I've started the waiting game again, waiting for AF to arrive and if she's anything like last time (48 days) I shouldn't be holding my breath.  This has been one of the most stressed times because I've felt like everything revolves around AF and you really can't start planning, scheduling or thinking about timing until it decides to make an appearance.  I sort of laugh when the doctor says she thinks I should get it this week...well the wait is still on and there is no sight of AF.

Since I'm faced with my first failed cycle and during this time of waiting, it's increasingly difficult to stay positive. Is it the hormones? I firmly believe yes, but that doesn't help the situation. Last night I was stuck in my head before going to bed, which led to tears and me feeling as though Matt wasn't understanding what I was trying to communicate.  I need a session with Patrice, stat! While it is so important to stay positive throughout this experience, it certainly wears on your soul, and I want to live for the now. I want to live for today and not think about what's next or next time or what if this or that, but can you truly stay positive day in and day out? 

I'm meeting my two best friends for lunch tomorrow, one of which just announced she's pregnant with her first. I know there will be prego talks and questions and I'm nervous about how this is going to make me feel.  I've known these girls since I was 2 and our friendship grows even stronger as we grow older. How can I find the strength for tomorrow? I feel as though just writing this I'm on the verge of tears and I'm worried about exploding at the lunch table when asked about me - the question "how's it going with you and Matt" is scaring the crap out me. I don't want to answer, I don't want to divulge...yet I know I need the support. It's such a fine line, and I haven't quite figured out how to walk it.

Sometimes you are forced to raise your hands in the air, look to the sky and say "what is the lesson here?"  This is exactly what I did two hours after gasping for breath because of crying so hard and only after the two hours did I pause for a minute and wonder that.

I got a call from the doctor saying that we wouldn't need to come back to the office for a transfer. The eggs didn't mature and therefore there were no viable embryos to transfer back into me.  After the days of shots and doctor's appointments, feeling bloated and worried, I got the call I never thought would come. Immediately, my legs were weak, yet I was so focused on what the doctor was saying, writing each word on a notepad like a good secretary.  It wasn't until I made it from the walk-way to my car that I felt my heart sink and grow heavy.  Having heard the news first, it was even more difficult to tell Matt when he arrived home from work. I didn't know what to say or how to say anything, I looked like I got run over by a train, my tear stained face hurt from crying so much.  This was going to be the most difficult part and when he arrived home and through the door all I could muster up to say was "I have bad news."  In front of him I felt like a wall of mirrors tumbling down, I was vulnerable and crushed.

I had never felt stronger or more proud of myself the days leading up to this call. I had done it; I had gone through the most difficult phase of this process and soon would be onto the waiting game, waiting for the day I could go get the blood pregnancy test.  What was more concerning now was that the doctor wanted to see Matt and I right away and discuss what happened and next steps.  Once in the doctor's office she explained the situation a little more, that only 3 eggs fertilized (out of 15 eggs retrieved) and then out of those 3, none matured and they stopped dividing.  In the end it wasn't good news for the sperm or egg and next time she recommends starting with only a Lupron injection and injecting the sperm into the egg themselves. 

I have always thought that everyone's story is different and you can't compare yourself with anyone when it comes to trying to conceive.  Each of us are so different and bring different elements to the table, that you just never know.  So again I ask, what is the lesson here?  The lesson is that we needed more information about what has been happening with our bodies and why we haven't been able to conceive for almost 2 years.  From this lesson, we can take the information and try to make it better and more successful.  I can shed tears and get down, but I know I'm stronger than before and I'm not willing to give up just yet. 

The last few days seem to be a blur. The days leading up to the egg retrieval, I was so wrapped up in thinking about the egg retrieval day, I couldn't do much but try to relax. Try to relax because I was so bloated I could barely move, could barely sit, stand or lay down.  Today is the day after the retrieval and yesterday went well. I was unusually calm all the way to the doctors and then once we entered the staging room, I began to get very nervous.  What looked like I was cold was just me shaking from the nerves.  One by one, three other women get their IV's put in and then are ushered beyond a door to the procedure room.  It was my turn and after kissing Matt, I too was ushered into that room.  Before even resting my head comfortably, I was in la la land and waking up in the staging room I had just left from.  When the nurse said that the IV was going to be worse part, she was right.  After a few minutes of trying to wake up and seeing Matt coming back to my bedside to rub my head and give me some ginger ale, we were soon on our way home.  Shortly after returning home, I went to bed and slept for 2 hours.  I was groggy and tired when I woke and per doctors orders began drinking Gatorade and water.

I thought retrieval day would be the most difficult part of this process, past the shots of course (really, who likes needles?). All I can do is hope and pray things are going well, that egg meets sperm, egg likes sperm and they decide to live happily ever after.  This part is out of my hands.

I'll admit to being a total control freak in my life. I run events for a living, how many event planners aren't control freaks?  Patrice really helped me realize that there are ways to give up that control, in a good way. While speaking to her, I found and she found that when we spoke about the IVF process I immediately got tense. My shoulders began to creep up to my ears as we spoke about the process.  I became jittery and anxiety swept over my body.  I know that all the anxiety was coming from whether or not I felt like I had the strength to take on IVF.  At the time, my husband Matt and I were on a much needed break from trying to get pregnant.  I was feeling better, more myself and needed the break so that we could both figure out what the next steps were to be, what was in the cards for us. 

For a while on the break, we didn't speak much about TTC (trying to conceive).  I decided to have fun, make some cocktails and enjoy this time off.  It was time to get us and our marriage back on track.  However, the thoughts continue in the back of your head and you slowly start to talk about what's next.  I had been reading (and still am I'm such a slow reader!) Living Life as a Thank you, The Transformative Power of Daily Gratitude which is a book of stories of people that live their life through thank you’s and how daily gratitude can change your perspective on life.  I find this book to be so powerful for me, full of messages that you can read and re-read.  What was just a book in the clearance section of Border’s has turned into something I don't want to finish because I find the stories to be so moving.  I have found that we should be grateful for every day, for the small things and say thank you to our bodies, minds and anything, big or small.  I've learned how to acknowledge when to be grateful and not letting those moments slip by.  The feeling I got from this book made me realize that I am strong enough for the next step.
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I've spent a good part of the last half hour trying to get comfortable, something that over the past few days has become increasingly difficult.  I can't sit, I can't stand, I can't lay down...all these positions are uncomfortable.  It's the 8th day of injections, the first 5 days there were only two injections and then a third was added.  The shots, something I was stressed and anxious about have been just fine.  I thank Matt every day for taking control and taking the anxiety off me by doing the injections for me.  The nightly ritual has been a nice way for him and I to be doing something pregnancy related together. 

Aside from the uncomfortableness, I am also feeling like a human dart board.  My arms are bruised up like a junkie on the street and my stomach has quite the array of red dots all over it.  But so far so good I say, after each and every day.  They say I need to go back in for an ultrasound and blood work (more holes in the arms!) tomorrow and that I may be just days away from retrieval.  It's funny, after hearing that all I could think was "I only have a few days to get mentally prepared for that!" Yes, I thought I needed more than a few days to mentally prepare.  I guess I should look at it differently, I may only have a few more shots left.

As I tell my story on this blog, it's bringing back to some hard times in my life.  When I first started the clomid cycle I read all these online message boards and I think that was a bad idea looking back.  The women on the boards were not of my age group and I think this played a part in me feeling so isolated.  I felt like the only 30 year old that wasn't having an easy time at conceiving.  I promised myself to not look at those anymore, even if I was in dire need of some personal experience. 

The 3 months I took clomid was the most difficult months of my 3 1/2 year marriage and yes, I blame the hormones.  From knock out drag out fights at 10pm to the overly emotional times, I felt so alone.  I felt like my husband didn't know what I was going through, I felt like I was going through it all by myself and I felt like he didn't understand me.  I even avoided my best friends and physically isolated myself - looking back, not the best idea.  I remember very specifically one night I was on the verge of tears and I realized I need to talk to someone about this - not my mom, not my best friend, not my husband...a trained professional. Never in my life have I ever considered therapy, but it was one of the best decisions I made for myself.  Through my insurance, I found a woman near my home that specialized in infertility and to this day I continue to see her.  Patrice has been such a life saver, an outsider and someone that challenges me to think differently about everything. At the time I first saw Patrice, I was deep into a clomid cycle and she let me borrow a book, Concurring Infertility. I recommend this book for two reason, it makes you realize you aren't crazy and the emotions you are feeling happens to other people and because it's great to have your husband/partner read this to gain a better understanding about what you are going through. 

I hope that if you're reading this you will ask me questions about my clomid and IUI cycles.  I hope to be someone for you to go to, when you feel isolated and alone.  We shouldn't have to feel that way and we shouldn't feel like we can't talk about our difficulties and challenges with trying to conceive.  Easier said then done, I know.

I was optimistic about all the testing you have to do first to determine what might be the cause of not being able to conceive.  The lab/blood work was easy and proved that everything was in working order.  My husband "deposited" his specimen and and that came back alright.  I then had to have the HSG test, which I wasn't prepared for at all.  What the doctors describe as a little cramping pain is a bunch of bull.  I was caught off guard with a jointing pain during the test, a pain that woke me up and made me realize that this was serious.  While that test came back "all clear," I was beginning to realize that they all were coming back that way. 

Having finally survived through all the testing, the reason was still up in the air.  The anxiety of the next appointment was overwhelming, we were going in to see what the doctor thinks about our situation.  After about 15 minutes of the doctor reciting the test results and her thoughts, she gave us a diagnosis and a term that to this day I can't get out of my head.  Unexplained Infertility. 

Being told a doctor doesn't know what is wrong with you is quite possibly the most frustrating thing.  Immediately following the fact that we've been diagnosed with unexplained infertility, we were faced with two choices, do a clomid and IUI cycle or go straight to IVF.  All I heard in my head is - we don't know what's wrong, next stop medical intervention.  The little piece of hope that had always been inside my heart had just crumbled. Growing up I always pictured meeting the "one," falling in love, getting married and then having a baby. At no point did I ever think that trying to have a baby was going to be do difficult.  I keep thinking that I'm the only one out there that has this diagnosis or is having this problem.  I wondered if maybe we didn't follow charting enough, maybe we just didn't get the timing right and maybe next month will be different.  I was holding out hope, but I was also ready to look into something different - clomid and IUI here we come.