SSDD

Our beta fell nice and quickly after the loss, so we were blissfully able to start over and move on to the next cycle soothingly fast. I work best when I have a plan. Moving forward towards the objective is the most effective way to keep me from going crazy. I need a plan, movement, momentum to build.

FET #4... who's excited?

So plan we did. Three weeks of birth control, then back on the estrogen bandwagon. Everything went super well with this cycle, same 9.5mm lining as before, yada yada. I did my pre- and post- transfer acupuncture, got my pineapple all ready, and we went to transfer.

Fabulous transfer socks

Meet the MaybeBabies!

Two lovely looking day 6 blasts survived the thaw, though they were still differentiating at the time of transfer, and not actually hatching yet. Wore lots of comfy socks to keep my feet warm, and resigned myself to a month of avoiding cold foods/beverages to avoid drawing energy away from the womb. Thanks traditional chinese medicine for stealing my ice cream coping mechanism. I had an awful afternoon that day though... some sort of brief food poisoning or something and puked three times. Yay me! The rest of the weekend I laid low and relaxed, turning gloomier by the day as I hadn't felt any of the telltale cramping I did the last two times I got pregnant.

I POASed on Monday, and sadly, nothing was there. I was 4dpt, and had positives both with the mini and with the notbabies at that point. Poop. I was a hormonal wreck and ended up sobbing in front of the new serger sewing machine that I couldn't get to work properly. So that was fun. I felt completely out of control of my emotions. I peed again on Tuesday... and it was positive. The squintiest of squinters, but positive. Same issue as last time though- it showed on a FRER but not the cheapie.

Look at what my pee did!

My heart dropped a little the next day when the line didn't get much darker. By Thursday, it had darkened a bit, but I just didn't have a good feeling. Apparently with good reason. My beta was 29. I had my second beta today, and it's 61. ****

So here's where we are. Same shit, different day. I don't really know what to feel, honestly. Whether I'm 14dpo today, or 15dpo, the number is still quite low when looking at betabase. And beta values typically shoot up more than just double at the beginning. The mini's went from 80 to 202 at that dpo. The notbabies went from 41 to 58. Better trend this time, but not really better numbers.

I don't really know what to think. I don't want to be the ungrateful asshole that is complaining about her doubling betas, but the past is haunting me here. I really just can't believe that we're here again. This is just crazy. Again. What the flying fark. I can't work up anything in the way of excitement over this pregnancy, just ambivalence and a hey pass the wine... oh wait nevermind.

We'll see what we see with Monday's beta I guess. Ultrasound tentatively Monday the 19th, at 6w2d.


****Like last time, these embies were frozen on day 6 when they hit blast. As such, the clinic considers me a 6dt, and the first beta at 7dp6dt (13dpo) and second beta at 9dp6dt (15dpo). HOWEVER, I call bunk on this one and only am giving them 5dt credit. They took longer to hit blast, so why give them an extra day of developmental credit? Nope. Plus it's slighty less bleak to think of my beta values at 12dpo and 14dpo instead.

Positively Positive (8dp5dt, beta #1)

I'm amazed to say it, but I think we may actually be pregnant, my dears. Actually, positively, pregnant.

For now at least.

Our beta came back at 80. At 8dp5dt, or 13dpo.

Above the singleton average, below the twin average. This gives us two possibilities:

a) We have a high-strung, overachieving singleton brewing, like its father.

b) We have majorly procrastinating twins, like their mother. (not a twin, just perpetually late)


We shall see what we see when we see it, huh? At this point, I could care less (truthfully) as long as it/they are healthy and drama-free. The rest of our timeline includes beta #2 on Sunday (10dp5dt), beta #3 on Thursday (14dp5dt), and if we are stupendously lucky enough to make it that far, our first ultrasound at 5w6d two weeks from today (7/13, Friday the 13th). I am a fan of 13's, being born on one, so it's all good. I mean, if it's still all good then.

Always trust a woman that birthed triplets... Emily asked me if my pee smelled funny, as that was her earliest pregnancy symptom. Low and behold, mine smells like I've had coffee or asparagus. Neither of which have crossed these lips in a few weeks. Go figure!

No more darkening on the pee sticks which is driving me crazayzy, but I'll try not to obsess toooo much. Part of me is convinced our beta is already going down because why could this possibly actually work for us? I keep trying not to go there, but it is so hard not to after so much disappointment. I'll try harder. I promise.

I need to learn to not pee on my hand while collecting in a cup.

Knocked up. I'm still shaking my head in amazement. And gratitude.

Consumed (4dp5dt)

It's all I can think about.

This whole cycle, I have been incredibly one-minded, with IVF Redux consuming practically every waking thought and action. I have managed to get by at work, but have spent a great deal of time thinking and analyzing and twittering and obsessing over this cycle. It's supposed to be the one that works. The one that went well. The one that had so many of the good things happen during. The one with the embryo with practically outstretched arms reaching towards my lining. I've set pretty darned high standards in my mind, and now I'm terrified.

Let's recap how it all looked, m'kay?

Finito!

- We had appropriately rising estrogen levels
- We didn't flip-flop on medication doses
- We had plenty of 17mm+ follies at trigger
- Our e2 only coasted for one day and didn't have a landslide at the end
- We fertilized 17 out of the 18 mature eggs, out of the 21 retrieved
- On transfer day, a blast was clawing its way out of its shell with another close behind
- On transfer day, only one of the 17 embryos had stopped growing
- I'm bribing the embies with sprinkle cupcakes, snickerdoodles, and a brownie

 
All of these are great things. And I'm not going to lie- I think it worked. I woke up to lots of broad uterine crampies 1dp5dt, and they lasted most of the day. I've had them on and off since. The rest of the "symptoms" I can blame on the progesterone and estrace tabs- sore boobs, heartburn, slight nausea when I eat too quickly. Other symptoms I can blame on going back to work- tiredness. And the dream I had Saturday night that I woke up to use the restroom at 3am at 3dp5dt and got a vivid BFP is par for the course- I have one of those dreams pretty much every transfer cycle. Still though, I just *feel* like it did.

Which means I'm setting myself up for a collossal fall of this pedestal if I'm wrong. I'm hoping and wishing and visualizing that I'm not, but still. I absolutely could be. I am overcome with the urge to test, because it could very well be positive at 9dpo. But it could also very well be a true negative, and it could very well be a false negative.

And so I'm also overcome with the fear of testing, as I don't know if I want to let go of this feeling yet. The feeling that it worked. That *I* worked. That I can, and am supposed to feel a child grow inside me.

Five days until the beta. *Maybe* two more mornings I'll be able to stop myself from peeing.

I don't want to feel like an idiot for thinking I'm pregnant, but I don't want to stop feeling it either. Sigh.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And on a lighter (ok maybe not *really* lighter) note, rest in peace Lonesome George, the last of your kind. Many of us in this community know what it feels like to be unsuccessful at reproductive attempts, so we feel for you and your lost genetic line. I'm glad I got to meet (ok take a photo of with a really zoomed in lens) you before you left us.

We'll miss you, the last Pinta Galapagos Giant Tortoise

squashing The Fear (3dp6dt)

I'm finding myself in a tough place today. Bedrest is over, and while I ended up excruciatingly bored by yesterday, I don't want to be here at work. I feel like at least doing nothing was doing *something*, and now I'm doing something but *nothing* to help our little embies stick. I haven't felt much of anything yet, aside from a bit of uterine cramping tuesday night (1dp6dt). There's maybe some discomfort today and yesterday, but no twinges or spotting or anything that would lead me to believe that the dudes are still partying it up in my ute.

I have so much fear and anxiety with this cycle suddenly, fear that started on Monday but didn't really manifest until I left the house this morning and was faced with the Real World again.

I am afraid that this cycle will end up as another negative.

I am afraid that this cycle will end up as another chemical. I am afraid we will lose tons of money by cancelling our vacation.

I am afraid that we made the wrong decision to thaw ALL SIX of our remaining snowbabies and only transferred two. I am sad for the two that didn't survive the thaw, and even sadder for the two that did but not well enough to rate being transferred or refrozen. I wonder if the same decision would have been made by another clinic, and I'm sad that they weren't even given a chance at success. I'm afraid we were greedy by trying for better quality, because clearly that route hasn't worked for us so far.

I am afraid of going through another fresh IVF cycle, knowing how hard one is and that we will max out our insurance benefits by doing so. I know I *can* get through a fresh cycle, but I also know how hard it is.

I am afraid that whatever isn't working can't be fixed.

I am afraid we'll hit our limit before our family is complete.

5 weeks "Pregnant" (15dp6dt, 4th beta)

Awww, how naive I was at 13dpo, thinking that a negative beta meant a negative beta. So young, so impressionable.

I think it's funny that today, at 21dpo, I am technically 5 weeks pregnant. I still have positive hpt's, positive beta's, just not positive *enough*. Our line isn't getting too much darker, and is still way lighter than the control line. You don't have to squint or adjust the contrast on photos, though, so that's something.

I had my blood drawn this morning, and despite needing two of those rubber bandy thingies to constrict my upper arm, it blissfully required only one poke (chronically deep and difficult veins). We'll see what we see in a few hours when the results come in. When I spoke to the RE on Monday, he said we're looking for something over 60 AT LEAST, but he'd like to see something closer to 100. Even that's not a guarantee though, as we could still be dealing with a blighted ovum or ectopic. All super fun options.


I find myself focused on the phrase "product of conception" today. Because we did, you know, conceive. We have something, comprised of Dr Boy's and my DNA, growing inside of me. It's giving me intense lower abdominal cramps, it's making my nipples ridiculously sensitive, and it's turning my nose into the Super Sniffer. It might not be our take home baby, but it's there. And that freaks me out. Hence the 5 weeks "pregnant". Because I am. I'm terrified of what we're going to need to do to make this go away, if it isn't anything good. Cancer drugs? D&C? Is "it" even big enough for that? All of these thoughts terrify me and make me indescribably full of sorrow. It makes me want to just ride it out, as if time is all we need for the outcome to change.

I never thought I'd wish for a plain and simple negative beta. Never in a million years.

Sad Face. (also, the bathroom I cry in at work)

Nopesicle. (7dp6dt, beta day)

I peed on the Rolls Royce this morning, the First Response Early Result, just like yesterday, and surprise surprise, ended up with the same result.

Still negative. Had my blood draw.

Beta less than 5. Not pregnant. Not a chemical. Not anything but an empty uterus.

My totsicles had been given highest marks. Again.
My transfer went perfectly. Again.
I followed all post-care instructions to a T. Again.
My body failed us. Again.


We've transferred four perfect embies. Our cycles have been textbook perfect. The *only* fly in the ointment this time was a lining of only 7.2-7.9mm, which is still in the ok range but on the low side. Not so much that it should have been an issue.

At what point do you start wondering "It's not you, embryo's, it's me."? How does this happen? When do you ask, "Huh, this really should be working, why isn't it?"

Can we really just be THIS unlucky twice for no good reason? I need a reason.

---------------------------
PS- I get to keep taking my meds until a repeat beta on Friday. Just to confirm for sure. Fuckin' A.

PPS- Don't tell me to hold out hope until Friday. Seriously.

No Bueno (6dp6dt)

Before I get to it, could you guys go over and give Jenny some love today? She went in for an ultrasound at 9 weeks and found out her baby no longer has a heartbeat. This is hers and Jeff's third loss. This week has been just an awful one for everyone out there in the trenches, and I'm hoping beyond hope that this streak comes to a quick halt.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

So it's not looking good, folks. I'm a pee-er. Even after last time, where I decreed that early testing is the devil, I continue to be a pee-er. I have, however, amazed myself with my resolve this time around. Rather than peeing at a paltry 5dp5dt, I held out until 6dp6dt. Go me, right?

To be honest, the wait wasn't all that bad, since I had a lot of things working in my favor this time. I have the sore boobs, but that's progesterone so we'll throw that out. My sense of smell has been heightened since Friday night, when I smelled Dr Boy's glass of wine from halfway across the house. (that could just be me detoxing though :) ) The next night, I knew the INSTANT one of the cats used the litter box. Smells are still getting to me a lot stronger and quicker than normal. The uterine cramping also started Friday night (2dp6dt), and has pretty much been there on and off whenever I stand or move around too much. It's pretty isolated to the lowest quadrant of my belly, and is stronger on the left side. I've also started to get some of the heartburn back. It was particularly bad when I was taking the estradiol tabs orally, but now that they're going up my bizness it had, until the last two days, gone away.

So yeah. Boobs, Super Sniffer, Cramping, and Heartburn. Oh, and the ABSOLUTE NEED to take a nap by 4 or 5pm.

So I tested this morning, thinking I had this one in the bag. Well, I may have it in the bag, but it's just not revealing itself yet. We'll see tomorrow when I have my beta drawn, but I'm having my doubts.

Do you know how difficult it is to reconcile two competing thoughts in your head? The knowledge that "of course it worked this time", combined with "don't be stupid your ute is still empty", add up to quite the headache.


I'm not letting go of the "of course", because I think the positivity will do us some good.


But I'm also not letting go of the "don't be stupid", so I don't crash and burn as fantastically as I did last time. Ha. Like I could prevent that.

My embies are lazy (8dp5dt) (edited)

Which would make sense, since they're half me. I was kindof hoping they'd get the half-my-husband in that department though.

They're still failing to give me any appreciable sign that they're still in there. Two more days of pee sticks, two more big fatty white spaces where a second line should be. I added the First Response Early Results into the mix yesterday, and they're just as pasty white. Maybe if I sent them to the tanning salon they'd respond better?

I had my blood draw this morning. Good times with a mid-forearm vein. Should get the results in a few hours. I'm hoping beyond hope that there's something still in there, just slowly stretching and getting into the hcg-producing swing of things. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly.

Yesterday and Friday were the days of grief. I was finally confronted with the very real possibility that this wouldn't work. That I'd fall into the 30-40% chance of failure, rather than the 60-70% chance of success that Dr S gave me. When he walked out of the room after the transfer, he said that he had no doubt in his mind that they'd be calling me with good news this week. I'm pretty sure the good news wasn't that we'd be sending more $$ their way in a month or two.

Today is more of a numb day. I'm slowly transitioning into the worst phase of my end-of-cycle processing- false hope. You know, the justification part? Well, it was probably just a bad batch of tests. It's still too early to really know. They could just be super-late implanters. Tests have been wrong before! The false hope makes you feel like a complete dupe when the truth comes out, but at least it's kept me from sobbing in front of computer models this morning.

Yes, we have 8 embies on ice waiting in the wings. Yes, they're probably pretty good quality. Yes, I'm still 29. Yes, we still have time. Blah, blah, blah.

Those aren't the things you want to hear when you're facing a BFN after something you thought would get you your take home baby. A great way to celebrate the holidays is with a BFP! Not a bottle of spiced wine. I just feel like I've let everyone down so far, with my mom coming up to take care of me through the retrieval/transfer, and the second beta being drawn on her birthday. And poor Dr Boy, who's rushed home each night to make sure that I had dinner and my PIO injection, and that our diabetic cat was taken care of so I could slack it up on the couch.

The best part is that the in-laws are heading over this afternoon when we get off work to celebrate Christmas with us, since we'll be heading down to So Cal to spend it with my family. You know how my blog title is Meier Madness? It originally stemmed from what I call the trips they take to visit us. While I love them to death, and they truly are wonderful loving people, high doses of the Meier's can be a lot to handle. A lot. And while they know that we'll be finding out some time this week whether we were successful or not, I just don't want to let them into this inner circle quite yet. If today is a false negative, I don't want to drag them down, or have them try to lift me back up. I'm not in the mood. I want to sulk, or celebrate, in peace with Dr Boy. But we won't get to do that. And EVEN better, they're spending the night, so we won't have our time alone until we both get home from work tomorrow. Fab.

I hope I'm just overreacting. I'm good at that. I hope that at least one of these guys chose to stick around. I really just want my Hanukkah miracle.

Please?
--------------------------------------------------
Today's beta came back at less than 5. Guess I'm hoping for a miracle on Tuesday.

Freeze Report and Why Early Testing is the Devil (6dp5dt)

So last I left you to take a gander at my right column dealio to decipher what we ended up freezing from this cycle. To recap, we still had 17 embies growing on the day of transfer. We transferred two, leaving 15 to continue growing and makin' da behbehs for us.

Our clinic will only freeze (or at least in our case) once an embie hits blasts. They'll give them until day 7 to do so, then call it quits. I called on Monday afternoon (day 7), and found out that 5 embies had hit blast by Sunday and were frozen, and another three caught up on Monday and were added to our lot.

We have 8 snowy embies! Snowbies! If you look at it as 8 out of the 36 that were retrieved, it's kind of depressing knowing that we lost about 75% of what was gathered. On the other hand, we TRANSFERRED TWO AND HAVE EIGHT FROZEN.

That maketh me happy. So do these slippers. Though not in the same way.

Gratuitous PDLAMBLATI. Noone's lookin' at my business,
but they sure are warm and cozy and cute.

Onto the devil sticks. I was emboldened by the success of Rebecca at Pink Lipgloss and Prenatals, whose trigger never tested out. She's had some great beta's and has her first u/s next week :) Awesome!

But anywho, I thought, well, I had some pretty good uterine cramping at 1, 2, and 3 dp5dt (days past a day 5 transfer). No implantation spotting, but that doesn't always happen. I had two GREAT looking embies transferred. Since about Tuesday (hmmmm, the first day I went back to work with a 6am start time) I've been reaching my awake limit at about noon. Right around there, I hit a point where my eyeballs burn and it literally hurts to keep them open. So much so that putting cold spoons on them sounds absolutely divine. Also, no matter what I eat, I get heartburn. Not awful, but definitely makes me think twice about snacking on anything other than cool water.

That's it though. Exhaustion, which can be explained away by lots of activity after lots of inactivity, and heartburn that can be explained away by unhealthy snacking. (though dude, even my dinner salad made me burny)

So I tested yesterday at 5dp5dt. Nothing. I had an incredibly vivid dream just before I woke up, where I just knew I was pregnant. Absolute, one hundred percent certainty. I felt so FULL. Full of everything that I can imagine it would feel like to finally have this happen for us. So Right. Perfect. I woke up still holding onto that feeling, and couldn't keep myself away from the devil sticks.

And I tested again today at 6dp5dt. Nothing. I again dreamt, this time of a co-worker announcing that his wife, whom I met on Tuesday, was pregnant. And due tomorrow. Holy hell, that one sent me into the breakroom in tears. In the dream, of course.

And tomorrow, I will test again. Because really, I've already broken the seal on this round and once you start, you just can't damn well stop before the beta, right? (sunday) But I'm breaking out the Big Guns. I have six First Response Early Results, the Rolls Royce of pee sticks according to Mo.

Please hold me. I'm finally on the doubt side of the roller coaster, and it feels like shit.

Part 2- Transfer Day (3dp5dt)

So Dr Boy is funny. He's all, That's so mean of you to just stop the story where you did! I know how it turns out and even *I* want to know how it ends!

So I apologize for making you wait. And I feel bad because some of the comments of gotten so far are going to be all "ohhhh, yeah.... ummmm.... I mean, what you decided is fine too! Swearzies!" Or you'll be judgy mcjudgersons but that's ok too.

And, we're back.

Saturday, Dec 10: After a short but restful sleep, we head in for the transfer. Still pretty emotionally exhausted from all the one-or-two talk from the day and night before, but still comfortable to transfer one embie, given the right circumstances.

Transfer PDLAMBLATI.
I call them my embry-ho-ho-ho socks :)

We (my mommasita, Dr Boy, and I) waited nervously in the waiting room, and were called back a few minutes later. I had woken up with cramps that day, worse than I had actually had on Friday, so I was kindof terrified they wouldn't let us go through with the transfer. I was overreacting of course, but still. After I'm ready on the table, Dr S comes in and gives us our day 5 embryology report.

Which threw me into a breakdown of epic proportions and a tailspin of indecision.

Of our perfect embies, the ones that were growing in mass quantities at the proper speed, had failed us. Only 1 of the 17 (!!) still growing on that day had reached blast. On effing day 5.

Sheeeeeeet.

That was not part of the plan!!! We had not accounted for that possibility in our calculations!!! We had decided to transfer one, knowing that we'd likely have a bunch of other blasts to freeze for backup.

And we didn't have the reinforcements we were planning on. The reinforcements that would qualify us for the elective single embryo transfer program (ESET- 2 free frozen cycles if this godforbid failed). The reinforcements that would make us feel secure in only transferring one.

Here are some reasons I shouldn't have started sobbing and staring back and forth at my mom and Dr Boy. And flipping out not knowing what to do.
- Our blast? It was picture perfect. And given the highest grade our clinic gives out. So it was a pretty awesome blast.
- We still had 16 others growing, a bunch of which weren't far behind. By the embryologist's guess, only off by 6-12 hrs.
- If others hit blast *that day*, we *might* be able to retroactively qualify for the ESET program.

Of course, none of that was truly sinking in. All that was going through my damn head was that we only had one damn blast to transfer and now what the hell do we do.

Dr S really asked the question that put it into perspective. In a week, when we're going in for the beta, what question would we be saying to ourselves. Awww eff-balls, we could be having twins! Or, Awww, eff-balls, what if this doesn't work.

Dr Boy decided it for us- we go with two. The fear of failure at that point in time far outweighed the fear of a multiple pregnancy. With all the things that can go wrong between morula and blast, it's no sure bet that the rest would get there. It's no sure thing that even a picture perfect embie will stick. And we were never really driven by the financial incentive of ESET to begin with.

It was completely NOT the decision that I expected to walk out of the office having made, but I'm so glad we did. So glad. I still feel a bit selfish, but what's done is done, and I know that given the circumstances, we did what we needed to do to feel confident that this cycle was handled properly, both by us and our Dr.

Meet our little embies, a *perfect* blast, and a compacting blast, whatever that means.

We love them already. More than you can imagine.
(NO! I'm NOT crying right now. I don't know what you're talking about.)

I spent the rest of the day horizontal, relaxing and watching tv, and eventually saying goodbye to mommasita who had to head back to LA LA land. It was so, so amazing to have her here for the week. I would *not* have recovered as quickly without her. And I also would have driven Dr Boy batshit crazy. 

Sunday, Dec 11: Uhhhh.... boring day. Still horizontal on the couch. More movies. And resting. And... what is that? Period crampiness? Wha wha? I hear that's a good thing, but seriously, it felt like I was about to get my period. I'm still having them, but Sunday and Monday were the strongest, for sure. 

The other entertaining part about Sunday! I had just told the IVF nurse the day before about how the PIO shots were totally not that bad, and I'm so lucky to have a Dr at home injecting me, and blah blah blah PIO is totally not the devil. Then BAM. I can't feel my ass. For serious. I guess the needle (inevitably) went through a minor superficial nerve, and as Dr Boy was rubbing the site after the shot, I realized I couldn't feel it. Awesomesauce. It's mostly just on the surface, I can still feel the deep tissue and all, but no surface feeling. At all. I changed my mind about the PIO that night.

------------------------------------------------

This is long enough so I'll tell you about the final Day 7 embryology report, and how many (if any) we had to freeze. Or you could just look on my sidebar to the right. And tell me that I'm a big baby over-reacting nincompoop. Or you could wait until I type it all up tomorrow when I'm not exhausted.

Thanks for sticking with me! Only 4 1/2 days until my beta!!!

My Oves Like the Dramaz. (CD12)

I knew I should have been worried that things were running too smoothly.

PDLAMBLATI for the day. Hot DAMN I love these socks from Emily. 
Also? I swear I don't have cankles even though it looks like it.

I forgive them for not being super lucky today.

Rewind to yesterday. Had my am appt with wandy and the blood draw. Things looked fine on the ultrasound. Righty was continuing to dominate the party, and lefty a few mm behind. Not bad though. On the right, we had around 25 large follies, the largest being 18.6, 18.5, 18.0, and 18.0. Lefty had around 20 large ones, with sizes around 18.2, 17.3, 16.7, and 16.4. Based on that, Dr S gave me a 90% chance of triggering last night, but wanted to hold off the final decision to take a look at the bloodwork. He *wanted* to wait another day, to give lefty a chance to catch up, but didn't think righty would wait. My bloodwork came back with an e2 of 4228, and a progesterone of 0.5. Based on that, we decided to wait one more day. We took no pm stim shot, and were to hold off on the morning follistim until Dr S could take a look at the oves.


Fast forward to today. We go in for the u/s this morning, and it would appear that righty has totally stopped growing- in fact, the largest seemed like they even lost a little ground. Sizes were 19.3, 19.2, 18.7, and 17.3. Lefty follicles did grow a bit, sized 20.0, 19.6, 18.9, and 18.3. We got the green light to go for the lupron trigger tonight and set a retrieval time of 7:30am Monday morning. We decided that everything was big enough, so no am dose of stims. 


Then my bloodwork came back. My e2, in 24 hours, had plummeted to 1866, and my progesterone dropped to 0.5. Not. Good. At. All. No, no, no. The nurse called around 3pm and told me to take a 150 unit dose of Follistim ASAP-RIGHT-NOW-PLEASE. Basically, what we think happened is that the follies on righty got tired of being the over-achieving growers, and pooped out. We probably lost some of them by going so low on stims over the last 36 hours, instead of coasting like was the goal. Lefty's continued to grow, but weren't contributing as much e2 to the party. The rescue dose of follistim this afternoon was taken to try and prevent us from losing any more follies between now and Monday morning. 

Click to enlarge. The madness that has been my stimming.

Fuckity fuck.


Dr S said he's fully confident that we'll still have plenty to retrieve, but we're probably looking at more like 10-20 instead of the 20-30+ that we were looking at before. Though there's still a fair-to-good chance that we'll continue to have follies bail the party. Effers. I liken this to a party running out of beer- some people leave, some people wait for the host to run to the gas station to pick up a few more cases. I'm hoping enough people stuck around for the reinforcements. This won't affect egg quality at all, just the amount retrieved.


There's also a chance, he said, that everyone could bail before retrieval. Eff balls. We're going to do a quick u/s Monday morning before I get set up for surgery to double check that all my follies haven't deflated. If there aren't many left, we may cancel the retrieval and start over next month. It terrified me to even type that. Dr S said that there are lots of clinics who wouldn't even bother with a retrieval if this were to happen- though he still absolutely will. Because I had so damn many mature follies yesterday, he thinks a retrieval will still be more than worth it even with losing a bunch. Still though. Fuck.


So we're triggered. And  please, please, think patient thoughts for my follies- give them the patience to hold out until more beer arrives. Please. Because I don't want to plan another party. Not any time soon. Nope. I don't.

Because the picture before didn't do it justice...

So this is what's needed for the antagonist protocol, eh? (click to zoom)

I took a photo on my phone when they all arrived, but it definitely didn't do the hoard of meds justice. So, in all its glory, I present you with the obligatory IVF medication photo.

1. Follistim pen
2. Ganirelex (5 doses)
3. Follistim vials (900ml and a 600ml)
4. Antibiotics for retrieval
5. Lupron trigger... in a vial in the bottle
6. Valium for transfer
7. Estrace
8. Steroids for retrieval/transfer
9. Menopur and q-caps, 14 vials
10. PIO (sesame), enough for about 30 doses
11. Needles for drawing and administering PIO
12. Needles for administering menopur
13. Needles for administering the lupron trigger
14. birth control, ALMOST DONE!!!
15. Alcohol swabs
16. TWO sharps containers.

The only things that are missing are some gauze for any bleeding shots, and a small dose of HCG to be administered on retrieval day. The theory is that it'll help my lining to stay thick, and do something or other to mitigate any OHSS I may develop.

Seeing it all laid out like that? Holy cow. At least with the antagonist protocol, there aren't additional lupron shots to be given at the end of the BCP phase, so I can honestly say that this ISN'T as bad as most!

More Farm Fun!

So things are still going slowly and boring, so I shall regale you with more tales of the barnyard babies that I busied myself with the week before Halloween.

When we went, one of the areas had a pair of pygmy goats that had been born 11 days prior. With their protective, but still very docile, mother. They were ADORABLE. See?

That hand was later marred by the cute bunny.

Lots of adorable-ness to be had. We pet, we prodded, we swooned. Eleven day old goat kids are totally adorbs. And, like most eleven day old creatures, are hungry. So, so, very hungry.

Awwww... look at how cute nature is in the act.

So the goat kids went on their merry way nursing. And then, something happened. Something, primal.

The goat kids? They WENT AT THOSE NIPS LIKE THEY WERE BOBBING FOR APPLES. Hard. Core. I swear to god, the force they pumped their heads into those teats sent my boobs shriveling up inside my body. Holy HELL they were nursing aggressively. I swear to god, that shiz made me think twice about wanting to breastfeed. For serious.

I might be cute, but I might also rip this shiz off to get a better flow. Don't think I won't. 'Cause I will.

I seriously don't think you understand how AT IT these kids were going. I still shudder to think about it.

Oh yeah. I totally scarred you. Scarred your eyes, and scarred my mom's nips.  Mmmm hmmm.

Oh, and if you think it wasn't on purpose? Think again.

Goat milk. Does a body good.

I may never look at a baby goat the same way again.

If vs When

During the meeting with our IVF nurse on Monday, I was very aware of the fact that she used the phrase "When" each time she referred to the success of our cycle. I usually use "if".

If AF arrives in time before Thanksgiving.

If I respond well to the stims.

If we retrieve enough mature eggs.

If we fertilize any of those mature eggs.

If we get to transfer this month.

If we get a BFP.

If I manage to carry to term.

All this iffy-ness is exhausting. But I can't quite bring myself to use the when. I mean, I do use it occasionally when someone pesters me about my craptastic attitude, but I always do it with an exaggerated eye roll. (who me? snarky? no......)

Infertility is a crazy bitch. Much like me. She plays this awful game of "Get your hopes up! Cross your fingers! It's totes going to work this time!!! Believe in the Power of Positive Thinking!!!" then at the end of a cycle, changes her tune to "Well, I mean, you knew there was only a small chance of success, right? You're infertile, did you really think it'd be that easy? Nanner nanner short luteal phase! There's always next time! Next time will be the one!" IF is a delicate dance of guarding against failure while desperately hoping for success. But not hoping so much that you end up in the bathtub eating a pizza and bawling your eyes out at the end of failed cycle. Because let's be honest, we've all ended up in that bad place in some shape or form at the end of a disheartening toilet paper check and there is nothing you can do to drag yourself out of it but cry it out. And indulge in delicious cheesy carbs.

I haven't decided when I'm going to let myself transition from if to when. Maybe it'll happen on its own. Maybe it won't happen at all. Maybe it'll be when I carry the mini-Meier home from the hospital. Whenever it does, when will be the most wonderful feeling in the world.

------------------


Also!!! Lest I forget to ask. I never get a flu shot. Ever. Never had one. Despite Dr Boy bringing home every pediatrics-related virus in the world, I never get the darned shot. This year, though... with that whole, if we get pregnant off this IVF cycle thing, I'm wondering if I should just go ahead and bite the bullet. What's one more injection in the grand scheme of things, right? And I was thinking of doing it before IVF gets under way. That way I won't have to get it *while* pregnant or going through treatments. Advice from all you lovely ladies? I'm going in for my saline sono tomorrow and it would be a convenient chance to do it. Muchos gracias!


------------------

Also, to the person that googled "gre.at+dri.nker+an.d+su.ck.er+of+sp.e.r.m" to get to my blog? Eff off. What the HELL did I ever type to get pinged from THAT search?

Anxiety.

Ya'll, I am terrified right now.

I have an IVF consult meeting in 90 minutes. I made that appointment two weeks ago, when I went in for my WFT appt for the failed IUI #2. I figured I'd at least make the appointment, so that Dr Boy and I could discuss the matter while we were on vacation the following ten days.

We went on vacation. We had a BLAST. (side note: i heart boston. and maple syrup. and db's grandma.) We bam-chicka-bammed. And it was FUN. All of it, not just the pervy stuff, you pervs!

Dr K found a 22mm cyst on my right ovary during the WTF. That was the one that measured either 14 or 15mm the day we triggered, not the 18.5mm on the left that we thought would be the mature baby-maker. I kept thinking, "Awwww, it's mommy's first cyst!" Dr K said to go about our business and let the cyst shrink on its own. I felt some pain for the next few days in that region, but it's mostly gone away, as hopefully the cyst has. He even said to OPK CD12-20 just in case I had that miraculous rebound that sometimes happens.

No miracles here, but that's not the point.

The point is, I have my IVF consult in 90 minutes, and I'm terrified.

I know with all my heart now that it's what we need to do next. We need this. Both of us. To know that we're trying everything we possibly can. To get on with being normal again. To become parents.

Right now though, sitting here on my first day back to work after vacation, I'm flipping my shit. What if the cyst didn't go away? What if it doesn't shrink with BCP? Can we get an IVF cycle in with a retrieval before Christmas? Why does Christmas matter I'm jewish! Why will stims work this time when they've been so sheisty before? Will they judge us for making this decision after only two IUI's and three clomid cycles?

And the biggest one of them all: Will this get us our take-home baby?

Wish me luck. I've never felt this full of anxiety. And I think I'm going to vomit from it.

On Luck.

I've always felt lucky.

I did well in high school, got into every college I applied to, ended up with a couple of scholarships. Sure, I worked hard, but I was damn lucky too. I met Dr Boy the first weekend of college. I got to do a summer of training at NASA. I got into a great graduate school, paid for. And they actually PAID me to get my master's degree (though this was standard for what I do, it was still awesome). I did a career path internship that landed me a job as soon as I finished grad school- in my home city. Dr Boy matched at a residency program in that same city.

I'm not saying all this to be all "Wow look at you!" I just have been incredibly lucky in life. So much so.

I guess this is where our luck has run out. 34 months of trying to make a baby. Two years no natural cycling. Four unmedicated natural cycles. Three rounds of clomid. Two months of injectables with IUIs. No luck.

I always thought that I'd be one of those lucky ones to end up pregnant on their first month of meds. Or on their first round of injectables with IUI. But I'm not. I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I really, truly, honestly fall into the infertile category. That's me. I'm that. I'm not an IF impostor anymore- there's no "nah, she hasn't tried hard enough to be part of the club yet."

Dr Boy and I have been struggling with the decision of where to go next. Initially we had planned on trying out three or four IUIs. But secretly, really, we figured we'd be off this roller coaster in one or two tries. No one really plans on doing four IUIs. They end up there because the previous one was unsuccessful. I never really let myself think about the possibility that we'd have to do anything past one or two. I mean, I couldn't really be that broken, could I? That unlucky? That's just not me.

But it is, and I'm so done. Dr Boy is done with this. I'm over my ridiculous darwin flip out. (which I really hope didn't offend anyone because it was just me being batshit crazy and not judging anyone AT ALL I SWEAR I THINK IVF IS A WONDERFUL OPTION) We've scheduled an IVF consult for the week we come back from vacation (two weeks from today). My brain is telling me this is the right choice, but my heart? It can't accept the fact that our luck has left us. My heart keeps saying that no, no, you're over-reacting. Stop being such a crazy person and just keep on with the IUIs.

I can't reconcile the two. Logical me says to just do the damn IVF and enjoy the much higher chance of conceiving. Illogical me says that I haven't worked hard enough to earn the IVF. Logical me is thrilled to have finally made this decision and wants to get back on the Hope train. Illogical me says I don't deserve it yet. That I haven't put in the time.

All of me, though? All of me is terrified that my luck has left for good. And that even though IVF gives us a better chance, it won't be good enough. And I don't know if I can take that.

On the second day of crazy, my neurosis gave to me...

....A healthy dose of "Am I being melodramatic?"

Sometimes, OK, most of the time, I really feel like the answer to that one is a resounding HELL YES. Woe is NOT me. There are way worse things in the world going on than this, and I should be thankful that this is my biggest problem. Or some psychobabble like that.

My second huge bout of batshit crazy is feeling like I'm taking this all way too seriously. Like, I'm still in my 20s (though there's no chance of having a full-term, or even viable at this point, baby while still in my 20s). We don't suffer from any male-factor issues. We've only had ONE failed injectables cycle, and one that isn't really getting off the ground. And even THIS one isn't completely over yet, I'm just flipping out because it's not moving at the time-table that Dr K prefers.

What I mean is, have we given this enough of a chance? Is my ansy-pants neurotic brain giving up too quickly? Am I rushing this process simply because IVF is a completely viable option for us?

Let's recap my batshit craziness.

1. Even though I'm not morally or religiously against it, I can't help but think that IVF is going to make a mutant Dr Boy/Weather Girl hybrid child that will grow up to destroy the universe. Even though it won't do that for anyone else that uses it to get their baby.

2. Am I rushing this process and not giving injectables enough rounds to fight it out?

Ooooh... and one of my favorites that I haven't expanding upon yet...

3. Am I destined to require IVF to make me all of my babies? Because I want three, 'yall. At least two, but I think I'd rather populate the world with three mini-Meier's. You'll thank me later, unless they're universe-destroying hybrids.

And another!
4. What about FET's? Aren't those basically the embryo's that weren't good enough to make the first cut? Are my second and third kids destined to never live up to the first-born, because they were of diminished quality to begin with?

I am so mentally effed up right now. The biggest batshit crazy worry I have right now is #2- Are we giving this enough of a try? And even if we're not, does that really matter? Is it worth going through this mental mind-eff any more months than we have to just to maybe have an IUI work? Is it worth the $$ cost of IVF just to be less mentally effed up and more physically knocked up?

I just don't know.


(Also, a big warm welcome to all of you heading over here from ICLW! Thanks for stopping by, and I hope the mid-cycle crisis you're finding me in this week doesn't scare you away. If anything, it should make you feel better for not being as certifiable as yours-truly! I realized that in my three-word descriptors, I used "keeping sane-ish" as one. Clearly that's not happening so sorry for the mis-label!)

Lockdown, and Darwin.

Yesterday, I was in a bad place. I had my bloodwork drawn in the morning so it would be ready for my afternoon u/s appt. After 12 days of stims (3 vials for the first three days, 2 vials for the remaining 9 days), my estradiol had only climbed to 84. I knew going into the appt that there wouldn't be anything to see, and the nurse hugged me when I started crying as she let me into the room. The u/s was just as we thought. The biggest p-o-s follicle was still sitting around 8mm. If you remember from last time, this was the same day in the cycle that we found my miracle 19, 15, and 14mm follies and subsequently triggered. Lightning didn't strike twice.

Lots of tears later (the nurse said I even made her tear up), we went back to Dr K's office to talk about what to do next. We had two options. First, we could scrap this cycle and start provera today, and start over in two weeks. That option doesn't work for us, since we leave for Boston mid-Oct and wouldn't get through stims before I had to leave. Second, we could do a "prolonged cycle", and up my dosage a little to see if it helps. I got the impression that Dr K wasn't a real big fan of prolonged cycles, but the tears streaming down my face gave him the prompt to go ahead and try it anyways. We're going up to three vials (starting last night) and drawing more blood on Thursday. If things look good (e2>150), I'll come in for an u/s that day or fri am.

I know that whole book "The Secret" would scream at me right now, but I'm fairly certain that this won't work. My ovaries, which have in the past displayed a resolve which would easily rival the security at Ft Knox or even the skirt-wearing guards at Buckingham Palace, are at it again. You'd think that someone told them they're getting paid for every egg they KEEP, rather than every egg they RELEASE. If you love you some ovum, set them FREE!

And then there's the whole issue of quality. I have this deep-seeded fear that by doing this extended cycle, or fertility treatments in general, that I'm forcing something to happen that shouldn't. I know that's total crap, and that myth was busted a TON of times during NIAW. But still, I can't help but wonder if these eggs are staying put for a reason. Am I going to o an imperfect egg by stimming for so long? I mean, in unmedicated cycles, ovulating late is a sign of poor egg quality. How is it not the same here? Is there something wrong with me that we don't know about that is preventing me from ovulating, something that shouldn't be passed down to future generations?

Don't mind me while I get all philosophical now. Just roll your eyes at me please.

I am a strong believer in evolution. Survival of the fittest? Yes. I know that modern medicine and all has basically put a halt to all of that, but I still can't help but wonder that way back in the day, my bloodline was supposed to run dry with me. How can I believe in what I do, and not think that this is all happening for a reason? A Darwinian reason. This is the big I problem I have with making the decision to go to IVF. With IVF, there's nothing left to chance. ICSI decides what sperm meets what egg, and an embryologist decides what embryos to give back simply based on their appearance. I thought we were supposed to judge people based on what's on the inside, not the outside!! Nature has nothing to do with it!

Before you yell and flame me and my effed up brain, I HAVE NO ISSUE WITH OTHER PEOPLE DOING IVF. None at all. I think it's a great option and am SO SO HAPPY when all of you succeed! But when it comes to MY infertility issues, I can't convince myself that I'm not screwing up the master plan. Which is just a dumb ridiculous double-standard, but I'm having a hard time jumping that hurdle. How can I truly in my heart feel that something is ok for everyone else in the world, but simply refuse to believe it for myself?

It's also a dumb reason to keep doing flailing IUI's.

I'm feeling slightly better about it all today, but I still have no faith in this and have no effing clue where to go next. Dr Boy is willing to go whatever route makes me the least batshit crazy.

Give me a good reason to do another injectables/IUI cycle after this. Please. Because my head and my heart hurt, and I can't decide on my own.

Also? The forced break we'll be on for most of Oct would be a great time to do the requisite month of BCP for IVF, thereby wasting the least amount of time possible.

Fort Knox

Apparently it's like Fort Knox up in my lady business. The ovaries? They be unstimmed. 

The RE that saw me (not my usual Dr K) didn't see anything measurable on righty (less than 9mm he said), and only one on lefty around 8-9mm. He didn't bother to measure that one either. The plan is to continue 2 vials of menopur each night and come back in on Monday. He seemed pretty certain that we'd end up canceling altogether on Monday.

Big sad face. I asked if we could go up to 3 vials and see if that gets us anywhere, and he said "No, 'cause then we'd just end up with 10 follies." While I don't want to mistrust his medical opinion, since that's what he does for a living and all, I just wonder if upping the dose would make things go crazy in lady town. If two vials isn't doing ANYTHING, why would that make it go CRAZY? His bedside manner wasn't fantastic, and he said that if I wanted an appt long enough to discuss these kind of things I should schedule another one. Then left. It's 3:30pm on a Friday at this point, HOW AM I GOING TO MAKE ANOTHER APPT before the weekend and it's a moot point?

I considered going rogue, but I don't have enough meds to do it. 

I made my appt for Mon am (a long one), then left the appointment in hysterics. Because I'm a drama queen that can't handle stress, apparently. Seriously though, if I can't handle this, how in the hell am I going to handle something TRULY tragic that happens in our lives?

Dr Boy and I discussed it, and really would at least like to try upping the dosage. If we don't see anything promising on Monday, I'm going to advocate for trying an increased dose for two or three days. If we DO end up with over-populated follie-town, we'll just avoid conception this time around so we don't birth a new minor league baseball team all on our own. If this cycle is destined to be a big fat bust-o-rama, we'd at least like to use it as a science experiment to see if we can get the follies to respond to menopur at ALL. 

We don't want twenty babies. We just want to know if this will EVER work. If we'll EVER get to do a damn IUI or just keep cancelling them.

I'm still pretty much an emotional wreck over it, but I'm feeling better about our plan. Provided we can talk our doc into it. Wish us luck.

Now only 48 more hours of waiting.

I had a dream...

All day yesterday and last night I was having a lot of anxiety about the ultrasound this afternoon. First off, I was dumb, dumb, dumb to schedule the thing for the afternoon. I mean really, how in the hell am I going to get anything done at work for the next six hours? (Clearly it's not going well so far or I wouldn't be blogging) That aside, I am terrified that my follies will continue to be lame. I am terrified that the giant stomach and weird cramping is a bad sign, not a good one. I don't want to be stimming for the better part of an entire month. I just don't have that in me. I'm only on 2 vials of menopur, for goddsakes, how in the hell will I deal with IVF if we have to go there???

Though I did let quite a bit of stress out in a good ugly cry before dinner, I still had a ton of it floating around in my brain when I went to sleep. And dreamed about my ultrasound.

Dr Boy was there with me (which he won't be able to do today), and as soon as they wanded me, the doctor got all serious. The Dr said that my follie production had gone off the charts, and that our only option at this point was to trigger and do IVF, or call it off and probably lose my ovaries.

SAY WHAT?????????????????

The dream skips, and the next thing I know, I'm being wheeled into an egg retrieval for our impromptu IVF.

That I didn't want, but was apparently our only chance at having a bio-kid ever.


Then I woke up.

This whole thing is such a mind-fuck. Good thing I have SIX HOURS to obsess about it now.

-----------------

Last night's injection hurt. No bruise or anything, just lots of soreness around the area. It's mostly gone now.

Also, I was wondering yesterday... does the transvag u/s see to the other side of your ovaries? I mean, if they don't see any good follies on the u/s, is it possible that there is a fantastic one on the other side? And what about lefty? Lefty seems to always be hiding behind my ute or bowel (which I've been told is a frequent problem), so how do they get good, accurate measurements? How do they know there isn't a hiding fantastic follie, that the dominant one we're trying so hard for isn't just being a stubborn camera-shy p-o-s?

These are the things I think about nowadays.