Saturday, August 14, 2010

Tie a knot and hang on.

I feel like that kitten swinging on a rope.  The poster very likely hung from my bedroom wall back when I was young (and more fertile).

The IVF retrieval was canceled due to poor response.  We were not advised to consider the option to retrieve the single egg.  My progesterone was on the rise and waiting on the other egg wasn't going to work.

I was sort of lying to myself when I said this was the last IVF before donor.  I always knew I had the option to fall back on DHEA.  The cancer link scared me, but I knew deep down it must not match the hype or my RE wouldn't offer it.  It was like a safety net.  One last Last Chance should this cycle not turn out.

Rocco and I were on the phone with the RE when she called it.  We had a mini WTF appointment.  We talked about what would change for the next round: back to microdose Lupron; the DHEA and a handful of other meds; 2-3 months to let the supplements (Royal Jelly, CoQ10, Melatonin, etc.) kick in.  

My RE talked me down off my worries on DHEA.  She explained the DHEA was only taken for 5 days and the studies linked to cancer were for over 3-4 years of continuous use.  We were building a plan.  I was smiling and pulling my calendar, already doing to date math for a due date.  God help me.

The tide started to change on me.  I wasn't getting the whole story.  I sensed trouble.  I asked if she thought I had diminished ovarian reserve. I didn't think so, I had some bad ass FSH.  "Oh, it is definitely DOR."  She said something about getting closer to donor eggs.  

Gulp.  What.  The rest is a blur. 

My RE was referring me to CCRM, the Mayo of the Fertically Challenged.  The Large Fertility Operation had nothing else to offer me.  A fresh set of eyes and a second opinion was the best recommendation she could give me.

I don't understand.  We just sketched out the next cycle, didn't we?  Didn't we?  I pressed my RE for her thoughts.  I have come to trust her and like her very much.  I make the conversation sound horrible (it was), but she was very kind in delivering the message.

"I would only be guessing.  But if I had to give you a percentage of success, there is about a 10% chance you would make it to retrieval."

All that time, energy and money.  For a 10% chance to make it to retrieval.

A 10% chance to make it to see if we succeed with a 17% chance to get pregnant.

What about all the other hurdles?  POAS?  Beta 1, beta 2, beta 3?  The heartbeat?  The level II ultrasound?  Viability at 3x weeks?  Avoiding still birth?  What about all of those?

My RE took my Secret Weapon of Hope and smashed it into a million pieces.

My sorrow doesn't revolve around the use of a donor egg.  I think I am there.  I just need to reset.  Learn how to change away from a feeling of hopelessness.

I am scared.  I know IVF.  I even learned IUI because my body was dragging through the cycles, spitting out all she could.  I know the rules, the players and the measurements to track success.

I don't know donor.  How do I know what to do?  Who to pick?  Where to pick?  Who to trust?  I don't even know the right questions to ask.


  1. Oh gosh, R. I was so hoping that this wasn't going to happen and I'm so incredibly sad for you. This whole game of IF is the worst thing ever to have to go through. I hate it for you, me, and all of us on this crazy rollercoaster of hope. While I don't know much about donor eggs, I know that these are the 2 sites that Northwestern (below) recommended when we were considering looking into it. If anything, it was interesting to see the donors available. Take some time to yourself, like you said, to reset and figure out your next step. It always helps to step and catch your breathe after something like this. R and I considered going to CCRM after our 4th failed IVF but figured it wouldn't be worth the trouble or the stress. I don't know, maybe we should have, but in my heart I feel like the outcome would have been the same, except we would have shelled out more cash. I know you'll know what you should do when the time comes. Sending you lots of love, peace and positive energy. ♥

  2. Oh, Roccie. I am so so sorry. I wish we had some kind of magic 8 ball to tell us what direction we should go next when these things happen. The questions that swim around in our heads are deafening, aren't they? I wish I could offer you some answers. Instead I can offer you a shoulder of support and all the empathy in the world. You know I am in the exact same boat with you, so if you ever want to talk or unload, email me. Lots of hugs. Big huge ones.

  3. Wow. What a blow. This totally sucks, and I am so sorry about your news. (((hugs)))

  4. That sucks, I am so sorry to hear that.

  5. I'm so very sorry. I have no idea where to begin. IVF was a bit scary at first, and still we moved forward, so... it's just more baby steps.

    Tens, of thousands of more baby steps.


    Big Hugs.

  6. Oh NO! I'm so terribly sorry! After all you've been through, I can only imagine how agonizing it must be to have this happen, and to have that magic weapon taken away. I am hoping you'll get loads of support from women who know this terrain (tragically, there seem to be quite a few!) and that the sky will seem a little lighter when you guys have had time to digest this. But AARG, I'm so heartbroken for you.

  7. Oh, my heart is just breaking for you. I know what it feels like, to think you've got Plan B in your back pocket and then to find out it won't work after all. But it's NOT the end of the road, and plan C (or plan D, for Donor) is open before you...I don't have any words of advice, but I can offer vicarious support and virtual hugs.

  8. I'm sorry, Roccie:( This sucks. Especially the fact that she took you from plans about the next cycle to CCRM and the line about 10%. But the truth is that I am very skeptical of numbers and percentages (where the hell do they get them from, I'd like to know). But that's also a reflection of my own dire and nay-saying circumstances.

    I'm sorry for what sounds like an absolutely crap conversation:(

  9. Blah, I had such hopes for you with you! I'm sorry Roccie!

  10. Damn It! I am sorry I hope the donor road becomes crystal clear.

  11. Oh Roccie,
    I am so sorry. I wad really hoping this was it for you. After you pick up the pieces you can figure out where to go next. I am thinking of you, friend and really wish I could give you a great big hug and kick IF in the ass.

  12. Oh my gosh Roccie, I'm so sorry. I can't believe it happened like this for you. When the hell will you get the happy ending you deserve? I completely agree with how you described donor eggs... its not that you are against it, its just that normal IVF is the devil you know and understand and donor IVF is a whole new confusing world to have to navigate. I'm sorry you're having to contemplate it and I'm thinking of you and sending you all the strength I can muster to help you through this. xxx

  13. Roccie, I am so sorry. I don't know what else I can tell you darling except to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and find another damn route, damn it. I am so determined for you. You deserve this. You have so much spirit and spunk and guts, and if only I could petition the right gods I would do it for you. All I can do is hold you in my thoughts and send all the love and energy I can muster. Keep going Roccie, where there's a will there's a way.

  14. Oh god I am so sorry. It just seems like there HAS TO BE A LIMIT to the amound of shit we can have thrown at us.

    Thinking of you as you change your game plan (again)

  15. Two blows in one go, that's just terrible.

    I don't know what to say. Except, you're probably right to think carefully what kind of treatment you invest your energy in.

  16. RE: your comment - don't think on it! I have a seriously twisted sense of humour and totally laughed at it. But I think it's cute that you were worried you may have offended me. Takes a whole assload more than that to offend me!!

  17. Ugh. I am so sorry. My heart is breaking for you right now. I wish I had something more profound to say... Just know that I'll be here to support you on whichever turn you take on this shitty road of IF. Hugs.