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Hope is something you pee on

~ …trying to survive infertility, IVF and egg donation.

Hope is something you pee on

Category Archives: IVF

CCRM visit

19 Wednesday Dec 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in CCRM, Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), IVF

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

CCRM, Dr. Brown, insurance, ODWU

It wasn’t what I expected. Mainly because (as it turns out) we are out of network so insurance will only cover about 30%, as opposed to at home where it covers 95%. If we decide to go the CCRM route we’ll have to take out loans which I’m not ok with. And man, they’re expensive! The cost of the ODWU alone was $4750, not including travel expenses. (Only about $1500 of that will be reimbursed by insurance)

We arrived at midnight the night before so we could make our 7:30 am meeting on time. At 7:30 me, S and 6 other couples went into a big conference room where we got a huge binder and a nice lady talked to us for an hour about IVF, CCRM and the reproductive cycle (and told us not to blog, or read blogs). Then we checked in at the desk. S went to do his duty in a cup, then checked in at the desk. Then I got the dildocam where they checked my uterus (fine), blood flow (fine) and resting follicle count (not fine. 2 resting follicles, both >10 mm on day 5. She thinks 1 was probably a cyst. Not fine at all). Then checked in at the desk. Then we went to the business office where they gave us the bad news. Then we checked in at the desk. Then a meeting with our Dr. Then checked in at the desk. Then a meeting with the lab business office where we had sign all the weird paperwork about who gets our embryos if one of us dies, or what we do with them if we divorce, etc. Then lunch. They are nice enough to give each person a coupon for $5 at their snack shop which covered our sandwich and chips. Then checked in at the desk. Then a meeting with the nurse where she gave me a new list of supplements (I’ll post later) and went over procedures and medications and we watched a movie about chromosomal testing. Then checked in at the desk. Then a horrific hysteroscopy with Dr. Brown (more below). Then checked in at the desk. Then blood work (7 vials for me, 4 vials for S) and then it was 3:45 and we checked out at the desk and left for the airport, exhausted.

First, my follicle count. I’m clinging to the belief that the low number of follicles is somehow due to the Clomid cycle last month. More likely, however, is that I’m still recruiting follicles waaaaay early and so by the time they start looking for them (CD3-5) all of the little ones are already gone and so we don’t actually know my resting follicle number. The other alternative is that my DOR has gotten much worse over the last few months and there aren’t many follicles, or much hope, left. I had hoped that the supplements would have helped a little with the early recruitment (by magic perhaps?) or at least given me a few more resting follicles. But who really knows?

Second, the hysteroscopy. I’ve already had an HSG and figured it would be like that. IT’S NOT. First, she had a hard time threading my cervix (after the HSG and IUI’s I’ve had that done a lot, and no one has ever had a problem. In fact, several people have commented on how easy my cervix is to navigate, which is a strange thing to know about yourself but I digress). Also, she didn’t put any numbing agent on my cervix before she gave me the shots (I know it exists, my other doctor uses it) and so they hurt quite a bit. By this time my uterus was painfully cramping. Then she filled my uterus with CO2 so they could move the camera around more easily. She said “You may experience some minor cramping with this, and when you sit up the gas may make your shoulders ache. Holy mother of god, that is not minor cramping. After she was done (everything looks great!) I had to lay on the bed for a while because apparently people often faint. When I sat up, I immediately started to feel an excruciating aching pain in my right shoulder. My right arm curled up and in on itself, and I couldn’t move my hand. The nurse said that’s due to the gas escaping from my fallopian tubes and settling in my shoulder joint, compressing the nerves. Of course, I immediately picture those plastic waving guys in front of the gas stations and imagine my fallopian tubes waving wildly about in my stomach. The shoulder pain continued for about 20 minutes an then it was just gone. BUT, after several hours I started to get a terrible shooting pain under my ribs, like a stitch from running only across a bigger area. The only way I could get it to go away was to lay on that side with my arm stretched out. Turns out that’s from the gas too, and is super common. That lasted all night long.

Finally, the money. We’re very fortunate to have had insurance cover the cost of treatment thus far. I know most people don’t have that. We can’ afford to spend $20,000 on a treatment, especially a treatment that may or may not work. Dr. Brown said she thought our best bet was egg banking – going through several retrievals and freezing the embryos – so that when we do the chromosomal testing etc we only incur the cost once, and we have enough eggs that it’s likely at least one will be viable. But that’s $50,000, at least. I don’t know what to do. S says we need to go for it – then we’ll have the piece of mind that we tried everything. I feel like $50,000 is a huge risk, and we may still end up with empty arms. We should save that money and start looking at other options.

Right now, we’re gonna wait and see. Start the supplements she recommend, wait for the results of all the tests, and see what her final thoughts are. I think we should go back to our old RE (read here – free) armed with all of the new information and see if she’ll cycle with us once more (for free(ish)). Then we can decide about CCRM.

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CCRM phone consult

13 Thursday Dec 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in CCRM, Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), IVF

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

CCRM, Dr. Brown, phone consult

We talk to Dr. Brown from CCRM (Colorado Center for Reproductive Medicine) today. I LOVE HER. She was personable, down-to-earth, easy to talk to, easy to understand AND she never once suggested donor eggs or said the words “advanced maternal age”. Yessssss

The conversation started by her asking us to go through our past reproductive history. She clearly had our records in front of her but I think she wanted to get a feel for how much we knew or understood about the process. Then it was the standard questions about allergies and surgeries and all that. I asked a few questions (For example, “Do you have a minimum requirement on the number of follicles need to go forward with retrieval?”;  “No. Obviously if it’s very low, like 1 or 2, we’ll have a conversation about the risks and your chances but ultimately the decision is yours and your husbands”.  ) and then she went through our one day work-up (ODWU). They want to redo all our tests in their lab (standard operating procedure when you change clinics) and then do the litany of tests CCRM is so famous for – doppler in the uterus and biopsies of the endometrium and DNA analysis of the sperm and whatnot. Yes, CCRM test us! Figure this out! Help me make babies! Test all the things!  DO ALL THE THINGS!doallthethings

She said our case is by no means hopeless, but she’ll know more after they get all the lab results back (obviously). She said they have very finely tuned protocols for poor responders (in particular she thought EPP might work for me) and since my resting follicle count is pretty good (8-11) we have the possibility of getting more eggs. And hopefully, one of those eggs will be the good egg we’re looking for.

She didn’t have any comment on the supplements (I don’t think she could actually advise yet as we weren’t officially patients at that time) but said she would help me tweak those after we got the lab results back.

I feel good. Better. I know it’s still a long shot but it’s nice to have someone believe in us and be willing to help us. Cross your fingers – here we go!!

UPDATE – As it is CD1 for me today (Dec. 14) I called CCRM to schedule our ODWU. Appointment is Monday!!

A little reflection and thanks

22 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in IVF, Musings

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You know something I’m thankful for? Being able to even try to have a baby. I’m grateful to modern medicine, to all of the doctors who spent their lives trying to learn more about infertility and how to treat it, to all the techs who spend their time huddled over a microscope, to all of the nurses who walk us through the process and to all of the other folks who sincerely do their very best to make this dream happen for people.

I complain a lot about the process (because it sucks) but I’m very grateful to even get to try. I’m thankful we have insurance and funds to cover the costs. I’m grateful that I have a supportive partner in my husband and that my family and friends (despite some snafu’s) have got my back. I’m grateful to my body because, despite its many flaws and sputtering ovaries, it is healthy and able to deal with this difficult process. I’m thankful for the many communities of people who provide me with some much advice and inspiration as we travel this hard road together.

I’m thankful to live in a time when all of this is possible. Anne Boleyn was beheaded for not giving Henry VIII a male heir (among other things) and I’m grateful that beheading people for infertility is no longer an issue. So, while I spend much of my time bemoaning the state of my uterus I’m very thankful. For all of the aforementioned things and for so so so much more.

Have a safe and happy thanksgiving.

If you can’t say something nice then shut the hell up.

20 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in IVF, Musings

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Infertility, IVF, stupid things people say

(This will be a rant. Many apologies. You’ve been warned.)

I have to go to my in-laws for Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I’m dreading it like the dentist. I like my in-laws and I usually enjoy visiting them – they live in a beautiful part of the country in a lovely home, they have fabulous wine and I can sleep as late as I want. This time, I would rather have the flu (the really bad kind where you don’t know which end to point at the toilet).

I don’t want to talk about my miscarriage. I don’t want to talk about trying, or what we’re going to do next. And I swear to god that if my mother-in-law tells me one more time “just relax and it’ll happen, my friends daughter blahblahblah” I will either kill her or myself. Relaxing will not help. It’s a medical condition. That’s why I see a damn doctor every day. That’s why I jam needles in my belly and pay thousands of dollars for the privilege. That’s what this whole process is about. Trust me lady, if a massage, a movie and a cheap bottle of wine worked we’d be pregnant 10 times over by now. I’m really frickin happy that your friends daughter and her husband went on a damn cruise and got pregnant, but we can’t get pregnant that way and we’ve spent all our cruise money trying to do it the hard way.

And while I’m on my soap box rant I’d just like to add that no infertile person ever for any reason anywhere even once EVER needs to hear “Maybe you’re just not meant to have children.” Oh really? Maybe your dad should go off his high blood pressure medicine. Maybe he’s just not meant to live for very long. Am I destined to be such a bad parent that some divine force decided I can’t have children? Is that what happened? Well, thank you for clearing that up.

I know they mean well, and I try to respond politely (or I just walk away before I cry). But for just 5 minutes, here in the privacy of my own blog, I’m gonna be fucking pissed off about it. Because it sucks. Every day. It hurts. Every day. Have you suffered infertility (and not the “it took us sooooooooo long to get pregnant! 3 months!!” kind)? Then I welcome your opinion. Do you have a medical degree? Please, tell me what you have to say. If not, stick to some variation of “I’m sorry”, “What can I do to help you right now?”, “Are you doing ok?” or shut the hell up.

Rant over. (Except for the snarky lols below.)

Something is better than nothing.

29 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in CCRM, Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), IVF, Stimming (Taking Ovarian Stimulation meds)

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Co Enzyme Q10, DHEA, herbs, Infertility, Melantonin, Myo Inositol, Vitamin D

Gulp!Well, I said at the beginning of this that I would share everything, so I may as well share what I’m up to now. But first a disclaimer – I know you’re not supposed to take medicine that isn’t prescribed to you (even herbs). My RE specifically told me not to take certain medicines and herbs (In fact she said the people that did were “Desperate people grasping at straws”). I am, at this point, knowingly and willingly choosing to ignore all that advice. I am also (without a doubt) a desperate person. And so.

S and I have decided to change clinics.  We’re exploring the options but CCRM http://www.colocrm.com/ keeps rising to the top. After a little bit of searching I was able to unearth the “female cocktail” that Dr. Schoolcraft (from CCRM) prescribes to his DOR patients. I found a lady a year older then me with similar AMH and FSH numbers and I am going to follow her protocol – after all, the longer you’re on the herbs the better they’re supposed to work (to a point). So as of yesterday I’m taking…

2g Myo Inositol 2x/day, 200mg Co Enzyme 10 2x/day, 3mg Folic acid, 25mg DHEA 3x/day, 3g Melatonin at bedtime and Vitamin D every other day. This is in addition to the preNatal vitamins  and B-12 supplements I was already taking. *I got everything on Amazon but checked out what brands were best. Important to get MYO-inositol, and micronized DHEA (from what I’ve read, but I am not an authority).

Some of the journal articles about these meds are linked below.

Effect of the treatment with myo-inositol plus folic acid plus melatonin in comparison with a treatment with myo-inositol plus folic acid on oocyte quality and pregnancy outcome in IVF cycles. A prospective, clinical trialhttp://www.europeanreview.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/780.pdf

List of publications about MI, FA and Melatonin (and Inofolic, which is a premix combo of these things) http://www.inofolic.it/drupal/?q=en/node/45

From the folks who began using DHEA for infertility http://www.centerforhumanreprod.com/dhea.html

And some warnings http://journals.lww.com/co-obgyn/Abstract/2012/06000/Does_dehydroepiandrosterone_have_any_benefit_in.4.aspx  http://www.advancedfertility.com/blog/coenzyme-q10-and-fertility/

Maybe there’s something to it, maybe there’s not. But it’s better then doing nothing. And the Melatonin sure helps me sleep!

Broken

26 Friday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), IVF, Musings

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

diminished ovarian reserve, Infertility, IVF, poor responder

We had the follow-up appointment with our RE yesterday. We were expecting some discussion about the miscarriage, a reassessment of protocol and a general good feeling – after all, we managed to get pregnant on our first complete IVF.  That’s good right?

Apparently not.

She told us she was sorry things didn’t work, I just wasn’t a good candidate for IVF and that unless I was ready to try donor eggs there wasn’t much else she could do for me. I was floored. Stunned. Crushed. I couldn’t even speak.  S told her that wasn’t what we were expecting, we weren’t ready to give up yet, after all it was our first real IVF cycle.  She said that, no, it was our 3rd cycle, I was a very poor responder and they couldn’t justify the risks of an egg retrieval and all the meds for so few follicles. She was very sorry and did we mind if she took this call from her daughter? She was clearly too busy to argue with us about my reproductive future. No time to discuss how all of my plans for children and a family, grandchildren for my mother, siblings for my step-daughter, were now in shambles. No time for that. As we were leaving she did mention that if we insisted on continuing we could see Dr. Schoolcraft at  CCRM in Denver. That she didn’t know how he did it but he had some success with “difficult” patients. Apparently I am now a “difficult” patient, a “very poor responder”.

I’ve been crying for almost 20 straight hours. At noon today I had to pick myself up off the floor, wash my face and put on my big girl pants to go have a meeting with my Ph.D advisor. Walking around at work I felt like I had to hold myself very, very still. Like if I moved too fast I’d lose the tenuous hold I had on my self-control. It’s like I’m made of delicate Venetian glass and if I move too fast I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.

I don’t know how to accept it. I don’t know how to bear this.

I never wanted a huge house. I never daydreamed about my wedding. I never worried about who I would marry. But I have been naming my children since I was 8 years old. I have imagined being pregnant a 1000 times. I have imagined what my babies would look like, how their fingers would be shaped, if they would have my smile. Since I met my husband I have spent at least some part of everyday daydreaming about our children – his nose with my hair? His height and my eyes? I have thought about what Christmas would be like, things I would do for birthdays.  And now that’s just gone?  Forever?

Would it be different if I hadn’t waited until I was 34 to start trying? Are my degrees, my career, worth not having kids?  I didn’t realize that was the deal I was making.  I thought I was being responsible, waiting til I was ready. What is the purpose of my life now?  Work?

And my husband. Oh god my husband. Because he choose to be with me he will never have more children, which he desperately wants. Because he picked me his life is less.

I can’t give my parents grandchildren. I can’t give my husband a child. I will never have a real family of my own.

I feel like such a failure.

Telling people about IVF

16 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in IVF, Musings

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

IVF, trust

So, the day before I got my BFP I had an acquaintance from work come up to me and congratulate me on my impending pregnancy and then tell me all about the people she knows that have done IVF. That was sweet of her, except that I didn’t ever share with her that we were going through this process.  I asked her how she knew and she told me that a mutual friend, D, had told her. That surprised me as this friend is usually very closed-mouthed, and I had asked the few people I told not to share it with anyone else.  I struggled with it for about 24 hours and then decided to write D an email and ask her to not talk about it anymore.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as all that.  We had been at a birthday party that weekend and everyone was drinking except me.  The acquaintance asked a different friend, K, why I wasn’t drinking, were S and I trying to get pregnant? K is another friend who is in on my little secret. And K, a little tipsy, said, “Yes!  We’ll find out soon!” So the acquaintance cornered D and asked her out of the blue if S and I were having trouble conceiving and if we were doing IVF. D said she was stunned and answered that she thought so.

So.  I can’t explain how angry and betrayed this all made me feel. I know that none of it was done with malice. That the acquaintance was just being nosy and my friends were just cornered, or a little drunk and indiscrete. But nonetheless I am beside myself with anger and hurt.

Because IVF is AWFUL. First, you get the diagnoses of infertility, which is crushing in a way I can’t explain. You can’t do what even Snooki can do, and she can barely find her way out bed every day.  You feel broken, like less of a woman.  You can’t give your life partner, this person you adore, something that they expect and deserve – their life is less because they choose to be with you. You can’t give your parents the grandchildren they want. You feel like an utter failure, a disappointment as a wife, a woman, a daughter. Never mind your own dreams and plans of a baby, a family. So you come to grips with that as best you can and start looking at options. You decide on IVF, and then submit daily to strangers inserting (with various levels of gentleness and care) a cold plastic dildo inside you and telling you how badly you’re doing at IVF “you’re a poor responder”, “if you don’t start growing some more follicles we’re going to have cancel this”.  You stab yourself in the stomach 4 or 5 times a day with needles and inject strong medicines into your body so as to create a hostile take-over of your reproductive system. You turn your life upside down to accommodate all the doctors appointments, the rigid injection schedule. You feel sick from the meds, from the process. Your ovaries swell to the size of baseballs and start secreting fluids into your abdomen. Your veins collapse from the number of blood draws. Then the shots stop and they do the ER – you have an operation where someone pierces your vagina multiple times with a needles to extract your eggs, which they tell you are probably of poor quality anyway (you really should try donor eggs). Then its a day in bed with cramps and bloating and pain and fear. Next is a long line of pills, patches, suppositories and foul tasting lozenges. No sex. Constant leak of medicine from between your legs. Then the eggs fertilize (or not). If not, you start over. If so, it’s back into the OR where they put the fertilized eggs back inside you with a catheter threaded into your uterus. You can’t imagine a more sterile, hard, loveless way to create life. Then you wait on pins and needles to see if this little ball of cells will stick (and of course continue the pills, patches, suppositories and foul tasting lozenges.) And, unlike most fertile people, you have reason to be afraid.  You know all the things that can go wrong, all the ways this can fail. And you have invested SO MUCH. Your time, money, health, and in some cases sanity are hanging in the balance. All to do what other people do on accident after too much cheap wine.

They tell you at the beginning that the process is hard, that you need a support system. So, I tried to create one – a few close friends, my family, my husbands family. Not very many people. It’s embarrassing, and breathtakingly intimate – like having to tell people your deepest darkest failure and intimate details of your sex life all at once. So then to feel that after all of that, AFTER ALL OF THAT you have become the subject of idle, thoughtless gossip…it’s devastating. Humiliating.

Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s not that big a deal. I can see both sides. But if I could take it back and never have told anyone that’s what I would do. But I can’t.  So when I found out I was pregnant a few days after that incident I didn’t tell any of them. So now that I’m “a little bit pregnant” and basically waiting to miscarry no one knows that either. I think I prefer it this way.  It’s lonely and I feel terribly shattered but at least I feel safe alone with my grief.

8dp2dt

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in 2WW, IVF, Musings

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Tags

2WW, IVF, loss, pregnancy symptoms, sadness, sore boobs

Let’s symptom spot!  My favorite!

I’ve been cramping (AF like cramps) since the retrieval. Yep, 10 straight days of cramps. So, that’s the progesterone. We can also put bloating and constipation and irritability and excessive thirst (which leads to excessive urination) in that category. Also, breast soreness.  This started around the time I started round 2 of progesterone suppositories so it is probably also associated with the meds, although it’s getting a bit more intense.  But no more intense than it usually is right before my period. I’m tired, but then again I’m always tired.

Which leaves me with……nothing. No symptoms. And by now (according to Dr. Google) most people have some symptoms.

I don’t hold out much hope for this cycle. The internet says our chances for a BFP are a little less than 1 in 4, my RE says it’s more like 1 in 9. Despite the low odds I’m constantly told to stay positive, think only good thoughts. I have to take my meds 3x a day, do yoga that increases blood flow to the uterus, not drink alcohol or coffee, not eat sushi, not get stressed or upset.  And it all feels like an exercise in futility. A farce.

But every once in a while I slip.  I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to tell S that it worked, that we’re finally pregnant.  What it would be like to have a 4 month old at my sister’s wedding (of course I already know the due date if this actually works). What it would be like to tell my step-daughter that she’ll finally have a sibling. And that’s the worst part. The more I think happy, positive thoughts the more devastated I’ll be when I get that BFN. I never really thought that the IUI would work.  When we got the BFN it was ok.  But this time we have a real chance. Our genetic material combined, it grew, and they put it back inside me. It’s REAL. I know that even with all of my logical assessment of the odds of a BFP and trying to be REALISTIC (which is rather the opposite of positive) I will be gutted if this doesn’t work. I can see that BFN abyss of loss and sadness and failure and self-blame right in front of me and I am frantically trying to build a shell around myself so that when I get the BFN and topple in to that hole I’ll have something to break my fall.

**Update – I broke down and tested today at 4:00.  BFN. Just saying…

IVF #1.5, 2WW

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in 2WW, IVF

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Oh lordy, the 2WW. The longest 2 weeks ever.

That’s why I’m updating this blog now – to give myself something to do besides search the internet for pregnancy symptoms like a baby crackhead. I can’t concentrate on work. I’m tired and super irritable from the hormones (and the waiting) so I don’t want to be around people. I can’t drink, so my usual watering holes are out. I feel too crappy to exercise…. laying on the couch and worrying it is!!

I’m currently 8dp2dt (8 days past 2 day transfer), or 10 dpo (days past ovulation). Some people haven gotten positive pregnancy tests on this day.  I know because I have searched every corner of the internet to find them. Most people get a BFP more around 9-11dp2dt. My beta test isn’t until Oct.11, 4 days from now.

In case you’re not aware there are 2 major phenomena associated with the 2WW (besides Google crack). One is developing a POAS addiction, and the other is called symptom spotting. EVERY. LITTLE. THING. becomes either a positive sign of pregnancy, or a positive sign that your cycle failed. Rash on your chest?  Google it – pregnancy symptom. Upset stomach?  Google it – pregnancy.  Sore boobs? – pregnant.  Not sore enough? Not pregnant.  Sore in the morning but not at night? Not pregnant. Grossed out by hamburger – pregnant. Ate it anyway – not pregnant.  It’s maddening.

And to make it worse we (those going through IVF and stuck in the purgatory of the 2WW) ARE pregnant – hormonally speaking.  Starting the day of the egg retrieval we’re pumped full of hormones and other drugs. Prometrium suppositories, estrogen patches, antibiotics, then estrogen suppositories, progesterone suppositories and progesterone lozenges 3x a day. It’s hormone madness. I cried yesterday because I couldn’t get the TV to change channels. My poor husband is in constant retreat to whatever part of the house I’m not in. I’m smart enough to stay away from my friends but I’m annoyed with them from afar. I’m tired, weepy, bloated, hungry, my boobs hurt, the medicine tastes bad, I’ve gained 8 lbs this cycle and I’m so sick of all of this that I could scream! Is it worth it? I don’t know. But how do I not try?

Egg retrieval and transfer

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in IVF

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Tags

2dt, day 2 transfer, egg retrieval, egg transfer, fertilize, follicle

The morning of the egg retrieval I put on my knee socks with the orange skulls on the top and S and I giddily rolled up to the RE’s at the crack of dawn.  After all, we’d never made it this far before and we had at least 3, maybe 4 follies to work with – a fighting chance!  After some shenanigans with trying to get the IV in (one thing I’ve learned from this IVF crap is that I have tiny veins that like to roll around and are prone to collapse) they wheeled me in to the operating room. I remember saying as the meds hit my system “Ahh, this is like having a margarita after all this time of no alcohol” and the next thing I remember is S stroking my hair and telling me that they got 2 eggs.  2?  What about 3?  Or even 4? I’ve read those stories on other blogs where they saw 3 follies and they managed to get 7 eggs! Why only 2? But ok, 2 > 0 .  Be positive.  We’re still in the game.

We went home and I spent the day in bed feeling huge and bloated and uncomfortable. S took excellent care of me, bringing in soup and juice, checking in on me, helping me to the bathroom. We were both on tenterhooks though – only 2? What if neither fertilizes?  What if neither grows?

We got the call next day – 1 had failed to fertilize, the other was doing fine. We’re to come in for the transfer tomorrow.  What? I thought the options were 3 day transfer or 5 day transfer. The nurse explained that they keep the embryos in the lab more days to see how well they grow, and then they put back the highest quality ones. Since we only had 1, we may as well put it into its natural environment ASAP. Of course I immediate consulted Dr. Google for the next 3 hours about 2 day transfers. It’s a mixed bag.

Anyway, we go in for the transfer and this time my step-daughter was in town so she’s with us. She doesn’t know whats going on – we told her my tummy was broken and the doctors were working on it to make it better. She immediately laid down on the hospital bed next to mine and started clutching her tummy and saying hers was broken too, could the doctors fix her too?  S and DD left and the embryologist came out and told me that my 1 lonely egg looked great – it was a 5 cell (usually they expect them to be between 2-4 cells – overachiever here?  That seems appropriate). I took my Valium (they say it’s to relax the uterus, I suspect it’s to calm frantic patients) and my RE wheeled me in to the OR. She asked what type of music I’d like, classical maybe? Spa? I asked if she could put on the Grateful Dead. She did, bless her, and she did the transfer to “Fire on the Mountain”.  I always kinda assumed? feared? suspected? I would get pregnant to the GD, so I was pleased as punch. The transfer wasn’t much to speak of – the cold speculum goes in and then they run a catheter up your cervix into your uterus and push the little sucker in. Viola, PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise). Then another day of bedrest. And so begins the 2WW.

Catch up – failed cycle, scorpion shots

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in Diminished Ovarian Reserve (DOR), IVF, Results, Stimming (Taking Ovarian Stimulation meds)

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Sorry I’ve been MIA for months and months.

My last cycle (the IUI) was unsuccessful, and then I left for my honeymoon which was a welcome break from high tech baby making and return to the regular old kind. But, to get caught up…

Upon return to the RE’s office we learned that I had a huge cyst on my left ovary so we waited for a cycle for it to go away.  Started on BCP and went in periodically to check on the progress of the cyst – ended up coasting on BCP for 3 weeks before it had shrunk enough to move forward.  Mind you, it was still 25+ mm we decided to go ahead and start the Lupron microdose flare protocol, but we thought it would shrink. It didn’t.  Anyway, the Lupron was terrible. It felt like a scorpion sting. And I had to do it to MYSELF, 2x every day, in the gut (in addition to the other shots). It also left big angry black and purple bruises with welts underneath – I was a total mess.

The bruise from my first microdose Lupron shot

In the middle of all this I went in to the RE’s for a follicle scan. While waiting for them to gel up the dildocam I asked if everyone had lots of problems with the Lupron, and they said “No.  No one every really says much about that one” at which point I revealed my bruised and battered abdomen. The doctor and the nurse exchanged a “look” and we got on with the dildocam. 2 follies. Only 2. After all that.  They weren’t sure if the cyst was causing problems or if I was over suppressed from the BCP but either way – 2. I was elated! Did this mean I could stop the scorpion shots?  Yes? Either they made it wrong (incorrect pH of the substrate) or I’m allergic (rare but it happens)?  Excellent! So what now Dr?

Says the doctor “Well, we’ve tried the antagonists protocal, and the Lupron microdose flare, why don’t we try the third?  The natural 3 day start”? So we did. I waited for AF, started shots on the 3rd day. This time things were better – 6 follies, all more or less the same size, growing together, no monster lead follie. We were thrilled! Plus, I only had to stim for 8 days! Which was a breeze compared to last time, and a walk in the park compared to the scorpion shots. Unfortunately, the one sad follie on my right ovary got let behind so as we got closer to the egg retrieval we were looking at 5, then 4 follies, which looked big enough to produce mature eggs. Here we go!

The road to motherhood is expensive and paved with needles.

07 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by mybrokenoven in IVF, Stimming (Taking Ovarian Stimulation meds)

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Tags

injections, IUI, IVF

Let’s jump right in (for background info please see the “About Me” tab)-

By my count (in the last 3 weeks) I have given myself ~45 shots in the gut, had blood drawn 14 times, had 6 veins collapse, been jabbed 12 times with the

My tummy a few days after I started stimming

dildocam, and peed on 14 sticks.  And I’ve only cried 4 times.  Once when they told me my follicles were growing too slowly and were likely to be duds, once when we decided to convert my IVF an IUI, later that same night after researching the odds of a successful IUI, and once when I accidentally injected the Follistim into an abdominal muscle.  (Burns like hell – never thought lack of abdominal fat would be something to complain about but there you go.)

After all of that I have one monster follicle that gobbles up all my expensive medicine and houses a hard-boiled, unusable egg, 2 sad small little follicles trying to beg scraps from the monster, and 2 “slow and steady wins the race” follicles on the other side.  None appear to be excellent recruits.  And in this game what you want is eggs – lots of eggs.

Let’s break the IVF game down.  We want a baby which comes from an egg which grows in a follicle.  HOWEVER.  Not every follicle has an egg.  Not every egg is mature when collected. Not every mature egg is of a good quality.  Not every good quality egg fertilizes.  Not every fertilized egg grows into an embryo. Not every embryo is viable.  Not every viable embryo will implant in the uterus.  And not every implantation “sticks”.  So with only 2 or three possible eggs (at best) it seemed best to skip the expensive, invasive IVF egg retrieval and embryo transfer (assuming we would even get that far) and go for an IUI – less expensive, no surgery required, no work missed.  Make me ovulate (with a shot, of course), take his sperm and wash it off to get rid of the deadbeats, and inject that directly into my uterus skipping the whole messy (apparently confusing to sperm) vaginal and cervix bit of the process. We said yes, let’s do that.

I just took what I hope are the last night of the shots (add 3 more to the tally) and will go back to the RE in the morning.  Add 2 more peed on sticks, 1 more blood draw and one more date with the dildocam…  And probably one more cry.

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