Gonal-F shots now underway

The call never came on Wednesday, which was supposed to mean we were to start the shots on Thursday. Let me tell all of you out there that this is a bad method of communication, because you're going to sit and wonder if no call really is a positive message or just an accident.

So Thursday morning, we called them and left a message asking the nurse to confirm. At noon I got the call confirming that the blood work was okay -- but this nurse thought that the ultrasounds warranted consulting the doctor, so we were to wait until we heard more. Finally a few minutes after the doctor's office closed, we got the go-ahead to start the Gonal-F.

Keep moving forward

I should perhaps count myself lucky that this summer was as busy as it was. There was no time to dwell on miscarrying for the third time, no time to obsess over our current plan of action (one more round of shots instead of moving on to IVF), no time to do anything other than work, clean up from work, and plan for the next bit of work. From June until August, I ran 5-6 children's programs per week. When that ended, it was time to prepare for my workplace's upcoming renovation, which means moving my office and clearing all of the library materials off of the mezzanine.

Did I mention the two out-of-town, in-the-wedding-party weddings in two weeks? And that my in-laws and newly-expecting SIL and BIL were staying at our house while we were out of state for the second wedding? So it had to be -- erm -- cleanish? (That turned out to be one of the blessings in disguise: we spent FIVE HOURS cleaning before leaving for Chicago, which meant that we actually came home to a clean house for once. It's nice.)

And did I mention that I finally got my period? I started spotting on about CD 63, two days before wedding #1, and that continued until the witch showed up in full, two hours before wedding #2. What was that I said about at least one crampy afternoon in a bridesmaid dress? Oh yes. And this was a port-a-john wedding.

The dress was red, eh, so how bad could it get?

Anyway, that's where we are now. I've begun a pack of birth control, after discussing again with the pharmacist that I do in fact have a reason for taking both BC and prenatals. Soon I will call the doctor and ask for a prescription for the next round of shots. If we're lucky, he won't have any unpleasant surprises for us. And even though he's been talking to other doctors to get their opinions on treating us, I don't hold out much hope that they've got some great idea he hasn't thought of.

I think, though, that this is probably our last round of injectables, our last chance to conceive a child in our home rather than in a hospital. But still -- I am thankful, truly, that this isn't our last chance at anything; only a few short years of science ago, we would have long past run out of treatment options.

Tomorrow is another day

Shots begin again tomorrow. I'm looking forward to them. As I think I've said before (certainly to SF; less certainly here), the shots are actually my favorite time period in this whole messy process.

It feels like you're doing something. Things are growing. The things you're doing are actually helping the eggs along, unlike when you're hoping a maybe-fertilized egg will find the strength to implant. It's different from waiting.

The doctor said today he's adding Ganirelix, a medicine to suppress ovulation until we do the trigger stot, near the end of the course of Gonal-F. It seems I tend toward a premature LH surge. He says that's correctable, and that we're moving forward.

I have hope.

Keep moving forward.

For now, though, I will acquiesce to the cat on my arm and stop typing one-handed and scratch him.

Pulling it all together

I went to see Ira Glass last weekend, and he talked about how they put stories together on This American Life. It's the same as putting together a sermon, he said: draw your listeners in with an anecdote that leaves them wondering something, give the facts, and then tell what it means -- make some larger point using the story you've told.

I realize I haven't been doing that in these blog posts. It's tough -- when you're still in the middle of the story, you don't know what it means yet. We're still not sure what kind of story we're in, though I for one am hoping for a feelgood romantic comedy, and not Ben Elton's "Maybe Baby." ... Though Hugh Laurie and Adrian Lester can stop by our story anytime they want, I'd rather it didn't end in SF and me, still childless, trying to patch up a broken marriage.

Sometimes,though, you get glimpses of ideas even from the vantage point of the middle. Driving to work today I noticed a larger theme to this past week. Whether we chose it consciously or stumbled on it, I don't know. I mentioned the Great Big Sea and Susan Werner songs. SF and I also went to see "Meet the Robinsons" over the weekend. Besides having me trying to snif back tears ("Stupid *snif* Disney *snif* movie") over the stuff about unwanted kids, it also offered one more piece of advice:

Keep moving forward.

One way or another, that's what we hope to do.

"Let it go, let it go ...

... This is smaller than you know
It's no bigger than a pebble lying on a gravel road
Let it go, let it go
Got to leave it all behind you
Give the sun a chance to find you
Let it go"

--Great Big Sea, "Let it Go"

The doctor's news last week felt like a kick to the stomach. My breath completely left me. I could think questions, but I couldn't make my voice work to ask any of them.

Then I got sick again. I cried and cried Wednesday morning, and my head never cleared up afterwards. It felt like I had a blanket wrapped around it with the ends stuck in my ears. And I had a conference about babies and children to attend for three days starting that afternoon. So I tried as much as possible not to think about it all.

Now, five days and an era later, I still can't quite make my words work to talk about it here. This blog post has been sitting unfinished for days. I was about to say it is going to remain unfinished yet again and post it as it was, but --

-- that's a copout. So ...

Let's start with what I know.

1. This isn't fair. None of it is fair. It isn't fair to me, and it certainly isn't fair to SF.

2. Other people do have it worse. This does not justify feeling guilty for feeling bad about our situation.

3. I still have not learned to handle uncertainty. I can sell most any certain thing to myself: we will have our own child; we will use an unknown egg donor; we will ask a friend or family member to donate; we will adopt; we will remain childless. But I cannot easily hold all those ideas as possibilities in my head. Contrasting the ones we'd prefer with the others hurts.

4. I love a lot of people to whom I am not genetically related. I have no reason to believe a baby should be any different. Thus, the problem is getting past the idea of not passing my genes. Which, let's face it, must not be great or we wouldn't be in this sitch. But -- never seeing what happens when you mix my face and my husband's. No "he has your eyes," or "she has your hair" ... That hurts.

5. I have a husband who, my mother tells me, would eat glass for me. (I told her I hope he doesn't.)

6. I wish our doctor had prepared us more fully for this possibility. He told us at the outset of treatment a year ago, "I don't see you getting to the point where you're trying IVF." Now we're at a point where IVF with my eggs may not even work.

7. Music helps. Great Big Sea's lyrics remind me that I have a choice about how much to let this control how I feel about my life. Here's another, one that looks forward instead of dwelling on the present. Coincidentally, it started to play on my computer just as I typed "Here's another."

And some would say
That time has passed me by
And some would say
That the wells have all run dry
Some would say
That's how its meant to be
So some would say
But I beg to disagree

Cause I know good fortune waits for me somewhere
I will have my portion I will have my share
I'll keep my feet in motion til they carry me there
I will have my portion I will have my share

Cause I do believe
There's a harvest in the field
I do believe
There's truth to be revealed
I do believe
There's treasure to be found
And I do believe
There's enough to go around

I know good fortune waits for me somewhere
I will have my portion I will have my share
I'll keep my feet in motion til they carry me there
I will have my portion I will have my share

Cause somewhere there's a blessing and it bears my name
and soon or late, it's coming to me just the same
Can't wait to see
What's set aside for me
With every new sunrise
I'm gonna keep my eyes wide open

--Susan Werner, "I Will Have My Portion," from her new album The Gospel Truth

8. One way or another, I have to remind myself, the uncertainty will not last. Each month tells us better where we are. And the months will pass.

Back again

Okay, the old SF is more-or-less back again. If JF is brave enough to face this, then I can darn well figure out how to make some money. That's the easy part, after all. I've already got some unexpected optimization contract work lined up.