just no.

a pee stick late last night had a big glaringly unambiguous white space where that second line should be

would be

could have been

wasn't.

and today's beta confirmed: no.

My heart is aching badly this time maybe more than others because this time, this time we did everything right, everything worked the way it was supposed to, there were eggs and embryos, everything was where it was supposed to be.

But it still did not work.

I cried hard last night as I felt most of hope go. And today I missed the call, it came so fast I was not home yet. And feeling that last bit of hope go as I listened to the message, the last bit of hope that maybe the number was just really low... yeah, well, fantastical and wondrous and totally untrue.

I hate knowing this is me, directly-- like maybe our one brief pregnancy was a fluke and my body does not really want this, or indirectly-- I am just too old, my eggs are mainly shit. and maybe for every 100 I make, 5 will be good. And I/we just don't have enough time or money to find them.

I am not ready to give up on this yet but it is feeling increasingly crazy. My clinic "wants to talk to me" which makes my stomach knot. My life (work) right now cannot handle the complexification of IVF at another (faraway) clinic. At least two visits, one quite long, the added expense of travel, the time away from work. But if these folks say no, I will call chicago. I will handle the complexity and work impact and money since I am not ready to give up yet. My heart is not ready.

Yeah, I hate this to the core of my being. I am mourning those 5 beautiful little lights, those little magical beginnings and wish I had somehow been able to make magic happen with them.

Guess I am not over the tears yet.

sadkate.

a billion bright green parakeets

hey there, it's me, kate. Remember me? small, fuzzy redhead with voracious unfulfilled appetite after 5 days of salad in the land of pancakes cookies bread and cheese.

Work has gone very well, but it was a long intense week and I am done done done.

Did not pee on a stick and will not. It feels too lonely and too far away. Uterine sensations have me alternately feeling hopeful and hopeless. Period due tomorrow. Temp still up today, Tomorrow's flight home from here is going to be so early I am not sure if I will temp or not.

Hope progesterone keeps my period at bay at least until I am safely home.

But more than that, I hope the miraculous whateveritis that helped K get her great wonderful fabulous positive will waft on over here and bestow some upon me too.

my heart feels so horrid knowing this hoperide might be over soon, but wanting so much to hold on a little longer.

Beta saturday either way.

I hope I get to go knowing something good.

the parakeets? no idea where they came from, but at dusk, they arrive in a million squadrons, and alight on some trees on an island here like the reverse of bats emerging from a cave-- stunningly cacophonous and violently green.

in between

In the classic way of the mid 2ww, I feel very inbetween

I've just started having some occasional vague sensations of full-ish-ness, some cramping when I sneeze or turn too abruptly, but most of the time, just tired from the progesterone, worried about the travel, thinking about peeing on a stick alone in a hotel room a million miles from home and weighing that against watching my temp drop or starting to bleed.

I leave later today, will be gone until next friday night, next friday when my period would be due.

I will pee on a stick, I know it. I am bringing 3. But I will wait until thursday night when I am done since I have to be functional for work with clients I do not know.

As an introvert, 4 days of needing to be "on" full time is always a stretch, always hard to imagine and do. Nights pass in a blink, days go slowly. My voice starts to warble by midafternoon on the first day. I deplete and by the third day I am dragging. I would be better with 2 days or a day off in the middle to recharge.

so yeah, the travel is just travel, but the content, the needing to be on, that is what I am dreading.

I so much want this to work, want to feel the magic again. I want to revel in it, feel swamped by the wonder of it. Do more energy work to stay calm this time.

t of a little bit of something had her twins on thursday!

billy of my pathway to motherhood just got a bit big fat wonderful fabulous positive

I am trying to catch up with all of you, I can now get wordpress from home! whoo hoo! damn router setting blah blah.... but now I am heading away so I will be farther behind.

depending on my level of connection at the hotel, you may hear from me sometimes or not at all. but I'll be back for my beta, period or not, in one week and you sure as heck will hear from me then.

ing

feeling a little scared that maybe my little stars did not make it

wondering about what is happening in there, wishing I could feel it happening, feel it working

knowing there is no way to know, not now, not yet

reveling in being a little more calm and centered for whatever magical combination of reasons

hoping that I can stay calm no matter what the outcome, that this will work, and if it does not, that it will not break me

dreaming about week after next, a week off from work, a week of art and writing and tea and being outside and breathing and living at the pace of my own making

finding myself finding myself over and over, oh! I say, there I am! and that feels pretty darn good each and every time, like finding a beach stone in your pocket that you picked up warm from the sun, that is now warm from your body. You forget, go looking for keys or change, and then, your fingers find warm worn smooth. It is not so much that it was lost, just unattended to.

being-- yeah, this one is both the most effortless and the most effort-full, be-ing. So hard for someone so used to the do-ing.


An owl was perched on a dead branch on a high tree at the edge of our clearing this morning. I watched it watch dragonflies.

equinox

So today is 2dp3dt. Which is very cool just because I've never been able to say it!

So, yesterday was an odd day of wonder and awe. I spent a lot of the day in awe of what I might be carrying, hoping hoping hoping. I have never known I was carrying an embryo (or 5) before- and the awareness is remarkable. I want to know I still am, and there is no way of knowing.

I realized over the weekend in one of my many miniephipanies, that I need to calm the fuck down. I realized that I need to manage my feeling of overwhelmedness better than I have, and as best I can. So yesterday was an exercise in asking myself, "what do I need to do to stay calm?" which is one hell of a different question than "what should I do?"--
and I did ok--
I kept thinking about that cluster of tiny lights nestled deep inside me and felt I owe them this, I owe Me this too--

being crazy does not actually help me do more or be more productive or be more valuable, it just makes me feel crappy. So I am going to be trying really hard to be and stay less reactive (wish me luck when my boss calls!).


Ok about refrigeration and the progesterone suppositories, they only need to be cold to maintain their shape for, um, insertion. They can get warm and not lose efficacy-- so the trip just got simpler. I simply re-refrigerate them once I arrive.

About betas and testing and pee sticks and protocols-- sweet Sharon called yesterday and said we'll do our first beta when I get back, October 3rd, which is after when my period might come but to do it anyway, no matter what. And, if I want, I can pee on a stick on the 1st.

There is sadness in the internets-- I hate some of what I found as I romped around to catch up with my blogspot friends yesterday (still no wordpress access from home)-- Eileen of we got hitched so very sadly lost her pregnancy last week (another fucking loss- I think 3 this year), and Pundelina's embryos did not make it to transfer over the weekend. I am so sorry for these losses-

And the challenges go on--Two friends are on bedrest-- Sarah (for the flavor) is on bedrest at the hospital and Magsy (Grade A) is at home.

The losses-- of pregnancies, or the possibility of pregnancy this cycle, or this lifetime, or of hope or time or certainty or identity or self. There are so many nested losses here in this dang infertility world. I wish on all of us such an easier time than seems to be possible.


I sometimes think that holding hope is like chasing mercury around on the carpet, it pools and skitters away as you try to grab it. Other times it is nearly viral, sticking with us anyway no matter what, in spite of, anyway. Breathing in awareness of sadness and losses, breathing out love and hope for healing. It is the equinox, a new season, a season of daily change here in the northeast- leaves change so fast, frost comes, leaves fall, we are bundled in sweaters and wool socks, and finding our ice scrapers, and thinking about putting on winter tires.

Last night as I was driving home late late late, two male moose crossed the road not even a mile from my house. The glitter of their shiny eyeballs way up high made me stop, their truck-sized bodies reflect no light at all-- and they gamboled across the road less than 20 feet from my car, and vanished into the darkness of the woods. Reminding me, of course, that there is magic everywhere, all the time. Just because I cannot always see it does not mean it is not there.

5!

This morning we transferred all 5- for you fertility geeks like me-

1 3 cell B+

1 4 cell C

1 5 cell B-

1 7 cell B+

1 8 cell B

HOLY SHIT PEOPLE, I'm currently carrying a litter.

I felt so incredibly odd having them exist, but not having them inside me, and I feel much better now that we're all hanging out together, you know, until I think of the number.

Dr. R did the transfer, someone I had never met. He used to work in a big Boston clinic and do 20 of these a day, every day-- so when he said based on his experience that he would absolutely recommend transferring them all due to my age, we went with his suggestion. I have a philosophical inclination not to transfer more than it is possible to carry safely-- you know, just in case. But he is right-- because of my age, it will be lucky to be pregnant at all after this, and extra lucky to stay pregnant, and likewise, it is highly unlikely that the unthinkable would happen.

But I know this already- admittedly vehemently pro choice kate speaking here, that while it is likely/expected they will not all make it, that will make me sad- even though it would be *crazy*, untenable and impossible if they did.

Ok I need to make a comment about progesterone shots-- they suck rocks and I am really lucky my protocol includes daily suppositories (yay festive bubbly pee) rather than shots. But on retrieval day and transfer day, the give a shot of PIO. And today, I was extra lucky, I had two. The needle fell off halfway through the first shot, so I got a bonus shot. Lucky me.

I also need to make a comment on the requisite "uncomfortably full bladder" required for transfer. I am not sure I have been that uncomfortable ever. In the past, the distant past I may add, when I had to pee that kind of badly, I literally just went-- wherever-- behind a tree, in my pants, whatever. So I have never let myself get that uncomfortable and certainly not then stay that way. It was horrid. Before we began I was allowed to empty *some* (enter super human effort here) since I was so uncomfortable.

But by the time the ultrasound thingy was pressing on my bladder, the speculum was in and open, good lord. And my notorious tea-cup sized bladder was looking like a pumpkin on the screen-- gah.

For those of you who have not done this particular part- I think I want to share the broad strokes. Went in, got undressed from the waist down. It always makes me laugh when they step out to give you privacy at this point, since really, most of these folks are going to see your uvula from the inside out pretty soon anyway.

Then up on the table, progesterone shot, hair net, face mask, ultrasound (external as with this whole procedure, a nice change, you know, except for the bladder)--

while getting positioned, the doc came in and we talked about numbers and reasoning and advice-- and there was all of the confirmational stuff with the embryo lab (adjacent to the procedure room and for me, the door opening right where everyone in the lab could see my religion). Confirmation of my name, birthdate, embryo count, number to transfer....

then my doc did a trial thread of the catheter since we had not worked together before-- all ok, then he called into the embryo room. Those folks loaded our embryos in a syringe thingy, and brought it in forthwith-- this is a really quick process, there is no dilly dallying. That catheter was threaded, I could see it on the ultrasound, then, just like that, the embryos were deposited, and the cath removed and checked by the embryo lab to make sure none were lurking-- all clear, done.

And we had a great view of 5 sparkling lights in my uterus before we were done.

In at 7:45, out at around 8:30.

***

of course my betas are scheduled for when I am in the netherlands week after this so that is something that will need to wait-- they are scheduled for day 12 and day 14 (past retrieval). So... I will call the nurse about that tomorrow. And, as an added bonus complexification (I like my new word), I need to bring suppositories with me (yay) on my european jaunt. Somehow refrigerated. Hmmm.

About Squam-- folks last year raved that it was a lovefest, lifechanging, transformational.. and I thought ok, I hear you, but for me it will be an art workshop. But you know? I was kinda wrong. It was an art workshop, but it was not only that. My transformation was admittedly more quiet-- the reason it was life changing for me was a combination of the amazingly beautiful location and wide open sky over the lake, the permission I gave myself to play and make mistakes and try stuff anyway, and the truly lovely people that I met.

A special shout out to my amazing cabin mates-- sweet Sarah, Crissy, Sarah, Tracy, Lisa and Jess-- smart, talented, lovely and wonderful artists and people who absolutely made the week for me. And also to Denise of bohogirl fame, for our brief real life hello and for looking at me with her beautiful, warm, deep brown eyes in the midst of the dining hall sensory overload and in that moment making me feel both visible and seen, and oh, to Jen Lee-- honestly, what a blessing to have met her-- I am not sure what finally will matter more, the impact on my writing or on my heart. I imagine it will be both. Let me just say that for how difficult this was in many ways, for the old fears and discomforts and some that were new, I would not trade it. If you go next year, trust me on this, bring gloves, a hat, scarves, sweaters, a heating pad or hot water bottle- and a travel mug. I was cold most of the time indoors and out and I live in NH and have no excuse of ignorance. And for goodness sakes bring a good bright flashlight. I have never been anywhere more dark ever. Walk into a tree dark. If you are a city person and cannot imagine uninsulated cabins, or a spider in your sink, or the kind of darkness that swallows you, this may suck.

The only regret I have is not swimming- but I couldn't really-- the water was so clean and so beautiful, it begged for star spangled skinny dipping.

Thank you for your amazing support always-- I cannot tell you how much it matters, but for those of you out there, I imagine you know-- your kind words and wishes bolster me, my intermittent bravery, my resolve. Thank you. I hope to be a better blogger, and now that I am back on line I hope to check in. I feel very out of touch.

So my 5 little ones and I are going to sack out now. We were up at 5 to drive north-- the dark starry sky giving way to light and fog and frost (!) and changing colors, I am not sure anything could be more beautiful.

huzzah

From my darlin' who is on phone duty:

"Of the 8 eggs, 7 were mature, 5 fertilized.

Things are looking good. If they begin to look great they may reccommend a 5 day transfer which would put us on Tuesday. They will call me tomorrow on my cell and/or home number to let us know. At this point we are on for 7:45AM on Sunday."

hot diggity dog

we have fertilization!

WHOO HOO

still scared and still praying to whatever gods might be listening.

thank you all for the great wishes and crossed fingers and prayers and hopes.

I have never been in this particular in-between place, of having eggs but not IN me-- having embryos but not IN me, this is the oddest possible thing.

things are amazing here at Squam, paint under my fingers and got the hell out of my own way. made some messes, and some beauty. Both by accident, just like real life.

8!!!!!!!!!

Whoo hoo! 8 eggs! no idea anything else about them but

THEY EXIST

and I am simply thrilled

and relieved more than i can say

and scared that something bad will happen.

on a positive note, I came back to Squam and slept all afternoon,

and now, surrounded by beautiful creative people and am trying to pretend that I believe I belong.

amazing how this belonging thing, this fear of being an outsider, bites me in the ass even in my older age.

off to eat and celebrate.

thank you for your sweet notes, I look forward to reading them now that I found wifi!!!