Category Archives: Cycle 12

The Waiting Game.

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10

It seems like this infertility journey is primarily one of waiting.  We wait to ovulate. We wait to test. We wait to stimulate. We wait to suppress. We wait for phone calls. We wait for lab orders. We wait for lab results.   And we wait for a baby. I’ve been waiting 502 days, 75.5 weeks. 17 months, and 12 cycles to have a baby.  Put like that, it isn’t so bad, but it feels interminable. Today, I’m just waiting for the bleeding to begin.

My hCG level on Monday was 120, down from 410 on Friday.  In case there was any doubt, this pregnancy is not viable.  My doctor calls herself an interventionist, but in this situation she recommends I wait for the bleeding to start on its own, given that my body has already started the process.

The problem with that? No blood, no spotting, and a cervix shut tight.  There is absolutely no movement towards a natural miscarriage. Any signs of forward momentum ceased well over 24 hours ago, with the worst of it on Sunday.  By “the worst of it” I am referring to a scant show of blood on a pantyliner. It has been 36 hours since my last injection of progesterone.  Surely things have to begin soon, right?

To that end, I’ve done some googling.  Burdock root, dandelion root, parsley, ginger, sage, and rosemary can all help to hasten along the process when steeped as a tea. However, that sounds awful.  My bet is that it would not taste as bad as my cleanse smoothie, but would be about as bad as the many iterations of Chinese herbs I’ve consumed.  It is hot here in the desert.  Perhaps I should ice it and chug it after my workout.

Additionally, angelica, chamomile, cinnamon, clary sage, basil, ginger, jasmine, juniper, myrrh, peppermint, rose, rosemary, fennel and marjoram essential oils are also known emmenagogues.  That doesn’t sound as bad.  I may even smell nice.

Alternatively, I could wait until I have an appointment with my new RE tomorrow.  I’m hoping he will confirm the diagnosis and prescribe some misoprostol so I can stop waiting and move forward. I hate, loathe, detest, abhor, despise waiting.

Unequivocal.

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3

That’s my hope for tomorrow. I hope the beta results are unequivocal. Of course, I hope for a number that has doubled nicely.  The betabase shows the fastest doubling time with an hCG level in my range as 8 hours.  I could settle for an overachieving embryo with a superior doubling time, but, really, I just want an unequivocal number with a doubling time within the appropriate range.

I also could come to terms with a bad number.  A number that did not increase, or even dropped.  This also is unequivocal.  There would be no doubt.  I would stop the progesterone injections, and we would move forward with Cycle #13.  Who says 13 is unlucky, anyway?

You know what would hurt the most? What would tear me apart with the ambivalence and unknowing? An ambiguous number.  A slow, slow increase.  A number that moves just enough to continue the progesterone and the monitoring, but which does not instill hope in myself or the doctors.  That terrifies me.

So, my hope for tomorrow, aside from the obvious hopes and dreams of an amazingly beautiful baby in my arms, is an unequivocal number.  I don’t feel as if it is a lot to ask of the Universe, so that is my prayer tonight.

The Test is Darker!

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8

One of my first pregnancy signs during pregnancy #1 was frequent urination.  I had no idea that the uterus starts to enlarge so quickly.  I thought it would take a week or two, not two days.  This was also one of my first signs for this pregnancy. The peeing started with a vengeance two days ago at 14 DPO.

This frequent urination thing has been tricky with my POAS obsession.  Not last night, but the night before I woke up at both 1 am and 4:45 am to go to the bathroom.  This does not make for a great FMU POAS situation.  Yesterday I used the 4:45 am urine.  The line was the same as CD 14.  I was disappointed but didn’t put much stock into it because I am embracing my pregnancy. (You know, because if I say it enough it will be an easy thing to do.)

I then got the beta results yesterday afternoon, and I was devastated.  I wasn’t embracing anything.  I tried to do so by talking to my blastocyst for a bit, trying to persuade it to stick around.  And then I cried bitterly for several hours.  Not a reassuring sign for my spirit baby, I’m sure.

I wanted to surprise Big Guy by telling him in a magical fashion, but I couldn’t handle yesterday’s meltdown all alone.  The poor guy.  Take it from me, calling and hysterically crying is not the best way to tell your partner you are pregnant.  His overall reaction? Confusion. “I don’t know if I should be excited or not,” he says.  ”Me either,” I replied.

So, when I went to bed last night I made a pledge to sleep soundly and to ignore every and all urges to wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.  I was going to have great FMU or get a bladder infection trying.  I dreamed about water and going to the bathroom all night, but I held out until 5 am.  Seven hours of abstinence from the toilet.

The test this morning? Darker.

I’m going to have a baby, dammit.

You Know What?

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16

Fuck it.

I’m not going to hedge my bets on this pregnancy. I hedged my bets on the first pregnancy, and I had a bad outcome. Did it curb the pain? Did it make it better to have been reserved in my joy? No. No, I don’t think so.

I’m going to do what I never did with the first pregnancy. I’m jumping in with both feet. I’m not going to plug my nose. I’m not going to close my eyes.

I’m going to do what my instincts tell me to do.  I’m going to embrace this baby. I’m going to become attached. I’m going to be joyful. I’m having a fucking baby, people. Watch out.

Will it hurt if I have another miscarriage? Absolutely. Will I recover? Without a doubt.

What I do know is that being born a female does not give me an inherent right to be a mother.  Every day, every hour, every minute, every second is a blessing.  To hedge my bets and to ignore the blessing dishonors our child.  Even if we only have a few weeks together.

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In the spirit of honesty and open communication, I wanted to post what I wrote last night.  I was going to elaborate on some of those themes and add some content this morning.  Because I am embracing my pregnancy, I went to my RE this morning for a blood draw.  My RE just called with my beta.  It is 33.  My progesterone is 11.  I’m pregnant, but barely.

There is nothing I can do but ask this little peanut to fight hard and stick around.  I have a repeat beta scheduled for Friday morning.

18%

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12

I wasn’t totally honest in yesterday’s post. What I failed to tell you was that I had a swipe of faint, pink spotting on Saturday afternoon. One swipe of the toilet paper, and, poof, it was gone. It left no other trace of its existence. My overeager imagination immediately jumped to implantation spotting.

Yesterday, a good friend spotted the spotting on my chart and mentioned it in the comments. I don’t know much about implantation so I googled it. I wish I hadn’t. Did you know that eggs that implant after 12 DPO only have an 18% chance of survival? Or, put another way, the miscarriage rate with implantation at 9 DPO is 13%, 26% at 10 DPO, 52% at 11 DPO, and 82% at 12 DPO.

As I’ve mentioned before, the odds are not in my favor.

Today’s test is a positive.* There are no doubts. It is unquestionably darker than yesterday. Right now, I am pregnant. As I see it, I have an 18% chance of success with this pregnancy. The odds have never looked favorably on me. Right now, my temperature pattern matches my nonpregnancy charts. The tell-tale signs that I so clearly experienced during my last pregnancy aren’t there. Not yet anyway.

I feel a bit like I’m walking a tight rope. I’m waiting to take action after I’m late, and probably several days late. I haven’t called my RE. And, I haven’t told Big Guy. He won’t be home until Friday. I will tell him either way at that time. (But, I did schedule movers for Saturday. I’m not lifting furniture if I’m pregnant. And that felt as if it required action, stat!)

We will see what happens tomorrow. From here on out it is a waiting game.

* This morning’s test wasn’t technically with FMU. I woke up last night at 3 am and had to use the bathroom. The urine I used for the test this morning was from a 4.5 hour stretch, 3 am – 7:30 am.