It's all happening!!

After six weeks on thyroxine, it was time to see if my hypothyroidism was resolved enough to start IVF.

I called about my blood tests. They couldn’t find my results – I had to chase them up with the pathology – they wouldn’t cooperate – end result = me in tears on the line to a number of difficult women.

After calling every moment I had a break at work, I finally got through to them again after work. The nurse said that not only was my thyroid great, but that I could start the IVF process that day! I was in shock & amazement – I think I had been waiting for another disappointment. Even if it was cleared – I was starting IVF at least two months earlier than planned.

So the last two weeks have gone so quickly & I can hardly believe I will start injections on Friday.

I took Provera for a week (to raise my progesterone). The first few days I had a terrible headache, was dizzy and nauseous but that seemed to even out quickly.

I then started Synarel nose spray (to prevent me from ovulating). Yuck! Not fun, at all. Tastes gross but I haven’t had too many symptoms. I still feel tired and headachy. I’m trying to give up coffee at the same time, which can’t be helping! So stick with me, and I will try to write more regularly about the upcoming weeks. Lots of prayers & hope hope hope! 

Life hack: Colonoscopy

So, I had a lot of time to think during my colonoscopy prep. Mostly about how much I wished I could fast forward time 24 hours and how I hated my body for putting me through this. I guess one of my purposes for writing this blog is to help people who may be going through similar trials and I definitely have some experience with colonoscopies!. So... here is my list of
10 ways to survive colonoscopy preparation:

1. Plan ahead - make sure to buy some chicken stock (or chicken noodle soup & drain), light coloured jelly (I prefer pineapple) and some yummy fruit juices (clear) & powerade (to trick yourself into thinking you are treating yourself).
2. Do not plan ANYTHING after 2pm the day before (or whenever you are directed to start the prep). You will not be available.
3. Don't go to the gym you crazy person (me). Using any excess energy when you can't replenish is foolish.
4. Environment - create a space where you are comfortable, entertained and close to a toilet. I holed up in the bathroom with cushions and blankets, close to the toilet. I had some calming music & just rested between toilet runs.
5. Entertainment - In my 'bathroom cubby' I had a novel, crossword, my ipad for movies, phone and tried to keep busy to take my mind off the situation.
6. Space the time out - if you have 15 minutes to drink the Picoprep, take a tiny sip, followed by a sweet drink or mouthful of jelly. Then go again. If you think you will just skull it and get it over with, chances are you will end up throwing it up and then you're screwed. Also, when you have an hour for Gycoprep use the whole hour with little sips.
7. On the topic of throwing up, use ginger tea, or burn a ginger candle. I had a cup of Pukka 'lemon, ginger and manuka honey' tea, and breathed in the steam to calm my stomach.
8. Use wet-ones or super-soft mosturising toilet paper. This was not something I thought of ahead of time. Let's just say, I regretted it.
9. Make yourself wake up two hours before the procedure to have a drink and even some tea/broth/jelly. It can be a long wait between the night before and waking up after the procedure and you never realise how much you want a drink of water until you can't.
10. Take the day off to rest. If you are like me, you may sleep very little the night before, as well as all the energy your body has been sapped of through the clear out. Also be careful not to break the fast with anything too heavy, as tempting as a feed of fast-food might be!

And remember, the discomfort is temporary, and the preparation is 100 times worse than the actual procedure.

Why am I not surprised?

The tests results are in. I have been cleared as having my Crohn's managed, endo under control, husband perfect. But, out of nowhere, came another roadblock. Apparently my TSH is 3.5, which means my thyroid is under-active. Another condition to research - I am becoming so medically knowledgable! Anyway, it does explain a lot - like, why I'm always tired/lack energy, have been struggling to lose weight despite trying really hard, and can also be linked to irregular/heavy menstrual periods. So, six weeks on thyroxine and a trip to another specialist (endocrinologist - I told you, I'm going to be the most medically educated woman alive) and we will revisit the 'IVF situation'. Woo hoo.

My life with Crohn's Disease

I suffered with Crohn’s Disease for a year before I was diagnosed. It started with every bite I ate making its way through my digestive system at lightning speed, clawing with sharp nails through my bowel and making a dramatic exit with little warning. I quickly developed a very valid anxiety about being within appropriate proximity to a toilet at all times. I have memories of racing around the city looking for a public toilet, leaving a half-full trolley of groceries, abandoning social occasions for refuge in my own bathroom.  I started to withdraw permanently to my cold, tiled palace.

The second, most glamorous side effect was that, as all food and drink was racing through me like a slippery-slide, my body was not retaining nutrients – the biggest problem being iron. I became weak, pale, eternally light headed. And miserable.

You’re saying – go to the doctor you crazy person! Why would it take you twelve months of misery before you sorted this out! Of course I went to the doctor.  The local GP told me it was nerves. Anxiety. Stress. I just needed to relax. I was just “worried about the wedding”. Oh, I forgot to mention – I was due to be married in October. Of course, doesn’t every bride to be develop debilitating nerves at the thought of a lifetime spent with the one man!? So, I accepted this diagnosis and continued to collapse in inconvenient places and learned to hide my frequent bathroom visits.

I also lost a lot of weight.

Like, 20 kilos.

I was continually told how good I looked, whether I had been working out/dieting/developing an eating disorder. I actually had a “friend” look at me with envy one evening out and say, “How do I get what you’ve got?” Seriously.

So my wedding day came, without diagnosis. I looked bloody incredible. Pity I felt like I was going to pass out all day and was too afraid to eat. I still can’t look back at those photos without remembering the pain and discomfort of that day. Others see a beautiful, thin bride – I see a sickly, miserable woman. I got through the day without passing out, although photos were cut short and I starved myself with fear of an emergency.

It happened after the speeches, before the cutting of the cake. My body betrayed me. I knew I had no other choice. I went to the bathroom, by myself. I lifted the veneer of chiffon and satin and organza and let go. That was when it happened. I wiped. And there it was – execrably vivid red blood. I was bleeding from the inside out. And I was sure of it – I was dying. My new husband and I finished off the formalities of the evening and left our own wedding early, me cursing my body for disallowing me the special day that every bride deserves. I spent our entire honeymoon in Fiji on the toilet, in too much pain to walk, eat or have sex. I’m sure my husband was starting to question his choice of bride!

I returned home, and was finally diagnosed as having Crohn’s Disease. It’s pretty heavy stuff, being told you have a chronic illness with no cure. But, at the time, the possibility of a treatment – something that would stop the misery, however temporarily, was a relief. It took a couple of years to find the right medication, but I’m one of the lucky ones – they found one that worked. I did not develop fistulas, cancer, obstructions. I do not have a stoma bag. And those who do are freaking heroes.

I do have to take immuno-suppressants (doesn’t that seem completely backward – I have to take a foreign chemical to stop my body from attacking itself?). These are of the same strength as those who have had an organ transplant, and, as you can imagine, leave my immune system fairly vulnerable.

My specialist told me that I would never be able to hold down a full time job; that I would be incapacitated forever. Well, it hasn’t always been easy (try leaving a group of 14-year-olds without a teacher mid-lesson while you run to the closest cubicle?), but I am proud to say that, six years on, I do hold down a very demanding, time consuming job, and am amazing at it (why does society think it is not okay to boast about our accomplishments?). I am also still married. And have sex. Sometimes.

As we speak, I am sipping a delicious cup of Picoprep (if you don’t know what this is, think yourself spectacularly lucky) in preparation for tomorrow’s check-up colonoscopy. I will always have Crohn’s disease, but am told there will be a cure in my lifetime. For the love of toilet seats, may this be true.

Birthing the beast, by Natalie Willis

Natalie Willis is a 31 year old Policy Officer from Canberra. She is also my beautiful brave cousin.
She has written a post on her experiences below.








I have a bright yellow folder. It’s the expandable kind with a zipper. 

Sometimes it sits on the kitchen bench. Sometimes it lies beside my bed, in my back pack, or my car. Wherever I go, the yellow folder follows. 

Inside the folder are doctor’s reports, ultrasounds, blood test results, prescriptions, bills and receipts, and diagrams of stretches my physios think I do every day.

A couple of months ago I took the yellow folder to see my Endometriosis specialist. I have had constant pelvic pain for over a year now. Constant yet ever-changing; stabbing, pulling, aching, shooting, nagging, crawling pain. I had my second surgery due to Endo in late 2014, but laparoscopic excision and a cocktail of drugs have not given me even one day free of pain. 

So I went to see my specialist. 

I walked into his office with my folder and sat on the appropriate chair. 

My first thought on entering his room was:

 “Thank God he has comfortable chairs with nice padding”.

Just the thought of sitting on cold, hard, wooden chairs in waiting areas fills me with dread and anxiety akin to what I feel on my way to have fillings at the dentist. Chairs are the enemy of chronic pelvic pain.

I explained that I was not feeling as well as I’d hoped. And so ensued a lengthy discussion about my options. There aren’t many – and none of them easy or with guaranteed or even likely results. 

And as will inevitably happen when you are 30 years old sitting in front of your gynaecologist, he says: “are you thinking about having children soon?”.

Despite knowing full well that this question was coming, I was still unprepared. I spluttered something like: “not just yet but probably soon-ish”. He showed me charts and graphs that all screamed the same story at me: “YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!”

I tried to placate him by asking if there was something I could do to get the ball rolling, and he handed me lists of fertility tests for me and my partner. I put the pieces of paper in the yellow folder. 

I left feeling validated but despondent. Validated that my pain is real. Despondent that once again my questions yielded more questions rather than answers. While I don’t feel like I’m ready to be a mother, it’s always been that thing that I’ll get around to someday when the time is right. Now I have a piece of paper that could either give us a big green light, or cast a shadow on that future hope. Or once again present me with more unanswered questions. 

How do you know you’re ready to be a parent? I always thought I’d just ‘know’. That seems to be what happens to other people. This intrinsic yearning just seems to happen for them. They become obsessed by it. It consumes them. So I just figured if I waited long enough it would suddenly wash over me. Maybe I’d be on a bus, or watching a movie. Maybe one of the myriad of other people in my life having babies would inspire that reaction. 

But it hasn’t come. I’m still sort of… indifferent. It’s a ‘someday I probably will’ kind of thought. The trouble is, ‘someday’ is on the doorstep, knocking loudly and calling my name.

If you are a Gilmore Girls fan you might remember a moment where Anna says to Luke “There is no good time to be a parent, you just are one.” Television reinforces what I hear from my friends; parenthood is inconvenient. It's smelly and dirty. It takes sacrifice and compromise. It's hard work. Maybe it's my appreciation for these facts that is creating this apprehension within me.

I look at most parents of young children, and they look tired. Draped in chewable jewellery and saliva. Parenthood is also a fashion choice, it seems. This thought leads me to another – that in some ways I am already a parent. But not to a child. I am the mother of a demanding, cantankerous, nasty disease. It takes my all my energy to attend to its needs. I take it to doctors and therapists. I try to figure out if it has dietary requirements and attend to its nausea and bowel issues. I accommodate its moods. And it demands fashion choices of its own. Lycra features heavily. Jeans and belts are not part of its wardrobe. If it can't stretch over a belly that looks pregnant despite being potentially barren, then it just simply isn't an option. This disease is a child that just wants to run around naked.

I am the mother of a beast. I'm slowly learning how to tend to it, and even to see the blessings it brings me. Maybe I'm more prepared to be a real mother than I know; and maybe one day I'll know for sure. But for now those pieces of paper rest silently in the yellow folder, waiting for me to be ready to know the answer.

One step forward.. 2 steps back

I am cautious about filling my blog with negativity and complaining & unhelpful whinging. Which is why I haven't written for a while...
I will try to update with as little emotion as possible for your sake! (Whoever you are that is reading this). PS.. Pretty pleased with 1000 views :)

• Lovely AF decided to be a week late this month - this means that the Detailed Endometrial Internal Ultrasound that needs to be taken on CD 5-10 needed to be rescheduled -- did I mention that RPA only have one staff member who does this scan and she is only available on Mondays?? So rescheduling is an enormous pain in the butt. Every month that the process is set back is frustrating!! So, I decided to fork out the $400 & get the test done at a private hospital - which is happening on Tuesday. Fingers & toes crossed it clears me of endo & I am given the green light! Not feeling overly confident but there's one hurdle...
• I don't think I've mentioned that I also have Crohn's disease. Aren't I one lucky lady?? Crohns was diagnosed 6 years ago & I am currently in remission & feeling good. My last colonoscopy was clear & I've had no symptoms. My fertility specialist has insisted that I get a letter from my gastroenterologist confirming that I am healthy enough to undergo IVF. Well, looong story short - my tests came back with some anomalies & my gastro wants to do another colonoscopy!!!! Arg!! 

Ok ok I've become completely emotional & I apologise for the whinging. It's so important that I am as heathy as I can be before starting IVF. I need to be patient. I just keep coming back to self pity (why me? It's not fair. Wah wah) . The journey continues - I need to just take one step at a time. 

But in the meantime... Time for a nap.

AMY

Testing times

So the tests have begun! Before embarking on an IVF cycle, the specialist needs us both to have the updated tests & scans (as if they weren't evasive & painful enough the first time!). My biggest challenge has not been the 10 test tubes of blood sucked from me, but fitting it all in around work. I am managing - it gives me an indication of time management moving forward.

 I have booked in for a DIE ultrasound - which apparently gives a more detailed analysis of endometriosis. I think this is a relatively new technology & if this could be the way forward for indentifying endo (eliminating evasive surgery) it sounds like a great way forward. I couldn't get in for this test until the end of September. I don't think there are many places that conduct this test, and at my hospital there was only one physician who conducts this particular scan. So I will continue to be patient. If things work out I might be pregnant by Christmas! How's that for optimism??? 😁

So much to lose, so much to gain

So, my doctor has told me to lose weight - to allow for the best chance going in to IVF. 

I admit, I have put a lot of weight on over the last year or so. I've always been pretty fit - playing team sport & eating relatively healthily. But at the start of the year I got a new job - I have been busy with work & haven't really exercised in six months... I guess time slips away & you get into a bad routine... and suddenly I'm enormous! Well, maybe not enormous - but being told by a health professional to trim down is certainly sobering . Boo. Losing weight is so much effort.

A few weeks ago I joined the gym. It's such a trek starting from scratch with zero fitness - I keep trying to do what I used to be able to & then can't walk up stairs for a week! I guess I need to keep my baby goal as motivation. Wish me luck. Now to cut the cake. No, I mean cut OUT the cake... 😥

The last key

Another big appointment tomorrow - this time with the IVF specialist I am hoping to use. Completely nervous & excited. I just read a great analogy -

So true literally! Let's hope it's the case for us too x

Start again

This morning I saw a new obgyn/ fertility specialist. I was quite anxious because its been about 12 months since my 'hiatus' from the process. After finding a car park & wrangling an officious secretary, I was in quite quickly. We started from the beginning & I told her my history - I couldn't help but feel like I had turned back time 2 years & was starting again at square 1. As expected, D & I will need to re-test & I need an u/s. She suggest instead of another lap surgery (which I've been dreading), she suppresses the endo with hormones for 3 months before IVF. Then, if unsuccessful, we do another lap. I haven't processed this/ decided anything yet.
However, surprisingly, she  suggest we see the bulk billing centre (who we have an appointment with next week) about IVF. She said that going through her was very expensive & (with my history) it may take several rounds of IVF. One positive - she emphasised that 29 is very young & I should not give up hope.
I feel really flat - exhausted - & don't know if I can do all this again. I can't believe this is what it has come to. I gave my niece Ruby lots of extra cuddles today.
I'll keep you posted x

Where is God?

I am a Christian & believe in a God who loves me & is with me every step. I believe I was created in His image & that God has a plan & purpose for my life.
It has been so hard reconciling this loving God with my pain & disappointment. A God who is just & fair with the seemingly senseless distribution of babies to parents who cannot or will not care for them. A God who refers to children in the bible as a reward, a comfort, a blessing - yet who chooses not to "bless" me??
I have heard many perspectives on God & infertility- that I need to have stronger faith - ask & believe & then you will receive; I've heard infertility referred to as punishment for past sins; a chance to grow & learn; He is waiting for the right time; you're not with the right partner; God will use the opportunity to support others; God won't give you a child until you are ready.
I have come to the belief that there is no right answer & the only way for me to be at peace in my relationship with God through this process is to just trust that he is there with me through it no matter what & trust the plan & purpose, whatever that may be. So much easier said than done, I know! And it has taken me so long to get to this place. It has made me realise my weakness, my vulnerability & complete reliance on Jesus.

Timing & the two week wait

For those who aren't in this boat, timing sex is about as romantic as it sounds. In the past I've used ovulation kits and/or monitored body temp/ cervical mucous (sexy, hey??) leading up to CD 14..ish. Nothing says I love you like a clinical appointment in the bedroom! Honey, I need your sperm! Now!
So once the "abstraction" has taken place - we wait. I swear I have experienced every symptom recognised as a sure sign of a positive result. I can laugh at myself now, but I have (often) googled something along the lines of "runny nose-early pregnancy symptom" - and sure enough - there is a forum with someone asking exactly the same thing & someone somewhere thinking they are doing the poor girl a favour by responding - "Yes! This was my first symptom & I got a positive test the next week! Sounds promising to me!!!" (Baby dust to you, or some similar sign off)
It's unreal when you look from afar - I mean, HUNDREDS of hopeful women every day wanting confirmation from a stranger that their vegemite craving/cold big toe/headache must mean they are pregnant.
I envy those women who, 6 weeks along go - oh, hang on a minute! I haven't had a period for a while! Might check that one out! Month after month I try to wait - and I am testing much less frequently (at least waiting for a late period before peeing on a stick). But that hope still bubbles up there, and I wonder - I think maybe, just maybe, this month will be my miracle.
On that note - let the 2WW begin (can't believe I'm so entrenched in discussing such things that I know the acronyms) - I will continue to ttc and hope for BFP and no AF before poas and driving DH crazy!
Thanks for the read :)

The no-baby blues

Studies have shown that women with infertility feel as anxious or depressed as those diagnosed with cancer, hypertension, or recovering from a heart attack. Women going through this struggle may experience the emotional and psychological effects of someone with a life threatening disorder! Can you believe that?!
I certainly do. The physical effects can be painful, uncomfortable and humiliating. Financially - draining: I have spent thousands on specialist appointments, procedures and treatment. Personally - loss of friends, strains on relationships, changes socially. Professionally - struggling to stay focused, needing to take time off. Emotionally - feeling inadequate somehow, incapable, and weak. Mentally - the determination to keep going, hampered by exhaustion and doubt. 
Yes, the black dog comes to visit. Often. 
The Black Dog Institute has this wonderful picture book - depicting depression as an enormous dog that follows you around - overshadowing you, holding you back. My favourite image, and one I can certainly relate to is this:(www,blackdoginstitute.org.au)

                                 

If you are struggling emotionally & psychologically as a result of your infertility, you are not alone! The Harvard Medical School found in a study that up to 54% of infertile women suffer from depression. It states that the stress of the non-fulfilment of a wish for a child has been associated with "anger, depression, anxiety, marital problems, sexual dysfunction, and social isolation." 

One piece of advice I would like to leave with is the way my mindset has changed & my outlook has improved since seeing a good psychologist. The study I mentioned above found cognitive behavioural therapy, and/or support groups to be the best treatment. If you can relate to the image above, struggling to sleep because of the thoughts - the obsession - of infertility, try mindfulness. There's a free app called 'Headspace' that I listen to at night that takes you through a 10 minute meditation session, helping you to "smile more and sleep better" - www.headspace.com.

When everyone else is pregnant

The common emotion across infertility forums, blogs and articles is one of bitter, self-entitled spite. An outsider could easily make judgement - but as one who has felt the pain and anger at the injustice of infertility, I get it!
When I first started trying to fall pregnant I spoke to friends (at least 5 I can think of right now) who weren't even thinking about having a baby. It was the furthest thing from their minds. Those friends have celebrated the first birthday of their babies in the last few months. So, no, it is not fair. Yes, it is my turn. What can I do about it? Absolutely nothing! I think it's the helpless lack of control that is the most infuriating.
My sister started trying for her second child a year after I did. She said she wanted it to happen for me first, and was scared to tell me when she found out she was pregnant. On the phone I was overjoyed for her - and that wasn't a ruse - I love being an Aunty (and Ruby is gorgeous by the way). But as soon as I got off the phone I sobbed on the kitchen floor. "It was my turn!" I told Dom. "You're next" he said.
So, I went to, literally, dozens of baby showers, bought gifts, empathised with morning sickness, back ache- followed by sleepless nights, teething etc. Don't get me wrong, most friends were great, if not awkwardly reserved. I can't explain why these people getting pregnant affects those who are struggling to - I know that my friend getting pregnant is not her actually pushing in on some waiting line. I know it's not a logical reaction. I think it just comes down to the question we all ask ourselves-
Why?
Why her and not me?
I had a young teenage student fall pregnant accidentally - difficult to see God's plan when it makes no sense.
I have learned a lot since that first year of disappointment. I know when to distance myself, what to say to those around me, and how to try to trust that God is in control. There will be pregnant women. Everywhere. There will be prams and cute kids on swings and Facebook updates and pregnancy announcements daily. It's learning to live with it that is so hard, but so important.


I read a really great post on this - so very true:
https://yetanotherbitterinfertile.wordpress.com/2013/05/16/tired-of-being-sensitive-to-my-infertile-
friend/

My story: endometriosis & other curse words

My husband and I were married in 2009. At the end of 2012, we travelled to UK & Europe for a holiday - a lifelong dream for me. So I inhaled the sights, smells & buttery tastes of Paris & Dom saw his precious Manchester United (precious may not be his word to describe the team). I clearly remember our return flight dialogue, which resulted in a commitment to start trying for a baby. It was the right time/ the next logical step in our lives/ a gentle tug at my heart. I started to plan for nine months time. I bought magazines and books, planned nursery decor, joined forums, researched maternity leave options, family cars, prams, cots, cute itsy bitsy outfits, names. This became an obsession - an excitement I couldn't keep from family & friends.
In retrospect, perhaps I was a little prematurely eager?
My sister and cousin had both been diagnosed with endometriosis, and after six months of trying without results, and increasingly painful & debilitating periods, I knew that I had it too. One year from that plane trip, I went in for a laparoscopy.
Meanwhile, friends appeared to be drinking from some secret source unavailable to me, and were falling pregnant by the dozens. It's hard to explain why that hurts so much - how incredibly selfish am I? I mean, others having babies does not change my ability or inability to!
Every month included monitoring of temps, cm and every symptom - hope, followed by gut wrenching disappointment. After being tested (prodded, poked, scanned) by my obgyn & Genea fertility specialist (and hundreds of dollars), it was found that there was no identifyable reason for the infertility apart from endometriosis. So, I had the procedure, with the perky optimism of an obgyn who said the months following my laparoscopy would be my best hope of falling pregnant. Obviously, this did not happen. In the following year I continued to religiously monitor my cycles and the obgyn put me on clomid for a period of time. It appeared in one of my tests that I wasn't always ovulating, but this may have been an error, as all blood tests following showed consistent ovulation. Clomid made me very sick - hot flushes, nausea, vomiting, fainting - lots of fun when trying to hold down a full time job. After more and more failure I was referred to IVF through Genea and we were told we would need $12,000 upfront to take a 50% chance of becoming pregnant. Certainly worth it - if we had that sort of disposable savings. There was still hope.
It is now 2 1/2 years since that airplane trip from London to Sydney. 31 months of disappointment. In the next few weeks we are meeting with obstetricians and fertility specialists in the hope that we will start IVF soon. HOPE is the word that I have found keeps coming up as I write this very difficult recount. Without hope, what is there? God says in Hosea 2.15 that he will "transform the valley of trouble into a gateway of hope".

Infertility is not a "journey" - it's a broken down bus

I hate when people call the process of infertility a journey. 

Infertility. Barrenness. Inability to have a baby - is a muddy, stagnant hole of pain and disappointment. There is no movement, as in a journey, but as I titled this post, there is the exact opposite - infertility is an anti-journey. You have forgotten what momentum feels like. At times you have the illusion of forward steps, acceleration even, but "life's illusions I recall" is all it is. A mirage. 

After two and a half years of infertility (tests, scans, surgery, pills, needles, therapy & disappointment) I have decided to share some of my wisdom. From the bus broken down on the side of the road. Flat tyres. Absent driver. Bung engine. I cannot give you the magical potion promised to vulnerable infertiles everywhere we look - I don't have it! If I did I would have a child. But I can share my experience & hope that you, my fellow passengers, feel comfort from company.