My TTC Story

I wish I could say that I handled my efforts at TTC with grace and calm serenity.  But that couldn’t be further from the truth.   Trying to conceive turned me into a crazy, moody, unpleasant bitch.  I ate too much, slept too much, didn’t exercise enough, and obsessed about every single symptom during my two week wait.  I was devastated by my first two BFNs, especially since both of them occurred in the form of AF visiting days before she was due. 

My first BFN was discovered when I went to the bathroom to cry after I had to fire my nurse.  She was a sweet girl, but she couldn’t do the job and patients were being placed in harm’s way because of missed messages, so we had to fire her.  I talked to her about why we were having to fire her, feeling like I’d just kicked a puppy as I watched her cry, and then went to the bathroom for privacy while I cried myself.  And then wished I hadn’t decided to go ahead and pee while I was there. 

I’d convinced myself that I was pregnant after my second IUI, and so getting AF two days after coming home from a friend’s baby shower was devastating.  Even more disappointing was the realization that I was going to have to take the next month off, because a very dear friend of mine was having her baby shower out of town, and I had to be there for that.  I’ll never regret going to her shower, but I was miserable most of the weekend, thinking that I was ovulating that weekend, and it was all going to waste.   The misery was eased a little when Heidi got a text from her friend V, who I’d met at a party a few night’s earlier, offering to be my Baby Daddy.  He even offered to fly home with me, since I was pretty sure I was ovulating right around then, saying we could join the mile high club and get me pregnant, all at the same time. 

I know I talked about trying to get pregnant all the time.  Trying to get pregnant, and my fear that I would never be able to get pregnant were all consuming.  I’m amazed that anyone wanted to spend time with me, the miserable, obsessive, moody, crazy woman that I was. 

The one benefit of taking the month off was that I had time to meet with my RE to discuss a change in game plan.  I’d had a luteal phase defect on both of my Clomid 50mg cycles, and I only produced one follicle with each cycle, so I was ready to talk about doing something different.  He offered me the chance to go straight to IVF, but encouraged me to first try two hybrid cycle with Femara and Gonal-F.  He thought it had a good chance of working, but also thought my response would also help guide medication doses with IVF if the hybrid cycle didn’t work. 

I thought the compromise sounded reasonable, so I agreed.  On Femara 5mg and Gonal-F 75, I had two follicles.  Better than with Clomid, but not particularly impressive.  So halfway through my two week wait, I decided that if this cycle didn’t work, I was going to IVF.  I was also given Crinone, just to be on the safe side, so this time AF didn’t come early.  I managed to wait to POAS until 12dpIUI, and then I caved.  It was negative.

The next night I cried myself to sleep, and then dreaded getting up to POAS the next morning, 14dpIUI.  I was shocked when, 30 seconds after taking the test, I glanced over and saw there was only one word on the screen:  pregnant.  I was still sitting on the toilet when I called LB, Heidi and my sister to tell them the news!

You all know how things went from there.  A couple of good betas, a 7 week ultrasound that was questionable, and a 9 week ultrasound that showed no heartbeat.  Such a crazy four months of wildly variable emotions – worry and anxiety, followed by joy and worry, followed by despair.  It’s no wonder I sometimes forget much of the first part of 2010 ever happened.

The weird thing is, I didn’t experience all those crazy negative emotions with IUI #4.  I thought about it a lot, but I was pretty sure, in a way I hadn’t been before, that I was pregnant.  I was convinced from the second I was standing at the elevator after my IUI, talking to my RE, and felt the first twinges of ovulation pain that this one had worked.  I didn’t tell anyone except Heidi how sure I was, because I was afraid of looking like a fool if I was wrong.  But here I am, 26 weeks pregnant, so this time my instinct was right!

In hindsight, I realize just how easy it was for me.  I was told that I had impaired fertility – diminished ovarian reserve.  And yet I managed to conceive on 2 out of 4 cycles.  The miscarriage was horrible, that’s true, but repeated failed attempts at trying to conceive is pretty horrible, too.  I don’t think it’s possible to say that either is worse than the other, but I’m pretty sure my calm attitude going into IUI #4 was mostly because it was the first time I went into an IUI knowing that my body did know how to get pregnant.  I’d started CoEnzyme Q10 in an attempt to decrease the risk of chromosomal abnormalities (using this study protocol, which came about after studies in “elderly” mice showed decreased risk of chromosomal defects in embryos of mice given CoQ10), and that made me feel better, too. 

At any rate, I know how lucky I am right now.  There’s not a day that goes by (not even an hour) that I don’t marvel in the miracle of being pregnant, and I will never, ever take this baby for granted.  And I really hope that my neurotic behavior while TTC is something I never have to deal with again!

Perspective

I had a couple of interesting lessons about perspective today. First, as I was driving to work, I heard the day’s weather report on NPR. “There’s a chance of thunderstorms this afternoon – just a slight one, about 20%.”

Which is about the same chance my RE gave me for each IUI with Clomid. And it didn’t seem like a slight chance at all, in fact 20% sounded pretty darn good, until I got 2 BFN and suddenly 20% wasn’t acceptable at all. (Though, since I only produced one good follicle each time with Clomid, in retrospect, my chances weren’t really as good as 20% with those two tries.) When we switched to Femara plus Gonal-F, he said my chances were still about 20% - and my chances of multiples went up to about 20% as well. Strangely, 20% sounds good when talking about something like pregnancy, but then it also seems like an acceptably low risk when talking about something like multiples or thunderstorms. It’s all in what your perspective is when you’re considering the odds.

And for the record, we did get thunderstorms this afternoon. Big, dramatic ones with lots and lots of rain.

This afternoon, I saw a woman who was about to leave for Boston with her daughter and two year old grandson. He’d been born with some serious heart defects and “we can tell it’s time for another surgery because his little fingers and toes are turning blue again.” He’s had countless surgeries in his short life already and knows the doctors and nurses at the hospital in Boston as well as some kids know the staff at their day care. “We might be gone for a few weeks, but it could be as long as 4 months, so I’ll call for my follow-up appointment after I know when I’m going to be home.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say except, “I can’t imagine how incredibly stressful that is for you and your daughter.” She shrugged. “It’s what we’re used to. And it’s all he’s ever known. Most of the time, he’s a happy boy. We love him, he loves us. And when people ask me how he’s doing, I tell them, ‘He’s here with us now. And we’re savoring every second.’”

Now, I’m not saying that hearing this story has cured me of my grief over my miscarriage. Not at all. But her amazing way of looking at her life has led me to look at my own life from a different perspective. It really sucks that I’m not pregnant anymore. But I’m otherwise healthy, I responded well to Femara and Gonal-F, and there’s a good chance (more than 20%) that another IUI will work for me in the future. And the odds are with me that I’ll have a normal healthy baby. And one day, this horrible, icky time will just be a distant memory. But this horrible, icky memory will also be there to remind me just how lucky I am when I do have my own baby cradled in my arms.