Monthly Archives: January 2012

It’s not over yet…

I have an overwhelming sense of sadness with every step in this cycle knowing that once it’s done, it’s done. Bottom of the ninth, down by 2. Two out. Bases empty. The other team has last at bat. Pack up the clothes. List gear on crai$#ist. Clear away all the little baby things.

But today is not that day. We’re not out of the game yet. We retrieved 3 eggs today. Three. The RE gave us some positive examples. He’s not ready to call it a day. But he also said, when he came to check on me and found me sitting silently with tears streaming down my face, that we don’t know what we don’t know. It’s one day at a time. We just have to wait and see. And it only takes one.

It only takes one and we have three. Which is my favourite number. My hockey number. My lucky number. And 2 more than 1.
So it’s not over yet.

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Three is not a crowd. But it will have to do.

Here we are again. At the brink. Just got the call saying we will trigger tonight. There are 3 eggs that look good and we’re not going to take any chances of losing those. We’re a day earlier than planned and 2 days earlier than previous cycles.
I’m having a really hard time mustering up any joy for the upcoming retrieval. And I don’t believe in my heart of hearts there will be a transfer.
I haven’t been here before. I’ve been nervous. Cautiously optimistic. Hopeful?
Now I feel like I’m just finishing something because I started it. Can’t leave a book half read or a bed half made.
I’m chest crushingly sad that things aren’t looking better and that I can’t seem to find the bright side.
I realize it only takes one. And three is 2 more than that.
I know it. I just don’t feel it.

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From hope to here

I was pretty hopefully yesterday, but today’s results make me question why we try to do things that are extraordinary at all. It seems like the easy way out – to say “I guess it’s just not meant to be for instance” – would somehow save me from days like today. At least in the short term.
All that excitement about 11 resting follicles has been replaced with the sad reality that those little guys are not and likely won’t translate into a high number of mature follicles. In fact, as an expectation check, when the clinic called with today’s numbers we discussed the reality of 4 mature follicles on transfer day. Just 4. How many eggs will be tucked inside remains to be seen. 4 for 4? Not likely. So 3, 2, 1? Then will they fertilize? Will they survive? Implant?
I know it only takes one. I remind people it only takes one. But I’ve just now realized what it means to go from Hope to here. Here is where you come to terms with the idea that there may only be one egg in the basket. Where you realize that this is the last chance and it’s not looking that good. Here is where hope was before it moved on to somewhere else.
The end of the line is visible from here.
I’d never really seen it before.
But here it is.

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Slow going

The one truth about IVF I always forget until I’m in the thick of it is that’s it’s a “hurry up and wait” kind of thing.
All these sweet little resting follicles and only 3 on the move. Sigh.
The others better step it up or we’re gonna hurry up and get canceled.
Boo.
On the up side, this has given me lots of time to name my little fellas. If you note here I’m a big fan of naming the team. Makes me feel they’re more likely to make it to the end somehow. So in the spirit of our last go, the 4 follies currently on the radar have been dubbed Chance, Fin, Hope and Pip. Why Pip? because Gandalf says to Pippin in The Lord Of the Rings when asked if there’s much hope for Frodo and Sam “There never was much hope. Just a fools hope.”
That’s kind of where I’m at. I have a fools hope this will work.
Come on Pip, Fin, Hope and Chance. It’s time.

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Think Different

I actually felt kind of nauseous when I was prepping for injections #1 and 2 – in a seriously? I’m here again? kind of way.
After IVF #1 I swore I didn’t have it in me to do it again.
Then, the desire to grow the family was greater than my dread.
So we gave it another go – insisting “this is it” – the end.
Then, well, I couldn’t just leave it where we ended up.
So, here we are. Again.
The reality of it seemed to hit home the hardest when I was cooking up a batch of Luveris in the kitchen, preparing to give myself the first jab. Then the Gonal-F. Then the cleaning up of the crack house debris.
I wonder if people who make babies with sex (novel thought) instill the same sense of importance to the first thrust? I doubt it. They’re probably thinking about whether they look fat. Or if the other person is as into it. Or something. They probably think it’s fun – making a baby. They probably don’t feel nauseous. Unless they had one too many glasses of Chardonnay.
They’re probably not thinking about anything at all.

But that would mean they’re also not thinking about how this exact moment could be the start of a chain of events that changes everything.
Which is what I needed to do to get through. Because a part of me keeps thinking “we weren’t supposed to be here. We were happy. It was supposed to be ok.”

Sure, it wasn’t ok. But I need to remember that doesn’t mean it won’t be this time.
I need to think about whether these bruises make me look fat. Or if I look hot holding a syringe. I need to think about nothing at all.
I need to think that this could be the start of something that changes everything.
In a good way.

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Filed under 3rd ivf

The Cheese Stands Alone

I was realizing as I was sitting waiting for my first blood work and ultrasound, just how lonely this whole process it. Despite friends on and off-line along the way, real life friends who have various levels of understanding and even a supportive partner, it’s just you feeling all these feelings.
Needles and ultrasounds and meds and mixing and stressing and holy fuck there’s a heavy load to carry.
They need to find some kind of friendly pack animal to share the burden. A seeing IVF dog perhaps. Monitoring Monkey? Cyclellama?

Today the cycle monitoring went long and the regular patients started filing in for ultrasounds. The ones who were in my shoes last month and are now 6 and 8 weeks along. The ones who are me from 6 months ago. They all looked so friggin’ happy.
Yep.
The Cheese stands alone.

(mostly)

Along with the fromage, it turns out there are 11 resting follicles. !!. 11.
In June there were 6. Almost twice as many.
Of course, other than you internetters, I have no one to tell at this moment.
Alone.

The injections start tomorrow.
11!

For those who’ve been paying attention since the start, ivf #1 had 10 resting. So – best yet! Bah – stupid hope.

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New year. another go.

Day one is upon us. Bloods and ultrasounds and give us all your money and hang onto your hope and your heart starts today. Friday, Wanda waves her way back into our lives. and, if it’s thumbs up and all systems go, injections start on Saturday.

This is the last chance saloon. Either we’ll have a second. Or we won’t. The first step of the last step is done.

We are moving forward one way or another into the life that has been stalled, waiting for this moment.

Good luck? Godspeed? Don’t cry, it will all be over soon? Not sure what I want to hear. Except maybe the sound of life rushing back into my world.

The sad quiet darkness has overstayed its welcome.

Onward.

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