The Lupron Diaries

Been emailing myself symptoms daily, with hopes to help out anyone who will be taking Lupron in the future. Keep in mind that most hormones and injectable exacerbate emotions or feelings that are already dormant - or not so dormant- inside of you and reactions will vary. I have not found this drug to be too horrible. *

*For those unfamiliar, Lupron(Leuprorelin) increases testosterone in the initial weeks of use and essentially causes the female body to believe it is in menopause. So the cycle is interrupted and the goal is for there to be no period, so that you can then go on to inject more hormones to make the body ovulate, etc etc (don't worry, you'll all hear all about the later injections...later).

Day one: Could not do it. Needles never bothered me until I had to do it myself. Husband did it in seconds flat. I think he gets a sick pleasure out of being able to stick me with a needle, no matter how tiny.

 Day two: Stuck myself. Quick and no problem. Partially because husband was sleeping and also bc I'd had no coffee yet....no time to think. Feeling a little anxious but could be PMSish or the rainy weather or just the situation itself. 

Day 3: Woke up a little late as it is Saturday, husband assures me it's not a big deal to take the shots an hour or so apart here and there. Stumbled into kitchen, shot my tummy. Last night I woke up feeling hot and with a sharp pain in stomach but fell immediately back to sleep. Not sure if I'm feeling a placebo effect or this is starting. I'm not going to say that's it's not that bad because that is a surefire way to wake up in excruciating pain tonight.

Day 3 update update - more picking on hub this afternoon. His Offense- he left clutter. In my defense- he has been home and out of work for two months. Two full, long, months. 

Day 4- so hungry. Bought Entenmann's donuts and raspberry strudel (only bc they were BOGO free) donuts are almost all gone. Still hungry. Husband is encouraging me to snack on carrots. Fuck. That. Shit 

Day 5- Jittery, tired.  Irritable.  Could easily just be me.

Day 6- Tired. Irritable

6still - feeling warm but not bad bc I'm usually always cold

6 cont- tired. So tired

Day 7- Headache.

Day 8- emotional. Not even 10am and already teared up twice. One at a Pharma commercial.

Day 8 cont- headache, day 2. I'm a migraine person so it's not the worst that could happen by any means. 

Day 9- Soooo tired. Not sure if due to  week of rain or meds. How's it possible to be SO anxious with racing heart and yet soo exhausted. Cannot wait to go home and be lazy. Not even 10am yet.

I think my boobs are getting sore, is that supposed to happen?

Day 9- Welcome back, headache. Not really, you ugly little cunt. 

Day 10 - so much anxiety. Also tried to go to local fair but preggosEVERYWHERE.

Night 10- Oh, what do you know? headache. And boobs are definitely a smidge sore. Not PMS sore, but a smidge sore. God I hope they grow during all of this. 

Day 11midnight, or day 10 midnight? Let's say it's day 11, just after midnight. Got my period. Spent entire night freaking out because nurse told me that was not supposed to happen. No sleep because of freak out. Call nurse at open and she assures me I'm on perfect track to be seen tomorrow for bloodwork and ultra sound as planned. Thanks a lot, first nurse. 

On no sleep and headache turns to migraine by noon, while I'm trying to help my dad celebrate Father's Day. It is full blown want to puke status by the time we make it to our second event of the day- a one year old birthday party. Did I mention I got no sleep?

Day 12- Tired. Start Gonal tonight. 

Well, now that I read that I sound like a whiny little bitch but it hasn't been as bad as I made it seem here, those were just the feelings at the exact second of the email. I went to work every day no problem, slept every night no problem (and took naps at work no problem) just a quick heartbeat here and there, usually in the first hour after the morning injections.

That Time I Almost Bawled My Eyes Out At the Nail Salon (Or, Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed In Public During Cycles)

I was going to write about the first few days of Lupron, but it'll have to wait a bit.

Background: I'm not a crier; I'd say I cry maybe four times a year, give or take. When I do cry though, it comes out like Niagara Falls because of all of the stuff I've been holding in since my last cry. This can be a blessing and a curse - great that I never had to worry about being labeled "crybaby" in school or "unstable" in the work place, or worse, "emotional" or "PMSing" by every dumbass male who sees a female cry more than once. Not so great when I want to make my husband feel guilty or when I don't want to look like an Asperger's case at a funeral. The largest consequence of my inability to cry is the above mentioned: waterworks central at inopportune times. 

Scene: Local nail salon. Went to get a pedi and it was fan-fucking-tastic. I just started feeling a little anxiety this morning and the massage chair and those little hands massaging my feet and legs were just what I needed. Perhaps it was because I was so blissed out that what happened next did unfold.

To dry, I was sat at the station next to a woman of about 50 and across from another who looked to be at least 70. We ended up chatting, which I usually tend not to do with strangers*, and the conversation somehow turned to children - as it often does between women. The 50 something started talking about her own son and I just started panicking about the inevitable "do you have any children?" that I knew was coming my way. Normally I will answer with a quick, "not yet" but today I just knew it wasn't going to come out that way. As the two older women continued to talk, I fought back tears as I pretended to listen and continued to fret over what I would say when the words "not yet" came out of my mouth, because I just knew that I would not be able to hold those tears back any more once I opened my mouth. 

I never in my life have fought tears back so hard. I've tried to force out, sure, but the idea of losing it in the middle of this bustling salon and the embarrassment of having to explain my struggles to strangers killed me inside. Somehow I believe the eldest woman saw something in my face, or perhaps she just tired of the talk, because she changed the subject and we soon were off on separate ways. Whatever it was that kept me from looking like an emotional, unstable, crybaby, PMSing mess in the middle nail salon, I am thankful yet weary of my ability to continue to keep it together during this journey. 

*This is the reason why I tend to stick to myself

Now Offering: Syringe Trade-In Service

I hate to curse myself with terms like "good news" but it looks like I will be starting a round this coming week (fingers crossed, barring no surprises*). Husband got into an appointment early and I pushed, I mean I stalked my clinic to get everything in under the gun. Lo and behold, the pharmaceutical distributor - which just so happens to be located about 20 minutes away - called and asked when I wanted my meds.

The package arrived, ice cold, despite coming off a truck that I'm fairly certain came from being parked in Hades all day, this evening and I'm oddly like a kid in a candy shop, laying out my meds and taking them out of their cute boxes and carefully tucking them back in and saying goodnight. The amount of syringes though? I feel almost guilty that there are junkies, poking the same rusty needle into their eye day after day** and I have enough syringes to keep Keith Richards supplied for a few days at least. 

                    Sadly, the nail polish was not included in my package. 

    Just happened to have the perfect sized container for the non-fridged stuff. I get way too excited for stuff like that; I had to stop myself from slapping stickers all over it. 

*Why is it that, when you become an adult, surprises stop being the fun kind?

**That is how being a junky works, right?

Outing The INfertiles

I have a few friends who I suspect may be having issues conceiving. With the only friends who I know for a fact are infertile, we just kind of accidentally found out. Is there any appropriate way to find out if these few couples are having trouble? I keep trying to think of like sneaky conversation starters like, "oh I want to visit China someday. Speaking of China, pandas have trouble conceiving." Or, "you guys like breakfast? Speaking of breakfast, how are your eggs?" 

I am not one to talk about my feelings or really about anything private. With anyone. My mom doesn't know what we're going through. I feel as though I can't expect other people to want share their intimate stuff especially if I don't so am I just reaching for straws? I feel lonely and isolated and it becomes clearer everyday that even the most compassionate of people cannot understand or give the appropriate support unless they have gone through infertility or had trouble conceiving. 

What have your experiences been with fellow infertiles? Or do you have couples you wonder about? How have you found out about them or how have others found out about you? 

I also just want attention because I have no news and nothing going and I figured there were others   in a similar spot. It sucks to not be able to contribute to conversations and to feel so selfish because you can't even feel happy for someone going through IVF because you're too jealous that you're not moving forward.

Whiny Anniversary

Today is my 4 year wedding anniversary....we spent the afternoon at our clinic. The drive home I swear we were the only non-minivan with stick family on the entire road (WHAT is the deal with those, btw? Are they just trying to be ironic now?).

 I spent a lot of the afternoon thinking about how it marks the official "4 year TTC" mark, along with all the things that I've done with my husband over these years. I almost led myself down the dark, evil path of thinking where we *could* be if we weren't infertile or where we *should* be if I had given in on trying to conceive on my own or called the RE and gone in the second I received the referral. Almost. Instead - and I think this is purely because I no longer contain the energy or emotions to think this way - I thought about the trips we'd had: London, Spain, multiple Caribbean, domestic trips with our families; the time I've spent getting to know my husband, the fights during which we screamed at each other and learned what buttons *not* to push anymore, and the loud, rowdy sex and all of the times in between the two extremes; and I even thought about the me time such as long walks with the dogs and laying on the local beaches, shopping, watching a movie in the middle of the day completely uninterrupted. Would I trade all of these for a child of my own? In less than a heartbeat I would. Do I regret not calling the RE quicker and "throwing in the towel" as I had thought of it at the time? Maybe, but we can't live our lives wallowing in regret and self loathing. 

I'd like to think that I have grown into a women much braver, smarter, and experienced - and of course more beautiful - than I was at 26. I will be able to teach a son or daughter so much more because of the trips and life lessons, and more importantly my husband and I will be able to demonstrate a healthy relationship thanks to the time we've spent together prior to the craziness of parenthood. 

Of course, most of this is just me trying to convince myself that everything is "ok" and that I must stop waiting for my life to begin with a pregnancy. It does help a bit though. 

I Need An Attitude Adjustment

I have become Bitchy McBitterson over the past few weeks and it's just not cool. Without getting too whiny or rant-y I will try to give a few of the lead contributing factors that have brought me to: giving a new mom a dirty look*, snap at women on social media**, and just have nasty thoughts and disposition in general. Where I was once a fairly rational person, I now allow rage to overtake reason and when the voice in my head tells me not to do something, I just can't listen. 

I'm pretty sure the main component to my new found disposition is that my husband has been recovering from surgery for over a month now. Nothing too drastic but enough that he's been home the entire time and is just this week beginning to do anything on his own - and I do mean anything. He is easily the worst patient you'll ever meet whereas I am not a very patient person*** and the scene has been tense to say the least. 

Due to said surgery, we have been unable to move forward in our conception journey. We now cannot start a cycle of IVF until at least mid-summer, which is sooo not what I was planning. So basically my life consists of working 12 hour days, coming home for second shift nursing, repeat; with nothing to even look forward to, no dates to block off on my calendar, no one to call when I'm Cycle Day 1. I find myself thinking of excuses to call my RE, just to remind him that I'm still alive. 

I also have not been sleeping. I know that this is a common problem for many but usually not for me. Perhaps it's because I haven't shared a bed with my husband for over a month but I really don't think so. If I'm good at anything, it's passing right out and snoozing until my godforsaken alarm wakes me (I'm also pretty awesome at convincing myself that the snooze button is friend, not the foe it really is and that 20 minutes is PLENTY of time- spoiler alert for anyone who wants to give that a whirl: it never is). Lately I'll toss and turn for hours, just thinking about how far off from where I wanted to be by 30. 

I like to think I'm fairly self-aware; I know I don't have things half as bad as many and should be thankful for what I have and usually I am, I really am. The weight of the infertility is just crushing me, and so much lies in the hands of appointments and end goals and working towards those that when they're not there, it's hard to see anything else....if that makes any sense at all. 


*I really did you guys, I don't know what made me do it, she was just walking past my house with her perfect little family of perfect husband, adorable toddler and newborn and when we caught eyes, I could not smile at her.

**So cowardly, so lame, and so not me. Also, so pointless! Different opinions are what make the world go round, even the idiotic ones. It reminds me of this comic that makes it's way round every few months in which a man is telling his wife he'll be coming to bed in "just a minute, someone is wrong on the internet".

***Match made in heaven, I know. 

Losing My Religion

Raised by a non-practicing Catholic and a WASP - both turned hippie turned Unitarian Universalist - my siblings and I were taught to think for ourselves, but that there were also times when having a higher power simply did wonders for your soul. The answer to life's problems were never to turn to prayer, but to turn to reason, discussion, action. However, when there were events beyond our control or we had seemingly tried all that was within our power to receive the results we wanted, my mother would tell us "let go and let God".

I've carried that philosophy through life and have found myself "praying" to God - or whomever - every night for years. Maybe it provides me with more therapy or peace of mind than anything else, but there were times when reminding myself to "let go and let God" was the only thing to get me through the following day. When I first realized that Husband and I were having trouble conceiving, I prayed and prayed and prayed on it. Having been raised in the UU church, I didn't discriminate to simply praying to a Christian God, I bought Hindu charms and Buddhist fertility bracelets, all in some desperate attempt to control the uncontrollable. Needless to say, none of them worked.

Fast forward a year or so to a few weeks ago, when I'm having another sleepless night, worried about insurance and Lupron shots and ultrasounds, etc. I began to fold my fingers together and turn to silent prayer. Usually at this time, as I tuck my hands under my chin, the thoughts just come flowing, asking for peace in life and to watch over and keep family healthy, but this night, nothing came. Emptiness save for the same thought repeating, "This is pointless. This is fucking pointless. It didn't work before, why would it work to pray for help with IVF now?" And that was it, my faith, whatever extent or form of it I had had, was gone. Is gone. And I feel empty and hopeless, knowing that the God I've been taught to let go my anxieties to has failed me.