Level Up

A while back I read a post written by Jay over at The 2 Week Wait entitled "Level Two" where she likened IF to a video game, but, instead of saving the princess at the end you get pregnant. I remember after reading it wondering when I would have enough points to finally save the princess. On my journey to save the princess I've fought monsters sometimes winning, sometimes losing. Through the past few months I gained IF points when battling monsters that took the shape of Bacterial Infections and HPV to Jealously and Depression. I've even lost a few points along the way. The night the IF monster reared its ugly head was a battle lost. It was not one of my proudest moments.

All along as I've played this game battling monsters in secret chambers humming the tune to Nintendo's Mario Brothers I've been aware of another way to reach the princess. There is a secret realm that only a few venture into in the Land of IF. It's a whole new level of infertility that I have just recently graduated to. From far away this realm is scary and unknown. But from up close it's not so bad at all.

After our 27th cycle failed things were as they usually are. We were devastated for a couple of days and then, as we tend to do, we picked ourselves up off the floor and asked ourselves what our next steps were going to be. It just so happened that we had planned a trip to Ireland for our spring break so we knew that the coming cycle was going to be a much needed break. Before we left I convinced Jason that it was time for us to look into using donor eggs. We have friends here that did and I know a few of couples from the blogging world that have grown their families that way. I knew in my heart that it was time. So we went to talk to a doctor, who from here on out, will be called The Baby Maker. She runs a clinic here in Dehli that caters to westerners who are interested in egg donation and surrogacy. At first Jason was unsure of the whole thing. The Baby Maker is a savvy business woman which in some ways can be very off putting. But I reminded Jason that she is in the business of making babies and she's damn good at it. She really knows her fertility shit. She spent close to an hour with us answering and ASKING questions. Doctors here in India tend not to do that. They tend to glance at your documents and then give you a photocopy of whatever protocol they use. The Baby Maker suggested that before we make any big decisions I should get my day 3 hormones and my AMH checked since it's been about a year since those have been done. I just happened to be on my second day so the next morning I went in and had my blood drawn. The day threes were back later that day with a raised FSH, higher than it's ever been. The following day my AMH came in. It was devastatingly low.

As I looked at the number I felt the strangest thing. I was relieved. I almost laughed actually. It was just what we needed to take that next step. It was the key to the hidden realm. When I sent the results to The Baby Maker she responded in an email with, "the path ahead is clear." And so, I've leveled up, just not quite in the way I had expected.

Just hours after we had gotten my AMH results we boarded a plane to Ireland. It could not have come at a better time. Ireland, especially in the spring, is lovely and exotic and unpredictable. I've often felt that as an infertile it's so difficult to live in the moment. We're always thinking of what is coming next, always waiting. In unpredictable and lovely Ireland we hadn't a thing booked. Every decision was a game time decision, where to stay or eat or when to get out of the car and look at the scenary. Jason and I haven't lived entirely in the moment in a long long time. It was one of the best trips we've ever taken. (click here if you'd like to read about our adventures in Ireland and here to see them) In many ways it was bitter sweet, though, poetic even, looking at those beautiful Irish faces knowing that my child will not have my freckles or my blue eyes. However, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world while mourning that loss.

The day after we returned we headed to the Baby Maker's clinic to discuss the details of our DE cycle. By Friday our chosen donor had started her period and was beginning treatment. By Saturday I received my schedule and started my treatment. Today I go in for my first ultrasound and away we go. It all happened so fast and yet it feels so right.

So as it stands now we are scheduled for egg retreival on May 8th or 9th and embryo transfer on May 11th or 12th. If I get a positive result I'll have just enough time to have a 5 week scan before Jason and I head back to the states to our home in MN for the summer.

For the next few weeks I have a feeling I'll be updating this blog fairly frequently as I capture this crazy ride.

Here's to the princess. She's closer than she's ever been before.

And here's a bit of fun! I've leveled up in another way. I've gone from being OLF with Bernadette over at Rasta Less Traveled to being friends IRL! I am so fortunate to be part of a community of strong women.

Brave Face

Throughout repeated cycles of starting over, building hope, waiting, and utter devastation one way I cope is by putting on a brave face. That's 27 cycles of brave faces.

For the most part this works well for me. Day to day it keeps me out of the depths of depression and helps my live my life a little. I, also, do it becuase I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I know it shouldn't, but it matters what people think of me. I want people to see me as a strong woman and a good person. I do it so that people can see that side of me.

The thing is that sometimes it doesn't work out so well for me. Sometimes I think I need a little pity, or at least a little sensitivity. I think sometimes, people think I can handle anything, that nothing really bothers me. But that is not true. How can it be? I'm facing one of the most difficult things a person can go through. Things get to me.

It hurts when someone makes an insensitive comment or a joke.

It hurts when people ask me, "Is so and so pregnant?"

Hell, it hurts when I HEAR the word "pregnant."

It hurts when I have to endure my colleagues making the same "pregnant brain" joke over and over again about my pregnant BFF.

It hurts when someone says, "well, you don't have kids so..."

It hurts that I miss out on things when I have to tend to my infertility.

It hurts when friends don't check in on me after a treatment or a blood test.

It hurts

Every minute

Of every day

Deep

Down

In

My

Soul.

The IF Monster Reared Its Ugly Head

I am sure this has happened to you before because it's not the first time it's happened to me. There I was, minding my own business, holding it all together when, BLAMO, the IF monster reared its ugly head. Well, to be fair, I was trying to hold it all together. It hadn't been easy. I had just gotten my 26th unwanted period, I'm starting clomid AGAIN, it seems that everyone I know is pregnant including all the infertiles, AND I'm in the midst of planning a baby shower for my bestie.

My husbo and I had decided to throw a last minute happy hour at our house on Friday and I had had a bit to drink. I was sharing with some people that I was feeling a bit slighted because a woman who was invited to the shower had decided to have her own party the same day. No one seemed to agree with me. I was being silly, I know. At the same time another person was going on and on about how my bestie doesn't like yellow and the shower color scheme is yellow and gray. That's when it happened. I came completely undone. I stood up and beating my fists on the table while saying, "I'm an infertile planning a baby shower I'm doing the best I can! Back off!" The room fell silent and then cleared out pretty quickly. So, needless to say I'm feeling a bit embarrassed and sorry for myself. Normally I can shake these things off and put on a brave face, especially in front of people. The truth is that I don't care very much about that other woman's party and I know that my friend is going to love everything I put together for her. Yeah, I'm sad and all, but, that's nothing new.

Why is it that it all comes crumbling down when you least expect it?

How much longer will I have to manage my pain?

Distracted

In the past month I have had several brilliant blog posts brewing in my mind but I kept getting distracted and before I had time to write, whatever had been brewing was no longer current. As I'm sure you can all relate, things are forever changing when you're in this strange land of IF. One minute you're feeling great, the hope welling up inside you and then one weird test result or a twinge in your lower regions sends you into a pit of despair.

I had been cooking up one blog post whilst exploring the ancient ruins of Angkor Wat or sitting on a beach in Thailand with some of my best friends in the world. I had planned on writing about our visit to Bumrungrad and our time with friends and how we spent our anniversary at the resort where we were married two years ago and about Jason's rock star semen analysis. It was entitled "Eating Pineapple." But I was distracted by too many banana coladas.

The gang hanging out in Siem Reap.

Here we are at Moonlight Bay Resort celebrating 2 years of wedded bliss.

Upon our return from Thailand I was so excited to get back. I love my long holidays but I also love my job and my life here in Delhi. First order of business was to catch up with all my favorite bloggers I'd missed during my three weeks away. I was happy to read about Tippy and her developing twins and, of course, the ever funny Jay who had just dropped out of birthing class. I loved reading about Heather waiting hopefully for her first ultrasound after her BFP. But I was so saddened by Jill waiting with such strength to miscarry. And I was so angry and sad for CGD as she fights to save her marriage while not letting go of her dream to be a mother. Life wasn't supposed to be like this. I mean, look how friggin happy those people are. I played the game. I followed the rules. We all did. I was all worked up and ready to write the "Life" post when I was distracted by the familiar twinges in my uterus.

Yup, that's right. Despite the rock star semen analysis I got my period. I felt myself slipping into the deep downs again as I realized that during my next ovulation Jason would be traveling for a hockey tournament in Ladakh. I desperately didn't want him to go but hockey is truly his passion and he didn't get to go last year because of an IVF cycle. This post was entitled "Letting Go." Jason wanted desperately for me to let him go. I couldn't do that. I couldn't let him go but I knew I had to muster up the strength to let this cycle go. I had to, for Jason, for me, for us. And Jason, he needed to decide to whether or not to go without my approval. He had to, for him and for us. He decided to go and I let go.

Just as I was getting ready to post I got distracted by my thoughts. I began to wonder how much longer I'd be able to do this. As I was wondering I had another idea for a blog post. I remember wondering some time ago how people go on living in the land of IF for years and years. I wondered how they had the strength to survive that long. I wondered why they chose to keep going. I wondered why all the treatments never worked. I wondered how long I would be here. Will I ever get my passport out? Will I ever make it out of here with a baby or will I choose to leave/live childless? I felt those deep downs welling up again. This post was to be entitled, "The Land of IF."

But, just as I have done 24 other times I picked myself up by my bootstraps and carried on. I decided this time it would be me that caused the distraction. I started getting up early and meeting my friend at the gym. I started eating right again. I started feeling better. I thought, "yes, this is just what I need, a whole month of eating healthy and working out and not thinking about infertility," only to be distracted yet again. Two weeks ago, about the time that Jason was deciding whether or not to go to Ladakh I saw an add on the internet for this guy...

Introducing Tashi Michelada Cole-ivan.

He is an 8 week old Tibetan Terrier.

Tashi is the Tibetan word for luck.

Michelada is our favorite Mexican beverage.

Cole-ivan is our names smushed together.

He is the greatest distraction of all.

Fail

IUI didn't work.

We're headed to Bangkok in a week. Hopefully we can meet with male factor infertility specialist there to get some answers.

Fuckety fuck.

23rd Time's a Charm

That's what they say, right?

Continuing on my quest to stay positive as I gear up for my 23rd cycle and in the spirit of Thanksgiving here are 23 things I am grateful for.

1. My husband for being my perfect partner

2. My home for all its treasures

3. My job for the joy it brings me

4. My friends for knowing just what to say

5. Red Wine for the way it makes me feel

6. Color for the way it makes me feel

7. My Persian carpets for their beauty

8. My bed for its marshmallowy-ness

9. Pinterest for how it inspires me

10. My body for doing what it's supposed to do

11. Yangzom for being so much more than a housekeeper

12. Famous Doctor in NY for answering all of my questions

13. Delhi Doctor for her calm

14. Our summer home in MN for its peacefulness

15. My mom and dad for being so supportive

16. My 15 followers for making me feel like someone is out there

17. Christmas decorations because it's the most wonderful time of the year

18. Growing things on the balcony

19. Eating meals with friends and family

20. My two favorite babies, Ezra and Cedric

21. So You Think You Can Dance (we're a whole season behind so don't reveal the winner)

22. My principals for being so understanding of my unique needs

23. Natural IUI for making me feel less crazy and more hopeful.

So here's to a 2WW of full of hope and gratitude...

Pregnant Friends of Infertiles: Take Note

So my bestie is preggers.

I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. This ISN'T going to be one of those posts where the infertile pours her pain out telling the world all the insensitive things her friends say and do. Nope! This post is full of love.

First a little history:

About a year ago K and I became fast friends. That's how it is overseas. I think there are a few factors that go into it. But, most importantly, it's that when living overseas your friends become your chosen family. Of course it helped that Jason and K's husbo, J, were having their own bromance. It wasn't long before K and J were our new favorite couple.

This all happened in the midst of the worst year of my life. In that year I went through 5 fertility treatments, 3 clomid cycles and 2 IVF cycles, all of which failed. K was always there always knowing just what to say. I often wondered how she knew whether I needed to cry or a pep talk. She just knew, I guess.

As we all know fertility treatments make you fat. So K and I started walking after school. We walked and talked about living overseas, travel and the things we miss about America. We talked about infertility and babies and her upcoming wedding. I knew K wanted to get pregnant right after her wedding. I knew they would start trying right away. And of course we talked about that too.

Now a whole lotta love:

Fast forward to August. Kelly was officially trying. We got our periods around the same time shortly after arriving back from summer break. It was so strange how it hit me. As I was picking myself up from the disappointment and gearing up for yet another cycle I knew that Kelly was going to get pregnant. This was all during my HPV debacle . This is when she showed her truly brilliant colors.

It's the hardest thing an infertile has to hear, her friend or sister or coworker telling a room full of people that she is pregnant. I think it's even harder to hear than getting a bad report from a doctor because it's public. It's so hard to explain but if you've been through this you know just how hard it is. How many of you have practiced your, "I'm so happy for you/are you fucking kidding me" face in the mirror?

This time, though, I didn't have to use it. It was the worst timing possible but K still knew just what to do. I had come home from getting my cervix scraped feeling weepy and still groggy from the anesthesia. K was 3 days late for her period so I asked and she told me. She didn't have to. She could have lied. Ha, thinking about it now maybe she didn't have a choice. Either way she knew just what to do. She told me. She told me before it was time to tell. She told me before she told her family. She told me before she told her oldest friend. She told me so that I wouldn't have to use that face.

And do you know what? It was different this time. I never had to grapple with all those mixed emotions in front of people or wonder if people felt sorry for me and were whispering. That thing, that pit in the bottom of your stomach, I never felt it. Somehow that made everything different. I can't explain it. Because now we still talk just as we always have. We talk about living overseas and travel and the things we miss about America. We talk about infertility and babies and her pregnancy. I knew K was a dear friend. I knew she always knew just what to say. And, of course, we talk about that too.

So, pregnant friends of infertiles take note. Do what you've always done, talk to your friend just as you always have. Chances are, you'll keep talking.