So ladies, it’s been quite a week…
Last Friday I went in for a follicle scan and I had 3 potential follicles on my left ovary–13.5, 10, and 8.5. This was CD11. I was feeling slightly optimistic at this finding, although I’m always irritated that my right ovary is not a “team player”. Whatevs.
Obviously (from my last post) I was not obsessed with this cycle and I drank with abandon on Saturday–I was blowing off steam, and it was cool, but it was not awesome. I paid dearly for it. Whatevs.
I was supposed to see Doc Angel for another scan on Sunday, with the idea-in-mind that we would trigger on Monday (CD14) and do a double insemination Tuesday (CD15). Well, I was sick…I called and left a voicemail and he never called me back (I didn’t mind given that I felt like I’d been hit by a train). So there was no scan. Whatevs.
Monday morning I set my alarm and paged Dr. Angel early (7am), with the goal of being scanned, and depending on the scan, doing the trigger shot. He apologized because he was tied up with pregnant women problems on Sunday, and he was going to be in surgery all day on Monday. So he said just to go in at 9am and have the nurse give me the shot (without a scan) and he would call me later and have me come in for a scan. So that’s what I did. And then the (other) receptionist called the (crappy) RE clinic that has Mr. MLAC’s frozen sperm, and she made appointments for me to pick up sperm at 9am and 3:45pm on Tuesday–with express instructions to give me 2 vials each time (since we had 4 vials total). I noticed that she likes St*rbucks, and she was nice to me last week when I really needed someone to be nice to me, so I made a mental note to bring her a St*rbucks gift card. Whatevs.
I decided to go to spin class, knowing that (as per my life) the doc would call during my spin class, and there was nowhere to put my phone on my bike. Sure enough, he called about 5 minutes before I got out of spin class, but luckily I called him back and caught him–he told me to come on over to the office. So, I did. And I was disappointed to see that of my 3 follicles, only one was still there and it only measured 17.5. And then there was a cyst-y looking follicle that had a line running through it (doc called it a wall, so it was one follicle divided into two parts by a wall…interesting). My ears kind of drooped. Also, I made an appointment with the “good” RE office (the one I interviewed at)…they couldn’t see me until May 1st! Doc Angel said he should have some pull with them to get me in sooner, and I surely hope so–I’m anxious. Whatevs.
Tuesday I woke up…anxious. I got myself together to go pick up the “spawn” for the first insemination…on the way I had major road rage–this sort of anxiety and anger happens to me EVERY time I take the HCG trigger shot…I took the box of “spawn” and ran out the door, but once I got to the car I glanced at the paper they handed me–it said there’s only 13 million motile, and I thought “Surely this is just for one vial…but why would they only give me one vial when they were told TWO vials, twice!” Cuz normally, Mr. MLACS has 55 million at 100% motility in a single vial of his fresh sperm. And frozen sperm dies quickly too. My heart began to race. I parked and went into Doc Angel’s office, and bypassed a woman at the window to hand (regular) receptionist my box of “spawn”. She wreaked of cigarette smoke. She was very heavy but her pants were falling down and her buttcrack was showing. Very ghetto. And guess what she told the receptionist she was there for?! A pregnancy test, of course! It struck me like a ton of bricks, and I felt very indignant, and an uncharacteristic thought crossed my mind–“It’s really not fair“. And I felt panicked, wishing they’d room me and inseminate already before what little sperm I had lost it’s stamina. I was trying to hold back tears that I knew were coming, so I ran to the bathroom. And my chest heaved and a silent sob escaped, along with big tears rolling down my face. I was alarmed at my lack of self control–which just made me feel worse. “You’ve GOT to get a hold of yourself” I thought. So I dried my eyes and looked in the mirror–my face was red and my eyes betrayed me that I had been crying. Dammit. I realized then that I have reached a whole new level of infertility, a place I never thought I’d be–this is the sort of breakdown that other bloggers blog about, not me…I’m not like that…
The truth is I wasn’t “like that”…but I am now. This
is becoming has become a huge burden that I can’t ignore. I can no longer deny my feelings. I’m in a lot of pain.
There’s no “Whatevs” at the end of that sentence.
There was another doctor using the ‘dildocam’, so I didn’t have a scan before the first insemination–so I wasn’t sure if the follicle had released yet or not. All I could do was hope that it would be released before the second insemination in the afternoon. I went home and tried to rest but I was upset. I called Mr. MLACS and launched into a speech about how the frozen sperm is crap and these hormones are making me insane and I really need him to change his schedule so we can ttc naturally because I just can’t keep doing this to my body and after one maybe two more IUI’s it will be IVF or nothing for me…and he got pissed and blurted out “NO! I’m not changing my schedule! This is your problem! And if we have to do IVF then YOU have to get a job and pay for it”. And then he hung up on me. I felt myself shattering into a thousand pieces. “How dare he say that? What am I even doing this for?” But this is what he does–if I call him upset like that, instead of calming me down he will get mad at me and sh*t all over me. He texted me that I was just mad at other people and taking it out on him. I said to him that I’m upset in general and wasn’t even mad at him–but what he said was f*cked up and I told him I wouldn’t talk to him without an apology. I told him I would never ever ever have said that to him. And last I checked, it takes TWO people to have a baby.
He called me and we had a tense conversation, where he told me he put plenty of money in the account (his way of trying to be nice). But you know, the damage has been done. And while he did apologize later for being a jerk, we haven’t discussed the fact that I have not forgiven him for saying “This is YOUR problem”. That sh*t hurt. So bad. And it still hurts, even though he is trying to move his schedule.
I went and hastily picked up the second batch of “spawn”–12 million motile. Not what I’d hoped.
The nurse called me back and asked how I was doing and in a whisper I said “You don’t want to know”. She was kind and took me to the room…where there was an ultrasound of what appeared to be a 12 week fetus on the big screen…
I felt like I was in the f*ing twilight zone–I literally felt light headed. I thought about telling the doc and nurse, but just didn’t have the energy to “sound the alarm” about it. Plus, I needed to cry some more before they came in. So I just grabbed some tissues and tried to sob so no one could hear my wimpers in the next room. I felt sorry for myself. I felt alone. The Doc did a scan and saw that the follicle had not released yet–that was another disappointment. He did the insemination, and I spent another 30 minutes alone, tipped upside-down with my feet in stirrups, Kleenex in-hand…crying in the dark. I think I felt my Mom with me, trying to comfort me. But the tears wouldn’t stop.
I have to say, that this is the first time I’ve left Dr. Angel’s office feeling truly defeated. And then there’s all these bloggers that do visualizations and meditations and think good and happy thoughts…and I was struggling just to stop thinking all these bad thoughts. I was thoroughly depressed. “I shouldn’t feel this way”, I thought, “Make it stop!” And, I cried all the way home–in between being very angry at traffic.
Yeah…this is a sad, pathetic story. But it’s the truth, so, if you’re looking for “suzy sunshine” all the time you won’t find her here. No apologies either.
I’m so tired of this rollercoaster. SO tired. I’m mad, sad, bitter, jaded, salty, sour, angry, indignant, irritated, ambivalent…all these negative feelings. I’m going through a tough spot, but I refuse to believe that it’s permanent.
Like I said before, the hangover from this weekend, combined with the fight with my dad, combined with the HCG trigger shot, plus I’m taking prednisone (which amps your stress hormone, cortisol), plus the progesterone suppositories, plus dealing with Grandma’s treatment, plus the fact that Mr. MLACS is not here…I think these are all factors right now. I mean, plus I am prone to anxiety/depression.
As of the last couple of days, I’ve begun to resent the things I’ve been going through with ttc’ing. The time. The money. The drugs and their nasty side effects–emotional turmoil (which leads to fights with DH), the toll on my body (the bloat), the nastiness of the suppositories. I’m so over it. I’ve been agonizing over whether or not to continue spin classes because they are moderate-high intensity…why should I be afraid that a spin class will hurt implantation? Normal people don’t worry about this crap. But then I think, “But I’m taking all these drugs and I’ve been through so much, I wouldn’t want to ruin it by taking spin class”. But I don’t want to give up my hard-won stamina that I gained by abstaining during the tww. There’s no winning.
It’s so hard because I hope this IUI worked. But I don’t believe it did. I can’t imagine that it will.
I give the f*ck up. I’m still taking the drugs (even though I feel like there’s no point) but I’m going to spin class. This is all too much and I’m ready to give it up to God. I just wish I felt like it’s all going to be ok.
Hey, sorry if this is heavy. Not looking for pity here. Just need to be honest. Just need to sit here and cry and let it out. I know at least some of you will understand.