Health Issues

Today I heard from the nurse at my RE's office about the bloodwork I had done on Friday.  It turns out I am hypothyroid with a TSH level of 5.8 (they like to see it under 2.5) , and that I have high prolactin with a level of 68 (they want it under 20).  So I had to go get some repeat blood work done this afternoon.  If the TSH is still high, then I will start thyroid medication.  If the prolactin is still high, then I will get an MRI to look for a pituitary tumor and start bromocriptine.

And our Clomid cycle is on hold at least until we get the results back, probably until next cycle.

And they can't fit me in for a HSG this cycle, either.

Pretty crappy day.

Same Old, Same Old

I wish I could figure out how to convince myself that this year is a fresh start.  Somehow it just feels like more of the same darn thing.  Maybe that's because my new year is starting off with a new period instead of a new pregnancy.  But I need to remember that during this new year of trying to get pregnant, we will have the additional help of fertility treatments.

In fact, this is what's planned just for this month:

1.  Bloodwork for me looking at TSH, glucose, insulin, and prolactin levels (already done, just waiting on the results).

2.  A semen analysis for Mr. Unexpected (scheduled for this Tuesday).

3.  A HSG for me (I have to call and schedule this tomorrow).

4.  Clo.mid (CD3-7) with ultrasound monitoring (to be scheduled tomorrow) and a HCG trigger.

I really hope that it works, because I am starting to feel like I can't take it anymore.

And it doesn't help that this Saturday is one year since losing Cricket.  How could all that time have passed without a new pregnancy?  How can we still be at step 1 when Cricket should be 5 months old?  Come on world, just give me something here.

Starting Over

Today is a fresh start for me.  Well I hope so, anyway.

This birthday brings a new year, and it has to be better than the last one.  Even though this cycle appears to be a bust (increasing spotting, some cramping, and negative FRER at 12 dpo), I have to believe some good things will happen this year.

I will be a mom.  I will be a mom.  I will be a mom.

If I say it enough times, will that make it come true?

Goodbye and Good Riddance!

Dear Age 26,

F&^# you.

You really know how to throw the sucker punches that will keep a girl down for weeks, don't you? And then you don't let up.  You just keep kicking her in the guts until she can't breathe, until she can't stand, until she can't even remember who she is or where she was trying to go with her life.

Well, now you are on your way out, and I am proud to say that I survived you.  And I'm not letting you get away without some good old fashioned verbal abuse.  So, without further ado, let me list the ways I hate you.

1)  You took Cricket from us.  Age 25 let us get pregnant, see our little one's beautiful heart beating, and make it almost all the way through the first trimester.  And then here you come, Age 26, and suddenly, our Cricket is dead and getting ripped from my body and from our lives. What kind of a**hole are you, anyway?

2)  You changed all of our lives forever when my sweet sister (C) had a str()ke.  Suddenly C went from happy 24 year old to totally dependent on equipment and other people for all aspects of daily living, and she will probably never be the same again.  What can I even say about that?  It is just plain f&@#ing unfair, and utter bulls$@#.  

3)  You took me away from Mr. Unexpected for the better part of 8 months.  When C was suddenly dependent on family for 24 hour care, I moved back home (out of state) to help take care of her.  That meant leaving Mr. Unexpected and our furbabies for most of 2010.  Because you hadn't already done enough damage, you had to rip me apart from my husband and my home?  Screw that, and screw you, Age 26!

4)  You took me away from my small support system.  I had only a few people who I would talk to about the things that really mattered.  One was C, and she is gone in that capacity, probably for good.  And we moved away from the other 2 this year when Mr. Unexpected got a job in another state.  Now I have no one in real life to vent to and keep me sane.  That's just cruel, and I will never forgive you for it, Age 26.

5)  You stole $10,000 from me.  That is the actual amount of lost wages from my leave of absence to help care for C.  We could have been sitting pretty for all these fertility treatments we'll need, and now we're struggling just to pay the bills.  I don't usually care about money, but that one stings.

6)  You forced me to give up my PhD.  It should work out that when I take a leave of absence from school to care for my severely disabled sister, my boss is flexible (especially since he isn't paying me- see #5 above!!).  Instead my boss decides to put a completely unreasonable deadline on me due to a supposed budgeting issue.  And then he promptly hires someone to do my project.  And now I get a Master's for 5 years of work.  F@$* everyone!

7)  You gave me a clotting disorder that makes it more likely for me to lose more of my unborn babies.  Yes, that's right, not only do I have to have the normal recurrent miscarriage worries in my next pregnancy, but I also get to do daily Lovenox injections and worry about my increased risk of second and third trimester losses.  Way to stomp on the pieces of my heart, Age 26.

8)  You made me a psycho.  I used to be calm, cool, and collected almost 100% of the time.  Now I am either on the verge of tears or on the verge of a rage attack almost 100% of the time.  I don't know if it was the loss of Cricket, the loss of C as I knew her, the cycle after cycle of BFNs, or any of the other million things that have sucked a$# this year, but something has driven me to near insanity.  And I blame you, Age 26.

9)  You made me infertile.  Add this to the sad, sad list.  We have been trying to have a living child for a total of 17 months, and for 12 months since we lost Cricket.  We are officially defective.  It will officially cost us money to (maybe) have children.  And I am officially losing it over this.  *&#^^&@*@(#*$&&$

10)  You took away the life I dreamed of living.  A year ago, I thought that right now I would have my baby, have my PhD, have enough money to pay off a chunk of my student loans, have enough money to visit my friends, and have C to share my life with.  And now I have none of that, and it's not even clear whether I'll get any of it in the future.  I am truly lost.  What has happened to my life??!??

So, Age 26, you have f#$@ed me over royally.  And now, I'm kicking you out.  I don't need any more major life crises in the near future.  So GET. THE. F#$%. OUT.

Don't let the giant pile of negative hpt's hit you on the way out.

Crystal Unclear

7 dpo: My progesterone is perfect at 26.7.

9 dpo: My usual pre-AF spotting starts.  What the crap?

I don't have much else to say.  I was feeling good about this cycle.  Some spotting and some negative FRERs later, and I'm feeling pretty hopeless.  Stupid body.

Welcome to the 1WW

Well, I finally figured out how to get my blood drawn to check my 7 dpo progesterone (plan 3 worked!)   My progesterone was at 26.7!  I haven't talked to my doctor about it yet, but at least I know I ovulated.  I have had this irrational fear for the last 6 months or so that I haven't really been ovulating, and that my temperature shifts are all in my head because I want so badly to be ovulatory.  But I am happy to prove that bit of paranoia wrong!

I spent the day driving yesterday, heading back home from my trip.  And I have to admit that something weird happens to me when I am alone in my car with my radio blaring.  I cry.  It never used to happen before we lost Cricket, but now it does.  So, Layfayette, IN, I apologize for driving under the influence of country music.  And I have to get the following things off my chest:

1.  Damn you, Tim McG.r4w, for making me cry not once, but twice.  That's just not fair.  I get it, you sing songs with touching lyrics!  Stop rubbing it in my face.

2.  Damn you, R.asc4l Fl.4tts, for making me cry every. single. time. I hear God Ble.ss the Broken Road.  And for making me think about how beautiful it will be to think of this struggle through loss and IF as just part of the path to my babies.  And then for making me wonder if this is really a path to my babies or just a path to a sad, childless life.  That's just cruel.

3.  Damn you double, Tim McG.r4w, for making me cry in a song that isn't even sad.  Now you're just trying to make me look crazy.  Yeah, that's right, I cried when you did a bunch of stuff to make some girl smile.  Yeah, that's right, it's not sad.  GET OVER IT!

4.  Damn you triple, Tim McG.r4w, for making me feel jealous of you for being able to have a little girl.  Even though you missed her birth.  BECAUSE YOU WERE DEAD.  I was officially jealous of a dead fertile.  WTF?!?

And then I ended the trip with unprompted rage.  I spent at least 45 minutes being pissed off because Mr. Unexpected was going to be right (and I was going to be wrong) about what time I would get back home.  And hoping that he wouldn't say anything to me about it, because I would go into a bout of uncontrollable screaming, go into our room, slam the door, and go straight to bed.  But don't worry, I'm not moody or anything.

The Waiting Game

We have now reached the point in our regularly scheduled programming where we wait.  And wait.  And wait.

No real updates on the TTC front.  I am 6 dpo, in that no man's land between the excitement of confirming that I actually ovulated and the excitement of being far enough into the TWW to take a pregnancy test.

The biggest thing on my mind right now is figuring out how to get my 7 dpo progesterone bloodwork done.  It seems easy, right?  Walk into lab.  Hand over prescription.  Get stabbed with needle. Wait for results.

Except.  (There's always an except, isn't there?)

I happen to be out of town at 7 dpo.  The solution is to get the bloodwork done at a Quest or LabCorp in the town I am in... oh, wait.  There are none.  

Okay, then my option is to get the bloodwork done at home on 8 dpo... oh, wait, that's a Saturday, and the closest lab that's open on a Saturday is 45 minutes away, and my family is visiting that day, and I can't exactly say "I have to run out for an errand.  Be right back." and then not come back for 2 and a half hours. 

So now I am trying to get my old doctor (in the city I am currently visiting) to write an order for the bloodwork, which I can get tomorrow at my old lab, and then get billed for.  Because I love paying out of pocket for tests that are covered by insurance.