AMH makes an appearance

If only my eggs looked this good! With Easter around the corner and talk of eggs in the air, my doctor (new doctor) thought it was time I rallied for the dreadful and dreaded AMH test. I think it’s the one test all fertility-challenged women want to avoid. Why? It’s said to be a pretty good indicator of a gal’s eggs supply. Now, I didn’t have this test before my prior IVF (why? no idea!), but my new doc said the information would help him out as he planned my June fun. As if he needed any more info on my low egg count. (If you don’t remember, I was hopped up on crazy amounts of follistim, but the doctor only harvested three eggs, all of which were immature. Awesome.) Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot with the new doc, I obliged and got the test. The results: .91. I have a low ovarian reserve. Shocker!

I’ve come to realize that the reason I go to acupuncture and blog is to help me keep things in perspective. There’s always someone with a lower AMH (acupuncturist’s words were: that’s borderline low, but I have other patients with a much, much lower number) and someone with a worse situation than mine (the gal who’s been through seven IVF cycles!). Of course, I’m also turning into that story friends tell other friends about the girl who’s struggling with infertility. Sweet!

So to reclaim some of the negative energy around the awful AMH test, my brother and his wife have decided to name their baby such a fab name her initials will be AMH! How crazy is that? Sure, I’m reading too much into it, but now I have two AMHs in my life, and one will surely be more exciting than the other.

I’ve also decided to take a few steps in preparation for our June IVF: I joined the local yoga studio and I’m seeing a therapist. The first was something I needed because my energy is gone and my lethargy is over-powering. I know a lot of this has to do with my lack of training or running, but I’m not running or training as much because I feel like my body needs a break. But like most training-plan-obsessed athletes, I don’t work well without a game plan. Enter the yoga studio with bargain basement pricing. I’ve been to three classes in four days, and I’m excited to get into a routine that gives me some peace of mind and some exercise. The second item is also a step I’m taking to try and get my head around what’s going on. It’s not like I don’t know I can’t get pregnant, but as my hubby said the other night, we operate in one of two modes: obsession or denial. I figure there’s got to be a third, more healthy option. Right? Who knows what June will hold. Who knows what another round of IVF will cause. And while I know my husband and I are a strong unit, I also know we’re being stressed in the most significant ways: emotionally and financially. If it were simply one or the other, no problem, but mix the two together and it’s exhausting.

I head to the doc in a few weeks for yet another baseline ultrasound and a mock transfer. Then we wait and fill prescriptions and step fully into the chaos that will hopefully, just maybe help us expand our family.

dfb

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Still at 2

When you don’t hear from your doctor you start thinking about the worst case scenarios. The eggs fell apart. We need to do this again. But then the doctor calls and really tells you what you never, ever want to hear: you could go through this again, but I would start thinking of Plan B — either egg donation or adoption. I appreciate that my doctor is to the point and focused on success (success meaning we expand our family), but seriously?! This is what she’s thinking?? You might as well slap me, maybe shoot me, and otherwise tell me I’m a failure. Awful. Terrible. Worst thing to ever hear. Ok, not as bad as my mom’s death, but this ranks a very close second. So I cried. And then I got a hold of myself.


WHAT THE FUCK???!!!!!!!!

Things could be worse. I did not get news that I am terminally ill. Neither did my husband or best friend or dad or brother or others that I love. As my BFF reminded me: miracles happen. As another friend reminded me: there is more than one way to become a parent. And, this process might not be over …. there are two embryos fighting the good fight in the lab. Yes, two! They are beating the odds and we’ll know more tomorrow, but we’re hoping those little suckers are fighters, just like me. They are long distance athletes: like me they get stronger the longer the race goes on.

Here’s to the two little ones in the lab. Here’s a big F-U to the world (momentarily). And here’s to getting a grip on this and conquering it. Like I said in my first post … put me on the starting line and I know I will finish. I may stumble and cry and take a few hits to my confidence, but by god I will finish!

dfb