Yoda

It seems as though if you disappear from your own blog for a long time, you should at least have the decency to come back with some big, happy announcement.  Sorry, but I don’t have one.

In fact, I have a big, sad announcement which is that my beloved pug, Yoda, died suddenly and unexpectedly on Tuesday night.  He had been sick with a cold and had been to the vet twice and thoroughly checked out (x-rays, blood work, etc.) and sent home.  We knew he was sick, but we definitely didn’t think he was about to die.  He rested in his crate that night in the living room with us and we petted him and talked to him and then at one point I picked him up and he just let go.  Of course, this makes me think he was just waiting for me to pick him up and this breaks my heart open even more. 

When I realized that he was dead (which I still can’t believe even as I write it), I sat on the floor and held him for a long time and talked to him and thanked him and told him that I loved him.  I turned his ears over and over through my fingers, because they are the softest part of him and I used to do that absentmindedly all the time while he was sitting on my lap.  I got down on the floor and put my face into his fur, which I also always used to do.  Then I wrapped him up and sat up all night with him, because I couldn’t bear to leave him in the dark.

We found out the next day after we brought him to the (very shocked) vet to be cremated that his trachea had collapsed.  This is something that can happen with pugs, and the vet had told us the day before (while looking at his x-ray) that Yoda had an abnormally narrow trachea.  It is something that tends to happen at 6-7 years of age, and Yoda turned 7 this month.  Things were probably exacerbated by his cold, but I’m not sure that there is anything anyone could have done, although I keep wishing that I had somehow known or done more (though what, I don’t know).  I just can’t believe that he is gone.

We have Potter, of course, and he is wonderful and I love him.  But Yoda was my dog through and through.  I used to say that he and I had the same soul.  We were, at the very least, kindred spirits cut from the same cloth.  He understood me.  Sometimes he would just look at me and I would know exactly what he wanted.  I can’t imagine ever knowing or loving another dog that way.  I’m still not quite sure how  to imagine the next parts of my life without him in it.  So many things seem uncertain to me now, but he never did.

I’m including one of my favorite pictures of Yoda and me.  Below is the email I sent out to our family and friends.

All,

I wanted to let you know that Yoda died unexpectedly late last night.  I am beside myself as I write this, but it seems only fitting to both reach out and let you know and try to write a bit of a tribute, though I cannot imagine one that would be fitting.

I would not necessarily have considered myself a dog person, but 7 years ago I drove to New Hampshire and found myself standing in front of three tiny pugs– they were 5 weeks old.  One of those pugs was sleeping and one was very fat; one was pulling the newspaper that covered the floor over the other two.  That one, of course, was Yoda.  I knelt down and stuck my fingers through the cage and he came over and licked me.  So when I tell this story, I always say that we chose each other.

He has been with me through marriage and divorce, through the loss of a much-wanted pregnancy, through good moods and bad ones and all the in between as well.  He was smart and a little devious and he loved to butt his head up against my arm until I would put my arm around him (even when I was driving, which was definitely less than convenient).  He listened only when he wanted to and when he got off his leash he would definitely give you a run for your money.  He managed to get away from us at the park once and we were lucky that a skinny kid who ran all-state track was there– he was the only one who could have caught Yoda.

He wore Halloween costumes and went through more than 15 Elmo dolls in half as many years.  He would eat anything (including a king sized Symphony bar, a plate of Chinese food, and some very expensive cheese purchased for guests), though his preference was for anything you were eating.  He would answer to Yoda, Yod, Yodie, Monkey Man, Magic Man, Muffin Face, pug, or, probably, hey you.

He was always happy to see me.  And he was worth every damn penny of the $900 it cost for me to bring him home.  I can’t even begin to imagine my life without him.

I imagine that whatever heaven Yoda finds himself in tonight is filled with rawhide and expansive laps and long walks and endless food. 

Thank you to all of you for loving him and for loving us.

identity crisis

Just when I think my blogging can’t get much worse . . . it does.  Maybe it’s that my blog is in some sort of identity crisis.  I mean, it is still a ttc blog obviously, but that makes it hard to think of things to post when we are not actively cycling.  Maybe I’m in some sort of identity crisis– am I stll a woman hell bent on getting pregnant?  Am I a future adoptive mother?  Could I be both?

Anyway, I took the last bcp last night and after   shows, I will get yet another set of day 3s (this time on day 2, since my RE seems to think that may help).  If the E2 level is 75 or under (remember that it was 75.6 last time), we are all set to go anytime during the next year.  If it is higher than 75, we may still not have a problem, since as of May 1st, Harvard Pilgrim is (according to the financial coordinator at the clinic) changing their limit to 80.  This is good news indeed.  So I am hopeful that an insurance change will not be in my future.  Renee and I have been talking about taking some time off regardless of the outcome of the test.  It’s something we’ve never really done (other than November and the months we had to take off after the miscarriage), and I know I’m in a whole new place if I am even considering it– I used to always push forward regardless of how hard or expensive or inconvenient it was.  But now the weather is getting nicer and I am fantasizing about running and going to the gym a lot.  I am fantasizing about having some drinks and taking some trips and saving some money and starting this all up again in the late summer/early fall.  I keep reminding myself that while there is no harm in waiting (other than being lapped, yet again, by others), there is a lot of good that could come out of a few months off.  We could start up again in August with me feeling more relaxed, more in shape, more ready to face whatever it is that is coming next.

So that’s me.  I do miss all of you, so I am going to try to be a better reader and commenter.

Happy Friday, all.

i may not be pregnant . . .

but I am still funny, damn it!

From an email I sent to J at Good Egg Hunting today:

Those Who Will Get Pregnant Before Me:

1. Animals on the verge of extinction
2. My pugs (even though they are neutered and male)
3. Nuns
4. Women over the age of 78
5. Virgins
6. Insert name of man here:____________________
7. Animals who have already become extinct (dinosaurs, Dodo birds)
8. Inanimate objects (I’ll come out in the morning and find a little toaster next to my regular toaster)
9. The undead (zombie babies!)
10. 10 year olds

the news from here

I feel as though I have to begin every post with some sort of self-effacing comment about how I never seem to blog anymore.  I guess I could blame a lot of things– lots of work, not really wanting to spend my time at home on the computer (when it feels as though I spend so much of many of my days on it), and just generally feeling lost in terms of this seemingly never-ending baby quest.

Even before I started trying to get pregnant, I spent a lot of time reading ttc blogs.  And then I did start and I read even more– and it was great.  I learned things, I commiserated, I connected– hell, sometimes I even felt lucky.  I got to know some bloggers, emailed with some, and even met some in real life.  The support that I have gotten (and continue to get) from the blog world has been amazing.  But as the months have gone on, it has often felt more and more difficult to come back here.  I think, in part, I wonder what I can write that I have not written before.  In greater part, this has become a space that reminds me of just how long I have been at this.  Lately I feel as though I am cringing every time I check the blog updates of another ttc-er.  Will they be the next to get pregnant and leave me behind?  And it’s not that I am a horrible person who wants no one to be happy or pregnant (really, I’m only a little bit horrible), it’s just that it has become almost impossible for me to be happy for anyone who gets pregnant at this point.  And what that means is that there are a lot of blogs that I used to read that I just can’t bring myself to open anymore.  And when I do open them and get the update, I just can’t think of anything to write in a comment.  So I read fewer and fewer blogs and log in less and less and write less and less and, well, you see where this is all going.

As I said, I’ve been feeling lost about all of this.  Right now I am back on the pill (after my last Estrogen test (a little over a week ago) revealed that I am .6 above the cutoff for my insurance company (you read that right: point freaking 6)).  No one seems worried about this– I am barely over and my insurance company just happens to have the lowest cutoff of any insurance company I know of– but it is just one more thing in what is starting to seem like an endless list of things that just never go as we think they will.  I told my doctor last week that the title of my life is currently ‘It’s Always Something’ (or the R rated version: ‘It’s Always Fucking Something).’  So, I am on the pill for another three weeks (to make for a month in total) and then they will test me again.  If it is still “high” our options will be to go through the process of switching insurance companies (as a state employee, I have a wide range to choose from and I think my open enrollment is coming up) or submit the numbers and appeal a probable insurance company denial.  Both of these things could take some time.  And although I would have sworn to you that I was the kind of women who would NEVER STOP until she got pregnant, lately I am beginning to imagine an end to all of this.  I wish the end that I imagined was pregnancy, but lately it is adoption.  And I am not saying that I am ready to stop trying to get pregnant right now, here, today, but that, for really the first time, I can imagine stopping, that I can imagine moving on to something else.  And this makes me feel sad and hopeful and evolved and broken and . . . lost.

And that’s the news from here.

longer and never any closer to its end

Oy. I am a bad blogger.

The updates from these parts are as follows:

• Renee and I have both been sick, sick, sick (as in sicker than either of us has been in recent memory).  This particular sickness has taken the form of lots of chest-crushing coughing, congestion, fever, headaches, and a general wish to curl up in a corner and die.  The good news is that we are on our way back to being healthy.  The bad news is that I had to miss three days of work last week, two of which I had to count as personal days since our last IVF cycle left me with almost no remaining sick days.
• We may have a longer break between IVF cycles than we had thought.  I had already started the pill again and assumed that all was on-track for IVF #2 in March.  Unfortunately, I got a call from the clinic on Friday telling me that my day 3 bloodwork (last done in June) had an Estrogen level 2 points “too high” for my insurance company to accept (my level on that test was 77; their cut-off is 75).  Now, this is most likely absolutely no big deal (in fact, I had an Estrogen level done in December that was under 75 (but apparently because they did not do an FSH level on that day, we cannot use this number even though it is not my FSH number that is the problem)).  It is very likely that my elevated Estrogen level in June was due to a lingering cyst (we know that I am prone to them when hyperstimulated).  In fact, that is about the only reason for an elevated Estrogen level (and I should know– I googled it).  But it makes me REALLY mad that no one caught this then (was it seen as no big deal?  not noticed at all?) and leaves me wondering how my first cycle got approved.  Mostly I am just really upset that this derails us.  I have stopped taking the pill so that I will get my period and we can run another set of day 3s, but since I have only been on the pill for a couple of weeks (and they have just recently stimmed the shit out of me), it does not seem unlikely that I could have some residual cysts.  If this is the case, my understanding is that they would confirm with an ultrasound and put me back on the pill.  You can see how we could lose a couple of months here.  All in all, I am hoping (and pretty sure) that this is not a big deal.  And I know that in the grand scheme of things, a couple of months is not a big deal either.  But I am tired of snags and calls in the middle of the day that leave me feeling defeated and uncertain.  I am tired of all the bumps in this road and of this journey, which seems to only get longer and never any closer to its end.

one is the lonliest number . . .

especially when it comes to pink lines on a pregnancy test.

I have to admit that I was hoping to be the one to buck the odds on our less-than-perfect cycle, but this particular slim chance has officially left the building.

It’s not that I was brimming over with optimism about this cycle, I guess it’s just that I never imagined myself here, with almost two years of trying and a failed IVF cycle under my belt.  I feel lost and sad.  And for really the first time, I can glimpse a real understanding about why people stop trying to get pregnant and move on to some other way to make a family.  From here, today, it feels a lot like this is just never going to happen.

But I got an automated call from CVS reminding me to pick up my birth control pills (you know I like to plan for the worst, and sometimes it comes in handy), so as soon as my period shows we’ll be off again.

The only way out is through.

the devil in suppository form

I swear that I think about blogging all the time.  One would think that this would help me to be a better blogger, but alas, this is not the case.

I am nearing the end of the tww of this first IVF cycle (which is actually an 11 day wait, since they lop off the three days up to and including the transfer).  I’m sitting here trying to think of the right words to describe how I’m feeling– I guess I’m mostly feeling tired.  I still feel sort of physically and mentally worn out from the cycle itself and all that it entailed (although, honestly, it was not as difficult as I thought it would be and I can totally do it again) as well as from the high drama that came in the days after the retrieval.  I think I’m worn down from endlessly trying to prepare myself for the negative that I am pretty sure I am going to get this weekend (when I take a test at home before my official test on Monday).  I’ve been in this place before (in terms of trying to prepare myself for bad news) and I should know by now that there really is no way to prepare, but what else can I do?  I want to protect myself even though I know I cannot be protected.  We have worked too hard and wanted too much for this not to be painful if it doesn’t work.

And perhaps I should be more optimistic (that could probably be the subtitle to my autobiography), but it is hard for me to get past the fact that this cycle was just not what I, or anyone, hoped it would be.  I met with Dr. Awesome, who was, of course, awesome, and told me that she did not think that what happened was the result of my eggs.  She also said that if she were me, she would probably do ICSI off the bat from now on just to make sure that this never happened again.  Since, especially in this case, I would much rather be safe than sorry, I agree with her.  We will do ICSI from now on– other than the fact that 3% of eggs will not survive the procedure, there is no harm in doing it even if it is unnecessary.  We will also pay out-of-pocket to do this, since, lacking firm evidence (which does not exist) of an egg problem, insurance will not cover ICSI with donor sperm.  Now this is not the biggest deal in the world–  I mean, we are very lucky to have insurance coverage for IVF in the first place, and $2,500.00 is a small price to pay for a bit more assurance that we might get pregnant.  But it is, for us, a lot of money, and money that we had not planned on spending. 

Unfortunately, our chances of pregnancy resulting from this cycle’s rescue ICSI are a lot lower than our chances would have been with a more ideal cycle (our doc quoted me 20%, Renee claims to have seen 30% in some of her research).  And I know, I know, it only takes one and all that, but I wanted more of a shot from all of this.  I wanted to spend the tww basking in the glow of a 45-50% chance.  That would have been really nice.  Unfortunately, we also got word (in the form of a letter from the clinic) that none of our embryos made it to freeze.  Although I know that this happens more often than not, I had been hoping to put a few on ice and I think their survival would have made me feel a bit more optimistic about the survival of the ones we put back.

Progesterone (as many of you already know) is the devil, and has been making me feel pretty crummy.  I can very easily understand how anyone on progesterone could easily convince herself that she is pregnant.  It makes your breasts sore, it makes your stomach crummy, it gives you hot flashes and weird dreams.  It is, essentially, the biggest mindfuck you could ever insert into your vagina every morning.  It = Satan.

I feel as though this post has been whiny, and really, there are good things here.  It is good that we made it through our first cycle and that I made so many mature eggs.  It is good that Renee and I stuck together and made some hard decisions in the midst of a lot of sadness and shock and fear.  And I am glad that we did the rescue ICSI.  In fact, Dr. Awesome told me that we had had the best response to the procedure that she had ever seen.  I am glad that we have a plan and that we have such great friends and family members.  I am thankful for all of you checking in and forgiving me for being such a bum commenter lately.  I am thankful for the amazing staff at our clinic and for the  insurance that allows us to try and to try again.

I guess that lately, it feels as though everyone else is moving ahead while I am standing still.  My little brother just got a new dog to go with his new house and his new wife and their impending new baby.  My little sister just bought her first house.  I feel stuck here and I wonder how long we’ll be stuck.  I don’t want to look back on these years and feel as though all the good was lost to this process, but I am at a loss as to how to genuinely be happy in the midst of all of this.  I can have fun– I can go to a movie or have a drink or talk on the phone with a friend– but this is still there, still with me, no matter where I go for the weekend or what I order off the menu or what I get for Christmas.  Do I just have to accept that this is what it is right now?  Am I simply not trying hard enough?  I miss content.

I will, of course, keep you updated.  Thanks for listening.

you rock! (yes, you)

Sorry for the radio silence.  I’ve just been catching my breath over here.

The transfer was yesterday.  We ended up putting back a 6 cell grade 3 (grade 3 is the highest grade at my clinic) and a 5 cell grade 3.  Not the 8-3’s that would have been considered ideal, but, as Dr. Just Breathe told me, nothing to sneeze at either.    And we must keep in mind (or I must, at any rate) that at least one of those embryos was a Day 2 rescue (so was actually a good size).  The embryologist told us that they looked good and the transfer was a breeze (other than the fact that they were pushing on my very full bladder the whole time).  We even left there with a picture.  The remaining 8 are still in the lab, so we’ll see if anything makes it to freeze.

I am feeling . . . exhausted both physically and emotionally, mostly.  I am also feeling so thankful for all the wonderful support and comments that you have all been leaving me.  I get them on my crackberry now, so I can carry them with me and see them as you write them, and that is great.  Thank you.  I am also feeling relieved that we made it to transfer– we definitely did not know that that would be the case on Tuesday.  I am thankful that we decided to go ahead with the rescue ICSI (Dr. Awesome told me this morning that we had the best results she’s ever seen with this procedure), and that everyone at our clinic was so available and kind and so disappointed for us.

This was not the cycle that I had hoped that it would be, but it is not the cycle of my worst fears either.  I’m at home today, trying to take it easy.  I would not say that I was super optimistic for this cycle, but I am glad that we got to see it through to the end and have the transfer.  I met with Dr. Awesome this morning and she does not feel that this is an issue with my eggs (I’m young, they looked good, they responded so well to the rescue ICSI), but I think we may do ICSI from now on to make very sure that this never happens again.  She was extremely happy with my response and the number of eggs I produced, and I am ready to get back on this horse again if need be.  As for the sperm, there is probably little recourse with the bank (since the count looked good).  We may never know what happened exactly, but we do trust the lab we work with (they do over 2,000 IVF cycles per year) and we’ll be changing donors for our next cycle.

So, we made it.  Thank you again, so much, for all your emails and comments and all the prayers and mojo and hope and righteous indignation on our behalf.

You guys rock.

10/19

Ok, hang on–  the roller coaster ride continues.

After an afternoon and evening spent crying on the phone and moping around the house, we got a call this morning telling us that 9 eggs had fertilized with the rescue ICSI (which made us very glad that we had gone ahead with the procedure, against the advice of the doc on call yesterday).  This was much better than we had hoped for and the nurse said it may be further indication that there is not an issue with my eggs.

So then there were 10.  I don’t know about the quality of any of the 10, including our lone self-fertilizer, who we are calling Punxsutawney Phil.  The nurse did not happen to have Phil’s stats when she called me and the others were too young to grade this morning.  We will transfer tomorrow since the clinic dates from the embryo that fertilizes first (so hopefully we will transfer Phil and a younger and smaller embryo).  This is not ideal, since there is much that we will not know about the ICSI-ed embryos at that point, but it is a better place than we had imagined we would be in yesterday.  If anything makes it to day 6, we will freeze.  We have not been given the option of a day 5 transfer and I’m ok with that– at this point, I will feel ok if we get to transfer a couple embryos that look pretty good tomorrow.

I spoke to someone in the embryology lab who told me that the sperm had been seen “clumping up” in the lab which could mean that there is an issue with the sperm or could mean that there is an issue with the way that sperm interacts with my eggs.  We may not get to find out and we may need to do ICSI in future cycles to ensure that this does not happen again.  Unfortunately, since the donor count met requirements, there is most likely no recourse for me getting any money back from the bank.  I guess if I end up not getting pregnant this cycle, we can maybe sell them back the vial that we did not use (for a steep discount, I’m sure).  I have placed a call to the insurance coordinator at the clinic to see what (if anything) we can do to fight to get reimbursed for this ICSI and what we would need to have to get my insurance company to pay for future ICSI.

Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments yesterday.  If you don’t mind, send a little shout out to Punxsutawney Phil and to my tiny embryo posse and send all your growing mojo their way.

Transfer at 9:45 tomorrow.

1/19 (updated)

A short post since I am trying to keep it together at work:

• retrieval went great.  20 eggs retrieved.  Sara feeling sore but triumphant.
• Call from doc. on call this a.m.  19 eggs mature.  Zero fertilized.  Sara feeling stunned and decidedly not triumphant.
• Emergency ICSI may be able to be performed, but will apparently not yield great results.  Insurance may not cover.
• Sara receives call from on call doc: confirmation that insurance will not cover this procedure since this is not an issue with a husband.  Sara tells doc. not to go ahead with rescue ICSI, breaks down on phone.
• Sara calls Renee and Dr. Just Breathe, decides that although she does not really need another $2500 on her credit card, she will feel better knowing that she did everything she could do.
• Sara calls on-call doc back to tell him she changed her mind.
• Sara gets call from on-call doc telling her that he has been in touch with the lab and that one egg has fertilized on its own.  Rescue ICSI will proceed.  Head of lab thinks that this is not an egg quality problem, but rather a problem with the frozen sperm (which apparently did not thaw well).

Sara still attempting not to cry at work.