I was going to write a nice post today, but instead I ended up getting sick. I have no idea what’s causing it… Maybe the progesterone? Maybe the milk I drank today? Maybe there is no cause? I was feeling queasy right from the get-go this morning… everything I went to eat suddenly made my stomach turn. And then around noon a full-blown upset stomach hit me. The kind that hurts and feels so uncomfortable you just want to puke – and I did, twice (make that three times). Something inside me is really really not happy. I’m trying to think about everything I ate today, but most of it I eat on a daily basis at work – it’s crap like Doritos, sure, but it didn’t make me sick last week. So WTF?

I came home and took a long nap, hoping I’d wake up and feel fine. I didn’t, and don’t. My belly is really swollen and I seriously feel like crying because the pain/pressure is just not going away. Pretty soon I’m just going to curl into a little ball.

Have no idea what this is, but it needs to GO AWAY.

Edit: I think I just threw up every single thing I not only ate today, but so much as contemplated eating. This has to be food-related… either the soup or the chocolate milk I had today. I’m voting for the chocolate milk… I thought it tasted a little off (but not overtly so). I won’t be drinking that anymore, I can say that much. I had an incident with it once before (but that one was very noticable and I tossed it!!). Once burned, twice shy; twice burned, paranoid as hell!

This should go away quickly, hopefully I’ll be feeling a ton better tomorrow. I’m also really relieved that this happened before transfer. I’d be freaking out it if happened next week!

Also, just a note: puking after having had a baby means you will probably pee at the same time. Glorious.

I am incredibly confused about the dates for this cycle. I have this whole spreadsheet, you see, for my cycles. I plug things in, it tells me everything I could possibly want to know about the cycle dates… date of ovulation (retrieval), transfer, beta, when I could get a positive HPT, due date… everything. All neat and tidy.

And now I’m freaking confused! I started protocol on a Sunday, which is fine. My ultrasound was today, a Saturday, day 14. I start my progesterone pills tonight, which obviously is mimicking what happens after ovulation… so is today “ovulation day”? And then my blast transfer is on Friday…. that’s 6 days after “ovulation”. Okay… but fresh transfers are done on day 5? Oh, but wait, they did culture the blasts an additional day before freezing. So that part at least makes sense. (But then this is a 6-day transfer, not a 5-day. That’s a little weird.)

So then they say they normally do blood tests 11 days after transfer… WTF that’s 17 days after “ovulation.” During stims cycles they do betas 14 days after retrieval, which would be 9 days after blast transfer. I don’t get that at ALL. Is there something special about FETs that take the embryos longer to implant and cause HCG? I have no clue when I can/should take a pregnancy test. (Which is important, since I’ll be in Canada and will not be getting a beta.)

And don’t even get me started trying to figure out what my due date may be. I know approximately when. But the calculators give different dates depending what I plug in.

FETs are confusing.

::

The appointment today started off with me checking in, as usual, and then I was sent off to get my blood drawn. I have to say, I really hate getting my blood drawn on the weekends. The ladies who work weekends seem to be the ones at the bottom of the totem pole… the less experienced ones. And I have tricky veins. So in went the needle into my “good” vein (yes, I have some that I will only let really really experienced ladies try), and…. nothing. It moved. Fucking hell. So she got to do that stabbing right and left thing trying to find it. It freaking hurts when they do that. Thankfully the blood started flowing just about as she was ready to give up (and, what, try a harder vein? Gaahhhh.). Thankfully at this point there doesn’t appear to be bruising, though I thought for sure there would be.

Then into the ultrasound. I have to say, my body knows when we go into an exam room and have to get undressed and sit waiting. Why? Because my stomach gets upset every time. And I don’t mean like anxiety knots. I mean like gas. It’s terrible! I just sit there hoping I keep it under control. My worst nightmare is farting while they’re doing the ultrasound. So far it hasn’t happened. But damn, why scare me?

The ultrasound itself was quick. The lining looked good at a triple layer 10. I’m getting good at reading ultrasounds (“good” being a relative term), I can see the uterus before they point it out now, and tell that it looks fine. I can also see the ovaries pretty easily too. My right one still seemed very long, which concerned me but not the tech… maybe that’s it’s normal shape? Little black circles throughout, the antral follicles. And one big round thing. The left ovary looked smaller and had nothing of interest in it but the antrals. For a few hours I was worrying about the thing in my right ovary. And then it hit me like a slap to the forehead: I’m halfway through a “normal” cycle, hormone-wise… it was the dominant follicle. DUH.

The nurse came in and told me she’s scheduled me for the 11:00 transfer on Friday. I already have the day off (nice thing about FETs!) – I took the whole day, just so I could do the bedrest thing.

So that’s that.

Every time I cycle I have looked to online support groups for girls cycling at the same time… in many ways it has been a comfort, a source of encouragement and community. IVF is such a weird thing, it’s kind of nice to be around others who understand all the jibber jabber – they understand just how devastating only 2 embryos is, while the rest of the world says, “… Is that good?”

But as my last negative was sinking in I avoided checking in with the group. I had this overwhelming feeling that I was going to be left behind while they all moved forward… that I was simply in a different time and space. That’s not what ended up happening, much to my surprize (the success rate was shockingly low for the group), but that feeling lingered.

So this time, especially since I’m not stimming, I’m not doing the group thing. I did poke around, but… I really don’t feel it. It’s a little strange to be flying solo… it feels a little lonely. But it’s also a bit of a relief, too – there’s no one else I need to worry about, no one else I need to support. No worrying about making new friends. There’s no comparing dates and numbers and symptoms. Maybe this is just better for me at this time.

This cycle feels like a ghost cycle in so many ways. I’ve gotten so used to doing full stims cycles. This is like… an alternate reality, a dreamland overtop of what’s real.

Tomorrow morning my first actual appointment of the cycle. Ultrasound and blood draw to make sure my body is ready to head into post-ovulation and transfer. A cycle without any kind of ovulation… how very strange.

So, yes… I go in Saturday for an ultrasound. I’m a little relieved and yet irritated by this. Relieved because I’ll know for sure that my lining is ready for an embryo. Irritated because now I’m thinking about it. I don’t want to think about it.

I know I keep saying this over and over again, but I just want to know. I want to know that somehow, someday, this is going to end well. As much as it makes statistical sense, as much as people tell me it will all work out… we just don’t really know until it happens. And that is simply the worst part. The waiting, without knowing the answer… without knowing how the story ends.

I can definitely tell you this is not how I saw my life. I can’t say I really had a plan, but I know this is certainly not what I ever envisioned… same with anyone who is going through IVF. It’s just not part of anyone’s vision. It’s a deviation, a delay.

But I also can’t say I entirely dislike it, either. There’s a part of me that really likes keeping track… the statistics, the knowledge, the weirdness of it all. I like educating people. I like researching. The shots and ultrasounds are certainly not such a big deal – not to start with, and not now. Like many things about my “new” life I just took them as they came, without really questioning, without really thinking about it. Like many things about this journey it’s taught me a thing or two about what I “can’t” do, what I “won’t” do. Your definitions change when it’s something you want so badly. Even surviving grief just becomes a part of you. You have no choice. It’s forward or backward, and in order to choose forward you must deal with what you’ve been given.

::

I keep saying to my therapist, I want to do something more. I want to help people. She suggested that maybe this blog is “my thing” – is my way of reaching out and helping. I’m always touched when someone reaches out to me, when someone thinks I would be a good person to lean on for a little while, to get answers and support from. I try, but there’s always a part of me that worries that I’m just too selfish, too wrapped up in my own shit. So when someone reaches out and says, “You seem like someone who would help,” I feel really good about myself. Maybe I’m doing something right. Maybe what I do means something after all.

This blog was started simply as my own thing… it was to track my progress for posterity. I gave the link to a couple of friends who I figured would want to know, but that was it. I had no big plans, and certainly had no idea where my life would take me. So now I’m always a little bit caught off-guard when I look at my stats and see the kind of numbers that I see. I am glad that people see something in my words that they can relate to. I am glad that people can walk away from my blog and think about life in general.

Maybe my therapist is right, maybe this is “my thing.” Even if I never do anything else, at least I’ve done this. But I still don’t feel like my work is done. I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I’m still looking for something to pull at me. There is something more I will do for people…. I just have to find it. Maybe this isn’t the right time, yet. Maybe I’m just not ready yet. Maybe I have to be on more solid ground before I can really start to help others.

I have a feeling that if I went through this entire blog and tagged all the angry posts there would be a whole lot of “anger.” Now I realize that the estrogen I am on is making me a little cranky. But I am in a PISSY ASS MOOD.

I finally got around to calling the nurses today. They wanted to go over the protocol with me when I got the instructions in the mail, but work has been… well, busy. And, you know, I was not obsessing. When I am not obsessing over something it tends to slip my mind. (To offset the obsessive personality, I also have a terrible memory. Unfortunately this kind of means I get extremes of one sort or the other.) But the instructions were pretty simple, I already know my transfer date, I’m taking the correct number of patches… I just wanted to see if they needed to see me for anything.

The first answer is: yes, they do need to see me for an ultrasound on Saturday morning to check my lining before starting me on progesterone and preparing for transfer. That’s fine.

Oh, and, they haven’t submitted to insurance yet, so they’ll start that today as “Urgent” and hope it gets processed in time.

I hung up after listening to the message and basically said, “$$#@%@%@!!” You have got to be KIDDING me. I know they were expecting me to call last week to go over protocol, but they knew I was doing the FET!

Know what I’m most pissed about, though? The one thing that has me nearly in tears of frustration? That I was trying to – and succeeding! – not stress. To take it nice and easy, not think about it, it was going to be nice and simple and problem-free. And I get kicked in the ass. In a way it feels like this is a punishment from the universe for daring to stop worrying and not stay on top of things.

Will this likely all work itself out? Yes, probably. If they could pull off the December cycle, then chances are this one will work out too. But it’s not a given. Nothing is a given. And it infuriates me when I keep being reminded of that fact – as if I don’t already know? Can’t I just rest in naive bliss for a couple of damn weeks and pretend that this process is easy?

The other part of the conversation today revolved around progesterone. The nurse mentioned that normally their protocol is IM progesterone for FETs… but at the same time she said it was up to me, whatever I was more comfortable with. That was rather confusing to me and Den. So I called back to get some feel for why they prescribe PIO for FETs but not for stims cycles. The answer was basically that they do it “Just in case,” but have no data to suggest it works better. Plus add in the fact that I’m going away for two weeks, half of which is not going to be with Den, my injection-giver, and I’ll be doing prometrium again.

Today on one of my forums the question was asked of the group what cycle day we were on. And I said, ummmmm… the first half… somewhere. Maybe day 10? I had no clue. And I really didn’t want to look it up either. I kind of like not knowing. I know what I have to do tomorrow and the day after that… and, yes, I know what day transfer will be on (assuming all goes as planned – not exactly putting all my cards down yet)… but past that? Eh. I take it week by week.

So it was a bit of a shock when I looked at my calendar and realized my transfer is NEXT WEEK. Yes. Seriously. WTF. And then I started getting twitchy and I’m trying hard to return to not thinking about it. Because, really, there’s no point in thinking about it. And besides, I have so much to do before my [very very needed] vacation (which starts three days after transfer).

::

I’m not sure I can even describe what kind of mental space I’m in. I’m bitter and hurting, I can tell you that. Not crying kind of hurting, just moody, grouchy. Just ask Den, he can tell you.

I crave contact with people, but at the same time I’m intentionally isolating myself. It appears to be one of those online baby booms, and I really really thought I’d be a part of this one, this time. So every time I log on to my various forums it’s with some measure of trepidation. It’s not that I’m angry at those who are pregnant – far from it. But every time I read some kind of congratulations or pregancy or birth anything I get all hung up on how that’s supposed to be ME right now, goddamnit. I’m angry at the unfairness of it all.

I know this is just temporary. I know it’ll get better once I regain my composure, regain my hope. It’s not like I’ve given up or anything. I’m just in a pissy mood, that’s all. I even tried reconnecting with an old hobby, and that pissed me off too.

I think right now I just can’t win. So I focus on my daily to-do list (that has NOTHING to do with babies) and my work and keep trudging forward with my head down. I figure I can just walk into my transfer like a pole I didn’t see coming… it could hurt just the same, but at least I won’t see it coming, and so won’t have time to panic.

First of all, part of the whole money/economic thing was explained to me by my husband: it never really existed in the first place. I really don’t understand stocks any more than I used to, but it all just seems like make-believe to me. Make-believe that can have horrific consequences for the rest of us who live in real money we actually want to spend.

Second of all, AIG?? O.M.F.G. You have got to be KIDDING me. Those fucking ASSHOLES. I am so freaking inflamed my head may burst really soon. How fucking arrogant do you have to be to go on a huge executive spa resort with the first bailout money, get totally blasted for it, and then give bonuses to the assholes who fucked up in the first place?! I am simply gobsmacked. I hope like hell someone finds a way to throw them in jail.

We were listening to a piece on NPR this morning about the homeless city of tents on the bank of a river in Sacramento. It has always been there, but in the past year has grown significantly. Most of these people had homes, cars, jobs… you know, were “normal.” They weren’t poor, they weren’t homeless. But then they lost their jobs and couldn’t find a new one. They lost their houses, their cars. Now they’re living in a tent on the bank of a river with a bunch of other homeless. And the Mayor? The Mayor said some words about how he has compassion, etc etc, but then said, “But eventually we must adopt a zero tolerance policy.” Excuse me? Zero tolerance for being homeless? Or zero tolerance for being homeless and very visible and drawing national attention to your city? Maybe what he means and what I heard were totally different things, but my kneejerk reaction was, “Fuck you.”

It makes me very sad and very frustrated when I hear people saying about how we need to go into [insert country here] to overthrow the evil government there and free the people there, or how we need to take in immigrants from countries that are far worse off than our own (and I say that as an immigrant to the U.S.). I realize it’s a very noble thought, and if we had the resources and ability I would love to help everyone in the world who needed our help. But how can we be so concerned about people in other countries when our own is in such dire straights? Yes, it’s selfish. But damnit, our own citizens are suffering. We haven’t even figured out how to make sure all our residents are fed and housed and have medical care. How freaking sad is that. How can we be so rich, and yet so very poor?

It is very weird to think about how we are currently living in a recession. You hear stories of how things once were and it just sounds so different than this. People are still buying groceries and going out on dates and having babies and most of the normal things people do. Especially here in western Mass – there are definite effects of the recession, but it’s not quite as obvious for us here as it is elsewhere in the country. But in someways you just think… I thought it would look or feel different. Instead it just feels like… life. Like during infertility or grief, a concept that before seemed so foreign and “different,” and suddenly one day you’re in the middle of it and you’re still staring at the same ceiling, laying in the same bed, wondering how on earth life could be the same and yet so very different.

It is hard to watch the new president – no, it’s hard to watch the comments and criticisms. I think some people expected Obama to come in and solve all the country’s problems, and I feel like that is just so unfair. I do wonder about a lot of his decisions – the bailouts and spending. Is it right? I don’t know, I’m no economist. But I know one thing for sure: it’s not going to magically fix everything. Nothing will. There is no magic reset button to reset all the damage that has already been done. Sometimes I think maybe this is just part of the economic life cycle… that there will be periodic crashes, just as there will be periods of great prosperity.

The one thing that really boggles my mind is wondering where does the money go?? I admit, I know very little about stock markets and economics. I am really struggling with this concept of disappearing money. Apparently right now no one has any. The companies aren’t making money, so they’re laying off people, who therefore don’t have money to spend, and they’re not making much so the government isn’t getting as much in taxes, so they are laying off government workers and teachers to try to cut their budgets to match their income… and so on and so forth. It’s a horribly frustrating cycle. And yet a couple of years ago everyone had money, no one was getting laid off. So where did it all go?? “Money” has become this etherial concept. Even though I work with money every single day, in my hands, constantly being balanced. Every penny is accounted for, in and out. So yes, this idea of disappearing money just boggles my mind.

I never could quite understand the concept of unemployment. I mean, I do in the macro sense: there aren’t enough jobs, so people are unemployed. I get that. But… see, here’s the thing…. not having enough jobs should be a GOOD thing. It should mean that we have to work less hard to get all the things we need. It means that we, as a society, have less work to do. To me that means we should have to work less, and have more time off, and have all the same things! But obviously that’s not how it works in this world. Somehow, even though us humans as a society have made everything easier to accomplish, we individually work harder than we used to, and let a huge percentage of our population have nothing. I just don’t get it. I guess I just figure we should share more. On one hand I totally understand wanting to be rewarded for hard work, and I understand that some people do abuse anything they are given. But on the other… I absolutely hate seeing multi-billionaires with more money than we could ever dream of while families go hungry. I just can’t comprehend that such a successful country fails on such a basic level as keeping its citizens clothed and fed.

We are lucky, Den works for the military and has a very secure job. Mine less so, but mine don’t really matter – other than the health insurance, if I lose that it’s a problem. So we’re kind of outsiders… we see what’s going on all around us, but our lives are probably not going to be too directly affected. I guess it’s one break we’ve been given in this shitty time.

In some ways I feel a little strange trying to have a baby when things are so rough in the world right now. But I know we will never be able to promise our children a perfect life without struggles and hardships. I know, better than most, that life is simply what you get, and that you have to make the most of it. But still, it feels odd. Will my child someday say, “I was born in the midst of the worst recession in decades”? Will it even matter?

I know I’m still on estrogen, so maybe that’s why everything is still all weird. Maybe my sense of smell has evolved. Maybe my body chemistry has changed from the pregnancy. All I know is that I take a shower every morning, I have not been running or exercising (oops), but by the time I go to bed I just keep wrinkling my nose at that smell. And don’t even make me go there after I wake up from night sweats (which I have also been having with some frequency). I clamp the blankets down around my shoulders and do not, under any circumstances, lift them.

But then, maybe it’s not me – or rather, not that my body scent is stronger. I’m still really noticing other smells as well. Dealing with customers… well, you know how it is. But it’s other things too… the smell of dog, the smell of garbage. I’m being assaulted with stinky things.

The smells thing is not new to this cycle, it’s been ongoing, but some other things are. I mentioned the strange bowel pains I was having after transfer, I attributed that to the bloating and such. Well, it’s still happening. I’m getting frustrated, because everything should be back to “normal” by now. Granted it’s not quite the same kind of discomfort as it was with all the bloating, this feels more like gas pain. When it happens, though, it doesn’t rightly matter what it is, it just hurts. Sharp little stabby pains through my tailbone. I’m at a loss. What the heck is different now than before a month ago? The only thing I can think of are the iron pills – I bought a different brand. And I know iron can cause upset stomachs, but sharp gas bubbles? And it’s not like I’ve been taking them consistently, anyways. When I don’t take them I definitely notice a difference in my body temperature… but no difference in the gas bubbly pain.

::

I am feeling a lot of relief that the last cycle is over. In many ways just getting an answer – though it was the wrong one – at least was an answer. It let me breathe again. I’m either pregnant or not pregnant, and I can deal with either of those… but the in-between not-knowing is just plain aweful.

There are a lot of things to enjoy about the first half of a cycle, when I don’t have to worry about the embryo-that-may-become-a-fetus:
* I can drink alchohol when I’ve had a bad day… or when I just really want one
* I can eat whatever I want without worrying about listeria or toxoplasmosis or whateverthefuck
* I can bump into things or squash my stomach against a counter without worrying for the next hour
* I can bounce and run and ride rollercoasters (okay, so they’re still closed – but I could)
* I can lose weight without worrying that I’m not eating enough nutrients

Basically, I can just live my life without over-analysing every single moment for how it may affect implantation and a possible baby. And I know that normal people don’t spend their “pre-pregnancy” weeks over-analysing and worrying. But we’re far beyond being normal people in this. We have seen too much, had too much happen to us, to blithely believe that things will just work out without some help. I think there will always be the fear that something we did or didn’t do somehow affected the outcome. And it’s not that I want to live my life being paranoid – but I guess it’s the “better safe than sorry” mentality. I would like to avoid all possibility of giving myself something to feel guilty about. If I lived my life as best I could, followed all the rules, then at least I know I gave it my best shot. At least I know it wasn’t anything I did.

I am really tired of all of this, but I know I can’t take time off. It is extremely frustrating to me that my entire life has been taken up with this. For years. And it will probably be another several years. We’ll keep doing IVF until I get pregnant, then I’ll be pregnant, then I’ll be nursing, and then we will want to get pregnant again somehow as soon as my body is ready. Is that ideal for my body? No. I recognize that. But I also recognize the fact that my husband is going to be 43 this month. Whatever children we want to have will need to come in the next 5 years or they will probably not come at all… we want to raise our children, help put them through college… and, you know, someday my husband would like to actually retire. At least the pregnancy part is enjoyable for me… I definitely have that to look forward to.

I just feel so jealous of people who can just decide when to get pregnant. They get breaks. They go from “not at all pregnant” to “pregnant.” There is that clean line for them, it’s easy. For me, for the rest of us… we’re stuck in between. Every month we might be. And every month that we’re not it just drags out longer, until you’re years down the road and you don’t even remember what being “not pregnant” even feels like anymore. Yes, these two (three) weeks are a bit of a relief, indeed.

I haven’t been posting much because I’ve been so damn tired. I ended up taking a nearly 4 hour nap with the kitties today. It just feels so very comforting to fall asleep next to your hubby, two kitties, and two dogs (though the dogs were kind of confused about why were falling asleep and couldn’t we pay attention to them now?). I said to Den, “Our house is never short on love.” And it’s true.

I am continuing the FET protocol – I just got the full instructions in the mail. I put on 2 patches tomorrow instead of the one I’ve been doing. Ooooo. 2 patches! Not sure I can handle this. Ahaha. I love FETs. It’s a damn vacation, is what it is.

But then Den asked me today out of the blue, “So… is it possible that they go to un-freeze the embryos and we walk in there and they say they didn’t make it?” Not sugarcoating anything I just said “Yep.” We sat in silence for a minute and then he pointed out, “We can never relax during any of this, ever, can we.” No… no we can’t. That is so sad. But I like to try to not worry about things like that.

2 weeks to transfer. In a normal cycle I’d be starting stims now. Instead I think I’m just going to go back to sleep.