No Rest For the Weary


So much for getting any rest on vacation, although that’s probably too much to ask from Las Vegas. We flew in last Friday (Oct. 24) and it was a whirlwind weekend spent seeing the sights, walking the strip, and eating. Our friends got married on Saturday (Oct. 25) and it was a lovely, low key but intimate wedding. We indulged too much and slept too little. I found I was very moody all weekend. I would be having fun one minute and irritable and grouchy about something the next. I had a little fit the morning we were leaving for Vegas because I couldn’t find my phone. I would get hungry and tired during the day and it made me crabby. I still had a good time but I was having a hard time controlling my mood swings.

I stopped my suprefact last Tuesday and the nurse told me my next period should start a week or two after stopping the meds. I hoped it would come sooner rather than later so we could make our next plan. I woke up Saturday morning in Vegas to find my period had started, the day after we had arrived. I had been feeling sort of off ever since I stopped the suprefact, and more than likely due to the fact that my hormones went on a bender after the suprefact stopped suppressing everything. I was surprised and a little bit annoyed at getting my period so early. So much for any fun hotel romps.

I also realised that I needed to call the clinic and advise them of CD1. Needless to say I wracked up some long distance while I was away. Once I called the clinic and left my info on the IVF message line I counted the days and noted that my CD3 was going to be Monday, and we weren’t due to arrive back until just before midnight on Monday night/Tuesday morning. I told the nurse my predicament when she called me back and she said she would talk to Dr. M and if it was going to be a problem she would let me know. They wanted to check my lining and my cyst to see that I a) did indeed shed all or at least a majority of my lining and b) to see if the cyst was gone. From there we could determine the new plan of action.

So after a long weekend in Vegas, and a late flight home I got about 4 hours of sleep Monday night before I had to get up to be at the clinic for 7am Tuesday morning. I was the 4th person to be monitored so I had to wait a little but not too long. When I went back the monitoring doctor looked at my chart to see what it was he was to be checking for. I don’t like this doctor, I may have mentioned him before, he’s retired but still just does the monitoring ultrasounds. He just irks me for some reason. Anyways, moving on; he checked my lining and it was looking good and thin beside a bit of blood that was still being shed. Then he moved to my left ovary, all quiet and over to the right. The cyst was still there, and not diminished in size. Fuck.

He made some measurements printed them out, and when he was done he told me I could return to my change room and the nurse would be with me shortly. The change rooms are open on the top and the bottom, and the nurses station is maybe 10 feet away so I could plainly hear them talking when I was getting redressed. The doctor was telling the nurse the cyst was still there, and she was discussing the fact that my doctor (Dr. M) had suggested a natural cycle, but that it may not be possible due to the cyst.

I was put in one of the other exam rooms so that the nurse could come and discuss the next steps with me. This was becoming a bad habit, being the special case who gets put away in a room for further instruction. I waited probably around 15 minutes, as the nurse was finishing with the other patients still waiting for ultrasounds. The wait was painful, I was exhausted and felt kind of ill because I had been chugging water on the way to the appointment in anticipation I would need to do bloodwork as well (I have slim veins that get smaller when I am dehydrated), only to not have any bloodwork after all. (I am now wondering if that was an oversight, you’d think they would have wanted my estrogen levels…). When the nurse finally came in, she sort of seemed at a loss for words, tsk-ing and shaking her head. She told me that Dr. M had left me two choices; either to do a natural cycle (if the cyst was gone) or try a medicated cycle, possibly with different meds. But, she said it would not make sense to do a natural cycle with the cyst interferring, and she wasn’t sure what Dr. M’s plan of action would be for a medicated cycle, again because of the cyst.

I need to redo my SHG, because my clinic needs an updated one every 6 months (and me being an eager beaver did mine back in May when we decided to pursue IVF, in August) so the nurse booked me for an SHG on Sunday (as in today, now) and she said her and Dr. M will discuss “what to do with me”. Great, that sounds really hopeful. So not only do I get to have my uterus accosted (again) I may very well be getting the bad news that they are going to delay me another cycle, and surgically remove my asshole cyst. To be honest I sort of hope I don’t have to do a natural cycle because I believe it would probably end up requiring more monitoring, and more stress due to the fact that we would be relying on my body to do it’s job, correctly and in a timely fashion (yeah, right). We’ll see how that all plays out.

Besides dealing with the unknown of our next transfer cycle, we’ve spent the rest of the week continuing renovation on our new place. After a long days at work, it was evenings spent working on paint, and flooring, trying to reassemble everything so we can move soon, as our new tenants take possession Nov. 15. I am utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Occasionally I have a feeling of heavy, deep sadness for all the time lost, and burden carried. When we were shopping in Vegas I had a moment of pain as I had previously thought we would be pregnant by the time we were on that trip. Before we found out we weren’t doing a fresh transfer, I had hope that we would even know the gender of our baby by the time we went to Vegas (I am planning on doing early genetic and gender testing) and that I might be able to purchase a few baby items. I think it was lurking in my subconscience and sprung on me when I realised what I wouldn’t be buying that trip.

Having said all of that, I am feeling eerily calm (about the uncertainty of our cycle at least). I didn’t flip out when they cancelled my cycle, I didn’t have a breakdown with my untimely period, I didn’t cry at my bad news monitoring appointments. I don’t know why, because I am certainly frustrated that nothing is working according to plan, that it is further and further delaying our transfer. Our imaginary due date keeps getting bumped ever forward. I mostly feel ambivalent, which is weird.

Here’s hoping for some good news today, though I won’t hold my breath.

Mercury in Retrograde


I have no idea what mercury being in retrograde even means, but people seem to blame it for strange occurrences and apparently it is happening right now, until July 1. Since I have no real reason for the strange coincidences I’ve experienced lately, mercury seems as good a scapegoat as any.

I sent my best friend a text message today to wish her good luck with her scheduled cesarean tomorrow morning. I told her to let me know when she is ready for visitors, and I will go and cuddle that little baby, and then I want to come home and just curl up in bed and cry. After I wished her all the best I was scrolling through our old text message conversations. A lot of our conversations about my infertility struggle have bounced between our iPhones, so I have this sort of built-in timeline through our messages. I knew that I had text her a photo of my last pack of birth control when I was just about finished it before officially starting to “try” to get pregnant. I wasn’t sure exactly when it was, so I decided to go back approximately two years to find it.

As I swiped further and further back through my phone, I came across a text to her in January 2013, just before we went on a trip to Mexico, when I was 3 or 4 days past when my period was due and was thinking I might be pregnant (despite having tested negative). I had told her I was nervous if I was pregnant, but hoped this was it as I was tired of the PMS hormones messing with my head. A day later, I let her know it was a false alarm and I was just late. Back up a little more, to August 2012, and a message to her just after we returned from a trip to Europe, on which I got my period. Even though it was our first “official” month trying, I was disappointed, and didn’t like all of the symptoms that cropped up not being on the pill. She told me not to get frustrated, as it didn’t often happen on the first try.

I went back little further still, to finally find the photo of my nearly empty birth control pack. June 17, 2012. Two years ago to the day. I still had a weeks worth of pills left, but I had sent it to her because it was almost time to throw caution to the wind. She was 7 months pregnant at the time, and I decided I was going to follow her lead. Tomorrow she will welcome her second child into the world and I will mark CD1 on the calendar. I’ve been feeling awful the past few days, the worst PMS I can ever remember having. I noticed a pink tinge on the toilet paper today, and generally when I am on the pill my period comes the Wednesday after I finish the pack so experience tells me tomorrow is that day.

Although I generally count my “TTC timeline” having started in August of 2012, I technically finished my last pack of pills in June 2012. It seems like a strange coincidence of events today and tomorrow. I don’t really believe in fate per se, but it does seem as though the stars have aligned in some twisted way.

I’m so close to starting the next leg of this infertility marathon, but I am so tired already. It’s a long haul, and I’ve got a big hill coming up.