distracted

Yesterday was a historic day, a fantastic day that may bring about a shift in the entire world. I’m so grateful that yesterday happened in my lifetime, and so hopeful that the change yesterday represents, to so many in America and around the world, will actually come to fruition and make the world a better place for everyone.

So I’m happy, really I am.

But yesterday was also a spectacularly shit day. My spotting turned to bleeding, which has continued to get heavier into today, crushing all hope that this was late implantation. I have a brutal headache that won’t go away. And yesterday morning, after getting to work late because we had a morning meeting with our mortgage specialist, I picked up the phone to call my clinic to report CD 1, and was told unceremoniously that Dr. Rational has suspended fertility treatments at this time because the ultrasound tech is very ill and in hospital, and their backup for u/s can’t accomodate everyone and of course pregnant women get priority over those trying to get pregnant. And that while the u/s tech is likely to be off for 6 weeks or so, that brings us into Christmas when the clinic “slows down” so basically no treatment until after Christmas.

After I bleated out a stunned protest that it might have been good if someone had thought to give me a call so I didn’t have to hear this way, which was met with what sounded to me to be a mild rebuke that “it’s been hard on everyone”, I hung up the phone. And then I laid my head on my desk and sobbed. I sobbed until the anger returned and made me pull it together. Then I realized that not only would I not be at the telling stage by Christmas, there was basically no way that I would be pregnant by Christmas. Then I sobbed some more.

My boss, bless him, asked no questions, just hugged me, told me it would be ok, and sent me home.

Where I stewed about how shitty my clinic is, how little they actually care about what I or any other patient there is going through, how reliant the system is a single individual, how those of us who are struggling to get pregnant are treated so poorly in the system, how we are always last in line, how we are reminded, by the head nurse in my clinic during a follow up call, that fertility treatment is elective and therefore we don’t rate highly enough to tax the system even more than it already is right now. And I stewed also about the fact that my clinic didn’t see fit to make phone calls to people in the middle of a cycle (although they must have phoned people with u/s appointments booked) but instead sent a letter out that I should be getting sometime, and when I challenged them about this they said there were too many patients to call.

Right. Cause leaving a voicemail for the people who are in the middle of treatment right now is too much for the full-time social worker, the 2 receptionists, the head nurse, and the half-dozen or so other people that work in the office there. Not even counting the doctors. Or the entire health region administration, for that matter.

I know it would have been above and beyond, I know everyone would have had to pitch in. But seriously? They couldn’t each have spared a half hour to let people know?

If I can’t get compassion from my clinic, can’t I at least get a phone call so I don’t have to hear that I won’t get another try until the new year on the day that I am calling to report that this cycle is another negative?

Fuckers.

So I’m sad, I’m mad, I’m overwhelmed. I’m glad the world I woke up in this morning is a different place than it was yesterday, but at the moment, my attention is elsewhere. Back in my solipsistic IF hell.

freak out

So I had my second dildo-cam appointment and got the same person doing the scan. I told her she was famous cause of my blog and how everybody said I was lucky to have someone as cool as she is. She seemed chuffed.

Unfortunately, flattering my sonographer didn’t do anything for the state of the nation. The largest follicle I had on Monday actually SHRUNK, from 12.2 to 10.3. The others seemed to stay the same size. My lining went from 4.4 to 7.1, which they seemed happy with. But what the fuck is up with my follicles not growing?

I have a follow-up scan on Tuesday (they originally booked it for Monday, but called and changed it after discussing it with Dr. R, who seems to think it’ll be better if we give it one more day.) If the follicles haven’t grown by then, this cycle will probably be a wash and they’ll put me on Clomid next month. Which I guess is ok, if I need it. Part of me is just not ready for that, and a part of me is fine with it.

What really is freaking me out is the shrinking thing. When they told me that, I just had a huge wave of fear that there’s going to be something else wrong. Something wrong with me. And I’m just not prepared for that. I don’t want to have to deal with something else, now. Working through the DI stuff was enough, thanks, and I’m ready to get pregnant. I don’t need another year of facing major life decisions and spiritual crises and major uncertainty and upheaval.

I’m calming myself down, and even the nurse at the clinic, with the fact that my cycles are generally around 35 days. So it’s early for my follicles to be getting close to the right size – I’m about a week away from when I’d expect to ovulate. But is the shrinking thing totally weird?

Anybody with answers or experience in these matters, please weigh in. I’m in need of some hobo signs right now.

 

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day one

I am all a-flutter, friends. Yesterday was CD 1, which means that in a couple weeks, I will have a minimum of 10 million motile thawed sperm swimming around my lady parts. Right now, though, I am sipping a cup of raspberry leaf tea to tone my ute and banish the cramps. And cuddling a very cozy little dog, who seems to have won the war about being allowed on the couch with us.

I spoke to my clinic today about the possibility of changing my treatment plan to do IUI instead of ICI (just to make our samples last longer as they’re the more expensive washed samples and I ordered all 5 available units. Apparently our donor (who needs a nickname, but I haven’t thought of one yet) has some more units in quarantine that should be out in June, but I’m hoping we don’t need them.) God, my parenthetical asides are long and convoluted. Maybe I should start using footnotes, a la David Foster Wallace.

Anyway, the clinic says I need to talk to Dr. Rational about that, but he doesn’t have any appointments for this cycle, so we’re going to go with plan A (ICI) for this cycle, and then discuss. That is really fine with me – in the midst of my torturing myself over this very question last week, it occurred to me that this was a perfectly acceptable compromise – and I feel in some ways that I had already accepted this in my heart, so I guess the Universe is just telling me that this is the right way to go for now. It doesn’t make me love my clinic to be told that Dr. Rational won’t make time for me within the next two weeks, but I don’t have to love them. They are really a means to an end for me, and as long as they sensitively and competently do what I need them to do, I could give a monkey’s whether they are willing to accomodate my sudden mind-changes. Plus the fertility nurse told me this morning, “And if you get pregnant this cycle, you can just cancel that appointment.” Which naturally made me feel good, hearing from someone else that it was a distinct possibility. (Statistically around 10-12%, but built up in my mind to be both a certainty and a treacherous journey frought with difficulty and highly unlikely to end in success of any kind.)

My garden has stalled a bit as last week was very cold for this time of year and quite a few days we had snow. But it’s meant to warm up a lot this week, so I’ll need to get out there and get things prepared. I have $20 in Canadian Tire money burning a hole in my pocket, and I think I’ll spend it on a whole shitpile of seeds. (For those unfortunate ones unfamiliar with the wondrous Canadian Tire, they give you actual paper “money” when you buy something and then you get to spend it like cash the next time you come in. Way better than those dumb cards and their stupid points I can never be bothered to check the value of.)

I went to my best friend’s baptism yesterday. It was amazing and beautiful and I’m so grateful I got to be there. I woke up at 6 to drive out there, got in a bit early, helped her get ready and stuff. We went to church and sat down in the front row, at which point she tells me that I’m supposed to go up with all of them to be part of the service and be a godparent to the 3 of her 4 kids who were getting baptized at the same time. Umm….yes, of course….but a heads up would have been nice! We had a huge laugh about it – she had been remarking earlier that she’s not good at planning things ahead, saying should have checked littlest daughter’s outfit as it was a bit grungy. I told her to take it easy on herself on that one, but remembering to check your kid’s tights for pills and stains and asking your best friend to be a godparent to your kids are pretty different things! But I was really happy she asked me and so glad I got to be there to share in the experience. I cried a lot, of course, but I came prepared with one of my beautiful Japanese hankies. The hanky selection in Japan is great because people use them to mop sweat in the summer or as a portable hand towel – lots of public washrooms don’t have hand towels provided. Just one of many ways in which living in Japan is like living in the 1950s.

I am so unorganized in my brain today, as I’m sure you can tell, having just survived a tangent about Japanese handkerchiefs. I’m still exhausted from yesterday and all the travelling I’ve been doing in the past few weeks. I’m planning on staying home as much as possible in the next while, and doing everything I can to prepare my body and my heart and my mind for this cycle. I was saying to my sister yesterday that I need to start thinking a little further ahead, that it’s safe now to do that. I tend to just focus on things up to a certain point, and then when I get beyond that point, I feel lost and freaked out because I haven’t prepared myself. And for the past 5 years, the point has changed somewhat in the details, but it’s really been all about getting to start to try to get pregnant. And that point is pretty much here. So what next? When do we tell, who do we tell first, what happens if it doesn’t work in the first few cycles, what happens if it does work, and eeek and eeek and eeek!

It feels good to be here, mostly at peace, pondering the possibilities.

And you?