burnt toast life

“no, not yet.”

People keep texting me.

“Any news? Any Molly? Anything happening???”

And…no.

I know they’re all just excited. But technically, we haven’t even hit DD yet. I’m a wee bit disappointed because as I think I’ve mentioned, I really liked the idea of Father’s Day. All of the girls in my family are born on Sundays, so it will be weird if she comes on a different day. But maybe it’ll just be the start of a new tradition.

On Friday morning at my weekly checkup, my blood pressure was high. This has kind of been the trend – the nurse takes it when I first get there, it’s pretty high, then the doctor comes in a few minutes later and takes it again. For whatever reason it usually goes down in that amount of time and they just caution me about preeclampsia warning signs and confirm that I don’t have any. This time, however, the numbers were high enough (though she didn’t tell me exactly what or I forgot) that I got sent over to the hospital for monitoring and blood work.

It felt like things were happening because I was going to the hospital. I got checked into triage on the labor and delivery floor, I got to wear the fun fetal heart rate monitor and listen to my little love chugging away in there. I put everyone on alert. It was Friday the 13th. It was a full moon. Mercury was in retrograde (I have no idea what that means). Oh, and my house was a mess, there were dishes in the sink, and I hadn’t shaved my legs. I had prepared to go to work for the day, not go have a baby. It seemed like this would definitely be it.

Nope! Eric left work early and was literally on his way to the hospital when they cut me loose, with a BP of 118/79. I don’t know why it fluctuates so wildly, but it’s very annoying. So I missed day of work for nothing (and they’re probably going to be confused to see me tomorrow). I guess it was kind of good – Eric went to some beer festival yesterday, and since he had pre-purchased his tickets at least those didn’t go to waste. My mom and I went to an outlet mall and walked around for a few hours, trying to coax her out. I debated the merits of castor oil (though ultimately decided against it).

So that’s really it… nothing to report. Still only 1/2 cm dilated. No cramps. No contractions. Lotssss of movement and discomfort – it feels like my stomach is a giant balloon that’s about to burst, and it’s just very crammed in there. Like I ate a huge meal or something, but a thousand times worse than that. It’s not the heat that’s bothering me. It’s this huge belly that’s more uncomfortable than anything. Also, the disappointment of having nothing to report every time someone asks.

I talked it over Friday with my OB/GYN and we agreed to schedule induction for Monday, June 23rd, so we’d go to the hospital next Sunday night on June 22nd. It makes me feel better to have an end in sight (It’s ridiculous, but part of me feels like I’m just going to be pregnant forever). So no matter what, by this time next week, we will be on our way. My whole family, including my mom who is a required attendant at the blessed event, is going camping next weekend. That’s why I just assume I’ll start labor on my own on Saturday night, when it’s highly inconvenient for her. She’s only going an hour away, so she’ll make it in time, but still I would essentially be ruining her camping trip. Oh, well.

I have a list of things to add last minute to my hospital bag, and my laptop is on there! I promise to do a quick update once she makes her big debut.

Maybe she just really wants to be a Cancer and not a Gemini. Maybe she’s waiting for summer. I don’t know! I’m just very impatient and very excited and very, very nervous.

commencing countdown, engines on

Anyone going through infertility knows that waiting is a huge part of the process. We’re always waiting for something – appointments, AF, ovulation day… you get the picture. I’m not sure if the constant waiting leads to inevitable impatience or if I’m just an impatient person stuck in a long process. All I know is that I despise all the waiting (as I’ve mentioned a hundred times before. Sorry.)

Tomorrow marks 6 weeks since the D&C. It’s been a lifetime and it’s gone by in the blink of an eye. By that I mean it feels like the tragedy is still fresh, but it also feels like eternity waiting to move on to next steps. Infertility makes you feel empty; hollow; barren. Miscarriage, as I’m sure some of you may know, defies explanation. It is the exponential version of all those words. It is more extreme than language can express.

After my miscarriage, I just wanted to be pregnant again. People cautioned against rushing things and mentally replacing the babies I had lost with a new pregnancy. It’s a tough thing. It’s tough to know when you’re “done” mourning since I don’t think you’re ever really over it. Every day just gets a little easier.

The good news is that my wait is officially over. I went for my Day 3 baseline testing yesterday. Dr. Z, who has the most abrupt bedside manner I have ever encountered in the medical field, burst into my ultrasound without knocking and barked out instructions in broken English, “You come back in 2 weeks, yes? Two weeks today. That Wednesday. We do natural cycle transfer.” He never even looked at me (which was OK, because my legs were up in stirrups at that point), just furrowed his brow and stared at my chart before rushing out again. The tech was even chuckling to herself at how he handled it. I mean, it was funny, and also a relief. I didn’t have to wait for the phone call confirming my levels were normal or abnormal. I didn’t have to sit down and justify myself to anyone, or plead my case to do the transfer this month.

I’m not sure why I assumed I would have to explain myself, but I spent the past few days preparing myself to do it. I pictured the New Hope people sitting me down and demanding to know why this happened and what I was going to do to prevent it from happening again. Turns out they’re just as eager to get me pregnant again as I am to be pregnant again. Is it because of the trial? Is it because they want as many live births to report as they can get? Probably. But that’s OK by me. I don’t need them to care about me and my life on a personal level; I’ll take a brusque bedside manner and good success rates any day.

So we’re good to go for round two. I’m happy that I don’t have to wait. I did get the call eventually and my levels are in range. My HCG is still 8 (down from 33 two weeks ago) but they did not seem to care about that. It’s low enough that we can move forward. I didn’t have to defend myself, I didn’t have to beg and plead and no one barred the doors or changed the number. It’s just like riding a bike, people… it’s just like riding a bike.

back in the saddle

Greetings, my friends, and thank you all for doing your best AF-fairy dances! By this morning I was MOODY. I was irritable; I was pissed off. For those of you afflicted by long/abnormal cycles: I finally have a tiny bit of insight as to how you feel. I am so, so sorry that anyone should have to suffer through waiting for a period that just won’t come. Ugh! The good news is that AF did not come on Friday or Sunday and I had a fabulous time at my Color Me Rad 5K. I even ran for about 35% of it, which is particularly amazing considering that I did not train for one minute and had planned on power walking the whole thing. And then today, just when I thought I would die from waiting another minute, I got my period. *cue huge sigh of relief*

shoes are ruined (worth it)

shoes are ruined (worth it)


I walked immediately from the ladies room to a quiet place to call New Hope. My stomach was in my throat, terrified they would tell me to not bother coming in until next month. Thankfully, the receptionist did tell me to come in Wednesday for Day 3 baseline, but I’m not 100% sure she knew my whole story. Not that I care. At least going in will make me feel like I’m still part of the show, and I can ask to speak with Dr. L plus give her all the paperwork from my OB/GYN. I feel the need to see the inside of the office just to prove I still belong there. It probably sounds odd, but again, not being a paying customer makes me very, very nervous that the gravy train will stop at any moment.

So that’s where I am, back at square one but also excited to get started again. And here’s where I need an opinion or two. I have the prescription to get the clotting disorder tests, but from everything I’ve read it looks like I’ll be giving anywhere from 21 to 678 vials of blood for them. Typically these tests aren’t really ordered until you’ve had multiple losses (does it count that I had two at once?) but my OB/GYN seemed fine with ordering them. I’m just sort of hesitant. On one hand, that’s A LOT of blood. On the other, maybe I should rule out clotting disorders, just to be safe. I just really don’t think that was the problem. These issues are more often than not genetic, and none of the disorders run in my family. My mom tested negative for all of them. I know I’m a different person, but physically, I’m so much like her… I’m torn. I will talk to Dr. L about it since she suggested getting them on that dreaded day which shall not be mentioned, but I don’t know how adamant she was. Obviously the last thing I want is to have another miscarriage. Blah, I don’t know. Should I get them, or should I wait?

birddietIn related news, my diet is going… OK. Let’s just say I’m fully aware that I’m not actually pregnant right now, so the Life or Death thing doesn’t fully ring true. It’s a tough way to eat, especially on weekends, at parties, at home, at work, in the evening… yeah, it’s not easy any time. It’s very difficult to be good. And what makes it worse is that my stomach isn’t fully at peace yet, even with all the changes I’ve made. Bananas are supposed to be on the “fructose acceptable” list, but I found out that my body does not like bananas, not one bit. Eliminating so many foods makes it 100 times easier to determine what’s bothering me, which is nice. But I still have not figured it out completely. Every day I allow myself fewer and fewer different foods, hoping I will feel settled. It’s just so frustrating and now that I have a potential timeline, I feel like I really need to figure it out, and quickly. That means no more justifying Thin Mints on Sunday nights (though I have to say, they don’t even taste as good anymore. Such a disappointment).

That’s all for now. Getting back on track for arm pricking, attempting to get on track for dieting and trying to talk myself into giving up 678 vials of blood. No big deal.

I wish I had more interesting things to say, or even a clever title for this post

I think this is a common problem over here in infertility blog-ville. When we’re not doing anything fertility related, it’s easy to run out of things to talk about. But then I wonder – is my infertility the only thing I have worth discussing? No. But at the same time, I lose momentum when there’s nothing going on, uterus-wise. I could have posted three times a day in April, but now it’s like my words have run dry.

Sunday came and went and I’m still waiting on Auntie Flo. It’s so frustrating! Here’s the worst part: if she comes on Friday, the clinic will want to see me Sunday (IF they want to monitor this cycle), which is the day I’ve signed up to run the Color Me Rad 5K with my friends/coworkers. I am absolutely not missing that, the race starts at 9 am (but we’re meeting for mimosas at 7 am…), and the clinic is two hours away. So what to do?!! Of course, I don’t know if she’s actually coming on Friday… or anytime soon… I’m hungry as hell and my boobs are porn star huge, plus I’ve been bitchy and cranky all week, so I’m hoping that’s hormones doing their thang. Murphy’s Law says she’ll show up on Friday, of course. I’m ready to get this show on the road. Really, really ready. (Just not on Friday.)

So not missing out on this!

So not missing out on this!

It sounds like everyone had surprisingly benign Mother’s Days, and for that I am thankful. It’s probably a good thing that we get ourselves all worked up, because that makes the reality much less intense, I’m sure. I went to Eric’s niece’s first birthday party on Saturday and I have to say I handled it amazingly well. There was a horrible moment when one of my sister-in-law’s friends (who I don’t know very well) said to me, “So how are you doing? How’s everything going?” or something like that, but just in the way she said it or maybe in my delusional mind it just sounded this way, I thought she thought I was still pregnant. I felt my blood run cold and I just started shaking my head, stammering, “It’s not… I’m not…” until she followed up with “When can you try again?” It was such a relief to realize that I didn’t have to explain that I was no longer pregnant, especially in full earshot of a whole bunch of people.

I did not have a mental breakdown on Sunday, just a nice brunch with my family and then a little bit of yard work with the hubs. It was funny, some people made a point of saying a vehement Happy Mother’s Day to me while others avoided it completely. It really doesn’t matter. I am/was a mother and hopefully by next year I can be one in the eyes of the public.

That’s it, just a little boring update to let you know I’m still alive. It seems like either everything happens all at once or nothing happens at all. Oh, and if you could all do an AF-fairy dance for me to bring on the bleeding, I’d be much obliged. I’ve run out of patience and clearly I’ve run out of blogging fodder. I need the madness to commence!

waiting (sucks)

I hate waiting. I hate it, but I’m getting better at it.

We’re coming up on 3 years of TTC (mom – that stands for “trying to conceive”). My TTC anniversary is easy to remember; it’s the same as my wedding day. We started actively trying to start our family that very night and have been ever since. I’m grateful for the successes we’ve had, but the subsequent failures pushed us further into the year. Every day that I do nothing fertility-related feels like an eternity. I’m so flippin’ sick of waiting.

Right now I’m waiting for AF to show. I finally feel “normal” again – my stomach shrank back to normal size, mysterious cramps stopped, incessant m/c bleeding slowed to nothing. Now I feel like I’m in limbo. Just like before the egg retrieval, rather than dreading AF’s arrival, I’m eagerly awaiting it. If Good Ole Auntie Flo really does come one month after the D&C, that would mean she’d arrive right on Mother’s Day. You’d think that’d be upsetting, an infertile getting her period on such a day, but for me it would be a huge relief. For once, getting my period means that everything in my body is on track. It’s certainly a strange feeling.

For some reason, Mother’s Day does not decimate my emotional stability. I’ve been able to handle it very well these past two years, so I don’t anticipate there being a huge problem. Then again… talk to me when I’m cramping and bleeding while happy moms in church cuddle their newborns. Then I might be singing a different tune. But as of this moment, I’m not dreading it. I think it’s because I’ve always associated it with my mom and not myself, so I still think of it that way. But this is my first MD post-loss, so who knows… maybe a mental breakdown is just lying in wait for me. I guess we shall see on Sunday.

It’s only been just over a month, but I feel like I haven’t been to the RE in ages. For some inexplicable reason, I imagine myself calling them up only to find the number disconnected, or arriving at a completely revamped office and being treated like I’d never been there at all. Like I didn’t experience my greatest joys and my lowest lows within the confines of those office walls.

I know I’m being quite dramatic. I think the difference between being a paying customer vs. a clinical trial patient is that it’s always seemed too good to be true. I keep waiting for someone to realize that they’ve accidently given me $20,000 worth of medical procedures for free and send me a bill or lock the doors or something. I remember feeling relieved after we found out the procedure worked, thinking there was nothing they could do to take it back if they changed their minds. Now once again, I’m at their mercy. There’s small comfort in knowing that at least we have the embryos created and frozen, but if I had a nickel for every time I felt a shiver of panic imagining a fire/mix-up/catastrophe in the lab and losing those little snow babies… well, I’d have a whole bunch of nickels.

My impatience isn’t entirely unjustified. The deal with this clinical trial is that they’ll try to get you pregnant for six months or until they run out of embryos, whichever comes first. I don’t know when they start counting from (again, questions that I only think to ask in retrospect), but I started my IVF protocol on December 31st. If we start counting from then… June is it. The end. Finito. How strict are they on the six month thing? Again, not a clue. The doctor certainly didn’t mention it at that fateful ultrasound, and made it sound like we could definitely try again. But what if it takes two months to get my period? What if they try again and I don’t get pregnant? What if this happens all over again and we lose the pregnancy? I could sit here and “What if?” all day long.

I’m definitely making a bigger deal out of all this than they do at the RE. I’m sure as far as cases go, I’m one of the less tragic/complicated, I’m sure. I also doubt someone is sitting there with a calendar, just waiting for me to hit the six month mark so they can boot me out of the trial. But I still have to worry (because it’s ingrained, that’s why). I’ve intentionally avoided calling or emailing anyone from the clinic – first, because what the hell would I say (“Hey it’s me, still no period, just making sure you still have your phone connected, K thanks bye!”) and second, because I don’t want to hear any bad news. My imagination has been working hard enough to come up with worst-case scenarios, I don’t need any reality to add to them.

On a totally unrelated note, did anyone else go see Gatsby yet? I agree with most of the reviews, and I believe this one sums up my feelings most accurately, but may I just say: Leonardo DiCaprio is so talented. Without him I may have despised the movie, but with him I give it a solid B+ for effort. It makes me want to dust off my copy of Romeo + Juliet, bust out some old Teen Beat posters of Leo and relive a little bit of teenage angst.