The Good...The Bad...and The Crampy

Just a few updates from the last few days.

Monday...boy what a day. DH dropped the bomb. No, he wasn't having an affair, got someone else pregnant (I would be in prison right now if he had), nor does he have a rare yet fatal illness. No, his news was the side swiping kind in nature, but as tragic as it sounded, we rebounded quickly and life will move on.

Later on Monday I have my follow up with the orthopod. I love him. He is thorough, and personable, and seemingly interested. Now I am sure that he is like this with each of his patients, but when you are sitting in front of him, you feel like you are his only interest. This to me makes a wonderful physician. Anyway...the cause of my continued ankle problems are tri-fold in nature. 1. Scar tissue, that is causing the pain. When I walk the scar tissue becomes compressed, and causes pain. 2. Decreased joint space, which will lead too arthritis, and chronic pain. 3. thickening of the ligaments which is causing the swelling. So he ordered me to wear a brace for 6 weeks. Plus I am to attend 6 weeks of physical therapy. Then go back to follow up. If the brace (which I never received, but is a different story), and PT do not resolve this issue then I am have a steroid shot. If that shot fails to resolve the problem, then I go for another. Failing that we move onto surgery. A position I hope not to find myself in.

Today is CD 2, and I am feeling a little disjointed. This is my second cycle since Dr. K and I met. While part of me longs to be back in the stirrups tomorrow, a larger part of me longs to open a can of worms and discuss foster adoption with J again. I have started the conversation a thousand times over in my head, yet I am afraid of the rejection. Not from the county, who will again demand that I go through a year of "mourning" but by J himself. I know how he feels, I know that being a parent never was as important to him as it was too me...but boy do I want the option...

I am off to take a bath now...hopefully that will take care of the crampy part of my day...hopefully.

Flabbergasted...

Ok, apparently I have been going about this hope thing incorrectly. When I think the BEST case senerio, I am shocked when the world come crashing down around my ankles. How could that possibly happen? I find myself questioning? Yet when I imagine the WORST case senerio, I am equally as shocked when my expectations are not met, and instead I am standing in the middle of a miracle. Perhaps I should really sway my way of thinking.

Needless to say, Wednesday is here. J and I will be watching our Christmas tree lights tonight, and saying many a prayer that crisis has yet again been seemingly adverted. My blood pressure will return to normal, and life will go on with a minimum of muss and fuss.

Thank you for your prayers, and comments. Monday was a rough day, hence my patient complaint...but we made it through, and now back to our regularly scheduled programing!

Where Did The Air Go?

I was side swiped this morning. Not in the literal car meets car side swiping, but in the figurative "I have some news" sense. Traffic was incredibly light this morning. A trip that ussually takes 1/2 hour today took less than 20, so we opted for breakfast together.

As I made the turn around my desk he gave me the news. I wish I could go into detail, but I can't. I want too, but its not news that needs to be shared on a public blog. Just know that on Wednesday things could take a turn for the worst in my life. Ironic isn't it? After my Thanksgiving entry about how blessed I am, that things can turn on a dime. Who knew that as I watched "Where The Heart Is" last night that this line would ring so true You tell them that our lives can change with every breath we take... and tell 'em to hold on like hell to what they've got: each other, and a mother who would die for them and almost did... You tell them we've all got meanness in us, but we've got goodness too. And the only thing worth living for is the good. And that's why we've got to make sure we pass it on.

Would yo look at that...Chatty Cathy is out of words. Oh how I wish I could share more, but I can't. So I leave you with this request. Please say a prayer. Pray that at the end of business on Wednesday that Jacob and I are at home together looking at the lights on the Christmas tree. That was are "arguing" over what radio station to listen too in the car, and that this too has passed as nothing more than a blip on the radar.

Giving Thanks...

In a year when much has gone wrong, there is still so much that has gone right, thus I find this day of Thanksgiving the perfect day to remember that.

My last post was sad and pitiful, and poor me. Poor me will never have a child. Poor me will never experience the unadulterated love of a child. Poor me will never experience a holiday with children surrounding the table. Boy, when you are wrong you are wrong. For tonight I experienced each of those moments, and was forced to realize how thankful I should be.

Tonight we had dinner with my parents, and their guest. Then we headed out to Hartwood Acres to view the Christmas lights. Stopping first to meet my sister, brother in law, and their children. When I stepped out of the car my niece ran from her car to ours. Arms open screaming my name, then jumping into them holding me tight. As we watched rode past the lights my heart swelled as she oohed and awed, while seeing the lights for the first time. "Santa" she squealed with delight. "Look Aunt Sue, its Frosty. Maybe Santa will bring you Frosty for Christmas"

When we returned to my mothers I gave my 1 year old nephew his first tastes of Pumpkin Pie with Kool Whip. After he held my fingers as we "walked" across the living room. Yet, yesterday I would have said "never will I help a baby take his first tentative steps on his way to learning to walk on his own"

Tonight, that same baby sleeps in the room we had ear marked for our own nursery. His sister, in front of the coffee table with dog. Me, I am sitting here smiling. For I am so thankful for these moments. No, I may not have carried these children under my heart, but they have grown in my heart, and for that I am thankful.

Sure there will be days when I lament infertility, and the fact that never will a child call me "Mommy" except during a slip, which is what my niece just did...but that doesn't mean that I am any less thankful for what I do have, and what I have been giving.

I hope everyone had just as joyous a Thanksgiving as we had tonight.

You Should Use Ovulation Kits...

The above is advice I got from a 20 something at my second job tonight when she found out I had been married for 10 year without having a child. If I had been drinking something I would have sputtered it out all over my apron. Seriously, I was taken aback. This from a woman who just got done saying to me "I found out I was pregnant on April Fools Day." Uhm OK, goodie for you.

Now normally I do not mind people offering their advice if they are older than me, have a general interest in me, or simply do not realize what all we have gone through. However when a 20 something, obviously fertile person tells you to use OPK's that just crosses the line of wanting to kill someone. Especially when the next question was "10 years! Well what are you waiting for"

Instead of walking away I should have said "$10,000 and a good egg", no that is sarcasm which would have been lost on this woman. What I should have said was "I appreciate your advice, but do you realize that 20% of the population who wants children can't have them due to infertility?" Or that right now I am again fighting with disfunctional uterine bleeding caused by annovulation, and until I get on Provera or the BCP that I will continue to bleed? Or maybe just maybe you need to think before you speak because until you have walked a mile in anyones shoes you have no idea what trials they have been through, but what did occur is the fact that I copped out and said "I am only 33 what is the rush?" How is that for perpetuating the ignorance? Really, I am truly ashamed of myself. Ignorance is bliss, but infertility and being the 5% who will never have a child is a bitch...yet instead of being honest, I made it all seem like a joke...

You Fell Asleep...Where?

MRI UPDATE:

I had to laugh when the registration girl was "prepping" me for my MRI. One of the first questions "When was your last menstrual cycle?" I seriously had to sit back and think. I didn't know to be honest. How odd, an infertile who can't tell you the exact moment the red appeared on the TP? That would be like the Pope not being able to recite John 3:16 by memory. However, that was exactly what it was like. So I answered vaguely "sometime within the last three weeks or so" She then asked if there was any chance that I could be pregnant. This time I laughed, and then answered if I am, my RE needs to refund my Co-pay.

When it was finally time for the procedure to begin I was taken aback when they didn't have me change out of my work suit and into a hospital gown. Especially since my suit happened to be adorned with a multitude of metal buttons. The technician assured me that despite the buttons that I would not be sucked into the machine, which I wasn't sure I believed since the machine was already making "heart beat" noises and wasn't yet taking images.

Still, I took my shoes off and climbed onto the table. I was then instructed to lay on my belly. I was given a pillow, and a pair of ear plugs and was then reminded to remain as immobile as possible, or a 40 minute scan could take hours. Not something a fidgety person by nature wants to hear, but I knew my tired and hungry hubby was waiting for me outside, and would not like to be advised that the delay was because I couldn't keep my leg from moving. With ear plugs firmly in place the tech asked if I wanted a sheet to cover me, but I declined, and we began.

The table moved backwards, and the machine began to make a grinding noise above the din of the "heart beat" Surprisingly, as I honed into the sound of the beat I found myself drifting off to sleep. Yes, asleep in a cold dimly lit room that was making enough noise to wake the dead I fell into a comfortable sleep pattern. I awoke only when the table lurched forward suddenly, causing me to panic that I had some how ruined the test by moving, but was told instead "You're all done"

My ankle was killing me as I put my feet back into my dress shoes, but it was over. I have my follow up with Dr. Sisk on Monday of next week, and while I am hoping for good news, the chronic pain and Avacodo and Eggplant colored swelling don't bode for that. So for one more week I sit and wait...hoping that the follow up is as quick and painless as the MRI goes...but I can't imagine me falling asleep this time...

Email Birth Announcements...

I used to be able to handle birth announcements far better than announcements of a bfp. For me once I got over the "why not me" stage of the BFP I became increasingly interested in the announcers pregnancy, and longed for the day when our baby made 3, 4, 5 what ever the case may be but with the news from Dr. K's office still fresh on my mind, today I found out what a bitter wench I have apparently become.

For today my superior sent out a mass email. Everyone in the clinic I suppose was anxious to hear the news. Everyone that was except me. I knew one of our docs wives was expecting twins. Many a morning I stood at the microwave cringing as I over heard the update "she is STILL pregnant at 35 weeks" while another doctor gently reminded him that 40 weeks was full term, and him then trying to argue "but we are having twins" That was the extent of my involvement, and I like it that way. Laissez-faire, hands off, that was my way of dealing with it. Yet today, these 13 hour old (at the time of the email) 37 weeks gestational creatures were now here, and were now invading my personal cyber space.

The title of the email, BABIES, should have been enough to make me hit delete, and move on, but since it originated from the office of she who is responsible for my pay roll I double clicked it anyway. Once it was open I felt as if someone took my breath away. Names, dates, weights, measurements all sprung forth at me, and as quickly as I opened the email, I just as quickly hit delete. Anger, and bitterness crept over me, topped off with a layer of warm resentment. Later those feelings were replaced with guilt. Guilt for having those feelings, for knowing that I was not, and am still not entitled to any of them.

It is he who is entitled to this moment of joy, just as it would have been mine in May had things worked out the way they should, but they didn't. Sure my boss knows of my situation, and the fact that Dr. K is out of options for me, and despite her hands off "New England" persona was kind enough to offer her support and a hug, but does that entitle me to anything more? Absolutely not. Does my pain mean that his news shouldn't be shared in a mass email, and that congratulations to him in person should be locked behind his office door and not given in the hall ways or clinic area? Definitely not...but that doesn't mean I can't hide in the safety of my office, behind my locked door picking and choosing which emails to open, and which ones to delete without reading...for self preservation is one thing I am most certainly entitled too regardless of what the email says...

Effusion Confusion and MRI Day...

Gulp. Its MRI day. I didn't think I was nervous, but today when I woke up feeling like I had rocks in my stomach it became decidedly apparent that I was.

Many will remember from my old blog that I darn near broke my ankle on Aug 11th, in the most tragic of decking accidents. For those who don't, I was walking down the three steps of my deck enroute to clean the pool so my niece and nephew could swim when my Croc clad foot turned under me, snapping and popping were heard followed by immediate and intense purple swelling of my anterior (outside) ankle of my left foot.

This is what it looked like the day of the incident... Well that was three months, 1 brace, 1 second opinion, and 1 cast later and I am still having issues.

On Monday I went to a physician that practices within the organization for which I am employed. Where my husband tells me I should have gone in the first place...which OK I am inclined to agree, but that would have meant a weekend trip into Oakland with a baby, 3 year old and 9 year old the day I did it...not nessessarily my idea of fun. Anyway...I digress. So after 3 new films of my ankle, 1 walk up the hall for "gait" check, and much pushing, bending, and manipulating later the doctor has rulled: Chronic ankle pain with effusions. The good news, there for sure was NOT a missed fracture of bone chip.

What the heck are effusions you ask? Good question because as I left the docs office I still didn't know, but good ol' Dr. Google did! Apparently my joint is leaking fluid into the cavity between my ankle bone, and the fatty tissue and skin, thus causing the bruising, and swelling that I am experiencing. So an MRI is now in order.

The MRI will show where I am leaking from...will show if there is any tendon involvement, and will see also if there are any lessions within the ankle that an x-ray didn't show. My follow up is on the 26th of November during my lunch hour, and to be honest that worries me more than the MRI it self. In the mean time I am granted a life in tennis shoes while working, and as much Tylenol as my stomach can bear without causing an ulcer. Oh yes, life is good...

For A Soldier...

All too often we become caught up in our own world, and tend to forget that there is an entire globe of people out there with problems far bigger than ours. I too am guilty of forgetting, and becoming weary with thoughts of "why me", yet in reality I am blessed. I am keenly aware of these blessings as we enter the early fringes of the holiday season, and am even more keenly aware of those who are not this holiday season.

There are soldiers who are lying in hospital beds as we speak with little hope to return home for the holidays. So my request to you all is to send a card, or letter, or a small memento to the following address:

A Recovering American Airman, Soldier, Sailor, or Marine

c/o Walter Reed Army Medical Center

6900 Georgia Avenue,NW

Washington , D.C. 20307-5001

Regardless of how you feel about the war please remember that there are many brave men and women who are fighting it for us. I will admit that when September 11, 2001 struck that I was beyond elated that my husband had completed his tour. However, many of my friends husbands weren't so lucky. One of my girlfriends miscarried while her husband was under the water on a submarine. Another, missed the birth of his first son because hew as doing a job that many of us can't fathom doing. So please, take a moment and mail that extra card.

41 cents, and a few extra minutes may make a lonely soldiers day.

I have one last request gentle blog readers. Please share this address with your readers. You don't have to track back to my blog. Just include the address with your own message so that this becomes wide spread. Remember, this is not about politics, but about making someone who is less fortunate than we are a little happier during the holidays.

Thanks guys. I am now putting my soap box back under the bathroom sink.

Retail Therapy...

I feel much better today. Thanks for asking and commenting.

Seriously, I feel tons better today. I don't know what was with my sullen and despondent mood yesterday. All I know is that what ever it was, a Tastefully Simple party, and some retail therapy were just what the doctor ordered.

I finally got boots to go with my suit. I like them, but don't love them. What I really wanted was a boot that went up to my knee that had a heel on it. However I couldn't find something that fit both my foot, and covered my calf in a manner that would allow my suit pant to go over the boot. Yes I thought for a brief moment about putting my boots on first, then the pants...but I could just imagine how that would look at 6 a.m. on a bleary eyed Monday Morning. My luck I would put a slit in the pants, which of course I would fail to recognize and would go to work wondering "why is it so drafty in here?"

So instead of even mid calf boots I settled for ankle boots with a 2" heel. Is that what you would call them? As you can tell I am fashionably unsophisticated. I like living in sweatshirts and jeans in the winter, and shorts and t-shirts in the summer. Suits however are my Garanimals. I don't have to figure out accessories or matching blouses because they come all put together. Gosh, I should be a man. I own 8 pair of shoes max, and I would honestly say that of those 8 3 or 4 range from Crocs to sandals. Pathetic huh?

Anyway...retail therapy, not fashion challenges is the topic at hand. I also bought two more Christmas gifts. I even came home and wrapped them. At least now that there is Santa clad proof that Christmas is coming my more frequent jaunts to the mall won't come as a complete and utter shock to my husband. Well he still will turn an unearthly shade of white when I show him the receipts...but as always I will remind him "Christmas comes but once a year...and shopping keeps me sane" and if that doesn't work, in my fragile emotional state I will just turn on the tears, blame PMS and watch him run screaming from the room seeking shelter for 3 or 4 days...which should be plenty of time for me to finish my shopping.

Home...

I am feeling a little melancholy today. I am not sure why. Yes, it has been a super long week with 3/3 being on vacation, leaving 1/3 and 2/3 (myself) here to pick up the ever growing slack. Then of course there is the added responsibilities that my superior feels that I am capable of handling. Lest we forget, and really this isn’t a complaint per say, because I love doing it, but Michaels and additional 8 hours a week. So I am tired, I am a little depressed, and well just plain old ready to go home.

This is perhaps why the song "Home" continues to ricochet in my head. Or perhaps its because even though it’s a love song, it can take on a different meaning to everyone who listens to it. Kind of like Racal Flatts: God Bless the Broken Road. For a long time many of my infertile friends adopted that as their own manta when they became pregnant. I suppose for them since their road had been patched that it truly was blessed.

Anyway…the line in “Home” that really has given me pause today is:

And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
It’s like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right

Not that anything is going particularly bad right now. Sure we all have our up moments and down moments…but nothing is horrible. We have our health. We have heat (furnace finally seems to be working correctly…shh, don’t tell Murphy). The holidays are coming up, and we have friends and family to spend them with. What isn’t there to be mellow about?

At first I thought that perhaps this was PMS. After all this is the first time in very many that I haven’t been sticking a thermometer in my mouth, and could quote not only the temperature, but the day of my cycle. So I actually had to check. Cycle day 18 was what appeared. Then it occurred to me that perhaps my broken down old body ovulated, and I am experiencing progesterone crash? PMS usually attacks anywhere from 4 days pre AF to 6 days pre AF. If, and that is a big sarcastic laughing as I type it if, I ovulated on CD 13-14 then I would be within that range of 4-6. If I didn’t then I am simply in need of some mind altering drugs…or perhaps a good nights sleep.

Either way…regardless of how you interpret Michael’s song…I really want to go home.

Dream A Little Dream Of Me...

I called my mom tonight to find out what color she wanted her marble Christmas tree ornament done in this year. A simple conversation that lead to her discussing my sister and her laundry. She said "I would do the same for you or A if you needed it" To which I said "no you wouldn't. Not for me" She asked "why not?" I told her because I am just too independent. To which she responded "well you don't have three kids" Now I know she didn't mean it meanly. She was stating a fact. Same as if she had said "you don't have a husband with a brain tumor" This is also fact, and while it sounds cruel, this is true.

So I finally "fessed up" I said "and mom I never will" She got quiet, and said "you don't know that" So I told her what Dr. K had said. Failing however to tell her about the second opinion I have in January. There is no point in getting anyone else's hopes up other than mine. Heck, it was only in passing that I even mentioned it to J, or was it in an email? Anyway, back to point. She got quiet and said to me "I don't believe it. I had another dream about you just the other night and you had triplets"

Now many of you will shake your heads, or smile politely, but mom has a "way about her" No, she isn't Aunt Cleo who can detect missing people, or tell you what color underwear you will be wearing on the second Tuesday of March 2012, but she "senses" things. Often in dreams. My sisters and I sometimes do this too. One such example: J and I were living in Connecticut. My sister, brother in law, parents, and family friend were all to travel to visit us. Two nights before they were to depart E and I had the same dream. Hers, more vivid than mine, but they started the same. My parents and "MK" were in a car accident, and they died. In E's dream she knew that my dad was DOA, "MK" died enroute to the hospital, and mom at the hospital. The day before they were to come my parents car broke down. A 6 month old car, breaks down! They weren't able to make the trip. It wasn't until after this even that E and I discussed the dream, leaving both of us to wonder what would have happened if they came.

Another of moms dreams came in the form of a "visit" by my deceased grand parents. My grandmother called to my mom from down stairs. When she went to her my grandmother went into the kitchen which was all black. My grandfather then appeared and tried to pull her into the blackness, but my mom "fought" against going. He kept telling her "it was her time, that she had to come" What was going on then? Mom was to have surgery to remove part of her thyroid. The next day. Her surgery never happened, it was canceled due to an emergency.

So this brings me to present day... Remember my IUI how 3 continued to pop into my head? The triplet connection, the numbers divisible by 3? Well I never discussed this with my mother. Yet she continues to dream of me being the mother to triplets. My visit with Dr. Tippet is on January 3, and he will be my 3rd RE (I don't really count the first as all she ever did was consults in which she told me "you have pcos", but never formulated a plan). Oh, and I just turned how old? Yup...thats right...33. My age at marriage...23....first miscarriage....3 months into my marriage....there we go again with the 3's...

Crazy I know...but curious none the less.

Confucius Says...

Ok, I am confused. Seriously and utterly confused.

In my manic need for information so that I can digest my fate I research things, I ask advice, and I rely on those who have treaded the waters before me. Yet with each click of the mouse, or turn of the page I become more and more confused.

Actually if it hadn't been for a posting on Daily Strength in response to my news of indefinante infertility I never would be second guessing Dr. K and his "brilliance" and his edict that IVF is the only way. Yet here I am second guessing not only that directive, but the diagnosis of MILD male factor infertility. This on the heals of DH and I having a LONG honest conversation of how much we are truly willing to try to "correct" this problem of my failed R sided fallopian tube, and his "issues".

Anyway, Someone pointed out that on last IUI J's count was 97 million pre wash. Ok, so Dr. K was saying COUNT is and always has been PERFECT, same with volume, though that is on the lower side of normal. THEN he goes on to say that morphology at 47% is too low, and that motility at 45% is too low. Now are those pre wash numbers? Or post wash numbers?

Then I want to know...if you are "washing" the boys...and you have 97 million with 1/2 being bad from the get go...assuming that the ones w/bad morphology are also the ones with bad motility that sill leaves us with 48.5 million sperm that are GOOD. Ok, going further, assuming that 1/2 of the 97 million are affect by JUST bad morphology, that still leaves us with 48.5 million sperm, take another 1/2 from there for the poor motility and that still leaves us with 24.25 million sperm post wash. Ok so my understanding is a "normal" count is 20 million. I know that is low normal, but normal none the less. I have also read that so long as there are 4 million "good" sperm post wash that an IUI is still done, if that is what you are being seen for.

To further my confusion, and based upon a discussion we had, I researched sperm banks. MANY of the vials for IUI have only 4 million post washed counts! So to say I am confused is beyond the scope of my scratching my head and going HUH??? I truly do not wish to spin my wheels or spend any more money if IVF is the only option, but the more I think about it the more I wonder if, as J suggested, Dr. K was only interested in getting me in the operating room for egg retrieval, and not to correct any tube issues I have...especially after reading my initial post op lap report that said ADHESIONS REMOVED, weak walled R fallopian tube AND no confirmed spillage of R fallopian tube.

I hate being confused, but I hate to think that I am passing up an opportunity to become a biological mother just because he said so. So, here is what I decided. A second opinion is in order. I am going to wait until after the holidays are over, no sense in venturing into them with the hope that "at this time next year I could..." No, I will wait. We have extended our outer limit of conception from 35 to 40, thus buying myself 7 years and the opportunity for insurance or a state law that will help. However in the mean time I will be visiting with Dr. Tippet in Wexford on January 3, 2008 at 5:30. If he agrees with Dr. K, then OK I accept my fate, but if he says "this is an option, and NO it doesn't involve $10,000 and a round of IVF" then I will be more than thrilled.

In the mean time...Confucius says...stop researching stuff on the internet!

They Forgot...

This entry is going to come across as whiny and immature, but guess what…I don’t care. It could have been my party and I am allowed to cry because I want too! You see, tomorrow I “officially” turn 33 years old. Can you believe it? If I am to live to 99 I am 1/3 of the way there.

At any rate, since moving away from home and getting married Halloween has become my unofficial day to celebrate my birthday with the family. Since each of my sisters have children we all congregate at my mother’s house and trick or treat. So to prevent us from having to do it again 2 days later we just also have cake, ice cream, and presents. I have come, foolishly so, to take this for granted.

Last night should have been no exception. Pizza, cake, presents, trick or treat, in that order. Well they forgot. Simply forgot. When something about my birthday was mentioned my mother says “No, your birthday is next week” Uhm no, its not. According to my birth certificate, drivers license, all of my job applications, and your own account of my birth I arrived on this rock on November 2, 1974. Now I know that is a long time ago, and I know my mother is getting old, for she was 32 when I was born, but really now you forgot? I will even give you dispensation for there being three of us. After all you now have three children, one husband, and four grandchildren to contend with but you have never forgotten theirs have you?

So everyone said they would call me tomorrow, but I informed them yet again that we will be out of town for the weekend. Mrs. L is going to Washington. Again, I know that sounds whinny and immature, but really my family? Even my husband remembers the day I was born and the day we got married…which incidentally…we got our anniversary card and money on October 8th this year…my sister’s anniversary. We were married in July, but thanks for the cash anyway.

Oh yes, it’s good to be loved, or forgotten…at least I know that my low expectations are being consistently met…which your yearly merit increase will surely reflect.