28

I turned 28 yesterday. I never in a million years would have believed that I would have celebrated my 28th birthday and not be a mother too -- let alone have never been pregnant. In my plan, I was going to have my first at 26 followed by my second at 28. In fact, I started trying right before my 26th birthday. And if I could have looked into a crystal ball and seen me two years later -- right now -- and have seen all that I was going to go through, I wonder what I would have thought. That's why I'm glad I don't have a crystal ball. I think God gives me just enough light and strength to take my next step, because I couldn't have handled knowing what was in store all at once. Alas, I still have the hope inside that maybe, just maybe it'll be different next year.

Despite all this, it's really only a small part of who I am. Infertility is not my identity. I am so thankful for my 28 years and all that I have experienced and who I am today. I live a rich, full life with lots of love and laughter.

So, in light of my 28th birthday, I thought I'd list 28 things I am thankful for!

In no particular order:

1. A job I love
2. Living in the South
3. Autumn
4. My dogs and their unconditional love
5. A husband that loves me
6. A warm home
7. Being able to laugh with friends who "get it"
8. 2 paid for cars
9. Health
10.Hugs
11.That life is characterized by seasons
12.My church
13.Hope
14.A faith that I can cling to
15.My siblings
16.7 years of marriage with no kids
17.The memories I have of traveling with my husband
18.The sunset on Anna Maria Island, FL
19.That there is always tomorrow
20.Friends
21.A comfy bed to lay my head down on each night
22.Laughter
23.Scrapbooks
24.Peace in the midst of storms
25.Going to Disney
26.Josh's mom and dad
27.Prayer
28.More hope

Peace and Rest

My husband and I raised two orphaned baby squirrels until they were ready to go back out into nature last spring and recently he sent me this picture we took with the message, "This is what I want for you...peace and rest."

This is what I wish for all of us on this journey.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

My period started again on cd 18 of my cycle. That and the pain I had on my right side near my nearly overstimulated right ovary clued me in that I probably had another gigantic cyst. And I do. The best news? I paid for it! Ha! (Another lingering reminder of Follistim -- the gift that just keeps giving.)

Anyway, I had to go in for a cyst check today, and they found one indeed -- 4.5 cm on the right side. I hate that I know my body so well. I hate it. I feel so betrayed by it, yet I'm intensely attuned to it. As I walked out of the ultrasound room, the good old doc was standing there and said, "Hey, B!" Boy, it's sad that he knows my name that well.

He came in the room and was upbeat with my case today (Dr. Jekyll?), I think mainly because we weren't talking about me carrying a baby, but about getting pregnant. Those are two completely different things in his mind I think. I asked him if he had completely ruled out natural conception in my case, and he replied with a resounding "no". He explained there are some that he sees where the prognosis is not good but that he's never felt that way about me -- that it's just a lot tougher to get there. He's said the same thing before -- but only when we're talking conceiving. Whatever. I'll take it.

So, we have to check on the cyst next cycle. Hopefully by that time, I'll also be used to the glucophage. It's made me somewhat sick. "Let's only do glucophage for 6 months. We'll need to try something different if that doesn't work. We don't want to do gonadotrophins on you again though. We know that those are very powerful in you and dangerous too." Ya think?

And now I'll leave you with this...

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.
I have longed and waited.
I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.
I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.
I have succeeded.
I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes I will be a wonderful mother.

~Author Unknown

My Money's Worth

I didn't receive any new news or shocking revelations yesterday at the appointment with the doctor. He still holds true to wanting me to pursue a gestational carrier and do IVF. He's wanted me to do this since day one.

He pulled out the scary statistics once again (thankfully, he has them secured in my chart so he can conveniently flip to them should I get too hopeful and he feel the need to reign me in) -- a 30% live birth rate from some study in 2005 and then some seven-year-old, outdated study from Finland where they studied a whopping 8 people and only got a 5% live birth rate. To his defense, he didn't put much stock in the Finnish study -- something about low pregnancy rates and them drinking a lot of vodka over there anyway. But I digress.

When we first walked in, we sat down and I pulled out my notebook full of questions and after some small talk, I fired away. One after another after another. Let's just say I got my money's worth. My husband was mortified after about 45 minutes of it, but I was paying him for every minute he sat there, and after everything I've been through, what happened with my last cycle and the money I've spent at that place, I deserved to have every question answered. And I didn't feel one bit bad about it.

My first question? What happened with my last cycle. "You have a hair-trigger ovary. They were slow to respond at first because of the PCOS, so we kept the dosage higher, but then they took off and we couldn't reign them back in. You'll make a lot of eggs for IVF and your ovaries are good, it's the PCOS that makes ovulation induction hard." At that explanation, I was good to move on. It's in the past now.

We talked about the UU at length again. I asked him about why he thought the tube was bad. He said there's no way to tell, but that because the uterus forms from the fallopian tubes and the fact that my uterus is malformed and is a birth defect makes them suspect something is also wrong with the tube.

I decided to go on glucophage to help me ovulate, so we talked about that and then after a while he stopped me and brought me back to the IVF and GC as to what he believed should be my main focus. I thanked him and he gave me a BBT chart and told me how to use it to track ovulation while on glucophage. Yeah, I think I know how to use one of those by now considering I AM AT A FERTILITY CLINIC NOW AND ALL, but thanks. I used those back when TTC was fun.

Aside from all of this, the RE is such a darn nice guy. I must say I appreciate him not wanting me to have a loss and seeming to look out for our best interests. I just don't want to hear it. I admit it. "You're not here for a pregnancy. You are here because you want a baby to hold in your arms at the end of it." I know. But I want both.

After promising to fax my charts to him and come in for an ultrasound with my next period to check on cysts, I gave my nurse a hug and we left.

Immediately after, we went to eat at a very well-known fast food restaurant here in the South and as we were sitting there, I just had the strangest feeling that he was going to walk in there. Guess what? Yeah, he did. He came over and we talked about his addiction to said place's chicken sandwiches. Can you say, awkward? We went from talking about my "birth defect" uterus to chicken sandwiches in under an hour flat.

Good stuff.

Well, that's it. We aren't sure what we are going to do next and don't feel the need to know right now, but taking a break, living life and letting God be God sounds pretty good to me right now. I must admit, I am so relieved.

A Respite

Well, tomorrow is our final appointment with the clinic for a while. It's such a strange feeling. I am excited to be through with going there all the time and being poked and prodded. I'm glad I won't be on the constant emotional roller coaster you stay on when in the midst of treatment -- wondering how many follicles I will have or won't have, stressing about them growing or not growing, hoping they are on my "good" side, stressing whether my husband will be in town for the IUI, etc. I'm also looking forward to people not asking all the time about what's going on and knowing the details of my private life. I am looking forward, in that sense, to fading into oblivion again -- just like everyone else. Oh, for one day for someone not to ask about my infertility. Believe it or not, there is more to me than that. Infertility is NOT my identity.

While I'm glad for a respite from all of this for a while, I'm also sad. I have to admit I like knowing what side I'm going to ovulate from and when. I like that my cycle has been monitored so that I know what is going on at any given time. And I love how my cycles have become increasing shorter (21 days this past time) because fertility treatment tends to speed them up for me. Even though I've had all "no's" during treatment, time seemed to go by faster because I always felt that I was doing something. By the time you get your period, it's almost time for cd 3 ultrasound, and then you are taking drugs. By that time you're done with that, it's another ultrasound, then an IUI shortly after and a week after that, a progesterone check. Because you stay busy, it goes by faster. So, I'm sure after all this, one cycle on my own will seem like an eternity, especially because of the PCOS.

I have a ton of questions for the doctor tomorrow. I can't believe I'm walking out of there with no pregnancy after all this. When I started with them back in March, tomorrow was the day that I feared -- a conversation and meeting because it didn't work.

Having IVF out there as a potential next step in the future has given me some hope. I plan to ask about it tomorrow.

My cycle started Wednesday, 3 days after stopping the progesterone, and only lasted 48 hours. I also had no PMS symptoms at all -- not even any cramping. The RE said to expect a heavy period, but instead I got the lightest period I've had in a long time despite the Follistim. Strange.

Until tomorrow...

Starting to Come Out of the Fog

"It is awfully hard to be b-b-brave, when you're only a Very Small Animal."

- Piglet

The last reminders of this past cycle are beginning to fade. I finished my progesterone last night and the lovely Follistim bloat is finally starting to go down. So, I got the side effects of Follistim and none of the potential benefits. The only thing left to officially finish out this cycle is the exclamation mark of a period.

I have been showered with love from so many over the past week or so. Both strangers and friends alike. I am blessed to know eight women off the top of my head who are either walking the infertility road with me right now, or have walked it in the past. I work with most of them, so on any given day, I can walk over to their cubicle and cry if I need to. The day before my cycle got cancelled, one of them offered to walk outside with me and just listened to me. Two of them go to the same doctor I do. I meet with three of them two Mondays a month to talk and pray together. My boss also went through infertility at the same clinic, so I've never had to stress about missing work, which has been one less thing to worry about. She gets it. The day I was going to get the verdict on the cycle (AKA The Doomed Friday), I got a text message from another one. I got cards in the mail. Another fertile friend teared up when I gave her the news. She had been praying for me all week. My sister lost sleep over me. I'm very blessed.

Today, I went over to an old co-worker's home for lunch. She didn't struggle with infertility, but she has walked this road with me and is the most compassionate person I've ever met. She just listened and let me cry. And she hugged me long and hard. It felt so good to be hugged like that and to not have to apologize for any of my tears.

I realized this week how incredibly blessed I am that I don't have to walk through this pain alone. If there is any silver lining to this trial, it's that I was reminded of how God graciously placed these people in my life. He didn't expect me to walk the road alone.

I told my husband last night that something just doesn't feel right about moving -- moving out of this house and moving on with life. And not in the sense that it's not wise financially or anything like that. It just doesn't feel right. I feel like I'm leaving my heart somewhere else and my body is moving on with life.

My husband said we are going to do better if we embrace this and surrender and move on. I agree with him. But while I embrace it, I'm also grieving it, all at the same time.

I know this is not the end. I'm not giving up. IVF is still on our radar possibly one day. I guess I'm just grieving this part of the journey -- that the treatments we've tried thus far didn't work. I have much to be thankful for with nothing else visibly wrong other than PCOS. As confused and upset as I get, I'll never give up hope.

Never.

I think it's the human condition.

Thanks to all those who have commented on my blog too. You guys have encouraged me more than you know.

Still Reeling

I spoke with the nurse yesterday morning. She called me first thing Monday after I left the message on Friday afternoon.

After asking me how it was going and I was silent for a second, she offered, "Are you devastated?" I explained to her that, yes, I was absolutely devastated. In a very polite, honest, real tone, as if talking to a friend, I just explained everything to her. I didn't hold back. I explained to her how this was our last cycle, how frustrated I was to have spent $2400 dollars and not to have even had a chance, how we drained the last of our savings to do it, and how ironic it was that the fertility doctor was telling me to stay away from my husband. I told her that I didn't understand what happened from Thursday to Friday for the doctor to have changed his mind. She explained that she didn't think he thought the smaller follicles were going to grow like they did. After reading him the sizes over the phone she said he was like, "Wait, how many?" and knew by the tone in his voice that he was going to cancel. She said she was thinking, "You're not even going to give her a choice?" and that she told him he was going to have to call me. She didn't want to do it. "I am so, so sorry," she said.

She is a great nurse and I hope I didn't go overboard -- I don't think I did. But I just needed to feel heard and for them to know that beyond that medical chart of numbers and levels and ultrasound pictures, there is a real person who was effected by the news and decisions made and will be reeling from it for a long time. I know they know this, but I wanted her to hear the heartbreak and be reminded of the casualties that they might have become callused to by seeing this and having to do this every day. There was just no way I could put on a happy face and pretend I wasn't effected by it, with a "you win some, you lose some" attitude and talk about the logistics of the progesterone script I needed her to call in. There was no way.

We made a follow-up appointment for a couple of weeks from now where I'm sure I will have 101 questions. The first being, you guessed it, "What the crap happened?"

In other news, the pharmacy graciously agreed to take back my Ovidrel if I promised to keep it refrigerated over the weekend. As I was driving back to the pharmacy, I just cried. It wasn't fair that I was having to do this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. On top of it all, the pharmacy is right near the doctor's office, so all of the events of last week came flooding back over me. Just one week before, I was at this office complex, full of hope and excitement, and just like that, it was all over. Just 10 days prior, I had a phone conversation regarding starting this doomed cycle with the doctor in the parking lot of the same pharmacy as I was walking in to buy Follistim to start my cycle. And now, with returning my Ovidrel, I was officially ending this cycle in the same parking lot. I guess you could say it came full circle.

It's amazing to see what kind of drama you can literally buy yourself in just 10 short days.

I am back to work tomorrow after taking a couple of days off for my mental health and the always delightful sinus allergies.

I promise my posts won't always be this depressing. ;-)