My Dark Passenger called Shotgun.....again.

Remember how in this post, I declared myself a new woman, and vowed to shrug off any nagging feelings of bitterness, inadequacy and jealousy towards others who are more fortunate and fertile than me?

I was doing great. No, really, I was. I was feeling happiness for my Trouble TTC friends who got their long awaited BFP's (still do, this is not about them). I was even able to smile at the babies I passed in the grocery store.

Then, my phone rang last week. It was my best friend, EJ.

Side note: EJ and I have been friends for 22 years. That's a whole slutty college student who can drink, y'all. We grew up together, and year after year, played house with our Barbies and N.K.O.T.B. dolls, planning weddings, babies and all the other events life held in store for us. We would chatter away about the day when each of us got married, and we got to stand at the altar as a bridesmaid for the other. We dreamed of the day when we would get pregnant around the same time, and our kids would grow up together, and have the same stellar friendship we had. Ah, it was beautiful.

We grew up, and sure enough, I got engaged first. EJ was there to hold my train and my bouquet, throw me a shower and throw petals as Mr. jme and I got into that limo all those years ago. Likewise, 2 years later, EJ got married to her old childhood sweetheart, and I returned the favors. Life was good.

Then, Mr. jme and I started to TTC. I thought to myself, I'll be pregnant by Christmas, and EJ and I can go shopping for baby clothes together, etc, etc. Christmas came, and with it came a darkness over me from my first pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage. I hated everything and everyone, as most of you know. EJ couldn't be there for me, mainly because I had not told anyone about our issues at that point.

Flash forward to May of this year. EJ and I also share birthdays 14 days apart, so we had a combined girl's weekend at a spa to celebrate the occasion. The two of us split off from the rest of the group and got a mani/pedi. EJ was talking about future plans (her husband is still an undergrad and she is the sole breadwinner with a menial clerk job), and she mentions they will begin TTC.

I lost it. At that point, I told her everything. The good (not much of that), the bad, and the ugly. She was shocked. She said she was so sorry for me. She tried to give me every cliche comfort I have gotten, and I graciously accepted. She told me she thought it would take awhile for them, because of past female issues she had. I kind of side eyed that statement- no one can just guess something like that.

End side note. It you made it this far, I owe you a beer.

So the phone rang, and I picked up. It was EJ.

EJ: "Hey JME!"

JME: "Hey EJ, what's up?"

EJ: "Remember that thing we talked about in May?"

JME: (heart sinks to floor) "Yeah?"

EJ: "I'm pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I felt crushed. I felt shock and anger. How could this twit be knocked up after a mere 2-3 months of trying? WTMFF???????????????????

It was back. My Dark Passenger, that is. My infertility, ready to take me hostage again. A moment that EJ and I had planned our whole lives, a moment that was supposed to be joyous for both of us, fell far short from that. It was because of me.

My Dark Passenger tries to justify my bitterness by saying. "Well, the way she told you was cruel. She knew you talked about your m/c and IUI's and IVF's that day- how could she be so flippant?" I know my IF is probably the last thing on her mind. She doesn't know what this feels like. She can't possibly understand how bad it killed me.

She can't possibly understand how disgusted with myself I am that I am resolved to avoid her as much as possible now.

My mother has been trying to help, key word TRYING. She tells me, "Well, EJ is already huge at 12 weeks, and you know EJ and Mr. EJ have no money since he is still in school, and how could they be so stupid as to let this happen??" But, again, she doesn't understand either.

So, here I am, being ruled by my Dark Passenger. I have hid EJ off my Facebook newsfeed, as her posts everyday are pregnancy related, complaining about the weight gain, nausea, etc, etc. I just can't take it. Nevermind I have my own plan to become a mother, and it WILL happen for me one day, in one shape or form.

It still just hurts, and I once again feel that everyone is leaving me behind. Less and less of my friends understand or can even pretend to understand.

And now, I have to see her in 2 weeks, and I don't know how to handle it. Especially considering I will be 110% nutso on Lupron by this point.

For my IF readers: How have you dealt with situations like this? What kind of advice would you give besides avoidance?

I'm not dead yet

So, my sincere apologies for being away from the blog for a bit. I feel like my life has been a gigantic whirlwind since the ball dropped for 2010. I have been recovering from pneumonia and I was on the road with my boss all of last week, and frankly, it was a bit daunting to think of updating my blog, or any of the interwebs, for that matter. And updating jme’s world? Forgetaboudit.

AF finally showed her face last Friday, which I am eternally grateful for. I am *trying* to look at the positive side of everything this year, so on that day, I was thankful that with all the dysfunction and lack of cooperation from my body, I could at least still bring AF on naturally. Hey, it’s small, but since everything regarding my lady bits is so artificial and unnatural right now, I will take it.

Speaking of lady bits, that brings me to my new cycle. I went in this Monday for my CD 3 ultrasound, and was fortunately cyst free and cleared to begin injectables. I am so thankful to be putting Clomid and her nasty symptoms behind me.

After a class on the injectables, as well as watching a video with the same information with Mr. jme, you would think I would be prepared and ready to go. Quite the opposite. I was so nervous about screwing up my dosage or accidentally stabbing too deep and puncturing my liver, that I requested Mr. jme review all of my preparatory work and make sure I was doing it right. He still made me inject myself, which I am thankful for. I need to do this, for myself. The injections themselves have not been so bad, aside from the redness and bleeding that occurs at the injection site post shot.

I am still in a bit of shock that we are finally here. I want so badly to remain hopeful that Follistim with the combination of Ovidrel, IUI, and progesterone suppositories in the 2 WW will be the winning ticket for me, but hope is a dangerous thing for me these days. So is faith. I can’t tell you how many of my e-friends or the few family/friends who know what I am going through offer me the advice “At this point, all you have is faith.”

While I understand that they probably had the best of intentions with this advice, it is like salt in the wound for me, especially coming from those who have never experienced loss or are currently living out my dream of being pregnant.

You can ask my husband, my mother, anyone who knows me IRL- I had always been someone with faith that there was a plan for me and that God wouldn’t give me more than I could handle. I was that go-to faith person for my friends and family. But that was before 2009.

I had faith a year ago that I would get pregnant with no problems. I think we all know how that turned out, considering the title of my blog. I had faith four months ago that when I did get a surprise BFP, that my baby would stick, and together, we would have a wonderful life. Again, here I am, with no baby, and this time, stripped of my faith and instead filled with a gaping void that I don’t know how to fill.

No matter what I do, I cannot regain my faith. I don’t care what anyone says, my faith betrayed me in ways I cannot easily look past. To tell you that I undoubtedly believe things will work out for me and I will carry a child to term would be a lie. There are no guarantees in this life- and don’t tell me that perhaps God has another plan for me and maybe I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Maybe you’re right, but hearing those words again from someone else is enough to send me over the edge.

So, where does this leave me? Taking each day as it is, and trying to make it through the end of the day. It leaves me trying to regain my life from TTTC, by getting back to things I used to love, like spending time with friends, working out, and of course, being involved in my 2 Mardi Gras organizations. These activities help me see glimmers of the old me again, and that is progress, IMO. I am yet to do yoga this year, which is appalling and inexcusable. My next goal is to get back to going to at least 1 yoga class a week. Yoga has always been therapy for me, and I know I need it in my life.

Sorry for the hella long ramblings. I do have some more entries to write, but I appreciate anyone and everyone who made it through this and understands how I feel.

Do know that you are not alone, even if we don’t get what we want in the end.

"The fact remains- you wanted a baby yesterday."

I had a great meeting with my RE today. The title of this post is something he said to me, while telling me he relates to IF depression, as "everything we do to get you there has that cloud hanging over it, so when it is a failure, that cloud just takes a little piece of you with it."

After talking at length about my options, Mr. jme and I have decided we are going to be doing Follistim injections + IUI + progesterone in the 2 WW as our plan of attack. My RE says we will do one cycle on, one cycle off, to give my body rest. If I don't have a BFP after our second medicated cycle, then he will be performing a laproscopy to see if what issues I may have (i.e. endo, cysts) that may be preventing me from getting KTFU. We will try 2 more cycles post-lap, and if no BFP by then, it is on to IVF we go.

I really felt pumped and excited when we left this morning. However, while sitting in the car a few minutes ago, my eyes welled up with tears as I thought of the prospect of another 8 months of fertility treatments, the cost to us, and I thought of my angel baby. I would be close to finding out the sex of my baby if he or she was still with us. Just the thought of how close I got to my dream, and now the lengths I am going through to achieve it, just take my breath away sometimes.

Well, I am anxiously about to head to my injectables class from 2-4. Needles don't scare me- I just want to make sure I am doing it right. A lot of my shots I will have to administer myself b/c I will be on the road for my lovely job.

I'll update again when I get out of class. Toodles.

Cancelled cycle

Well, as most of you know already, I went in for my CD 12 check up Christmas Eve and had no follies above 10 mm. I had to go back in Monday on CD 16, and again, my follies were only around 12 mm on both sides. My trigger was cancelled. The RE said we could still try naturally, but there are no guarantees I will surge and O naturally, only the time and the P4 test next week will tell.

I'm not really surprised this happened. What does surprise me is my RE's determination to go forward with yet another Clomid cycle next month- at 150 mg to boot. Good Lord, I was an emotional TRAIN WRECK at 100 mg- will the small piece of my pre-TTC life that I still have intact completely be destroyed? Is the 100 mg from this cycle making me completely overreact to this news? Definitely.

I know I am by no means a medical professional, but to me, common sense tells you that if I am not responding to 100 mg, and responded poorly the cycle before to 50 mg, perhaps my body is not going to respond to 150 mg? When I asked the nurse to riddle me this yesterday, she kind of came back at me snarky and said, "Well, we will go all the way up to 200 mg before we will consider moving on to injectables. If you want to move on before that step, you will have to come in to Dr. K and explain your position to him."

Well, I'm not going to fucking do that. What basis do I have other than Clomid is making me a crazier person than I already was? (Their response: You were aware of the possible side effects of Clomid before beginning treatment) I don't think that will warrant a treatment change from him, and I don't care to be lectured on why he is the doctor and I am the infertile patient, YKWIM?

So, I guess for now, I have to trust in my doctor. I guess my problem is that with every appointment that comes and goes with more bad news stacking on top of the last, it is hard to ever see a positive end to this journey.

I am off work this week, thank God. Mr. jme and I are painting the master bedroom, our master bath, and the spare bath. Things are looking good so far, pics to come later.

WTF is wrong with men?

I ask myself this question from time to time. Why, you ask? Here's a great example:

I have to work up until 11 AM December 24th, and then I am off till January 4th, 2010 on vacation. Mr. jme, on the other hand, is off all of this week as well while his plant is shut down. Since we live literally a block away from our dry cleaners, I asked Mr. jme nicely if we would mind swinging by there today and dropping off a few of my sweaters so I have something to wear this week at my mom's.

Jme: Would you mind please stopping by Master Cleaners and dropping off these sweaters? I will pick them up Wednesday on my way home from work.

Mr. jme: ::SIGH:: I guess. Bitch, moan, bitch, moan. Why do you think just because I'm off work you can fill up my schedule with running errands for you?

Jme: Fill up? I asked you to do ONE THING that requires a 1 minute car ride, 5 minutes total for the whole errand. I cannot believe you are acting like this.

Mr. jme: Bitch, bitch, bitch bitch.

Jme: Fine, don't do it. Thanks a lot, ass.

Mr. jme: No, I'll do it....

Jme: NO.

Seriously, WTF? I was taught growing up that if someone asks you to do something, you either do it and don't complain about it, or you simply say no. One or the other. Complaining and giving someone grief about something they asked you to do is really messed up IMO. Obviously, I needed a favor and instead of helping me or telling me you can't, you're going to cause me additional grief by bitching about it? STFU.

Needless to say, Mr. jme is in the doghouse as of this morning.