I plan, nature scoffs

Today is CD 8. We get on a plane in less than 48 hours, and my uterus is supposed to start getting bathed in antibiotics on Monday. I can't be bleeding during that time.

Today I poofed out (my term for bloating) and started spotting. Almost everything about me seems to be so much more normal and healthy since the thyroidectomy - why can't that include my cycles becoming normal, too? Ugh.

I told R he is going to just have to go with the flow (no pun intended when I said it to him.) We have plane tickets, we have an apartment reserved, his parents are coming with us - we're going. Either the bleeding is going to stop and the lavages will start as planned, the bleeding will continue but eventually stop and the lavages will get started a few days late, the bleeding will continue the whole time (I really hope not!) and I'll get IV antibiotics instead, or the bleeding will continue and it will be just a working vacation and nothing more.

Whatever will be, will be.

A (Small) Success

It's amazing what time can do for perspective. When I was in high school and college, if I stood on the scale and it said 130 pounds or more, I was devastated, and my day was ruined.

This morning, I stood on the scale, and the number (notice I'm not telling you exactly what it was) equated to a BMI of 29.9 - the highest possible number it could be without falling into the "Obese Class 1" category on the BMI chart. And I was thrilled!

That's because at least the number is going in the right direction. A year ago this month, at my highest weight ever, my BMI was 36.55 ("Obese Class 2"). I managed to lose 28 pounds - which I don't even feel like I should take credit for since I lost them by eating more and not exercising - before my thyroid surgery. Then I spent four months at pretty much a standstill while my meds got adjusted.

Now, since the beginning of the year, I've managed to drop another 14 pounds, mostly by cutting back a lot on sugar and just being careful in general about what I eat. But still, it mostly feels like it's just my body doing what a normal body with normal thyroid levels is supposed to do, so I still don't feel like I can take a ton of credit for it. Instead, I'll just be grateful for it, and do my best to make it continue.

I don't think I'm going to reach my goal of 30 pounds before our next transfer, but hopefully I can manage to drop at least another 6 to 8 pounds before then, for a total of 20-22 pounds.

Speaking of the next transfer, we are off to NYC in a few days to bathe my uterus in antibiotics, and then as soon as the next CD 1 shows up, we'll get started on the meds for transfer. Although since my last cycle was 48 days, I'm kind of nervous about whether we'll make it for transfer before our communicables expire.

If we don't, I'm not going to stress out about it too much though, because it's dawned on me that if we are able to do a transfer before they expire, we'll either be mourning a BFN or reaching 6 weeks right around Mother's Day. In my world, historically Mother's Day around 6 weeks = miscarriage, so perhaps the transfer being postponed for a week or two wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

Back to L'IF'e, Back to Reality

It's been just over a year since our last retrieval (likely our last one ever), and the last few months in particular have been nice.

I've been hanging out in The Land of Hope, looking beyond into The Possibility of What Could Be, but not quite ready to venture over and explore that territory yet.

Now I have suddenly - a little bit unexpectedly - found myself there at the edge of that place, the starting line. That En Vogue song, "Back to Life, Back to Reality" seems rather apropo and is apparently now stuck permanently in my head, a taunting reminder that even the ostrich approach can't be maintained forever.

It's time to take a deep breath, pop a pill, and find out if we wind up in The Land of Blissful Joy in about 11 months or if something goes wrong and we just conclude another fruitless trip around Infertility Mountain sometime before then.

As usual, my plan has not gone according to plan. I have not lost the 30 pounds I was hoping for yet, and CD 1 has not shown up. I went from a 30 day cycle to a 16 day cycle to a 19 day cycle to a 23 day cycle to a 43-and-counting day cycle. It occurred to me that if CD 1 doesn't show up soon, we won't have enough time to go to NYC for antibiotics, get another CD 1 and get to Colorado before our communicables expire in the end of April.

So after doing some quick calculations with the help of a calendar, I called the NYC doc last week to ask for some progesterone to induce a withdrawl bleed. I started popping the pills last week.

I'm not quite ready. I like The Land of Hope - it's a nice, safe place, full of possibility and absent of any of the heartache of disappointment. But since it's also absent of children, I guess it's time to move out of this comfort zone, take that step, and see where we land.

Here's hoping that this time it's us kicking infertility's ass instead of the other way around.

Hopeful, but not insanely so

I've been a bad, bad blogger, seeing as how it's been more than a month since I've posted. And I'm not really sure exactly where all of that time has gone, but something strange has happened during that time - I've started to feel like a (fairly) normal person again, for the first time in a long time.

It's hard to say what's prompting this - maybe my wacky thyroid levels finally being normalized through the thyroid meds? Maybe just relief that my dad is (so far) stable? Maybe just that after 7 years of dealing with infertility, I've learned to co-exist with the pain?

Whatever it is, I'm just going to be grateful for it, for however long it lasts. It's not that there's been an earth-shattering change. It's just that somewhere along the way in all of this, I slowly went from being a person with a life and hobbies to a total couch potato who uses TV as an escape and no longer has an interest in hobbies (or even basic chores, like tidying up or filing papers).

For the last month, I've been more social, spent a lot less time with the TV, and finally started to work on getting our home office organized. (We've lived here for 3.5 years, and there are still boxes to be unpacked in there!)

Three and a half years of procrastinating leads to a lot of catch-up, so let's hope this positive vibe sticks around long enough for me to get to the bottom of all the piles of stuff! :-)

We still don't know yet exactly when we're going to go to NY and then CO, but we're continuing to hope for sometime in March and then April. I was in a bookstore the other day to buy a magazine for a friend (and walked out with $50 of purchases - how does that happen??), and I saw a book "101 Things You Should Do Before Your Kids Leave Home." I thumbed through it and toyed with the idea of buying it as a symbol of hope for our FET. Then I put it back on the shelf.

I'm hopeful, but not insanely so. I definitely don't need to tempt fate like that.

Quick hits on some of the other stuff...I haven't been perfect on the "no refined sugar" goal, but good enough to lose about 10 pounds in the first month. The goal is 20 more by the end of April...As I mentioned above, dad is stable so far. I made a quick trip to see him last weekend; I'm going to try to get out there at least once every month or two...School started two weeks ago (one class this semester), and so far it's been manageable. Only 10 more weeks to go before there's a break...I'm on CD29, thought I was going to have CD1 a few days ago, but only had one brief bit of spotting and then nothing since Sunday, so who knows? (I seriously doubt I'm pg, since the timing is off - I was visiting dad the weekend before the spotting, so it couldn't be implantation spotting.)

NY Resolution - What Was I Thinking?

Maybe the problem is that I wasn't thinking. Because on top of the crazy idea of trying to exercise 2 hours a day, dealing with dad's situation, and attempting to catch up at work from the time off last month, apparently I've decided that now is the perfect time to give up refined sugar.

Do you know how many different things refined sugar is in?!

I almost didn't make it through the first 24 hours. (I started yesterday.) I began to feel a headache and nausea come on yesterday afternoon - probably from withdrawl. :-) I wanted a Cok.e so badly!

Our house is also full of homemade (by R's dad) caramel corn, mint creme brownies I made before leaving to be with my dad (R's not a fan of mint, and apparently neither is my mom), a box of French mints she bought me for Christmas, and all sorts of packets of hot cocoa in fun seasonal flavors (gingerbread hot cocoa, anyone?)

And I could have none of it.

I did manage to survive the first day, though, and today was a bit easier. We'll see how long this lasts...

So, what is your New Year's resolution?

Dad Pulled Through

2009 did not start out how I expected (finding out just a couple weeks into the new year that we had no confirmed chromosomally normal embryos from our Nov. 08 cycle), nor did it end how I expected (hanging out with my dad in the hospital for the last two weeks of the year).

Amazingly, he is still with us. He actually got to be released from the hospital and go home on New Year's Eve, which I am very thankful for.

It seems that what caused his sudden turn for the worse was an adverse reaction to mor.ph.ine and Ata.va.n, not just the leukemia taking its natural progression. After we jumped on the plane and got out there, he didn't take any more pain meds for 8 days. When he did (on Dec. 21), they gave him the mo.rph.ine again but no Ata.va.n, and again his respiratory system started to crash, but not quite as badly as the day we flew out there.

The next morning, one of the nurses coming on for her shift said, "Oh, yeah, that can happen because of the mor.ph.ine. Why don't we give him something else next time?"

Uh, yeah, why don't we? No one else mentioned that to us - he's in a small hospital, and information doesn't seem to always get communicated well. So the next time he wanted pain meds, which was a few days later, they gave him something else. He slept, his pain eased, and his breathing remained normal.

He started to improve on Christmas Eve, and every day we noticed a bit more improvement. He's still in some pain, because he developed sores on his arms. We're not quite sure what caused them - could be the leukemia, could be all the medications they were pumping in to him, could just be a virus since he doesn't have much of an immune system. Basically his left arm looks like it's been badly burned from a few inches below the shoulder to a few inches above his wrist. His right arm isn't quite so bad. But he's been prescribed some cream that seems to be working amazingly well.

I came home on Dec. 29, and R and I celebrated our 14th anniversary the next day.

While he is home and continuing to improve, it's still very much a day by day thing. So we're just taking a wait and see approach; I don't know that our FET is going to happen as we had tentatively planned for the end of February. But that's okay for now. It will be 7 years TTC in February, so at this point what's a couple more months?

I'm sorry I haven't posted on many blogs lately. I had my work computer with me while I was with dad, and for some reason, it would let me post on my blog but it wouldn't let me comment on any blogs. I'm trying to catch up from missing the last two weeks at home, work, etc. (R and I haven't even exchanged Christmas gifts yet), but I will try to get back on track over the next couple of weeks.

Here's hoping for a better 2010 for all of us still fighting the IF fight...

FTF Update #1

Dad had a good day today, and I need a break from all the medical drama, so I figured I'd post a quick update about the Fight the Flab plan...

A couple of you asked if I had a specific plan (other than 2 hours per day). The short answer is, not really. But we have an exercise room that is part of our master bedroom suite. It includes a commercial-grade treadmill, an elliptical machine, a stationary bike, a weight bench with barbells, a free weights set, an exercise ball, a bun roller, and a tv with two Tiv.os connected to it.

So, really, I have no good excuse for not being the most in-shape person in the world.

Informally, I'll probably mostly walk and jog on the treadmill, because once I get to the point where I can run at least a mile and doing that feels good rather than feels like my lungs are going to explode out of my chest, I love that feeling - it's highly addictive. Also, it's easy to measure progress in terms of distance, time, and speed. (My goal is to get to the point of being able to run 2 miles without stopping at a 6 mph pace, i.e. a 10-minute mile.)

But I'll probably also do the bike and elliptical from time to time, and I'm making R play tennis with me on the weekends. He's much better at it than I am, but he's very patient with me.

So, here's how it went for the first week:

Day 1:
Did 20 minutes of walking on the treadmill in the morning. Was determined not to fall short of the 2 hours on my very first day, so walked another 1 hour and 40 minutes after work and dinner. Wondered how sore I would be the next morning. Began to think that maybe the one month plan would be better as a one day plan.

Day 2:
Stood on the scale. Down 1.4 pounds from the day before. The one month plan is back on. Not really much soreness to speak of.

Did no exercise in the morning before work. Still, highly motivated by the weight loss, so did 2 hours on the stationary bike after work. After the first 50 minutes, bottom was rather sore and a bit numb. Decided to rig a way to bike from a recumbent angle, so moved the bike to a place where it couldn't move, propped the bun roller up behind it so that I could lean against it (isn't that what those things are for??), sat on the floor and pedalled from there.

After about 20 more minutes, wondered if it would still count as exercise if I popped a bag of popcorn and ate it while continuing to pedal. Resisted the urge until after I finished the entire 2 hours. Popcorn (organic, low-fat) is particularly tasty after burning all those calories.

Day 3:
Stood on the scale. Down 0.8 pounds from the day before. Not quite as good as Day 1, but then again, I did spend an hour exercising while literally sitting on my ass on the floor, so figured it still wasn't bad.

A little bit of soreness, but it was the first day of rest on the plan, so no big deal. I could get used to the rest. Still watched what I ate and ate healthy, though.

Day 4:
Stood on the scale. Up 0.6 pounds from the day before. DAMN. 0.6 pounds equals 2,100 calories. I didn't even eat 2,100 calories in the entire day, plus I burned some just from, you know, breathing and stuff. Not fair.

Had an extremely early, long, stressful day at work. Didn't finish until much later than usual. Renting a movie and vegging on the couch with R sounded like a much better option than 2 hours of exercise. Did no exercise at all, but still ate decently.

Day 5:
Stood on the scale. Up another 0.6 pounds from the day before. Double DAMN. Again, didn't take in nearly enough calories to account for this weight gain. Have I mentioned that I hate my thyroid?? Well, technically I don't have one anymore, but you know what I mean.

Skipped the two hours of exercise again today, but spent hours on my feet in the kitchen baking cookies and homemade donuts with a neighbor and my mom. (Who, by the way, felt compelled to point out to the neighbor multiple times what a lazy person I am because I use a house cleaning service and what a horrible house manager I am because there is dust on the tops of picture frames and I don't fire the cleaning service over it, until the neighbor stepped up and said she'd probably still have a cleaning service even if she didn't work. At which point my mom - who was the one who invited the neighbor over for this festive little holiday gathering in the first place - left the kitchen and went to sit and pout in her room for two hours. Fortunately the neighbor is great, so it wasn't quite as awkward as it could have been.)

Anyway, had only hot chocolate, two pieces of pizza, and a couple of mini cookies the entire day.

Day 6:
Stood on the scale. Down 1.2 pounds from the day before. Yea! Eating practically nothing, although it really wasn't on purpose, paid off.

In a better mood because the backsliding on the scale had been erased. Talked R into playing tennis for an hour. Were on a set of courts that had two courts side by side. Had you glanced over casually while we were playing, you would have thought we were playing some weird made-up version of the game that involved both courts, for the amount of running over to the other court that we had to do. But, heart rates were up from all the sprinting and quick movements, there was lots of laughing, and I managed not to bean R in the head (or at the site of his ICD) with the ball, so the day was a success.

There was more last week, but that's all I can remember off the top of my head for now.

Overall, the progress has been slow. Before we left, I was down a total of about 3.5 pounds in just under two weeks. That's not bad, I know, but with 30 pounds as the goal, I was hoping for something a bit faster. But then again, if I had stuck to the 2 hour a day plan (I'm averaging closer to 1 hour a day), it probably would be coming off a bit faster.

It didn't occur to me to pack the scale when we were throwing things in our suitcase (yes, I'm serious - I would have brought it with me), but I think I'm still doing okay so far. My jeans are lose now to the point that I keep pulling them up several times a day, so I either need to buy a belt or get the next smaller size. And I spent half an hour on the hotel's treadmill yesterday. The fitness center had a scale. I stood on it after I ate breakfast, with my running shoes and workout clothes on, and I was okay with what the number was, so I'm hoping that means the number on my scale (na.ked, first thing in the morning after going to the bathroom but before eating) would have been good.

And yes, I am the kind of person who would cut my hair or shave my eyebrows off if I thought it would make the number on the scale lower. But I only have so much hair, and I suspect that being bald and eyebrowless probably wouldn't be my best look...

Dad's Still With Us

We arrived at the hospital at about 9:30 Sunday night to find Dad awake and talking, his personality and sense of humor totally intact. After his wife called us to let us know it looked like the end was eminent, he started to improve a bit.

She told him we were on our way. He had told her earlier that day that he was ready to meet Jesus, but when he heard we were coming, he told her he wanted to try to still be able to see us, and he didn't want any more medication that would cause him to be sleepy or not be able to communicate, i.e. no pain meds and no anti-anxiety meds.

So I've slept in his room (along with his wife) for the past three nights. He's having ups and downs, but he's a fighter, and now he's saying he has more living to do here on earth.

This afternoon, we were able to put him in a wheelchair, and his wife took him for a "date" sightseeing around the hospital. While they were out and about, I stayed in his room. I realized I was starting to feel a sore throat come on, so I called R to pick me up. I'm going to try to get a good night's sleep at the hotel and hopefully fight this off.

We're not quite sure what to do about the length of our visit, though. We only bought one-way tickets, and we've been extending R's hotel room day by day. When R's not chauffering me to/from the hospital or running around doing errands for us (like doing a load of laundry so that Dad has clean shorts to wear), he's been hanging out in the hotel room trying to work, but it's somewhat difficult for him to do remotely.

I may have him go home in a couple of days, but figuring out what to do myself is a bit more difficult. The doctors haven't really been able to give us a clear timeline; they say it's possible that there could be a sudden turn for the worse in a matter of hours, or it could be a month or more.

I'm considering trying to find an apartment that can be rented on a weekly or monthly basis and staying here, because it's easier for me to work remotely. Or maybe we should both head home and plan to come back in a week or two. I don't know what to do.

Rushing to Dad's bedside

His wife called a few hours ago. We may not get there in time. She asked if I wanted them to try to keep him alive until then, but I told her I'd rather we do what is best for him. We saw him in October, he was healthier then and happy. It was a good visit, that's the way I want to remember him.

We're rushing to the airport now. I'm holding up fine, except when my thoughts drift to "If we have babies, he won't get to meet them when they're born." And then the tears come, so I must stop thinking that.

We don't have internet access where he lives, so it may be several days before I have a chance to update again.

My Crazy Plan (aka Fighting the Flab)

I think I spent more than half of November asleep. During the awake part of the month, I managed to fire the endocrinologist (well, not so much "fire" as "slink away silently") and cajole my family doc into giving me an Rx for T.3 toward the end of the month(also lowered the Synt.hroid at the same time).

Miracle of miracles, the first day I took the T.3, I no longer needed a two-hour nap in the afternoon and haven't needed one since. It continues to astound me how much of an advocate thyroid patients need to be for themselves! Far, far more than you need to advocate for yourself during IF treatments, and that's saying something.

So, now that I am once again wide awake and have enough energy to do something more than just drag my sorry self back to bed, I have devised a plan. You all know how much I love a good plan. Hopefully this will be one of the rare ones that actually works out.

I feel like I need to lose more weight before we attempt a transfer, not so that I can look svelte on the transfer table - because believe me, the amount of weight loss I have in mind still won't get me anywhere near svelte - but so that I can approach a potential pregnancy from a healthier starting point.

Translation: I'd like to lose another 30 pounds between now and the end of February or March, which is when we're tentatively planning to do a transfer.

The first 30 pounds pretty much fell off between March and August after I realized my problem was that I hadn't been eating enough for my overactive thyroid. But since the little sucker was removed three months ago, the weight loss immediately came to an abrupt halt. I gained about 5 pounds at one point after the surgery, but I've battled it back down so that now I'm only about 1 pound above where I was since the surgery.

This sounds crazy, and ambitious, and probably ill-advised I realize, but I'm going to give it a go. Because what have I got to lose, except for hopefully an amount of weight that is nearly equivalent to one of our dogs? So, here's the plan: Starting with Dec. 1, the goal is to exercise for two hours per day on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, then take a break on Thursdays, back on for Fridays through Sundays, a break on Mondays, etc.

All in all, that should equate to 44 hours of exercise over the course of a month. Uhh, maybe I shouldn't say it like that, because that sounds like a lot.

Keep in mind, I'm not planning to do this forever. My goal is to start with one month, and if it works and I feel up for another month, I might continue in January, but that's as far as it will go, and then I know I will have to settle into a much more sane plan.

I'll post periodic updates, because I'm sure some hilarity (or hopefully at least some mildly chuckle-worthy moments) will ensue...

Wish me luck. And muscles that overcome soreness quickly. And joints that don't hold this against me.

Choosing to Enjoy the Holidays

I hope all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

R and I have been enjoying the holiday weekend. Lots of time with family, lots of yummy food, lots of laughter. It's been good.

I made a decision this year that regardless of the kid situation, we were going to enjoy the holiday season. We haven't even decorated for the past few years, but this year we dragged out all the boxes of Christmas decorations, dragged out the tree, and started getting into the spirit of the season. Sure, there are things in our life that we wish were different, but this year I feel more capable of joining the land of the living again.

I even entered a holiday pie "throwdown" at work and wound up winning 2nd place for an apple pie I made. I got lucky, because when I repeated the pie for Thanksgiving, I forgot the cornstarch (which thickens all the liquids that the apples release), so the bottom crust wound up being very soggy and goey. And goey pie crust is not an appetizing sight! But fortunately (or unfortunately for them) it was only my family who was subjected to that mistake...

Speaking of dessert, we're now hanging out at the in-laws again for a post-Thanksgiving feast as I type this. Their collection of six different cartons of ice cream served as inspiration for a quick and fun dessert idea: We bought a couple packages of break-and-bake mini chocolate chip cookies, baked them up, and then created mini ice cream sandwich cookies. Yummy!

Time to get back on the weight-loss bandwagon on Monday...

Whew, What a Month!

Making it to Sunday with my sanity intact will be an accomplishment. It's been an unexpectedly crazy month!

Dad has been in the hospital three times this month, for a total of more days in the hospital than out of it. His blood levels dropped, then he got a fever, then it looked like he might have pneumonia but it turned out to be lesions on his esophagus caused by the chemo. But he's been home for the past 10 days or so, and we went to visit him. More on that in a moment.

As I mentioned in my last post, I contacted the clinic regarding planning an FET for early next year. Forgot we had to repeat the one-day workup. Went through the same stupid issues we did last time, with them turning my unpredictable cycles into an obstacle rather than working with me to address them. Wound up snapping at the receptionist who was being unhelpful in trying to get me scheduled and put it on said receptionist to solve my ovulation issues. (She loved that, as you can imagine.) Got a phone call back from a nurse pretty quickly after that.

Went back East with the in-laws to see fall colors. Left my textbook on the plane, with an assignment due three days later and a mid-term due a week after that (still not done). Wasn't expecting white to be a fall color, but it started snowing an hour after we arrived. Spent a day wandering around a Civil War battlefield envisioning brave soldiers meeting a tragic, traumatic fate. No disrespect at all to them or what they endured - our country would be very different if not for their heroic service - but a spa-and-chocolates type of vacation was more on order than an envisioning-blood-and-guts one. Note to self: Do not join in-laws when they go back to spend two or three more days there. Either that, or find a place to park self at a spa during those days.

Got back, crazy few days at work, hopped on a plane four days later to go visit big, bad clinic. Forgot and had caffiene the morning of the ultrasound. Blood flow was restricted, but uterus otherwise looked good. RE was optimistic, which made me tear up (fear of failure, not joy - I've now reached the point where doctors' optimisim about our chances makes me cry). A bit of pressure was taken off when he said he'd allow us to try a second FET if I miscarry on the first one.

Less than 24 hours after arriving, hopped back on another plane to visit my dad for a few days. He looked better than expected and had more energy, even was up to going to church which was great. Learned from his wife how to can homemade jelly and fry taco shells. Saw my oldest half-sister, who I hadn't seen in 23 years and who, it turns out, is on a first-name basis with the police in her town due to her children.

Drove 1.5 hours to take R back to the airport on Sunday night, then 1.5 hours back to my dad's for one more day, then back home myself. Did I mention he lives in the woods, where bears wander across the road and a shotgun is required after dark to ward off the mountain lions and ensure you make it safely from the carport to the front door? Yep, I come from true hillbilly roots. (Dad's word, not mine.)

Back home, more work craziness, still trying to get the mid-term finished (but clearly taking a blogging break at the moment). Trying to resign myself to getting a B in the class.

Metabolism has seriously slowed down. Instead of dropping 1-2 pounds per week, now gaining about 2 pounds per week. Have to exercise (walking/running) 1.5 hours per day in order to have any sort of weight loss, gain all of it right back if I miss a day. Up 6 pounds in 3 weeks.

FREAKING. OUT.

Endo is no help - she's treating the piece of paper the lab results are on as if that's the patient instead of me. Despite the ridiculous weight gain (in the face of strict healthy eating, I might add) and the fatigue, she says the T4 levels aren't low enough to warrant raising my dosage. Considering firing her and having the PCP (who will take symptoms into consideration when adjusting dosage) manage my levels.

Oh, and it is R's birthday tomorrow. I have not shopped, I have not arranged for a cake, we have not finalized plans to celebrate. And I will likely spend most of the weekend trying to finish the mid-term, do the assignment due this week, and get caught up on work.

So, how's October been for you?

Dipping My Toe Back In

Today I took a tentative step back into the waters of treatment and e-mailed our cycle RN to let her know that we're possibly thinking of doing an FET in the second half of February. It was probably a bit premature (pardon the pun), since it might take a few months to get my thyroid meds adjusted and since February is five months away.

And honestly, I'm glad it's still that far off. Obviously, at some point we have to give it another try, seeing as how we have all those frozen embryos. But right now I'm okay with that try not being tomorrow.

That's so different than when we first started this process - whenever a cycle failed, I immediately wanted to jump into the next one. We've been at it for so long, though, that apparently I needed a year off. And while childlessness is never fun and the painful reminders can come from anywhere (i.e. dinner with R's cousin from the same generation last night, who has an 18-month-old grandchild when we don't even have a child yet), it's actually been kind of nice in some ways to have this time.

I also had my annual pap today. My ob mentioned that he has a patient who's had more than a dozen msicarriages. However, she also had success after the first three, then success again after the next several. And, she knows what's causing all of her losses - she has a balanced translocation.

I know he was trying to be comforting and encouraging, but it's just not the same thing. For one, she knows what the issue is. Secondly, her issue is a crapshoot - if she keeps trying, occasionally she'll have an embryo that isn't affected by the translocation. (Or so he made it seem; I don't know anything about translocations, so I'm only going off of what he said.) Third, she doesn't seem to have to spend $20k a pop to try to get pregnant - that just happens the natural way. And, last but definitely not least - she. has. a. kid. Two, in fact.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder, will that be me someday? A woman whose heartbreak numbers in the double digits? Will I know when to stop? Heck, will I even know how to stop?

Trust Issues

It seems infertility has made me something of a paranoid freak.

I'm having a hard time remembering what life used to be like - you know, before 90% of my waking thoughts were consumed with infertility, thyroid issues, and R's rare heart condition. And an even harder time having faith that there will again be a time when life isn't so much about all of that stuff.

I think a large part of it is because I don't have a lot of trust anymore - not in our health care system (I won't get started on all of its problems), not in doctors (hello, missed diagnosis for at least 7 years), and sadly, not even in our own bodies (all the miscarriages, R's Brugada syndrome). I keep waiting for more loss, for the next horrible diagnosis, to be right around the corner.

What's put me in this mood is that I've scheduled my first baseline mammogram.

Though there's no history of breast cancer on either side of my family that I'm aware of, and though I do BSE regularly and have only discovered one suspicious thing that turned out to be nothing, a part of me still can't help but think "What if they call me with bad news, and we can't do a transfer in February because I have to do chemo instead?"

I know the fear of cancer is common - it's not like I'm the only one who's ever had that thought. But I think I've reached a point where I'm a little more of - like I said, a paranoid freak - than most people are.

I plan to have a discussion soon with my family physician about regular screenings for ovarian cancer, even though there aren't really any great options, because I'm at higher risk since I have PCOS and haven't had any kids. I make R check for testicular cancer. (We have a friend who had it; he survived, thankfully.) I'm constantly checking him for signs of skin cancer, even on his scalp, since he's very fair skinned and burns in the blink of an eye.

And since I don't reside in his body and therefore can't notice any abnormal symptoms he may be feeling, I ask him every couple of weeks if he feels okay, because I'm afraid he's just going to blow off some random symptom that results in fatal consequences. (You can imagine how thrilled he is with all the questioning and skin examinations.)

Not that my paranoia in that area is entirely unjustified. He told me he wanted to be in charge of his doctor's appointments for his defibrillator, and I agreed. He was supposed to have appointments every 3 months for the past year, alternating between over the phone and in person, then it's supposed to be every 6 months, again alternating, forever.

I hadn't heard about an appointment in a while, so the other day I asked him about it. When was his last appointment? He doesn't remember. When is his next appointment? He's not sure he's scheduled one, but if he has, he doesn't remember what date (or even what month) it's for. When was the last time he actually went in for an appointment? He's unsure, but his best guess is December. (If the first-year plan had been followed appropriately, it should have been May...)

I guess it's no wonder the paranoid one is in charge of all the medical stuff.

Sometimes it's the Small Things

There's unlikely to be anything momentous on the infertility front for several more months, while I work on getting the thyroid replacement meds regulated. So, in the meantime, I'm focusing on the small stuff.

Such as, standing on the scale this morning and having it tell me I weigh 30.6 pounds less than I did back in March. Yea! Happy, happy day. I still have a ways to go - ideally, I'd like to lose another 50 pounds before doing a transfer.

That may not be totally realistic, but I'm hoping that in a couple of weeks I'll feel up to exercising, which I haven't been doing in any sort of strenuous form because of the heart issues my thyroid had been causing.

I'm also hoping that having my thyroid removed (effectively becoming hypothyroid) also won't cause the weight to pile back on. But I think given how little I usually eat (1,300-1,400 calories per day), now that my body isn't requiring 3,000 anymore, I should still be able to keep on track.

So, for now, here's to the small stuff.

Home After Surgery

Thanks for all the well wishes for the surgery. There were no major complications, and I was able to go home after 24 hours.

Because I've been having high blood pressure (thought to be caused by the hyperthyroidism), the anestheologist took some extra precautions during the surgery. Ironically, my blood pressure was fine, but I wound up having a few heart rate issues. Apparently my heart rate sped up a couple of times and then dropped significantly just as the surgery ended, but they were able to deal with all of that.

This was my first time staying in the hospital overnight. I can't believe the lack of sleep you get when sleep and rest is probably the thing your body needs the most! There has to be a better way.

I had an interesting roommate. She was nice enough, but there were constant visitors trapising in and out, and they were loud. I think they thought they were at a party instead of in a hospital. At one point, I heard her ask one of the visitors what she had planned for last night (Friday night), and the visitor said, "We're waiting for Jose to be released from prison today, then we're going to the bar tonight", as if it was a common, everyday occurance to be waiting for someone to get sprung from the joint. I was just hoping Jose didn't come to visit...

My calcium levels dropped a little bit, to 8.0 and then 7.9. (They're supposed to be at or above 8.5.) So I'm taking calcium supplements four times a day for now. My fingers seem to be a bit tingly, which they said is a sign of low calcium, so I'm trying to decide if I should call the doctor or not. If it continues, I probably will.

I was hoping to wake up yesterday morning and magically have all my symptoms be gone. Perhaps that was a bit overoptimistic (ya think?) as I still have the tremors, but my heart rate and the overall jumpiness seems to be less noticable. The surgeon said that thyroid hormones have a long half life, so he said it would probably take a week or so before the hyperthyroid symptoms really start to abate.

The pain hasn't been all that bad. My throat is a bit scratchy, and my neck is sore, but I took the pain pill last night more to help me sleep than to reduce the pain. Interestingly enough, one thing that I've found to be much easier since the surgery is swallowing pills! I used to struggle just to get one small pill down at a time, but since the surgery even large pills just slide right down without effort. I guess it's because there's more room in my throat now.

The next step is going to be getting my thyroid hormone levels regulated with medication. That's a challenge for some people, so I'm a little nervous about it, but hopefully I won't have issues. Once that's stablized, we can look forward to a transfer. I'm thinking maybe February...

Here Goes Nothing (I Hope!)

At this point tomorrow, if all goes as planned, I will be thyroidless. So far, I haven't been too terribly nervous about it. When I had minimally invasive knee surgery 16 years ago, I spent the evening before telling R that I had changed my mind and trying to convince myself that I could just live in pain (and on crutches) for the rest of my life.

And that just involved them poking a few tiny holes in my knee! This time, someone is slicing my neck open. (My mom finds it funny to make the slitting throat motion with her hand at least once every few days...But I suppose she has some grounds to be amused by it, since she went through it 50 years ago.)

Oddly enough, the thing that has me most stressed about the surgery is that I am supposed to not eat or drink anything after midnight, yet my surgery isn't scheduled until 1 p.m. By the time it's done, if all goes well, that would be 15 hours without water! And I don't think I'll feel much like swallowing immediately after surgery.

So I called the nurse today and asked her if it was really necessary to observe the midnight rule given all that. She wasn't happy about it, but she extended the deadline to 4 a.m. Which means I will be getting up at 3:45 a.m. to chug down a couple bottles of water...

Wish me luck!

Surgery is Scheduled

So it's official: on Sept. 10, my thyroid and I will part ways. I'm hoping this is the thing that's the key to me being able to stay pregnant, but I am very clear that there's no guarantee of that in any way. To start with, though, I'll just be grateful if it means I don't constantly shake anymore and my heart stops doing cartwheels in my chest.

People keep asking me if I'm nervous about it. And I'm sure I will be, starting a few days beforehand. But right now, I'm just looking forward to getting a step closer to being able to do a transfer again.

This is completely random and off the cuff, and I don't usually share much about R that's personal. But I think he's having a good day, and he hasn't had a lot of those lately, so it makes me happy and I'm sharing it.

He spent this afternoon at his best friend's house. There have been times during the past several years when that has been tough, because his BFF has a 6-year-old son. Even though they struggled with IF too, they're one of those couples who seems to have completely forgotten what all those emotions were like as soon as their son was born. BFF has even gone so far as to try to reason us out of the sadness and pain we feel, so at some points, we've had to distance ourselves.

But today sounds like a good day. When I talked to him a little while ago, he said he'd played computer games with the 6-year-old, and the two of them were in R's truck driving to their next activity, with BFF and some others in a different car.

It was just good to hear R having a happy day in the presence of a child.

Feeling Alone and Left Behind

I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself, but I'm failing miserably.

I've been in a good place for the past few months. I've needed a break from infertility, and I've had it. It's been good to not have every day, every decision we make, revolve around fertility treatments and my cycle day and needles.

Then last week happened. It was actually a pretty good week. I realized on Thursday that I hadn't even noticed what Aug. 17 represented - the 2-year anniversary of the D&C for the only pregnancy we've had that progressed to the point of a heartbeat. I thought it was a sign of healing. It's not that I don't think about the baby, because I do every day, but this time I didn't relive it in the days leading up to it.

About an hour later, I got an e-mail. An acquaintence, who is a former infertile who used donor egg to have her first child about a year and a half ago, is 27 weeks pregnant again. Apparently this time, she just naturally got pregnant a few months after she stopped breastfeeding. By accident. After deciding that she didn't want a second baby because the birthing process of the first was so horrible and the realities of motherhood didn't quite live up to the fantasies of it that she had.

It's not that I begrudge her this pregnancy. Or a mutual friend we have, who also had her first babies (twins) through IVF and also got pregnant naturally without trying the second time, less than 2 years after the twins were born. (She just had her third last month.)

It's just that I feel so totally left behind, and almost completely alone. I say "almost" because I know there are others out there in the same boat. But it feels like even those who are out here in the deep waters with me will also eventually find a path to success, and at some point I will be the only one left out here, floating aimlessly and Completely. Totally. Alone.

Then I made the mistake of logging on to FB, and seeing all the first day of school pics from this past week. Friends from the local resolve group who were down there in the trenches with me are sending their children off to school! For us, the prospect of a child going to school is still so far off that those kids will likely be in high school before we're showing up at the door of a kindergarten classroom.

Saturday, I bounced back. It was a happy day. A pair of capris that I bought 14 months ago, thinking "these will be perfect if I can just lose 5 pounds", finally fit for the first time! (25 pounds later...) There is almost nothing that can kill the high that comes with fitting into a piece of clothing that was once too tight.

Except showing up for an appointment with your 23-year-old, size 2 hair stylist and finding a cute little ultrasound pic. She wasn't even trying to get pregnant.

Thank God for Dairy Que.en's Girl Sc.out Cookie Thin Mi.nt Blizzard. Even if I don't fit into those capris anymore as a result...

Newsflash

I saw this headline on CNN.com yesterday: "Octuplets' mom says, 'I screwed up my life' "

Ya think? Really??

For the record, I have no problem with someone choosing to have 14 children if that's what they want to do - as long as they are able to support the children, rather than rely on the children to support them.

(CNN has since taken the video down, so I couldn't link to it.)