Challenging weekend

Friday night, I had some bleeding -- a pregnancy first. Of course I panicked, but after talking to the midwife on call at my OB's office both Friday night and Saturday morning, I was reassured. It was mainly one episode Friday night around 11 p.m. and then just a few drops of blood at about 3 a.m. Saturday. Since then, it has all been brown, which the midwife said is good because that's old blood. We couldn't identify anything I've done that might have caused this but it isn't uncommon, so I'm not going to worry too much about it. We have another ultrasound Tuesday morning, so I hope to be reassured for sure then. I had to go to a meeting yesterday until mid-afternoon, but after that, I camped out on the couch. Today I went to church and then a baby shower (which lasted forever) but I returned to the couch when I got home around 6 p.m. I am thankful this episode was brief, but that doesn't make it less frightening. I immediately started thinking about the possibility of going back to that very familiar uncertain feeling that has permeated my infertility experience -- the question of what my life is going to be like. Fingers crossed that all is truly well. Will let you know Tuesday.

My best friend's dad died today. He had been ill and we had hoped he was on the mend, but his condition deteriorated rapidly last Wednesday or Thursday. I'm so sad for her, her mom, her four siblings, and all of his grandchildren (especially my godchildren). I knew him as a kind and hardworking man who loved his family. I know they weren't ready for him to go and he will be dearly missed. I haven't seen him much in recent years but my sense is that he loved being a grandfather. Those kids are going to miss that. And so is my friend. (I'm so sorry, S. I wish I could be there for you this week.) My mom has offered to go to the memorial service to represent our family and I hope she can go. My going is unfortunately out of the question because it's out of state and I'm still grounded, travel-wise. Especially after the bleeding episode from Friday. I hate this because S. was there for me when my dad died and it meant so much.

On being hopeful

Hope is such a mysterious and sometimes elusive thing. Friday night I googled something about FET and one of the top FET links that came up was something from the blog of another CCRM patient. I clicked over there and was absolutely drawn in by her storytelling abilities. And she was so positive! Her FET was last October and it worked. It was her last chance and she transferred her very last embryo. And it worked! The great thing is, she was so, so hopeful and positive beforehand. She wasn't disappointed when she learned the outcome. Was her joy at the good news even more full because she'd already been in a positive place?

I thought about her positive energy several times yesterday, wishing I could be so positive. I don't know if I just don't have it in me at all or if I can't let myself go there because I've had too many disappointments to grieve over already (dad's brain injury and death 9 years later being the chief disappointment -- that absolutely changed my outlook on so many things, including my faith and my beliefs about how God works in our lives, answers prayers, etc.). I worked really, really hard after dad died to reclaim a positive and hopeful outlook on life. When I met my wonderful, sweet, funny husband and became part of his very cool family, hope was restored in a big way. Although my dad and four grandparents died within the span of 11 years and my own family was reduced to just a few special people, I was given a new family and learned that there's always an opportunity for renewal, one way or another.

But I still find it difficult to be super-positive and upbeat about the FET results that will be known on May 1.  My hope is laced with caution.

Perhaps I could decide now that it will be more fun to be hopeful and positive. I'll just throw my caution to the wind. The journey of the next few weeks would be much more fun and light-hearted, but if it doesn't work, will the disappointment be greater?

Lunchtime thoughts

What follows is a really long post, most of which I composed today at work over lunch. I finished it up tonight. It may seem disjointed, but what can I say?

*****

The snow has melted and all is back to normal in the ATL.

I am feeling a bit melancholy today -- okay, more than a bit melancholy or I wouldn’t be writing about it on my lunch hour -- but I’m not sure exactly why. It really started over the weekend. When I have a problem, I want to fix it -- so I hate feeling this way. “This way” being down without the ability to pinpoint the source of the feelings (and thus the ability to fix it, and fast).

Feeling melancholy -- even depressed -- is not an unfamiliar feeling, but it is one that hasn’t been present much in the past several years. Five years ago? That’s a different story. I was a total mess. Recently divorced, stuck in a relationship I had no business in (and afraid to get out), and grieving the sudden loss of my dad. It took hours and hours and hours of therapy and some wonderful friends and family members to get me through that.

Just thinking about those days in 2005 makes me think, “Everything’s fine!” because by comparison, it is -- without a doubt!

Last night I told DH that I’m feeling some post-retrieval depression. That could be the source of my feelings. The excitement of a new cycle has passed. To this point, all has worked beautifully, but I won’t know for sure for four or five weeks when we get the genetic test results on our six embryos. I think I’m feeling some impatience and some frustration at the fact that I still don’t know what my life is going to be like.

This very much ties in with my feelings about my job. I’ve been in the same job for more than seven years now and while I love what I do, I believe deeply in my organization’s mission (I work for a nonprofit), and it continues to offer opportunities for growth, I would be dishonest if I didn’t say I probably would have moved on if I didn’t have like 12 weeks of sick leave (maternity leave) built up. If I leave, I lose it. If I find a job at another nonprofit, it’s probably not going to have paid maternity leave as a benefit. So some days I feel stuck. It stinks because sometimes it causes me to  lose perspective on why I want to have a baby. Not that I would necessarily quit my job if I had a baby. I actually plan to stay and enjoy the fact that I know my job and my organization well, which would make the transition into motherhood a little bit easier, without the pressure of learning a new job and juggling the myriad feelings of being a new mom with a career she’s passionate about. I'm pretty sure I will seek out that next opportunity if we end up childless. (I actually have a Plan B that involves a new job, another degree, an impractical car with only two doors, but that’s for another post.)

*****

In other depressing news, I learned that another woman at church is pregnant. I was thinking yesterday afternoon how odd it is that someone’s good news has the potential to create such a problem for me. Why should her happiness and good fortune have any bearing on how I feel about my own life? Why should the fact that she is pregnant NOW make me feel like I need to be pregnant just as soon as possible so I can be happy for her? Why can’t I just be happy for her now? And truly, when I put it that way, I am. I certainly wouldn’t wish IF on her. If this is what she and her husband want, then that’s great. And I mean, of course that’s what they want. That’s what just about every reasonably responsible adult wants, isn’t it? That’s the way the universe works. That’s what people do. They meet, fall in love, commit to each other, and naturally want to start their own family.

Why can’t it work that way for me?

Asking why is something I haven’t spent a lot of time on, because I don’t expect to ever find an answer. My IF is unexplained, except for the fact that I’m 39 now. There’s my explanation.

I’ve actually spent lots of time asking why my dad, who suffered a brain injury in 1996 (14 years ago tomorrow, as a matter of fact) and never walked or talked again, didn’t improve much cognitively, functionally, emotionally, you name it -- despite having great medical care, good physical therapists, and the best full-time nurse in the world (my mom). I’ve also spent time wondering why he didn’t die in the car accident. He certainly would not have suffered like he did. His injury robbed him of his career, his hobbies, his plans for retirement, his ability to bathe and feed himself, his ability to communicate, his sex life…. And pretty much left him with a nightmare of a life. But what he did have was a wife and two children and extended family members and friends who were absolutely devastated by his losses. People who stayed by his side to love and encourage him -- the new him.

When he died in 2005, I grieved the loss of the dad I had for 25 years and the dad I had come to know for the last nine years of his life. At first, I wanted him back either way I could get him -- it didn’t matter if he could only communicate by giving me a thumbs up or thumbs down to my yes/no questions, it didn’t matter if he had no quality of life -- but eventually, I accepted that he was finally at peace and I had to let him go. It has taken me five years to be “okay” with his absence. This past holiday season was the first one since his death when I thought, “Okay, I can do this. It’s going to be okay.”

I think if I’m going to ask why, I should think about my dad some more. Or think about the senseless loss of the Olympian from Georgia, who immediately lost everything while doing what he loved. Or I should think about Haiti or Huntsville, Afghanistan and Iraq.

The world is so full of why.

*****

Writing this immediately made me feel better this afternoon. Not that I ended on a cheerful note. But it was just the therapeutic act of writing, of getting it all out, of acknowledging my sad, impatient feelings and voicing my questions. It made it all bearable and took away much of my melancholy feeling. It’s still there, but I stopped feeling it with such intensity.

And then, I got home tonight and checked the blogs that I follow and saw that AmyG gave me an award! That’s so cool! Thank you very much, AmyG. This means I now have an assignment, but it will have to be completed later this week. It's late! 

Six months

Well, it's been six months now since I started this blog. I was thinking I'd have some resolution to my infertility problems within six months. Unfortunately I underestimated the amount of time needed to sort things out.

We did get kicked out of the Attain program the other day. I wasn't surprised. It was all matter-of-fact when they called. The person I spoke with said they were discontinuing us because we didn't have a transfer.

Barring a miracle, it would seem that any child of mine is not going to be genetically linked to me. I've had almost two weeks to think about this, so I'm not all to pieces about it, but I am very sad. I always dreamed of having a little girl and naming her after me, my mom, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother. We all have the same first name and a different middle name. I go by my middle name and my mom goes by the first name. I guess I could name a little girl who's not genetically mine after four generations, but that seems like a stretch somehow.

Our options now are IVF with donor eggs and adoption. Both are extremely likely to result in a baby. I'm leaning toward adoption but my husband wants to take it slowly. I can understand that he doesn't want to give up the genetic link to his child. I am just tired, though. I've been feeling depressed and a little bit hopeless at moments. I am sick of doctors' appointments. I want to start running again. I don't know what to do. But I don't have to decide today, so that is the good thing. I just have to sit with this information and see if a course of action becomes apparent over the next several weeks.

Two strikes...

Today I learned that our second IVF attempt was unsuccessful. They did the egg retrieval yesterday and only got 3 eggs. I knew that wasn't good news and I wasn't surprised at all when the embryologist called this morning to let me know that none of them fertilized. This protocol my doc chose this time -- more agressive than the first attempt -- simply didn't work. We had good numbers of eggs but my estrogen and progesterone were all over the place. The E2 was only 600-something so it makes sense that we only got 3 eggs.

I don't understand why my eggs and his sperm just don't want to get together! We are crazy about each other, so what's the deal with our eggs and sperm?? Last time only 2 of 7 eggs fertilized.

I am really confused about what comes next. This cycle of treatment was really difficult -- lots of side effects to the meds I was on. Glucophage destroyed my appetite and gave me great aversions to foods I normally crave.

I am tempted to throw in the towel and get on with my life... But I'm afraid that one day I will regret not trying all 3 times. We have 3 times paid for with the Attain program we're on.

My life will be so different if we don't have children. I'll probably end up as an executive who spends too much time at work. The unknowns are actually greater with kids -- will I be a full-time stay at home mom? Will I work part-time? Will I find a way to balance working full-time and being a mom? Will I be able to keep advancing in my career and be a good mom?

When I put it like that, I prefer the unknown, with opportunities to have some variety in my life. Becoming an executive who spends too much time at work doesn't sound very appealing. Time will tell.

For now I will grieve the loss of this cycle.