Monday, June 27, 2011

More bounce ...

In brief: levels declared 'first rate', u/s in two weeks?!

The sense of calm made way for nerves. I tossed in my bed last night
and had a hard time concentrating during the day.
The clinic called early - no hitches with the lab results this time -
with good news. The blood results are 'first rate' (no number
specified). Relief! Again, I'm stunned.

The clinic advised a first u/s in two weeks. That would be 5 weeks
after retrieval, which is then week 7. Why not a week earlier (as I
had planned)? According to them, 6 weeks is too early to see a
heartbeat for certain (or to draw final conclusions from not seeing
one).

Oh well, I've made an appointment for next week and I'm keeping it.
I've just checked back in my archives, and back in 2007 we saw a
heartbeat at 6 weeks.

While I was browsing my archives, it struck me how some things I wrote
then, reflect how I feel now.

For instance, now feels like as good a time as any to thank all of you
for your support over the last days, weeks and months. I don't know
where I would have been without this blog, and I don't think I want to
know.
Know that each and every comment is much appreciated.

In 2007 I added "Why am I thanking you now, so insanely early? PG
after IF is an awkward time in an IF blogger's life. I realize that I
will be silently waving goodbye to some of you in the near or not so
near future, depending on how this goes. Though it makes me sad, it's
perfectly ok, because that's just the way it is."

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Breezing

In brief: a benign sense of calm.

I'm hungry all the time, I feel some hint of heaviness in my abdomen,
and the duck walk can't be far off. All between my ears? Who knows.

The last two days I've been mostly stunned. I feel calm - unexpectedly so.
Sure, I can sense the shadow of fear, uncertainty and doubt creeping
in at the edges.
But, there's either going to be a baby to take home at the end of this
rainbow or there isn't. There's little I can do to make it happen.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not calm because I decided to be. No, no. I
just am, and that's fine by me. Right now I'm happy to be here, in the
running.

I've made an appointment with my RE for an u/s in 10 days time. Seems
like a perfectly absurd thing to do.

Otherwise I haven't done much, except brush up on what you're not
supposed to eat. My book on p... pr... preg... pregnancy (there, I've
said it) is in storage. Together with our stroller, the bouncer, all
the baby clothes and items that have been returned from lending out.
The book I'd like to retrieve soon, the rest I'll just finger
longingly.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Bounce

In brief: two lines & good first beta number!!!!

For the past three days I've been convinced that this cycle was a
bust. I felt nothing going on (except what I always feel on the meds).

This morning I decided not to break out my stash of 'good' early
response HPTs, but used a supermarket branded one (past its shelf life
by a couple of months too).
I saw the test line go whiter (again, must be the brand) and was
almost ready to chuck it. But the manual did say wait 3 minutes ...
and lo and behold, a second line had appeared - though it was a bit
faint for my liking. I had breakfast, glanced at the test, got
dressed, glanced at the test, brushed my teeth, glanced at the test
and the line had become much clearer. Well, a good start.

Early in the afternoon, a call from the clinic - the beta number was
missing from the results the lab had sent over. Argh! Not again!!! I
chased the lab, had them resend the results (which they won't disclose
to patients) and then waited for the clinic to call back. And waited.
And finally caved and called myself.

The beta number is good, very convincing. Next bloodtest ... in a
week! Seriously? And first u/s in a month? They haven't an mentioned
u/s yet.

How do I feel? Surreal.
Will there be a take-home baby? We'll see, one day at a time. But
we're in the running and that is great. More than great.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Free falling

In brief: also known as the 2WW. Beta test on Monday.

I'm free falling. Have been since transfer.

It was all right the first few days. I've been looking up, at the
stars, the patterns in the clouds. The ground is still a long way
down.

I try not to think about it. Hard with the air rushing past, whistling
in my ears. And the ground is getting closer. I should look away, but
I'm transfixed.

Will I bounce back or will I make a grueling smack, like last time,
and so many times before that? A smack, surely.

I panic - grasp for something to hold on to. That weather balloon over
there? A bird? Anything? There's no point.

Prepare for impact.

Now without the woolly language: I've been wishfully thinking that
perhaps, just perhaps I feel something, though now I'm again convinced
it's all down to the meds. I'm not even tired. And that on and off
full feeling? Bladder stuck under ovaries.

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaarrrrrgggggggghhhhhhh!

Warning: frustration ahead.

Did you hear that? That was my inner banshee letting out a wail as -
through choice snippets of conversation - I gathered that another
colleague is expecting. Lapped again, naturally.

PG announcements still sting whenever they arrive (though less than
before Linnea was born), but I always feel extra sensitive while I'm
near or in a cycle.

I wonder if the banshee will ever tone it down to a croak or a sighing moan.

I can see myself at 60 - who knows lucky enough to be a grandmother
myself - trying hard to tune out the other grannies boasting about
their scores of grandkids. As if their conception, gestation and
successful delivery is their personal reward for hard work and right
choices. The innocent question "do you have grandkids?" will be met
by a dark look and gritting teeth. I'll be popular, I'm sure.

I can see myself at 90 - as my mind has set adrift - sitting in a
nursing home yelling at any of the poor nurses who appears a bit round
under the midriff. "You lucky b****!" To my roommate, a sweet old
thing, into mindfulness and such all over again, I'll bark "don't give
me that look, this is the gazillionth time I've been lapped since we
started TTC again. Back in 2009." The nursing home doc I'll greet with
"Finally! Now pull out your magic wand!".
When they finally cotton on to what I'm raving about all the time,
they give me a nose spray (saline solution) and keep telling me I'll
get to start stimming next week. It keeps me quiet, if not quite
satisfied.

I feel better having let that out.

Monday, June 06, 2011

Resignation? Just a taste ...

In brief: 2 embryos were transferred. Now comes the hard part, waiting.

Resigned? I didn't feel resigned at all while I was sitting by the
phone, willing it to ring - with good news. The calm I felt the past
two days was gone. What if there was nothing to transfer? Failure
without a fighting change ... shudder.

Delusional maybe, but then I believe acceptance won't simply arrive on
my doorstep one day. Some days will be better than others.

Then the phone rang, with good news. Transfer time! Two nice embryos
were transferred.
The fert report was all right (though I always hope for more). 4
embryos developed in total, the lab will get in touch to say if any
made it to the freezer.

Meanwhile, I have plenty of stuff to keep me occupied. We're figuring
out whether to put in an offer on a house (same neighborhood). Work is
sending me on a business trip.

Speaking of work, my PG co-worker (the one I share an office with) is
leaving on maternity leave this week. The past months haven't been as
difficult as I had feared - I generally managed to engage in civil
conversation, without too much eye-rolling or sobs. Only occasionally
did I remember that if things had gone differently, we could have been
comparing notes almost to the week. I had expected this to haunt me
constantly.
Still I'm sure a weight will lift from my shoulders once she leaves.
Until she starts sending baby pics of course.

Friday, June 03, 2011

9 bottles ...

... of beer on the wall, 9 bottles of BEER - take one down, pass it around ...
... 8 bottles of beer on the wall!

(I'm sure those of you living in North-America know this song).

9 eggs were retrieved today. It was painful, more so than I remember
last times being.
I felt woozy and nauseous afterwards, my blood pressure was clearly too low.

My roommate had double that number (I reckon she was about 7 years
younger than me). Hearing it made me feel vaguely wistful - what one
could do with 18 eggs!

But there's the catch - numbers don't guarantee much. Linnea was born
out of a batch of 6 eggs, that yielded only 2 embryos.

If the details have lost much of their meaning to me, I see that as a
sign of resignation.
Soon I will be ready to quit*. A little voice in my head says "give
up, time to give up". I'm trying to change it's tune to "you've done
your best, your very best". A positive spin on the same message.

* Quit and move on to DE or adoption, when I'm sure every detail will
interest me again.

There will be no news until transfer day, when they call me to either
come over or not.

About the previous post, it feels good to compare notes. It is indeed
a grieving process, that takes whatever time it takes. I do see a
spillover effect into work, at times I compensate, at times I'm too
blue to care. I will be reading that book on reducing stress in the
workplace, because that spills over into my personal life too - and
that I can try to get a handle on.

Thursday, June 02, 2011

Read a book, who don't you

In brief: navelgazing, and - ooh - a trigger shot a bit to the left.

On two occasions (one recent, one a few months back) I got the
suggestion to read a book. A self-help book. Both times, the
suggestion was made by someone genuinely concerned with my wellbeing.

Perhaps you should read a book about detachment, one that will help
you put everything in perspective. - I was telling someone how hard I
found it to cope with personal difficulties (a closet version of IF)
on top of stress at work.
The suggestion rubbed me the wrong way, yet I couldn't dismiss it out of hand.

Perhaps you should read a book about detachment, one that will help
you put everything in perspective. - I was talking about the stress
I'm experiencing at work (adjusting to the new manager isn't going
smoothly - for none of us underlings - and I'm a tad overburdened).
The suggestion struck me as entirely reasonable, but ...

But how can learning detachment be sensible for work stress and not so
for IF stress?

Am I nursing my IF pain? Is that why the suggestion to learn
detachment rankles me?
Somehow I feel like I'm being blamed - if only you worked on it harder
you would get over it. The worst of it is - the implied blaming - I'm
sure it's me projecting my own thoughts on others.

And there is a difference of course. IF causes a grief process.
Remember what Momma said: you can't hurry grief, no you just have to
wait ... it's a game of give and take...

A bit reluctantly, I've looked up some titles of self-help books about
detachment at work.
I'm told grieving is a skill as well, perhaps I should look into books
on that too.

Any suggestions?

Meanwhile - I've triggered and am scheduled for retrieval in 36 hours.
Don't ask me for the number or size of follicles - there are some on
both sides, various sizes - I no longer keep track of the details
(see, I'm detached, somewhat). I hope we make it to transfer. A couple
to freeze would be fabulous. Beyond that ... how I could use some
maternity leave! :o)