The Talk

I have been going back and forth whether to write about this or not. I decided that I needed to b/c writing is my outlet. Our first natural cycle was a bust. No surprise and I was surprisingly ok with it. CD1 came, bad cramps and all. Fine, I can handle that. What I can’t handle is hubby deciding we nee to talk about future TTC and treatments on CD1. That I can’t handle. At all.

We talk, I cry, and now I am lost. He wants to take more time off meds. I get it. I get where he is coming from. This has been the year from hell and since I started meds, things have gotten worse. Here’s some back story: I started meds in July. My mom got sick, pneumonia. Bad for her b/c she is a severe asthmatic with COPD. Well, she almost died. Yep, she coded and they brought her back. She made it through but never got better. The next few months she was in the hospital more than out and almost died a total of 4 times. Yes, I said FOUR. I almost lost my mother FOUR times. It was pretty devastating. Going through that on Clomid is a special kind of hell. Now she is recovering in a rehap facility b/c she is to sick to go home, but can’t stay in the hospital. It kills her. It kills me.

Hubby’s mom was DX’d with breast cancer. We thought things were going to be bad, and they were, but she has defied some odds. Now, though, she can’t live alone as I have alluded to in previous posts. Hubby is really struggling with the fact that he is going to have to put her in a home. I dunno how to help with that.

During all of this, my job decides that I need a major pay cut (read several thousand a year). Working for a non-profit is not fun when your livelihood is based on grants. This has put a HUGE financial strain on us. So much so, this led to our chat on CD1. What a craptastic day. What a craptastic talk. He wants to take several months off from meds so maybe we can enjoy life again. What he really means is maybe I can enjoy life. I do enjoy life, I find joy in things, I am not depressed, which is surprising considering the above. However, he wants me to be like I was before all of this happened. Before we got pg the first time. I can’t. I don’t know how to go back to that person. She is gone, replaced by a harder, more cynical me.

I feel like my TTC is a ticking time bomb. Not b/c of my age or anything, but b/c of the endo. The longer we go w/o a BFP the more chance I take on it ruining me. It’s horrible. I can literally hear my TTC timeline ticking down. I already said that my RE suspects my endo may be coming back. If that is the case, I dunno what we will do. IVF is not an option for us. Financially, we will never be able to afford it. I have one tube and one working ovary, if endo is coming back, I do not hold much hope for us. I am torn. I am torn b/w trying naturally for however long until hubby is satisfied that we are back to whatever, or just going on BCP to suppress it. I dunno. My head and heart hurts trying to figure it out.

Hubby wants us to keep trying naturally, he has all the confidence that things will be fine. I don’t have that. I never had it. I never will. I have come to terms with that. I don’t know how to deal with the things he said. How do I not become IF? I have a disease, hell two diseases and tubal factor IF. What am I supposed to do?! Pretend these things do not impact my DAILY LIFE??!! I take meds everyday to keep things semi under control. Every day I am reminded what I am dealing with. My female parts hurt everyday, Every. God. Forsaken. Day. So what is a girl supposed to do?! He had no answers for that, of course not b/c he doesn’t get it. He readily admits that. I love him for that. However, he wants a lot of things I am not sure I can give. I don’t know how to give. I guess when I get a sharp pain in my lady parts, I will just smile and hide it like I always do. He does not know what I go through on a daily basis. The constant pain, the sheer terror of continual failure, the isolation.

Life sucks. IF sucks monkey balls. Becoming a bitter shrew seems like a natural progression. I’m just sayin’. No one could really blame me, could they? Could anyone walk a mile in my shoes then expect me to be a happy go lucky individual? Could they deal with working with pregnant women and infants Every. Single. Day. Could they compartmentalize the constant triggers? Could they deflect the “do you have kids questions”  every day? Could they smile and encourage a pregnant mom to be excited about this baby? Could they? Not w/o hiding themselves. Not w/o having some scars from it. Not w/o burying their heart so it doesn’t break every time and baby is placed in their arms. These are things hubby doesn’t know b/c how do I tell him?


The Aftermath of the Dreaded Trigger….

I triggered on Saturday after two monitoring appointments. **Rant**I hate monitoring appointment b/c my girly parts are sore in there, and well, it’s uncomfortable!! **End Rant** I was told to trigger Saturday and we had to do “it” on Saturday and Sunday and Monday was “optional”. This is what I pay my doctor for, to tell me when to sex it up with hubby. Makes you want to jump on the infertility bandwagon, huh? So we triggered on Saturday with the shot in my tummy. I have said before how I hate needles, hubby gives me the shot. It doesn’t hurt until he pushes the medicine, the it’s like FIRE!! It burns like a tetanus shot. I have to take a benadryl before the shot b/c my reaction to it is more significant than most people. (Yet another reason that my body hates me).

Since triggering, I have felt more “off” than normal. My boobs are already slightly tender and I am bloated like a crazy person. Hubby thinks it’s a great sign. I know it’s not a great sign, it’s to early for signs. I think I have lost all hope for any of this to work. Part of me is thinking even if we go all the way to IVF, we will not get our rainbow. How did I become this callous person? When did the change happen? Granted, I have never been a super positive silver lining person, but I have always had a realistic outlook. Realistically, I have no hope anymore. I go into a cycle thinking it will fail. Perhaps it’s a protection mechanism. I dunno if I can ever handle another loss. The first one almost killed me literally and figuratively. That is a lot to swallow.

I think it is just the hits we keep taking. It’s hard on a “normal” couple, but add the stress of IF on top and it’s overwhelming. I really really REALLY need a vacation, but there is no rest for the weary in sight. Bleh. Life sucks right now, but I have to believe it can get better. It has to. Right?…

2WW Part Two: To be or not to be

I have officially hit the crazy! I am 11dpo as of today and I am feeling the pressure. Yes, there is pressure during the 2WW. I think it is compounded when you are on a medicated cycle. You feel like it should work this time because you had “help”. It’s completely beyond logic, yet that is how you feel. I woke up today feeling some major nausea. Of course, part of my brain immediately goes to yay we could pregnant mode. Then Logical Side (i.e. the logical thinking part of my brain) steps in and tells Crazy to slow her role. Crazy proceeds to argue, pointing out the fact that nausea IS a good sign. Logical Side argues that point with anything other than the pregnant title. This is all taking place in a span of a few minutes at 6:30 this morning. In other words, I haven’t had my coffee yet and I have a headache. Wonderful.

This is my crazy. I can’t even begin to point out that letting these thoughts out has me slightly worried. I, mean, what if I get committed for these thoughts? They are really out there sometimes. Is that what we all deal with? Do we really have to go through this time and time again? Why can’t this be exciting again? These are questions I ask every 2WW, especially the last one. I have become jaded about being pregnant. I don’t know any other way to say it. There will never again be that innocent super happy feeling again. I will be forever marred, scarred by my loss. I have all these stats in my head about our chances of another ectopic. It’s about a 10% chance, but as we have discussed, my body hates me. I could be that 10%. See the crazy?

Because of my history, I get to have what I call “stringent” monitoring. I talked about what I go through with the medicated cycles. What I didn’t discuss is the plan for if/when I get pregnant. I have to go in for early betas, which is not bad since I go in for betas every cycle. I have my beta check this cycle on Wednesday. I am nervous. No bones about it, I am nervous and petrified. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I go in for early betas, then keep going in for betas. In other words, my needle phobia is going to get a workout if/when I get pregnant. I also get to have the vag cam (i.e. vaginal u/s) at about 5 weeks. This is to make sure I do not have another ectopic. Another u/s at about 7 weeks to confirm things are moving along and then my RE will decide whether to release me. That is the plan. It’s a lot. It’s overwhelming and I am in the crazy that hopes and prays I get to go through it. Not really logical, but that is where I am.

I am overwhelmed with it all. It happens every time! I find myself hoping, praying, and waiting. I also hear Logical Side telling me to take it down a notch. I can’t afford to get excited or hope. I have to protect my very fragile heart. A heart, that after our loss, is so scarred it’s a miracle it works. A heart, that is held together by tenuous threads. There is no balance at this point in the 2WW. I am either super crazy or very indifferent. I strive so hard to be indifferent. It’s safer. I know, it seems callous, but it is what it is.

Now I wait and try not to hope. Hope is a sneaky thing, though. It comes in when you least expect it. It smacks you upside the head and fills you excitement. It’s hard to shut that down. I am caught between hoping and indifference. There is no balance and usually hope wins despite my efforts to the contrary.