But my point is, I take my meds and I take my vitamins like the good girl that I am. I even have a really elaborate old-lady pill calls that I dutifully fill with said meds and vitamins each Sunday afternoon, so I can keep track of what I'm taking and when.
So it doesn't make sense to me that I have so many issues with the fertility meds. When it comes to them, I screw up a lot. It's not because I don't want to be taking them, or because I disagree with what I'm being given - though I did get really pissed at a nurse on the phone yesterday, who insists my treatment plan calls for 1 cc of PIO every other day and not every day. It's honestly fueled by sheer forgetfulness.
See, the meds I mess up the most are the ones I'm supposed to take right before bed. I don't go to bed at the exact same time every night. If i'm really exhausted, I'll turn in by 10 or 10:30. If I'm not, I'll push it another 30 to 60 minutes. How careful I am about my pre-bedtime routine often depends on how loud and insistent my inner monologue is. It wasn't so many years ago I required an anti-anxiety medication to be able to shut that inner monologue down. Now I can mostly manage on my own, though I did spend a few weeks post-miscarriage on the ol' Klonopin, trying to get some quality sleep.
Last cycle I missed a few doses of the progesterone suppository. Usually, when this would happen, I'd bolt out of bed with a gasp, either in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning, and shove that puppy up inside me as quick as can be. I'd get so angry with myself. YOU HAVE ONE JOB RIGHT NOW, AGONY: KEEPING THAT BABY ALIVE AND HEALTHY.
This cycle, I've fucked up so many things I'm almost ashamed to admit them here. There was the day I had an appointment at Posh Clinic and completely forgot to take my Lupron in the AM. I didn't end up shooting up that day until almost noon, four hours late. I spent a week thinking I'd ovulate through the drug.
There was the day I discovered an Estrace tablet on my kitchen table and didn't even know which dose I'd missed. When they had me start shoving the Estrace up my lady businees, I forgot exactly twice and was convinced I was going to lose my lining.
I didn't start my doxycycline the right day because I didn't realize until the evening of the day I was supposed to start that the nurses had forgotten to order it for me. I had to page Dr. Eyeore on a Sunday and have him call it into the pharmacy. This turned out to be not catastrophic, since I ended up pushing my transfer back a day, but still.
The day I was supposed to start my Medrol dose pack, I forgot until dinnertime. So I was already four pills behind. I ended up slamming them two at a time in about a six-hour period.
Quirky would say that this is understandable. That I am under an enormous amount of pressure with my job, with the freelance project deadline, etc. and that it's only natural that I would make some mistakes. Some being the operative word. I've made more than "some." I've made a ton.
Which brings us to this morning, when the alarm went off and I woke up with a weird pounding in my head. I think to myself, "This reminds me of the headaches I got when I stopped the prednisone."
Cut to me bolting upright with an "oh, fuck!"
Yep. Forgot my bedtime does of Medrol. Which means I also forgot my bedtime does of Estrace. The nurse told me not to take any Estrace before my transfer, only after, so by the time I'm allowed to take it, I will have gone almost 15 hours between doses.
I took one Medrol first thing and will likely take another before transfer, even though I'm really only supposed to take one this AM and will be allowed to take a 20 MG tablet of prednisone afterward. I already packed the Estrace and prednisone in my purse and will take that as soon as I'm able. I also packed my Lovenox and an alcohol wipe because typically I do that shot in the AM, too.
I'm trying not to panic. My lining was "gorgeous." My hormone levels were perfect as of last week. I have one Grade A embryo and one Grade B embryo ready to transfer. At least, that's what they were graded at the time of freezing. I won't know what they are now until the embryologist shows us the little picture just before transfer.
This transfer - I need it to work. I mean, I know we all need every ART procedure to work. But as I said to Mr. Hope the other night, "I've never failed at something for four straight years and kept going." I want a baby so badly - to add a tiny human to our family full of love - and at the same time, I don't know how many more cycles I have left in me. I've had three failed IUIs. Two failed IVFs. One miscarriage.
I know women who've lost so much more. Who've been through so much more. I don't know how they do it.
People often tell me that I am stronger than I think. I kind of want to cry bullshit. I'm pretty sure I know exactly how strong I am. Which is to say: strong, but not unbreakable.
Today, after transfer, we'll either head straight home or stop for a protein-rich restaurant meal, depending on how hungry we are. Then we'll come home and watch some comedies. At some point, I'll make the lentil soup I ate a bunch of times last transfer, when I was sick. It has coconut milk and turmeric in it and I jokingly referred to it as "implantation soup," because it was warm and comforting and full of anti-inflammatory ingredients. I won't do any day job work, but I will have to put in a little time on the freelance project (nothing stressful). And Mr. Hope and I may take the dog for a short walk, because I no longer heed the doctor's advice about 24 hours of bed rest (it just doesn't make sense to me).
Tomorrow I'm back to work, and the day after that I leave for my work trip. It's a lot. I'm not going to lie. I thought about packing for said trip last night, because packing tends to stress me out, but ran out of time. Also I still have yet to prep the decks for my three presentations, though I'm going to be recycling parts from previous presos so it hopefully it won't be as heinous as I fear.
Maybe this will all be a good lesson in learning how to manage my stress. A girl can hope.