Archive for September, 2015

I’d been testing my ovulation nightly since Thursday night into Friday morning. The only time I didn’t test was Saturday night, so maybe that was it, I don’t know.  But our known donor didn’t get back to me yet about helping out again this month. I thought I was clear, I didn’t think I was that subtle or cryptic, but I also didn’t want to nag. He even showed up to karaoke last night, and kept asking me what was wrong, but he would not answer anything on Facebook or text. Either he felt pressured, or he’s completely clueless. Regardless, no summer baby. Unless I conceive next month and don’t go 40 weeks. Which is likely with my age and blood pressure.

I’m in turns angry, sad and numb. Being numb from depression is something that I really didn’t notice was happening to me until the last while when it’s really pushed in. It really crept up on me. I’ve become extremely apathetic about my own personal life and care, and the care of the house.  I only go to work because we need my income, I have to keep swimming and try to absorb and apply the training I’d been avoiding for almost a year.

Stephen Harper is nearly guaranteed to get a majority and get back as prime minister, no matter how much anyone fights. He’s counting on the racism, the first-past-the-post system, the other parties bickering and not getting along, the apathetic (and rightly disillusioned) people who don’t vote, and the sizeable number of brainwashed boomers. And the ones who rely on oil to keep their family clothed, fed and sheltered. And the voting suppression. The list goes on and on.

Then there’s the increase in right wing, racist, xenophobic, oppressive government all over the world.

Why would I want to bring (a) child(ren) into this? Because I can’t see past my own biological desire for the only thing I ever thought would bring me happiness (aside from a life partner who would love me unconditionally and even only just wanted the same thing, and I have found him, I feel extremely grateful). Why can’t I ever listen to my brain and realize it would probably be extremely difficult? I wouldn’t say it would be an unmitigated disaster or anything… I’d do my best and love them completely after waiting and yearning for so long.

There’s also embryo donation. But we’ll see about that after we see if the supplements are doing anything.


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Since my last blog post, a lot has happened. I went back to work on July 17th. I only began the training for the additional role I dread recently. I have to give it an honest shot, because if I change jobs (and I had to decline an interview partially because of this), I will lose infertility coverage, even if the job has it included in the health plan, because it would now be considered a pre existing condition. Big brother may be watching, and admitting that now probably wouldn’t matter when they check doctor and fertility clinics, if you’ve even talked to a doctor about it, that’s it. Regretting using the chunk we did use now for a failed clinic donor insemination with brokered donor sperm another couple bought from the states. Must have missed the fertile window, didn’t test ovulation that morning. I feel trapped and hopeless, and barely got to enjoy the summer, every year I hope to have a baby to go places with during the nice weather. But life has other plans, and I guess it will probably be a screaming dead of winter baby for me, if I get one at all.

Our only hope now is the Fertilaid for Men, CountBoost and MotilityBoost, which may help get his numbers back to 3 mil concentration, 6 mil total that they produced before. I hope. Then we may be able to freeze it at its peak (if there is one) to use for IVF… or IVM, In Vitro Maturation, offered at McGill & Originelle in Montreal.* After October, when Bill 20 passes (hoping it won’t, it could change, but politicians aren’t great at listening), of course, which will make 3 covered IVF attempts a thing of the past. There will be huge waiting lists until then. We wouldn’t be able to get on the RAMQ, even if we did move there soon, for three months anyway. After that, if you’re (as a woman, yeah, I know) 18 – 37 and don’t already have a child, or aren’t sterilized, you’re eligible, depending on income, to get up to 80% of it back at tax time. Women are eligible for one more tax credit if the first attempt was unsuccessful, between age 37 and 42.  Unless I miraculously conceive a viable pregnancy (which seems highly unlikely at a 10% chance each month, even without his count and now motility issues) before we move there and get on the RAMQ, I will qualify for two attempts as of March 27th, 2016, and the clock ticks until March 27th, 2021 when the eligibility expires.

So many other things on my mind. My Mom is always a source of stress, needing to talk to me every night after work, she’s lonely without a partner or close friends, she worries about people who used to be in our lives that I had to escape the drama, she bleeds money because she doesn’t know how to handle it properly, and potentially has brought me down with her, if I’m not careful. Something I want to talk about, but can’t; implications. I mean, she’s not homeless yet, and I won’t let her be, but I don’t know what to do. I can’t even freely talk about her financial situation or mine, lest Big Brother be watching.

Time is slipping by so damn fast. I feel like even if I conceive and give birth, I’ll blink and s/he/they’ll be moving out. And if I don’t, I’ll blink and, maybe I’ll be in Montreal and have travelled and enjoyed things (unless Stephen Harper gets another majority on October 19th in which case I am focusing on attending Hal-Con, finances, the wedding if he agrees to come with me, because I’m then getting the feck out of Canada to a Nordic country if I can, Finland? somewhere not under threat of the TPP, a trade deal, look it up, they may have better fertility treatment coverage, if not), I’ll be old and likely cursing fate (and the increased risk of cancer, especially breast, like my family history) that I couldn’t have met Dave sooner, and though he’s probably had this issue all his life, I wouldn’t have missed having him for anything. We could have started our more unorthodox solutions sooner, while I was still perhaps somewhat more fertile. I proved it in 2011 into 2012, if the medications my doctor at the time had me on for blood pressure hadn’t caused her not to exist more than a spirit in an anembryonic plum sized sac (blighted ovum miscarriage). Doctor knowing damn well I was still in my reproductive years, it said not to give because of, but giving me samples because I needed something, I didn’t have a health plan working at the day care yet.

Sometimes it feels like fate is simply telling me, after years of no one being compatible and willing, and now this, that I just shouldn’t have kids. It’s been the thing that has killed and damaged all my relationships, even when some were correct when they told me it wasn’t wrong to want to, and that someone willing and compatible would come along. Yeah, but possibly too late and 37 million sperm short. I still want to spend my life with him. It’s not his fault.

Getting back to infertility, I am putting this down here because it is something that probably is best to keep quiet about, but I have mentioned in some places, and I don’t want to be ashamed of it. Dave is perfectly fine with it, to get that out of the way. Some guys have genuinely offered to help us in a non creepy way, but there are always obstacles… one has a girlfriend who is demanding a legal contract which would entail a lawyer. I understand it completely, but it’s money, and timing, there’s only a very small two to five day window (and only a 10% chance of a spontaneous conception now at my age) each month.

To get a known donor to deposit to a clinic would also entail money, testing, and I believe a 6 month quarantine on the sperm, but could be done anytime. I think that would be waived if it was Dave as we are planning to do, and we could find a way to have it transferred to Montreal. For more money, of course. Or, if these supplements don’t do anything, then we won’t bother, and work with what we have whenever the hell we get to Montreal on the RAMQ (or Nordic country/Finland).

Another known willing donor, I trusted wholeheartedly, but just couldn’t go through with it. During my last fertile window, another one popped up and offered after I mentioned that I couldn’t go through with it with the one I just mentioned, and an insemination occurred. I found out yesterday that it failed. And *that* donor has all but disappeared from communication.

I wonder, despite all the praise and encouragement I get, how good of a mother I will be, now that I am older, gained weight, and can’t chase after them as easily. I’m accustomed to having quiet time and space, and ability to feed my screen time addiction, which will seriously affect my kid(s) if I don’t cut it down while s/he’s/they’re awake once s/he’s/they’re born.

I truly wonder how patient I actually am. And how spotless I/we can keep our place.  I know we need a major purge of stuff that’s causing the clutter, and I am willing to get rid of quite a bit to move to Montreal or Nordic country/Finland.

* IVM means not nearly as many needles, just a couple, including that one they use to retrieve a naturally matured egg, as well as immature ones, they mature them in a dish instead, and then inject the sperm into them. Not as many bitch-inducing hormones pumped into my body, or the risk of ovarian hyperstimulation, which can make one so sick you can literally wish you were dead.  Win win.

That’s about the size of it for now.  I’m sure there’s far more rattling around in my brain.  A close friend says I would be a good writer. I also seem to be a good singer sometimes.  At karaoke at least.  But making any of those into a career?

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