A(nother) Spanner in the Works

It’s not all that bad. It could be way worse, but it’s just going to involve more waaaaaaaiting.

I had my $270 scan this morning (and thanks Medicare, for refunding all but $30. I’m going to miss you when you’re gone, Extended Medicare Safety Net) and there is something wrong caused by one of three things.

My ovaries are stuck together! Little buggers. “Kissing Ovaries” was the term the radiology gynaecologist used. Like soooooo cute. Until IF, I thought my ovaries were a decent space apart, like on the diagrams – at least a handspan – but apparently not.

The blame can be laid on a Luteal Cyst (which will disintegrate without issue at the end of the cycle); an endometrioma (AKA Chocolate Cyst which makes me want to up-chuck just thinking about it), which could become an issue; or a particularly brutal Egg Retrieval resulting in residual trauma to the ovary – bleeding etc which has cause them to adhere.

Whatever the culprit, my instructions at this point are the very helpful “wait and see”.

It is clear that this cycle is annovulatory and the FS did say I could switch over to a medicated HRT FET (just click it FFS)  but his strong recommendation was to wait until I got my period and start a new cycle. Medicated.

Which kind of sucks re my plans to go to NZ. Not knowing when I will get my period puts me in limbo – I don’t want to miss out on starting a new cycle. I’d rather miss NZ than miss a cycle.

Bor-ring.

Of course.

Just off the phone with the clinic and they have decided to cancel this FET cycle.

It’s CD32 and absolutley nothing is going on. My progesterone is 5.4, estradiol 136 and lining was 6.8mm.

I’m not surprised, and while my non-stimulated cycles this year have been long, this one would be a record. It’s not really unexpected, given the amount of manufactured hormones I have been subjecting my body to.

Dr’s orders were to book in for a diagnostic ultrasound (I may have an ovarian cyst which would be just lovely) then back to see him to discuss. The waiting list for the Women’s (public and free) hospital was over a month, so now I have to cough up $270 for a poke in the private system, but it means I can go on Wednesday.

The course going forward, I suspect, will be a medicated rather than natural FET. Which is kind of annoying. I know I ovulate on my own, it’s just this post stim cycle that is long and drawn out.

Anyway, whatever. I have decided to follow my partner to New Zealand on a business trip in a couple of weeks, so planning that will keep my mind off embryos and hormone levels at least.

Boring. I have never been a particularly patient person. This isn’t fun at all.

A pity party in 598 words.

I have a lot of pregnant friends at the moment. It makes sense. It’s what you do in your early 30s, but after each announcement, I wonder if it will ever be my turn. Sometimes it is particularly difficult. A few months ago, I took  a day off from work to wallow in self pity, shopping, rich food and gin after a friend made the text-message announcement. Then there was the friend who didn’t tell me for months because she “didn’t want to hurt me”. I found out from her sister, and then slowly it became apparent that I was the only person out of the loop on that one. That hurts more.

The lapping, which I have earlier blogged about, continues. Since my last post, I have been lapped a few more times, and I am resigned to an announcement any day from a clomid-popping friend who is on her way to baby number 2. It took them three cycles first time, and she was pretty upset when it didn’t work first go this time. I love her, and gently make fun of her, but as much as she thinks we have a shared journey, it’s really not the same thing.

And my one real life IVF friend was lucky enough to get pregnant on her first go. It was a long journey to get there, and I am so ecstatic for her, but I’m sick of being the sole survivor. It’s one of the reasons I don’t do online buddy groups, despite membership of practically every parenting site with a decent AC section (and any recommendations are welcome!).  In my early days of TTC, I was an enthusiastic buddy but as everyone got pregnant, and it became glaringly obvious that something was wrong with me, the conversation became less relevant, and the comments in my direction became fewer. Now they are all busily pregnant (again), or at the very least planning for the next bundle of joy.

I get excited for everyone, and shopping for friends babies-to-be is the only time I will allow myself to go anywhere near the baby section of DJs or Myer (baby departments are probably the jinxiest place a sub-fertile person could go) but I kind of feel like I am going through the motions now.

I nod vaguely and look in the other direction every time my Mum points out a particularly luscious baby or toddler in the street. I avert my eyes when pregnant women walk past. I no longer ask if I can touch my friends’ baby bumps. I don’t engage in conversations about children very often, because what could I possibly add that is of interest or merit. No one care what a childless person has to say!

This was particularly evident at a meeting last week when I weighed in on the marketing strategy of a popular parenting website of which I am a member (no prizes for guessing). My opinion was completely glossed over in favour of the New Mum at the table. Never mind that I have been a member of said site for about three years, and have thousands of posts. To be fair, my client didn’t know this, but the opinion of the non-parent means nothing. At the same meeting (we were evaluating marketing strategies of grocery brands in light of the economic downturn. Excite!)) every single item of creative we looked at, consistently drove home the message of value for families. Families = Mum+Dad+kids. It’s like other people don’t buy groceries! I pretended to be the happy DINK, the child-free-by-choice, but the world at large pretends I don’t exist.

Come out, come out whoever you are

I get loads of visitors, but not so many comments. Which is okay with me, but I am dying to find out who is visiting this blog from Lancaster Pennsylvania. It’s Amish country, right? How interesting! I have been briefly to Pennsylvania – there was a big bell, and I ate a Philly Cheesteak which was heart-attack inducingly delicious.

And my vistor from Hobart, Tas. Is that you Shannon C? Make a comment love!

I have also been to Raleigh, North Carolina, but not to Clayton. And I have been to St Augustine, Florida  which was really fun. I remember visiting the coolest cinema ever in St Augustine – It was very small, and the foyer had a chameleon in a tank, and the walls were covered in old school lunchboxes – y’know, featuring pop culture charachters like The Partridge Family, Kiss and The Brady Bunch.  The seats in the screening room were large recliners made of this red glittery vinyl, and we could order cocktails. Pity the movie was so bad. A Pierce Brosnan Bond.

I haven’t been to West Lafayette Indiana, Alpharetta, Georgia (although I have been to Savannah) Dubai, UAE, any part of Canada, or Lees Summit Missouri, but thanks for stopping by and reading, even if it was only for a minute.

Shitbuggerfuck : An Update

Well today’s results (and they won’t mean anything to anyone other than Dr J and ACers) were

LH – 8.5 (down from 10.8 on Thursday??!!!)
P4 – 4.2 (4.3)
E2 – 313 (243)

So the consensus is that no one knows whatthefuck is going on, and I am to continue with LH urine testing until another BT on Friday. And the explanation for the discrepancy in my lining was blamed on the nurse. Human error.

So I’m off for dinner and a veeeeeeeno. There is a divine new Indian place just opened across the road and after spending all day transcribing interviews and chasing recalcitrant idiots who wouldn’t know a positive media opportunity if it came up and flashed it’s girly bits at them (as I have been known to do for a comment), I refuse to cook.

Shitbuggerfuck

I was reading a post from IF blogger Baby Smiling about blog deal breakers, and more than one reader commented that nothing makes them leave a blog quicker than profanity.

“Swearing. Not a fan. I think it reduces the written word to dirt” said Miss Conception on July 2. I beg to differ, Miss. I love swearing. Rather than “reduc[ing] the written word to dirt” I see it as an embellishment. An adornment even.

Fuck buggershit perfectly conveys how I felt this morning during my scan when the nurse told me that it looked as though my ovulation had been missed, meaning that depending on my test results this afternoon, I may not get to go ahead with my FET this cycle after all.

Despite telling the nurses at my clinic repeatedly that I was hardly even getting a control line on my take-home urine test kits (they are meant to indicate when a surge of Lutenising Hormone is present, which means ovulation should occur in the next 24 hours) I have only been having blood tests every 3 or so days.

My last test was on Thursday and while my levels were relatively low, a lot can happen in three days in the world of hormones.

Cunty twunty fuckstick was the obvious thought when she said my endometrial lining was only 5.4mm. That’s 3mm thinner than the scan I had over a week ago. The endo is supposed to get thicker!

I don’t think I am being monitored enough. I am almost on the verge of leaving this clinic TBH. The fact that my specialist takes phone calls on his mobile during appointments, gets up and leaves without saying goodbye (leaving his assistant to ussher us out), he didn’t tell me I had the homozygous MTHFR gene mutation and now this possible missed ovulation means I am ANNOYED.

But let’s just wait until they call back with the results this afternoon before making any hasty and rash decisions, mmkay!

The Pill Regime

Wine is full of antioxidants, you know. Red wine at least, which is my tipple of choice.

Tonight I am indulging in a couple of glasses of Kemeny’s Hidden Label (their cleanskin) Pinot Noir which, the blurb assured me, retails for over $35 a bottle. All mine for just $16. And it’s pretty damn good! I usually drink Oyster Bay for a quaffing Pinot, but I may just be a convert.

I refuse to give up all of life’s little pleasures for the sake of TTC. And it’s one of the things that makes me think I’m not worthy of pregnancy and parenthood.

I don’t drink during the Two Week Wait (TWW), not on AC cycles at least, but I most certainly do on at least three of seven days when I am not TWWing. In the TWW, I eat all the things that are banned during pregnancy (soft french cheeses, caviar, smoked salmon, sushi, jamon iberico, week-old leftovers in the fridge etc etc), and I also drink one or two coffees a day.

So I’m probably not worthy, but fuck it. Life – my life – is to short to make allowances for something that may never happen. Unpregnant until proven otherwise. And when otherwise is proven, I will abstain.

I have a friend who freaking gave up CHOCOLATE when pregnant. I’m not much of a chocolate eater – I like it dark, bitter, and with a glass of port – so it’s not that much of a stretch for me to envisage, but bloody hell, I’m struggling to see what the rationale behind that decision was.

So this post was intended to talk about my Pill Regime. I have been so busy today and neglected to take the pills until now, and washed them down with the aforementioned Pinot, which made me feel guilty and hence my previous food/wine rant.

Each morning, I take a multivitamin designed for women trying to concieve, a high-dose cap of vanilla scented omega-3 fish oil, 5mg of folic acid, co-enzyme CQ10, a B complex horsetablet, zinc and a 50c sized vitamin C. I then pop the CQ10s (at nearly $1 per cap) two more times during the day when I remember.

My regime is nothing compared to some other super hard-core TTCers, but even so, it is full-on enough that I have had to pull over on the side of the road on more than one occasion for a bit of an upchuck.

Dinner awaits!

I’m a homozygous MTHFR

You need to sing it to the tune of the Prince song, Sexy MF. I would link to YouTube, but Prince threatened to sue anyone who posted even a parody of one of his songs, so there isn’t even a karaoke rendition to be seen or heard.

Homozygous MTHFR you ask? I’m glad I did, c’est for sure!

Last year I had a bunch of bloodwork done when we switched specialists, and one of the tests came back indicating that I have the Methylene Tetrahydrofolate Reductase gene mutation. Homozygous, meaning I have inherited two copies of the variant (heterozygous is inheriting only a single copy). MTHFR for short (go on, say it aloud!).

The implications of this, are that I have  an increased risk of vascular disease, and possibly miscarriage. The MTHFR mutation is indicated in a lot of women who have had recurrent miscarriage. 5-15% of the population are homozygous for this gene mutation.

My sister, who is a midwife, was looking through my file notes ( I get copies of everything) and noticed the MTHFR result and asked me what my specialist had done about it. Most of her women with it are on high dose folate and baby aspirin at the least, and anti-coagulants such as  clexane at the upper end. My Dr hadn’t even mentioned that I had the mutation!

So I brought it up yesterday at my appointment, which was actually with a different Dr. While giving me the usual non-committal “it’s not 100% proven”  spiel, she made a few phone calls to see what other Drs had to say. The result is that I am now on 5mg of Folic Acid (ten times my previous dose) with further assessment if I do get pregnant. I don’t really have a family history of blood clots, and my homocysteine level was moderate, which is good.

Glad I brought it up!

So the good news, is that I am doing a Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) THIS CYCLE!!!! I went in just to plan for the next cycle and she signed me up to do a FET right away. I am on CD11 right now, so transfer could be as early as next week. Excite!

I am doing a “natural” cycle which means I am doing daily urine tests to monitor the level of Lutenising Hormone (LH). A surge in LH indicates that ovulation is imminent. The embryo is then thawed and transferred a few days later. And hopefully two weeks after that, I get a positive pregnancy test!

The good thing about FETs is that she said I can do them all back-to-back if the cycles are unsuccessful. And if none of the four frozen embryos work, I should just scrape in another stimulated cycle before the end of the year. Pessimist, aren’t I? I just like to have plans and know what is going on.

I’m back.

I am back. We went on a road trip for two weeks to break in the new baby (the car) and did fun stuff like fishing, and bush walking, and reading and not much at all.

Before I get to the rest of the story – I know I left everyone hanging on edge – I am unfortunately not pregnant.

I’ll back up a bit to tell you about what happened to me after the egg pick up (EPU). I woke at about 3am with excruciating pain on the left side of my chest which radiated across and and down – every breath felt like someone was standing on me with a pair of Gucci metal spike stilettos circa 1996 (you know the ones? The metal spikes – back when Tom Ford was in charge)  – I could only take shallow, short breaths and any movement was agony. I thought I had Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome which was the only side effect I had been warned about. Of course my abdomen was terribly swollen and painful as well, which I expected, but no one had told me to expect chest pain.

I lay there for two hours, thinking I was dying, and finally my partner, who had been sleeping on the couch, got up to go to the loo which is next to our bedroom. I couldn’t call out to get his attention but managed to turn on the touch lamp next to the bed. I told him to call an ambulance because I was having problems breathing – kind of croaked/whispered it really – poor thing he was so worried. He rang 000 and the ambulance turned up aout 5 minutes later.

They gave me some lovely painkillers and got me to emergency where the first thing the triage Dr said was that it was “referred pain” from the laparascopic egg retrieval. A bunch of tests later showed I had a fair bit of blood in my abdominal cavity which was probably causing the pain by irritating the nerve that leads to the chest/shoulder.  After about 8 hours of tests and monitoring (they tried to convince me I was pregnant at one point becasue my hcg level was 50!)  the gynaecology registrar gave me the option of being admitted and put on a morpheine drip, or going home with a box of Endone. I chose the latter and remained in bed/on the couch until the following Tuesday. The pain was really incredible.

Oh and my specialist said he had never seen anything like it, and that they hadn’t done a “laparascopic egg retrieval” for 14 years.

So of the 14 eggs retrieved, nine were mature and seven fertilised. From those seven, one was transferred on the following Wednesday – a hatching blastocyst – and four were frozen – one hatching, one expanded blastocyst and two blastocysts.

I started cramping the following Tuesday and it was all over by Thursday. I didn’t expect it to work, so while I was upset and cried, it wasn’t unexpected.

I have an appointment Monday morning (not with my man, he is on holidays) so I can get the go-ahead for the frozen embryo transfer (FET) as soon as this boring recovery cycle is over. We have four embryos frozen and hopefully at least two will survive thawing. I am going to do the transfers back-to-back so if they are unsuccessful I should be able to squeeze in another stimulated cycle before the end of the year.

When I was in the hospital I thought I wouldn’t be able to do another stim cycle if I was going to have the same pain again. But I have kind of forgotten it now.

Allons-y!