The Fat Lady Is Starting to . . .

My birthday was last Friday. I turned 40. FORTY. The Husband and I were on the fence for a long time about trying for another. There were many reasons for the indecision, but avoiding having another miscarriage was up there on the list. I did not want to get crazy-obsessed about trying to conceive when I already have a child, did not want to go through the heart ache as well. There are also many benefits to having one child versus multiple (or so the studies say). That being said, last year we decided to make a go of it - and nothing happened. We did IUI after IUI. Finally, I pushed to start the IVF process. I did a round of birth control pills and was to go in on "day 2".  I couldn't figure out when "day 2" was, however. I'd never had such a light period in my life. I kept waiting and waiting. I finally went in on Monday morning - FOUR or FIVE days after my period started. My FSH tested at 23. The IVF was cancelled. My FSH, right before I had the Boy, was 6. That was four years ago (he'll be four in October). There is some evidence that those with the MTHFR A1298C (I'm homozygous) do not respond well to ovarian stimulating hormones and have (prematurely) high FSH levels. I'm not so sure I'd say it's all that premature now, considering that I'm FORTY but it's a little bit of a shock, nonetheless. And here's the kicker - only a few months ago, it was 16 (not great) but IVF wouldn't have been cancelled. Where do we go from here? I'm not sure that I have the energy to read a thousand books on high FSH, to start downing wheat grass juice, to do yoga and acupuncture, take folic acid and fish oil and whatever else. I'm not sure I'm up for it. I'm not sure I can put all my energy into something that just might not work. Doctor Superman said that he is "very concerned." He's never said that before - he was always pretty optimistic. That's scary. I don't want to have false hope, either. I don't really know what to do. It's a depressing position to be in . . . and although it might appear a little crazy in the first place to try to have a baby at forty - it wasn't my intention to try to have a baby at forty. I wanted to have my first at 34, my second at 36. That was a little bit old, but that's the age my parents were when they had me. I never anticipated that it would be years of miscarriages, years of trying. We got a pretty bum deal - but we got a great kid out of it, too. I'll always feel the loss of those four . . . and will always feel like someone is missing. There was supposed to be another one . . .  whether or not I can make that happen, only time will tell.

Another Day

Well, it's another no good cycle. I've really never felt so discouraged. I was really, really hoping that this time it would work out - and the due date, incredibly, would have been very close to our son's birthday. And I thought - wouldn't that be funny! And cool! And crazy! And I started making plans. I started thinking about this little girl (because I've decided that we're going to have a girl, yes, I know) . . . that she's going to be really spunky and independent and a wonderful, delightful handful. I started thinking about how I'm going to need to plan for the time off . . . and how we really need to start putting money aside. And then I worried about the Boy and how he would handle it. And then it didn't happen. Again. So, back to clomid. Another round. Another added three million pounds (clomid is not good for my waist line. Either that or I'm just plain eating too much. Obviously it's the clomid). Deep sigh. This is getting ridiculous. Onward and upward!

Oh, Le Sigh

I tested at 9 DPIUI and got a faint positive. I was excited. I was happy. Then I looked at the Boy and felt a little sad at what life is going to be like for him soon - how will he handle a sibling? Will he be OK? Did we make the right decision? Then today, totally negative. Snow white negative. So, probably the HCG was still in my system from the trigger shot but I'm hoping that I still have a chance so I'm going to keep testing. As much as I worried about The Boy, I was totally excited about the prospect of numero dos. So . . . we shall see. Waiting game. As usual.

And . . . we're back!

We did four IUIs last year and . . . nothing happened. Nothing. I thought, "Hey, maybe we're OK as a family of three!" And really, I am OK. But then I told my mother that it was pretty likely that we were only going to have one, that we tried and it didn't work and that I was totally OK with it . . . and then I burst into tears. Unexpectedly. It caught me completely off-guard. So, I'm back at it again. Doctor Superman's plan is to do an IUI twice, if necessary and if that doesn't work, we move onto the big guns, IVF. Yikes. So, here I go, rolling the dice again. Oh, also, I thought I'd completely screwed up this entire cycle because I told Doctor Superman the completely wrong day as "day one". Whoops. According to the nurse it's OK because they monitored me, etc., etc., but this probably explains why the right follicle was strangely ENORMOUS and the left one was normal. So . . . they're pretty sure that if I do get P* this time around it's from the left side. Good to know.

In other news, I'm really old. Like, really old. I'm getting really, really old. So, this is kind of it for us - if this doesn't work out, we really have to throw in the towel. In other news! I have a lipoma on my back! And arthritis in my knees! Yes, getting older is as glamorous as it sounds! If you're lucky, you two can be plagued with non-cancerous lumps on your back and rickety knees! I really shouldn't complain, I feel pretty normal for my "advanced maternal age" and MOST people (except for my pre-pubescent interns) guess that I am wayyy younger than I actually am. Convinced yet? Yeah, neither am I.

*I hate to sound like a 5-year old but I can't bare to say it . . . not yet.