they are high energy.  My dear boy, Wally, is definitely energetic.  Since we do not have a backyard, I don't have a place where he can really run.  So, that means I have to go to the dog park. DAILY.  Well, I don't go on Tuesdays because it's closed.  OMG!

I drive Roxie and Wally to the dog park.  We rarely stay there longer than 45 minutes.  I hate just standing around watching, and if things are going great, Wally has expended all of his energy by that time, and he's choosing to sniff poop, instead of run.  Once we get home, I give Roxie some treats and leave her behind because I have to take Wally on a walk to the park, which lasts about 45 minutes to an hour.  During that time, we are doing every trick we have to tire out his mind and body.  I'm talking sit, stay, spin, down wait, place, changing directions.

You're probably thinking, "that's a bit too much time to waste on a dog."  Well, it's perfect.  The dog park is for the dogs.  The walk is for me.  It's my favorite form of exercise and it is precisely the reason I wanted another Australian Shepherd.  My poor Roxie is a dachshund/Maltese mix.  All of her legs are short, but the front ones are shorter than the back ones.  She doesn't exactly excel at distance and endurance:-) She prefers to be carried.

Thanks to Wally ( and quiet possibly my thyroid meds), I am only two pounds away from my weight when I first visited Witch Doctor in December of 2012. Hooray!!  However, I am dog tired (pun intended).  My role as a Dog Park Mom makes it harder to obsess over my upcoming meeting with the fibroid surgeon.  Maybe I'll diligently research as the date of the appointment gets closer.

So this weekend I'm celebrating my hubby's birthday, and a pregnant lady will be apart of the party.  Pray for me!  Anyway, maybe I'll make a shirt and hat with my new title.  Awesome, right?

I Was Right

I went to Witch Doctor for the ol' ultrasound and guess what?  My fibroids have doubled in size since my first visit with her in December of 2012.  One is beginning to obstruct her view of my right ovary.
Her recommendation?  Retrieve some eggs, try to make some embryos, freeze them and get my largest fibroids removed.

I have made an appointment with some specialist at Stanford.  He's supposed to be some world renowned expert on Fibroids and Endrometriosis.  What does that mean to me?  Jack shit!  My last surgeon was all special with multiple titles.

Once again, I'm angry, heartbroken and confused.  I feel like I have no one to talk to about this.  My husband is the eternal optimist, and it feels like he's ignoring my concerns.  My mother and I really just can't talk about this subject in a meaningful way.  My soon-to-be-ex-bestie is pregnant and I don't want to bog her down my tragic tale.  The shrink is pretty much useless.  That leaves me feeling very alone.

I'm treading water over here.  I'm barely keeping my head afloat.  No matter what, I have to get some type of surgery AGAIN.  I didn't want another one.  I didn't like the first one.  I don't like surgeries.  Everyone pretends like they're no big deal, except they are.  People are cutting you open, exposing your insides, while you're passed out on the table.  You have to hope and pray that the surgeon is having a good day and doesn't fuck you up.  And even if he stitches you back up with flying colors, you have to pray the nurses in recovery actually know what they're doing.  My last post-op experience wasn't great.

Anyway, I wish there was a reset button I could press for this life, but that's not possible.  So, I'll just keep treading.

Well on a happier note, Wally, my pup, passed his training class.  Now, we're going to basic manners two.  AND I'm back in the jeans I wore when I first met Witch Doctor.  WooHoo!  I looked at some of the pictures after my first failure, and I was a whale.  People pretended they didn't see me carrying 10 to 15 pounds of pain.  Ridiculous.