Easy for you to say!

It never ceases to amaze me what people will say to me about my infertility.  No matter what the issue is, I always follow this motto - the only thing I truly understand is my own experience.  I can sympathize with someone about something I have never experienced, or I can try to help, but advice or wisdom really cannot be shared without some experience.

I figure that I am still pretty young and don't have a whole lot of life experience under my belt.  I will only give advice on things that I have experienced.  Otherwise, I think it's ballsy and often rude to assume that you know more about the issue than the person who is living it.

Why doesn't everyone else follow this basic code of conduct?  It sounds cliche for an infertile to complain about other people's comments, but it really is grating and hurtful.  Actually, it is one of the hardest parts of infertility.

Recently, I have been told by friends, family members and coworkers many tidbits of advice that are based on absolutely zero experience or insight.  I have been told that I should just "go for it" and try IVF.  I have been told that having a child is the most important thing in the world and that I should spare no expense.  I have even been told that not having a child wouldn't be "the worst thing in the world."

Here's why these statements may seem logical to the speaker, but are like a knife in the heart to me:

"Just go for it - try IVF.  You have nothing to lose."
That just plain old isn't true.  I am not against trying IVF at all, and if my life were a little different, I would probably be doing it right now.  But my life is like this - I can't afford it.  I would have to take thousands of dollars from my family just for a roll of the dice.  They are all insisting that I should just do it and that the financial concerns shouldn't affect my decision, but they do.  My family cannot afford this.  They would be stretching themselves far beyond what I can possibly expect from them, and I know that I would live with the guilt of taking all that money and hurting them financially, especially if it didn't work.  They can think whatever they want about it, but I know that there is a chance it wouldn't work and that I would be an emotional mess and complete guilt-monster if it didn't.  Plus, if it didn't work, we would just need thousands more to adopt.  It really isn't as cut-and-dry as they would like to think.

And, yes, as a matter of fact, I have a lot to lose.  I have thousands of dollars to lose, weeks of time from work, months of building hope, and hopefully not the devastation of it not working.  In the end, if it doesn't work, I will have lost a lot - most importantly, a little part of myself.

"What are you doing spending money on anything else?!  This is the most important thing in the world and you should be saving for more treatment!"
OK, first of all, we barely have enough money to be saving for treatment.  On top of that, this is not just infertility - this is our lives.  Part of surviving being child-free, especially if we are going to stay that way, is to have a fulfilling life outside of having children.  In the past two-and-a-half years of TTC, we have traveled, visited friends, gone on day trips, and made a few larger purchases.  Creating a happy life together is what keeps us sane.  If I devoted every penny to fertility treatment, life wouldn't be good.  We would be lonely homebodies who couldn't go out to dinner with family or visit friends in other cities.  We couldn't have attended distant weddings or spontaneously decided to go out.  And how about when all the treatments didn't work?  Then we would have been miserable, miserly, lonely and it really may have stressed our marriage.  The truth is - I don't regret living while we are infertile.

"Not having children wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
Maybe it wouldn't, but it really isn't anyone's place to say this, and then again, maybe it would be the worst thing.  Being forced to live child-free can put an immense strain on a marriage.  And it's not like once we decided on this path, we would just forget that we ever wanted them.  Our whole lives will be surrounded by people with children in a society that values family life and finds fulfillment in having children.  We may be devastated for the rest of our lives.  We may even be divorced.  Based on how much C and I deeply love each other and how much we have always wanted and prepared for children, this really does seem like the worst thing in the world.

PUPO

On the infertility boards, PUPO stands for "pregnant until proven otherwise."  Once you have had your IUI or your IVF embryo transfer, all of the conditions are there for a pregnancy.  Until we see that BFN stick, we like to think that we are PUPO.

This morning, the IUI went perfectly.  Unfortunately, that doesn't provide too much relief because they have always gone perfectly and the RE has always made a point to say so.  Aside from a painfully long wait at the outrageously busy RE's office, everything went well.  C and I both had to have blood draws this time, another form of monitoring that is unique to the study and is not done in regular clinical practice.  That's two vials for C and twenty-six vials of blood for me in the past fourteen days for anyone who is counting.

Luckily, the post-IUI cramping wasn't as bad this month as it has been in the past.  I was slightly uncomfortable during and immediately after the procedure, but while we were getting lunch afterwards, it really started hurting.  I went home afterwards and relaxed for a while which really helped and the cramps are almost 100% gone at this point.  Uncomfortable as it was, it was nothing like the afternoon when I was doubled over in the parking lot of Walmart and had to run back to the car just to sit down and breathe...

According to my charts, I have one more ultrasound in a week, which is new to me, and then a beta blood draw in two weeks.  It sounds to me like I will have a week free from monitoring!

-  -  -  -  -

As I have mentioned before, infertility often becomes all about counting and milestones.  You cannot help but count how many cycles it has been, how many days since ovulation, how many years of TTC...  It's a massive numbers game.  This month's numbers are a perfect example.

This month marks exactly two-and-a-half years of TTC.  It also marks exactly one year of being under the care of an RE.  I can deal with these anniversaries, though.  They have come and gone many times before - one year of TTC, two years of TTC, our last insured IUI cycle, etc.

There is something else that is a little bit sticky about this month's numbers.  If this cycle is successful, our due date would be approximate June 14.  That is exactly the end of the school year for teachers, including professional development and meeting days.  I could miss no time from work, never miss a paycheck and spend ten weeks at home with the baby before even having to think about babysitters and daycare.  The disability/maternity coverage at my work only covers six weeks at home and 60% of your pay.  This month would be so ideal if I could bypass leave and disability altogether...

I am trying not to get pulled into this numbers game again this cycle.  It only makes for painful disappointment and regret, but it's pretty much inevitable.  I had always hoped for a Christmas baby in 2009, a June baby in 2010, a summer baby in 2011, now can June 2012 please be my chance?!

Quick Trigger Update

I just wanted to poke in and say that the Pregnyl trigger was not nearly as bad as I had expected.  The shot itself wasn't bad, but the dose itself stung a bit for about 10-15 minutes.  I am still aware of it and it still feels really weird about a half-hour later, but all in all, it wasn't bad.

I knew that I was making a huge deal out of nothing and that it would be so bad, but what can I say, that's how I roll...

IUI on Saturday!

This morning was CD15 and I headed into the office yet again for another ultrasound and blood draw.  Since I already had to show up late to work on Monday and Wednesday, I opted to have the ultrasound first thing in the morning, then go back later in the afternoon for the blood draw.  I was able to get to work by 8am this morning, but that means that my bloodwork will not be available until tomorrow morning.

Despite the delay with the blood results, I got the call from the on-call RE at the downtown office that we could trigger tonight and schedule our IUI for Saturday morning.  Unless something crazy happens with the bloodwork tomorrow and she calls me to indicate otherwise, this is the plan.  I was so relieved, too.  When I spoke to the study coordinator yesterday, she said that the IUI could be tomorrow or Saturday and I was really hoping that it wouldn't end up on Friday.  I would have been really late to work, in addition to the three times this week I was already late.

Of course, there is another blood draw on the day of the IUI, but hopefully they will leave me alone for a while after that.  C is also off this Saturday, so he will be able to come with me.

I am not going to lie, however - I am still totally freaking out over this intramuscular Pregnyl injection.  I know that I am a big wuss, but it really freaks me out.  I already called my cousin and she is coming over around 9pm this evening to give the shot, but I am already stressing.  We'll see how it goes...

All this monitoring is killing me...

So far this week, I have been in to the downtown and suburban locations of the doctor's office four times, and I am due to go back tomorrow.  The protocol for this study is so much more intense than the clinical protocol that we experienced six times before. 

Each time I go in, I have to get an ultrasound and have a blood draw.  Every.  Damn.  Time.  For reasons that I can't quite explain, it has become really overwhelming, both physically and emotionally.  Twice during this cycle as I was being whisked from one procedure to another, I just stood still and felt like crying.  I don't know why - I just did.  It's just too much. 

There are two simultaneous phenomena in my life right now that I feel are trying to make me not myself.  My job and infertility.  There is a definite mood of paranoia at my job and my friends and colleagues are being suspended and disciplined left and right.  People are terrified and are getting cagey.  Normal old carefree me has become paranoid, too.  The real me is calm, happy, extroverted and carefree.  Lately, I have had trouble sleeping out of worry and the stress of missing so much work from the monitoring has me going crazy.  I am constantly second-guessing myself and worrying.  This just isn't me.

At the same time, the me that is stoic, strong and "tough as nails" is almost weeping alone in an exam room for no reason at all.  I feel overwhelmed by treatment and the effect it could have on my job.  My arms are bruised and sore from the constant blood draws and it is becoming harder and harder to find veins.  A little voice in my head keeps saying, I don't want to do this anymore. 

If this cycle doesn't work, there is no question that I am taking a break cycle.  I am exhausted and I am worried about work.  I have developed a cyst on the left ovary, and even though it isn't affecting my hormone levels, I want to give it some time to shrink down before cycling again. 

-  -  -  -  - 

It occurred to me this week that it has been almost exactly a year since we started this "part-time job" that is fertility treatment.  A year ago, I was going in for testing and just a few weeks later, I began my first round of Clomid.  So much has changed, and yet nothing has changed. 

My attitude has changed.  Even though I am still so happy with my life, my family and my marriage, there is a little piece of me that is a little bit darker, a little bit jaded and bitter.  The nurse's assistants and the receptionists at both offices recognize me and ask me how I am doing.  My dreams are less and less often about pregnancy and have drifted more in the direction of adopting.

But so much is the same.  The drugs are the same, and the methods are the same as the ones that have failed six times before.  The sameness sometimes feels like the world around me is moving while C and I are stuck standing still.  As so many infertiles have said before me, the definition of insanity is to repeat the same actions, but expect a different result.  I think this protocol has crossed the line into insanity - how many times does it have to fail before I just believe it and move on?  Things are different and things are the same...

Privacy

I have been thinking about privacy lately, really about what is considered human dignity.  It is considered a basic human right that a person should be able to reproduce.  Even in cases when a person is unfit to raise their children, they retain that right, sometimes even in ridiculous circumstances.  I can recall countless occasions when I was outraged to see that a parent maintained rights to their children, even in cases of gross neglect and abuse.  So this is the stance of the world today - that a person is afforded a basic human right to have children, as many as they see fit, and to raise them as they see fit and a person is afforded much privacy in how they choose to carry out this plan (or lack of plan).

As soon as I walked into a doctor's office and uttered the words, "I can't get pregnant," these basic human dignities, rights and privacies slowly began to disappear, one by one.  First, nature deprived me of that right to have a child.  In the coming months, I was poked, prodded and analyzed.  Suddenly, it wasn't so cut and dry.  Whether or not I was allowed to conceive with the help of ART depended on my insurance, my finances, and even my weight.

During the course of this study, I am required to keep a daily log of things that are incredibly personal - everything from what my flow is like to when I have sex with my husband.  It's so surreal and uncomfortable to carry this packet around, not because I am embarassed or ashamed, but because I, through a twist of nature, have to hand in papers that reveal the inner-most information about us.

I have been researching adoption for years, and this process is just as grueling.  The applications require that I disclose my background, my savings, my credit history, my health, my infertility.  Again, I am putting my private life out there on paper for someone else to decide.

I can deal with nature's unfairness - it is inherent and it is everywhere.  It is unfair that some people can have ten children and that some can't have any.  It is unfair that some people get cancer and some people do not.  It is unfair that some people spend their lives disabled, disfigured, ill, and I understand that.  But the human side of this is the most difficult.

If a woman's ovaries and uterus function normally, she is afforded the right to privacy, and the right to reproduce, and the right to end a pregnancy, and the right to create a child in a private act of love.  If a woman's ovaries and uterus do not function normally, all of that disappears.  Then, it is up to someone else.  Either an insurance adjuster, or an RE, or a social worker, or an adoption agency, or a loan officer.  It's not up to her anymore.

I know that there aren't any easy answers, and I don't even know how I feel about some of the political agendas of the infertility community.  All I know is that I wish someone was working as vigorously for me to have a child as others are out there working for an unfit mother to keep hers.  And I wish that someone defended my right to have a pregnancy as passionately as others defend the life of an unwanted one.  I know these sound like heavy words, and I am not at all trying to open a discussion about these particular political agendas.  I'm not suggesting that those particular individuals and movements shouldn't have advocates, I just feel like maybe we deserve the same representation...

A New Outlook...

Two weeks ago, my summer vacation officially ended and I had to return to school for a few days of professional development and teacher in-service.  Those first few days were busy and hectic.  We had so many meetings scheduled that we had very little time to get organized and prepare our classrooms.  Even more, my team has been completely restructured and four of the six teachers have never taught middle school before.

The following week, the kids returned to class.  Those first two weeks were a little anxious.  At a given time, I was stressing about preparing my new co-teachers, wondering how the kids would be, worrying about a new schedule that included another section of science, and fixating on how I could possibly continue treatment under this new arrangement.

Thankfully, and as I always knew deep down that they would, each of these fears has shrunk beyond recognition in the past few weeks.  As it turns out, my new partner and I are a great match and teaching with her has been a pleasure.  I am finding that I am actually less stressed and squeezed for time teaching five classes with her this year than teaching four by myself in the past.  My new co-teachers have a wonderful attitude and are picking up on our routines really swiftly, and they are quickly becoming friends.  Most importantly, the schedule has been changed after an oversight from my supervisor and I now have more flexibility in the mornings for fertility appointments. 

On top of these little victories at work, life just feels more balanced at home lately, too.  C has finally spoken to his doctor about his anxiety and started taking anti-anxiety medication.  He had been getting so much better in the past few years, but lately it has really been dragging him down.  He hasn't been feeling himself and even had an anxiety attack recently that was quite a wake-up call for both of us.  Since getting acclimated with the new prescription, he feels much happier, and I feel so much happier spending time with him. 

I have always known that I was born to work, specifically to teach, and that my brain and body just don't function properly without a full day of work.  Last summer, I made a conscious effort to do as many things as possible and accepted every invitation that I received.  I visited friends, traveled and really lived it up.  I knew that I had to do this for my own mental health, but I also discreetly hoped that this would be my last childless summer.  Obviously, that was not the case. 

This summer, I had nothing lined up other than more treatment.  Knowing this, I signed up to teach summer school.  Finances were tight this summer, however, and I wouldn't receive money for the summer school hours until September.  We had no money to do all the things we had done last summer, and C had no time off, so I spent most of the summer just hanging out at home.  This totally derailed me.  Even though I didn't feel depressed, I was doing absolutely nothing other than watching countless reruns of Law and Order and Millionaire Matchmaker.  When I was rewatching episodes of Matchmaker and Jersey Shore that I had already seen, I knew that I officially was not myself.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed just relaxing and recuperating this summer and making a little money for teaching and tutoring, but I felt like I was wasting time.  All of that free time just allowed me to think about treatment, about problems and about what I would be doing if there were a baby in the house.  Obviously, this wasn't very healthy.

Now that I am back at work, I actually feel refreshed to be using my brain again and doing a day's work.  When I come home each day, I am appropriately tired and ready to just relax, have dinner and enjoy my evenings with C.  He is happier, I am happier, and I have a healthy diversion from all that wallowing. 

I am hopeful for these new cycles with the research study, but I am also trying to find joy in opportunities and find fulfillment in our life without children.  Right now, C is in a motorcycle course and we just got last minute tickets to a Phillies game for Sunday.  Last night, I had to stay at work until 9pm and I enjoyed dinner with my colleagues instead of rushing home.  Now that I finally got paid for teaching summer school, I am even thinking about some weekend adventures in the next few weeks.  Living child-free permanently is not an option we are willing to consider, but for the time being, I am truly happy.  I never was unhappy this summer, but I feel better - more energized, more fulfilled.  It's amazing what a little hard work will do...

Here we go again!

On Friday afternoon, I got the calls from the nurses and REs at PMFC that all of the tests from those copious blood draws and the ultrasound were normal.  Luckily, the tiny cyst on the left ovary did not cause a hormone imbalance and we were given the OK to start with the study meds.

The study coordinator told me to return the next day, Saturday morning, to pick up my daily study diary and my study meds.  She explained the the study does not use the subcutaneous Ovidrel trigger that I have always used, but instead an intermuscular Pregnyl shot in the buttock.  She said that you cannot administer this shot to yourself and that I had to bring either C or someone else to be trained on mixing and the correct procedure.  Oh, boy...

Since C was working and wasn't too comfortable with this idea anyway, I brought my cousin, a DO resident with me.  When we arrived, I found out that I had been randomized into the pill group, much to my dismay.  While a tiny part of me is always relieved to receive fewer needles, I had really hoped that this would be our opportunity to try Menopur without the hefty price tag.  As it turns out, I will be taking either Clomid or Femara again in the same dosage.  Hopefully, if my follicle development continues to be so slow and consistently one follicle, they will up the dosage to improve our chances for success.

The training on the trigger shot really freaked me out, but I am getting a little better about it.  Jean showed us how we would have to mix the powder trigger with a solvent, switching between mixing needles and injection needles.  Seeing the one-and-a-half inch trigger needle didn't really sit well, either.

My cousin has a genuine interest in all of this given that a) it's not her buttock getting jabbed and b) she is a doctor.  She asked the obvious question, why use the IM Pregnyl instead of the sub-Q Ovidrel?  The nurses response was less than satisfying.  She explained that in the past, all fertility meds were IM, but that more recently, researchers have found ways to make them sub-Q.  Ovidrel and Pregnyl are really the same drug with the same efficacy, but that the Pregnyl is much cheaper for the study to purchase massive quantities, and it does not need to be refrigerated.

Gee, thanks.  My stomach is doing cartwheels right now because Pregnyl is cheaper?  A little part of me wanted to secretly run out and buy my last prescription for Ovidrel, but obviously, that is ridiculous.  The only redeeming part about getting a shot in your buttock instead of the belly is that I don't have to look and I don't have to see it coming...

Right now, it is CD5 and I am two days into taking the mystery pills.  I have to return to the RE in the next few days, but luckily, she allowed me to choose CD10 which falls on this Saturday the 17th.  Since my follicles have always been slow to develop, I am sure that I will have to go back on CD12 and CD14 and that these will fall on workdays, but at least I will most likely be able to go to the suburban location, then just zip off to work.  We shall soon see!

A whirlwind of a morning...

This morning I had to go to the downtown office for the final screening and baseline ultrasound to finally begin meds for the study.  The research coordinator was kind enough to let me come in at 7:15 and she ran around like a lunatic the whole time trying to rush everything so I could get back to work!

I had to leave the house at 6:45 this morning, but I was very proud of myself that I made it there on time!  You can imagine how pleased C was to be up at 6:30 producing a sample...

When I got there, I had to fill in a bunch of paperwork regarding C's sample, then I started work on the sixty page questionnaire.  I was told to carry the clipboard around with me everywhere I went so that I could work on it every time there was a lull. 

In all, I was at the office from 7:15 until about 8:30.  In that amount of time, I had the following:

1. A full physical, including height, weight, waist and hip measurements, blood pressure screening, a pap smear, cervical examination and a breast exam.
2. The baseline ultrasound, lining check and follicle count.
3. A sebum test that measured the oils on my forehead with a sensor.  (Yeah, I found this confusing, too...)
4. A blood draw that included twelve vials of blood.
5. Tons of paperwork.

Phew.  It was actually quite overwhelming being whisked from one room to another.  I had become so accustomed to the routines in clinical practice that I felt like I was starting all over again. 

My nurse also explained that the study protocol does not use a subcutaneous ovulation trigger like Ovidrel, so I would need to bring either C or someone else to be trained on how to deliver the intramuscular trigger into the buttock.  Oh, dear. 

Since C is working tomorrow and I'm not sure how I feel (or how he feels) about him delivering an IM injection, I opted to bring my cousin in her medical residency with me instead.  She has done several of my trigger shots and she lives right around the corner, so I figured this was better in the long run anyway.

I received the calls this afternoon that all of the hormone levels in the blood sample were normal, despite the tiny cyst on my left ovary.  All of my other levels were normal (lipids, electrolytes, and a whole bunch of other stuff I have never heard of or had tested before), so we are a go for tomorrow morning.  At our next meeting, I will find out which meds have been randomized to me and pick up all of the meds, most likely starting them tomorrow.

Even though I had to cancel some IUIs in the past, this is our seventh medicated cycle.  Let's hope this is lucky number seven!  Here we go!

It looks like this is a go!

After some phone tag yesterday afternoon, I was able to get a hold of the study coordinator this morning.  To my surprise, there is more paperwork and a questionnaire for me and C, so she asked that I come in tomorrow rather than Saturday.  She was kind enough to make me an ultrasound appointment for 7:30 and even offered to come in at 7:15 so that I can get back to work as quickly as possible. 

Tomorrow, I will meet with the study coordinator to finish up the paperwork, then get several vials of blood drawn (yikes!) and my CD2 baseline ultrasound.  As I mentioned before, the monitoring during this study is much more frequent and more thorough than in typical clinical practice, so they will be testing all sorts of hormonal levels in the blood, as well as including our anonymous DNA in further studies of infertility.  (Yikes again!)

After they determine once and for all that we are eligible for the study, we will be randomized and assigned our meds tomorrow afternoon.  I will most likely have to return to the office on Saturday to pick up the meds and submit C's questionnaire.

Much to C's horror, however, his semen analysis results expired at the end of last month.  We were just informed today that he would have to produce another sample for tomorrow.  Initially, we thought he would have to come to the appointment with me and call into work late, but it now seems that our study coordinator has gone out of her way to be super accommodating again!  He will still have to provide a sample, but as long as it is accompanied by a copy of his driver's license and a signed note, he doesn't have to come in!

So far, working with the coordinators and REs in this study has been a pleasure.  I hope this is the ticket to our sticky BFP!

Well, that was fun...

Just as I suspected, but tried to deny, it's officially over and a new cycle has begun...

This afternoon, when I became *aware* of the situation, I called the study coordinator to try to get the ball rolling for a September cycle.  We missed each other this afternoon, so I will call her again in the morning, hopefully to set up a CD3 baseline ultrasound for Saturday morning. 

Onwards to better news, my boss flew into my classroom absolutely frantic this morning because she overbooked the gym with three simultaneous classes.  She asked if we wouldn't mind switching our rotating prep/special period to first instead of third.  I gave an enthusiastic yes. 

This means that I will have a free period first thing each morning, which is awesome for my convenience in planning and prepping, but it also means that I can come in late sometimes if need be for study appointments!  We are already two days into school and the kids have already been given their schedules, so this was completely unexpected, but I am so happy.

The stress and anxiety about whether or not we would be able to cycle was killing me lately, but I am feeling a lot better today.  Even if they want to be sticklers about the schedule, I have more than 20 sick days they can start docking if they want.  This is something I need to do, and I am really excited that I will have the opportunity!

Seriously, WTF?

This cycle has been insane. 

As I mentioned before, my cycles have been running almost exactly 28 days for years, so when I hit CD31, I tested and it was a stark white BFN.  I figured that a period would be right around the corner, so I just rolled with it and waited for the inevitable...

Now it is the evening of CD35, roughly 5-7 days late.  I decided yesterday that I would test again since I was so late, but that I would just use a dollar store cheapie HPT.  I stopped and picked up tests yesterday evening and figured that I would test this morning, figuring that AF might show her ugly face by morning anyway. 

I woke up early this morning and tested - BFN.  More than 12 hours later, still no sign of AF. 

Excuse the phrase, but this cycle is a total mindf@ck.  I know that irregular cycles are certainly common in the IF community, but this has never been the case for me.  It is really throwing me for a loop that I am now experiencing a problem, a symptom, that I have never had before.  Maybe I am overreacting...

I am just afraid that this is the end of the road for a while when this cycle finally ends.  Today was the first day of school and it was very apparent how much the other five teachers all rely on me, and my boss has been pretty abrupt and overly-frantic about her responsibilities lately.  The more we discuss it, the more C and I think that we will not be able to participate in this study.  We have also been crunching the numbers lately and an OOP injectible/IUI cycle is looking less and less possible. 

Even though every moment in this journey has been difficult, this really feels like the most hopeless point yet so far.  I am trying to stay hopeful, but I really feel like we are out of feasible options right now.

I honestly do not know what to do next, and even if we can devise a plan, I do not know when we would actually be able to try.  This just sucks.

Many Different Levels of Bored...

I know that it is rare for me to post twice in one day, but I feel like now is the perfect time to write about another thing that has been complicating things for me lately - boredom.

For the past few months, I have been crazy bored in several different ways, and it is really beginning to cause some tension here between me and C.  Now, don't get me wrong - I am very happy in my marriage and I think that C and I really do have a pretty healthy relationship 90% of the time.  Infertility, however, has brought one of our little tensions to the surface and has really inflated the issue so that it is beginning to cause some problems.

Since the beginning, I have always been hyper-social and I really enjoy being in the company of family and friends as often as possible.  Just to illustrate, I think of the dorm arrangement in college as being my ideal living situation.  I used to leave my door open just for people to pop their heads in and hang out, and I was one of only ten seniors who chose to live in a multiple occupancy room with two friends.  (Nearly everyone opted for singles.)  Of course, I do enjoy spending time with just C often, but I really like to socialize.

C is very different.  He finds social situations stressful sometimes and is very happy to spend most of his free time at home.  He has several hobbies that mostly relegate him to the basement family room of our house, including video gaming and bass guitar.

Sometimes, this arrangement works really perfectly.  We have time together, such as dinner, social occasions and some of our silly TV shows together, but we also have separate hobbies that keep us sane.  Lately, however, the balance has been lost and it is causing me some real stress, as well as some really stupid arguments in our relationship.

I feel like I am bored on two levels.  One way is that which I have already addressed - the boredom of having nothing to do.  While C is happy hanging out in the basement, I am going stir-crazy upstairs.  This problem is intensified by some recent changes in our lives, like my summer vacation, our strained finances and a few friends moving away.  Work has been rolling in a little more slowly at C's shop and I don't really have tutoring clients over the summer, so we had to cancel some of our planned outings this summer.  I also had a few friends move away to begin graduate programs this year, many of my friends are new moms, and it seems that most of my social circle that is left is not as sociable as I am.

On top of this surface level boredom, I feel like I am just bored with the trajectory of our lives right now.  I really thought that we would be parents by now, and even a year ago when we began treatment, there was some excitement and hope about what the future held.  I feel like our treatment options have stagnated and I am stuck here with nothing to do and not much to look forward to.

Obviously, I feel like we are ready for a child, not just in our relationship but even time wise.  I understand that there is no way to anticipate the actual responsibilities of parenthood, but I really feel bored and unchallenged without it.

Each day, I get home from work nearly three hours before C.  There is only so much cleaning and scrapbooking one can do before the boredom becomes overwhelming.  Aside from weekly dinner at my mom's house and my Zumba class, my life has become so dull.  I felt like every moment of mine and C's life together was leading up to something so far - finishing college, finishing grad school, finding a job, finding an apartment, buying a house, planning a wedding - and now we're just...  here.   We're not progressing.  We are working towards something, but we're no closer now than we were two-and-a-half years ago.

I am reflecting on what I have just written, and I am not even sure that it makes sense.  I am literally bored, as in C didn't want to watch a movie tonight and he didn't want to leave the house.  I haven't been out with friends in weeks.  But I am also "life-bored."  I am still crazy-in-love with my husband and I look forward to our time together, but I just yearn for being a mom and socializing more.   I know that it is ridiculous to attach all of my problems to infertility, but these feelings are just so not me.  I just want to be a busy mom...

The waiting game continues...

Right now, it is mid-morning on CD33.  This is highly unusual for me given that the one thing I have never had to worry about was regularity in cycles.  This is running a little long...

Because I am normally so regular, I tested on Friday morning when I was just 2-3 days late according to the timeframe of a typical medicated cycle.  BFN.  Stark white.  I figured I would begin a new cycle that day or the next and I would give the study coordinator a call to tell her that the new cycle has begun and to possibly arrange my first baseline ultrasound.

But a new cycle has not started yet.  I keep reminding myself that this is not a typical medicated cycle, as I never triggered so that I could be "clean" for the study.  The trigger generally causes me to ovulate around CD15-16, and in a normal unmedicated cycle, the best we could figure was around CD18-19.  When taking Femara, however, the luteal phase seemed to be cut short by almost 2-3 days, which, again, was pretty shocking considering the normal regularity of my cycle.

What does this all mean?  Since I did take a low-dose of Femara this cycle, would the luteal phase be shortened and I really am late, despite the BFN?  Is the cycle running long because I never triggered and this really is nothing unusual and I should just believe the BFN?

In my previous post, I discussed a bit about this headgame of the 2ww - how you are bracing yourself for the inevitable disappointment while simultaneously pulsing with optimism and reading into every sign.  This extended cycle is making the head games even worse.  I can't help but dwell on the fact that I have had life-long clockwork cycles, and yet I am suddenly late.  Then again, it is so unlikely to have success with a half-assed cycle with no trigger and no IUI.  And, hello, how can I forget about the BFN??

Perhaps the reason why this particular waiting game is so difficult is because of the finality of it.  This truly is our last cycle on our terms.  This is the last cycle that is with Dr. K at PMRFC.  This is the last cycle that is covered by insurance.  This is the last cycle that was on our terms with just a few monitoring appointments per month.  Even though it is so unlikely that this cycle would be our BFP, it might be the hardest to accept.

If/when the new cycle begins, I will most likely call the study coordinator and begin making arrangements for the month of September.  We won't know which meds have been selected until we are there and we are facing several more monitoring appointments this month than in the past, many of which will have to be downtown.  I will have to talk to my boss about whether or not this is feasible, which will also be more difficult given the culture at work lately.  Everyone is in survival mode and the boss's attitude has really sucked, to be honest.  Three people received disciplinary action last week for absolutely ridiculous reasons.  And in the midst of this time, I have to walk into the office and request eight latenesses per month.

I am really not looking forward to this process, nor am I looking forward to an OOP cycle that would be much more convenient, but much more expensive.  Maybe that's why I am obsessing over the near-impossible this cycle.  The reality of the future is so daunting and difficult that it is really hard to let go of the present.  As much as my heart is holding onto hope for this cycle, don't be surprised if the next post is titled, "BFN..."