Phoebe 101

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Phoebe...

Ok, this is no fairy tale, though I wish it were. Here are the basic things you need and want to know about me. My blog is about my baby making journey, cooking, gardening, natural living, and whatever I feel about blogging about. Phoebe is not my real name, but I think it's kind of a cool name.

I am now 43 (updated 8/2009). It took a while for me to find Mr. Magic, and we got married two months shy of my 39th birthday. My first RE visit was just before that 39th birthday. I always knew I would need high tech means to get pregnant with Magic, my husband, but I was very naive about what that meant. I thought, yeah, I'll just do IVF. Little did I know how difficult it would be and how much agony and pain it would bring me.

Magic had a vasectomy 15 years ago after the birth of his second son, thinking he was done with baby making, but saved some of his sperm, just in case. In that 15 years, he was divorced and we were married. A reverse vasectomy now will have little chance of being successful because the amount of time that has lapsed from his original vasectomy directly correlates to the amount of the antibodies that are produced against Magic's sperm.

My baby making journey, which has so far resulted in no baby, has consisted of:

1 IUI
1 IVF converted to IUI
1 IVF
1 FET

I have had my own reproductive problems myself. I had surgery for uterine fibroids, a half a pound's worth, before any RE would touch me. Fortunately, changing my lifestyle and getting serious about taking care of myself have kept anymore fibroids away.

High tech fertility treatments are completely against my own personal philosophies, but since it is the only way I can get pregnant, I suck it up. At this point, it feels like a very expensive hobby.

I did get pregnant from IVF #1 redo (IVF #2?) at age 41. I had serious fucked up problems with my pregnancy that was directly related to doing IVF. I know I would not have had these problems if I got pregnant naturally. One of them was that I had severe prenatal depression and anxiety and was not getting treated for it. I did try taking Pro>zac, but I had a paradoxical reaction to it, meaning it made me more anxious instead of calming me down. In retrospect, I should have been on anti-anxiety medication and a different type of anti-depressant, not an SS.RI type anti-depressant. However, because I was so out of it, I didn't have the energy or will to find the right kind of psychiatrist to treat me, and Magic didn't know what to do. It's difficult when your normally in-control-assertive wife suddenly turns into a withering mass of protoplasm. The doctor who did prescribe me the Pro>ac was my RE, and he did not monitor me. Big mistake when treating someone for mental illness, which is why I could not go back to him, and why I eventually changed fertility clinics and moved my frozen embryos. I probably should have been hospitalized, except on the outside, I was functioning. On the inside, I was falling apart. Even after I eventually got better, I have found it extremely difficult to find psychiatrists and psychologists who treat prenatal depression and anxiety, let alone any doctor or health care professional who understands it. Mental health care is seriously fucked flawed in this country, especially for pregnant women.

Unfortunately, my pregnancy had an unhappy ending, and I do not talk about the details of my loss on my public blog. I was traumatized by the whole experience, and the less I have that trauma out there in the world, the better it is for me. I know that my story could probably help someone, but I get nothing from retelling my story except re-traumatization. I do have a private blog that has my story that I created as an outlet for myself and my healing. I only let longtime readers/commenters access. You have to get to know me first before I will allow you access. If you request access to my private blog first to get to know me, I will have to respectfully decline your request.

I love receiving comments and I love the support I get and give by conversing with other bloggers. I do moderate all my comments. I usually publish all the comments I receive. On rare occasions, I will remove any comments that I deem nosey, mean-spirited, or unsupportive. If you return to my blog and see your comment gone (really, why are you coming back to check on your comment?), that should probably be your clue that I thought your comment was nosey, mean-spirited, or unsupportive. Rather than write another comment that is nosey, mean-spirited, or unsupportive that I will also remove, please simply click away from my blog.

Most of what you really need to know is here on my public blog. Thanks for joining me on this crazy ride.

Disturbance in the Force

I got my box of medicines in the mail today for our FET. Magic said to me, "did you get everything you wanted?" I said, "I got everything, but it wasn't what I wanted." I can only imagine this is probably a similar response Brenda over at No Regrets would have had to her news today. Please go over and give her support as she grieves from her latest loss from IVF#3.

I woke up one day this week with a mild panic attack. It was reminiscent of the half hour to hour long panic attacks I used to wake up with when I was pregnant. I talked about my fears of my life changing after having a child. I talked about the challenges of finding a new shrink. I was getting all worked up describing the nine phone calls and how Magic told me he would have given up after four. I could feel my stress rising, the hopelessness creeping in. When I was done pouring out my fears, the person I was telling it to looked at me with a blank stare back and a flat response,

"I'm sure you will find someone,"

meaning I would find a new shrink. I didn't know if that blank stare was a "are you effin' crazy?" or the realization that she indeed was dealing with a nut case? It was as if I was flashing back to the time when I really needed help. Everyone who I reached out to had the same exact response. Either, they didn't know what to say or they just assumed I'd work it out or they thought someone else would take care of me. Or they were just too apathetic to give a damn. Or they were flabbergasted when I wasn't all happy when I should have been. You get pregnant and then life is all sunshine and roses, right? It's like the many responses I got around the issue. When I recently asked my mom if she would be there for me to help me through pregnancy, she said, "what's there to help you with? You get pregnant, and you have a baby. What's the big deal?" It's that moment when you realize the person you are talking to can't help you. Then, you feel like no one can. Totally alone. Doomed.

I tried my trauma tricks, but they would only work for a little while. I was back to obsessing about being abandoned again after a short reprive. I felt completely vulnerable.

Eventually, some exercise and a determination not to let this define me snapped me out of it. But I couldn't help but notice as I was writing this post, that reminders of my upcoming FET were all around me - my meds, my instructions, the latest notes I had taken from talking with my nurse, the cold formal legal documents e-mailed from the new fertility lab stating that they don't recommend transfering embryos from one clinic to another. I found it interesting that they had the time to look up my e-mail address instead of returning my phone call today. These were not happy reminders.

When I sit in the moment and just be, I am happy. I find this more comforting than thinking about the needles I am about to stick in my flesh. When I commune with my spirit baby, I feel soothed. We are in this together. She makes me feel happy. I don't worry about the liquid nitrogen vapors releasing when I transfer my embryos, prematurely thawing them out and killing them. I'm a jumble of emotions, thoughts and fears.

More Lunacy

I felt like a lunatic today. I'm not PMSing, so that can't be it. I'm blaming the moon. I never do well during the full moon. The last full moon I had my car accident, and it was when the moon was closest to the earth. This full moon was the same situation, the closest the moon will be to the earth in 2009.

I saw an astrologer before my first IVF cycle. You do desperate things when spending $20k a pop on getting pregnant. I found out that the my most fertile time of the month is 3 hours after the new moon. It coincides with the cycle of the moon when I was born. I think this is why I don't do well during the full moon. My first IVF cycle was not timed right for the moon cycle, but I thought it was a bunch of hooey. After I did not stimulate well and I had my IUI, I was cursing that full moon. I knew it was screwing with my fertility. I won't make that mistake again.

And now time for Question and Answer from a couple of posts ago:

Q: Did the man who did your reading have any suggestions as to when would be a good time to do a transfer or what conditions were conducive for her to accept you?
A: I did get a vague answer about when to try next. Let's just say that Magic and I are in negotiation with our Sp.ir.it baby about when she will be ready to come.

Q: Have you considered meditating before/after the transfer to encourage her to come to you?
A: I'm supposed to be doing this every day now. I slacked off for a couple of weeks, and don't usually do it when I am tired in the evening. I think this is vital, establishing communication with my sp.ir.it baby now. If you want to hear it from the source, click on this link and listen to Podcast #17, "Why communicate with your sp.ir.it baby?" You will find it under the right menu titled "Previous".

Q: In regards to the FET - have you considered doing an FET at another clinic - transferring the embryos to another place, that you have never been that has no feelings associated with it?
A: This is exactly what we have decided to do. I've been assured that the clinic that we are switching to does this fairly often. I didn't get any indication that it would be problematic in terms of using the medium that our embryos were cultured in from our old clinic.

It was difficult for me to switch. I had a lot invested in the old clinic. I also really wanted them to take responsibility for their actions, but I didn't really have any indication that they would. Therefore, there was no reason for me to stay with them, especially considering how hard it was to get a hold of my RE. I had to run the gauntlet through the receptionists and nurses. God forbid I had a life when my RE did call, and I couldn't take it if I was in a meeting at work. He would get a bit frustrated if he had to keep calling me back. I would reply, yes that pesky job gets in the way! I think the final straw was reading in my medical records about the conversation he had with another doctor I saw while I was pregnant. I was shocked that he was not concerned enough to call me about my mental state after this other doctor called him to inquire about the anti-depressants he had prescribed me. I was no longer his problem.

My new RE is very responsive via e-mail. Once I let him know that we were ready to proceed, he e-mailed me back that he would have his staff call me to schedule my appointments. I thought, yeah, right. Sure enough, they called me the next day. I can't remember that ever happening at my other clinic. Actually, I was kinda hoping they wouldn't call me. I don't think I am quite ready. I had a dream last night in which I was pregnant and having a panic attack.

Which made me realize I have not found a new psychiatrist yet. In addition to the tests I need to have done to prepare for my FET, I also have to find a new shrink. That task seems daunting to me, but an absolute necessity. I'm not going into this without a back up again. That really was lunacy.

A Beautiful Mind

"Michi's on the front page of the Sunday paper," declared Magic the other day.

"You're kidding." I say. She's been dead for two years, I'm thinking.

Michi was a brilliant colleague of Magic's who tragically committed suicide two years ago, almost to the day. However, her suicide was no ordinary one. She committed suicide while on 24 suicide watch in a hospital. Never leave a brilliant suicidal person alone in a room with her glasses. Michi really wanted to die, so she found a way to do it. She broke her glasses and cut herself to use her blood to leave a message to her loved ones. She figured out when she was being watched, which was about every 15 minutes. When she wasn't being watched, she set up something to make it look like she had her head down on the desk in the room that was in view of the camera. Then, she used the broken glass to shred her gown and hang herself off-view of the camera. I normally wouldn't talk about something so personal to someone else's life, but all of this was in the newspaper article. Michi made the news because her parents are suing the hospital that majorly screwed up. The hospital is going to lose this one, but who wins?

I remember being upset by Michi's suicide. We all knew Michi, Magic the kids and I. We liked her, but we knew she was a troubled soul. I'm always impacted when someone I know commits suicide. I know that it could have been me. I hate seeing how suicide affects those who are left behind as they grapple with the questions of "why?", the anger, and the grief. I've been on the receiving end of the fallout as a good friend of mine from high school committed suicide at age 20. I take it upon myself to tell the spouses, parents, sisters, and friends left behind how mental illness took their life, not the person they loved. I can say this as someone who has been to the edge of the abyss, but backed away. I don't enjoy being able to speak from experience, but I think it does help those left behind to know that it was mental illness. When you feel that depressed, you are not aware of the love others have for you. It's like being in the hell of a black hole that you can't get out of. So you might as well be dead.

Michi's boss, a prominent professor at our local university said in the newspaper article that he did not notice any outward signs of depression. Michi apparently hid it pretty well. I also know how this works. I wondered while I was pregnant if I fooled people by appearing functional, when in reality, I was falling apart inside. I have a long list of health care practitioners who dropped the ball on me while I was pregnant. All of them either didn't notice that I was depressed, or didn't care. Their apathy took the form of assuming someone else was taking care of me, or assuming I would "be alright". One doctor boldly wrote me off in her notes of my visit with her. I was so angry about that. It's not like I didn't tell them, I did. I don't know if they just didn't take me seriously because they were so used to seeing me be so competent and functional, or they didn't have the time to deal with me. I asked Magic if he thought I was fooling people, and he said, no, I was not in my right mind when I was pregnant.

No wonder I had no trust of doctors to help me when I was pregnant and depressed. The system had failed Michi. People are so clueless about mental illness, even health care professionals. It wasn't only doctors who failed me. It was doulas and acupuncturists as well. I'm glad her parents are suing. If it saves another life in the future, I guess it's worth it.

The photo at the top is a picture of Michi's art that she won an award for. Michi had a flair for photographing liquid crystals under a microscope. Don't they look like colorful snowflakes?