I remember back to a time when I was naive and thought that doctors and nurses knew everything. I trusted what they said and unless it was something huge, never thought about getting a second opinion or researching something over and over again online. Sadly, I know better now and I've learned that the hard way.
As I've been thinking about when we're going to try again, I'm running through all the items that I have control of about my body, which are pretty few. Two years into my infertility journey I learned that I was hypothyroid and needed to be on thyroid medication. Having an underactive thyroid negatively impacts fertility, you may think, why wasn't this checked up front? The OB checked it but it fell "in range". The RE didn't check because he assumed the OB did. I went to an endocrinologist on my own to have a full panel run and found out that while I was "in range", for fertility it's best to have your TSH <2. Mine wasn't. I got all that fixed and we had our DS.
My Rx dosage changed during pregnancy as it normally does and I wan't to make sure everything was back on track. Enter my company's health clinic. I gave blood, they called with the results and said I was slightly elevated and they wanted me to take an extra pill on Saturdays. Since I don't implicitly trust doctors anymore and keep my own records of everything, I ask, what is slightly elevated? 4.79! Are you kidding me? I told them I needed it to be under 2 and they needed to increase my dose. But apparently they aren't authorized to do that. Whatever. My PCP increases my dose and I go back to my company's health clinic (because it's free) to have my blood tested 4 weeks later. They attempt to get blood out of both arms and can't get any. They tell me to come back another day after I've had a lot of water. Um, I just drank 34 oz of water, had a protein shake and oatmeal, I can't be any more prepared to give a blood sample.
I do have tiny veins and always require a butterfly needle. Some people can't get blood out of one arm, but I've never had it where they can't get it out of both. I am tired of incompetence and of being a pin cushion. So today I'm headed to an actual medical lab where I'll have to pay to have a blood sample taken in order to work with my PCP to get my dose adjusted to have a TSH <2. I'm so glad I thought about starting this process now before I waste any money doing an IVF just to find out my TSH is out of whack.
On that same note, I've been headed to the chiropractor a lot lately to make sure my lower back is inline. When I did acupuncture on and off for a year during my last 2 IUIs and my first 2 IVFs, he thought that I had "sticky blood" and needed more flow to my reproductive organs. Testing revealed that I do have a MTHFR genetic mutation causing blood clots and I took injectible blood thinners my entire pg. Again, this wasn't found until about 2 years into TTC. It was only found because I insisted on having what my RE called a miscarriage panel run on me. They didn't want to do it because I hadn't ever had a miscarriage. So let's think about that. Never having a miscarriage means I've never been pg. If I've never been pg, then nothing has ever implanted. Think I might have an implantation issue? Alas the MTHFR which means I don't absorb folic acid and don't get enough blood to my uterus to allow an embryo to implant and grow. During my pg I went to the chiropractor every 3 weeks to make sure my back was properly adjusted to allow as much blood as possible to flow where it needed to go.
I am tired of incompetent medical staff that don't go above and beyond to find the issue. But this time around I am much wiser, much more educated, and I really do not take no for an answer. When the health clinic said they couldn't increase my dose, my brain immediately started scanning my list of doctors to see which one I could talk into writing an Rx for me. My life, my body, my money, I need to get what I want.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Reflecting Back to Last Year
It was around this time last year that I had learned my first IVF had failed and I was reeling with loss, disappointment and sadness. I had thought that taking the leap from IUI to IVF would be a cure-all and would bring us success. I was not prepared for this type of failure. I can recall every feeling of the days between egg retrieval and embryo transfer vividly.
I shelled out thousands of dollars for all the drugs, followed the protocols but there were only two follicles that showed on ultrasound. Just two. Well, two is better than the one I would normally produce...at least that's what I told myself in order to hold it together. In recovery after the egg retrival, I asked how many eggs were retrieved. My DH looked at me and said, one. One. All of that for one measly egg that I could have produced on my own. I started crying right there in recovery with my DH and the nurse trying to comfort me. The RE who did the procedure (not my normal RE) saw me crying and I apologized to her and thanked her for getting the one. Most people doing IVF have anywhere between 6-20 eggs retrieved. I had one.
That one little egg had to make it through so much over the next few days. It had to fertilize. Which it did with ICSI (inject sperm directly into egg). It had to live for 3 days and divide and grow. It couldn't arrest, it couldn't fragment, it had to thrive in the culture it was growing in. I remember going through the motions at work in a trance, chained to my cell phone. A friend at work knew what was going on but everytime she stopped by my desk I burst into tears. I couldn't even talk to her. Was I going to have a transfer date set, or was the one embryo that all our hopes and dreams were pinned to going to die. I felt like a jury was deciding my fate, I couldn't eat or sleep, couldn't work, it was awful.
Transfer date was set, and it was an absolutely perfect looking 8 cell embryo. We fell in love instantly. This was our DNA, this was our child. We sang songs to it over the next 2 weeks, we talked to it, we had dreams of our child. Then we got the BFN. I was devastated. If after 4 clomids and 5 IUIs this didn't work, what would? Would anything?
It wasn't until after the 2nd IVF failed and I was heading towards depression that I finally created a little infertility album to commemorate and grieve each lost embryo, each lost possibility of our child. Here are the first two pages of that album.
Infertility Album
Through years of unsuccessfully trying to have a baby, we’ve realized just how precious each chance is at making a new life. Our journey has been long, filled with researching medical articles, doctor appointments, counting the calendar, medications, injections, hope, continual disappointment…and it’s not over yet.
The journey started with six months of trying naturally before four cycles of Clomid, 5 IUIs, and now onto IVF. IVF provides a unique look, and a physical snapshot, of each tiny 6-8 cell embryo that is placed back into my body. A special piece of our combined DNA that had the odds against it from the start, was given a chance at life, but unfortunately didn’t make it. Holding each picture of the beginning of our child, allows some form of attachment to begin even during the torturous two week wait to find out if the pregnancy test is positive. The picture that you think will be the amazing first page of your child’s baby album, but never is. A loss through IVF is felt so much more painfully and completely than a natural or IUI cycle.
This album provides a chance to grieve, let go, and say good-bye to each child that will never be. We love you.
IVF Cycle #1
Started on January 21, 2008
Egg Retrieval on February 3, 2008
Embryo Transfer on February 6, 2008
Negative Pregnancy test on February 22, 2008
Only one egg was retrieved and fertilized with ICSI. Our combined DNA grew into a perfect 8 cell embryo that was transferred back to me. We had so much hope that having finally moved onto IVF, we would get the positive test result we were looking for. Unfortunately, that did not happen. During the two week wait, this was the song we sang to you:
Come on little embryo. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
Go ahead implant yourself. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
Come on little embryo. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
We’ll take good care of you. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
Good-bye, we love you.
I shelled out thousands of dollars for all the drugs, followed the protocols but there were only two follicles that showed on ultrasound. Just two. Well, two is better than the one I would normally produce...at least that's what I told myself in order to hold it together. In recovery after the egg retrival, I asked how many eggs were retrieved. My DH looked at me and said, one. One. All of that for one measly egg that I could have produced on my own. I started crying right there in recovery with my DH and the nurse trying to comfort me. The RE who did the procedure (not my normal RE) saw me crying and I apologized to her and thanked her for getting the one. Most people doing IVF have anywhere between 6-20 eggs retrieved. I had one.
That one little egg had to make it through so much over the next few days. It had to fertilize. Which it did with ICSI (inject sperm directly into egg). It had to live for 3 days and divide and grow. It couldn't arrest, it couldn't fragment, it had to thrive in the culture it was growing in. I remember going through the motions at work in a trance, chained to my cell phone. A friend at work knew what was going on but everytime she stopped by my desk I burst into tears. I couldn't even talk to her. Was I going to have a transfer date set, or was the one embryo that all our hopes and dreams were pinned to going to die. I felt like a jury was deciding my fate, I couldn't eat or sleep, couldn't work, it was awful.
Transfer date was set, and it was an absolutely perfect looking 8 cell embryo. We fell in love instantly. This was our DNA, this was our child. We sang songs to it over the next 2 weeks, we talked to it, we had dreams of our child. Then we got the BFN. I was devastated. If after 4 clomids and 5 IUIs this didn't work, what would? Would anything?
It wasn't until after the 2nd IVF failed and I was heading towards depression that I finally created a little infertility album to commemorate and grieve each lost embryo, each lost possibility of our child. Here are the first two pages of that album.
Infertility Album
Through years of unsuccessfully trying to have a baby, we’ve realized just how precious each chance is at making a new life. Our journey has been long, filled with researching medical articles, doctor appointments, counting the calendar, medications, injections, hope, continual disappointment…and it’s not over yet.
The journey started with six months of trying naturally before four cycles of Clomid, 5 IUIs, and now onto IVF. IVF provides a unique look, and a physical snapshot, of each tiny 6-8 cell embryo that is placed back into my body. A special piece of our combined DNA that had the odds against it from the start, was given a chance at life, but unfortunately didn’t make it. Holding each picture of the beginning of our child, allows some form of attachment to begin even during the torturous two week wait to find out if the pregnancy test is positive. The picture that you think will be the amazing first page of your child’s baby album, but never is. A loss through IVF is felt so much more painfully and completely than a natural or IUI cycle.
This album provides a chance to grieve, let go, and say good-bye to each child that will never be. We love you.
IVF Cycle #1
Started on January 21, 2008
Egg Retrieval on February 3, 2008
Embryo Transfer on February 6, 2008
Negative Pregnancy test on February 22, 2008
Only one egg was retrieved and fertilized with ICSI. Our combined DNA grew into a perfect 8 cell embryo that was transferred back to me. We had so much hope that having finally moved onto IVF, we would get the positive test result we were looking for. Unfortunately, that did not happen. During the two week wait, this was the song we sang to you:
Come on little embryo. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
Go ahead implant yourself. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
Come on little embryo. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
We’ll take good care of you. Doodee, doodee, doo-dee-do.
Good-bye, we love you.
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