Yup. The ol' spidey senses are certainly working overtime. I'm at that point of utter confusion. The intense, researching, Dr-sceptic Mez thinks that if I just research some more and find that secret ingredient that's holding me back from eventual success, then all will be well. The tired, laid back, fatalistic Mez thinks that what will be will be and that we have no control over this heartless process. Pregnancy isn't really a science. Millions of fat, lazy, overweight, smoking, drunken crack whores daily conceive and bring forth more spawn to fill the world.
In the past week 3 people have asked me if I have kids. Funnily enough, up until I started trying, I was never asked. Four years of TTC has aged me now to the point that even the baby/toddler assumptions have stopped and people wonder which schools my mythical children attend. Like most long-term Infertiles, I've worked on a stock response of which I'm unnervingly proud. It goes something like this:
II (that's Inquisitive Idiot): So, do you have kids?
Mez: No. (smart punters get the point here.)
II: Oh! (tone of surprise and disbelief)
Mez: Not everyone has kids.
I'll pause here to explain that if this is the end of the conversation, I go no further. However, there are those Extra-Inquisitive Extra-Idiots who need to continue to the next level....
II: Really? Why not?
Mez: Not everyone can HAVE kids. (glare)
This is where it ends. Normal, switched on folk assume at "Not everyone has kids" that a woman in her late-30s may well be childless involuntarily. Those clueless folks who assume that everyone has kids, need it spelled out. I will single out for honorable mention in the area of gross self-absorption, the woman last week who, even after the final line in my little dialogue, still went on expectantly to tell me that she had two. O-KAY! Cue Mez mumbling hmmmm and turning away quite quickly. No, I really don't want to hear the exciting tales of parenthood, and if you think I'm going to start breathlessly interrogating you about Tyler and Logan (or whatever bizarro surname-first names are trendy this year), then think again.
I guess I'd better get used to this little speech. I do feel (believe it or not) that as I prepare myself for the inevitable, the bitterness is receding somewhat. I actually stood next to a hugely pregnant woman at a party last weekend and chatted away blithely. I guess it helped that I just thought she was fat and only realised her state when someone else asked about her adventures in cot-purchasing. The baby hole will reduce in size and other things will take its place. I'm working hard on the husband to find work in Melbourne so I can have my career and life back. All this running from Infertility has to stop someday.
Monday, 18 August 2008
Monday, 11 August 2008
Unhappily yours....
Today the last negative has finally sunk in, along with the realisation that I'm less than 2 weeks away from starting my final stim. This time a year ago I reluctantly joined the AC circus, with the expectation that what my body wouldn't do naturally could be effected quickly with science. As it turns out, we were actually a whole lot more fertile before IVF, if that's even possible.
I don't really know what else to throw at this. There's nothing we need to do to improve response, quality of eggs/sperm, blasts, hormones etc etc. Each cycle chugs along swimmingly, that is until the red lady sings. We are taking steps to counteract possible clotting and inflammation issues. I am truly ruining my FC's stats.
I took my post-it list of concerns to Dr Suave on Friday with some wins and some losses.
1. I want a down reg, I got a down reg. Hard work to pull for that at my FC, AKA Antagonists R Us. Here's hoping for a good haul like the first one.
2. I thought maybe going up to 50mg prednisolone might give me an edge but he demurred. Apparently 25mg is actually quite high and they usually prescribe 10-15mg. I don't like this drug at the best of times, so I'll play ball on that one.
3. The role that being ANA+ plays....apparently it's like saying that 5% of cars outside are red, but that doesn't mean only red cars crash. Thank you, Dr Weird Analogy! So we just don't know.
4. I brought up the possibility of transferring a day 2/3 embie as obviously these perfect little blasts don't take to mama. Better in than out? No. They like blasts, they have success with blasts. They don't want to waste time transferring embies which may well have stopped dividing in the dish at day 4. It makes sense and I deferred to his greater medical knowledge on that one, but I'm still not so sure.
I'm also going gluten, dairy, caffeine, sugar and alcohol free this cycle, and I tell you what, that last one really hurts! If it takes down the inflammation in my body by even 5% extra, it might help.
I really don't know what else to do. If this is a bust, I use up my frosties, pack up my cricket set and walk off into the setting sun of childlessness.
I don't really know what else to throw at this. There's nothing we need to do to improve response, quality of eggs/sperm, blasts, hormones etc etc. Each cycle chugs along swimmingly, that is until the red lady sings. We are taking steps to counteract possible clotting and inflammation issues. I am truly ruining my FC's stats.
I took my post-it list of concerns to Dr Suave on Friday with some wins and some losses.
1. I want a down reg, I got a down reg. Hard work to pull for that at my FC, AKA Antagonists R Us. Here's hoping for a good haul like the first one.
2. I thought maybe going up to 50mg prednisolone might give me an edge but he demurred. Apparently 25mg is actually quite high and they usually prescribe 10-15mg. I don't like this drug at the best of times, so I'll play ball on that one.
3. The role that being ANA+ plays....apparently it's like saying that 5% of cars outside are red, but that doesn't mean only red cars crash. Thank you, Dr Weird Analogy! So we just don't know.
4. I brought up the possibility of transferring a day 2/3 embie as obviously these perfect little blasts don't take to mama. Better in than out? No. They like blasts, they have success with blasts. They don't want to waste time transferring embies which may well have stopped dividing in the dish at day 4. It makes sense and I deferred to his greater medical knowledge on that one, but I'm still not so sure.
I'm also going gluten, dairy, caffeine, sugar and alcohol free this cycle, and I tell you what, that last one really hurts! If it takes down the inflammation in my body by even 5% extra, it might help.
I really don't know what else to do. If this is a bust, I use up my frosties, pack up my cricket set and walk off into the setting sun of childlessness.
Sunday, 3 August 2008
Fixing a Hole......
but unfortunately, it didn't stop my mind from wandering......
I took a long walk today with the aim of working off some of the bloating/meds associated with failed Stim #3 (yep, you read right), as well as to practice some 'mindful walking' as recommended by Dr Alice Domar in "Conquering Infertility". Now, I have to say that if I took drugs and had any talent at all, this walk would have inspired a Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds-type lyrical explosion. Perhaps because I was attempting to walk mindfully and stay in the moment, there was instead an explosion of picaresque symbols lurking furtively around every corner. I even fully expected to see a number plate "IVF111" somewhere along the way. And so, like old Jean-Jacques, roaming around that park in Paris and staring at the tree's roots, I set forth to be Enlightened.
The bad thing about moving interstate frequently is the complete lack of familiarity with one's surrounds. This is also a positive and something I took full advantage of today, through the twisting, stone-cottage studded inner-suburbs of south-eastern Adelaide. Dear reader, I did persevere with the mindfulness, despite many intruding ruminations on more negative aspects of my life. I'm one of those people who could never meditate, and even yoga is beyond me. Just how do people turn their minds off for even a minute? Peace of this kind eludes me, instead pushing me into stressful, mental meanderings which eventually become too much, the effects of which can only be ameliorated by a fatalistically exhaled 'meh' during these existential episodes.
Walking past the first park, I was smiled at gingerly by a teenage girl with Down Syndrome and what looked like some type of palsy. Once again I was saddened and inexplicably sickened by the jolting realisation of the rarity of such scenes these days. We seem to have selectively reduced the incidence of Down's and other "imperfect" babies in our society. I don't want to get too deep here as this is a personal decision that each person needs to make. Suffice it to say that it's something simmering not too deeply below the sea-level of this late-30s, TTCer's thoughts.
Next, I spied at the end of a lane way, a virtual horde of perhaps 5-year-olds and their parents. It was a cult, you know, the Fertile People Cult, AKA, Everyone Else. Normally I would have done a swift 180 and found myself another route, however, in the interests of moving beyond being a Professional Infertile (as I have been called) and dealing with the reality that most people do indeed get to have children and I'd better start accepting that fact (girlfriend!), I charged ahead with spirit and verve. Call it some sort of masochistic Aversion therapy; I walked past and through possibly 20 children without a care.
Beyond that was a dog with a plastic neck brace. Truly.
Paying for my not-doing-IVF-so can-drink-coffee-with-impunity-coffee at the local cafe, I was bemused to see the sign on the change dish: "If you don't like change, leave it here". Not bad, Brown Dog Cafe, not bad. A change dish on many different philosophical levels is a change dish after my own heart.
What was the point of this? I really don't know. I think it's time to start accepting the inevitable. Not for me the delusional/optimistic (2 sides of the same coin, really) belief that if I stim indefinitely, I will find success. I haven't been able to find the statistics, but I'm pretty sure that the majority of people who do IVF are unsuccessful. I commit to one more stim and have a review with Dr Suave this Friday to discuss my demands/protocol.
I took a long walk today with the aim of working off some of the bloating/meds associated with failed Stim #3 (yep, you read right), as well as to practice some 'mindful walking' as recommended by Dr Alice Domar in "Conquering Infertility". Now, I have to say that if I took drugs and had any talent at all, this walk would have inspired a Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds-type lyrical explosion. Perhaps because I was attempting to walk mindfully and stay in the moment, there was instead an explosion of picaresque symbols lurking furtively around every corner. I even fully expected to see a number plate "IVF111" somewhere along the way. And so, like old Jean-Jacques, roaming around that park in Paris and staring at the tree's roots, I set forth to be Enlightened.
The bad thing about moving interstate frequently is the complete lack of familiarity with one's surrounds. This is also a positive and something I took full advantage of today, through the twisting, stone-cottage studded inner-suburbs of south-eastern Adelaide. Dear reader, I did persevere with the mindfulness, despite many intruding ruminations on more negative aspects of my life. I'm one of those people who could never meditate, and even yoga is beyond me. Just how do people turn their minds off for even a minute? Peace of this kind eludes me, instead pushing me into stressful, mental meanderings which eventually become too much, the effects of which can only be ameliorated by a fatalistically exhaled 'meh' during these existential episodes.
Walking past the first park, I was smiled at gingerly by a teenage girl with Down Syndrome and what looked like some type of palsy. Once again I was saddened and inexplicably sickened by the jolting realisation of the rarity of such scenes these days. We seem to have selectively reduced the incidence of Down's and other "imperfect" babies in our society. I don't want to get too deep here as this is a personal decision that each person needs to make. Suffice it to say that it's something simmering not too deeply below the sea-level of this late-30s, TTCer's thoughts.
Next, I spied at the end of a lane way, a virtual horde of perhaps 5-year-olds and their parents. It was a cult, you know, the Fertile People Cult, AKA, Everyone Else. Normally I would have done a swift 180 and found myself another route, however, in the interests of moving beyond being a Professional Infertile (as I have been called) and dealing with the reality that most people do indeed get to have children and I'd better start accepting that fact (girlfriend!), I charged ahead with spirit and verve. Call it some sort of masochistic Aversion therapy; I walked past and through possibly 20 children without a care.
Beyond that was a dog with a plastic neck brace. Truly.
Paying for my not-doing-IVF-so can-drink-coffee-with-impunity-coffee at the local cafe, I was bemused to see the sign on the change dish: "If you don't like change, leave it here". Not bad, Brown Dog Cafe, not bad. A change dish on many different philosophical levels is a change dish after my own heart.
What was the point of this? I really don't know. I think it's time to start accepting the inevitable. Not for me the delusional/optimistic (2 sides of the same coin, really) belief that if I stim indefinitely, I will find success. I haven't been able to find the statistics, but I'm pretty sure that the majority of people who do IVF are unsuccessful. I commit to one more stim and have a review with Dr Suave this Friday to discuss my demands/protocol.
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