Hold Please

You know how sometimes, when you make a phone call, someone promptly answers but then somewhat unexpectedly asks you to please hold?

At first you say “sure, no problem”, expecting it will (hopefully) only be a couple of minutes. The elevator music in the background is somewhat amusing, however you still wonder to yourself what sane person would have such lame taste in music.

After a few minutes, the elevator music starts to go from amusing to annoying. No one has come back on the line yet, but you don’t want to hang up for fear of calling back and being placed on hold again. What if you’re mere seconds from being answered?

A few more minutes go by and you start think this is getting ridiculous. Have they forgotten I am on hold, here? And would you please turn this ridiculous music off?

Finally, after long enough you just hang up the phone, too annoyed to speak politely to whatever customer-service-person-who-probably doesn’t-like-their-job-much-anyway answers the phone. For now you have other things to do, you’ll call back later.

I guess I finally got tired of being on hold.

When Bryan shared his most recent sperm count news, I’ll admit I was a little less than thrilled at first – only because this meant changing plans for a second time, once again when I finally got used to Plan B. And the transition time that it took to adjust from Plan A to Plan B was probably longer than it should have been. I expected the same results adjusting to Plan C (keep waiting) but something clicked or set differently in my brain this time around, and suddenly I no longer cared to pin down a Plan D (when will we do the IVF).

Perhaps Bryan’s normal SA accounts for some of this – in all the time we’ve been trying I’m not sure we’ve ever had a normal amount of sperm to work with, so it seems silly to spend all that money without seeing if our own bodies can do the job. Maybe I finally got tired of planning. Maybe I just finally sub consciously realized that it’s really out of my control. Whatever the reason, before I left for Ohio I finally decided to hang up, so to speak. I told him to go ahead and use some savings to build the fence we’ve been putting off forever because we didn’t know if we’d need the money. I realized when I got back from my trip that I’d made it through the whole weekend without obsessing about fertility.

I attended a baby shower and genuinely ooohed and ahhhed over the cute baby clothes without wondering when I’d have my own. We went out and had a few drinks without my worrying about how much we were spending. We’ve talked about refinishing the floors (gasp, spending more money) downstairs, getting a storm door, or just doing a few of the smaller things around the house we’ve been wanting to do since we bought it a year and a half ago.

When I got home from Ohio, Bryan had built me a fence:

And I don’t regret the decision to spend the money one bit. It’s been freeing. I’m thinking about a small trip we can take this summer and maybe I’ll take one of those PTO days I’ve been saving. Maybe I’ll get my hair done or get a pedicure.  For now, I have no idea when Plan D will take place.

And for now that is ok. I have hung up the phone. I’m going to enjoy life for a bit, and I’ll call back later.

An Ode to (Silly) Irrational Fears

I’ve noticed a few ridiculous neuroses lately:

1. A few weeks ago after my last 10k, I wrote about that fact that I learned of my own poor running form. At the advice of the nice guy selling shoes (though perhaps he just wanted me to buy new shoes) I googled running form and found this New Balance Website on Good Form Running.

Basically there are four steps involved: posture, cadence, midfoot, and lean. After studying the videos, I decided to try my hand at this new fangled running form, and found that the mid foot wasn’t as difficult as I feared, but did take a good bit of concentration. I’ve also been reading Born To Run, which, in short, says that all humans were born to run (hence the title) and that the invention of super cushioned, pronation controlled shoes has actually INCREASED injuries rather than decrease them. It also advocates for barefoot running, or at the very least, a shoe with very little cushioning. (read the book runners, seriously).

Anyway, the interesting thing about this is that it turns out most runners are doing it wrong and striking on the heel (which, according to the book, is mostly due to the shoe – because if you run barefoot you automatically are forced to use better form in order to protect your feet and use the most padded part), but suddenly I’m finding myself all self conscious about my running style, peeking over my shoulder periodically while on the treadmill at the gym, wondering who  might be staring at me and wondering what the heck I am doing. Perhaps because it partially feels awkward (old habits die hard), but mostly because I feel like I look funny. It’s as if I need a running disguise.

You can’t see me

Clearly I sometimes care too much about what other people think. However, I’m still working on the mid foot strike.

2. Bryan went on one of the more recent trips to the grocery store by himself, and I had asked him to pick up some hair spray. He, unknowingly (though he does pay attention because he did get me the right brand) grabbed the “flexible hold” hairspray, which to me reads: fluffy hair. However, because I don’t want to waste it, I’ve been using it and have had this immense fear of fluffy hair.

In case you don’t know, I have insanely curly hair. It has a tendency, when untamed, to become quite frizzy. Mousse and hairspray are my staple items, neither of which I could live without without an impending panic attack. Those two things, plus chapstick, would send me on a run to a 24 hour drugstore if discovered missing.  If I don’t spray enough hair spray into my hair when the day starts, I spend all day fearing fluff head:

this is actually a tame version

If too fluffly, I’ll refuse to leave my house without fixing it first, so that I might encounter

3. The ball.

I’ve played softball on and off for 20 years. (ugh I sound old). And you know what? I’m afraid of the ball.

Which is why I play outfield or first base, because very few ground balls get hit to first, and outfield balls usually slow down after hitting the grass. For whatever reason (because its never actually happened to me) I have this fear that its going to hit some rock, bounce up and smack me in the chin.

I dunno why the chin.

And yes, I continue to still play softball. I just try to stay out of the war zones.

And sometimes have a glass of wine first.

It’s kinda ridiculous.

 My heart beats a thousand times

I forgot my hairspray

And that means a run to the store

Or I won’t go out today

I could go for a run except

I’ve begun to change my stride

And I think you might be staring at me

At the treadmill by my side

I put myself in the outfield

Avoiding the “fear of the ball” curse

My stupid fears will make me nuts

Unless I shoot them first

Hurry Up and Wait

I was a nerd in high school.

I’m on the top left

Actually, I’m still a nerd, but that’s totally not the point. That picture up there is my senior year of high school colorguard. Luckily, we were not required to wear those hideous uniforms all 4 years, but wore them for “senior day” and performed part of our freshman halftime show. We nicknamed them the smurf suits if I remember correctly. (They were this weird pants suit with a half skirt that we often held over our heads as a ridiculous semi-cape) We were a competition band and I loved it (nerd). Marching band consisted of a lot of “hurry up and wait” i.e. hurry the heck up and make sure you are totally ready, but we aren’t actually performing for 2 more hours, so then you have to wait.

This is what infertility is starting to feel like.

Who am I kidding? Starting to is the understatement of the decade. I’ve been “ready” forever, but somehow it feels as though I’m never done waiting. For the next RE appointment,for the next time to ovulate, for the next time to count down the days hoping but trying not to hope too hard so you won’t be too disappointed when you find out you have to keep waiting.

One of the things I’ve sort of “prided” myself on has been my ability to maintain somewhat of a sense of humor through all of this madness. I’m finding it harder to keep in touch with recently. I felt positive about news of our tax refund and its’ ability to help us finance this IVF, but it appears that we have hit yet another financial roadblock. I know I’ve mentioned previously my tendency to have “catastrophe brain”, and it seems to be working on overdrive.

What doesn’t make sense to me is the fact that it was *my* decision and *I* decided to wait.

Welcome to the Wide World of Ridiculous Infertility Emotions, starring: me, directed by: my crazy emotional brain.

Act One/Scene One:

Yes I understand emotionally, financially and logically the benefit of waiting

Act One/Scene Two:

I’m annoyed, impatient, bitter and jealous and I don’t want to wait anymore.

Act Two/Scene One:

It’s not a big deal

Act Two/Scene Two:

It is a big deal.

rinse/repeat

The End

No autographs, please.

Also, I am officially diagnosing myself with Infertility Induced Bipolar Disorder. (IIPD)

Sometimes Ignorance is Bliss

I thought I had it all figured out.

It took me months to really wrap my head around the IVF and accept the fact that the next large chunk of money was going to be put towards this. Not new floors. Not a vacation. Not to paying off my car.

It took me a couple of weeks to finally decide that I wanted to go for the multi-cycle plan, just in case. I made phone calls about financing. I talked it over with Bryan. A few days ago, I paid off the balance on my credit card so I could use it to pay for the cycles. (Amongst all options, it turns out this was the best one)

I felt better. Not wonderful, but better. Still nervous but mostly ready.

Then Bryan comes home from his appointment with the endocrinologist at the VA.

For those of you who didn’t know, he has been taking HCG shots 3x per week in attempt to stimulate sperm growth from the 0 sperm count he had several months ago. At this point, he’s hovering between 6-9 million. Not enough for natural conception or an IUI, but plenty for an IVF. What we don’t know is if the HCG actually helped produce the sperm, or if it was the result of natural recovery.

First, the endocrinologist apparently asked Bryan if I was pregnant yet. With 6 million sperm? Hardly. He wants to add FSH shots to the mix, supposedly to skyrocket his sperm count to within fertile limits (HAHA, I write WFL to mean within functional limits on my kiddo’s evaluations, but this one makes WFL mean something totally different). Bryan hands me this study when I got home a couple of days ago on the effectiveness of FSH on sperm growth and ability to conceive, claiming the endo told him we could reasonably expect to be pregnant “by April or May”.

He expected me to be excited, but mostly I just felt overwhelmed. I had a plan in place. I was starting the countdown to the start of my next cycle and day one of the process. I would be excited if I KNEW it would work, its never that simple:

1. In this study, the median time it took to conceive was 2.3 years. Bryan claims his endo believes that he is at the same place as these men were at the 2 year mark. I am not sure what the basis is for this – except I guess that he has some sperm now.
2. This type of treatment is only effective if Bryan was fertile before he started the shots. We don’t know if he was because he never had an SA prior to starting testosterone way back when, and have no way of knowing at this point.
3. In this study, only 50% were pregnant at the 10 month point. Maybe it could work but I don’t have the patience for 10+ months anymore.  Plus that’s only 50%.
4. His hormone levels are currently normal. The RE told us that with hormone levels that are normal, adding more of the same hormone probably won’t make a big difference. However, his levels WERE low before.
5. Our issues are not 100% male factor. With PCOS, albeit mild, and a blocked tube, there are my issues to consider also.
6. It appears that the best response to sperm production was in the 2^nd cycle of treatment. If I read correctly, one cycle = 6 months. So while the endo thinks we are a mere couple months away, statistics seem to show a longer period.

The thing that sticks in my head more than anything is, when Bryan told the endo I wanted to pursue IVF, his response was “that’s stupid”.

I’m glad I wasn’t there, because I would have wanted to poke him in the eye.

Truthfully, I have so far put much more weight on the words of the RE. However, Bryan had a point I couldn’t totally refute: why hadn’t he put me on the metformin earlier, and not just right before we had planned to pursue an IVF? He does get paid to do these procedures. I’m not saying I no longer trust my RE, but it was something to think about.

Now, 2 weeks before we are set to start, I am back to square one. While Bryan has said he will do whatever I want to do (which makes him wonderful but also no help at all), I know he would prefer to give the FSH a couple of months. His endo seems convinced we are a mere few months away from achieving pregnancy on our own. I am skeptical. But it now feels almost financially irresponsible to not give it a shot. Logically, I understand that waiting a couple more months wouldn’t be a big deal. I’m young enough, and plenty of people don’t even start trying till they are over 30. Emotionally, I’m not there. Emotionally, I am still waiting for the IVF.

I keep looking for signs or something on what to decide. I remember once feeling confident we would eventually conceive naturally. I keep wondering what if the endo is right? What if my original confidence was really right? I keep thinking about the period of time when I somewhat crazily paid 3 online baby psychics to tell me when I would get pregnant. One of them said April, and said she noticed no issues with Bryan, which to me implies a natural pregnancy. I can’t help but think, if we waited, could that be true? I found myself dreaming of vacations and new floors again.

I don’t want to fail to mention that I paid two others (yes, I know, don’t say it) who both predicted this past July, and were obviously both wrong.

Seriously? I’m partially basing a life decision on a woman to whom I paid $12 to make a prediction based on a picture because it might be some sort of sign??

Just institutionalize me now.

Pic Credit

Sometimes I think waiting it out a bit longer isn’t a big deal. But then I see a baby or someones pictures of their newborn and then it feels like much longer. On the other hand, when we discussed IVF at Christmas, the start of the process felt like an eternity away, and the time flew.

Sigh. I think I’ll go for a run now.