Exile from Babyville

An Update Of Sorts

The last few days I've been examining every twinge and sensation for both good and bad signs of what's going on with this pregnancy (gah, it still freaks me out to even write the word!)  My boobs have been sore ever since I started stims, so I know that symptom is completely irrelevant.  I've been getting the crampy thing a little, but the cramps are not nearly as frequent or intense as they were last time (of course I'm also scrutinizing what if any significance this might have.  Sometimes I think it's a bad thing, and then sometimes I think it might actually be a good thing, since we all know what happened last time anyway.)  Oh, I almost forgot that I'm pooped all the time too.  I think I forgot because the sleepiness is turning my short term memory into something that closely resembles swiss cheese.

But one thing that's definitely different this time is the creeping nausea I've been feeling the last 4 or 5 days now.  At first I wondered if I was just imagining the nausea, or if I was conjuring it up in my zeal to find some proof that this pregnancy is going well.  But when I almost yacked on the shoes of the guy next to me on the subway the other day because his breath was seriously rank and stinky, I finally accepted the fact that I wasn't imagining my nauseousness.  Last time, I only would get nauseous in the middle of the night, and then only if I smelled something really gross (like the disgusting polish sausage sandwiches M would bring home after a night out with the guys.)

Of course how many or how few symptoms one has while pregnant has nothing to do with its outcome.  I know this, I just can't help hoping it's a good thing.  And who knows, maybe it is.  In other positive developments, Dr. Don't Call Me Mark called me back Tuesday night, just as I was lying down for my acupuncture appointment.  All I could think while talking to Dr. Don't Call Me Mark was how nice it was to actually speak to a doctor who actually seemed to give a flip about me and my health, and how nice it would be to get out of Dr. Hot Shot's office.  As always, he was more than happy to talk to me about what's been going on the last few months, and about what's going on now (right, like Dr. Hot Shot would ever waste his time chatting with a shlub like me.)  He told me to go ahead and go to the ultrasound at Dr. Hot Shot's office next week, but that he would be more than happy to have me start seeing him the week after next. 

While I've heard that lots of OB practices don't do early ultrasounds or prenatal care, Dr. Don't Call Me Mark's office is completely different.  In fact, I'll get the same kind of monitoring there as I would at Dr. Hot Shot's office, but the care would actually all be done by a real live board certified Ob/Gyn instead of nurses and ultrasound techs (which is why I'm so nervous about staying at Dr. Hot Shot's office.)  And if things do start to go bad, I know that Dr. Don't Call Me Mark will actually be there to prop me up and provide me with top notch medical care.  Unfortunately I know that the overworked but still well intentioned medical paraprofessionals at Dr. Hot Shot's office aren't capable of seeing to my medical and emotional needs in this way.  So anyway, I'm going to put the full court press on Dr. Hot Shot's nurse next week to release me then and there so that I can ge the hell out.

Wish me luck.

4,886 And Zero Cents

My holiday weekend was filled with lots of overeating, christmas shopping, and anxiety over my upcoming second beta.  Ever since the first positive hpt I've been filled with an overwhelming sense of fear that it was all too good to be true.  I know I've already discussed my overly pessimistic outlook these days, and I know that my uneasiness is a side-effect of my pessimism.  By last night I had managed to turn myself into a nervous wreck worrying over what today's results would be.  After snapping at M all evening, we finally agreed that I was being a meany because I was so worried about my beta (that and the fact that we had spent all day at the mall trying to put a bigger dent in our seemingly endless christmas shopping list.)  M pointed out that I the creeping nausea and crampiness I'd been feeling that day were likely pregnancy related symptoms, but I wasn't sure if I was just queasy as a result of the anxiety I was feeling and/or from my excessive consumption of the thai food take-out we had for dinner.

So I was sleepy and grumpy when I reported for my beta at 7:15 this morning.  I ran to work and waited by my cell phone waiting for the clinic to once again call and leave the message on my home answering machine instead.  I was surprised when the IVF nurse called me around noon to give me my results, and so relieved to hear the numbers: 4,886.  I had already done enough rough math over the weekend to figure out that my beta should have been around 4,000 by this point, so I knew this result was really good.

Despite this positive turn of events, I'm still not very pleased with Dr. Hot Shot and his clinic.  I've been plotting my defection so that I can get back into the care of Dr. Don't Call Me Mark ever since my first beta.  And I've been rehearsing what I plan to say when I call him tomorrow so that I can make it happen as soon as possible.  Basically, I'm going to tell him that I want an actual doctor providing my prenatal care instead of a team of nurses.  The truth is that I'm pretty clueless about how it all works.  Anyone out there know how long most REs keep their patients before releasing them to their regular OBs?

Alright Already

Thanks for all of the good thoughts everyone.  Sorry that I haven't posted any more updates since Monday.  Aside from continuing my obsession with hpts, I was basically in a holding pattern until I got today's test results.  My beta this morning was pretty quick and almost painless.  At this point in the game, I started to shift into autopilot when I have an early morning appointment at the RE's office.  Before I left the clinic, I specifically instructed them to call me on my cell phone and to not leave me a message because I wanted to talk to whoever in person.  After the appointment, I rushed off to work and parked my cell phone within arms reach for the entire morning.

My office closed early this afternoon, so I hussled as much as possible so that I could also leave early.  I never walked away from my cell phone for more than two seconds, and when I hadn't heard from them by the time I got off the El I assumed they hadn't gotten around to calling me yet.  Of course as soon as I walked in the door, I saw the blinking light on the answering machine.  I cursed as I heard the voice of one of the nurses from my clinic calling to congratulate me on my positive beta.

The official number: 789.

So that's the story, so far. In his message the nurse also told me to come back on Monday for a repeat beta (I thought it should have been sooner, but what do I know?)  I called M and gave him the news, and I think he was just as stunned and cautious about the results as I am.  We agreed that we wouldn't volunteer the news to anyone just yet, and if anyone asks we're supposed to tell them that so far it looks good but we're still waiting for more info from my RE.  I can't help being so nervous about all of this, but the truth is I'm terrified that I'll have yet another miscarriage.  But I am trying to get into a more positive mindset, I just think it will just take some time.  Now I just hope that I can keep things quiet tomorrow, because I'm just not ready for everyone in the tri-state area to know what's going on (which is exactly what will happen if M's family is permitted to run with this bit of news.)  Maybe if I wow everyone with my baking skills I can distract them from asking about the outcome of this cycle.

Crap, I sound really negative about my good news.  Sorry about that too.  I am happy about my positive beta, really, I'm just really nervous too.  Oh well.  Hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving!

Taking Obsession To A Whole New Level

True to my resolution that I would keep testing up until my beta, I tested again this morning when I woke up.  Apparently the reason the hpts I got were buy one get one free is that they were defective, because I got yet another weird result despite following the instructions to the letter.  I got a positive, sort of, that definitely left me scratching my head.  Instead of a full vertical line in the results and in the test window, this time around I got half of a vertical line in both of them.  I spent several minutes squinting at the test window, walked away from it long enough to take a shower, and then came back to squint at it some more.  But the weird half lines in the results window persisted, and I felt completely let down and unsatisfied by the goofy results.

My frustration persisted as I got ready for work, because while it looked probably positive, probably just isn't good enough for me.  As  I rushed to the office I resolved to buy another box of a different brand of hpts before the end of the day.  When lunch time rolled around, I headed out the convenience store closest to my office and headed straight for the hpts, which I found located next to the prophylactics (you know, so that if the products on the right side of the shelf fail, you can easily locate a box of hpts because they're right there on on the left.  It definitely seemed to be a deliberate decision by the store to locate these products next to one another, but who knows?.)

After scrutinizing the fine print on each box, I finally decided on a box of FREs.  As I scurried back to the office, I felt an overwhelming urge to test before I went back to my desk.  I made sure that no one else was in the ladies room, and clandestinely huddled over the FRE with the irrational fear that I would somehow be found out by a coworker.  Thankfully, I had the place all to myself, and my impatience was rewarded with a test window that quickly showed two pink lines.  I stood there and stared at the results window for several minutes, and finally headed back to my desk to digest this newest development.  I snuck a couple more peeks at the test as the afternoon wore one, I guess to check that I hadn't gotten confused or that the second line hadn't faded away.

Despite the apparent reassurance that I should be feeling from this third positive test in as many days, I'm still in a kind of denial about the whole thing.  I can't even say the "p" word, much less think it, because it just freaks me out too much.  I'm scared beyond words that the positive results on the hpts are only temporary, and it all still seems way too good to be true.  I admit that my obsessive testing with hpts has taken on an addictive sort of frenzy, but I've decided to go ahead and surrender to this obsessive behavior instead of fighting it.  Besides, I think I've reached a proverbial point of no return at this point anyway.

OK, Now Don't Get Too Excited Just Yet

At the tail end of my last IVF cycle I wrested with the decision as to whether I should test early with a home pregnancy test.  I'm a very impatient person by nature, and I hated the fact that my clinic refused to schedule my beta any earlier than 16 days post-retrieval.  I still don't get this position, especially since most hpt's will turn up positive at least a few days prior to that.  I held off on testing though, because I though I should be good and follow their rules.  I guess my theory was that my RE must have had a good reason for delaying the test for so long.  But a few days before my beta I couldn't stand it any longer and I broke down and took a test.  The test turned out to be negative, and of course I was devastated.  I knew that despite what my RE and his clinic said, there was no way I took the test too soon for it to be positive.  My beta a few days later confirmed that I wasn't pregnant and that my IVF was a big fat failure.

So this cycle I was initially convinced that I would forego all hpt's prior to my beta.  I thought it would preserve my sanity and keep my from dragging M down the path of insanity along with me.  But a funny thing happened yesterday.  I woke up in the morning and while brushing my teeth I felt an overwhelming urge to dig my one remaining hpt out from the back of the bathroom cabinet.  My rational side quickly tried to shout down the voice telling me to test, so I decided to compromise.  I took out one of the sticks left over for my fertility monitor, as well as the lone hpt (I had read before on several ttc websites that the fertility monitor sticks will turn positive if there is hcg in your system as well, which explains why they are positive after I've had a trigger shot.) 

When the fertility monitor stick turned up positive, I nearly fell over.  Of course this may have also been a result of the contortions I was doing in my attempt to pee and juggle the stick into the correct umm, position.  I quickly switched to the hpt and waited for the results to show.

This time it was actually positive.

I woke M up and made him come and look at it.  I was convinced I was looking at it wrong, and I expected him to disagree with me about it being positive (he always wants to be the voice of reason in our houshold, which is often pretty annoying.)  He response was that he thought the second line meant it was positive too.  At first we were happy, but then his voice of reason act started to kick in and he insisted that we not get carried away too quickly.  We decided to go get lunch and go to the museum to keep ourselves occupied.  On the way home I made him stop at the local convenience store for more hpts, you know, so that I could continue to obsessively test until my beta on Wednesday.

I took another test this morning (which was "new and improved", with a tip that turned pink when peed on sufficiently), but it was negative.  Not to be deterred, I assumed that the first was defective or something (and I think I didn't stop quickly enough when it the tip turned pink). So I took a second test, which was positive.  I plan to test again tomorrow and Tuesday too.  While I initially resisted falling prey to this kind of obsessive behavior, I've since decided that I might as well throw all of my effort into it instead.  The bottom line is that there is definitely no guarantee that this development is what it seems, or that its outcome will be a real live baby. 

But at least it's a start.

Never As Good As The First Time

The clinic was chaotic and disorganized in a way I've never seen before when I went in for the transfer yesterday.  The wait was long, the nurses were scurrying around busily and even cool, calm, and collected Dr. Hot Shot seemed a little harried when he stopped by my cube to tell me he was running about 45 minutes late.  I kept trying to chug water for the ultrasound and then kept having to run to the bathroom because I had to pee, but at least it gave me something to do during all that waiting. 

By the time the embryologist showed up, I was already late for the accupuncture appointment I had scheduled for 2 hours after the transfer.  Things really started to go down hill as soon as she started to give us the scoop on our embryos, and it became very clear that last cycle's bumper crop of high quality embryos was apparently beginners luck.  Of the 13 that had fertilized this cycle, only 6 remained.  1 of those 6 was severely fragmented and therefore could not be transferred, and the two best were only B students (graded " BB" by the embryologist) compared to last cycle's A students.  The three remaining were lagging behind, and one had not yet even reached the blastocyst stage.

I was disappointed, to say the least.  I know I should be grateful to have that many (no really, I do), but I couldn't help feeling upset that my embryo quality had taken such a dive from last time.  We agreed finally to put back the two best and one of the early blasts we also had, for a grand total of 3 embryos.  When the embryologist brought up the possibility that we could end up with a triplet pregnancy as a result, I told her I didn't think it was likely and that we would cross that bridge if we came to it.  The transfer was a lot more uncomfortable than last time, probably because my girly parts are still sore from the OHSS.  I could tell that Dr. Hot Shot was a little humbled by this turn of events, and I have to admit that I was happy to see it.  After I got back to my cube I threw on my clothes and we dashed off to the acupuncturist.

I've been trying really hard to feel optimistic that I'll still end up pregnant from this cycle.  But I can't help feeling like it's doomed and hopeless.  I'm annoyed at myself for not following my gut instinct that the change in my protocol was a bad idea, and I suspect that it may very well have resulted in my embryos being of lower quality than last time.  I'm also annoyed with Dr. Hot Shot for brushing off my concerns about it, and that it seems like he never listens to anything I say to him.  If this cycle turns into the bust I suspect it will, I've already convinced M that we need a second opinion and probably a new RE.

So that's my rant.  I'm sorry I can't be more positive about all of this, I just don't have it in me right now.  I just feel so disheartened, and I can't shake the feeling that all the positive vibes, clean living, and visualization in the world isn't going to save this cycle.  I'm hoping that I'll start feeling more optimistic in a day or two, and I'm still trying to hold on to a shred of hope.

Cautious Optimism Is My Middle Name

Thanks everyone for the encouraging words.  I'm still feeling pretty crappy, but it's still a lot better than I was on Monday night and Tuesday.  I'm also shuffing around the house hunched over like an old lady, and I'm so bloated that I look like I'm 7 or 8 months pregnant (oh so ironic, doncha think?)  I managed to make it to my acupuncture appointment this morning, but I've been hurting from all that moving around ever since.  The closest there is to an upshot is that I'm most comfortable when semi-reclined on the couch for hours on end.  This definitely appeals to my inner couch potato who loves nothing more than being sedentary and catching up on all the soap operas I've been missing out on since I started working again.

(The second interview went pretty good, by the way.  I'm trying to remain cautiously optimistic about the likelihood that I'll get the job, just as I'm trying to remain cautiously optimistic about this cycle working out.)

I got the nod from the embryologist this morning for a day 5 transfer, which means that I'll be going in on Saturday.  And as proof that M often has selective hearing, he planned a poker party with his pals for Saturday evening despite my telling him that he shouldn't make any plans for this or last weekend like 3 months ago.  So I'll basically be on my own once I get home from my acupuncture appointment right after the transfer.  Don't worry though, I plan on making him go out of his way to get me set up so that I don't have to break the bed rest rules while he's gone.  I also plan to have the guilt machine working over time so that he'll feel like a heel for leaving me most of the day.

The Drama Never Stops

Well I'm sorry if I've left anyone hanging about monday's retrieval, it actually went pretty well.  We got there early as always and M got to make fun of me walking around in a that awful hair net they make you wear for the procedure.  Dr. Hot Shot advised us afterwards that he got 20 eggs from the retrieval, even though the last follicle count from Friday was only at 14.  I was in so much pain when I first woke up that the nurse gave me some tylenol (useless stuff that it is), and when that didn't seem to work very well she got me a prescription for Vicodin. 

After M and I left we were both starving since I at least hadn't eaten since the night before.  We went and got lunch, mostly because for some inexplicable reason I was trying to put on a brave face and pretend that I felt ok.  (Maybe I figured that I could talk myself into feeling fine if I acted that way.)  Of course as my reward for sucking it up I ended up feeling more and more uncomfortable as we sat through lunch and then drove home.  It got even worse as the night went on, and M finally insisted that we call Dr. Hot Shot to make sure my symptoms weren't a big deal. At first I didn't want to call the doctor, but when M pointed out that I had all but two of the symptoms on the list they gave us at the retrieval that were bad I finally caved in.  When Dr. Hot Shot finally got around to calling me back I felt like I was dying, and he quickly concluded that I had OHSS.  He told me that there wasn't really anything they could do but keep an eye on me and have me come in the next day.  Of course as soon as I hung up the phone with Dr. Hot Shot I started having the other three symptoms that are apparently very bad when you have OHSS (because there's nothing like puking, not being able to pee, and shortness of breath to freak me out even more.)

Dr. Hot Shot had given me the green light to take as much vicodin as I wanted, so I did exactly that.  It was enough to get me through the night but not enough to let me get more than three hours or so of sleep.  The upshot was that I was wide awake when M woke up at 7am to go to the clinic and get the OHSS diagnosis confirmed by the nurses.  It was one of the most painful car rides of my life, and I kept accusing M of aiming for the bumps and accelerating through them the entire ride (well it felt that way anyway.)  The nurses were nice as always, and the ultrasound tech found enough fluid in my abdomen to float small water craft.  The head IVF nurse met with me and told me that she had filled in Dr. Hot Shot, who recommended that I go home and drink lots of gatorade (unless my bloodwork came back bad, which I assume it didn't because they never called to tell me it was.)  So we got in the car and came home.  M went to the store and bought every bottle of red gatorade they had in the joint (the lemon lime crap gives me the dry heaves) and I managed to drink about three bottles of it. 

I'm feeling a lot better today, and I'm even going to drag myself to a second interview this morning (the same job I interviewed for last week).  I had assumed that the higher egg yield on Monday would equal more fertilized egg to work with for transfer, but the embryologist advised me yesterday that 5 of them were immature and that only 13 of the 15 left had fertilized.  I'm actually kind of pissed off that I went through all of that OHSS crap without getting more usable eggs out of the deal, but I keep forgetting that there is no reason when it comes to IVF.  I'll hear later today about whether my eggs are still chugging along, and tomorrow I'll find out if I'm having a day 3 transfer or day 5 transfer.  I'm going on the assumption that it will be a day 5 transfer, but then again we know how silly it is to assume anything during this IVF nonsense.

So that's my story.  Everyone keep their fingers crossed for my second interview.

Wake Me When It's Over

Once again this morning I headed out at the crack of dawn for my 7am ultrasound and bloodwork appointment at the IVF clinic.  During my ultrasound, the tech found about 14 big follicles that were 15mm or bigger (the biggest was actually around 20mm) and some smaller ones too.  She seemed pretty impressed at my egg-laden ovaries and I told her it was easy for her to say when she wasn't the one doing her impression of a chicken in stirrups (ok I didn't actually say that, but I wanted to.)  The tech seemed to think that I wasn't going to be ready for trigger until Sunday, and I started to rehearsed my explanation to my supervising partner that my "surgery" was going to be on Tuesday instead of Monday like I had previously told her.

After my appointment I raced off to an interview with an insurance company that a recruiter had set up for me.  It went really well, and I was so relieved that I had fibbed and told my secretary that I would be in late because of a doctor's appointment I had this morning because I was in the interview for almost two hours.  The interviewer would be my supervisor if I get this job, which is good because we really seemed to get along well.  While the interview went really well, the next step would actually be yet another interview with the regional VP instead of an actual offer.  I left the interview pretty positive about the whole thing, mostly because the interviewer said he would be in touch soon (yay!)  I only felt a minor pang of guilt when I got into the office later that morning, and I confess that pang was awfully brief.

When the clinic called me early this afternoon to give me my instructions I expected the nurse to tell me that I needed to come back in tomorrow and that I would have my retrieval on Tuesday.  I was really surprised when she told me that I didn't need to come in tomorrow, and that I would trigger tomorrow night for a Monday retrieval.  I kept pestering about whether she had been given the right instructions, and while she laughed I'm sure she thought I was a pain for not believing her.  I'm still feeling so surprised by this development that I'm kind of in denial that it's already happening on Monday.  But then again, I guess the sooner it's over the better.

So I trigger tomorrow night some time.  The only wrinkle being that we're supposed to go to M's mom's house tomorrow night for her Tiki themed birthday party.  The best solution I can come up with is that we'll have to bring the Ovidrel with us in a cooler or something at do the shooting up at her house.  That should make for an interesting party side show, shouldn't it?

Deja Vu All Over Again

This week I started up once again with the super-early morning monitoring for my IVF cycle. Because I'm working again, I made the appointments for 7am so that I can still get to work at a decent hour. The biggest hassle (besides the early hour) has been getting all the way to the northside neighborhood where my clinic is located from my centrally located home, and then back downtown for work all by using public transportation (because if I took my car I would either have to drive it all the way home and then dash to work or pay the ungodly prices they charge in this town for parking.) I think I finally have it all down now, but it still means that I have to get to the subway a full 40 minutes before my appointment to get there on time. I would just cab it but I just hate spending that kind of $$$ every day because I'm too lazy to suck it up and get it together.

So anyway, things actually went pretty quickly this morning (as opposed to Monday, when I waited for almost 45 minutes to get called back for my ultrasound.) The good news is that I still seem to be responding pretty well to the meds, even though I'm taking less than I was last cycle. Today I had about 10 follicles ranging in size from 11mm to 14mm and another 10 or so follicles that were less than 10mm. The nurse seemed pretty optimistic that most if not all of them will catch up with the others, and of course I hope she's right. The nurse who called today told me that they are reducing my gonal-f to 75 units from 150, and I go back tomorrow to repeat the whole ultrasound and blood work bit again. I'm still going to acupuncture twice a week after work, and the acupuncturist wants me to keep up with this schedule until after the retrieval. Still no word if I'll be ready for retrieval by next Monday, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.