Déjà Vu All Over Again
When bad things happen, I find there’s no other way to break them to people other than just saying it. So, here’s the deal…
My fertility report was as follows:
13 Eggs (the most I’ve ever had)
10 Eggs Mature
1 Embryo
Yes. The same thing that happened last time has happened again. Rudy – The Sequel (http://the2weekwait.blogspot.com/2011/02/rudy-lone-embryo.html). Good amount of eggs – one embryo. After an entirely different protocol, switching to a new clinic & a new doctor and after many additional tests, we have the very same result. The only difference between this cycle and last cycle though is I’ve just spent my entire savings account.
When I heard we had 13 eggs yesterday, I had learned my lesson from last time and did not get excited or enthusiastic about it. My mantra was, “I’ll wait and see what the fertility report says.” I’m glad I did this as obviously, the outcome was the same. Mind you, keeping my feelings in check doesn’t make this any easier but I’m pleased that I at least went into this realistically.
I even had dreamed last night that my doctor called, told me the report was a disaster and yelled at me about it. “What did you do? Did you follow my instructions?” I woke up shaken and nervous. As soon as I got the call today and I heard the tone of voice the nurse had, I knew it wasn’t good. Frankly, right now, nothing with me ever feels good these days. I just can’t believe I’m now getting charged so much to feel like a failure. “Well Jay, this is the second time this has happened so it’s got to be you. Now give us $10,000.”
A doctor from the clinic (not my doctor but the doctor who did my retrieval) called me minutes later letting me know that they are going to try “immature ICSI” on the 3 immature eggs. Basically, they are going to try to still fertilize the 3 immature eggs and hope that something comes of it. That would be nice but am I hopeful? Nope. Not really.
Obviously, something is going on if this has happened two separate times at two separate clinics. Will the doctor’s ever know why? Probably not. They’ll probably just tell me it was bad luck again. I guess I’m just lucky in an unlucky way. I am a negative miracle. Go me.
Yesterday, before the retrieval, they gave my husband a piece of paper with instructions with regards to him giving his sperm sample. The paper told him to take a shower before heading to the clinic and to “Be sure to wash your penis, anus and scrotal area.” When I broke the news to him today that we only had one embryo, we just sat there looking at each other. Even though neither of us cried, the pain in the air was palpable. After a few solid minutes of this, we tried to work out what to do or how to feel. In an effort to break this tension, Sam said, “Well, at least I have a clean anus.”
When a clean anus is your only source of comfort, you know things are bad.
I was also supposed to talk to one of my closest best friends today. I describe him as the Will to my Grace. We’ve been friends since college and yes, he’s gay. I mention this because I texted him this morning that I wasn’t able to chat this afternoon. I told him what was going on and he said he understood. My final text to him was, “Only straight married men should be subjected to crying hormonal women.”
So, let’s just quickly review: One uterine polyp, two years of trying, three inseminations, three IVF’s (the 1st had the least amount of eggs (5) with the most amount of embryos (3), the second had 10 eggs, 1 embryo and this one had 13 eggs (the most so far) with again, only one embryo) and absolutely no pregnancies of any kind.
Oh… the trying to conceive humanity.
Many of you have been reading my blog for a while. So many of you have been so beyond lovely with your time, emails, comments, texts and especially with your medication donations. Even recently, I came home to find a package filled with two chocolate bars and super nice soap. I don’t know who sent this as there was no note or return address but I REALLY appreciate it. You’ve all been generous enough to share with me your stories, your experiences and at times, your hope. You’ve supported me and laughed with me. I will never, ever be able to thank each of you enough. So, this may sound crazy but I need to say this to you: I’m so sorry I don’t have better news. This story deserved a better ending for all of us.
Yes, we have one embryo (so far) and I know it only takes one. Trust me – I know this as we all said this the last time this happened. The trouble is I’m out of pep talks. I am searching to find the enthusiasm I mustered for the first Rudy, the lone embryo and it’s beyond difficult. We’ve been exactly here before and it didn’t work. Nothing has worked and at this moment, it feels like nothing ever will.
Throughout this whole journey, I’ve always tried to see the humor in things. However, this is one of the few times I’m struggling (although I did make an anus joke so you’ve got to give me some credit).
I know in my heart I’ll get through this and I think in times like these, that’s all you can cling to. You can’t have hope or faith in what you can’t control but you can have hope and faith in yourself. I’m hurting desperately (as if it isn’t obvious) but I know, somehow, I will get through this. I haven’t figured out how yet (other than chocolate, alcohol and endless crying) but it’ll happen.
So, as I end today’s sad little blog entry that is clearly bereft of hope, I again want to thank you for being there. I know we don’t know each other personally but your presence in my life has been immeasurable. I promise to keep you posted.
In the meantime, if it isn’t clear, my diet is so the fuck out the window.
My fertility report was as follows:
13 Eggs (the most I’ve ever had)
10 Eggs Mature
1 Embryo
Yes. The same thing that happened last time has happened again. Rudy – The Sequel (http://the2weekwait.blogspot.com/2011/02/rudy-lone-embryo.html). Good amount of eggs – one embryo. After an entirely different protocol, switching to a new clinic & a new doctor and after many additional tests, we have the very same result. The only difference between this cycle and last cycle though is I’ve just spent my entire savings account.
When I heard we had 13 eggs yesterday, I had learned my lesson from last time and did not get excited or enthusiastic about it. My mantra was, “I’ll wait and see what the fertility report says.” I’m glad I did this as obviously, the outcome was the same. Mind you, keeping my feelings in check doesn’t make this any easier but I’m pleased that I at least went into this realistically.
I even had dreamed last night that my doctor called, told me the report was a disaster and yelled at me about it. “What did you do? Did you follow my instructions?” I woke up shaken and nervous. As soon as I got the call today and I heard the tone of voice the nurse had, I knew it wasn’t good. Frankly, right now, nothing with me ever feels good these days. I just can’t believe I’m now getting charged so much to feel like a failure. “Well Jay, this is the second time this has happened so it’s got to be you. Now give us $10,000.”
A doctor from the clinic (not my doctor but the doctor who did my retrieval) called me minutes later letting me know that they are going to try “immature ICSI” on the 3 immature eggs. Basically, they are going to try to still fertilize the 3 immature eggs and hope that something comes of it. That would be nice but am I hopeful? Nope. Not really.
Obviously, something is going on if this has happened two separate times at two separate clinics. Will the doctor’s ever know why? Probably not. They’ll probably just tell me it was bad luck again. I guess I’m just lucky in an unlucky way. I am a negative miracle. Go me.
Yesterday, before the retrieval, they gave my husband a piece of paper with instructions with regards to him giving his sperm sample. The paper told him to take a shower before heading to the clinic and to “Be sure to wash your penis, anus and scrotal area.” When I broke the news to him today that we only had one embryo, we just sat there looking at each other. Even though neither of us cried, the pain in the air was palpable. After a few solid minutes of this, we tried to work out what to do or how to feel. In an effort to break this tension, Sam said, “Well, at least I have a clean anus.”
When a clean anus is your only source of comfort, you know things are bad.
I was also supposed to talk to one of my closest best friends today. I describe him as the Will to my Grace. We’ve been friends since college and yes, he’s gay. I mention this because I texted him this morning that I wasn’t able to chat this afternoon. I told him what was going on and he said he understood. My final text to him was, “Only straight married men should be subjected to crying hormonal women.”
So, let’s just quickly review: One uterine polyp, two years of trying, three inseminations, three IVF’s (the 1st had the least amount of eggs (5) with the most amount of embryos (3), the second had 10 eggs, 1 embryo and this one had 13 eggs (the most so far) with again, only one embryo) and absolutely no pregnancies of any kind.
Oh… the trying to conceive humanity.
Many of you have been reading my blog for a while. So many of you have been so beyond lovely with your time, emails, comments, texts and especially with your medication donations. Even recently, I came home to find a package filled with two chocolate bars and super nice soap. I don’t know who sent this as there was no note or return address but I REALLY appreciate it. You’ve all been generous enough to share with me your stories, your experiences and at times, your hope. You’ve supported me and laughed with me. I will never, ever be able to thank each of you enough. So, this may sound crazy but I need to say this to you: I’m so sorry I don’t have better news. This story deserved a better ending for all of us.
Yes, we have one embryo (so far) and I know it only takes one. Trust me – I know this as we all said this the last time this happened. The trouble is I’m out of pep talks. I am searching to find the enthusiasm I mustered for the first Rudy, the lone embryo and it’s beyond difficult. We’ve been exactly here before and it didn’t work. Nothing has worked and at this moment, it feels like nothing ever will.
Throughout this whole journey, I’ve always tried to see the humor in things. However, this is one of the few times I’m struggling (although I did make an anus joke so you’ve got to give me some credit).
I know in my heart I’ll get through this and I think in times like these, that’s all you can cling to. You can’t have hope or faith in what you can’t control but you can have hope and faith in yourself. I’m hurting desperately (as if it isn’t obvious) but I know, somehow, I will get through this. I haven’t figured out how yet (other than chocolate, alcohol and endless crying) but it’ll happen.
So, as I end today’s sad little blog entry that is clearly bereft of hope, I again want to thank you for being there. I know we don’t know each other personally but your presence in my life has been immeasurable. I promise to keep you posted.
In the meantime, if it isn’t clear, my diet is so the fuck out the window.
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