Warning: it's Self-Pity Wednesday
It is now day twenty fucking five of this cycle and no sign of ovulation.
CD5: E2 33
CD18: E2 48 (LH 4.6)
CD24: E2 36 (LH 8.2)
That's right. It went DOWN. I'm waiting for it hit 100 before we can be reasonably sure that I'm on the path to ovulation. I had been encouraged by the fact that it rose a little between CD 5-18. But now it's practically down to the start. Those E2 levels are right about normal day 3 values. This means we are weeks and weeks from any action.
I just want to get started again. I just want to move on. I am unreasonably furious. I hate this. June, July, August. The world is speeding along and I'm waiting and waiting just to get another chance. Time moves differently for those who are pregnant, for those who have children. Time is not my friend.
I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm sad, I'm so, so angry. I guess the anger should be a clue that on some level I feel entitled, that I deserve this. Really I know that I don't, any more than I deserve my good health or ludicrous wealth. All the grazillions of people who conceived since I started trying, they don't deserve it, but neither do I. There is no desert, just dumb, dumb luck. Fertility rains on the just and unjust. I've been on the right side of dumb luck for health and wealth, so naturally I feel entitled to be on the right side of luck for this too.
Huh. I just looked up the "just and unjust" quote. It's originally from the Book of Matthew in the New Testament, to wit:
...He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.
I'm not Christian (nor well-read in such matters), so I wasn't familiar with the original source -- I knew it only from the Victorian jingle
The rain it raineth every day
Upon the just and unjust fella,
But more upon the just because
The unjust hath the just's umbrella.
(somewhat uncertainly attribute to Lord Bowen)
I'm pretty sure that the rain in the New Testament quote is meant to be a good thing, in a agricultural sort of way, whereas by Bowen's time it's clearly an urban annoyance.
There's some philosophical nutmeat there but durned if I can be bothered to pick it out.
In conclusion, I still don't like Wednesdays.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I don't like Wednesdays.
Reasons:
1) Wednesdays are what's referred to in my organization as "core day". That means you don't schedule any meetings outside the building, which guarantees that your day will be studded with meetings inside the building. Today I had meetings from 8:30-10, 10-11:15, 12:30-2 and 2-3:30.
2) Because I have a short attention span and most of these meetings are very, very boring, traditionally this has been the time during which I jot tiny calendars in the margins of my agendas, with arrows and circles to indicate ovulation, etc. This has not been particularly uplifting as of late. I don't know when I'm going to ovulate again, so there's isn't much for me to do except sit there and think about
3) the fact that Wednesday is my egg-retrieval-versary, and thus was my pregnantversary. Today should have been 9 weeks. I know I'll stop counting the Wednesday eventually, but eventually is apparently not today. It is also my unpregnant-versary, as it was six weeks to the day when I had that grim doctor's appointment.
Last Wednesday was pretty good, though. I escaped from meetings long enough to go for an ultrasound. I have two large (>21mm) cysts on my right ovary, but they're "inactive" -- not pumping out estrogen -- and thus shouldn't interfere with the next cycle too much. My left ovary was meek and quiet. My beta from the previous Friday was down to zero, a piece of information I was personally unable to extract from Bitchy Office Assistant. Thankfully, my doctor had better luck. Uterus looked empty, lining thin. Estrogen was low, progesterone was low. Peace reigned in the pelvic girdle.
He suggested that once I got my period in 4-5-6 weeks, I call the office and we'd make plans for the next cycle. We told him that we didn't want to wait and that we wanted to do an IUI this cycle. He was non-nonplussed and suggested that I come back for bloodwork in a week to check my estrogen and see if my ovaries are coming back online. He also used the word "miscarriage" several times, which I found oddly comforting. More than once I've felt like this whole crazy thing was in my head, how absurd to think that I ever was pregnant.
And my ovaries, they are coming back. I can tell, with my mysterious mucus-scrying ways. I've started peeing on sticks and I feel pretty sure that I'll be ovulating again before too terribly long. I'm so eager to start again, although the eagerness is no longer nearly as desperate as it was.
Right after the miscarriage I felt a tortured craving to be pregnant again, right this second. It was horrible, like I needed a drug that no one could sell me. I would have done anything.
That sensation has steadily ebbed, not coincidentally as my hormone levels have approached normal. Now I want to be pregnant again, soon, but there are things I wouldn't do to make that happen.
But you know what I would do? Stick a catheter up my hooha, that's what I'd do. Especially now that I've already maxed out my deductible, which makes all medical treatment FREE, that's right, FREE, I can go and get my ovaries scanned and it will cost my hapless insurance company but not me personally. So laissez les bon temps roulez!
1) Wednesdays are what's referred to in my organization as "core day". That means you don't schedule any meetings outside the building, which guarantees that your day will be studded with meetings inside the building. Today I had meetings from 8:30-10, 10-11:15, 12:30-2 and 2-3:30.
2) Because I have a short attention span and most of these meetings are very, very boring, traditionally this has been the time during which I jot tiny calendars in the margins of my agendas, with arrows and circles to indicate ovulation, etc. This has not been particularly uplifting as of late. I don't know when I'm going to ovulate again, so there's isn't much for me to do except sit there and think about
3) the fact that Wednesday is my egg-retrieval-versary, and thus was my pregnantversary. Today should have been 9 weeks. I know I'll stop counting the Wednesday eventually, but eventually is apparently not today. It is also my unpregnant-versary, as it was six weeks to the day when I had that grim doctor's appointment.
Last Wednesday was pretty good, though. I escaped from meetings long enough to go for an ultrasound. I have two large (>21mm) cysts on my right ovary, but they're "inactive" -- not pumping out estrogen -- and thus shouldn't interfere with the next cycle too much. My left ovary was meek and quiet. My beta from the previous Friday was down to zero, a piece of information I was personally unable to extract from Bitchy Office Assistant. Thankfully, my doctor had better luck. Uterus looked empty, lining thin. Estrogen was low, progesterone was low. Peace reigned in the pelvic girdle.
He suggested that once I got my period in 4-5-6 weeks, I call the office and we'd make plans for the next cycle. We told him that we didn't want to wait and that we wanted to do an IUI this cycle. He was non-nonplussed and suggested that I come back for bloodwork in a week to check my estrogen and see if my ovaries are coming back online. He also used the word "miscarriage" several times, which I found oddly comforting. More than once I've felt like this whole crazy thing was in my head, how absurd to think that I ever was pregnant.
And my ovaries, they are coming back. I can tell, with my mysterious mucus-scrying ways. I've started peeing on sticks and I feel pretty sure that I'll be ovulating again before too terribly long. I'm so eager to start again, although the eagerness is no longer nearly as desperate as it was.
Right after the miscarriage I felt a tortured craving to be pregnant again, right this second. It was horrible, like I needed a drug that no one could sell me. I would have done anything.
That sensation has steadily ebbed, not coincidentally as my hormone levels have approached normal. Now I want to be pregnant again, soon, but there are things I wouldn't do to make that happen.
But you know what I would do? Stick a catheter up my hooha, that's what I'd do. Especially now that I've already maxed out my deductible, which makes all medical treatment FREE, that's right, FREE, I can go and get my ovaries scanned and it will cost my hapless insurance company but not me personally. So laissez les bon temps roulez!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Today
Along with thoughts of my own much-loved mother, Mother's Day makes me think of all those who are sore and tender today: the motherless daughters, the might-as-well-be-motherless daughters, and of course the childless mothers.
So here's a special dose of love for all of those who had to learn to do without their birthright of mothering. And another again for those who are stillstanding in the aisle with itchy feet and fading smiles waiting to be mothers, whether they are waiting for the grand biological conjunction or some bureaucratic unraveling.
As for me -- well, I'm a lot happier than I was last week at this time. Last Sunday was physically my most miserable time, and I wish I could go back and tell myself that in a week I'd feel so, so much better.
The week was pretty good, distractingly busy, although Friday was a bad day. I finally went for the followup bloodwork I'd been putting off, to check that my beta has gone down to zero*. I was supposed to come in on Tuesday but whatever, I didn't want to get a beta of 11 and have to come back two days later. I had >10 blood draws last month. The crook of my arm is finally starting to heal up and all that jabbing isn't half as much fun when it's to verify only how pregnant you aren't.
Anyway, I've been reasonably chipper, but going back to that hospital was damn depressing. It's taken me most of the weekend to get my balance back.
Got an appointment for Wednesday. I just want to know what's going on in there. I want to know if my hugely swollen ovaries have slimmed down and migrated back to where they're supposed to be. I want to know if my uterus managed to expel everything it was meant to expel. Mostly, I want to know whether I can count today as CD8. I want to know how long till I can try again.
*I still don't know the results of the bloodwork due to my doctor's ever-bitchy office assistant. I'm thinking of scheduling a consult with another practice just so I don't ever have to talk to her again. I like my doctor a lot, but his staff is abominable.
So here's a special dose of love for all of those who had to learn to do without their birthright of mothering. And another again for those who are still
As for me -- well, I'm a lot happier than I was last week at this time. Last Sunday was physically my most miserable time, and I wish I could go back and tell myself that in a week I'd feel so, so much better.
The week was pretty good, distractingly busy, although Friday was a bad day. I finally went for the followup bloodwork I'd been putting off, to check that my beta has gone down to zero*. I was supposed to come in on Tuesday but whatever, I didn't want to get a beta of 11 and have to come back two days later. I had >10 blood draws last month. The crook of my arm is finally starting to heal up and all that jabbing isn't half as much fun when it's to verify only how pregnant you aren't.
Anyway, I've been reasonably chipper, but going back to that hospital was damn depressing. It's taken me most of the weekend to get my balance back.
Got an appointment for Wednesday. I just want to know what's going on in there. I want to know if my hugely swollen ovaries have slimmed down and migrated back to where they're supposed to be. I want to know if my uterus managed to expel everything it was meant to expel. Mostly, I want to know whether I can count today as CD8. I want to know how long till I can try again.
*I still don't know the results of the bloodwork due to my doctor's ever-bitchy office assistant. I'm thinking of scheduling a consult with another practice just so I don't ever have to talk to her again. I like my doctor a lot, but his staff is abominable.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Stuff that happened yesterday
Kind of funny
One of my coworkers stopped me in the hall to tell me how fabulous I look after having lost all that weight. I was just boggled. I mean yes, I did lose ten pounds in about a week, but only after I gained ten pounds in a similar time frame. Maybe I can make big bucks selling my OHSS-and-pregnancy-loss diet.
Not so funny
Flicking open my Google reader yesterday and seeing a picture of an ultrasound, 6w5d. I would no more than have winced if it had been on one of the many TTC blogs I read, but it wasn't -- it was in a blog belonging to a high school friend, so I was totally unprepared. 6w5d... why does that sound so familiar? Oh, right. Yesterday I was supposed to be 6w5d. And what's that due date at the bottom of the screen? Yup. To the day.
Huh, thought I. So that's what the ultrasound was supposed to look like.
I think anyone who's ever lost a pregnancy is familiar with the "shadow pregnancy"* problem. In my case it was easy to solve. I just unsubscribed to his feed. High School Friend and I haven't been close in the past 15 years, and I can live just fine without the blow-by-blow here.
I will admit that after I unsubscribed I went back and stared at the picture for a while. Oh. So that's what it was supposed to look like.
In other news, my pee stick was blank this morning. Mostly I'm glad, very glad; the swiftly falling levels mean that chances are excellent that my uterus is clearing out nicely all on its own. And the faster they fall, the sooner we can start again.
Still, I felt a tiny sigh. There is no longer anything pregnant about me.
Never mind. On the whole I'm feeling fine. I never would have believed you if you'd told me last Wednesday that by the following Tuesday I would be feeling pretty darn good (of course, last Tuesday I still thought I was pregnant). The situation sucks , but I knew the rules when I sat down at the table. The fluke was that I was pregnant for a little while, not that I lost the pregnancy.
I'm trying to be grateful for the glimpse I had during that little time. The world really was a different place, and it all seems a little cold and dull and mundane back here on the other side. But it's not, really, it's all just as warm and rich and wonderful as it was before. I just hope that it's not too long until I get to put on those emerald-tinted glasses again.
*I believe that the term "shadow pregnancy" was coined by the ever-apt Bri at Unwellness.
One of my coworkers stopped me in the hall to tell me how fabulous I look after having lost all that weight. I was just boggled. I mean yes, I did lose ten pounds in about a week, but only after I gained ten pounds in a similar time frame. Maybe I can make big bucks selling my OHSS-and-pregnancy-loss diet.
Not so funny
Flicking open my Google reader yesterday and seeing a picture of an ultrasound, 6w5d. I would no more than have winced if it had been on one of the many TTC blogs I read, but it wasn't -- it was in a blog belonging to a high school friend, so I was totally unprepared. 6w5d... why does that sound so familiar? Oh, right. Yesterday I was supposed to be 6w5d. And what's that due date at the bottom of the screen? Yup. To the day.
Huh, thought I. So that's what the ultrasound was supposed to look like.
I think anyone who's ever lost a pregnancy is familiar with the "shadow pregnancy"* problem. In my case it was easy to solve. I just unsubscribed to his feed. High School Friend and I haven't been close in the past 15 years, and I can live just fine without the blow-by-blow here.
I will admit that after I unsubscribed I went back and stared at the picture for a while. Oh. So that's what it was supposed to look like.
In other news, my pee stick was blank this morning. Mostly I'm glad, very glad; the swiftly falling levels mean that chances are excellent that my uterus is clearing out nicely all on its own. And the faster they fall, the sooner we can start again.
Still, I felt a tiny sigh. There is no longer anything pregnant about me.
Never mind. On the whole I'm feeling fine. I never would have believed you if you'd told me last Wednesday that by the following Tuesday I would be feeling pretty darn good (of course, last Tuesday I still thought I was pregnant). The situation sucks , but I knew the rules when I sat down at the table. The fluke was that I was pregnant for a little while, not that I lost the pregnancy.
I'm trying to be grateful for the glimpse I had during that little time. The world really was a different place, and it all seems a little cold and dull and mundane back here on the other side. But it's not, really, it's all just as warm and rich and wonderful as it was before. I just hope that it's not too long until I get to put on those emerald-tinted glasses again.
*I believe that the term "shadow pregnancy" was coined by the ever-apt Bri at Unwellness.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
My weekend
Saturday
All day I kept eagerly rummaging in my nether reasons to see if I'd begun to bleed. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Saturday night we went to Target. All week I'd been planning a trip to Target after the Friday ultrasound, after we heard a heartbeat. I was going to do a victory lap around the maternity clothes and even walk casually through the baby department.
Well, I love Target. I was not going to miss my Target trip just because I was suddenly unpregnant, dammit.
We went and had a good time. Bought dog biscuits and I'm suddenly unsure what else, but I know there were like five bags, so we must have bought some other stuff as well. Had a good time despite the fact that they clearly made a mistake letting me in the door, because every other woman there was visibly pregnant. One of the men looked a little suspicious, too.
When I stopped at the bathroom on the way out, I had begun to bleed, just a little.
Sunday
Woke at 7:30 cramping like a mofo. Hobbled to the bathroom and realized that I was beginning to bleed in earnest. The next four hours or so weren't pretty. I guess I'm lucky in that with my period I don't usually cramp that much, which is to say that I had no idea that cramps could be this painful. Naproxen and heating pads didn't make a dent. I had to just breathe through them. The nice part was that in between cramps, when they stopped, they were completely gone and I felt totally fine, until the next one hit.
Bled heavily until around 11:30. Being up and walking around made it somewhat better. B made us delicious buttermilk pancakes and bacon and we took it out on the porch.
The next part I am putting in invisible ink for my more sensitive readers, or anyone who simply does not desire to read about the contents of my uterus. Select the text with your mouse if you wish to see it, you gross thing you.
While eating breakfast, I felt something utterly unlike a period cramp -- a sharp lancing pain that made me gasp. I went upstairs to the bathroom and passed three clots each about half the size of my fist. Then I suddenly felt much, much better. Not just physically but emotionally. Can't really explain it.
After that the flow slowed right down. I've had intermittent cramping, but nothing like this morning. That can't be it, there wasn't enough, too easy -- but I feel like something happened, and for whatever reason I have been feeling much better, even a little peaceful. My sweetie's practical explanation is that my ridiculously high hormone levels have finally settled down. She might be right about that. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful.
Edited to add: I'm the luckiest girl in Girlville. Just walked into the bedroom to find that the woman I am blessed to call my own prepared us a spontaneous Beltaine feast, to be served in bed. Now she knows that I love eating in bed like I love ... well, there just isn't anything I love that much.
The food is so lovely I had to take pictures, which will be posted shortly. White wine, beautiful beets, this interesting clam-potato-fresh dill-homemade lemon mayo salad with avocado curls, and the prettiest fruit salad you've ever seen.
I am the luckiest asshole ever.
Gotta go eat.
All day I kept eagerly rummaging in my nether reasons to see if I'd begun to bleed. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Saturday night we went to Target. All week I'd been planning a trip to Target after the Friday ultrasound, after we heard a heartbeat. I was going to do a victory lap around the maternity clothes and even walk casually through the baby department.
Well, I love Target. I was not going to miss my Target trip just because I was suddenly unpregnant, dammit.
We went and had a good time. Bought dog biscuits and I'm suddenly unsure what else, but I know there were like five bags, so we must have bought some other stuff as well. Had a good time despite the fact that they clearly made a mistake letting me in the door, because every other woman there was visibly pregnant. One of the men looked a little suspicious, too.
When I stopped at the bathroom on the way out, I had begun to bleed, just a little.
Sunday
Woke at 7:30 cramping like a mofo. Hobbled to the bathroom and realized that I was beginning to bleed in earnest. The next four hours or so weren't pretty. I guess I'm lucky in that with my period I don't usually cramp that much, which is to say that I had no idea that cramps could be this painful. Naproxen and heating pads didn't make a dent. I had to just breathe through them. The nice part was that in between cramps, when they stopped, they were completely gone and I felt totally fine, until the next one hit.
Bled heavily until around 11:30. Being up and walking around made it somewhat better. B made us delicious buttermilk pancakes and bacon and we took it out on the porch.
The next part I am putting in invisible ink for my more sensitive readers, or anyone who simply does not desire to read about the contents of my uterus. Select the text with your mouse if you wish to see it, you gross thing you.
While eating breakfast, I felt something utterly unlike a period cramp -- a sharp lancing pain that made me gasp. I went upstairs to the bathroom and passed three clots each about half the size of my fist. Then I suddenly felt much, much better. Not just physically but emotionally. Can't really explain it.
After that the flow slowed right down. I've had intermittent cramping, but nothing like this morning. That can't be it, there wasn't enough, too easy -- but I feel like something happened, and for whatever reason I have been feeling much better, even a little peaceful. My sweetie's practical explanation is that my ridiculously high hormone levels have finally settled down. She might be right about that. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful.
Edited to add: I'm the luckiest girl in Girlville. Just walked into the bedroom to find that the woman I am blessed to call my own prepared us a spontaneous Beltaine feast, to be served in bed. Now she knows that I love eating in bed like I love ... well, there just isn't anything I love that much.
The food is so lovely I had to take pictures, which will be posted shortly. White wine, beautiful beets, this interesting clam-potato-fresh dill-homemade lemon mayo salad with avocado curls, and the prettiest fruit salad you've ever seen.
I am the luckiest asshole ever.
Gotta go eat.
Friday, May 2, 2008
No, wait.
I had that completely wrong. My memory's never been fantastic.
My dramatic blood-draw swoon and doctor's visit was on Sunday, not Thursday. I don't remember Thursday's blood draw at all. I have no idea what I did for any portion of the day on Thursday. Probably watched some episodes of Scrubs and surfed the internet.
Goddammit.
My dramatic blood-draw swoon and doctor's visit was on Sunday, not Thursday. I don't remember Thursday's blood draw at all. I have no idea what I did for any portion of the day on Thursday. Probably watched some episodes of Scrubs and surfed the internet.
Goddammit.
Light reading for today
Decline of Serum Human Chorionic Gonadotropin and Spontaneous Complete Abortion: Defining the Normal Curve.Quadratic curves not really my thing, but the tables were pretty easy to read. It looks like the wheels probably fell off this thing last Thursday, the very day of the 1,111 beta. It does put a special spin on my Tuesday claim that "I'm glad to say that I am much much better -- I have been steadily improving since last Thursday." Well, duh. No wonder I was feeling better.
Can't help replaying the events of that Thursday. The night before was the height of my misery (also, not-so-coincidentally, the height of my hCG). By the morning I was exhausted and so sore. I crab-hobbled my way to the blood draw lab. As soon as I sat down everything started to swim and (apparently) I turned dead white. The very sweet lab manager got me a paper cup of water and suggested that I go upstairs and see my doctor. I assured him it was my very next step.
I wasn't on his appointment schedule, and he visibly winced when he saw me. We sat in the waiting room until all of his other patients had been seen. Then he sat down across from us and gave us the don't-ask-to-be-admitted peptalk. Telling us how if I could just tough it out it'd be fine.
He was right, because by that evening I was already feeling a little better. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Whenever this thing pooped out was probably not related to my swoony fit in the blood draw lab. I've had vagal events like that before. I'm sure the proto-placenta-trophoblastic-cells-whatever (embryology also not my thing) detaching was just a biochemical blip and I didn't notice its happening in any way. I kind of want to pretend that I did, though. I would like to have had that connection, at least.
Anyway, having the date and approaching another table in the paper tells me that tomorrow's hCG should be around 18-23. That perfectly jibes with this morning's faint-but-visible line (my tests detect 20 mIU). The last bit trails off slowly, but by next Wednesday I should be completely in the clear, with a level <5.
I know things don't always exactly go on schedule, but I feel better having an approximate timetable.
Why I Love My Peesticks
When I peed on a stick Wednesday morning, I knew I was being naughty. Using a qualitative test to judge hCG levels is not recommended, and it was just a waste of a perfectly good peestick.
I am so glad I did. If I hadn't we would have gone in for the ultrasound this morning. The ultrasound would have been inconclusive -- something that looks like a sac and pole, but no heart beat. That's not at all unusual for 6 weeks 2 days gestation. Now, probably I would have asked for more bloodwork to test the progesterone levels. If I had I would have gotten The News via telephone in the late afternoon, or I don't know, maybe they wouldn't have given me The News over the phone, maybe they would have made me come into the office, and I would have known exactly what that meant and it would have been torture.
In another dimension, I might not have asked for repeat bloodwork. They don't do it routinely once you start ultrasounds. Since the ultrasound would have been inconclusive, they'd have had me come back in a week, or even two weeks. All that time I would have been taking progesterone shots, which would have kept my body from bleeding on its own. I could have easily spent another two weeks believing this was viable and googling "6w2d ultrasound no h/b sac". I am unutterably grateful that I did not have to go through that.
Of the possible worlds in which this pregnancy isn't viable, I am living in one of the best of them. Granted, it would have been even better if I'd peed on that stick on, say, Monday, or repeated my beta then; we could have seen it falling, and falling betas are never okay when you did a single embryo transfer (they can be less dire if they represent a disappearing twin/triplet in a multiple pregnancy). But I still did pretty well.
Next time you can bet your booty that I'll be peeing on one of those sticks every half hour. As it is, I don't have to give them up altogether. I'm still peeing on one every morning. This morning's was very light, maybe half the strength of the previous one. That's a good thing. The sooner my hCG levels fall, the sooner we can try again.
I don't know yet how we'll try again. I'm not going to do another fresh IVF immediately. I had no idea how hard it would be on my body. I can't risk OHSS and another two weeks off work again. I managed to excuse this last one with a vague "emergency minor surgery" (whatever that means) but I think it'd be a little fishy if I tried that again in 8 weeks. I think the next cycle will be IUI. Chances of success with an IUI are low, which makes it sort of a nice compromise between "doing nothing" and "jumping right back in".
Luckily I have some time to think. Next cycle will probably be minimum 6 weeks from the time I start to bleed, and lord knows when that will be. It's frustrating, not knowing how long I'll be benched. Hey I used a sportsball metaphor, go me. That's a little of the yang energy I need, huh?
Overall, I'm doing okay. I have been "trying to conceive and not pregnant" for 16 months. I was pregnant for 2 1/2 weeks. Really, the pregnant mindframe was the one that was a constant stretch for me. This feels familiar.
Here, I have a perfectly good highway metaphor in my blog name. It's metaphor time.
This is a little bit like driving around lost. You have a limited amount of gas and you have to be somewhere by a specific time. You're driving down this featureless highway and you think you're going in the right direction, but you might not be. Finally there's an exit. Whoopee! Except that it dumps you right back on the same road, which is exactly as inscrutable as it was before. What the heck. Better signage, people. What was the point of that exercise, exactly?
I am so glad I did. If I hadn't we would have gone in for the ultrasound this morning. The ultrasound would have been inconclusive -- something that looks like a sac and pole, but no heart beat. That's not at all unusual for 6 weeks 2 days gestation. Now, probably I would have asked for more bloodwork to test the progesterone levels. If I had I would have gotten The News via telephone in the late afternoon, or I don't know, maybe they wouldn't have given me The News over the phone, maybe they would have made me come into the office, and I would have known exactly what that meant and it would have been torture.
In another dimension, I might not have asked for repeat bloodwork. They don't do it routinely once you start ultrasounds. Since the ultrasound would have been inconclusive, they'd have had me come back in a week, or even two weeks. All that time I would have been taking progesterone shots, which would have kept my body from bleeding on its own. I could have easily spent another two weeks believing this was viable and googling "6w2d ultrasound no h/b sac". I am unutterably grateful that I did not have to go through that.
Of the possible worlds in which this pregnancy isn't viable, I am living in one of the best of them. Granted, it would have been even better if I'd peed on that stick on, say, Monday, or repeated my beta then; we could have seen it falling, and falling betas are never okay when you did a single embryo transfer (they can be less dire if they represent a disappearing twin/triplet in a multiple pregnancy). But I still did pretty well.
Next time you can bet your booty that I'll be peeing on one of those sticks every half hour. As it is, I don't have to give them up altogether. I'm still peeing on one every morning. This morning's was very light, maybe half the strength of the previous one. That's a good thing. The sooner my hCG levels fall, the sooner we can try again.
I don't know yet how we'll try again. I'm not going to do another fresh IVF immediately. I had no idea how hard it would be on my body. I can't risk OHSS and another two weeks off work again. I managed to excuse this last one with a vague "emergency minor surgery" (whatever that means) but I think it'd be a little fishy if I tried that again in 8 weeks. I think the next cycle will be IUI. Chances of success with an IUI are low, which makes it sort of a nice compromise between "doing nothing" and "jumping right back in".
Luckily I have some time to think. Next cycle will probably be minimum 6 weeks from the time I start to bleed, and lord knows when that will be. It's frustrating, not knowing how long I'll be benched. Hey I used a sportsball metaphor, go me. That's a little of the yang energy I need, huh?
Overall, I'm doing okay. I have been "trying to conceive and not pregnant" for 16 months. I was pregnant for 2 1/2 weeks. Really, the pregnant mindframe was the one that was a constant stretch for me. This feels familiar.
Here, I have a perfectly good highway metaphor in my blog name. It's metaphor time.
This is a little bit like driving around lost. You have a limited amount of gas and you have to be somewhere by a specific time. You're driving down this featureless highway and you think you're going in the right direction, but you might not be. Finally there's an exit. Whoopee! Except that it dumps you right back on the same road, which is exactly as inscrutable as it was before. What the heck. Better signage, people. What was the point of that exercise, exactly?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Let's think about this logically
Things that probably caused this pregnancy loss:
All my the symptoms are now really really annoying. My hip is messed up and painful from having spent a week and a half sleeping sitting up in an armchair. I'm still massively bloated. Burping, fatigue, frequent peeing and aching breasts? Suddenly not quite such a rollicking adventure.
I keep eagerly rushing to the bathroom to see if I've started bleeding. Not even spotting yet. I just want this to be over.
Also, thank you so much for the kind comments. I keep refreshing the page and re-reading them. They really mean a lot to me.
I knew this was a solid chance, especially given the beta drama. But for all my defensive pessimism, the truth is that I was convinced that it would all be Just Fine, that the worrying was a obeisence to the gods in order to make everything work out well. Because, you see, my name is in the opening credits. My narcissism on some level believed that the writers would opt for the happy ending. Doesn't everyone love a happy ending?
- My finding out the due date
- My googling strollers
- My googling area daycares
- My calculating my sick and vacation days for FMLA
- My researching area hospitals
- My mentally practicing telling my parents and 91-year old grandmother
- My googling "babylegs"
- My joining one of those due-date threads on an IVF discussion board
- My looking at all the Burt's Bees "Mama Bee" products on drugstore.com
- The many hours I spent each day with my laptop wedged on my abdomen, pumping EMFs into Baby
- The huge amount of soy protein I ate while sick with OHSS
- OHSS
- My vaguely maybe-diagnosed PCOS
- Bisphenol-A
- Bears
- Chromosomal abnormalities incompatible with fetal development.
All my the symptoms are now really really annoying. My hip is messed up and painful from having spent a week and a half sleeping sitting up in an armchair. I'm still massively bloated. Burping, fatigue, frequent peeing and aching breasts? Suddenly not quite such a rollicking adventure.
I keep eagerly rushing to the bathroom to see if I've started bleeding. Not even spotting yet. I just want this to be over.
Also, thank you so much for the kind comments. I keep refreshing the page and re-reading them. They really mean a lot to me.
I knew this was a solid chance, especially given the beta drama. But for all my defensive pessimism, the truth is that I was convinced that it would all be Just Fine, that the worrying was a obeisence to the gods in order to make everything work out well. Because, you see, my name is in the opening credits. My narcissism on some level believed that the writers would opt for the happy ending. Doesn't everyone love a happy ending?
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