Riding the Infertility Crazy Train

how I'm muddling through infertility, loss, and perimenopause

Dang You Aunt Flo!!!!!!!

Aunt Flo –

You SUCK!  I can feel your evil presence hovering all around me, and you’re so stinking hateful you won’t just knock on the door.  I’m sure you’re going to wait until after the results of my beta tomorrow to pounce!  That’s just typical of you.  For ten years now you have been pulling the same stunt.  I wait until I am a few days late to take the good old HPT which of course is negative and within hours you and your flaming red self show up!  Heck, there were times I took the test just so you would show up and I could get on with my month.  You’re so predictable.

Two years ago you really screwed with my head tho.  After IUI #2, I waited the correct time and took five, FIVE, HPT’s that were all positive, number 6 was negative then three days after that I my Beta showed I was already losing my lil sprout, and BAM! three hours later you show up.  What exactly is wrong with you?  I’ve tried to be nice about your stupid little visits, but I’m getting way too old and too near the complete end of your visiting to deal with these surprise visits.  STAY AWAY ALREADY!!!!!

If you want to visit, the least you could do is wait about nine months.  Seriously!

TTFN you crazy hateful hag!



Fading Hope….

You know that point in your cycle when you start to feel “normal” and that “normal” completely freaks you out because your normal is the LAST thing you want yet again?  Who wants to feel normal?  Honestly, we want to feel pregnant, with child, in the family way, the bun in the oven NOT NORMAL!!!  Normal is an extended four letter word!!!

Well, I started to feel that on Sunday and it has increased with every hour of every day since.  My normal PMS consists of crying continually at nothing, shooting pains in the netherworld, and extreme exhaustion.  I would include swelling in that list, but thanks to all the hormones, I popped out of my jeans a week into injections, and my bra two days after the transfer.  In my freak out of the norm, I confided in a cousin and a sister-in-law.  Not terribly surprised that they both said that’s exactly how they felt while prego.  Great.  I wanted to argue that this is different because I can feel that damn Aunt Flo is lurking around the corner, but I was too tired to argue.  I appreciate the encouragement, but it’s not helping.  Those sweet encouraging words felt like an uplift for a huge downfall more than anything else.

Is it that freakish IF self-preservation telling me in that dark whisper “you’re not pregnant” or is it Mother Nature doing her thing and me being smart enough to know what she is saying?  Every time I have to hit the ladies room I start to panic anticipating what would signify the loss of my babies.  I find I’m pleading with God to let me babies grow and live in me with some naive notion that there’s still hope.

So many questions fill my head…  When is it too late for implantation?  What could I do to make AF stay away from me?  When did I lose my babies?  Why did I lose my babies?  Did my RE do enough?  Did I do enough?  Since I had 11 eggs, 8 fertilized, and 2 viable for transfer, is it worth another shot?  Another shot since I’m sure I’m not pregnant?  Where would we go for the cycle since my hubbs and I are living in two states 1500 miles apart?  And I’m terrified I’m going to have to make the call before my Thursday PT appointment.  The call to tell the nurse I’m bleeding and is there any reason for more blood work.  Ugh.  Ugh.  and triple Ugh.

TTFN – a pitiful and sad Izzy…

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The Mom Factor

I don’t feel like I’ve slighted myself any by staying away from the big “G”.  I’m doing just fine not searching myself off the crazy train and into the looney bin!  And besides, there’s no reason for me to hunt up cures, statistics, and hope when I have the mom factor!   Oh yes, mom is on the hunt!  Vitamins, and Minerals, and Diets, Oh My! (Said like Dorothy in Oz.)

I thought doing  the searching was exhausting until mom got on the hunt.  The woman should have a degree in research analysis.   She’s a stinking machine!  Maybe she is just crazy smarter than me, or maybe my IF brain went into mid-hyperspace shutdown two years ago, but she will find multiple sources of the same basic data, compare and contrast, discover the most reliable sources, put the not so reputable sources on the back burner bucket, spit out the whose, whys, and hows of what I should try.  After numerous novel length text messages and hour-long phone conversations that all left my head spinning, I had to tell her to go buy what she thinks I need and I will take it!

It was too much!  I could take no more!  I’m sadly past the point of believing in a magic bullet to get that BFP we all are longing to see.  Being the good daughter and ever hopeful mom-to-be, I’m taking my vitamins and eating the get knocked up food.

I’m jaded and tired, but I’m still hanging on to a few ounces of hope!



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