Shots, Secrets & Symptoms

Saturday, 1-2-10 (Day 4)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): I'm starting to feel those strangely familiar and completely unstoppable hunger cravings that sneak up on me when I least expect it. And in the way of confessions, I may as well come clean and admit that I gave in today and had a gingerbread frappachino, and it wasn't caffeine free.

Caffeine free frappachinos do exist; but they have a strange cream base that just doesn't taste right. And the bottom line is that I had full intentions of starting off the new year right by taking charge of the cravings this little blue pill drives me insane with, yet somehow I only managed to make it to the second day of the new year.

I don't suppose Starbucks will grant my plea for a great tasting organic caffeine free frappachino, so I'll need to find a new outlet for frustration that doesn't come in the form of a high cost, high calorie, egg polluting drink.

Maybe I'll look into yoga.

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): For my first IVF cycle back in July, I proudly displayed my army of pills and potions on the bathroom counter for all to see, waking up extra early to administer the injections and pop the pills. Then, for my second IVF cycle I turned it down a notch by still proudly displaying my colorful collection of drugs, but waking up just in time to inject the pre-filled syringes I'd prepared the night before out of pure laziness, usually still in a sleep induced coma while doing so.

And now, for my third attempt at IVF, I've resorted to hiding everything. Nothing lines the bathroom counter on display for all to see. Needles, vials, pills, suppositories and cartridges are all hidden in secret compartments with locations planned and laid out precisely so that no one sees them, but I still remember to take them.

It's really starting to sink in that this is a secret cycle.

Other than my parents and my wonderful blog readers, no one in real life knows what we're up to. Right now it's fairly easy to hide, especially since I'm only taking one pill and one injection in the early hours of the day, but in a week or so everything will change. I'll start stims injections that are taken in the early evening-often when we are out and about-and then the two-and-a-half hour trips to and from Sacramento will begin. I work at the family business, so taking time off work without a proper explanation will be completely doable but hard, and hiding the location of our destination will be even more difficult, especially since the trips will be fairly sporadic according to my intense follicle count and monitoring schedule.

But instead of feeling stressed and overwhelmed by the upcoming chain of events that will include secret, out of town doctor appointments, hidden injections and no doubt numerous white lies, I'm actually thriving from the future drama and pure excitement of it all.

Sneaking around just may be a fabulous addition to an otherwise redundant routine after all.

Sunday, 1-3-10 (Day 5)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): The plan is to keep only healthy, guilt free foods in the house so that when an attack comes in to play, I won't mess it up.

Starting tomorrow, of course.

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): Lupron supposedly comes with a whole slew of side effects to make life difficult, from nightly hot flashes and sweats to hard core migraines, and even disrupted sleeping patterns coupled with fatigue. But my nurse coordinator swears I'm on a super low dose, and therefore shouldn't be affected by any of this madness.

Despite the warning that any symptoms I experience would most likely be in my head, I remember feeling slight exhausted almost constantly during my first IVF, and for my second cycle I had a few hot flashes and an occasional headache. But this time around I've hit a new little mountain of a symptom, where I find myself waking up all night long.

I don't like it.

Sleep and I have always been best buds; I've never had trouble falling asleep nor have I had any problems staying asleep. But lately I'll be dreaming away, holding a frappachino in one hand and juggling a baby in the other, but just as I get the baby settled and reach over to take a drink of that carmel poison, suddenly it's all over. I'm wide awake-with no baby and no frappachino-and I can't go back to sleep.

I really shouldn't be complaining though, any symptom I've ever experienced throughout this process has been nothing more than super mild and short lived, certainly nothing I haven't been able to climb over. And besides, starting tomorrow I'll no longer be on birth control pills and officially cut my Lupron dose in half, most likely ending the insanity of our first mountain range once and for all.

At least until it's time to climb the next one.

"That first peak is the best place to pause and look back, to learn the lessons from the first climb. And it is the best place to examine the terrain ahead, to change your plans and goals, to take a deep breath and begin climbing again."

-Michael Johnson

New Year, New Shot

Friday, 1-1-10 (Day 3)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): So far so good; the perfect way to start out 2010.

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): Exactly six months ago today, I gave myself my first injection. I'm not saying it feels like yesterday; but it certainly doesn't feel like it was half a year ago, either.

I still remember everything. My mother came over the night before and helped me practice on a tangerine, while a few of our close friends looked on in wonder and fear. But not me; I was excited. Nervous of messing up my conversion of units and injecting the wrong amount, but still excited nonetheless.

After all, this was going to bring us our baby.

Other than the expectation of a perfect cycle and a pregnancy, we had no idea what the future held for us. But I can say with full certainty today that I never would have guessed I'd be sitting here, officially in 2010, holding another Lupron syringe instead of a grainy, black and white sonogram photo of our little one(s) growing inside of me.

In a way, I guess I'd say we've lost our innocence. We were slightly naive to expect our first IVF cycle to go perfectly and result in a pregnancy, but not crazy in our efforts, because in reality it does happen. People with far greater fertility handicaps get pregnant in the midst their first IVF attempt every day.

But not us.

So this morning, as I gave myself the first shot of the year, I couldn't help but notice the lack of excitement that I used to stick myself with. Every day was new, and was filled with first times for everything. My first injection, my first bruise, my first bleeder; and I was so very proud of each of them. I documented them with exact details, intending to help anyone else going through the same process by smugly showing them that IVF was not only doable, but easy and enjoyable at the same time.

Something that would be well worth the time, money, and effort in the end.

But I don't feel that same excitement anymore, because this process is no longer bright, shiny and new. It's full of unexpected twists and turns, disappointment, craziness, guilt, and loss. Loss of time, loss of money, loss of innocence.

Loss of embryos.

But I'm happy to report that although that initial excitement is somehow missing, it's been replaced with a new, pure, more vibrant kind of excitement. Although I know the process and the trials and tribulations that lay ahead, I also know so much more.

I know the secret to avoid bruising is to inject slow and steady, holding pressure to the site for a few seconds afterward. I know that if you don't want your PIO shots to feel like you've been hit by a semi the next day you have to set on a heating pad for at least a half hour. I know that Lupron burns, Luveris stings, Dexamethasone makes me eat and Follistim makes me feel full.

I know that I've taken more shots in the last six months that I've ever had in my entire twenty-six years, and it amazes me. I know that my husbands clumsy bear claw hands turn steady and smooth when it's time to inject Follistim, and it makes me smile. I know that my body is capable of doing and producing some really amazing things, and it give me hope.

I also know medical science isn't perfect but we've got a good shot, my parents really don't mind spending the money to help us even though it makes me feel guilty, and with God, all things are possible.

But sometimes it's still hard.

Especially since we also know that perfect cycles go wrong, some embryos don't grow, and not everyone gets pregnant. No matter how hard you pray, the answer may always be "no".

But that's not going to stop us from asking.

Because even after all of the drama that I try to make my life out to be, I'm nothing short of blessed; my life is so incredibly beautiful. I have the most supportive family and friends ever; we have no doubt they want this new life just as much as we do. We have good jobs that pay the bills, a great duplex that fits us just right, and even our worst days are filled with health, happiness, and hope.

So despite the past, I am still excited for what the future holds.

Today is a brand new beginning and I can feel it deep inside of me; something wonderful it going to happen. This may be my third IVF cycle, but it's my first cycle of a brand new year, and all bets are off. The past is in the past-right where it belongs-and I have a fresh opportunity to thank God for all He's given me, and to reflect on the past instead of live in it, focusing more on the endless possibilities He has in store for us in our future. And if infertility, IVF, and injections are the worst of what I have to go through to somehow bring honor and glory to God this year, then I'm a happy girl.

I often fall short and forget to look at all I've been blessed with, blinded by the hurricane of fear that surrounds this evasive medical procedure that we hope holds the answer to our dreams. But even when the sky is dark and the clouds are heavy above me, there's still one thing I know; a piece of information far more important than secrets to the success of IVF injections and organic well being.

There will be an end to this storm.

And If I look hard enough, I can already see the rainbow.

"When it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow."
-G.K. Chesterton

Third Shot's A Charm

And so begins the documentation of All Things IVF, Part 3; where I'll share my experiences of our third attempt at starting our family using the most evasive medical procedure possible.

We're praying that the third shot is our charm.

Wednesday, 12-30-09 (Day 1)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): Let's try to avoid ravenous hunger and excessive weight gain this time around, shall we?

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): My first injection of this cycle was not lacking drama, that's for sure.

I've been extremely blessed in the past to have received most my meds for free through a donation program that's saved me thousands of dollars. I had my best turn out by far with this third cycle, having every last one of my expensive indictable drugs donated and leaving me a mere $50 worth of antibiotics and suppositories to purchase.

Amazing.

Among those drugs was a last minute Lupron donation, just in time for my cycle to begin. My sweet donator took the medication to the post office and set the delivery date for Tuesday, exactly one day before my cycle began, and paid extra shipping to guarantee it's arrival. However, on Monday I checked the tracking information to make sure the delivery was on schedule, and found that that the package was in fact on it's way back to Pennsylvania where it started.

So after a very large frappachino, an e-mail and a few phone calls, we had verified that the shipping address was indeed correct, everything was on track, and the package would be delivered as promised on Tuesday afternoon. I breathed a sigh of relief and then scolded myself for drinking caffeine this close to the start of my cycle.

Then Tuesday arrived, and instead of my Lupron package I received an email from my donator letting me know that the package was instead back in her hands in Pennsylvania, less than twenty-four hours away from my first scheduled injection here in California.

So I had myself a panic attack, followed by an even bigger frappachino.

My donator was stuck, completely unable to go to the UPS store to sort things out because she was an hour away from one without a car, and couldn't leave work. She called them several times, explaining our unique situation and asking them to send out a truck to come pick it up from her and get it to California, but the best they could do was have her bring it to them by 6:30pm so they could send it out and guarantee delivery by today at 10:30am.

It wasn't ideal, but it was the best we could do; in fact at that point it was all we could do, because even if I ordered it from my pharmacy and paid for it myself, it still wouldn't have arrived any earlier.

Luckily the Lupron arrived around 9:45am this morning, and I was still able to give myself the injection on the appropriate start date, although it arrived in the middle of a meeting I was having with some clients. I had to ask them as politely as possible to look around the showroom while I excused myself to the restroom, mutilated the package while trying to open it, and stuck myself with a little 1/2" needle that burned and itched like crazy. Then I had to try to hide the evidence since this is our first secret cycle, shoving it under the bathroom cabinet and hoping no one would find it before I could retrieve it again and hide it in my trunk.

It's a good thing I'm a pro at these awkward, untimely injections.

I succeeded, and as far as I know my customers had no idea I was shooting up in the bathroom. And even though I polluted my otherwise organic well being with frappachinos and stress, the bottom line is that the medication arrived just in time and my injection was given only a few hours later than it should have been. God provided and everything worked out wonderfully in the end.

And if today was any indication of how the rest of the cycle is going to be, The Documentation of All Things IVF Part 3 is going to be full of twists and turns around every corner, never a dull moment.

But perfect in the end.

Thursday, 12-31-09 (Day 2)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): Being the very last day of 2009, I'm resorting to a medical resolution. I will not beat myself up over the type and amount of foods that I disperse into my body, but instead I will remain gracious and continue to be thankful for this amazing opportunity, trying my best to take care of myself but also enjoy every moment of this blessing to the fullest.

Oh, and absolutely no frappachinos.

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): Today's injection was much less dramatic. I simply woke up, loaded the syringe, and gave myself the tiny injection.

I shouldn't be surprised, even after all of yesterdays craziness. After all, this is my third cycle of injections, and the odds are that this will be the smoothest set of shots yet. I don't even have to look at a calendar any more in fear of messing up a dose or giving the wrong injection on the wrong date. I can mix vials with ease, I've finally mastered the sharps container (I swear that first one was defective) and I can pretty much convert a mL into form of measurement possible.

I can even give myself an injection just about anywhere, anytime.

For this cycle Im trying my best to have no fear of mistakes. I know the possibilities, I know that stats, I know the process; and all of this just leads me to spend more time praying for God's will, and less time trying to design a path to reach my own. God holds the future in His hands and He is completely in control of the situation, leaving me with the one task of letting go of my need to be in control at all times and give it all over to Him for this next cycle.

One day at a time.

"The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one."

-Elbert Hubbard