Fix Me

If you thought the last post was a bit snarky, it was meant to be. I won’t lie and say I had a wonderful New Years Eve. It was wonderful in that I spent it with the people I love the most, but the thought of another year at an end and no closer to completing my family was very, very sad. I was in a horrible mood. The whole day felt like walking The Green Mile… knowing that the new year was going to start no matter how much I kicked and screamed. There was no stopping it.

As Dick Clark kissed his sweet wife at midnight I blurted out “This year sucked!” and I proceeded to cry. A hug from S. was the only thing that mildly comforted me. Well, that and a couple of shots.

I woke up on New Years Day, still in a mood… reasoning with myself that there is much more to life than this ONE THING. This I know. I know it as certain as the blue sky, but yet it often feels like there is no room for any other emotion. All I can think about is the horrible luck I’ve endured, five dead babies and so many failures. Failing where others succeed without trying.

The holiday was a lot of reflection. A lot of hard thinking. I came to the conclusion that I must make it a priority to offload the the hurt, the anger, the disappointment. It’s eating me up inside, and when I look in the mirror, I see only a broken woman. How could that not affect the relationships around me? I just cannot live like this.

My husband and my son deserve a wife and mother who are PRESENT. Not hiding in the house and eating bon-bons.

How do I get out of this place when it took so long to get here? It’s been so long, I don’t remember the path back. All I see is a thick forest with goblins hiding behind trees and dark corners I dare not walk into. The mist is suffocating. There is only a glimmer of sky. The ground feels like quicksand… each step I take seems to get harder and harder to lift my feet.

I said I wouldn’t make any resolutions, but in the back of my mind I know that is not true.

I resolve to fix me.

The first step (the hardest) is admitting defeat.

Infertility, you win. I lose. I’m tired of your shit. Go do the happy dance and impregnate everyone else on earth but me. Leave me as the last piece of gum on your shoe.

Just……………leave me.

Step two is a big one, consulting a professional. The one I am most scared of because it means I need to reach out to someone else to do what I can’t by myself.

There is so much else to do in order to free myself from the issues that have spun out of control because of my infertility. There’s so much wrong right now I can’t think about it en masse otherwise it will become overwhelming.

So for now, this is where I start.

This is my new path.

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Highs and lows

David just had his last day at summer camp. He often rambles on to anyone who will listen about his adventures this summer. Swimming, skating, bowling, dancing, and his visits to two zoos, two museums, one theme park, the “theater” to see a real stage production, and numerous trips to the ice cream shop and movie theater. He had a great time.

In two weeks he starts 1st grade. In the meantime, we will be ramping up for school and sharing some serious 1×1 time. I am scheduled to be off for the entire first week of his school so I can sit at home, bite my fingernails, and watch the clock while I wait for bus stop duty.

Next week also starts soccer, and soccer practices. Practice being a new thing this year since he’s on the big boy team now that he’s 6. Also means more work for me.

When I look at the upcoming calendar for the next few months, it looks overwhelming. I am having one of those moments when I wish I didn’t have to work. In fact, I’m back to figuring out if I could swing a leave of absence. The money is not even half the issue (I could survive), it’s the fear that I could be laid off in the meantime. Still hanging by a thread as always. S. is also still hanging by a thread at his work too. We try to ban “work talk” because it only depresses us.

Not a time to be part of the “out of sight, out of mind” equation, methinks…

I’m also trying to figure out where to go from here- as in, my mental state.

I am realizing that I have some major issues to deal with that perhaps I cannot solve on my own. I’ve never visited a therapist in my life (except for the mandatory ones for this past DE cycle). I’m not sure I can even afford one, but I do know that I am not myself anymore. This has been a cumulative effect and really has been building over the years. This last month (failure and scary moments) seems to have accelerated my feeling out of control.

I am sad, a lot of the time. I know that much of my state is temporary (or is SUPPOSED to be), but I am worried that I cannot lift myself out of my funk this time. I’m just not me.


… what to do, what to do…
I just don’t know.

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Luck, a Keg, and my date with the Devil Turtle

Here I am.

I don’t know where to start… I do want to say thank you. Your comments and e-mails are appreciated. I know we are all such a supportive community, but hearing from all of you when I need it most means a lot. I wish I could give you all a hug.

I’ve been ok. I’ve progressed through the stages of grief at breakneck speed and made it out to the other side. And, by other side, I mean well enough to function as human again.


This cycle really hurt more than I expected. I thought that by kicking my old eggs to the curb that THIS surely would be my ticket to babydom. And nearly all my DE cycle buddies succeeded—- How could I fail?

And then, I was welcomed to the place I know well. The flip side of the statistics.

I should have known.

What have I been doing the last week? Doing all the things a rebellious infertile would do. I drank beer and wine. I (gasp!) haven’t taken my vitamins. I bought a super-sized bag of pistachios and ate every last one. I watched movies. I tortured myself by going to a neighborhood party and made small talk with THREE pregnant women.

Ok, I lie. I ran for the keg just to get away from them.

But, hey… I socialized two days after that stupid beta. At least give me credit for that.

I cried a lot.

I got AF on Sunday and cried again.

I stole my son’s Nintendo DS and played Super Mario Brothers non-stop. You know what’s great about playing a video game? You don’t have to think about anything but the game. My goal simply was to collect sparkly coins and beat the “old lady devil turtle” (that’s David’s description). A welcome respite.

And then, I got the call that the WTF appointment (yes, it means what you think for those of you who don’t know) occurred at the RE’s office. Two of my doctors and my DC sat down and talked about my recent failure. Hmmm, perfect lining, perfect eggs, perfect transfer.

Hmmmmmm….. HMMMMMM!

The verdict?

Come on now…. you already know.


Oh my m-f-ing lord, could they please have told me ANYTHING other than that???

Like a stake in my heart.

Oh, and the BEST part! My insurance denied all my claims the clinic submitted thus far. So I spent today ripping them a new a-hole. I may have suck-ass insurance (far from 100% coverage), but they are supposed to cover TWO IVF attempts. 1+1=2! You. Morons.

Anyway, we move on.

Over the next week or two, I’m going to set up the FET. I am still pondering if I want to take a short break. I am also pondering that this FET is cash only since my insurance is dry. So- netting it out…. I’m pondering. You’ll be the first to know.

Let’s review my warped reality, shall we?

My DE cycle carried with it a 70% chance of it working (my clinic stats). That means I was in the unlucky 30%.

The success rate for an FET from a DE cycle is 34% (again, my clinic stats). That means I have a 66% chance that it won’t work.

My dear husband (who I should say is usually NOT the optimistic one), reasoned it like this…

“If we were in the unlucky 30%, then this FET will be perfect since we have just as much chance to be in the lucky 34%!!”


I love you honey.

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