Fall Down Seven Times, Stand Up Eight*

It's official. The short but inspiring reign of Cecil I is now over.

As is my wont, I am dealing with this latest loss by thinking thoughts about words. Medical words in particular. The medical world has such a charming way with words. Such creativity, all apparently designed to make us feel like crap about our bodies.

Women who dilate early have an "incompetent cervix," as if their cervixes didn't pay enough attention in cervix school and will be stuck in dead-end jobs for the rest of their lives. Women over 35 are considered of "advanced maternal age." (Watch it, sonny, or I'll clobber you with my gigantic pocketbook!)

And then there's my new favorite: Habitual Aborter. Yes, friends, with this latest doomed embryo I have joined the exclusive club of Hab-Abs, as we like to call ourselves. We mostly hang out in dark alleys swilling rotgut, with torn stockings and bright orange lipstick smeared all over the filters of our Kools. You know, I thought about not having another miscarriage, but I can't help it! It's such a lousy habit! Hmmm. Maybe I'll just start biting my nails instead.

The good news is that it is better, statistically speaking, to have miscarried repeatedly than never to have conceived at all. In his wonderful book, Coming to Term, John Cohen writes that 70% of women who have miscarried three or more times will eventually go on to carry a normal pregnancy to term, even without any medical intervention at all.

I think my body is trying to tell me something: Keep trying!! These fertility treatments have not been failures, strictly speaking. There's some sort of spirit in there, I think, trying desperately to be born. I count these near misses as signals that if we keep at it, something, maybe, will eventually make it to term.



*This is the Japanese version of the proverb. The American version is, "Fall down once, sue the guy who owns the sidewalk."

Milestones

One year ago today, Atomic and I happily trooped into the ob's office, eager to hear the heartbeat of our nearly 11 week fetus. Instead, we learned that there was no heartbeat. An ultrasound showed a perfectly formed, and perfectly still, fetus on the screen. At that moment the sky came crumbling down around our ears. All we could do was clutch each other and sob.

A few days later, Atomic held my wedding ring as they wheeled me into the OR for a D&C. He later told me that the sight of me on the gurney, being wheeled away from him, nearly made his heart stop with fear.

After the miscarriage, we received many loving messages from friends, family, and colleagues. Many people gave me hope that we might conceive again quickly. The first pregnancy primes the pump. Your body knows how to do this now. Only one, in sharing her own miscarriage experience, warned, "You know, it could take a while to get pregnant again. It took us a year." I didn't like hearing that at the time. I wanted a new baby NOW.

I had naive hopes that we would conceive again right away. After a few months of trying, I downgraded my hopes to a pregnancy before my original due date. That day came and went, along with my 39th birthday.

We found out my ovarian reserve was low. And that I have a funny shaped uterus. And that I had scar tissue from the D&C. And that I have a dip, kind of a quasi-septum. And that I have adenomyosis.

We tried intrauterine insemination. It worked, and then I miscarried again.

More milestones: The one-year anniversary of when we found out I was pregnant. One year since we'd told our relatives. The Christmas that was supposed to be at our house because of the new baby.

On Monday, Atomic's heart leapt again as he held my wedding ring and saw me wheeled off on a gurney for a second time. Only this time, it was to retrieve the seven eggs that maybe, just maybe, will make our dreams come true.

We don't know whether this IVF cycle will work. We don't know whether, at this moment, our six fertilized eggs are growing, or whether they are healthy, or whether they have the right number of chromosomes in the right places, or whether they will nestle in and stick to my uterus, or whether any of them will grow and become a baby.

What we do know is that one way or another, when the time is right, and regardless of whatever milestones have passed, we will be parents.

2006 Can Kiss My Ass

As sort of a New Year's resolution for 2007, I've decided to start a blog.

I've thought about doing this before, but, well, I just didn't. So there. I want 2007 to be a fresh start. I want it to be nothing like 2006. As far as I can determine, there were only two good things about 2006:

1. The Democrats retook control of Congress (I guess we'll see how good a thing that turns out to be); and
2. Um, I'm sure there's a 2, I just can't think of it right now.

In contrast, many, many things sucked about 2006. Here's a brief chronology:

January 31: I learned that my 10.5 -week-old fetus was a goner. That was a shock. It somehow did not occur to me that I might have a miscarriage. Atomic and I cried for three days straight.

February 3: I had a D&C. It was awful. It took two tries, in two different medical facilities. Thank god I finally got some good drugs, and a to-go baggie of Vicodin besides. Off work for a week, and all I could do was go to the zoo and cry.

March - June: Despite rigorous charting and ambitious GOFing, I can't seem to get pregnant again. What's wrong?

July 6: I'll tell ya what's wrong, lady. Ya got scrambled eggs. Yup. You're not even 39, and you've got the ovaries of a 48 year old. They're a mess. A mess! Dr. Google says you'll never get pregnant. Never ever. Fuggedaboudit.

July 27: We consult two different fertility specialists (let's call them Dr. Cautiously Optimistic and Dr. Really Nice) and they both say, "Go directly to IVF. Do not pass go. But first, more tests!" We decide to give IUI one try before laying out the big $$$ for IVF.

August 1: I start acupuncture and herbs to bring my FSH levels down.

August 18: The suckage has just begun. Atomic's beloved uncle dies. We're devastated.

August 23: I have an HSG, and the startled radiologist asks if my mother took DES. Oh, criminy. Dr. Google lowers my chances of a successful pregnancy still further. Dr. Cautiously Optimistic cancels my IUI. I freak.

August 24: My doc calls and says that I don't have a T-shaped ute after all, but I may have a septum. I grudgingly start BCP until we can find out for sure.

September 8: MRI says no septum, everything's normal in there. Dr. Cautiously Optimistic wants to go in there with a camera to make sure.

September 22: The hysteroscopy shows a slight dip in my ute and some scar tissue from the D&C. Dr. Cautiously Optimistic says "Have the dip removed! We'll put a balloon in there and you'll have a nice, wide cavity!" Dr. Really Nice says, "You're fine! Don't do anything!" We opt for inaction.

October 13: I begin daily injections of hormones. My day 2 FSH is significantly lower. My ovaries respond like champs.

October 25: With two gorgeous, ripe follicles and one runner-up, we have the most romantic artificial insemination possible. I begin taking progesterone and wait.

November 9: Holy shit! It worked! I'm pregnant! Hooray! Of course, I'm spotting a bit and it may not work out. But my first HcG level is a very respectable 108, so -- maybe!

November 13: Game over. HcG levels plummet to 79.

November-December: Body gets back to normal.

So, here we are, in late December, hoping that 2007 brings better things. We're planning to start IVF on January 19.

Stay tuned.

Binky's New Blog - Welcome!

Hello, my internets friends, casual readers, lurkers, and whoever else stumbles upon this blog. This is my first post to my Infertility Blog.

Welcome. Make yourself at home. Kick off your shoes and pull up a beer. Share your own stories if you please.

Some of you may know me as Binky on ADL. Others may know me *gulp* IRL. Everyone's welcome here, especially women who are going through similar trials and tribulations.

A few disclosures about me:

• I am quite liberal in my political leanings (but I don't require that of my readers or commenters);
• I am ardently pro-choice;
• I'm a cat person (but like dogs and ferrets and birds and what-have-you as well);
• My husband and I are actively pursuing ART at this point as well as considering adoption
• I'm going to be posting a lot of really personal information, including medical and sexual information, in this blog. If that icks you out, go play elsewhere.

I also have a few requests of those who may choose to post comments here:

• Please be respectful of other posters.
• Please try to avoid assvice.
• Think twice about any comment that begins with "just," as in "just relax," "just adopt," etc.
• If you're citing a scientific study, or making an assertion for which a reasonable person would want to see evidence, please post a link or tell us where you got the information.
• Trolls will be taken out behind the woodshed and executed.

Okay? Let's ring in 2007!