The past week has been pretty miserable on the IF treatment front. About 3 hours after my IUI on Friday last week, I started having really horrible cramps. Take your breath away, bring tears to your eyes kind of cramps. I thought that maybe it was just from the IUI and so I powered through with Tylenol and deep breathing. Sat and Sun I felt sick to my stomach and had a very full feeling in my lower abdomen. Monday morning, I woke up to extreme pain in my lower abdomen. Now, I'm not going to say that I have a 'high tolerance to pain' BUT I am sure that I have at least an average tolerance. I give myself injections, I get blood drawn often, I tolerate the IUIs, which aren't painless...so I think that I can handle an average amount of pain. The pain that I woke up with was probably a 9 or 10 on the pain scale. I was doubled-over in tears and trying not to throw up. It only lasted about 30 to 45 minutes, but then it continued at maybe a 7 for several more hours. As soon as the REs office was open, I called and left a message. I couldn't believe that this kind of pain was normal and I needed some reassurance.
The nurse at the REs office called me back and said 'Your ovaries are angry right now'. Apparently, my ovaries have become sentient beings which are seeking revenge for the thousands of units of follicle stimulating hormone that they have been stimulated with. I'm not sure exactly what they're doing in there, but it freaking hurts! She also said that I likely have some degree of hyperstimulation which is why I have the full feeling.
I had a similar episode of pain on Tuesday, but Wed and today have been fine. I am really hoping that the pain is gone for good. I still have a full feeling and if I try to stretch out, I get sharp pain. I really hope that everything is ok in there and it will be worth it in the end.
I have my progesterone check tomorrow and I am nervous that I will be disappointed. I always think it's going to be higher than it ends up being. I'm also supposed to booster the trigger shot, but given the pain that I've had, I may hold off. I think I'll let the progesterone level determine that.
Sorry for the wall of text. I haven't been updating much and then there is a bunch to say at once. I'll update with the progesterone as soon as I can. <3
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Funny thing happened at the RE's office...
I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a bit. Things have been crazy and I honestly expected to still be stimming like I was last cycle. But I'm not!! I triggered on Wed last week and did an IUI on Friday. I can't believe that I only had to stim for 11 days this cycle and I responded a lot better this time. In fact, I responded to the point where I have mild OHSS and I am in a fair amount of pain :( It sucks, but I am drinking my Gatorade and hoping for the best.
I did have a couple of interesting/funny things happen at my appointments that I have been meaning to share.
The practice I go to has 4 REs. Over the past year I have had all of them for at least one appointment. The REs do all of the monitoring and IUIs, so if my regular doc is out, I get whoever is available. I love my doctor, we'll call him Dr. Cof, because he always says 'come on follicles!'. There are 2 other male doctors who I like ok. They are pleasant enough. And then there is Dr. Lynch (I'll explain why I call her that in a moment).
Dr. Lynch may be bipolar, I'm not really sure. The first time I had her, she was really nice. She was doing my IUI and she introduced herself with confidence, explained that she had loads of experience and would take good care of me. Then she spent a good 10 minutes trying to get the speculum in my hoo-ha and apologizing for having such a hard time. The next time I had her for a monitoring appointment, she was a total b*tch. I don't know who shit in her Cheerios, but I assure you it wasn't me. She was short with Tim and snarky with me and I just wanted to get out of that exam room as quickly as possible.
This cycle, my RE was out of town for the first 9 or 10 days so I had to have Dr. Lynch do my monitoring. Now the odd thing about Dr. Lynch is that she doesn't look under the paper drape when she goes to put in the u/s probe. She just kind of jabs it in there and hopes that it ends up in the right place. I had a monitoring appointment on a Tuesday and she managed to blindly get the probe in with only minor difficulty. This particular brand of difficulty, I might add, generally results in some painful urination in the days to follow. I went back in 3 days later dreading my appointment with Dr. Lynch. Which Dr. Lynch would we get? Would she be nice, confident Dr. Lynch or would she be snarky b*tch Dr. Lynch?? Fortunately, we got the nice Dr. Lynch, UNFORTUNATELY, we got the blind, Dr. Lynch who has no grasp on female anatomy. So here I am, feet in stirrups, waiting for the dreaded dildo-cam. Dr. Lynch blindly jabs the probe in the general vicinity of my nether region only to land squarely on my perineum. Ok, I came here for an ultrasound, not to get my salad tossed lady, WTF are you doing? I tried to scoot my butt down to help guide her in the right direction, but NO, she keeps jabbing me and getting dangerously close to an opening which is clearly marked as exit only. I put my hand up and told her that she wasn't even close to the target. Her response "I didn't have any trouble doing this on Tuesday" UMMM OK? I'm pretty sure that my anatomy has not changed drastically in the last 3 days so don't look at me like your ineptitude is my fault. Shockingly, once she actually looked under the drape, she found her target pretty quickly.
So, for those of you who haven't caught on to why I call her Dr. Lynch, rent the movie Knocked Up, watch the scene where Jane Lynch plays an OB/Gyn-all will be clear. (I tried to find a clip for you, but no such luck)
At the risk of droning on too long,I'll share one more funny story from this cycle. Dr. Cof was back in time for my IUI (thank GOD). He is a funny, kinda dorky guy who is really personable and talks all the time while he's doing stuff which I love. Tim comes with me to all of my appointments and this one was no exception. We were waiting in the room when Dr. Cof came in and confirmed that the 'sample' that was going to be making a long trip down a warm path was indeed Tim's. Then Dr. Cof asked Tim if he could move the lamp that was next to my bed down towards my feet so that he could see. I made a comment like 'I'm thinking you might need that' and he said 'we call that war-zone medicine when we try to do procedures without proper lighting'.... I couldn't resist, it just came out... I said 'Down in the trenches huh?' Dr. Cof turned bright red and held his hands up, laughed loudly and said 'Let the record show, you took it THERE I didn't' LOL I<3 Dr. Cof! LOL
I did have a couple of interesting/funny things happen at my appointments that I have been meaning to share.
The practice I go to has 4 REs. Over the past year I have had all of them for at least one appointment. The REs do all of the monitoring and IUIs, so if my regular doc is out, I get whoever is available. I love my doctor, we'll call him Dr. Cof, because he always says 'come on follicles!'. There are 2 other male doctors who I like ok. They are pleasant enough. And then there is Dr. Lynch (I'll explain why I call her that in a moment).
Dr. Lynch may be bipolar, I'm not really sure. The first time I had her, she was really nice. She was doing my IUI and she introduced herself with confidence, explained that she had loads of experience and would take good care of me. Then she spent a good 10 minutes trying to get the speculum in my hoo-ha and apologizing for having such a hard time. The next time I had her for a monitoring appointment, she was a total b*tch. I don't know who shit in her Cheerios, but I assure you it wasn't me. She was short with Tim and snarky with me and I just wanted to get out of that exam room as quickly as possible.
This cycle, my RE was out of town for the first 9 or 10 days so I had to have Dr. Lynch do my monitoring. Now the odd thing about Dr. Lynch is that she doesn't look under the paper drape when she goes to put in the u/s probe. She just kind of jabs it in there and hopes that it ends up in the right place. I had a monitoring appointment on a Tuesday and she managed to blindly get the probe in with only minor difficulty. This particular brand of difficulty, I might add, generally results in some painful urination in the days to follow. I went back in 3 days later dreading my appointment with Dr. Lynch. Which Dr. Lynch would we get? Would she be nice, confident Dr. Lynch or would she be snarky b*tch Dr. Lynch?? Fortunately, we got the nice Dr. Lynch, UNFORTUNATELY, we got the blind, Dr. Lynch who has no grasp on female anatomy. So here I am, feet in stirrups, waiting for the dreaded dildo-cam. Dr. Lynch blindly jabs the probe in the general vicinity of my nether region only to land squarely on my perineum. Ok, I came here for an ultrasound, not to get my salad tossed lady, WTF are you doing? I tried to scoot my butt down to help guide her in the right direction, but NO, she keeps jabbing me and getting dangerously close to an opening which is clearly marked as exit only. I put my hand up and told her that she wasn't even close to the target. Her response "I didn't have any trouble doing this on Tuesday" UMMM OK? I'm pretty sure that my anatomy has not changed drastically in the last 3 days so don't look at me like your ineptitude is my fault. Shockingly, once she actually looked under the drape, she found her target pretty quickly.
So, for those of you who haven't caught on to why I call her Dr. Lynch, rent the movie Knocked Up, watch the scene where Jane Lynch plays an OB/Gyn-all will be clear. (I tried to find a clip for you, but no such luck)
At the risk of droning on too long,I'll share one more funny story from this cycle. Dr. Cof was back in time for my IUI (thank GOD). He is a funny, kinda dorky guy who is really personable and talks all the time while he's doing stuff which I love. Tim comes with me to all of my appointments and this one was no exception. We were waiting in the room when Dr. Cof came in and confirmed that the 'sample' that was going to be making a long trip down a warm path was indeed Tim's. Then Dr. Cof asked Tim if he could move the lamp that was next to my bed down towards my feet so that he could see. I made a comment like 'I'm thinking you might need that' and he said 'we call that war-zone medicine when we try to do procedures without proper lighting'.... I couldn't resist, it just came out... I said 'Down in the trenches huh?' Dr. Cof turned bright red and held his hands up, laughed loudly and said 'Let the record show, you took it THERE I didn't' LOL I<3 Dr. Cof! LOL
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Moving on
So last cycle was a bust. AF showed up on Thursday and I have been miserable and crampy ever since.
I got to have yet another new experience in the wonderful world of infertility. My RE doesn't do baseline appointments on oral meds but he does them on injectable cycles, so I got to go in and get an ultrasound on CD1. That was not fun at all. I got the all-clear, meds arrived this morning and we are ready to start injects tonight.
Here we go again...
I got to have yet another new experience in the wonderful world of infertility. My RE doesn't do baseline appointments on oral meds but he does them on injectable cycles, so I got to go in and get an ultrasound on CD1. That was not fun at all. I got the all-clear, meds arrived this morning and we are ready to start injects tonight.
Here we go again...
Friday, February 11, 2011
More reasons to fear the ocean
So after my post last week about St. Kitts, I got to thinking about some other experiences that might explain my fear of the ocean. (like I need more, right?) One experience sticks out in my mind...
Picture it, Lake Pontchartrain in Louisiana, 1984. I was born in Louisiana and I was about 6 years old in 1984. My parents had a sailboat and we would go out in the lake as much as possible when I was growing up. I loved being on the water. I would often fall asleep to the rocking of the waves and it was so relaxing to be out there with no motor, just the wind in the sails and the sun on your face. Speaking of sun, you can imagine Louisiana in the summer gets pretty hot and muggy and my older brother and I would get cranky if we didn't have a way to cool off. So, to combat our overheated crank, my parents would put life jackets on us, tie ropes to our waist and let us swim in the lake behind the drifting boat. The jib was probably left up so the boat would move a bit, but we were tied on, so no worries right??
Well, for those who don't know, there are sharks in Lake Pontchartrain. I shit you not. Sharks. And don't go telling me that it's fresh water, because it's not pure freshwater, it's brackish water, meaning kinda salty...enough salt that a giant bull shark to live in. And it's not actually a lake, it's an estuary, meaning directly connects to the ocean...so a giant shark can get to it.
My dad told us that there might be sharks in the water and that if we saw one we should swim calmly back to the boat. Since we were like 6 and 9 years old, we blindly trusted our parents and knew that they would never put us in harms way. Unfortunately, my Aunt Carol who was 16 in 1984 was visiting us from Ohio and she didn't have the same blind trust we did.
One day, we all went out sailing and of course, it got hot. I didn't swim for long, I just got in, cooled off and got out. My brother and Aunt Carol swam for awhile longer than me and Carol was clearly having an internal struggle. She was trying to decide between death by shark and death by heatstroke. She must have decided that shark would be quicker and maybe less likely so she stayed out with my brother in the water for awhile.
Suddenly, Carol turns white as a ghost and starts screaming Shark!! SHARK SHARK SHARK!!!!!! My dad looks scared and pulls on the ropes holding Carol and my brother, because really, when you think about it, two kids tied to the back of a boat in shark infested waters isn't really swimming, IT'S TROLLING!
Carol is flailing wildly in the water while my parents look around for the shark. While Carol loses her shit, my brother begins to very slowly and cautiously swim back to the boat. Not a moment of panic on his face, just concentration on being inconspicuous and likely hoping that the shark will be more attracted to the helpless flailing of my aunt.
After reeling Carol in, it became apparent that there was no shark. The string from her life jacket brushed against her leg and she perceived this as a shark swim-by.
After that, I was reluctant to get back in Lake Pontchartrain. That fear even carried over to Lake Erie when we moved to Ohio. I mean really, I was 8 at that point and no one was going to tell me that the lake in Louisiana had sharks but somehow the lake in Ohio didn't. Who would believe that? I really thought my dad was lying to keep me from being scared.
Picture it, Lake Pontchartrain in Louisiana, 1984. I was born in Louisiana and I was about 6 years old in 1984. My parents had a sailboat and we would go out in the lake as much as possible when I was growing up. I loved being on the water. I would often fall asleep to the rocking of the waves and it was so relaxing to be out there with no motor, just the wind in the sails and the sun on your face. Speaking of sun, you can imagine Louisiana in the summer gets pretty hot and muggy and my older brother and I would get cranky if we didn't have a way to cool off. So, to combat our overheated crank, my parents would put life jackets on us, tie ropes to our waist and let us swim in the lake behind the drifting boat. The jib was probably left up so the boat would move a bit, but we were tied on, so no worries right??
Well, for those who don't know, there are sharks in Lake Pontchartrain. I shit you not. Sharks. And don't go telling me that it's fresh water, because it's not pure freshwater, it's brackish water, meaning kinda salty...enough salt that a giant bull shark to live in. And it's not actually a lake, it's an estuary, meaning directly connects to the ocean...so a giant shark can get to it.
My dad told us that there might be sharks in the water and that if we saw one we should swim calmly back to the boat. Since we were like 6 and 9 years old, we blindly trusted our parents and knew that they would never put us in harms way. Unfortunately, my Aunt Carol who was 16 in 1984 was visiting us from Ohio and she didn't have the same blind trust we did.
One day, we all went out sailing and of course, it got hot. I didn't swim for long, I just got in, cooled off and got out. My brother and Aunt Carol swam for awhile longer than me and Carol was clearly having an internal struggle. She was trying to decide between death by shark and death by heatstroke. She must have decided that shark would be quicker and maybe less likely so she stayed out with my brother in the water for awhile.
Suddenly, Carol turns white as a ghost and starts screaming Shark!! SHARK SHARK SHARK!!!!!! My dad looks scared and pulls on the ropes holding Carol and my brother, because really, when you think about it, two kids tied to the back of a boat in shark infested waters isn't really swimming, IT'S TROLLING!
Carol is flailing wildly in the water while my parents look around for the shark. While Carol loses her shit, my brother begins to very slowly and cautiously swim back to the boat. Not a moment of panic on his face, just concentration on being inconspicuous and likely hoping that the shark will be more attracted to the helpless flailing of my aunt.
After reeling Carol in, it became apparent that there was no shark. The string from her life jacket brushed against her leg and she perceived this as a shark swim-by.
After that, I was reluctant to get back in Lake Pontchartrain. That fear even carried over to Lake Erie when we moved to Ohio. I mean really, I was 8 at that point and no one was going to tell me that the lake in Louisiana had sharks but somehow the lake in Ohio didn't. Who would believe that? I really thought my dad was lying to keep me from being scared.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
My blog title
Hoping for a Chance.
When I decided to start this blog, I wanted to be all creative and witty, but the reality is, I'm not really either of those things. Well, I'm occasionally witty and some might even say quick-witted, but not really creative AT ALL. I can't draw I can't write fiction and when I dream, it tends to be about stuff I've seen or done. I don't pull things out of thin air. So, I needed a title for my blog, a real attention-grabber that would pique the reader's interest and lure them into reading about my boring life. Unfortunately, I'm just not creative enough to come up with something original. So I went with words that I felt described my TTC situation at the time.
Hoping for a Chance.
When I think about our journey and what Tim and I have been trying to achieve for the past 2+ years, hoping for a chance really does sum it up. Of course I want to get pregnant, carry to term, have a blissfully pain-free labor and give birth to the most amazing child ever born who will go on to end world hunger and cure the common cold (cause I'll have already cured cancer, of course), but really, my number one objective is the Chance. I want the Chance to get pregnant. The rest are things that cannot be guaranteed by anyone (particularly the pain-free labor). I really just want the same Chance as anyone else. I want to ovulate, put sperm in the same zip code as egg and let the magic happen.
I really don't think that I'm asking for very much. I want the same chance that 7 out of 8 couples manage to have for free. And I'm willing to pay for that chance, endure painful procedures for that chance and even remove sex from baby-making for that chance, I really don't think that's too much to ask.
So what brought up this depressing post? My 7dpo progesterone level was drawn yesterday and it's only 7.5. Generally doctors want to see the 7dpo progesterone at 10 or even 15 or more on medicated cycles to verify that a normal ovulation has occurred. This is not good news. There is a distinct possibility that I didn't ovulate this month or that I ovulated an immature follicle that likely cannot be fertilized. My Chance at pregnancy this month is now significantly below-average. After all of the injections and cost and monitoring, I am still just hoping for that chance to come.
When I decided to start this blog, I wanted to be all creative and witty, but the reality is, I'm not really either of those things. Well, I'm occasionally witty and some might even say quick-witted, but not really creative AT ALL. I can't draw I can't write fiction and when I dream, it tends to be about stuff I've seen or done. I don't pull things out of thin air. So, I needed a title for my blog, a real attention-grabber that would pique the reader's interest and lure them into reading about my boring life. Unfortunately, I'm just not creative enough to come up with something original. So I went with words that I felt described my TTC situation at the time.
Hoping for a Chance.
When I think about our journey and what Tim and I have been trying to achieve for the past 2+ years, hoping for a chance really does sum it up. Of course I want to get pregnant, carry to term, have a blissfully pain-free labor and give birth to the most amazing child ever born who will go on to end world hunger and cure the common cold (cause I'll have already cured cancer, of course), but really, my number one objective is the Chance. I want the Chance to get pregnant. The rest are things that cannot be guaranteed by anyone (particularly the pain-free labor). I really just want the same Chance as anyone else. I want to ovulate, put sperm in the same zip code as egg and let the magic happen.
I really don't think that I'm asking for very much. I want the same chance that 7 out of 8 couples manage to have for free. And I'm willing to pay for that chance, endure painful procedures for that chance and even remove sex from baby-making for that chance, I really don't think that's too much to ask.
So what brought up this depressing post? My 7dpo progesterone level was drawn yesterday and it's only 7.5. Generally doctors want to see the 7dpo progesterone at 10 or even 15 or more on medicated cycles to verify that a normal ovulation has occurred. This is not good news. There is a distinct possibility that I didn't ovulate this month or that I ovulated an immature follicle that likely cannot be fertilized. My Chance at pregnancy this month is now significantly below-average. After all of the injections and cost and monitoring, I am still just hoping for that chance to come.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
I've been IUIed
I had my IUI on Wednesday and now we are just waiting it out. Nothing really exciting to report about it, the whole procedure seemed to go pretty well. It hurt, but that's normal and I was pretty crampy the rest of the day, but I'm feeling better today. Now we wait...
In the mean time, I'll honor Magnolia's request and elaborate on my shark encounter story.
Picture it, St. Kitts 2001....
I just moved to the island to study veterinary medicine. I don't know anyone and in an attempt to help all of the new students bond, we are taken on a big catamaran to go snorkeling in Shitten Bay. I shit you not, the place was called Shitten Bay. Ok, I know some people still doubt so I'll add a map just to prove it to you. Look on the far southeastern tip of the island. Yup...Shitten Bay, told you so!
Ok so now that we all can picture it, I'll continue.
I had met a couple of people while on the boat and we chatted about school and being excited to go snorkeling. We all decided that we would be buddies in the ocean and explore the fishes and stuff together. When we got to the bay, everyone lined up to get off the boat and I was at the back of the line. My new BFFs told me that they would meet me out there and I figured 'cool, no biggie, I'm going to get into the ocean by myself'.....
So I get my fins and mask on and slowly ease into the water and start swimming out. I am immediately struck by how deep the water is and how barren the bottom is. There was no coral, there were no rocks, it was probably 50 feet deep and it was open water. So I start swimming in the direction of other snorkelers, but everyone was probably 100 yards or so ahead of me and still swimming away, most likely in hopes of finding some sign of sea life. After about 1 or 2 minutes of hard kicking towards the distant shore, I see something large and triangular straight ahead. Now, I don't know a lot about sharks, but I knew that what I was looking at was a LARGE shark and it didn't have any 'tips' so it wasn't a reef shark. It was bigger than me and it was coming right at me. In my infinite wisdom, I had an instant moment of bravery and I thought that if I swam directly at this large carnivorous creature it would get scared and swim away. My legs kicked hard maybe 2 times and then, my fight response turned to a flight response and I quickly turned around and began swimming like a bat out of Hell toward the catamaran. I had a fleeting thought about the other snorkelers, particularly my new BFFs who I was sure would be eaten on their journey back to the boat. After all, I had a head start and I could surely out swim a shark, right???
While swimming with all of my strength and prowess to the boat, my snorkel managed to take on water, I suspect that this is from the awkward, non-Phelps-like freestyle stroke that I was putting forth, and I began to choke. Fortunately I was only a few strokes from the boat and I quickly got out of the water. I then heard the conch shell that the tour group had to signal for everyone to return to the boat. Once everyone was back on, we motored to a new location to snorkel.
Apparently, we were not brought to Shitten Bay as originally promised, we were taken to some other bay that is part of the Narrows which is a passageway for sharks between St. Kitts and Nevis. The cruise director had apologized for the inconvenience and took us to Shitten Bay, where everyone got out and snorkeled and had a wonderful experience. Everyone, except me. I was too freaked out. I stayed on the boat and slammed back a couple of rum punches while watching for signs of my top predator friend.
It's weird. I should be less scared since nothing bad really happened. The whole experience should leave me feeling even safer since really, the shark could have eaten me, but didn't. Instead I am paralyzed with fear by the ocean now. Maybe if I really had a buddy with me I would be ok. The whole being alone thing really amplified my fear and feeling like I experienced it by myself made it seem worse too.
Sadly, I went another 10 months in St. Kitts and never went into the ocean deeper than my knees.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Sweet!
I've been given a Stylish Blogger award by Jenni and MBC! Thank you so much ladies! This blog started as an outlet for my TTC frustrations and I am glad to know that others enjoy reading it.This award has several rules. I have to:
1. Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Award up to 15 recently discovered bloggers.
4. Contact the bloggers and tell them about the award!
Hmmm 7 whole things just about me??? I'm really not that interesting, but here goes:
1. I am a veterinarian specializing in anatomic veterinary pathology.
2. I lived in St. Kitts, which is an island in the Caribbean, for a year studying veterinary medicine. I didn't know anyone when I moved out there. It was incredibly scary and exciting at the same time.
3. I am a horrible car passenger. I am always scared in the car, especially if I'm not driving. Tim has permanent nail marks in his leg from my death-grip.
4. I love the water, but I had a close encounter with a shark 10 years ago and I haven't been in the ocean since.
5. Snooze is my best friend. I hit snooze for at least 30 minutes every morning. Fortunately, I am a lighter sleeper than Tim so all of the alarming doesn't wake him up.
6. I wear jeans almost every day. I used to buy skirts and dresses thinking that I would wear them, but I never do so I have just given up.
7. I have my mom's eyes and her smile. I miss her every day, but I am glad that I have a few of her traits that I can look at in the mirror.
I would like to share this award with the following Bloggers (in no particular order):
No Day But Today by Lovey
PCOS: Pretty Crappy Ovary Syndrome By Anasara
Can I blog now? By Mye
Pursonification
Lanigan's Lens Blog By Tim
Wifey's My Daily Adventrues
Thank you again for this award, it really means a lot to me :)
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