Look Up

Seriously.  Look up towards the blog header.  See that ticker?  It says SEVEN MONTHS.  Anybody have the ability to fast forward time? I'm starting to get (continuing to get?) discouraged.  I know our baby is out there.  I know God has a plan for us.  I know this is not a long wait compared to so many, but still . . .

During IF treatments, every month came with hope and disappointment.  There would be a chunk of time where you hoped this would be "it" and a day of huge disappointment followed by days of barren feelings before hope popped up again.  It's kind of the same but different now, and I still have those feelings probably more often than before.  Every day I walk by a room that longs to be a nursery. Every day I think of cleaning out that room but can't because of fear. Every day I look at my pups and think of what great fursiblings they'll be.  Every day I look at Mr. Rambler and long for him to be a father.  Every day my heart wishes to be a mother.  Every day we hope the phone will ring with THE Call. And every day we wait.

Are you KIDDING me????

I know that I am not NEARLY as eloquent as Mel of The Stirrup Queens, but when she sent out a message to our listserv group about this article I had to say *something* about it.  What was written is completely stupid and I was really too dumbfounded to craft an eloquent response.  Read the article and respond if you like.  Just be prepared.  And if you read the comments which have a strong parallel of stupidity to the article, be really prepared.


My response:


"You MUST be kidding me.  This article makes me sick.  Unless you are a Reproductive Endocrinologist or have experienced infertility, you have no right to debunk the "myths" of fertility or lack thereof.  Please stick to authoring cute articles about other things you do not know or understand."

The Impossible

For the past several years, I've driven by the Destination Maternity store along the highway that takes me to and from work each day and thought, "I can't wait to walk in there and buy a cute maternity outfit for myself."  Through time it became more painful to drive by that store, yet I still kept that hope of buying that one overpriced maternity outfit for when my time came.

Well, Thursday's drive by caused a small break in the dam.  A chink appeared in my armor.  I literally looked over to see the store that's awaited me all this time . . . and began sobbing.  It only lasted a minute or so but it finally hit me with a finality that I've never quite felt until now.  I will NEVER be pregnant.  I will NEVER have a baby bump.  I will NEVER wear maternity clothes.  I will NEVER carry a baby.  I will NEVER feel a baby kick inside of me.  Nor will I have to announce to DH that I've gone into labor nor deliver a baby nor see the look on DH's face when our baby comes out of my body - not any of it.  It will be completely and totally impossible after Tuesday morning.  There is no miracle to be had.

(::insert the true insanity of this::  I know it wasn't possible for any of that to happen anyway, but as a female you always hang on to some strange, idiotic thread of hope that miracle might somehow come your way.)

I'm still crying some tears about that fact.  Call it hormones, exhaustion, stress, fear or a combination of it all (which it is), but I think I'm experiencing that final stage of grief.  I'm going through it and feeling it because I know it needs to happen.  I've learned on this path that it makes it worse for me to stuff all of the feelings until I explode.  Man, it feels weird.  I've been fighting this battle for what feels like so long.

That battle has ended.  It's finished.  It is truly over, even though I didn't get to win.  And I hate losing.

A New Look & a Bad Attitude

If you are using a reader, you won't be able to see what I've done, so open it up to check it out!  I decided that this old, rusty blog needed a new look.  Hope your eyes can handle it better than the last one I had.

Other than that, I am past the point of upset with Dr. S' office.  If you can remember back to December of last year (yes, that would four months ago in 2010), our IVF never happened.  We still have yet to see our refund of monies.  My bad attitude about it all will be thrown on paper in a few moments and sent to Ms. K and Dr. S..  If a check for close to $10K isn't in my hands by Wednesday, I will be forced to contact my attorney and the BBB.  We want our money back NOW.  It's bad enough that we don't have a baby, but to take our money . . . this is ridiculous.

Ssshhhhh

I'm trying to stay fairly quiet.  There is a lot brewing inside of me right now.  I know that once I finally let loose, all of my emotions will spill out and possibly (okay, almost definitely) unleash a wrath on anything/anyone in the path.  Teaching children and the pressures of school make this somewhat extremely difficult.  Pretty much everything I'm doing feels difficult.  My cursing aloud has mutliplied because I know I'm just really pissed right now.  I'm also really sad, but I won't go there.  I'm the person who once I start cry, I don't stop.  There are some new rivers to be made here in Texas soon.

Granted, my appointment on Friday could go delightfully well but - HA!! - who am I kidding?  Therefore, my plan is to lose my shit this weekend.  Just wish I had some kind of a sound-proof, padded cell in which to lose said shit.  I'll at least need to find a safe place for DH.  Do they offer shelters by the hour for men with crazyass wives?  You know . . . kinda like a no-tell motel that you pay for by the hour?  Poor guy - he'll probably need one.

Until then, I'm quiet.

Shouldn't Be an Issue!

Holy Mother of God . . . This shouldn't be so difficult.  AF is still AWOL.  This should be simple: 28 days, bitch arrives, repeat.  This is truly basic body stuff here.

Instead, I'm spending every waking and sleeping hour miserable with a huge distended stomach and no AF in sight.  To add insult to injury, of course there is no BFP (and you know me, I've been peeing all over stuff).  The only positive is that my skin looks half-decent for the first time in years.

Where are you, ya red-headed slut?  You always show up - why not NOW?  Headed to the doctor on Monday if she doesn't show her ass up by then.  THIS IS SO STUPID.

Alone.

That's how I'm feeling lately.  It's like nobody understands - nobody.  Granted I spent surgery day through Wednesday on the couch, pretty much by myself, which can lead to isolation and loneliness.  However, even after time with friends and family . . . I'm alone.  Nobody fucking understands. If they do, they certainly don't act like it.  If they know, they sure as hell aren't reaching out.  I feel like I have to do all of the calling, emailing, messaging, reaching out.  Sometimes I simply need someone that understands this battle to get in touch with me and say, "Hey.  It sucks. I'm here for you." and then I feel like I can actually talk to them about this island I feel to be stuck upon day after day, month after month, year after year.  Nobody can fix it.  I know that.  But, geez, I'm feeling so isolated.  Each day that goes by is another pregnancy announcement, another birthday for a child that was born after I lost my three babies, and other reminders that I'm broken and barren.

* People that haven't been through this - be quiet.  You truly have no opinion to me.  I know you mean well, but STFU.  What you have to say usually doesn't help but makes me feel as bad if not worse.
* People that understand what it's like - help me out here.  Don't hole up also and let me figure out where you are by some random happening.  Please don't make me feel so alone by not reaching out.  If you're in the trenches it sucks for you, too.  Can't we help each other out here?
* People who have been through all of this and now have a child - don't act like you have elevated above my status and I can't be your friend because it's too hard.  Yeah, you have a child/children, but you know what it's like.  You aren't above it and I know I am certainly not.

Now that I write all of that, I KNOW there are going to be some people that either think or write to me saying, "I'm sorry. I hope I haven't done that." or "I didn't mean to." or "You're just so bitter.  I miss the real you." or "I don't know how to help you anymore." or other comments and advice.  This isn't about anyone in particular.  It is about ME.  It is about the fact that I'm going on cycle 40, and the family that I have dreamed about for years - the family that we've been wanting for years - isn't happening.

I'm only in this life for true friends now.  I'm too old for anything else.  This is a serious battle here, and I need some serious people in it with me.  Put up or shut up.  Be with me or get the hell out of my way.

Does that sound selfish?  Probably.  Do I expect to be the #1 priority to anyone else but me?  No.  Do I care?  No.  I'm the person who has given up more than my share of time, effort, love, money, care, and life to everyone else.  It is time that DH & I get what we want and deserve.  Do I know that has/may cost me more friendships?  Sure.  Sorry, but if you aren't willing or able to stand beside or behind me in battle, be gone with your bad self.  I may love ya, but go away.

Hold on to my dreams?  Believe that it can happen?  Keep trying?  Keep fighting?  Give up?  Lay down?  Quit?  Surrender?  Hell if I know.  I'm tired, and I just don't know how much longer this can go on.  Really - how long do you fight until it's time to lay down your weapon and surrender?  I'm just about out of energy, emotion, money, and time.  I don't plan to surrender until I am told I have no other choice, but still . . .

Brought to you by the bitter bitch who is feeling better physically but still dying inside.

The More Things Change . . .

The more they stay the same.

Nothing is new.  That's what's new.  I'm still spotting BRB & brown every day.  I'm still frustrated.  Oh - and I'm still not pregnant!

Think I'll go relax . . . I'm bound to get knocked up like that.

It's Like a Tug of War

I have all sorts of thoughts in my mind and feelings in my heart.  However, I'm having a difficult time sorting through them all and expressing them.  I think I'm just REALLY VERY EXTREMELY tired.  Infertility has worn my ass out.

In one way, I want to quit.  End the game.  Say never mind.  On the other hand, I want to fight like a warrior to have a baby.  Desire vs. Stamina.  The desire is still there, but the stamina is almost gone.

In the past few days, I went to an IVF seminar and met again with Dr. T.  The plan w/ Dr. T right now is Femara/hcg trigger/IUI.  We have an IVF consult later next month.  The conflict comes from the fact there really isn't any money left to pay for any of it.

I just really don't know what to do or what will happen from here.  The only thing I know is that I still want us to have a family.  That will never go away.  I also know that I'm physically and emotionally tired and still trying to pray.  There is always the constant tug of war between my heart, my body, and my wallet. 

Wondering which will win?  So am I.

Cease & Desist Order

I am placing a Cease & Desist order with AF. Her teasing and torturing began ELEVEN DAYS ago, and she's still taunting me just a bit. My beta came back negative (as expected), so why have I been spotting and bleeding and spotting and bleeding since freaking September 26th?

Go away, AF. And don't even come back again.

Patience is a Virtue

I do not have. BFN this morning. It's only 9dpiui but it was still as stark white as my ass . . . without the dimples. I'll try again maybe Sunday or Monday.

Whatever. I'm still here.

I'm CD11 and I guess I'll start pOPKs now. I'm not really "in" to this cycle. It's probably a mixture of things - stress from work, exhaustion, sinus infection/cold thing, headaches, and fear of failure again. My symptoms aren't really there - just headaches (also from sinuses) and weird, itchy feelings around the scars from my lap surgery. Hmph. Hurry up and wait. Maybe I subconsciously don't want to imagine it happen for fear that I'll actually have hope.

Getting pg this cycle would be awesome for many reasons. The first, ultimately, is having a baby! This would be great timing since we'd have an early June due date. That would give us the summer vacation to have our baby and get used to being parents for a while without the stress of work. (I won't start worrying about child care quite yet.) There's of course the age thing. I am getting older, and 42 will come in March.

I do worry that if my body doesn't respond to Femara this round that it won't respond at all. Then what? IVF? Can't afford that. Ugh . . . no need to worry at this minute. Maybe in an hour. Think I'll eat a sandwich and take a nap instead.

Do you see what I see?

I'm not crazy.

Two OPKs, both with lines, even DH saw the lines. I am not insane. See?

And Then Came Nurse Excellent

The next best thing to Dr. Terrific is Nurse Excellent! You know how I've said more than once (or a thousand times) that I have to listen to my gut instinct because it never steers me wrong? Well, I'm doing that.

I called Nurse E and left her a voice mail to call me. She's so excellent that she called me back after reviewing my chart from three hours ago and before leaving the office today. I told her my dilemma. Did I even share it with all of you? Okay . . .

I've been using the CBE Digitial OPKs. You know, the "OPKing for Dummies" ones with smiley faces so I don't have to question the lines. Well, I poas this morning and did not get a smiley face. When I pulled out the stick, there was a second line. (Insert my irrational, crazy thoughts that I could be pg here. Gawd, I'm insane.)

The short story (after giving poor Nurse E who I even called yesterday - the long story) is that since I haven't really gotten a + OPK and I should keep peeing until I do. Nurse E said that follies can grow about 2mm per day, which would put my presently crappy follies at maturity by Wednesday or Thursday. (ETA: I'm not sure of the three measurements I got, but I know one is 15.9. Nurse is calling that "16" for all intents & purposes. We are hoping it grows up to be a 20 in the next couple of days.) Once I get the smiley face positive, call the office, have Dr. T do another FMS (follice maturation scan), then IUI if they look good. Nurse Excellent agrees that we need to be aggressive here in this TTC thing. If not this cycle, then we up the meds (crap) next cycle and try again.

So . . . not all hope is lost . . . at least not yet. I still think I'm a freaking nutcase for even having hope in the first place. Nurse E and I came to conensus that Dr. T shall not take vacation from here on out until I am pg, throughout my (hopefully continual) pg, and until he delivers my baby. So there. Both Young Dr. R, Nurse E, and my IF pseudo doc Mrs. B told me to have wine tonight.

And that I shall do.

Learning to Live with Disappointment

No IUI. You'd think I'd have figured out by now that hope is just for people that live in fairy tales.

I had three good follicles between both ovaries, but they didn't measure up. Slackers. My lining was trilaminar (3-layered, looked great) but what the hell does that matter? Oooo, Mrs. Rambler . . . what lovely lining you have! Too bad your follies are a bunch of crap.

Dr. T was out today, so I got Young Dr. R. He was nice & all, but nobody compares to Dr. T. Plus the term "young" is relative. He's probably my age, maybe a few years older, but younger than the average experienced doc. Young Dr. R recommended TI and then up the Femara for next cycle and do IUI. Whatever.

I'm disappointed. Please don't tell me there is always next month or try to blow sunshine up my ass. I wanted THIS month because I know my fertility (or lack thereof) doesn't have many months left.

Good hair = bad skin

ARGH!!!! I have spots, dots, zits, acne, bumps, knots, & other stuff all over my face. It's not just my face. It's suddenly my neck, my shoulder, my back, my arm, my jaw, my ear. WTH is up, hormones?

I hope it doesn't get worse before it gets better. Whacked out hormones suck. I miss my beautiful (what I thought was bad) bcp skin. Oh well . . . who needs self-esteem anyway?

However . . .

In response to my post from yesterday (or was it the day before?):

I'm mainly irritated with the women on FB who have not experienced PL/RPL/IF. I'm crazy, bitter, irritated, sad, frustrated, and pretending to be hopeful right now. However, I am not upset by those of you whom I consider friends (IRL, FB, PL/TTCAL/SAL/PAL & OL) who know where I'm coming from because you've been where I am right now. That includes my Newtie, Maria, & Joyce and their overly cute men. Don't be foolin' yourself that you can rid of a kekis THAT easily. :)

Now there are the ones who have been in uterus before and just constantly bitch about everything when they're pg. They are a whole different story and an entirely different ranting, rambling post.

As far as this ridiculous cycle #26, I'm on CD17 or 18 and I started pink spotting today. Not spots as in dots, but light, pink, watery stuff when I wipe. You know - the kinda stuff I'd freak out about if I were . . . say . . . 6w3d pregnant & I saw it. Guess I'll call Dr. Terrific and hang out with him. I miss him anyway. How sick is that?

Until the uterus turns again, my friends . . .

Facebook & IF

I love Facebook. I admit it. I've always had lots of friends & keeping in touch has been difficult. With FB, it's so easy! It's given me the opportunity to reconnect with so many people.

While I love FB, it also can suck if you are dealing with IF. SO MANY status updates are pg-related.
"I feel awful today."
"I saw my baby move!"
"It's a boy/girl!!!"
"I have cankles/hemmorhoids/round ligament pain/morning sickness/a big belly/sore boobs/whatever."
"I wish my baby would sleep!"
"He/she is here!"
"____ hurts today."
"BFing is so hard!"
"My DH is such an amazing Daddy!"
"Going to Grandma's house today!"
"I am so tired."

You know what? Just STFU. All of you. Sorry to hear it's such a bitch to be pregnant. I'll trade with you - ANY DAY. Glad your kid is cute. Mine will be cuter. Sorry you can't sleep because your ____ hurts. Trade ya! Have fun at Grandma's hosue! All my parents get are other grandchildren.

Vent over. For a minute at least. Cycle 26. O is over with little to no hope, I'm sure. Man, this is fun.

Spent

Cycle 26. BFN. CD25 and I'm already starting to bleed. Don't know how much longer I can beat my head against this brick wall. Each month, I like to pretend that I've stepped away from the wall unscathed, but that would be a huge lie. Who am I kidding? I'm spent.

Waking up every morning at 6am for over a year to take my temp. I wake up without an alarm because my body is so used to it now. Diligently charting every day. Trying what I can. Nothing. I'm spent.

Babies everywhere. Everywhere I go. Everyone I talk to. Everywhere I turn. Everywhere I look. I can't run. I can't hide. Babies. None of them are mine. I'm spent.

"It'll happen." "I know a girl who was 46 when she had her first." "God will get you through this and bring you a baby." "I'm so sorry." "What about adoption?" "It must be so hard." "Have you seen an RE?" "You haven't been trying that long, have you?" "Medicine is so advanced now that something will help." I'm sick of all the questions, stories of hope, sad looks, dancing around the subject, people avoiding me, and my life being on hold for something that's obviously not going to happen. I'm spent.

Where do we go from here? Do I call Dr. Terrific and tell him that I would delight in him cutting through my abdomen and into my uterus to try to fix me again? Do I pray that the hospital will even treat me since I'm having a hard time paying the medical bills from my surgery only six months ago? Or would it be me still paying the bills from the surgery one year ago? Should we find another RE - you know - a competent one? By doing any or all of that, would we then maybe get have a tiny, little glimmer of hope for a baby? I don't know. I'm spent.

I become increasingly tempted just to cut off all communication from the world. Delete my blogs. Delete my Facebook account. Not even attempt Twitter. Quit reading everything on my Google Reader. Then I'd have to turn off the TV & radio. Not read anything. Not go out in public. Don't answer the phone. If any of it would help, I would do it. Becoming a complete recluse won't make the hurt and pain go away.

I'm hoping all of these feelings are PMS, but not matter how many fake smiles I plaster on my sad face, the feelings don't go away. 2 years and 2 months. I've lost myself. I've lost my dreams. I've lost hope. I'm tired. I'm broken. I'm just spent.

Suck: Here It Comes

Here it comes. Mothers' Day is upon us. How could anything suck that has been established as a beautiful day when we honor, love, cherish, spend time with, and pamper our moms? Well, let's see. Mothers' Day to me brings all sorts of memories, thoughts, feelings, and worries to surface. Here are a few that just *pop* into my mind.

Yet another year that I'm not a mom. Suck.

My Dad used to send me Mothers' Day cards every year that he sent my sisters their cards. He'd write something sweet along the lines that someday I would be a wonderful mom. I don't get those cards anymore. Suck.

My grandmother Mary is gone. My mom is still grieving, as we all are, which makes it extra hard to wish your own mother a Happy Mothers' Day when her mother is now gone. We'll be "celebrating" Mothers' Day while planning my grandmother's memorial service. I know it will be an emotional day. I think of Mary every single day & miss her terribly. Suck.

Still not pregnant. I know. What else is new? Suck.

Still surrounded by pregnant friends, colleagues, and strangers in addition to the bajillion moms already out there. But I'm not either. Suck.

DH will be out of town on a guys' trip. No need for him to be with me on Mothers' Day since I don't qualify as a recipient of this "holiday." (My thinking, definitely not his.) Suck.

Tired of logging on to one of the message boards for ladies in my shoes and dealing with girls who just want to do stupid, silly stuff on the internet. I'm there for support, encouragement, and information not to play.

Scared to call my OB/gyn to tell him I'm still not pg because I don't want surgery. Suck.

Really sick of temping, charting, checking CM, scheduling sex, symptom checking, Mucinex/pineapple core/anything & everything, etc. I've only been doing it for about two years now. Suck.

Getting irritated seeing ALL of the babies on every public forum out there - websites, TV, ads, Facebook, blogs, magazines, pamphlets, mailers, etc.

Tired of putting everything in my world on hold - just in case. "I'll lose that weight when I'm pregnant." or "Maybe I shouldn't go to _____ because I might be pg then." or "We probably shouldn't ______ in case I'm pg." or "We really need to hurry & ______ before we find out we are pg." or "Honey, bring me a Tylenol and not an Advil (in case I'm pg). Suck.

To the amazing women reading this who want to be moms, are moms of angels, can't be moms, or are missing their moms . . . I know Mothers' Day will probably suck. Please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers on Sunday. If you feel comfortable doing so, please leave a comment so I can pray for you specifically.