Take a Break or Have a Breakdown: Pick Your Poison.

Its been awhile since I last updated and reading the last post I remember why.

There have been what feels like 10,000 pregnancy announcements since we decided to take a break in August, and not one of them is mine.

While we haven't set up another appointment just yet I have had a few people ask what is next for us, and a few of those struggling with infertility what its like to take a break.

I cannot attest to what a break is like for everyone else, but for us -- for me, it was less of a choice and more of a mandate. So, if you're reading this and wondering if maybe a break is a necessity for you as well please feel free to read on. If you're not prepared to listen to me whine for 15 minutes this post is over. :)

We got a second opinion and when they brought up the possibility of a few new tests and an exploratory surgery, I bailed.  I made the excuse that I had a lot going on with work, school and interning but to be honest I was just scared shitless. Maybe that is why I haven't been back...

The truth is you'll read some blogs where it took the couple, one maybe two medicated cycles and boom they were pregnant and you're going to go in optimistically thinking you're that couple. I thought after we started seeing an RE and I was ovulating that, that meant we were going to be that couple. However we were just not and I took that really fucking hard.

I felt like a failure.  I feel like a failure and thats okay.

It is okay to feel like the world is ending. It is okay to cry and scream. You're allowed to be angry, sad or ambivalent. If there was ever a how to book of how to go through fertility treatments it would read as follows:

Step 1: Take this book and place it directly into fire.
Step 2: Fuck what ever plan you have-- there is no plan-- go with it.

Taking a break was bitter sweet in one sense it was nice not to have weekly doctor's appointments, to be hot flash and mood swing free (for the most part) and to focus on other things in my life.
However each pregnancy announcement, gnawed at me. It felt like I was giving up my right to be jealous (its sick I totally realize that but we're being honest here) because I wasn't even trying to get pregnant.

If you're questioning whether or not to take a break-- Just know that it doesn't mean you cant go back after a few weeks, months or even years. Its okay no longer wanting to be ruled by blood-draws, follicle measurements, and calendar day ones, at least for a little while.

At least that is what I've told myself. Along with a few choice other things I feel like any woman dealing with this needs to hear.

You are still valuable. Try not to let this define you. (Which is almost impossible) There are so many amazing days ahead of you, don't let the bad days destroy you.

Most importantly, despite my ramblings, is that taking a break isn't the end of the world and sometimes you have to. In our case I needed the ability to be more than a vessel for disappointment and pity.

I needed a few months to just be Karrie, and I feel better than I have in awhile.

What its been like thus far to have our first IUI.

It was turbulent and not at all like I imagined it’d be. Though I never imagined to be going through this at all.

We went in for a routine ultrasound to see how things in my right ovary was progressing, all the nurses and receptionists know me by now and were cheering me on all the way to the ultrasound room. My nurse asked if I would mind a student being in the room and I said no, I really don’t mind who is in here anymore I’ve done this so many times. As my doctor looked around on the screen I could tell he wasn’t going to tell me good news, I tried to just lay back and pretend I hadn’t failed my husband and family once again for having a body who doesn’t do what its supposed to.

My RE said he maybe saw one ruptured follicle on my good side, however I typically ovulate a lot later than this in my cycle so unless I was ovulating at that moment I wasn’t going to this month. The only way to tell this is through a blood draw, I began bawling, making the whole room uncomfortable,  I felt in that moment like a horrible lab experiment. This dear medical student is what infertility looks like, it is not all miracle stories and quick easy fixes, sometimes its a woman wearing a sheet on her lap crying her eyes out.

We went home after the blood work was done, I counted myself defeated. Until a few hours laters when they called back with the progesterone draw it was a 3.4 so I was ovulating and we were going to do the procedure in a few hours. We pulled out of our driveway so excited, I put on my special socks (fishes because we want good swimmers!) we talked about this as if we were so sure that this was the last cycle and in two weeks we’d be showing pictures of a tiny blob to our parents.

Insem Day!

The procedure was pretty simple, Tim collected his sample, it was washed and implanted. I laid almost upside down for ten minutes and I prayed, I prayed that I wouldn’t have to do this any more and that this was finally the thing that was going to work. I got up and we walked to our car it had already been a roller coaster ride of a day and I was told to take it easy for the rest of the day. Tim was wonderful, supportive as always and for the first cycle I felt at peace lucky 7 we proclaimed.

 Lucky Socks.

 I had a progesterone draw the following Tuesday which my RE would have liked to be a 15 but when it came back a 13.9 it wasn’t terrible it just meant I’d have to go on progesterone suppositories. Things still seemed very optimistic and we were elated we told our families because it felt good to have the support. The constant state of feeling like shit was bearable, because all I could think of was how we’d make our announcement, the excitement that this whole thing would be worth it when we seen the flicker of a heartbeat.

On test day the second line never showed up and all the butterflies died.

When I’ve read other women struggling through infertility’s posts they always have such strong positive things to say when things don’t work out.

I don’t. I don’t know what to say. I feel absolutely lost.

I slept through most of the day and when I wasn’t sleeping I was crying. In the quite moment through the last few days all I can do is cry. For the first time instead of thinking “Okay well we’ll get ‘em next time.” I have thought, “What if it doesn’t happen?” I thought what do people do when you have to think about what your life will be like without children. You spend your whole life basing goals off of what your adult life will be like and for me I thought all things would mesh themselves around me being a parent. 

Now I have to think, who will I be if I’m never a mother? My lip quivers and my eyes water each time I’ve made myself think of the possibility.

I know there are women who are childless and lead happy productive lives, I know that being childless isn’t a death sentence. 

However, it feels like the idea of never being a mother takes the quality of my life and completely diminishes it. Like you have your plate and you fill it with things throughout your life but there will be this enormous empty section that even when you focus on the other parts, in the corner of your eye you’ll see it. 

In everything you are, that empty space will be there.

I’m sorry there is no upbeat we’ll get ‘em next time line. 

For now there is just a overwhelming sadness.  

Ultrasounds, Pills and Sharps Containers. Oh My!

Tomorrow we have our first mid-cycle ultrasound for our first IUI, and I'm terrified.

We'll cover everything leading up to that first. We had a follow up appointment with our RE who started out the visit with saying " I don't know why you're not pregnant yet." With weighing the options between IUI and IVF the three of us decided that IUI was a practical choice, if I ovulate from the tube that isn't blocked we have just as much chance as a healthy couple. So with that we're here hoping that my right ovary puts out this month.

I took a month off in order to give my body a break and it felt good not to have to down a fist full of pills throughout each day. It was sad, because I felt like I was wasting an entire cycle and realistically you only get 12 chances a year.

Our baseline ultrasound went swimmingly and I should be optimistic, I want to be however when I was sent the package of needles and medicine it made my heart sink. What if I do all this and I have nothing to show for it?

I hate needles, I hate the idea of having my husband give me shots in order to successfully carry a child. However when I glimpse at the baby aisle in Target, or see my husband playing with a friends baby I know that its all worth it.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but hopefully we see one or two follicle on the right side, then my night will end with my husband playing nurse and shooting me up. Should I write that in the baby book?

The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.

When I started writing this blog I envisioned myself pouring every gory detail, unapologetically being bluntly honest about every endeavor, I just couldn't. As with every type of hardship, no amount of clever word play ever really justifies the immense pool of emotion that you're constantly treading.

Here is a recap of the last three cycles.

Previously before we started seeing an RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist)  we had gone through a few tests, a surgery and three cycles of Clomid with my OBGYN, that did nothing but land me in the ER and give me a pretty serious cyst. Following that my OBGYN immediately said he no longer felt comfortable or confident treating me and suggested we visit their fertility clinic.

After six weeks of different tests and procedures with our RE we had our diagnosis and he gave us our course of action, we felt amazingly optimistic and excited. Honestly so much so that I caved and agreed we could buy a few baby things like my husband has wanted to for quite some time, I felt like I wouldn't look foolish doing it we'd finally be pregnant in a cycle or two.

The first cycle, I was so sure... It didn't happen. I couldn't sleep I'd wake up constantly crying. Try harder I thought, I'll do more research, pull out at all the stops the second cycle will work.

The second cycle, I was methodical, diligent and persist. I had been having lunch with a friend, talking about possibilities and plans for my child... Later that day it didn't happen.

The thing with all this is you have two days to get over it and move on to the next cycle, like you're an animal, more poking, prodding and pills. There isn't a lot of time to decide what to do when a cycle doesn't work, you're supposed to believe that, that is going to be THE cycle. So when you're for sure not pregnant two days later you're already back in the office for more testing and meds to prep for the next chance. You're no sooner grieving the loss of another missed chance and you're on your back chasing the next chance.

Its not this beautiful time in your life, you don't go to your appointments skipping, you half glance at your wonderful receptionist as she apologetically nods, yes she knows you're in for your third go and you only get three chance with each type of treatment.

You only get three chances.

In this method of treatment, we've used all of ours up with nothing to show for it.

Our third was the hardest on me. They found another cyst in my blocked tube and I was tired of doing this. It is technically my sixth medicated cycle, and I'm tired of feeling sick at the end of this cycle I will have throughout the day be taking nine pills, I have to set alarms to remind me there are so many.

You experience a lot of weird side effects, while still having to remain a functional adult, inside I'm a hot fucking mess (literally and figuratively) my joints hurt, I sweat like a pig in 50 degree weather, I'm dizzy, horrendous mood swings and I cry at the drop of a hat.

I have to say I'm okay though.  I shouldn't complain, this isn't life or death, many women live happy lives never having children.

I know that with each cycle that doesn't work, I'm not dying much as it feels like I am. As much as I can't breath or imagine having to face the next day with the reality it didn't work again, that my body doesn't work. In the grand scheme of things this is not the end of the world. Ton's of people have it far worse and I should consider myself lucky.

Except I am not them & they are not me. If their happiness is greater than mine it doesn't mean I can't be happy. Just as if their sadness is greater then mine, it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be sad.

This feels like the end of the world to me. I am sad, underneath the knowledge of knowing that in the foreseeable future I will wake up and life will go on... there is this monumental disconsolate.

I'd be a terrible liar if I said I felt anything more optimistic than ambivalence as of late. Thats the truth that a lot of people don't want to or feel like they can't share. Like every moment of every day I'm supposed to plaster this big fake smile on my face and say that none of this has affected me.

If you're reading this looking for the up beat optimistic poster child for infertility I am not it. For the most part this process is ugly, you make the best of it because you have to by some stretch try to continue on a normal life for your sanities sake. However its something thats constantly there with you, in your every quiet moment it is all you want to think about most of the time, in one capacity or another. You're devoting all your faith, energy, time and money into it. This is not a fucking hobby, you can't devote part-time to it, your whole life is centered around medications and doctor's appointments.

Infertility is not a choice, it is a disease. Just because my disease will not physically kill me, seeking treatment should not be considered a privilege. Wanting to bring a chid into this world and making it my life's goal is not selfish.

I am not just another pathetic childless woman who is nasty and bitter.

I am not sharing this because I want anyone to feel bad for me.

Part of this writing is for me. For me to look back on and see how far I've come, even when its ugly and raw, it is real.

Most of this writing is to break stereotypes and misconceptions.

I've learned a lot of about myself during this journey. When I used to get so jealous, I'd think these people were so ungrateful if they only knew how many people wish they were in their position. It was naive of me, it made me stop to think of all the things I took for granted, all the opportunities I had been given that other people pray for. I've gotten a lot better at counting my own blessings instead of other peoples.

I've stopped comparing myself or my situations to others, I own my advantages and disadvantages they are no more or no less than that of others around me.

I wouldn't choose this, however I know that I've learned so much from it that I will carry with me the rest of my life. I know that nothing I endure is by accident and God has a purpose for all of it, as much as I want to be in control of this situation, I can't. I am not in control, and that is okay.

This post came off sad and angry, because through this I have been.

However I have also been blessed with moments of insane happiness, friends and family that have given me unwavering support and an unspeakably sympathetic husband who has been my rock through these last few cycles.

We have a What's Next appointment in a few weeks, and I don't know where we'll go from here but I am at peace with this and ready for anything.

Nope, I'm not pregnant. Thank you for asking.

First cycle with Letrozol.

This has been a cycle of awesome positives. My thyroid is a million times better and the Metformin seems to be doing its thing as well. I even ovulated!

Nope. Not Pregnant. Please even if you mean well. DO NOT ASK ME IF I AM PREGNANT.  

This was actually a really hard cycle because I’m on so many new medications and we had so many positive labs and signs. I don’t usually bank on signs but I did this month and after many, many negative pee-sticks you’d think I’d be almost caviler about it. I wasn’t, this time I bawled my eyes out on and off the whole day. I didn’t leave the house, I ate junk I shouldn’t have and I cried until my eyes hurt. 

I had made it a rule to not buy any baby things until we were in our second trimester because we have never gotten to that point. However both my husband and I caved, he bought me a beautiful Coach diaper bag. We had joked for years that because it had taken us so long I was going to get a Coach diaper bag because I deserved it. I got it and as soon as he handed it to me I felt guilty. I hadn’t earned this yet, what if this cycle didn’t work and we’d have this really expensive bag that was useless. How could I go in my closet and look at it each day knowing I have no one to fill it for. 

Then we got a call from our clinic that I finally ovulated and we were ecstatic! It was almost as good as seeing that second pink line, all the days I had spent absolutely sick now seemed totally worth it. We almost told our families, but I wanted to wait because I hated the idea of having to then tell them, "No, sorry not this time." I however broke my own rules and got attached to the idea that this was finally the cycle. I bought a few onesies and things, I got attached and I never let myself do that, I honestly now feel kind of silly for doing so. 

What has this cycle been like? I’ve been sick, morning noon or night, sick. I want to eat the things I want and I can’t, I was to go out and do what ever I want and I can’t. I have to be extra mindful of what I eat because on my new meds I have trouble keeping things down. The upside is I’m less of a crazy bitch on Letrozole than I was on Clomid, the side effects are not any where near as bad. However the Metformin makes up for this by making me indescribably sick. 

We’re looking at the possibility of injectables and trigger shots this next cycle. Nothing says I love you quite like shooting your wife in the ass with an inch and a half needle every day.  It will be okay, I’ll wake up in a few days and be less resentful and emotional, for now I’m being honest in writing this as I promised myself I would be. I am hurt, I don’t know why my body doesn’t do what its supposed to and its not for lack of trying. 

On the plus side, its been beautiful out this week, we’ve made leaps and bounds improvements in my body and hormone levels. I have a phenomenal support system and I haven’t hurt anyone yet.

So back to the lab for invasive needles and probes and we’re back to square one. Which is further than we’ve ever been and I know God has a plan for us. Its not If there will be a baby Wilson, its when there will be a baby Wilson & baby Wilson already has a bad ass Coach bag thanks to future-dad Wilson.

Thank you Mr. Wilson for being the most supportive and sensitive future-dad ever. Going through this makes me see how much you love me and how much I love you and how something that would ruin most marriages has made ours stronger. Plus you’re cute and that helps.   

Test results are in, in the case of Karrie and Tim: You are NOT terribly infertile!

I put off writing these because I think they’ll get easier. When I first thought about writing these blogs I thought it would fine, beneficial even, a way to keep my far away loved ones informed and to be able to make the subject less taboo.

Truth is, its never easy writing any of this down. I sit and think about what I should honestly say and what I’m comfortable saying and they almost never are exclusive ideas. 

The truth is I’m scared the further we get into this, when possibilities start arising and God forbid complications, I will have to share those. I may have to post some short coming or terrible occurrence and then people will know. People will be able to see how this isn’t always a journey of success and I wont pretend like it is. 

However I’d love to after over 4 years be able to at some point exclaim, FINALLY. Finally happened. Thats the idea right?

I honestly exist in this perpetual fear of hope and the fear of the loss of it. I am always hopeful, as many women in my position are, I am attune to my body, every single suggestive symptom brings this profound sense of hope. Then I talk myself down because along with an unfruitful hope comes this crushing regret that I let myself get so worked up in the first place. I think (in my fucked up way of doing things) that I need to give myself a dose of reality and not be so hopeful. Its silly and counterproductive but I don’t know how else to manage my expectations at times. I want to hope, I do hope, the realist in me gives me every reason to doubt myself. However if this has taught me anything, it has taught me that even if I’m wrong, in the moments of hope, if I didn’t have them, those fleeting butterflies of hope. I don’t know if I could honestly manage this. All I do is hope.

Which leads us into the real reason behind this post. Our results and initial plan!

Without pulling up my chart and going over specific levels and covering material a different post has already covered. Our RE said aside from the few hormonal levels he wanted to see change he was very optimistic about us becoming parents and is starting on Letrozole. The awesome news is this is my second on time- natural cycle in I can’t honestly tell you when, which if you’re TTC is a huge deal. Things for the first time in a long time are looking so hopeful and I just need to not talk myself out of the positive vibes.

Along side our medication regimen they handed us a baby dancing sheet… Nothing say’s “Come get it, big boy” like a calendar. This is sure to spice up our marriage and only further proves that absolutely nothing intimate remains private between you, your partner and your RE. 

For Valentine’s Day my husband is going to be blessed with a synthetically hormonal bitch. Again another notion of added spice to our love life, hot flashes, mood swings and calendar servicing. The Fifty Shades of Crazy Hormonal Bitch Wife: Staring Karrie and her 20 personalities brought to you by: Letrizole! 

If you see my husband in tears with a Target bag full of chocolate and Cheetos, shaking with a gleam of fear in his eyes. Console him, buy him a beer and tell him that all of this craziness will be worth it when we’re spending sleepless nights with a tiny human.

Plus how scary can his 5’1 wife possibly be?

Pretty damn scary, when on fertility drugs. Poor, poor husband.  

Heres to hoping this cycle works!! We're like one failed cycle away from carrying our dogs around in Tulas... I'm kind of not even joking. 

I could absolutely drive myself mad reading other infertility blogs. Not because these women are at all offending but I am terrified, going through all the initial testing and not finding out the plan for a few weeks I find myself trying to find optimism and yet preparing myself for other possibilities. 

The last of the testing was a Hysterosalpingogram or HSG aside from surgeries and D&Cs it has been the most invasive in our journey. Though our tech was a peach and we adore our doctor I couldn’t help but feel so damn angry during the whole thing. Mostly because I was too proud to admit I was terrified, its easier to say you’re angry than it is to lay under an x-ray machine crying because I know theres something wrong with me, but to what degree?  

It was a bitter sweet day because the morning before our procedure my husband received a call that everything on his end is amazing. After my test I found out one of my tubes is blocked and though it doesn’t seem to bother my doctor and he is pleased that I have a functioning one… I can’t help but cry as I sulk into the bathroom wiping away the evidence from the procedure this is how infertility leaves you, sore and confused. All I’m left with is time until our next appointment and the internet in which to look up every single possibility, oh and a cookie. I come back from the bathroom greeted with a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie from our tech. I can’t say that, that makes any of this easier, but her kind smile and a warm cookie certainly don’t make things worse. It is small gestures like this that have made this process easier. 

I could plaster this post with statistics and figures of possibilities, however that isn’t the point we’re at yet.

This is where we're at:

Medications, during the days that followed testing I received an influx of calls which led to an three separate pharmacy visits. I find her noticeable extensions, slightly off kilter fake-eyelashes and outgrown acrylic nails somewhat unnerving. Like at any moment cheesy music is going to come over the intercom and I am going to be whisked away from a very mature scene. Alas she only explains to me the side effects of this new medication, which if I have these side effects with my other medications I should be very concerned. Oh well, I now have a thug mentality in all of this: Get pregnant or die trying. Just kidding, I of course have the upmost confidence in my doctors ability to not kill me. (haha) However some medications can't be mixed in a certain amount of time with others, some you eat with, some you don't. I feel like my day is starting to revolve around what time I take my meds, and I'm not even on the hardcore regimen. 

I wish I had something more to say, something meaningful and inspiring but currently we're in limbo and its awful. I want to be excited and part of me thinks well maybe if we adjust a few levels here and there we'll be pregnant in no time, I should start picking out paint colors for the baby's room. Then the other part of me thinks what if its like those other women from the blogs, what if our only option is $12,500. IVF. Which you only need 20% down with two years of monthly payments totaling more than my mortgage.

Oh but my research has reveled that eating pineapple makes your uterus stickier and you should totally eat it while doing IVF. Sure, its that easy eat the pineapple, get knocked up.