I'm soo sorry. I really am. I'm sorry that the pain of the last year has changed me. I'm sorry that I seem to be angry and stressed all the time. I'm sorry if you've tried calling me and I ignored you. Or avoided your eyes at church when you tried to get my attention. I'm sorry if I never texted you back. I promise It's not you, It's me. Sometimes I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to talk about how I'm doing. I'm sad. I'm frustrated. I'm tired. I feel like a failure, and there's only soo many times I can deal with the pity in people's eyes. Sometimes I'm soo stressed that I honestly forget that you've called me. I'm overwhelmed. I'm hormonal. I feel like I'm going crazy.
I'm sorry I wouldn't come to your baby shower. I'm happy for you. I promise. I'm just sad for me, and I don't like being sad. I'm angry because people look at me like they pity me, and I don't like being angry. I don't like being pitied.
I'm sorry you're uncomfortable around me. I'm sorry that I was open with you about my infertility and now you don't talk to me. I'm sorry you feel guilty that you have kids and I don't. That wasn't my intention. It was just one of the few times I wanted to talk. I thought it would help build a friendship.
I'm sorry I told you I couldn't go out to lunch with you. I really do like spending time with you. But I'm on a budget, and it rarely includes spontaneous outings with friends. All of our money goes to infertility treatments. In Vitro Fertilization isn't cheap, and insurance doesn't cover it. In fact, insurance hardly covers any form of infertility treatment. So when I politely decline an invitation, it's not because I hate you. It's just that I don't have the money for luxuries like that right now.
I'm sorry for cancelling plans we had. I'm not a flake, I promise. I didn't know my medication would effect me like this. I'd rather be hanging out with you and doing something exciting, but I'm afraid to leave the house. I'm soo tired. I have migraines so bad that I feel like puking. I hate having to find a bathroom stall just to stick myself with needles. I feel like a heroin addict.
I'm sorry you were worried to tell me that you were pregnant. I never
wanted it to be like this. Had I know it would be this difficult, I
would have never have brought it up. I like when good people have
children. I think good people should have more children. Just because
you get a baby, doesn't mean there is one less for me.
I'm sorry I won't sit next to you at church. I love your family. I think they are perfect. But I don't want to be sad at church. It's petty, I know. I'm sad when I see my husband playing with little kids. I'm sad that I can't give him that. I want to be carrying around my own little blue eyed/blonde babies. I want to raise my own children to serve others and be missionaries.
I'm sorry that I feel this way. I know better. I know there's an Eternal Plan. I know that if I'm obedient and faithful that all my losses will be made up. I know that not being able to have biological children is not the end of the world. I know that I just need to be patient. I know this. There is nothing you can say to make the pain go away. Believe me, you've tried. And I'm grateful.
I'm grateful for friends that have let me come over to vent when I was finally ready. I'm grateful for late night ice cream runs and visiting teachers. I'm grateful for my dog who accepts the duties of being my only child. I'm grateful for a husband who never complains and tells me that everything is going to be ok. I'm grateful for co-workers who don't make me feel guilty for leaving work early. I'm grateful for a family that encourages me to keep going. I'm grateful for science and heating pads. I'm grateful for character band-aids and 25 gauge needles. I'm grateful for that nurse who cared. I'm grateful for heated seats and acupuncture.
I should be grateful for my trials, but I'm not quite there yet. For now, I'm just sorry.
Part 6- Hope
Hope is a word that I've always associated with faith. The Book of Mormon teaches us that "if a man have faith he must needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope" (Moroni 7:42). Faith and hope get us out of bed each morning. We hope for something, and we put our faith in ourselves and the Lord that it will happen. Unfortunately (and fortunately...) sometimes the things we hope for aren't necessarily what the Lord has in mind for us at the moment. Sometimes that hope gets dragged out longer than we'd like. Sometimes it wavers. Sometimes we're not sure if we have the same hope that we once had. And sometimes hope leaves your crying on the kitchen floor because you just wanted it to leave you alone.
Two weeks seems like a long time to wait just to know if your whole life is going to change. But we did it. I went to work, I volunteered, I kept the dog alive. The terrible irony of the Progesterone is that it mimics pregnancy symptoms. So even if you feel nauseous, moody, or bloated, you don't know if it's an early pregnancy symptom, or side effects of the tablets you get to insert every 6 hours. You want to think that you're pregnant, but you don't want to "get your hopes up."
Simply peeing on a stick doesn't work with In Vitro. All the hormones that you've been on for months have now infiltrated your system, and only a blood test will be able to tell you conclusively if you are pregnant. We had an appointment arranged at our local Military clinic for a blood draw. I'm still super grateful that I didn't have to drive to Walter Reed for these. In fact, I work 30 second away from this clinic. I just had to take my lunch break and walk across the street. Sort of a blessing in disguise. Anyway...
I did the blood test then went back to work. I was a wreck. I knew the phone call was coming that would change everything, and I didn't want to answer. I could see what the hormones were doing to me. My anxiety was through the roof. If someone looked at me wrong I broke down in tears. If the test was negative I wouldn't be able to keep myself together. So I did what anyone in my situation would do.... I made Dale take the call. I knew they would call both the numbers on file. So when the call came I simply ignored it. Ok, it wasn't simple, and I was still a wreck all day. But I had put off the inevitable for a few more hours.
When I got home I tried to act casual. Tried to look like whatever he was about to tell me was no big deal. "I'm pregnant? That's nice. I better go walk to dog." Or something along those lines. If only. It was more along the lines of this...
"Do you want to know the results?"
"If you want to give them to me..."
"It's not a negative. But it's not a positive."
...
...
...
"What the hell does that mean."
"It means that your HCG numbers are positive, but not very high. You need to take another blood test in a few days to see if the numbers go up."
Should I be excited? Should I be happy? I had no idea. Months and months of agony, stress, and pain leading up to this moment.... and I had nothing. Nothing but hope. Hope that was about to be dragged out for weeks when I really just wanted it dead.
The next blood test was worse. Dale took the call again. "The numbers went up slightly. You might be pregnant, but not very pregnant. Not where you should be. You'll need to take another blood test in a few days."
*FUN FACT* you can be pregnant and not pregnant at the same time!! Sometimes pregnancy tests are both a YES and a NO! How cool is that?!
Blood tests again.
And Again. For days. With symptoms that could either be early pregnancy or spotty period. Weird colored blood and nausea for hours. Terrible things that ultimately gave your a strange sense of both hope and failure. At this point I would have preferred a solid "no" over what was going on. On one occasion, I actually lost feeling in my legs and fell. Like actually fell to the ground. I thought that only happened to weak women in the movies. Nope.
Then Finally I was brave enough to take the call myself, "You're HCG levels are decreasing. I'm sorry, you are no longer pregnant. You'll need to get a daily blood test until the numbers get below 5, then we can start you on the next cycle to do it again. I'm soo sorry. Do you need anything from me?"
I assured the nurse I was fine. I needed to be fine. I needed to walk back into work and continue like nothing had happened. I used to be a stoic person. Where had that part of me gone? I think she was buried beneath piles of Lupron bottles, Gonal-F needles, and Menopur vials. She definitely didn't show up for work that day. What was left of me was going to have to fend for herself. So I went back to my desk. I started working, then I lost it.
Not in a "sobbing hysterical" way. I don't do that. But in a heart pounding, adrenaline rushing panic attack that was about to pull the ground out from under me. I knew I couldn't go to my boss and tell him I needed to go home. Just the thought of dealing with his questions made me panic more. Do I just walk out and go home without telling anyone? Who does that? Thankfully I do have some great co-workers, and after a few moments of silent horror I told one of them what had just happened. Without missing a beat, she turned me around and had me out the door with all my things. "I'll write your leave slip and get it signed. Call the nurse back when you can and have her fax a doctors note."
I don't remember much of the drive. Thankfully I remembered that Tiberius was at Doggy Day Care on base, so I went and got him. And of course there was a lovely "call me, I need a doctors note," text from my boss. But I made it.
And you know what I learned? Sometimes things just suck. Ok, honestly. Everything can be going perfect, you can be doing everything you're supposed to do.... and it still doesn't work. This might seem obvious to everyone else, but I don't usually fail when I set my mind up to do something. How is it possible that I can go above and beyond what I'm supposed to do and have it still not work out? Well, such is life. The control freak has no power when it comes to forcing an embryo to attach to her uterine wall. It's stupid. I know.
And my Hope? It's shaken. My faith? It's seen better days. But I'm constantly reminded that my hope and faith can't be in me alone (because we've all seen how well that worked out...), but it has to be grounded in something stronger. Something constant. It has to be in the Savior and His atonement, and the promise that "all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."
So we wait, and try again. Because mamma didn't raise no quitter.
Two weeks seems like a long time to wait just to know if your whole life is going to change. But we did it. I went to work, I volunteered, I kept the dog alive. The terrible irony of the Progesterone is that it mimics pregnancy symptoms. So even if you feel nauseous, moody, or bloated, you don't know if it's an early pregnancy symptom, or side effects of the tablets you get to insert every 6 hours. You want to think that you're pregnant, but you don't want to "get your hopes up."
Simply peeing on a stick doesn't work with In Vitro. All the hormones that you've been on for months have now infiltrated your system, and only a blood test will be able to tell you conclusively if you are pregnant. We had an appointment arranged at our local Military clinic for a blood draw. I'm still super grateful that I didn't have to drive to Walter Reed for these. In fact, I work 30 second away from this clinic. I just had to take my lunch break and walk across the street. Sort of a blessing in disguise. Anyway...
I did the blood test then went back to work. I was a wreck. I knew the phone call was coming that would change everything, and I didn't want to answer. I could see what the hormones were doing to me. My anxiety was through the roof. If someone looked at me wrong I broke down in tears. If the test was negative I wouldn't be able to keep myself together. So I did what anyone in my situation would do.... I made Dale take the call. I knew they would call both the numbers on file. So when the call came I simply ignored it. Ok, it wasn't simple, and I was still a wreck all day. But I had put off the inevitable for a few more hours.
When I got home I tried to act casual. Tried to look like whatever he was about to tell me was no big deal. "I'm pregnant? That's nice. I better go walk to dog." Or something along those lines. If only. It was more along the lines of this...
"Do you want to know the results?"
"If you want to give them to me..."
"It's not a negative. But it's not a positive."
...
...
...
"What the hell does that mean."
"It means that your HCG numbers are positive, but not very high. You need to take another blood test in a few days to see if the numbers go up."
Should I be excited? Should I be happy? I had no idea. Months and months of agony, stress, and pain leading up to this moment.... and I had nothing. Nothing but hope. Hope that was about to be dragged out for weeks when I really just wanted it dead.
The next blood test was worse. Dale took the call again. "The numbers went up slightly. You might be pregnant, but not very pregnant. Not where you should be. You'll need to take another blood test in a few days."
*FUN FACT* you can be pregnant and not pregnant at the same time!! Sometimes pregnancy tests are both a YES and a NO! How cool is that?!
Blood tests again.
And Again. For days. With symptoms that could either be early pregnancy or spotty period. Weird colored blood and nausea for hours. Terrible things that ultimately gave your a strange sense of both hope and failure. At this point I would have preferred a solid "no" over what was going on. On one occasion, I actually lost feeling in my legs and fell. Like actually fell to the ground. I thought that only happened to weak women in the movies. Nope.
Then Finally I was brave enough to take the call myself, "You're HCG levels are decreasing. I'm sorry, you are no longer pregnant. You'll need to get a daily blood test until the numbers get below 5, then we can start you on the next cycle to do it again. I'm soo sorry. Do you need anything from me?"
I assured the nurse I was fine. I needed to be fine. I needed to walk back into work and continue like nothing had happened. I used to be a stoic person. Where had that part of me gone? I think she was buried beneath piles of Lupron bottles, Gonal-F needles, and Menopur vials. She definitely didn't show up for work that day. What was left of me was going to have to fend for herself. So I went back to my desk. I started working, then I lost it.
Not in a "sobbing hysterical" way. I don't do that. But in a heart pounding, adrenaline rushing panic attack that was about to pull the ground out from under me. I knew I couldn't go to my boss and tell him I needed to go home. Just the thought of dealing with his questions made me panic more. Do I just walk out and go home without telling anyone? Who does that? Thankfully I do have some great co-workers, and after a few moments of silent horror I told one of them what had just happened. Without missing a beat, she turned me around and had me out the door with all my things. "I'll write your leave slip and get it signed. Call the nurse back when you can and have her fax a doctors note."
I don't remember much of the drive. Thankfully I remembered that Tiberius was at Doggy Day Care on base, so I went and got him. And of course there was a lovely "call me, I need a doctors note," text from my boss. But I made it.
And you know what I learned? Sometimes things just suck. Ok, honestly. Everything can be going perfect, you can be doing everything you're supposed to do.... and it still doesn't work. This might seem obvious to everyone else, but I don't usually fail when I set my mind up to do something. How is it possible that I can go above and beyond what I'm supposed to do and have it still not work out? Well, such is life. The control freak has no power when it comes to forcing an embryo to attach to her uterine wall. It's stupid. I know.
And my Hope? It's shaken. My faith? It's seen better days. But I'm constantly reminded that my hope and faith can't be in me alone (because we've all seen how well that worked out...), but it has to be grounded in something stronger. Something constant. It has to be in the Savior and His atonement, and the promise that "all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good."
So we wait, and try again. Because mamma didn't raise no quitter.
Part 5- Egg Retrieval Surgery
In Vitro Fertilization isn't the most complicated of procedures.
1- Grow Eggs
2- Remove eggs
3- Add sperm and eggs to petri dish. Let nature take it's course
4- Re-insert fertilized egg into uterus
Simple, Right? In a perfect world, in a perfect body... yes. But I guess in a perfect world you wouldn't need a petri dish. But for some reason I don't have a perfect body (actually we still have no idea if it's MY body or Dale's body that's the problem), and this isn't a perfect world.
Our Journey to this point has let us up to step #2- Removing the Eggs. I had not been looking forward to this, I hate surgeries that require me to be put under anesthesia. What if I didn't wake up? What if I don't actually fall asleep and I can feel everything? Seriously... my anxiety was off the charts!! And in a cruel ironic twist, I couldn't take any of my anxiety meds. Stupid Irony.
To make matters worse, there was some issues with the follicles growing on my crazy ovaries. They just weren't growing big or fast enough. We had to push back the surgery date just to give them an extra day to grow. The last ultrasound before the surgery didn't look too promising, there were only about 7 follicles that looked mature. 7 is ok... but I was really hoping to get at least 15 from the retrieval surgery.
We "pulled the trigger" sometime late thursday night, or early friday morning. I can't remember. Again, crazy woman. This meant that I gave myself ANOTHER shot that triggered ovulation. Typically you'll ovulate within 36 hours of the shot. Up until this point I had been giving myself all the shots. They were subcutaneous (in the fatty tissue) and had really thin needles. This trigger shot kinda scared me. It was intramuscular (had to be in the muscle) and the needle was 2 inches long. Plus, I could barely reach behind me to where it was supposed to be at (the outer quadrant above the buttocks). I made Dale do it. He had no sympathy. "Lie on your side. Don't worry, I you-tubed how to do this." Ok, great!
Saturday the 25th of June we showed up to the Hospital around 9. This was basically sleeping in for us at this point. I wasn't allowed to use shampoo, hair product, nail polish, deodorant... nothing. There were three couples having the surgery that morning, and of course we were the last in line. We all had our own "sections" of the room, divided by curtains. I put on my fabulous hospital gown and slippers, and Dale played games on his phone. For someone who hates surgery, 2 hours is a long time to wait. And it wasn't event really the surgery that was scary. It was not knowing what the results were going to be. What if I just did all of this and they couldn't get any eggs? What if they released too soon? What if I never woke up? Seriously.....
This is a lovely screenshot of a photo I posted to Instagram of Dale helping me tie my lovely hospital gown. I find the black and white filter makes my skin look not-so-terrible.
The nurses at Walter Reed are amazing. They did soo much for us, and I couldn't be more grateful for them. When it was our turn, I gave my glasses to Dale and kissed him goodbye (who knows, I could have died...). You may not know this about me, but I am BLIND without my glasses. Like... I can't read my phone 6 inches from my face without my glasses. I had to stop one of the nurses and have her guide me to the right room.
At this point I could barely stop shaking. I don't even know why. I've never been afraid of hospitals, surgery, blood, needles.... but I think it was all becoming real to me. This was it. This needed to work. I had all this pent up anxiety and fear and the only way my body could handle it all was to shake uncontrollably. Of course the anesthesiologist noticed. How could he not? I'm sure the people in the cafeteria 3 floors down could feel the vibrations from my shaking. But he was really cool about it. He held my hand until everything was set up and ready to go.
Unfortunately he picked this time to ask me why I was soo scared. My response- "I don't like giving up control of everything to y'all." He laughed while pushing the anesthesia, and said "So I take it you are a type A?"
And my last words before going under? "NO!!!! I'm O Negative! Don't give me the wro......" And I was out. Of course he meant that I was a type A personality (which is absolutely true), but I totally didn't catch that. My last thoughts were that I hope I don't start losing blood, or I'm screwed.
Surprise. I didn't die. I woke up an hour later missing 18 eggs that they were able to retrieve from my ovaries. I was pretty excited. Well, as excited as I could be while still sort of groggy and drunk-like. Also, super dehydrated.
Next step was to take Dale's sample (that he gave that morning) and put them in a petri dish with the eggs! Survival of the fittest, I guess. Side tangent... There are two types of In Vitro (at least that I know about): Standard In Vitro and ICSI, or Intracytoplasmic sperm injection. The latter is slightly more complex than the petri dish method. With ICSI, the specialist picks the best looking sperm out of the whole bunch and pulls them aside. They are then individually added into the eggs. One sperm, one egg. With standard In Vitro they just put everything together and the best sperm *should* win. Just like in a normal conception. Dale liked the standard method better because he likes the idea of the competition. But it's not like we had a choice. The specialists would look at our case and determine which type we needed. Coincidentally, ICSI is about $1,000 more than standard. I wasn't going to complain when they went forward with the standard method.
So, Surgery went great and they got lots of eggs. We went home and I slept. A lot. They gave me some great pain meds, but I ended up not actually needing them. I didn't want to take anything more than what I needed. I could stop doing all the injections, and all I needed to do was insert a Progesterone tablet inside me 3 times a day.
Two days later we got a call from the Doctor saying that we had 6 super healthy and large fertilized eggs. Success.
1- Grow Eggs
2- Remove eggs
3- Add sperm and eggs to petri dish. Let nature take it's course
4- Re-insert fertilized egg into uterus
Simple, Right? In a perfect world, in a perfect body... yes. But I guess in a perfect world you wouldn't need a petri dish. But for some reason I don't have a perfect body (actually we still have no idea if it's MY body or Dale's body that's the problem), and this isn't a perfect world.
Our Journey to this point has let us up to step #2- Removing the Eggs. I had not been looking forward to this, I hate surgeries that require me to be put under anesthesia. What if I didn't wake up? What if I don't actually fall asleep and I can feel everything? Seriously... my anxiety was off the charts!! And in a cruel ironic twist, I couldn't take any of my anxiety meds. Stupid Irony.
To make matters worse, there was some issues with the follicles growing on my crazy ovaries. They just weren't growing big or fast enough. We had to push back the surgery date just to give them an extra day to grow. The last ultrasound before the surgery didn't look too promising, there were only about 7 follicles that looked mature. 7 is ok... but I was really hoping to get at least 15 from the retrieval surgery.
We "pulled the trigger" sometime late thursday night, or early friday morning. I can't remember. Again, crazy woman. This meant that I gave myself ANOTHER shot that triggered ovulation. Typically you'll ovulate within 36 hours of the shot. Up until this point I had been giving myself all the shots. They were subcutaneous (in the fatty tissue) and had really thin needles. This trigger shot kinda scared me. It was intramuscular (had to be in the muscle) and the needle was 2 inches long. Plus, I could barely reach behind me to where it was supposed to be at (the outer quadrant above the buttocks). I made Dale do it. He had no sympathy. "Lie on your side. Don't worry, I you-tubed how to do this." Ok, great!
Saturday the 25th of June we showed up to the Hospital around 9. This was basically sleeping in for us at this point. I wasn't allowed to use shampoo, hair product, nail polish, deodorant... nothing. There were three couples having the surgery that morning, and of course we were the last in line. We all had our own "sections" of the room, divided by curtains. I put on my fabulous hospital gown and slippers, and Dale played games on his phone. For someone who hates surgery, 2 hours is a long time to wait. And it wasn't event really the surgery that was scary. It was not knowing what the results were going to be. What if I just did all of this and they couldn't get any eggs? What if they released too soon? What if I never woke up? Seriously.....
This is a lovely screenshot of a photo I posted to Instagram of Dale helping me tie my lovely hospital gown. I find the black and white filter makes my skin look not-so-terrible.
The nurses at Walter Reed are amazing. They did soo much for us, and I couldn't be more grateful for them. When it was our turn, I gave my glasses to Dale and kissed him goodbye (who knows, I could have died...). You may not know this about me, but I am BLIND without my glasses. Like... I can't read my phone 6 inches from my face without my glasses. I had to stop one of the nurses and have her guide me to the right room.
At this point I could barely stop shaking. I don't even know why. I've never been afraid of hospitals, surgery, blood, needles.... but I think it was all becoming real to me. This was it. This needed to work. I had all this pent up anxiety and fear and the only way my body could handle it all was to shake uncontrollably. Of course the anesthesiologist noticed. How could he not? I'm sure the people in the cafeteria 3 floors down could feel the vibrations from my shaking. But he was really cool about it. He held my hand until everything was set up and ready to go.
Unfortunately he picked this time to ask me why I was soo scared. My response- "I don't like giving up control of everything to y'all." He laughed while pushing the anesthesia, and said "So I take it you are a type A?"
And my last words before going under? "NO!!!! I'm O Negative! Don't give me the wro......" And I was out. Of course he meant that I was a type A personality (which is absolutely true), but I totally didn't catch that. My last thoughts were that I hope I don't start losing blood, or I'm screwed.
Surprise. I didn't die. I woke up an hour later missing 18 eggs that they were able to retrieve from my ovaries. I was pretty excited. Well, as excited as I could be while still sort of groggy and drunk-like. Also, super dehydrated.
Next step was to take Dale's sample (that he gave that morning) and put them in a petri dish with the eggs! Survival of the fittest, I guess. Side tangent... There are two types of In Vitro (at least that I know about): Standard In Vitro and ICSI, or Intracytoplasmic sperm injection. The latter is slightly more complex than the petri dish method. With ICSI, the specialist picks the best looking sperm out of the whole bunch and pulls them aside. They are then individually added into the eggs. One sperm, one egg. With standard In Vitro they just put everything together and the best sperm *should* win. Just like in a normal conception. Dale liked the standard method better because he likes the idea of the competition. But it's not like we had a choice. The specialists would look at our case and determine which type we needed. Coincidentally, ICSI is about $1,000 more than standard. I wasn't going to complain when they went forward with the standard method.
So, Surgery went great and they got lots of eggs. We went home and I slept. A lot. They gave me some great pain meds, but I ended up not actually needing them. I didn't want to take anything more than what I needed. I could stop doing all the injections, and all I needed to do was insert a Progesterone tablet inside me 3 times a day.
Two days later we got a call from the Doctor saying that we had 6 super healthy and large fertilized eggs. Success.
Part 4- Blood, Needles, and Ultrasounds
Back to Maryland, back to reality. It didn't take long to get back into the swing of things. We were getting into the busy season at work, so I knew taking off days for doctors appointments was going to get harder. Sure enough, my boss wasn't happy when I came to him after my vacation with more leave requests for doctors appointments. It's really difficult to explain to your boss how important this is, when you can't actually tell him what you're doing. But I brushed off his annoyances and reminded him that it was my sick leave, and I'll use it however I need to. It's almost laughable now, looking back on how much I ended up using.
The morning of my physical and blood tests started like most days. I woke up, fed the dog, started showering.... but there was this nagging feeling like I was forgetting something. Half way through my shower I remembered. My appointment. And it was at 8:00, which happened to be in 5 minutes.
Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t. How could I have messed this up? It would take weeks to get another appointment. I jumped out of the shower and threw on clothes. I ran out the door and headed to my jeep. And my keys? Oh, they were back inside the house. Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t. Where the hell was that spare key I hid just for these stupid occasions? Hidden.
Please forgive me, I've lost my mind by this point. I'm soo tired and exhausted from the constant stressing and panicking of the last 6 months, I can barely remember to eat. Or I can blame the birth control the hospital made me take... either way. Every aspect of my life was suffering. But I'll save all of that loveliness for another post.
I'm convinced my jeep has warp speed, and that I'll be receiving a few speeding tickets in the mail soon. At 8:10 I ran into the doctors office. No makeup, hair dripping wet (probably still with shampoo...), and whatever sweat pants were on the bathroom floor. I also may have been crying. I'm very grateful for all these receptionists who have pitied me the last few months. But I must have looked pathetic enough for her to agreed to let me see the doctor.
The appointment was routine. The only strange thing she noted was an unusually fast heart-rate. Weird.... Then I was informed that she would send the results to the Hospital in a week. A week? How about... I don't know... now? Of course not.
I left feeling defeated. Again. I didn't bother going straight to work, no one needed to see me like that. I went home to clean up and gather my thoughts. At this point there was no way I could start the IVF in June like we had planned. The cycle had already started. But all the tests were done (unless they had something else in mind they hadn't told me about...), so maybe I could do the September cycle? Sure, we'll shoot for that.
The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways, because two days later I got a phone call from Walter Reed. "We received all your tests results, can you come in on June 9th for your Baseline ultrasound and Blood work?"
I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number. There's no possible way you have all my results. In fact, you should be telling me something else that has gone wrong. Have a good day.
But to my complete surprise they actually wanted to talk to ME! It was happening. I emailed Dale the schedule so he could inform the Marine Corps what was happening, and printed off a schedule to take to work. I was kinda worried about telling my boss about how much time I was going to need off. He definitely did nothing to make me feel better about it. Thankfully, I had already taken a week off in June for Girls Camp, and it just so happened to be the same week that I was scheduled to have my Egg Retrieval Surgery. I thought they would be happy that I actually wouldn't need to take off the entire week, just a few days for recovery. Nope. Still mad. Oh, and I couldn't lift of pull anything over 10 pounds for a while... which is pretty much my job. Oops.
I'm pretty sure the next few weeks were the craziest of our marriage. Walter Reed National Military Medical Center is about 45 minutes away from our house (without traffic), and just happens to be situated right off of the DC beltway. If you hit traffic, the commute time will at least double. I think we drove there at least 7 times for just blood tests and ultrasounds. Thankfully, the tests are done between 6 and 6:45am. If we left the house before 5:15, we missed all the traffic. And depending on how long we were at the hospital (it could range between 15 and 60 minutes), we missed traffic going back the other way to Fort Meade for work! All those days I told my boss I would be late... I never was. You're welcome.
Then there was the medication. The birth control I was on previously was just to control the start date of my cycle. I had gone off of that a few weeks prior. I was now starting Menupur, a follicle stimulating hormone (FSH), and Gonal-f, a menopausal gonadotropin (HMG). And a prenatal vitamin, of course.
One Vial of HMG, and 150 Units of FSH every day. Needles. Super cool.
Here is a picture of my original calendar.... Fun, right? Green is appointments, red is medicine.
And off we went. I didn't take pictures every day. Aint nobody got time for that. Most days were pretty much the same.
This was when the doctors finally noticed that my follicles weren't growing very quickly. So they up'd the dosage of the meds. Now there were shots in the morning and evening.
And the follicles still weren't growing quickly enough, so we up'd the meds again. Shots in the morning, afternoon, and evening. This resulted in a migraine soo terrible that I puked. Lots.
So. Much. Tylenol.
New Medicine to Start! The Ganirelix Acetate is supposed to stop the follicles (eggs) from being released too early. We didn't want them to detach before the surgery.
So that pretty much summed up my life for a few weeks. I also....
Got in a car accident (she hit me...)
and
Drank LOTS of pomegranate juice to help thicken the lining of my uterus,
and
Went to acupuncture 1-2 times a week,
and
Worked full time (except when I needed to leave early so I wouldn't puke at my desk),
and
Continued to fulfill my calling as the Young Women's President in my Ward.
Oh, and I think I gained 5 pounds... but who's counting.
The morning of my physical and blood tests started like most days. I woke up, fed the dog, started showering.... but there was this nagging feeling like I was forgetting something. Half way through my shower I remembered. My appointment. And it was at 8:00, which happened to be in 5 minutes.
Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t. How could I have messed this up? It would take weeks to get another appointment. I jumped out of the shower and threw on clothes. I ran out the door and headed to my jeep. And my keys? Oh, they were back inside the house. Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t. Where the hell was that spare key I hid just for these stupid occasions? Hidden.
Please forgive me, I've lost my mind by this point. I'm soo tired and exhausted from the constant stressing and panicking of the last 6 months, I can barely remember to eat. Or I can blame the birth control the hospital made me take... either way. Every aspect of my life was suffering. But I'll save all of that loveliness for another post.
I'm convinced my jeep has warp speed, and that I'll be receiving a few speeding tickets in the mail soon. At 8:10 I ran into the doctors office. No makeup, hair dripping wet (probably still with shampoo...), and whatever sweat pants were on the bathroom floor. I also may have been crying. I'm very grateful for all these receptionists who have pitied me the last few months. But I must have looked pathetic enough for her to agreed to let me see the doctor.
The appointment was routine. The only strange thing she noted was an unusually fast heart-rate. Weird.... Then I was informed that she would send the results to the Hospital in a week. A week? How about... I don't know... now? Of course not.
I left feeling defeated. Again. I didn't bother going straight to work, no one needed to see me like that. I went home to clean up and gather my thoughts. At this point there was no way I could start the IVF in June like we had planned. The cycle had already started. But all the tests were done (unless they had something else in mind they hadn't told me about...), so maybe I could do the September cycle? Sure, we'll shoot for that.
The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways, because two days later I got a phone call from Walter Reed. "We received all your tests results, can you come in on June 9th for your Baseline ultrasound and Blood work?"
I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number. There's no possible way you have all my results. In fact, you should be telling me something else that has gone wrong. Have a good day.
But to my complete surprise they actually wanted to talk to ME! It was happening. I emailed Dale the schedule so he could inform the Marine Corps what was happening, and printed off a schedule to take to work. I was kinda worried about telling my boss about how much time I was going to need off. He definitely did nothing to make me feel better about it. Thankfully, I had already taken a week off in June for Girls Camp, and it just so happened to be the same week that I was scheduled to have my Egg Retrieval Surgery. I thought they would be happy that I actually wouldn't need to take off the entire week, just a few days for recovery. Nope. Still mad. Oh, and I couldn't lift of pull anything over 10 pounds for a while... which is pretty much my job. Oops.
I'm pretty sure the next few weeks were the craziest of our marriage. Walter Reed National Military Medical Center is about 45 minutes away from our house (without traffic), and just happens to be situated right off of the DC beltway. If you hit traffic, the commute time will at least double. I think we drove there at least 7 times for just blood tests and ultrasounds. Thankfully, the tests are done between 6 and 6:45am. If we left the house before 5:15, we missed all the traffic. And depending on how long we were at the hospital (it could range between 15 and 60 minutes), we missed traffic going back the other way to Fort Meade for work! All those days I told my boss I would be late... I never was. You're welcome.
Then there was the medication. The birth control I was on previously was just to control the start date of my cycle. I had gone off of that a few weeks prior. I was now starting Menupur, a follicle stimulating hormone (FSH), and Gonal-f, a menopausal gonadotropin (HMG). And a prenatal vitamin, of course.
One Vial of HMG, and 150 Units of FSH every day. Needles. Super cool.
Here is a picture of my original calendar.... Fun, right? Green is appointments, red is medicine.
Here are all my meds. I tried to be a little organized. I used Star Wars band-aids to feel better about myself.
And off we went. I didn't take pictures every day. Aint nobody got time for that. Most days were pretty much the same.
This was when the doctors finally noticed that my follicles weren't growing very quickly. So they up'd the dosage of the meds. Now there were shots in the morning and evening.
So. Much. Tylenol.
So that pretty much summed up my life for a few weeks. I also....
Got in a car accident (she hit me...)
and
Drank LOTS of pomegranate juice to help thicken the lining of my uterus,
and
Went to acupuncture 1-2 times a week,
and
Worked full time (except when I needed to leave early so I wouldn't puke at my desk),
and
Continued to fulfill my calling as the Young Women's President in my Ward.
Oh, and I think I gained 5 pounds... but who's counting.
Part 3- So God Made a Fisherman.
**Be warned. This gets a little emotional**
I don't know how to relax. I don't know how to take "vacations." As hard as I try, I always need a second vacation to unwind from my first vacation. This trip to Utah was no different. When we left Maryland we were confident that we had done everything we needed to do in order to start the next cycle of IVF. All the required tests were turned in (again), we went to orientation, we paid our deposit, and I had the saline sonogram scheduled for the third day of our vacation at the same hospital I was born at. This was gonna be great.
We left Maryland on May 10th. We had a scheduled layover in Dallas, and were supposed to arrive in Salt Lake around 1am on the 11th. We'd drive to my parents and spend the night there, then check-in to our hotel and sleep! But as we've seen over the past few months, things are never that easy for us.
We hit a storm over Dallas. The pilot circled for about an hour, then decided to fly to Tulsa to re-fuel. We made it back to Dallas by midnight, but by that time we'd already missed our connecting flight. American Airlines was nice enough to get us on a flight 12 hours later. Thankfully the USO opened at 8am, and I didn't have to sleep on the child's play area bench any more. We were able to sleep for a few hours, I found toothpaste, and they fed us breakfast. God Bless the USO.
Anyways.... We flew out of Dallas and arrived in Salt Lake. We figured it was easier to get the car and check in to our Hotel. At this point it would be good to know that I am super Cheap. I always look for the best deal, I never pay full price, and spending money gives me anxiety. I've stayed in some pretty sketchy motels and I'm still alive. I figured this one couldn't be that bad. Wrong again. The first room they put us in didn't have running water. The second one had drywall on the floor and a random door on the bed. Nope. Nope. And Nope. I don't care what Dale wants, we're staying with family. We walked out (and I think we passed a few prostitutes on the way).
I love Utah. I love mountains. I love my family. I needed all three. When we arrived I called the Hospital I was scheduled to have the procedure at to make sure everything was still good to go, the nurses were concerned that the test I had requested wasn't the right test for for IVF. That's not what I wanted to hear. So I emailed WR to confirm, they told me to go ahead with the Sonogram. The nurses were questioning it, but did it anyways. They said the results would be ready the next day, and that they would send them to WR. That's good, because I'm going camping.
The next morning I called the hospital just to confirm that they had the results and that they had sent them off. More miscommunication. They didn't have authorization to send the results because my primary healthcare physician in Utah would need to request them and then send them off themselves. Ugh. It's fine, I don't leave for Southern Utah for another 30 minutes. I drove to my clinic, explained the situation and asked for a release form. The awesome woman at the desk wasn't quite sure what to do. She told me she couldn't send any paperwork that my Doctor didn't request. At this point I might have started crying. Apparently that works, because she pulled me into the back room, printed out my results (which were all on the same database), and asked if emailing them in was a possibility. That'll work. I went home, scanned and emailed the paperwork and waited for a confirmation from WR that they were received. They responded and told me I had everything submitted, and they would contact me soon to schedule a baseline date for the IVF. I could now hike in peace.
The next few days were amazing. We hiked, we fished, we hung out with friends, and we ate at all of our favorite local spots. It was exactly what we needed.
My dad's favorite thing to do is fish. So when we go to Utah, of course I'm going to drop everything and go fishing with him. It was May 18, and we had been there for a week. We headed up to my dad's favorite fishing spot and launched the boat. I love fishing. To quote Ron Swanson- "Fishing is like Yoga, except I get to kill something." The fishing wasn't very good that morning, but I could care less. I was just happy to be there.
It was about the middle of the day when I got a phone call. It was WR, calling to tell me that they were missing the results from two blood tests and a physical. Tests that I never even knew I needed. "How is this possible? You gave me a list of everything I needed, and these weren't on the list. You told me I was done."
I lost it. I lost it in the middle of Strawberry Reservoir while fishing with my dad. I was done. I couldn't do it anymore. I had done everything I had been asked to do, and it still wasn't good enough. It was all over.
Dale and I stared at each other. Speechless. There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do. It was my dad who finally had something to say. "Well, you better call and make the appointment for those tests. You need to finish this."
If you've never met my dad, that's really all you need to know about him. Buck up, and do what you need to do. He didn't say much else, but with a few simple words he was able to inspire me enough to keep going. To remind me that the Lord doesn't go back on His promises, and that He wouldn't ask us to do something without providing a way to accomplish it.
I don't remember much of the rest of the trip. I called my doctor in Maryland and made the appointment for the physical and blood tests. I put on a happy face for my family and friends. Then we got back on the plane, and left.
I don't know how to relax. I don't know how to take "vacations." As hard as I try, I always need a second vacation to unwind from my first vacation. This trip to Utah was no different. When we left Maryland we were confident that we had done everything we needed to do in order to start the next cycle of IVF. All the required tests were turned in (again), we went to orientation, we paid our deposit, and I had the saline sonogram scheduled for the third day of our vacation at the same hospital I was born at. This was gonna be great.
We left Maryland on May 10th. We had a scheduled layover in Dallas, and were supposed to arrive in Salt Lake around 1am on the 11th. We'd drive to my parents and spend the night there, then check-in to our hotel and sleep! But as we've seen over the past few months, things are never that easy for us.
We hit a storm over Dallas. The pilot circled for about an hour, then decided to fly to Tulsa to re-fuel. We made it back to Dallas by midnight, but by that time we'd already missed our connecting flight. American Airlines was nice enough to get us on a flight 12 hours later. Thankfully the USO opened at 8am, and I didn't have to sleep on the child's play area bench any more. We were able to sleep for a few hours, I found toothpaste, and they fed us breakfast. God Bless the USO.
Anyways.... We flew out of Dallas and arrived in Salt Lake. We figured it was easier to get the car and check in to our Hotel. At this point it would be good to know that I am super Cheap. I always look for the best deal, I never pay full price, and spending money gives me anxiety. I've stayed in some pretty sketchy motels and I'm still alive. I figured this one couldn't be that bad. Wrong again. The first room they put us in didn't have running water. The second one had drywall on the floor and a random door on the bed. Nope. Nope. And Nope. I don't care what Dale wants, we're staying with family. We walked out (and I think we passed a few prostitutes on the way).
I love Utah. I love mountains. I love my family. I needed all three. When we arrived I called the Hospital I was scheduled to have the procedure at to make sure everything was still good to go, the nurses were concerned that the test I had requested wasn't the right test for for IVF. That's not what I wanted to hear. So I emailed WR to confirm, they told me to go ahead with the Sonogram. The nurses were questioning it, but did it anyways. They said the results would be ready the next day, and that they would send them to WR. That's good, because I'm going camping.
The next morning I called the hospital just to confirm that they had the results and that they had sent them off. More miscommunication. They didn't have authorization to send the results because my primary healthcare physician in Utah would need to request them and then send them off themselves. Ugh. It's fine, I don't leave for Southern Utah for another 30 minutes. I drove to my clinic, explained the situation and asked for a release form. The awesome woman at the desk wasn't quite sure what to do. She told me she couldn't send any paperwork that my Doctor didn't request. At this point I might have started crying. Apparently that works, because she pulled me into the back room, printed out my results (which were all on the same database), and asked if emailing them in was a possibility. That'll work. I went home, scanned and emailed the paperwork and waited for a confirmation from WR that they were received. They responded and told me I had everything submitted, and they would contact me soon to schedule a baseline date for the IVF. I could now hike in peace.
The next few days were amazing. We hiked, we fished, we hung out with friends, and we ate at all of our favorite local spots. It was exactly what we needed.
My dad's favorite thing to do is fish. So when we go to Utah, of course I'm going to drop everything and go fishing with him. It was May 18, and we had been there for a week. We headed up to my dad's favorite fishing spot and launched the boat. I love fishing. To quote Ron Swanson- "Fishing is like Yoga, except I get to kill something." The fishing wasn't very good that morning, but I could care less. I was just happy to be there.
It was about the middle of the day when I got a phone call. It was WR, calling to tell me that they were missing the results from two blood tests and a physical. Tests that I never even knew I needed. "How is this possible? You gave me a list of everything I needed, and these weren't on the list. You told me I was done."
I lost it. I lost it in the middle of Strawberry Reservoir while fishing with my dad. I was done. I couldn't do it anymore. I had done everything I had been asked to do, and it still wasn't good enough. It was all over.
Dale and I stared at each other. Speechless. There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do. It was my dad who finally had something to say. "Well, you better call and make the appointment for those tests. You need to finish this."
If you've never met my dad, that's really all you need to know about him. Buck up, and do what you need to do. He didn't say much else, but with a few simple words he was able to inspire me enough to keep going. To remind me that the Lord doesn't go back on His promises, and that He wouldn't ask us to do something without providing a way to accomplish it.
I don't remember much of the rest of the trip. I called my doctor in Maryland and made the appointment for the physical and blood tests. I put on a happy face for my family and friends. Then we got back on the plane, and left.
Part 2- Fake it 'till you make it.
****Disclosure**** This is me venting. It in no way reflects how I feel about Healthcare providers and WRNMMC. I'm soo eternally grateful for them and the services they offer. Once we got through the miscommunication and craziness of it all, we haven't had a single problem****
When we called Walter Reed National Military Medical Center (WR for short, cuz I'm lazy) in February I was motivated and ready to do whatever they needed me to do. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I had no idea that the next five months would be some of the worst of my life.
After talking with a secretary on the phone, I learned that in order to be accepted into the program, there were a few things we had to do. 1-Perform all the necessary blood/urine/semen tests 2- Pay a lot of money 3- Attend an orientation meeting.
We had already taken most of the blood tests, every doctor had done the same ones for the past two years. Unfortunately, they needed to have been done within the year. Not a big deal, Shady Grove Fertility had all my results and paperwork and they could send it to WR. So I called them up and explained the situation. Of course they could send my paperwork. It would be $30, and it would have to be mailed. Seriously? Not even faxed? Of course not. That's fine, I'm not in a hurry.
Unfortunately, without that paperwork I had no idea what tests were outdated. I had no where to start. So we waited. And waited. I called WR about twice a week to see if they'd received the package, and I called Shady Grove to confirm that they sent it. During this time I'm getting all the routine forms filled out (that I've already filled out at least 4 times at each doctor...).
A month later I get an email saying that they have received my paperwork from Shady Grove and they listed out all the tests that had expired and needed to be re-taken. I finally had a place to start, and I could finally get going.
I called my Ob/Gyn to schedule the appointment. She's not my favorite. It was difficult from the beginning. After waiting weeks for the results of my routine "womanly" exams, I went back to check on the result of the referrals my gyno was supposed to make for the blood work I needed. When asked about them, she initially refused to write them out for me. If she wasn't doing the procedure, why should she write the referral for the blood work? But she gave in, eventually. I waited another week for her office to call me back saying I could come pick them up. They never called, so of course I called them asking what the deal was. They put me through to my doc, who was not happy. Me- "Ma'am, I just need a referral for blood work and a saline sonogram."
Doc- "I don't know the code for requesting any of that, and it's a lot of work for me to look it up."
Me- "That's fine, I can wait on the line."
Doc- "I'll have it ready for you to pickup tomorrow."
But no, It's not ready when I get there. And the Doctor isn't even in. I'm angry. I'm tired. I'm sick of being referred to as "the infertile one" by the front desk staff (yeah, that happened). To their credit, they worked fast when I got angry. Five minutes later I had all the paperwork I needed. I had already taken off a few hours from work, so I headed to the Laboratory. Check that off the list.
Meanwhile, we started working on Dale's requirements. These were pretty routine tests that the Marine Corps does every year anyways. But such is our luck, his doctors weren't willing to put in referrals for his blood tests either. If WR wanted to tests done, then the doctors there could write them out. Of course I called WR to see if that was a possibility, and I was told no. I also asked that because Dale had done all these tests recently already, and that they were all in the military healthcare database, if they could just look them up. Of course not. That would be to easy. So we managed to convince his doctors, he did the blood tests. And we filled out the required paperwork to have the results send to WR.
I needed a vacation. Thankfully my sister had planned a great one, I just needed to fly back to Utah. Totally worth it. We were leaving for Utah on May 10th. Our goal was to have this all done by then so I wouldn't have to stress about it. That's laughable now.
The last thing I needed was another Saline Sonogram. Unfortunately, this procedure needs to be timed with my menstrual cycle. And of course at this specific time of my cycle I'd be in Utah. Not a problem. I have some GREAT doctors in Utah, so I'll call them up and explain the situation. I can't even begin to explain how refreshing it was to talk to a healthcare provider who gave a damn. I made the appointment (it was a few weeks away). And turned my attention to making sure the rest of our results had been send to Walter Reed.
I thought Dale's tests would be the easiest part. About a week after he had the blood tests I called WR to see if they had received them. Nope. Nothing. Ok, I'll just call the clinic and see if they can re-fax them. Maybe I gave them the wrong number. Tried again a week later. Nothing. This time, Dale's clinic got annoyed and decided to make the call themselves. "We've received 3 copies of his records from you guys over the past two weeks." F.M.L.
Oh, and those blood tests that I had to fight for? The results were never sent back to my Gyno's office from the lab. Which means they could never forward them to WR. We were getting awfully close to our Utah trip, and I was soo ready to never talk to any humans again. But I knew I had to talk to the peeps at WR and figure out what was going on.
This was May 6th. I'm glad I called. First, I learned that the May/June Cycle was going to start while we were in Utah. If we could get all our stuff done before leaving (except the sonogram, those results just needed to be faxed as soon as the results came in), we could possibly make that cycle. If not, we'd have to wait until September. Second, when I told the secretary that my last blood test result had never been received, she answered "Oh, not a problem. Just come in here and we'll do all the blood work at our lab." I nearly cried. Right there on the phone. I could have just done all the lab work there? Instead of dealing with crazy people for a month? It's not possible. Third...
WR- "Mrs Thompson, have you attended the Orientation Meeting?"
Me- "You said we couldn't go until we had all our paperwork in."
WR- "No, you can come at anytime before the paperwork is done."
Me- "Ok.... when is your next orientation meeting?"
WR- "May 10 at 11:00am. And if you don't make it to that one, you won't be able to do the next cycle."
Me- "Ok, our flight leaves at 6:00 pm, sign us up for orientation. And I'll do the blood work while we're there. Can I confirm that you have everything else you need?"
WR- "Absolutely... It looks like we are still missing all of Dale's test results."
Me- *Awkward Silence* "Are you serious?"
WR- "Do you want me to schedule blood work for him too while you are here?"
*I don't want to be on this planet anymore.*
I guess I'm learning the hard way that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. So Monday morning Dale stopped at his clinic and had them print off his results. I went to my gyno's office and asked them to print off all of my results. If my paperwork was going to be lost, it would now be my fault.
Tuesday May 10 was easy. We drove to WR at 8am. We handed in all of our paperwork, I did the blood work I still needed, we sat through Orientation, and we paid our deposit. Before we left, Dale went to the office one more time just to confirm that all of our tests results were in, and that once we sent in the labs from my saline sonogram in a few days, we were good to go. We could start the IVF process when we got home. They told us we were done. We walked out the doors knowing that in 24 hours we'd be hiking, fishing, and definitely not doing any blood tests.
When we called Walter Reed National Military Medical Center (WR for short, cuz I'm lazy) in February I was motivated and ready to do whatever they needed me to do. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I had no idea that the next five months would be some of the worst of my life.
After talking with a secretary on the phone, I learned that in order to be accepted into the program, there were a few things we had to do. 1-Perform all the necessary blood/urine/semen tests 2- Pay a lot of money 3- Attend an orientation meeting.
We had already taken most of the blood tests, every doctor had done the same ones for the past two years. Unfortunately, they needed to have been done within the year. Not a big deal, Shady Grove Fertility had all my results and paperwork and they could send it to WR. So I called them up and explained the situation. Of course they could send my paperwork. It would be $30, and it would have to be mailed. Seriously? Not even faxed? Of course not. That's fine, I'm not in a hurry.
Unfortunately, without that paperwork I had no idea what tests were outdated. I had no where to start. So we waited. And waited. I called WR about twice a week to see if they'd received the package, and I called Shady Grove to confirm that they sent it. During this time I'm getting all the routine forms filled out (that I've already filled out at least 4 times at each doctor...).
A month later I get an email saying that they have received my paperwork from Shady Grove and they listed out all the tests that had expired and needed to be re-taken. I finally had a place to start, and I could finally get going.
I called my Ob/Gyn to schedule the appointment. She's not my favorite. It was difficult from the beginning. After waiting weeks for the results of my routine "womanly" exams, I went back to check on the result of the referrals my gyno was supposed to make for the blood work I needed. When asked about them, she initially refused to write them out for me. If she wasn't doing the procedure, why should she write the referral for the blood work? But she gave in, eventually. I waited another week for her office to call me back saying I could come pick them up. They never called, so of course I called them asking what the deal was. They put me through to my doc, who was not happy. Me- "Ma'am, I just need a referral for blood work and a saline sonogram."
Doc- "I don't know the code for requesting any of that, and it's a lot of work for me to look it up."
Me- "That's fine, I can wait on the line."
Doc- "I'll have it ready for you to pickup tomorrow."
But no, It's not ready when I get there. And the Doctor isn't even in. I'm angry. I'm tired. I'm sick of being referred to as "the infertile one" by the front desk staff (yeah, that happened). To their credit, they worked fast when I got angry. Five minutes later I had all the paperwork I needed. I had already taken off a few hours from work, so I headed to the Laboratory. Check that off the list.
Meanwhile, we started working on Dale's requirements. These were pretty routine tests that the Marine Corps does every year anyways. But such is our luck, his doctors weren't willing to put in referrals for his blood tests either. If WR wanted to tests done, then the doctors there could write them out. Of course I called WR to see if that was a possibility, and I was told no. I also asked that because Dale had done all these tests recently already, and that they were all in the military healthcare database, if they could just look them up. Of course not. That would be to easy. So we managed to convince his doctors, he did the blood tests. And we filled out the required paperwork to have the results send to WR.
I needed a vacation. Thankfully my sister had planned a great one, I just needed to fly back to Utah. Totally worth it. We were leaving for Utah on May 10th. Our goal was to have this all done by then so I wouldn't have to stress about it. That's laughable now.
The last thing I needed was another Saline Sonogram. Unfortunately, this procedure needs to be timed with my menstrual cycle. And of course at this specific time of my cycle I'd be in Utah. Not a problem. I have some GREAT doctors in Utah, so I'll call them up and explain the situation. I can't even begin to explain how refreshing it was to talk to a healthcare provider who gave a damn. I made the appointment (it was a few weeks away). And turned my attention to making sure the rest of our results had been send to Walter Reed.
I thought Dale's tests would be the easiest part. About a week after he had the blood tests I called WR to see if they had received them. Nope. Nothing. Ok, I'll just call the clinic and see if they can re-fax them. Maybe I gave them the wrong number. Tried again a week later. Nothing. This time, Dale's clinic got annoyed and decided to make the call themselves. "We've received 3 copies of his records from you guys over the past two weeks." F.M.L.
Oh, and those blood tests that I had to fight for? The results were never sent back to my Gyno's office from the lab. Which means they could never forward them to WR. We were getting awfully close to our Utah trip, and I was soo ready to never talk to any humans again. But I knew I had to talk to the peeps at WR and figure out what was going on.
This was May 6th. I'm glad I called. First, I learned that the May/June Cycle was going to start while we were in Utah. If we could get all our stuff done before leaving (except the sonogram, those results just needed to be faxed as soon as the results came in), we could possibly make that cycle. If not, we'd have to wait until September. Second, when I told the secretary that my last blood test result had never been received, she answered "Oh, not a problem. Just come in here and we'll do all the blood work at our lab." I nearly cried. Right there on the phone. I could have just done all the lab work there? Instead of dealing with crazy people for a month? It's not possible. Third...
WR- "Mrs Thompson, have you attended the Orientation Meeting?"
Me- "You said we couldn't go until we had all our paperwork in."
WR- "No, you can come at anytime before the paperwork is done."
Me- "Ok.... when is your next orientation meeting?"
WR- "May 10 at 11:00am. And if you don't make it to that one, you won't be able to do the next cycle."
Me- "Ok, our flight leaves at 6:00 pm, sign us up for orientation. And I'll do the blood work while we're there. Can I confirm that you have everything else you need?"
WR- "Absolutely... It looks like we are still missing all of Dale's test results."
Me- *Awkward Silence* "Are you serious?"
WR- "Do you want me to schedule blood work for him too while you are here?"
*I don't want to be on this planet anymore.*
I guess I'm learning the hard way that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. So Monday morning Dale stopped at his clinic and had them print off his results. I went to my gyno's office and asked them to print off all of my results. If my paperwork was going to be lost, it would now be my fault.
Tuesday May 10 was easy. We drove to WR at 8am. We handed in all of our paperwork, I did the blood work I still needed, we sat through Orientation, and we paid our deposit. Before we left, Dale went to the office one more time just to confirm that all of our tests results were in, and that once we sent in the labs from my saline sonogram in a few days, we were good to go. We could start the IVF process when we got home. They told us we were done. We walked out the doors knowing that in 24 hours we'd be hiking, fishing, and definitely not doing any blood tests.
What Not to Say
We've been trying to get pregnant for over 3 years. To some, that's an eternity. To others who have been trying to 15+ years, it's just the beginning. Eventually people are going to find out that you are trying to conceive. Well meaning people always have the best advise on how to get pregnant, or what to do when you can't get pregnant. Here are some of my favorites...
1- "Are you sure you're doing it right?" No. Please tell me. Because I've obviously wasted a lot of money already.
2- "It'll happen when you aren't trying." Wait... I thought I was supposed to be doing it?
3- "Go buy a bottle of wine. I only get pregnant when I'm drunk." I'm just gonna walk away now... but can I take your kids with me?
4- "Take a Vacation! That always helps!" My vacations are anything but relaxing... no one has time for baby making when Disney World opens their doors at 7am!
5- "Do you want my sperm? It works really well." I don't even KNOW you!!!! At least take me to dinner first.
6- "Why don't you just adopt?" I'd love to adopt. Can I have $40,000?
7- "Kids aren't all that great, wanna take mine?" You just might regret saying that...
8- "You're young, you have plenty of time." I know I look 18, but I promise I'm not.
9- "Is it your fault or his?" It depends on the day.
And my favorite advise of all...
10- "You need to Relax!" Oh.... I'm soo gonna go to jail for this....
1- "Are you sure you're doing it right?" No. Please tell me. Because I've obviously wasted a lot of money already.
2- "It'll happen when you aren't trying." Wait... I thought I was supposed to be doing it?
3- "Go buy a bottle of wine. I only get pregnant when I'm drunk." I'm just gonna walk away now... but can I take your kids with me?
4- "Take a Vacation! That always helps!" My vacations are anything but relaxing... no one has time for baby making when Disney World opens their doors at 7am!
5- "Do you want my sperm? It works really well." I don't even KNOW you!!!! At least take me to dinner first.
6- "Why don't you just adopt?" I'd love to adopt. Can I have $40,000?
7- "Kids aren't all that great, wanna take mine?" You just might regret saying that...
8- "You're young, you have plenty of time." I know I look 18, but I promise I'm not.
9- "Is it your fault or his?" It depends on the day.
And my favorite advise of all...
10- "You need to Relax!" Oh.... I'm soo gonna go to jail for this....
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