Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Educated guesses

Today I went to see my RE (Local Clinic, the doc I've been seeing for years).
I wanted to talk about what comes next - a bit too soon, given we're
still mid-FET - but I like to plan ahead.

In brief, this is the gist:
- I'm thinking of pulling the plug, and I'm right to do so.
- doing one or two more fresh cycles is reasonable, but beyond that ...
- considering alternatives is a good idea (donor, adoption).

You could say I got the donor-talk, but more accurate is that I invited it.
I admitted I'm losing hope and constantly wondering whether the time
to quit has come - though I don't feel ready to throw in the towel
completely.
We've taken the first steps on the long, long path to adoption (3+
years to go - at least). I told him I was considering embryo donation
as an option.

We talked about the previous cycles, the numbers and the outlook for
the near future. Not stellar - he brought it more gently - but that
was the message.
Not impossible either, because there's no clear-cut cause for our
failures either. We're unexplained all over again.

The RE suspects that most likely, there's an egg problem. The early
m/c could be an indication of that - or not. The good day 3 embryos
turning into mediocre day 5 embryos might support this - or not.
There's just no way of knowing for sure.
What is for certain is that with a young (preferably proven) donor's
eggs, the odds of success would be much better.

Lots to think about.

Is the longing still that strong - he asked at some point.
Yes. (Close to tears there, but this time it passed.)

Hearing someone else say there's little reason for optimism was hard -
even though it's how I feel myself. I wouldn't have believed him, if
he'd have told me it would all work out - no problem, how could I?

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Check. And Check.

Crying at work. Check!
Period shows up. Check!
Baseline blood draw. Check!

Finally, my period decided to make an appearance today. In honor of
the occasion, I've had my blood drawn for a baseline check. Further
instructions to follow tomorrow.

And I have indeed cried at work, though luckily there was almost no
one to witness it. Only the PG lady in my office.
Really, she's very nice, and apart from the baby on board top, I can't
*reasonably* hold anything against her.
It would have been great to have been PG together, because we're on
the same wavelength about many things.
As taste in maternity wear goes, I remember having one of those belly
bands with baby feet on them (in my defense, they were a gift).

Unreasonably though, she symbolizes what I long for most at the moment
and that is hard to be around.

What sparked the tears, is this question: "Is there really no hope left?"
An excellent question, but one that I found impossible to answer out of hand.

Can I absolutely guarantee that continued treatment will not work?
No, I can't. This is precisely why I'm inclined to continue.

But does that mean I have hope left? No, I don't. Not right now in any case.

Some people, even IF people, seem to think you have to hope in order
for ART to work. Maybe they're right, and I'm wrong. But frankly, the
suggestion makes me angry. It implies that our failures are really my
own fault.

Feeling hopeful isn't something I control. Either I do, or I don't.

I believe that you have to make it to transfer. And then nature has it's way.

Linnea is her adorable 3yo self. Each night I sneak into her room to
look at her and give her a kiss. It's an indulgence, since I risk
disturbing her sleep, but it gives me a much-needed boost.

The thought popped into my head that giving her a sibling is only the
second-most thing I want in the world.
What I want most is for Linnea to live long - and prosper. What alarms
me most is the realization of how little control I have to make this
happen.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Coping, but without grace

It's been 5 days since I stopped the progesteron supplements. I'm
still waiting for my period to come through so we can start with the
next attempt. There's something very sad about waiting for a period I
hoped wouldn't need to show up in the first place.

I'm not coping so well at work. Sharing an office with the current PG
lady is depressing me. I was doing ok up to a week ago, but I suppose
a BFN is enough to explain the change of heart.

I cringe at the cutesy top with 'baby on board' print. When the
conversation inevitably moves to mommy talk over lunch, I fight the
urge to melt onto the floor in a puddle of tears. I make excuses and I
leave. By now, everyone must think I'm nuts.

Any day now, I'm going to crack and burst into tears at work. I hate
it when that happens.

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

Here we are: starting year 3

Perhaps not to the day, but it was about two years ago that we started
round number 2 with ART.
A most unwelcome anniversary.

More and more, I think about letting the dream go. No, that sounds too serene.
I think of prying the dream from the death grip of my clenched fists.
It's going to take a while.

And while I work on it, I'll go on with some more ART. But I know I
can't go on forever.

The second blood draw confirmed the negative result. The clinic does
back-to-back FETs, so on CD1 we start again.

Monday, February 07, 2011

Bloodwork confirms

Another BFN. Moving from astonished waiting, straight back to despair.

The clinic wants me to continue all medication and retest in 2 days. Oh joy.
What on earth for? Resurrection embryo?

I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Not a hint

At 8dp3dt not a hint of a second line on the hpt (the early testing variety).

The sticks have never lied to me before, so as far as I'm concerned
this cycle is toast.
(I will be taking my medications as ordered, until I'm given the ok to stop.)

Bloodwork later today should confirm.

Sigh.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

The ache of old fractures

I was up in the clouds for a few days - happy about the unexpected transfer.

Today I was bumped back down onto the ground.
Why? Office gossip. Another co-worker is PG, says a reliable source.
Due in October.
Quick calculation tells me the P-stick can hardly be dry. 4 weeks along?

Good for her, of course. But I can't help the sinking feeling. She
must be the 8th (or 9th) since we started TTC again.

It knocks the wind out of me. I have to fight the irrational idea
that a PG announcement around me (IRL), means failure for us.
We're at the end of the line and keep getting pushed back by people
cutting in before us.

An outsider might expect that the hurts of IF are all healed once you
make it to the other side.
Part of me even hoped it would be so. Well once upon a time I did.

Obviously, it isn't as bad now as before we had Linnea. I remember
being shattered, hiding out in the bathrooms crying because of a PG
announcement (lapped once).

I think the ache of IF will never go away completely. It no longer
consumes me all of the time, but when the weather changes I feel it.