Why?

Without a doubt, February is a very woeful month for me. 2 days from now, it will be exactly one year that I received the news. After 2 years of medical fertility intervention, my first pregnancy was not viable.The baby was growing in my right fallopian tube. I was responsible for creating a precious life and then I was responsible for sweeping it away to save my own. Sign here on the dotted line. I remember every detail as if it were only yesterday. I worry that it will happen again.

As I approach, what doctors consider "advanced maternal age”, I continually weigh my options. I’m faced with the ultimate decision – be happy with life as it is…childless…avoiding more invasive medical procedures and move on with my life. OR, I could start over and try every experimental gynecological procedure under the sun to assist in our child’s conception while I’m still young-ish.

I feel so desperate. I feel as though the rug has been pulled out from under me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not eager to be sliced open like a grapefruit. I’m not prepared to put my body through even more medication distress. I’m not satisfied with living a childless life. I’m not ready to compromise.

I fucking hate (unexplained) infertility.

It wasn't my choice. I’m heartbroken.

Maybe If You Just Relax.

People will tell you

Relax.

Don't try so hard.

Things happen

When you least expect it.

But,

I'm still out there

Searching

For the unattainable

Miles and miles from home.

To IVF or Not To IVF?

...that is the question. Indeed.

DH and I are scheduled to attend an IVF informational session this evening sponsored by the hospital. As it stands, DH and I agree that this is probably not for us. However, I don't want to dimiss something I'm not truly clear on. SO. We reserved our spot for the seminar. It is approx. 2.5 hours long and hopefully will answer most of our questions about the procedure.

I'm still on the fence concerning lap surgery. We recently switched insurance companies at work and found out that they will only pay after our $2500 deductible. Egads. I'm hesitant to have the surgery only to discover that RE can't find anything wrong...on the other hand, what if he does and it can be fixed. Back and forth. Back and forth.

In other news, my sister is coming to visit (YAY!) and we have plans to go to the tattoo shop. I need some touch-up work and my sister's girlfriend is getting something large and fabulous on her arm. I really love when they come to Connecticut! It's always a good time, no matter what we end up doing together. It'll surely be a nice diversion from our everyday worries. Have I mentioned that my sister offered to be a surrogate out-of-the-blue one particular phone conversation? I'll save that juicy bit for another day.

Fare thee well.
xxx

I am Pelé

Leave me be.

Isolated.

A scratchy mantle

Like a shield

Covering my damaged surface ~

Cracked outer shell.

My dome appearance

Outwardly

Solidifying

To crusty cool.

Raging inside.

Million bits bursting

Blistered

Burning

Engulfed in flames

Spitting searing sparks.

Most active

Mountainous perception.

Massive internal swelling,

Nature's course.

Time's indication,

Violent expulsion,

Through that cursed gaping hole.

Down deep

Melting hot

Lava flow

Escaping from caverns below.

Unstoppable river force

Heavy

Thick

Slow-moving

Molten Red.

Stress intensity ~

Telltale sign

Towards consistent eruption occurrence.

Immense proportion

Causing great damage

Along its violent pathway

Vaporizing fragile landscape.

All life lost.

Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette

It’s my body and I’ll cry if I want to.

I had my consultation appointment yesterday with RE concerning the options available to me since the ectopic. As it stands, there are (3).

1. HSG to detect whether my right tube is now blocked from the ectopic. If so, IVF. If not, continue with IUI and hope for the best.
2. Straight to IVF bypassing tubes altogether.
3. Laparoscopy to determine if my tubes are blocked, cysts, anything that would prohibit pregnancy…or find nothing wrong at all.

I sat there with my mouth gaping open. In February when my ectopic was diagnosed and needed immediate response, I tried everything in my power to avoid lap surgery to remove my tube. Now, after (2) rounds of the demon methotrexate and my hCG level back to -0-…I’m still under the radar for an invasive procedure that may or may not find anything wrong with my body. An u/s revealed fluid movement around my uterus, so RE is quite sure he will find something awry with my innards.

Needless to say, I’m pretty upset. So upset in fact, I called my mother last night because I really needed someone else’s opinion of what is happening to me. My mother had (4) children of her own so I’m sure it is not easy for her to help me; however, I just wanted to bend someone’s ear and she came to mind. I could barely mouth a full sentence and I broke down in tears on the phone.

I do not like my mother to see/hear me vulnerable for many reasons. However, I really feel desperate. I feel as though the rug has been pulled out from under me and there’s really nothing I can do to change it. I’m faced with the ultimate decision – be happy with life as it is…childless…avoid invasive medical procedures, as I originally intended, and move on. OR, try every experimental gynecological procedure under the sun to help conceive my child while I’m still young-ish.

I’m just not eager to be sliced open like a grapefruit. I’m not prepared to put my body through even more medication distress; I’m not satisfied with living a completely childless life. I’m not ready to compromise. I’m starting to crack under the pressure.

How Do You Put a Title on Profound Thought?

Name Field: Blank.

Current Status: Blank.

Mood: Blank.

Classification: Blank.

Date: Blank.

I lay on my back with my naked skin touching the crisp paper wrapper. It crinkles and sticks as I shift side-to-side for a more comfortable position. Looking up, I notice the abstract mobile floating aimlessly above my head. Twisting wire is attached to assorted geometric shapes in primary colors of red, blue, and yellow. My eyes focus on the powdery dust that speckles their tops like heather-gray woolen caps.

The white lab coats walk through the heavy wood door and as if by involuntary reflex, my legs automatically spring forth. I slide my ass to the front of the table, rest my navy blue stripe stocking feet into the stirrups, and take a deep breath. Their voices are calm. Their smooth latex hands are cold. A rough cotton sheet covers my knees and thighs. I refuse to look straight ahead. My mind goes completely blank.

My eyes are closed while my other senses amplify. A chilly metal cone-shape gadget is inserted carefully in my open vagina. The mechanism pokes and stretches wide like the skeletal veins of a shoddy umbrella. I clench my fists feeling every slight peck and scrape of the razor tool. Seconds seem like hours. A salty tear slides down my weary face and delicately touches my dry cracked lips.

A maternal voice speaks softly. I nod. It gradually comes out of me, rests on a metal tray, and is traded for another foreign medical object. I can feel the muscles in my abdomen clench as the lubricated condom-covered dildo-like device is inserted deep inside. I squirm. The device swirls within, moving back and forth scanning my innards with high frequency sound so as to detect abnormal growths, rips, blockages, and worse: cancer. I can't see the small screen that projects an image of my womb, but I hear a slight mumbling under faint breath in a language I can't seem to comprehend. I agonize.

My heart beats wildly within the walls of my chest cavity as if it were about to feverishly burst. I wish my husband was holding my hand. I sink well-absorbed into the table's padding as if it were a rectangular pool of water. I am not there in the examination room. My mortal body is.

The tapping of leather soles on expensive footwear resounds throughout the space as if the procedure was occurring in an underground cave. It startles me to awareness. I'm empty and wet. Someone hands me a scratchy square napkin. I use it to blot my face.

It takes all of my strength to lift myself up. The ghostly figures move away and my gaze settles on my husband seated patiently in the corner. I yearn to sit on his lap and curl up into a little fetal ball. My internal clock resumes its instinctive ticking. I reach for the rumpled denim skirt hiding my blood-stained underwear and dress myself in anticipation of my next reproductive assignment. It hits me. Profoundly, we are already dutiful parents in a process of rebirth in our relationship where the initial creator key is due acceptance. What is done now is only the beginning.

"Sarah? This way, please."

Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette

Fragile. By Design

There they sat. A few were slightly slumped over while more of the same leaned against one another for gentle support. All aligned in pretty rows closely resembling 'Little Debbie' snack cakes haphazardly arranged on a party serving tray. Completely decorated from head to toe in attractive frill and flounce attire, evidently pristine from mushy food and playground romp deficiencies. Bodies full of pure fluff…their immaculate characteristics to match. Tiny dimpled hands grasped plastic teat decanters that delicately touched their pouty-lipped cherubic faces. Pairs of stubby chubby legs dangled freely from side to side. Bleached-white toothy smiles were fastened to artificial skin tones subtly colored in tan, brown, peach, and yellow blended hues. Blue and brown orbs reflected vacant stares seemingly resolute yet beseeching. Synthetic locks perfectly styled in braids, ringlets, or a straight-cut bob. Several had little silky strands scattered here and there on their roundish porcelain tops. A small number were as bald as the loss they dutifully personified...

Wide-eyed and hopeful, a desperate pair longingly gazed at each sugary delight, one by one. Their heavy thoughts pounded inside tight brain confines. Their hearts, suspended helplessly within frail bony frames, beat wildly like a dark cavity packed with rampant fluttering bat wings. Which one would they desire to hold close and dear? Expectant mother fingers reached out to make safe contact with the dainty display. And with that impulsive, well-meaning motion ~ a flash...

She will be present. and I don't want to deal. I have to. and plaster a smile. When all I feel is anger and hurt. and I'm supposed to be celebratory. with infant insanity all over the fucking place. people rubbing the spherical bulging tummy. telling the tired warm vessel how eager they are. Can't wait to meet the precious cargo. Can't help but mind. I was supposed to be first in line. and here I am. distraught.and jealous.and guilty. and last. there will be classic attempts to speak with me. in private. about matters which should not be any concern. Having been absent through the entire grueling fruitless process. one becomes bitter. yet there is still a certain affinity to talk.to a little girl with crushed hopes and dreams. Kindreds do not do what she does. especially to people they regard. I am alone.removed.detached. continually empty. Tomorrow is supposed to be fresh. Yet there is always the same grave misconception. buried deep. depths of despair. regularly arising. like a blazing phoenix. from grimy ashes of doubt.

A single alabaster figurine suddenly fell from the rigid dusty shelf and shattered. The ground collision, as ephemeral as a longing dream, shaped the illusive irreparable damage. Pieces of ceramic humanoid components, broken beyond recognition, scattered across the checkered linoleum floor leaving a permanent cracked expression on her disfigured face. She vanished. He calmly pulled a straw broom from the shadowy closet and silently wept, sweeping her fragmented bits into a waste pile destined for an empty bin.

Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette

Baby Train

As a self-proclaimed writer, it is not easy to admit the following information. I am all out of words these days. Nothing a thesaurus or incessant contemplation can fix, I'm afraid.

Mother's day came and went. I spent it with DH at the flea market and picked up a few trinkets. There were small children and mothers EVERYWHERE.

With that being my current state, there still is this...this feeling inside that I'm dying to express. I found a short poem that seems to fit the circumstance. It helped to read it. a little. But the pain is still there and hopefully tomorrow will be fresh...with more captivating vocabulary.

The journey from infertility to family,
someone once said,
is like taking a train ride;
Never knowing whether
you'll reach your desired destination.

There are plenty of stops along the ride.
And each of the passengers
makes it's own decision
when its time to get off.

Some never need to take the train.
Others ride it for a lifetime.
But whether you reach your destination or not,
pay attention to the journey.
If you will,
as painful as it is,
it may reward you in unexpected ways.

New York, December 2000

(c) 2000 Ronen Divon, All Rights Reserved.

Hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive my lax posting.

May I see your tongue?

Kind of unnerving, isn't it? That particular question ~ someone asking to see your tongue. All of these thoughts sprint through your head like 'Did I remember to brush my teeth?' or 'Should I close my eyes or keep them open' or 'What does she see in there?' and the ever-popular 'Do I now say Ahhhhhhh?' Unsealing your mouth, protruding that pinkish slimy muscle forward, is like blatantly opening a window to the core of your soul. It's completely personal and usually you'll refrain from doing so. It is certainly not uncommon for parents to reprimand silly rascals from sticking their tongue out at each other or at irksome unsuspecting adults. So, what gives here?

Apparently, you can tell a lot about a person by the condition of their tongue. The one time that it's actually encouraged to stick your tongue out at somebody is in the acupuncturist's office. You see, according to ancient Chinese medicine, the tongue unveils a pattern of disharmony inside the body, revealing where your current state of ill health hails from and therefore, the acupuncturist can determine potential cures for those ailments with the appropriate care ~ perhaps using acupuncture, acupressure, herbal supplements, etc. The acupuncturist examines the tongue's shape and color ~ a normal tongue is pale red with a thin, white coating and a smooth shape whereas tongues showing disharmony may be pale, red or purple. Also, their coating may be thick, patchy, non-existent or yellow. Kind of gross, eh? Sure it can be…however, tongue diagnosis determines the method and length of individual holistic treatment. Who am I to balk at such an age-old practice?

Like clockwork, I am asked this very same question: 'May I see your tongue?' and each and every time, I feel completely awkward. Identical thoughts, as were illustrated above, race inside my head while she is copiously jotting notes about my wet mouth piece. I full well understand the procedure, but it definitely doesn't make the situation any easier. Maybe if Mom didn't always roar when my tongue blatantly exuded from its rightful toothy domain, I'd be more relaxed about it. OK. So maybe it just plain feels weird and I find myself producing exactly what I'm trying to alleviate ~ stress.

I'm not sure if the mental suffering outweighs the physical. While I squeeze my eyes tight and appear to lick the air, I begin to wonder if she really can see what troubles me. Can she perceive my tension? Comprehend my utter anxiety? Visualize my inner pain? Is it possible to distinguish dilemma caused by life circumstance simply by tongue appearance alone? Can she tell that neither of my parents called on my birthday or that I found yet another rigid gray hair sticking straight up on my youngish 32 year old head? Can she enlighten me to the reason as to why my Western medical procedures never seem to work like they're supposed to? Does she witness what I live through and how I cope on a daily basis? Will I ever conceive and carry the baby to term?

I stick out my tongue each moment she asks me and with every extension, I sincerely hope she can foresee and potentially heal my internal wounds…and I'm not talking about the 3^rd degree burn on the roof of my mouth from over zealously ingesting a steaming cup of cream of broccoli soup too soon. Ow! I open my mouth and bulge my illness gauging device far and wide. Please unearth what's wrong. Please help. Please be right.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Egg Dance

Left foot in, right foot out, 1, 2,3. 1, 2, 3. Round and round. Now twwwwiiiirrrrllllllll. Skip and hop. Skip and hop. Now twwwwiiiirrrrllllllll. Chins up, girls! 1, 2,3. 1,2,3. Right, left, right.

I have been diligently performing an egg dance for a few years now. It seems utterly ridiculous and complicated. It is. I hop, and skip, and jump. Twirling around and around. Always with a smile on my face despite inner turmoil that swirls within. I never wanted to be a subserviant chorus girl, yet I am one of sorts.

OK. So why the hell am I going on a dissertation about egg dancing? I can't really answer that. An ovum epiphany popped into my head late last night (after a few congratulatory/mourning drinks) and it stuck there ~ lodged somewhere between brain matter and a matter of fact. Ugh. Lucid clarity at the bottom of the crystal glass. Hate that.

I had my "final" b/w appointment yesterday. RE's nurse let out an obnoxious whoop for my -0- results. She told me I should feel quite relieved and in fact, have DH and I considered our IVF option while pondering what my hCG count was to be each looming week? I stammered. I could practically hear her ballpoint pen clicking against her desk while she waited for me to spit out my decision. I twirled. Should I be expected to jump at the chance of IVF? Instant baby, right? I should just skip right over to RE's office, plunk my naked ass down on the scratchy paper covered table, and be ready and willing to conceive my dream child ~ from warm petri dish to cold uterus. Voila! While I scrambled for words, she then suggested that perhaps I should have a consultation with RE. YES! Why I didn't suggest that idea first leaves me completely dumbfounded. I knew that I wanted a consult. I wanted to ask if I could now ingest prenatal vitamins? I prefer to have another HSG to determine whether my right tube is clogged or not ~ can I make that appointment now? Work is switching insurance companies so is it possible that I'm covered for another (3) IUI treatments?

Oh balls. All of my questions, prepared and unprepared, simply dissipated into thin air. Not only am I a dancer, but also a friggin' magician. Fantastic.

RE's nurse briskly brushed me off. I was transferred to the receptionist who pleasantly assisted me in scheduling another appointment with RE to discuss our options. Apparently, I should be able to move forward with IF treatments as soon as next month. Perfect. I practically started menstruating after I hung up the phone. No, really. AF reared her ugly head the same day I was told -0-. Coincidence? I think not. At least I feel skinnier today! It's a good day when I can comfortably fit into my favorite pair of jeans. I struggle with the extra weight from the IF meds. I hesitate to start over again. 1,2,3. 1,2,3. Hop and twwwwiiiirrrrllllllll.

*******

I graduated from my wire jewelry techniques class on Monday night. Although her next class was deemed full, my teacher fit me into her wire sculpted cabochon class starting next week. I'm absolutely thrilled! I have pics of my latest wire pieces ~ a spiral link necklace and bracelet set with red Chinese cinnabar beads. I made the design up myself. It took me about 3 hours from start to completion....we had dinner plans and I was rushed towards the end, but I think it turned out OK. :)

My teacher asked if she could post photos of them on the student gallery section of her website. Of course, while blushing, I exclaimed YES!

'Ere 'Tis:

Egg-Cellent!

My husband and I made a bet last night. We were trying to guess how low my hCG would be after today's b/w...and decided to make a game out of it. DH predicted 47. I dared to say 58. DH won the bet. My results were 45. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that he was right! Going by the track record, I was convinced that I'd be damn lucky if it reached 58 or below compared to last week's results of 105. Well, although I am sad that I don't get my choice of something from Etsy.com, it's fine by me that DH can pick an album from DustyGroove.com. As it happens, we're both vinyl-o-philes. LOL!

In case you're wondering, it's mortgage week and we curb any frivolous spending during that time. Today, we make an exception!

So, now I can rest assured that the hCG will completely dissipate in a timely fashion. I'm not required to go for more b/w until 4/28. By then, it should be down to 0, and Que Sera, Sarah can relax and enjoy the summer without having to worry about her empty womb.

*deep sigh of relief*

Eggs: To Dye For

Well, the season of colored eggs is upon us. I plan to make wire jewelry with the new beads and supplies I plan to purchase today... Here is an example of my very 1st jewelry-making attempt ~ Solderless Copper Flower Chain Bracelet with Scroll clasp:

As of Tuesday, my hCG level is still in the friggin' 100s ~ 105 to be exact. I'm so frustrated and upset that this horrid diagnosis has been lingering as long as it has...as if to say, "HEY YOU, REMEMBER ME??!!" Oh yes, I remember. Clear as colorless crystal. In my estimation, it will be at least another 2 weeks before it reaches 0. Then, I may start taking prenatal vitamins again and get my life back on track. DH and I decided to wait at least 3 months before TTC again. I need the time away from my hollow uterus. Beading is taking precedence right now...and I couldn't be more enthused!

Happy Easter, everyone!

1-8-9 ... was my number...whats my number now?

Stick it up, mister!

Hear what I say, sir, yeah...

Get your hands in the air, sir!

And you will get no hurt, mister, no no no

I said yeah

What did I say?

Don't you hear? I said yeah (yeah yeah)

Listen to what I say (what I say)

Do you believe I would take something with me

And give it to the police man?

I wouldn't do that, now listen to me one more time

I wouldn't do that

And if I do that, I would say "sir, put the charge on me"

I wouldn't do that

No, I wouldn't do that

I'm not a fool to hurt myself

So I was innocent of what they done to me

They was wrong

Listen to me, they were wrong

Give it to me one time

Give it to me two time

Give it to me three time

Give it to me four time

54 46 was my number

Right now, someone else has that number

Sorry. Had Toots and the Maytals in my head for some weird reason.

So. That's the current digits as of Tuesday. 1-8-9. RE's nurse told me my hCG levels are still going down, then she let out a little 'Yayyyyyy'. I chuckled. sorta. Then proceeded to make another hCG appt for the following Tuesday. At this rate, this b/w routine feels like it will never end.

I went to a healing/prayer circle last Sunday night. A good friend of mine suggested I accompany her for a bit of "re-charging" and I'll admit, I was quite curious. There were (7) women and (1) man in attendance...when the niceities finally died down and we got right down to business or shall I say, silent prayer, my mind began to wander once more to that far-off distant place...I envisioned running water, lush plantlife, and blue sky. Blue, Blue, Blue. Green, Green, Green. What does it mean? We bowed our heads and lifted our spirits to the high heavens ~ praying for ourselves, our loved ones, and for peace. Peace of mind. OK, I really don't know what the other folks prayed for ~ but I know that I felt settled in that moment of silent communion.

I really should be writing more often; however, I've been under the weather and drained. My body is tired and I suppose my mind is too. Random thoughts shooting and shifting this way and that way. I suppress the baby ideas way down deep as if they never existed. Probably not the best way to cope...but at this point in time, it's all about self-preservation.

I forgot to mention... when the healing circle came to a close and I was stuffing my arms into my coat, a kindly woman walked up to me, gave me a hug and told me that she felt a little girl in my presence. Apparently, this woman "feels" things about certain people. I smiled, turned, and closed the door behind me.

How to Shell a Hard-Cooked Egg

B/w was scheduled for early morning yesterday to determine whether I was to get surgery today. Lucky for me, the hCG went back down to 218. No surgery! Hoorah!...or is it?!

I'll be the first to admit, I'm sick and tired of all of the travel as well as suspense involved with my reproductive system these days. I was totally resigned to losing my tube after everything I've been through, drove back and forth, back and forth, back and forth from the RE's office (an hour away from work), was told I may lose the tube even after 2 doses of the demon methotrexate, was then told that it wasn't necessary ~ the injections worked, then was told I may be losing it anyway because my hCG levels were back up again, now am told I'm not going to need lap surgery afterall. Egads!~

I really need to step away from all of this IF stuff for a while. I'll feel much better about starting over after a much needed break. My body is starting to feel back to normal ~ I can actually fit into my jeans! My intestines are still all screwed up, but overall, I feel pretty good. I'd like to start taking vitamins again...it's getting warmer outside and that means my routine 4 mile walk with Skoola Fazoola, my sweet 4-legged, will be well underway soon.

I attended my first wire jewelry techniques class last night and I absolutely loved it! My thumb only bled a little while twisting 16 gauge copper wire. :) Bought myself some trusty pliers and sparkly glass beads on sale today and am anxious to start making beautiful wearable art. I think it's a lovely way to take my mind off my uterus. I'm so happy it's spring...the season of colored eggs is upon us ~ oh wait...let's change the subject, please.

Going to Great Pains

Protocol for Medical treatment (Methotrexate) of Ectopic Pregnancy. Written by The Royal Oldham Hospital. Revised March 2001

Advantages:
Good success rates (More than 90%) in appropriately selected cases
Comparable to conservative surgery in terms of subsequent fertility
General anaesthetic avoided

Disadvantages:
Risk of toxicity: nausea, stomatitis, bone marrow suppression, pneumonitis, elevated liver enzymes
Repeated visits to ensure resolution of pregnancy

Selection criteria:
Clinically stable
Able and willing to attend for follow-up scans and blood tests
Early unruptured ectopic pregnancy
Under 8 weeks gestation
No free fluid on ultrasound scan
Ectopic sac <3cm>

Management:
Discuss with consultant
Counsel patient, obtain consent and give information on medical treatment of ectopic pregnancy
Blood tests:
FBC,
Group & save serum,
U& E,
LFT
hCG
Prescribe a single dose of intramuscular Methotrexate 50 (fifty) mg
(if weight is <50kg, prescribe 1mg/kg)

Discharge with following advice:
Avoid sexual intercourse
Avoid alcohol
Avoid folic acid
Ectopic may rupture.
To come back in immediately if feeling dizzy or exacerbated abdominal pain Avoid conception for 3 months

Follow-up:
Twice weekly hCG until falling, then weekly until <10iu/1
If hCG not falling, request ultrasound scan If no significant fall in hCG after 7 days, then consider either repeat methotrexate or surgical treatment (discuss with patient)

Note: hCG may fall slowly. Median time to resolution is 1 month Discuss contraception



******************************************

I was at work when I got the call yesterday from RE's nurse that my b/w results came back surprising (Note: RE hasn't seen this happen before). My hCG levels rose from 239 last week to 330 yesterday. Went back to RE for u/s which showed a significant change in the size of the cyst and halo of fluid ~ they were both barely noticeable. As RE put it, "don't want to put the cart before the horse", so I was advised to come back on Monday for more b/w and if the levels are still steadily increasing, I'm to get laparoscopic surgery to remove my right fallopian tube on Thursday (3/26).

Not to sound gruesome, but I have constipation...it has only been worse since I was injected the 2nd time with the demon Methotrexate a few weeks ago. Last night, when I went to the bathroom to pee before bed, my lower body was in total distress. I never felt it coming and then all of a sudden, I was suffering...hardcore. I turned white as a ghost and almost fainted a few times from the unbearable torture in my abdomen...not necessarily from my intestines, but the muscles too. I've never felt anything so excruciating in my life. I've had horrid constipation symptoms before, this fuckin' hurt a million times more. I could barely lift myself from the toilet for fear that the pain would get worse, laid my exhausted body on the bed, and writhed in agony. My husband totally freaked out ~ kept asking me if I should go to the hospital. All I wanted to do was sleep. I took some extra-strength tylenol, my husband rubbed my head, and I felt my body relax. Thankfully, the pain subsided enough that I was able to sleep through the night.

My reason for writing about this incident is that I've really been OK for the last 2 weeks. I've been feeling healthier except for the constipation on and off, and was starting to feel like my life was getting back on track. Then, I get the phone call at work yesterday that my hCG is rising, feel my heart skip a beat, anticipate surgery that day, am told to wait until Monday to determine the outcome, and then writhe in pain that evening. Coincidence? I think not.

It's official. god hates me.

OnE mOnTH SuPpLy

EAST MEETS WEST: THE INFERTILITY CURE?

CHINESE PREPARED HERBS - TO NOURISH BI & YIN

TAO HONG SI WU TANG WAN (24 PILLS 2X DAY) UNTIL DAY 11

ESSENTIAL YANG (3 PILLS 2X DAY) - DAYS 12-17

FREE & EASY WANDERER PLUS (3 PILLS 2X DAY) - DAY 18 TO PERIOD OR POSITIVE PREGNANCY

SUPPLEMENTS

MULTI VITAMIN WITH IRON AND CALCIUM (1 PILL 1X DAY) - ONE TABLET DAILY WITH A MEAL

FOLIC ACID 800 MCG - (1 PILL 1X DAY) - ONE TABLET DAILY WITH FOOD

SELECTIVE ESTROGEN RECEPTOR MODULATORS

CLOMIPHENE CITRATE (2 PILLS 1X DAY) - TAKE 2 TABLETS BY MOUTH ON DAYS 5-9 OF CYCLE

NOVAREL INJECTION - MUST BE ADMINISTERED BY PHYSICIAN - INJECT SOLUTION (DO NOT SHAKE) IN UPPER THIGH/BUTTOCKS ON DAY 12 OF CYCLE

*******

The photograph illustrated above (of my typical daily IF prescription amount) was taken shortly after I swallowed my 2nd dose of Chinese Herbs suggested by my acupuncturist. At that time, I had been seeking medicated fertility treatment for 6 months ~ going to acupuncture 1x week for 3 of those months. My herbal concoction changed twice... each prescribed amount involved more herbs and less hope.

Before I decided to take the photograph, I stood in the kitchen, hovered over the counter, meticulously counting 24 tiny round black beads that were strangely attracted to each other due to the static electricity produced by my fleshy finger on the crisp paper towel, and an obscure gauzy veil lifted from sight. It all became quite clear...

HOW MUCH I cherish my baby even before he/she is born.

Woah.

Oh, Bloody Hell

The nurse just called...my b/w results came back ~ the hCG levels dropped to 239. More b/w scheduled for next Wednesday (3/18). This is the routine for the next few weeks until the hCG reaches 5. At this rate, we're looking at the end of March to early April for my hCG to completely disappear. Then, I must wait (2) consecutive menstrual cycles to ensure that the demon Methotrexate is completely out of my system and will not affect a potential fetus. June seems sooooooo far away at this point.

In the meantime, I am faced with a decision to continue on an IUI journey and hope for the best... basically risking my chance for another ectopic... OR begin IVF treatment and bypass my tubes altogether. Dependent upon an HSG test, to show whether my right tube is still open, the doctor is leaving it up to us to decide how to proceed. IVF is much more invasive than I ever cared to experience.

Oh, what to do!

Egg Epistle

6/25/08

Dear Egg,

The doctor says that you are a delicious size comparable to a grape. What wonderful news to hear! I've been doing everything expected of me, you know. Steering away from my dark java morning addiction, practicing yoga at least once a week, meditating often, swallowing hormone pills on time, taking my temperature when I first awake from a sound sleep, resisting alcoholic beverages when I want them most, remembering to take Chinese herbal supplements twice per day, spending quality time with couples who have small children, eating wholesome foods and drinking room temperature water, as well as progressively reading the natural fertility guide books I was recommended by an expert.

I don't know, Egg. I'm not feeling so great today. The cramping becomes unbearable; the persistent anxiety gets to be too much. I blame myself. Perhaps I should have sought treatment a long time ago. Maybe it's too late - things can't be remedied. Times like these, I feel like a empty vessel becoming chilled to the core when determined attempts to house and nourish something as warm and tender as you go unnoticed and ignored. Who would want to snuggle inside an icy igloo when the alternative is affectionate bliss? Life's hands can be so cold. Mine are no exception. My attitude turns frosty while my heart radiates motherly warmth.

I know you're there, Egg. You are forever in my thoughts and silent prayers. I'm making changes, keeping positive, although some days are better than others. Can you sense when I stretch my tired limbs in quiet isolation? Are you satisfied that I am going to great efforts to ensure your protected survival?

Can you hear me, Egg? I want you to feel cherished. I am grateful for your existence. Are you thankful for mine? This ovulation process has been so grueling, Egg. There are days I don't think I'm strong enough to endure. I tense up at the slightest pang of discomfort. I cry alone. Do you experience my inner pain as well?

Why are some selected to bear ripe human fruit without their knowledge or consent whilst others contemplate and manipulate their delicate production and still remain solitary? Why does something seemingly so easy have to be so difficult? You appear to be a figment of my vivid imagination only to disappear when your presence is revealed to others. Everyone I know goes away in the end. Why should you be any different?

Dear Egg. I will continue to do what I'm supposed to do. Set my troubled mind at ease as the internal anguish is intolerable. Release. Find what you seek. Endure.

Please don't grieve for me, Egg. This too shall pass.

Dutifully Yours,

Mom?

Cycle

Intense Anticipation.

Apprehension.

Hope.

Familiar Feeling.

Unwarranted.

Unwanted.

Emergent Pain.

Strain.

Reluctance.

Blood Drips.

Denial.

Disappointment.

Silent Struggle.

Smile.

Cope.

Inward Flow.

Solemn.

Swear.

Start Over.

Wait.

See.

Intense Anticipation.

Apprehension.

Hope.

Familiar Feeling.

Unwarranted.

Unwanted.

Emergent Pain.

Strain.

Reluctance.

Blood Drips.

Denial.

Disappointment.

Silent Struggle.

Smile.

Cope.

Inward Flow.

Solemn.

Swear.

Start Over.

Wait.

See.

Intense Anticipation.

Apprehension.

Hope.

Copyright ©2008 Sarah B. Paquette


************************************************

I wrote this piece feeling utter despair when month after month, my medicated treatments were not working. I'm not sure if I expected some sort of a miracle to take place once I ingested a tiny pill that joggled my brain and made me feel plum crazy all of the time. Clomid was a beast.

I remember posting this poem on a myspace blog and getting a response from someone that said something like "They always say when you let go of the control and realize it's out of your hands is the moment it happens....Relax...." I also remember feeling very angry and wanting to punch something after reading that. Of course, I did not learn my lesson and posted similar entries only to get similar remarks and want to punch things again.

I just heard from Dr. B's nurse. My hCG levels are steadily decreasing...from 659 to 544. I'm to go for repeat b/w next Wednesday. I suppose that I should feel relief that my life is getting back on track, but I'm still very sad about this experience and even now just want to sleep right through it.

To Tell or Not To Tell

When DH and I decided to seek professional help with TTC, I was at odds with myself as to whether I should tell my family about our situation. My parents and I are estranged, so I didn't feel the need to spread the word to them; however, I'm close to my Middle Sister/FIL/MIL/SIL and wanted them to know 'we're working on it.' (MIL keeps asking when she'll have a grandchild...)

I went months before I mentioned anything to ANYONE (including friends) about my treatments. For one, I felt 'broken' ...like there was something wrong with me and it was embarrassing and hurtful. Secondly, I feared that if TTC didn't work out for us, I'd have to explain each and every month what happened. Again, embarrassing and VERY hurtful.

We've been TTC for 2 years ~ only 1 year using meds. Feeling isolated and alone, I finally broke down and had a heart-to-heart with my sister, MIL, and SIL a few months ago. I must admit, I felt SO MUCH better after I explained what was going on. It's still hurtful to keep them posted on negative outcomes (wish things were different 'tis all!), but overall, I feel really blessed to have these people in my life...by chance. Afterall, there have been MANY times through all of this, I really wanted my mother there.

IUI #1 was in Dec. 2008 and the people I told rooted for me. I got a text msg the day of IUI from MIL saying ' Swim, Boys Swim!!!!!!!!' LOL!! Then at X-mas time, my SIL wanted me to open a present a little early. I opened the burgandy velvet pouch and a Goddess of Abundance Pendant with a Moonstone belly (illustrated above) was inside. I cried. again. This time, tears of joy. I never take it off.

Now there is the tragedy of IUI#2. As my hCG levels were steadily rising and we were only privy to the news for a few short days, I was obligated to become a godparent to my newborn niece. We were travelling out-of-state to become a part of her big day, coping with what was happening, while trying to remain calm around family who had no clue. I broke down and told my middle sister, who is becoming a registered nurse, what was going on. I hesitated telling anyone else simply out of fear. Fear that this moment was too good to be true. Fear that this pregnancy would not work out.

I work for FIL so eventually I was under obligation to let him know what was happening to me. There were (2) evil methotrexate injections to be had and aside from wretching my guts out...mentally, I was ashamed and deeply saddened by the choice I had to make. I needed time away...from everything and everyone.

Only this past weekend did I tell my mother and other sibling the news. I do not want people to feel sorry for me and especially say the wrong things (which most people have the uncanny knack of doing, unbeknownest to themselves). I admit. I took the cowardly route and sent each of them a brief email. I simply cannot bear explaining what happened over and over again. It's like reliving the incredibly hurtful moment repeatedly to people who barely know anything about my life in the first place.

Mom did write back. She never calls or visits me. I don't really know why I thought this time would be any different. She said she is going to pray for me and I suppose I should be happy she communicated with me at all. I don't have the heart to remind her I'm an atheist ~ especially now.

*******************************************

I went for b/w and an u/s yesterday and am hopeful that this ectopic experience is over. RE did not see a change in the cyst; however, the fluid that surrounded the tube is gone. My hCG levels declined from the 750s to somewhere around 659 ~ an approx. 11% drop. RE is almost positive, I will not need surgery to remove my tube. I have another appt on Friday to ensure that the levels steadily decrease.

Personally I think he is doing everything he can to keep my inner body intact. I forgot to mention that while we were having a discussion about possible surgery, I asked Dr. B if there was any chance that I could keep my tube after it was removed. After all, it IS mine. He looked surprised ~ and then laughed...and said, "I'll have to ask, but I don't see why not."

Hey. Ya wanna piece of me? ;)