little stars

Please little stars, hang tight...

transfer

The embryologist phoned to tell us our four have become two. One was an immature egg, one didn't play nicely with Significant Other's swimmers and so we have two to work with.

Because of the low numbers, to give us the best chance, they have done something called "assisted hatching" - I don't understand fully the technicalities of it but it's something to do with a laser, the zona pellucida and a risk of a multiple pregnancy (ha!)

Anyway, so far I am going in tomorrow morning for transfer. Apparently both embryos (embryos? fertilized eggs? our children?) have a 95% chance of making it through tonight and, if they do, they will be placed safely inside me on what would have been Starchild's first birthday.

and the number is...

....drumroll please...


4.

Four. Okay, I know, that is 4 times better than nothing, which is what I thought would happen but still - when the clinic's average is 10 per patient, 4 is a little disheartening.

Still, until the embryologist calls later today and tells us otherwise (you see that Eyeore mode has been engaged!), we have 4 little tiny pieces of us somewhere in a petri dish in central London.

update

But first a big thank you to everyone who left such supportive comments on my last post. While this journey is so hard and we wouldn't wish it on anyone, it's so comforting to know that we're not alone, that there is this whole community out there knowing what we're individually going through, and being so supportive.

So I was scanned again on Tuesday and there was another decent-sized follicle (on my "lazy" right ovary) and a couple more on the left which the doctor thought may show potential. So, we are on for retrieval tomorrow. I can't believe that we have actually made it this far! It seemed so hopeless just a day ago. Digits crossed for a good haul!

hope

Another IF and loss irony - hope.

Because if this whole process isn't the epitome of hoping, I'm not sure what is.

We all go through this with the hope that the drugs will work, that they will make our ovaries produce follicles to produce eggs or that the drugs will help our DHs' swimmers go forth and multiply or that they will synch our cycles with our donor's cycle.

We hope that we have enough eggs, enough fertilize, make it to blastocysts, have some for frosties, transfer well.

We hope that our precious embryos settle in and hang on, hang in, hang tight.

We hope for that elusive, that longed-for, that wanted-so-much second line.

We hope to see a heartbeat, and that we will see it over and over again for 9 months until we have that living, breathing, beautiful, so so SO loved already bundle of hope cradled in our arms.

We hope never, ever, ever to go through what we have all gone through, what we are still going through again.

The whole journey / quest / trek / battle is from the very beginning wrapped up in hope.

So how come it's the first casualty? How does it drain away so quickly and yet be the one thing that carries us on to the next scan or the next blood test or the next injection?

Here I am, with 2 decent follicles after 10 days of stims, now on 2 injections of Cetr0tide a day instead of 1 in the hope of producing something to work with. Another scan and more bloods tomorrow as Dr Kind Eyes today said he "hopes this will stimulate better".

Me? I'm doing as I'm told but I've run out of hope.

still undecided

A scan at the rudely early time of 9.00 on a Sunday morning showed 5 average to a bit better than average follicles on the left and 3 teeny, tiny follicles on the right.
"Your right side is very lazy, Illanare," Hawkeye scolded as he waved the wand. I felt fleetingly responsible for my right ovary's sloth, which I told myself was stupid. But then I felt proud of left ovary's achievements which, funnily enough, I didn't take myself to task for...

Anyway, blood results from yesterday showed an E2 level in the four thousands (I think, Hawkeye mumbles on the phone rather) and I am going in for another scan in an hour. I've been promised a decision today, so fingers and toes are still being kept crossed...

jury still out

Friday's scan showed a microscopic follicle on the right, and five less-than-ideal on the left. So another scan tomorrow for a final decision whether to go for IVF or a slightly less satisfactory IUI. I know that IUI is better than nothing but still - hoping, hoping, hoping...

And I have a cold. I hate having colds - I very rarely get them and they make me disproportionatly fractious. Which is probably why I'm a bit miffed that Significant Other is out this evening at a dinner party hosted by his ex girlfriend. Still, I have a fluffy blanket, low-impact Saturday night TV and a purring cat to keep me company so it's really not all that bad :-)

Eey0re

I am very much afraid that the scan and blood test tomorrow will show I have had a poor response to the stims and that this cycle will be cancelled.

I know that I am a total IVF novice, but shouldn't I be able to feel something happening by now? I started stims on Saturday and have been on the increased dose of Men0pur since Tuesday and I feel no different. No bloating, no mood changes, no discomfort. The only effects (apart from itching and redness at the injection site immediately after the Cetr0tide) have been stomach upset - but that is because I started d0xycycline last night and antibiotics and I have issues. Oh and I have a (mild) cold.

I suppose I'm extra edgy because I didn't ovulate at all on my last round of Cl0mid and the final IUI cycle was abandoned.

And I suppose that infertility and loss makes second-guessers of us all.

Still, I am grateful that my scan appointment is in the morning and that by this time tomorrow I will have some kind of idea of what happens next.

Stims Day 5 in the BFN House...

...and Illanare is feeling disappointed.

Had my first monitoring scan and bloods yesterday, the sonographer could tell straight away that my ovaries weren't playing nicely. And the E2 results came back at 784 so I am now on 225iu of Men0pur instead of 150. Current cocktail is 225iu Men0pur, 225iu G0nal F, 0.25mg Cetr0tide, 100mg Cl0mid and, starting this evening, 100mg d0xycycline. Next scan on Friday, pretty please, ovaries, start responding!

injections

We did it! Or rather - Significant Other did it. First injections done this evening: the mix-it-yourself Men0pur and the handy pen G0nal-F.

And it didn't hurt a bit. Okay, the Men0pur stung just a teeny bit as the needle went in, but we did that one first. The G0nal-F? Didn't feel a thing.

Significant Other was awesome!

worries

It's been another difficult week for Significant Other. He has been unravelling at the seams at the prospect of the upcoming IVF. He seems fine most of the time, and then late in the evenings things start to go pear-shaped.

I try to talk to him about it but Significant Other is a very, very private person and talking things through is not his forte, in fact it makes things worse as he starts to hyperventilate at the mere thought of having a conversation about anything serious. But a few times this week, mainly about mid-night, he has been able to tell me some of his fears.

They mainly seem to be worry about what will happen if I get pregnant. Yes, if I DO get pregnant. I don't blame him, as he said in the wee smalls of Thursday morning, he's been through 2 pregnancies with bad results and that is a 100% failure rate.

I have asked the big question: do you want to go through with this or shall we stop now? And his answer has been each time that yes, he does want to have IVF, he does want to give this a go even if it's just this one time.

And then, that said, he turns over and falls asleep, not waking until his alarm goes off, while I am left wide awake and staring at the ceiling until I fall into a fitful doze at 3.00am.

I don't know how to help him. I can't promise him that this time it will be different and I will have a healthy pregnancy and present him with a healthy baby at the end of the alloted time. I wish that I could promise him that, don't we all wish that we could make this exact promise to our partners and to ourselves, with every confidence of being able to keep it? But that is yet another irony of loss and infertility - seeing that longed-for extra line isn't the end-point, it's the start of a whole different type of heart-wrenching waiting.

So, I don't know what to do. All I know is that I have to try and keep as much stress and worry away from Significant Other as possible. I need to try and stay upbeat and positive and give him all the support that I can. And hope that I can keep a lid on any hormone-induced mood swings and make home a calm place to be.

My period came yesterday and today I had a session with the wand (no cysts, lovely lining, all systems go!) and then we had an injection lesson. Significant Other took copious notes and watched the nurse's every movement carefully. He is adamant that he will give me the injections and I have every confidence in him.

And here we are, dear interwebs. I'm no longer blessed with faith so I don't pray, but if I did I would ask if I could please have the strength to help Significant Other through the next couple of weeks. That rest can come later. Thank you.

11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month

slapstick

A few years ago I was in very early to work and, being the only one around, I allowed myself to sing along to my MP3 player.

Well, I say "sing", it was rather less tuneful than that. Anyway, I droned along as I sorted paper on my desk and added the odd interpretive dance move for good measure. And then I turned and saw Professor Brainiac leaning against the doorframe for support as he shook with laughter, tears streaming down his face.

Because I wasn't just singing tunelessly and dancing. No, I was singing "Isl@nds in the Stream". And if this wasn't quite naff enough, I was singing Dolly's part with my version of a Southern accent.

I learnt my lesson and have never burst into song or busted a move in the office since.

And then this morning I was once again the only person in at 7.30 and history repeated itself, only this time it was Dr Old-School who was observing the show. And I wasn't singing, I was playing air drums to this song and not doing as good a job as the drummer in this clip...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8gvIscsMkg

box of tricks

Lor' love a duck, it's huge...

This is what £1163 buys you...


Hmm, what tasty supper treat can I make with hummus, a dried-up lemon, some G0nal-F and healthy dollop of Pregny.l...?

stormy weather

Thank you so much to those who commented on my last post, wishing me luck and giving me encouragement. I am a lot calmer now, thanks in no small part to those good wishes.

But it has been quite a week since that last post. I was recommended an online pharmacy by a friend who has already used them for IVF drugs. They are £700 cheaper than our clinic, and throw in extra needles, swabs, plasters and a sharps bin in for free. But a national postal strike meant that we had to have the prescription sent by courier and somehow, that small extra step threw poor Significant Other into a bit of a tailspin.

Suddenly it was of the utmost importance that he book himself into several work meetings and conferences that would take him out of London, the first starting on what looks likely to be the first day of injections and one, rather more worryingly, taking him to the other end of the country on what may potentially be retrieval day. I took a deep breath and agreed that of course he should go to all of the meetings, including the one that would keep him away for a week around and after potential transfer day BUT it was pretty important that he was in London for the day of collection. I think that my calm response calmed him a little, as he admitted that none of the meetings were mandatory and so of course he will wait until we know for sure before he books himself into the one which we think will fall on collection day.

Peace reigned for a day or so and then another wave of panic washed over him, this time about what would we do if I got pregnant and we lost the baby again. I wasn't able to answer this one any better than to say cope the best we can. That's the only thing to do, isn't it? It's what we've been doing after Starchild and Bean died, some days better than others, but coping nonetheless.

But the waves of panic kept rolling and this time washed him - and so me - on the shores of "and what if the IVF fails?" But this question Significant Other sort of answered himself (though I hope against hope that he didn't mean what it seems like he meant). He wants children so desperately. And he can have them, the problem here is mine and not his. He has super swimmers - billions of them, apparently, and all of Olympic gold standard. And he said that he wasn't sure if he could envision a life without children and for him, adopting is not an option.

So...

So...? I don't know. I don't know what is going to happen, and I can't really think about it right now or it all gets too overwhelming.

All I can do is to break everything down into bite-sized chunks and the mouthful for today is waiting in for the courier company to deliver the drugs.