A blog about babies: the babies I lost, the babies I never had, the baby who made me a Mama.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Emotions; or, The Motions

IUI #2 officially starts tonight when I pop my first CD 3 Clomid. I'm optimistic that this will get me an earlier ovulation than last month, maybe more than the two follies I had for IUI #1, and...well, beyond that, I'm not sure what to expect. I kind of feel like last month was our month, to be honest (though I know I felt utterly differently during that two-week wait). I had just had the HSG with all its famed conception-enhancements. And from what I understand, additional IUIs beyond the first have diminishing returns for women who ovulate without assistance. Though of course, I know plenty of bloggies who conceived on their second and third and fourth IUIs and beyond.

I don't really know what I'm saying. This is all happening so quickly. I'm still coming to terms with last month's chemical pregnancy and all the hideous fears it has raised and now we're suddenly moving into another cycle, another try, and I truthfully can't see it working out. I can't see us getting off that easy.

Ah, well. Once more unto the breach.

This morning I also had my blood drawn for the RPL panel. Whoo boy. They weren't kidding. Those were an awful lot of vials of my blood being bagged up and sent off. Coupled with my continuing period, I'm surprised I had enough blood left to continue breathing and moving and, you know, living. I think I did a pretty good job with it, if I say so myself. The phlebotomist was lovely, didn't leave a bruise or anything, and she distracted me with chat about Twilight (she's a big fan) and Harry Potter (we both are). Several times I felt my hands and lips start to tingle and go numb, but Lawyer Guy squeezed my fingers and the nurse slapped a cold, moist towel on my forehead and I managed to avoid passing out. Some apple juice and peanut M&Ms (sigh) later, I was ready to go back out into the world.

The results should come trickling in over the next two weeks. I was so glad to have the blood draw over that I forgot to worry about the results. I have to remind myself that knowledge is good, even of bad things. Whatever is wrong with us--if there is something wrong-- is already there and these tests didn't actually change anything.

My brilliant plan to spend a day feeling sorry for myself and then move on appeared to be working a treat until last night. I got manicures in the afternoon with my real life IF friend in the neighborhood, and then Lawyer Guy and I spent the evening cooking up a fall feast together: fancy spaghetti and turkey meatballs from him, butternut squash soup and baby arugula with roasted squash and an apple cider vinaigrette from me. We really had a lovely time together, which is why I was so shocked when I sat in front of the tv last night, glass of wine in hand, and suddenly felt so very, very sad. The kind of sad that fills your pores and weighs down your bones and hurts all over, from your scalp to your toenails. Maybe it was the be-costumed babies all over facebook, but I hurt so much I wanted to claw my heart out of my chest just to feel relief. I actually took out my Bible, which I haven't read in years (dare I say decades?), and read all of Lamentations in bed before burying my face in the pillow and crying.

I feel like I've been going through the motions today: blood test and prescription pick-up and therapy and walk the dog and grade some papers and lesson plan for tomorrow. I don't know what this cycle will bring, and I'm afraid to think too much about it. I don't know when I'll feel better about the chemical, and I'd rather not think too closely about that either. One foot down, and then the next. Pet my dog and take a shower. Hope each day's a little better than the one before. Hope I've got enough in me to survive when it's not.


  1. I think you are dealing with all of this really well. I definitely think that the plan to only be sad for one day was unrealistic, although it is a good plan. I mean, it's good to try to feel better, and to make yourself care about things like butternut squash soup (mmmm), but in the end it isn't going to actually WORK. So I hope you don't beat yourself up about being sad. I was shocked at how utterly desolate I felt over the second loss. It was way worse than the first, and I was just blindsided by that. It seems like you are having a similar reaction. Not that you are grieving this pregnancy more than the first, but the fact of 2 losses carries a feeling of utter hopelessness and desolation that the first does not. I clearly recall that feeling and I hate that you are there.

    But remember that the hopelessness of the second loss doesn't mean ANYTHING. You are NOT broken, and this will all work out soon. Huge huge hugs to you today. It's ok to be sad-- and I and all your bloggy friends are thinking of you and cheering you on for this next cycle.


  2. I think it's totally normal to feel what you're feeling. It's hard enough when that first IUI that you had so much hope for doesn't work, but when you have to deal with a chemical pregnancy on top of that, it pushes it into a whole new realm of frustrating, crazy-making and well, sad. So hard to get so very close, but not close enough. Wishing you super-duper ovulation on this next cycle with an earlier start on Clomid. And your fall feast sounds amazing. You might have inspired a fall dinner or two over here on the other coast.

  3. That blood draw is a doozy and I'm very proud that you stayed upright. Your feast sounds lovely, and that whacked on the head with the sad stick is something that just seems to happen. Halloween is not the best holiday for people who want kids.

    Be good to yourself and let these feelings come. There is no over other than getting through. You are holding in there through these days and this cycle brings all sorts of hope.

  4. I understand and I wish I had a magic pill, a wise word or a magical wand of granted wishes to share.

    I am just so sorry for the sadness and hope that time will heal and sooth your heart - sooner than later!

    Best of luck this cycle!!

  5. lemme guess, they took at least 15 vials of blood, huh? sooo glad that you got that over with, and whatever the answers from the tests, i love your attitude that finding something will only help you get to your end goal that much faster. with that said, i hope the *worst* thing that comes up is hetero mthfr, which is the most harmless thing i can think of and for which you'll have to do nada. i hate that you're sad, but it cheers me up a little that you and LG sound like you have such an amazing relationship. i'm sure two are the loveliest of couples, and i strongly believe (and fervently hope) that your sad days are limited and wrapping up. i know you say that iui success rates diminish after the first one, but i can't think of a single person who got a sticky bfp on the first iui to save my life. #2's and 3's seem to be the lucky numbers. c'mon #2. *fingers crossed* :o)

  6. You are doing a wonderful job. I know that it doesn't feel this way, but you are. You have the best demeanor through all of this, and I admire that. Of course I hate that you are sad, but I think that's normal. I would expect you to be sad. You are going to have good days and shit days, good moments and bad. But you are rolling with the punches, and that's what I love about you. Having hope is what it's all about. I know you have hope, and I have hope for you. Hope will get you through this - hope, a lot of tears, and a shitload of blogger buddies standing behind you.


  7. I'm your newest follower. I came across your blog today and realized we are in similar places in the IF world. I had my 2nd IUI last month and unfortunately it didn't work out. I've taken this month off and plan to start back up next month. I really hope this cycle is it for you. It's very promising that you responded so well to your 1st IUI. That blood draw sounds horrible - I don't do well with that stuff. I'll be following along and hoping for great news!

  8. I know you're a big musical theatre fan-- I've been singing "If That's What It Is" from Jason Robert Brown's 13 in my head for several days now as I work on a post about Liam's colic. (Just hit publish.)

    It was what I immediately thought of while reading your post.

    "Tomorrow will come,
    today will be gone...
    And so I put one foot in front of the other, and just keep walking on."


  9. You are right about the power of knowledge. Knowing will not make anything worse and, instead, it will allow you to start finding a way to make things better. Although I am hopeful that the results will be good news!!! Good luck with this next cycle!

  10. I think it's pretty f-ing awesome you get to jump right into another medicated cycle. I always find it's easier to deal with the terrible lows when you put a tiny piece of hope back into your heart, a la Clomid. Good job surviving the crazy blood draw, you are a trooper!


  11. Sloper, I just want to reach across the internet and give you a huge hug. You're doing great dealing with this, and continuing to trek on. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

    I think it's great that they did the RPL panel on you, you're right that the results are good to know. Knowledge is definitely power.

    Hopeful for you this next cycle. Hugs.

  12. Ach, Sloper. This made me cry. Especially your second to last paragraph. I think that awful stuff comes up when you least expect it. It's bound to. I know losing M&M was different but last month was also a loss. And one loss has very devastating way of compounding an earlier one.

    It's a grueling thing, this ART. To face the disappointment or devastation of one cycle and then jump directly into the next one. Be kinder to yourself than you've ever been and know that your doing the RPL panel is a very important step to getting more information (and, therefore, more power over this situation).

    I also think that you hit the nail on the head with something: we never know which cycle it'll be. Often, those "feelings" happen in retrospect because so much of hurtling along in a cycle is dealing with all the voices of doubt and anxiety in our heads. Don't count yourself out. Our minds are so very frequently on different tracks than our ovaries. Hugs to you.

  13. I always felt the start of a new cycle was sort of surreal...like...is this really happening? Again? Still, I'm glad you're able to jump right back in because being on the bench is definitely harder. Hope this is it for you my friend.

    And way to be brave during the blood draw. It is so freaky how much blood they can get out of you!

  14. Keep on keepin' on, babe. It's all we can do.

  15. I totally agree with Egg: I always felt better being able to jump right into the next cycle and not being forced into a bench month. But that cry you had--you needed it. I had one a month ago before this cycle started and it felt so good to just sob and sob and sob. I have to keep telling myself I will get through this. I will get through it. And you will, too. Thinking of you and hoping this cycle goes smoothly. xo

  16. You're right that knowledge is power, even if it may seem scary to check for something you certainly don't want to find. I hope they have good answers for you. Hang in there.