Decisions, decisions

After months of “assistance” (cycle monitoring, injectable drugs, progesterone suppositories) I am yet to see a positive pregnancy test.

We went to the clinic just under a year ago to try to get to the bottom of our three losses.  Why was this happening? Will I ever be able to carry a baby to term? What can we do?

The diagnosis was “immature eggs”.   The solution was to take meds and monitor my cycle to correct the issue.  We’ve been trying this for several months to no avail.

I recently met with the doctor again last week to revisit the issue.  I just can’t understand why I could get pregnant 3 times with broken babies, and now, with help haven’t.

The doctor looked at my monitoring results (blood and ultrasound) from the past several months and let me know the devastating news.

This isn’t going to work.

The doctor, probably wisely, said to continue with what we’re doing is “just not good medicine”.

He gave us one option.  IVF.

This was a hard pill to swallow. When we embarked upon this journey, IVF was our “line”.  IVF was out.  IVF was not an option.

Now that I’ve had three babies in my belly and never been able to meet them, all of a sudden, having a biological child has become more important.  After all of this effort, it’s hard to stop here.

My husband and I have some big decisions to make.  Is it worth the gamble? Is it worth the expense? Is this the way we want to start our family?  We’ve already started the adoption process.  The wait could be long.  Maybe it’s time to just sit and wait.


On hold….

I feel like my life has been on hold.  All of the “experts” (unsolicited advice) tell me not to let this stress me out and not to let my fertility issues and losses control my life.

The people dolling out this advice have obviously never had to schedule cycle monitoring and daily medications into their lives.  Trying to get pregnant controls my lifestyle, my schedule, my mood, my body and my future plans. (I’m sure I could have made that list a lot longer.)

I’m already worried about summer vacation.  Will our week away in August mean a month off of treatments? Would a break be a good thing or will I  just be older?

I made a decision yesterday.  I found a job posting. It was for a central school board instructional leader position. This is something I have been working towards and considering applying for “further down the road”.  When I saw the posting, my first instinct was to not apply for it.

Here are some of the  reasons for my hesitation.

1. I wanted to have my family before I moved up the ladder.  A classroom teacher is the ideal job for a working parent with young children.

2. If I continue with fertility treatments, how will I work meetings and workshops around last minute cycle based appointments?  If I have to work at the other end of town will I be able to get there in time from my cycle monitoring?

3. What if I get my adoption referral?  Do I take a new job when I know there is a chance (a small chance) that I will have to leave?

4. I have such a great support system at my present job.

After much deliberation I came to some realizations.  It’s not a guarantee that I’d get the job.  There’s no harm in applying.   If I get it, I’ll manage.  People go on adoptive leave/maternity leave all the time.  My friends will always be there for me, even if we don’t work in the same building.  It may be nice to have a break from the ever-growing population of pregnant ladies at my work.  Working with adults rather than kids may help take my mind off of motherhood for a few minutes a day.

I’m going to apply for the job.   I can’t put my life on hold.  Fingers crossed.

"Please hold..."

“Please hold…”

Running On Empty (Empty Uterus)

Yesterday I “failed” yet another pregnancy test.  Another month of early mornings, ultrasounds, blood tests, stomach needles and suppositories for nothing.

The phone call with the negative result always hurts.  It’s happened so often now that I have the conversation memorized.  The doctor’s secretary gently confirms that it’s me on the phone.  She awkwardly asks if I already know the result.  I tell her I didn’t get the blood results but that I have a good idea (read 10 pee sticks).  She apologizes, tells me that it’s negative.  We discuss protocol and she wishes me luck the next time.  Yesterday’s phone call hurt a little more than usual.  Today marks an anniversary.

One year ago today, I was in the hospital for the D&C.  It was “play day “at my school.  The hospital is right across the street from my work.  I heard the music playing and the children laughing as my husband brought me in for the procedure.  The baby shower for one of my “Belly Buddies”, a colleague, was scheduled for that same evening.  The date was very close to my second due date, June 26th.  I couldn’t help but thinking that if things had worked out, I may have been in this same hospital that day having a baby, not waiting to have yet another failed pregnancy removed from my body.  One year ago today was the last day that I had a baby in my belly.

A whole year has gone by and I’ve been empty the whole time.  The previous year I was pregnant 3 times!

When I got pregnant the first time I was 35 years old (just a few weeks away from turning 36).  A few weeks from now,  I turn 38.  I still don’t have my baby.

I’m frustrated, I’m sad and I’m feeling very discouraged.


Two Roller Coasters

I’ve been hesitant to write about this stuff (I’ve been quiet lately but I have some saved up) because I know that it’s a touchy subject and because I’m terrified to jinx myself. I’m going to write anyway because I started this blog in order to write and vent and document my journey.

A friend (yes you) described it as “riding two roller coasters”.  We’re waiting to adopt but haven’t given up “trying”.

I wrote about it before, but I’ll explain it again.  The only way to find out what’s been going wrong with my pregnancies, is to, under the supervision of a clinic, get pregnant.  Even though I’m technically “trying to get pregnant”, I feel more like I’m just “trying for a diagnosis”.

The doctor is sticking with the “immature eggs” theory.  The goal is to make sure I’ve got nice plump mature eggs before I “fertilize” them.   Pumping up those eggs means daily trips to the clinic for probes and pokes. I’ve been stabbing myself in the belly and torturing myself during the dreaded two-week wait.

The trying feels different this time.  Maybe I’m bitter and jaded.  Maybe I’m realistic.  Instead of feeling like we’re trying to “make a baby”, I feel like I just need to get this part “over with”.   I feel like this is for closure.  I feel like I need to know I tried and that I have my answer.  If we wait for the adoption to go through before going through these experiments I’ll be old enough that age would be the predominant factor in why things are going wrong.  Besides, by the time the adoption goes through I’m going to want to spend my days with the squirt, not with a doctor!

If we get any word about the adoption we’re obviously walking away from the clinic, but for now, seatbelts fastened, two roller coasters it is!  (and I’m going to write about it)

Why I Changed Family Doctors



I went to my family doctor in July to get my medical forms completed for the adoption.  An in-depth physical is required to complete an adoption.  I assume they want to make sure you’re “built to last”.

Dr. “T” has been my doctor for a few years now.  She has always been “ok”.   It is difficult to find a General Practitioner who is accepting new patients, I thought I was lucky to  have found a female doctor who works near my home so I stuck with her.

My last visit to that doctor was in July of 2011.  I went to see her because I was pregnant.  I did the appropriate tests to confirm, booked my 12-week scan and was told to think about where I wanted to deliver.  (I yearn for the innocence of that day).

Over the past year, I have lost three babies, been to specialists and had D&Cs at the hospital.  All of this “medical” information has been forwarded to my doctor.

When I went for my physical she did not mention anything about the pregnancies. As a routine part of the exam, she asked me when my last period was.  I replied “April”.   This confused the doctor and she asked for an explanation.  That is when I realized that she hadn’t even opened my file.  She didn’t remember that I had been pregnant and she didn’t know about the losses and all of the poking and prodding that goes with them.

I was so insulted and so sad.  It would have taken her two minutes to flip through my files before I came in.

There had been other issues that contributed as well.  She wouldn’t take my husband as a patient.  She he listed him as “Caucasian” on the first ultrasound file (she never even asked me about his race – Asian, not Caucasian!).  She only accepts cash and writes receipts by hand (not a computer in sight).  All of this seems insignificant, but in combination was enough.

I knew it was time for a change.

I was lucky to get a lead on a new doctor from my sister-in-law.  A new clinic was opening up just down the street.  We were able to sign on together to a family doctor.  If the adoption goes through, she will happily help with the process and take the squirt on as a patient as well.  The clinic has a great team, modern clean offices, computers and emails!  Our doctor is young, kind and really helpful.  She has gone out of her way to make things easier for us including just now phoning me at home to clarify something for the form because I was not able to miss work for an appointment.  I’m very excited about this fresh start.  It is decisions like this that make me feel like I have some control over a situation that otherwise has no control.

In a time that feels so dark, every ray of sunshine really counts.