Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Other Foot....

Size 12, lead sole, muddy, timberland boot..... It dropped.

I went for my beta Monday morning. When the nurse hadn't called by 3:00p.m. I figured I'd call her. Normally I'm not this anxious for my numbers. By this time I know it didn't work and would rather not hear the result. But this was different. I broke the test! With no fertility treatment! I couldn't wait to hear that strong 150-200. So when she started a battery of questions about my LMP I was a little taken back but not totally knocked off my HTP high. I told her that I must have O'd early. When I got dead silence on the other end of the phone I finally asked what the number was.                                        

                                      3 days BEFORE my missed period

Whoa...She agreed in my sentiment. Then she rambled on about how maybe my last IVF worked and they missed it but we need to do an U/S. All I could hear was a loud siren going off in my head. I knew there was something to do with high HCG and a nonviable pregnancy but I couldn't remember what it was.

Who the hell else would have their beta drawn and be told "Oh no missy! That number is just too high for our liking. Something is surely wrong in that vengeful ute of yours. P.S. You suck! Have a wonderful evening." This bitch…… that's who!

I truly feel that my RE's office records my call backs for the training of new nurses.

Dr. T - "Today students we're going to hear nurse Fertile tell Ms. Patty that her partner has blind sperm. If you listen closely you can hear her ovaries rejoice over their playing no role in the infertility. Tomorrow's lesson we'll tell her that the beta numbers were too low to achieve a sneeze never mind pregnancy. Lastly, for your final we'll get to tell Ms. Patty that her numbers are so high that she's birthing a mole!"

Riiiiight. Bastards.

So here I am stuck in maybe baby land. I'm going through the motions of being pregnant with not one ounce of happiness. I don't want to get attached to a *mole! I also don't want to do anything to harm the miniscule chance that there's a real baby in there.

For instance, I made a turkey sandwich this morning (with lunchmeat). When I finally realized that 'pregnant' women can't eat lunch meat I about lost my shit. If I knew I was truly pregnant I would be MORE than obliging but this is just fucking cruel people.

Of course I've been googling the shit out of molar pregnancy. Let me tell you people it's not pretty. Almost all sites say that most Dr.'s recommend waiting 6 months before achieving pregnancy after removal of the tissue. Well, isn't that just the bee’s knees. Not only do you get to be 'pretend' pregnant you don’t get to be 'real pregnant' for another 6 months at least. The best part is your chance for cervical cancer sky rockets!

Tomorrow is D day…. or U day. I will have an U/S at 9:15am to see what's growing in there. I swear to G.O.D. if there are moles in my secret garden I'm going to flip my shit.

But to be perfectly honest, that's what I fully expect to see.

* I know it's not an actual mole so please don't explain what a molar pregnancy is.

Saturday, November 26, 2011


I was about to start a second post earlier on how I was afraid to start my period before my asshole insurance company gave approval for our 100th FET. The tell tale crampage has been nagging me for a few days.

Then I started to feel all gaggy. Since I've been on antibiotics I figured that was the culprit of my displeasure. Then 'it' crept in. The feeling of 'oh! maybe I'm pregnant'. I haven't let this feeling get the best of me without a fertility treatment in well over a year. But I had one test left and since I planned on drinking at a family function tonight I thought, what the hell let's piss on that bad larry and see what we get.

Usually I tinkle tinkle,walk away, and pray for an evap 3 hours later. For some reason I decided to burn a hole in the test with my laser glare and wouldn't you know it!

                                The damn thing is BLAZING FRIGGIN POSITIVE!!!!

I cannot even believe it. Our RE said one in million chance of natural conception. We figured we hit that lotto already with our M/C.

I'm scared shitless!!!! I'm having cramps. I don't want to leave me safe RE. I felt more comfortable with an embryologist hand picking our champions not my slutty uterus. Oh dear lord please give me the strength to not go totally nuts with worry.

What Legends Are Made Of...

I hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving!

J and I split the holiday between his family and mine. We ate dinner at my mom's and desert at his mom's. It being family time and all, you can imagine that the day didn't go off without a bitch hitch.

Now in my 3 years of TTC and 27 years of being a woman I've heard many a folk lore of a particular situation happening to my fellow sisterhood. I've always cringed back in total horror at the mere thought of such occasions happening to me. I've pondered what my line of defense would be and how I would rise up against such travesties. Well on this fateful holiday it finally happened.....someone asked me if I was pregnant.

I know what you’re thinking. Maybe they were just wondering if you had achieved pregnancy yet. NOPE! This person did not know we were trying.

My response was to immediately say "WHAT?!" Where she just merely repeated herself, assuming I hadn't heard the question. I followed up with a zinger...."No."

The next part is the real knife in the bird. She then told me that I "looked pregnant".

Holy shit!! This is the stuff legends are made of. Who the hell tells someone that after being told that no, they are in fact NOT pregnant. Did you think that was the appropriate defense against such crimes??

"Well, in my defense you are a fat ass so you can understand my mistake."

She then went on to say that when she wears flowing shirts people ask her that all the time.

SHE'S IN HER 60'S!          
                                        No, no, no, no Cloris Leachman! No one has ever asked you that!

But it gets better. My uncle thought it would be funny to keep asking me if I was pregnant the rest of the day. (He does know about our IF) What the hell is wrong with these people?!

Needless to say it ended by me telling everyone to Fuck Off and leaving. No, I’m not exaggerating that part. I made a scene. Took my toys and went home.

*So what am I thankful for this year?
1) J's dad makes a great Clamato
2) Elastic waist pants
3) My niece telling everyone "they're going down!" while helping me play pitch
4) Lorazpam

*Of course the love of my life J, my health, family, and my furbabies.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Another Turkey Day With No Bun In The Oven

Each holiday, birthday, milestone, YEAR that passes without our baby, I tell myself, "You'll get 'em next year kiddo!" Riiiiiiight. I never in my wildest dreams imagined we'd be going on 3 years of TTC and no baby.

I used to mourn the loss of my baby and the lack of my fertility on such occasions. But this time I find myself PISSED RIGHT THE HELL OFF!! I mean really WTF?! This is not right. We went through the awful loss of our first pregnancy. That was our penance. We paid our debt to the world for our sins. What more do we need to do?!

My closest friend is now pregnant. Not only is she my closest friend but her husband is J's cousin and his closest friend. Which means we are together socially and for family events. They got married 4 months ago and she's 10 weeks along. Yes, do the math. That means they tried for a total of 2 months. That's 34months LESS than we've been trying. Don't get me wrong I love them both very dearly and am happy they didn't have to go through infertile hell. But my psyche would have benefited from them trying just a few months longer. Let me explain that horrible comment.....

 They know about our TTC struggle but it's become recently clear to me that she does not understand the level of hurt at all. Yes, I know that anyone who hasn't been through it doesn't fully grasp it. But I'm pretty sure the concept is completely lost on her.

 The evening before my last retrieval she calls me and asks what I'm 'up to'. "Oh ya know just chillin' on the couch bloated with a migraine watching the minutes tick by until they take these 21 eggs, ever-so-painfully, out of my ovaries." What I really said----> "Nothing. You?" She wanted to stop by. I told her I needed to be in bed early because we had to get up at 4a.m. for the retrieval. So she says, "Well how about after your appointment tomorrow?" Well my SURGERY is quite painful and I don't think I'll be up for company. Needless to say she rushes over the night before my retrieval to tell me she's pregnant.

I tried my damnedest to sound like the happy supportive friend I so desperately wanted to be and not the bitter infertile friend that I am, but WTF?! It was not in my human capability to be happy for her at that point. I gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was telling me before I found out from someone else. NOPE! She's telling no one. Just me. She wants someone she can call about pregnancy. Come on, I do not want to give my opinions from my pregnancy that lasted 13 weeks.

 There I was in pain, anxious, and desperate for this damn procedure to work. Now I had to add the dread that if it didn't work I would have to constantly be around yet another pregnant person especially in my family. A place where I should always feel comfortable is now tainted.

She finally decided to tell her immediate family so there hasn't been any 'advice giving'. I can't help but think she did this because I was being completely unsupportive which is awful. But I did/do try. I text and call often to see how she's doing but I can't help but feel like I come off kind of distant on the whole matter.

I suppose I've been spoiled by J's sisters and parents. By that I mean they truly get it. The pain they feel when we go through failure after failure is palpable. I just assumed that it was that easy for my BFF to understand. Big negative on that one.

I've been having panic attacks for a month over the idea of her announcing her pregnancy at the dinner table on Thursday. I picture those who know our history turning to me with sorry eyes while I gulp my vino. But luckily she's spending Thanksgiving with her side of the family and I’m relieved. How sick is that?! I do not want to be this person but how do I turn it off?

Monday, November 21, 2011

Load me up...

One post and I'm already lacking in consistency!

After my last post I promptly became DEATHLY ill with tonsillitis and because I’m incredibly dramatic it landed me in the hospital. I was told by an ENT about 3 years ago that I needed to have my tonsils out due to the fact that they kept flaring up and abscessing (yuck). But after scheduling and cancelling the surgery 3 times and I decided to be honest with myself and the ENT that I was never giving up me tonsils argh! (apply Jack Sparrow accent here).

The one thing I enjoy about the hospital visit (besides Percocet) is people watching. The rare breeds that come into the ER are something you don't find in your everyday encounters. I'm pretty sure the majority of the population simply goes for somewhere to hang out.

The person in front of me was there for a cough that she "just couldn't handle anymore". I never once heard her cough while we shared the miniscule breathing room that was the ER. Actually at one point her and her Kurt Cobain wanna-be boyfriend had a heated interlude that should have sent her "cough" into hysterics but nope, not even a throat clearing. Perhaps there's a bed in the lockdown unit for you and your imaginary cough. I hear Klonopin works wonders for such things.

Another man came in to retrieve his car keys that were in the pocket of the shirt they cut off of him the night prior. Now mind you, he rode his mountain bike straight into the ER lobby and requested said keys. I don't know about everyone else but if my shirt had to be cut from body in the EMERGENCY ROOM I would not be b-bopping around on my 5-speed! I later saw this man at the local pharmacy 3 miles away, when I went to pick up my scripts. Hey Lance, TAKE A CAB!

I've got to hand it to the nurses and Dr.'s. They don't even bat an eye at these nut jobs. They are even nice! I was rolling my eyes so hard my ocular muscles hurt the next day. *My mother was beyond pleased that I was unable to talk because she knows the level of my psychosis when it comes to such matters and I would have been grumbling to her the whole time.

Needless to say they drugged me and I'm now back to my bitchy joyful self.

Somewhere in the happens of last week I had my WTF appointment with Dr. T. J and I had decided that if this woman didn't have some cold hard facts as to why I'm not knocked up after 7 treatments we were taking our **bros and going home.

 Here's another fun fact you should know about me. In the hypothetical I’m one bad ass broad. I’ve given many a tongue lashing in my day. I've made owners of corporations, bosses, presidents, and wait staff crumble at my mere stare. In real life however, I tend to smile and nod a lot. So when the first words out of Dr. T's mouth were "you still have 2 day5 blasts on ice". I immediately spread my legs and told her to implant them bitches. I left the appointment feeling like I'd made some big dent in my infertility and we were on our way to twins!

I promptly called J's sister to discuss the appointment. She's beyond supportive and likes to know all the details and gives way more feedback than J. But on the down side she would never say, "Well, that kind of seems like the same line of B.S Dr. T has been feeding you for 1.5 yrs. You shoulda smacked a hoe." Instead she shared in my validation of the new same plan. It wasn't until I called J that I realized aside from some acupuncture and an additional bro we were doing our usual song and dance that leads to either a chemical or BFN and no chubby little ball of love with a full head of J's hair! (Don't pretend you're shocked by my level fantasizing)

So here we are about a week and half from starting my FET meds. The ones that I so affectionately refer to as vomitogen and ***'dirty band aid mark for weeks' patch. But this will at least use up all the snowbabies so a break up with my clinic will be a little easier if it's another fail.

Well there it is. I've been given a load of antibiotics, opioids, and B.S. in this last week. Bring it on!

*J doesn't handle the hospital well AT ALL. He becomes intensely anxious and irritable like he's having some kind of withdrawl. So I bring me Mum to such affairs as the ER.
** We refer to our embryos/blasts as "bros".
*** Does anyone have suggestions on how to remove those horrible sticky square outlines from your skin without getting a skin graph?

Monday, November 14, 2011

Here we go...

Here it is. My very first blog post. I've been reading blogs for almost 2 years now and I have no idea how to navigate this site. I'm technic logically stunted in my human growth. Facebook took me YEARS to even remotely understand and I still cannot edit my photos.

I decided to start my own blog for the simple fact that I NEED to get some things out of my head before I spew them into the faces of the unknowingly ignorant and fertile public.

About 3 years ago J and I had an "oops" pregnancy. (Yes, you can rest assured that hearing this phrase uttered by another now turns me into a feral cat that somebody tried to bathe) I carried that lovely little bump for 13wks when my sleazy hotel of a uterus evicted my ever so comfy tenant without so much as a 30 day notice. As you can imagine we were devastated. But, we picked ourselves up, dusted off, and decided to really "try" this time.

 HA! Little did we know J was harvesting blind tailless sperm in staggeringly low numbers and my ute prefers to eat and kill said sperm.

But needless to say we went on our merry ovulation kit, get it on, and test, circle of hell for a full year before seeing my OB for a WTF appt. My OB, whom I love, ran a few tests and referred us to an RE. After our first consult, Dr. T was fully confident that one IUI would have me knocked up in no time. So of course we picked out names and sent out our baby shower invites promptly.

FAIL! But ya know it was a fluke so let's give it another shot. FAIL!

As it turns out our local hillbilly lab misread J's sperm. First claiming he had millions of Michael Phelps champions eager to win the oocyte gold medal. Now we are told no one is showing up for the silver sneaker swim meet at the YMCA.

 Dr. T tells us IVF will get us where we need to be. SAY WHAT NOW?! What the hell is going on here? I was already preggo people! All that took was an early morning followed by a nap. Now you're trying to tell me you’re going to turn me into a pin cushion. Sounds perfect! Let's do it. Two months later....FAIL!
Well here we are 2 IUI's, 2 IVF's, and 2 FET's and still trucking along.

Now that you're caught up I would like to add my disclaimer here:

1. I am a brutally honest, sarcastic, generally annoyed infertile.
2. I love my J more than anything in the world but I will bash him occasionally on here.
3. A few friends and family know about our ART journey but most just think we're happy without kids.
4. J's family is ABSOLUTELY amazing. I mean I really can't say that enough.
5. I throughouly enjoy exclamation points and CAPS!!
6. I chose to name my blog "You know what you should try..." because I can't even begin to count the number of times I’ve heard those asinine words. I've started to finish the sentence with such things as “Truck stops? Swinger parties? Horse tranquilizers?

Well I don't know about you guys but already feel better....