Gambling on Starting Over

Failing at IVF has been life altering to me.  Life had to punch me in the face for me to see it.  This could take YEARS, and this might never work.  I'm a giant ball of doubt.

My sperm donor was dropped by his major client, and my clients are boring and mostly on the phone.  And now, other than our families a few hours away, we have nothing holding us here.  I got offered a pretty sweet job in Las Vegas six months ago that I turned down -- obviously  I would be pregnant any second.  Now Vegas is starting to look more appealing.  That's why gambling has been on my mind.

I've been to Las Vegas twice, and I don't remember much of either time.  I don't like gambling, but I do like booze and food and shows.  I don't know much about Vegas.  But I have priorities, you guys, so I know Las Vegas has two IVF clinics that reported their SART data (what????) and they're nowhere close as good stats as the good clinics in this giant city.  But Vegas does seem to have like twice as many tubal cases, go figure.  Maybe it's the super gonorrhea.  And yes, I am allowed to make jokes like that because obviously my tubes are jacked too.

This Vegas job is a big-shot-career-woman job, like the one I left, with a nice office.  The kind where you would never see your fancy  Las Vegas apartment -- or your kid, if you had one.  But I don't have a kid.  And I won't have a kid for at least a year.  If I can ever manage to have a kid, I guess.  So what's stopping me from taking some big shot career woman job now?

I planned my life and dialed back my career for something that didn't happen.  I made IVF my life, and I acted as if pregnancy were the certain outcome.  I can't be on hold for years.  Next IVF round, there's no reason I couldn't take off a couple days and keep working.  If I keep sitting on my butt in my half-ass job and never manage to have a kid, then I will have nothing at all.  At least if I take the job, I'll have my career, at least until I can actually figure this kid thing out.  And if I can ever manage to get pregnant, we can work it out from there.

After so much failure and heartbreak, I am kind of drawn to starting all over in a place where I don't know anyone and would have a totally new, demanding job.  At least I wouldn't be thinking about what could have been all the time.

Failed IVF: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Well, my IVF cycle failed, so I got to stop taking my estrogen and progesterone.  I had no idea what would happen after that.   Why didn't they warn me?

I guess that awful period I had exactly 14 days after my trigger was not good enough, because I had ANOTHER period, though this one seems milder so far.  And then I got a yeast infection from the progesterone, haven't had one in years.  That's what I get for joking about buying Monistat.  And then I got the flu.  Well, the flu was probably not from the IVF, but you get the point.

My poor body has been through too much.  I am so exhausted.  I feel terrible.

Beta 4 and A Run In

Beta was 4, which is awesome because it is dropping and almost zero.  Still have to come in next week.  Of course I do.  This means I can probably avoid methotrexate or a D&C or anything happening to my other tube.  I am now off of ectopic watch and I can stop taking these awful meds.  Good.  I mean, not good because it means the entire IVF cycle failed.  But good that at least I avoided that nastiness.

At check out, I saw a former co-worker (male) with I guess his wife.  In any other context, I would have said hi.  Hell, if I were buying granny panties and Monistat at the Wal Mart check out, I would have said hi and tried to catch up.  But the fertility clinic.  After a failed IVF cycle...

I hid in the bathroom like a boss.  It had three stalls, and I was just messing with my iPad at the sink, after I got sick of sitting on a toilet.  Check out can take forever sometimes.  The lady who came in and left must have thought I was crazy.  But the fertility clinic is a terrible place to run into someone you know.  Actually, I'm shocked that has never happened in the last 18 months!  But this is a big city with a lot of clinics.

Ectopic Watch

A new, bossy nurse called back on Saturday.  I guess they ran my blood again???  Bossy Nurse asked me about my medicine, progesterone suppositories and estrogen patches, times, dates, witnesses.  Have you been taking your medicine???  I admitted to pulling off the damn patches and skipping a day of progesterone after I got a 2.2 beta and told to come back for the zero.  But I took them again on Wednesday, even though I hate progesterone, so it should have been fine for my Friday draw.  I'd rather be on Lupron than progesterone.  And these estrogen patches are gross and sticky.  I did myself a favor and didn't even bother to google the side effects of estrogen.

So, yes, more or less, I have been taking my stupid medicine that will not work.  I then got a whole bunch of instructions that I didn't get at my emergency ectopic scan yesterday.  I guess I am now on something called "ectopic watch" which is a lot less cool than it sounds.  I'm not allowed to travel.  I got a new phone number to call if I have "sharp, shooting pain" or "heavy bleeding" or "dizziness and lightheadedness."  Fun.

I caved and bought a pack of Wondfos.  Two Wondfos on Thursday, when my beta was somewhere between 6-15 were negative.  So I took another today, hoping it would be negative and maybe this would be over.  Nope, got a squinter.  Ugh.  I'm way beyond thinking this could work, but that would definitely require a screaming BFP by now.  So I was hoping for negative.  The one time I actually want this Wondfo to be negative, it's a squinter.
  And all those pre-Thanksgiving Wondfos white as the driven snow. 3 Wondfos down, 47 to go.

EDIT:  On Sunday, I got another squinter first thing in the morning, and it's just as squinty as yesterday's squinter, in most light you can't even see it.  4 Wondfos down, 46 to go.  Guess I'm getting methotrexate next week.

EDIT:  Got barely a squinter Sunday night, and a negative on Monday morning!  Maybe this will go to zero on its own, and I will avoid a bunch of nastiness tomorrow!  44 Wondfos to go.

EDIT:  Another negative Monday night!  Maybe this is going to be OK.  43 Wondfos left.

Ghost of Christmas Future

My beta was 15.  This combined with my estrogen was of grave concern.  I'm on estrogen patches, so I don't get it, but whatever.  I'm done trying to figure out betas or pretend like I have any kind of control in this.

I went in for an emergency scan for an ectopic.  Scan showed nothing.  Come back next week and we will come up with a plan, assuming I don't bleed out and die before then.  So maybe I get an abortion for Christmas!

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, the clinic put up a giant Christmas tree in the waiting room covered in Baby's First Christmas ornaments.  And of course the ornaments all have pictures of smiling twins in matching Christmas outfits.  Twins dangling just out of reach.

It occurred to me that Baby's First Christmas won't happen for me this year.  And then Christmas Future punched me in the gut.  I was trying really hard not to cry in the waiting room but did not quite succeed.  With how badly this has gone, and with how much time it will take to do something else, it probably can't even happen by next Christmas either.

That means Four Christmases as a grinch who just wants what comes so easily to everyone else.  Four Christmases waiting for my baby.  God, I'll be looking at this giant Christmas tree again next year covered in even more twins, while my heart is two sizes too small.  Hell, I might be looking at this same damn tree for years.

Fear of the 6

My beta was 6.  I was very confused by the nurse.  I'm supposed to keep taking my estrogen patches and progesterone, even though the nurse said we just have to keep watching for it to drop to zero.  And I guess the worst period I've ever had means nothing?  WTF???

But my thoughts immediately went to waking up in the recovery room.  Wouldn't it just be a swell Christmas present if I could both fail at IVF AND blow my other tube at the same time!  Still a couple weeks for 2014 to punch me in the face a few times.  And now I'm so scared I'm going to pass out on the kitchen floor alone and bleed out.

It's Really Dark in Here

It's really dark in here.

I knew IVF was a coinflip, putting all my money on red.  But somehow sitting for a 2.2 (WTF) beta in front of a corkboard covered in pictures of smiling twins after a "perfect" cycle with two "perfect" day 5 blasties, it all feels like a trick.  Like they are dangling some scant hope just out of reach for what I want the most.  And I know that as long as I have the money, I'll play another hand.

I hate gambling, and yet here I am at this beautiful, expensive poker table where it smells nice and drinks are free.  But make no mistake, the house always wins.  Failed IVF.  I can't even say it out loud.  The casino isn't this nice because of the guy who busted the dealer and left.  It's the guy who played blackjack all night and blew all his money hoping for that next hand that would be the big win.  The clinic makes more money the more I keep showing up.  That's why I have to throw down fifty more bucks to make sure my 2.2 drops to zero.  That's why I have to double down on another hand next month.  The house always wins.  I read someone thought they had a 75% success rate at IVF, which is higher than any clinic in the world.  I guess we believe what we want to believe.  And boy did I buy what they were selling.  I am most upset at myself for letting myself believe this would work.

While I'm mixing gambling metaphors, this casino's comps suck.  The nurse didn't care.  Hell, I'd want to get off that call too.  Haven't even heard from the doctor.  I would have asked him for a few days of Valium so I can get through my client meetings without hysterically crying.  I'm not ready to talk to anyone, especially my mom, ugh.  I texted a few people.  I got a frowny face.  I got a "that sucks."  A couple didn't respond.  I got some sympathetic words, some words of wisdom, some digital hugs.  But I can't feel it.  I get it.  What is there to say?  It won't help.  And, again, I find myself wishing I had told fewer people.   That I was less exposed.  My friend with a failed cycle was helpful, but what are you supposed to say?  There's no way to be prepared for how this feels, even if I had tried.

The thing about grief is that you just have to plow through it.  No one can do it for you.  It's even more fucked up when that grief took all this time and money and effort.  I canceled my vacation.  I quit working out.  I changed my job.  I lost my sex life.  I have put my whole marriage at risk.  I have given up on my life for this.  It's really dark in here, and I have no idea where I am going.