Oh.. Hey there

Okay, admittedly it's been a while.. But there just hasn't been much to report- I've been trying to get in tip top shape to start IVF, and have managed to become the most boring 32 year old woman in existence.

I've given up:

- carbs

- refined sugar

- bacon/deli meat/nitrates

- caffeine 

- booze of any kind 

- hot baths and showers

- hot butt in my car

- more than 1200 calories a day

- fun/parties/not being in bed by 10 pm (and by 10, I mean 8:30)

My husband has done the same- we are quite the pair. Want to go out for a beer? Nope. See a 10:00 movie? HA! How about just a coffee then? You, good sir, are hilarious. 

On the upside, my friends have chosen to still love me (provided we see a matinee) and my dear friend K gave me this adorable IVF care package:

Yes, the red one says "don't worry, you won't get Moon Face." This, sadly, is a legit concern. One of the drugs has "moon face" listed as a side effect. Like,your face blows up like the moon. Dinner plate face. Satellite dish face. Not cool.  

This contained:

I plan on wearing the crown to my scheduling appointment on Tuesday. We will have a baseline scan, blood draw, get our schedule, attend Needle School and then grab a $10,000 box of meds. BCP ends Feb 19- and then we wait. I haven't eagerly awaited my period this much since I was in college. 

It's here, people. Let the games begin. 

Better out than in..right?

Don't mind me, I'm just having a tantrum. I'm trying to keep this blog positive and forward facing. But the truth is, infertility isn't always pretty. There are ugly and unsavoury moments as well. I wouldn't be being honest if I didn't include these moments now and again. 

I realize there is no "deservedness" to have kids, and that I'm neither judge nor jury on this particular subject. I also realize we will categorize this one under "bitter". 

This girl from my childhood who literally has babies to up her social assistance payments is thrilled to announce she is, once again, knocked up.  

She gets pregnant every year or so. She can't afford to do the things her children need, but she gets new tattoos pretty regularly. But they're "for" the kids, so could her Facebook friends pls anty up their used toys and could I give her some tickets to kids shows at my work, and are there any used, free bicycles for her poor, no bicycle children. My mom was a single mom, I know how tough that life is, and I would wish it in my worst enemy.

But I am just SO FUCKING ANGRY AT HER. She, in this moment, is responsible for all of my ills. Surgeries and tests and borrowed money, and fights with Husband, and feeling lonely and alienated from all of my people. She's the reason I'm being lapped by friends, and why I can't say "when we have kids" anymore. I hate her. Right now, I truly and honestly hate her.  As I sit here on bed rest for the billionth day, feeling hella excited that I ate an English muffin without wanting to kill myself from the pain, I'm just so mad. 

This is what infertility does to you, you are so jealous and so bitter that news like this sends you reeling. I don't know this girl, not really,  not anymore. Perhaps she is a spectacularly attentive and caring mother. Perhaps her Facebook, like everyone else's social media, doesn't reflect the complexity of their entire lives. And perhaps I'm just a little too beaten up right now to see anything but this one piece.

But this part will end. I'll get out of bed and have that sushi I'm craving so badly. And with any luck, sometime in early 2016, I'll have another long wait for that Alaska Roll. 

In Which I Shit My Pants

In case you've ever thought to yourself "I should really spend an entire day feeling really awful, and crapping my face off," have I got a plan for you!!

Let me introduce you to my companions for today's Gynaecological Bowel Prep.   Three "Comfort Tip*" enemas, two satchels of oddly tasty Pico Salate, Ducolax tablets and a bonus Resstor-a-lax drink mix to chase it all down.

So today, I will spend the day drinking clear liquids, reading a good book, watching a lot of my favourite YouTubers and stressing about tomorrow's surgery.

If any of you are doing this delightful regime, here are a few things you should know (prepare for us to get to know each other really well):
- The Pico actually tastes fine.  Given that it's job is to induce violent diarrhoea, it's pretty okay.
- The enemas? They aren't that easy to self-administer, and the bottle never really properly empties. Don't stress out, you'll still get enough to do the trick.
- The Pico takes a few hours to kick in, you'll get overconfident and think about going outside, or cleaning, or doing things. DON'T DO IT,  THIS IS A TRICK. Stay home. Trust me.

Cross your fingers for tomorrow, spare me a good thought if you've got one to spare. It HAS to be good news tomorrow...

*HAHAHAHAHAHA.. Comfort tip is .. well, in an effort not to mince words, that's a load of crap.

A Rare Bird Indeed..

Nurse at pre-op appointment at the hospital: 
Stage IV Endo, both tubes ruined AND adenomyosis? You're a rare bird indeed, I've never seen that combination in my 25 year career.


Surgery is Friday.  I'm only slightly terrified (see also: seriously terrified). Worst case? They open me up, look around, realize things are too much of a disaster to do anything, and close.  The dream is over. No babies for us. This would be the same rude awakening that awaited me after my last surgery a few months ago.

Best case? Tubes come out, IVF starts early 2016. Then it's only tens of thousands of dollars, figuring out how to make my bum ovaries produce more eggs, and hope that the little guys live through fertilization, freezing, thawing, and transfer. Easy peasy.

We will see... Friday is the day... two more days... I've got this.. right?

Making people uncomfortable in under ten seconds.

barren[bar-uh n]

adjective

not producing or incapable of producing offspring; sterile:

I never really understand why this word is so offensive to the Fertiles.

"Don't say that about yourself"... "No, you're not barren!"

.. But here's the thing.. I am.  I am quite literally barren.  I am truly incapable of producing offspring.  I am fortunate enough to live in an age where science and technology have birthed their own solution, but a hundred years ago? Barren.

I'm doing my best not to embrace the Infertility Shame, but it's just so built into the structure of IF.  People are so uncomfortable with it, have no idea what to say, they would really rather not.

But it IS the reality, and saying it out loud doesn't make it any more (or less) true.  We will be writing a five figure cheque to even try and make a baby.  It will require a team of various medical professionals, multiple surgeries, and quite potentially reproductive material that isn't genetically ours.  See: Barren.

... And maybe that's okay.

Free IVF For Everyone!

"Yes, hello? This is The Clinic calling."

"Hello... "

"We need to discuss some things.. "

"I'm sorry, where are you calling from?"

"The Clinic."

"Which clinic is that?"

"The fertility clinic."

"Oh, I see. It was all so cloak and dagger I wasn't sure. What can I do for you?"

"You've been approved for funding!"

"OH MY GOOD GOD! How? When did they announce the details of government IVF funding? I thought that wasn't happening for a while!?"

"Well they haven't."

"Okay.. So then how have I been approved already?"

"Well, you're on the list for funding, to ask to be funded."

"So, not approved,  so much as not yet approved."

"Well, yes."


THIS IS THE MEANEST PRANK CALL KNOWN TO MAN.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE? You'll have to excuse me as I just pull out all of my hair in rage.

"

I've been peeking through your windows for a while now...

It happened.  I said If'.  As in "If we have kids..." 

I'm not 100% sure when we made that change.  For the last five years of relationship, Mister and I have casually said "when we have kids" about a million times. This hilarious naivety is apparently a thing of the past. 

As we wade into the deep end of the Infertility pool, I find myself reading all of these amazing blogs.  I devour them, from start to finish in a few days, thrilled to have found people who get it.  There are so many different ways to get to the 'finish line' in the infertility board game, but every story still speaks the same language.  At some point you feel kind of weird peeping through the looking glass into other peoples lives without ever contributing to the conversation. Like some wildly personal peeping Tom.

Infertility the most amazing shitty club in the world.  You hate being a member, but damn the people are incredible.  So in an effort to give as well as take- here's how I found myself here:

I started having weird symptoms in January 2014... Heinously painful periods - I mean, actual blinding pain. All kinds of weird bowel symptoms.  Next thing you know,  it's July 2014, and I'm bleeding 24/7, and am a generally kind of a hot mess. 

Fast forward to July 2015 and I find out I'm the lucky owner of Stage IV endometriosis, adenomyosis, and my insides have become so tethered with scar tissue that my ovaries and bowels have literally fused to the back of my uterus.   Both of my fallopian tubes are, according to the Fertility Centre, "dripping toxic fluid." 

Next step? taking out  my fallopian tubes (the irony does not escape me). Then it's onto stims, ideally by early Jan (more on that later). 

November 27th, people.  Two weeks this Friday and I'll be tube-less.  I am so ready to get this going, I care barely contain myself. Let's do this.