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To My Friend Alicia

Alicia, over here wrote the kindest, sweetest post about lil ol’ me. I couldn’t comment on it because blogger hates me, so I had to write a post that hopefully she will see. Because I want her to know that I am thanking her from the bottom of my heart for her kindness and support. It’s not every day that you meet someone online or IRL, who is just so incredibly kind.

I am a complete wreck tonight since baby girl has her first visit in over a month with her father. It’s the first visit that I have had to take her to. I want to be supportive, I want to be kind. I want him to be in the right state of mind. Most of all I want this visit to be safe. The SW informed me today that I may have to sit in on the supervised visit, as baby girl might be anxious being handed off to him since she doesn’t really know him. Awkward much? But as I said, I want it to go as smoothly as possible. I do have empathy for the man. He is losing his child. I couldn’t imagine anything more terrible. Will he show? I don’t know. Apparently he is in a very bad state of mind at the moment. And as I said, that is why I hope that he is ok and that we have no troubles at the visit.
Wish me luck and pray for us. This is unknown territory for me and I am scared shitless

ME

I woke up this morning to an email notification of a new blog post. Short, yet heartbreaking. Those two words that NONE of us want to hear: no heartbeat. I’m so so sorry, Belle you are such an amazing woman and supportive online friend. I’d love nothing more to be friends with you IRL and share a bottle of wine. You have my thoughts and my prayers and my heart today. Please know that, although I know that it’s not much.

Anyway. I guess having any sort of presence on the web, whether it be huge or, quite small (like myself) you open yourself to criticism. I started my blog in order to write about my struggles with infertility and to meet others who could sadly understand how isolating infertility can be. What I didn’t know at the time is that there would be judgement. And I HATE judgment. I was naive I guess in thinking that I wouldn’t attract people who hate ART. People who hate adoption. People who hate ME. Let me say that again. People who hate ME. But they don’t really hate ME. They may hate my words, or my verbiage, or my sometimes sarcastic attitude. But it can’t possibly, personally be ME. because they don’t know ME. If they did they would know that I am not a bad person.
I am quiet and I am shy. Sometimes I can be seen as standoffish (I love that word) but I’m not. I just don’t know what to say to you that would be interesting enough to make you like me. I love to read. I love children, but not those screamy, tear the curtains off the walls kind. Well at least in my home. If you have the screamy, destructive kind I will enjoy them in your home. I have a degree to work with children that is worthless in this economy. My children are the CENTER of my life. The core of my being. I try and go to church but I also value family time spent outside of church on Sundays. I don’t adore animals but I don’t beat and torture them. Ok so my neighbors hate us because we complained about their barking dog one to many times. (Hey I get it. You love your dog. Well, I love sleep).
I’m sometimes messy and I keep and save more “memories” than my husband would like. I’m sentimental in that way. I’m no hoarder, I swear, but I will be able to produce and share A’s first 100% spelling test. (Ok, I’m a bit hoarder-ish?) I hate laundry and unloading the dishwasher. I haven’t had curtains in my family room for a year because I just can’t decide which ones I want. I live in a pretty superficial part of the world and I am the anti. I’d love to move to a new state but would want to take my entire family with me. You have no idea how hard it is to get ALL of these people to agree on all moving to one place. I mean they already all decided to live here, so what are the chances of everyone agreeing again?!

I guess I’m telling you a little bit about myself, about some of the mundane every day me, so that if you chose to hate me, you are hating ME. Not just my words.

I have had SO MANY kind comments in the past week or so it is unbelievable. I am so thankful that all of you have brought so many smiles to my face, its almost been a continual smile! (save for the few burrow-y eyebrow, snarly faces I’ve been forced to make)
Thank you all, old friends and new!

Big Surprise, Little Package

I haven’t written in a long time. A SUPER long time. I tried to for a while, but just couldn’t. Oddly, it didn’t have so much to do with my feelings as it did an IRL person reading my blog and using it against me. That shut me down. I took it too personally I guess.

Well a lot had happened since then. Namely a certain 11 month old baby girl who is, I think, currently spit painting my fire place glass as I sit and watch. (don’t worry it’s a completely enclosed model).
Anyway, baby girl came to us nearly three weeks ago out of the foster care system. (After only 4 days notice! Holy cow!) She was tiny, not crawling and timid. She spent 3 days with her face in my neck. It took two weeks to get her in a bath, and 1.5 weeks to get her to allow me to sponge bathe her without her screaming. She never stops eating. She eats like it’s her last meal. She might think it is. I don’t know. Either way, baby girl seems to have no problem bonding, is NOW crawling (just 3 days after the SW said she was going to order physical therapy to work with her and get her going). She loves bath time. She never stops smiling. She is still timid with new people but warms up. She now has elbow dimples and fat rings on her legs, and her skin is a healthy non-sickly white color. She has cheeks. I don’t know if it’s possible but even her hair seems healthier. Basically, she looks like the almost 1 year old she should look like, not like the infant she did look like.
Today is the first hearing to start terminating the bios parental rights. I feel too much empathy for them my husband says, as she was severely neglected the first (nearly) three months of her life and has been in foster care for nearly nine.
I am freaking out. I want to know that today’s hearing has gone in our favor. That her parents, who went from living in squalor to now being homeless, her parents who have not worked a single portion of her case plan, her parents who have been MIA for the last three weeks, will not get a second chance. They have not even tried.
I am living in fear that a family member will show up out of the blue. But then again, where were they the last 9 months that she has been in foster care? As my dad said last night, in any “normal” family the situation would have been handled before baby girl even got removed. In a “normal” family, baby girl would not have sat in foster care for nearly nine of her 11 months.
For me, I can’t see how someone could NOT WANT this child. I can’t see how anyone could harm a hair on her head, or turn a blind eye and let her sit in a foster home for months on end. And maybe it’s because I’m think as myself, that I am terrified.
Maybe if I learned to think like them, I could understand how they don’t care. Thank G-d I don’t think like them. I can’t even imagine.
I know every child SHOULD be with their birth parents. But let’s face it. They’re not competent. And either the grandparents aren’t competent or they don’t care.
I care.
My husband cares.
My son cares.
PLEASE send thoughts, energy and prayers this way if you get a chance. We are in love and we want to dedicate our lives to baby girl.
We don’t want to lose her.

The Nine Circles of Hell

Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.

Justice the founder of my fabric mov’d:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.

Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
Abandon all hope,  ye who enter here.

-Dante’s Inferno

Dante was led by Virgil through the nine circles of Hell, just  as I was led through my own circles of Hell by my own personal guide, hope.

And such as with Dante and his journey through Hell, once I embarked upon my journey through infertility, there was no turning back. The moment I entered that first circle of Hell, I had no choice but to continue all the way through.

It has been over three years since I passed under the inscription over the gates of Hell, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. I walked right through those gates without really even realizing it.

Circle One, trying naturally. I spent about a year in my first circle of Hell. I hoped, I timed, I charted, I temped. To no avail.

On into the Second Circle, diagnostic testing.  I am thirty. Pain. machines. Dye. Speculums. Bad news. More bad news.

In the Third Circle is where I had to come to terms with the fact that we were infertile. We have a 3% chance of achieving pregnancy on our own.

The Fourth Circle is where we made our decisions. Adopt. IUI. IVF. ICSI. Painful, difficult, expensive decisions that shouldn’t have to be made. We decide to adopt. We sign up with the County Social Services. We go through the classes. Time drags on and on. It feels like we will never finish. A year after starting the process and still not being finished, we decide to try IVF.

I floated  into the Fifth Circle in a cloud of hormones. Cycle one. Bravelle. Ganirelex. Menopur. Two shots a day, then three. Acupuncture and vitamins. Asprin and folic acid. Transfer. Morning sickness. Pregnancy. Heartbeat. We’re sorry, the heartbeat is gone. D&C. I cry and cry on the operating table as the anesthesia washes over me. The Fifth Circle was so very dark.

The Sixth Circle is where it all begins to twist. I walk out of Circle Five, damaged, heartbroken. I crawl into Circle Six. Mom has cancer. There is an operation. Two weeks are spent in the hospital. I am in the midst of preparing for a Frozen Embryo Transfer. I do not cancel it because life  must go on.

In the Seventh Circle I am pregnant. Sick and pregnant. I am sick and pregnant until I am told that I am not really pregnant. That is, in the sense that there is no actual fetus. There is only an empty sack. The Seventh Circle is a blighted ovum.  A second D&C in five months time. I wake up from the procedure and lay with my face under the warm blankets and cry. I am able to make it through the Seventh Circle much more quickly than the previous two. But I do not come out unscarred. There are scars, and they are deep. Wounds that may never fully heal.

It is in this Eighth Circle of Hell where  my relationship is tested. We can not agree. I am depressed. He hates it. I hate that he is not more damaged. I want him to be as damaged as I am. I am angry at him and at the world and at God and at Cancer and at chemo.  We must figure out how to meet back in the middle. It is not easy.

We try and try and we enter the Ninth Circle together. Do we keep trying or do we move on? In the Ninth Circle we are faced with the most difficult of decisions to make. Keep going? Give up our dream? Can we fully recover if we never try again? Can we fully recover if we do try again? We played our hand with IVF. The odds were good, but good odds just weren’t enough.

Through the Nine Circles of Hell and out the other side, Dante enters purgatory. Purgatory is now where I sit. Waiting. Going nowhere. In a stalled state. Reassessing. Trying to find peace. Climbing every day. Higher and higher, climbing toward happiness. Toward Paradise.

It’s been so long since I’ve posted that I forgot my password. I had to reset it.

I don’t really know where I’ve been. I’ve been in a great state of avoidance. I’ve been keeping tabs of those of you on twitter although I haven’t had too much to say. What is wrong with me? I don’t know. Well, maybe I do. I’m doing so well with “dealing”. But it’s not really dealing. I think about writing all of the time, but I fear that if I start, the emotions will come out. The dam will break, it will flow, and it will never ever stop.

I think I am done. We still have 3 frosties and one prepaid fresh cycle that would cost only the meds and ICSI out of pocket. At this point, the answer is no. We still haven’t determined why 5 embryos would fail. Why two would implant but one fetus would leave us at 7.5 weeks and one would fail to grow. I am still waiting on the genetic test results from the last miscarriage. I have a feeling that lab messed up and that I may never get those results. Does it matter? Not really I guess, unless I’d like to use the information going forward with more fertility treatments.

For now I am on the pill. Give my brain and the endo a rest. Revisit at a later time. Or never.

The news of  Mo this week threw me through a loop. Poor, Poor Mo. Poor Shmerson. Losing sweet baby Nadav. What a beatiful and kind hearted person she is, what a beautiful tiny little boy to have lost. She is such a strong woman. I don’t know that I could be that strong. I have been thinking about her constantly. Thinking about whether the attempts are worth the heartache. Of course they are worth it if the procedures work, but for those of us who lose what is so so precious to us, is it worth it? And for Mo to loose what she lost. I know it was worth it to know Nadav even for that short time. She will carry him in her heart always.  My heart is cracked in two. I imagine hers is smashed into a million tiny pieces.

Being a part of this community is both beautiful and unbearably painful. There is so much sadnes here but there is also so much strength. So much resilience. I fear I can’t match up to those who posess such strengths. As I flounder and put my energies into useless, meaningless things just to keep my mind busy I wonder if any of you do the same or if I am just appaulingly weak.

Just a Few Thoughts

As of today we have not yet gotten any results. Nothing from Husband’s new doctor and nothing regarding the genetic test of the tissue from the D&C. I really hate being without answers. I really  hate being in a stalled state.

In all honesty, I am losing hope. Maybe have already even lost it.

I’m really leaning toward adoption.

It really sucks to have spent $25,000 on nothing but pain and heartache. I never in a million years thought that it would happen to me. But it has to happen to someone right? So why not me?

It really sucks to currently be broke due to said $25,000 dollars.

I am lucky in that I have a child.

I am saddened that with every milestone he passes, I am reminded that it may never happen in my home again.

I don’t know that I am strong enough to lose another pregnancy.

Even though I want nothing more than to be pregnant, the past 6 months has taught me that I actually hate being pregnant. Even more so when it ends up that I was so so sick, and it was all for nothing.

The only reason that I have managed to not fall apart is because of my son. Because of my falling apart last time and the effect that it had on him. I will never do this to him again. I will always feel guilty for causing him such emotional pain.

Husband doesn’t understand and is not very supportive. He will never get that just get over it, why can’t you just be happy  does not and will not ever help me emotionally. It’s lonely here sometimes. He has never learned to process or express his emotions in any way other than anger.

I wanted to wait until January for the FET. Husband pushed for November. If I had waited, I’d probably be in the 2ww, unaware of how it would end. I’m glad I already know. I’m glad that I got through it already.

We have 3 embryos left and I don’t want to use them. I am afraid that since the first 5 didn’t survive, the lower quality ones don’t have a chance.

I don’t ever want to have a miscarriage again, and if that means never being pregnant again, I may just have to live with that.

I am going to lose the twenty pounds I gained with the cycles. I’m tired of my jeans not fitting. I’m tired of only wearing baggy shirts. I’m tired of not even wanting to be naked when I’m alone.

My heart breaks every time my son asks me why he doesn’t have a brother or sister or asks when he is going to get one.

My heart breaks every time I walk past the nursery upstairs.

Things are not easy right now.

 

Stop The Insanity

I don’t often talk about husband here, as this is my blog and it is about me. I like to keep his part in this quiet, as it would be up to him whether or not he wanted to share. Not me. However, today I am going to break that rule. Because today is the day that he has gone in and provided his sample to do the Sperm Chromatin Structure Assay.

“The SCSA is performed using an instrument called a flow cytometer in which cells that have been stained with a fluorescent dye are sent through a glass channel in liquid suspension. The cells pass through a laser beam and the light from the beam causes the dye to emit fluorescent light of a certain color. When performing an SCSA, the colors measured are red and green; green fluorescing sperm have very low levels of fragmented DNA and red fluorescing sperm have moderate to high levels of fragmented DNA”. GeorgiaIVF.

This test is not one that is covered by insurance and is not one that is typically used. However, on the advice of a family member, Uncle Urologist, we had decided to find a doctor in our area who is familiar with this test and performs it for patients. It is not routinely used, as it’s results are not generally useful, except in the case where there is recurrent pregnancy loss with ART, and male factor IF is a primary issue for the couple. HI! That would be us! Basically we are looking to find out if the sperm used for ICSI, those that look “normal” on the outside, are infact, abnormal on the inside. This test is running us $500.00, but in the whole scheme of things, if we find that we have a DNA fragmentation issue, that $500.00 will be saving us thousands in the long run. I CAN NOT go through this again without more answers. If the answer is, “Holy crap you have some messed up sperm”, then fine. We grieve, we move on, and we do not spend another dime on trying to make a baby.

The other thing the husband gets to do this evening is a testicular ultrasound. Which I’ve been trying to get him to do for 2 years. But no, he’d rather me go through the IVF wringer a couple of times I guess. But NOT anymore. No sir. My body has closed up shop until we have some more answers on his side of things. Thats the thing with these fertility specialists. They DON’T CARE about MFI. They just don’t. Their answer is ICSI. They are there to get you pregnant, cross your fingers, hope it works out. Anyway, I have been bugging husband to get a testicular ultrasound forever. He has ALL of the symptoms of a varicocele. ALL. OF. THEM. We went to one urologist before that couldn’t feel one and who’s only advice was to stop drinking caffiene. Ok. That helped. It did bring him from ZERO to ten million. But what about the rest of them? And Uncle Urologist had recommended an ultrasound at the time because not all varicoceles can be found upon maunual examination. (hehe. manual examination).

Anyway, during my husband’s consultation with Dr. MFI, he was told that he had a suspected varicocele in the right testicle. HA! Big I told you so dance..Followed by extreme annoyance for having waited 2 years to look into this. That would explain how he fathered my son. (Up to 80% of secondary male infertility cases are due to vericocele) his low sperm count, poor motility and poor morphology. that would explain why his FSH is just ever so slightly above the “normal” line. Not even close to being classified as “testicular failure” but not within normal range either. A varicocele would also explain a high level of DNA fragmentation, if the SCSA shows he has it. I know that a varicocele can be fixed, and I also know that sometimes it can not. I know that fertility can return to normal, and sometimes it doesn’t. But you know what? Even knowing that, I just want an answer. I want to know why.

So today he is maxing out our flex spend account the rest of the way. Wow. Between the D&C and this MF testing, there’s four thousand dollars gone and it’s not even February. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it for the answers and in order to know whether or not to move on.

Albert Einstein said that the definition of insanity “is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”. Brainy Quotes

I feel like we’d be doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results if we went in for another try without looking to find more answers first. We can only look at my uterus so many times. It’s fine. We can only test my hormones so many times. They’re fine. We need to try something new. We need to take this in a new direction. It’s time to stop the insanity.