Distraction

When I was little, one of my favorite activities was to daydream.  I'd spend hours weaving stories in my head of a heroine (usually with dark hair and green eyes) off on some adventure.  In my mind, she would leave all she had known and find herself in a new land.  She would attempt to integrate herself into her surroundings or she would seek out adventure.  You get the idea.  Daydreaming was my way of escaping from the world I currently existed in.  In that world, there was no loneliness, no heartache, pain was temporary and the sky the limit.

I've fallen out the the practice of daydreaming.  The way I've coped with stress in my 20s was to go on adventures with friends: some of which involved simply hikes, others that have become legends in their own right.  It was fairly easy to distract myself from what ever crisis I encountered and most things were resolved when I was able to think clearly.

Today I am on Day 5 of Lupron, with one more day of BCPs to go.  And I'm driving myself a bit crazy thinking about how December 1 can't get here fast enough.  Because of this, I've spent the past few days thinking more and more about techniques I've used to cope during times of stress.  There are simple things I can do to make the time go by: go for a run, grade, meditate, go for a walk, knit, etc., etc.  The frustrating part is that no matter what I do, the waiting always looms.

Grey and I were talking about this last night on the way home.  He had had a particularly frustrating day at work and, because of the weather, wasn't able to distract himself with a bike ride.  As he grumbled about delays caused by miscommunication, he made the connection about how frustrating it is to wait for something so that you can move forward, whether that be for work or for life.  And how at times, the only thing you can do is distraction yourself during the wait.  It's not laziness, it's survival.

Today, I've made myself a schedule of distractions: the morning will be spent finishing plans for dinner and doing the necessary shopping. Early afternoon will involve a run, followed by a long bath.  Late afternoon will focus on grading and preparing for the coming week.  Sounds good, right?

How about everyone else; what do you do to distract yourself while on this journey?

November ICLW

My first ever ICLW.  Welcome all!  Here's a quick introduction on me and our journey.

1) My name is Cristy. My husband, Grey, and I have been together 8 1/2 years, happily married 7 1/2 years.  Yeah, I know. Very fast engagement.  But when you find the love of your life, it's hard not to want to be together.

2) We are the proud parents of two furbabies, Jaxson and Daisy (both 9 years old). Both add so much light and laughter to our lives.  Both have extensive back stories.  I'll share in the near future.

3) Contrary to everyone else we know (family, co-workers and friends) we can't get pregnant.  We've been trying for 2 years to conceive with not a single BFP to date (despite all the tears, cursing and threats to the universe).  After doing the IUI route, we are now preparing for IVF #1 this December.

4) To deal with the stress caused by infertility and being surrounded others who are able to conceive just fine, I knit.  And I knit a lot.  To the point that I now have knitting injuries (no joke) and more yarn than should be tolerated.  I have a niece and 2 nephews, so they are current recipients of my many projects, but I've also made fertility socks for women undergoing fertility treatments.  To date, I am 3 for 3!

5) After almost a year of being a lurker, I decided to take the plunge into blogging.  I'm not a writer (nor do I pretend to be), but the community I've found through the blogs I've followed has helped give me strength and hope as we make this journey. I look forward to meeting new bloggers as well as coming out of the lurker closet with the old.


 

Mission: Optimism

The past few days I've been riding the emotional roller-coaster.  Some moments I'm incredibly optimistic for the future, seeing good signs and hearing stories of hope at every turn.  Other moments, not so much.  Part of the lows are being fueled by the drugs on currently on, another part is the weather, but the truth is the doubt and pessimism are coming from a part of my subconscious.

On October 31, results from a study were released concluding there is a link between mood and mortality.
Headlines on this research titled "Happy people live longer" began to circulate and many began to speculate why.  Many wanted to know how this data was collected, as there is really no standard to measuring "happiness." But where a lot of attention went was wondering what choses these individuals were making that was extending their lives. Did they take more vacations? Laugh more?  Did they turn down that career-forwarding job and opt for something that was less stressful?

It's no secret that there's a direct connection between mood and fertility.  Alice Domar, one of the leaders in the field of mind/body intervention just published a report showing a significant difference between IVF success rates between the control cohort and the cohort that participated in a mind/body program.  The connection is so striking, that RESOLVE has many links on its website promoting finding support following diagnosis and prominent bloggers, like Keiko Zoll, began talking about the importance of remaining optimistic during treatment.  Women in the trenches of infertility are encouraged to laugh more, focus on the positive and even quit overly stressful jobs, all in the hopes of boosting their fertility.  Some may scoff and announce "BS," but the data is hard to deny.

So, based on this, what's my issue?  I know all of this. I've participated in a mind/body program.  And I love doing yoga!  The problem?  Well, like most pessimists, I'm lazy.  It's been easier to feel sorry for myself and focus on what I don't have.  A big part of it is that I'm tired of defeat: I've charted, peed on more HPTs than I ever dreamed of, meditated, avoided alcohol and even say a psychic (not my proudest moment).

It wasn't until this morning, with help from Jay,  that I realized I've been pouting.  Sure, it's not fair that half of all pregnancies in this country are unplanned and that most of expectant mothers have never experienced (and never will) the heartache of longing for a child.  But that's not where my focus should be.  My focus needs to be on the fact that though I'm here, there's hope.  There's a good chance of all of this working, so I need to stop focusing on all the things that could go wrong and instead focus on where I'm currently at.

In the spirit of that, today is being spent rallying support, opening up to friends and busting out the knitting needles.  Grey and I are planning a ski trip and preparing for Thanksgiving.  And instead of focusing on what I don't have, I'm choosing to focus on what I do: an amazing husband, two awesome furbabies, a job I love and hope.

Maybe this could work . . .

As December rapidly approaches, I've found myself fluctuating more and more between optimism and pessimism.  I've sufficiently driven myself crazy analyzing IVF success-rate stats from various clinics as well as spent more time than should be spent with Dr. Google.

A major reason fueling this concern about IVF not working is that over the summer, 3 separate couples I know had failed IVF attempts.  The one that hit home the most was the couple that's around the same age as Grey and myself.  The aftermath of the summer was facing the reality that there was a chance that IVF wasn't going to work.  And it's something that I've had in the back of my mind until this week.

I've been spending November being a cheerleader for a former co-worker/ current friend who has been finishing her IVF cycle.  I've watched in awe as she made the decision to transfer only one embryo and last Thursday she received wonderful news that she's pregnant.  My first thought when she emailed me was "finally, some good news."

Then Saturday, I received an email from a friend who had started IVF this summer, but ended up freezing her embryos because of OHSS.  She was given the all-clear to proceed with embryo transfer at the end of October, but I hadn't heard from her in a while.  She had finally wrote to let everyone know that the transfer had worked and she was finally pregnant.  The amazing part of this whole story is that they were suffering from severe male factor and were told initially that they would never get pregnant, so the news was completely amazing.

Then, yesterday, I received a surprise email from the one summer couple that they had secretly done an embryo transfer and that her second beta came back over 1000.  I was floored!  Shocked that she managed to keep this a secret from her entire support network, but equally happy that finally they had received such amazing news.

So, in less than 10 days, I've received a more than enough validation that IVF can work and that there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Yet, I'm still so very scared.

2011 has been a year where I've finally started reaching out to others who are on this journey, seeking support and comfort.  During that time, most of them have finally been able to become pregnant or resolve their infertility through adoption.  These women have been the strongest and most supportive group that I've encountered during this whole process.  They get it because they've lived it.  And now I've terrified that come December, I will lost them.  That things won't work out and I'll be left behind to deal with the aftermath.  It's such a selfish thought and one that I'm embarrassed to admit I'm having, yet there it sits.  Ugly and everything. I hate that it exists

I'm spending this morning battling the fear, attacking each moment of anxiety with positive thoughts in an effort to restructure my mood.  Strangely enough, there are moments it's working, but there are also moments when distraction works far better.  The seed of hope has been planted, but I'm working very hard to get that seedling to grow and thrive.


 

And we're off!

Prior to infertility, IVF was one of the procedures that everyone knew something about or knew someone who knew someone who had gone through it.  The jist of this conversations consisted of 1) it always worked, 2) said couple always had twins or triplets and 3) it was as routine of a procedure as having your teeth cleaned.  Mind you, I have enough of a background to understand how sperm met egg in a petri dish, but all the details were lost on me.  Mainly because it wasn't something I ever thought I would have to go through.

Fast forward to January 2011. I began meeting other couples dealing with infertility and, of course, fertility treatments were a common topic, but it wasn't until later conversations that IVF protocols even came to mind.  As one couple talked about their first IVF, it became apparent that everything I thought I knew was complete BS (minus the biology of sperm meets egg).  So like any curious bystander, I began asking questions, reading IVF blogs and doing my own research.  In addition, I watched and supported each group of couples as they each went through the procedure.  I celebrated the joy of good news, cried with them during bad news, but also learned about the different aspects of IVF and what to expect along the way.

Grey and I had our first appointment with the RE regarding our IVF cycle this week.  The goal of the appointment was two-fold: the first part was to receive education regarding the injectable medication and the second part was to do a mock transfer. A mock transfer is a procedure to measure the depth and angle of your uterus in order to determine the best way to insert the catheter, taking away the guesswork during the actual transfer process and reducing any errors that could occur along the way.  In general this is usually fairly quick and painless.  What can take the most time is waiting for your bladder to fill if you didn't know you weren't suppose to pee prior to the appointment.  Something worth noting prior to the actual transfer.

What I've been learning throughout all of this is how important it is to ask questions, even though everything seems obvious.  Even though I may think I know what will happen and what to expect.  But most importantly, I'm learning that things are not always as they seem.

No baby on board

Throughout this journey, there are many things that, once not on the radar, immediately become a reminder one's inability to reproduce.  Baby bumps, Cadalac strollers at the park, open debates about breastfeeding during work hours, etc.  All of these, for the most part, I've been able to handle.  My main conclusion has been that none of these things are meant to actively broadcast one's ability to reproduce to the rest of the world.

There is one exception to this, though.  Baby on board stickers. Within the past 12 months, it seems like the stickers themselves are proliferating like rabbits, attaching themselves to vehicles from all walks of life; from Lexus SUVs, Toyotas & Hondas all the way to Ford F150s, they're everywhere. I'll admit, pre-infertility I really wouldn't have given it a second thought, but now I find myself filled with rage simply at the sight of them, feeling as if they are taunting me.

The past couple of months, these sightings have become more and more of a problem.  Only a few months ago, I was your typical pedestrian/bus commuter. I was happy to enjoy my 20 mins walks to and from the bus stop, then spend the next 20 minutes catching up on reading or enjoying the scenery during the ride to work. Most importantly, I was happy to have someone else do the driving.  With the fall, though, that all change when I started my new position.  Suddenly I've found myself driving over 2 hours a day to and from work, putting me in the midst of drivers from all walks of life.  And that was when I became aware of the plethora of these stickers.  Seems I can't even escape reminders of infertility while on the road.

I've been thinking about this more lately, as we start our IVF cycle.  What is it about these stickers that as me seeing red?  My best guess is that the whole purpose, from my point of view, is to advertise to the world why you're so special.  It a look-at-me-I-have-a-baby attitude that makes me think the parents are less concerned with the safety of their child and more interested in special treatment.  Kinda like the "my child is an honor student" stickers.

But because of infertility, it now goes deeper than that for me.  These stickers are a painful reminder that I don't have a baby on board.  That after 2 years of trying, we are no closer to bringing home a child.  And on that end, it sucks.  I can deal with the bumps, the strollers, the unexpected pregnancy announcements and even the questions.  None of it is meant to be malicious.  But to be reminded of that painful reality while in traffic is a bit too much.

Playing the waiting game

October has been a month of attempting to be patient.  Since our finally IUI, we've be scheduled to do IVF in December.  The initial idea was to take some time to allow all the previous drugs to leave my system while attempting to reclaim something of a normal life.

I have a problem, though: I'm not a patient person.  I was the kid who woke up early on Christmas morning, eager to open presents.  I hate long lines, loathe crowds and am that crazy person who gets upset when someone cuts in line (another story for another time). Usually I deal with my impatience with activities ranging from constructive (knitting, craft-making, etc) to less than constructive.  Still, it's a problem, especially now.

My period is due any day.  More specifically, it's due tomorrow.  Once it comes, I get to graduate from sitting on the fence and start the first round of medication for IVF.  Starting meds means I'm no more waiting; I get to start doing something regarding my inability to conceive.  I finally get to have some control over the situation.  And I can finally move from the realm of wondering if this is ever going to happen to the realm of "well at least I'm trying to do something about it."

In the meantime, I'm stuck playing the awful waiting game.