A Delay of Plans

A pair of hopeful Christmas ornaments, symbolizing my wish for 2017.

We were supposed to start our first IVF cycle this week. The skin below my belly button should be tender from needle pricks, and I should be even more hormonal and emotional than usual.

We should be on our way to finally, hopefully, maybe making our dream come true.

BUT.

Lest we forget the hallmark of infertility: Waiting. Always more waiting.

For the past two months, since the beginning of November, I have worked feverishly to get everything checked off our pre-IVF to-do list, with the ultimate goal of starting our first round in January. My nurse case manager said that wasn't an unreasonable goal, if I was motivated. And I was.

Aside from the usual blood draws and physical evaluations, the list included watching nearly 2 hours of online education modules to learn about mixing and administering my medication (definitely some cringe-worthy moments there!), attending an in-person injection workshop, reading and signing a stack of consent forms, obtaining price quotes and applying to available discount programs for my medications, and applying for a loan to help fund the whole crazy-expensive process called IVF.

Yet, as we inched closer to our anticipated start date of Jan. 14, it felt like we were racing against a clock that was precariously dangling above my ever-faster graying head. (Those suckers just keep taking up residency in new roots day after day.) I had outstanding questions for my nurses and doctors and responses were not coming in their usual lightning-speed fashion. (Isn't that always the way when you're in a serious time crunch?) And suddenly we were faced with the reality of paying a loan "security deposit," of sorts, on top of loan documentation fees, on top of thousands in medications — all at the same time.

I could feel it but didn't want to admit it; the timing just wasn't working out. We were going to have to postpone. It was a week into January and we were finally taking down our Christmas tree when I spontaneously burst into tears and cried out to Greg: "Is this really going to happen? Are we going to do IVF or not? I just need to know."

I was worried for my fragile emotional state. Preparing to launch into something so huge, so costly, slightly painful, and potentially unsuccessful in the end is enough of a burden without being unsure if you really are going to take the leap... and when. I needed us to be steadfast. Committed. Unwavering in our decision and undeterred. Not to mention I had this nagging feeing of "what will people think?" since I had confided in a few work friends as well as told my managers about our plans.

The straw that broke the camel's back was a phone call from our RE. A bit perplexed by a discrepancy in two test results, she wants us to try something for a few weeks that could, if successful, save us from spending an additional $1,800. This news shook me out of my denial and forced me to concede. We'd have to wait until February.

There are still a few loose ends to tie up and it's not going to be easy, but for the moment I am trying to find the positives in being afforded this extra time (like that optimistic spin?) and I'm looking forward to a productive month of LOVE.

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Our TTC Story

My husband Greg and I knew we wanted to have children right away. In fact, when my birth control pills ran out a couple weeks before our wedding in May 2014, I didn’t even bother to refill the prescription. When the topic of having kids came up, we had already told a few close friends and family members we hoped to be pregnant by the end of that year.

Of course, life doesn’t always go as planned, and we were flexible. When my best friend got engaged two months before our wedding, I decided we should hold off on the baby-making. I didn’t necessarily want to be a pregnant maid of honor and, more importantly, I wanted to be able to fully participate in all of my friend’s pre-wedding celebrations just as she had been able to for mine. Feeing a tiny bit impatient, we only casually started trying (read: not preventing) in December 2014, about three months before my bestie’s big day, and then slowly began ramping up our efforts in February 2015.

If you’re doing the math, that’s two years now that we’ve been TTC — trying to conceive. Two years since I entered the land of “alphabet soup,” as my dad would call it. By June 2015, I was fully immersed: From checking and charting my BBT (basal body temperature) the moment I woke up to paying attention to the status of my CM (ahem, cervical mucus)… I tried OPKs (ovulation predictor kits) a few times to further help with timing BD (baby dancing!) but they mostly left me frustrated and confused. 

Oh, and I can’t forget the dreaded 2WW (two week wait) before taking an at-home pregnancy test, only to ever receive a BFN (big fat negative) and then, usually the next day, AF (Aunt Flo). The amount of acronyms swimming around in this skull is, well, mind boggling. 

I read Taking Charge of Your Fertility — what is akin to the fertility bible — cover to cover in a day, and ordered several more books that seemed to promise answers. I’m not typically such a voracious reader but I was thirsty for information, for a solution. 

It’s hard to explain but I just knew in my bones that something wasn’t right. And no amount of “just relax, it will happen” or “get drunk, that’s what we did!” was going to fix it. But we needed to wait the requisite one-year of trying unsuccessfully before reaching out to a reproductive endocrinologist (RE).

You can read a recap of our TTC journey thus far here (you’ll see the prevailing theme is lots of tests and lots of waiting). But to summarize, following several blood tests and procedures, including a diagnostic laparoscopy, we learned:

• I have endometriosis. I guessed as much based on my symptoms, but only a surgical procedure called a laparoscopy can officially diagnosis the disease. My doctor classified my endo as stage II or III.

• I have low AMH, or anti-Mullerian hormone, and a low antral follicle count, both of which are indicators of ovarian reserve. Essentially, my remaining egg supply is very low (about that of a 40-something woman) but, because I am just 31, the assumption is that the eggs I do have are of good quality. Related, my FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) is elevated, which means my body has to work harder to grow a follicle each month.

• A blood test also revealed that my TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) was higher than doctors would like it to be for someone trying to get pregnant. I’ve been on a low-dose thyroid medication for almost two months and my TSH has been brought down into the ideal range. I just have to keep taking the pill every day :)

Those are the main issues at play, and while it will be an uphill battle, I feel somewhat fortunate to at least know why I am struggling to get pregnant since there are others who are simply diagnosed with “unexplained” infertility. (I can only imagine the additional frustration that brings to the infertility journey!) Knowing what we are up against makes me feel ready to fight and, hopefully, beat the odds.

Recently, our current RE, Dr. Willman, called us with some test results and it was not exactly good news. Greg expressed to our doctor how difficult and defeating it is to constantly be presented with new roadblocks as we attempt to move forward. Now, what I appreciate most about Dr. Willman is that she’s typically very direct and matter-of-fact. She doesn’t have the warmest bedside manner — she’s not one to spout off encouraging words to make you feel better — and yet, in that moment, she said just what my wounded heart needed to hear:

“I believe that one day, I will be calling you with good news.”

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