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Well, the IVF amnesia is starting to lift, and I'm kinda feeling like I know what I'm doing again. That doesn't mean I don't still call my nurse with a million questions (I can take Tylenol, right?), but at least I'm not forgetting how to do my shots every night.

I'm on day six of the stim phase now, and my eggs are definitely growing. I've got dozens in there--five dozen, to be a little more exact, and my lead follicle was up to 15 mm as of yesterday. I'll go back in tomorrow morning for another ultrasound to check their progress, but things appear to be lining up for a weekend retrieval. Last time, I had 35 eggs retrieved. I'm guessing we'll have at least the same number this time.

I feel a bit like a stuffed Thanksgiving turkey today, a feeling I vividly remember from my previous cycles. And, with about four more days to go, I'm wondering if I have enough sweatpants to make it to retrieval day. I've already taken my favorite jeans out of rotation (yes, the skinny jeans I wore to dinner last weekend--bye, bye), so it's just yoga pants and sweats until all of this bloating subsides. 

As much as I want to complain about it, the bloating is a really great thing. It means my eggs are growing, and my contribution to baby #2 is in there somewhere. Some fat pants and the need to lay on the couch all evening is totally worth it.

 
I've been injecting myself with medications for close to four years now; but Wednesday night, as I was about to inject my first dose of Follistim and Low Dose HCG, my brain completely froze. I couldn't, for the life of me, remember if it was okay to inject both meds within the same couple of ice-numbed inches on my stomach. What a silly little thing to forget. It turns out, after a phone call to my nurse, that it was just fine to inject them about two inches apart. Issue resolved. But I was left feeling a little unsettled about my memory lapse. It appears that I've developed IVF amnesia. 

I've always been envious of those women who could recall every detail about every cycle at any given moment. "Oh, my Day 3 estrogen during my second cycle was 73." Meanwhile, I can barely remember my estrogen from this morning! Am I the only one whose bloodwork results go in one ear and out the other?

I also can't seem to remember when I started feeling certain side-effects from the meds. For instance, I probably would not have worn skinny jeans out to dinner tonight if I had remembered that bloating really started to kick in after the 4th day of injections. (Apologies to those who saw my undies when I stood up to leave, forgetting that my pants were unbuttoned.)

There is one really great aspect to this IVF amnesia, however. It makes this feel like something brand new all over again. Sure, it's comforting to know what you're doing; but man, is it exciting to go into each ultrasound not sure what to expect.

This morning, my ultrasound showed everything was progressing as it should. I have about 60 follicles about to grow, which means some serious discomfort is on the way. Fortunately, I just can't quite remember when that will set in.
 
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I'm looking forward to seeing my uterus tomorrow morning! It's one of the funny little perks of doing IVF--I always know what the inside of my uterus is up to. It's been over six months since we last had visual contact, and I'm long overdue for a meeting with my uterus.

I was very excited to have my IVF medications arrive via UPS today. Mostly because it means that this is all really happening again... but also because the pharmacy sends along a little bag of Hershey Kisses with each order. Yum! For the record, I do not share my IVF Hershey Kisses. Those are mine. I earn them.

Tomorrow, I'll wake up at the crack of dawn for morning monitoring--bloodwork and an ultrasound to make sure everything is in working order. It'll be Cycle Day 3, and as long as everything looks good, I'll be injecting myself with the first dose of follicle-stimulating hormone, a.k.a, Follistim, tomorrow afternoon.

Tomorrow's shot is the least painful part of the whole process. It's the shot that kicks off a new cycle filled with promise; the pain masked by sheer enthusiasm for the journey we're about to embark upon (and the 5 minutes of icing the injection site beforehand helps, too). There's no swelling or discomfort (yet). There's no pesky side effects (yet). Just an ear-to-ear grin, an onlooking/wincing husband, a deep sigh, and a "Cheers!"

Tomorrow's shot is my favorite of them all.

 
Pineapples
Looks like it's just about time--time to start another round of In Vitro Fertilization. I'm excited; I really am. I'm hopeful and pretending to think positive all the time. I'm optimistic knowing that I've done just about everything my reproductive endocrinologist has asked of me. I've lost weight (slowly), started an exercise program (Zumba!), lowered my cholesterol and blood pressure (without meds); I've cut back on carbohydrates (sad face), got my thyroid levels in order (thank you, Synthroid), and started seeing a therapist to address stress from previous failed cycles (I feel that...). I've cut from every corner of our family budget to save up for another round of this. I know this cycle is going to be a success. It has to be because it's the last cycle. It's our last chance to give our daughter the sibling she's been asking for. 

Amazingly, when she started really talking at two years old, my daughter's first sentence was, "I want a baby sister." It stung. We had been trying since she was six months old to give her that sibling. We thought we would strike while the proverbial iron was hot, and by "iron," I mean uterus, and by "hot," I mean a comfortable 98.6 degrees. We thought it would be so easy. Our first IVF cycle was a gleaming success. No complications. Textbook results through the entire pregnancy, in fact. We had no reason to believe that anything would get in our way of another beautiful child. Seven failed cycles later, however, we were struggling to hold onto hope.

Through all of the failures, I started asking serious questions--Did my doctor really know what he was doing? Was there something I did wrong? Why didn't God intervene? Is there a God at all?--and not-so-serious questions--Are we all just part of the Matrix? Has my uterus become a black hole, a break in the time/space continuum with the sole purpose of swallowing embryos? Is this because I didn't eat the pineapple?

For those of us who've struggled with infertility, and even those who simply wanted to ensure a successful natural cycle, pineapple--pineapple core, to be exact--is a familiar ally. It's magic. The pineapple alters the flavor of your uterine lining and entices the little embryo to implant with the promise of pina coladas, pineapple upside-down cakes, and Hawaiian luaus if it promises to stay put for the next nine months. No, I'm making that up. The real reason we eat pineapple is for the bromelain, an enzyme found most concentrated in the pineapple's core, which may have an anti-inflammatory effect on the uterine lining and help encourage implantation. 

With all of my cycles, I laughed at the thought of chomping into the not-so-pleasant core of a pineapple. I mean, it can't really be true, right? Why not blend it up with an eye of newt and one strand of hair from a wild unicorn? But here I am, about to start cycle eight, and guess what--this time, I'm going to eat the freaking pineapple. This time around, I'm keeping my uterus as horizontal as possible until my embryos stick. I'm not reaching for anything above eye level. I'm not even going to inhale the caffeinated scent of coffee. I'm taking Vitamin D supplements. I'm even doing laser acupuncture. And, most importantly, I'm writing this. 

I'm writing the story of my final fresh IVF cycle (and hopefully a frozen cycle to follow if we get enough embryos) because I've been doing this for too long not to. I've learned too much about myself, my relationship with my husband, and the miraculousness of our daughter to just let this go by and only vaguely remember what it was like in ten years. I'm writing this to share because I know "infertility" is a dreaded word, but it's also the name of one amazing community of women and men who have a special, nuanced perspective on life and its foundation. And I'm writing this to create something so that even if I don't walk away with a baby in the end, I have a story to share one day with this precious three-year-old who just wants a baby brother or sister.

xoxo

    My Story

    Infertility has been messing with my family for the past five years. We've seen amazing highs and the most heartbreaking of lows; but with each passing cycle, we've grown a little closer, a little crazier, and a little more willing to just eat the freaking pineapple core. 

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