IVF #3: Day 3 of Stims

Hey, I'm back!

Not a lot of excitement, other than the fact that the birth control pills made me vomit this time around. Yecchh. Sympathy to my heterosexual sistren.

They also, like last time, made me really, really depressed. I've been off of them for a week now and the miasma is finally starting to clear.

Anyway. Third day of stims, yeah. Having one underreponse and one overresponse under my belt, of course I'm eager to see where this one will land. We're using an "overreponse" amount of stims, but I'm on metformin, which will hopefully modulate my response enough to keep me away from OHSS.

I am also considering transferring two embryos. Maybe if I sacrifice my principles, the sacrifice will be deemed handsome enough, and I'll finally get to have a freaking baby. Don't you have to let go, open your hand, give up, just relax before you can get pregnant?

I don't believe any of that, of course. Of course.

A while ago, when I was trawling the internet for depressing videos, I found one called "The Slow Path to Motherhood". I can't say the video spoke to me, but the title has stuck in my mind. The slow path to motherhood. This is the path I'm on, and the implications of that tumble around in my head.

Is there some way spin it positively, to find meaning in the fact that I'm on this path? I've toyed with the idea that maybe I'll appreciate motherhood more, having arrived this way. But you know, I think most parents love their children pretty much to the max, regardless of whether it was easy or hard to get 'em.

I don't think it's made me a better person. I think it's made me a worse person. I liked myself a lot better two years ago.

In conclusion: the only lesson I think I have learned from this path is that this is the path I'm on. Gracefully or gracelessly, this is the path I have to stumble down, and hope that what's at the end is what I want it to be (hint: live squalling infant, stinky diapers, hysterical toddler, condescending teenager).

And if there isn't? That will be the path I'm on then. And I guess I will find some way to walk it.

CD8: No go

Haven't much had the heart to blog -- last cycle negative, of course. I've started the birth control pills for my last fresh cycle.

Big love to all the kind and wise people who told me to step away from the Google. Now it seems a bit foolish to worry about multiple pregnancies, given that right this second being pregnant at all seems fantastical.

I've unsubscribed from several high-profile infertility bloggers, all of whom are now pregnant (nobody whose journal I've ever commented on, or who has ever commented here). It's just too much. Too much. I was at a conference this week, in a discipline that's heavily female and, apparently, fecund. I overcompensated mightily, as always. If I'm ever pregnant, I wonder will I notice when a woman is smiling at me too warmly? I know I'll never be a belly-rubber, but I wonder if I'll see. Probably not. I can't see it on anyone else's face even now. I always feel like the only person whose eyes slide away.

4DPO

That's right, ladies and bois. I am 4DPO, which means that I did eventually O on CD25, after only 8 blood draws. I have reached the point where I don't even have to sign into the lab any more. They see me coming and automatically get my paperwork. It's very convenient.

Anyway, I'm rather thrilled that we managed a well-timed insemination this month, despite my ovulatory tardiness. For some reason the IUI was a bloody affair, which was odd because previous ones were almost all smooth as silk. This one didn't hurt terribly, but for some reason I bled. We had to stop for a while (with me cranked open mais oui) to wait for it to slow down so that he could thread in the catheter.

I don't mind though. Difficult embryo transfers are associated with lower success rates, but I haven't found any indication that difficult IUIs are less likely to work. I assume that the 5-10 days between insemination and implantation gives the endometrium plenty of time to relax and heal from whatever trauma is caused by the insemination. Plus, I'm pretty sure it was my cervix, not my uterus that was bleeding.

Still don't know what my plan is for next month if this doesn't work. Another IUI, au natural? IUI with clomid? or plunge straight into the final IVF? I just don't know. The clomid conflicts with my hypertension-induced terror of multiples, but as any pregnancy starts to look fantastically unlikely, so does the fear of twins recede. As far as I know, clomid carries a multiples risk of about 10% of pregnancies (my nieces are clomid twins). Injectibles carry a risk of 18-20%. IVF with double embryo transfer carries a risk of 25-33%.

I just don' t know. A chronic hyptertensive's pre-eclampsia risk with a singleton pregnancy is a terrifying 25%. My age and lack of previous pregnancies add to the risk. Getting pregnant with multiples would increase that even more.

Oh, god. I just read "The highest risk of pre-eclampsia was seen in nulliparous women with MAPs >85 mm Hg at randomization, where the incidence of pre-eclampsia ranged from 32% to 41%". I shouldn't do this at all, should I. I don't care. I have to try. But yeah, I'm seroiusly mad at myself for not doing this when I was younger and less hypertensive. Someone take the internet away from me right now.

Someone say something comforting kay?

CD21: Warning, this post is so long that it has footnotes.

Today's subject: Why I Blame Republicans for my Infertility¹


I recently had a long and heated conversation with a dear friend, a a Democrat who is deeply committed to social justice. Distressed by the divide in our country, she called for a ratcheting down of the rhetoric of evil. Quit thinking of the Republicans as evil. They're just people like us who were raised with a different set of values. If we think of them as evil we'll never be able to talk to them.

Eminently reasonable, right? A fairly mild call to lay down arms. Who could object to that?

It turns out that I do. I know I can't have reasonable conversations with Republicans about their views. I can certainly have reasonable conversations with them about other subjects, and do every day -- but the party affiliation is an absolute conversation-killer for me.

The problem is that I take it all very personally. The Republicans are, to me, the party of institutionalized homophobia. They use the hatred of gays as a lever in the culture wars in order to advance their economic interests.²

I'm sure that as a femmey white bourgie I've suffered less than many from homophobia. But the path that led me to this blog is paved with homophobia.

I'm part of a binational gay couple. This has had a massive effect on my life: my partner of 11 years has no immigration rights on the strength of our relationship.

We were crazy in love from the moment we met, and probably would have been married within the year.³ I can't help but imagine how things could have gone differently had we lived somewhere that recognized our relationship.

Because of our immigration status, we've never had more than a few years of knowing for sure that we were going to be in the same place. I crave security like Palin craves ANWAR drilling. For the past 11 years we've shifted from one short term solution to another. I really cannot overstate how much this freaks me out. I never felt like things were stable enough to start to try to conceive. Finally, at age 33, I realized that stable or not I could put it off no longer, and that I would just have to deal with the strong possibility of moving to a strange country with a small child.

Or, as it turns out, not. I'm turning 35 soon. This has been harder than I ever imagined, and I'm fully aware that the hardest times may yet be ahead of me.

So yes. I blame homophobia for denying us the social and legal support that is so important to young families. Of course it's not totally the fault of homophobia. I could have been better and braver and bolder. If I had had that courage to start this at a younger age, uncertainty be damned, I might well be pregnant by now, like the many young lesbians I have seen zoom by me over the past few years. I save most of my blame for myself. But I reserve a portion of blame for homophobia and, by extension, for the party that has chosen to wave the homophobia flag.

SO yes. I take it personally, too personally. I take it very personally that we may soon have to sell our house (in an increasingly terrifying market) and leave the country that I love⁴. I take it personally that if I have an aneurysm in Florida, I might not be able to spend my dying minutes with the person I love the most. I take it personally that the Republicans actively oppose my creating, nurturing, or protecting my family.

I hate that homophobia has made so much of this wide, vibrant country seem small and threatening to me. Again, if I were bolder, more of a risk-taker, probably it wouldn't be so. Or if I didn't have or want a family, it'd hardly matter. Rugged individualism works great when you've only got your rugged self to protect.

And that is why I fail at civil discourse. I can't talk Republican matters without being overcome with a wave of you either think I shouldn't exist or you don't care that the rest of your party thinks I shouldn't exist. I have a special place of impatience for gay-friendly Republicans. I get it, you care about my civil liberties, you just don't care enough to quit supporting your homophobic party.

Of course, if I had my way and everyone who was gay-friendly quit the Republican party, then who would exist to change the party from within? The Log Cabin Republicans claim they're doing just that.

After having puzzled over the dilemma, I've come to the conclusion that the moral thing for those people to do would be to join the Republican party, advocate as hard as they can for Teh Gays, and then when they get to the voting booth, vote Democratic.

---

¹I've gone back and forth about whether to identify myself as "infertile" when it doesn't really describe the state of being a lesbian who has so far been unable to conceive. But in the end I've decided that "infertile" describes my experience even if it doesn't describe my physical state.

²To be fair, at least some of them hate gays sincerely and not as a cynical cultural ploy.

³ After we'd been together for a week, I went away for a week. She's said that she would have applied for a marriage license during that week. I don't think I would have put up with that, though. I want a big dress.

⁴ Even though I am a Democrat.

CD20: No beginning in sight

I've had 5 blood draws so far this cycle. My estrogen is still low and no ovulation is in sight. My ovaries appear to have retreated into a defensive huddle.

Obama's polls are down and I'm not feeling that great either.

May there be new hope, new energy, and a shot of luck for both of us in the future.

CD12: In Which Yet Another Lab Tech Makes Me Cry

In preparation for this month's IUI, I went in this morning for a blood draw to determine how close I am to ovulation and if we should start doing ultrasounds.

My blood was drawn not by any of the lovable cast of characters you've met so far (Chatty Phlebotomist, Inappropriate Lab Administrative Assistant, or Ultra-Sweet Lab Manager). This morning it was drawn by the guy that the GF and I just call "Crazy Guy".

Crazy Guy is also a phlebotomist. Crazy Guy is called Crazy Guy because he rambles constantly, half of it mumbling. The mumbling contributes to the incomprehensibility of the soliloquy. If he weren't wearing a lab coat you'd think about calling hospital security. But his mumblings don't seem to distress his co-workers, and he draws blood with perfect ease, so I have had no quarrel with him.

Until today.

Me: (being swabbed, having tourniquet fitted)
Crazy Guy: So, how many kids you got at home?
Me: None.
Crazy Guy: Ah, you will.
Me: Hope you're right.
Crazy Guy: Little girl.
Me: (thinks it's a question) Girl or boy, I don't really mind, I'd be happy with either.
Crazy Guy: No, I'm telling you, you're gonna have a little girl.
Me: (stares at wall silently, tries not to cry)
Crazy Guy: (witnesses tear-filled eyes with satisfaction) When people come here, I like to uplift them.

12dpt3dt: beta day

It wasn't a big shock to me that the beta was negative. Of course I had been peeing on sticks all along, and although I know that some people get negative HPTs right up until their betas, that's rare. And rare things are... not common.

So here I am. It's amazing to me that I am now in the category of "two failed IVFs". Shouldn't I at least get partial credit for the miscarriage? Like, a D-? But no. Unlike horseshoes and nuclear weapons, close don't count.

I get one more try before my insurance runs out. One more try before IVF moves from "expensive" to "cripplingly expensive" and possibly "unfeasibly expensive".

I'm sore, emotionally and bum-wise. Over the past two days my bum has tipped over from "pretty much okay" to "owowowowow".

I'm sad. I'm scared. But this isn't the suckiest point of my journey.

Below I would like to submit My ratings of the suckiness of negative cycles, in ascending order ot suckitude.

6. BFN, home inseminations #2-8
5. BFN, home insemination #1
4. BFN, IUIs #2 & 3
3. BFN, IUI #1
2. BFN, IVF
1. 6w4d miscarriage

At least this time, unlike last time, I don't have the overwhelming sense of having been a sucker.

On the plus side, I managed to avoid both Chatty Phlebotomist and Inappropriate Lab Administrative Assistant and got my blood drawn by Ultra-Sweet Lab Manager. Also, after two months of metformin, I have effortlessly dropped 5 lbs. That might not seem like a big deal, but it's extremely difficult for me to budge even small amounts of weight without going all-out no-carb, and I'm pleased to have a bit more room in the ol' jeans.

Now I stop the progesterone and wait to bleed. Then a new cycle begins, hopefully without too much delay. I think I'm going to do an IUI next cycle, just to keep a hand in, y'know? Just a single IUI because I can't see blowing over $1200 on something with such a low chance of success (and yet, somehow, blowing $600 on the same chance seems perfectly reasonable. Hey, it's only half as crazy.)

The auguries were really great this cycle, too. Stupid auguries.

On that subject, I offer the following dialogue with The "Softscape" Promotional Magic 8-Ball that I got at some trade show:

Me: Why didn't the embryo implant? Was it something I did?
Softscape Magic 8-Ball: VERY LIKELY
Me: Is this ever going to work for me?
Softscape Magic 8-Ball: CANNOT FORTELL
Me: Am I going to lose my fucking mind?
Softscape Magic 8-Ball: PROSPECT GOOD

Maybe I've just been asking the wrong augurs. This one seems bang on.