Retrieval today.
I about screamed when the nurse told me that they got FIFTEEN eggs. I have never gotten a double digit number of eggs! We shall see how many are actually mature. I am hoping that this higher number of eggs will translate into mature eggs and hopefully better fertilization rates than last cycle.
We shall see. Definitely more pain this time.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
E2 Up the Wazoo!
On the past 3 antagonist cycles (IVF#6 in September 2012, IVF#5 in April 2011, IVF#4 in February 2011), my E2 peaked at 700-900 and I've typically had 4-6 follicles and only 4-5 mature eggs. This cycle I have 5-8 follicles and my E2 on CD 12 is 1051. I really think that I'll get 4-5 mature eggs this cycle. My E2 peaked at 1400-1500 on the 2 long lupron and 1 microdose lupron flare cycles that I did previously (IVF#1 in Feb 2008, IVF#2 in Aug 2010, IVF#3 in Nov 2010) .
I'm trying not to get too optimistic about this cycle as I had high E2 on IVF#2 & 3 that never amounted to good quality embryos.
My spirits seem to be pretty good. I think I've come to accept having only two children and may even prefer it. One day at a time. It only took 8 IVF cycles to get this way.....
I'm trying not to get too optimistic about this cycle as I had high E2 on IVF#2 & 3 that never amounted to good quality embryos.
My spirits seem to be pretty good. I think I've come to accept having only two children and may even prefer it. One day at a time. It only took 8 IVF cycles to get this way.....
Friday, November 2, 2012
IVF#7
I've started this post several times. Never seem to find the right intro. And, so, I will just begin.
I am on CD 4 of my latest cycle. I have one follicle that seems a little bigger than the others, which has me worried that we are falling victim to the one potential downfall of the estrogen priming antagonist protocol: a dominant follicle. But, I have been through this enough to not get freaked out until absolutely necessary. My E2 levels have been better this cycle (CD3=64; CD5=104), but still not great. In my head, I'm just thinking that this is game over and that we are going through the motions so that we can tell ourselves later on that we did all we could and have no regrets about it. I am sad to think that we won't have any more kids, but also feel like I am so lucky to have the two that we do have and so excited to be able to experience all the cool toddler growth stages with Baby Girl again. I have these fleeting moments with Nugget where I am so in love with him, so engrossed in our fun little interactions, and I am thankful that I can really concentrate on each of my children and really get to explore with them.
Every night I read books with Nugget. He usually negotiates me up from 3 to 4 or 4 to 5 and I am *such* a sucker. You wanna read? SURE! He's still obsessed with dinosaurs and trucks and I know more about "diggers" and "buckets" and "cranes" (do you know the three main parts of a crane? I do!) than I ever thought possible. Then, we go through his alphabet cards. Of course, the only letters he can remember are "N" for "Nugget" and "P" for "PooPoo." After the alphabet cards, we have a couple of rounds of "Mommy Pizza" where he lays on top of me and pretends to eat me (weird, I know). Then, we snuggle. Then, I kiss him and he compulsively puts my kisses in his pocket. Then, I whisper: "You are my special boy" and he whispers back "You are my special Mommy." And, that's my absolute favorite time of day with him. The rest of the day is a series of negotiations and dramatic fights over how awful a mommy I am to make him wear clothes, go to the bathroom, eat at the table, go to school, etc. Also thrown in are a couple of excruciating boring games of "rescue Mommy and Grandma and Baby Girl and Nana and Gramps from the fire." A few rounds of "swim away from the shark" in the basement. And, some cute brother and sister play in which Baby Girl wraps her hands around her big brother's face and tries to suck on his nose.
In other news, I have been injured all freaking month and totally unable to exercise...which SUCKS. I went back into running/exercise a little too hard core after taking off for IVF#6 in September. For a couple of days, I couldn't even walk up and down stairs, so I am thankful at least to be able to move around comfortably in every day life. I hate to think of how out of shape I am and how much weight I am going to gain with the wonderful combination of no exercise, IVF, and all the upcoming food holidays. I know I'll dig myself out of it...but sometimes I daydream about just stopping IVF so that I can have control of my body again and can start progressing toward some fitness goals. In the end, though, I know that said fitness goals are empty and won't give me the satisfaction I think they will.
My sister seems to be doing OK. The outpatient program she is in is pretty intense. I do worry, though, that I have NO IDEA what is really going on in her head. We seemed to have moved out of crisis zone, though, and my parents have really been wonderful in helping her out and not saying judgemental things.
My husband's company is still being sued, but we don't know if it will actually come to fruition. It does seem to be on more solid ground, though....which opens up the possibility of me quiting my job and really "burning the ships" to ensure that I figure out this career stuff.
Hope you all are well!!
I am on CD 4 of my latest cycle. I have one follicle that seems a little bigger than the others, which has me worried that we are falling victim to the one potential downfall of the estrogen priming antagonist protocol: a dominant follicle. But, I have been through this enough to not get freaked out until absolutely necessary. My E2 levels have been better this cycle (CD3=64; CD5=104), but still not great. In my head, I'm just thinking that this is game over and that we are going through the motions so that we can tell ourselves later on that we did all we could and have no regrets about it. I am sad to think that we won't have any more kids, but also feel like I am so lucky to have the two that we do have and so excited to be able to experience all the cool toddler growth stages with Baby Girl again. I have these fleeting moments with Nugget where I am so in love with him, so engrossed in our fun little interactions, and I am thankful that I can really concentrate on each of my children and really get to explore with them.
Every night I read books with Nugget. He usually negotiates me up from 3 to 4 or 4 to 5 and I am *such* a sucker. You wanna read? SURE! He's still obsessed with dinosaurs and trucks and I know more about "diggers" and "buckets" and "cranes" (do you know the three main parts of a crane? I do!) than I ever thought possible. Then, we go through his alphabet cards. Of course, the only letters he can remember are "N" for "Nugget" and "P" for "PooPoo." After the alphabet cards, we have a couple of rounds of "Mommy Pizza" where he lays on top of me and pretends to eat me (weird, I know). Then, we snuggle. Then, I kiss him and he compulsively puts my kisses in his pocket. Then, I whisper: "You are my special boy" and he whispers back "You are my special Mommy." And, that's my absolute favorite time of day with him. The rest of the day is a series of negotiations and dramatic fights over how awful a mommy I am to make him wear clothes, go to the bathroom, eat at the table, go to school, etc. Also thrown in are a couple of excruciating boring games of "rescue Mommy and Grandma and Baby Girl and Nana and Gramps from the fire." A few rounds of "swim away from the shark" in the basement. And, some cute brother and sister play in which Baby Girl wraps her hands around her big brother's face and tries to suck on his nose.
In other news, I have been injured all freaking month and totally unable to exercise...which SUCKS. I went back into running/exercise a little too hard core after taking off for IVF#6 in September. For a couple of days, I couldn't even walk up and down stairs, so I am thankful at least to be able to move around comfortably in every day life. I hate to think of how out of shape I am and how much weight I am going to gain with the wonderful combination of no exercise, IVF, and all the upcoming food holidays. I know I'll dig myself out of it...but sometimes I daydream about just stopping IVF so that I can have control of my body again and can start progressing toward some fitness goals. In the end, though, I know that said fitness goals are empty and won't give me the satisfaction I think they will.
My sister seems to be doing OK. The outpatient program she is in is pretty intense. I do worry, though, that I have NO IDEA what is really going on in her head. We seemed to have moved out of crisis zone, though, and my parents have really been wonderful in helping her out and not saying judgemental things.
My husband's company is still being sued, but we don't know if it will actually come to fruition. It does seem to be on more solid ground, though....which opens up the possibility of me quiting my job and really "burning the ships" to ensure that I figure out this career stuff.
Hope you all are well!!
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Unspoken Contract
This past week has been a cluster.
The negative.
Then my husband found out he's getting sued and this whole 5-year contract might be falling through and all the opportunity and hope that went with it is slowly waning.
And, then my sister tried to commit suicide.
Wednesday was her birthday. I sent her a cute little card and exchanged emails with her. She's been complaining non-stop about her life lately, so I didn't call her. I couldn't stand to hear her say one more time about how sad she is that she isn't going to "get" to have any more children (because she's decided that two is enough and she doesn't want to be pregnant again), or how much she hates her body after her twin pregnancy, or how she feels like her career is off track. Because, from my perspective, she doesn't have the *right* to complain about these things to me. I can objectively see that these are things that would upset someone, but don't complain about them to your sister that had to go through many, many rounds of IVF to get pregnant and feels her own career is lost after spending 6 years focusing on fertility treatments.
I say all these things because I feel defensive about why I didn't call her and why I have been distancing myself from her for the past two and a half years. She doesn't appreciate what she has been given and she regularly complains to me about it and it fucking pisses me off. I say this because I have been dealing with her anorexia, bulimia, depression, and alcoholism for the past 15 years and I'm tired of it.
What I didn't recognize about my sister is that she is not a tragically weak human with little self awareness, but rather a woman with a mental disorder than can't see truth because her brain won't let her. She has a problem and no amount of therapy or drugs or self reflection will fix it.
And, I love her. I can hate her. I can be sick of her problems. But, the fact of the matter is that she is my sister and I can't help but love her. I know her in intimate ways that other people just can't. I know the face she makes when she has to go to the bathroom. I know when she is manic. I know the subtext underneath everything she says. I know that the way my parents raised us has fucked her up (all of us really). I know that she hates herself and wishes she could be different. I know she feels guilty asking for help. I know why she feels guilty asking for help.
Seeing her in the hospital--her body covered in bruises from her rolling veins and IVs, the patchwork network of scabs on her legs and arms that she picks compulsively when she's anxious, the constant tapping of her shaking fingers from the remnants of drugs leaving her body-- and my heart just broke. I don't know how to stop her from hating herself.
I also feel so helpless. I can call her every day. But, she lies. She's not honest about what's happening. She didn't tell me that she's been drinking 36-40 oz of hard liquor a day. She didn't tell me that she tried to kill herself two weeks ago. That she's been going to AA meeting again. She gets violently angry when you say the wrong thing. She's selfish and self-centered. She just talks about herself. It's not an equitable friendship. It hasn't been for years. I can sometimes accept it and other times...I get so angry with her.
She's out of the hospital now. She's in outpatient treatment for alcoholism. I'm calling her every day. But, I don't know what else to do/say. I've asked whether the outpatient treatment program has a support group for family members or some sort of training for family members on how to deal with this. This is just out of my league. I don't know what to do.
You never think about the unspoken contract you have with the people you love. You never think to say before you hang up the phone: "don't kill yourself, OK?" You don't think it's a trust that you have until it is broken.
The negative.
Then my husband found out he's getting sued and this whole 5-year contract might be falling through and all the opportunity and hope that went with it is slowly waning.
And, then my sister tried to commit suicide.
Wednesday was her birthday. I sent her a cute little card and exchanged emails with her. She's been complaining non-stop about her life lately, so I didn't call her. I couldn't stand to hear her say one more time about how sad she is that she isn't going to "get" to have any more children (because she's decided that two is enough and she doesn't want to be pregnant again), or how much she hates her body after her twin pregnancy, or how she feels like her career is off track. Because, from my perspective, she doesn't have the *right* to complain about these things to me. I can objectively see that these are things that would upset someone, but don't complain about them to your sister that had to go through many, many rounds of IVF to get pregnant and feels her own career is lost after spending 6 years focusing on fertility treatments.
I say all these things because I feel defensive about why I didn't call her and why I have been distancing myself from her for the past two and a half years. She doesn't appreciate what she has been given and she regularly complains to me about it and it fucking pisses me off. I say this because I have been dealing with her anorexia, bulimia, depression, and alcoholism for the past 15 years and I'm tired of it.
What I didn't recognize about my sister is that she is not a tragically weak human with little self awareness, but rather a woman with a mental disorder than can't see truth because her brain won't let her. She has a problem and no amount of therapy or drugs or self reflection will fix it.
And, I love her. I can hate her. I can be sick of her problems. But, the fact of the matter is that she is my sister and I can't help but love her. I know her in intimate ways that other people just can't. I know the face she makes when she has to go to the bathroom. I know when she is manic. I know the subtext underneath everything she says. I know that the way my parents raised us has fucked her up (all of us really). I know that she hates herself and wishes she could be different. I know she feels guilty asking for help. I know why she feels guilty asking for help.
Seeing her in the hospital--her body covered in bruises from her rolling veins and IVs, the patchwork network of scabs on her legs and arms that she picks compulsively when she's anxious, the constant tapping of her shaking fingers from the remnants of drugs leaving her body-- and my heart just broke. I don't know how to stop her from hating herself.
I also feel so helpless. I can call her every day. But, she lies. She's not honest about what's happening. She didn't tell me that she's been drinking 36-40 oz of hard liquor a day. She didn't tell me that she tried to kill herself two weeks ago. That she's been going to AA meeting again. She gets violently angry when you say the wrong thing. She's selfish and self-centered. She just talks about herself. It's not an equitable friendship. It hasn't been for years. I can sometimes accept it and other times...I get so angry with her.
She's out of the hospital now. She's in outpatient treatment for alcoholism. I'm calling her every day. But, I don't know what else to do/say. I've asked whether the outpatient treatment program has a support group for family members or some sort of training for family members on how to deal with this. This is just out of my league. I don't know what to do.
You never think about the unspoken contract you have with the people you love. You never think to say before you hang up the phone: "don't kill yourself, OK?" You don't think it's a trust that you have until it is broken.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Negative
I would like to say I handled it well.
I didn't cry at first. As my heart pounded in my mouth and my quivering hands tried to open the pregnancy test, I kept warning myself...do not hope...do not hope. Only one line appeared. I have taken this damn test enough to know that if the second line doesn't appear immediately, it's not going to come. My daughter was crying faintly in the background, so I threw away the test, picked her up and headed downstairs to play with Baby Girl and read the paper. Two hours passed without a tear.
And then...the rage... the anger...the bitterness. I picked a nice fight with my husband over buying new shoes for my son. The day was ruined. I cried for hours. I went on a 9.5 mile run. Took a nap because I was exhausted from crying. Went to the grocery store. A walking human zombie.
I hate this. I try to not hate my life. I have so much to be thankful for. But, I am so fucking bitter to be doing this again. Why can't I let this third baby go and just be done?
I didn't cry at first. As my heart pounded in my mouth and my quivering hands tried to open the pregnancy test, I kept warning myself...do not hope...do not hope. Only one line appeared. I have taken this damn test enough to know that if the second line doesn't appear immediately, it's not going to come. My daughter was crying faintly in the background, so I threw away the test, picked her up and headed downstairs to play with Baby Girl and read the paper. Two hours passed without a tear.
And then...the rage... the anger...the bitterness. I picked a nice fight with my husband over buying new shoes for my son. The day was ruined. I cried for hours. I went on a 9.5 mile run. Took a nap because I was exhausted from crying. Went to the grocery store. A walking human zombie.
I hate this. I try to not hate my life. I have so much to be thankful for. But, I am so fucking bitter to be doing this again. Why can't I let this third baby go and just be done?
Thursday, September 27, 2012
I remember this place
They say that deja vu is just a misfiring of neurons, that synapses are connected in a way that makes us think that we have been to a place before, met someone before, etc. This space I am in, this waiting space, is a place that feels so familiar. Today I am organizing all my IVF files, again. Writing up my medical history, again. Hoping that some doctor will be my oracle, again.
We received some good financial news this week. My husband has won some work that will provide us with a steady stream of work for 5 years and will be in addition to his full time salary. Of course, the first place that my mind wanders about hearing of this boon is to think that maybe we should scrap our local clinics and head up to Mecca at Weiss Cornell Center for Reproduce Medicine and try out their co-culture. Without insurance coverage, this would cost us $18-19,000. The figure just makes me gasp. Can we do this again? We've already spent $70,000 on the two children we already have. This cycle was $8,000 down the drain (I know, I've already given up hope). How far do we want to fall down this rabbit hole?
I've developed a plan: I am going to take a HPT on Sunday and when I get the negative (most likely), I am going to go for a 10 mile run and then I am going to go to Crossfit for three days in a row and beat my poor little body to a pulp. Then, I will put on my big girl panties and gear up for IVF #7 using the estrogen priming protocol, hoping for a cycle in November. In the interim, I am trying to get everything set up for a cycle in December/January at Cornell. This is freaking madness, people.
We received some good financial news this week. My husband has won some work that will provide us with a steady stream of work for 5 years and will be in addition to his full time salary. Of course, the first place that my mind wanders about hearing of this boon is to think that maybe we should scrap our local clinics and head up to Mecca at Weiss Cornell Center for Reproduce Medicine and try out their co-culture. Without insurance coverage, this would cost us $18-19,000. The figure just makes me gasp. Can we do this again? We've already spent $70,000 on the two children we already have. This cycle was $8,000 down the drain (I know, I've already given up hope). How far do we want to fall down this rabbit hole?
I've developed a plan: I am going to take a HPT on Sunday and when I get the negative (most likely), I am going to go for a 10 mile run and then I am going to go to Crossfit for three days in a row and beat my poor little body to a pulp. Then, I will put on my big girl panties and gear up for IVF #7 using the estrogen priming protocol, hoping for a cycle in November. In the interim, I am trying to get everything set up for a cycle in December/January at Cornell. This is freaking madness, people.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
1 9-cell, 15% fragmentation
Today we transferred 1 9-cell with 15% fragmentation, grade 2. Not great, but not awful.
We're calling him "Tag" as in "Tag, you're it."
We're calling him "Tag" as in "Tag, you're it."
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