Numbers.

Every Thursday marks off another week.  As if it takes me seven whole days to raise my foot to the level of the next tiny step on the ladder.  I find my fingers seeking out facts and numbers on the keyboard as if somehow these statitics can prove that a baby is growing within me.  David said it was strange.  Strange because I am the 'feeling' person, the instinctive, touchy, sensitive, artsy person and he is the numbers, charts and stats person in the relationship.  He said that he 'feels' that everything will turn out perfect, and I search for numbers to confirm it.  This is, indeed, strange.... Except....

My experience with conception has gone from passionate nights of emotional and physical intimacy with the man of my dreams to simply viewing my reproductive system as a labratory test tube.  It belongs to doctors who poke, prod, measure and calculate me constantly.  My days are measured by what doctor needs to examine me, which pills I will be inserting into which part of my body, or what dose of stinging medication I will be plunging into my abused belly fat.  My chances of motherhood do not lie in the dreams of a night of lovemaking, they are measured by dark burgundy blood that is drawn by sterilized needles in sterilized labs, by bruises and band-aids and phone calls. 

Passion is gently stowed away for weeks, months at a time so that my uterus is undisturbed and whatever is growing in there has complete territorial rights.  We fearfully respect those boundaries and settle for gentle kisses, cuddling and sinking deep into novels at night instead of each other. 

It's not so strange, after all, that I measure my pregnancy with numbers, considering how much emotion I have had to remove from it. 

I wonder what's happening deep inside me, in the most protected place possible.  Proof of life is aching, throbbing breasts and the constant bubble of nausea sitting somewhere between my stomach and my lips.  I allow myself brief moments of delicious imagination, when I have a moment to do so.  I picture myself with a growing belly, David witnessing his child coming to life a moment at a time for months and months, right before his eyes.  I imagine myself swollen with the weight and happiness of it all, finally able to browse possibilities of cribs, tiny boots, and life.  I avoid thoughts of the other possibilities... except to think... surely... the odds are with me, the numbers are in my favor at last.

Crazy Woman Doctor Appointment

So I got nervous.  It happens.  It's happened before.  It'll happen again.  Get it?  I want everyone to get it.  understand that I am, in my own mind, at least, a pretty level headed woman when it comes to this pregnancy thing.  It has been nearly three years of no real happy endings.  No squirming, breathing baby at the end of it, making me wonder what the hell I was thinking.  Just me, 25 lbs more of me, and close to $20K less of our money to show for it.  Yeah, I get nervous.

I get nervous when my betas are doubling at an embarrassingly low rate.  I get nervous when I have ridiculous conversations with people that leave me stressed out.  I get nervous when pregnancy signs come and go, and I get nervous when I think that this might be the one time that our dreams really might come true.

So when I had my last beta done at 9 o'clock in the morning on Wednesday, because I was nervous, I had anticipated that I might have the results within, I don't know... six hours?  Considering the lab had faxed the results over to my doctor's office (not the clinic - that's 500 miles away) within 90 minutes (that's before 11 a.m., folks...) I thought I might have a chance to ease my stress. 

Nah.  I called four times only to be told that the nurses hadn't had a chance to enter the information into the system.  They can't read it from a piece of paper from the fax, it has to be read from a screen, I guess.  So the entire day goes by and I get no relief from my nerves.  So then, as imaginations will do, my imagination took over and I was sure that my doctor wanted to wait until my Thursday (today) appointment to break the bad news to me.  Yeah, that eased my fear. 

This morning I was such a wreck, so sure that the doctor was going to have those deep, sorrowful eyes that means your entire world is going to be sucked away again, I was so worried... that I am sure my young doctor thinks I am a proverbial crazy pregnant lady, and is dreading an actual term of gestation with me as a patient.

David came with me.  I was thankful for him being there, happy for the solidness of his presence.  Happier that he got to witness some good news for a change.  The beta was 300... more than doubled.  Well, of course.  How could I ever have doubted anything but?   *crazy laugh*

Here are my numbers with a 5dt FET

12dpo  hcg 30 (none)


14dpo   hcg 66       42.20 hrs

17dpo   hcg 146     62.86 hrs

19dpo   hcg 300     46.20 hrs

17dpo

Monday's beta wasn't quite as good as I had hoped.  145.5, with a doubling time of just under 60 hours.  Not great, but Dr. H seemed to be pleased and didn't order any more betas, just scheduled my ultrasound for July 23rd.  Oddly enough, I am not nervous. 

A fellow IVF pal and blogger wrote that she didn't know if her lack of nervousness was due to confidence about the pregnancy or acceptance of sadness that might come to be. 

I thought it was a brilliant expression of honesty, and made me wonder about my own lack of concern about this pregnancy.  Am I relaxed because even though my numbers are low and slow, I feel that this baby is just a slow starter and that betas are all over the place for each pregnancy?

Or have I progressed to the point of sad acceptance of anything that might be thrown at me?

Don't get me wrong - I'm still pretty pumped about this pregnancy.  I feel pregnant, and I am exhausted with sore boobs and emotions leaking out of my face every time I turn around.  Oh, and I took another hpt today ....  the last time I took one was at 14dpo and I was troubled that it didn't show up right away, and that it wasn't darkening very much from the day before.  Today's line came up before the control line, and was thick, much darker than the control, and a really nice boost to any doubts or fears I am carrying around with me. 

The Details

Okay, I haven't really said alot, or enough about the FET.  It's nothing compared to a fresh IVF cycle, but it is still a long, drawn out event that is surprisingly anti-climatic when it actually happens.

First we went on a month of bcp, and then a month of nightly injections and a pill regime.  I had to travel with Lupron.   What's the big deal?  Lupron has to be kept refrigerated.  How the hell do you take a week long trip to Vegas and a week long adventure learning to sail with a tiny vial of meds that needs to be kept cold?  I found a small insulated lunchbox, and for those two weeks, carried it around with me, finding various spots along the way to refill big freezer bags of ice to keep things the right temperature.  It was a hassle, but worth it in the long run.  The most surprising thing is how many airport security scans never noticed that I had a huge bag of ice/water and a dozen needles in my little black lunchbox.  Totally got through Homeland Security... only the Canadian boarder agents caught the liquids and needles and did a thorough search and question session!

Then there was the whole Estridol thing.  Estridol is estrogen.  I have to take all these hormones because my body was not allowed to cycle naturally (ovulate).  So the ovaries were suppressed while we artificially tricked the uterus into a nice thick lining, and then into thinking I was pregnant.  Okay.  Back to the Estridol.  I've been on various meds, oral, injects and wazoo pills for nearly a year and a half.  I get tired of checking charts and calendars and dull needles.  And to boot, I was having a reaction to the Estridol.  My face was itching like crazy - especially the eyebrows and jawline.  I couldn't figure it out - did I contact eyebrow lice on the sailboat?  I mean, I was really scratching at my face about an hour after every dose.  My clinic was clueless - they'd never heard of a reaction and just suggested some Benedryl. 

Turns out I was od'ing on the stuff.  My pill container said '2mg twice a day'.  Most of my pill containers say '2 pills twice a day'.  Turns out each pill was 2 mg.  When I realized what I was doing I felt so stupid!  I never hurt anything according to the clinic, but I did cause myself a lot of discomfort and I did waste a lot of meds. 

On to the actual transfer.  I took my husband.  Remember, we have to travel 500 miles south for anything to do with my clinic.  One ultrasound I had at cd17 meant I got on a plane for just over an hour, then rented a car, drove 40 minutes to spend less than 30 minutes at the clinic from start to finish, then drove 40 minutes back to the airport, waited two hours and then flew home.  Over $500 for a 5 minute visit with my doctor... and I'm pretty sure our ultrasound techs here could have measured the lining pretty accurately.  But, I digress. 

So David and I went together for the transfer.  I set aside four days so I could be away from work and family and just relax and focus on gestation.  The actual transfer was uneventful, and as I said before, anti-climatic.  I arrived with a full bladder, got prepared (put on hospital gown), and got onto the table.  I was surprised that David was allowed in the room with me - and so was he.  We put in the three embies, while there was scottish music playing in the background (the embryologist is a wonderful, red headed scottish woman in her late 40's), and liked to play music for the embryos!  The staff were warm and gentle, my nurse actually touched me in comfort and took a lot of time to talk to us on a personal level. 

Then we were done.... spent the rest of the time relaxing and on my butt or back as much as possible.  We had rented a Mustang convertable and cruising around the city with our music and sunshine was one of my favorite memories with David.   I was really able to relax mentally, not just physically!

14DPO Beta

65 with a doubling time of 40.34.  :)

First Beta 12dpo

Okay, so maybe my 'official' beta might not be over 200 after all, I *might* have been a little, teeny bit optimistic, but hey, better than the alternative, right?  I'm hoping for anything decent now, like at least 60 or more?

I went to see my local doctor, a wonderful young doctor who is finally treating me like a person and not just another billing opportunity.  He warmly congratulated me and said that I had all available resources at my fingertips, including betas and ultrasounds!  Yay!  The thing is, I'm not really freaked out this time.

We decided to do a beta today because my official beta is on Friday, and we wouldn't be able to do another one until Monday.  I didn't want to spend the weekend wondering, and so by doing on today, we get a true 48 hour benchmark.  My first beta is 30.

I looked up the information on http://www.betabase.info/, one of my favorite sites, and I am well within the normal, healthy range for such an early test result!

I'm pretty happy right now, and pretty confident that my second beta on Friday will make me every happier!

11DPO

I somehow feel like I need permission to do this.  To say I am pregnant.  Again.  Let me see.  We started out with the miscarriage in July of 2008.  Then we had a chemical pregnancy (very faint) in October 2089, February and March of 2009.  We had several botched IUI's and a battery of tests and drugs in 2009 before finally giving up and turning to IVF in January. I got pregnant but miscarried early - but it was a blighted ovum so my body acted pregnant, which has got to be the world's greatest pregnant-woman's mind fuck ever.  

So it's fair to say that I we've been here before.  About five times, plus endless 'hopeful' months, filled with imaginary symptoms and desperate want.  Every time feels different.  When I had the first pregnancy, I was fine, the miscarriage came as fast and hard as a baseball bat to the side of the head in a pitch black room.  It left me puking and bleeding and crawling around on my hands and knees looking for a door out of the nightmare.

The chemical pregnancies were fast and not painless, but nothing compared to the first.  The blighted ovum was most likely the hardest (short lived!) pregnancy and easiest loss for  me, although it was the most promising since the first pregnancy.  All systems go.  Everything pointed towards a fall baby.  All tests were perfect.  But I was a wreck, I was reeling with anxiety and fear that something was wrong.  I tried to listen to the facts but the feelings were all wrong.

So how is this different.  Well besides the fact that I have stupidly early positive pregnancy tests, that are rapidly getting stronger, I am calm.  I'm accepting of whatever happens, and although I am happily feeding my compulsive testing habit like a crazed out junkie, I was honestly already making plans on my next IVF cycle in the fall when I was pleasantly surprised by... well.. this.  I *feel* pregnant this time.  I know it might not last.  I know how quickly this sand castle can wash away into oblivion, with nothing but a memory and a few blog posts to remember it.  But for now, I'm pretty sure I'll be having a baby next March! 

My beta test is on July 2nd, and unlike before, when my test dates felt a million years away, I am surprised at how fast the time is passing and how quick the test time is coming.. Friday is just around the corner.  I have a feeling it will be a HIGH beta - over 200 at least, and I'm betting more like 300.

Thanks again for all your warmth and energy.  It's early, but it has to start somewhere. 

9DPO

Not Edited.  Feel Very Ill.  Boobs Hurt Like Hell.  Weepy.

Will see if this gets darker.  Freaking Early For A FET Result.

Keep My Feet On The Ground.  Been Here Before. More Than Once.

Hopeful.  Calm.  That's Different... Hopefully Everything Is This Time.

7DPO

It's strange being 7 days past ovulation when you never ovulated at all.  LOL  I guess on my support sites for ivf patients, I'm 2dp5dpt  which means 2 days past 5 day (old embryos) transfer.  Not sure if it's different when it's a FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer), but anyhow, I am about two days from a possible bfp, and about six days from a true definitive answer. 

The transfer went well.  One embryo didn't survive, which I kind of expected, so we had two average embryos and one that had already hatched.  Two of them had started to 'plump' nicely which is great news.  It's said that frozen embryos seem to implant later than fresh ones.  Takes them some time to rehydrate and get comfy before they grab on.  So I'm kind of expecting a later than usual positive test if there is one to be had.  Most likely around 10 dpo or 11dpo before I get a line, if there is one. 

We have had a very relaxing and stress free trip to the city.  I wanted the time away from work and stress so that I can give these little beings the best chance possible.  I don't think there's anything else I could have done in this case.  If we aren't successful... well... we've survived it so far, so I guess we'll deal with it. 

Thanks for all the support..... I can use all the good wishes out there!

Surviving The Thaw

(((Butterflies)))

Well we made the trip with no issues... Treated ourselves to a gorgeous black mustang convertible while we're in the city, and of course had whimsical thoughts about how we might not be able to so that next year...

So now we are rousing from bed, kinda quiet, kinda excited, kinda nervous.. And wondering how our snowbabies are doing... How many will survive the thaw, what quality will they be? And what news will we be posting in about four days?

Catching Up!

Well!  The FET is looming... several of my IVF buddies are happily sporting new positive pregnancy tests and I've taken a reasonable amount of time to get my head into some sort of reasonable state of mind.  The spring was wrought with sadness and change, not much of it was good.  With the passing of my sister, and the latest failed pregnancy, I had to do take some time to get my heart back on a healing path.  I've also had a dramatic change in my close family dynamics (extended family) which has been really sad.


However...I must say that the past couple of weeks... well...  almost a month... has shown a better light on life.  It started when David took me to Grande Prairie for a day of shopping... I didn't realize how depressed I had been until I got away from everything and found myself in a large greenhouse.  The man knows my heart.  My sister, Lori, was a tremendous gardener, and although I love it, I am seriously under skilled and we only just bought our house late last summer, so there hasn't been much chance to do any kind of growing of anything around the yard.


With memories of my sister's love of flowers, and grasping onto anything I could remember her telling me, I started filling the cart(s) with lush, green things.  Two days later, in a still-lingering fit of tears and depression, I drug my patient, loving husband out into the yard at 8:30 at night because I wanted to 'tidy up' the front of the house.  As I sit here typing, there is a beautiful new deck, complete with tiers and built in lighting and a truckload of trees, shrubs and flowers that stretch the length of the front of the house. 


We have thrown ourselves into the yard and lawn, sawing and digging and watering and agonizing for the past few weeks and it has not only improved our house by drastic degrees, it has pulled us together as a couple and gotten our hearts and hands busy around healthy, progressive outlets.


In late May, we took my mom to Vegas for five days.  I've never been there; her and my late father went twice a year for many years, and with my sister's illness and our wedding last spring, she hasn't gotten to go for quite some time.  I thought it would be a good exercise for her to get her mind off the sadness and a wonderful distraction.  Mom just had her 73rd birthday and it seems she aged ten years since we lost Lori.  It was great to see her allowing her mind to relax and enjoy her old pastimes.  We took her to the Blue Man Group, which was fantastic (mom laughed uncontrollably!) and David and I went to The Lion King (which was great but almost too much, with scene after scene of exceptional lighting, singing and costume for nearly two hours).


And then on June 7th, David and I went down to Vancouver Island to do a five day learn-to-sail cruise around the Gulf Islands.  We didn't get the winds we wanted (and needed for certification!) but we had a fabulous adventure and got our 'compitent crew' certification.  At one point we had no less than two dozen dolphins racing along side the boat, for nearly 20 minutes.  It was surreal to have wild animals acknowledging us and including us in their play.


Now that the trips, the deck, the flowers, and the hardest part of the grieving is over, I have to face the upcoming frozen embryo transfer.  Frankly, I have never been more divided.  Part of me is positive that it will work.  I've seen so many fabulous women whose first ivf's failed or had miscarriages who are now pregnant that my hopes soar with the possibility that I might be one of them.  On the other hand, after nearly two and a half years of trying, and worse, miscarriage, I know how easily those hopes can come crashing down. 


Everything is on track.  My 38 year old body is still functioning perfectly as far as the doctors are concerned.  I fly to Vancouver on the 17th for an ultrasound to measure my uterine lining, which I'm sure will be just fine.  Then on the 22nd David and I both fly down for the transfer.  We have chosen to transfer three embryos in the hope that at least one will stick.  We  have four left, but the rate of survival is about 80% so chances are they'll have to thaw all four to get two or three good ones. 


Our transfer is on the 23rd, and yes, we are taking a few days in Vancouver to just laze around (mostly bedrest for me) and let the eggs 'latch on' if they are so inclined to do so!

Long sigh.

The only thing worse than starting a bad novel is perhaps finishing a good one.  I am about forty pages away from saying farewell to a host of well developed characters in a new novel, House Rules.  It's about a single mom who is raising two boys, one of whom has been diagnosed with a form of autism. 

I have few rituals or indulgences in my life.  An ice cold beer, with clamato juice, a slice of fresh lemon over ice, about three evenings a week; changing into horrid pajama pants and David's tee-shirts after dinner; slipping into a deliciously hot bath each night; and reading.  I read during my tub, I read half a page while having a quick pee, I read if David is watching something truly uninteresting (hockey) on TV, and I simply want to be near him.  There isn't much else.  Oh, well, and cooking.  Cooking is my passion.  I could literally spend all day in a kitchen, bursting with ideas for textures, mixing flavors like colors on a canvas.  I get overwhelmed in an ordinary grocery store, much less an open air market or exotic spice isle. 

Okay, where is this going... well.. during one of the nights where I indulge in a beer and clam, while in a sinfully hot tub, interacting with the characters in my latest novel, I often have a few moments to think.  I try not to, really.  I prefer to hit the ground spinning my wheels and my mind at 6:30 in the morning and crawl, bone tired and mind numb into bed at 10:00 at night, without thinking.  Mind you, I have a full time staff of five people, hundreds of files going across my desk, and at least thirty phone calls to deal with, plus my input on the house renovations, being a great daughter to my elderly mother, putting the finishing touches on my still-at-home (thank god) twenty-year old son and being somewhat of a great wife and partner to my husband.... but I usually get through that without thinking too much.

Thirty months.  I finally counted tonight.  It was stupid to do it, I know, I know, but I did.  Thirty months of this little ball of 'want' curled up in my stomach where I thought a child would be.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised that people have started to ask me if I have considered a surrogate.  It shouldn't sting, and I try to react with grace, when I tell them that there's nothing wrong with me.  But it is surprising, even though, I guess it shouldn't be.

Of course we still have hope.  We got the ball rolling on our next frozen embryo transfer... June 23rd.  Seems like a season away.  I don't know whether or not to feel hopeful.  See what happens when I think?  I start to wonder, and hope, and dread, and be nervous, and wonder if having a baby is more like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.  You believe in them when you're innocent, but fall on your face into a pool of glass shards  few times and you start to avoid the mere thought of such things being true.  You start to work more, and have less quiet time.  You keep the noise going in your mind even when it's quiet in the room, so you don't have to think about the squirming, crying, nursing babies you've watched come into the world, from a safe distance, of course.  So you don't have to think about all the women around you who are happily carrying their husbands' babies.  So you don't have to take time to separate the pure joy and wonder of seeing newly swelling bellies from the total sense of loss and pain in your own.

Do I also have to start avoiding my indulgances... simply because they free my mind from the intense pressure of work and allow me time to think?

Okay - that's over!

Yes it was a tough spring.  Yes I wish a lot of things were different, but they aren't and, what is, is.  I often say to those around me "The only thing that makes a bad situation worse is the attitude you have about it."  I've done my best to follow my own advice, and managed to do so fairly well at least. 

So now we're onto the next phase of life - the surreal part of living without my sister, and trying to not calculate how far along I should be with yet another lost pregnancy.

We've got a lot of cool stuff happening in our world.  We are finally getting our huge ass renovations underway at our home that we purchased last fall.  A new stone patio out front, completing the massive deck on the back (landscaping, mostly), and later on, two new bathrooms!  Also, the shop is super duper busy and my kids are doing great... I'm going on a trip to Vegas with my mom and hubby at the end of May, and if I ever, ever start my period, we'll be doing a frozen embryo transfer five weeks later.  That's exciting too!

Speaking of my period, I'm going on nearly 50 days.  ARGH!  C'mon already....

Sigh.

This has been a rough spring.  Some of you may have read about my sister who has had cancer for the past five years.. I've mentioned her a few times through my blog.  I have three other sisters and three other brothers, but I was only close to her and my younger brother. 

So it felt a massive loss when she passed away on April 10th. 

I was close to her, so I knew she was dying.  I accepted it a long time ago.  You just don't beat cancer like she had it.. it was everywhere.  I prayed for her death to be swift.  She was in so.much.pain.  And, she was far away from family with only one sister nearby to help in her care, and a very loving, but tired and in his late 50's husband.

Losing my sister was difficult enough.  The drama and decisions made by those around me were extremely hard to accept in the ensuing week.

I know I am tough and outspoken.  That trait is admired by a lot of people, but dreaded by others.  I know I say what others are thinking at times and it gets me into trouble.  But for every hard reality I've pointed out, there have been a hundred kind words, offers to help, or moments spent listening.  It isn't worth it.  I'm realizing slowly that I have to choose.  Either I keep my mouth shut and have these people 'like' me, or I have an honest relationship with (aka no relationship).

Still... I paid dearly for my big mouth this past week.  A much bigger price than I could ever imagine being due.  Nobody's been outright rude,  but I was sort of treated as a friend of the family, nothing more. 

I struggle with anger, and I know to try and understand is useless.  I can't change anyone, and why would I want to?  But this wasn't about them.  I think they all forgot that while they might not think of me as a close sister, she did.

This is me and my sister at my wedding last year.  We planned the date around her 50th birthday because I felt it would be her last.   

She died 11 months later, to the day.

There is one amazing gift my sister left me, a promise she asked me to keep... that I become a legal guardian of her two precious grandchildren, and to try my best to take her place in their lives.  They are Neveah and James, and thier mom is my sister's youngest daughter, a single mother who faces all the challenges of raising two kids.  My sister, Lori, was a big part in helping her raise the kids, and I am so honored by her wish.  I can never replace her, but I will do my best to be a big part of the kids' lives and  help any way I possibly can..

My great niece and nephew - gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!  I am holding my sister when I hold them.

All Over The Place

I am in a holding pattern.  Too little sleep and too much of a cold to be temping with any accuracy and really don't really want to get that involved in it anyhow.  I have no idea if I've ovulated or if this will be some freakishly long cycle.  I sure hope not... I'm actually looking forward to the FET and the possibility of another bfp.  Hopefully one that sticks this time.

Today in the grocery store I ran into a beautiful young woman and her new baby.  I actually took her and her hsuband's wedding photos (she was a gorgeous bride!), and over the past few years, she kept in touch.  We learned that we had each been having some real heartbreaks with baby-making...  and somehow connected through that, although we don't know each other well at all.  She and her husband endured three miscarriages before the birth of their daughter.  I've had a few tears with her through this journey.. we've seen each other when newly pregnant, or newly un-pregnant, or in her case, newly babied. 

Her daughter is beautiful.  Big, awake eyes and even a tiny, squirmy smile for me from her perch on top of the shopping cart.  Like she had some pretty little secret that only she was wise enough to know.  I can't explain it, but somehow, seeing this young mother, who had endured heartbreak so close to mine, made me feel that the world was still... okay.  Yes, people have miscarriages, and sisters get cancer, and it feels like life is a really bad screenplay at times.... but really, underneath it all, the world is still okay. 

I have a niece who is pregnant, who reads my blog.  She wrote a very touching, heartfelt letter to me the other day which I have not responded to yet.  She reached out to me, offered me both comfort and compassion, and in such a way that I've read her letter more than a couple times.  It's moments like that, people like her, who make the hurt a lot less sharp.  Just someone saying "I'm reading.  I care.  I see you hurting, and I wish I could make it better," makes it better.  To my beautiful niece, many, many thanks.

A new great-nephew was brought into the world today.  Another reminder that life is goes on, that life persists.  The linage extends out, further and further into the world.  A mom sits in a hospital room tonight, sore and tired with an empty belly but full arms.  Nursing sounds are delicate musical notes to a new mother's ears, while new fathers watch in quite fascination.  There is an entirely new lifetime of memories, feelings, emotions, love, anger, dreams, fears... an entire lifetime of... life... wrapped up in that new mother's arms tonight.  That's a nice thought.

I don't know where this post is going.  I just needed to write.  I need to be reminded that life is blooming and budding and there, all around me.

Anything else happening... David and I are really eating better.  Demanding jobs and little time combined with purely being lazy have lead us into a lifestyle and diet that really is lacking.  It's been tough, but feels great.  We're making small changes that are difficult but important.  Portion control is important - we're eating about 1/2 of what we normally would.  We dont feel really 'full' after eating, but we don't feel hungry, either, so we're dealing with it.

We've drastically reduced processed foods and are strict with no junk food, no soft drinks, no unhealthy snacking.  If it doesn't come from the outside isles of the store, we pretty much don't buy it.  If we don't get a lunch for work, it's subway, one of the healthy subs, on brown, with water.  Did I ever mention that my store in the mall is literally next door to panago pizza?  haha - funny until you hit the lunchtime hunger pains and those pizza smells drift through the walls.... 

So far we've kept to this since Monday and it feels fantastic.  I've already lost a couple of pounds and feel better about myself.  Just knowing I'm not doing more damage feels pretty damn good. 

An all over the place post, but that's where I am right now!

Starting Over

It hasn't just been the latest loss that has kept me away.  There has been a lot going on in my life that has nothing to do with my uterus.  Although I wish none of it were happening, it has given my tired brain and heart a break from all things pregnancy.

I keep typing out a sentence or two about what's going on but nothing seems right, so I'll just be simple about it.  I have a sister who has been undergoing chemo and radiation for cancer for what seems like forever, and the doctors have said there is nothing more they can do for her.  Our family has decided to send her to Mexico for alternative treatment.  I have very mixed feelings about this, but ultimately want what is best for my sister. 

I was at her house on Vancouver Island last week, helping out, when my miscarriage began.  Actually it began about an hour before we left for the airport.  I would have liked to have just been home, but perhaps being so busy and emotional about other matters was easier in the long run.

So.  What is, is. 

Emotionally I don't know what is going on.  It's difficult to take time out to think about my own losses when something such a massive black cloud has moved over my entire family.  I know I went through a short period where I hated seeing pregnancy tickers, pregnancy announcements and bulging bellies.  They pretty much pissed me off.  I went through a short time of feeling completly, totally empty.  Then I really just wanted to start again right away, almost in a panic. 

Now that things have lulled for a few days (while she prepares for Mexico, and is still managing to eat and drink and be fairly mobile), I have some stolen moments to think about myself, and David. 

We agreed that we will wait one cycle and when I get my period, I start birth control pills and possibly a GnFH agonist, although I wasn't given an agonist the last time.  After I get my second period, I will start some hormone injects, like shots of estrogen to build my uterine lining.  I'm unclear as to whether we do shots to surpress ovulation... I guess not as we are not doing an egg retrieval.  Anyhow, after two weeks, I travel to Vancouver, make sure my uterine lining is thick enough and do the transfer.

We have four frozen embies.  The thaw survival rate is about 80% at my clinic.  We will thaw until we get three viable embies and will transfer all three. 

It looks like we'll be doing my next transfer sometime in June. 

The support of all your notes and kindness has made this a lot easier.  I really appreciate everything that is said, and the fact that people care is just overwhelming.. big hugs!

The Really Great News

I have this amazing relationship with a man who not only listens, and holds me, and comforts me, but who talks to me about how he's feeling, who knows when he needs to be held, and who trusts me enough to comfort him as well.  He lets me rant when I need it, without taking anything I say really seriously, and he supports me, whether I pull a 14 hour day at work (yesterday) or just want to curl up and watch television for six hours and eat.  He knows enough to do the same for himself.

The first day was the worst.  I was feeling a lot of guilt for how relieved I was.  I know that sounds bad, but I knew a long time ago that something wasn't right.  I begged doctors and clinics for early tests, but was treated like an annoyance.  My tests were great!  I was pregnant!  No spotting, no cramping!  Couldn't you just be fucking happy now that you're pregnant?!  I see-sawed between feeling guilt at my paranoia and dread from knowing something wasn't right.

The medical community 'felt bad'.  My new doctor was shocked and vowed to trust my instincts a lot more.  he promised weekly ultrasounds for weeks six through nine the next time we get pregnant.  The clinic took me back under their wing and were concerned and attentive.  Friends and family were sheepish, disbelieving, and very, very sad.  David was more surprised and saddened than anyone.  He was so sure we were going to see a heartbeat. 

So anyhow.  It's over.  It was over before it began.  It was actually another chemical pregnancy, which is 50% across the board as we all know.  Blighted ovum happens in about 20% of those miscarriages.  The body, happily thinking it's pregnant, goes on to create the environment for baby.  I am as pregnant as you can get without a baby on board.  I have all the tiredness, emotional mood swings, backache, tender breasts, swelling tummy (helped by all the drugs) but... oh crap, we forgot the baby!  ha. ha. ha.

I took pills last night, vaginally, to induce the miscarriage.  Is it a miscarriage now?  More of a cleansing.  Giving my hard working, hopeful little urterus the bad news.  There's a funeral going on below my beltline.  At 4:20 a.m. I woke up to deep, mournful cramps.  Got up, made myself a cup of hot, sweet tea, and began the business of truly letting this pregnancy go.

Thank you all so very much for the support and love.  I truly think it helped us deal with things so quickly and honestly.  We are not worried... we know we can get pregnant... we are just happy my body is so merciful and flushes out the 'bad eggs', saving us from tough decisions later down the road.

The "Great" News

That's what everyone has been saying they expect me to deliver.  But I don't have any... just a really sad heart and even sadder husband. 

Blighted Ovum.  yay.

~~Ultrasound Day~~

Today is the day I have been waiting for.  A real, honest ultrasound with a real, honest technician, and a real, honest hope of seeing a real, honest heartbeat.  Really!  Honest! 

I am completely at a loss as to what to expect.  I know the odds are really with me that we will see a heartbeat.  It is just fear and insecurity that is keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground.  Sometimes a little fear and insecurity is a wonderful thing.  It keeps you safe, prevents you from, say, touching a glowing hot burner while cooking, or tripping when sightseeing near a high cliff, or expecting to give birth as a result of being pregnant.

The sad and dangerous part of fear and insecurity is that you might lose your love of cooking, miss an amazing view from a high cliff, or be unable to enjoy being pregnant when you are.

Honestly, deep down I am feeling fairly confident about today.  I was worried about my lack of symptoms, but I've talked to so many women who had babies and didn't puke their guts out for three months... well.. maybe I am just lucky.  Maybe my emotional misery is making up for my physical comfort!  *laugh*

Anyhow, we leave in just over an hour.  The ultrasound is a town away, about a 45 minute drive, at 9 a.m.  David's work turned out that he was actually able to start the spring break-up early and he is thankfully, wonderfully home and will be sharing the moment with me.  I am so grateful for his being there to witness this experience.  No matter which way it goes, I'll need my amazing  husband there to share the emotion. 

~Butterflies~  Okay....   wish me luck!

New Things

I thought I would try some new things.  A new blog layout for one.  And I went shopping yesterday for another.  I am trying to combat my anxiousness with positive thinking and distraction.  I've been distracting myself with work, it's ridiculously busy in the store, but as the ultrasound date grows near, my thoughts snap back to the looming possibilities the very second I have a free moment.

The weather here in our area of Canada is wonderously warm and spring seems to have leapt out of the snowy shadows and pounced on us all.  While the rushing water and rapidly retreating snow is wonderful, it also means changes in David's work plans.  He might not be able to make it back for the ultrasound.  His job is essential most of all, near the end of the job, and the warm weather is stealing days and even weeks from the pipeline crews' schedule.  If he comes home on the 8th, an essential part of his work will be left in someone elses' hands, and he might not even have to go back for just a day or two.  On the other hand, he will get one more good solid week and a half of work in if he sticks it out.  We justify losing the ultrasound experience by saying that one stint of work will be worth a year's worth of diapers, a new nursery, carseat and so on... but we both really would trade it for being together at that really scary, exciting time.  The truth is, if he bails now, he loses credibility and in his job, credibility is worth a LOT of years' of work, so it's not just those few days of income he might lose if he left at such a crutial time.

I haven't decided if I want to be alone when I get the ultrasound, or have my mom there.  I know she'll be wonderful either way, and I don't think she's ever seen an early ultrasound... or even an ultrasound with a baby at all.  And if things go sideways, well... I'll need her there.  On the other hand, I can prepare myself for the worst and deal with it quietly, on my own if I have to, and save mom the sadness of having to see me cry.  Lovely decisions.

My symptoms are different.  Not as consistant, but changing a bit.  My boobs are not as sore as they were, although they do have thier moments.  I am not quite as tired as I was, but I am not energetic by any means... I am still moving in sloth like motion.  I have had no spotting, no cramping, but my lower back is sore from time to time.  I've been waking up with nausea and icky heartburn.  I kind of had a bit of a panic this evening and managed to contribute a few drops of pee (I had just gone an hour before) so I could do an internet cheapie hpt.  It is blaringly positive.  By far darker than the last one I took (at least a week ago).  So I am over 7 weeks pregnant and still testing.  *crazy laugh*

Oh, a little tidbit to my last post.... the evil bitchy ultrasound tech used my 'official' 7 week viability ultrasound requisition and used it at the 6 week ultrasound that was so poorly done.  So I found out I had NO early ultrasound at all, and had been 'bumped' to the 15th.... into my 9th week.  I freaked out, and found another lab, 45 minutes away, who would do the ultrasound on the 9th.  Gawd.  That's what I get for trying to get some help.   I know people who have abused the medical system to the point of ridiculous, who are constantly booking appointments, specialists, and wasting our resources on drug induced, or self induced, or imagined illnesses.  I've never done that.  I've never had a surgery that I didn't end up paying for, I've never been carried on our medical system because I couldn't pay, my kids only ever had one trip EACH to emergency in their first 17 years.  I f*cking deserved to have a 15 minute ultrasound after all we've gone through, with the machine sitting right there.  I know with the size of the gestational sac, we should have seen a yolk sac and maybe heartbeat if she'd bothered with a transvaginal ultrasound.  Man, am I ranting now!! *laugh!!*

Oh, and I wanted to thank all of you for the blog stalks and comments.  Welcome to the new followers!!  I haven't been updating because I am essentially just writing thoughts and nothing really that has happened.  I can't give anyone any answers, good or bad, because I don't have any to give.  It's Friday.  I have to wait Saturday, Sunday and Monday.  Three days - yay!

Oh, and the shopping?  My super over bearing girlfriend who I love endlessly and wouldn't change for the world actually forced me to buy a pair of maternity jeans.  I was horrified to even look at them, but they were on sale for $2 (yes, that's two dollars) and she was going to buy them for me if I didn't.  Then, she MADE me try them on.  I can only say that those are the most comfortable pair of anythings I've ever had on my body.  LOL  And you can't tell they're maternity.    The other thing I did was pick up material for a baby quilt.  If I am not pregnant, I can give it to one of the many upcoming babies who are safely on their way (I assume this because I am not the one carrying them..).  I'll post a photo of the material and my progress as it happens.