Drowning
I went to the mikvah this week, for the first time since we started actual fertility treatment. (I don't count the metformin.) I'm usually very matter-of-fact about my preparation and tevilah; I think the mitzvah and associated hstory are beautiful in theory, but somewhat burdensome in practice. This time, even though I was running around from place to place all day and was stressed (and hungry) by the time I made it to the mikvah, I had resolved to make some kind of effort to infuse this immerision with a level of spirituality.
And then I get there, and discover that the attendant on duty is pregnant. Quite visibly so.
Okay, deep breath, I can handle this. She escorts me to my prep room. I turn on the faucet to fill the tub, remove my makeup, get undressed. Give myself a solid look in the mirror and slip into the pleasantly warm water. Play with the washcloth for a few minutes. Try to relax. Maybe I even talk to God a little, but it's hard to tell, since God's not talking back. I slowly wash each part of my body, concentrating on the skin and trying not to think of the malfunctioning organs beneath the surface. I contemplate the red dots scattered across my belly; it seems that all healing must come from without, not within. I stand up, shower, rinse my hair well and comb out the tangles. I give my feet a careful once-over, examine myself in the mirror, and look myself in the eye. This can work. This isn't a failure; it's a new chance.
I call for the mikvah attendant. As I wait for her to arrive, I sit back down, rest my forehead in my hands, and focus on the good things to come that evening: a warm dinner and a kiss from my husband (probably not in that order). The attendant knocks on the door connecting my prep room to the nearest immersion pool. I focus on her eyes. She warns me that the water here is on the cool side and asks me whether I'd like to go across the hall where the pool is a little warmer. I decline, thinking that the cooler water may be just the kind of refreshment I need. I've entered on the far side of the room from the stairs down into the water, and so the attendant and I have to swap places along the narrow floorspace.
The mikvah lady gestures at her belly and giggles: "This gets harder as I get bigger." A look of shock, I'm sure, falls across my face, and I bite my lower lip before I can start crying. Silently, staring at the floor, I hold out my hands for her to inspect and slip my feet out of their paper slippers for her approval. I turn, remove my robe, step into the water, and immerse in my tears.
This morning I had my fourth ultrasound and blood draw of the week, which makes five in eight days for this cycle (and we're not done yet). You'll be disappointed, but not probably not surprised, to hear that I still have no measurable follicles on either side. The promising 10 mm buds on the right are still just over 10 mm. I'm sure my estrogen level is equally pathetic. And I'm sure I'll be back at the clinic bright and early on Sunday for another peep show.
Update (1:45 PM): Nurse Space Cadet this time. E2 is up to 65.3; LH and progesterone are still low. Continue at 100 units tonight and tomorrow. Back in at 7:15 AM Sunday. I convinced her to schedule my Tuesday appointment now, so I managed to snag a 7:15 slot for that day as well. Nurse Spacey also said that they would give this cycle "another couple of weeks" before calling it a bust...
Labels: Clomid Monster, Judaism, LtUaE
posted by Robber Barren at 9:20 AM
comments (10)
Oh honey, that sounds so hard. You handled it beautifully, though.
Mindy, if you look through my archives you'll note that after I did not ovulate on my first round of Clomid, I began the second round without inducing a bleed. Then, after that round busted as well, I went directly on birth control for a month. So I was not niddah from before my first Clomid dose until the start of this cycle.
Also, they have been slowly increasing my dosage over the course of this week, and I am under the impression that my medical team will continue to do so for at least another week before scrapping the cycle.
I remember my horror on getting to mikvah one month and finding the attendant was 8 months pregnant.
She was my neighbor/casual friend, too.
Hope you won't be going back there anytime soon.
I'm so sorry that you are going through this. It's hard to keep believing that God still listens when we feel imperfect or abandoned. I hope that soon you will find that he has not only heard, but granted, all your prayers.
Mikvah sounds like a very amazing experience. I am sorry that it had to be so hard.
I am holding out hope for you on this cycle. The blood draws are awful, I am sorry there have been so many.
Another couple of weeks??
From what I've read they have to give a high enough dose from the very beginning of the cycle. That's when the follicles are recruited to grow. Increasing the dose later in the cycle isn't as effective, at least not to increase the number of follicles.
The problem is, they don't have a good way of knowing at which dose to start the first time.
ART is trial and error medicine, much to all our frustration!
Lut, that protocol may be right for some women...but not for everyone (including me). I have many recruited follicles, they just aren't growing. This "low and slow" method is recommended for many PCOS patients, and does, in fact, work in many situations. Fo example, Ornery is now pregnant with twins conceived during a cycle where her ovaries barely responded for fifteen days, and then her estrogen shot up from 39 to 329 in five days, and then to 606. I don't have the exact count, but I think her trigger shot was somewhere around CD 21 (stim day 19). I'm only on stim day 11.
I'm sorry that your spiritual sanctuary turned out to be such a painful reminder...I am trying to inure myself to these experiences because everywhere I go, the pregnant bellies are there...
Robbie, that sounds like such a difficult experience. I hope that you are able to reclaim the thoughts of it being a new chance, rather than dwelling on the thoughts of the pregnant attendant.
It sounds like your dr's are trying very hard to make sure that your ovaries respond to this cycle, rather than calling it done and telling you to wait for the next one. With any luck, you will respond the way Ornery did, and that will give you a great deal of hope that finally your body is doing what it is supposed to do.
Hoping that your ovaries get their act together soon. You handled taht difficult mikvah experience with great grace. Perhaps Gd was speaking to you that way.
Speak up!
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