WORRYING SHOULD BE MY MIDDLENAME

I went in on Saturday to have my ultrasound done.  As I was going to sleep the night before, I was strangely nonchalant about the whole thing.  I figured I would be so anxious that I wouldn't sleep for worrying.  Have I mentioned that I am a WORLD CLASS worrier?  Money, repairs, amount of sleep I get, the kids, you name it.  If it can be worried about I do it.  Drives T insane sometimes because we are COMPLETELY different in that department.  I am high strung and he is laid back.  As he always says, "I am like a willow...I bend with the wind."  UH HUH.  He also says that men are like fine wine, they get better with age so I take all of this with a grain of salt.

Anyway, I didn't really agonize over it the night before like I thought I would.  I was more worried if I would get enough sleep since I had to get up early to drive down to Cincinnati to get to the doctor's office.  See, worrier.  Maybe I was more laid back about this because I had had a complete meltdown when I missed the FedEx delivery by just a few minutes that morning.  The delivery was for my Ovidrel which I was suppose to have BEFORE I went for my ultrasound.  Being Friday, there would be no Saturday delivery attempts.  I freaked, I mean FREAKED, out.  Poor T, he sure got an earful.  But then, bless the FedEx delivery lady, she had seen a note I had placed on the door for our friend Todd who was going to be doing some work in our bathroom that day. It said I would be home at 9 am ( I had to drop my stepson M off at day camp) and to sign for me if the delivery came.  Sadly, Todd's truck broke down on him and he didn't make it to the house that morning.  This wonderful woman decided to swing by after she made some other deliveries in the area after her lunch to see if I might be home.  So, I got my meds and practically fawned all over the poor woman in my gratitude.

Fast forward to Saturday morning and me rushing around the house to get ready to go to the appointment.  Now, I don't know about other ladies but...when I have a doctor's appointment where I have to bare it all down there, I like to be groomed.  I do not want to subject the poor doctor, tech or nurse to hairy ape legs, odors or force them to "part the curtain" to do what they need to do.  Forgetting to do it the night before meant I had to get up earlier than expected.  So, now I am worried about whether I will be late for the appointment.  I have only once been to the doctor's office and that was with T driving and me navigating.  Fortunately, I was only running about 10 minutes behind schedule, but, if you know me at all, you would know that this is upsetting to me.  I am one of those obnoxious people that is ALWAYS early.  If I am not at least 10-15 minutes early to whatever I have to be at, it makes me anxious.  Probably some form of OCD.

So...at this point I have worried about just about everything from sleep deprivation to my hygiene EXCEPT the actual ultrasound and whether the Clomid has worked and I have any follicles.  As I am pulling off the highway onto the exit ramp and congratulating myself on being so sanguine about this, I start crying.  The flood gates open and I am absolutely, positively 100 % sure that there are going to be no follicles and everything is going to have been for nothing.  I will find out, without my husband by my side (he had to work), that my ovaries will not produce follicles and egg donor will be our only option.  Goodbye nonchalance, hello frantic crazy woman.  At least I am by myself in the car and no one else witnesses this.  I manage to get myself under control and only beg God a couple of times to let this have worked.  By now, I am in the parking garage.  My first stop before the doctor's office is the bathroom so I can try to repair the damage my crazy crying jag caused.  Wouldn't do to have the staff and doctor see how irrational I really am.

Luckily, at least for my state of mind, I am actually 10 minutes early and composed when I walk in.  I sit for just a few moments and have calmed down when the nurse calls me back.  That's when the shakes hit.  She leaves me in the room to undress and I am shaking so hard I can't get my pants unbuttoned.  This, irrationally, causes me to start crying again.  But, this time, I am able to get myself under control before it turns into another meltdown.  By the time the doctor walks in, I am calm but secretly sure that he is going to be giving me bad news so I have to prepare myself.  If just thinking about getting bad news sends me into hysterics, actually hearing it is going to be outrageous.  At this point, I am really wishing T is here because he is a champ at calming me and soothing my frazzledness.  Plus, the doctor wouldn't have to endure the torture of dealing with me when I have another meltdown.

He checks my right ovary and tells me that while it looks like I have a few follicles starting to develop, they are all too small and immature.  UH OH...here we go..sniff sniff.  He moves the wand over to check the left ovary.  Bracing myself, he tells me right away that I have a follicle.  In fact, I have two follicles.  One is 18mm and the other is 13mm.  Ridiculously, I find myself now starting to tear up over good news.  I just can't win.  He tells me that I need to trigger Sunday night with the Ovidrel, have intercourse that night and again on Tuesday.  I am in shock.  This was not the way I had been envisioning the visit and am drawing a blank slate.  All I can do is nod and agree with him.  The nurse tells me at checkout to trigger between 6 pm and 10 pm.  I am in a daze as I walk out. 

Of course, I call T as soon as I get in the car.  As we bask in our delight that it actually worked to get me to ovulate for the first time in 6 months, it dawns on us that when I have to take my injection is right in the middle of my work day.  UH OH.  Now, if you have never heard of Ovidrel - the trigger shot - it is an injection that causes you to ovulate.  By taking the injection, the medical people can pretty much say that within 24-48 hours, you will ovulate so make sure you have lots of sex at these preordained times we give you.  Unfortunately, it is a shot that has to be given in your stomach.   FRICK !!!  Originally, I had planned to have my mother-in-law, a nurse, give me the shot.  But now, that is not going to be possible because I will be at work.  Yay, something new to worry about.  There is no way in HELL I am going to be able to stick a needle in my stomach on my own so what are we going to do?  T is morbidly afraid of needles so he is going to be of no help.  He tells me he could do it but...I mean really, the guy hates needles.  After multiple phone calls and pleas to friends, my partner at work agrees to give me the shot because he has experience.  But, of course, now I am very anxious.  Go figure.

The next day my worry and anxiety over this stupid shot continues to grow.  After spending the previous evening obsessing over when exactly T and I should engage in our baby making activities, I narrow it down to *gasp* following the doctor's orders.  Crazy, huh?  I do decide, after frantically Googling it and asking advise on various fertility boards, that we need to try and procreate at the 36hr mark.  If that's when they do insemination and IVF, that's when we will do the deed.  Now, we have a 3 year old and my 8 year old stepson is with us for the summer.  Doing "IT" isn't that easy.  It's not like we can say, "Daddy and Mommy are going in the other room and locking the door.  Don't come in no matter what you hear."   Depending on when I take the shot, we would need to have sex between 6 am and 10 am.  Since the kids get up between 7 and 8 am every day, anything after 7 is pretty much a crap shoot.  I decided that 6:30 is the magic time.  T is thrilled with this.  How romantic...the alarm going off at 6:30 am on both of our day off so that we can wake up and frantically have sex to make a baby without waking up the other kids.  Because, hey, if we can pull this off, we just might get to go back to sleep for another hour and 20 minutes...er..or so.  Nothing like having fertility issues to really spice up the sex life, huh?

The time for the shot comes and I am very nervous.  My partner tells me that he really thinks I can do this on my own and gives me a great pep talk.  Perversely enough, I buy into his schtick and decide I CAN jab a needle into my stomach all by myself because I really am a strong woman.  I really am an idiot.  But, apparently he was right because, hey, I did it.  Yay for me.  I think I worried myself (surprising, huh?) into believing it was going to be worse than it turned out to be.  It was surprisingly simple and fairly pain free.

Now, we just have to wake up with the alarm tomorrow at 6:30 am, frantically do our impression of bunnies without waking up the kids, and wait for two weeks to see if it worked.  I see no anxiety or stress in this scenario.  I doubt I will worry.  OK, well, maybe just a little.

And the results are in

I haven't posted in awhile and I am sad that this post is going to be so negative. T and I had our consult with the doctor to go over our test results and go over our options. Based upon what I was hearing from the nurse when she would give me the results of each test as we took them, I knew it wasn't going to be fantastic news. I didn't expect it to be as bad as it was, though.

The doctor's recommendation at this point is that we try egg donor or embryo adoption. I have such poor eggs that if we tried IVF with my eggs, we only would have about a 5-10% chance of success. If we try egg donor or embryo adoption, it would be about 60-70%. He said that there is always a chance that we could get pregnant on our own, I am not sterile, but the odds are not good at all. Apparently, the endometriosis that I have battled all my reproductive life has destroyed my chances for another genetic child by damaging my ovaries and/or eggs. After my surgery when I was 17 or 18, I thought I was fine. That the endo was in remission and we had caught it in time. Apparently not. That or there was more damage than originally thought and we were very lucky to have gotten pregnant with B.

I am so unbelievably devastated by this news. I haven't been able to stop crying since we found out. One minute I have it under control and the next I am crying all over the place. I can't even talk about it (or write about it for that matter) without crying. I haven't really talked to anyone about it since we found out. T and I haven't even really discussed it, yet. But my dear, wonderful husband understands this, thankfully. I had to go to work after our appointment and receiving this news. T left roses and a lovely, handwritten card for me to find when I went out to my car after work. He, too, is understandably upset but is giving me space and time to come to grips. I am lucky that he is so understanding and willing to let me get myself together before we discuss anything. He did state today that he would like to get a second opinion before we make any decisions. I am unable and unwilling to make any decisions right now so that sounds like a good idea to me.

I guess I am going to let myself process this and grieve for a little while, and then we will try to figure this out. Get a second opinion is the first step, I guess. I am not too optimistic on that front. We don't have much extra money so I am worried about that. How do we best use the resources we have? Right now that is too much for me to even think about - I am so not ready to explore alternative options. Maybe in a few days or weeks. I do know that every time I look at my daughter right now, I start crying and thank GOD that I have her. I think this would be even harder for me if I didn't have her.

Test results so far

I have had so much blood work done I feel like a vampire's victim. For some reason my progesterone levels have dropped since September. They aren't getting high enough to trigger a period let alone ovulation. Last month I took progesterone (Provera)to trigger a period so I could get some blood work tests done. The RE (reproductive endocrinologist - fertility specialist)was checking for Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). This is a condition where there is weight gain, acne, coarse/dark hair that develops where previously there wasn't an issue - there are other symptoms but these are the ones that I have. Basically, your hormones are all out of whack. And, surprise surprise, I have it. We found that my testosterone is high and I am insulin resistant. Hence, I have not been ovulating correctly for some time now. The kicker, the one that socked me right in the gut and has led to this blog, my eggs are aging prematurely and there is a question about whether I have any viable eggs left. I don't know the particulars on this because I was so upset when the nurse called that I didn't think to ask any real questions. I do know that I know have to take a Clomid Challenge test. They load me up on clomid (fertility drug to stimulate ovulation) and test my blood and do an ultrasound to see how and if my eggs react. Of course, I have to wait until my period starts before they can start the test but it has yet to make an appearance. I suspect I will be making further acquaintance with the Provera pills. I don't think I have ever wanted my periods to start as badly as I have since we started seeing the RE.

Now, my husband (T) has also been tested. We figured there really was no need because he already had a child from a previous marriage and then there was our daughter. But the RE wanted it so we did it. Another shock, T also has some fertility issues now - sperm morphology issues. His little guys are not formed correctly so they can't break through the egg to fertilize it. The fun never stops around here. His issue is caused by LOW testosterone. If only I had his blood and he had mine. The treatment, he also gets to take Clomid. The urologist is pretty confident that this can be corrected so we aren't too worried right now.

As to my PCOS, the treatment is an antidiabetic drug called Metformin. I am beginning to hate Metformin. Some of its side effects include upset stomach and nausea. Boy, does it ever cause those. I start out one 1 pill and work my way up to 3 a day. I am on 1 pill right now and it is making me so sick that I am dreading what it is going to be like as I up the levels. I am really hoping my body becomes accustomed to it because this sucks so much right now.

T and I knew from the get go that the probable treatment for our infertility was going to be fertility drugs and insemination ( IUI - intrauterine insemination). But now, after researching what my test results are showing, I am really afraid that it is going to be invitro ( IVF - invitro fertilization). IVF scares the hell out of me. The cost is prohibitive to begin with and I don't know if we can afford it. Our insurance only covers diagnostic care, not the infertility treatments. We had put money away for the IUI treatments ( there would be 3 of them as long as they weren't successful) but now....I just don't know. The drugs alone are in the thousands. And what if I am not a candidate for IVF, are we looking at egg donor, embryo adoption or, what I fear the most, adoption? There are so many questions and fears going through my head that sometimes I feel like I am going to explode. And none of these questions, like what kind of treatment are we looking at now, can even be answered until after the Clomid Challenge Test and the RE followup visit.

So, as of right now, all we can do is wait. Wait for my period to start so we can move on with the test. And of course, it isn't cooperating so that is something else for me to worry and agonize over. Sometimes I wonder if all this is even worth it. I already have a daughter. A lot of couples in our position don't even have one child. Maybe I should count my blessings and accept what I have been given. But then I see a baby or a pregnant friend or play with/hold a baby and wonder, why has this happened to ME and, damn it, I want more kids!!!

How did this happen to us??

I have never blogged before so bear with me as I try to organize everything that is going through my thoughts. To begin with, I am 34 years old and have already had one child. My husband and I had planned on having at least one more child, maybe more after our daughter. I conceived with our first soooo easy, in fact, we weren't even trying -- surprise!! But it was a wonderful surprise. So, 2.5 years later, we decided to try for Baby #2. Imagine my surprise when month after month we weren't pregnant. A year after trying, we were referred onto a reproductive specialist. Here we are, 3 months after that and I am scared, stressed, and completely incredulous that this could happen to ME. I thought this only happened to people who never had a live birth, who were OLD, who had some sort of surgery/illness/trauma that didn't enable them to have children. Not to 34 year old women who already have a child, a husband who has another child from a previous marriage and the intense desire and ability to provide a good, loving home to many children.
I feel very alone and isolated right now. It seems everywhere I look, people I know are pregnant or have babies. No one I know personally has ever had to deal with this themselves, at least to my knowledge. Who can I talk to? Well meaning friends and family ( those that know our problems with this) tell me that it will happen, just keep trying, and, the one I personally despise the most, there is always adoption. Who do I talk to about our test results, our treatment options, my burgeoning depression, the stress level, how sex is now a mission not a pleasure, and my absolute fear that I will never be able to provide my daughter with a younger brother or sister. I feel like I have failed as a woman. Hence, I have decided to start this blog. If no one but me ever reads it, I don't care. It is a place for me to write down all my thoughts, feelings and secret fears that I can't really voice otherwise. Maybe it will help save my sanity.