What a Rollercoaster....

Our day two report wasn't so great: all 4 embryos were still growing, but they were all 2 cell.  I was sure that we weren't going to have anything but a crappy 4-cell to transfer on day three.  I ended up going in to the office early because I've had really really awful pain since retrieval....the type of pain that hasn't allowed me to get up off the couch at all since retrieval and has me dependent upon vicodin.  I've always used vicodin for the first day or two post retrieval, but I am four days out and still have a lot of pain.  Anyway, I went in early to have an ultrasound to see if anything was going on with my cyst or anything else that could cause this type of pain and they couldn't find anything.  At that point, one hour prior to transfer, they told me I had a good quality 6-cell and 8-cell.  I was ecstatic!  An 8 cell!  Then, I went into transfer and they said I had 2 grade-1 (highest quality) 8-cells, a 6-cell, and a 4-cell.  Amazing.  So, we transferred the 2 8-cells and the waiting game begins.  I'm really struggling with this pain...they said that the pain after retrieval gets progressively worse each time you do it and given that this is my 8th retrieval, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

Fingers crossed, but I at least have some hope.

Not terrible, not great fertilization report

9 eggs, 5 mature, 4 fertilized.

Not my amazing cycle as with Mackenzie (15 eggs, 10 mature, 9 fertilized).  But not as horrible as Baby Girl's cycle (6 eggs, 4 mature, 2 fertilized).  So, I need to remind myself that these numbers mean nothing and what will be, will be.  I am so sad that we couldn't end our IVF career on Mackenzie's amazing cycle...which was amazing for my "diminished ovarian reserve" self.  Sigh.  I'll never know why it was so high.  It probably never will be again.  I feel sick to be doing this process all over again.  I miss my baby boy.  I wish he were still with us.

12 short weeks

12 short weeks ago I was sobbing because my sweet baby boy was dead and I was going to have to deliver him. Tomorrow, 12 weeks from his death, I will be going in for my 8th IVF retrieval.  I am hoping that there will be a living, viable baby among those eggs, but know that the chances of that happening are slim.  I miss my baby boy and wish that he were here.  Wish that this wasn't what has happened in my life.

A photo that makes me smile to counter balance the deep sorrow and sense of loss in my life.

Stim Day 6

Soooooo, I was supposed to be writing little positive memories of each day.  Fail.  I'm tired.  We're busy.  I can't make myself slow down to write because I don't know where to begin.  Or where to stop.

I can write you about our crappy Father's Day and how disappointed I was in my husband for his choice of activities...which included NOT being with his family.

I can write you about how as I was walking into my fertility clinic I ran into a woman that I have only met a handful of times and had heard from a mutual friend that she had lost a baby girl at 24 weeks in November.  I may or may not have cried out when I saw her that our babies had both died and hugged her. 

I can write you about how strange and unhinged I feel now that my daughter is out of daycare and the reality of not having daily interactions with humans is starting to settle in.  I fear that being a bit of a goal-oriented introvert that I will slowly become more socially isolated as I get absorbed in doing little tasks around the house.

I can write about how scared I am about making any next steps with my career for fear that there isn't anything in this world that I would actually like to do.

I can write about how I ran into an old college roommate and her older brother who was the Resident Advisor in my dorm freshman year.  It was embarrassing to see them and be so adrift in my life.  I can't help but feel like a failure about the way my life has turned out.  I had such plans.  They were little plans...but they were plans at least.

Let's just talk about my cycle instead.

My estrogen on stim day 6 is 491.  I keep my trusty little excel spreadsheet with E2 numbers and try to decipher the outcome of my cycle.  For my two most recent successful cycles, my E2 rose very slowly: by stim day 6, my E2 was 135 and 159 for these two cycles.  Waaaay lower. What does this mean?  My follicles are all 9-10mm, so they've got at least another 5 days of stimming, which would put me at 11 stim days.  Does that mean that there are more follicles this time?  Is my cyst secreting E2?  This cycle is most similar to the cycle in NJ.  On CD 6, my E2 was 486.  Will this cycle be another utter and total disaster? 

How much more of this can I take?

Happy memory: We bought a hammock a few weeks after Mackenzie died and hung it on our screened porch.  There is something deeply relaxing about gently swaying in the swing, reading a book, and listening to the light laughter of children in the background.  Tonight my son was showing a friend around the house and said, "That's my mommy's chair."  I had never laid claim to it out loud, but he knows it is mine.

I guess I'm really doing this; IVF#9

I've been kicking and screaming the whole way.  Refusing to admit that I was doing an IVF cycle again, despite the fact that I put $4K of charges on our credit card for a cycle.  Despite the fact that I had an HSG and endometrial biopsy done again.  Despite the fact that I have spent absolutely no time thinking about how our future might look if I do or don't get pregnant.

Since Mackenzie died, my horizon shortened.  In the first few weeks after he died, I didn't know what I would be doing in a few hours, let alone a few days.  I didn't know when grief would sideline me and I would find myself sobbing in my kid's play tent in the basement, lost in a reverie about struggling to curl my body up enough so that all three of us--Baby Girl, Nugget, and my big ol' belly--could fit in.  As the bouts of grief became less frequent (but no less intense), I could make plans days in advance, but only with close friends with whom I could trust to let me cry or cancel if necessary.  I still am not at the point where I can make plans a few weeks out, let alone bigger life plans like whether I will go back to school or return to my old job.  I honestly still don't know whether I'll go through with retrieval.  I might get a few days into this cycle and have a total melt down and decide that I can't put myself through this again.  I'm just taking every single day as a solitary event, subtracting in my mind the impact that today's decisions will have on tomorrow's outcomes.

To help me stay in the present and soak up my little life with my living children, I'd like to challenge myself to post a picture and/or a little memory from the day.

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Day One: 10 weeks since I last held Mackenzie

This morning I was frantically trying to get out the door to go to my monitoring appointment at 8:30.  Having not had to deal with the morning rush in the past 10 weeks, I've grown quite rusty at the routine.  I was running around like a crazy person trying to find my cell phone before I left, screaming at my husband to try calling my cell phone and to "help me!"  My son, still sleepy eyed from just waking up, called out from the top of the stairs, "I'll help you, Mommy."  It broke my heart to have him see me in such a state over such a meaningless worry, but was so heartening that his reaction was to want to help.  Luckily, I happened upon my phone before he even made it down the stairs.  I dashed out to the car and he stood at the window blowing me kisses.  Slow down, Mommy.  Don't worry, Mommy.  This isn't worth the rush or the stress, Mommy.

Box of Drugs

My IVF drugs arrived on Thursday.

I've been in a fucking pissy mood ever since.

I don't want to do IVF again.

I don't want to be a crazy hormonal bitch.

I don't want to have to stick myself with needles.

I don't want to have to stress about whether I will get pregnant and how many cycles I can endure and how much all of this is going to cost.

I don't want to have to put all vacation plans on hold permanently until we know when our cycles will be.

I don't want to have to face the fact that my fucking baby died and now I have to do all this shit over again.

I've even managed to mess up my protocol.  I was supposed to start the estrogen patch TODAY not YESTERDAY.  I hope I haven't already screwed everything up.

I miss my baby.  I wish he was still in my belly getting ready to come out in a few weeks.  I wish I was starting to buy little baby boy summer clothes.  I wish I was getting all of the baby gear out again.  I wish my life was moving forward rather than standing still.  Again.