Reconsidering #firstworldproblems

I woke up yesterday feeling emotionally blah. I got on the scale and felt heavy. I had to go back to work after being on break for a long stretch and really didn't feel like it. As I savored the last hours of vacation I let dishes and laundry accumulate so the house had a cluttered feel. I was annoyed about the probiotic suppositories that weren't fully dissolving. I was feeling sorry for myself as petty and annoying as my complaints were. After work I was mentally exhausted from being around people all day and just got in bed where I stayed the whole evening.

This morning I woke up assuming it was going to be the same kind of blah day as yesterday, at least until I get back to routine. As I do every morning, I did a cursory check around my social media feeds and saw that one of the people I follow broke up her engagement. I remember gasping because of how shocking and devastating that news is; just hours earlier she was talking about flower girl dresses and sharing sheva brachot outfits. For months she talked about how it took her a while to find someone but this guy was worth the wait. I'm so sad for her.

When I got to work I saw a post on fb that linked to an article of a rabbi suffering from ALS. As I read more and more I found his blog posts and his wife's blog posts about being the main caretaker to him and their children. The story is so incredibly heartbreaking: in 2013 he was diagnosed and over the next 18 months his mobility disintegrated so much that he is now confined to a bed on a ventilator using only his eyes to communicate. His beautiful warrior of a wife posts about the difficulties of surviving each day.

Just now I checked Instagram and saw a different food instagrammer I follow talk about today being the first birthday of the baby she lost in April. It's unclear what the cause was, but since he was barely twelve weeks old I assume it was SIDS. Heartbreaking.

Some people don't understand the connections made via blogs, social media, or other online venues. I've made some best friends, husband included, through the internet so it's not hard for me to sympathize when a blogger gets devastating news or an instagrammer shares a personal tragedy. Our strength as humans is the ability to empathize and strengthen each other as we each navigate our own journey.

I recognize that my #firstworldproblems of having to go back to work after a long break is spoiled and entitled; I know I'm incredibly lucky to not only have a job but also the opportunity to have the occasional break from said employment. It's not that I'm comparing my challenge to anyone else's but learning about others' struggle helps give perspective. I have each of these people in mind today, praying that whatever challenge they are facing is a slightly less heavy burden because they chose to reach out to the world and share it with those who care.

So instead of continuing to feel sorry for myself I decided it's up to me to take action on the things I can control. I did the dishes and a load of laundry. I started a new eating plan with a renewed effort at actual weight loss. I emailed my doctor for reassurance about the suppositories. There is so much beyond my control, but there are also things I can control and those are what I can focus my efforts on in the coming year.

Ok, Universe. We get it.

It's funny to think that anything is within our control.

I was stressing about the first earliest baseline appointment, trying to plan a cushion to the things I know may delay us (i.e., insurance). I didn't factor in that in this shitty world of fertility treatment, another maddening perk of being on the failure merry-go-round is having all of your tests expire yearly.

I have to redo day-3 blood work. Both of us need to repeat infectious disease blood work. I need to have another mock transfer between days 5-12. All this unmedicated, leaving a logistical nida nightmare. It was suggested to wait until new insurance is verified, so this can't even happen in the January cycle. Which means the earliest baseline we're looking at is mid-Feb, base-case scenario and no other delays.

This news frustrated me so much. Shortly after, I heard the news that our rabbi passed away. He was in his early 90s and his health declined sharply in recent months, but it was still sudden and unexpected. It was the trigger that got the tears flowing. They weren't far from the surface anyway.

What I'm hearing is that the universe is telling me to work on my patience. There's no point in even trying to rush anything because whatever is supposed to happen will happen. This acceptance is like a tidal wave of relief. 

Just be. Live in the moment. Whatever will happen will happen.

Raw and emotional

Everything seems to be a trigger, like the mundane things people take for granted. The fb fall family photoshoots are a big trigger for me, to the point that I had to take a fb break.

I cry when I think of how great the numbers were and how suddenly and abruptly it ended. We couldn't do anything to save our baby.

It was lightly raining all day and at one point I noticed that the pre-school nearby took the kids out on a walk in their raincoats and rainboots. They were splashing in the puddles outside my office window and just being adorable enjoying themselves in the rain. It took all I had not to fall apart in a pool of tears right then and there.

I totally thought that the ERA was the silver bullet. When we got those results I thought we finally had an answer. Three FETs were gone but at least we had a solution - we learned that the transfer day was wrong and I thought it was the answer. It may have been the answer to one issue: implantation. We passed that phase because we got great numbers. It was keeping the pregnancy going that became the issue.

I've read online that people treat repeated miscarriages with meds like prednisone and lovonox. I don't know much about these meds other than the fact that it's an anti-inflammatory and a blood thinner. Is my body rejecting the embryo? Definitely something to ask the doc at the wtf appointment. I scheduled it for week after next when my husband has off and can come with me.

I started taking calls again. Earlier in the week when family or friends heard the news and called I let it go to voicemail. I just couldn't. I was ashamed and disappointed that I didn't have better news to chat about. But I appreciate the calls and it helps to talk to people, even if they do most of the talking because I can't through the silent sobs.

The stats talk about how there's an 85% chance of a live birth for every three transfers. We're at 0% for four transfers. It's all the more painful because we don't know WHY. We can't pinpoint a problem so we can't work to fix it.

I know He has a plan. I know that whatever is supposed to happen will happen in the right time. But it's hard to accept a plan that includes this much pain. It's difficult to hold on to hope when I feel like we're being punished, over and over. It gets so much harder after every loss.

Lost

Spent most of the evening crying on my husband's shoulder. It's the tough times that show a person's true colors and he's been nothing short of amazing.

I tried to think of next steps but I just couldn't. It's too overwhelming. What guarantee do I have it will ever work? What if I choose to walk away now? Four IVFs. Four FETs. Countless medications and shots. For what? What do we have to show for it? We're back at square one.

I'm tired. We've been at this so aggressively for nearly 18 months with back to back procedures and failed attempts. I'm tired of the failures. I'm tired of the crushing heartbreak.

Even as recently as June 2016 I was less jaded, having "only" had two failed FETs, before the chemical pregnancies started.

In the past six months I've gotten daily PIOs in my butt, painful and bruising intermuscular shots. Two ERA biopsies chomping on my uterine lining to get some answers. We've had two pregnancies confirmed, only to have them end abruptly shortly after.

And what now? We did everything we could and it still isn't working.

My doctor doesn't seem to have any reason to change protocols. While the clinic has been professional and responsive, I'm done with their sterile factory environment. I'm just done.

I don't know what comes next. Do we do another IVF to collect more embryos? We've had mixed success with those in the past. It's expensive and painful. But what's the alternative?

We have one healthy embryo left. Do we transfer? Do we save it and try to get more? What can we change, if anything? I don't think they've created a test yet to tell me why I got pregnant and had great numbers but that the pregnancy spontaneously failed.

I don't know. 

I don't feel supported by the doctor. I don't have the tools to figure it out on my own. I don't have a direction to move in. I can't see with blurry vision through the tears. I can't see past the darkness yet.

Sad

So, so sad.

It breaks my heart to see my husband depressed. He shared the news with his parents last night and couldn't explain why the pregnancy didn't take. The question everybody wants to know is,"Why?" and we just don't have an answer.

It doesn't seem to be getting any easier as the days go by. Especially knowing a period from hell is on its way. I feel like there's a weight on my shoulders and on my heart. It's possible that things seem more bleak now than in previous transfers because we know this transfer progressed to a pregnancy as opposed to just a failed transfer with a negative beta.

I know things will get better. I know we will try again and maybe we'll have success. One day all this may be but a distant memory. But in the meantime we're still living through it. It's still fresh and the heartbreak feels unbearable.

We had an uneventful weekend at home with family and friends visiting. At times we just wanted to be sad and cry but felt the need to put on a brave face for company. No one would have judged us, of course; no one expects us to put on a brave face for them. It was nice to be checked in on and kept distracted and busy. I don't believe it's healthy to wallow.

I started reading Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes. She talks about overcoming fears and purposely going for them even when it's scary. To me, it's scary to think that this isn't the last time this might happen but what's the alternative? Not to try again?

We went into the transfer knowing that failure was a possibility, and braced for the worst news and the heartbreak that comes with it. But when we got the positive result at the first beta, it was such joy, such happiness.

It was a glimpse into the possibilities of the future which gives us just enough hope to keep trying.

Beta #2

It's over. Beta this morning was 10.8. We are beyond devastated. My heart hurts.

I thought I cried enough yesterday so that when I'd get the news I'd be ok, but no. I can't stop crying. I left work at lunch for some fresh air and texted my supervisor that I have a migraine and I'm not coming back for the day.

Traffic was insane this morning. There was an accident on I-695 and only one lane was squeezing by, resulting in complete gridlock during morning rush hour. I sat in 5 mph traffic for 30 min before turning on Waze and getting an alternate route taking the back roads. I got to my appointment half an hour late and the tech drawing my blood said she was stuck in the same accident over an hour earlier.

When I got the results call it went to voicemail because I have no reception in my office. I read the transcript from Google voice and gathered my things to go out for some air. I know I was expecting it, but it just goes to show how much I was holding on to hope that it was as devastating to hear as it is. We were in! We were pregnant! All it had to do was hold on another 8 months. Why? Why??

I called the doctor back to ask some questions and tried to hold myself together so that I don't sob on the phone. After a long wait, he comes on. He repeats the news. I tried asking a few questions and he said he's not in his office, he's in the hallway between patients because things are hectic. I asked whether the protocol needs to be changed or if there is something we should be doing different after three failed FETs. He tried answering my questions from memory and kept getting information wrong (like asking if I had a RPL workup -- what? no! this was the first one that stuck!). He said that he's crazy right now with one doc on vacation, another doc had an accident hurting her foot, and the major accident from this morning was still an active scene making the entire schedule insane with patients coming in late for their appointments.

At that point I lost my shit. Between sobs, I basically said that I appreciate he's in a tough situation but that this is a very hard time for me and I deserve his attention too. He tried explaining that he will call back when he's at his desk but since he's not at his office right now he might forget and if that happens I should call back. WHHHATTTT??? What kind of care is that?! It made me so upset. I could be being unreasonable, I don't know. It just seems like when you're dealing with hormonally charged women and sensitive news like this you don't just dismiss them.

Not only is the treatment not working but the doctor doesn't seem to care at all. He's like, "Well do you have anything else left in there?" Because I need to remind him. I told him we have two more in the freezer and his reaction was that we should just keep transferring until one sticks. That's it? No changing the protocol? No looking into what went wrong and what we can possibly change? No checking dosage or looking more closely if what we're doing is the right thing? Clearly what you're doing now ISN'T WORKING!!!!!!

I tried not hanging up on him, because even with all this I know I still need the clinic. I said fine, goodbye and hung up. Now I'm home sobbing and trying to understand what I did wrong to deserve this.