Life as LawWife

This past weekend, two dear friends in my online circle of IF friends lost their long-hoped-for pregnancies. One got a positive test and then immediately started her period. The other was experiencing pain after starting what she thought was a new cycle, took a test that turned out to be positive, and then ended up with a burst fallopian tube, which she lost along with its corresponding ovary and the new baby.

Pregnancy is such a dream to me that I can’t even imagine what getting a positive test feels like, and on that score, I felt utterly ugly jealousy of these two friends. There must be so much joy involved in seeing those two lines (or the positive sign or the word “pregnant,” depending on the type of test). So much anticipation. But these two gals didn’t even get to appreciate that. They went from the excitement of seeing a positive result to the despair and disappointment of knowing it was over, almost before they could fully realize the excitement of what was happening.

I have another online pal who conceived so easily with her first child. She then conceived quite easily for her second pregnancy, but everything from there has been downhill. I felt jealous of her ease, too, but I’ve been shown over and over again that just because things look easy doesn’t mean they are.

I’m such a self-centered person that everyone else’s victories seem like a cosmic slap in the face to me, the only one who matters. But it doesn’t have to be this way. In fact, I feel that God is using the incidents I’ve witnessed over the past few months to teach me that it’s not all about me. That someone else’s joy doesn’t have to be my sadness. And that often joy is followed by weeping.

None of these ladies wants a pregnancy to turn out this way. No one wants to see them in this kind of pain. Slowly but surely, God is going to teach me to be happy for others even when I’m so sad for myself. It’s not all about me!

As Derek Webb wrote on the new Caedmon’s Call CD, these are “redemptive ends from tragic means.” Or, as Paul wrote,

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

He will use everything for His glory, even (maybe even especially) our pain and our weakness. My weakness here is jealousy, but I feel God refining me bit by bit, drawing off the dross while He heats me to the boiling point.

I’ve been really enjoying this not-charting thing. I haven’t been thinking too awful much about how often love is supposed to happen. And I think I ovulated at some point in the past couple of weeks, but I’m really not sure when. I know I have post-O symptoms, but I can’t really say much more than that. I’ve had a lot of spotting, though, and a tidbit of cramping. I expect AF just about any day, but it wouldn’t really be late until August 20 or later. So I just stay tuned in to my typical PMS indicators…cramping, acne (that’s DEFINITELY here), bloating (had this the other day), fatigue, irritability, etc.

D and I have discussed where we want to go from here, and on account of my pathetic CF, we’re planning to give IUI a couple of tries. At least then we’ll have given it everything we’ve got (that we’re comfortable with). If we lived anywhere near a CrM practitioner or NaPro doctor, I’d be willing to pursue testing and treatment with them. My heart is still not truly open to adoption, so that’s not even on the stove, let alone the back burner. 

And that’s the State of the Beka for August 10, 2007. 

Tuesday July 10 I got a sore throat. By that night, I also had a fever and sore skin. Over the next week, I went through just about every symptom (non-digestive-related) of any illness you can think of: flu, laryngitis, head cold, allergies. I’m not one who generally rushes to the doctor (odd, isn’t it, considering my fertility status), but I finally went on July 17. The ever-so-attentive doc’s conclusion? Must be an infection. Gee, thanks. So I’ve been taking an antibiotic for the past couple of days. We’ll see if it helps. I’m really tired of coughing, mostly. And I’m tired of being sick. One day, I’m hopeful, I’ll be well again.

So we’re taking one. We couldn’t really afford another injectables cycle anytime soon anyway. We’ll just enjoy being married for awhile. Maybe when we’re able to get back on the bandwagon, we can try IUI, too. Doesn’t THAT sound like fun?!

I’m going to continue taking Metformin. Can’t hurt, and it does seem to help. I’m not charting at all, which will be fun. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t charting at all. I usually end up charting something (temps, CF, something). But not now. I need a breather, desperately.

D was all for it. He thinks it’s a great idea. Hooray for us! 

Well, the $2,500+ isn’t exactly down the drain. It’s actually on a credit card, charging us interest. Isn’t that a lovely thought?

I took an HPT yesterday. Negative. And I’ve come down with some sort of illness (fever + sore throat + sensitive skin), so my temps are through the roof for all the wrong reasons. Yesterday, I hit 99.5 and today is 100.8. I’m not taking any more Prometrium, since it helps keep my temps up, and I didn’t take a test today (like the nurse said to) since yesterday’s was so lily white.

It was a little annoying yesterday to get a message from a (well-meaning, of course) friend asking about my temp and whether it was a fever or something exciting. I got to tell her that yes, indeed, it’s a fever and that I had a negative test. Good times all around.

This is one of the worst things about discussing treatment with other people. They know what’s going on and are so frickin’ hopeful for you. You feel like you’re disappointing them somehow when your body continues working (or not working, as the case may be) as it always has.

At any rate, we’re not going to be able to do any more injectables cycles, at the very least with Dr. Turd, this year. Between D’s lack of a decent raise and our credit card situation, I suppose we’re just going to have to sit back and “relax” for awhile. I think I may be ready for a break. I’m so, so, so tired of this crap. Really, I am. 

Not from far-past memories but from the injectables cycle that I’m currently in the 2ww (two-week wait) for. We took a few photos of the process, so I’m posting them here for posterity. WARNING: There are photos of an actual injection!

This is what came in my box o’ supplies. There were 20 syringes and 20 needles for the Menopur injections, two needles for mixing andinjecting the Novarel, alcohol pads for sterilizing the tops of the meds and my skin prior to injection, the Novarel, four boxes of Menopur(five ampules per box + Q-caps for mixing the meds), one biohazard disposal container, and one bottle of Prometrium (progesterone).

This is all the stuff laid out for the first injection. D would hold the ice on my belly near the injection site while I got everything ready. My typical routine was to use the restroom, wash my hands, get a paper towel (not the first time but every time after that), let D put the ice on me, then start setting up. I would pull out everything I needed (Menopur, syringe, needle, biohazard container, and alcohol pads) and set it on the paper towel. I would then open the syringe, needle, and Q-cap packages. After that, I would pop open the biohazard container, pop the tops off the sodium chloride and Menopur powder, and then sanitize the tops of the ampules with the alcohol pad. Then I would screw the Q-cap on the syringe, get the requisite amount of air, inject that into the sodium chloride, pull the SC back into the syringe, and inject that into the Menopur powder. Once the powder was dissolved, I’d pull it back into the syringe, change the Q-cap for the needle, tap out the air bubbles (I didn’t get that perfected until near the end of the 12 days, unfortunately), wipe the injection site o’ the day, and then inject.

This is the syringe with the Q-cap instead of the needle. I really liked this for reconstituting the medicine.

The injection photos are next!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I ended up depressing the plunger with my index finger after this first shot. I just couldn’t comfortably twist my hand around to use my thumb and still have control over the speed of the injection.

 

After my first u/s, I had to double my dose to 150IU of Menopur and 1cc of SC. This is the setup for the double dose.

 

 

 

 

 

This is a photo of the lovely bruise I sustained at my first blood draw. It even extends, quite sexily IMO, above the elbow. Niiiiice. As of today, nearly two weeks after the blood draw, the bruise is still visible. On the other hand, the site of my second blood draw never got a bruise.

 

 

 

 

The band-aid marks the location of my hCG injection. I mixed up the medicine (no Q-cap! Waaaah!), which was 3cc of sterile water into the Novarel powder and got stuff ready while D held ice back there for me. After I got the med reconstituted, I switched the needles on the two syringes and gave D the empty syringe with the now slightly dull needle. He used that to practice on a gigantic orange I picked up at the market for him. And then we put Rambaldi in his crate so he wouldn’t bark like a mad dog (during my Menopur injections, D held him to keep him from barking) and startle D and wiped the site with an alcohol pad. Then I turned away from D, put all my weight on my left leg, turned my right foot inward, and let D inject me near my right hip. It did bleed a little, but what else can you expect from a 1.5″ needle?!

 

 

And now we wait for a couple of weeks. For your continued entertainment, here are two photos of me. The first is from the day the meds arrived.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second is from the last day of my Menopur injections.

 

 

 

That’s a little melodramatic, but I certainly felt like I was on the edge of SOMETHING tonight. I started my injections tonight. The process took something like 30 minutes, though I hope to get it down to three within a couple of days.

I got the medicine ready as per the instructions, and then I sat there with my belly skin pinched between my fingers and the needle a hair’s breadth away from that skin. Paralyzed. How on earth did I get myself into this?! What made me think I could give myself a SHOT?!

I finally did it, though D was the one who actually depressed the plunger. I couldn’t do it…I’m not sure it was possible given the angle of my hands. The medicine stung like heck going in, so I hope it works. I don’t know how many cycles of this I can handle. I’m so thankful for D; he sat there with me the whole time, as patient as could be, trying to talk me through it. I’m an awfully challenging wife to have.

Last Saturday was our sixth wedding anniversary. So we spent the day like newlyweds. Heh. No, not really. D went to a men’s breakfast at church and then came home and replaced an outdoor faucet that had burst over the winter (yes, it was my fault; I didn’t remove the hose). That took a couple of hours and help from a neighbor. After we got all cleaned up, we went to Abuelo’s for lunch. Undoubtedly some of the best Mexican food I’ve ever had, and certainly the best thing this area has going! When that was over, we came home and took a nap. Yep, we’re just like newlyweds!

After our nap, we got ourselves together (finally) and went to a local carnival. We rode the ferris wheel (called something else), the Black Widow, the Ion, and one more thing. You know that the Black Widow (called the spider a lot of other places) and the Ion go up and down in the air, spinning you around. Well, those didn’t me sick. Nope, not a bit. They sort of hurt my neck a little, but otherwise, I was good. What made me sick? This. I thought it would be fine, as the little cars just run around on a track, not leaving the ground or anything. That’s what I thought until we started going backward. I survived, but just barely. After that, all I could take was the ferris wheel, leaving D to ride the bumper cars and black widow alone. When he was in line for his last solo ride, he sold his remaining tickets to some girl, six for $1. She was all over that! Her friends were even kind of disappointed that he didn’t have more to sell.

We had a lot of fun. It was great to just laugh and enjoy the rides, even though this was evidently the ghetto carnival and a town over has a much nicer fair. We don’t live there, and D’s bosses didn’t see fit to tell him this city’s carnival is ghetto. Maybe we’ll make our way to it if it’s in town when we have money again.

Oh, and lunch from Abuelo’s held us both over for the rest of the day. That’s right, aside from a funnel cake and a cherry Coke, we had no need for more food that day. We both had the fajita chimichanga (D had the steak, and I had the chicken and only half of that!). Turned out to be for the best, esp. since that danged ride nearly killed me!

I get to go to the GYN today…here’s hoping I don’t break down while there. She probably can’t do anything to help, since I seem to be in RE territory permanently now. Then next week I go to the RE to discuss injectables. Whee! I’m just an expensive person to have around, what with my dental appliance and all.