We went today for baseline bloodwork and ultrasound monitoring.
I must be crazy because I really thought it would be no big deal. I've done the bloodwork a thousand times now and I can practically perform my own ultrasounds.
If were just that, it would have been fine. But somehow in imagining how this morning would go, I failed to consider the emotional impact of being back at my clinic and back in the IVF saddle again.
Why my reaction surprises me is in itself puzzling (I'm, um, a psychologist, so I'm supposed to have a pretty decent read on my own feeling states), but being there, breathing in the desperate anticipation of the other women - who somehow managed to make it through a major blizzard to crowd the waiting room by 7:45 AM, seeing a woman clutching her ultrasound with its little gestational sac plainly visible, hearing my doctor come out of another room where he'd clearly just done an IUI insemination, well, it all just about did me in.
I thought I was going to throw up. I looked bad enough that the tech asked me if I was all right.
Me, all right? Why no, actually, I'm not all right.
Just being in this place - reliving our five pregnancies, our five subsequent losses, facing my fear that we will never have a child who lives - makes me want to rip my own head off. But, ahem, that's not socially acceptable, so I'll just go out into the waiting room and take it out on Will, who is having his own very hard time with all of this. Why we aren't always able to comfort each other with consistency during the hardest parts of this is another mystery. Something we're working on, but need to work on fast.
Because (gulp) we're back here again. We're doing this. We waded through more than a foot of snow to make it in for this morning's monitoring.
Why is it that all I feel is dread about cycling again rather than the nervous excitement I used to feel?
IVF #6 here we come.
Mo
((HUGS))
ReplyDeletehugs to you, nothing wise to add, but, I too remember feeling that way.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could say something that would help but I just remembering feeling like I didn't know why I was doing IVF #6 since I felt like it would never happen. By #6 it is so hard to have hope. I am going to hold on to hope for you.
ReplyDeleteLast year I was filled with that same dread instead of hope. I was like "let's get this over with and move on." Obviously, we never know. I am sending tons of hope your way.
ReplyDeleteHang in there girly. I always feel better in the middle of it all because i feel like I am doing something productive. I've been through 4 IVF cycles...but never had miscarriages....so I'm sure that is a whole other ball game. Stay strong! *hugs*
ReplyDeleteI can only guess what starting IVF #6 must feel like, after only 1, in the midst of more IUI cycles than I care to count. Yeah...it's hard to get that enthusiasm going.
ReplyDeleteIt's all so incredibly stressful. Thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI understand. Blood draws, IVs, and even the shots were so much harder this last time. In fact, blood draws were down right tramatic.
ReplyDeleteIt was weird because I am not a needle phobic person at all.
Totally a new and "fun" experience.
I can only imagine with all that you've been through that the stress would be overwhelming. My thoughts are with you!
ReplyDeleteOh man. For some reason this image - "seeing a woman clutching her ultrasound with its little gestational sac plainly visible" - really stopped me in my tracks.
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine how you must be feeling. It sucks, but it makes perfect sense. I know it doesn't help, but know that I'm cheering you on as much as I possibly can!
Aww sweetie, I know just what you mean.... you pin hope on something for so many times that it wears thin like an old pair of socks.
ReplyDeleteHang in there, and know I will be here hoping that this time you are rewarded in the greatest way possible for your perserverance.
BTW, I am glad that you decided to not rip your head off... not much good a a kid if you are headless are you??!! :o)
Hugs,
Erica
I've felt that way before after losses, or after having some space from it for awhile. It seems to dissipate a bit in following appointments. I am sorry you had to feel that way. I am a psychologist too, and IVF emotions sometimes smack me in the face when I am least expecting it. I feel like I should be smarter.... :P BTW- it's great you have so many books here on the side for people to see.
ReplyDeleteI wish you luck in your upcoming cycle...
- Jess
http://jesstutt.blogspot.com
I am sorry about all the overwhelming emotions. Just know you are not going through this alone. If you need to vent to someone who is having the very same experience. Just come to my blog and vent. We are about to enter the realm of TTC with help again also.
ReplyDeleteMo,
ReplyDeleteI am a lurker here reading for awhile. We have severe MF and after 2 fresh cycles and a frozen (not in that order), we have a son and a little girl on the way.
I just wanted to let you know how much I admire your courage and strength and how badly I want this to happen for you and Will.
Kelley
I'm so sorry about these feelings you are having and that you are going through all of this. It's so scary to start all over again when you have been let down so many times. I'm so hoping that you get your dream out of all of this. Hang in there and I hope nothing but the best for you.
ReplyDeleteHugs and Support for you, Mo.
ReplyDeletePTSD. It sucks and I'm so sorry you are enduring it. I've had my share of it too, I often think it would make a great clinical study - measuring symptoms of PTSD in patients dx with IF. I predict it would be sky high in many of us.
ReplyDeleteAgain, I'm sorry this brings up all the past, but I am hopeful for you moving forward. ((((HUGS))))
why?....because no one should have to deal with the crap you have. Hang in there. {hugs}
ReplyDelete*hugs* to you, Mo.
ReplyDeleteHere from Cycle Sista. I'm just a day behind you in my my cycle (going in for a baseline tomorrow morning).
I'm so sorry for the trauma you're experiencing. The grief. The fear. The exhaustion. I'll be figuratively holding your hand over the next couple weeks.
Here's hoping for a miracle for both of us.
Mo I'm praying and keeping everything crossed that IVF 6 is THE one for you...
ReplyDeletexx
I remember the terror well. So sorry you are going through it. You just have to have faith that this WILL be the cycle. This time I went into it with all kinds of hope and so far it i working for me. I hope that your cycle will be as successful. Good luck. Sending prayers your way!
ReplyDeleteAh hell. I'm so sorry the excitement isn't there for you guys right now. I'm not surprised, but I'm sorry. And I hope that as the cycle progresses, it gets easier. Looking forward to seeing you on Sunday. We can slurp decaf and be bitter and angry and morbidly funny. Fun will be had!
ReplyDeleteBoy do I know those feelings well!! I am gearing up for IVF #5 - after some more tests and I am already having anxiety, night sweats and nightmares!!
ReplyDeleteBreathe!!!! Pause and breathe again!!
I am in the snowstorm too... My hubby and I wandered the streets of the Lower East side today - an adventure of a certain kind- a change from the uncertain adventure of F-ing infertility.
I am hoping and hoping some more that THIS is YOUR time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Breathe, pause, breathe again.....
I LOVE your blog!!
...just thinking of you during this time.
ReplyDeleteI sure hope this is it for you. Hope you had great results on the baseline monitoring.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you. Not easy at all - just take it step by step. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteOh, Mo! Understanding PTSD doesn't mitigate feeling it. It just sucks. Knowing all you have riding on this cycle must make it so much harder emotionally. Really hoping the wizards in Denver can help pull this off for you. xoxo
ReplyDeleteI'm a psychologist, too (same kind you are, if I read correctly), and I am always amazed at when that utterly fails to be helpful in this journey. I totally get the trauma and the shock of seeing other women's USs- I expect the same when we go back in for our consultation on Monday. Nevertheless, kudoes to you for being there. One foot in front of the other- the only way to get through anything, really. Fingers crossed.
ReplyDeleteI haven't been where you are, but the despair and the trauma is palpable. Being a psychologist means that you can help other people with their feelings - but it doesn't mean that you're not immune to being tuned out to your own.
ReplyDeleteThat experience at the clinic sounds horrible. Sometimes i think it's ONLY because there is no sane alternative that we keep going instead of going crazy. Having said that, I am reminded that I dreamt about throwing a whole dining room full of plates last night - and boy did it feel good!
Sending love and hope to you both :)
Hugs. I can easily understand how/why it would get hard to support each other ... honestly, I got very little support from my DH through this process (and went through far less than you have), but fortunately was able to find it elsewhere? Not to downplay the importance and value of mutual support, but there can be other workable approaches, at least sometimes.
ReplyDeleteI so hope this is the one for the two of you.
((more hugs))
ReplyDeleteOne of my RE's (two) exam rooms just evoked so many hard memories after a while. Cancelled cycles and miscarriages... hard memories. But it was also the room where we FINALLY saw two beating hearts, which are now wiggly babies still thriving inside me.
I so hope this is it for you, Mo. I'm cheering you on.
Oh Mo.
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry for all you've been through.
I have not had RPL, but I have gone through five failed IVFs, which is a fairly exclusive sucky club. On our last one we just sort of went through it in a semi-fog, and actually celebrated all of the 'lasts' because we swore it was our last and at least that was something we could hold onto. But I remember going back into the CCRM waiting room, a place I said I'd never ever be after our spectacular failing at CCRM on IVF #4, and getting all weirded out. Actually, it started at the airport, when I was flying out by myself ahead of my DH, and I was so nauseated, so overcome with the fear that I almost just walked out of the airport.
I'm babbling here, but know that I get some of this. Not all of it, but some of it.
Hugs.
Just sending strength your way. Serious strenght & support --
ReplyDeleteI hope this time that it is your time.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete"Why we aren't always able to comfort each other with consistency during the hardest parts of this is another mystery." Maybe it's because sometimes it's difficult enough to keep your own head above water during this process, much less someone else's, even when that someone else is someone you love very much.
ReplyDeleteR and I sometimes have to rely on our friends to be our support system, because it's just too much for us to be each other's at some points. That's been particularly true as we've grieved our losses. I can't bear to add my grief to his pain, and his grief on top of my pain would just be too much for me to handle - I would buckle under it. I've literally called up his best friend and said "I need you to be there for him, because I can't right now."
Ooo darlin, I have been there. (((HUGS))))
ReplyDeleteI do think it feels harder after multiple tries, as you carry your past with you. Sending you care, don't forget to have you and Will take care of yourselves.
ReplyDelete