And the results are in.

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Here is where I would love to tell you that a miracle had occurred and DH’s counts and motility were excellent and we’re in ship shape and barreling headlong into making a baby. I’d love to tell you that, but that would make me even more of a liar than I already am. The results? Low. Low amount, low ‘normal’ shaped, low motility. Not so low as they’ve been in the past, though. So – that is certainly an improvement.

We ended up having to track the results down though. The office where DH went said we should have results by Tuesday/Wednesday and on Friday he finally called them. They, for whatever reason, wouldn’t/couldn’t give us the results, we needed to contact my OB. DH called them and was told they didn’t have any results yet, but they’d have the nurse call me when they did. The nurse called later that day to tell me again that they didn’t have any results. I told her that we were told Tuesday or Wednesday, so she went hunting for them. There were there, in my OB’s mailbox. Unopened. Of course they were.

So, not great news – but better than before. Forward momentum at least, that’s all we can hope for anymore.

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Seamen or Semen…

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So today was DH’s appointment at the local IVF office to give his sample for analysis. This will be, I believe, our third time at this particular office – albeit it’s been many years since our last go-round. I asked him yesterday if he wanted me to go with him today. Now in the past I’ve always gone, and assisted in the process – but ya, know – it’s been a while and this particular portion is his thing and it was up to him. He said that he wanted me to go with him. So I got him up this morning and we got around and make the 50-ish minute drive.

Standard doctor’s office check in procedures – just needed to update all his/our information and we sat down to fill out the mountain of paperwork together. Then they called his name. I stand up to go w/him – because that’s why I’m there, right? – and DH turns to me and says “Where are you going?”

“Um, with you, I thought?”

“No, I’ve got this.”

“Oh. Ok.” So I sit back down. I felt weird. I wasn’t particularly comfortable being back in an infertility doctor’s office to begin with. Now I felt rejected? I thought I was there for a purpose. Instead, there I sat staring at the parent/pregnancy magazines and the collage on the wall of all the babies they helped make at the office. All the indifference I had been able to form into this shield that I had hobbled together when I was suddenly thrust back into this world of infertility treatments came crashing down around me in that waiting room this morning.

This is NOT how people start families, this is NOT how people make babies. I’ve already had 5 more people all up in my snatch than necessary for “normal” people to conceive a child. FIVE!?!? Yeah. Five. And this fucked up roller coaster has barely left the station. I wasn’t ready, I’m not ready, I don’t want to do this. I want off this fucking ride. All the pain and hurt and waiting and unhappiness came FLOODING back while I was sitting there. I was only even there for my DH, and he didn’t even want/need me.

I tried playing on my phone, I tried reliving the fun we had just had the night before going out with friends to try our hand at an escape room (which was a blast, but we didn’t escape), I tried to distract myself however I could. Instead I just got angry.

DH finished and came out – at least they’re going to bill our insurance this time around, they didn’t accept our insurance before, and we should have the results next week. I didn’t talk much on the way to the car.

“Next time, I’m staying home.” I told DH. “Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” I stayed silent. We started back home.

“Are you made at me?” he asked.

“No. I just hate this.” The tears finally came. All I could think about was how futile this feels, and how hopeless I really feel. I really thought I could just not care. I’ve been trying to just not think about what we were doing, and just go along with it. No emotions, just clinical experiences. This about killed me the last time, I’m not sure how I can do this again.

Fuck.

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BFN

That’s right. Not it. Not this time, anyway. AF reared her ugly head before I had the chance to test anyway. I’m not holding out a ton of hope that this whole things is going to shake out the way we want it too, but I kind of thought maybe… Don’t we always think, “Maybe this time will be different…”?

Logically I thought after that lovely little internal ‘cleanse’ I got last month, maybe it would pave the way for something to magically happen this time. I was obviously wrong, but it made sense when I came up with the idea.  Oh well. Next time, right?

DH has his analysis appointment on Friday morning, so we’ll check on his side of things here shortly and see where we might be there. I don’t follow up with my OB again until the middle of November, which I feel is kind of strange – but it is what it is. The medical bills are already rolling in, and as I wasn’t really expecting to start up on the road again, I wasn’t expecting these bills again – so it gives me a little time to work on paying for that HSG. Even after insurance picks up their portion, I get to spend about $500 on that bit of torture I had the pleasure of enduring. *sigh*

Upside? We’re still in the clear to go on our 10th Anniversary cruise next October! Honestly we have about 6 months before I could ‘safely’ be pregnant and still go on the cruise.  Not planning anything either way – just taking things one day at a time.

Just another day in paradise, right?

Crackin’ Eggs

Image result for cracking eggs…or at least producing them. Not gonna lie, I was getting quite nervous there for a while. Under doctor’s orders I was putting that bulk order of ovulation test kits to good use starting on CD 10. Nothing. Nothing… nothing… nothing.. what the crap?? My cycles have been mostly fairly regular for the last several years for as much as I’ve paid attention to them. Which to be honest, I really wasn’t. So a couple days ago, smarty pants me finally actually opens the instructions and reads them over. I mean, to be fair, you pee on one stick (or 500), you’ve peed on them all, right? Right? This is old hat. One line, you’re not ovulating, two lines and you are. Yeah, that’s the same – so far, so good. The next part threw me – do NOT read the test for 3 minutes. Wait. THREE minutes? Not 60 seconds? Three whole minutes? Fuck. Me. I’m the girl who sees the control band appear and if the second line doesn’t show up pretty quickly afterwards – that means a negative test. I mean, the hormones are either present or not, it shouldn’t take THREE whole freaking minutes to show up.

So now, I’m in total panic mode. Did I freakin’ miss my LH surge? Did I already ovulate last week and I completely missed it? I mean, I was starting to see a faint second line appear by CD 17 but I should be past my fertile window for this cycle if I’m normal. Was that just the tail end of my window? Crap. Shit. Fuck. Ok well, see it through. Keep peeing into a cup until CD 1 if you have to, right? Same results yesterday, second faint line on the stick. Ok, maybe I didn’t miss my surge – maybe I’m working up to it now? I hope. Today, TWO PINK LINES!!  Ok dear husband of mine, the light has turned green – we are all systems go, let’s DO THIS!

Image result for positive ovulation test(Not MY picture, I didn’t even think of snapping a shot of my test)

Fingers crossed ladies and gents. The roller coaster has left the station. We’ll see where it ends up.

 

*Side note* Now that I’m actually paying attention, it does appear that my luteal phase is actually much longer than the standard 28 days. Which I kind of thought might be the case. I’ll know better now that I’m tracking everything. Thank goodness for smart phone with apps for this shit!

Ow Ow OW OW OW!!

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So good news/bad news. Last week was my Femvue HSG procedure. I had honestly worked myself into quite a state after researching the procedure and having some pretty horrific flashbacks to my HSG in 2010. I slathered myself in two different essential oil blends, took a Naproxen, and even snagged a leftover Ativan for good measure. Hubby and I actually arrived a little early for an appointment for once, and when my name was called we both stood up. However, the nurse told my husband that he couldn’t come back with me. I had been informed the day before that I was allowed to have one adult in the room with me, and after my last experience I NEEDED him there with me. I told her so, and she apologized but wouldn’t let him come back. He went back to the waiting room, and I had to hold back the tears that instantly sprang up. I can pretend to be an adult sometimes and managed to get through the whole thing alone though.

The external and even internal ultrasounds were fine. I mean, invasive, but you know, fine.  However, the here’s where we found the bad news – my fibroid which was pretty small and not growing very fast in 2010, now takes up the majority of the upper wall of my uterus. So, you know, not a great scenario.  I’m still waiting to hear back from my OB/GYN with what the plan for that is going to be. Next was the actual HSG procedure. To be honest, the catheter insertion sucked, but was tolerable. Similar to my uterine biopsy in 2013. Uncomfortable, unpleasant, but quick. That was the last of the easy part, however. The cramps and pain that I had experienced during that first awful, awful HSG were back. Stars flashed in front of my eyes, and it took everything in me NOT to curl up into the fetal position on my side. I remember looking around frantically for a hand to hold or something, ANYTHING to grab on to, and settled on grabbing the tops of my thighs just to give my hands something to do. The only difference this time around is that I had two wonderful women in that room with me, the ultra sound tech and my doctor. They were repeating encouraging words at me, (I couldn’t tell you now what they were, only at that time I honestly wanted them to shut their freakin’ faces and stop the thing that was making me hurt!) and reminding me to breathe. That, and the fact that my OB/GYN is good at her job and she got the test done quickly, make it barely tolerable.

There was no talk of putting in a new catheter and starting the process all over again this time. That was the point when I tapped out the last time. I can suck it up for only so long, long enough to do this test once, not so much to it twice in a row like they wanted to in 2010 though.

Here is where the good news comes in. I do NOT have blocked fallopian tubes, they are free and clear! So yay! I suffered through yet another HSG but actually got results this time, and good ones at that!

So yeah, good news and bad news all in one appointment. Not sure what the next step is from here, but maybe we’re actually making progress this time?

On a side note, my bulk order of ovulation test kits arrived in time for me to start using them. No positive results yet, even though I *should* be showing some – but again, at least we’re getting some answers, hopefully.

…and so we begin. Again.

When ‘normal’ people decide to have a baby, I’m fairly certain that it doesn’t go like this – visit a new OB/GYN for your regular yearly appointment, discuss how you haven’t been using ANY birth control for the majority of the last nine years, get orders for a full blood panel, prescription for pre-natal vitamins, order for a sperm analysis, order for HSG, and an Amazon Prime order for ovulation test strips in bulk.  For my husband and me? Well that’s just par for the course. Honestly, my appointment today wasn’t really meant to be an infertility appointment. I had just gone a few years without insurance, and ‘forgot’ to go to the nurse practitioner that I secretly despised during that time. Plus my husband finally nagged me enough that I finally schedule my annual. To be fair, I have had seriously wicked cycles. Although after my vertical sleeve gastrectomy in 2014, they have been more regular than ever in my life. These suckers put me DOWN for a good several days with severe cramps and heavy bleeding, as in not able to function at all. So, I gave in, now that my dear husband has a grown-up career with grown-up health insurance, I figured it was time to get all up to snuff.

My new doctor was honest. The easiest way to control my symptoms is to go on birth control. However, we both knew that’s not an option for me. The second easiest way to control my symptoms? Pregnancy. She was fairly certain that just getting me knocked up would take care of everything else. Yeah, ok. Easy enough. Like we haven’t been trying for that EXACT goal for over nine years, I definitely should have thought of that. *shrug* She seems to be treating my awful cycles vs. treating my infertility BY treating my infertility. I guess that’s a new view I’ve never taken before. Maybe this IS the way to go. In any case – here we are hurtling head-first into infertility treatments again.

You may have noticed a rather loooooong absence in my blog. Yeah. I took a break. I wasn’t sure that I was ever going to NOT be on break again. Those were some seriously tough days (seconds, minutes, weeks, months, years….) for me. I was pretty spent emotionally. We spun and spun our wheels and never progressed anywhere, or so it felt. I mean we never achieved pregnancy, so I guess we never really moved forward. We never even had any procedures done that would end in pregnancy. Got to try some of those super-fun belly shots for a while. Those were a hoot. Some pills that made me super nauseous and gave me the ability to throw up while at work. That was fun too. Lots of stressful waiting on phone calls as well. And who can forget all those internal ultrasounds?! Not this girl. Those were a fricken riot! So yeah. Spinning wheels, no forward momentum was had. Maybe now things will be different.

If I don’t sound incredibly optimistic, don’t take that personally dear readers. It’s been a long nine years. I’m hopeful, but that hope is hiding under comfy blankets reading a book, or more likely, drinking Starbucks walking down Main Street USA at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom – that is my happy place, after all. So the adventures continue in the baby-making. I’m still a chubby girl losing weight (15lbs down this summer – hell yes!) but I’m much less fluffy than I used to be thanks to my weight loss surgery. Hubby has gone through quite a lot of medical stuff himself as well. I’m sure I’ll touch on that as we go along this new path. It looks a bit overgrown and weedy up ahead to be honest, but maybe there’s something miraculous at the end. Let’s see, shall we?

The Plan Thus Far..

Hey those of you who are reading this!  My life has sure changed a lot in the last couple of years – and yet has stayed oddly the same too.  I’m a stay-at-home Wife (I think that sounds so much better than Housewife – thanks to all the reality tv shows out there!), home-maker, Travel Agent (which I’m FABULOUS as BTW – so hit me up!), and general aspiring business woman.  I have both an Etsy shop and an Amazon web-store, plus some listings on eBay.  Apparently I just have to stay insanely busy!  Oh and I’ve started couponing!  I’m NOTHING like those Extreme Couponers you see on those shows (yet), but I’m working on it.  Working at home made me feel like I was giving away our money if I didn’t give this a try!  Plus as of right now I’m almost 55 lbs skinnier than I was just a few months ago!

 

Maybe someday soon I’ll have to change this blog title to Not-So-Chubby Girls…!

 

So in and amongst all of my crazy life happenings, I, of course, still desperately want to be a Mother to a real life tiny human.  While I love my four-legged, furry daughter to pieces – I’m hoping to have one with a little less hair!  With having surgery only a few short months ago, it’s not recommended that we “try” to get pregnant until at least a year post-surgery.  We’re not trying to prevent pregnancy at all – heck we haven’t tried to prevent pregnancy for the last 6 years, I’m certainly not going to do something about it now!   I’m hoping that this dramatic weight loss will help with my PCOS.  I do have this niggling voice in the back of my head screaming at me that I was diagnosed with PCOS in High School at some 100 lbs less than what I weigh even now, so the weight thing might in fact NOT help us out in that way.  Here’s to hoping though.

My husband’s thyroid seems to be steadily improving. As of his last endocrinologist appointment, they reduced his meds again – so hopefully *fingers crossed* we get his thyroid “fixed” and his count increases. (PLEASE, oh please, oh please!!)  If that’s the case, I’m going to wait the required year post-surgery and then  head back down to our RE to get a program back in place.

So in just under a year, I’m hoping to get back into injectables and ultra-sounds and waiting by the phone for results and more results and praying and crying and hopefully – hopefully a little tiny being growing inside of me.  At least I’ll feel like we have a shot.  More so than we’ve had yet, since every doctor we’ve seen has pretty much told us our only chance at having a family of our own would be through IVF.  We don’t have that kind of money. Period.

So that’s the plan.  Our road sure is a bumpy one, isn’t it?

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