The shittiest club

So, my RE left the practice in July, the week that I had my miscarriage. I met with the woman who replaced him last Friday. She wants new labs and an HSG to make sure the tube is clear and there isn’t anything in there that will cause a problem in the future. They gave me the procedure codes to call and check for insurance coverage for it. Generally, it’s a fertility procedure, but mine is more medical since it could head off a second ectopic and its complications.

Much to my surprise, it looks like they will cover it. There was a moment where the woman helping me on the phone said that generally they don’t cover it until three miscarriages, but my age could make it more necessary. And from her experience it’s good to have it checked. It took a second but then I realized she meant her personal experience. I gave her an invisible fist bump of solidarity down the phone line for being in the miscarriage club.

I know they aren’t going to cover the follow up semen analysis from my husband tomorrow morning, but that test is like $65, we can swing it. The HSG is about $2k, though. I’d prefer to not get surprised by that kind of bill.

I love the nightlife, I got to boogie….

I am listening to the Circle and Bloom PCOS package for fertility meditations on the daily this cycle. It is definitely not dangerous to spend 20 minutes a day focusing on being calm and relaxing, and it makes me feel like I am doing something.

Today’s session had a lot of visualizing the perfect egg being released from my healthy ovaries.

In my mind, my perfect egg is like a wee small disco ball. So sparkly.

Day 5: The ovaries are restless.

It’s another medicated cycle. Because it’s a big old infertile party all the time here at Chez Barren. Day 3 of Letrozole. It hurts. It always hurts, but it’s hurting earlier than usual. And the hot flashiness has begun. And feeling weepy.

I only let myself cry for 5 minutes about last cycle when I failed again. For one thing, The Man was home and I didn’t want to scare him with my toilet sobbing.

If I don’t get pregnant this round, my fifth time on Letrozole, then we have to go see the RE for a consultation to see where we go from here. IUI is a possibility, but it’s $1500 a pop and that’s not something we can just keep doing endlessly. I feel like realistically we have six more months of this.

The weekend was especially hard, it was my half-birthday. I have serious aversions to any acknowledgement of my birthday going back a very long time. But now I know in six months I turn 42. And it will be what would have been the due date for our little speck of baby. I will be fine for days and then suddenly I run into something and it’s suddenly just as raw as it was at the beginning. And then I pick myself up and hopeĀ  that we get a sticky one soon.

Not an awesome combo


knit night action photo with croissant!

This blanket is half done. I need it to be all done ASAP so I can send it on before my sister has her baby. I am pretty sure that this cycle is ending and we didn’t get pregnant this month.

And I have to knit on a baby blanket pretty much nonstop today and tomorrow. I think it’s about 20 hours of work left to do.

So much suck. So much.

The glamour never ends.

I’m 9 or 10 days past ovulation, the hot flashes are back, but not quite as bad. Or I am adapting a bit to them and trying to plan things better. Had my annual physical on Monday with my GP and she decided since I have had a bajillion ultrasounds that she didn’t need to do a pelvic if I didn’t feel that there were any changes or had any signs of infection. I was thrilled because the progesterone suppositories are just irritating and uncomfortable.

The progesterone queasiness seems to peak in the morning this time. So this morning I woke up, temped, went to the bathroom and then made my usual protein shake for breakfast.
Then I went to lay down for 15 minutes to deposit the morning pod and listen to the Circle and Bloom meditationy thing.

And Marge the cat comes in and flops down against me on the bed. HeĀ  (yes, he) is a 17-18 lb cat so he packs a punch. And I am imagining the blanket, the perfect blanket from childhood and taking deep breaths and then I realize that the rotten cat has basically just dutch-ovened me. Obviously I got up and GTFO of there and left him to wallow in his wretchedness. But I swear I was on the verge of horking for the next hour. GROSS.


So the first thing that clued me in to being knocked up was that I was suddenly hot. Like boiling hot. All the time. I mean like go to fetch some groceries and be in full on dripping sweat in 5 minutes. It took a month after the pregnancy ended for that symptom to simmer the hell down.

I ovulated this week. And now I’m hot again. Just the progesterone, I know, but I don’t want to be hot hot hot. Well, I mean I can deal if it means pregnancy, but aside from that. it’s so annoying.

Well, this sucks.

I have cramps with a vengeance and it’s a new cycle for me. I have the worst acne breakout that I have had in over 20 years. I have like 3 pimples on my back, too. BACKNE.

I am cranky and weepy and bitchy. Mostly I’m in pain and can’t take anything because my liver is a total shit. Which is ridiculous, because I am tee-total and have been for about 18 years! And when I did drink I had about 2 drinks a year. A YEAR. And this is how that fucker treats me? Whatever.

I have errands to run, but I feel too shitty and gross right now. I averted a crisis by finding some slightly freezer burned tater tots in the freezer. They are sweet potato tots, but whatevs, I’m gonna make tot-chos out of them anyway.

So here is the plan for cycle 16: tomorrow I begin letrozole for days 3-7, every other day sexins shall commence, peeing on all the OPKS, then I have a midcycle ultrasound that will cost me $500 shiny goddamn dollars. And if the follicles look OK? HCG trigger shot, which is new for me, so far the letrozole has released the bowling ball sized follicles on its own. After temps confirm that I dropped the egg I do 14 days of progesterone suppositories. There it is, the plan for the cycle. All the cray cray and lack of spontaneity that it takes.