Friday, January 22, 2010

399!

Finally, a bit of good news--my levels dropped dramatically to 399. A month ago I was rooting for increasing hcg levels. Now nothing would make me happier to have them in the negative. Hopefully the trend will continue.

With my mind put at ease a bit, the reality of our situation hit me the other day. George and I will not have biological children. Wow. I need to repeat that-- George and I will NOT have biological children. That notion smacked me in the face and I suddenly felt profound sadness. Of course I knew that was the direction we were headed, but I guess I haven't really dealt with it yet.

In my previous posts I don't think I mentioned this second ectopic ends our journey to get pregnant. We will not be pursuing anymore fertility treatments-- we are finished. This wasn't an impulse decision by any means. I nearly had an emotional breakdown in the fall which told me I was done. The impact of the first ectopic was mammoth-- it shook us to the core. The shock of it, the severity of it, the confrontation with my own mortality--- this is huge life stuff. So when I started the next round of IUIs with injectables this past October I wasn't ready to go through it again-- I was, however, ready to be done. I agreed to continue the IUIs so I wouldn't wonder what if, so I could comfortably check the box and know we tried. Ensuring I could check the box is critical for me to be able to close this horrible chapter. This second ectopic was the 2nd of 3 IUIs. Even if I wanted to pursue the last, I don't think my doctor would be on board.

The road ahead will not be easy, George and I have some tough stuff to work through before we can begin the next chapter. But knowing the current chapter is coming to a conclusion we are also feeling something we haven't felt in a long time: relief.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Fun with Methotrexate

As Infertility delivered her message to me Friday reminding me I am still under her thumb. My message back to her is "Screw you...you will not break me." I may be kept down a couple of days, but you will not break me! After finding out one dose of methotrexate was ineffective, there was a bit of good news yesterday. My ultrasound looked OK-- meaning they didn't see anything that would make them think I needed immediate surgery. My remaining tube is safe for now. I received my second dose of methotrexate this morning and am already starting to feel its effect. I'm hoping it won't be any worse than the previous dose when the side effects weren't exactly fun, but at least were manageable. For the next week and a half I will be on this Groundhog's Day loop of sorts. As with the previous dose my first draw in four days will likely see my levels rise, as is common after the initial dose, then a few days later my levels will likely decrease a bit, as they did previously. The third blood draw will be the first indicator to me whether the second does is more effective than than the first. Though I won't really feel safe until my levels consistently decrease and this drama is over with.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

So you think you're getting your power back?

Yesterday I mentioned I was starting to take a couple of small steps in hopes of regaining my power. Well apparently that prompted Infertility to deliver me a smack down with the message "You're still my bitch." I found out last night the methotrexate isn't working. My levels are rising. So what does that mean? Well, I'm on my way to the Doc's for an ultrasound and another blood draw-- if things are stable, I will likely opt for another dose. If things look worse, then I'll have to go in for surgery resulting in the removal of my remaining tube. By the way, methotrexate works in 85% of all cases, naturally I fell into the 15% group. Five percent of that 15% find that methotrexate isn't effective at all and eventually need surgery. We'll find out out which category I will fall into...

Friday, January 15, 2010

The Emotions of Infertility

The emotions one feels when going through any type of fertility issue is vast and complex. On any given day I can feel grief, disappointment, shame, anger, resentment, sorrow all at the same time. Sorting through that can be tough if not impossible. Two emotions I want to focus on for this post are shame and anger.

Shame.
I first recognized this when we started to see a fertility specialist. I remember telling a friend I was feeling this way and I thought her head was going to explode. "What????" she exclaimed.
"You have NOTHING to be ashamed about." She, too, had gone through her own infertility issues. Later she told me when she thought about it, she realized she, too, had feelings of shame--- she just wasn't self-aware enough to recognize it at the time. Intellectually I know I have nothing to be ashamed about--- but here I am still experiencing feelings of shame. I suppose the shame comes from the notion that every woman, should she so choose, can have a baby. For most women it works that way, they decide, they get pregnant, they have a baby. On the surface it seems like something simple, something every woman should be able to do-- so when you can't you're left thinking; What's wrong with me? Why can't I succeed at this? Teenage girls can do this, drug addicts can do this, women "accidentally" do this all the time. Not me... I can't do it. The fact is it's really amazing anyone gives birth at all--- I mean all conditions have to be just right for an egg to be fertilized, implanted and successfully become a bouncing baby. I have no answer on how to best deal with this emotion, I suppose it is different for everyone. I still have these feelings of shame, I know this because of how I felt when I found out strangers and friends were being told of my latest "event." I know this because of the trepidation I felt starting a blog and the thought of people I know reading it. My first post on this blog mentioned there was some comfort in anonymity. What a difference a month makes. I refuse to feel shame anymore. Shame has helped infertility control my life. Fuck that. I'm taking my power back. I will not hide my infertility issue like it is some dirty little secret. A first step in helping me to accomplish this will be not to hide my blog-- I may not put it on my Facebook page, at least not yet, but I will start letting friends and certain family members of its existence.

Anger
I like this emotion. That might make me sound a bit off, but it helps me feel powerful. Yes, I'm angry. I'm pissed off. I'm pissed off that this is happening to me. I'm pissed off that we can't seem to catch a break. I'm pissed off that half of my office is fucking pregnant. I'm pissed off that half my friends are pregnant. I'm pissed off that twice this past week I was asked at work "when are you going to get pregnant? There must be something in the water in your office. Ha ha." I'm pissed off that teenage girls, drug addicts, and women who don't want it, get pregnant. I'm pissed off that I've had 2 miscarriages and 2 ectopic pregnancies. I'm so pissed off I say--"Fuck You Infertility." Sometimes I think you have to get angry to get your power back and that's where I'm at-- I'll let you know if it is successful.

In coping with these and other emotions, I've found myself connecting to various songs that either speak to an emotion that I'm feeling or motivates me to tap my foot thereby releasing me from the emotion that I'm feeling, even if for a minute. One song that accomplishes both is "Bloody November" by oh my stars. The song's first line is: "You say I'm angry, yeah pretty much but be glad I'm not all exploding all up in your guts cause I could..." Of course as I write this I realize this might make me seem a bit too angry and perhaps a bit psychotic--but in all seriousness, it is a good song-- one that I definitely tap my foot to and quite honestly sometimes I do feel that angry. I would love to scream that line at infertility.


Thursday, January 14, 2010

Answers

It's been three weeks since my last post. Three weeks of hell, three weeks of sorrow, three weeks of heartbreak. Let's go back to Christmas Eve, my HCG levels go from 10 to 40-- two days later they nearly triple, another two days double, ditto in another two days. During this whole time I'm still bleeding and extremely stressed out. Not knowing the viable/ not viable answer was killing me-- I had a knot in my shoulder the size of Rhode Island. I insisted on a ultrasound on Dec 26th-- I knew they wouldn't be able to see a sac, but I wanted to see if they could tell me what the bleeding was all about. I was told my uterus lining looked thin-- not something you would see in a "normal" pregnancy. I walked out of there thinking at least I had an answer-- later they called to tell me my hcg levels were rising and further the Doctor on call didn't feel we could rule out viable pregnancy--- what? So I was back to having no answers-- great.

On December 30th I again went in for another blood draw and ultrasound, this time to my doctor office (rather than the weekend office). Later that afternoon, I found out my levels were continuing to rise, but my doctor felt the pregnancy wasn't viable. Despite having been told my levels were rising appropriately, I found out that, yes, my uterus lining was too thin for a pregnancy and my levels should be higher for where I was at in my pregnancy. Information that would have been helpful to know throughout this process. I appreciate the nurses trying to give me hope by telling me that many women bleed in their first trimester, etc. However, I think I would have been better served by a more guarded/ realistic consultation. I mean afterall, this was my 4th pregnancy-- none of which have been successful, so I think I know a "not viable" pregnancy when I see it. But at least I finally had an answer--sure it wasn't the answer I wanted andquestions remained...but I could cross viable pregnancy off the list. So George and I brought in the new year mourning the inevitable loss of my 4th pregnancy and at the same time flipping off 2009: the worst year of my life with 3 failed pregnancies.

So we knew it was bad, but how bad? I felt this very well could end up as another ectopic-- I mean my bleeding pattern was identical to the previous ectopic, though less severe and my hcg levels were continuing to rise. January 2nd 3 a.m.-- I awoke to discomfort in my abdomen and back-- I laid in bed for an hour debating what to do. I woke my husband and called the Doctor on call. I think what I needed was to be talked off the cliff, instead the Doc pushed me off--telling me to go to the ER. I knew I wasn't emergent but I couldn't risk losing my remaining tube. So off to the ER we went where they confirmed ectopic. The good news is that my tube didn't appear to be rupturing. The Doc on call came in (five hours after we arrived) and offered 3 options: 1) Do nothing (huh? like that's an option) 2) Surgery-- no guarantee of saving tube and 3) Methotrexate injection (a chemo drug used to treat certain cancers). I chose the methotrexate option. The Doc then proceeds to tell me "you know...after you had the first ectopic, your chances of having a second went up 15%" "Yes, yes I know that" I responded. He continues-- "so, now that you've had 2, your chances of having a 3rd are 30%." "Yup. Knew that one as well." "so, yeah, I might not do anymore IUIs..." he says. Gee, you think???? And is this seriously the right time to discuss this?? Can I just get through this current crisis first????? WTF. I finally get the shot and the best part? I make my massage appointment. May not sound like a whole lot or appropriate--but this massage was the only thing I was looking forward to for 2 weeks. 80 minute deep tissue and boy did I need it.

The downside to the methotrexate is: this isn't over. I continue to wait. I continue to tread water unable to move forward. Side effects to the drug have been manageable-- nausea, fatigue, general blah. Just this week a less common side effect emerged: acne. Again, WTF. Acne? Are you fucking serious? I feel like a pre-pubescent teen-- if only my reproductive system was that of a pimply teen. Another downside to the drug is no alcohol. Talk about a time when I need a damn drink and I can't have one. Nor have I been told when I can expect to be able to have one. This process could take another month--another month of treading water.