I'd love to be able to post an update saying my hCG dropped or that I have to go for a second dose... but sadly, the freakin' clinic never called me yesterday with the stupid freakin' results, so I have no update to share.
Still spotting really really lightly. So, 36 hours of light bleeding and other than that it's just been spotting for a week and a half before & after those 36 hours.
I'm getting really tired of being in limbo... the wallpaper sucks.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Are we there yet?
Ah yes... the roller-coaster ride continues.
TMI alert. This will be pretty graphic and may offend more sensitive readers. You've been warned.
Got up yesterday morning and discovered that after days and days of intermittent light spotting (by 'light' I mean it never made it to a liner) there was finally a sign that the methotrexate had kicked in (or perhaps that the progesterone had left the building... or maybe a combination of the two). Bad cramps.
So, after sending my manager an email saying I would be working from home, I headed off to the clinic for my first follow-up beta. Many cramps. Much blood. At least they only had to poke me once to get their sample.
Drove home. Got home and made a mad dash to the washroom to find that the 'gush' I had felt had accompanied some large clots (well, I had just spent 45 minutes sitting in my car... preceded by 45 minutes sitting in my car, effectively... since it was about 15 minutes from the time I got my parking ticket to the time I left the parking garage and that includes the walk from WCH to the clinic, the blood draw, and the walk back) and some grey matter. I'm glad I was home when that happened. It wasn't a surprise to me this time (not like in October when I saw that and freaked)... it did look significantly different from October. Back then, it looked like a ruptured sack. This looked more like a short section of thin grey rope. (I did warn you it would be graphic and TMI)
Once that had passed, everything got lighter. The bleeding got lighter. The cramps got less and weren't constant. Of course, I also developed a headache, but I think that's a fair trade off.
But... to keep things interesting, I got my call in the afternoon from the clinic with my beta results:
nurse: "I'm calling from Dr. L's office. I have your results. It looks good, the numbers are up again to just under 3,000" (bear in mind, 6 days previously the number had been 1980 and since then I had had the stupid methotrexate injections)
me: "But it's not supposed to be up. I had methotrexate last Saturday."
nurse: {pause} "oh. Well, then we'll just stick with the plan Dr. L laid out and you'll come back in about 5 days for another test. You know, it's not unusual for the number to go up before it comes down again."
me: Yes... but that's why they wait 4 - 6 days before the first follow-up, isn't it?? "Fine, ok... so that's what, Tuesday?"
Yup... still no clue what's going on with that, and it'll be at least Tuesday before I know if they want me to go for another shot or have another u/s or what. Blah. Sucks. Just plain sucks.
And, in addition to all this fun, I've been having cramps in my thighs in the evenings since Sunday (both quads and hamstrings), I've got a blinding headache that comes and goes (but when it shows up it's literally blinding), and my ankles are swollen. My ankles don't swell. I've been on 8 hour flights and not had my ankles swell... my hand, yes, but not my ankles. No other part of me is swollen, just my ankles. Le Sigh.
So... that's the current update. I don't expect there will be much to say until Tuesday, but I might surprise us all ;)
TMI alert. This will be pretty graphic and may offend more sensitive readers. You've been warned.
Got up yesterday morning and discovered that after days and days of intermittent light spotting (by 'light' I mean it never made it to a liner) there was finally a sign that the methotrexate had kicked in (or perhaps that the progesterone had left the building... or maybe a combination of the two). Bad cramps.
So, after sending my manager an email saying I would be working from home, I headed off to the clinic for my first follow-up beta. Many cramps. Much blood. At least they only had to poke me once to get their sample.
Drove home. Got home and made a mad dash to the washroom to find that the 'gush' I had felt had accompanied some large clots (well, I had just spent 45 minutes sitting in my car... preceded by 45 minutes sitting in my car, effectively... since it was about 15 minutes from the time I got my parking ticket to the time I left the parking garage and that includes the walk from WCH to the clinic, the blood draw, and the walk back) and some grey matter. I'm glad I was home when that happened. It wasn't a surprise to me this time (not like in October when I saw that and freaked)... it did look significantly different from October. Back then, it looked like a ruptured sack. This looked more like a short section of thin grey rope. (I did warn you it would be graphic and TMI)
Once that had passed, everything got lighter. The bleeding got lighter. The cramps got less and weren't constant. Of course, I also developed a headache, but I think that's a fair trade off.
But... to keep things interesting, I got my call in the afternoon from the clinic with my beta results:
nurse: "I'm calling from Dr. L's office. I have your results. It looks good, the numbers are up again to just under 3,000" (bear in mind, 6 days previously the number had been 1980 and since then I had had the stupid methotrexate injections)
me: "But it's not supposed to be up. I had methotrexate last Saturday."
nurse: {pause} "oh. Well, then we'll just stick with the plan Dr. L laid out and you'll come back in about 5 days for another test. You know, it's not unusual for the number to go up before it comes down again."
me: Yes... but that's why they wait 4 - 6 days before the first follow-up, isn't it?? "Fine, ok... so that's what, Tuesday?"
Yup... still no clue what's going on with that, and it'll be at least Tuesday before I know if they want me to go for another shot or have another u/s or what. Blah. Sucks. Just plain sucks.
And, in addition to all this fun, I've been having cramps in my thighs in the evenings since Sunday (both quads and hamstrings), I've got a blinding headache that comes and goes (but when it shows up it's literally blinding), and my ankles are swollen. My ankles don't swell. I've been on 8 hour flights and not had my ankles swell... my hand, yes, but not my ankles. No other part of me is swollen, just my ankles. Le Sigh.
So... that's the current update. I don't expect there will be much to say until Tuesday, but I might surprise us all ;)
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
What the....?
Dear Mother Nature,
I realize you have a lot to do every day, but could you please stop toying with me for your own twisted enjoyment?
Thanks
-->Mums_the_Word
So... yesterday afternoon (around 3:00 p.m.) I started spotting. Pink. Good sign, I figure. Several hours later.... still spotting. Awesome, maybe things are going to start moving and I can get some closure. Several hours later... no big dramatic moment, but still spotting. Noon today... no more spotting. None. Not even a little. Not even a faint hint of colour. Nothing.
STOP PLAYING MIND GAMES WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sorry, just had to get that out of my system.
And now I can move on to feeling bad because a co-worker just asked me flat-out if I was off at the end of last week because I'm pregnant and I answered (just as flat-out) that no, I was off because of a miscarriage... the second in 6 months. Poor girl didn't know what to do with herself. And of course, that led to feelings of remorse for being so blunt.
But on the other hand... who the hell asks that question bluntly any more? Bah.
I realize you have a lot to do every day, but could you please stop toying with me for your own twisted enjoyment?
Thanks
-->Mums_the_Word
So... yesterday afternoon (around 3:00 p.m.) I started spotting. Pink. Good sign, I figure. Several hours later.... still spotting. Awesome, maybe things are going to start moving and I can get some closure. Several hours later... no big dramatic moment, but still spotting. Noon today... no more spotting. None. Not even a little. Not even a faint hint of colour. Nothing.
STOP PLAYING MIND GAMES WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sorry, just had to get that out of my system.
And now I can move on to feeling bad because a co-worker just asked me flat-out if I was off at the end of last week because I'm pregnant and I answered (just as flat-out) that no, I was off because of a miscarriage... the second in 6 months. Poor girl didn't know what to do with herself. And of course, that led to feelings of remorse for being so blunt.
But on the other hand... who the hell asks that question bluntly any more? Bah.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Call me Snoopy
Oh yeah... when we were in one of our many 'waiting' phases on Saturday, we happened to be left alone with my file... so I snooped for specs on our embies.
We transferred 1 8-cell and 1 9-cell... both grade 1 (top of the line).
We have 2 8-cell grade 1's frozen, along with 4 5-6 cell grade 1's. I'm a little concerned about the 5-6 cell ones... isn't that kinda small for having had 3 days to grow before freezing? Does that mean we really only have 1 more realistic kick at the can here?
Dang. Maybe I should have kept my nose out and just asked the doc... be something about having to tell him every frickin' time that I miscarried in October, too (sometimes I have to tell him more than once in a session... hell, I had to tell him at our transfer, in spite of it being written at the top of the page he was looking at!!) just makes me think he might be a little too distracted to give me a straight answer. Le Sigh.
We transferred 1 8-cell and 1 9-cell... both grade 1 (top of the line).
We have 2 8-cell grade 1's frozen, along with 4 5-6 cell grade 1's. I'm a little concerned about the 5-6 cell ones... isn't that kinda small for having had 3 days to grow before freezing? Does that mean we really only have 1 more realistic kick at the can here?
Dang. Maybe I should have kept my nose out and just asked the doc... be something about having to tell him every frickin' time that I miscarried in October, too (sometimes I have to tell him more than once in a session... hell, I had to tell him at our transfer, in spite of it being written at the top of the page he was looking at!!) just makes me think he might be a little too distracted to give me a straight answer. Le Sigh.
Still waiting...
I was given the impression that after this stupid shot (well, ok, shots since there's so much of me) that things would get moving pretty darn quick.
Well, fatigue, muscle weakness, and dizzy spells all hit pretty quickly (and intermittently... I'm not sure it's entirely the meds). And there's been some cramping, but other than that, Mother Nature is just insisting on toying with me.
The shots were administered at roughly 1:20 Saturday afternoon. Yesterday morning I had some fairly significant spotting first thing in the morning (a nice dark pink). It gave me hope that the end might be in sight. But no. It had vanished within the hour. The barest brown streak first thing this morning... it too has gone back into hiding.
I just want this over, now. I'm tired of being held in limbo. I just want to be able to move on. To pick up the pieces, put them back together, get out the duct tape to hold them together, and get started on trying to heal. But can I? No. Because Mother Nature doesn't seem to think it's bad enough making me feel like I'm actively killing our kids this time around (yes, the logical part of my brain knows that there wasn't anything to kill by the time I got the shots... but logic has no place in my reality at the moment).... no, she feels the need to taunt me, to torment me with floods of CM, but nothing that might give me the start of closure.
And, of course, it's also leading me to stray down paths of thought best avoided. Like "what if the beta on Thursday is still up?" or "what if this doesn't work... I mean, it's supposed to act on 'fast multiplying cells'... except that if anything, the mass in my tube was shrinking, not growing, so there AREN'T any fast multiplying cells"
I'm back at work today, and still unable to focus, because I'm still in limbo, just like the first part of last week... just like the last 2 weeks.
Excuse me while I run down the hall screaming.
Well, fatigue, muscle weakness, and dizzy spells all hit pretty quickly (and intermittently... I'm not sure it's entirely the meds). And there's been some cramping, but other than that, Mother Nature is just insisting on toying with me.
The shots were administered at roughly 1:20 Saturday afternoon. Yesterday morning I had some fairly significant spotting first thing in the morning (a nice dark pink). It gave me hope that the end might be in sight. But no. It had vanished within the hour. The barest brown streak first thing this morning... it too has gone back into hiding.
I just want this over, now. I'm tired of being held in limbo. I just want to be able to move on. To pick up the pieces, put them back together, get out the duct tape to hold them together, and get started on trying to heal. But can I? No. Because Mother Nature doesn't seem to think it's bad enough making me feel like I'm actively killing our kids this time around (yes, the logical part of my brain knows that there wasn't anything to kill by the time I got the shots... but logic has no place in my reality at the moment).... no, she feels the need to taunt me, to torment me with floods of CM, but nothing that might give me the start of closure.
And, of course, it's also leading me to stray down paths of thought best avoided. Like "what if the beta on Thursday is still up?" or "what if this doesn't work... I mean, it's supposed to act on 'fast multiplying cells'... except that if anything, the mass in my tube was shrinking, not growing, so there AREN'T any fast multiplying cells"
I'm back at work today, and still unable to focus, because I'm still in limbo, just like the first part of last week... just like the last 2 weeks.
Excuse me while I run down the hall screaming.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Waiting
Today, much like the rest of the past 2 weeks, was all about waiting.
We got up and had breakfast before heading out at about 7:15 to head to the clinic. Got there at 8:00. Waited for bloodwork. Waited for them to find a vein. Waited for them to find another vein because the first one collapsed.
Waited to see the doc.
Waited for an u/s. Nothing in the uterus today, apparently. Mass in the tube has not grown... if anything, it shrank slightly. Diameter roughly 1 cm. No fetal pole, no heartbeat. Teeny tiny hope that the toxic drugs might not be necessary... I mean, if it's not growing, the risk of rupture is practically non-existant, right?
Beta results weren't ready yet, so... you guessed it... waited until the beta results came back.
9:30-ish, back in the u/s room with the doc. Beta number rose about 50% from Thursday. Not a good sign. Doc ordered methotrexate. Called over to the local ER to let them know we were coming.
Waited while the doc tried to find something official looking to write a 'nutshell' version of our situation.
Headed over to the ER.
Waited for a triage nurse. Waited while they took temp (36.2... a little low for me, I usually run closer to 36.6... I should probably get my thyroid checked again). Waited while they took my blood pressure (a little high... not really surprising, though... "White Coat Syndrome" plus, you know, having to get toxic drugs).
Waited while they created a file for me.
Waited in the ER in "the red chair" (no kidding... it's a red chair... has a sign on the wall directing people to "the red chair", even). Waited while they took blood. First poke, no go... needle was too big. Second poke, no go... vein collapsed. Third poke (in the hand, near where buddy collapsed the first vein this morning)... BINGO! We have 4 vials! (what they checked, I'm not sure. CBC, I imagine... I was told kidney & liver function).
The joy of being weighed and measured (I felt like a prize catch). Thankfully, they weighed me in kg, so I have no idea what hideous number came back. I'm a big girl... tall, and not likely to blow away in a strong wind. Essential numbers for getting the "right" dose, though.
Went down the hall to change into a hospital gown and... yep... wait. First gown only had one sleeve. Sent D down the hall to ask for another gown. Changed. Waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Eventually the gyne on call showed up. Again, another person who had no clue who we were (I'm so glad the doc called ahead to say we were coming... I just wish I knew who he called, because nobody we encountered knew who we were). She was in the room all of about 90 seconds. Long enough to say "you know why we're giving you this injection, right?" and to answer a quick question about the location of a vending machine or other source of food (it was after noon... breakfast was a long time ago and D's tummy was talking... loudly ;) ). She said she'd double check with my RE about follow-up (whether the clinic would do it, or the hospital) and order the shot from the pharmacy.
D went off to find food. I waited. He eventually came back with 2 chocolate bars. Surprisingly, one of them was an Oh! Henry... I didn't expect to find peanuts for sale in a hospital. Oh well.
We waited. And waited.
Shortly before 1:30 (having gotten to the hospital at 10:00 I suppose that wasn't bad, all things considered), a nurse showed up and poked me in the butt... once on each side. Bringing the total number of punctures for the day to 7 (right arm twice, right hand twice, left hand once, each butt cheek once).
And now we wait again... for the drugs to work their toxic magic and end this roller-coaster ride.
Cautions: no aspirin, no advil, no folic acid or folate. Increase red meat/iron intake. Expect heavy bleeding (come back in if changing pad more than every 30 minutes). Expect pain and cramping. Return to the clinic Thursday for another beta to see if it's dropping. Then likely once a week until 0.
Waiting Sucks.
We got up and had breakfast before heading out at about 7:15 to head to the clinic. Got there at 8:00. Waited for bloodwork. Waited for them to find a vein. Waited for them to find another vein because the first one collapsed.
Waited to see the doc.
Waited for an u/s. Nothing in the uterus today, apparently. Mass in the tube has not grown... if anything, it shrank slightly. Diameter roughly 1 cm. No fetal pole, no heartbeat. Teeny tiny hope that the toxic drugs might not be necessary... I mean, if it's not growing, the risk of rupture is practically non-existant, right?
Beta results weren't ready yet, so... you guessed it... waited until the beta results came back.
9:30-ish, back in the u/s room with the doc. Beta number rose about 50% from Thursday. Not a good sign. Doc ordered methotrexate. Called over to the local ER to let them know we were coming.
Waited while the doc tried to find something official looking to write a 'nutshell' version of our situation.
Headed over to the ER.
Waited for a triage nurse. Waited while they took temp (36.2... a little low for me, I usually run closer to 36.6... I should probably get my thyroid checked again). Waited while they took my blood pressure (a little high... not really surprising, though... "White Coat Syndrome" plus, you know, having to get toxic drugs).
Waited while they created a file for me.
Waited in the ER in "the red chair" (no kidding... it's a red chair... has a sign on the wall directing people to "the red chair", even). Waited while they took blood. First poke, no go... needle was too big. Second poke, no go... vein collapsed. Third poke (in the hand, near where buddy collapsed the first vein this morning)... BINGO! We have 4 vials! (what they checked, I'm not sure. CBC, I imagine... I was told kidney & liver function).
The joy of being weighed and measured (I felt like a prize catch). Thankfully, they weighed me in kg, so I have no idea what hideous number came back. I'm a big girl... tall, and not likely to blow away in a strong wind. Essential numbers for getting the "right" dose, though.
Went down the hall to change into a hospital gown and... yep... wait. First gown only had one sleeve. Sent D down the hall to ask for another gown. Changed. Waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Eventually the gyne on call showed up. Again, another person who had no clue who we were (I'm so glad the doc called ahead to say we were coming... I just wish I knew who he called, because nobody we encountered knew who we were). She was in the room all of about 90 seconds. Long enough to say "you know why we're giving you this injection, right?" and to answer a quick question about the location of a vending machine or other source of food (it was after noon... breakfast was a long time ago and D's tummy was talking... loudly ;) ). She said she'd double check with my RE about follow-up (whether the clinic would do it, or the hospital) and order the shot from the pharmacy.
D went off to find food. I waited. He eventually came back with 2 chocolate bars. Surprisingly, one of them was an Oh! Henry... I didn't expect to find peanuts for sale in a hospital. Oh well.
We waited. And waited.
Shortly before 1:30 (having gotten to the hospital at 10:00 I suppose that wasn't bad, all things considered), a nurse showed up and poked me in the butt... once on each side. Bringing the total number of punctures for the day to 7 (right arm twice, right hand twice, left hand once, each butt cheek once).
And now we wait again... for the drugs to work their toxic magic and end this roller-coaster ride.
Cautions: no aspirin, no advil, no folic acid or folate. Increase red meat/iron intake. Expect heavy bleeding (come back in if changing pad more than every 30 minutes). Expect pain and cramping. Return to the clinic Thursday for another beta to see if it's dropping. Then likely once a week until 0.
Waiting Sucks.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Why?
Why... the question that keeps coming back.
Why did this happen? We did everything except put me on bedrest for 3 months to stack the deck in our favour. And yet, now we're sitting at 3 strikes. 6 dead embryos.
What's to say that we won't go through the same heartache with the kid-sicles? Nothing. So why should we bother? Because we have to.
Why are they thinking a possible ectopic? How is it possible? Because I'm a freak when it comes to most things medical. Ok, yeah... so ectopics with IVF are fairly rare (more common than regular, perhaps, but still only about 5%)... and IVF ectopics in the upper tube are damn near impossible. But that's what they think they're seeing.
Why?
Why does this keep happening?
Why do we keep losing our children?
Why do we have to go through so much just to end up heartbroken?
Why can't this just be as easy as it is for the folks who try for 6 months (OMG... it's been 6 months... this is taking forever! Don't go there)
Why can't I have the joy of going through a pregnancy a the same time as my friends?
Why do I have to deal with the anguish of conflicting feelings and causing friends discomfort because they managed to keep their children while I lost mine? I don't begrudge them their success... I revel in it... it gives me hope. But it stings at the same time. Why does the joy have to be tainted?
It all keeps coming back to "why".
But... DH and I are doing a bit better today than yesterday... and several bits better than we were on Tuesday when we first got the suggestion of bad news. And day by day things will get better... less raw... and eventually we'll pull through and move on and probably try again. Which is sad on a whole other level that I hope nobody reading this ever has to understand.
We're fighters. We're strong. We'll pull through. We'll have a few more scars, but scar tissue is tough, and at the rate we're going in our lives we'll be damn near invulnerable soon *wry smile*.
I might be quiet for a bit. We're doing things a little out of order, but I think we're through depression and denial (mostly) and are firmly seated in anger... there's no bargaining to be done, so once the anger has passed, we should be on to acceptance... or as close to acceptance as anyone who's lost a child can ever get.
Why did this happen? We did everything except put me on bedrest for 3 months to stack the deck in our favour. And yet, now we're sitting at 3 strikes. 6 dead embryos.
What's to say that we won't go through the same heartache with the kid-sicles? Nothing. So why should we bother? Because we have to.
Why are they thinking a possible ectopic? How is it possible? Because I'm a freak when it comes to most things medical. Ok, yeah... so ectopics with IVF are fairly rare (more common than regular, perhaps, but still only about 5%)... and IVF ectopics in the upper tube are damn near impossible. But that's what they think they're seeing.
Why?
Why does this keep happening?
Why do we keep losing our children?
Why do we have to go through so much just to end up heartbroken?
Why can't this just be as easy as it is for the folks who try for 6 months (OMG... it's been 6 months... this is taking forever! Don't go there)
Why can't I have the joy of going through a pregnancy a the same time as my friends?
Why do I have to deal with the anguish of conflicting feelings and causing friends discomfort because they managed to keep their children while I lost mine? I don't begrudge them their success... I revel in it... it gives me hope. But it stings at the same time. Why does the joy have to be tainted?
It all keeps coming back to "why".
But... DH and I are doing a bit better today than yesterday... and several bits better than we were on Tuesday when we first got the suggestion of bad news. And day by day things will get better... less raw... and eventually we'll pull through and move on and probably try again. Which is sad on a whole other level that I hope nobody reading this ever has to understand.
We're fighters. We're strong. We'll pull through. We'll have a few more scars, but scar tissue is tough, and at the rate we're going in our lives we'll be damn near invulnerable soon *wry smile*.
I might be quiet for a bit. We're doing things a little out of order, but I think we're through depression and denial (mostly) and are firmly seated in anger... there's no bargaining to be done, so once the anger has passed, we should be on to acceptance... or as close to acceptance as anyone who's lost a child can ever get.
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