Not pregnant.

Failed cycle. I logged on to write it all out but I haven’t been able to find the right words this time and, besides, I know I don’t have to explain it to any of you.  Sadly, this is the end of the road for us for now.  It’s not financially feasible for us to go any further at this point no matter which route we take and we are choosing to step back and heal for now.  We would like to preserve the resources we have left to spend this year enjoying each other.  We may choose to adopt in the future but it will be quite a while before we are ready (and able) to begin a whole new journey. Thank you for being such a loving and supportive community throughout the last year and for everything you have offered along the way.  I am so grateful to you.

losing my nerve.

4dp5dt.  It’s amazing to me that there was a time in my life when that was nothing more than a random assortment of numbers and letters. Now it’s 4 days past 5 day transfer and time only feels like it’s slowing down.  The cruelty of this time is not merely the ‘uncertainty,’ it’s the fluctuation between 2 poles of absolute certainly.  I am absolutely pregnant, I must be.  I am absolutely not pregnant, there is no way this worked.  There is no listening to my body, since it is pumped with thrice daily progesterone suppositories and estrace, and the giant sore boobs, mild headache and nausea are useless to me as any kind of predictors of success. So, I am already starting to lose it and am having a hard time imagining making it until Tuesday (blood test/9dpt).   At the same time, I’m terrified of Tuesday and what it may bring. So, I am trying anything and everything I can to cope in the mean time.

Things that are helpful to me during this time:

Laughing w/ M.  We are still managing to pull this off.

Impulse shopping (but not for bathing suits. Good God, why did I do that to myself?).

My incredible friends for whom I am grateful everyday.

Binge-watching True Blood which I love and hate in equal measure.

Ann Patchett’s new novel. It’s no Bel Canto but it’s engrossing and that’s all I need.

Planning this weekend’s camping trip to Opal Creek (where I have always wanted to go):

I don’t know that guy but I want to be where he is.

 

 

Bye Bye, little morula.

Well, the third embryo bit the dust this morning which means nothing to freeze. So, this is it my friends.  I felt the fleeting panicky torrent of negativity at the news but it passed.  I am focusing on the those 2 beautiful little embies and wishinghopingpraying for the best. I can always deal with heartache and disappointment later IF it comes. Glass half-full!

You know it’s a good day when…

…the embryologist uses the word ‘perfect’ to describe the 2 blasts they are about to transfer into your uterus. Grade 3AA! She said I have a 3rd embryo still growing but they won’t know until tomorrow if it will be freezable.

When they wheeled me into the transfer room, there they were, projected up on a screen from the lab.  I felt a rush of excitement and hope when I saw them. I watched on the ultrasound as the catheter went into the uterus and then back out and then it was over.After the transfer, they had me lay in the recovery room for abut 45 minutes.  M sat at my bedside while I zoned out, listening to the post-transfer mix she made for me on my Ipod and feeling very relaxed.  In other news, I also learned that I really enjoy valium…

The rest of the day has been spent in bed on Dr’s orders.  While I am typically someone that doesn’t handle bed rest well, this day has been filled with acupuncture, napping, bagel sandwiches, a new book, and some binge-watching of True Blood (I finally get the hype). Not too shabby. One more day of bed rest to go and then I will have to work on making my way through this agonizing week of waiting!

My only hope is that maybe Ms Libberal will Make it So this week and I will have a new birth to celebrate! C’mon Baby girl, the world’s ready to meet you!

And they’re off!

Just checking in to report 5 fertilized eggs. Yahoo! Next stop: grade-A blasts.  Transfer is officially confirmed for this Sunday and we won’t know until then what we’ve got, so keep those positive thoughts coming… whatever you are doing is working!

In the mean time, I am busy visualizing this:

Retrieved!

Seven eggs. It’s not a dream number but it’s good enough and I’ll take it!  According to M, Dr B said that when I went under, my left ovary just ‘floated right into place,’ making my retrieval surprisingly easy.  I am taking that as a great sign that all of your positive thinking is working.  So keep it coming, please! Next stop, fertilization…. deep breath, fingers crossed….

In the mean time, I am returning to my vicodin induced slumber.

Triggered.

What’s done is done… and that shit is done. It’s also my last injection, hurray!  This morning’s stirrup check yielded basically the same news as Friday, though the w/e Dr referred to my ovaries as ‘ravaged’ by endometriosis. Yes, thank you for that on a Sunday morning.  Otherwise, he was pretty positive and hopeful and had about the same assessment as Dr B: 7 good looking follicles, 3 maybes, stubborn left ovary.   M has been talking to my ovaries, trying to coax them to behave but I told her she is going to need to be more specific.  The left ovary has moved, though is now sitting strangely, sort of, on top of my uterus against my abdominal wall. After much digging and pressing w/ the dildocam, he was finally able to see the ovary via, yes, an abdomainal u/s.  Today’s doc also said ‘we have ways’ of getting to that left ovary and noted that, in very rare cases, they will aspirate through the abdominal wall if there is no other option.  He said this happens about once a year, out of about 700 completed ERs. He said again that it is a possibility that they won’t be able to get to it at all, but I am no longer considering that as an option.  Either way, my egg retrieval is officially scheduled for Tuesday morning and there’s nothing to do now but wait, and head to a BBQ or two in the meantime.

In other news, I loathe the fourth of July.  What was once a mildly irritating, at times entertaining excuse to grill with friends and play with sparklers is now a minefield of trauma and anxiety for my delicately tempered pooch.   While my neighborhood turns into a veritable war zone for the week around the holiday, my dog dissolves into a trembling mess of panting, pacing, shaking and whining.  The doggy Xanax prescribed by the vet doesn’t seem to curb the anxiety.  Instead, the little man walks into things and stares out at me with red-rimmed eyes from the back of my closet where he takes up residence for the duration of the festivities.  My clothes stink like dog fear and I am convinced that they will soon smell like excrement as we cannot convince him to go outside, even for a second.  I can’t begin to imagine how I ended up with such an anxious animal🙂