I should write, but I don’t know what to write about. I want to write, but my mind is blank and my fingers aren’t running across the keyboard as easily as they normally would.
I’m so tired.
I’ve been taking 300 units of Bravelle a day for…6 days now? I think it was 6. Tonight I’ll be “ramping down” and taking 150 units. Tomorrow will be trigger day. Friday and Saturday will be IUI days.
Holy Mexico, this cycle has been a rough one so far. Not only did I have a chemical pregnancy, which shook my confidence in this who process again, but the increase in medication has definitely taken it’s toll on my body. My doctor told me that she wanted to go up in units to try and create a bit of a shorter cycle. I went along with it because I wanted more follicles.
If only I had known…. If only Cody had known.
I have cried a lot. I mean, I’m sensitive to start off with, but man, oh man. I got mad at Cody one particular day about I don’t know what. I stomped into the house and advised him that his best bet would be to not give me attitude because I would make it my mission to make the fight last until 2AM. After a while, I let him into the bedroom to try and hash it out and it was at that time that I made it known that he did not treat me right. I apparently (at the time) felt like he didn’t acknowledge all I’m doing in an effort to give him children. I apparently (at the time) felt like I deserved recognition in the form of a gift or flowers. (I just re-read that line and again, I laughed. It’s just too ridiculous). After I yelled for a while, I got upset because I knew that I didn’t actually think my husband was a terrible human being and I felt bad for yelling at him about non-issues. Which made me cry. I looked my handsome husband in the face and started to bawl. And what did I say?
“I don’t want more medication! I feel insane!! I don’t make sense, I’m sad, and I’m crying all the time. I’m a rollercoaster! I feel like I’m watching myself and I’m not me. And it’s funny, but it’s notttttttttttttt!”
I watched an episode of Big Brother Canada where two houseguests are praying together. I cried. And gave this commentary:
“I just love it so much. Kyle is such a good guy. They are friends and Kyle wants to pray with Adel, just to learn and bond. It’s beautiful. And some Muslims are treated really, really bad.” (cue more crying)
Last night, I watched a YouTube video about kids and their dads. I cried. My commentary?
“Oh, I love it. I’m going to cry. I just want to make you a dad, too!” (silent tears on this one)
My tomato plants were damaged in a wind storm last night. I almost cried. I snuggle my kitten and realize I just love him so much and it makes me want to cry. My Dada and Step-Momma are coming to visit and it’s not coming fast enough, so it makes me want to cry.
Imagine my shock when they told me today that my estrogen levels were a little low. I even told the nurse that it seemed impossible since I have cried every day for what feels like weeks now.
For the 5th time now, ladies – BRAVELLE IS NOT PRETTY. Say it with me: Bravelle will make you a crying, whining, bitching hot mess.
…Literally a hot mess. I’ve had hot flashes this time – that was new and not-so exciting. Let’s call these “tropical moments”. My tummy is bloated again, I have a headache (I think it’s cause I’ve had no caffeine today. And I’m tired). BUT! There are at least 6 follicles on each side and the doctor thinks I’ll release 4 or 5 good eggs. So maybe this is the month I get – AND STAY – pregnant.
I’m thinkin’ yes!
I’d like to send some messages to some special people. It’s this new thing I’m going to do on my blog… cause sometimes I’m too lazy to leave comments on your posts. Plus, my readers should know about all of you!
Elisha – I’m praying for you and your Mamma.
Kristen – I’m so happy for you! Oh, and I’m also suffering from mild OHSS (sort of). I feel your pain, madame!
And to the new mama – I hope you’re soaking in all of the beautiful moments with your amazingly handsome little man! He is just too friggen cute.
See ya in a few days, folks.
Thank you for your thoughts, prayers, kind words, and all other forms of positivity you’ve been throwing my way.
I’m better. The almost-pregnancy did rattle me a bit, but I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it since I was busy trying to convince myself that the cramps were, in fact, NOT going to kill me. Let me rewind and give you a sort of play-by-play…
Tuesday was the day I was told to stop the progesterone. I did and tried to tell myself that I wasn’t deliberately harming something that was trying to grow in me. It took a lot of effort… I had a hard time getting past the fact that the HCG levels did go up – which, to me, meant the bean was trying to grow. Stopping the progesterone was like intentionally ending the pregnancy.
As the week went on, there were some cramps but no bleeding. The cramps were there, and often painful, but not completely unbearable. Every hour that went by and I didn’t start my period, I gained a little hope. Maybe my bean would defy the odds. Maybe my bean was stronger than they gave him credit for. I really started to believe that things were turning around and that I was going to be the exception, not the rule**.
On Thursday, Tallulah died (our car). The battery had died about a week before while I was cleaning the car. I thought that I’d maybe turned something on and didn’t realize it. However, we had her boosted and she was fine. But then, on Wednesday night we were going to get Dairy Queen when we realized our headlights were dead. No DQ for me – probably a good thing… even though I really wanted a Banana Cream Pie Blizzard. The next day came and Tallulah was having a hard time starting. CAA to the rescue with another boost and off to the mechanic she went – but not before a lot of bitching and yelling from me. I was irritated because I wanted the car to go to the mechanic the week before, but since I’m a girly-girl, I can’t possibly have a valid opinion about cars. Thursday was not a good day….. So on Friday, I was annoyed because I didn’t have a car to get to work. I had to get up earlier than usual since my shift at work was starting earlier and I was finishing later AND I needed to walk to work. Well, that idea flew out the window since I started getting cramps. Different cramps than I’d been having. Traditional period cramps. They were like 10 times worse than normal…. nope, probably like 100 times more intense. I ended up calling a cab and getting to work that way instead. While at work, I continued to suck back Advil and complain to my boss about how terrible I was feeling. Eventually, one of the 4 Advil I’d taken within the first 4 hours I was there kicked in. Near the end of the day, my boss told me that I’d have to work Saturday with a relief pharmacist and I was pissed. I’d been having a week from hell, waiting for my kind-of-miscarriage/period to start, I’m in pain both emotionally and physically, and you’re going to make me work for the next 4 days before I can have some time off to rest and heal. Thanks.
My period is nearing the end – I think. It’s been a bad one, but I expected that. I did not expect the head nurse to tell me “That’s good, it means everything is coming out.” Great – my body cannot support or grow a pregnancy, but she sure can terminate one.
I met with Dr. R. on Monday. He was very nice and was receptive to all of my questions, even though I forgot a bunch of them (mainly about testing for certain things). Dr. R. does not believe there to be a reason for my miscarriage to be followed by a chemical pregnancy because of anything except bad luck. He doesn’t believe that this will mean I’ll continue to have miscarriages or chemical pregnancies. Sometimes these things just happen. Normally, I don’t think I could handle an answer like that… maybe I still can’t accept that answer. The reality is, though, that I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to put my faith into this doctor who have a lot of letters following his last name; this doctor who focuses on patients with PCOS; this doctor who has helped a lot of families grow. If I don’t trust in him, what is the point? My trust has been weakened a little and I’m scared. He knows though, and was supportive. Maybe something will change if this happens again. If this happens again, it will show a pattern and there are more extensive tests to be done. If this happens again, I might decide this whole journey is too much and I’ll look at other options… I don’t know. Unfortunately, I just have to wait.
It’s really weird, but this whole infertility journey has helped me to become a more patient person. Eventually I’ll need that when I bring my baby/babies home from the hospital – so maybe there is something to be gained with all of this drama!
Be well and be happy, friends.
** This is a quote from the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” – a movie I adore. It’s also the movie that helped me to decide I cannot stand Scarlett Johansson and her annoying face. Homewrecker!
ALWAYS read the instructions. Even if you think you know them off by heart – as I did – double check. Also, always go with your gut. Oh, and always, always, always ask the questions that need to be asked.
Thursday: I did a pregnancy test. BFN. I cried, I got mad, and then I opened the blinds in my house, cleaned up, and even cleaned my car. I was about to go and pick Cody up from work and wouldn’t you know it, the friggen car was dead. A few hours later and she was working again, but not after I cried some more and kicked the hell out of the front bumper. Note: that hurt me more than the car.
Friday: We went to the city to bask in the presence of young love. One of our good friends met the right girl and completely changed his mind about marriage! They are an adorable couple.
Saturday: I took another pregnancy test. After 2 minutes, there was no line and I threw it in the trash and went back to sleep. A few hours later and I don’t know what possessed me, but I took the stick out of the garbage. Why? Oh, I don’t know. I guess I like to torture myself. Anyway – THERE WAS A SECOND LINE. I started to go nuts. Was this an evaporation line? Or was this a true reading? Why did it show up after? It had to be an evap line, right?? I read the entire Internet about evaporation lines and decide this is the likely case. Oh, and apparently you’re supposed to wait 3 minutes before reading the test……. Whoops.
Sunday: “Cody……. it would appear I’m pregnant!” I spoke these words at 5:45AM after waiting 3 minutes for my result. The line was faint, but it was there. Yay us! I then once again torture myself with Google and faint positives.
Monday: Head to the clinic bright and early after taking another test. The line was slightly lighter, but still there. After a few long hours, I get the news that yes, I’m pregnant, however the HCG is quite low. Minimum reading for pregnancy is 7 and my level is 9. Progesterone is still good, and there’s, apparently, still hope. Not going to lie – I knew it was over.
Tuesday: Head to the clinic for follow up blood work. I’m told that this wouldn’t “technically” be a miscarriage. And yes, well, since it’s happened before, it could (likely) happen again. If that’s the case, there’s additional testing they could do. So… you want this to happen again before you’ll do all you can do? Not acceptable. A couple of hours later, my loving husband is calling me to tell me that my HCG has risen to an 11, but this is not enough. Instructions are to stop the progesterone and if there’s no period by Monday, head back to the clinic.
Currently: I feel mad. I feel sad. I feel like a dollar sign. I feel unimportant. I feel abandoned by God. I feel embarrassed.
Why is this happening? How is this fair in any way? And most importantly, why the hell doesn’t my clinic seem to think this is something that would require the “other” blood work panel? I have plans to read my “doctors” the riot act before asking for a referral to another clinic. Just to know that there was additional testing that could have been done makes me upset. Knowing that this could have been done after we lost Bumble hurts even more. How can they let their patients continue to try and get pregnant before they have every piece of the puzzle? How many times are they willing to let me miscarry before they decide to look at me as a real person with a real husband with real hopes and desires to expand their real family? I guess we’re just the idiots who help buy their Mercedes with custom licence plates. Our pocket matters – not our emotions, or our hopes and dreams.
Over it. Please understand that I might not be able to write for a while or respond to comments. I’m completely, 100% defeated.