Possible Reasons Why IVF #1 Failed

There are so many questions with no answers when infertility is involved. I wouldn't be the first one to make the connection between the word if and the message board/blog abbreviation for infertility: IF.

Who says that sometimes an optimistic, gorgeous, prom-queen IVF just fails for no reason? I have many plausible ideas about what happened, and I know for a fact that at least one of these reasons has got to be true. You'll see – they're very rational, well thought out, medically sound. Brilliant.

 

My Embryos are Rebellious

I think that it's entirely possible that my embryos will have inherited a bad attitude and a problem with authority (from their father, surely). And the embryologist was probably, like, a total drag and was being all, "Stay in that petri dish, inside this drip of fake chemical fallopian tube liquid, and be quiet, and divide every day." Booorrriiinnng. Especially when the lab is directly beside an awesome mall and less than a mile away from The Melting Pot.

My guess is that my embryos, with their loose morals and authority issues, peer pressured a few other sets of embryos to head over to The Melting Pot for copious amounts of cheese and, knowing my embryos, probably a few of their delectable martinis. I mean, it's probably hard to implant when you're an embryo trying to deal with cheese and alcohol when you haven't even had a chance to form a digestive system.

I bet that if a detective ventured over to my infertility clinic and did a thorough inspection? He would find the microscopic holes where my embryos burrowed through the window on the way out to paaaar-tay. (Note to detective: bring microscope.)

 

My Uterus is an Undercover Badass

So maybe you remember the internal war of the worlds that occurred during and after my transfer. I think my analysis failed to uncover the major nemesis: my goddamned uterus.

See, my goddamned uterus appeared to be quiet and polite. Like one of those shy kids in school, who would be all well behaved during the day, but could be found on Friday night with a crack pipe and an oozie*, having unprotected sex with three under aged girls while flipping the bird. Except a girl. Because I don't think it's proper to make the uterus a boy.

My ovaries and bladder were making all kinds of noise, and hogging up all the space, and my uterus? Snapped. Started throwing 'bows to let my obese ovaries and bloated bladder know that she would not be having any more of this bullshit. So regardless of the embryo quality, there is no way that they could attach to a bow-throwing uterus, all while being hung over. And they were fat from all that cheese!

 

My Ass is Fat

I was talking to someone who had their IVF at the same time as me, at the same place (Hi Katie!), and she was telling me how the nurse was debating over the size of the needle to give her for the PIO (Progesterone in Oil, incase your Google is broken). The nurse was looking at her butt and trying to decide between a bigger or a smaller, saying she was right on the border.

There was no debating over my ass. I got the long needle, no questions asked, no looking necessary.

But I'm thinking that maybe my ass is so big, that I need some sort of industrial-sized needle to inject my PIO. What, with my fat drunk asshole embryos, and my gang member uterus, I need some serious progesterone to thicken up my uterine lining. And the needle, apparently, needs to be really long to get through the massive amount of fat stored in my ass region. Like, maybe if they make intramuscular needles for use in injecting orca whales? That might be long enough to get through the fortress of fat and into my actual, atrophied ass muscle.

 

*****

On a more serious note, I am actually doing an IVF cycle right now, and not just cracking jokes about it.

Wednesday I had a progress check and was a little disappointed. My follies aren't growing as fast as last time. I was pretty discouraged. They didn't want to see me back until Saturday, which to me screamed "UNDERACHIEVER!" I had 9 bigger follicles, all around 8 or 9 cm, and Estrogen was 293.

Today I had the follow up, and I felt better. I mean, I probably shouldn't use my failed IVF as the gold standard, right? Why would I judge the progress of this IVF cycle by that one when obviously it wasn't a perfect cycle. It didn't work. Anyway, I had lots of sizeable follicles, all around 12 or 13 cm. Estrogen is 1,214.

I go back on Monday for another check up.

 

*Apparently the correct spelling is uzi, not oozie. I like oozie better. So shoot me.**

**GET IT? GET IT? Bah ha ha!

 

Beta is Negative, but I'm surprisingly not.

So I got the confirmation of the negative beta today, and really? Not a big deal.

I don't think the nurse really knew what to do with me, because she was being really sweet and saying she was sorry, and I really had no emotion about the situation whatsoever. She even asked, "Did you expect this? Did you start to bleed?" And I said no, that I did a home test this week, so I knew what to expect.

She also seemed a little taken aback when I asked what we need to do to start another fresh cycle right away. I mean, maybe she's used to people crying and just being too upset to move on. She explained it to me, and we were done! I talked to her while Mark and I walked the dogs in the park, and it is upper 70's and perfectly sunny today.

I just couldn't be sad today. I had a great day.

About a half hour after I spoke with the nurse, Dr. Goldfarb called me to also say he was sorry, and he understands how frustrating it is, and he is frustrated too. He said that the nurse told him that I wanted to try another fresh cycle, and I think he basically wanted to make sure I had my head screwed on straight.

You know, since I do have three babycicles, and a FET is way easier than a complete IVF cycle.

And yes, I could do a frozen cycle, but I am not going to post the rationale behind the choice to do another fresh on my soon to be very public blog (more about that in a few days...) for fear of being Dooced, if you know what I'm saying.

(Not that I would mind ending up like Dooce, but I don't have that kind of talent, so I can't be that bold)

So, when I get my period (which, apparently, will be a doozie), I will call and get a prescription for birth control pills. After taking them for three weeks, I will start my Lupron, and so on with the stims, and the retrieval and transfer in early June.

While I'm not feeling particularly funny today, I am feeling really positive. I just feel like infertility has been getting the best of me lately. And by lately, I mean the past two years. And I'm over it.

I don't have a baby, and I can't easily have one. And you know what? That fucking sucks. But I do have a kick ass, hilarious husband who I love madly, wonderful family, and fabulous friends. I like my job, and I'm close to having a Master's degree in a subject that is challenging to me and makes me use my brain in new ways.

And lots of really positive things have come out of infertility for me in the past few weeks. So while it sucks, it has opened me up to new possibilities that never occurred to me before.

I just don't want to look back and feel like I flushed these years down the toilet. Yes, infertility is a giant part of my life, but it isn't my whole life. I'm not going to let it eat away at all of the things I love about my life.

Two years is enough.

(Also, I have some cute dog pics to post, but not today.)

Well, this sucks.

I mean, I wish there was some funny spin to put on a negative home pregnancy test, after your 25th month of trying to get pregnant, and after your first procedure of state-of-the-art motherfucking SCIENCE fails.

But really. I knew how this was going to end. Don't think for one second I was little miss sunshine this entire cycle. I'm still saying "if" we ever have a baby, and "if" I ever get pregnant. And "if" any single person tries to tell me that I need to think positive if I want to get a positive result? Well, I will positively knock their ass out.

Transfer was last Saturday. Monday - Thursday, I felt like ass on a platter. I was sick, burping and dry heaving at my desk. Pretty much feeling like the antibiotic they made me take was eating an escape hole in my stomach. Because maybe my antibiotic would have more fun floating around my abdominal cavity? I don't know why.

During the same time, I felt weird. Tired, sick, my boobs were so sore and I thought for a second...hey, maybe...

Then Friday - poof! I felt 100% better. Like I haven't felt since I started Lupron. I felt like a million bucks, which I wish I had right now so that I could commence serious retail therapy. Saturday? The same. Felt fine.

Sunday. Sunday I got the bad news from Katie. And it just sealed my fears that this did.not.work. I could feel it. I could feel it on Friday when I was all, "fuck, where did the "symptoms" go?" And yes I know that pregnancy doesn't have to be a hormonal war of the worlds, but it just felt like something changed between Thursday and Friday where I couldn't even think in my mind that we had a shot of this working.

On Sunday I told Mark, "I don't think it worked." And he was like, "what? all of it" and I said yes. He was the first person I admitted it to. I had one pregnancy test left from the IUI we did in November, and even though I was adamant about not testing before the beta, I knew I would test Monday morning. I knew because we have Friday off, and we made a bunch of plans, and I just want to have the day off and enjoy it. I wanted to get the pain out of the way.

Despite my thought that a negative pregnancy test would be less of a blow if I knew it was negative, it was awful. I felt like going outside and running as fast as I could because my heart was pounding and I couldn't catch my breath. All I could, and all I keep, thinking is how we are never going to be able to have a family, because this is it. It doesn't work for us. We had doctors fertilize our fucking eggs for us, we had the embryos halfway hatched going in, we had steroids to make my uterus all but suck in the embryo. And no. We still don't get the one thing that everyone else gets for FREE! By having sex and maybe an orgasm!

So I cried at home before I left, and cried in the car on the way to work. Then I had to make myself stop crying before I got to work because hello? AM UGLY CRIER! Everyone will know! I think the red satanic eyes, tomato face, and snot hanging down to my chin would be obvious. So I drove with my windows down in 30 degree weather for the last 20 minutes.

Have you ever seen American Beauty? I was all Annette Benning at work - were she was trying to sell that shitty house to someone, and she closes all the windows and starts bawling for about 20 seconds, then she stands up and starts slapping herself in the face. Then she's composed, fine, walks right out of the house with a smile on her face. Totally me at work. I would tear up, then in my mind, I'd be saying, "stop it, you fucking pathetic baby. stop it. get over yourself." And I'd be fine for a little while.

Being Monday and all, I had work, then school. So all I could think about all day was just getting back to my car after class and letting it go. Just crying all the way home and crying myself to sleep. But apparently scheduled crying isn't all it's cracked up to be, and instead of wanting to cry, I just wanted to listen to old school Mariah Carey on shuffle (Mimi is my vice. My secret weakness).(shut up) So I did. And then I came home and ate popcorn, cheese cubes and pickles, because it was the first time all day that I had any appetite at all. Thanks Mimi - your music brought back my appetite.

I also got my letter today about the 5 extra embryos that were sitting in the lab, trying to get to blast. 4 of them "died in culture," and only one made it to freeze. And yes, yes, yes, aren't we lucky to have 3 on ice and blah blah blah. But excuse me for being the smug jerk who thought hey! we're young and healthy! We should have 5 or 6 make it to blast and freeze! No. 3. That is all. And all of them were ICSI, because apparently there is not a shot in hell of us having an egg fertilized naturally.

I tried to get online and google anything to make me feel better, but all you find are stories of BPF at 7dp3dt! BFN and 7dp3dt but BFP at 8dp3dt! You don't see anyone saying, yeah well, BFN 10dp3dt, then BFP 11dp3dt because if you have a negative at 10 days past, you should hang it up. You're toast. Not good toast with peanut butter - shitty toast that is burned on one side and has butter substitute sprayed on it.

And now I just feel kind of bitter and weird. I don't want to talk to anybody, because I know people are sick of the ridiculous failure. I know that people will try to say something nice, but will probably just say something like, "well, there's always adoption" or "you should've done acupuncture, then it would've worked." Because why not? I mean, you kick a homeless guy as you walk by him when he's down, right? Why not just kick me, too. In the uterus. Go ahead. There's nothing in there that you could hurt anyways.

10dp3dt

BFN

Guess who forgot to wear her estrogen patches today?

(points both thumbs toward self)

This gal!

That calendar? Useless.

Jen’s Anatomy

Bladder – is pissed. Is having no more of this scrunched up, crowded abdomen. Is making me pay with multiple trips to the bathroom and vague symptoms of a UTI. Ovaries are being overbearing and Bladder is so over it.

Ovaries – planning hostile takeover. Are strong and mighty from the fertility drugs, and are revolting in what can only be compared to a roid rage. Are in cahoots with Bladder but negotiations are at a standstill (Ovaries are trying to steal all the glory, obviously). Thinks Bladder is a pansy ass.

Ass – Hurts. Is big. Has prick-marks all over. Is threatening to bruise. Wonders why someone hit me in ass with a baseball bat, but the realizes that it is from the PIO Shots. Considers joining the Bladder and Ovaries in their mission to FUCK JEN UP!

Stomach – is sick of all of these drugs. Is churning at smells, but strangely wanted to suck Grey Poupon directly out of the little foil packet in my sandwich kit. Now producing Grey Poupon burps every 5 minutes (is not so bad, actually).

Face – is ugly. Has morphed into pizza-faced teenage boyface in the past week. Beginning to bear an odd resemblance to Gary Busey.

Bewbies – Ouch. And veiny. That is all.

Brain – finds this post to be lame. And thinks that maybe I should be studying for my accounting test, while at the same time refusing to retain any additional information like a baby refusing to take a spoon full of pureed carrots.

The only reason my back isn't on here as an enemy of the state is because guess what I found out today? That my car seat as LUMBAR SUPPORT! My fucking god. In my defense, I've only had the car since December. But still I probably should've realized sooner because I've had the car since December.

 

What are my plans for April?

Well, it's funny you should ask.

I'm going to take enough pills and shots to tranq a large horse.
And I'm going to take two tests. (three if you include the beta)

Try to hide your jealousy, please.

Update, real quick-like.

ER went pretty well. IV was a nightmare, but the procedure was easy.

13 Eggs. Fert report will be today between 9 and 11.

I have class tonight so I'll probably post a triple update on Thursday after the second fert report.

Kthxbye.