Follow me on the crazy, hopeful, discouraging, funny, and ultimately successful (one way or another) path to parenthood while facing infertility.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Canceled Hopes

I have a routine when a cycle is over. I take all the zillion needles and alcohol swabs and medications that have been taking up valuable counter space in our kitchen, and I put them away. Into the injection closet. I try as best I can to erase the evidence that a cycle was just in full swing. This is never fun. But it's even less fun when the cycle has been canceled, ended before it's gotten a chance to be, stalled in the middle.

It's beyond frustrating.

My ultrasound today revealed a multitude of problems. That pesky mystery fluid in my uterus? Still there, although in lesser quantities apparently, so the doctor was briefly hopeful it wasn't a done deal. My lining? Still at 5mm. One of these things was enough to cancel, but both? I knew the end was nigh. The doctor sighed and hemmed and hawed a bit, thinking aloud that maybe two more days might make a difference, but that things were far from ideal. Then he measured my ovaries. My left side was ok, some new follicles around 15mm, doable for two more days of coaxing my lining to get its shit together. But my right ovary? That one had follicles right at the size needed for trigger, a size that wasn't conducive to waiting it out two more days, a size that put the final nail in this cycle's coffin.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I just don't see that this is going to work. This cycle's a no go."

I can't say I was totally surprised, I mean I took the whole day off today just in case there was bad news (plus last time I didn't get back until pretty late), and the bad news cloud kind of hung over me yesterday, threatening to spill bad news rain all over me. And today it came.

The lack of surprise didn't stop me from starting to cry on the table, though. The doctor was nice and said they'd meet on our case and try to come up with a plan, but the tears kept rolling. "I wouldn't cancel if I wasn't sure it wouldn't work in these conditions," he said. This I completely understand. My lining wasn't up to snuff. These being our last frozen blasts, everything needs to be ideal for us to move forward, and this cycle was incredibly disappointing. I understand the why. It just doesn't make it any less sad and frustrating.

I feel like such an utter failure. I feel like my body has just decided to completely stop doing anything it's being asked to do. I feel like the prospect of being pregnant and reaching success this way is speeding far away from me, a teensy speck on the horizon. I can still see it, but barely and out of focus.

So why keep going? Why continue on this path?

I HAVE TO SEE THIS THROUGH. I HAVE TO CLOSE IT OUT. If we have embryos still, and we do, I am not okay with just leaving them in the freezer. Or destroying them. And honestly, I don't know if we could in good conscience donate them, because they haven't been super awesome for us. Although, maybe it's just my uterus after all.

Maybe after all my talk previously of how my uterus is just fine, thankyouverymuch, it's actually not. And the frustrating thing is, all of these abnormalities are relatively NEW. They're all from the last two years of our five year waltz through this shit. I had polyps show up two years ago, and we thought maybe that was why things didn't work out, but they removed them and still nothing. The polyps kept showing up, and so we kept removing them. Then the scarring. Now this fluid nonsense. And then there's the fact that I used to have perfectly good tubes. My ectopic debacle rid me of one, and now that pesky scarring has closed up the other one. I haven't a prayer of a whoopsie, surprise pregnancy. My body feels utterly broken in this regard. I feel utterly broken. It is a horrid feeling to realize that everything, at this point, comes down to your body reacting the way it's supposed to, and it just isn't playing nicely. What can I do? What have I done? Is this preventable? How can this all ultimately come down on my ability to have implantation occur and carry? Are we done? Is this over? Will my body ever do what it's supposed to?

Now, we wait. We wait for the doctors to have their powwow over our sad sap case and then for our doctor to get in touch with us regarding what's next. I'm seriously concerned, because this was the fancy schmancy protocol that was meant to make my lining AWESOME. 5mm is NOT awesome. The wonder protocol did not work for me. And my fear is that none of this, not one single thing they will come up with, will work.

Now we look at January for our next cycle, maybe even February since I need to go on the Pill for a month, whenever I get my period. Yup, I'm pretty sure we're looking at February. Another pet peeve of the infertility process... the lengthy waiting period between each try. Oh to be a normal fertile person and get to try 12 times per year. (Of course, if I was a normal fertile, I wouldn't be in this predicament at all.) We desperately want to move quickly through these cycles, hoping for a miracle, but ultimately, at this point, wanting that closure. All of these setbacks are making that INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT.

Thinking back to yesterday's silver linings, I think I can see through the haze and fog of this unbelievable disappointment and step backwards and further evidence that my body is just refusing to get close to pregnancy to find a few today. I am no longer held to my 6:30 injection time. I don't have to find a non-bruised portion of my stomach to inject more crap into my body. I can get a coffee on my way into work tomorrow. I can have cocktails or wine this weekend. Once all these follicles settle down, I can work out again without fear of ovarian torsion (this terrible twistiness is a serious concern of mine for some reason). I don't have to spend my holiday worried that it's going to be ruined by a negative test while hoping madly for a positive one to end this year on a high note. I can toast the New Year with champagne. I don't have to drive to Buffalo for a little while. Just, you know, right at the height of snow season, January-February. AWESOME. Oops, that's a dark shadow, not a silver lining. Sorry.

I'll feel better once I have a plan, a new plan, some explanation of what the hell happened here. Something to make me feel a little less like my cycle broke up with me via text and left me hanging, devastated and confused and frustrated.

13 comments:

  1. Ugh, I'm so sorry, Jess. I could feel from yesterday's post that you saw/felt this coming, but that doesn't make it any easier. I'm so hoping you catch a break soon. Thinking about you!

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    1. Thank you. I could use a break for sure. I appreciate your support!

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  2. Sometimes you just have to understand what your body has been trying to tell you and learn to let go. I wish you peace and the ability to move on.

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    1. Thank you for your thoughts... I am at the point where I know I will need to let go, but not until I have resolved my frozens. I know this many setbacks don't point to the best of outcomes, but we need to follow our path on this one. We have already decided no more fresh cycles even though our package included one more, because it just seems pointless at this point and we want to be parents. All in our own time...I appreciate your perspective though!

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  3. Hugs, Jess! I'm gonna have a drink for you too. Thinking about you girl.

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    1. Thanks, Jen. I so appreciate it! Sucky times for sure.

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  4. Oh God, no Jess. I'm so sorry. What just awful, terrible news. I've been busy at work and now at my in-laws for a few days (hence my horrible commenting), but I was sending those good thoughts. I had really hoped that this special protocol was the one. It's just one thing after another and my heart is hurting for you. The silver linings are good, but I know this is so very hard. So many hugs.

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    1. Thank you so much... silver lining's keep me from banding my head against the wall. ;-) It's way harder than it should be. I appreciate your thoughts and positive vibes... onward we go.

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  5. I sit at my desk with tears streaming down my face. How utterly angry I am that this is still not it for you. I admire your strength to see beyond all the crappy circumstances that are happening in your uterus. And I wish upon all wishes that your doctors can come up with the plan that does, in fact, give you the optimal conditions for your last popsicles. Thinking of you, always!

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    1. Thanks, Aimee! I appreciate your anger. I am so frustrated, but was reminded that it could just have been a crappy month. We get our plan next week, they're really putting their heads together on this one. Thanks for your thoughts!

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  6. Thinking of you, Jess. I am so sorry. I hope you can find some peace over the holidays and I wish with all my strength that a door will finally open for you soon... Thinking of you all the time.

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    1. Thank you so much! Strangely I think I might have more peace this holiday without a beta hanging over me. Still sucks, but one way or another that door will open. The cancellation is a delay that's annoying but hopefully doesn't set back our time line too much. Thanks as always for thinking of us!

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  7. EEERRRGG! So frustrating! Hoping that All-Brains-On-Deck works out to be a huge Silver Lining.

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