Infertility Is Funny

Clickity, clackity. Clickity, clackity.

August 3, 2016 / Rachel

The roller coaster continues…

Up…

Before we went through IVF, Dean and I discussed getting a second opinion because a diagnosis of “unexplained infertility” just isn’t very satisfying to wannabe parents getting ready to drop a whole lotta cash on fertility treatments. (Treatments to treat what, exactly? Exactly.) But the combination of inertia, excitement, and I guess comfort with our clinic and doctor sort of got in the way. Before we knew it, we were handing over our savings, doing injection training, and scheduling things like a trial transfer and baseline ultrasound.

and down…

After we found out that our fresh cycle didn’t work, all we cared about was how soon we could try again with one of our little frozen embies. (Oh yeah, that’s just a cute little nickname I have for our literally frozen as well as frozen-in-time embryos). Quick aside, we have two frozen embryos. If we use one now and one later, and they both result in babies, we’ll have two kids who were conceived at the same time but born a year or more apart. They’d be like twins except that one of them was basically put on pause for a while. Science is amazing, right?

and back up…

Okay, getting this blog post back on those rickety wooden tracks… All we wanted to do was try again ASAP, but we were instructed to take a full month off to make sure all my lady parts had time to recover from the stimulation and retrieval. In the meantime, my sister gave me the latest update on one of her friends who was also struggling to get pregnant. After over two years of trying on her own, she had one of her tubes removed and got pregnant on her own the very. next. month. She had something called a hydrosalpinx, which is a blocked tube that fills with fluid, which can leak into the uterus and for a variety of reasons, prevent the successful implantation of a fertilized embryo. How’s that for incredible? Removing one of her tubes improved her fertility!

After speaking to my sister’s friend directly, I got a little obsessive about the possibility that I might have the same issue. It was unlikely, since I had had an HSG a year ago (the test where they push fluid through your tubes while looking at them using an x-ray to see if they’re blocked and/or filled with fluid) and my doctor had said that both of my tubes were open. She mentioned that there might be a little blockage on my left side, but since the tubes were both open, there was nothing to worry about. I called the friend’s clinic and made an appointment with her doctor right away. They squeezed me in quickly since I said I was getting ready to start a frozen transfer at my other clinic.

and back down…

From here on out, my original doctor (an older, very sweet, very nurturing, very well educated woman) will be known as Doctor A. My friend’s doctor (a younger, arrogant man with a tendency to over-explain everything, citing medical studies and cultural trends for added credibility) will be known as Doctor B. Dean and I met with Doctor B, and being on a geeky side ourselves, liked him instantly. He recommended a repeat HSG (trying sooo hard right now not to get off track again by going into the terror I felt hearing I would have to undergo this incredibly painful procedure again… Ah, another day, another post…). We scheduled it right away.

and up again…

The HSG was performed by a highly experienced nurse practitioner, and at the end of the procedure, she told me that the x-ray dye spilled out both sides, which meant that both of my tubes were open. I thought, okay, we’ve done our due diligence; now we can move forward with the frozen embryo transfer with confidence. Bummer we didn’t learn anything new, but at least there’s no reason to think we won’t be successful with our next transfer. And then I got a call from Doctor B’s nurse.

aaand down again…

She said that Doctor B reviewed the video from the HSG and my tubes were blocked after all. She said the doctor was recommending a more invasive, surgical procedure to get a closer look and likely remove my tubes. “Both of them?” I asked. “Yes,” she answered. She actually wanted to send my charts over to the surgery scheduling department right away, and when I hesitated, she offered to schedule a consult with the doctor first instead. UM, YES, I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO DISCUSS THIS WITH THE DOCTOR, PLEASE, BEFORE I SCHEDULE SURGERY TO HAVE BOTH OF MY TUBES REMOVED! Smh…

way, way down…

I had a whole weekend to consider this before meeting with Doctor B, and I realized I was really sad about this tube-removal business. Going into the HSG, I had ranked the potential outcomes. The best case scenario was that they would find one blocked tube with a hydrosalpinx (I could have the one tube removed and fulfill my own get-pregnant-the-very-next-month fantasy). The second best outcome was probably that they found nothing wrong (I keep my tubes, move forward with a frozen embryo transfer, and maybe a successful pregnancy cures my infertility forever–it happens! If not, we could always do more IVF). The worst-case scenario was having to have both tubes removed.

Removing both tubes meant that I would never, ever have a surprise pregnancy. In all likelihood, that’s probably not going to happen for me anyway, and really, who wants a surprise pregnancy? Only embattled infertility patients, probably. What a dream it would be to just wake up and find myself pregnant without all the pricks and pinches and wands and catheters and anxiety that go along with getting pregnant the new-fashioned way! This weekend was a pretty low point for me on the infertility roller coaster.

back on the way up…

Monday morning came, and Doctor B said that just one of my tubes was blocked! The left one. The same one as my sister’s friend. He said there was a 0% chance that he would take out both tubes. He showed me the video that convinced him that I had a mild hydrosalpinx despite that fact that my tube is technically open. The roller coaster was back on it’s way up! This was music to my ears, exactly what I had hoped to hear! What the eff is wrong with his nurse, I asked!

and down, cue the nausea…

I left that appointment with a CD containing all the HSG images and the video to show Doctor A, for what I termed a “reverse second opinion.” I saw her the next day and showed her the images, which unfortunately, since the video wouldn’t play, didn’t quite do my mild hydrosalpinx justice. Doctor A, who had been skeptical since I first mentioned Doctor B’s name, was not convinced. She said a mild blockage did not warrant removing a tube, and that this was a gross over-reaction to one failed IVF transfer. I had really hoped she would back Doctor B’s recommendation, and thought she would after she saw the video and images.

She told me that she would not advise me to get my tube removed. Exhausted and out of patience, I asked her, “What am I supposed to do now, get a third opinion?” She answered, “No, that would be ridiculous. You obviously want to do this, so go for it. At least it’ll reduce your chances of an ectopic pregnancy.” Sweet, a silver lining to a possibly completely unnecessary operation!

Leveling off, at least temporarily…

It’s amazing how far a week without any doctor appointments can go toward restoring my equilibrium and reducing my anxiety level. I scheduled the laparoscopy (the exploratory surgery that will likely result in my losing one of my tubes) for a week from tomorrow. Here’s the way I have rationalized my decision: If I don’t remove the tube and we do both frozen embryo transfers, and neither one works, I’m going to kick myself for wasting these chances and a considerable chunk of time. Averaging the cost of the fresh IVF cycle and two frozen embryo transfers, each of our three embryos is worth about $10K. We’ve already lost one. We want to do everything we can not to flush the other two down my possibly toxic reproductive tract. If we do the surgery and then I get pregnant, we may never know whether the surgery helped or not, but it won’t matter because we’ll have what we want so badly. Sure, there will be some scars and the surgery will cost some money, but it seems to me that the worst case scenario is significantly worse if I don’t do the surgery.

Wish me luck!

I miss the needles

June 10, 2016 / Rachel

This is my confession.

It feels like we prepared for this IVF cycle for forever. After our first visit to the RE (reproductive endocrinologist), we knew there was a chance we’d end up going down this path. We tried 12+ medicated cycles, five of which included IUI. We even got lucky once and had a very short-lived pregnancy. After two more failed IUI’s, we were pretty sure IVF was in our future.

For over a year, every decision about how to spend any significant amount of money, from vacations to home improvements to buying an appropriately sized duvet for our bed (which we still haven’t bought, but hey, it’s summer again now!), was put on hold. We must have said to each other, “Let’s not spend the money right now… in case we need IVF,” about a hundred times. After a couple of last-ditch unmonitored IUI efforts early this year, we just kind of ended up doing IVF.

When I think back, we never really had THE BIG TALK… you know, the “Are we SURE we want to spend $20K on this?” talk. I have no regrets and I think we would have both said yes had we had that talk, but it felt more like we just kind of slid into the whole thing. First there was an IVF consult, the parting gift from which was a mountain of paperwork full of weird things to consider (like, what happens to any frozen embryos if we both die?). Then there was a two-week period when I had to take birth control (obviously because it helps you get pregnant), which bought us a little time to apply for two 12-month 0% APR credit cards.

The next thing we knew, we had paid for our cycle in full at the clinic, dropped $3K for all the drugs I’d need, and attended an injection training at Walgreens. It was more fun than it sounds, thanks to a very friendly and tolerant pharmacist… Dean and I make jokes when we’re nervous. We’re very funny.

Then the real fun started… making sure we were both home every night at 9pm for shots to stimulate my ovaries, shots to slow down my ovaries, and shots to help the eggs mature inside my ovaries. After two weeks of that, we had the retrieval and then the progesterone shots began. Again, every night at 9pm, Dean gave me a shot in the butt with a 1.5″ needle. Even after becoming pros at the other shots, we were deliriously nervous about the first progesterone shot. I actually thought he was going to hit a bone (Boy, did I overestimate the fitness of my booty). We continued these injections for another two weeks until THE BIG DAY, when we would find out whether this whole thing worked or not. (SPOILER ALERT: it did not work.)

If all that sounds grueling and stressful and painful and EXPENSIVE, well, it was! But it was also exciting. Every awkward moment, every time we redrew the black permanent marker circles on my ass to make it easier to stab the needle right into the bullseye, every time we quoted our favorite YouTube injection tutorial (“dart-like motion!”), every time Dean fed me a mini-marshmallow afterwards (“for being good”), we did it with the hope and excitement that we were starting a family. Finally.

As you know from the spoiler, as quickly as the whole thing started, it was over with a single phone call on Monday. No more shots, no more pills, no more marshmallows, no more waiting to find out, and no more excitement. That night, we went to bed without any shots and I cried myself to sleep. Not right away, of course. It takes about an hour of violent, body-shaking sobbing to tire this girl out! Honestly, if you’re not convulsing, you’re not doing it right.

The truth is, I miss the needles. I miss the bonding that only a nightly ritual of bending over the bed and being stuck in the ass by my husband can bring. I miss reminding Dean to pull out a little before injecting the drugs (trust me, this is important) and joking about how maybe pulling out has been our problem all along. I miss the Mickey Mouse and Disney Princess Band-aids that we picked out together… But most of all, I miss not knowing that I’m not pregnant.

Supervisor Training

June 9, 2016 / Rachel

My company is rolling out a new drug and alcohol abuse policy as part of an initiative to save money on insurance. This morning, I sat in on a training for managers about how to identify if one of my employees might be suffering from a substance abuse problem.

It dawned on me during the hour-long training was that I exhibit many of the same warning signs due to my fertility issues. Excessive tardiness? Check! Stops speaking mid-sentence and loses train of thought? Um, yes! Extended breaks and excessive phone calls? Uh huh. Crying, angers quickly, excessive restroom visits, exhibits needle marks?!?!?! DUH!

Seriously, take a look!

What Prolonged Infertility Indictors do you exhibit in the workplace?

Welp! Here we go!

June 8, 2016 / Rachel

As anyone on the infertility roller coaster knows, there are a lot of ups and downs and it’s a craaaazy ride!

I’ve been hesitant to start this blog because I’ve been so sure that with each next step, we’d see that beautiful double line and this whole thing would be over. And who wants to read a fertility blog by someone who is blissfully pregnant and just wants to take a painful stroll down bitter memory lane? With every new little trick we tried and each new medical procedure we went through, there was this renewed sense of optimism that we would finally find the magic formula. But for us and many of you, sometimes nothing seems to work.

After two and a half years of TTC (trying to conceive), we’ve just finished our first cycle of IVF, the golden standard for infertility treatment. After countless shots (it had to be at least 35 or something), vaginal ultrasounds, blood tests, procedures, late mornings getting to work, sacrificed social events so we could be home for that 9pm needle, and oh yeah, roughly $20K(!) in medical expenses, we found out this week that I am not pregnant. At this point, we’ve run out of new internet tricks and escalated medical procedures to try to give us that renewed hope that we are on the right track.

That’s not to say we’re out of options, though. We do have two beautiful, frozen 5-day blastocysts (AKA fertilized embryos) waiting for us, so we can keep trying without having to go through the entire grueling process again right away. However, I’ve decided to finally embrace my urge to start documenting the process, my experiences, and my thoughts and feelings—no matter how dark and desperate they may get.

The name I chose for this blog is Infertility is Funny. Don’t get me wrong, infertility SUCKS A BIG ONE! But if we couldn’t laugh at it sometimes, it would be entirely unbearable. Laughter is the best medicine. It eases tension and lets us pretend we’re just observers of this whole shenanigan and not victims of a horrible, mysterious disease affecting the one thing most of us want more than anything. Plus, I have a dark and twisted sense of humor, so this is right up my alley.

Writing is therapeutic for me and my hope is that I can take some of the very real and very sad parts of this thing and put a humorous spin on them to make us all feel just a little more human. And hey, if I get a book deal and said book deal pays for another round of IVF, cool.

Here we go!