The Woman Behind the Blog

I want to use this bright and sunny (though still frigid) Saturday to come out from behind the blogging curtain.

When I started this blog, I made the decision to be anonymous. At the time, I wasn’t broadcasting about my fertility to many people in my real life. I was nervous that somehow someone would stumble upon my blog and my cover would be blown. And of course, there are the posts about sex, fights, and other very personal aspects of life that you wouldn’t necessarily want a random colleague to read about in black and white.

That was years ago, and my relationships with many of you have grown. My blog has changed. Basically everyone who knows me knows my journey. So I decided that I was ready to put a face and name to my blog.

Here we are on New Years Eve (just a couple of months ago).

Rob, Holli, and of course our precious Macie.

Here’s an artsy shot I took of myself in January.

Well… that’s it! You can call me Holli now and put a face to my name. 💖

2 Triggers and a Stupid Husband

Stick with me, gals. This is a little long winded (i.e. venting about hubs!) but I have GOT to get this out. Here goes.

Doc ordered 225 iu of Follistim for late this afternoon for one last “push” on those follicles (P.S. There were 12 measurable this AM on Day 10 ultrasound, and endo was 11.6 – yippee!!!).

Just before writing this, I gave myself 2 trigger shots: Lupron and HCG. And that’s that… 36 hours from now I’ll be, as I’ve grown fond of saying, laying my eggs. This brings us to Wednesday morning.

R has known “Wednesday” was the “probably” day for at least 3 days now. He has it in texts from me and we’ve had conversations about it. So imagine my utter hormonal chagrin when:
Me: We have to be there by 8:30 on Wednesday, so I’d like to leave around 6:45.
R: Wait, what day?
Me: Wednesday.
R: …oh… I thought it was Thursday.
Me: (Calmly) We had several conversations about Wednesday. Thursday has never even been mentioned. (Show him text that confirms Wednesday, with his response that says, “Got it!”)
R: I have to work a party and family night at the club. (He is a manager at a country club during the summer- he is obsessed with this job and this has been a point of contention in our relationship for years).
Me: …
R: I guess I’ll figure something out.

What??!? Doesn’t he mean, “Oh my god, I got all mixed up. I’m so sorry! Of course I will get my shifts covered so I can be there for you on the one day you have needed me during this whole process, which by the way, I think you are so strong and amazing for going through!” Isn’t that what he meant?!?

Cut to: I call my sister, RN, and she is off that day. She agrees without hesitation to come take care of me and the pup when R goes to work… And I bet she will even give me my progesterone shot in the butt without flinching, too.

But something doesn’t feel right. As much as I love my sister and am excited to spend time with her, I was still annoyed and seething that R didn’t want to be there for me. My god, I would take a week or more off of work to care for him if he needed it. I want the comfort of my husband, who, ya know, is supposed to be part of this process.

I can’t let it go, so a little while later I say, “Can I be honest? I really want you here with me on Wednesday. I’m trying to be reasonable and help you out by getting my sister over here, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”
R: The procedure is first thing in the morning. I figured by 3:00, you’d —”
H: It’s one day.
R: (annoyed) OK, fine.

So now I “got what I wanted,” but not at all in the way I wanted it. Now I don’t even want him to stay home. I would much rather have my sister here.

Ladies, are my crazy hormones taking over? Am I back on the train to Crazy-Town? I don’t know what to do. Did I make a big deal out of nothing? Should I tell him forget it and go to work? I wish he would at least try to “get it” a little more, but I do feel like I’m going through this alone at times. I need to feel loved and calm and comforted. Now I just feel like a nuisance.

Cray Cray

At school this year, all the kids were using the phrase “cray cray” to mean “crazy.” (As in, “Amanda is cray cray for dating Brian. He’s so gross.”). Well, the past 12 hours are putting me in the cray cray category.

If you follow this blog, you might know that I had a little injection freak out last night. Cetrotide is meant to keep you from ovulating early, and I lost a bit of it out the top of the needle in a freak squirting.

This was followed by hours of me perseverating over the issue. Numerous texts with Sister, RN… who did not jump right away to saying it was fine, but who did ultimately make be feel better. A mention to R, who had no patience for my anxiety and worry and immediately called me cray cray. Ok, to be fair, he did not say “cray cray,” but that was the implication. There was a fight and there was yelling and there were tears. How could he be so insensitive?!? And then there was an apology and fro-yo … and we put it behind us.

Last night, there were also lots of cramps. The kind that show on your face. My tummy was tender, bloated, and crampy. These feelings had been coming on throughout the afternoon and they intensified in the evening. I felt good about it because I’m thinking, “everything is working as it should.”

Then this morning I woke up, and I FEEL NOTHING. The bloat has even gone down. I can sit on the floor with my dog without cringing. No cramps. No heaviness. Nada. Yesterday I was overjoyed that I didn’t have to teach aerobics; today I feel like I could go for a run, comfortably. How can I feel nothing on Day 7 (especially when yesterday things were so intense?) WTF?!!

So of course I get right on the train for Crazy-Town and start thinking the worst: surely I must have ovulated and the cramps last night were not things growing and working, but ovulation cramps. And all of my front runners are released and done, and this cycle is going to be a bust. Maybe I am “cray cray” because I can not help my mind from going there.

And of course I don’t have my next appointment until tomorrow morning. And I can’t talk to R who lectured me last night about worrying too much and looking for problems. And I’m not the type to call my doctor and demand to be seen. (I’m just not…)

So for the next 24 hours, even though I will do my darnedest to distract myself, I’m going to be cray cray and there’s nothing that I can do about it.

IVF on Mars

If men are from Mars, (and I’m quite certain mine is), then I need some help prepping my Martian for IVF.

It goes without saying that I have read, researched, discussed, and viewed just about everything out there to get me mentally prepared for IVF (and of course I am still searching for more). I understand the enormity of what we are about to embark upon. R doesn’t have the slightest clue, and this makes me nervous for a few reasons:

1. He might get overwhelmed at our 2 hour orientation this coming Tuesday and have a mini meltdown.

2. He may think I am being dramatic or exaggerating about effects of the hormones.

3. He may not fathom what I am going through during and after the retrieval, and therefore may not offer as much support as I might need (emotional and physical).

I am not a needy person by any means, but I’m worried he just thinks this is like going in for an IUI. My concerns are 100% selfish, but I think in this case I am entitled.

So I guess my question is, are there any ways to prep the Martians for IVF and really help them fully comprehend the scope of the treatments and procedures? How have your husbands / significant others dealt with IVF? Any tips or stories you have are greatly appreciated!!!