The evaporation lines are gone today. This makes me very sad. I am reliving my last two IVF's, when I got positives and then fainter and fainter lines, until negatives came out. It is the way of the embryos that do not survive after a brief attempt at implantation. I cannot make any judgements this time though, because I never got an actual positive, just evap lines, which can be a fluke. Also, with two embryos, it is impossible to say what is going on, as one might have attempted implantation and failed, but there is still another one left. Lastly, I am only on day 8 past ovulation technically (Monday was day 5 past ovulation, with the blastocysts), so still too early for any home pregnancy test to be accurate anyway.
I have decided that all this testing is making me crazy, and I will stop. I will perhaps start testing again on the weekend, on day 10 or 11.
In the meantime, my house is very depressing. I am too tired to do anything, too tired to even put my clothes back in the closet, so they are resting on the ironing board. I haven't unpacked yet, so two large suitcases are waiting for me to empty them. I don't cope with all this at all. The progesterone is making me very very tired, and the waiting is making me very very depressed, with the end result of not wanting to get out of bed. Today I had a bad TMJ inflammation, to the point that I could not eat anything other than pureed foods. This is because I slept for one hour (took a nap) at lunch without the bite guard. Bad idea, I now cannot chew, because my teeth no longer overlap properly.
My schedule is something like this: wake up, feel immensely tired, unable to have coffee because it is not allowed during IVF, then work as best as I can through the morning, go home and take a half hour nap, drag myself back to work and try to survive through the afternoon while yawning every 10 minutes (that upsets my jaw as well BTW), then go back home at 6 pm and fall asleep, often in my work clothes, on the bed. Wake up at 10 pm, eat something, type my notes (for work) which I did not finish during work day, blog, change into pajamas, brush teeth and apply multiple facial creams, spend 5 min with the bird and the cat, and fall asleep again around midnight, until 8 am. I sleep a total of 12 hours per day. I work a total of 9 hours. I live for the remaining three hours, one of which is spent on hygiene, and the other two on eating and doing more work on the computer at home because despite spending 9 hours at work, with my current mental fog, I don't manage to get everything done, so I need to bring the computer home and finish another hour of typing in bed.
I am pretty sure that this is the progesterone making me so tired, as I am always like this after a transfer, but I know that the waiting is the most tiresome part.
I feel so pathetic. I am just existing, I hate my life like this. I cannot do anything, not allowed to exercise, not allowed to diet, and just discovered today that I will need to buy extra large underwear, for my very large butt. I have never needed extra large underwear in my life. If I don't get pregnant, I will go on a diet again, and hopefully I can postpone the requirement for new underwear shopping, as I don't feel like buying anything sexy right now, and am afraid I will walk out of the shop with frumpy undies, which is a no-no in my book. No matter how bad life gets, frumpy underwear is out.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
vacuum in my head
Peed on three more sticks today, and am getting some evaporation lines, i.e. faint lines that show up after about five to ten minutes. I don't think they mean anything, as I have seen them before (heck, I have seen true positives before that did not mean anything, since I still lost the embryos even after they attempted to implant). The sticks are the only way for me to communicate with the embryos at the moment, so I cherish the faint evap lines, even if I don't hold much hope for them meaning anything. MrH can't even see them, but I can, under bright lights.
Tonight we made the mistake of letting a Kirby vacuums salesman into our house. We spent the entire evening praying for his demo to end sooner. We did buy a Kirby, because the grime in our carpets could use a bit of vacuuming, but heck, he could have done the whole presentation in twenty minutes instead of two hours. I even told him that he is much more likely to make a sale if he speeds the whole thing up, because I need to get my 16 hours of sleep that I currently require, but although he tried, the poor man just could not skip over any of the important, valuable and priceless Kirby parts and accessories. Ugghhhh! just shoot me. Now I have a Kirby, must vacuum. Except that it is too heavy for me to lift it, so MrH will have the pleasure of vacuuming until I am proven to be nonpregnant, lose the baby, or have a live delivery, whichever may come first.
Tonight we made the mistake of letting a Kirby vacuums salesman into our house. We spent the entire evening praying for his demo to end sooner. We did buy a Kirby, because the grime in our carpets could use a bit of vacuuming, but heck, he could have done the whole presentation in twenty minutes instead of two hours. I even told him that he is much more likely to make a sale if he speeds the whole thing up, because I need to get my 16 hours of sleep that I currently require, but although he tried, the poor man just could not skip over any of the important, valuable and priceless Kirby parts and accessories. Ugghhhh! just shoot me. Now I have a Kirby, must vacuum. Except that it is too heavy for me to lift it, so MrH will have the pleasure of vacuuming until I am proven to be nonpregnant, lose the baby, or have a live delivery, whichever may come first.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
the parrot ate my stick
I am truly insane, I actually peed on a stick today! I mean how sick is that, one day after transfer? I just seem to be going through the motions like a robot, and don't feel in control of my own actions. I don't know what the stick actually said, because the parrot ate the bottom half and destroyed the reagent, making me aware that I am an idiot in the process. I think it was negative, although if I try really hard I can see lines on anything. MrH said he saw "sweet blue bugger all", so I think we'll call it a negative-eaten-by-the-parrot.
I am doing it also because I want to give myself permission to do whatever the heck my mind wants to do, as in the past I have fought hard to stop myself from doing pregnancy tests and felt bad when I failed. Let's just hope that the mind has a wisdom of its own, and rather go with that, as whatever you resist tends to persist anyway.
I am so incredibly sleepy from the progesterone. I slept from when I came back from work until 9 pm, when MrH had to work hard to wake me up from my sweaty heavy coma. I woke up reluctantly, ate, took my meds, brushed my teeth, wrote my blog (i.e. the essentials :) and will go back to sleep again. If I could sleep through the next week I would.
I am doing it also because I want to give myself permission to do whatever the heck my mind wants to do, as in the past I have fought hard to stop myself from doing pregnancy tests and felt bad when I failed. Let's just hope that the mind has a wisdom of its own, and rather go with that, as whatever you resist tends to persist anyway.
I am so incredibly sleepy from the progesterone. I slept from when I came back from work until 9 pm, when MrH had to work hard to wake me up from my sweaty heavy coma. I woke up reluctantly, ate, took my meds, brushed my teeth, wrote my blog (i.e. the essentials :) and will go back to sleep again. If I could sleep through the next week I would.
Monday, November 29, 2010
transfer today
The transfer went well, I got there with an ultra full bladder and was made to wait for 40 minutes, which would not have been a problem were it not that my bladder was bursting. At one point my eyes were tearing from the superhuman effort made by my pelvic floor muscles. Finally, I stuck my head out from the cubicle's curtain, and with all the dignity that I could muster while covered up with a sheet I shuffled carefully to the doctor's desk and stated that "either we do it now, or I pee". We tried to do it then, but my bladder was so full, that despite using the largest speculum available (and boy, was that ever comfy), he still couldn't fight my bladder to get to my cervix. I had to go and void a fair bit (like half of the bladder content) in order to allow for the transfer, and then it went smoothly.
My mom was with me, and she found it impressive. I had a strange lack of emotions, and an uncharacteristic lack of questions. They transferred a 4AB (the best seen, apparently 4AA blasts are just about impossible) with 100% survival rate, and a 4CC (average) also 100%. I don't worry so much about twins now after realizing that one of them was a 4CC, I don't think that one is going to make it. In my body, the C's usually get gobbled up for breakfast by my evil macrophages. The AB might stand a chance, but I refuse to get excited. I really even forgot about the IVF on my way back to my town (I flew in right afterwards). I did remember enough though to give them a wheatgrass shooter 2 oz (that is my usual booster during IVF) and a 14 oz freshly squeezed juice. I am usually quite careful with the fruits and veggies while waiting for implantation, and although I am fairly unexcited at the moment, will still do my usual rest, eat salads, drink veg and green juices, tie myself to the bed to prevent my body from inadvertently trying to exercise (a BIG no-no at my clinic) and hey, I even broke open the seal on the folic acid bottle that I have stared at really hard for the past few months.
All in all, it went well, and although I keep on hoping that my lack of confidence and belief in the possibilities of this cycle are not going to affect the outcome, I am still berating myself a little for the pessimism. However, things are what they are, I have done this way too many times to think otherwise. Statistics, prayer, hope and positive thinking, meditation and organic vegan eating, visualization, acupuncture and moxibustion have not helped me one iota so far. Therefore this cycle I give myself permission to use Chanel skin care products with all of their poisonous parabens and luxurious scents, to be as pessimistic as my brain feels the need to be, and to not hope if that is not where my heart wants to go. At least for now.
Even so...goodnight embabies :)
My mom was with me, and she found it impressive. I had a strange lack of emotions, and an uncharacteristic lack of questions. They transferred a 4AB (the best seen, apparently 4AA blasts are just about impossible) with 100% survival rate, and a 4CC (average) also 100%. I don't worry so much about twins now after realizing that one of them was a 4CC, I don't think that one is going to make it. In my body, the C's usually get gobbled up for breakfast by my evil macrophages. The AB might stand a chance, but I refuse to get excited. I really even forgot about the IVF on my way back to my town (I flew in right afterwards). I did remember enough though to give them a wheatgrass shooter 2 oz (that is my usual booster during IVF) and a 14 oz freshly squeezed juice. I am usually quite careful with the fruits and veggies while waiting for implantation, and although I am fairly unexcited at the moment, will still do my usual rest, eat salads, drink veg and green juices, tie myself to the bed to prevent my body from inadvertently trying to exercise (a BIG no-no at my clinic) and hey, I even broke open the seal on the folic acid bottle that I have stared at really hard for the past few months.
All in all, it went well, and although I keep on hoping that my lack of confidence and belief in the possibilities of this cycle are not going to affect the outcome, I am still berating myself a little for the pessimism. However, things are what they are, I have done this way too many times to think otherwise. Statistics, prayer, hope and positive thinking, meditation and organic vegan eating, visualization, acupuncture and moxibustion have not helped me one iota so far. Therefore this cycle I give myself permission to use Chanel skin care products with all of their poisonous parabens and luxurious scents, to be as pessimistic as my brain feels the need to be, and to not hope if that is not where my heart wants to go. At least for now.
Even so...goodnight embabies :)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Parental support
First off, in an effort to facilitate your guys comments, which I love to read, I have changed some of the settings. It should be much easier to leave a comment now for those who don't have a blog. And if you do read the blog, leave me comments, I really appreciate it.
I had a strange chat with my dad tonight. We were talking about our relatives and extended family and he told me that he had realized how out of his entire family, he is the only one who does not have grandchildren. I said that he had had one, but he died. My dad replied something loosely translated as "May God forgive him, but he doesn't count."
In that moment, like in so many others during the past year, I just had to remember that infertility, stillbirth, and this whole package that I am carrying on my back is supposed to hurt. It is inevitable that even in the middle of an otherwise lovely day, and without provocation, pain will be there, showing up from time to time in so many little ways, lest I forget that no matter how good life is at the moment, even if it is the best that it has been in a whole year, I will still hurt in the background, I will still be reminded, I will still listen to the outside world and let the Voice (hehe, you thought that the Voice was gone, no such luck boys and girls...) putting me down, making me doubt, telling me that I must still be doing something wrong if after all this time and effort I have nothing to show for it. Nothing including my poor dead baby, who apparently doesn't count.
Forgive me, Adrian, for not hurting your grandfather back. He is also in pain, his own pain, which makes him blind to mine, and makes him unable to acknowledge and love you like your daddy and I do.
It is a GOOD thing that my mom and dad don't understand my struggle or my emotions. It is because they themselves have never experienced anything like it, and that is a good thing. This kind of pain, I want it as far away from my loved ones as I can.
I chose to joke instead of even trying to explain. I suggested that my dad should perhaps have another child, preferably adopt one that is a little older, if he really wants grandchildren.
In the meantime, I will go on trying, knowing fully well that at this point my parents (and who knows who else) are thinking that I am still not trying hard enough. Perhaps this is part of why I started this blog, to be able to direct people to a written chronicle of my trials so far, hoping that seeing it they would stop judging my efforts as insufficient. But who am I kidding, my parents don't need to read it, they saw me living it and it still means nothing. In the all absorbing quest for a precious grandchild, neither Adrian nor me seem to count.
And who am I to judge that kind of desire? To want a grandchild with so much force as to forget about your own child's feelings might very well be akin to me wanting a child with my whole heart, and perhaps at times ignoring the fact that I am hurting my pregnant friends or cutting contact with my cousins who have recently had babies. We all hurt others when we want something so badly that nothing else in our life seems to count.
The lesson that I have learned is the same as always: don't fight. There is always a reason. Pain is here to stay. Carry it with grace.
I had a strange chat with my dad tonight. We were talking about our relatives and extended family and he told me that he had realized how out of his entire family, he is the only one who does not have grandchildren. I said that he had had one, but he died. My dad replied something loosely translated as "May God forgive him, but he doesn't count."
In that moment, like in so many others during the past year, I just had to remember that infertility, stillbirth, and this whole package that I am carrying on my back is supposed to hurt. It is inevitable that even in the middle of an otherwise lovely day, and without provocation, pain will be there, showing up from time to time in so many little ways, lest I forget that no matter how good life is at the moment, even if it is the best that it has been in a whole year, I will still hurt in the background, I will still be reminded, I will still listen to the outside world and let the Voice (hehe, you thought that the Voice was gone, no such luck boys and girls...) putting me down, making me doubt, telling me that I must still be doing something wrong if after all this time and effort I have nothing to show for it. Nothing including my poor dead baby, who apparently doesn't count.
Forgive me, Adrian, for not hurting your grandfather back. He is also in pain, his own pain, which makes him blind to mine, and makes him unable to acknowledge and love you like your daddy and I do.
It is a GOOD thing that my mom and dad don't understand my struggle or my emotions. It is because they themselves have never experienced anything like it, and that is a good thing. This kind of pain, I want it as far away from my loved ones as I can.
I chose to joke instead of even trying to explain. I suggested that my dad should perhaps have another child, preferably adopt one that is a little older, if he really wants grandchildren.
In the meantime, I will go on trying, knowing fully well that at this point my parents (and who knows who else) are thinking that I am still not trying hard enough. Perhaps this is part of why I started this blog, to be able to direct people to a written chronicle of my trials so far, hoping that seeing it they would stop judging my efforts as insufficient. But who am I kidding, my parents don't need to read it, they saw me living it and it still means nothing. In the all absorbing quest for a precious grandchild, neither Adrian nor me seem to count.
And who am I to judge that kind of desire? To want a grandchild with so much force as to forget about your own child's feelings might very well be akin to me wanting a child with my whole heart, and perhaps at times ignoring the fact that I am hurting my pregnant friends or cutting contact with my cousins who have recently had babies. We all hurt others when we want something so badly that nothing else in our life seems to count.
The lesson that I have learned is the same as always: don't fight. There is always a reason. Pain is here to stay. Carry it with grace.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Life as we know it
I am sitting here in the hotel, on the top floor, in a room with a view of the ocean, looking at the marina where the white boats sit quietly on the blue-green water. There are fluffy clouds hovering above the Lions Gate bridge, seagulls circling underneath, and a tug boat drawing its v-shaped tail on the water. I have just had a lovely latte and the obligatory french pastry (mrH is not here today) and am contemplating adding more red hues in my hair tomorrow (I have an appointment to refresh the highlights). I am waiting for monday, when I am getting my two embabies transferred. I have access to the most advanced, latest infertility treatment that the world as we know it can provide.
And I cannot help but notice how far life has carried me, from dark grey communist Romania, where I had to heat water on the stove to wash my hair, used menstrual rags that I would launder by hand in the sink, and never saw an avocado, or a pomegranate, or an espresso maker.
Life can be very unpredictable. And that is not always bad (huge grin :).
Here are some pictures, some of our breakfast meals, the view from the breakfast room (same view from our room), the olympic flame and the outside of the hotel, and an organic food shop nearby (Urban Fair)
And I cannot help but notice how far life has carried me, from dark grey communist Romania, where I had to heat water on the stove to wash my hair, used menstrual rags that I would launder by hand in the sink, and never saw an avocado, or a pomegranate, or an espresso maker.
Life can be very unpredictable. And that is not always bad (huge grin :).
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
ultrasound tomorrow
Tomorrow at 8 am I will be having my ultrasound and if the lining is fine, which it always is, then I will be asked to stop the suprefact and to start progesterone. Normally you would hear me whine about the bloating, constipation, and the general sensation that I should urgently strangle kind looking strangers in order to alleviate the mandatory bitchiness, but this cycle I am so happy to be finally done with SuperFat that I don't even care about progesterEvil. (clearly I have been doing this for far too long, if I have starting to nickname the meds so lovingly).
Today I had the best, best, bestest breakfast, consisting of a plate of fruit, some sliced smoked salmon, an egg, and about one forkful of this fabulous french crepe filled with grated apple cooked in custard. (I would have snuck much more than a forkful in, but sadly MrH noticed what I was doing and asked me to stop) I also had half a French pastry during the conference (which I also snuck in while MrH was not looking), and a bit of thin crust pizza which I disguised under a lot of salad, but that didn't work, MrH did notice, and asked me to please refrain from eating for the whole of Africa. (I am eating for the whole of Africa, which is why the whole continent is malnourished and starving, kinda like me for the past three days).
I have even been diligent about my exercise tonight, although after about 5 km running I noticed in the adjacent mirror that my fat was jiggling in very disturbing fashion and decided to move to the elliptical trainer, which was next to a darker, more slimming mirror. With the stress of the impending IVF, I really cannot tolerate seeing fat jiggle, it is too much for my frail nerves. Although the show I watched on TV about liposuction was somewhat nerve-soothing. There's always hope.
I must remember to take a picture of the gym tomorrow, it is quite fancy as well, in particular the powder room, with all sorts of creams and lotions and white fluffy towels, bathrobes and slippers. The princess is very happy here.
Today I had the best, best, bestest breakfast, consisting of a plate of fruit, some sliced smoked salmon, an egg, and about one forkful of this fabulous french crepe filled with grated apple cooked in custard. (I would have snuck much more than a forkful in, but sadly MrH noticed what I was doing and asked me to stop) I also had half a French pastry during the conference (which I also snuck in while MrH was not looking), and a bit of thin crust pizza which I disguised under a lot of salad, but that didn't work, MrH did notice, and asked me to please refrain from eating for the whole of Africa. (I am eating for the whole of Africa, which is why the whole continent is malnourished and starving, kinda like me for the past three days).
I have even been diligent about my exercise tonight, although after about 5 km running I noticed in the adjacent mirror that my fat was jiggling in very disturbing fashion and decided to move to the elliptical trainer, which was next to a darker, more slimming mirror. With the stress of the impending IVF, I really cannot tolerate seeing fat jiggle, it is too much for my frail nerves. Although the show I watched on TV about liposuction was somewhat nerve-soothing. There's always hope.
I must remember to take a picture of the gym tomorrow, it is quite fancy as well, in particular the powder room, with all sorts of creams and lotions and white fluffy towels, bathrobes and slippers. The princess is very happy here.
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