Tag Archives: tears

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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it’ s bad news today, she said.

Dear Bubble2 – I learned today that your heart stopped beating and you stopped growing at 7w6d. That means you’ve been with me a week and a half and all this time I’ve been talking to you and patting your home and loving you and you were already gone.
I’ve been thinking up names and trying to guess if you’re a boy or a girl and living like you’re coming and you weren’t ever coming. And you weren’t still living.
So sad. I’m so sad to have to say goodbye to you. You were loved and wanted and cherished already even though you were just a little bean, or blueberry or olive or whatever you were when you started to not be. You maybe couldn’t hear us, but we called you Olive this week – as that’s the size you were supposed to be, but it looks like you never quite got there.
I used to say I could never get pregnant enough to lose a baby and I couldn’t imagine how horrible it would feel. Now that I have, I think perhaps the feeling i had not being able to get pregnant at all was better. Though that’s easy for me to say when Bubble1 is here after all that heartache and wonderful.
I suppose these few blissful weeks prior to today, this awful day, have been one of the great joys in my life. So I thank you for that joy, even though it has to end in such sorrow. And for that, I know that not being able to get pregnant is not better. I suppose that’s where the whole “better to have loved and lost” thing comes from. I tell you Bubble2, I have more than once questioned the validity of that statement.
We believed you were our last hope for another. We certainly don’t have the means or perhaps the fortitude to carry on. Though it breaks my heart to say good bye to you and to my hopes too so I reserve the right to change my mind on this issue.
I knew about 2 min into our ultrasound that things were not going right. The tech acted strangely. She told me to wait till the end for the results. I noticed her eyes welled up as she scanned. My tears started long before there was an absolute confirmation and even as they were streaming down my face a small part of me thought she would say – phew – there’s the heartbeat.
But no. It’s bad news today, the nurse said.
Bad news indeed.
It’s bad news to learn you have to say goodbye to someone who isn’t but is as loved as anyone who walks the earth.
I’ve done my fair share of losing in my life so I should be getting better at it. Not so, it seems.
Alas, my heart is broken open all over again. For you sweet Olive – lost, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

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Cue the Music

And another one bites the dust…

So you know that call? The call that on one hand makes you really happy and makes you want to throw up on the other?

Got two in a row today.

First, clinic called with results of today’s blood work. Recognized the number but the voice was not the nice weekend nurse lady. Oh no – male voice. The doc himself. Follies = 8 above 1.0. Estrogen= molasses. Apparently. So happy for eggs and want to throw up over possiblity of canceling the cycle.

Hang up the phone. Ring Ring. Hi friend who’s been trying to get pregant! Hey – third times the charm right? Congrats! Yay with the happy hand while throw up hand is wiping the stupid grin off my face.

Oh yes. We have good days and bad days. And some days we have both. All at once. Over and over again.

I’ve been thinking about this all day long. And I’m not sure if we get canceled that I’m prepared to do this again. On the happy hand it’s a small price to pay to get from A to Baby. On the vomit hand, it’s like going to a party being kicked in the gut and the ass and the big fat lip while every one around you is handed the only thing you want on a silver bumbo. And then you leave the party bloody and empty handed.

Just don’t know how much kicking I can take.

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Gonal-f’ing pain in the butt

er, or make that leg. First off, all is well in the estrogen department. I’m up to 200 and the follies are still resting. Nurse J thinks we’ll see them starting to grow next u/s on Thursday morning. Meds stay as is.

Cool. So do the injections today in the thigh. All three bleed. Now have a line of three buises that look like the start of orion’s belt.

Consider creating constellation stencils for injectors to use so at least when they’re through, the bruises make a statement. Could be astrological signs. Then thing, why stop there. Flowers, geometric shapes? Frank Lloyd Wright’s falling water?

I digress. Finish Gonal-F injection only to notice it doesn’t look like there’s enough for tomorrow’s dose. I only have one pen. It takes the pharmacy a day to order (and it’s after 5). WTF am I going to do I think to myself as my eyes start to well up. Bit of o a weeper  these days.

So send an email to the clinic asking for advice. They sell the drugs there, but thank goodness, our meds are covered under husband’s plan. So it’s far better for us to get a prescription filled at a pharmacy so it gets paid for.

No idea what we’re going to do. Have visions of cancelled cycle dancing in my head. Into the car, down to the pharmacy…Husband stays behind the wheel as there’s no where to park and I go in to find options.

The pharmacist isn’t much help. They have to order it. No they can’t get it tomorrow. No they don’t know where else to get it. Oh look there is a refill here (why the f didn’t you just order both at once) – but not much we can do. You could try calling around…

And then I start to cry. In front of 4 pharmacy staff, and 8 people standing around waiting for scripts. Now I feel like an idiot. And I still don’t have any f’ing gonal F.

Hmmm, call around? I call the drug mart closest to my clinic. There are a bunch of clinics in the same area and I figured that’d be my best bet. Get a woman on the phone who is very kind, sounds like she’s used to people calling and being a little – um – agitated (crazy) about these drugs. She quickly tells me they have it in stock. I can pick it up tomorrow. Not a problem. If I give her the number of my local pharm and details she’ll call and have the refill transferred. Not to worry. Done and done.

So long story short – I have to go pick up some more gonal-f tomorrow. It won’t be a problem though. And the injections continue.

Went to see Ben Folds tonight. He rocks. Took my mind off things for a couple of hours. Yay.

And for those keeping track of the report card – taxes? Check. Into the mail today.

Everything else on the list? Well, it’ll have to wait.

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Is Parentsville accepting new residents?

Injection school. Mock transfer. Endometrial biopsy. A few short months ago – I didn’t really know what any of those things were. I’ve spent the last month willing time to past more quickly so I could just start already. Now that it’s the day after tomorrow, I’m nervous.

I’ll finally be in the thick of it. Good. But once it’s here, it can start going badly. The injections might be more painful than I expected. What if the biopsy shows yet another setback? What if the mock transfer doesn’t go well? The cycle gets cancelled? The cycle doesn’t get cancelled but still doesn’t work?

What if it doesn’t work? I really want it to work. I am channelling everything I can into ‘it will work’. I haven’t really spent much time wrapping my head around another BFN.

I thought I was ready for this IVF but I’m not sure I am. I’m not ready for it not to work.

We put one foot in front of the other I suppose, trudging along on the path to parenthood. All around us other couples are carried on magic carpets or winged ponies or Lear jets to the destination while we crawl on our hands and knees (not an easy task with your feet in stirrups) towards the endpoint. The thing is, I’m not sure the door will be open to me when we arrive at the gate.

Are we there yet? Is it much further? No one can answer. And it makes it harder to keep going when you know in the darkest parts of your heart that the truth of the matter is this. Despite being able to see the glow of Parentsville way off in the distance, no matter how much I want to finally be there, I may never, never arrive.

So I’m nervous to start on the next part of the trip. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to who I am now-pre-IVF. But I don’t know if I’ll ever get to Parentsville either. I fear getting caught forever on the muddy part in between.

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The best club I never wanted to join

So I’ve had some traffic to ye ole blog here, and some lovely comments from people who genuinely get how I feel. And I’m starting to find my way to other stories/other lives that are similarly complicated/heart-breaking/inspiring/full of a love yet to be realized and I don’t feel so alone anymore.

Remember that blind melon video? No Rain. With the bee girl? No, it’s on youtube…here, let me help. Just give me a sec.

Ok, I’m back – not sure if I’m allowed to do this but check it out.

So that Bee girl in the video. That was me. Wandering around in my infertile outfit. Feeling out of place and emotionally out of touch. Feeling a bit lost even in a room full of people who love me.

Until I found all the other bee people. The other women who also feel lost. Sure, some feel despair. And some feel hope. And some feel jilted. And some feel like it’s just a matter of time. And I think all of us feel all these things and more at some point or another.

If there was an internet version of being really drunk outside a bar at 2 am with a bunch of people who barely know you but totally “get you” and cause you to throw your arms around them and yell out “I love you guys”. This is kind of it. I know I don’t know you. I haven’t had the time to read all your stories from start to now. There are oodles of women here on the interweb, infertiles, Bee People I haven’t had the pleasure to get to know…yet.

I wish with all get out that none of us were part of this club. I wish it had no members at all. But I do admit that for a long time I felt like the only member. And now I know I am not alone. There are other Bee people. Good Bee People

I am really glad I found you.

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And then I cried at work…

Ok – so here’s a rather personal story that is adding to my up-and-down mood. This is kind of disjointed. My apologies.

So my Dad died in 2000. A heartbreaking turn of events that wasn’t unexpected but devastating just the same. He got Hep-C from a blood transfusion in the early 90’s and eventually it killed him. Very sad. Very frustrating. And it made me very angry.

To add insult to injury, due to the date of his transfusion, he was ineligible for the major compensation packages that were offered to other folks. Until now. So after 8 years, he’s (well, my sister and I have) finally received the go-ahead for compensation for the gross oversight on the part of the Red Cross that resulted in his death (and the death of thousands more).

What does this have to do with IVF?  Well, today said cheque arrived – exactly one week before we’re due to pay for IVF #1. So after all this time, my Dad has provided for me once again. He was a single parent of two girls – an unusual position to have found himself in during the seventies. He took me to Mother/Daughter banquets, Mother’s Day Teas, took me to get my first ‘brassiere (I don’t even know how to spell brassiere)…and by took me I mean delivered me into the arms of the busty, glasses on a string around her neck sales woman at Sears, handed her his credit card, stuttered a bit and went off to find a coffee. When I was thinking about it the other day, I realized I never needed anything while he was around. I had a roof over my head, a car to drive when I needed it, clothes, food, an education, cool stuff I wanted more than I needed.

But starting a family. That’s a need I feel in my very core. It’s more than a want. And figuring out how to make it work moneywise was hard, but we had a plan. Little sacrifice here. Cut back there.

We’ve been waiting for this to be finalized for 8 years. Could have come any time. But the cheque has come now. In my time of need. And I am grateful for the timing. And I am thankful that the folks responsible have stepped up and taken responsibility.

But dammit – it’s also made me angry all over again. I miss him. Still. He’s the best Grandpa a kid never had.

He was Santa Claus and Superman in one. And has swooped in to rescue me and my husband (who he never had the pleasure to meet) again. Eight and a half years after we said good-bye for good.

I’m not a big one for signs. But if there was ever a moment to say ‘it’s a sign’ – this is it!

Thanks Dad. For everything. For every day I had the pleasure of your faith in me. Cross your fingers for us ok? I hope I’ll have the opportunity to be half the parent you were.

I miss you. Still. Every day. Especially today.

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