whitechocolatebabydream

finding it harder and harder

2007-03-11T15:27:00.000-06:00

In the past, oh...how long has it been now? 4 years? 5, 6?...there have been ups and downs (well, mostly downs) There have been days and weeks when I thought "I cannot do this anymore". But I did always manage to recover, to move on and to take the next step that would hopefully get me towards an increasingly impossible goal.

This time it feels like the grey clouds overhead are lingering. I've yet to make it through a day without some tears. Maybe I would be less bitter/depressed/cynical/pessimistic if even a small part of the past few years had been bearable. It hasn't been. It's pretty much all been crap.
It seems that at every point if there something that could have gone wrong, it did. If there was a way that things could have gotten worse, they did.

We didn't just do IVF cycles, we did long-distance out of town cycles.
8 times.
With not a single penny of insurance coverage.
I didn't just need FSH. I needed massive doses of hormones for 17+ days.
Which still resulted in 2 cancelled cycles.
With not a single penny of insurance.
I didn't just have endometriosis. I lost an ovary and a tube.
On opposite sides, just to make sure that what remains will be completely useless to me.
We didn't get a single moment of even transient happiness (the possibility of a + beta, the hope that maybe this cycle wasn't also a complete bust). (Is it redundant to say 'moment of transient happiness'. Aren't all moments transient by definition?).
And we didn't go through this while everything else was running smoothly.
We went through this while helping my mom deal with cancer and subsequent surgery/chemo/radiation (cycle 2-3), my brother in-law's suicide (cycle 3), job loss (cycle 4-5).
And while my husband was able to provide a shoulder to cry on for a while he can't really handle it anymore. Any weakness/sadness on my part frightens him. He spirals towards depression or looks for an escape. I end up consoling and comforting him telling him "I'm fine. Everything will be okay". But really I'm thinking "I am not fine. Oh my god, when will things get better? I can't take care of you, I need someone to take care of me. Help. Help."

And all the while, nephews and neices (even a grand-nephew) are born.
Co-workers, neighbours and former friends are effortlessly increasing their broods. They are buying sailboats and taking holidays because they have not injected all their savings into their abdomen or ass. They talk about new volvos, and summer camps, and renting cottages for their families. They show me pictures of newborns and birthday parties. I could show them my overflowing sharps container and pictures of 17 now dead embryos. But that's hardly a conversation starter.

Even among bloggers, I have turned out to be a complete loser in this IVF game.
Some of you (newcomers! upstarts!) were fortunate enough to have a short journey.
Others who started this journey along with me are now mothers to 2 or 3 ('we only transferred one embryo and I gave birth to healthy twins!').
I'm a super infertile among pregnant infertiles.
And before you take me for a complete bitch, YES I am happy that you are not dealing with this shit anymore.
I just want to be you, and not me. Okay?
I would trade places with just about anyone right now.

All this is to say, I don't know what to say or do any more.
I am still out there checking on some of you. But I won't be giving anymore tedious, pathetic updates on my life. Not for the next little while. I am tired.

Lynnette, RobberBarren and MannaBanana- wow!
Drew- you've been through so much. I'm really excited for you and the apeman.
Krista- I'm glad things are progressing well.
Thalia, Mare, Lut C, Sparkle- I know you're not exactly in the home stretch, but I am thinking good thoughts for all of you.
Liana, Millie and Pamplemousse- I wish I had half the strength and resilience you do.
Zanity and Zarqa- where are you? I miss you both.
JennaM- I think of you often and I hope everything is well. I love reading your new blog.
Kay- I'm glad you're out there and appreciate the emails.

And to everyone else (julianna, shazz, aurelia etc.) who has offered advice or a kind word: Thank You.
Really, truly.
It has helped. I do appreciate it.

salt

2007-01-04T11:19:00.000-06:00

When you are wounded and bleeding it's always nice when someone comes along and rubs in some salt. No?

F*ck f*cking coworkers.
I have 3 counterparts in other offices. One is on mat leave. She gave birth on my husbands birthday. The second, let's call him Wally, is expecting any day now and feels compelled to send me emails everyday to remind me of this fact.
And, who gets to takeover the extra workload while these two are off on leave?

Here are excerpts from the 4 emails I received from ass-shat Wally in the past 2 days.

Hi everyone,
As you know I am going to become a Dad in January, so I will be taking a couple of weeks off to celebrate. Nina has agreed to field all questions related to project X which come up during that month....

Hi Mark,
Nina has graciously offered to take over the X Project
while I am off this January with my new family. Please copy her on all correspondence with regards to this project.....

Hi folks,
As you know, Nina is going to be handling the management of Project X for most of January while I’m off being sleep-deprived with my new son. Should this project not be completed prior to my running-away......

Happy New Year J!
I don’t have that information handy. I have copied this email on to Nina. My wife is due to give birth within the next few days so Nina has graciously offered to cover this project. I am confident that she can get you the information you need.

--------------------
For the record Wally, you insensitive moron, I did NOT 'offer graciously' to do your f@cking work while you are away with your 'new family'. I had no choice.
And
In the coming weeks don't you dare flood my Inbox with pictures of your newborn.

-----------------------------
update!
Not 1 but 6 photos have just arrived by email!
My director called asking i) would I like to coordinate a gift purchase? (I declined) ii) could I put $50 towards the gift? (of course, I would be happy to) and iii) shouldn't we also buy a gift for J who had given birth just 2 weeks ago. It's her second, but we wouldn't want anyone to feel left out. Yeah...right. Then we had a lovely conversation about what the gifts could be, debated the merits of giftcards vs. clothes vs. toys.
How does that stapler in jelly trick work?

hanging on

2007-01-01T13:12:00.000-06:00

I am hurt, but I am n0t slain;
I’ll lay me d0wn and bleed a while,
And then 1’ll rise and fight again.

Rhymes with home

2006-12-07T03:27:00.000-06:00

On the good days being away from home is a nice distraction.
On the bad days, there seem to be too many women stroking swollen bellies, too many strollers being pushed, too many dark haired, brown eyed tots who look just the way I'd pictured my babies would look.

But I should be grateful, right? To be here in the land of gellato and pizza. To be enjoying sunshine and 18 degree weather instead of shivering in freezing rain and freezing temperatures like my family back home.

And ironically, I have been tagged by Aurelia.

Do you really need to know 5 things about me? Probably not, but here goes.

1. Thanks to my brother, since age 3 I have been missing a piece of one of my appendages. I won't say which one.

2. For the first few years of my life I went to very strict convent schools run and taught by nuns. I am not catholic (not even close) but somehow my parents thought this was a good idea.

3. I can't swim. Well, I can dog paddle very well and I can do a reasonable backstroke. But open water terrifies me. If I was on a boat that capsized 200m from an island I would probably drown.

4. Luckily, my husband is a qualified lifeguard.

5. Without my glasses/contact lenses I probably couldn't find my way from one side of a room to another. I fantasize about having perfect eyesight but I am way too chicken to do something like laser surgery. For sure I would be that 1 in 100,000 person they tell you about who suffered permanent pain/damage as a result of the surgery. I think we're pretty clear on the fact that the probability gods are not on my side (see failed cycles 1 through 8).

caio for now.

problem solver me

2006-11-14T07:24:00.000-06:00

I keep thinking there's something I've missed.
There's some little trick, a little twist and if I could just figure it out I would have a better cycle/better embryos/that elusive second line.

So despite the fact that I've been to 5 clinics and seen god knows how many doctors, I keep thinking that if I read enough journals, scan all the abstracts from scientific meetings, consult with all the specialists (ahem...that's you folks) I will figure IT out.

Because surely there's a reason for everything, right?
And it's just a matter of finding the problem and fixing it. Right?

So.....to recap.
7 cycles on my own, 2 of which were cancelled.
2 + 3 + 2 + 4 + 3 = 14 embryos altogether.
Not a single one has stuck.
Some have been 'perfect' (beautiful 7 or 8 cells with no fragmentation); others have been grade II but they are never 'bad'.
Lining is always 8mm or more.
HSG shows no uterine abnormalities.
Blocked tube may have been affecting implantation but the tube was been clipped almost a year ago.
2 Laps to remove endometriosis.

1 DE cycle
3 8-cell, grade I embryos.

Every fricken cycle has been negative. The highest beta reading I ever had was 8.
=====================================================================

Sparkle mentioned the Miscarriage Management Program. When I searched around for info I found this great website which got me thinking of the possible issues.

Blood Clotting disorders
They have run a thomophilia panel on me (between cycles 6 and 7).
Everything came back normal.
So it's not a clotting thing.

Chromasomal abnormalities
Well..this is tricky.
There are never enough embryos to do PGD on so that's out of the question.
My husband had been checked for a couple of genetic markers and they came back negative.
There's nothing else to go on (ie. family history) so what else would they test for?
How could all 17 embryos to date have been genetically abnormal?
Shouldn't the more recent ones (from younger healthier eggs) have been normal?
My first IVF cycle was at age 34. Could my eggs have been crap (genetically) even then? But how that does explain the DE failure?

the Uterus
2 HSGs, 2 surgeries and a gazillion ultrasounds.
The uterus appears to be fine.
But what about the beta3-integrins?
I've been thinking about this. I'm not convinced...and I"m not even sure how to go about investigating this since the people who test/diagnose this are in the US and I am not.
From what I can gather, the fix is to take Depot Lupron for 3 months. This can resynchronize the expression of the integrins.
Well...I was on Depot Lupron.
Okay it was 2 shots (2 months) not 3. But that should have helped, no?
Does it have to be 3 shots?
Should I ask for 3 in the future anyway, even if I'm not tested for beta-3 integrins. Can't hurt, right?
And, it's supposed to help quiet the endometriosis. Which is why I took it for 2 months in the first place.
Are the hypercoaguability panels checking for uterine function? Is this a standard thing I can ask an RE for?

The Endometriosis
See above.
The Depot Lupron was supposed to help.
Lots of people with endometriosis get pregnant. I've met them and their babies.
So that's not the only issue.

Immune Disorders
I don't know. I really don't know.
If this was the answer wouldn't they be checking immune issues for all women?
Why is the research so equivocal?
Where the hell is the research to back this up anyway?
I don't know if I can deal with the expense of dealing with one of the US groups that does the immune testing.
And it's begining to feel like I'm grasping at straws.
What exactly is the deal with immune testing ?

Other things....
Corticosteroids (prednisone, medrol etc)
Are supposed to help with implantation by suppressing the immune system.
I did take medrol with cycle #7.
Anyone know more about this?

Asprin, vitamins, acupunture, yoga, relaxation etc.
Yes. Did that.
No. Didn't help.

Liana suggested the possibilty of a gestational surrogate.
To that I say aaaaaiiieeeeee
I just can't contemplate that right now.
In Canada is even more impossible than the DE route (shockingly there are not many women out there willing to gestate a baby for 9 months without any compensation). But it's not just that.
I want to be pregnant.
I want to carry a baby and give birth and have stretch marks and gain 50 pounds and complain about my swollen ankles.
I want that.

I am asking for any and all assvice.

Stupid girl

2006-10-31T11:37:00.000-06:00

For hoping when I should have known better.
Good news is for others.
Why did I dare to think otherwise?

I hadn't written about it because this time I was trying to do everything differently. Because this time it was different. Different eggs, different clinic, different process....and maybe, just maybe, different results.

Well my secret cycle is over.
My sister was a trooper. I'll never adequately be able to express my feelings of gratitude towards her. She endured the injections, the ultrasounds, the blood draws the retrieval without a single complaint. Her abdomen is bruised. Her arms resemble those of an addict. Her tiny veins are hard to find and required multiple painful jabs. On retrieval day it took 6 tries to hook up the IV.
The eggs were great.
The sperm was great.

They didn't count on my blackhole/toxic tarpit of a uterus to kill these embryos too.
But it did. It has. We confirmed that today.

So...advice on repeat implantation failure anyone?
Cause I am a complete loss.

Does this happen in your office?

2006-10-20T14:20:00.000-06:00

People occasionally bring treats to the office to share. Someone has baked cookies or brought Hallowe'en candy and they leave it on a common table for everyone to help themselves. In our office all the women do this, but there's one guy working in our office who has NEVER ever brought anything to share. It doesn't stop him however from helping himself to whatever treats are being offered.
Does he realize that he's always taking but never contributing?
Do he feel piggy or guilty for doing this?
Do he feel entitled?
Do he not think at all?
Why does he think this is acceptable behaviour?
Am I over-reacting?

This is a perfectly nice, considerate guy. Yet it doesn't seem to have occured to him that he is accepting everyone else's hospitality without ever reciprocating.
It's starting to bug me.

Updated:
Godamnit. He's just taken the last peanut butter cup.
Now I'm really mad.

So much for karma

2006-09-29T11:30:00.000-06:00

Have I mentioned (lately) how much I hate my family doctor?
She is at the top of my list of people I blame for my current state of infertileness.

You may, or may not, recall that when we first started 'trying' (long forgotten halcyon days where we thought sex lead to babies- ha!) I went to see her to make sure everything was alright. Blood tests were ordered. I was proclaimed healthy. "That's interesting" she said looking at my chart "we have the same birthday".

Months go by. Nothing is happening but there's an odd pain in my pelvic area.
It's nothing, she says. Maybe an ovarian cyst. They go away on their own. Take tylen*l or naproxen.
Many weeks later and the pain has gotten steadily worse. I am taking naproxen every few hours.
Well...she suggests. We could order an ultrasound.
She helpfully schedules an ultrasound for 2 months later.
In those months, a huge endometrioma is developing and swallowing up my ovary.

She looks at the ultrasound results and suggests we 'check-up' on it a few weeks later.
Another month of waiting. The pain killers are not doing anything. I spend hours at my office lying under my desk because the pain is so bad.
And the endometrioma is growing. The follow-up ultrasound shows that it's almost 10cm in size. Imagine a grapefruit..on your ovary.

Due to my family doctor's helpful advice and watchful waiting, I will end up in surgery and four days later leave minus one and a half ovaries.

So, you know where this goes right?

I just saw her. Walking down the street. Smiling.
She is hugely pregnant.

We share the same fucking birthday. How nice.

Follow-up conversation

2006-09-01T14:26:00.000-06:00

Conversation with my co-worker/employee this morning.
Goes something like this:

Me: How're you doing?
L: Alright, I suppose.
Me: It's not easy.
L: No.
My brother just told us his girlfriend is pregnant.
Me. Your brother? The one who embezelled money from your grandparents, dropped out of highschool and now works as a prison guard?
L: Yup.
Me: So unfair.
L: And I found out yesterday that my good friend S is pregnant.
Me: S? The hairdresser with the out-of-work boyfriend who she lives with in a damp basement apartment with no furniture?
L: Yup.
Me: Of course.
L: Figures
Me: Figures

Poor girl. I'm feeling so sorry for her. It's almost overshadowing how sorry I feel for myself.

Refuge

2006-08-29T09:14:00.000-06:00

I like going to work.
It keeps me busy. It occupies my mind with numbers and facts just enough to keep the dark thoughts at bay for 9 hours. There are data to be analysed, spreadsheets to be organized, papers to be read and written. My office is a refuge. I supervise a small team that’s part of a larger organization. We are, usually, a happy little group. We have flexibility and some autonomy. That’s the upside. We have an open concept office. That’s the downside.
Usually it doesn’t matter.
A few days ago one of my employees, the one who’s desk is directly across from me, just 6 ft away, told me that she is pregnant. My stomach sank down into my toes. For the next 7 months I would have to watch her belly grow. I would have to, whether I wanted to or not, listen to conversations about cribs and midwives and ultrasounds and oh-my-god-look-at-me-I-am-getting-so-big. I would have to sit down with her and discuss her maternity leave options. I know this because I did this already 2 years ago, when another employee had told me that she was pregnant…on the day that I received my negative Beta from cycle #2. By the time I was going through cycle #4 she had delivered a healthy baby. That employee moved to another city, so I am spared updates on each baby milestone.

This morning the newly pregnant employee was not at her desk. She called just an hour ago. She is miscarrying. This is her second time. I told her I was sorry. I told her to take her time and not worry about work. But secretly I am relieved and I feel horrible that I am relieved. I have turned into a person that wants others to be as unfortunate and miserable as I am. It’s not that I don’t want her to be pregnant. It’s just that I want to be pregnant too. For once I want to be the one saying “guess what?”. I want to go to a baby shower that is for me. I want to have an ultrasound that shows something other than an endometrioma. It’s like we are all hungry waiting to be fed. And someone comes along and starts handing out meals. Others get a meal and I don’t. It’s not that I don’t want them to eat, it’s just that I can’t watch and not feel a little envious, and even more hungry.

questions

2006-07-03T18:03:00.000-06:00

What if you hate this journey?
What if you have learned nothing?
What if you are a meaner, smaller, more bitter person than when you started?
What if it’s just as hard to read the success stories as it is to read the failures?
What if it’s harder?
What if love your nephew and niece so much that your heart could burst, but you still remove their pictures from the fridge because you don’t want to look at them everyday and be reminded of what you don’t have?
What if you thought the past few years had made your relationship with your husband stronger, but then you realize maybe they haven’t.
What if you thought you knew what to do next, but now that you’re here you don’t?
What if you try to imagine your life five years into the future and you come up blank?

What then?

I dreamt of a baby

2006-05-18T15:11:00.000-06:00

What I really wanted to do was curl up under my desk and cry. But they frown upon that in open concept offices. So I just kept working. My husband called around 5:30 asking when I’d be home. I have a lot of work to do I told him. Actually I didn’t have much to do. The truth was, I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to face him. I didn’t want to discuss yet another failure. I didn’t want to talk about next steps. Most of all I didn’t want to face an empty house. What I wanted to do was smash something. Punch a hole in a wall. Kick and scream at something or someone. But you can’t do that at work either. Instead I found a safety pin a carved a small L into my abdomen. L for LOSER.
That was three days ago. I’ve been working late every evening. Focusing on projects and spreadsheets seems easier than having to go home. I haven’t been able to have a conversation with my husband. In fact I haven’t been able to say much at all. I can’t formulate any complete thoughts. I can’t bear to call my mother. I’ve sent emails to my brother and sister asking them not to call me.

I thought I was prepared for this outcome. The HPT on day 9 had come up negative. But there was a little voice telling me ‘it’s too early. There’s still hope.’ The rational side of me knew that the cramps and PMS symptoms were a bad sign. The optimistic side wanted to believe there was a chance. I had steeled myself for the negative result yet when I got the phone call it HURT. It hurt more than the first time, more than the second time. More than all the previous negatives combined.
Because this negative is different.
This one means that I will never have a baby with my husband.

When my nephew was born my brother would send me pictures almost everyday. I wanted so much to be there and hold this wriggling new life. I started having intensely real dreams about Bubba. I could feel and smell him. After a couple of days the baby in this dream began to morph into a different baby. Our baby. It had my husband’s curly hair, my brown eyes, his smile, my long fingers, his perfect toes… I would wake up from these dreams with a vivid picture of what our baby would look like, aching to hold him or her. I thought it was just a matter of time before my baby dream came true.

I thought if I tired hard enough, wanted it enough and did all the right things that I could make this happen. If I tried just one more time maybe the probability gods would favour me. If I just went to the right clinic, did the right procedures, had the surgery, took the vitamins, tried protocol X instead of Y then maybe it would work.

Fuck. I mean FUCK. Just one of those times couldn’t one embryo have stuck around? How could ALL of them be bad? How can other people with endo get pregnant but not me? How can other people with one ovary or one tube get pregnant but not me?
How can my 41 year old lesbian friend get pregnant TWICE with IUIs but I cannot do it even once with 7 tries at IVF? How does my friend’s coke-addict-highschool dropout-living-with-an-ex-con sister get to have FOUR perfectly beautiful babies while I cannot have one?

I am so angry and I am so tired. And I’m fresh out of hope for my baby dream.

can we just get this over with?

2006-05-10T16:16:00.000-06:00

I feel like crap. I've had the worst PMS possible for days now. I'm grumpy, bloated and eating everything in sight. I tested this morning and it came up negative.
I feel negative.
I know, I know. It's not over till beta.
Does anyone really believe that?
I think it's over. I'm not holding out much hope that the beta will show anything different.

I've really given this my best shot.
Four clinics, two countries, seven tries, six doctors.
Flare protocols, long protocols, Antagonists, IVM, co-culture, surgeries, HSGs. I have tried them all. It didn't work. I cannot do this anymore. Stick a fork in me cause I am done.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I've been tagged.
A little delayed....but here are six things you didn't need to know.

1. I am not religious but I am superstitious. I am convinced that I jinxed the whole babymaking thing because I bought a baby outfit when we first started trying. I’m always looking for good or bad signs. I don’t wear my bad luck jeans anymore (I was wearing them when my November cycle was cancelled). I could go on…

2. I am way too competitive. And I’m a sore loser. That’s a bad combination.

3. I love buying skincare and beauty products but I don’t use them. I’m a complete sucker for anything that has a ‘gift with purchase’ and will end up buying cleansers, toners, mascaras, lipsticks, lotions etc. which then sit on a shelf. I basically stick to soap & water. Our bathroom is a mini drugstore of unused products.

4. I have a huge collection of shampoos and conditioners stolen from hotel rooms (mostly Aveda…I don’t bother with the cheap stuff). Hey, when they charge me $200 for a hotel room I expect to be able to keep the shampoo. All this gets added to the collection of skincare and beauty products. I'm a little like those old women who lived through wars and then end up hoarding packets of sugar in their old age.

5. I live walking distance from work. On most days this is great since I really don't like to drive. On the days that I walk past the methadone clinic (with its waiting lines of strung out addicts accompanied by pregnant teenage girlfriends) it’s not so great. And if I take the route that takes me past the Baby Gap it’s not so great either. On days that it’s raining, or really cold outside I could do without the walk. Other than that, I love it.

6. I had a high tolerance for pain. I’m always cutting or burning myself because I use my bare hands to flip bacon or reach into the oven. Four of the IVF retrievals I did were without general anesthetic and I was amazed when they put me under for this latest one (had a very nice nap).I get annoyed though when other people are babies about cuts, burns or bruises.

Veni, vidi, vici

2006-05-05T12:25:00.000-06:00

Well, not exactly.
But we did make it to NY and now we are back.

How did it go? you ask.
Well...it was alright.
At one point it was very touch-and-go. About two weeks ago I received a call from the clinic saying they were going to cancel. There was no need for me to come to NY. My estrogen was too low. There was 1 lead follicle sucking up all the FSH. They suggested an IUI. But I only have 1 tube and 1 ovary, I protested, and they're on opposite sides.
In that case, the doctor said, IUI is not a good idea.
Thanks for that. That's why he gets paid the big bucks.
I decided to continue stims for another day.
And lo and behold the next day my estrogen had shot up and there were follicles.

We're off to the races, said the doc. And we were.

Despite having to change hotels twice, and enduring daily bloodwork and ultrasounds NY was fine. Of course everytime we stepped out the hotel we were assailed with pregnant bellies, beautiful moms with infants and toddlers. Even restaurants were packed with precocious five year olds expertly eating sushi or shumai and demanding san pellegrino NOT perrier.

We ate lots of great food and went shopping (yeah for the rising canadian dollar!). After the thousands spent on drugs & clinic fees it hardly mattered if we spent a little more.

We returned on Monday.
I am 21 cells heavier.
The embryos?
Ha! Notice how I used the plural? There was more that one. Amazing.
Well, the embryos were beautiful.
'Those' said the doctor 'are very very pretty embryos'.

We all know this. A pretty embryo does not a baby make.
But surely it's better than last time around when I was told 'Well, they're a little odd'.
Pretty: good
Odd: not good

So now we wait.
I'm already preparing myself for the same outcome. It's the only outcome I know.
I don't feel anything.
No twinges, no cramping, no 'heaviness' no spotting (is that implantation spotting business just a crock?). Nothing. My breasts were sore and now they're not. What does that mean?

By now the pretty embryos are either dead or nestling in.
Nothing more I can do at this point.
Fingers crossed. Wish me luck.

What crap

2006-05-04T12:09:00.000-06:00

I usually don't comment on these things since I've come to expect a certain level of ignorance and malicious cruelty when it comes to commentary on IVF and DE.
But this time I have smoke pouring out of my ears.

The writer, a doctor, is commenting on the case of a sixty something british woman who is pregnant.
"DR R may well feel that the baby is her own, but the reality is that it was someone else’s egg that had been fertilised by her husband’s sperm, and later artificially implanted in her womb."

Oh...so she may feel that the baby is her own but really it's not. That's what he's saying. Ignorant bastard.

A river in Egypt

2006-04-17T20:03:00.000-06:00

In the springtime, there are always a few bugs that manage to crawl their way into our home. Today I found an ant in the bedroom. Did I gently pick it up and take it outside? No. I crushed it. Or I tried. I stepped on it and heard it crunch underfoot. When I looked, it was still alive and trying to crawl away. I stepped on it again and again and it was still alive and squirmy. Tough little guy. I finally had to pick it up and flush it away.

I remember clearly during my first IVF cycle coming across an article about Br00ke Shields. It said she had tried IVF seven times before becoming pregnant. Madness, I thought. What kind of crazy person persists when the odds are clearly against them? If it doesn’t work the first or second time then just accept that it’s not gonna happen. Okay maybe, I conceded, three tries would be needed. We discussed this, my husband and I. Three tries is what we were prepared to do.

So anywho….

I started a cycle just a few days ago. I am not thinking about the details. I have no interest in my estradiol level, or follicle sizes, or lining thickness. I don’t want to know. Today was my 300th injection since all this began. I’ve been keeping track. That doesn’t count all the pokes I’ve endured for various blood tests. I’ve made a reservation at a NY hotel (freakin’ $300 a night. And no it’s not a fancy hotel. And yes, that’s like 8 gazillion Canadian dollars). I haven’t booked a flight. I’m not really convinced that things will progress well enough to actually require a trip to the clinic.

I’m not being pessimistic, really I’m not.
This is a realistic assessment of the situation based on lots and lots of past experience.
A Bayesian analysis of sorts.
The potential success of this IVF cycle (low) is not independent of the (lack of) success seen in past cycles. The cumulative evidence shows that i) I suck at making eggs ii) I suck at making embryos iii) any embryos that are transferred are promptly killed by my uterus.

But there is a chance. It is a tiny chance and we are taking it.
It is madness, but it’s a step I must take before coming to next one. Each time I do this I emerge a little crushed, a little broken. But I'm still here.

I won’t be providing updates on my progress, but here's a little preview what may or may not happen.
Scenario 1: Follicles will grow and estrogen will rise BUT subsequent bloodwork & ultrasounds will show follices have shrunk/disappeared and estrogen has fallen/reached a plateau. We will cancel our trip.
Scenario 2: There will actually be 3-4 follicles and we will book flights to NY. The clinic's bloodwork & ultrasound will show there is no point in proceeding. They will send us home.
Scenario 3: There will be 3-4 follicles which continue to grow. We will make it to retrieval and 1-2 eggs will be retrieved. They will not fertilize or if they do they will not divide. The clinic will send us home.
Scenario 4: Same as #3, but the eggs will fertilize. We will have 1-2 embryos. We will come home. I will rest. I will refrain from lifting heavy things. Two weeks and 14 PIO injections later I will find a single blue line.

Looking at the calendar, if all goes according to schedule the Beta will take place on my birthday or Mother's day. So that'll be swell.

Wrinkles in time

2006-04-12T08:39:00.000-06:00

Last week my former thesis advisor James was in town to give a talk. I hadn’t seen him in over eight years. After the talk they had arranged to take him out for lunch and somehow I got included in this group as did Don, a colleague of mine (also my former boss, and current friend). We chatted about work and who was doing what. Any children? Dr. J asked.
Noooo I replied, staring at my plate, suddenly very interested in my salad, ‘but Don has a lovely baby girl!’ Don gave me a quick smile, ‘she’s 17 months now’, he said. And the talk turned to his baby.

Seventeen months.
We had gone to the same clinic only weeks apart, Don’s wife and I. It was my first IVF cycle and her fourth. I was wildly optimistic. Like many newbies I assumed that IVF was a golden ticket. If it didn’t lead a baby on the first try, surely all we needed to do was try once more. Don’s wife was much more realistic. He first cycle had been cancelled, the second resulted in one embryo, the third was cancelled too. She only had a few follicles and was hoping for two or three embryos. That’s exactly what they got. I was in my two week wait when they got their positive Beta. By the time her little girl was born I had gone through two more negative cycles. By the time they were celebrating their baby’s first birthday I had gone through six. Now she is 17 months. I saw her just before Christmas. She has inherited her father’s curly hair and cherubic face.

Sometimes it feels like the last three years have flown by. What have I been doing the past few weeks, months? I don’t seem to have accomplished much at work, or at home. My long list of unfinished projects keeps getting longer. Suddenly it’s the middle of April and it’s 2006. How did that happen? Other days it feels like I have been here FOREVER. It has been an eternity since we got married and started ‘trying’. Everyone, it seems, has two or three babies in the time I’ve been trying for one. Even my former students send me photos of their newborns.

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

I’ve been planting seeds in trays of soil in our dining room. You open a packet of seeds and there are hundreds inside. Some of them will sprout and some won’t. You give them equal attention, good soil, lots of water but only some of the sprouts will thrive. Out of the entire packet I’m usually left with two dozen strong seedlings. The parallels are obvious. My husband found me hunched over a tray, nearly in tears. Any entire flat of nasturtium sprouts had died. You see, I said. ‘I give them love, a cozy home, and they’re fucking ungrateful. Why won’t they grow?’
‘Aren’t you taking this gardening thing too seriously?’ He answered.

Later we were lying in bed, both of us trying to talk the other into a back massage. Mine was sore from the hunching over, his is always sore. We are old I thought. When my mother was my age I was a teenager. ‘Even if we do ever have children’, I said to him, ‘we will be geriatric parents who complain about their sore backs. We will be too tired and too decrepit to play with them. We will be grey haired and wrinkled* with bad knees and arthritic hands.’ He disagrees. He thinks we are still young. We have years and years ahead of us. This is not comforting when there is a good possibility that those ‘years and years’ will be spent without children.
‘Were you really ready to be a parent in your 20s?’ he asks.

Yes I think I was.

When I was 20 something my body worked. It was dependable. Nothing hurt. I exercised, I did yoga. I drank coffee in the mornings and wine at night. I had two ovaries and two tubes. I never thought about them. Except the occasional cold, I never got sick. I’d never been to the hospital. I had never heard of endometriosis, or vaginal ultrasounds, or donor eggs, or ICSI or assisted hatching. I had a job, an apartment, a new car. I was ready to have a baby. He was not. He wanted to wait until we had a house, until his career and our finances were more stable. Well, we’ve got the careers now and the house. But the house it empty.

It would have turned out differently, I used to think, if we started earlier. If only I had insisted. If only he had been ready. I drove myself crazy thinking about this after the first few failed cycles; wishing I/we had made different decisions. But now I realize it doesn’t matter. I’ll never know what could have been. Perhaps I would have just been a younger infertile. Would that be any better? No. Plus we wouldn’t necessarily have had the resources to pursue IVF, and I don’t think we would have had the strength (in ourselves and in our relationship) to go through everything we’ve endured for the past four years.

So, it is what it is.

*The wrinkles have already started. I’m starting to develop something called ‘laugh lines’. Funny thing is, I don’t remember doing much laughing in past few years.
Laugh lines my ass. Who came up with that?

Neighbours

2006-04-03T09:44:00.000-06:00

We live in a neighbourhood that’s not very neighbourhoody. The area has a mix of rental homes (taken up by students and youngish professionals…I put myself in this category) as well as older people who have lived here for many many years. The houses are very close together which is wonderful in promoting an ‘urban’ feel, but not so wonderful if you value privacy. On one side we have a grumpy neighbour- a seventy something woman who has no family and lives alone. She filed a complaint with the city when we were building a fence to enclose our courtyard because she feared that the fence post might touch her house. On the other side there is a townhouse with three units, each occupied by lovely couples whose children are grown up and have left home. And then there’s Mr. P. He lives around the corner, but our courtyards border one other. He's a retired widower- used to be a youth counselor with a local church. He has sons (two, maybe three) who live in town and drop by often to see him. He is friendly, sometimes too friendly, holding us up with useless chatter about the history of his house, or the growth of his vines while we stand on our front porch, keys in hand, trying to balance heavy groceries or awkward packages. He is a harmless if slightly annoying presence. I haven’t seen Mr. P in a few weeks; not unusual given the miserable weather.

On Saturday I picked up the local newspaper. There on the front page is a picture of a 20 something man recently convicted of first degree murder. He had tortured and killed a co-worker three years ago. The story is gruesome, and the motive doesn’t seem very clear. It was part robbery, part drinking/pot smoking session gone wrong. Turns out this guy was living just 3 blocks away from us AND has the same last name as Mr. P. I looked in the phone book. There are only two Ps in town. Crap. I think this murdering torturer is my neighbour’s son.
But I can't be sure.
It’s not like I can knock on his door and say ‘oh, by the way is so-and-so enjoying his stay at the Big-house?’ Anyhow, I am freaked out. Completely freaked out.
What kind of neighbourhood do I live in?? This is supposed to be the nice part of town. Mr. P is the guy we trust to keep an eye on things while we’re away (because he’s always there and he’s nosey).
So, how do I play this? Keep being friendly to Mr. P or be more guarded? Show sympathy? Pretend I never read that newspaper article?
What exactly is the proper etiquette when you think your neighbour has raised a killer?
What an odd town I live in.

On a more positive note, I was absolutely giddy on the weekend when I found that the local grocery store was mistakenly scanning my favourite tomato sauce as $0.99 per jar instead of the usual $2.99. Amazing that after having spent (wasted?) tens of thousands of dollars on IVF treatments that have gotten me nothing, I can still get excited about having saved $2 (!) on a jar of tomatoes. Actually, I went back and bought 12 more. Think I'll spend the evening fondling the jars and cooking up a big pot of pasta.

5 day mamma

2006-03-08T15:05:00.000-06:00

My brother was coming to this part of Canada for work.
He and my sister in-law called a couple of months ago and tentatively asked ‘would we like it if my 4 year old nephew came along?’
He would stay with us while my brother was busy with work related meetings.
My sister-in law would have a chance to spend time alone with their newborn.
It took me a nanosecond to say YES.

My brother calls my nephew ‘Bubba’ or ‘Bubs’. I have no idea why. He’s not a Bubba at all.
He is a little smaller than most boys his age.
He has an impish face, with big brown eyes and long long eyelashes.
His skin is a gorgeous mix of his mothers (she’s Swedish - very pale, very blond) and my brothers (Indian, wheatish brown) complexion.
I love him to death.
Have done since the minute he was born.

I’m not sure how much time I’ve actually spent so far with my one and only nephew. I’ve visited my brother 5 times (I think) since he was born. Three of those were IVF related visited. My brother & family, have been back to Ontario 3 times but those have been visits to parents. This was going to be different. I would have Bubs all to myself and would have to do ‘mommy’ things not ‘aunt’ things. I think my brother and sister-in-law may have concocted this idea specifically to give me a chance to play mom for a few days out of pity. I didn't and don't care. I'll take it.

One day before they were to arrive, Bubba left this message on my phone.

'We are packing. Can you tell me, do you have erasers and vaseline and fruit at your house?'

Erasers, vaseline and fruit???

I tried hard to imagine what he would to do with these things. Was he going to use them together?

And do what, exactly?

I called my brother.
'He wants to pack everything' my brother explained. He thinks you might not have fruit.

'What about the vaseline?' I asked. Part of his nighttime beauty routine, I was told.

They arrived on Tuesday night after a 3000km flight and 3 hour drive. Bubba had a big hug and kisses for me when he arrived and immediately set about searching the house. He’s been here once before but that was 18 months ago. A long long time in the life of a 4 year old.
He stopped in front of the small room upstairs- the one I had always imagined would be the baby room.
“Is this where you keep your baby?” he asked.

No Bubs. We don’t have a baby.

'Oh' And he continued with his exploration.

“Do you have grapes and mandarins and apples and cheese?”

Yes. That we have.

That night he slept with my brother in the guest room. I was in-charge of the bedtime routine (tub time, stories, snack, brush teeth, application of various creams, kisses, sleep)so that I could see what it entailed, and so that he would not be worried the next 3 days when his Pappa was away. The nighttime beauty routine involved applying lotion his arms, eczema cream to some patches on his skin, and Vaseline to his windburnt cheeks. The idea is to apply a small dab of Vaseline and rub it in, but he slathers it on so he ends up with a greasy layer on his cheeks, forehead and chin which rubs off on everyone when he kisses them goodnight.

The next morning my brother left town for his meetings and my husband and I had Bubba all to ourselves for 3 days. From morning till night and every second inbetween. I fed him breakfast (we made blueberry pancakes one day- he corrected my recipe twice), we painted, we watched Thomas & friends and mighty machines, we made beaded necklaces and coloured together.
We sat down together for dinner, the three of us, in the dining room talking and eating like a family. Like a family. I wiped his mouth and sticky fingers after meals, cleaned his nose and dried him off after his bath and put him in his flannel PJs. We cuddled together in the bed until he fell asleep.

Early in the morning I heard him calling for me. I went to his room.
‘I woke up’ he told me ‘My feet are cold. Can you sleep here with me?' The big bed had been fine for him when he had my brother to keep him warm, but all alone the bed was cold, and I felt so bad that he had spent the night alone in the cold bed.
Poor thing! I warmed up his feet in my hands, put an extra blanket on the bed and fell asleep beside him.

I took him to the library and the toy store. We took a trip on a ferry, and went to the playground. He rejected the toddlers play area completely and wanted to play only on the ‘big kid’ climbers. His boots and the playground equipment were wet from the melting snow and I tried to keep up with. But of course, it happened.
He fell.
He fell hard and almost immediately a purple bruise developed on his forehead.
1 day! I thought.
I’ve had him for 1 day and I broke him. (This better heal up quickly or his mother is going to kill me, is what I thought next).
Big tears, real tears rolled down his cheeks and he started sobbing.
I scooped him up and tried to calm him down.
When that didn’t work I tried to distract him.‘Look, there’s a helicopter’
And when that didn’t work, I bribed him.
‘If we hurry home’ I said, ‘I’ll make some hot chocolate and we can watch Thomas’.
The tears stopped for a second and he caught his breath. And we can eat some raisins!’
Yes Bubs, you can have all the raisins you want. I tried hard not to think about the last time (over a year ago) that I had given him a raisin and he shoved it up his nose. We had held him down and plucked it out with tweezers.
I picked him up and carried him home.

You know why I love to carry you? I asked him.
Noooo he replied.
Because I can kiss and kiss and kiss your cheek and you can’t get away.
He giggled and squealed as I kissed his cold red cheek.

On Friday my husband took him swimming. He insisted that my husband pee before they left the change room to enter the pool. But I don’t have to go, my husband told him. ‘Mamma says you must always have a pee before you go swimming’ he insisted. And so my husband had a go.

By the end of each day I was exhausted. I couldn’t sleep late in the mornings. I couldn’t lie on the couch and watch TV. I couldn’t spend an hour surfing the internet. But I didn’t care. I was absolutely, perfectly content watching him splash in the tub, or spending an afternoon racing the same cars down the hallway, or reviewing exactly which of the Thomas & friends trains he already had (and which ones he ‘really really’ wanted for his next birthday).

We had bought little gifts for him over the past few months. A small firetruck, a New York taxicab (from our trip to NY), a garbage truck, a small packet of gummy worms, a jigsaw puzzle map of Canada etc. We had wrapped them and my husband placed them in different places in the house for Bubba to discover. Each time he found a package, he would shyly approach one of us and then bring us over to the package to show us.
‘What’s that?’ he’d ask.
‘Well Bubs, I think it’s a present for you.’
His eyes would widen and his face would break into a smile. He opened each package as if it was the most fantastic gift in the world. Every time he found a package he never assumed it was for him. He checked with us first to see what it was and always had that same delighted reaction when we confirmed it was for him.

On Friday night my brother returned to our house and we were joined by my mum, dad and sister. We spent the weekend drinking tea, and being entertained by Bubba who was the life of the party. My parents and sister left Sunday night, my brother and Bubs on Monday.
The house is empty and quiet.
Everywhere I look I can find evidence of Bubs. Sticky handprints in unlikely places, a dry gummy worm under the sofa, his ‘artwork’ posted on the kitchen wall, a purple thumbprint on the bottom corner of the kitchen cupboard, his little toothbrush which was left behind.
I talked to him yesterday.
Can you come to my house on Friday or Saturday’ he asked. ‘We will go to the zoo and the park’.
That sounds wonderful I told him.

‘And ummmmm’
‘Yes’ I asked.
‘I miss you’ he said.
Yes Bubs, I miss you too. And I miss the family we had for 5 days even if it was just 'pretend'.

I'll have what she's having

2006-02-16T18:54:00.000-06:00

?????????????
I don't even know what to say.
http://www.emigrant.ie/article.asp?iCategoryID=10&iArticleID=52423

Sick of being sick

2006-02-15T09:26:00.000-06:00

I’m tired of waking up tired.

One week post-lap and it still hurts when I sneeze, cough or laugh. Two of the three incisions are healing up nicely, but my belly button is a gnarled mess. I don’t think I’ll ever get back my perfect ‘inny’. But I suppose that’s the least of my worries.

The surgery went well. They did what they needed to do. One tube removed, one endometrioma drained, and a fair amount of endometriosis lasered (there’s quite a lot of it in there). My doctor was conservative and careful, just as he’d promised to be. My friend the anaesthetist held my hand as I fell asleep.

In the recovery room I asked whether they’d be giving me any pain killers. Oh you’ll be okay for a couple of hours, the nurse said. We gave you a codeine suppository. Great. While I was under full anaesthetic someone shoved a pill in my but. Which nurse got that job?

Although I went back to work after resting at home for a day, I’ve been taking full advantage of my situation. My husband has been a very very good nurse ferrying cups of tea, toast, soup, juice, Tylenol etc. to me as I lay in bed or on the couch.

I'm hoping this is the end of the ‘losing body parts’ chapter of my life. I mean, how many reproductive bits can a woman lose before they don’t call her a woman? I’m down to one damaged tube and a portion of an ovary.

FSH tested yesterday and it’s shot up to 18.
Yes, it could be a temporary reaction to the surgery…my ovary is quite possibly pissed off at being manhandled. We’ll see what happens next month.

Thalia and I seem to be in a similar situation- trying to rest the ovaries (ovary in my case) enough so that they/it will respond to stimulation, but wait too long and the endo will come back. In my case, suppressing the endo with BCPs is not an option- my ovary will just fall asleep and not wake up. The Antagonist approach is also a no-go since I’ve ovulated (twice!) through the Antagonist. I’m too tired to come up with a plan. I want someone else to figure it out and to just tell me what to do.

Next post will be more happy clappy. Promise.

tomorrow

2006-02-06T09:39:00.000-06:00

Here's the plan for tomorrow as outlined in this email from my doctor, typos and all.

"Dear N, had a nice talk with dr. NY - he recommends 1) remove L tube if possible (clip if too surgically challenging due to previous scar) 2) drain or remove endometrioma --he cited cases of elevated FSH that returned to normal after removal of bilateral endometriomas --? due to better ovarian functioning due to improved blood flow?? 3) Leave right tuba alone if normal -no concern about embryos staying in a normal right tube after transfer --remove of clip if right hydrosalpinx. D"

Now that I've made it through the bookclub meeting I AM anxious about tomorrow.
I know that it's just a routine, out-patient procedure.
I've requested that a friend of mine be the anaesthetist and my doctor is a careful surgeon. I know I'm in good hands.
The thing is, I'm getting flashbacks to 3 years ago, when I went to the hospital for a 'routine lap' and woke up hours later with 25 staples across my abdomen and minus an ovary.

Once they take a look inside who knows what they'll find and what they'll decide to do. I really don't want to wake up without any tubes. I wish there was a way they could wake me up half way through the procdure & say, "okay, here's what we've got...what would you like us to do?".
I want to hang onto one tube, even if it comprimises future IVF success, just to have that tiny sliver hope that one day a miracle could happen? Is that silly?

Hope. Hanging by a tiny thread of a tube.

quick question

2006-02-03T10:40:00.000-06:00

Can any brit readers out there help me out?

How easy or difficult is it to get from Gatwick airport to Heathrow?
If I had 1 night and 1 day to spend in London, where should I stay and what should I do?
Have you been to Dublin?
Did you enjoy it?

with friends like these

2006-02-01T19:27:00.000-06:00

Bookclub tomorrow.
I'm more anxious about the bookclub meeting than I am about my upcoming lap (scheduled for next week).

I don't really want to go but, aside from my sister and husband, this is pretty much the only social interaction I get. Pathetic huh?
I've known most of these women for years, but I am a late comer to their smug-married & fertile clique. When we first started socializing with them (joining the couples dinner party circuit) the talk of toddlers and schools and daycares didn't bother me. I just assumed I would be joining their world in a month or two. Well, we know how that turned out.

I really don't know if they have any idea of my IVF status.
They've never asked. I've never offered.
They do know that we want children and that years have gone by and we have none.
IF they were friends, wouldn't one of them have called me at some point and said "are you alright?".
But they never have.

I clearly recall a bookclub meeting we had about a year and a half ago.
I was recovering from another negative cycle, and trying to nurse my mother through chemo sessions (my father was in Europe for work). I had just found out that I was losing my job. My husband was away at a conference and I'd just had a car accident.
I arrived at bookclub and everyone was huddled around one of the women, fussing over her because (horrors) she had hurt her knee while sailing (!)*.
Everyone was so concerned about her well being. She's hurt! Look at the swelling! Isn't it awful!

And I thought, do I even want to be friends with them?
That entire evening (and in the months afterwords) never once did anyone of them care to call or email me and say "how's your mum doing?". Wouldn't you do that for your friend?
Nope.
They're busy planning the next home renovation, making holiday plans, arranging summer camps, and planning birthday parties.
Aha! you say. They don't know about your IF struggles. If they did they would show some sympathy.

Well, yes and no.
They do know that I had a pretty major surgery to have my ovary removed. And early on in my marriage I had talked to them about how I wanted to have babies right away. So, shouldn't they be able to link this together?
Want babies--have none.
Ergo, something is wrong.

I'm being a bit unfair by lumping them all together.
The 'core' of the group is the smug-married-fertiles. They each have 2-3 children. They vacation together, their children go to the same school, they are always lunching together and planning dinners (far too often in my opinion).
There is one single woman, closely connected to this 'core', who adopted a girl from Serbia two years ago. Her motherhood cements her membership in their club. Another member is single and in her early 40s. Sometimes I detect a flicker of annoyance in her face when they start talking about their children and fabulous spouses, but I think she hides it much better than me. Another member is a little older. Her husband and mine are colleagues. Her children are teenagers. I like her best and sometimes think that I would like to confide in her, but it would be a little like talking to my mother.

I don't even like the books they choose most of the time, or what they say about them.
I could stop going, but my life is intertwined with their lives (because of work and spouses and the fact that this town is much too small). So I try to maintain this cordial and superficial relationship with them.

I've always loved reading and being in a bookclub encourages me to browse the bookstore shelves and scan the weekend book reviews. Just this weekend I finished reading the entire collected works of Jane Austen and found it immensely satisfying.

*Sailing, in their sailboat which they purchased while we were purchasing friggin gonal-F and repronex.
Sailing with her 2 children (10 and 8) who she managed to give birth to and raise while completing a Masters and PhD. She's my age for god's sake. In the 10 years I've known her she's managed to get a PhD, two children and a sailboat.
I've got a debit card and a container full of sharps.
fuck.

things can only get better?

2006-01-19T21:51:00.000-06:00

Well, I don't know if I believe that.
Cause from where I'm sitting, things just get worse.
Today's blood test reveals that (surprise!) after two years of steadily coming down, my FSH has jumped back up. I'm expecting a stern phone call any day now from the big NY clinic barring me from cycling with them.
AND
A recent ultrasound confirms that yes, one tube (the one we had thought was the good tube) is blocked and surgery is recommended. I thought I'd be waiting months for surgery but they've managed to schedule it for 3 weeks from now. (These days that passes for good news).
So now I'll be missing an ovary and a tube. Yea!
Didn't seem to need those reproductive bits anyway.

After getting my FSH results I made an appointment with my acupuncturist tout de suite. Perhaps my decision to forgo all that poking was ill conceived. And I'm seriously wondering whether my lack of discipline in the vitamin taking-coffee drinking-bread eating department has had a negative affect. Once again I'll end up blaming myself.

Had a visit today from a co-worker who has been on mat leave for over 9 months. She, her husband (a physician, of course) and the baby (adorable, of course) are going on holiday to Florida for two weeks. "It'll be such a nice break" she says.
??
Break from what?
From the joy of being at home everyday with your baby?? I bit my tongue and said nothing.

edited jan 20th

hello all, i will look into the AMH test. regarding the blocked tube, lynnette is correct- the idea being that the fluid in tubes can be toxic and prevent embryos from implanting (ie. it kills them). in my case i've never had any implant so perhaps this is what's going on. but who knows. here is the most recent review of the subject.

catching up

2006-01-14T15:08:00.000-06:00

Good lord, it's almost been a month since I posted something.
What have I been doing that's kept me from blogland? Well, nothing.
Christmas seems like it was aaages ago. It was pretty uneventful given that, well my family doesn't really celebrate Christmas. My friends continue to be amazed by this. In their world everyone celebrates Christmas. I'm not christian, I tell them. They look at me blankly.
My husbands family, on the other hand, come from good french Catholic stock. So we spent Christmas with them. Can anyone explain to my why someone who lives in a so-cold-my-teeth-hurt city would choose to purchase a vacation condo in a small town that is even further NORTH (ie. colder, snowier, icier, and ..did I mention colder?)? Why wouldn't they spend their hard earned $$ on a vacation home in say Florida?

So yeah, we drove to a little mountain town where my husbands brother was hosting the Christmas shindig. Here is a fuzzy photo as evidence of the snowiness.

Quick suggestion for the hostess: If someone has driven 4 hours in the ice and snow to get to your house, don't serve them wine in a plastic cup. Okay? Especially if you're serving them the wine that they've brought for you, as a gift. Especially especially if they spent too much money on that wine and took way too much time at the liquor store, choosing it carefully, and arguing with their spouse, because there are so many fucking things to do, and it's getting late and we haven't bought the presents yet, and why don't you just choose a damn bottle of wine.
Just sayin'.

The evening was as bearable as far as these go, considering that my husband has 11 neices and nephews.
Quick suggestion for parents of neices and nephews: If someone has driven 4 hours in the ice and snow and brought with them thoughtfully chosen, carefully wrapped gifts for your children, please try to get the children to feign some enthusiasm for the gifts before they return to their x-box, i-pod, or whatever electronic gadget is sooo much interesting than toys and (god-forbid) books.
Just sayin'.

There are two things that salvaged the evening. My husbands mother (who has always been absolutely lovely to me) gave me a small photo album that contained baby and childhood photos of my husband. There he is on his first day of kindergarten, his hair a mess of brown curls. There he is on his 8th birhtday, grinning in front of his cake, surrounded by his siblings. It was such a wonderfully thoughtful gift. I can't thank her enough.
The second thing- I can't really speak with my husband's family. They speak french, I don't (well, not very well). I scan their conversations looking for familiar words and phrases. I can, usually, get the gist of whatever they're talking about. I can ask simple questions, but I rarely understand the answers. This is not to say that they don't speak english. One-on-one his siblings will attempt to stumble through a conversation with me. His parents are fluent in english. But when they are all together it's a different story. It used to bother me. I felt left out, isolated in their gatherings. Now it's a blessing. No pesky questions about whether or when we'll be having babies. No probing about my 'health problems' or 'how I'm doing'. I can just sit there and smile, and pretend things are fine.
Ca va? Oui, ca va bien.

New Year's eve was uneventful.
Returning to work was hard (I'd gotten used to sleeping in until 10:00 am).
But I'm back in the swing of things. Kind of.

In case anyone was wondering about the untied ends of my previous post...
Period- arrived
Mother- found

pâte chinnoise

2005-12-18T09:43:00.000-06:00

Take random things. Mix them together. Call it a meal.
That, says my husband, is pâte chinnoise.

Where is it?
My period has not arrived. Where the hell is it? I have done everything I can think of to bring it on: sex, pregnancy test, wearing best white panties. Nothing has worked.
What to try next? White linen pants?

Bad Santas
http://edition.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/asiapcf/12/17/santa.rampage.ap/index.html
If this keeps up I will most definitely not be getting a reply to my Dear Santa letter.

Doppelganger
I have just discovered that there is another blogging Nina. Like me she has had 4 failed and 2 cancelled IVFs and more than her fair share of heartache and disappointment. In deference to the fact that she arrived first in the blogosphere, and to avoid any confusion, I will now refer to myself as nina2 when I leave comments. Or should it be ninatoo?

My sister has a new boyfriend
He is lovely. Will this complicate the situation if we decide to proceed with a DE cycle with her? I'm guessing yes, but only because everything so far has been complicated, so why shouldn't it get more complicated?

Where is she?
My mother left for India 3 weeks ago. It her first trip back since her father died, and since her recovery from chemo & radiation. I know the trip to her parent's empty house will be difficult for her, but I hope the visits with friends and family will make up for it. I wish she would call to let me know she's okay, but the fact that she hasn't probably means she's too busy visiting, eating and shopping and that's good.

The Island
We watched this movie last night about a futuristic world where people can create clones of themselves as a 'insurance policy'. When you get ill you use the clone for spare body parts. I think the viewer is supposed to be appalled and outraged by this scenario, but I kept thinking how nice it would be if I had a clone to provide me with 2 fresh, healthy, replacement ovaries.

My nephew
My brother has just returned from 1 month in Bordeaux with his wife, 3 yr old and newborn. I am insanely jealous of his good fortune. The 3 yr old is unbelievably cute, as only one's first nephew can be. I ask him if he's learned any french words.
'Yup'.
He can say bonjour, ca va, and merci.
'What else?' I ask.
'Candy', he replies.
'How do you say candy?'
'Chapeau'
Close. Very close.

Dear Santa, I have been good

2005-12-11T16:31:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa,

I have been good this past year.
I have eaten all my vegetables.
I have brushed my teeth every morning and every night.
I have flossed ~~everyday~~ sometimes.
I have been been kind to my in-laws, my parents and my siblings.
~~I have been nice to my friends and co-workers.~~ . I have tried to be nice to most of my friends and co-workers, but it's hard when they keep talking about their kids, and insist on bringing their newborns to work. But I have really really tried.
I have taken my vitamins, supplements, and snakeoil everyday.
I have never once complained (maybe once...okay more than once) about the ultrasounds, the blood tests, the injections, the disappointing results.
I have paid all my credit cards on time, even the ones that show charges of thousands of dollars from a clinic for services I never received.
I have donated to charities, and given spare change to the homeless.
I have been friendly to my neighbours- even the one who filed a complaint against us for building a fence on our own property.
I have gone to work everyday- even when I awoke with puffy eyes from having spent the night crying, even on the days when I wanted to sleep forever. And I have spent most of my workdays actually working, and only surfed the web during lunch hour. Honest.
I have been good to my husband (I know he would like me to be 'good' to him 4 or 5 times a week, but 2 or 3 is all I can manage for now).
I am pretty sure I have not been slothful, lustful, gluttonous, or greedy. And believe me, any pride I had has been poked and prodded into submission.
Envy? Anger? I can't deny those, but I am trying hard not to be angry and envious all the time. Does that count?

So I think, Santa, that I qualify for your 'nice' list this year.

To make things easy for you, I am only asking for one thing this year.
Could I please have a baby?
No toys, no clothes, no books, no candy.
Just one healthy baby. Please.

Santa, I was good last year too, and the year before, but you didn't bring me my present (and yes, I've been asking for the same thing every year). Perhaps you didn't get my letters? Perhaps there was a mix-up, or perhaps you were too busy giving babies to other familes. Because you see, I know many people who already have a baby or two and this past year they received another. I even know people who didn't ask for a baby and still received one.
So, Santa, maybe this year you could check your list thrice instead of twice, just to make sure you've got the right presents going to the right people.
It's not like I'm asking for a rocketship or a pony, or world peace. Now that would be hard. This baby thing should be easy- everybody's got one. Can it be my turn now?

I'm the brown girl in the red brick house on the snowy street in Smallhicktown Canada. We have installed a new fireplace, so please don't use that "you have no chimney" thing as an excuse.

Your friend,
nina

P.S. I really hope I don't have to send you this letter again next year.

babydream

2005-12-04T19:49:00.000-06:00

He hates going out in the rain.
Let’s go for a walk I'd say.
It’s raining, he'd protest. ‘I’ll melt.’
‘What, are you made of chocolate?’
Yup, he'd reply with that little grin.
'No, no, no. I’m the one who’s made of chocolate I'd respond', pointing to my brown skin.
‘Well, that makes me white chocolate.’
‘White chocolate isn’t really chocolate’, I’d tease him. ‘You’re just plain-old white’

When we started trying for a baby we’d joke, ‘will it be a white chocolate baby or a milk chocolate baby?’. But our chocolate baby didn’t materialize.
Instead, the ultrasound machine revealed ovaries covered in cysts.
Not just cysts, the doctor said. Chocolate cysts (I thought he was joking….he wasn’t. That’s what they’re really called).
So, I thought… I have chocolate eggs?
Whitechocolatespaceeggs my husband would say (but then he’s a bigger Liz Phair fan than I).

Fortunately, chocolate eggs are just what you need if you dream of a whitechocolatebaby.

one minute ago I was eating nutella straight from the jar

2005-11-29T20:44:00.000-06:00

I have decided to cautiously throw caution to the wind.
Today I consumed nutella, a pain au chocolat, a large coffee and all sorts of other things that contain sugar, fat, wheat, and caffeine.

Just yesterday, the temperature was a balmy 12 degrees (celcius). I stepped outside at 11:00pm and it felt like spring. It smelled like spring (but it may just have been the smell of half dead worms squirming on the sidewalk). My husband and I went for a walk. We admired everyones Christmas lights, and peeked in their windows to see what colour they had painting their living rooms. We bought my favourite candy from the corner store, held hands and strolled through the park.
For a few minutes I felt...not happy...but okay. And it felt good to feel okay.

A week ago I awoke to find the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow. I dragged out my boots and cursed my parents for having chosen to emigrate to a frozen tundra. Couldn't they have picked Australia instead?

A month ago I was getting ready for my trip to the Big Clinic in the Big City.

A year ago I found out (while staying with my brother and sister-in-law for Cycle #3) simultaneously, that my my sister-in-laws was pregnant and that my cycle was being cancelled .

Two years ago I found out that there was a good chance that I would never have a baby afterall.

Three years ago I awoke in a hospital bed, minus one ovary.

Four years ago I stupidly purchased a baby outfit thinking "it's too cute to pass up" and "i'll need it soon anyway". [This is the one and only baby item I've ever purchased for myself. I'm convinced I jinxed everything at that moment].

Five years ago it was bliss. My love and I were finally living in the same apartment, in the same city, in the same country. There he was beside me every morning. complete. happiness.

relax and have some pineapple

2005-11-24T16:37:00.000-06:00

It’s been 3 weeks since I went for an acupuncture appointment. I’m not sure whether I want to go back.
When my babymaking dreams were rudely shattered by the mean Dr. IVF at the first clinic I went to, I came home and started reading everything I could about this highFSH nonsense. Well, first I cried for days and waited for the end of the world. When that didn’t help, I got busy with my friend PubMed. I’m a girl that likes to back up decisions with evidence. Anecdotes, newspaper articles, old wives tales, internet bulletin boards… these may work for others. I prefer peer-reviewed publications (systematic reviews, meta-analyses, randomized-control trials…) in well respected, established journals. I can critically appraise a paper with the best of them. Funny thing is, the medical community had little hope to offer me. Shockingly, researchers aren’t tripping over themselves to figure out the hows and whys of endometriomas, high FSH, missing ovaries, and damaged tubes. I read whatever I could, and the more I read the more discouraged I became.

That’s when I turned to google (doesn’t everyone?) and internet bulletin boards. Scientific studies be damned. I was willing to try anything that might have worked for someone, somewhere, whether it was proven or not. I had previously scoffed at the airy fairy world of ‘alternative’ therapies. Unproven hooey, I would say to anyone (including my mother) when they visited a naturopath, homeopath or the like. But now that it was ME…well, proven or not, I was going to do anything I possibly could to make myself ‘better’.

So it began.
Weekly acupuncture appointments.
Daily supplements of Fish Oil, CoQ10, Royal Jelly, B complex, and aspirin
No more coffee
Cut down on sugar and wheat
The occasional shot of wheat grass (disgusting)
Organic meat and eggs
No alcohol
No tofu
Unda numbers

A good deal of this, I think, has/had to do with just wanting to feel like I’m doing something, in a situation where I have very little control. At the very least, I thought, perhaps there would be a placebo effect. I would trick myself into thinking I was getting better, and this would result is a calmer, more relaxed me. That in turn would eventually lead to a successful IVF cycle.
I’ve kept this up for two years. Has it helped? Clearly not.

I actually like my acupuncturist, and my sessions with her. She’s mildly hippy dippy, but not in a flakey way. But I’m paying for these sessions out-of-pocket, and maybe I could use this money for something more useful. Like counseling, or more vitamins, or a baby gift for my cousin (who was kind enough to send me photos of her newborn just days after I arrived home from my most recent IVF fiasco).
Or alcohol, because I’m pretty sure there’s no way I’ll make it through the rest of 2005 without a bottle of wine (or gin, or tequila) by my side.

les jeux sont faits

2005-11-08T21:07:00.000-06:00

The news, she is not good.

I really thought I had hit some kind of new low point. But, incredibly, things have gone from bad to worse.
Oh wait a sec, I said that in my last post....

Let me start again.
First things were okay, then they were bad, then they were good, then they were really bad.
Since my arrival in NY, I had gone from 2 follicles to 1.
The ultrasound on Saturday showed that there were likely 3! Two more had continued to grow overnight. Things were looking up.
My husband arrived that morning and we spent a lovely day together.
The Sunday ultrasound confirmed that 3 were looking pretty good.
"We'll call you in the afternoon", said my doctor, "and let you know whether we'll be triggering tonight or tomorrow."
I was relieved, even happy. It looked this trip was going to be worth it afterall.

We walked down to 1st Ave and cheered on the 37,000 or so marathoners. We enjoyed a delicious brunch and I decided to call my cousin (telling him I was in town for work...lies, more lies) to see if he could join us for dinner. He and his wife picked us up at the hotel, and we headed to the village. I hadn't heard from the clinic yet, so I used his cell phone to call and see if they had any messages for me.
We'll have your doctor get back to you they said.

I was a few bites into dinner when the cell phone rang.
We're sorry, the doctor said.
You've surged. You're ovulating and we're cancelling the cycle.
Huh?

This I was not prepared for.

Apparently, Antagon is able to suppress ovulation in 99.9% of women. I am in that 0.1% group that it doesn't work for.
Isn't that special?

We flew home yesterday. After a 3 hour drive (from the airport to our home), I had 2 hours to cry, unpack, eat dinner and have sex (..well, you never know). Then I got ready for a 3 hour drive to our nations capital to attend a meeting scheduled for today which I hadn't planned on attending because of my 'vacation' in NY. But I just couldn't face the prospect of going to my office today, and didn't want to be an empty house by myself.

and then there was one

2005-11-04T10:33:00.000-06:00

I really thought I had hit some kind of new low point. But, incredibly, things have gone from bad to worse.
The ultrasound this morning shows only 1 decent size follicle. The other one appears to not be growing. There are also a couple under 1cm, but they too look like they're just hanging around and not going anywhere.
And it looks like my left tube is blocked (despite 2 previous HSGs that had showed it to be open).

So...the million dollar question.
Should I stay or should I go?

If I go there will be trouble: this is my last try with my own eggs. I think it's pretty clear that my ovary is not up to the job. Goodbye to my whitechololatebabydream.

If I stay there it will be double: what are the chances that this 1 egg will produce 1 good embryo? And if it does what the chances it could actually implant, given the appearance of the toxic tube? Is it worth another week in NY? Is it worth going through the retrieval, the anxious hours of waiting to see if the egg has fertilized, the embryo is developing..and then 2 weeks of projesterone injections?

I think I have till tomorrow to decide.

What think?

not loving New York so much

2005-11-01T10:36:00.000-06:00

This blogging thing is harder than I thought. Before I started there so many things I wanted to say. Now that I have a space to do it…nothing interesting comes to mind. I begin writing something, start checking other blogs and realize that someone else has said it better. And then there are days where there are so many things going through my head that I just can’t get my thoughts straight. Last week was one of those weeks.

Things got off to a bad start last Sunday when my period made an unexpected early appearance. This left my scrambling to coordinate day 2 bloodwork and ultrasound work in preparation for my last chance cycle at the big NY clinic. I also had to come up with a new set of lies for coworkers to explain why I’d be leaving for ‘holiday’ earlier than expected. Doctors appointments were made, thousands of $$ worth of drugs were purchased, flights were booked, hotels were called in a futile effort to change reservation dates. By Monday night, I was feeling more anxious than usual as I got ready for my first injections. Now, I’ve done this before. More times than I’d care to admit.

I should be used to this by now, but I find that instead of getting easier, each time I start a cycle it gets harder. Instead of being excited about this cycle I’m just waiting for something to go wrong. My husband thinks I’m being pessimistic. I think I’m realistic.

When we did the first two IVF cycles my husband held my hand the entire time. He prepared all the injections, worried about every bruise, accompanied me to each ultrasound, was there for the retrieval, the transfer and all the stuff inbetween. By the third cycle, it seemed silly to waste both his time as well as mine in waiting rooms. But he still prepared and did all my injections. It made me, well us, feel like we were in this together.

Last Monday, as I prepared for injections, I received a phone call from my mother who was knitting a baby sweater for my 4 month old niece. Around this time last year when my cycle was cancelled, my brother was announcing that they were pregnant with said niece. My mom went on to mention (as if I’d forgotten) that my cousin (married a grand total of 14 months now) was due on November 11. Hey, that’s the exact day I was cancelled last year. As I flipped through the mail, I noticed a card from a friend of my husbands. We had been to his wedding a couple of years ago. What’s this? I asked. It’s a Christmas card, said my husband. In October?
I looked inside the envelope, it was a birth announcement.
'That’s nice'. I said to my husband (apparently sarcastically). 'Don’t forget to call and congratulate them.'
‘Why are you like this?’ He said. ‘You don’t have to be unhappy about other people’s happiness.’
We’d had this conversation before. He is tired to me making sarcastic comments everytime we see a teenage mother with 3 children, everytime another friend gets pregnant after 2 months of ‘trying’, everytime I receive emails with baby pictures attached.
When I make these comments I want him to say “I know. This sucks for you. I understand. I’m sorry this is so hard. It’s not fair”
But he doesn’t. He can’t.
Instead he says “Don’t be so negative. Life isn’t fair”.
I know it’s not fucking fair. I just want someone to be on my side. That’s all.

So, I was in a somewhat fragile and state of mind as I got ready to prepare the injections. I was sure I’d told him I’d like to do them at 9:00pm.
At 9:00 I said “Can you help me with the injections?”
No answer. He’s busily typing away on the laptop, working on something that is clearly more important than this 6th attempt to make a baby.
9:10 “Can we do the injections now”
"Just give me a few minutes, I’m in the middle of something”
9:30 I head into the kitchen. “I can do them myself” I announce. “You don’t have to help”.

By this time, I’m furious, and upset. And I don’t really know how to prepare the damn injections. When he arrives in the kitchen, he’s annoyed with me. Why am I making such a big deal about this?

I’m starting cycle number 6. I’m 36 years old. My mother is knitting sweaters for my brother’s baby, but she’ll probably never have a chance to knit one for mine*. I’m reminded constantly of friends and family happily reproducing. All this is happening on the 1 year anniversary of my cancelled cycle. I can't bring myself to say any of these things to him.

An argument ensues. Things are said that shouldn’t have been said. It ends in tears. A fantastic start.

I spent the rest of the week thinking about how exhausted we both are. I am consumed by this IF thing. I’m either cycling, recovering from a cycle or gearing up for the next one. I used to enjoy my job, but now it’s just a way to distract myself during the day, and a way to earn money to pay for the next cycle. I used to enjoy thinking of renovation projects for the house. But now, what’s the point? The unused bedrooms are just a reminder that we don’t have children to fill them with. The borderline functional kitchen and bathrooms? If I had children I’d want them to be nicer, but they’re good enough for me. Besides, who has money for renovations. I loved cooking and inviting friends for dinner. Dinner parties are now a thing of the past. All our 'friends' have children. I can't bear to invite them and then listen to them blather on about swim lessons, their new Volvo, or the new cute thing little Ethan is doing. We no longer invite people over, and consequently they don't invite us.

My husband is exhausted too. He has supported me through the surgery, the failed cycles, and my mother’s cancer. He is trying to meet the demands of his job. He is still trying to deal all the unanswered questions he was left with when his eldest brother (the ‘rock’ of his family) put a revolver to his head a few weeks before Christmas. I look at him and I know that he's running hard just to stay in the same spot. He has no patience. He is tired. His back pain is getting worse.

Most of the rest of the week was spent in tears, silence and finally apologies.
On Saturday I flew into NY by myself.
So far, things are not promising. I have invested a lot in this cycle. This clinic is supposed to great at dealing with difficult cases. I am on the max dose of drugs on the most aggressive protocol. Yesterday they counted 2 follicles. That’s right, 2.

I wandered around the city after receiving that news, looking for a quiet place to sit and rest. No matter where I walked I seemed to be surrounded by moms with strollers, and the cutest toddlers dressed as bunnies, pumpkins, fairies, and firemen. Walking by a restaurant, I decided to stop for lunch. A notice posted on the door said “New Mom’s Lunch”. Inside every single table was taken by a new mom with her plump new baby. I decided to get take take-out from a nearby deli and eat in the nearest park. I got to the park which, it turns out was a playground, with a sign posted on the gates “Adults without children are strictly prohibited from using this park”

Talk about adding insult to injury.

*not only because I may not have a baby, but I'm terrified that her cancer will recur and that even if, by some miracle, I do end up pregnant one day it will be too late for her to know that child.

this is your ovary

2005-10-05T08:24:00.000-06:00

This is your ovary:

See how everything is plump, round and lovely?
Doesn't it look like it's fully of jolly, good natured eggs who would jump at the chance to slide down a fallopian tube into a nice warm uterus? Doesn't it look like they'd greet sperm with an enthusiastic "hidey ho! let's get together!!"

This is my ovary:

See the difference?
Doesn't it look sullen, petulant, uncooperative?
Doesn't it look like it's full of eggs that probably need a crutch/walker/wheelchair and a jolt of RedBull to even begin thinking of venturing towards a fallopian tube?
And if they happened to encounter the sperm, wouldn't the sperm just turn and swim the other way?
This is what I have to work with.
In the next few weeks I'll bombard these little suckers with estrogren, FSH and LH.
I will hope and pray that 4 or 5 of them will actually decide to take the bait.

hope springs eternal

2005-09-29T07:56:00.000-06:00

I bought a pregnancy test yesterday.
It was negative.

I was 2 days late (I'm never late) and I had none of my typical PMS symptoms.
Could it be???
We had used OPKs last month. I know we did the deed on the 'right' days.
I obsessed about it all day yesterday, and finally bought a test after work.
What was I thinking?

Not 2 hours after I'd tested negative my period arrived in full force, as if to say "what were thinking, you ignorant slut. how dare you actually think you can have sex and get pregnant".

So not only am I not pregnant (shock, horror) but I'm feeling acutely embarassed about the panicked email I'd sent to the IVF nurse yesterday. I'm supposed to let her know when it's Day 1 and, ignorant slut that I am, I sent her a long, rambling email about the missing period, 'what shoud i do?' 'please help' etc. etc.
I will have to call her now and say "ahh..yeah..ahem.......disregard that email please, i'm not a moron..really"

folie d'aubergine

2005-09-22T16:43:00.000-06:00

I am extremely annoyed with my eggplant plants. Pissed in fact.
In late May I carried them home tenderly from the garden center. On the Victoria Day long weekend, when every Canadian with a patch of grass happily squanders their hard earned money on bags of dirt and manure*, I brought home 4 lovely starter plants to grow my very own eggplant. I gave them prized locations in my very tiny garden. I watered them, fertilized them and watched over them like a mother hen. One plant was promptly eaten by a squirrel. The other three grew lovely, huge leaves and promising purple flowers. Then nothing. June, July and August passed. Not an eggplant in site. Notta one. Now it’s the end of September. Any day now we’ll wake up to frost and all the plants will be dead. And what do I find on my plants? Six shiny, smooth, elongated, dark purple eggplants. Each is a couple of inches long. At most they’ll be 3 inches before I need to pluck them and save them from a horrible frozen death. How daft could these plants be to lazily, greedily enjoy three months of warmth, water and food, and then choose to sprout their fruit when winter is around the corner? Why now and not 2 months ago? Stupid stupid plants.

*there’s nothing I resent more than having to pay perfectly good money for dirt and manure. It’s dirt for god’s sake. Now that I think about it, I resent that slightly less than having to pay tens of thousands of dollars for a ‘try’ at getting pregnant. Something the vast majority of the rest of the world enjoys for free.

Priceless

2005-09-21T12:20:00.000-06:00

Cost of 3 IVF cycles: $19,500
Cost of 1 cancelled cycle: $1,000
Cost of 1 IVM cycle: $4,000
Cost of 6 return airline tickets
(for husband and self), numerous train tickets,
taxi rides, hundreds of km of driving: $4,500
Cost of drugs for 4 cycles: $28,400
Cost of consultation with 'top notch' clinic in NY*: $520
Cost of travel to NY (x2): $800
Cost of 1 blood test at NY clinic: $585
Cost of 2 nights in NY hotel: $650
Cost of second flight to NY: $455
Cost of biopsy and misc tests: $975
Cost of 2 nights in NY hotel during busy season: $854
Cost of approximately 90 acupunture appointments: $4,050
Cost of vitamins B, CoQ10, fish oil, folic acid, and asprin
taken daily for past 16 months: $600
Cost of visit with psychologist: $625
Cost reimbursed by insurance: $0

Cost of having a baby to love and hold: priceless.
Oh wait a second. I don't have a baby.
Priceless indeed.

NY costs adjusted to sucky Canadian $$.

kismet

2005-09-16T16:22:00.000-06:00

I often hear my parents refer to people's kismet, good or bad.
Those affected by Hurricane Katrina are picking up the pieces of their lives. We've heard many stories about those from New Orleans. I just wanted to add one more.

My uncle* lived in New Orleans and now finds himself ensconced in Houston with his his wife, daughter, her husband, and 2 children. He is retired professor and 1) had the good fortune of having family close by that he could go to when asked to evacuate 2) actually had a car to enable him to evauate 3) being retired, didn't have to worry about work 4) being retired comfortably with a pension, doesn't have to worry about finances.

So, he and his wife managed to leave with a couple of suitcases expecting to return home once the hurrican had passed. They have not yet been back to their house but have been told that their neighbourhood was extensively damaged. Not being familar with New Orleans I have no idea which neighbourhood it is.

He was visiting my mother in Toronto. I spoke with him on the weekend and he sounded perfectly sanguine. You see, he's been through this before.

He was a child living in Punjab when India gained independence. The decision was made to split Punjab giving part of the area to a newly created Pakistan and part to India (aka "The Partition"). My uncle's family being Sikhs had little choice but to leave their home in what was now Pakistan. They packed their belongings onto a cart he said, and joined a long procession of people making the exhausting and trecherous journey to India. He doesn't recall taking anything other than some clothes, and household items (pots, linens). Everything else was left behind.

As he grew older and completed his school he decided to pursue studies abroad. If you were bright, in those days, you were encouraged by Indian universities to seek higher education in America, Canada or Britian. He chose Canada. Again, he packed all his belongings into a suitcase and headed for London, Ontario to work on a PhD. Eventually he graduated and was offered a job in New Orleans. A tempting offer since the Canadian winters were taking a toll and he longed for sunny days and warm nights.

He got married and together with his new wife settled in New Orleans. He began teaching Math (or is it Chemistry?) at a college. They raised 3 children. On the side he pursued his real passion: poetry and languages. In addition to the Punjabi and English he spoke and wrote fluently, he taught himself Sanskrit, Hindi, Urdu and Bengali. He wanted to be able the read the 'classics' and poems in the language in which they written.

What I fear most, he says, is that all the books and papers I've collected over the years have been destroyed. He had amassed quite a unique collection of old books of writings and poetry in Sanskrit, Urdu and Bengali. Many of them were in fragile condition. Many of them existed in limited print. And he has most likely lost all his notes, his transcripts, and the drafts of two books he was writing. A life's worth of collected treasures.

But as I said, he is resigned to his situation. It's my kismet he says.
At the age of 74 there's little chance he can regain what he has lost. There's little time for him to rewrite what he had written, re-seek the books he'd sought.

For the third time in his life is living from a suitcase. I'm not a materialistic person he tells me. I'll be okay without my house. I can buy new furniture and clothes. But ohh I wish I'd thought to pack my books.

*well, he's not really my uncle. He's one of those Indian uncles- a close family friend that is thought of as family. In any case, he was a childhood friend of my father's and my father's brother (who he was also classmates with). So they've been friends now for over 60 years I think.

good news/bad news

2005-09-13T13:18:00.000-06:00

First the good news:
My sister has agreed to be a donor.
She is single. We don’t need to worry about including a fourth person in this decision. She is younger than me, so her eggs are, hopefully, plump and healthy. She has 2 good ovaries.

Then the bad news:
Although she has agreed, at the back of mind I’m always thinking “what if she changes her mind?”
She is single. She has no children herself...maybe she wants to have a baby herself...soon. What if she finds a partner between now and the potential IVF cycle? What if she wants children with this hypothetical new partner? And who really knows whether her eggs are any better than mine. She has not yet had the pleasure of vaginal ultrasounds.

There’s so much more to this. The first time I really discussed this with her (after failed cycle #3), I think she was completely freaked out. She became defensive (‘why don’t you just adopt”…yes, she really said that). I became upset. You see, just because I’ve been living through IVF hell and thinking about egg donation vs. adoption vs. childlessness doesn’t mean that she has. I know what it’s like to go through IVF. She doesn’t. There’s a huge incentive for me to put myself through this crap: the prospect of a baby. What’s the incentive for her? Just because it means the world to me to have a child, doesn’t mean that it means the world to her.

It took many emails back and forth to try to explain why we were asking for her help and to try to get her to express her concerns. After failed cycle #5 I think she realized how hard and heartbreaking this was for us. She called me and said yes, she would consider being a donor.

So, we have put the wheels in motion (all the while gearing up for cycle #6- my last cycle with my own eggs). The three of us (my husband, sister and I) met with a psychologist and a clinic in her town (we live 300 km apart). The psychologist was wonderful. She had thoughtful questions, and clearly has lots of experience in this area. She made us think through a few things (would we want the potential child to know how they came about?- we answered yes; did we know what would want to do with any extra embryos?- the thought had never occurred to us, we’ve never had the luxury of ‘extra embryo’s). My sister left the appointment reassured. Turns out she’s not the first person in the world who has been asked to consider this. Turns out this happens more often than you would think.

The clinic appointment
The good news is that the clinic we met with for the donor cycle is only 1 block away from my sister's workplace. It's really really important to me that this be as painless/easy/hassle-free/convenient for her as posssible. The nurses have reassured her that she can come to the clinic for her daily injections. The doctor has assured that he'll choose a protocol that involves the fewest number of injections. AND he has reassured her that she in fact has hundreds of thousands of eggs and he will likely only take 10-15.

The bad news is that this is actually not one of the best clinics in Canada. I think they are reasonable. Then again, we have gone to the two best (supposedly) clinics and the result is the same.
Here I am, getting my sister to undergo injections, ultrasounds, bloodtest etc. and go through a potentially painful retrieval.
Here I am, giving up a chance to have a baby with my own eggs.
More than anything, if/when we go this route I WANT IT TO WORK (damn it).
So am I sabotaging it by choosing clinic convenience over excellence??

Could I borrow a cup of sugar and some eggs?

2005-09-01T11:03:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, we visited another IVF clinic.
This time, we took my younger sister along.

You see, it's getting pretty clear that my eggs are not doing the trick. We have tried to cajole my remaining ovary into giving up a few eggs every 4 months or so by bombarding it with every hormone known to mankind. The ovary is not happy. It, reluctantly, spits out a few crappy eggs and then retreats into its usual lethargy.

So we have ventured into new territory.

This new territory involves very awkward conversations with a sibling. The kind of conversations one would never, in a million trillion years ever have imagined having.

My one and only sister is three years younger than me and I have asked her to consider donating eggs. Is this a reasonable request to make of a sibling? I think not. I have made it nonetheless. I share more genetic material with her than anyone else in the world. We look alike, we sound alike, we have similar interests and intellects. There is the added bonus of passing along her (better) nose and more outgoing personality. Egg donation from my sister means that even if I cannot have a baby with my husband, I can still (maybe) have a baby that I have a genetic link with and yes, that is important to me.

when it pains

2005-08-27T11:29:00.000-06:00

Ummm...
Oh and did I mention that around the time we found out that IVF#2 had failed, we also found out that my mum was diagnosed with ovarian/endometrial cancer?

And did I mention that around the time we were coming to terms with the cancellation of cycle#3 while helping my mom with chemo treatments, we received the news that my brother in law had committed suicide?

And oh yeah... I was rear ended by a 16 yr old driver.
And a few days after that I learned of the death of my dear, sweet grandfather; my last remaining grandparent (1 year ago today).
2004.
It was an absolutely stellar year.

But wait there's more.
Did I also mention that funding for the program I work for was cancelled in Oct. 2004, leaving me with the prospect of unemployment. Yup.

I bumped into a friend about a week before Christmas last year. You look a little shellshocked she said.
No kidding. Really??

How I got here (third and final prequel)

2005-08-27T09:36:00.000-06:00

Did you know that, unlike the USA, there are no Canadian statistics comparing the outcomes of various IVF clinics in Canada?
Did you know that in Canada infertility treatment is placed in the same category as cosmetic surgery (i.e. optional/lifestyle treatment)?
But I digress..

Let's get back to me.

I had left off things in November 2003. Depressed, dejected, turned away by the first IVF clinic we visited. Our sympathetic OB/GYN doctor refers us to a second clinic. This one is 3000 km away, but (apparently) has the best outcomes in Canada. The lovely doctor at this clinic (Clinic_2) does not take 9 months to get in touch with me. He calls me within weeks and gives me cautious encouragement.
And so it begins.

Feb 2004: Cycle 1
There are more tests to be done, protocols to be explained and drugs to be ordered. And, oh yeah, we must pay the $5500 fee for the clinic, plus an additional $400 for something called ‘assisted hatching’. The pharmacist calls a few days later. I need vials of Gonal-F and lupron. And, oh yeah, that will be another $5000. Credit card number please.
Three times a day my husband carefully prepares injections for me.
First one in bed at 8:00 am. We meet at home everyday at 1:00 pm for the second, and the third one is done at 8:00 pm. They can be done in the abdomen or thigh. I choose the thigh. After a few days, we go for blood tests (to monitor estrogen levels) and ultrasounds (to monitor follicle growth) ever alternate day.
Flights have been booked. We've told we should expect to stay there for 10 to 14 days. Luckily, I have a generous brother in the same city at the clinic. He has offered us room & board for as long as needed. We will have the added bonus of spending time with his 2 year old son- my wonderful, beautiful nephew.

The IVF nurse calls. She sounds concerned. You’re not progressing as well as you should have she says. Even with the very high dosage of Gonal-F that I’m taking, the follicles are not growing. If they don't see progress soon the cycle will be cancelled.
Now is a good time to panic.
Why is this not working. What is wrong with my body? What should I be doing?? We continue with the injections- and start injecting in the abdomen instead of the thigh.
Flights are delayed. The pharmacist orders more drugs (we need to continue the injections for a few more days) and I hand over my credit card number again. We do 13 days of ‘stimulation' and are finally given the green light.

Onwards to retrieval.
Stare at the ceiling. Try not to think about the fact that you are lying with feet in stirrups, with needles poking your ovary trying to suck eggs out of them. If this wasn't so pathetic it would be funny.
Eggs retrieved: 6
Not so many. We will need to spent another $1100 to 'ICSI' them.
But the eggs are not all mature. Only 3 can be injected with sperm.
2 embryos are created.
For this I paid $15,000?

We return home with 13 extra cells in my uterus.
Wait for 2 weeks.
Purchase and pee on home pregnancy tests: negative
Have a blood test to detect HCG: negative

Go directly back to Square 1. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

The doctor calls to discuss the cycle. You didn't too well he says. I would put your future chance of success at 5%, if you want to try again, but I wouldn't recommend it.
We are foolishly persistent, my husband and I. We disregard his advice entirely.
By June we are ready to do this process all over again.

June 2004: IVF Cycle 2
New protocol (using an Antagonist)
Another trip to Clinic_2
Another 2 weeks living with my brother et al.
The results?
11 eggs.
3 embryos (they are lovely, according to the embryologist)
Pack 'em all in and head home.
Wait for 2 weeks.
Purchase and pee on home pregnancy test: negative
Blood test: negative

Hey....haven't we been here before?

Nov 2004: Third time's the charm (or so they say)

By now we are pros. I can do the injections myself. Abdomen always. None of those wussy thigh injections. I don't even care how many people are in the room when the vaginal ultrasounds are being done. The technician asks if a couple of trainees can stay in the room and watch. Suureee. Come on in. Make yourselves comfortable. What's a vaginal ultrasound between strangers?

By now it's same old, same old. Purchase airplane tickets. Lie to people at work about where I'll be for the next 2 weeks. Pack syringes and drugs carefully. Arrive at my brother's doorstep. Daily trips to the clinic. Bloodwork, ultrasounds. Everything looks good. Until one day it doesn't. I start spotting. The bloodwork shows Estrogen levels have plateaued, then they start to fall. The cycle is cancelled. Oh, and that same day I find out my sister-in-law is pregnant.

We meet with the good doctor. Various options are discussed. They have an embryo donation program. We are candidates. Do you have any Indian/Caucasian embryos? I ask. Uhhh, No...but apparently I can still receive a caucasian embryo. I mull over the picture of me giving birth to a blond blue eyed baby. There's always egg donation (almost impossible in Canada...I'll leave that to a future rant), adoption. We've heard all this before. Deja vu all over again.

February 2005

It's time for a new approach. Flying to a clinic 3000 km away is starting to take a toll on us in so many ways. My research efforts into IVF techniques and advances continues and I start reading about a clinic (much closer to home: only 350 km away!) that offers IVM: In vitro maturation. Immature eggs are retrieved, matured and fertilized. Maybe this is what I need. In both my first and second cycles we had eggs that were 'useless' because they were immature. Maybe this clinic (#3) would actually be able to use these eggs. More useable eggs = more embryos = better chance of success.

How much fun is this? Visiting IVF clinics all across the country? Using all my time-off and vacation days to get poked and prodded? Using all our extra cash to pay clinics and buy drugs? Soooo much fun. I feel like the luckiest brown girl ever.

Turns out IVM is not a great option. We decide to try it anyways. 3 eggs are retrieved (very very pathetic). I spend a day in hospital hooked up to anti-biotics. 2 embryos are created and transplanted.

You know how the rest goes. Wait 2 weeks. Test and test again: negative and negative. This time we have the added bonus of nightly intra-muscular projesterone injections. Oh I know. We thought the abdominal injections were fun...

May 2004: Gluttons for punishment

The clinic does not want us to do more IVM, but they are willing to try IVF. Why not? This has gotten to be such a routine part of our lives that it seems silly really to have months where we're not doing injections or dealing with the devastation of a failed cycle. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I wasn't injecting something. A month without a vaginal ultrasound? Unheard of.

Cycle 5 will be a long-protocol micro-dose lupron cycle. Injections, ultrasounds, bloodwork, retrieval, ICSI, AH yadda yadda yadda. 6 eggs. 4 embryos (that's odd, the embryologist says, they're football shaped). Okay. fine. WHATEVER. Put them back in. 14 projesterone injections later and ... you guessed it!!!

Negative. Again.

Intermission

2005-08-26T13:38:00.000-06:00

Where I offer useless information.

Last night's dinner: bitter melon, naan, yogurt, cucumber+tomato salad
Dinner tonight: tomato, basil, mozarella salad; baguette, raw milk cheese

# of bats killed this month (in our house): 5
age of our house: 110 years
# bedrooms: 4
# of occupied bedrooms: 1

Books read this month: A Complicated Kindness; BelCanto

Herbs currently growing in my garden: thyme, rosemary, parsley, tarragon, sage, basil (italian and thai), chives, mint, oregano

Vegetables currently growing in my garden: eggplant, bitter melon, tomato

How I got here (the second prequel)

2005-08-24T08:03:00.000-06:00

October 2003
The visit to the IVF clinic is coming up and I am already (foolishly) imagining the possibilities. I start doing addition in my head. Let’s see- if we start treatment right away, I could be pregnant by December. Baby 9 months later in September! Or maybe we should get pregnant in March and have a December baby. The small bedroom will be turned into a nursery. Is it better to have a stroller or a pram? Maybe I should start calling day cares now...it's so hard to get a spot..

This little scene comes to a crashing halt with our appointment at the IVF clinic. Let me review the results of your tests with you, says Dr. IVF. He reviews my husband’s first. Blood tests…good… good. Sperm count excellent. Sperm mobility and morphology all very good (yeah!). Now my turn. He circles a number on my blood test report. FSH: 19. It means nothing to me. Yet.

Turns out I’m not so young after all.
This FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) reading tells Dr. IVF that I have ‘poor ovarian reserve’. Both the quality and quantity of my eggs is severely compromised. As I sit, stunned, in his office he proceeds to explain our options to us. You can try donor eggs, he helpfully suggests, and there’s always adoption. At this point I am staring intently at the tips of my shoes. I cannot bring myself to raise my head and look him. I have waited 9 months and driven 300 km to meet with him so that he can tell me something he has known for past six months since he received my blood tests. He will not take me on as an IVF patient. I will not have my September baby. I may never have a baby at all.

This shock and awe treatment is begining to take a toll. My reaction is predictable: I cry, I curl up on my bed in the dark, my mood swings between raging anger and helplesness.

I turn to my friend, the internet, to help me through this difficult time. I search PubMed articles and read hundreds of abstracts. I review statistics on the CDC website. I visit the univeristy library and peruse issues of journals such as "Fertility and Sterility". I decide Dr. IVF is an insensitive moron.

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, and you may ask yourself well...how did I get here?

2005-08-22T15:12:00.000-06:00

The Prequel (part 1)

I married at 32. We had been together for seven years, but my husband had wanted to wait (if it had been his choice only we would have waited forever- he did not regard marriage as the next step towards starting our life together. But for me and my East Indian immigrant parents it was essential). We moved in together and waited to settle in. ‘You can’t have a baby while living in a one bedroom apartment he said. Plus it’s a crappy apartment’ (it wasn't really). We began looking for a house. Another year went by. 32 is young he'd say, when I mentioned the baby thing.

August 2001
We buy a house. We elope. Now, yes now, we can start thinking about having a baby. One month after our wedding, I wake up nauseous and weak. My face is puffy. I am convinced I’m deathly ill. Well, says the doctor, you’re either pregnant (really!) or you have mono. We do a blood test. Everyone knows it can’t be mono. Mono is the kissing disease you get in grade 7. Noone gets mono when they’re 32. The blood test comes back. I am not pregnant. I have mono.

May 2002
I'm having weird cramps. They don't go away. I rush to the drugstore, and for the first time in my life, purchase a pregnancy test. That’s odd- it’s negative. Maybe it’s too soon. The next day I try the second test. Still negative. A few weeks go by and mild cramping turns to a dull pain that won’t go away. Another trip to the doctor. Mild pelvic pain is very common in women she says. It’s usually an ovarian cyst. They usually go away on their own. Just le me know if the pain gets worse.
“Watchful waiting” they call it.
The pain gets worse.
I am taking little blue naproxen pills every few hours. They do nothing. It takes months of this to convince her to schedule an ultrasound.
The ultrasound reveals a massive cyst. Aha! Time to get this taken care of, I think to myself. My doctor disagrees. Let’s wait she says. We’ll do another ultrasound. I increase my dosage of pain killers and, like a good Indian girl, I listen to my doctor.
I am a patient patient. I wait.
The pain in excruciating now. Another month goes by. The second ultrasound reveals the cyst has gotten even larger. You need to see a specialist, my doctor says. Silently I am wondering why she didn’t make this fabulous suggestion three months ago. It is September now. For five months now this thing has been growing inside me. It is now the size of a grapefruit.
The wait time to see an experiened OB/GYN in town is one year she helpfully tells me. I will be dead by then, I am sure of it. Luckily we have colleagues with connections who can help speed this process along (yes, it's called 'jumping the queue' and yes I was all too happy to do it). A friend calls Dr. OB/GYN and I have an appointment one week later.

Dr. OB/GYN schedules me for surgery right away. Nothing to worry about, just a minor laproscopic procedure. I won’t even need to stay overnight. Everything will be fine.

November 2002
It’s not fine. I emerge from the haze of anaesthesia in the obstetrical ward of the hospital. I am hooked up to breathing tubes, an IV, a catheter, and a morphine drip. The cyst was not a cyst- it was an endometrioma: endometrial blood and tissue collecting inside my ovary. The sugery was not a minor laproscopic procedure but a much more extensive abdominal surgery. My left ovary (“there was nothing left”) has been removed and both fallopian tubes are damaged. I have 25 staples across my abdomen and will not be going home tonight.

By the time I left the hospital I had learned that my chances of getting pregnant were greatly diminished. Our best route, we're told, is IVF. "You’re young and healthy" I'm told, "but you don't have time to see if you can get pregnant naturally". With one ovary and damaged tubes it’s unlikely anyways.

February 2003
In one year I have gone from a hopeful newly wed to infertile basketcase. We're referred to an IVF clinic 300 km away. Our appointment is scheduled for October (nine months away). We are not to contact them before our appointment (no phone calls, no emails, no faxes allowed). Just make sure you have done all the necessary blood and diagnostic tests before hand. We are tested for HIV, Hepatitis, etc. I have to undergo a hysterosalpingogarm- HSG- a procedure that pushes dye through your tubes to see if they are open. In their wisdom, the provincial government has decided that only women with two completely blocked tubes will receive OHIP coverage for an IVF cycle. Everyone else (including those with one ovary and two damaged but apparently open tubes) pays for all IVF costs out of pocket. Clearly the people making these policies are middle-aged men.

this is a test

2005-08-21T09:07:00.000-06:00

This is a test. This is only a test.
Had this been my real life I would have been given clear instructions on what to do and where to go.

I am at a loss these days to understand my life.
It is a pleasant life, complicated (for the past five years) by infertility.
This is not the only infertility, quest to have a baby, journey through IVF, blog out there. It is unlikely to be the most interesting one.
But it's mine. And since I'm having a hard time talking to the people around me, I thought I would try talking to myself (and to you..whoever you may be).

More to come.