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Wow.  That’s all I can say right now…just…wow.  I was completely bowled over by the outpouring of support from everyone.  It’s so amazing to have this community throw its collective arms around you to let you know you’re not alone.  I don’t posses the writing skills to appropriately express what that meant to me.  Thank you to LFCA for the post and for allowing us to all connect in a better way.  You are all priceless.  Thank you a million times over.

So…it’s been a long time.  There was lots of crying, lots of emotional bargaining, lots of anger, lots of sadness.  There was an arduous two-week waiting period for a natural miscarriage that never came about.  There was the eventual D&C.  Then right after that there was the HUUUUGE misunderstanding about a Rho.GAM shot, its overall need and implications after a D&C.  (The nutshell version of which is: I am o negative/RE nurses called morning after D&C saying DH needs to get blood test ASAP/ I need this shot ASAP or my body could develop antibodies that will kill off any future pregnancies/We have a keystone cops misunderstanding about how blood test will happen/I have a mental breakdown/DH takes over and I get my shot the next morning…aaaand scene. ) I took medical leave off from work which was the BEST decision ever.  I read about so many women who took two weeks off and went back to work.  I give them my sincerest props.  I know me and I sure knew I would need more time than that.  The few days before I took off I almost lost my mind at work.  Literally almost had a mental breakdown.  I was also right in the middle of finals at school.  So, yeah, no pressure.

I think that’s one of the big things I learned over the past few months:

Know your limits.  I could feel myself breaking down.  I knew I was mentally fraying…emotionally just not able to cope.  I had held on and tried to fight through for so long that having the rug tugged out and dealing with the aftermath was new territory I was not prepared for.  Even though I thought I had it under control…I didn’t.  I honestly thought work would be a distraction.  Wrong. I thought I didn’t deserve to take six weeks off.  Wrong.  Work and certain bonehead co-workers were poison. The time off was required.

It gave me time to re-evaluate and to gather myself.  I slept…a lot!  I cooked.  I cried. Cuddled with hubby. Slept more.  Retooled my résumé.  Went to the salon.  Cuddled with hubby AND doggie.  Got my nails done. Went to visit my family out west…which was a panacea in some ways and in other ways a ring of fire I needed to walk through.   All in all, the time off was a great decision. Not just for the physical recovery from the D&C, but the mental recovery from a solid marathon of fertility treatments and procedures.  Even though I am not thrilled with my job at all, they were very understanding and supportive.  In the end,  it’s a job.  It’s not a great job, it’s not right for me, but I need to bite the bullet so we can afford all this insanity.

I also learned after all of this….I can be a tough bitch when I need to be.  Nothing like finding out you are going to miscarry your first pregnancy and then going to ace a final exam that same night.   Nothing like putting on a smile in public when you see those pregnant ladies sashay by in their cute, yellow maternity tops.  You give that look that says  “Aww, look at you!” while you feel like a useless, steaming pile of shit.  Hey, fake it ’till ya make it.  I’ve made it through surgeries, procedures, treatments, shots and blood draws, good news and bad…and I’m still standing.


I am doing better.  It’s still so hard sometimes.  If I let myself think about it, the tears come so easy. I think it’s a healthy mix of avoiding it sometimes or facing it as the flood of emotions come and go.  But, I have a squeaky clean resume.  Some college credit under my belt.  Hubby and I are eating better and started running together on the days I don’t have classes.  We are working hard and moving forward.

Now, we are here.

I have one more FET.  Four totsicles to transfer.  AF is here…that horrible ho.  I start BCP’s tomorrow and have a tentative FET date of October 13th.

Thanks again to each one of you wonderful, inspirational ladies!  To those of you who have had losses…my deepest and most sincere sympathies.  You have all bravely shared your journeys, shared your advice your success and your pain…you have helped me understand that none of us, not one of us, is alone.  From the bottom of my heart…Thank You.


The Friday afternoon after my negative beta I got drunk.

I got drunk by myself.

I got drunk on a bottle of Prosecco, ate a whole platter of Spanikopita, sat my fat, drunk ass down and watched an episode of “The Jersey Shore”.  This, I have to say…helped. For an hour or so my life seemed pretty ok compared to these Empire State imposters acting the fool and getting all drun-….ok.  Nevermind. 

I started AF on Sunday.  She came on like a bounty hunter and my pride was the prize.  I almost forgot how my body fails me when she’s in town.  The diaper pads, the gas, the pain, the cramps, the flow from hell!!  CHRIST ON A CRACKER  it’s always so DISGUSTING!!  Plus, I’m such a mental patient I refuse to wear a tampon.  Like I’m being some au-natural forest pixie or something. Like I didn’t just down 25 ounces of fermented grapes.  Like it’s gonna help.  Riiiiiiight.

In all honesty, I’m glad she’s here at last because this starts our next round on the FET wheel of fate.  This is when I grab hold of that peg like some glassy-eyed contestant on the “Price is Right”, rock back on my heels and give it another spin. 

Oh boy, do I hope we land on double pink this time around.

Starting BCP’s tomorrow.

"I'm Confused"

It’s been a confusing few days here.  Regardless of me stopping BCPs on Tuesday and taking my 20 units of Lupron nightly, the bleeding has not eased the way I hoped it would.  I called Dr.’s office on Friday and left message for a nurse to call me back.  I never got a call.  This frustrated me…a lot.

I finally just sat down with Chris and tapped out an email to my Dr. and shot it over as a last resort.  I didn’t want to call his service as I am not in pain, I needed direction.  Just to indicate how much my RE rocks…he wrote me right back.  Eased my mind and basically explained what he thinks the deal is here:


         In a nutshell…he thinks my uterus is confused. 

I have been instructed to stop Lupron and begin taking BCPs 2x a day for at least 1-2 weeks.  Apparently, after starting this, my bleeding should stop in a few days.  If it does not, then that might mean the endometrial lining is thicker than it should be and we might have to take further action more quickly.


So that’s the deal.  We are frustrated at our circumstances but we are also comfortable with the knowledge that we are in the right hands.  I wish this weren’t happening.  I wish we could move on our transfer date as scheduled, but patience is once again the only thing on the menu…and I’m not really in the mood to eat. 

Oh well, time to work up an appetite.

"Idealism is what precedes experience, cynicism is what follows.” - David Wolf

Re: Two weeks of bleeding.  Ok…So…Talked to Dr.’s office today.  Went from being totally cancelled to back on the regular schedule.  They originally wanted me to double up my BCPs to hopefully stop bleeding and to totally stop the Lupron.  Then the nurse called me back and told me to hang tight.  So, I waited and finally got the call to just take today’s and tomorrow’s BCPs as usual along with the 20 units of Lupron.  Oook.  So we are back on…for now.  TBD.  Tentative.  Totally have no idea.  Possible cancellation in near future.  Who knows.  Whatever. 

They don’t know if it is a level imbalance, a late menstrual release or something else…but I guess we just continue and will see.  I would have thought they would want me to come in for some blood work or an u/s, but according to the nurse, my chart and timing, of all of this could just be a anomaly that may wind down with the absence of the BCPs. 

I still have a pit in my stomach that this transfer is going to be the longest running joke in our lives.


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July 2020


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