Sonohysterosalpingogram....why are these tests so freakin' hard to say?

We went in for our SSG last week. This is a test where a balloon in inserted into the uterus with a catheter. Then they fill the balloon with air and saline so the full outline of the uterus is visible via ultrasound. I really do have a challenging situation down there for these doctors and nurses. None of them can easily get through my cervix. It takes forever with lots of painful prodding and poking and 'clamping' (which I just would rather not think about). Just about as our doctor was ready to give up, it worked. The picture was so cool to see (just like it was from when we had the HSG). I do in fact have two small polyps right next to each other. One is 4mm and the other is 5mm. Relatively speaking, these are very small polyps.

Following my probing, we spoke with our doctor in her office. She has left the decision for removal up to us as there really isn't much research dealing with the success rate of pregnancy following removal of polyps that are so small. She said that most would consider removal only if they were 1 or 1.5 centimeters or larger. I asked her about how we would go about removing them. Prior to my appointment, she had said that it could happen either in the office or in the OR. After her challenging experience trying to get in my hoo haa just now, she said she would do it under full anesthesia in the OR so that all the possible tools needed would be accessible. She did recommend that if we are going to move forward with IVF that we would want to remove them in order to create the best possible scenario for pregnancy.

I am thinking that I'm all set with full anesthesia in the OR for tiny polyps that may not really be affecting anything, and my partner is totally behind that as well. And I don't think we're going to move forward with IVF. Our insurance does not cover any part of it. I did speak with the financial advisor at Dartmouth Hitchcock and she did prepare me by telling me to sit down. The procedure is $7500 and the drugs could be an additional $5 or $6000. Wholly shit fuck. For only a 50% chance of success, we've decided that we'll pass for now.

After saying this to our doctor, she asked us what our plan is for moving forward if we're not going to do IVF. We have been thinking about this a lot lately. A couple weeks ago, my mentality was that I could only handle two or three more IUI's before I would be completely tapped emotionally. Today, I think we could go on like this for a while more. Who's to say that there aren't lots of women who have small polyps and have had kids successfully (since there isn't much research...)? Obviously, there has to be an end to IUI's at some point (hopefully because I'm pregnant, duh). If that point comes we would consider adoption. For now, I am focusing on the positive. It's time to stop thinking like someone who is a part of an 'infertility department' at a 'hospital' and start thinking like a 'normal' lesbian :-) hehe...

The Fertility Mug is Broken

It's Monday and I'm sitting here, writing my blog and drinking coffee out of the fertility mug. I'm not so convinced that it's actually helping me get pregnant as much as it is a reminder of some of my closest friends who are so supportive.

A few months ago my partner and I went back home to western MA to celebrate our friend's surprise birthday. We had made plans with her partner to stay at their house that night so we didn't have to get a hotel room. It was so much fun to surprise her!

Later that night, we went back to their house to get settled in. There was one more present to open: a coffee mug for the birthday girl. This was no ordinary mug. The birthday girl has asked for a new, hand-made mug from her favorite potter. When she opened it up, I mentioned how much I liked it as well. And then my guest bedroom was calling....I have such a low tolerance for booze now that I barely drink anything at all....

The next morning as we were getting ready to go, both of our hosts approached me with a box. I knew the mug was in it. After asking why they were giving it to me, they said 'it can be your fertility mug,' and the name sort of stuck.

No matter how I've tried to think positive this week, as I tinkled on the stick and saw the results of IUI #10, I knew the outcome would be negative.  I've had cramps for days now. I found my phone and sent a text to the WMA girls.  'The fertility mug is broken.' But just as quickly as that text was sent, they replied with their super-supportive attitudes and comments. I wish so much (for both of our sakes) that we were physically closer to some of our friends back home. It's hard sometimes when we only have each other here. We are definitely due for a visit.

We now are going to do some additional testing to measure the size of the polyps and determine if they are in fact big enough to be hindering implantation. Once we have that information, we'll decide if we're going to remove them.

I think we'll remove them anyway. It seems to be the only logical thing that is keeping me from getting pregnant at this point.

Loser sperm: balls over brains

We decided to change sperm donors for our most recent attempt. This will be our 4th donor I think?? Lost count I guess. Well, let's go back, donor #1 was a chiropractor from California Cryobank, donor #2 was a rocket scientist (literally) also CC, donor #3 was the molecular biologist from Midwest Sperm Bank, and yes, donor #4 is also from Midwest.

One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is really not the same.

We'd been talking about changing donors for days. Finally, we were sitting on the couch watching TV at like 9:30 at night and she's like, 'hey, I thought we were going to change donors this time?'

'Yeah, get on the website and pick one.'

Literally two minutes later, 'okay buy this one.'

This was very quick for my partner, who is the one obsessed with the donor selection. When I asked what his deal was, she said, 'I think he's a loser. Maybe he has viable sperm.'

Donor #4 is officially our first non-advanced degree, science or math professional. I think he has a high school education and likes skateboarding. He might have red hair. Maybe he smokes a little weed. Not a lot of weed, that would be bad for sperm count. He's just relaxed and has no responsibilities! He sounds refreshing! Hopefully he's a little smart, somewhere, deep down inside. But hey, if I gave birth to the next Tony Hawk or Shawn White, that would be awesome too. I guess it's fine if the kid doesn't go to MIT on a scholarship.

'Okay, perfect.'

super sound...ultra un-sound

I am in love with March so far. I can't get over the weather. It is so freakin' nice! Today we were cruising around with the top down on the grape ape (she's our jeep wrangler, duh...we are a couple lesbians after all. You didn't think it was our camero did you?) soaking up the sun. We raked our yard, which is now currently the earliest we've ever been able to! I am feeling mentally well, emotionally fit, and physically happy. I am feeling sound for the first time in months.

Except for our ultrasound last Friday.

For the second time, we went in for an ultrasound to hunt down my little follicle eggies and see when I should trigger my ovulation with the Ovidrel injection. I wasn't really paying attention this time, sort of just chatting with the nurse while she quite literally 'probed' me with her probe. She mentioned some test, had I done it? I said no, I hadn't. The conversation continued.

Later that day when I got a voicemail from my doctor (not my nurse, red flag), I realized that the ultrasound lady saw something that morning (hence the reason she asked me about that test). The doctor said that there is a large cyst in my ovary that she was unsure of. Was it a follicle and not a cyst? Hard to tell. She sent me to get blood work to determine if it was in fact a huge ass egg. She also said there were two small polyps. All of this caught me off guard at the time. I don't really know much about either cysts or polyps. She said that we shouldn't hold off on our impending IUI, but that we should come in and discuss this with her. So, off I went to get stabbed again. Hard to believe I have any blood left at this point!

Blood work came back negative. Not an egg. The doctor had me wait until last night to do the Ovidrel. I am almost a pro now that I've injected myself twice. I joke and say that I could be a heroin addict now that I know how to do self-injections. My partner says I can't; we're too poor from all this non-baby-making to be doing heroin.

IUI #10 is tomorrow morning. As I sit here on the patio, enjoying the weather and catching a buzz off a single, fine, twisted tea, I think I'll be okay without the heroin.

Hard Days Night

Up until this point, I feel like I've been fairly optimistic about this whole process. Even though I get discouraged at times, I always jump back to being positive. The other day as I left work and headed to CVS to pick up my letrozole and ovidrel once again, something changed; my chest ached. I was disappointed, mad, frustrated. Why hasn't this worked? I was discouraged. Here we go again.

Wait, am I going to turn into that blogger? Crap.

We've been to 9 unsuccessful IUI's to date, but we've been officially at it for one year this month. We took two months off during the concussion phase, and then another month off when we switched doctors and did the HSG. I think it's really hitting home this month since it's been a year of it now.

My therapist says that I should embody the new spring season and be aware of all the reproduction and births happening around me in nature.  It's hard to do that when most of my outdoor time is spent speeding by nature on the highway; an hour and twenty minutes each way on a good day. I've been trying to look out my windshield and observe the trees...are they budding yet? But, it's getting dark by this point, and it seems to be distracting me from staying in my lane more than anything at this point.

As I pulled into the parking lot and went inside, I saw the same young guy behind the counter as always. He must always work the closing shift. He asked my name and got my prescriptions. As he put them down on the counter, he empathetically said 'still no luck?'

I paused, sort of questioning the fact that he was asking me such a personal question about the prescriptions I was picking up. Isn't that breaking some patient confidentiality law thingy?

'No, not yet.'

'My wife and I are trying to get pregnant too. She's taking Clomid, but I think we're going to do the trigger injections soon.' Now I understood.

'And how does she like the Clomid?'

'She hates it, horrible.'

'The letrozole is way better, no side effects at all. You guys should try it. How long have you been trying to get pregnant?'

'Six months. She just doesn't ovulate.' His face visibly sank. 'It's so hard.'

I agreed. He finished cashing me out (I was also picking up some very vogue nail polish I saw in some bridal magazine) and I said as cheerfully as possible, 'I hope I don't see you next month!' I wished him luck and went on my way.

He sort of changed my day with that short conversation. Here was this young man...I can only assume his wife is young as well...who saw me, a young woman, and just couldn't resist but to talk to somebody who would understand. I am so glad he broke whatever rules he broke. I don't even know his name, but I will be sure to stop in next month regardless and see how it's going.

Lesbians at the Ladies Luncheon

We tested on Saturday....not pregnant. Just before we tested, my partner was very tense. She would much rather that I don't tinkle on the stick and just wait for my period to either start or not. I was excited to test. How could I possibly wait any longer to know the outcome of our patience. One way or another I would be happy; either with baby in belly or with cocktail in hand.

It takes forever for that stupid flashing hour glass to change to words. We sat silently and waited. When 'not' showed up in front of 'pregnant', my heart sank and I went from optimistic to sad and frustrated pretty quick. My partner, on the other hand, switched from pessimistic to optimistic, lecturing me about how we'll get 'em next time, and it will happen when it happens. She even went as far as to say that if it never happened, it would be okay. The miniature martini that she made for me sat mostly full and was mostly dumped out at the end of the night. I did, however, enjoy the gin-soaked olives.

This emotional transition is typical. I am always smiling going into the bathroom, while my partner is freaking out. And then, we switch. I tried to explain to her that I would much rather she embrace her current emotion and be pissed off instead of going into 'we'll get 'em next time' mode. She thinks that she's protecting and supporting me by basically hiding her real emotions. When I finally get her to knock it off, she lets it rip. Frustration, anger, sadness. We agree on our emotions, finally.

Sunday we woke up to our typical routine of CBS news programing. Around noon, we finally decided that we should get ready to go to our neighborhood ladies gathering. After all, we were supposed to be bringing something, and that something had yet to be created.

As lesbians, being invited to a neighborhood ladies gathering is somewhat odd. Our neighbors across the street came over one day and handed us the invite. At that moment, I knew we had to go. We envisioned a group of red hat society women sitting around a lace-clad table with ornate china tea cups, and I had to know if this was the case.

Now it was about a quarter til the party was supposed to start. Still no snack to bring. Being the Betty Crocker lesbians we are, we decided to go to the store and get a block of cheese and a box of crackers.

I am so glad we went! It was not a group of ancient women. We met some really great people that live just a short walk away. One of them has a husband who is an adoption lawyer, which will come in handy since our original lawyer refuses to return my phone calls. I can see that this summer, we'll have fun hanging out with several of them.

Today, I'm back to being optimistic about our next round. But I haven't even started my period yet.

Shrunk down to size

Today is the day that my partner has been waiting for; the day I go to a psychologist and get all my emotional crap out on the table. It's going to be one of those days I think....following my appointment, I'm going for a pap smear. Great. More probing.

Originally, I was going to go for some counseling after Jack died. That was the frosting on my delicate cake (baby-making stress, concussion stress, work stress...). At the time, I chose not to talk about it here on my blog. I made the appointment and was rarin' to go, but had to cancel it (that was a couple months ago, the day we went in for the HSG). And now, I've finally decided that in fact I should reschedule the appointment and go. Life has caught up with me, and I need a little guidance.

My partner is very supportive. She truly is my rock. But she has trouble herself coping if I start to get a little panicked or worrisome. She has encouraged me to go and see a professional, even if I'm a little hesitant.

I have never thought that I would be that person who needs counseling. It's not how I was raised, it's not what I witnessed in any of my friends or their families. But what I've come to realize is that it doesn't make me a weaker person; it makes me real. No one talks about their struggles and getting help because everyone thinks that no one else can empathize with their situation. No one else has been there and everyone will judge you. It's a huge reason why I started this blog; there are many people who have been there, and we should share our experiences instead of hiding them. No one is going to put a giant red letter on me or anyone I care about no matter their experience.

Now, if only I had the balls to tell my mother I was going to a shrink.