I Would Die For That

Someone posted this song on the NorthWest Andrology forums and I basically had to close my office door and take a moment to bawl my eyes out. This is basically my heart song at the moment.

So not a whole lot of exciting updates right now. We were supposed to go hiking for my birthday, but after driving the three hours into the mountains it turned out that the trail was flooded due to all the rain and they wouldn't let us up. So we kept going into Glenwood Springs instead, and went to the Glenwood Cavern Adventure Park. It cost a lot more than what I was planning to spend on my birthday, but we did have a good time - took a cave tour, and rode a couple of the rides, and generally just acted goofy.

Since the hiking trail we planned for today was closed, we're on a team headed for Glenwood Caverns Adventure Park instead. Kaitlin is very excited.

A photo posted by Meg (@meghannmccall) on Jun 14, 2015 at 11:12am PDT

Also confirmed that we start Lupron on the 21st, which is this coming Sunday. Pride is this weekend, and I'll be there at a booth with my books and some of the other authors from my publishing house. It should be a good time, even if I do have to start getting shots again. I got my updated social security card, and went to the DMV last week, but haven't gotten my new driver's license in the mail yet - once that comes in I can actually start changing my name on everything, especially at work. Since work is where I spend the vast majority of my life, I think it will feel a lot more like a "real" change once I'm able to use my name there...

Anyway, we're doing okay in terms of savings for our third round. Trying to think positive... the odds are that it should really, really work this time. But it's also hard to think about what we'll do next if it doesn't. Since thinking about getting pregnant is way more fun, I'm trying to focus on dreaming about that instead. But dreaming is dangerous. *Sigh* Still, I only have two choices: spend the next few weeks anxious, or spend them excited. Neither one will have any effect on the outcome, most likely, but they'll have a big effect on our quality of life.

So, excited it is. :P

I have a baby shower to attend for a friend next weekend. I'm halfway SUPER excited, and halfway nervous. On the one hand, I get to hold a tiny baby (SQUEE) and see my friends and congratulate them. On the other (insert major selfishness) they have a baby and I don't, and I am jealous. I have a big mouth, and it's going to be really hard to not blurt out to everybody that we're trying to have a baby too and it's been so hard and expensive and taken so much time and wah, wah, wah, me, me, me when it's THEIR party for their new little family. So I'm doing my best to focus on being happy for THEM (because I am!) without making it about myself.

So yeah... that's where we're at right now. Lupron, then the start of my next AF, then another $500 ultrasound / bloodwork, then weeks more of Lupron while we wait for Embio to tell us when we should plan to be there and when the transfer date will be... waiting and waiting and more waiting...

IVF Barbie, Not Giving Up And Other Fun

Found this post today that made me laugh: IVF Barbie

I definitely remember being Newbie Barbie, and Joiner Barbie too. And I am reminded, as I stare down my 36th birthday this month, my pregnant friends and family, friends with newborns, and pictures of babies all over my facebook feed, that technically I haven't actually reached full on Veteran Barbie status yet. I've gained weight from all the meds - about 15 pounds - and I do have some gray hair (which I keep colored.) My poor tummy has had its moments of bruises and puncture marks so bad that it looks diseased. But in the grand scheme of things, I've got time. So many folks on various boards are 38, 40, 42 and are still trying. Even if I decided to try up until my 40th birthday I'd still have four more years of attempts left. So far I've done 4 ICIs, 3 Clomid IUIs, 3 injectable IUIs, transferred five donor embryos, made two trips to Greece, and endured one six week miscarriage. That's actually only twelve cycles, total, even if they were spread out over the course of five years. Pretty sure there are an awful lot of veteran ladies who would shake their heads at all my angst and think "Girl, you ain't seen nothing yet."

And though I eye my bank account, our budgets, and the HELOC slapped against my house, the truth is that four years is a good long time. I could pay the entire HELOC off almost twice over in that time. So if a July attempt doesn't work and we have to take a 7-8 month break, is it really that big of a deal?

The same blogger has another post that really hit home: When Is It Time To Stop Trying?

I will admit, I've had moments of "Why am I even doing this? Maybe all this failure is a sign from the universe that I am not meant to be a mom. Should I be investing this energy into acceptance of a childfree life?"

And then I feel guilty. If I'm considering giving up, then I must not want it badly enough. Quitters are just people who aren't adequately motivated, aren't they? It's hard not to believe, in my weakest and most discouraged moments, that there really is some entity outside myself - the universe, fate, God - that is actively denying me a baby. The really ironic thing is that no one's actually SAID that to me, but I have this overwhelming suspicion that if the rest of the world knew everything we'd done up to this point to try and get pregnant, they'd all be thinking it... "Sheesh, obviously you're not meant to be a mom, get over it." I am projecting my own mean little inner voice onto my friends and family, the assumption that they would all dismiss my repeated failures as God's plan for my life.

And I know that this comes from my childhood, the way that I was raised in an ultra-religious bubble and taught to be judgy and condescending and superior when others were going through crises. Must be God's plan for your life, dear, be content with it...

It's those naysaying thoughts... the idea that a higher power wants to prevent me from being a mom, combined with the guilt that entertaining that thought means I don't want this badly enough, that are probably the most powerful depressants in this whole infertility war. And they battle it out with the  surviving vestiges of my NewbieBarbie self, who is still stubbornly popping up in the corner (albeit her glitter makeup is starting to look a little worse for wear) and cheerily shouting "Baby dust! Power of positive thinking! If I can do it so can you! Success stories! Pregnancy magic! Still plenty of time and money, where there's a will there's a way! Winners never quit!"

I wish there was a way I could live as NewbieBarbie. Literally choose not to acknowledge failure, to keep my eye on the prize with confidence every second of the day, spread nothing but encouragement and positivity, and live my life in between cycles with joy and carefreeness and the certainty that my baby's coming eventually. There are a few people in this world who are able to live that way. My inner judgy self usually decides they're ditzes. So unconnected with reality, maddeningly lost in fantasy, irresponsible, taking each day as it comes and never concerning themselves with how it will affect tomorrow. Romantical and ridiculous. Today I envy them. Today I think there's something I could probably learn from that kind of attitude.

In other news, my new name is now on file with the DMV. Waiting to get my social security and DMV cards in the mail, and then I can change my name here at work and on all my other stuff...

Oh, and I still haven't heard back from the Greek clinic to confirm when I'm supposed to start Lupron injections. Finally just went ahead and emailed the doctor today. Hopefully that will get me an answer...

My Favorite Month of the Year

Ever since I was a kid, June has always been my favorite month of the year. Probably because it's the month of my birthday... but also because it's the start of summer, my favorite season; it always meant the end of school; the weather is finally warm and sunny again; and for me it always feels like a new beginning. A New Year's, of sorts, even if it's six months later than everybody else celebrates it.

So I guess it's apropos that AF started yesterday, on June 1st, and my Lupron shipment arrived at the same time. That means we should be starting Lupron around the 21st or so of this month, and CD1 of our next cycle attempt will be around the 24th.

My birthday is next week. I love birthdays, though neither of us has money for much of anything this year. I think we'll go out to dinner, maybe go see a movie. Usually I like to do something kind of big on my birthday, a staycation or some activity I've always wanted to try, but I would gladly trade that for a successful cycle in July. I'm not going to take the day off work. Kind of a shame,  because my birthday's a Friday this year and it will be seven years before it's on Friday again, but I'm conserving vacation days for our next upcoming attempt and, with any luck, maternity leave.

I could sit around and feel sorry for myself, but I'd rather look at it as a trade... that my birthday present this year will be a sticky BFP in August. That's all I really want, anyway. Nothing, no other gift could compare, and I would trade every other present I ever have or will receive if I could just have that.

Still, I'm doing my best not to think too much about it this time. The roller coaster of longing, fear, anxiety and doubt is too exhausting. I end up worrying myself into a little knot of unfulfilled hope, where every breath I take is accompanied by a will-it-work-this-time thought, and I'm sure it's not doing anything but possibly making my body less hospitable for implantation. It certainly isn't *helping.*  I'm really not looking forward to resuming medication - the hot flashes on Lupron, the uncontrollable mood swings and congestion of estrogen, the constant peeing and meaningless pregnancy-symptoms of progesterone. Not really excited about the jet lag and the looooooong flight either.

But, I am excited by the idea of being in Athens in July. It will be hot, which maybe means a hotel with a pool, maybe even a trip to the beach. I haven't been to a beach in five years. But I am sitting on my butt with my legs up for TWO WHOLE DAYS after the transfer, this time. Period. There's so little that I can do to actually help make this work, and that's a simple one.

In the meantime, trying to distract myself. I'm selling what I can on Ebay, and helping Kaitlin do the same. She sold her living room set, the one that's been living in our garage for three years, so she can finally park her car in the garage again and she was able to put a little extra into savings so that she can come to Greece this time. I'm spending way more time than I should window-shopping online for cute, feminine, pink-and-lacy clothes (I wonder if all this estrogen I've been pumping myself with for the last eighteen months has fired up my girly-girl side?). I'm sewing cute little doll clothes, even put a set on Etsy to see if anybody would like it. I'm watching 24 with Kaitlin, and a new Korean drama series by myself. I'm putting together cute summery outfits to wear to work, and playing with my dog. I'm trying to keep the house clean, and planning spring-cleaning type projects. We even trimmed back our big lilac trees in the backyard over the weekend, and now there is a pile of branches hanging out back there that we'll have to spend this coming weekend breaking down into sacks for the trash people.

Just staying busy, trying not to think too much, and trying to pick positive thoughts when the thinking is inevitable. Trying to keep myself from feeling like this is our "last chance". Trying to remind myself that this won't be over until I say it is.

And trying to stay focused on how wonderful it is that it's finally June.