What have you done for me lately?

Statistically, most women say that infertility is the biggest tragedy of their lives. Worse than divorce, even worse than death in many cases. I can see this, because the death of possibilities, what might have been, can be a lot harder than a physical loss. And it is a very real grieving process that is difficult to talk about.

Plus, nobody brings you pies or casseroles.

The downsides of infertility are many, and their roots go deep. I know that IF has affected my attitude towards sex, my self-image and feelings about my body, my relationship between my husband and I. Most of the changes are negative.

As many bloggers have mentioned, there is a certain wide-eyed joy when you decide to start trying to get pregnant. It's something that most people never expect to have a problem with. It's exciting, and it's terrifying. And as time goes on, it becomes tinged with desperation, and every time AF shows up, it's like a slap in the face. You get jaded. Sex that can't result in a baby seems like a waste of time. Which, if you are on the infertility treadmill for long enough, can translate to "every time." Romance isn't so much a part of the equation if it has to be turned on and off like a TV program.

Our situation had brought The Man and I closer together in many ways. I have always had issues with people seeing me cry, and that includes him. I have forcibly had to transcend this, and The Man has had to learn to be supportive and not to laugh when I come unhinged about the way he folds laundry (true) or when I am hysterical and sobbing uncontrollably for two days because I watched a documentary about flightless Arctic birds. He's not great about showing his feelings either, but they have made the occasional appearance. It scares the hell out of me every time, but we're at least both secure in the fact that we are there for each other, no matter what.

My feelings about my body have never really been positive. I have always been overweight, I have always struggled with my skin. While infertility hasn't really improved either one of these, they have made me realize that the appearance of my body is not as important as its abilities. The numbers on the scale and the red bump on my forehead suddenly seem like mere blips on the radar. I'm not sure if this is a healthy attitude, but it's the truth!

What has IF changed for you?

Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn

I am one sleepy girl.

The realization that I have been working for more than two weeks straight- not full-time, but without one complete day off- is kind of a freaky thought.

However, I have been dwelling on IF stuff a lot less, in some ways.

In other ways, I've had a few bittersweet moments.


I wore a bright blue shirt the other day, and evidently, this color attracts babies. Because all the babies in the store stared at me constantly, to the point that their mothers noticed it and got a little weirded out. One of them said, "Well! It looks like he wants to go home with you!" when her little guy reached out his arms like he wanted me to pick him up.

We both laughed, and in retrospect, I am not quite sure how I managed it.

There was a mom and her barely two-year-old at the store today, waiting for a dressing room.

Baby: "Where Greg? Want Greg!"

She calls for Greg repeatedly in a little falsetto voice, like she is calling a cat.

Mom: "Greg is Daddy, sweetie! Say Daddy!"

Baby: "Daddy Greg!" And she laughs hysterically.

Mom: "You are so silly baby!" And I hear the sounds of her laughing and covering her little girl with kisses and raspberries, while the little girl squeals and giggles and squirms.

And I can't help thinking, "What if this never happens for me?"

They are so happy, so natural, and they make it look so easy. And for me, it is just so NOT easy.

In slightly more bizarre news, I was teaching a class of 6th graders yesterday, and we were discussing Velcro. I mentioned that it was about 25 years old, and it had been invented when I was a little girl. There's one boy in this class who is a foot taller than everyone else, and he raised his hand, and asked, "How old are you?"

I don't mind revealing my age, especially when it's a kid who asks. The look of horror and disbelief on his face when I said, "thirty-two" was downright hilarious.
I choose not to consider why he reacted this way, because any conclusion that I might leap to would be disturbing.

For example, I might be older than his mom.

SEE BRAIN? That's why you just don't want to go there!

I have a ton of "classic" prego symptoms right now, but I know it's just the wretched progesterone making its presence known. TMI warning- I was putting on my bra today, and caught a glimpse of the girls and um...they look weird. But once again, I get that "Whose breasts are THESE?!!" moments pretty much every month.

In other news of the weird:

We have a Siamese-mix neutered male cat named Tiramisu, and he is basically a curmudgeon. He's cranky. He's whiny. He doesn't like to be picked up or held, and he sleeps 95% of the time on "his" chair in the living room.

During the 2ww, he won't leave me alone. He is all snuggly, he wants to be with me all the time. And when I pet him, he purrs like a motorboat.

He was like this last cycle too, and I tried explaining it to The Man, who essentially thought I was out of my mind until he witnessed the random love-fest and the kneading and the purring and the attempted kitty kisses this month.

I am wondering if the injectables are making me smell different, or if I am slowly going crazy....or maybe our cat is manic-depressive. If the pattern continues, when AF begins to arrive, he will go back to his crotchety old ways again!

By the way...I have noticed my number of readers going steadily up, and I am extremely flattered by all your thoughtful comments and the way my sitemeter map is filling up. Thanks so much- It's so good to know that we aren't all in this alone!

If you read this blog and aren't listed on my sidebar, please drop me a comment so I can add your blog to my reading list! (Of course, feel free to leave a comment if you ARE listed on my sidebar too! I love all you guys.)

Ci-cilia, You're breakin' my heart

You're shakin' my confidence laaaately.....

Don't worry, I can spell, The bad pun will become obvious later.

OK, so I am going to add more, but it's going to be later tonight. I am off to work again, my schedule has been nuts. Ok, I am off to job #2 in an hour- so I will add the gory details!

Summation- the IUI happened, it went well, and the sample lasted just fine while nestled in my cleavage for a little longer than was recommended. I split the difference and showed up 15 minutes early, and there was no comment.

The Man has been put on notice. Neither of us is a morning person, which I know is a factor. To be fair, when he got up and moving, he did apologize for being a poop. And he was very considerate to me while I was practically comatose and convinced that my ovaries were exploding, and actually planned and made food. (Yeah, quesadillas, but he gets points for effort.)

The actual IUI went well, but was weird. First of all, it HURT! This has never happened before. Usually it's just my ovaries, although last cycle I didn't even really get that. This time they were both agitated, not to mention, afterwards, I had major cramping. EVERYONE was pissed off. I don't know if that's good or bad. They did mention at my appointment that my cervix was wiiiide open. (Ack! my cervix is a ho!)

I spoke with my fave tech, and basically put it out there. "Um...so if this cycle is uneventful...well, his sperm are great. My eggs and uterus are great. Why am I taking all these drugs to produce more eggs? I am worrying that either my egg quality sucks, in which case the drugs really won't help, or that things aren't implanting, so ditto, or that The Man's chemistry and mine are incompatible, which really isn't going to become immediately obvious until we do IVF anyway. Do you have any ideas?"

Evidently, she has a theory. She thinks that the cilia in my fallopian tubes may be out of whack, and when that's an issue, they can't waft the egg towards the sperm or vice-versa. Sort of like incompetent crowd-surfing at a rock concert. My cilia may be just like the a**holes who have smoked too much pot and just drop the kid on the concrete floor.

Yes, that is my take on it. First the uterine disco lounge, then the easter egg basket ovaries, and now fallopian crowd surfing. My reproductive anatomy sounds like a freaking theme park! Wooohooo!

In the meantime, the 2ww is officially on, and I am allowing myself to hope. I have a girl's weekend at the coast planned, and I will know by then whether I can drink or not, which I guess is the up-side in case my cilia actually aren't working.

Meanwhile, we are trying to decide what to do in case this cycle is not a success. Do I really want to have IUI #6? This is my free cycle of meds....could I put those towards IVF, or are they only used during an IUI cycle? The next IVF boat departs in November, so I would baaaaarely squeak by with the timing.

I can't answer any of these questions for two weeks. I'm hoping that I won't have to answer them, because the point will be moot. Or if you're a Friends fan, it will be "moo".

So hungry, so angry

After four hours of sleep, I leaped out of bed. This is most unlike me. I have often expressed my admiration for both of our cats, one of whom parks on a chair in the den, the other of whom likes our bed. They will reliably park in their spots, and I will arrive home six hours later to find them both still there.

Those lazy little freaks have a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me.

So, the hungry part is a lot easier to solve than the angry part.
(Hungry? Eat breakfast and stop your whining. Angry? Well.....)


The Man's workplace tends to frown upon taking days off at short notice. We were initially unworried, because he has Fridays off, but with the schedule change, he couldn't get this morning off. He has to be at work by 7:30, and it takes 20-30 minutes for me to drive to the clinic. It's technically do-able, if I do all the ferrying.

I don't know if I have mentioned that The Man is in the military, but he is. He has assured me that he can't find privacy at work to complete a sample, not that I would want him to have to do that, but hey.

The morning of the IUI is always a disaster. I end up upset and stressed out every time. Like last month, when it was his day off and he assured me that he would take care of everything, allegedly set his alarm, and then slept through it. Having been awake most of the previous night, and thinking I only had to be awake for my appointment at 10:45, I was in no condition to remind him. I ended up waking up to his swearing at around 9, and we ended up calling the clinic and bringing the sample in late. Then he refused to go to the clinic with me, because he had forgotten that it was the big day and made other plans.

Or the time before that, when we got in a huge fight the morning of- I had given him all the info, what time I needed to leave by, etc., and he didn't remember any of it, so he didn't allot enough time to get dressed for work and do the deed. Or the time before that....you get the picture.

I have adopted a policy of not getting visibly upset, because it just makes things worse, although I am sure that the "internally boiling with rage" reaction that is happening can't be a good thing.

A big part of me feels that his avoidance of going to the clinic with me and his attitude (which, if I am honest, is that of a pissy 14 year old) on "collection day" is some weird passive aggressive thing. I know he wants to have kids, because he is the one who wanted to start trying. Maybe he just can't accept that we need medical intervention?

The thing is, I am spending tons of money, time, and my sanity on this. I have rearranged my entire life for this, and a big part of me resents it that I go through doctor's visits, shots, surgery, ultrasounds, and suppositories, while he can't manage to get out of bed on time and be civil on what amounts to less than one day a month.

Last month, I finally confronted him, and asked, "Do you still want to do this?" And he got upset, offended, defensive (which is worrisome) and assured me that he did indeed want us to have a child together in this lifetime. I told him that if that was the case, he needed to step up, so I could see that he meant it.

So anyway, "collection day" has become a loaded experience...no pun intended. And it seems like we go through this every stinking time, and this time is no exception- with the added complication that the RE's note that I get each month has changed.

Every month we have brought in the sample at 8AM on the dot, and now that I look at this note- 8:30.

Which is totally impossible with our schedule, and I have not one freaking clue what I can do, other than stick a vial in my bra for almost an hour and hope that quality will not be affected. I have already googled "sperm longevity" and "How long do sperm live outside the body" while knowing that my clinic wants it there in 30 minutes, tops. Like Domino's pizza. And of course I can't call them, because even though they show up to the office around 8, they won't answer the phone until nine. Garrrrrrrgh!

My only other option is to show up at 8AM anyway and force them to let me in.

I just tried going to The Man with these options, and he totally snapped at me. And while I am not going to let myself explode, I am through making excuses for him.

Has anyone else gone through something like this? I'm pretty much at the end of my tether.

Guess which night it is?

'Twas the night before IUI

And all through the house

Jenna did all the laundry

And set dishes to douse.

The Man was out cold

Snuggled up in his bed

While visions of sample vials

Danced in his head.


Oh, why can't I sleep? Why? WHY?!!!!

It's been one of those days. Two people called in sick to work, so I came in and covered for six hours, but of course, all the stuff I was supposed to do at home didn't happen. Bleah!

Also, for those of you who may be taking/have taken Menopur, did it give you some seriously, um, vivid, pornographic dreams?

Um, no reason, just asking.

I injected the Ovidrel last night, and I know it's working: my left ovary is killing me, which is par for the course.

Now I just need my brain to calm down so I can sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

The Saga Of Dr. Combover (Part Two)

Anyone who wants to read The Saga (Part One) may do so here.

The surgery and recovery were really easy for me. Thank goodness! And there was that prevailing feeling that I was "fixed." The problem was taken care of!

Then I went back in for me follow-up, and well...I just wish they could have prepared me in some way.

I was informed that I didn't actually have a blocked tube. After going through all my adventures with Righty, I am guessing it was just orbiting Pluto on the day that I had my HSG, so the dye didn't pool like it was supposed to.

The surgery did serve a purpose- I had some "mild endometriosis" that they cleaned up. So, since the tube wasn't a problem, what did I want to do?

Then he started throwing facts and figures and percentages at me. Clomid, 8%, here's the cost, IUI, medicated, 25% chance, here's the cost....

At this point, I was pretty early in my infertility journey, and I hadn't researched any of this data. My hopes had just been dashed. I felt like he was trying to sell me a baby like it was a used car, if that makes any sense. I know now that any reasonable person would understand that this is a lot of info to take in and assimilate within five minutes, but he just wasn't bothering to take that into consideration.

Dr. Combover was looking at me like I was a specimen who was misbehaving in a culture dish, while he waited for me to come up with an answer and stop wasting his expensive time. I finally said that I would need to discuss my options with my husband and research everything on my own before jumping into a treatment plan, and he just shook his head at my with poorly-concealed irritation.

In reality, the way he was interacting with me was pissing me off so much, I vowed that I was going to find someone else to treat me. A phone call to Dr. Teddybear disabused me of that notion. Not only does he get great results, he's the only game in town. Crap.

In the meantime, I had already asked for a copy of my medical records from his office, and I made the mistake of reading them. When I got to the paragraph that included his comments about the copious amounts of fat in my abdominal region...well, that didn't make me feel more kindly disposed towards him. Especially since I had asked whether my weight was a factor, and he said it had nothing to do with anything.

So I have been continuing to go to the office, and haven't seen the man since...it's been two years. All my procedures have been done by nurses and techs, and (perhaps understandably)I have been OK with that.

Am I overreacting? I have spoken to another woman in town who has had dealings with him, and she desribed him as being a "cold fish." But is personality that important if I am just trying to get results?

I am trying to decide what the next step would be, and I am in the fortunate position to be close to both San Francisco and Los Angeles...so if I am willing to go through some additional inconvenience, my options could be increased exponentially if I decide to jump off the Dr. Combover ship.

A Shot In The Arm

We now interrupt the Saga of Dr. Combover to say...WOW.

Seriously, the people at Freedom Pharmacy are amazing. They have overnighted I-don't- know-how-many really expensive little vials to me over the last week or so, and per my clinic's instructions, more Gonal-f and the brand-new prescription for Menopur was supposed to arrive this morning.

I waited. And waited. I have never gotten a delivery later than 10:30, so when it got to be two PM, I began to panic and called the pharmacy. They reassured me that the shipment was in its way- evidently a FedEx plane had some technical difficulties. They gave me the tracking number and the FedEx toll-free line, and had FedEx flag the order with the driver as an urgent delivery.

It finally got here at around 3:30 PM.

So thank you, Freedom and FedEx!

I would also like to thank the nameless woman who donated her leftover meds to my doctor's office. I was panicking when they prescribed more drugs, to be taken that day, and I knew that the dregs in the Gonal-f syringe at home weren't even going to come close to what I needed. Nameless woman, you are a superhero, and I promise I will do the same thing if I ever have any leftover largesse.

Time has given me some perspective. I was so upset yesterday, because I planned ahead and my plans got changed. My cycle wasn't cancelled. I have three likely looking follicles. Hell, Righty even decided to toe the line and cough one up this month.

Is it going to be more difficult because things changed? You betcha. But as The Man said, "Anything worth working for is rarely easy." I may have responded with "Thanks, Yoda." Because that's how we roll.

But yeah, I can see his point. We've come a long way, and we have a long way to go. Now is not the time to freak out over trifles.

On another note....

Holy crap, those Menopur injections are scary. First of all, they switched things up on me at the RE's office, and I have to inject the Gonal-f and the Menopur into my upper arm. I had gotten really used to injecting into my belly, but the tech said that there's a better chance of getting serious absorption with the arm injection.

So I get my meds today, and I open the boxes, and HOLY CRAP!! I am not sure what gauge the needles are that come attached to the Menopur syringes. But compared to my happy little Gonal pens, they look two inches long and as big around as a pencil lead. Luckily, you switch to a finer gauge needle to actually inject the stuff, but I nearly had a heart attack just looking at those things.

OH! And I asked why my office prescribes the 300 IU syringes. I was right! You actually get more meds (because of the leftover meds in each syringe) than you do with the higher dosage pens...for the same cost. I estimate on this cycle, the leftovers made up about two full pens, which is around a $700 savings. Not too shabby. I figured it was too good a tip not to share.

How's everyone's week going? Anything fun planned for the weekend?