Defeat

So, I tested last night at 9 dpiui and it was a big old negative. Tested this morning, negative. Although it's early, I again don't feel like this one is going to work out. I'm feeling fairly un-pregnant. Doctor Superman gave me about a 12-15% chance with each cycle due to my age. Yikes. If I'm really "clogged up" (a phrase I frankly loathe) I don't know that I can even have a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) again to verify - as I've already had three (there's a limit due to the radiation exposure). I'm not really sure what the next step will be - I've already had four rounds of Clomid (one with a former RE). Clomid and an IUI again? I'm frankly sick of it (I know it's only been two times) but I'm not supposed to run for two weeks while we wait which is totally horrendous (and I believe, completely unnecessary but I follow it anyway). And then there's the whole Lovenox fun, too. The progesterone suppositories I don't really care about - it makes me feel more pregnant than not (soreness, etc.) but it's not really that big of a hassle (although I do kind of debate its efficacy in my case - since I used it in three (?) of my failed pregnancies).

In other news, my son's daycare is "concerned" with his "poor" pronunciation. I went to his pediatrician, fully expecting him to be nonplussed by the whole thing but instead he gave me the number for a specialist to have him evaluated. I suppose that is sound, but it worries me to no end and was not what I expected. It also makes me start wondering about dyslexia - which runs in my family. Could he be dyslexic? That's a very real possibility. Although the family members who are dyslexic are all very accomplished and intelligent people, it certainly made things like school more challenging. Plus the stigma alone is terrible . . . . In my experience not being able to understand a two year old all of the time is pretty normal. But perhaps that is not true at all.

Back to the waiting game.

Oh, Clomid

So, even though I was supposed to go in for a blood test, I didn't. It seemed, well, silly. So, I didn't. And then I called on "day three" because I couldn't bring myself to call before that. I've been finding myself resisting a lot - in fact, we first started discussing having a second one LAST YEAR. It took me this long to get the courage to start trying again. If I'm completely honest as to why I've been gun shy, there are two reasons: 1) I don't want to have another miscarriage and 2) I don't want to have another miscarriage. If I never get pregnant again, GUESS WHAT? No miscarriage. But I do want a second child. I see babies and I sigh a great sigh. When we were discussing whether or not to have another - and I voiced my opinion that maybe I was fine with just one, my husband said, "If we don't have a second, we could get rid of all our little one's old clothes!" Sometimes the husband boggles my mind. Boggles. Yep, that sounds like as good a reason as any to NOT have a second child - less stuff. Sigh. The Husband is going a bit crazy lately with our living situation. Honestly I am completely fine with it. We live in a large one bedroom and if he would let me do the things that I would like to do (which he won't without a huge battle royale) we could live quite happily. I don't understand this obsession with bigger, bigger, bigger, mcmansions, etc. I lived in Europe in high school (exchange student) and was completely blown away by my host family: they had one small, beautiful apartment in the city and one country house. They only had what they needed, nothing more, nothing less. And what they had was beautiful and cherished. My problem is that I haven't quite gotten that equation down - I have a lot of stuff, which as I mentioned, is driving the Husband batty. Which is driving me batty and so on (which by the way, means that if we are lucky enough to have a second bambino, I will relent and agree to move). Anyway, so, back to the point: I'm on 100mg of Clomid. ONE HUNDRED. WHAT?!?! This would scare me, except that last time I had three really good size-y follicles and then . . . nothing. NOTHING. I'm shocked, frankly. And a little worried about what this means. All three eggs were duds? Duds! THREE! Three duds? This makes me a tad concerned about the quality of my eggs - which I would imagine has a lot to do with my now advanced maternal age. ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE. Or could it mean that the eggs weren't even released at all? I mean, I had to be cleaned out in November. Could it be clogged up again? Anyway, I go in to see Doctor Superman on Tuesday and I imagine I'll have IUI #3 this Saturday. It's very strange and also very different, to be back here again. Until then.

Negatory

So, I tested (because I couldn't wait) on 10 days post IUI (10DPIUI) and it was negative. Tested again this morning, 11DPIUI, and again, negative. And wow, when it's negative IT REALLY IS NEGATIVE. No matter how many times I flipped that thing in different light it was still COMPLETELY, UTTERLY, NEGATIVE. I know that it's early, but I'm not feeling too positive - except for the soreness in that one area, you know the one, (which is likely from the progesterone supplementation) I'm not feeling it. On the other hand, the Husband found a sweet kitty on our doorstep yesterday evening. On the other hand, he took him to a shelter this morning. Sigh. He seemed like a really sweet kitty. And no, we don't need another pet but after losing our dog it was nice to spend some time with such a sweet animal.

Now I'm in the doom and gloom phase - it's never going to happen, etc., etc.

The One in Which We Wait . . . and Wait

So, trying to move on. Miss my dog. Made some horrible misjudgments, etc. But as I’ve been told a thousand times now (yes, I’ve been talking crying about this with everyone I know . . . ) we did what we thought was OK at the time.

So, Saturday. We had to be there at 8:15 AM. Which is a herculean feat in and of itself but even more so when you have, you know, a wee one to contend with as well (oh, who are we kidding? It’s me, I’m the one who is terrible about getting places on time). What to do with the Boy? Every time I see Doctor Superman he asks when are we bringing in the Boy. And really, he SHOULD meet him since he’s pretty much the why, the how, the etc. . . . So, for an appointment the other day I brought him . . . and was met with a few icy stairs in the reception area. I felt completely weird having him there – and he was, of course, completely disruptive as well (he flipped out, FLIPPED OUT when I put the car seat behind the reception desk – he loves that thing. We took a cab there. It’s strange, the City Boy’s attachment to a car seat. He’s crying, carrying on, saying mournfully, “Car seat. Car seat. MY car seat.”). I felt weird bringing him and then it was even more weird when I got an ultrasound because the Boy insisted on sitting on my lap – so, you can only imagine how graceful that was, not to mention the future therapy needed for the Boy. But it was wonderful for him to meet Doctor Superman. It was really great to see them together. Anyhoo, so, right. We check in. We go upstairs so that the Husband can deposit his, er, "sample". That was also weird. But we had the upstairs waiting room all to ourselves for awhile – which was great. I actually READ A MAGAZINE while the Boy flipped the light switch on a lamp on and off multiple times all while “reading” his own books. It was a glorious few moments. And then many other couples arrived so letting the Boy run free like a madman was no longer an option. Then we walked a few blocks away to get a breakfast of mediocre bagels and mediocre danishes and mediocre coffee and while away the hour or so that we had to wait. Upon our return we were whisked into a room, I threw my legs into the stirrups and Bada Bing! Done. And now, we wait.

It's 3 AM

It's 3 AM and I can't sleep. My mind keeps going through every possible scenario about what I should have done for my dog. I wish I hadn't put him to sleep - I wish I'd just had them repair the wound and done the ultrasound. I said OK to putting him to sleep because I felt like repairing the wound, which would have been painful and awful for him, was not something he should go through for my own selfish needs to keep him alive. Now, however, I wish I'd just done it because I can never right the wrongs. I can never make it up to him. In my crazy-it's-3am-in-the-morning-mind I keep thinking the vet didn't think we deserved to have him live so recommended that we put him to sleep - because we are awful people and deserved to live with the guilt and the terrible loss of our beloved dog. I was being told by three separate people to put him to sleep: my husband, the doctor and my sister (who is a nurse). I was told I had to make the decision RIGHT THEN. I've never believed in putting dogs to sleep - I never understood it. It goes against my fundamental belief system and now I am completely tortured by it. He was a large dog and at age 13 1/2, I realize he was near the end of his life. But he was the greatest dog I've ever known and he shouldn't have gone out this way. I don't understand why I took such a backseat to his care. I don't understand why I never even looked a the wound - my husband told me not to and so I didn't. I wish I had just looked - I would (hopefully) had insisted on taking him in earlier. Why didn't I just do the ultrasound? I used money as an issue - but I think I just couldn't face any of it. I was so overwhelmed by catheterizing him, by him peeing all over the carpet, all of the time. I really didn't know what to do. He'd had inklings of this problem twice before but it had gone away - we took him to two different vets before this one and they couldn't figure out what was wrong. I don't know. I really didn't believe that this would be the outcome. I didn't think when we took him in that we would be leaving without him.

I miss my dog. I really miss my dog. It wasn't time for him to go. I can't believe I agreed to put him to sleep. It was not the right decision for me.

IUI #2

So, here we go again. Saw Dr. Superman today. Have three follicles in the good range (I honestly can't remember what they were - something like 20, 21 and 21?). I was a bit surprised that there are three - when I was in on Tuesday Dr. Superman pretty much wrote off the follicle on the left side - somehow, miraculously, it caught up. I'm not sure how to feel - I want to believe, I want to be optimistic, I want to be excited, I want to think good things (because, as we all know, even if it's complete bullsh*t we all succumb to the stupid notion that somehow "positive thinking" will make or break you) but at the same time I want to hold back, because, you know, these things don't always work out . . . there are no guarantees. Even with three, fertilization could not happen. I mean, that's the one thing Dr. Superman talked about with me when I first saw him - how no matter what they do, the actual act of fertilization, why it happens sometimes and why it doesn't other times, is still largely a mystery. Last time I firmly believed it wouldn't work out and, well, now I have a kid, so I think, hey, maybe I need to believe that it won't work in order for it to work. It's annoying, frankly. It would be nice to have something good come out of this truly horrific, horrible week. Would it be weird to name my kid after my dog? You know, if it works out.

Hello, Rabbit

So in the midst of grieving for my beloved dog, I'll be going to the clinic tomorrow to check out how things are going on the fertility front (I was put on clomid last week - which is probably the world's worst drug (or one of, at least) to be on when you are having to decide end of life issues for your dog). I'm not sure how to feel about it right now. I'm overwhelmed with guilt and sadness about my dog and can't really get my head around the whole clomid-iui-heparin-folbic-baby aspirin life ahead of me for the next two weeks.

When I was making the appointment for Friday, I was told that the office would be closing early for the Chinese New Year. My doc's assistant told me that the Year of the Rabbit is a pretty good thing, especially, apparently, after the Year of the Tiger.

So, here's hoping that the old Rabbit brings us all good things. Also, Delinquent Eggs is knocked up . That's a very, very good thing.

Saying Goodbye

We lost our dog over the weekend. He was the most wonderful dog I've ever known. He was 13 1/2 years old, gentle, patient, stoic and handsome. He started having problems urinating - his bladder wouldn't empty completely and he was unable to control when and where he urinated. The vet could not figure out why. He was losing a tremendous amount of weight. When pressed, the vet said that it could be tumors in the spine but they really had no idea - and that we could do an ultrasound but the ultrasound may show nothing. They were not incredibly encouraging. We opted not to do it - partly because I was angry that they couldn't figure out what was wrong and we kept doing test after test without any results and partly because, I think, I was afraid of what they'd find out - would they find tumors? Would they recommend we put him to sleep? In retrospect, I wish I'd just done the test - although it may have not given us any answers it would have given me peace of mind now that we'd tried everything. The vet showed me how to catheterize him at home. We talked about end of life issues - about when is the best time - before they get really bad? When they get really bad? I was overwhelmed by the very idea of catheterizing my dog and scared. I did it, however. I then decided to keep him in diapers in our apartment (he was not able to control where he voided anymore) - which I'm sure was completely humiliating for him and something my husband hated. He was such a beautiful dog. My husband would get so irate when he'd pee on the floor that I thought it was a good solution. I was completely, utterly, horribly wrong and it led to his ultimate demise. I did not realize that diapering your dog can lead to urine burn (why didn't I know? I've heard of diaper rash for gawd's sakes). I feel horrible that I didn't know. The urine burn became infected (also something that I didn't know because I never actually saw it because I left all the diapering to the Husband) and we were advised to put him to sleep because the burns would just keep happening. They could dress the wound and then sew it up after five days of pretty horrible dressing changes in which they would have to sedate him (it was that bad) but they told me it would just keep happening. And he was still not able to empty his bladder which was also painful for him. I didn't know it was that bad. I actually thought diapering him was this great, genius solution to a problem that was becoming completely overwhelming.

Putting him to "sleep" was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I am filled with regret, with guilt.

I'm so sorry my beautiful dog. The world was a better place with you in it. Thank you so much for coming into my life - I can't believe how incredibly lucky we were. I wish you peace. I miss you terribly.