RenovationGirl

No More Elephants In The Room

Probably the hardest part of this past and, most likely, final cycle is the fact that one of my most favorite  people in the world was blessed with an unexpected pregnancy.  While usually I can step away from the pregnant world because most of my friend's are done with their family-building, I cannot this time.  I will be immersed in the land of pregnancy for the next eight months.  This is a true test of friendship.

Those who have experienced infertility know that you can have dual emotions of a contradictory nature-you are at the same time overjoyed for your friend and crushed for yourself.  This time was not different except this friend is one of my bestest friends in the world.  And so, for the past few weeks since she called to tell me her news, we both have been dancing around those elephants in the room.  And it has sucked. I think we both were unsure of how to react to one another.  I will not try to stifle such deserved joy, but with each comment on the pregnancy, I felt as if I was socked in the gut one more time.  Certainly, if Wednesday's news had been positive (and subsequently I would have been able to deliver a full-term baby), we would have had a blast trading pregnancy symptoms and newborn woes.  But we all know that didn't happen. 

Because I am angry and frustrated and bitter, I have avoided contact.  I didn't want to lash out on her and I also didn't want anyone to pity me because I was lashing out.  She also has avoided me because really, what can she say?  She was so upset for us that her pregnancy came so easily.  She was devastated for us that the cycle didn't work.  She knows how difficult this is for us.  But life is good for her right now (excluding all the awful and annoying first trimester issues) and she shouldn't hide that.  So we continued dancing.

Until yesterday.  Yesterday with just one email, those elephants disappeared from the room.  She reached out and that was all I needed.  Do I still feel crappy by my circumstances?  Heck, yeah!  But am I as filled with anger and bitterness?  Not really.  It took a lot for her to send that email, to let me know she just wasn't sure what I wanted or needed, but that she was there.  I was painfully honest with her and terrified this would end our friendship.  But it didn't.  And perhaps as we move through her pregnancy together, we will come out on the other end even stronger.

I still question God's timing in this situation, but I know one thing...now that those darn elephants have moved on, we can get back to being ourselves.  Phew! 

When Negative Results Are a Bad Thing

It seems kind of funny to me that most people who get medical tests done are hoping for a negative.  You're getting tested for cancer-it's negative-Hallelujah!  You get tested for an auto-immune disease and it's negative?  Praise be!  But with infertility, you hope and pray for that positive result.  Infertility is weird that way.

As suspected, we did get a negative result yesterday.  It was not surprising, but still as devastating.  Probably most upsetting, besides the stupid things people who have no understanding of this say, is how crushed my doctor's office sounded when they called to tell me.  I had told them earlier in the day (when they called to see why I didn't go first thing to get my blood work...I figured, why stress myself out getting up early, still being late for work, for a negative result?!) that I had peed on a stick and it was negative...I was reprimanded for that.  Later in the day, when they called, I think they were glad I was prepared.  I, of course, let the call go to voice mail...it makes it easier on all of us.

So, I stopped taking the progesterone and wait for the hated period to arrive.  The doctor is gung-ho to try a new protocol, and even though we said we were done, I won't lie and tell you I wasn't considering it.  The money isn't there (this doctor only takes cash/checks, no credit) so we definitely can't do it this month, and quite frankly, I'm not sure we can handle it emotionally this month, either.  But I've never had a new protocol.  Ever.  We have always done follistim-and that was it.  This past time, we did add ganirelex (sp?), but that's wasn't such a big deal.  So, if you're a fellow infertility sufferer, let me know if you've done a lupron flare and/or menopur, which is what he's hoping to add. 

The day itself was filled with little blessings and little annoyances.  They balanced one another out well, which made it bearable.  Certainly, Builder Boy's snuggliness and sweetness (he must have said, "I love you, Mama" dozens of times!! which is a rarity!) made everything seem just fine.  And the salesman at the Pretzel Factory who struck up a conversation with me while we were waiting for our pretzels to finish baking kept me from breaking down in an embarrassing heap after my blood test.  And the nice lady who let my car into heavy traffic eased my anger a bit.  Although, the phlebotomist who was maybe 20 and who insisted calling me "honey," almost got decked. And the pathetic excuse of comfort from certain friends enraged me a bit.  But, finishing the day off with another wonderful conversation with PorscheNut, a few episodes of Raising Hope (dear Lord, that's one funny show!), and a chapter of the current book I'm reading, calmed me enough to get to sleep.

I'm not sure where we go from here.  I know, ultimately, we will be fine.  That's what life is all about...pain, disappointment, then recovery.  We will find joy, we will find purpose.  But this is not easy.  And I am very angry. 

The Pros

In the past few days, I have been touched by the many friends who have sat with me during the last few days of what is looking like my last cycle and the end of my journey.  From Heidi and Becky who ride this roller coaster themselves, to my work friends, to Ann and Shayne, my dear sorority sisters, and my best friend from all the way back in fourth grade (which, if you're counting, was just yesterday....).  Knowing that you all are there and holding my hand lifts me up.

Each interaction has been unique, yet just as helpful and fulfilling.  Just yesterday, as I walked into my part-time job, C. lined up the weekend...she had created two sets of plans-both of which she called "celebrating."  Her thoughtfulness just about brought me to tears until that big bullseye.  I am always overwhelmed to know that people are not just thinking of me, but feeling for me.  Her plans were so incredibly generous, sincere, and thoughtful.  I thought about them all night as we got whopped with 5 inches of snow over a nice layer of ice and I had to drive home on unplowed roads.  Argh.

This morning, over my morning coffee and scone, I had a heart to heart with PorcheNut.  I thought about how many of these we have had over the years...they are too numerous to count.  The hour long (oh yeah, somehow both of our kids let us talk that long!) conversation lightened my heart a bit.  She said all the right things, gave perfect advice, but best of all, I got to cry without feeling vulnerable or judged.   She told me things I needed to hear...That I can get through this.  That it's total crap that I have to go through this.  That I am strong.  That I have a good life.  And she told me to focus on the pros in my life instead of the cons.

So here they are:

1.  Builder Boy grows more independent each day...meaning I can have more and more "free time."

2.  Without being saddled with a newborn, we can take another Disney trip and do other fun trips that Builder Boy would love.

3.  I will not be fat and miserable during the summer months without air conditioning.  (Although, in my defense, because I treasured my only pregnancy and realized it as the miracle that it was, I never complained too much about it, so I really wasn't ever "miserable.)

4. I can drink...and drink...and drink...

5.  I will not have to take time off of work and lose 6 weeks of pay, then have my heart ripped out each day as I leave a precious baby behind.

6.  We can stop accruing debt and work harder to pay it down.

7.  I can continue to give Builder Boy the time he deserves.

8.  I can start working on myself and my marriage.

9. No sleep deprivation.

10.  No sore boobs (or crotch, for that matter)!

11.  No extra baby weight to lose.

12.  Imagine the money we'll save with only one child to raise. 

I know there are so many more pros that I'm forgetting.  Feel free to add your own in the comments sections.  Of course, the cons to a negative cycle are many, too, but today is for the pros, because I tested again this morning, and the test was still negative.  Looks like this is the end of the road for us.  Official results tomorrow afternoon.

No You Didn't

Oh yes, I did.  I broke my own rules during a cycle...I tested early.  In all previous cycle, and there have been many, I always waited for the blood test and subsequent phone call to tell me the results (which have always been negative during any of our cycles).  Even if my period came full blast, I still waited for the blood test results before I stopped believing in a cycle.

This time felt different.  This is it...the end of our fertility journey.  This time around, with much more at stake, I just wanted to know.  I wanted it to be over.  I wanted to begin whatever this next phase would bring-baby, no baby, whichever, I just wanted to move on.

All cycles are difficult, but this one had it's own unique set of challenges.  Certainly, working full time in an environment where I can't share what I am doing made it very hard to make it to all the early morning blood tests and ultrasounds.  Waking Remodel Man up before the sun to give me my shots was tough (he needs his beauty sleep, people!).  Having to find sitters for after school pickup, and fork out the money for another cycle, and sticking progesterone up the hoohaw during the day in the school bathroom...dealing with mood swings and hot flashes that could rival a menopausal woman and icing my butt in the middle of the night before my trigger shot-this has not been fun.I asked Remodel Man last night if all the other times were this bad...he thinks so, but I don't recall.  I know it was hard, but this time just seemed so much worse. 

So by Wednesday night, we will know officially which direction our life is taking.  We will be forced to move on.  And that test I took yesterday?

Negative.

I didn't tell Remodel Man...I'm waiting to get the official results.  It was, after all, four days early.  In the meantime, I am a hot, angry mess of progesterone-filled, PMSing woman. 

RG's Last Ride

I've been quiet...things have been busy.  My mind has been swirling with some incredible blog posts, but I lack the time to put the words out there.   Lately, I've been thinking a lot of summer.  It's been a long winter here with tons of nuisance snows, lots of school delays, and cold, cold weather-at this point, thinking of the spring that awaits is the only thing getting me through.

One of the joys of summer in the Pittsburgh area is heading out to Kennywood Park.  It's a local and well-loved park with two wooden roller coasters.  Is there anything more exciting than listening to the sound of the wood creaking, chain clinking at you head up the biggest hill of the coaster?  Then, as you reach the top, there is a slight pause...from there you see the river below, the span of land where once the steel mills stood, the Raging Rapids ride spraying its willing victims.  There, for just a second, even with the very sudden and exciting drop a second away, there is a peace.  There is a quiet.  For just that split second, you feel a lightness and stillness. And then...BOOM!  You drop heading into the ride of your life. 

Infertility is like that.  You trudge up that big hill, uncertainty and desperation leading each step.  You hear the creaking and clinking of your heart and your soul and your dreams. And you reach the top, and there, in a moment, is a stillness.  A moment when you know you are strong enough to do this. But, that split second later you find yourself plunged into the deep drop and struggle to stay upright and calm as you begin the ride of your life.

Remodel Man and I find ourselves back on the ride.  In October I had the laparascopic surgery to remove Stage II Endometriosis.  At the post-op appointment, our RE felt confident that through a medicated IUI cycle, he could get us pregnant.  But it was Thanksgiving and it was Christmas and we were busy.  A few weeks ago, I went into see him and we decided to give it one last try.  Why have the surgery and then not do anything else?  So, 13 days ago, we started our cycle.  In making the decision to do a cycle, both Remodel Man and I felt a sense of peace.  If it works, great!  If it doesn't, we did everything we could.  As we started the injectables, we were calm.  We discussed what we could afford (nothing, really) but decided on four cycles.  Four IUI's and then we're done.  But as we did the shots twice a day, then three shots a day, something changed.  It was too much.  Too many appointments.  Too much running around.  Too many bruises on my thighs.  Too many times flinching as the needles sank into my skin and pushed in the medication.  We were done.  We could feel that roller coaster car slowing down and heading into the station. 

This round is different.  We lack the desperation we once  had.  While I'd like to think of it as acceptance, I know in my heart it's more resignation.  We are resigned to our fate.  We still get angry, we still feel the unfairness of it all deep in our hearts, but we are tired and our pocketbook is empty. (Okay, really it's in the negative, but whatever...)

So, my friends, this is Renovation Girl's last ride.  Our last official cycle.  My FSH levels were almost too high to do the cycle and while my ovaries are responding well to the treatment, my estradiol levels are not where the doctor likes or wants them to be.  I will have around 8 mature follicles on which to bank my hopes on.  And then that's it.  I'm glad we got to feel the stillness as we entered this cycle.  I'm glad we reached the resignation point and hope that it makes the outcome more bearable.  But I feel the sudden drop coming and I'm desperately trying to hold onto the calm.  I simply cannot go there again...to the bad, dark infertile place. 

I'd appreciate your prayers on Wednesday, the day of our insemination, not for a pregnancy, but the strength to handle any outcome we are given.  I'd also ask for prayers of grace...in the midst of our last cycle ever, one of my very best friends called to tell me she is pregnant unexpectedly.  Pray that I might find the strength to be there for her and the grace to put aside my own burden to handle her joy.