Well that escalated quickly.

Surprise! Period showed up this morning so I got to make the lovely call and I start birth control pills tomorrow. I had a pleasant (SAID DRIPPING WITH SARCASM) chat with the new IVF coordinator. Don’t get me wrong, she seems incredibly sweet, but it was a very frustrating afternoon for me.

Apparently my clinic batches cycles. I never realized this. Their next stim start isn’t until 11/27 (happy fucking Thanksgiving to me) and they want me on BCPs until the 23rd. I was only on them for 13 days last time. Last we checked, my AMH was 1.2. Not DOR territory yet, but not awesome. They only retrieved 12 eggs with the last cycle and are shooting for similar or more this time. I flat out asked if there was concern for being over-suppressed and she said she would check with the RE, but she didn’t seem to think it would be an issue.

She went over the dates with me and promised to email me a calendar later in the afternoon. It wasn’t until I opened said calendar that I went off the rails for the dumbest reasons. My baseline sono? The day after Thanksgiving. My estimated retrieval? 12/8. Also known as 2 days before our 5th wedding anniversary, so any celebration we may have planned is now gone. Oh, and my husband’s company Christmas party falls on stims day 7. I’m sure I will be a lovely pleasant person for that.

Because I am an emotional train wreck, I immediately called my husband crying. Poor guy. I started the call by assuring him that I was crying for stupid reasons and I knew it but I just wanted someone to tell me everything was going to be ok. I explained the schedule and then apologized for ruining Thanksgiving, his Christmas party, and our anniversary. I know. A wreck, I tell you. He took it 100% in stride and said none of that mattered and that his priorities are with me and me alone.

Seriously. There’s a reason I married this dude.

I think it hit me so hard because it’s just another reminder of how IVF has taken over our lives and doesn’t give a fuck what we want. I was so excited about this anniversary. And now I will be curled up on the couch with a heating pad. Romantic. I love Thanksgiving…but now we have to cancel plans so I can get an ultrasound. I will now have to field a thousand questions about why I’m not drinking from people that don’t know we’re going through IVF.




Counting down the days.

I’m still here. Sort of. Our IVF break should be coming to a close in the next few days…I should be starting my cycle and giving the clinic a call this week. Oy. I’m already gearing up for all the emotions and intensity that I know is coming. Bright side (FUCK YEAH OPTIMISM!) of all this nonsense is that it is our second go-round, so I am miles ahead of where I was earlier this year in my preparations.

Husband and I took a very much needed vacation after the October tax deadline. Five glorious day in beautiful Oregon driving down the coast and then spending two days in Portland with friends. We actually sort of toyed with the idea of moving to the West coast someday. We adore Oregon and Washington (and while I love visiting California, I don’t think I could live there). We’ve kind of set an internal revisiting deadline of 5 years. At that point, we’ll have a kid or not and will definitively know what if we’ll ever be parents or not. I took hundreds of photos, and came away with one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken. It features my husband and nature, so clearly it’s awesome. It involved hiking down some slippery rocks – I ended up slipping once and crashing to the rocks…I now have a lovely baseball sized bruise on my left hip. WORTH IT.


I think this is our last cycle. We’re dipping into retirement savings to fund it, which kills me on the inside as a tax professional. But…this is our new normal. We have to do it and I’m not comfortable financing it. We’re still young enough to take the hit and recover long-term, so I’m somewhat okay with it. The tens of thousands of dollars price tag is a big one, so I don’t think IVF #3 will be a thing if this one is another colossal failure.

I haven’t quite come to terms with the idea that this is our last shot at a biological child. It just does not compute and I can’t quite wrap my head around it. So I’m taking it one day at a time. We still have a chance.


Who am I?

So many many years ago (okay like 8), an old boyfriend introduced me to Reddit. It has involved quite a bit over the years. I discovered the infertility subreddit months ago and it has tremendously helped me to cope. It’s a bunch of people that aren’t afraid to be pissed off and bitter about their situations. I’ve never actually registered on the site, but I read it daily.

So today I see this thread: Who are you outside of your infertility?

“We are more than just IF. Who are you outside of your infertility?”

That’s an EXCELLENT question. And honestly, I’ve somewhat forgotten. I feel like my entire persona the last 10 months has been wrapped up in infertility, and I used to be so much more.

I am a tax accountant, a CPA. I knit (I even happily make baby blankets for my damn fertile friends). I was a dancer from the ages of 2 to 18 and it still brings me so much joy to stand at a barre and hear the piano start to play. When I have spare time, I help a dance studio owning friend teach dance classes. I maintain that you haven’t lived until you’ve tried to corral a room full of 5 year olds in tap shoes. My husband and I have 2 dogs that are probably the purest form of love I’ve ever experienced. I’m in a book club and love it. My drink of choice is whiskey (Irish to be exact). I was bitten by the travel bug years ago, and together my husband and I have travelled to 4 different countries and 15 states over the last 6 years. I dabble in photography and have been known to still use my father’s old camera leftover from the 70s. I can quote every line of Mean Girls verbatim and will use lines from it in my daily life.

So. That’s me. I know she’s still in there somewhere and I hope she comes out again.

So….who are you?