Where in the world is -

Options:
a. In NYC, attending the 2nd week of classes
b. Out of the country, doing research
c. 945.52 miles (according to mapquest) away from my cozy NYC apartment with Jim Dear and my RE
d. none of the above

d. My grandmother died last week (while I was in Europe) and I, the most dutiful daughter ever, have come to help my mother cope and to pack up my grandmother's apartment before the lease runs out. I spent quite a while with my grandmother before I went to Europe and I was able to be here when she was still lucid and talking, so I don't actually feel too bad about missing the end (she died at home, less than 3 months after a cancer diagnosis), but it's still tough to be here.

And of course, after promising to myself that I wouldn't, I let slip to my mom that we've started more involved treatments. It's not that she won't be supportive, it's just that I'm worried she'll be way too invested in the outcome and far less optimistic about it. Which is fair given that she watched my sister go through 4 years of IF treatments without a baby. And then losing her husband, but that's another story. And she's clearly thinking about it. She asked me twice about adoption after dinner. And of course she worries about the cancer risk from all these drugs. But I guess I thought it might cheer her up, and truly it didn't seem to at all. Come on, I'm 26, we could easily decide to wait another 5 years to start trying if our priorities were different, and it would be totally normal [That is in no way at all a critique of those of you who are waiting, it's just about why we've decided to take such a crazy course. It really was a rational decision for us about different potential outcomes for our careers and leaving time to try several drugs before IVF and even take a break for a year if we need to at some point]. I guess it's great that my family has already dealt with this and that they will all be supportive in the long run (and both of my parents have offered to help us financially with the treatment) but I kind-of wish we could also share a little enthusiasm.

Which brings me to something that I've really been wanting to post about: the little bubble we live in. Sometimes, especially after actually talking to other people, I think we're kind-of crazy: we commute almost 1000 miles to see each other, we don't have a very stable life at the moment, our incomes will increase substantially in the near future and we could clearly wait till then, I'm super busy with school, we're getting married soon and I really don't want to waddle down the aisle (or at least if I do I want it to be clear why - what I don't want is to be 3-4 months along and just look fat), our usual stuff ... and all I can say is that I'm so happy that we're actually doing something about IF. This is really something that has been hanging over me for years and years. And it's odd because I certainly don't honestly believe that things will work immediately and I'm not the one to count months and imagine what maternity wear will look like next fall, but still, it's great to know that I could actually have a baby next year. Or the year after. And it makes me really happy that we've actually started.

again

The baby woke up at 4:41 am this morning. Her parents did not pick her up until 4:56 am. I'm newly convinced that my bed is closer to the cradle than theirs. Oh well. Off to the airport again (I just got back to the states Friday).

Oh, and I've been meaning to write about my 'new diet.'
a. I hate diets. I don't do them.
b. I have a lot of food restrictions already: kosher, avoiding all trigger foods for IBS.
But my doctor really thinks that it might help to control my insulin levels to cut out all the simple carbs plus some (like fruit). He's actually doing a study comparing fertility drugs to changes in diet for severe PCOs and he seemed pretty confident in the results (one thing I love, love, love about this doctor is that he knows we're going to google stuff so he just goes ahead and tells us which journal articles to read. But apparently nothing good is published on this yet). I started when I got back from Europe, and I'm not sure how much longer I can do this. I feel nauseous about 1/4 of the time and famished 2/3 of the time. This ought to be my happy phase of an Atk.ins-like diet when I gorge on bacon and steak, except of course see b above. And since I'm sure the blog will shortly delve into way TMI, I get diarrhea every time I eat a full serving of a hard to digest food like, say, meat. That combined with the new NYT article about mercury levels in tuna yesterday, left me eating the following for lunch: 1 cucumber, 2 slices of salami, 12 pecans and a hunk of plain tofu. Wow. And I'm traveling today. Thus far the only thing I can consistently keep in my stomach is eggs, lots and lots and lots of hard boiled eggs.

After losing yet another meal to IBS, I spent a while looking for 'inspiration' online. And I came across something like 5 wanna-be inspirational articles in a row about women who had lost more than 100 pounds. Now I'm sure there's an audience for those stories, and I guess it's easier to to take fabulous before and after photos when you've lost a little more than the size of the suitcase which I seem to lug around the world from your body mass, but I can't imagine that audience is that big. I would be terrified to lose more than 25 lbs. I lost 1/3 of my body weight from an illness a few years ago and it was scary, really scary. So any ideas where to read about losing the reasonable 5-8 lb beer gut that wasn't?

Sometimes I wonder ...

So I have my u/s on Friday to check that I can start a new cycle. Not a big deal. Except that I'm flying in at midnight the night before (better than the morning of, that's the worst). I still have no idea why this u/s of all of them can't be done by my general practitioner or any competent doctor in the Northern part of the country ... So I decided to ask Jim Dear if he will drive me, since this is a procedure that takes less than 5 minutes when they schedule you for 8 am. And he asks 'Is it awful?' Pretty funny. That definitely deserves a trip into the room with me.

Oh, and I finally finished battling my insurance and my drugs are currently enroute to Florida. Not so bad, under $100 at the moment for these drugs.

back

I logged into my blog tonight almost expecting someone else to have kept it up to date. Just feels like it would be great if one thing in my life were under control. Back from Europe today. Very tired, lots of dead cockroaches in my apartment. Also, voicemail from a mail order prescription company from who knows how long ago and a letter from my doctor about upcoming cycle which I know was supposed to reassure me, but instead made me rather mad. See, I'm anovolutary. And not just that, I even have trouble with withdrawal bleeding. So the letter had a schedule for meds and such with me bleeding 3 days after ending bcp. Right. That has never happened. I have twice asked the doctor/mean nurse whether it will be a problem to start bleeding the same day I start my Letr.o.zole. No answer to that question. And I looked at the calendar again and I'm supposed to be off to Europe again the day after the 'involved' part of that cycle ends, so not so much room to maneuver about dates. Oh, and I gained weight in Europe. Which is to say that I'm overtired, have a lot of little stuff to deal with tonight (finding every single dead cockroach in my apartment, googling how to kill cockroaches without chemicals ...) and I wish I was less tired to deal with the fertility stuff.

Oh, and the letter says something about taking baby aspirin every day. First I've heard of it. And I can't take aspirin. Any idea what it's for or what I can substitute with?

whoops on the timing

It has always struck me as highly entertaining when women blog that they kept all of their old pee sticks. Because we really don't live that type of life at all. The type where you wake up in your own bed, with your partner by your side, and dash into your own nice suburban (honestly, whose apartment has under-the-sink storage?) bathroom to poas.* Let's see, last month's cycle I was on a trip to visit a dying relative and I didn't want to put it in the trash in their house and be the subject of a lengthy investigation. So I carried the negative stick in my purse all day, double wrapped in a grocery bag, and trashed it at a gas station at about 9 pm on my way out to get a drink. And felt like I might be 16. Of course, when I was 16 we did have to smuggle out a few empty handles of liquor, but ...

So I just looked at the calendar, and realized that if our Feb. 1 cycle is a go (we'll find out tomorrow - need to confirm with the clinic that they can 'squeeze us in') then the end of my 2ww will nicely coincide with a week-long trip to Europe. Not the part of Europe where I speak the language and would have no problem with a 'ja/nee' poas, but a country where I definitely don't speak the language and that probably keeps these all-important tests behind the pharmacy counter. It makes me laugh just to think about collecting all of those fine early response sticks in different languages. Not that I would consider carrying fine English-reading American early p. tests out of the country and have to face the belligerent questions of airport security. "What exactly do you think you're doing with these early p. tests, young lady? I don't see a wedding band on your left hand? Do you realize that the airline can deny you boarding just in case you happen to be p- and go into early, early, early labor unless you have a doctors note? And we can deny you boarding anyway for being too fat if you don't." Oh boy am I looking forward to keeping up this schedule once I actually am pregnant. 9am blood work, then I call the clinic and get a start date. Another evening ending with a drink, prenatals, and bcp. At least the baby's sleeping.

*Unfortunately that image is stuck in my mind from the anti-marijuana adds that ran a couple of superbowls ago, where the 30-something couple say 'I guess we'll be the first grandparents on the block' and then the screen cuts to their teen daughter in the corner. The ads which ran between back-to-back beer ads.

what a weird culture

The baby's crying so I'm awake. That would be my next door neighbor's beautiful newborn, so there's really nothing I can do about it besides ring the doorbell (probably waking the other kid and the dog) and offer to come in and rock the baby and be turned away as a total weirdo. But it is weird to lie awake in your bed, having just taken my prenatal vitamin and bcp (starting a new cycle in February, obsessive doc wants bcp) and listen to a newborn crying 4 feet away. Ah, NYC real estate.

This weekend we saw not one, but two shows were a girl's first sexual encounter results in pregnancy (Sp.rin.g Aw.aken.ing and Sp.ee.ch and De.bate - a fabulous little play about high school kids). It's such a weird cultural idea, that must stem from old wives' tales and constant warnings by other mothers that even your first sexual encounter can result in pregnancy. And I have to think it also has a bit to do with male authors. I mean really, first sex? Isn't that a male fantasy that everything was great? Moreover, it's highly unclear how 'comprehensive' these experiences were - in one play the girl mentions that things didn't go quite right. But it also makes me think of the weird disjunction for those of us in today's high-tech medical world who were absolutely sure that our first encounter posed no threats to our wombs. Clearly I was optimistic and hopeful that my first encounter might at least have the potential to result in a baby (although I was on bcp), but I already had heard enough warnings from RE not to count on it. One of my poor friends had a terrible surgery in her early 20's which almost certainly eliminated her ability to conceive naturally. I remember being with her on the day of her discharge from the hospital, when the poor doc doing rounds - not her primary surgeon - said something along the lines of, 'well, if you want kids do it in the next 5 years or so.' Great. Wonderful lifetime counselling there for a fragile 20-something girl who was at the time, and still is, completely single. Nothing like telling her to settle down immediately, or give up on motherhood entirely. Sadly, I haven't been able to talk to her about our current medical endeavors because she has taken a very fatalistic view that some women just aren't meant to be mothers. I personally can't see how you can believe that a physical problem is really indicative of whether you ought to parent, unless you believe in the type of incredible dictated universe where the poor are meant to suffer and only the evil die of painful diseases. Which brings us to Friday's oped in the N.YT by Jud.ith Wa.rne.r. If you didn't know by now, I read the times obsessively.

The article is a highly unsympathetic take on the justifiably shocking proposition of international surrogates. It's particularly troublesome because some of the parents hint that they chose international surrogates because of their ability to control and monitor them more than domestic ones. Just to make it clear, I think there are fraught moral questions of financial coercion, but in general I think these transactions should be legal and available. But it was not the article as much as the string of responses which basically stated 'You have no right to be a parent.' The number of responses which mentioned the idea that you don't have a 'right' to parent, made me reread the article to check that some quote had not inadvertently suggested the idea, which it hadn't. It's such an odd idea to focus on. Nobody I know, especially not a couple undergoing fertility treatment, has suggested having a baby is a right. And it doesn't even make sense because 'right' is so tied up in legal terms. What's clear is that these couples have the clear desire to be parents, and that desire is leading them through all sorts of hurdles and costs. The talk of 'rights' (with hints of elite privilege and money that would be better spent elsewhere) reeks of a lack of empathy that's so odious that they must be aware of it. I mean, infertile couples who chose medical treatment or adoption go through so much more hassle, expense, and surveillance than those who conceive quickly and naturally, that it seems like their immense desire would correspond to a pretty impressive level of dedication as parents. (And oh is that surveillance offensive. On Monday I have to go repeat my S.TD testing because the clinic requires it to be less than 12 months old before a new cycle. Not that I've done anything risky in the past 12 months, or even that my spouse has to be tested. Nope, this is just a bit more embarrassment for the women). I guess I just don't understand this idea that physical infertility must be just. Only a few comments even mentioned the trite idea that some of these women might suffer from fertility problems because they had put their careers first. Women's decisions about when to settle down and have children are so strongly influenced by societal pressures that it strikes me as a bit absurd to hold individual women accountable for their choices (especially when economic need rarely lets them decide in a vacuum). And as someone on the other side of the age spectrum, who has been asked repeatedly what our rush is and don't I worry about missing out on our carefree 20's, I hardly think a little carelessness with the foresight on family planning is a reason not to be a parent.

At least there was another article with a much nicer spin on infertility/parenting. In Sunday's paper there is an article about 3 girls adopted from China. The article itself, like most of their human interest stories, has little content, but the issue of tension between 3 adoptive families is an interesting take, and some of the quotes from the mothers are very on point. I particularly like this one: "We don’t want to be seen as clueless adoptive parents who are just thinking that our child’s life is a fairy tale, because obviously it’s not." If only it were as simple as parents who need babies and babies who need parents, as some of the comments on the War.n.er oped suggest, then obviously we'd all adopt. But it's just not that simple. And anyway, much as I would like to adopt someday, as a rather young unwed couple we don't qualify for the majority of domestic or international agencies. So back to the trenches in February. But first a whole month of depressing bcp.

Introduction

I am usually a very private person but I have decided to start this blog because it turns out that infertility really is one of those terrible taboo subjects that isn’t made for polite conversation. And unfortunately, we just don’t have any friends who are going through the process. That would be primarily because of our age. We’re rather young, and most of our friends have just started to think about babies and such. However, thanks to a family history of infertility and a very, very obsessive mother I was diagnosed with PCOs at the fine age of 11. Yup, 11. Which leads us to the medical problems …

Me, well, I’m CD 5,475 or so. One natural period in my life (well, possibly a single metformin-induced period in 2007, but it was a hard call). My sister spent years trying to conceive, and because of the very rare diagnosis she was given I have been followed obsessively by a reproductive endocrinologist since age 12. I have fertility work-up bloodwork going back over a decade. And the diagnosis is still PCOs, with possibly a side of very high cortisol.

TTC: It was a joke. We had about 3 liberating months off the birth control pill before we realized ain’t nothing going to happen if I don’t ovulate (and of course after 3 months of no bleeding I was already starting to think about cycts and cancer and such and had to find someone to prescribe something). And then enters our 2nd fertility problem: a long-distance relationship. 5 years and counting of commuting. So our cycle schedule involves a lot of plane tickets. Oh, did I mention he has no vacation days at all this year? Not a one. So I’ll be doing all the travel this year.

What will make this blog readable, and not too depressing:
1. A strong irreverence for the seriousness of medical procedures. A little story might capture this. Last year I had an u/s scheduled for 11 am on a Friday, which necessitated a 6 am flight. Which resulted in me being starving. And after being stuck, undressed in an ice box for 3 hours waiting for a 3 minute procedure, I was about to lose it. So the kindest nurse ever brought me a plate of cookies. Just as the doctor walked in the room. So, there I was scooting up the stirrups while clasping my plate of cookies. The horrified doctor asked if he should come back in a few minutes, but me, I told him, no worries, proceed full speed ahead. And really, it doesn’t. I’m just not that shy, and I’ve been through this before.
2. A full appreciation of the ironies of trying to produce a baby. I just moved to a gorgeous (but tiny) apartment that would be more appropriate for a baby (whenever one should arrive). And who lives next door? A lovely woman on her 6 week maternity leave. So I wake up most mornings to the sound of someone else’s newborn crying. Fabulous.
3. A strong liberal, feminist take on this process. We’re not really your traditional couple, from our willingness to commute long-distance in pursuit of very competitive careers, to the fact that we haven’t gotten married yet (Great stories about trying to convince my doctors that I really am not a lesbian, and that Jim Dear, when he finally showed up to an appointment, is my forever spouse and future lawfully-wedded hubby and not some for-hire sperm donor who also does doctors appointments. It gives me immense sympathy for the absurd objections to lesbian mommies).

What’s on the agenda for this year: Hopefully a le.tro.zole cycle in February, and then maybe another in March (let’s be honest, when did this stuff ever work the first time around). Hopefully we’ll be ready for more intense treatments by the summer, although given the amount of tears spilled on progesterone 2 weeks ago, we’ll have to see.