Friending Myself

For the last week, I have been reflecting on my two IVF cycles thus far. I went into IVF 1.0 full of hope and quite convinced it would work, not only that, I was hopeful of getting a good number of embryos to freeze "for later". To say the least, none of those things eventuated, I got sick with hyper stimulation, the clinic cancelled my transfer, and I was left with one "slow-poke" blasty to freeze. This felt like a fall from a very great height, and I was humpty dumpty (insert IVF egg joke here...). 

To caution myself against a probable disappointment, I approached IVF 1.1 somewhat differently. I told myself that it probably wasn't going to work. Nice huh? So why was I doing it then? Because I secretly wanted it to work, so so much, but at least if it was a bfn, I would feel somewhat prepared for the news. Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, that I had ended it before it had even begun, and also perhaps not.

What i AM convinced of now is that I didn't like what I was telling myself and putting out into the world. I was still teary and upset when the clinic called to confirm my results, no amount of girding one's loins can prepare you for that call, it really is the pitts. It's so pitt-like that I'm even considering asking DH to receive the news next time, and then pass it on to me.

After the inevitable pity party, I've been doing of soul searching in the days following the latest effort and I've realised that I don't like the person I've become. I've become anxious, negative, fearful of the IVF process, and here's the clincher....I've become joyless. Yes, there have been pockets of laughter and enjoyment, but it doesn't resemble my life. I feel like there are 2 people at war inside of me, and I would like to give up the struggle now, drop the proverbial rope, let go. 

I'd like to be friends with myself again...

You there! Cool chick with an awesome smile, I used to know you. You used to wear pretty dresses and delight in presenting yourself to the world. It's time to get re-acquainted.

Warmly,

Beatrix xo

Falling Down and Getting Back Up

Hi Readers. I haven't posted in a little while due to my father in law passing away recently. Although it was a sad time for DH and our families, I welcomed the way I felt about not having to do IVF for a little while. That in itself speaks louder than anything else I could say, that when death was around me, I still found a way to rejoice within myself because I didn't have to think about needles, blood tests and moodiness. My sisterhood of IVF'ers will no doubt understand. We go through so much for a hope don't we?

To catch you up, our one frosty was put back in two weeks ago, and the clinic called today to inform me it was a BFN. I told myself I was not going to poas until my official test date, but come 8dp5dt, I caved, and I sat in the bathroom staring at the all-too-familiar single purple line with no friend to keep it company. I guess it's a metaphor for how I am feeling right at this very instant....lonely. The questions, oh the questions! They have the speed of Usain Bolt combined with the repetition of a metronome.

Why didn't it work?

Did I do something wrong?

Was it that panic attack I had in the car due to the meds making me feel weird?

How much money do I have now?

What is WRONG with me?

Obviously I do not have the answers to these questions, and may never will, but there's hope...I watched the 2013 Oscars last night! "What hella crap is she talking now?" you may be thinking. Well, to be a little dramatic about it, at about 24 seconds into the video, I felt like Ben Affleck was speaking directly to me. Indulge me if you will.

There you have it...YOU GOTTA GET UP. Ben Affleck just told you so! If by chance, you're reading this and you feel like you don't want to get up, I am here to tell you that after two cycle of IVF which included sickness and disappointments, I am going to get back up. 

Yes, I am going to get back up....right after I eat this tub of cookies and cream.

Much Love

Beatrix xo

Time for a Shellac-ing!

One of the unexpected downsides to cycling with IVF (in my opinion) is the absence of nice things. Things which us girls do regularly to feel, well, girly! Awhile back, before starting down the ricketty bridge of ART, I read a blog post titled Things I have learnt from and about IVF, an honest to the bones account of one woman's journey thus far. Prior to reading this, I had immersed myself with information about what I shouldn't partake in whilst cycling, everything from dyeing my hair, drinking coffee and alcohol, eating acidic foods, to not spritzing myself with SJP's Lovely and exercising (you would have thought that last one would be the ultimate excellent order....not so Dear Readers!). So, up until this point, I had been compiling a mental list of sorts, the "probably shouldn't's", holding hands with the "better not's". Oh what a fantastic pair they made!

Actually they sucked. Big Time. Whilst I'm the first to say that I'm not a slave to scheduling regular appointments investing in my physical upkeep, when I do these things for myself every couple of months, it makes me feel happy, and dare I say, it's sometimes the little things which can be a catalyst for big improvements in mood and confidence. What was an infertile to do?

Read on, that's what, because along came the abovementioned blog post just at the right time to set me straight. It offered a different perspective on the idea that we have to accept all of the advice given to us regarding how we should live during IVF. Although the article didn't mention beauty treatments, I found a certain truth to the tone of what the author was trying to get across, and here's an example:

"There is really very little you can do

It’s good that some women find cutting out alcohol and coffee helps, or doing post-embryo transfer meditation, having acupuncture, giving up work, or any number of things that make them feel better from one minute to the next. (Giving up coffee may possibly help with implantation, but the improvement is vanishingly small.) But none of these things improves outcomes as much as not being fat, not being old, not being poor, living in the right local authority area, picking the right clinic, or, sometimes, just using a different drug or protocol."

So whilst I hedged my bets a little by avoiding coffee, not dyeing my hair and exercising, I feel better prepared for my next cycle to not be so damn neurotic about my day to day practices. It may just be the antidote to the accompanying nervousness and fidgets which seem like a package deal when you purchase an IVF treatment plan.

So, here is what I really wanted to say in this post but somehow got sidetracked by my stream of consciousness..

Today, I got a hair cut, dye job, tried Shellac for the first time, and got pampered at the beauty salon...and it felt bloody great!

 

Day 6

After a sleepless night filled with tossing, turning, praying, and cursing, DH and I made a sombre trip into our clinic. The nurse drew some blood, and I was told to go home, rest, and wait for their call to advise if there would be any further action that day, or if my first IVF cycle had come to a premature and heartbreaking end.

I did just this. I had resigned myself to the fact that there would be nothing more after this, and I had to start focusing my thoughts on dealing with what had happened, in the hope of finding courage to proceed with another cycle, hopefully a kinder one.

My thoughts were interrupted by a call from Dr. Awesome, telling me how disappointing this result was (no sh*t Sherlock), but I understood that it was all he could say. He advised that it may be an egg and sperm issue, and that we should reconvene in the New Year, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. 

Fuck...Fucketty Fuck...

Fine.

And Then...

My phone rang again. It was the nurses informing me that one little emby had been deemed worthy of freezing by the senior embryologist. Maybe my prayers had reached that little one and propelled it to keep going for whatever reason. Maybe not. Who knows, and who cares...we had our first frosty and it was the little glimmer of hope that was the beginning of my way out of the dark and gloomy postcode I had moved into.

I then got to speak to Paul, the senior embryologist who made the call to freeze the embryo. He said that it wasn't perfect, in fact it was borderline, but he had seen embryos like these make babies many times, and THAT, ladies and gents is how you give hope to someone. 

DH was suitably happy with this outcome, and I could start the process of grieving for my lost cycle. A process that took one month, which brings us to the here and now. There have been many days of sickness, soul searching, finance searching, and general melancholy since last I had contact with the clinic. I've been on IVF forums, spoken with friends, and strategised with DH. All this has helped me understand that they learn a lot from each IVF cycle we do, and although it was my first cycle, and a shitty introduction into the ART world, I believe that they can tweak my protocol for my next stim cycle to achieve a better result. Will it actually achieve a better outcome? That remains to be seen, but for now, I'm back in the game of life, exercising, sleeping well and medication free, and it feels fantastic!

Day 5 Report

Remember when I said on a previous post that I knew the result of my cycle? Well, this is the post I had been dreading writing since all of our hopes were dashed when the lab called back and said that none of our perfect day 3 embryos had grown enough to be considered for a transfer. 

This happened about a month ago, and I can only now write this without feeling the intense sadness that I felt on that day. I was heartbroken, the lab was baffled, DH didn't know what to say, and the nurses had the unenviable task of consoling me. So many questions raced through my mind.."Was it his sperm?"..."Was it my eggs?"..."Was it both?"..."Did the lab mess anything up?"..."Did I mess anything up?"...UGH! I collapsed in a heap and no one was home. This was the day I felt stupid about undertaking IVF. This was the day I felt that I would never become a mum. This was the day I hated my body, and finally, this was the day I felt a sense of hopelessness descend upon me, the likes of which I have never experienced.

My sustained and relentless crying was broken up by another call from the nurses, who had spoken with Dr. Awesome. They advised me to come in the next day for a possible day 6 transfer if the lab found an embryo that was suitable once another night had passed. IVF clinics routinely check the embryos on day 6 to make sure they've given the embryos enough of a chance to make it to a blastocyst. The other reason they wanted me to come in was to have a full blood count done, to check on those jerky estrogen levels.

I didn't think I would sleep tonight.....and I didn't.

Day 3 Report

The clinic called 3 days after egg retrieval to inform us that 7 out of our 9 fertilized embryos were doing excellent. What a relief! Our embies ranged from a Primary Compacting Morula (PCM) to others that had been classified as 6-10 cell Grade 1 embryos.

At this stage, I was still pushing the fluids through with the hope that I could make it to transfer. What I mean by this was I hoped my estrogen levels could come down far enough for my body to cope with getting pregnant, as once you're pregnant, your hormone profile increases even further and ladies with already high estrogen are more at risk of being hospitalised for OHSS. Of course, I didn't want this to happen, but I really wanted a transfer!!

The embryology technician explained that they usually leave the embryos alone on day 4 and check them on day 5, and to expect a 50% drop off as not all would make it to the day 5 blastocyst stage (the holy grail of growing IVF embryos. 5 day blasties have a higher implantation and pregnancy rate than day 3 embryos).

Egg Retrieval Day

DH and I arrived at 8:45am for my pickup at 9:30am. I was a little nervous but the staff in the OR were really friendly and nice to be around. Once I had my dressing gown on, we felt like we were in a receiving line of sorts...first came the nurse, then came the embryologist, then the anaesthetist, and finally, Dr Awesome. I can't begin to tell how how much his presence relaxes me, and after he shook my hand, he walked me to the theatre. There, in the centre of the room were the dreaded stirrups, oh the indignity! DH was seated next to me when the happy juice was injected, and off I went into the land of nod....

I awoke some time later (it seemed like hours but in actual fact in was on 20 minutes) and my sweet, smiling husband was looking at me....and what did I say?...

Me: "did you manage to um.....", 

Him: "um...yes", 

Me: "oh...good on you"

Me: "how many eggs did they get?"

Him & Nurse: "15....you know you've already asked us this 6 times!"

Me: "um.........ok"

The wonders of sedatives!

After I got fed some toast and juice, I got dressed and Dr Awesome popped in to say "You've done fantastic". I think he expected not to get that many eggs with my history of endo, as us gals can be poor responders. I felt like I was back in grade school getting a gold star ;-)

So off we went home...DH and I treated ourselves to a coffee on the way out, I had been off caffeine whilst stimming, and I suddenly felt like throwing one down the hatch....and it was great!!

Now came the wait to see how many of our eggs would make embryos, and we would find that out tomorrow. At least the difficult part of the stim cycle was over and done with, and we had some promising early results.