Last month, I picked up a pair of knock-off croc-type shoes for each of the triplets. A pink pair for Ellie, an orange pair for Abby, and a blue pair for Sam. The kids were delighted, but there was one problem. Poor little Sam's shoes didn't fit him. I had guessed his shoe size incorrectly and althought I'd gotten a full size bigger than the girls, it wasn't big enough.
My kids don't talk, with the exception of a very few words, but they sure do communicate. The girls absolutely knew that they had something Sammy didn't have, especially Abby. Abby would put on her little orange "crocs" and wave her little feet in front of Sam giggling. Ellie was equally delighted with her own little pink beauties. But poor Sam was despondent. He would pick up his blue shoes, and bring them to me, crying wistfully, holding out his bare little naked toes, asking for goodness to be restored in the world. But, alas, they did not fit.
Fortunately, just two days later, I had to take the triplets in for hearing tests at the hospital, so I had the morning off anyway. Afterward, the nanny and I went to the store and I ran in to exchange the little shoes for slightly bigger little shoes and I put them on Sam's little feet in the car and he was ecstatic! He shook his little feet and touched them and showed them off and giggled and laughed all the way from the store to the restaurant where we grabbed lunch before I headed back to work.
And all was right in the world again.
It doesn't stop there, though. Our three little Imeldas are so shoe-obsessed and were so delighted by their new brightly colored shoes that they wouldn't take those little shoes off for several weeks. They wore them day and night, literally, and if we took them off to do something drastic like change their clothes or give them baths, the temper tantrums were phenomenal. It was delightful.
But lest you believe that it is just the brightly colored, rather unnatural looking (and feeling) croc-like shoe things that my children are obsessed with, here is evidence that, in fact, it is purely a generalized shoe obsession… in fact, their preference is for Mom or Dad's shoes – and J's shoes are a close second choice. They are frequently found stomping (or stumbling) around in our shoes, and the first thing that they do when we walk in the door at the end of the day is race over and start pulling at our shoes desperately trying to get them off our feet. (Interestingly, they are also nearly always offended to find me in my stocking feet and will race over with my shoes and push them onto my feet!) Enjoy:
Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments »
I would like to say that I met with SuperDoc today and he said, “Well, it’s obvious that the problem is X, and therefore, we simply have to do Y, and voila! You will be cured and you’ll have a baby in 9 months.”
I would like to say that I met with SuperDoc today and he said, “I absolutely know that this next cycle is going to work for you.”
I would like to say that I met with SuperDoc today and he said, “You are the most straightforward patient I’ve ever treated – clearly textbook diagnosis X. I know just what to do next.”
I would like to say that I met with SuperDoc today and he said, “I know this has been a long and frustrating road, but with this new protocol, I believe you have an 80% chance at achieving a successful pregnancy.”
I would even like to say that I met with SuperDoc today and he said, “If you look at all the things you have going for you in Column A and all the things you have working against you in Column B – Column A clearly outweighs Column B.”
I would like to say a lot of things, but none of those things would be true. So what really did transpire? Well, honestly, it’s a bit late now, and I’ve got a fair bit of pain medicine in me right now, so I’m not sure I’ll do it justice, but I’ll do my best.
First, I noted that he had a lovely new desk for his office. I told him I’m clearly paying him too much, and that we simply must cut that out. I brought him fudge, for which he thanked me, and I said, “well, we’ll see – I’m not sure you deserve it.” He agreed. “I don’t deserve it – I’m not at all happy about what we’ve failed to achieve for you.” I told him to stop being so hard on himself – after all, that’s my job, and it’s fun for me. He wouldn’t want to take away my fun, would he?
SuperDoc is definitely frustrated. He acknowleged that I’m a “challenge” and said he knows that I don’t want to be the “interesting” patient. Oh please. Who wants to be the “boring” patient, anyway? If I were boring I wouldn’t get to spend so much quality time with such a wonderful person like him! Um… He talked through all of my cycles (including my response to stims in my IUI cycles) and he put the items in my favor into one column, and the items against me in another column:
| Good | Bad |
| Age | Average to low response to stims (luteal phase lupron protocol) |
| (some good) | Mixed embryo quality (majority poor) |
| successful triplet pregnancy | 5 failed IUIs; 3 failed initiated IVFcycles |
He said if he were only looking at the response that I’ve had to the initiated IVF cycles that I’ve had this year (in other words – most of the second column), and he didn’t know my history (in other words, most of the first column) – he’d probably be talking to me about egg and embryo quality issues. But the fact that I have had a successful pregnancy before, and the fact that I’m (relatively) young-ish does change things a bit for him. But on the other hand (there were many “other hands” in today’s consult), he said that there’s still the question of why did it take so many IUI cycles to conceive the triplets in the first place? And why triplets after so long and so little success? (There were, by the way, a lot of unanswered, rhetorical questions asked in today’s consult)
When we were cancelling IVF#2, Take 2 I had asked SuperDoc about considering an Antagonist Protocol (Ganirelix). He said then that he felt that Ganirelix would give me a lower quality cohort of embryos, and that he didn’t think there would be an advantage to changing the protocol at that time. At the time, he said he wasn’t opposed to trying an antagonist protocol if he was forced to – but that it would be a last resort.
Today, he talked through some of my history and my options for moving forward. It seems clear that I no longer respond like a woman with polcystic ovaries, which, he says, is extremely unusual – apparently this doesn’t normally just “get better”. Still, all signs point to me maybe not really having PCOS right now. He does still want me to stay on metformin, on the off-chance that it’s doing me some good – but he said he doubts that it is. It can’t hurt, though. In IVF#1, they treated me like someone with classic PCOS (lots of Lupron, low stims) – I didn’t stim particularly well, but I did have a reasonable outcome with the retrieval. Fertilization was fine, embryo quality was terrible, I had one good quality blastocyst, nothing to freeze. IVF#2, Take 1 was canceled before I got to Stims. IVF#2, Take 2, they treated me with less Lupron, more stims but still pretty conservative – and had to cancel for under-response. Clearly, I wasn’t behaving like a PCOS patient. IVF#2, Take 3 I was treated like a typical average-to-low responder, very low Lupron dose, moderately high stim dose. Good retrieval numbers, reasonably good fertilization, great Day 2 embryology report compared to IVF#1, everything went to hell on Day 3.
He said that there are a very small number of women (about 5%) who simply make crappy (my word) embryos with Lupron, for whatever reason. So he could consider doing a “Lupron Stop” protocol where they just stop the Lupron on Day 1 of stims (no suppression after that), but he doesn’t want to go there, because he thinks the Lupron could be partially responsible for my crappy embryos. (He’s not discounting the likelihood that I simply make crappy embryos – three beautiful babies snoozing in their cribs notwithstanding).
He would, instead, like to move to an antagonist protocol. Shocking! Compared to the 5% of women who make crappy embryos with Lupron, about 20% of women make crappy embryos with Ganirelix. He said that with Ganirelix, you run the risk of a certain amount of unevenness in the cohort, which is something he’s particularly concerned about with me, given my propensity to have lead follicles in my cohort -but he’s hoping that without any Lupron on board at all, we’ll see a different trend than we’ve been seeing. He believes that we have a 30% chance of seeing a lower quality cohort with the Ganirelix and a 50% chance of seeing a better quality cohort. I believe we have a 100% chance that this is all a crapshoot no matter what.
As for his overall recommendation – he said this is really about my personal stamina – and what I think I can handle. He said that he thinks he knows me well enough by now to know the answer to that, but that it’s really up to me. We talked around the insurance issues a bit and I told him that I have one covered cycle left in my insurance and that after that my husband’s insurance covers us, but only at The Hatchery. Interestingly – the Hatchery is merging with Ye Olde Fertility Clinic in the next few months, and this may seriously impact whether we’d be able to pursue additional cycles after this one. It was actually quite comforting to know that we may not be as limited in options as we thought after this cycle. I thought about it for a few minutes and told him that my husband and I were both committed to wanting another baby. But that most likely what we would do is do this next cycle and then take some time to re-group and consider the insurance implications of continuing on with another couple cycles under his insurance. Even with the merger – which would mean taking away the logistical nightmare of forcing me up to a city an hour away in the wrong direction at all the wrong times – my husband’s insurance still isn’t as good as mine, and the upfront cost is still significantly greater th
an mine, so that’s still a lot to swallow. But … I do like knowing that we’re not at the end of the road come August if we don’t choose to be.
SuperDoc said pretty clearly that “this cycle is going to be very telling – we’re going to learn a lot from it…. of course, hopefully you’ll simply be pregnant at the end of it.” It wasn’t lost on me that the pregnancy possibility wasn’t the immediate thought, and was more of an… afterthought. Just as it wasn’t lost on me that SuperDoc’s recommendation to move to an antagonist protocol – once his “last resort” – was now his next step.
I asked about whether I should be considering a 2 embryo transfer on Day 3 – rather than continuing to dig my heals in about the Day 5 blast eSET transfer. He said that we need to look at what the embryo quality is with the antagonist protocol – if there is an improvement in embryo quality, he would still encourage me to transfer one embryo (Day 3, Day 5 – we’ll see when we get there). But if we’re still looking at the same embryo quality issues – then it’s a matter of talking through the statistics and making an informed choice when the time comes. With embryos of the quality I’ve been looking at on Day 3 these last couple cycles? He’d have put me at 5-10% odds of having a twin pregnancy – odds I can live with. If we were looking at transferring 2 high grade blastocysts, the twin odds would be closer to 50% – odds I could not live with.
And so… Friday I’ll be getting my progesterone drawn to see if I’ve ovulated on my own (my period was 14 days ago- if I am, we’ll wait for my period to come. If I’m not, I’ll start progesterone for five days. When I get my period, I’ll start birth control pills for 21 days – go in for BW and U/S, and start stims 3 days later.
He’s starting me at 375 units of Follistim, 75 units of Luveris. Once I start the Ganirelix, this is going to mean 5 shots per day. Awesome.
He doesn’t sound super optimistic, and I’m not either. He and I are both realistic about the fact that nothing with me has gone quite the way we’ve expected. He’s been doing this a long time and has never quite been able to predict what’s going to happen with me, and that … is frustrating, and a little worrisome. I’m beginning to realize that I’m … not the boring PCOS patient I always figured I was.
We did, by the way, talk briefly about the shabbos incident with Dr. Hate. I may write more about it later, but the long and the short of it is that SuperDoc handled it appropriately, and with the care and sensitivity that I needed. He assured me that he would do everything he could to be the doctor who was present for all of my procedures no matter when they are, but that if he can’t be there for whatever reason, he will ensure that whomever is on call will be well-versed ahead of time in what needs to be done to accomodate the religious restrictions that I have on Saturdays, should it come up again. I assured him that I don’t expect him to be at all of my procedures – it’s a big practice, and I know how the practice works – different doctors are on call for procedures on different days, and I know that.
“After all you’ve been through, the least you can expect is that I’ll be there for your procedures. I will always do my best to be there for you,” was SuperDoc’s reply.
Take that all you ridiculous competing clinics out there with your radio commercials calling Ye Olde Fertility Clinic a “revolving door of doctors” – implying that my clinic is impersonal, without contact from individual doctors. Take that!
And this, my friends, is why I love SuperDoc. Why I love my clinic. Why I sing their praises. Why I’m willing to put myself on television and in print media for them. Why I refer patients to them consistently and frequently.
Because they care.
Posted in IVF#3, Plan B (not THAT kind of Plan B) | 14 Comments »
I had my consult with SuperDoc today; I will write about it more later, but just wanted to say that it happened, I survived, neither of us is super-optimistic, but we have a plan. Plans are good.
Posted in Ye Olde Fertility Clinic | 2 Comments »
You may remember my last post in which I wrote about telling my new-found therapist that my next IVF would likely be my last – and quickly following that up with “and I’m okay with that.” I was shocked to hear those words come out of my mouth, didn’t know where they came from, and didn’t know how I really felt about them, even.
Lorza left a very insightful, particularly true, comment:
Sometimes I think our ending comments like your “I am okay with it” are our attempts to put OTHER people at ease. Even subconsiously. It have become our nature to help others feel at ease with our suffering. I am so sorry you have been through so much.
I think this comment goes right to the heart of the matter, actually. In the last seven years of the ups and downs of living in this world of infertility, I’ve spent a lot of time tiptoeing around other people’s comfort levels in approaching me. Some people are downright brazen and out of line in how they have approached me over the years. Others spent years just plain avoiding me. Some people avoided me until I had the triplets, and then came out of the woodwork. Like having children was the antidote to infertility, and now I was not a leper any longer. (Some still haven’t come out of the woodwork at all yet)
But for those who are somewhere in the middle? I find myself either avoiding the topic alltogether (my usual response) or doing whatever I can to put them at ease – and usually, yes, that means ensuring that they know “I’m okay with it.”
When I met my therapist for the first time, I knew that the one thing I needed was for her to not focus on the infertility thing – that 5,000 pound elephant in the room. I needed her to know that infertility was not the driving force sending me to her – and I knew that infertility is such a huge red flag, particularly since I was telling her that I was actively pursuing IVF. It would have been easy for her to have assumed that infertility was the foremost issue causing me stress. Frankly, it’s astounding that it’s not my biggest issue. I think by saying “I’m okay with it,” I was trying to do just what Lorza suggested – put her at ease, and also make it clear that it isn’t that big a deal.
And who am I kidding?
This sucks. All of it. I’m so tired of all of this. I mean, I’m still not sorry that I’ve at least stalled on having the shrinkadoo go down that road, because I really do have bigger fish to fry, but sooner or later I’m going to have to face this. IVF#3 is around the corner, and when it fails, I’m out of options, and I’ll have to deal with that one way or another. I’m just… not ready to go there yet. Maybe I needed to put myself at ease, too.
But then there was the rest of Lorza’s comment… “I am so sorry you have been through so much.”
It’s funny because I don’t ever really think of myself has having been through “so much.” After all, I’m sitting here doing this from an enviable position. I *have* children already. And to get those children, I never had to pull out the big guns. Five rounds of Clomid, 6 Follistim/IUIs, 1 miscarriage, and voila! Triplets. It sounds positively easy compared to what so many of my fellow infertile myrtle friends have been through. Sure, it’s not a couple cocktails, soft music, and candles… but it could have been worse, right? Except that goes completely contrary to my own philosophy on the burden of infertility – I don’t believe you have to have pulled out “the big guns” of IVF in order to have felt the strain and suffering of infertility; I don’t believe you have to diminish your own trials just because there’s always someone else who’s been through more than you. I do my best not to play the pain olympics trap that so many fall into, however understandably.
And this time around? Why shouldn’t I feel the stress this time around? Truthfully, I’ve never really given myself permission to bitch about this round of treatments. I’ve got a really blessed life; I have a beautiful family, and I have a great deal of guilt about seeking to expand it, despite knowing that my family isn’t yet complete. I feel guilty if I feel stress through these rounds of treatments, guilty if I can’t hold my head up high in the face of cancellation or failure, guilty if I’m not 100% happy with the status quo all of the time.
Someday, probably not today, I’ll have to deal with all of this. For now, I suppose it’s simply progress that I’m acknowledging it all.
Okay, seriously, people – you had to know it was a dangerous thing to let me into therapy, right? Didn’t you know you’d end up with all this froo-froo, introspective, self-indulgent whinging?
Of course you did! Welcome to my world. Imagine how my poor husband feels. And poor Barren – that poor woman gets endless emails filled with self-pitying ridiculousness from me every. single. day. Even I’m sick of me by now. I can’t believe she hasn’t just started hitting the delete button by now. Gawd. Feel free to pull me off your readers anytime now. Seriously.
Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments »
On the advice of someone whose opinion I trust implicitly, I went to see a therapist this week – the first of many such encounters, I’m sure. Though the whole IVF thing is not the driving force for sending me into therapy, I felt it was relevant to tell her that we’re actively undergoing fertility treatment and that, in fact, the very week that therapy had been suggested to me, was the same week I had learned that IVF#2, Take 3 had not been successful.
There was a piece of me that really didn’t want to tell her about the IVF thing at all. Because people make a thing out of it. People ascribe emotional significance and stress to IVF or any infertility treatment that may or may not really be there – without really considering that every individual responds to these sorts of things differently. For me – returning to fertility treatment was returning to my “normal” – returning to my comfort zone in a weird and strange way.
But, still, I knew that it was something that needed to be mentioned, both because this particular therapist is a psychiatrist, so if the question of medication came up she’d know that right now may not be the optimal time to try that route, and because although I may not consider IVF to be a primary stressor in my life, and certainly not the driving force sending me into therapy, it definitely is a contributing factor.
And all that background brings me to the point of this post. While I was talking to Doc P. about the whole IVF thing, I told her that we would likely be attempting IVF #3 in August, but that I don’t know specifics, because I have my consult with SuperDoc on July 6th to figure all that out. And I told her that our August attempt would likely be our last IVF attempt. “And I’m okay with that,” I quickly added.
I hadn’t really thought about those words before they came out of my mouth, and I’m not really certain where they came from. Why was I saying them? What was my thought process? Did I even have a thought process?
While it’s true that technically once I run out of covered attempts with my insurance, we can switch me back to my husband’s insurance and I can do two IVFs at the clinic at his hospital – the fact is, it’s unrealistic to consider that. It’s very expensive to go that route (the coverage isn’t nearly as good), and the logistics are nearly impossible … the clinic is an hour in the wrong direction, they batch their IVFs, leaving very little flexibility on schedule, they do ALL monitoring appointments between 8 and 9am during the week, which means that I would never make it in to work before 10 or 10:30 on monitoring days during a cycle, which is impossible. So realistically speaking, it is unlikely that we’ll ever be able to go that route.
So the first part of my statement to the shrinkiedink was likely true – this next attempt is likely our last, unless one of us changes jobs again and finds ourselves with kickass coverage again.
But – am I really okay with that being it if it fails, as I expect it to?
I’m not so sure I’m really there yet. I know I said it in large part to keep the therapist from going down a long road of exploring “how I feel” about this particular thing. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to focus on this issue. I’m not ready to discuss it. I’m not willing to share that part of me.
I was always so sure that IVF#1 would just be a breeze and we’d just be done and voila! our family would expand and that would be the end of it! Worst case scenario was that IVF#1 didn’t work, but an FET would – it had never occurred to me that there wouldn’t be anything frozen for an FET. But here I am, looking down the barrell of our last IVF and wondering whether anything will come of it.
I’m petrified of what will come of my meeting with SuperDoc July 6. A large piece of me thinkst that SuperDoc is just going to say that he wouldn’t change a thing and this is all just bad luck and we’re just going to have to hold our breath and hope for the best – but … while I know that’s probably all true, I guess it would ease my mind to hear that a different approach would yield a better result.
Mostly? I just want to move on.
And I’m quite certain that I won’t ever be okay with having my options cut off before I was really done.
Posted in IVF#3 | 7 Comments »
Seth went to give platelets early this morning. While he was gone, I got J's daily medication taken care of, got the babies out of their cribs, changed them, and made everybody pancakes. All four kids were eating their pancakes when Seth called to say he was on his way home. Our conversation went something like this:
Seth: Good news! I'm on my way home.
Me: Great! Happy Father's Day! I've got pancakes waiting for you – J! Do not drink off the chair! Turn around, sit properly, and drink appropriately! Sorry, honey. So, um, I'll see you soon?
Seth: Yeah, I'm leaving [city] now, so I'll be home shortly. Anything you need me to do on the way home?
Me: No, there are some things we need to pick – Sam! Don't throw your plate on the floor! Ugh. Of course, right after he threw his plate on the floor, he did his little mumbly-giggly thing and proceded to eat the pancake he still had in his hands. Um, right. So there are some things we need to pick up for the nanny for the week, but we can get them later.
Seth: Okay, I'll just come home then.
Me: That would be good. This hasn't been a great morning, what with whiny boy and all. He got mad at me for giving him strawberries with his pancakes. Ellie, SIT DOWN! Sorry honey. How'd things go this morning?
Seth: Fine. It was pretty uneventful actually –
Me: Get the strawberry out of your nose!
Seth: [laughing]
Me: Sam! No pancakes in your hair! I am not washing your hair today!
Seth: [still laughing]
Me: Yes, very funny.
Seth: It is!
Me: I am so blogging this.
Seth: You should!
Me: Yes, Ellie, that's Ellie's nose. Good job, Abby, that's Abby's nose! What's your ETA?
Seth: About 15-20 minutes. I'll be home soon. Did you remember to change J's weekly patch?
Me: No, I didn't have any whole ones upstairs, but I'll do it when I go downstairs again. Abby, do you need a new diaper? Yuck! Hasn't mommy changed enough diapers today?
Seth: Sorry, sweetie.
Me: It's okay. I'll see you soon. Wanna say hi to Abby?
And on and on…
Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments »
I know I said I wasn’t going to post for a while, but this particular thing has been eating at me, so I need to get this one out. This particular phrase, “it only takes one.” It hits me in my gut every time I hear it and I took a long time to figure out why exactly it hurt me so much. After all, it’s never meant to be hurtful when it’s said – it’s always said in an optimistic context.
Part of it, I think is simply because it is just a platitude that is meaningless until something comes of it. Worse, if I did get pregnant, the person who said it can say “I told you so,” and I’m not sure there ARE three more annoying words in the universe. Also it seems to invalidate whatever frustration I happen to be having at that particular moment in time – it says, “Yes, all your other embryos were crap, but your feelings about that are invalid, because all that matters is that one.” Certainly no one intends to send this message, though. So why does it bother me so much?
Finally, my beloved Barren put her finger on it in two ways. First, she said to me – yes, we all know it’s true – it’s only going to take one in the end, but platitudes don’t implant and make babies, so they don’t help. But later she said that really I should consider the math and think about it – and I would realize that, actually? It takes a heck of a lot more than one! And she’s right. Observe:
5 Clomid cycles, unmonitored, so I don’t know how many eggs, I ovulated, but we’ll assume at least one, because we do know I ovulated, so…5 cycles = 5 eggs, 0 pregnancies = 0 babies
5 IUI w/ Follistim Cycles = 11 eggs, 1 singleton pregnancy, 1 miscarriage = 0 babies
1 IUI w/ Follistim cycle = 30 follicles (not all mature, probably 5 mature), 1 triplet pregnancy = 3 babies
4 IVF cycle starts, 2 cancelled, 2 retrievals, 24 eggs retrieved, 17 fertilized, 2 transferred (1 at a time), 0 made it to freeze, 0 pregnancies = 0 babies.
So that’s … call it 45 eggs … 3 babies. So it actually takes about 15 to make a baby by my math.
Obviously it doesn’t work out to quite that math, but my point is that it’s taken a helluva a lot more than “one” to make a baby (or three, in my case). And in my 4 IVF attempts, I’ve made it to 2 retrievals and retrieved 24 eggs and gotten… zero babies. Clearly, it’s going to take more than one. Now, obviously, we haven’t found the “right” one – but there’s also no guarantee we ever will. And maybe the right one was already there, but we didn’t pick it.
I know that if I never get pregnant again, I’ve still been more blessed than I deserve to be. I know that many of you think that I have no right to even continue trying, let alone complain about our failures at this point. But this battle between primary and secondary infertility is ridiculous. These arbitrary decisions about the correct family sizes are equally ridiculous. We know our family isn’t complete, just as we know that we are blessed with the family we have. We are not blind to the blessings we have, nor to the suffering that people who haven’t made it to the other side are going through.
And the pain I feel in this loss is every bit as real as the pain I felt with each and every loss I felt the first time around.
Posted in fuzzy math, platitudes, secondary infertility | 9 Comments »
Not that I needed the final word, but the beta’s back and I’m definitely not pregnant. George, Jr. is not to be. I take solace in the fact that I don’t have to put my tail between my legs and thank Dr. Hate.
So I can stop the estrace and the PIO. Wait, I already stopped both, because, really? What’s the point?
Follow up and re-group with SuperDoc on July 6th to plan out IVF#3. We’d touch base sooner than that, but he’s halfway across the globe right now. How dare he?
And that, my friends, is the end of IVF#2 (Take 3). I suspect I won’t have much else to say here for a while. I’m not in a very good place right now and I’m not really sure I have anything left to say.
I’ll let you know what SuperDoc says in July.
Posted in beta, BFN, IVF#2 (Take 3) | 19 Comments »