April 29, 2013 § 16 Comments
I like to think that I’m pretty insightful. When I start getting salty with the Artsy Engineer for no apparent reason or weepy at commercials, I’ve usually determined the etiology of the distress in no time. But I’ve been avoiding this space for the last few weeks, and, while I knew I was doing it, I couldn’t really put my finger on why.
And then Vanessa nailed it. And I was like, YES. Now I get it.
There was this barrage of good news among us, and I was riding on that wave. Whoohooo! Everything is good and golden and bubbly rainbows and we’ll all be pregnant in no time and isn’t life grand? And then BAM. Several of my favorite bloggy friends miscarried. And there were failed IVFs. And then I think what happened is that I promptly put my fingers in my ears and started singing “LALALALALALALALA” on the inside, as loudly as you can do something like that silently.
It was fairly easy to ignore all of you. (Not that I didn’t read. I still read. I just didn’t have it in me to participate.) I have a big deadline to meet (a first draft of the literature review portion of my dissertation MUST be in to my advisor in 7 days) and a trip to plan (sort of). But now that it’s been a few weeks, my strong desire to avoidavoidavoid and self-protectprotectprotect has lessened. And now I feel like a shitty friend who couldn’t stand the heat.
I hope it was (but maybe it wasn’t) a coincidence that it happened at the same time as Infertility Awareness Week, which is now over. Nothing like learning that you will not get pregnant via intercourse coupled with a string of bad results amongst you, my friends, to seal the nail in the infertility coffin. I belong here. And now I know. And I’m upset with myself for “missing” awareness week, because I debated for the last month about how I was going to participate. And then I just dropped the ball.
So, while I go ahead and sit with that (I was raised Catholic; guilt is a fairly comfortable feeling for me), I’ll give you a small/uneventful update about my ever empty ute.
It’ll be quick.
That’s all you really need to know, I suppose. But if you want more, here goes. Letrozole cycle number three resulted in a negative beta this past Wednesday. I knew it would. In fact, I stopped the progesterone a day early by myself. It just wasn’t going to happen.
We’re going to move on to IUI now. But, truth be told, I’m feeling pretty hopeless about it. See, I’m a stats woman. When I was a kid, I was terrified for years that someone was going to break into my house and murder everyone in my family except me. No amount of reassurance ever resulted in alleviation of this fear until it finally occurred to my mother than she was dealing with the child of two scientists, here, and that maybe she ought to throw some data at her. So at 8 years old, after being terrified for 4 years that my family would be murdered while I slept (I was never worried about myself, just everyone else), I finally chilled the fuck out after learning how few people are actually murdered, the likelihood that any member of my family would be one of them, and the percentage of those who are murdered that are either drug-related or killed by family members or people close to them. And then I was cool. Because no one in my family was going to kill anyone else. And no one did any drugs. And that was that. My odds of not becoming a child of murdered parents were good.
All of that is to say that when I am faced with scary or overwhelming things, I now go straight to the primary source. I read peer-reviewed research articles, and I make my own mind up about the conclusions. And as a result, I believe that IUI ain’t gonna do a damn thing for me. Is it possible? Sure. But it isn’t likely. That being said, I feel like I need to do a couple of them before I can justify moving on to something more invasive and more expensive.
I don’t want to bother with 3 cycles of regular old letrozole+trigger+IUIs. It just seems like a waste of time. But we’re not quite ready for IVF (although we’re probably close), and I don’t want to pay out the wazoo for injectables if I’m doing something that is about as likely to result in pregnancy as a blow job. While doing my lit review, I came across some recent research on an extended letrozole protocol. There are several recent studies that suggest that an extended protocol (CD1-10) is more effective than the standard CD3-7 protocol. For example, in one study, the extended regimen resulted in an average of three follicles greater than 18mm versus 1.8 in the short regimen. Pregnancy rates were significantly greater in the long regimen, as well (up to 18% for couples with unexplained infertility), and there was no significant difference between groups in thickness of the endometrial lining. Rate of multiples was about what it is with Clomid, so not too high.
I have no idea if this extended regimen has made the jump over from science to practice yet, but I called the RE’s office on Friday afternoon to ask if she was familiar with it. Trusty Dr. H was out for the weekend already, but the nurse sounded interested. She said that it definitely wasn’t anything Dr. H had ever done at the clinic, but she also didn’t shoot it down. She said she would put a note with several of the references I provided on Dr. H’s desk so she would see it first thing Monday morning. It is now Monday morning, and I have my baseline ultrasound at 10, so maybe I can argue my case there, too. It’s obviously too late to do it this cycle, as today is already CD4. But maybe I’ll have a shot at it for the next round.
March 18, 2013 § 14 Comments
I have been bloggy boring even myself lately.
I have a mildly decent excuse, though, I guess. Non-internets life got in the way.
Somehow, despite recently quitting my only paying (very) part-time job, I have managed to stay really busy off of the internet, and it’s actually felt marvelous. Now that I’m home more often, it took me awhile to figure out how to be not “at work” and to be still working. When I was in classes it was easier, because there were deadlines. But now I have no hard deadlines, and the ones I set for myself just aren’t anxiety-provoking enough to get me moving.
I’m home two days a week now. These days are supposed to be research days – days during which I am focused on manuscripts and my dissertation. Of course, instead of writing, I often surf the web, do the laundry and other household chores (that I typically don’t do unless I’m avoiding doing something else), and read all of your lovely blogs.
All of the sudden, over the last few weeks, I’m finding myself better able to concentrate than since before my miscarriage in October. That was a real productivity killer, let me tell you. I don’t suppose it will last indefinitely, but I am immensely thankful that it’s happening and am trying to take advantage of it while it’s here.
In other news, I ovulated during the middle of last week and am now 5 dpo. Over the last six months or so, I’ve been using a lot of cycle imagery. You can call it hocus pocus if you’d like. But I find it’s a powerful coping mechanism. It works for me. Lately I’ve been picturing an embryo traveling down my fallopian tubes, and I sometimes talk to it (not out loud yet, thank god), offering encouraging words. It’s kind of like I would do if I was cheering on an exhausted marathon runner at mile 21. You’re almost there! Hang in there! Put one foot in front of the other!
Here, drink this water! If there is indeed an embryo in there, it should be nearing the end of my fallopian tubes very soon and descending upon the entry to my uterus. Make it happen terbs.