Q&A (it's almost go time)

39 + 4







Q: When are you due?

A:  Friday is 40 weeks. Thursday I am scheduled to start induction. Today is Tuesday. The Month is March. The years is 2016. I'm due March 11, 2016.

Q: Boy or girl?

A: Boy!

Q: How was this boy conceived?

A: With lots of love and science

Q: Has this pregnancy been hard?

A: Once we got passed the initial "will he stick around" phase, this pregnancy has been a total cake walk. I mean, there was mild nausea in the beginning, insane heartburn and acid reflux throughout, gross, troll-like swelling in my feet for the duration - but otherwise, I have honestly felt pretty great. And I have been freaking, crazy productive. Take that, pregnancy brain promoters.

Q: What's a pregnancy brain promoter?

A: People who insist that pregnancy = not being able to think. Or do much of anything. Certainly not be productive at anything other than months of baby prepping. Now, I absolutely recognize that every pregnancy is different and I've been incredibly lucky. But I also think there is a lot of silliness out there that says once you are expecting, you must cease to be effective at your job and you must only be able to talk and think about baby related things. I actually had someone try to convince me (another woman!) that women lose 4 IQ points per child. She was so certain of this fact, she read a study after all, that I had to go and look it up myself. The study was a joke. That she clearly did not get. Instead, she believed it 100% and tried to convince others of it in the WORKPLACE. Heaven help us all.

Q: So what have you accomplished while being pregnant?

A: I planned and executed a national conference. Not just event planning, but content planning -The Whole Thing (with help, of course - but I lead it). I continued to develop training programs and manage people. I completed a certification. Oh, and I opened up a therapy center with my husband. I basically have worked two jobs since October. And both jobs required a great deal of thinking and planning and executing. To say I am proud of what I have accomplished would be a huge understatement. I have kicked ass.

Q: So now that baby boy is almost here, will you quit your jobs and be a good stay at home mom?

A: No. And I'm so tired of this question. I hate all aspects of it. Especially the assumption that staying at home is best for the child and working should just be if you *have* to. But if you can afford to stay at home, and choose to work, then you must be one of those "career women" who need to climb a corporate ladder for personal validation and need to make enough money to pay for her fancy shoes and purses. UGH. No, no one has said this to me verbatim. Yes, multiple people have said this to me in a very round-about, coded sort of way. To set the record straight, I am not and never have been a ladder climbing career person. I have enjoyed a good deal of success over the years. But that has been purely a byproduct of the fact that I actually enjoy working. I have worked since I was 12 years old. I get immense satisfaction from creating and contributing and expressing myself out in the world and I find providing financially for myself and now my family to be very rewarding. Working hard is a deeply ingrained value of mine and one that I never anticipated turning off when I became a mom. In fact, I think it is even more important as a mom. Girls with mothers who work grow up to be more effective in their careers and make more money. Boys with mothers who work grow up to be better partners because they are more inclined to share home and work responsibilities equally. It's true. Look it up. Now, will it be easy for me to leave my baby and go back to the office while he is in daycare? No. I've already shed tears about this and I know there will be more to come. It will be a bitter sweet transition. Much like every single aspect of parenting. But I know that does not make it the wrong choice. It's just that underlying grief that accompanies every transition in life. And I support women who choose to stay home.  Anecdotally, everyone I know who has made the choice to stay home never enjoyed working in the first place, even as a carefree single woman. They hated it. They couldn't wait to have a baby and an excuse to stay home. And I'm totally cool with that - when they own it. It's when they try to turn their choice into a morally superior choice - claiming their decision is based on what is best for the CHILD. That's when I call bullshit.

Rant done.

Q: Are you ready for baby boy to arrive?

A:  I think so? I don't ever know how to answer that question. Can you ever, truly be ready? I doubt it. But I think we're as ready as we can be. Nursery is all set. Loose ends have been tied up at both work and therapy center. Dogs are groomed. House is as clean as it will ever be. I suppose we are totally ready for everything to devolve into complete chaos.

That's all I have time for now. Sorry for grammatical errors. Hope to be back here soon. But it might just be in another year. Who knows.

Peace and love

We're having a baby!

That China Life

Hi from Hong Kong.

I'm sitting in my hotel room, overlooking the city, eating spicy pumpkin curry and drinking a tequila sunrise. A very weird combination but the language barrier makes it a bit difficult to order room service so I just said yes to what I could understand.

A business trip to Asia. It sounds so glamorous, I know. And, yes, some of it is. Flying business class overseas? An experience everyone should have at some point. Preferably on someone else's dime. The lie-flat seats and the linens and the food, all worth it. This is my sixth trip to Hong Kong but the first four of those trips were in coach. And I wanted to cry. Every. Single. Time.

The hotels are pretty great, as well. The Crowne Plaza and the Regal are far and away better than the Courtyard's I'm used to staying in on business trips back home.

And then, of course, there is simply the privilege of spending time on the other side of the WORLD. That particular blessing is not lost on me.

But there are downsides. Like spending eight days away from home. My husband and I don't even go on vacations for that long, and here I am, by myself and away from home for eight friggin' days. And this isn't even the longest. My first trip was to both Hong Kong and Malaysia and was a full two weeks. It's lonely. I miss my family. I miss my dogs. I miss my routine. Add to that the 12 hour time difference that only serves to keep you even more disconnected from those at home, and the whole experience starts to lose it's shine.

So, anyway, here I am. Work is done and I'm trying to occupy myself until I head home in another 40 plus hours. The pumpkin in my curry is under-cooked. But the tequila did it's job. My life is good. Even the lonely bits.

It keeps me grateful.

Even as I bitch and moan.

dumb and dumber still

Hi from Kansas City.

First things first: our last ditch cycle was canceled. Mostly due to lab errors (LAB ERRORS, WTF) but also because I'm done. Done. For real this time.

Being done was a hard place to get to. And here's why:

The photo above is a screen shot of my chances of having a "take home baby" through IVF (based on SART's IVF success predictor). If you click on it, you will see that my chances are very low. But they are not zero. So, of course, my immediate reaction is this:

It would be easier to walk away if my chances were truly zero. But my ultimate desire is to be a mom, not to be in perpetual fertility treatments. And so I am walking away.

We paid our $16.5k. Six frozen eggs belong to us now.

The donor is anonymous. I know her medical history, have a glimpse of her personality, and I know what she looked like as a child. It was her eyes that drew me in. It's only fitting that I have found 50% of the genetic ingredients of our future child in an online database. That's how I found my soulmate, Laney, afterall. I saw her picture on the animal shelter website and it was her eyes that drew me in. That's also how I met my perfect-for-me-if-only-perfection-truly-existed-husband. Online. Again, it was his eyes that drew me in from the start. And so why not my future child? Let's keep things consistent, shall we?

Current feelings: relieved and a little bit excited, even.

Current fears: how many embryos will we get from this batch of six? I really want to have two children from the same donor. Two children who have the same story. I know this donor is "proven", meaning, her eggs have turned into children for other families, That gives me a little bit of relief. I also know that there are other families who used frozen donor eggs who have gotten two children out of a batch of six eggs. But there are also many who have gotten just one. Or NONE. While donor eggs will certainly give us the best chance of having a child, it does not mean that it will be a guarantee.

In just over a week I will be heading back out to Hong Kong for work. I'm hopeful that I will use that time away to really dig in and process my thoughts more over here. I am still debating whether or not to share this blog with family and friends and make it publicly searchable. On one hand, it's easiest for me to express myself in writing. I also feel a responsibility to add my experiences to the IF and DE communities.

On the other hand, privacy.
I like privacy.
A lot.

Anger and Courage

I'm not sure which daughter is responsible for our latest decision.

We picked our donor. We were thisclose to parting with $16k. And then we got cold feet.

I went in for baselines on April 1. My hormones all came back in a pretty decent range (for me, anyway). And so we made the last minute decision to try again this cycle before moving on with donor eggs. There are a million reasons why this won't work. And why this is tantamount to throwing both logic and money out the window. But hope is not often logical. And we have grown accustomed to losing money. And maybe this time we will get lucky. And if not, then maybe this will be what we need to feel truly confident about closing the door on this method of family building.

P.S. I realize I never finished my last post. One day I will. But not today.

39

In honor of my 39th birthday tomorrow (gulp), here are 39 things I am grateful for, in no particular order:

1. All of the stars from the TV show, Friends, are still (and will always be) older than me.

2. In fact, Courtney Cox is nearly 12 years older than me. And she looks killer in a bikini. I'm so going to be her when I grow up.

3. I am in a solid place career-wise. I can hold my own in a variety of situations and I am really good at buying time by bullshitting my way through things until I better understand them. I'm pretty sure that's what being an adult is all about.

4. My sweet Laney is still alive and well.

5. My parents are still alive and well (hush, I said these were in no particular order).

6. My husband buys me pretty things.

7. But I could totally buy them for myself if I wanted to. (Girl Power, Bitchez)

8. I am finally jumping through the remaining bureaucratic hoops to get my MFT license. (🙈)

9. I will one day turn my struggles to conceive into a personal mission to help other struggling women and men build their families in non-traditional ways.  

10. I am grateful for technology and it's role in helping me maintain friendships and learn from other's experiences.

11. I am also grateful that it's highly likely that I will own a flying car before I die.

12. I am currently sitting in first class.

13. On my way HOME

14. People are truly shocked when they learn my age. I'm finally appreciating this.

15. I'm on my way HOME. To my HUSBAND.

16. I'm going to Disney World tomorrow.

17. I saw both my niece and nephew come into this world.

18. And my baby brother.

19. Who is now 21 and in the Marines and still texts me and gives me the BEST hugs.

20. I will become a mother (God willing and the creek don't rise) this year.

21. I still have time to have two kids and then get my Courtney Cox body by Courtney Cox age (I have no idea why I am so obsessed with Courtney Cox and her age and her body).

22. I am totally embracing my age and refusing to attend any more concerts unless there are SEATS. 

23. My husband is taking me to see Wilco again in April. And there will be SEATS. And even a TABLE. To lay my DENTURES on. 

24. I am excited about totally adult things like getting my pool deck painted/stained next week. Woot.

25. I am so much more emotionally stable than I was 10 years ago. That's something for everyone to be grateful for.

Landed. To be continued...

The new normal

My husband and I have yet to pick a donor and I have already spent over $100 on children's books explaining donor-assisted reproduction in a fun, sweet, and most importantly, normative way. I am so grateful that there are so many books to choose from in the third-party reproduction genre. I know how critical it is for children to know the truth of how they came into the world and for that truth to be wrapped in love and empowerment.

This year is the 20th anniversary of the once very controversial book, Heather Has Two Mommies. When it was first published it was met with a flood of protest. The book was written at a request from two lesbian moms who wanted to help their daughter feel loved and empowered as she entered into preschool, knowing she would inevitably be faced with her own questions and questions from her peers about her family structure. 

I doubt the republication of this groundbreaking book will be met with the same level of ignorance and intolerance as it was 20 years ago. I know there will be some, but for the most part, I believe our society is moving in a positive direction when it comes to recognizing and embracing the wide variety of family structures that exist and are possible. And that is something to be celebrated. 

As a human race we must evolve beyond the notion of "traditional" and "non-traditional" families and instead take a more rational and scientific approach to family building. No longer should tradition be held as a measurement for whether or not a family is a "good" family or a "bad" family. Instead of using the immature valuations of good and bad and right and wrong we need to look to a measurement of health that relies on both qualitative and quantitative research. Does this family have stability in caregivers? Are all members, both children and adults, respected? Does this family practice empathy or is secrecy, silence, and judgement the rule? These are just a few of the questions that help to determine if a particular family structure is a healthy one. And the answers to these questions are not dependent upon whether or not the family structure is "traditional" or whether or not the children were conceived "naturally" or with the help of science (see Dolce and Gabbana controversy).

Family is everything. Families are the building blocks of our society. If families are healthy, then society flourishes. 

Healthy families, not merely traditional families, need to be our new normal. 

On being brave

I am not a fearful person in the traditional sense. I don't freak out over bugs and spiders. I will gladly go on a roller coaster or would happily skydive (if only I felt strongly enough about it to part with the money). And I don't get anxiety over traveling by myself, even in a foreign country. 

I am by no means a reckless person, but neither am I skittish one.

Research is king. And Brene is a boss.

I can be, however, an emotionally fearful person. I have a hefty fear of being vulnerable and I will work hard to try to avoid it. And when I can't avoid it, I struggle with a deep sense of shame.

But Life, she is clever, and she has a way of forcing you into vulnerable situations. While infertility has not been the Only Thing that has forced me into vulnerability (relationships do this to me all the time), it has certainly been The Biggest Thing and The Hardest Thing and The Longest Thing.

[that's what she said]

To be clear, no one has "shamed" me for not being able to get and stay pregnant. Not my husband, not my family, not my friends. The shame I feel is entirely self-inflicted.

I grew up with a mother who loved nothing more than being a mother. It was and is her most important role in life (though it could be argued that it has now been replaced, as it tends to happen, by being a grandmother). My mother verbalized her pride and gratitude around motherhood often. She was and is the Mother of All Mothers and I could not be more thankful for that and for her. But my weird little brain turned her pride and gratitude into self-judgement. If being a mother is the most important role in the world and I am unable to become a mother, then I have failed. My other accomplishments in life are empty and meaningless unless I am carrying, birthing, and raising a child. My mom would never have said such a thing or believed any of what I just wrote to be true. But deep in my brain, buried under rational thought, this is what I believe.

And then there is the shame of being self-involved. By its very nature, infertility throws you into a very self-absorbed place. Your attention goes inward to every sign and signal your body is or isn't giving you. And when your infertility includes endometriosis and a march towards premature ovarian failure, those signs and signals can be both physically uncomfortable and a total mind fuck. Near constant aching ovaries? Physically uncomfortable. Waking up multiple times a night drenched in sweat at the same time you are trying to "think positively" about your next IVF cycle?  Mind fuck.

And in addition to obsessing over signs and signals, there is the constant juggling of doctors appointments, the guilt of spending so much money on something you can't be sure will ever work, navigating questions about when you will start a family from well-meaning but clueless bosses, the list goes on and on.

For nearly five years I have been intensely self-absorbed. Logically, I know that I have done my best and that so much of the self-absorption is simply the nature of the cards I've been dealt. But that doesn't stop me from going into a full-on shame spiral whenever I am reminded how my body's inability to work as it should has dominated the first few years of my marriage. Or how it has, on many occasions, stolen my ability to be light-hearted and playful and instead left me a bit dark and disconnected. Even when I have purposefully set aside all family building conversations and endeavors for months at a time, in an effort to give my husband a much needed break from the ever-present weight of infertility, I have never been able to completely unhook from it. I drag it around with me wherever I go. There is no taking a vacation from your body.

I want to be a good mom. And a big part of being a good mom, I think, is working through this shame I have around my inability to produce a genetic offspring. I owe this to my future children. They deserve to come into this world unhindered by my emotional baggage. They need to be mothered by someone who is both brave enough to take them on roller coasters and brave enough to face her own vulnerability and emotional discomfort. And they certainly need to be raised by a mother who can handle the hard conversations about his/her/their existence without unwittingly passing on shame.

Dear children of my heart,
I cannot promise I will be perfect or have it all together, but I can and will promise that I will do everything in my power to keep you from unfairly inheriting my shame.

For example, I totally planned to exercise tonight. I packed my gym shoes and my workout clothes and everything. But, inexplicably, I arrived in Denver ahead of my luggage. Delta should deliver it to my hotel by 11pm tonight. I sure hope they do. If not, I will certainly be screwed tomorrow morning.

I needed this trip. It's an easy one, unlike my other Denver trips. One 3 hour presentation tomorrow. Another 3 hour presentation on Tuesday. And then home on Wednesday. No other meetings or deadlines. And no one traveling with me. Thank God.

I desperately needed this alone time.

I have felt like a raw nerve lately. Between trying to process the decision to no longer pursue treatments to have a genetic child and hearing the Jaws theme every time I remember that my 39th birthday (are you shitting me?) is fast approaching, my brain won't shut up and my heart feels like an open sore that I have to protect until it finally scabs over. And just as you start to walk funny when you have a wound that you don't want to get re-injured, I've been emotionally contorting myself in all sorts of strange ways to keep from getting triggered at inopportune times. At some point you start to look and feel ridiculous and I just need some time to breath and cry and find a way to make sense of it all.

I thought I was doing ok enough until I went to the clinic on Friday for my requisite hysteroscopy. I think this was my fourth endometrial biopsy in the last 5 years, the 3rd one with this clinic. The other procedures had been done under anesthesia but since I haven't had any polyps show up since my laproscopy several years ago, my doctor decided it wasn't necessary to put me under. It was physically uncomfortable, much more so than the other unmedicated one I had at a different clinic a year or so ago, but like everything else in this godforsaken journey, it was the emotional discomfort that was harder to deal with.

I got to work early on Friday so I could leave early for the appointment. I finished a deadline, had my one-on-ones with my staff, my one-on-one with my boss, and then made it to the clinic just in time for the procedure. As I waited to be called back into the operating room it suddenly began to dawn on me that the last time I was back on that side of the clinic, I woke up from anesthesia to be told that there were no eggs to retrieve. And the time before that I woke up to hear that we had pushed the medication a day too far and my one and only egg was over-done. But the time before that - well, that was a painfully happy memory. A memory of joking around with my husband in order to distract myself from the discomfort of a much-too-full bladder. Having to relieve myself just a bit in a bedpan on the operating table because the on call doc took his sweet time to arrive to transfer our "beautiful" and "perfect" embryo. And then days later, getting on a plane for a work trip knowing that it had worked. That our beautiful embryo was busy implanting. And then came the deluge of positive pregnancy tests, each one getting darker and darker. There was the joy and the wonder of finally, after all this time, finally something worked. We were cautiously celebrating a pregnancy once again.

But the joy was short lived. The pregnancy did not last. I cried a little. But not too much. I convinced myself it was a good sign. We were finally on the right track. We just needed to try again. And we did. But each try was more and more disappointing.

And then, on Friday, I found myself waiting in the little waiting room where my husband watched the embryo transfer on a screen. And then, later, I found myself on that same operating room table, legs in sterile booties and placed into stirrups, this time to prepare my body for a future embryo transfer. One that will include another "beautiful" and "perfect" embryo. Only this one will be one part my husband, and one part someone else.

I wasn't prepared for the wave of sadness, and anger, and anxiety that came over me. It was a frustrating reminder that no matter how much "work" I do to process and grieve and make sense of all of this, that sadness and anger and anxiety will never fully go away. It will lessen, I'm sure of it. But it will sneak back up on me whenever I hit next steps and new milestones. As much I wish I could have one, good, final cry and then proceed confidently into the future, I know that is unrealistic.

I am encouraged by the stories I read of other women, many of whom have had even longer and more painful journeys than I can even imagine, who have made it successfully to the other side. They describe a deep love and joy and overwhelming gratitude for their post infertility life and their non-traditional family that they fought so hard for. This is what gives me the courage to keep moving forward, despite feeling like a raw nerve. Or an oozing, gaping wound.

I've said it before, I am so grateful to live in a time where this method of family building is even an option. I'm also immensely grateful for the internet and its role in connecting people and sharing of stories.

To bring this long, rambling post to an end:

No, my life did not go as planned.

And I am currently working on the "that's ok" part.

Correction

We are moving straight to donor eggs.

No "one more try" with my own eggs.

It was a hard decision to make in that there is still a chance, slim as it may be, that I could squeeze a gentic offspring out of my tired and scarred ovaries.

And yet, it was an easy choice to make - once I let it sink in that I would no longer have to try to squeeze a genetic offspring out of my tired and scarred ovaries.

There can be such tremendous relief in letting go and giving up.

This doesn't mean that I'm not still grieving. Or that I don't have tearful or angry moments. I am. And I do. But that's nothing new. I've been grieving and angry and tearful for nearly five years. Not consecutively, thank goodness. But enough.

The difference is that now grief and anger and tears are softened by waves of relief. And glimpses of hope. And a hint of what life could be like without constant failure hanging over my head.

But I admit that I'm still struggling to feel any real confidence that this will lead to an actual, living child in the end. That still seems a bit risky of an idea to get too attached to. Though I think that is a pretty normal response. I'm guessing I won't feel confident until, I don't know, the first birthday?

There were a million small steps that led up to this decision. But if I had to point to one thing that got me over the hump, it would have to be the beautiful description of pregnancy below. I don't know who is the original author. It's one of those things that have been shared and reposted a million times on blogs and forums. I'm not even sure where exactly I came across this description for the first time. I just know that it healed my heart a tiny (huge) bit and helped me to feel immense gratitude that I live in a day and age where this is even possible:

Many believe the uterus is simply an incubator. Nothing could be further from the truth. The most important aspect of all pregnancies- including egg donation pregnancies- is that as the fetus grows, every cell in the developing body is built out of the pregnant mother’s body. Tissue from her uterine lining will contribute to the formation of the placenta, which will link her and her child. The fetus will use her body’s protein, then she will replace it. The fetus uses her sugars, calcium, nitrates, and fluids, and she will replace them. So, if you think of your dream child as your dream house, the genes provide merely a basic blueprint, the biological mother takes care of all the materials and construction, from the foundation right on up to the light fixtures. So, although her husband’s aunt Sara or the donor’s grandfather may have genetically programmed the shape of the new baby’s earlobe, the earlobe itself is the pregnant woman’s “flesh and blood.” That means the earlobe, along with the baby herself, grew from the recipient’s body. That is why she is the child’s biological mother. That is why this child is her biological child.

closer to fine

It's been a year and a half since my last post.

A lot has happened in the last year and a half.

And a lot hasn't.

We have decided (I have decided?) to move on to donor eggs this summer, after one last try with my own eggs in April.

S pretty much defers to me on all the child-having decisions. He admits that while he knows he will love our children dearly, he just can't get invested in the idea of them until they are here. He doesn't spend every waking hour thinking of every possible repercussion to every possible decision as I do. And so in this part of our lives, I am the decider.

And I have decided that I want to get off this merry-go-round and get on with my life. I want to be a mom. I want to raise children.

There is so much that has gone into this decision. It hasn't come easily. Maybe I will come back and process it all here.

Or maybe I won't post again for another year and a half.

We'll see.

Please forgive me if I leave you feeling uninspired

I think I found my infertility anthem.

I wasn't looking for it, but there it was.

We just purchased the Iphone 5. Yes, I know. The new one is supposed to be coming out in September.  But after all the problems we had with the 4s (which we bought when they were hot off the presses) we decided we'd rather go with the 5 and let them work out the kinks with the new one.

ANYWAY.

While transferring music to my new phone, I realized I hadn't listened to Eef Barzelay in FOREVER.

And then, there it was.

The song that so succinctly describes my nearly 3 year struggle with trying to have a child.

It's perfect.

The words, so poignant. So depressing.

The music, so upbeat. So rock and roll-y.

It captures the weird dichotomy of living life and accomplishing all kinds of shit while at the same time a constant hum of bitterness and frustration carries on in the background.

Listen, my friends.

And love it.

Didn't take long

'fore I found out
what people mean by down and out

Ah, Led Zeppelin.

They don't exactly take away the pain but they do make good company while going through it.

IVF #1 has been canceled.

Despite my best efforts at going all out with a protocol designed to keep someone such as myself from developing a lead follicle... I still managed to develop a lead follicle. There's a slight chance that if I continued stimming I may have had one or two follicles catch up. But that was a slight chance. And even then, that would be a grand total of two or three follicles which may or may not have contained mature eggs.

I've done a fair amount of crying over the past few days. Partly due to the bad news, partly because there is just no other way to release all this stress... especially if you are not partaking in a stiff drink (side note: I will soon be partaking in a stiff drink). My eyes are heavy and swollen. Emotional hangovers suck.

But how does that Bible School song go? Count your blessings one by one...

• We've only managed to lose out on about $1k and a bunch of gifted meds. We still have the vast majority of money we've saved for the purpose of procreating.
• I've learned that, unless my RE has some kind of brilliant rationale that I'm not anticipating, traditional IVF is just not going to work for me. It does work for some DOR women. And some of those women have even worse numbers than I do. But apparently, my ovaries do not care how much FSH you throw at them. It can be a little or a lot, but they're pretty much going to give you the middle finger and give you one egg. 
• I've also learned that minimal stimulation IVF is way cheaper than I thought. Turns out we have enough money to do two rounds of mini IVF. This is very good news.
• Good news because out of all of my various medicated cycles, I've done the best on low dose clomid. Which happens to be the cheapest of the medications. Like $7 vs. $6,000 cheap.
• So the plan now is to talk with my RE next week about doing two rounds of minimal stimulation IVF with clomid, testosterone priming, and saizen. Then freeze whatever we get and still proceed with doing two months of lupron before transfer.
• Now I'm back to trying to fit all this in around my travel schedule. And time is marching on. 
• But at least I still have hope. 
• For now.

Humor first. Then numbers.

Earlier this week I was at work and on the phone with my doctor's office discussing how I was getting ready to hand over nearly $13,000* to them the following day. Not a fun conversation, for sure. While we were working out the details, S. had already made it home for the evening and ran into a little problem:

When the first text came through, I laughed to myself and thought "Thank GOD I am not home or else I'd be the one dealing with this."

When the second text came through, I couldn't help letting out an audible laugh. He was panicking. I could tell.

And then when the photo came, I lost it. Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't stop laughing.  For the first time, ever, I was so happy to be the one dealing with medical nonsense and NOT the one dealing with "poop butt."

*************

IVF Update

• Today is Cycle Day 5
• So far I have taken three shots of Ganirelix and Estrace 2xs a day during the final days of my previous luteal phase and into the first few days of this cycle.
• Cycle Day 4 I went in for baselines. Antral Follicle Count = 7 (roughly, there may have been more). Progesterone came back perfectly low at 0.something and E2 was elevated (we knew it would be, due to Estrogen Priming) at 62. I was given the all clear to move forward with this cycle.
• Today I started Microdose Lupron. I will administer that 2xs a day up until Egg Retrieval.
• Tonight I start Dexamethasone and will take that nightly through Egg Retrieval.
• Sunday I will begin Gonal-F and Menopur in addition to the Lupron. I will take this through Egg Retrieval. 
• I am anticipating, due to my DOR situation, I will be a "slow responder" and will likely stim anywhere from 13 to 15 days.
• It's quite possible that by the time this is all done, I will have given myself over 60 shots in the stomach.
• I have two major hurdles to cross due to my diagnoses.
• First, because of Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR, due to Endometriosis) I have an uphill battle when it comes to getting enough good eggs to make good quality embryos (hence the complicated protocol). I don't even know how many embryos to hope for. Any would be nice.
• Second, because of Endometriosis, I am opting to freeze whatever embryos I do get so I can do a two month treatment of Depot Lupron (medicated menopause here I come) to shrink the Endo, reduce inflammation that results from Endo, and to take care of any possible missing or reduced beta 3 integrin issues (all of which can effect implantation and/or lead to miscarriage). There are studies that show a drastic increase in pregnancy rates for women with Endometriosis after doing a course of Depot Lupron. Most women with Endo go on Lupron after a failed IVF. I'm trying to avoid failing in the first place since I already know I won't have a huge stockpile of embryos to return to. 
• Current worries: Will my follicles respond to medication? And if they do, how many eggs will there be? And, most importantly, will those eggs fertilize? And make it to day 5 blastocysts? 
• Remember that time when we just had sex and got pregnant? Ha. That was fun.

* Don't be fooled. $13,000 is not the total sum of all these treatments.

Working it out

I'm back in Hong Kong. This is trip number four in case anyone is keeping count. I'm currently curled up in my room at the Crown Plaza, drinking peppermint tea, listening to the thunder and rain, and doing my best to stay awake until an acceptable bedtime hour. Tomorrow begins three days of presentations and then I make the long (24 hours in total) trek back home again.

After four trips, I have finally settled on a few travel essentials:

• A well stocked Kindle
• Socks (since I like to wear flip flops for security line ease, socks for the plane ride are a must)
• An Economy Comfort bulkhead seat (the next best thing to first class if first class isn't an option). After you are safely in the air, you can put your luggage on the floor in front of you and use it to prop up your feet. This makes all the difference in the world on a long flight.
• Peppermint or sweet orange essential oil. This is to periodically rub underneath your nose as an alternative to smelling stale, nasty airplane air.
• Dried goji berries to snack on.
• A reservation for a Thai massage soon upon arrival. Perfect for working out all the kinks you will acquire on the flight.

***

In other news, I am inching ever closer to starting IVF. I finally feel like I have turned an emotional corner and I no longer feel panicked or overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. I think I have researched and prepared myself the best I possibly can and there really isn't anything left to do but let go and trust. It's a lot easier to trust when it's not blind and I think that is what these past few months have been about - preparing myself to jump into IVF with my eyes wide open.

I can sense a palpable shift in my energy. I'm hoping this holds up.

inside jokes

Mangalsutra, East Indian vs. Indo-Guyanese, Freakenomics, Downton Abbey  

The on and on-ness of it

(I do love Downton Abbey so)

I am one month and four days away from 37. I have been trying to get pregnant again since I was 34. This is getting old. And so am I, apparently.

Though, for what it's worth, I don't feel old at all. But I do feel tired. Emotionally.

I'm struggling a bit lately. I had a canceled cycle due to some oversights on my clinic's part. I actually had to be the one to make the call to stop treatments. I won't go into all the details here - I'm quite tired of talking about it, really - but suffice it to say I am still not where I hoped to be.

Infertility is a drain. And here is a short list of why:

• Florida does not mandate infertility coverage and therefore everything is painfully out of pocket. 
• Florida is also not known for the best options in reproductive endocrinology. I am going to the second rated clinic in the state (with number one being several hours away from me). When I get frustrated with their (lack of) service and clinical skills, I don't have the option of saying "screw you" and making an appointment with another place down the street. I could go out of state for treatment, many women do, but if you are at all familiar with infertility treatments, you know how involved they can be and how much you are at the mercy of your cycle. Going out of state for IVF means spending large chunks of time away from home (not to mention the added cost of hotel stays and airfare). And then when you travel for a living, that becomes even more of a barrier (keep reading).
• There are two Very Important Things you need when going through infertility treatments: Time and Money.
• The money comes from working. While S's salary covers the vast majority of our regular living expenses, my salary goes towards the "extras". And since there is such a hefty price tag attached to treatments when you have zero insurance coverage, it is in our best interest for my salary to be as high as it possibly can be. Thankfully (and eventually I will get to my gratitude list), I have the opportunity to earn decent (relatively speaking) money. But in order to earn this decent (relatively speaking) money, I have to spend a good deal of my time traveling both across and outside of the country. 
• This affects the second Very Important Thing: Time. Due to the unpredictable nature of the female cycle and the limited amount of time I am at home for the long stretches required for various monitoring appointments throughout the cycle... forecasting and scheduling treatments becomes a bit of a nightmare. And when Time is not on your side, and then having to watch as Time marches on as you do your best to earn Money to keep up with treatments... it can all be a little (a lot) stressful. 
• Oh, and stress is not good for conception. So, you know, you also have to work on being stress free while dealing with all of the above. No biggie.

Like I said, this is the short list. 

It's in my personality to look for meaning in everything. And to look for patterns. I am constantly looking for the lesson to be learned in whatever situation I am facing and I am constantly scanning my past to see what patterns are emerging and how I have previously dealt with having an unmet desire. My first instinct is to declare that this is the WORST THING EVER and there is just nothing to compare it to. But the truth is, there have been other situations in my life where I felt hopeless, and lacking control, and as if I would never in a million years reach my desired outcome. And, so far at least, those desired outcomes were all realized. Though never in the time frame I would have liked. The only wisdom I am able to glean from those previous experiences: keep trying and stay grateful. And that's what I plan to do.

The keep trying part includes another appointment today to nail down a protocol for IVF and a plan to prepare myself while I wait for my next travel-free window (end of April/May) to proceed. 

The stay grateful part means lots of reminding myself of the following:

• Infertility can make or break a marriage. I can gratefully (and humbly) say that so far it appears to be making ours. 
• I have made some really great friends through this process. And friendships are what I've been missing over the past few years. 
• Through these great friendships, I have been gifted unused medications totaling over $5,000 which will make IVF a bit more affordable. This is HUGE.
• I have finally found the "good" doctor at my clinic. She is a life saver. She listens and responds and even calls me to ease my mind (she was out of town during this last cycle so totally not her fault). She respects the research I have done on my own and lets me participate in planning protocols. This is a big deal. So much of what I am dealing with is not cut and dry, nor is it and exact science. 
• S and I have found ways to keep life fun in the middle of all of this. If I were doing this on my own, I would have surely crumbled by now. I have learned that I am so much stronger when I have him in my corner.

This is what keeps me going.

Keep Trying.

Stay Grateful.

This is my mantra.

Welcome 2013

It's my favorite time of the year - the end. And the beginning.

While I typically live my life in a constant state of evaluation and planning (with a lot of practice at being present thrown in for good measure) the New Year's holiday gives me extra permission to reflect and anticipate. And with that extra permission... bullets!

Reflection:

• Looking back, 2012 was my year for finding solid ground.
• After being in a constant state of flux since my move back to Florida in 2009, I'm finally feeling grounded, centered, settled, and dare I even say... rooted. I have roots, y'all.
• Just to recap: flux (in no particular order) = a three year process of reconfiguring/redefining my professional life, meeting/falling in love/marrying S, buying a house, moving three times since moving back to Florida and prior to buying said house, a miscarriage, a gut-wrenching process of coming to terms with infertility, watching two of my three bridesmaids (one on my side of the family/one on S's side of the family) go through divorce while trying to establish and define our own marriage, watching my father go through a very scary open-heart surgery, watching my family struggle financially, watching S's family struggle in a way I'm not really comfortable going into here, having my social life change drastically from being single with good friends in California to being married with acquaintances I rarely see in Florida... the list goes on and on.
• While 2012 did not necessarily see a resolution to everything I listed above, in the midst of it all I stumbled upon peace and acceptance and a level of trust in my marriage that existed in theory at the beginning but has now been tested and proven in a way that can only happen by actually going through that kind of stuff.
• This is not to say I feel like we've reached a place of marriage perfection - mostly because I do not believe that place exists. I spend a lot of time considering the dissolution of marriage due to both those who are close to us who are going through the process and due to clients I work with. I've come to the conclusion that in order to have a successful marriage you have to both understand that nothing, and I mean nothing in this life is guaranteed and at the same time you can't be afraid of that fact. It's what keeps you grateful for what you have in the moment without becoming arrogant, lazy, or acting out of fear.
• I laughed a lot in 2012. I want to laugh more in 2013.
• I found a niche in my work. I found a way to combine my education with work that is more lucrative and I finally have projects that I am proud of and am looking forward to seeing those projects through in the new year.
• I became a part of an amazing online community of women and will have the privilege of meeting one of them in Chicago in January.
• For years I used to dread finding plans for New Year's Eve. It always felt as if it should be something epic but it always ended up being meh. I am so grateful to be a place in my life where I am totally content with having family over, grilling out, playing games and being very much not epic. Man, what a relief.

Anticipating:

• I will start out 2013 with another IUI. This time with injectables (stronger medication than my last IUI). My new Reproductive Endocrinologist talked me into doing at least one more IUI before moving on to IVF. She looked over my response to my first and only IUI over the summer and said that I responded beautifully... it just didn't result in pregnancy. She thinks we should try to tweak a few things before going for the big guns.
• If that doesn't take then we will be moving forward with IVF.
• 2013 is going to be a scary year. This will be the year that we find out if we will be able to have biological children or if we will need to start considering other options.
• While I've reached a greater sense of peace that I will be ok with whatever life has in store... I cannot lie, I want biological children. So very much.
• I'm scared to go through the next few steps. The stakes are just so much higher and the possibility for disappointment will be great.
• And I will need to navigate all of this while still being present and on-the-ball for work.
• Sinking into depression is just not an option for me.
• Outside of trying to grow our family, 2013 will be the year of trying to get a better handle on finances.
• We make plenty of money and for that I am grateful. But we could stand to do better with our money management. Especially with either more fertility treatments or (God willing) pregnancy and parenting in our future.
• Like I said above, I want to laugh more in 2013. I think that is a worthy goal.
• I also hope to see those in my life who are struggling find some relief and even some joy.
• Peace, Love, Joy, Laughter and Miracles. This is what I look forward to in 2013. 

Roundup

Here are some pics from my brother's graduation:

We'll start with my favorite.

We drove all through the night to make it for the traditional 7am Motivational Run the day before graduation. There were many times on that 6-plus hour drive that I questioned how important it was to be there early enough to *maybe* see him run by. It was cold, we were tired, and then it happened. Excited family members from all over the country lined up along the route and cheered as hundreds of young men and women (in the coolest track suits I've ever seen) sweated out their last run in boot camp/first run as marines. Catching that first glimpse of him was well worth the long ass drive (but you better believe I made him aware of how much sleep I sacrificed. As you can imagine, he was thoroughly unimpressed). I was so incredibly stoked to catch this picture of him. That giant white head in the middle of the picture? That's my brother.

7am Motivational Run

Here's another great picture. My tired nana waiting to cheer on her grandson.

We all had a good laugh at her expense.

My little fashonista niece walking around base on Family Day.

The headless woman is my sister-in-law. What? I was tired.                                         

Somebody please caption this picture for me. The one in camo is my littlest brother. The one with the Barbie Doll in his back pocket is my brother, Mark.

And finally, a goofy pic of Mason right after graduation. I swear, this kid hasn't stopped wearing his uniforms since he got home. Chicks dig uniforms. Obvs.

So skinny!

Half-baked

Here we are! Post number two for November. Where's my prize?

You have no idea how much I long to sit down and write a really thoughtful essay on some meaningful topic like feminism and, well, any aspect of my current life (marriage, infertility, work) but instead I'm afraid that all my thoughts are half-baked. Not to mention the fact that I am lazy to the core and that doesn't bode well for thoughtful writing.

So, bullets:

• Late tonight we will hit the road for Parris Island where I will watch my baby brother graduate as a Marine.
• Holy shit. 
• I am simultaneously incredibly proud and in a huge state of denial about what his future may have in store.
• My current food obsession is banh mi. I'm eating one now.
• We have decided to go the IVF route in February. 
• This will cost us more money than the downpayment for our home.
• And it's really like only a 40% chance it will work on the first try.
• I'm not crazy about those odds, but what can we do?
• After two years it is apparent that neither the natural nor the pseudo natural route is cutting it.
• Prepare yourselves for anxious posts filled with way too much information.
• Who am I kidding, I think I officially have one reader. Maybe two.
• So I can write whatever the hell I want!
• With this latest turn of events, my career plans have had to take a turn as well.
• Where as I was thisclose to living my dream of full time private practice (which also included the dream of a flexible schedule that allowed me to be the primary caregiver for our future child), I am now looking at a never-ending stint in the confines of corporate america (with a little private practice on the side).
• How else will we pay for IVF #2 or #3 if IVF #1 is big, fat failure?
• This past weekend I had the house to myself for roughly 20 hours. 
• That was the first time I have had the house to myself overnight since we were married.
• This is not to say that we haven't spent plenty of time apart.
• It's just that this was the first time I was home alone and S was out of town.
• It was glorious. 
• There's not much I miss from single life. In fact, I am quite proud of how thoroughly I lived out my single years. BUT, I do miss having the house to myself. 
• Lastly, a picture:

Inspired (for today)

Ceri's participation in NaBloPoMo has inspired me to post. I know the purpose of NaBloPoMo is to post every day during the month of November but I have set the bar for myself much, much lower. Like, I wonder if I can post twice this month? That would be CRAZY.

***********************

Bullets!

• Florida has actually had some pleasantly seasonal weather lately. I approve.
• Florida also went to Obama. I doubly approve.
• I disabled my Facebook account a while back. Mostly it was to avoid provoking political posts... from my MOM. And also from high school friends who seem to be overwhelmingly conservative.
• I thought I would come back after the election but I found out how much I really like, no, LOVE not being on Facebook.
• And it's not just about politics. FB just triggered my constantly present sense of guilt. Everytime I would look through my feed I would feel guilty for all sorts of things, like:
• Not responding to a high school classmate's lamenting about her awful ex-husband and their never ending custody battle. Shouldn't I care more? Shouldn't I show support by offering a comforting comment on her status update? Never mind that we were never more than acquaintances in high school and beyond. I should be emotionally invested in her struggle, right?
• Not being a better friend. Period. My feed was littered with one time super close friends who are now people I still genuinely care for and wish the best for but we just don't have that same connection anymore. That's my fault, right? Surely it is. Never mind that these same people don't make an attempt to connect with me on any significant level, either. And never mind that drifting apart is a normal part of life... somehow I always end up feeling like I am a failure at friendship.
• Not being authentic and "real". I found myself only posting positive or neutral status updates. I couldn't bring myself to be anymore than one dimensional because it just felt unnatural to share all aspects of me on that kind of a forum. And when I don't share all aspects of me I feel like I am lying and lying makes me feel...guilty.
• Clearly, I have some guilt issues to work through. But disabling my Facebook account is so much easier. Of course, I do have some feelings of guilt by not having an active FB account. I'm probably missing out on important life events of people that I do really care about because FB is the only place I would likely hear about those events. But that guilt is a little easier to live with.
• As the year starts to wind down I am reminded that S and I are headed towards our 2nd anniversary. This second year has been SO much better than the first. Not that the first was bad, it's just the second has been way better. I find a lot of comfort in that. I was always afraid of the idea of dying a slow death in the confines of marriage. I love proving myself wrong.
• I am now currently 6 lbs away from being at my "perfect" BMI.
• I miss cookies.
• The cookies are what did me in.