Tag Archives: ttc

I Gots Me Some Drugs!!!!

29 Oct

Well, it only took 5 months with the RE, a handful of 43 day cycles, and me crying in her office out of sheer frustration – but Dr. Dexter finally did it!

I have full IF bloodwork to do, Shmerson gets to do his business in a cup, and I gots me some Clo.mid!!! Starting tomorrow – a five day protocol with ovulation monitoring.

If I’m not knocked up by the end of this cycle, then the next step is an HSG to make sure that Ole’ righty is still open.

Cue the collective sigh of relief.

Please oh please let me be one of those annoying IFers who gets knocked up after one Clo.mid cycle.

Any tips for how to handle the Clo.mid crazies?

Is it terrible that I’m jumping for joy?

Get My A$$ to Vegas

8 Sep

5DPO. That’s right folks – I ovumalated!

10 days late, and on the tubeless side. So I’m really not getting my hopes up.

I’m generally doing ok. I’m just soooo sick and tired of this dance. I’m over it. For reals.

The only thing that is keeping me halfway sane is the fact that in exactly one month I will be at a $5 blackjack table in Vegas.

And if I’m not knocked up, I actually get to drink there.

It’s in the Stars. The Crazy Stars.

14 Aug

Me: ZOMG!!!!!!!

Me: Oh crap, what now?

Me: Our horoscope!

Me: You mean the Rob Bezsny one?

Me: So you read it!!!!

Me: Um, yeah, we’re the same person, remember?

Me: Right. So why aren’t you screaming like I am?

Me: Because I’m sane.

Me: Allow me to quote.

Me: Please don’t.

Me: Oh just watch me! According to Mr. Brezsny:

It’s quite possible, Libra, that you will benefit from a Hubble-like augmentation of your vision in the next nine months. Right from the beginning, make sure there are no significant defects in the fundamentals of your big expansion.

Right? Right?!?

Me: I don’t get it.

Me: Nine months! Expansion!

Me: Oh, you think this means we’re going to be pregnant this month.


Me:  This is the baby psychic all over again. *Rolls Eyes*

Me: No! This is better! He’s syndicated!

Me: It’s random. Do you think it means every Libra will get pregnant this month?

Me: No! Just us! We’re special.

Me: No we’re not.

Me: We’re going to get pregnant! La la la la la la!

Me: I’m going away now.

Me: Screw you. I’m going to enjoy this. YYYYYIIIIIPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Me: *Backs away slowly*

I Think I’m Out

30 Jul

So this morning’s Rolls Royce pee stick had a single solitary line. According to one app I’m 10 DPO, and FF says I’m 9 DPO. I know it’s early but with past pregnancies (except the ectopic) I’ve had the second line by now. Plus my chart isn’t showing pregnancy-type temps.

So yeah – I think I’m out this month.

I don’t want to waste any more Rolls Royces so I had Shmerson hide them. If AF doesn’t show up by Saturday, then I’ll pull out another one, but I’m starting to make peace with the fact that this cycle is a bust. Not a surprise, since I popped from the wrong side.

I’m actually more OK with it than I thought I would be – though admittedly, I’m still hoping for a late bloomer – but I’m working on convincing myself that I’ve got at least one more month before my pee will magically make a second line appear.

Ahh well.

15th Verse, Pretty Much Same as the First

24 Jul


Me: Crapnuggets. What now?

Me: I have to pee on all the things!

Me: Um, we’re 4 DPO. And we popped from the left. Remember? No left tube? Chances slim? Ring a bell?

Me: We’ve always fallen on the low end of the stats. We totally will now. The baby psychic said so!

Me: Oh we’re back on that now.

Me: Yes! Must. Pee. On. Things!

Me: Is this how you’re going to be all week?

Me: Yeeeeeeeeeesssssssssss!!!!!

Me: Oh dear.

Me: Can we pee on stuff tomorrow morning?

Me: Let’s wait until 10 DPO. Ok?

Me: 6 DPO

Me: 9 DPO

Me: 7 DPO

Me: 8 DPO – and I’m not going any lower.

Me: Saturday! Saturday! Saturday!

Me: Are you a monster truck announcer now?

Me: Nope. But I wanted to sing some Rebecca Black, so count yourself lucky.

Me: Shoot me now.

Me: After we pee on stuff on Friday, Friday, gotta get down on –

Me: We agreed on SATURDAY.

Me: But Friday is so much catchier.

Me: Oy, no wonder my brain is mush.

Me: Sitting on the toilet seat, lookin at my pee sticks, gotta make my mind up, which stick should I taaaaake….

Me: Saturday.

Me: And Sunday comes after… waaaaards!

Me: I’m going away now.

Me: Suit yourself. It’s Friday Friday, gotta pee on stuff on Friday…

Me: Saturday.

Me: Mo’s looking forward to the weekend, weekend…

Me: *walks away slowly*

Bullets and Bunnies: Definitely Not Ovulating Edition

12 Jul
  • So I decided to go for ovulation monitoring after all. I figured it would save a ton of money in pee sticks. I got blood tests done today, and according to the nurse at the clinic “nothing’s moving in there.” I go in again for blood tests on Monday morning, with a date with Ole’ wandy that afternoon. But right now I am feeling pretty down. I doubt I’ll ovulate this month, which means another month down the drain. 
  • Who wants to look at my results and tell me I may still have a chance? You do? Ok, well here you go then:  E2- 105 , Progesterone – 1.93, LH – 14.6 . Have at it. 
  • I’ve lost close to seven pounds already. I was really hoping this would be enough to jump start things. And I want cake. 
  • I’m pissed at my body. Can you tell? Because I totally am. It needs to cooperate. 
  • I think I’m going to beg Dr. Dexter for drugs again on Monday if there are no follies up in my grill. 
  • Up in my grill. I can’t believe I actually wrote that. I totally can’t pull that off. 
  • Urgh. Just – urgh. 
  • Here’s a bunny – hopefully it will brighten your day a bit, because this post is a freaking downer. 

Let’s Play a Game

19 Jun

Ok ladies and gents! It’s time to play:

Where’s. Mo’s. Cycle!

The rules are simple: I give you the results of this morning’s blood tests, and you guess what the hell is going on with my cycle!

All for my amusement as I wait for my phone consult with the RE tomorrow!
You can win fabulous prizes!

Ready to play? Dim the lights and here we go!

E2: less than 100. Which means follicular phase!!!

Progesterone: 3.05. Which means… I have no idea because it’s too high for follicular and too low for luteal!!!

LH: 15.4. Which means luteal phase!!!

So… You’re up!

Where’s Mo’s Cycle?!?!

If you guess correctly you could win….

Lolcats! Bitter ranting! And another post from me later today!

(working on a big one for later, apologies in advance for clogging up your inbox)

Have at it ladies and….. Well, I’m assuming only ladies!!!!!

*applause sign here*

UPDATE: Ladies and gents, we have a winner! It’s me! I win pills to jump start AF! Dr. Dexter says my progesterone levels are really low, so I probably didn’t ovulate.

Notes To Self

3 Jun
  • Shaking an HPT like an etch-a-sketch will NOT magically make a second line appear. 
  • You don’t know when you ovulated so all is not necessarily lost. 
  • You really need to get on that post about the vacation, it’s far more amusing than your pee-stick obsession. 
  • Stop being depressed! It’s still early! Seriously! Stop that now!
  • If this cycle is a bust, make sure you monitor your ovulation properly next month so you don’t drive yourself crazy again. 
  • Have you noticed that you channel your anxiety into pee sticks? You should discuss that with your therapist tomorrow. For reals. 
  • You’re obsessing about pee sticks just by writing this post.
  • Shaking an HPT like an etch-a-sketch will not… STOP SHAKING THAT THING ALREADY!

An Addendum to My Previous Post

31 May


That is all.

To Pee or Not to Pee

31 May


Me: What are you so excited about?

Me: We’re back from vacation!

Me: How is that a GOOD thing?

Me: We get to pee on stuff!

Me: Um, not quite yet.

Me: Yes! We must pee on All the Things NOW!

Me: Nope.

Me: Why not?

Me: Because we’re not sure when we ovulated. At best, it was last Thursday. At worst, it was a couple of days ago. No pee stick will give us a BFP right now.

Me: Sure it can!

Me: Explain.

Me: Because I had the “I’m preggo” feeling.

Me: Yes, but even if we are preggo, it will still take a couple of days before anything shows up. A couple of days at best. More like 5 or 6.

Me: Nope! I’ve decided we fertilized last Thursday, and there’s been a cluster of cells digging into our ute ever since.

Me: That’s impossible.

Me: I will it to be so!

Me: That won’t make any difference.

Me: I have magic pee that makes two lines appear!

Me: Nope.

Me: We MUST pee! Now!

Me: We have one solitary Rolls Royce. I will not allow you to squander it on your silliness.

Me: Please?

Me: Nope.

Me: Pretty please?

Me: Try a popsicle stick.

Me: Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Me: I don’t like cherries.

Me: You suck.

Me: You can pee on some cherries.

Me: Gross.

(I promise I will post a vacation recap tomorrow. For now, I am in tired crazy town. Welcome!)

Debunking Two Week Wait Symptoms

23 May


Howdy new visitor! This post seems to be very popular on the google machines. If you found your way here because you’re suffering through the two week wait- hi! I feel your pain.

Before you read on please note that I am not a doctor. The post below was written with a tone of snark. Feel free to read it, though it’s just my opinion and nothing more. You’re even more welcome to click around the blog. I’m sure you’ll find my other posts way more enlightening than this, and some even kind of funny (and others debilitatingly sad, but such is life). Happy reading!

I think one thing that you get from being pregnant as often as I have is that you realize that what “they” say is true. Each pregnancy is different.

As much as we all like to obsessively seek out symptoms during the dreaded window between ovulation and AF, the fact is that most of it is useless self-torture.

Yep – I said it. TWW symptoms are total BS.

Oh yes Dramatic Chipmunk. I totally went there.

For the sake of argument, let’s break down the process, shall we?

A spike of a hormone called LH triggers ovulation. At that point the progesterone levels rise.

If after two weeks there is no pregnancy, the corpus luteum (basically the remains of your follicle on your ovary)  collapses, causing a sharp drop in progesterone and estrogen and triggering AF.

If a fertilized egg starts nestling in your ute, then it produces a hormone called HCG (AKA the dreaded/eagerly awaited Beta), which causes the corpus luteum to continue to produce the necessary hormones to sustain a pregnancy until the placenta is fully formed.

So science sez that up until HCG is introduced into the body, the hormone levels in the body are identical, whether egg met sperm or not. More importantly – all that HCG does in early pregnancy is just to tell the corpus luteum to keep producing progesterone. Which it was doing pre-implantation anyway.

So that’s the science of it.

The plain old logic of it is that progesterone spikes whether you’re knocked up or not. And progesterone is what is the known cause of early pregnancy symptoms.

So that nausea you’re feeling? Yep – could just be progesterone. Or something you had for dinner.

Swollen bre.asts? Progesterone.

Food cravings? Think back – how many times just before AF showed did you just NEED to have that bacon cheeseburger?

Mmmmmm…. Bacon cheeseburger…. *Drool*

So really? The first sign of pregnancy that is for sure a sign of pregnancy is a missed period. Period.

If two week wait symptoms were truly a “thing,” then they would be consistent with each pregnancy and with each woman, wouldn’t they?

There ya go.

But that doesn’t mean you should stop obsessing. After all how else will you keep your brain occupied once you ovulate?

I also pretty much know that despite going to all of this trouble to debunk this, I probably will too.


Magic Needles, Do Your Thang

18 May

Last week I was hanging out with my mom.

I was telling her how I really hope this cycle is it so we can get on with this anxiety party. Then she said: “Yeah, let’s hope you ovulate on the right this month.”

Yep. Totally forgot that I only have my right tube. Seriously. I forgot.

That means that I have a 50% chance of even having a chance this month (does that even make sense?). No wonder I repressed it.

Must… Ovulate… On… Right… Side…

So I’ve spent the last week trying to figure out how to make ovulation happen on a specific side.

Yeah. Can’t be done.

But you guys know me. I always find SOMETHING.

At my weekly appointment with the Harley Hottie (that would be my acupuncturist) today, I asked if there was a magic point that would make me ovulate on the right this cycle.

He said there wasn’t really anything on the books for that. So I asked him to use his instincts and awesome acupuncture mojo.

He went along with it, cause he’s kewl like that.

Now all I can do is hope that it works. Or that I was supposed to be ovulating on the right this month anyway.

I can’t believe I forgot that I only have one tube. I FORGOT.

What is wrong with me lately?

Where is My Mind

16 May

Me: Dude, you’re doing it again.

Me: Doing what?

Me: You know, that thing you do when you put yourself in a bubble and zone out and just completely lose touch with everything.

Me: I’m sorry, were you saying something?

Me: That was a joke, right?

Me: Mmm-hmm. Whatever.

Me: Seriously. Snap out of it.

Me: Out of what? I am perfectly fine thankyouverymuch.

Me: Um, we missed our therapist appointment yesterday.

Me: Yeah, so?

Me: Because we FORGOT.

Me: Eh, didn’t feel like talking about anything anyway.

Me: No, you were preoccupied with our uterus again.

Me: OK seriously though – I can’t help it! Our uterus is fascinating!

Me: *sigh* I need a vacation.

Me: Well you’re getting one in 9 days when we fly to Rhodes for our two year wedding anniversary.

Me: Thank goodness.

Me: Until then – it’s uterusapalooza!

Me: Not funny.

Me: It’s Ute Fest 2012!

Me: Yeah I get it.

Me: It’s Lady Parts Presents: An Ode to Our Internal Plumbing!

Me: Hmph.

Me: It’s a Fallopian Fiesta!

Me: Oh dear me.

Me: It’s a Hoping-For-Insemination Celebration!

Me: Did you think of these ahead of time and make a list?

Me: It’s an Egg-stravaganza!

Me: You’re beating a dead horse.

Me: It’s the premier of the critically acclaimed off-off-off-broadway one-uterus-show: I’ve Only Got One Tube, and Half My Sanity!

Me: Ok that one was at least accurate.

Me: It’s Uterus-Rockin-Eve!

Me: Ok now you lost me again.

Me: Uterusuterusuterusuterusuterusuterusuterusuterusuterus!!!!

Me: Le Sigh.

How a 34-Day Cycle Almost Broke My Brain – In Three Acts

9 May

Before I begin, a little announcement: A few of you have asked what happened to Rachel at e*g*g*s**i*n**a**r*o*w. Well, she’s moved over to new digs and you can find those new digs right here.

Now, on to our regularly scheduled blog post. In three acts. Because I feel like it.

ACT I – Eggs of Steel! (Shyeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt)

So yeah, I was about here last week. Absolutely sure that there was no way in heck I was knocked up, yet completely hoping that I was, somehow, magically preggo. Oh, and I got precisely ZERO positive OPK’s this month. I initially dismissed it, since we weren’t actually trying this month so it “wasn’t important”, and I figured I just missed the surge or something. But remember this – it becomes important later.

Anywhoozers, I was going nuts. So two days before AF was due, I used up one of my two (!) remaining Rolls Royce pee sticks. Guess what? Only one line. So my pee was only semi-magic, since it didn’t make the coveted second line appear.

ACT II – Pee-Stick-O-Rama

I didn’t let that one BFN stop me! Oh no! Granted, I wasn’t going to waste my one remaining Rolls Royce, but I had a nice little stock of OPK’s,  and they are almost as good, according to the best website on the planet. So, for three days, every morning (ok, and a couple of times in the afternoon) I peed. And peed. And peed some more. Alas, no second line. Although once I thought I did see a hint of something, so I decided to pee on a real HPT (the one that came free with the OPK’s), and alas, my pee was half-magic again. Fail.

Apart from the obsessive peeing, my uterus started hurting. Not literally, but I was finding myself telling Shmerson about once (or maybe twice. Ok, three times. Four. I swear it was only four times) a day: “I can haz baby now?”

Shmerson didn’t really know how to react to that. I don’t blame him. Poor Shmerson and his crazy wife.

Act III: The Unraveling

So CD 33 rolls around. I still wouldn’t use my Rolls Royce, but I was going a little crazy.  Before my pregnancy with Nadav my cycle was like clockwork. 30 days. Ovulation on CD 18. Always.

But before my first pregnancy, my PCOS was in full form. AF would show up (at best) once every 4-5 months or so.

So on CD 33 I started panicking. What if my cycle is screwy again? What if I can’t ovulate on my own any more? What if we need fertility treatments on top of everything else we have to go through?

My head was spinning. To make matters worse, I had an appointment with my GP that morning to get a few routine blood tests done, and I had to tell her about what happened with Nadav. She knows my whole history. She cried with me when I told her.

Not a good start to my day.

Of course, I couldn’t let it go and bought yet ANOTHER HPT at the pharmacy, and of course – one single solitary line again.

I was starting to freak out. That’s it. We’re done for. We’re going to have to do injectables. Or IVF. Or something. Or my eggs have started to suck. I’m screwed. I’m officially screwed.

After that little adventure I had a class to teach. But not before crying just a little bit in the bathroom. That was fun.

After my class I was obsessively checking my three (yes, three) cycle-tracking apps, trying to make sense of what was going on. I was in the parking lot when I decided I would just bite the bullet and call the Russian.

But wait! Why call when he’s exactly a one-minute drive away from where I teach?

So yeah, I decided to go to his office instead. Without an appointment.

His secretary was gracious and snuck me in for a couple of minutes. He gave me his usual exasperated look as I recounted the fact that AF was late and that I hadn’t had a positive OPK this month.

Through rolling eyes he told me to calm down, and gave me a prescription to jump-start AF, but told me not to fill it until it was 10 days late, and only after a negative HPT.

Armed with the script, I walk out of his office, not feeling much better. What if it’s another ectopic and that’s why I keep getting BFNs? What the hell is wrong with my freaking body?

A couple of hours later I had a shrink appointment. I spent most of it ranting about my late period. And about how tired I am of all of this and how I just want it all behind me.

At the end of the session she asked: And where are YOU in all of this?

My answer: Who knows? I haven’t been me in two years.

So I leave the Shrink’s office hysterical, and I go to pick Shmerson up from the train station. By the time I get there I’m a blubbering mess.

He asks what’s wrong. I answer something like:




Poor Shmerson.

He drives us home and orders a pizza while I try to pull myself together and cancel a meeting I had the next day, because seriously, I don’t go into meetings puffy-eyed.

I take a shower, take one of my 10-pound-hammer happy pills and go to bed.


The next morning, 8am, CD 34, AF shows up.

Turns out I have some crappy-ass PMS.

Breathe, regroup, apologize to my poor abused husband, and do this all again at the end of this month.

Hopefully with a little less crazy.

Dude – if this is how I am when I’m just cycling, how in the heck am I going to survive six months of bed rest?

Baby-Crazy 3: The Crazy Returns

3 May

Me: I think I’m pregnant.

Me: *rolls eyes*

Me: No! Seriously! Hear me out!

Me: There is no chance you’re pregnant. You know when we ovulated. No chance.

Me: But I’ve been a bit nauseous!

Me: Mmm-hmm.

Me: And I felt a stabby pain in my back the other day.

Me: *sigh*

Me: And, um… Other stuff!

Me: Ok, listen up; Unless you have eggs of steel you are not pregnant.

Me: “Eggs of Steel” I like that. It makes me feel all super-hero-y and stuff.

Me: (whispering) Oh my FSM, what did I do to deserve this?

Me: Well I have eggs of steel, ok? I’m telling you, I’m knocked up! Can I pee on a stick?

Me: No.

Me: But the stabby pain! Oh, and I have a weird taste in my mouth.

Me: Those are not pregnancy symptoms. You’ve changed your diet and you’ve been exercising more. That’s all that is.

Me: Either that or I’m pregnant.

Me: You are NOT pregnant.

Me: Can I pee on one of our stockpiled Rolls Royce pee sticks just to make sure?

Me: Hell no!

Me: Please?

Me: No.

Me: Pretty please?

Me: You are not pregnant. It’s statistically impossible.

Me: Eggs of steel! Eggs of steel! Eggs of steel!

Me: Can you tell me why you want so badly to be pregnant again? Can’t we go on vacation and get a little drunk first?

Me: Baby! Baby! Baby!

Me: Chanting does not work on me any more. And you know as well as I do that for us, pregnancy does not actually equal a baby.

Me: *sticks fingers in ears* La la la la la la la la la la la!

Me: (yelling) Pretending not to hear me does not make it any less true.

Me: *fingers still in ears* Baby! Baby! Baby!

Me: *sighs* I give up. But trust me, you are not pregnant.

Me: You suck.

Me: Why, thank you.

Second Verse – (Pretty Much) Same as the First

26 Apr

So we went in for our second opinion yesterday, and Dr. Second Opinion: I officially re-dub thee Dr. Sunshine!

Seriously, the guy was AWESOME. If he didn’t practice over an hour away from here I would transfer.

It’s not that I don’t like the Russian. But THIS GUY, seriously. Is it possible to have a completely non-sexual crush on a 70-ish year old doctor strictly because of his awesome bedside manner?

Evidence of Dr. Sunshine’s awesomeness:

  • When recounting my story, and saying my water broke at 22.5 weeks, he sighed and said “just shy of the promised land” yep. You get it. *swoon*
  • When I started conversing with him in Infertile-speak, or in other words, giving him terms and information no normal woman would know, rather than looking at me strangely, he was freaking impressed. Loved that.
  • He started talking about “our next steps” then caught himself, and said: “Oh, right, you live more than an hour away. I don’t want you making that drive all the time.” Then he helped me figure out a way to tell the Russian what he said without actually telling the Russian that I went for a second opinion, so as not to hurt his feelings.
  • When I told him this is our last shot as far as I’m concerned, he yelled at me, saying: “Don’t say that, you WILL have a baby. I can tell what kind of woman you are. You’re way too strong to give up, and there’s no reason why this won’t work out.”
  • Finally, and this was my favorite part – the man gave me his personal cell phone number and offered to be my “Phone Friend” whenever I had a question.


Also, nothing he said really contradicted the Russian, and he agreed that the Russian is a good doctor and there’s no reason for me to leave him.

Wow, I feel like I totally just had an affair on my doctor. Ahh well.

As for what happened, he went into a bit more detail, from a different perspective. He said we’ll never know for sure what happened, and it could have been contractions, it could have been the cerclage failing, or it could have been the cerclage itself. We’ll never really know.

So, Dr. Sunshine’s recommendations:

  1. Slight medication change for the first trimester, and progesterone shots starting at 14 weeks (that’s to keep any contractions at bay).
  2. Cerclage at 12 weeks, same stitch as the Russian recommends.
  3. Bed rest, of course.
  4. He sent me in to get my glucose levels tested and my TSH tested again, just in case.
  5. He convinced me to skip the HSG, because he too doesn’t see a need for it, and two docs saying not to have that painful bit of hell is enough for me.
  6. As far as he’s concerned, we can jump in again right away.

So basically, not so different from the Russian’s prognosis.

Another thing that came up was a bit of a validation for me. He pretty much confirmed that they effed up my first D&C and that’s where all the problems most likely started. No point in getting angry about it all over again. But finally a doctor confirms what I’ve been saying all along.

Shmerson and I left the appointment feeling hopeful.

I can’t say the fear has disappeared. I don’t think it ever will. But a bit of hope creeped in thanks to Dr. Sunshine, my new Phone Friend.

AF should show her face in a couple of weeks, and then, we hold our breath and jump in.

Holy crap.

Wherein I Feel Like a Broken Record

21 Apr

So have you guys ever had this happen to you?

I want to stop thinking about being pregnant. I want to stop wanting to be pregnant. But I just can’t turn it off.

I’ve been keeping busy, working hard, doing things that are supposed to be fun. But it keeps creeping in. I can’t control it.

Today marks two months since we lost Nadav. Time has both flown by and dragged on. It’s the strangest feeling. I miss him, I mourn him. But a part of me feels like there are things about losing him that I have yet to process. Just the decision to try again has brought up a bunch of new feelings. I’m pretty sure that getting pregnant again will bring more to the surface.

This week I made an appointment for a second opinion. Ever since then I’ve been terrified of finding out that the Russian made a mistake. I know that’s probably not going to happen, but it’s been haunting me.

I HAVE to trust him. If I don’t, I’ll spend the next pregnancy even more terrified. I can’t do that. I have to feel like I’m in good hands. He brought us further than any other doctor has. I don’t want to switch doctors. He has a stake in this. He knows me. I have to continue to trust him.

Even though the Russian didn’t give me a magic solution, I’m kind of hoping that Dr. Second Opinion will give me the same information. It would just make things so much easier.

In the meantime, I’m in a constant battle to keep myself distracted, but the insatiable need to get all of this behind me keeps me from moving forward completely. I know I have (hopefully, please) 6 months of being in bed ahead of me. 9 months (please please please) of worry and anxiety.

Like I wrote to Court in an email a few minutes ago, I know I have this incredibly long and hard road ahead of me, and I just want to get on with it already.

Don’t know if that’s healthy, but that’s just where I am.

In other news, I dyed my hair pink.

And yes, I love it.

Open Wounds

14 Apr

A decision has been made.

As soon as we’re cleared medically (which means most likely next month), we have decided to jump into TTC right away.

I can’t say I’m happy with the decision, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. This is the best decision we could have made for our sanity.

I can’t say it’s a good decision, but it’s the right decision.

This isn’t just about what the Russian said. This isn’t about getting the “project baby” show back on the road.

This is about us being tired. We are tired, and we want to know where this is leading us sooner rather than later.

The fact is that we have an open, festering wound that’s done nothing but grow in the last two years. No amount of time will heal this wound. Nothing will heal it. But there is one thing that will at least make it turn into a scar – and that’s a baby.

We can’t ignore this wound, so we’ve chosen to accept it. We will jump in, hold our breath, and hope against all hope that it will become a scar sooner rather than later.

I keep myself busy. I try to do things that are good for me. But the fact is that most days I feel like a walking freak show. I’m that babyloss mom. I’m that woman that miscarried all those times and had a stillbirth. I’m that broken body. I am not me.

That is the open wound. It’s one that will never go away.

I just hope that we can make it scab over soon. And that somehow through all of it I manage to maintain a bit of myself.

Not Much New Under the Sun

12 Apr

So yesterday’s appointment with the Russian went pretty much the way I thought it would. Let me break it down, bullet-style (TTC geekery ahead):

  • They don’t do abdominal cerclages in Israel. The Russian says only 2 have been done here in total, and though he could probably pull one off, he doesn’t want to make me his guinea pig. I pretty much agree with that. I don’t want to have a procedure done that hasn’t been tested and practiced here, and I don’t think I want anyone but the Russian operating on me at this point anyway. He said he would consider doing one on me if we had another second-trimester loss, but for now he doesn’t want to take the risk. Urgh. I don’t even want to think about another second trimester loss.
  • The plan as far as he’s concerned is to get me knocked up again, and then at 12 weeks do a double cerclage (that means two stitches one right under the other), with complete bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.
  • He basically said that statistics are on our side. He’s seen far worse cases end up with a take home baby. In his words: “It just depends on how much you’re willing to go through and how much patience you have. Some people have it easy, and unfortunately you’re not one of those people, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have a baby at the end of all of this.”
  • He doesn’t think I need a repeat HSG but gave me a referral anyway because I asked for it for my own peace of mind.
  • Oh – and he laughed at me when I brought up IVF. For good reason. It was a pretty silly proposition.

Ok – the next part is not bullet-appropriate. Yesterday’s appointment pretty much cemented the fact that this was a failure of my body, and Nadav was healthy. I’ve known it all along but it was still hard to hear “Your cervix failed, and that’s why your water broke.”

I’m trying really hard not to hate my body. But it’s a difficult place to be.

I know the best thing I can do right now is treat my body well, and hope beyond all hope that a double cerclage will be the help it needs to finally bring us a baby.

I know it, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

HSG scheduled for May 8th, and if all is clear, we’re a go to try again.

I’ll be making an appointment with a PPROM specialist for a second opinion, but I’m pretty sure he’ll say the same thing as the Russian.

So that’s where we’re at. I knew there were no guarantees to be had, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hoping for one.

Now all we can do is process the information, cross our fingers, and jump in when the time comes.

Le sigh.

Wherein I Use Lots of Track and Field Metaphors

17 Mar

I’ve talked a lot about giving up the race. About living my life for me and enjoying it for a change.

But what happens when you’ve got a ticking clock to get to the finish line?

A tug-of-war.

(See? Lots and lots of track & field metaphors.)

Lessons are wonderful. Revelations are great. But what happens when you have to stand against reality and actually put them into practice?

Two weeks ago I went in to see my OB/GYN – The Russian – for a follow up after losing Nadav. For those of you that have been following along for a while, you already know that The Russian is our 5th doctor, and the only one who took active steps to fix our problems. I give him full credit for the fact that Nadav even made it to my uterus.

He’s also bluntly honest. When the IC diagnosis happened, he very clearly stated that it could be that we caught it too late, and I have a 15-20% of losing the baby. He always gives it to me straight, and I appreciate that.

So I knew that when I walked into his office I’d get the truth about our chances for another go-round, when and if we were ready for it. Well, more like when, because we can’t afford surrogacy or adoption, and I can get pregnant relatively easily (at least so far).

Shmerson and I were thinking 6 months at least before we start trying again. At least. But I did want to know what The Russian thought.

So I sit down with the Russian and he says that he is “very optimistic” about me carrying to full term (or at least very close) next time. No bad numbers. Just “very optimistic” as long as we take the right steps (full bed rest, preventative cerclage, progesterone supps).

That made me feel good.

I knew even then that I had one more try in me. But after a decent break.

Then The Russian said we have to wait three cycles.

I laughed. Three cycles? We’re going to wait way longer than that. I told him as much.

Then he made a face.

The kind of face he makes when he delivers bad news. I know that face.

Ruh Roh.

Yeah – so he doesn’t think we should wait more than 3 cycles to start trying again. In fact, he thinks the sooner we start trying again, the better.

His reasoning (yay! A list!):

  • I still have PCOS, and have a history of going as long as 10 months without a cycle. My first pregnancy is what “jump started” my ovulation. Right now, he’s not sure how my cycle will react after this pregnancy, since this one was so much longer than the others.
  • With all of the planned intervention, he still can’t guarantee I won’t have any more early losses because of chromosomal issues, so it may take a while before we get to a viable pregnancy again.
  • I’m three years away from “Advanced Maternal Age”.

In short: tick-tock, tick tock.


So yeah – that certainly threw a wrench in our “enjoying our marriage and letting this go for a while” plans.

You know what the worst part of it all was? I was actually kind of relieved to get an excuse to try again asap.

I may want out of the race, but my biology is aching for a child more than ever before. I’m a mother with empty arms.

How can I ignore that?

Granted, I no longer want to “make up” for any losses, but that doesn’t lessen my longing for a child. In fact I long for one even more after losing Nadav.

That is a longing I can’t ignore.

But another side of me wants to ignore it. The last two years have taken a huge toll on my life.

Plus, I’m terrified of getting pregnant again.

And I don’t want to deal with SIX MONTHS of bed rest.

And I want to live my life and take care of myself for a while.

And I miss my Nadav.

But the tick-tock is there. Not just according to the Russian, but also ingrained into my biology.

Today I got a massage (another perk of this whole “taking care of myself” kick).

As I lay there, I was mulling over the tug-of-war – something I’ve been doing on and off since my appointment.

The unending longing to hold a baby in my arms, the ticking of my biological clock.

The need to take care of my body and soul. To give my mind and my body a break from all of this.

Finally, somewhere between my feet and my temples, I came to a realization. I think I know what will win in the end. But for now, I can take comfort in the fact that I don’t have to make a decision today.

Three cycles. Three cycles to mourn, to heal, to think, and to enjoy my life for a change.

Three cycles until I find out which side will win the tug of war.

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