Blocked Again?

For the second Friday in a row, Mike was unable to receive his IV chemo. His liver levels were too high, either from a week's worth of oral chemo, or from the lymphoma. We don't know yet. They will re-test things Tuesday and decide what to do next.
Is God actually blocking this treatment? He has been telling us to trust Him, big time. It's totally scary, but we're trying. Please pray for us.

Could Have Been "Worse"

One of the things we've been praying for (besides healing, obviously) is for God to block anything he doesn't want us doing. On Friday it almost seemed like we hit a roadblock. Mike went in to begin his chemo, and they could not find a vein to use for the treatment. Three different nurses tried, but were unsuccessful. They were only able to draw blood for his counts, and since they don't like to use the same vein for both draws and treatments, that is all they could do. For a little while, it seemed as though maybe God was blocking this treatment after all.
When Mike's blood counts came back, they were about the same. The liver function tests were slightly elevated from the previous week, but not by much. His other counts (whites, reds, etc.) were a bit lower. We were really hoping for improved liver function tests, and normal blood levels. We didn't exactly get that, but it could have been worse. "Pretty much stable" will have to do.
So while Mike didn't get any IV chemo, he did begin chemo pills at home yesterday morning. So far, so good. He feels a little tired, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Today was a full day with church, lunch, walking around the mall and then seeing a movie ("The Blind Side," which was excellent). He did it all with barely any fatigue.
He'll continue pills at home this week, then they'll give him the IV chemo this Friday. He'll be getting a port put in around his collarbone so they'll be able to give the chemo and draw blood with no stress on his veins.
He will also continue with acupuncture/deep-tissue massage/energy work this week, as we're getting serious about that healing modality as well. No more putting all our eggs in one basket or doing any other healing methods in a half-a$$ed manner.
Here's to a good week......

Believe With Us….

Tomorrow afternoon, Mike is scheduled to begin his chemotherapy (again). We are going ahead as planned, but are still believing that God can show us a miracle through Mike’s blood work, which the doctors will look at before administering the chemo.

We’ve been spending much time in prayer recently, and believe God has spoken to us in a variety of ways. For those of faith (and those who maybe aren’t yet sure), we ask you to believe with us that God can and will heal this disease.

Praise God....

The Latest

I wanted to write a quick update before people started to think I jumped off a bridge or something (hmmmmmm......).
The past few weeks have been hell, but we've also managed to continue with things as normally as possible. We've cried, prayed, laughed. I've yelled, bargained and pleaded with God. I even had a shouting match to end all shouting matches with Him one night when I went by myself to pick up a pizza. We've been getting back to church, and I think we've really found the one that fits us well. It feels as though we have so many more questions than answers, but I guess that's part of being human.
Here is the e-mail I just sent to our family and friends, which sums up what the past few weeks have brought:

Hello, all. I'm sorry for the impersonal method of giving our updates over e-mail, but there are so many of you we want to reach and it's impossible to do it all individually.
As most of you know, Mike has been recovering well from January's bone-marrow transplant. Since the summer, his blood work has showed some slightly elevated liver function tests. The doctors were confident this was due to a common, mild reaction to the new stem cells (called graft-versus-host disease). Last month, they did a liver biopsy to confirm their suspicions of GVH disease, but were shocked (as were we) to find that the biopsy actually showed lymphoma cells. It was a terrible mental blow to us, as we were told this was such a remote possibility.
Since then, we've been dealing with the news and Mike has been undergoing the usual slew of further tests which follow a recurrence. The PET/CT scan showed possible activity in the spleen, but everything else looked fine. A bone-marrow biopsy did confirm involvement in the marrow as well (another surprise, since cancer has never been found in the marrow before).
As always, the good news is that Mike feels and looks well. Without that biopsy we'd never know anything was wrong.
After consulting with the doctors, we have agreed that a reduced-intensity chemo regimen, which will be done one day a week as an outpatient, is the best way to proceed. He will also take chemo pills at home. This will not have the intensity of previous treatments, but should hold things at bay and hopefully put the cancer into remission. They will do a couple rounds of treatment, then re-test things in a couple months and we'll decide how to proceed from there.
Since the first diagnosis in 2003, the doctors have always felt that chemo alone would probably not be the "cure," which is why he went through with two bone-marrow transplants. So, while the medical options are getting more narrow, we want to assure everyone that he has NOT been sent home without any hope. He has always responded well to chemo, and we are confident he will again. We will continue to do our complimentary therapies, and rely on the power of prayer.
Once again, all we ask is for everyone's prayers -- prayers of healing, of course, but also prayers for peace of mind, for making the right medical decisions, etc. Please do not underestimate the power of prayers. We know God works miracles every day, and we continue to ask for one as well. You can even add Mike to any prayer lists you belong to.
We believe the Lord will work through this and use this for something good, and we implore our friends and family to believe with us. We will continue to pray and praise Him, and invite you to join us, "For nothing is impossible with God." (Luke 1:37)

Love,
Lauren

Our Old Friend

The final pathology is in -- it's the same lymphoma.

Tomorrow morning, when were were supposed to be meeting with our new RE, we will instead be at the hospital so Mike can get a PET/CT scan. We will meet again with the doctor next Wednesday.

Our fifth wedding anniversary is also tomorrow.

Stunned

Last Friday, Mike had a liver biopsy which was supposed to confirm his doctors' strong suspicions that recent elevated liver levels were the result of a mild graft-versus-host reaction to his stem cells. Instead, his doctor told him a few hours ago that the biopsy showed cancerous cells in the liver. This was never even supposed to be a possibility. This can't be happening. We keep waiting for someone to call and say they switched his results with someone else's and that everything is fine.

We don't know what to do. We are simply stunned. I feel sick, confused, terrified -- like I'm walking through a nightmare. After all my strong talk about my faith, I have to even wonder at this point if God exists.

I don't know what else to say. Once again, our world has crashed in on us. If you want to pray for us, that's fine. I don't even know if I believe in it anymore.

She's Home!

Thanks for the prayers, everyone. Nana came home today. They did a million and one tests, and the results that have come back so far have been good. It doesn't look like there was any internal bleeding going on. Phew.

Answers to your Q&A's to come shortly!

Please Pray for Nana

Tonight my nana is in the hospital with high coumadin levels and back pain. From what I hear she is OK, but they've been running tests all day to rule out bleeding or any bigger problems. They don't have a regular room for her, so she's been in the emergency room since this afternoon, which means there's no phone and I can't talk to her.

I just love her so much and worry about her (and my grandpa) all the time. It's so hard being 250 miles away from them. Please pray for her health.

Rings and Things

Is anybody out there? LOL
I appreciate my readers (whomever they are) so much that I'm giving y'all another chance to hit me with your questions! I only have two so far (and one doesn't count because it was posted by Mike -- you can guess which one).

A little while ago, while I was wrapping things up at work, one of my co-workers pulled up an empty chair next to me and started to chat. She's in her late 50s/early 60s and a very nice lady, but she'll talk your ear off until you wish you were deaf. I haven't been wearing my wedding rings all week because my skin has been acting up, and I guess she noticed. So she says to me, "Not wearing your rings today? Did you forget to put them on?" A little surprised at such a question, I replied, "Oh, no, my hands get really dry and sometimes it gets especially dry and flaky on my ring finger so I like to give the area a little time to heal." My reply seemed to make sense to her. Then a few seconds later, in a general but curiously related tone, she said, "So, everything going OK?" Maybe she meant that as a general statement, but it seemed really odd to ask that after wondering why I wasn't wearing my wedding rings. Am I just paranoid? LOL

That's my news for the day. I'll sit hear anxiously awaiting feedback and trying not to get a complex...... :)

What Would You Like to Know About Me?

I’ve seen several other bloggers try a Q&A, where readers can ask the blogger any questions they might have. I thought I’d give it a go. Is there anything you’d like to know about me? Anything I haven’t covered in the past year plus of blogging? I’ll try to answer any question honestly – our IVF process, hobbies, family questions, Mike and I, religion, politics, whatever. I don’t know how many people actually read my blog, but if I get more than three questions, I’ll consider it a success! :)
I’ll post the questions in a separate post. Ask away!

What a Difference 12 Days Makes

I originally planned to write this followup to my previous post a week and a half ago (or at least last week). But, as always happens, I don't leave myself enough time to verbally knit something that does my feelings justice. So, now I find myself overwhelmed with all the catching up I have to do, hoping my recollections are strong enough to capture all I want to say.

The short version:
I'm out of my funk and Mike and I are in the planning stages for our next IVF cycle.

The long version:
Where do I begin?
When I wrote my previous post, I was in my all-too-familiar place of "it'll never happen" and "we're not moving forward." And I also hated the fact that I was becoming much too comfortable with these moods. I was the perpetual guest of honor at my own pity party. I hated it, and yet I drew comfort in it, too.
When I got home from work the day I wrote that woe-is-me post, Mike was ready for me. He was cooking dinner (nothing new, as he is the cook in our little family, but he was making a special meatloaf meal), he had the dining room table set (we usually just eat in the den in front of the TV), the lights dim, candles burning and soft music (Michael Buble) ready to go. I got a big hug, and he poured me a glass of wine.
Once we were well into eating dinner, we started to talk. Mike apologized for what he said was his absence of forthrightness when it came to his feelings about trying to conceive. He told me once again how he wants us to have kids, and to be able to move on with our next IVF, but he said he was sorry for not really conveying to me his deep fear that came along with it. He said, as he has before, that his health history brings to our struggle an element that most couples don't have. In our mere 30s, we've had to face the issue of mortality in a way most young people don't. Having kids for us isn't just about creating a family, but about potentially setting up our child(ren) to be without a father. He's afraid of not only leaving me, but leaving a child. He doesn't want to be "that guy in the picture." It was the most honest talk we've had about all this, and it caused the tears to stream down my cheeks. It was an apology I appreciated, but never felt was necessary. We both have that same fear, even if we don't verbalize it.
That said, I asked him again if he is sure he wants to have kids, and he assured me he does. He said he also doesn't want to nix having a family, then turn to me when we're in our 60s and say, "Sorry, I guess we could have had kids after all." Life is a risk. Life is about chances. We just have to decide which chances are worth taking. We agreed moving forward towards having a family is worth it.

Once we both felt we'd been clear about our feelings and our goals, Mike opened a folder with notes he'd made during the day. He wrote down all different possibilities for insurance plans. We've agreed that the best course of action is to take out a secondary insurance plan, with just me on it, and utilize the IVF treatment coverage from that policy. Mike had made calls to a reputable company and took notes about different plan choices, and we went over them. Monthly costs, deductibles and their pros and cons were all covered during our talk. It was finally starting to feel real. A plan was taking shape and my shoulders were getting lighter. This was what I was hoping for all along: a plan. I just wanted things to be happening to make me feel like we were serious about our dream, and that we were taking steps to make it come true. It reminded me of a scene from one of our favorite movies, "Apollo 13," when the astronauts are stranded and, after a few days, are getting restless to receive their rescue plan from Houston. Tom Hanks' character, Jim Lovell, finally realized they needed a plan -- any plan -- to keep them going, and said: "Uh, Houston.... we just can't throw this together at the last minute. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna get the procedure up to us, whatever it is, and we're gonna go over it step by step so there's no foul-ups. I don't have to tell ya we're all a little tired up here. The world's gettin' awfully big in the window." At the risk of sounding dramatic, the world is getting awfully big in my window. My window is time -- decreased fertility in the coming years, getting older, family members getting older.
Mike now understood how important this was for me, and I understood how much his fear affected him.

Over the next few days and week, we talked about the insurance plans, made some phone calls, and looked into a few different clinics. We agreed it was important to get to Mike's one-year-post-transplant mark in January, so we will plan to have everything ready to go for a February/March cycle. I e-mailed my acupuncturist and told her I'd like to resume treatments in December. I bought some prenatal vitamins and started taking them. (It's amazing how having a little bottle that says "prenatal" can make me feel so close to being pregnant.) Although I've been pretty sure we should go with the new clinic I saw in the spring, I started collecting feedback from a few people on other possibilities. That brought me down to two finalists.
Then, it happened.
One night last week, as I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I started to pray. I asked God to lead us in the decision about how we're trying to proceed. I asked him to clear away some of the confusion and show me which clinic we should use, which one was best. The following day, I received an e-mail from a casual friend I met last year. (I had e-mail her the previous week just to see how she was doing, and finally she wrote back.) I knew she battled infertility as well. She went on to tell me that she was now pregnant and due in December. Not being able to recall what clinic or doctor she used, I asked if she was familiar with either of the two places we were considering. This is the e-mail she sent back (I didn't change the caps):

"Defintetly the [clinic name, the one I've been leaning towards]. I recommend [doctor's name] My doctor!! He's the best!! TRUST MEEEEEE."

I wrote her back and told her about how we've been trying to decide, and how I had prayed the night before about helping me choose. She replied:

"Definately TRUST ME!!!! This place is the BEST! I know when you pray, and believe answers all point in the right direction.... always!"

I just got "that feeling" after her e-mails. I just saw the "TRUST ME" in all caps repeatedly and it was like God was speaking through her words. And all this after I'm always telling Mike I never hear God or hear from God. I guess He used my friend. I called that place today and scheduled our first consultation for November 13, our fifth wedding anniversary.

Things finally feel like they're moving. I feel renewed. I feel like I can finally look at a calendar and say with fairly good certainty when our cycle will be. After such a long drought, I've finally been given a few drops of water to quench my thirst until I can drink.

This parting shot below is compliments of my mom. When we visited her over the weekend, she showed us a baby gift she'd gotten us several years ago. She's been holding it until our first little one makes his or her appearance. Paying homage to our athletic and sports fan sides, the outfit definitely fits.

It looks big in the picture, but this is only an 18-month outfit. I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is our first baby gift!

Just One of Those Days…. Already

I just feel like writing a quick rant. Ever feel that way? I’m just in a bad mood. Around bedtime last night I decided to let my mind re-visit the fact that we have no real plan in place, and that things feel like they’re never going to progress. So I fell asleep feeling frustrated, and I feel more of the same this morning. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here at work (plenty busy but hardly caring) with the gloom of rain outside my window, and AF (aka, "The Red Menace") in full swing. Someone also just asked one of my co-workers how his little girl is doing. Get me out of here.

Decisions and Scribbles

So, the other day in the mail I got my "official" reply from BCBS: APPEAL DENIED. I'm not upset. I knew it was coming. Like I've been saying, at least it's now on the record (for whatever it's worth).
Also the other night, Mike started writing out his own brainstorming notes about our plan, and instead he started to doodle. I took a picture of what he drew. He cracked me up (especially how he depicted my "angry, bossy eyes." LOL).

TTCers Funniest Moments

I thought I'd take a little break from all the woe-is-me stuff and lighten things up with some funny stories.

I'd love to hear your amusing TTC tales. There is so much heartache associated with infertility, but everything we go through also brings some comical situations -- having to get partners in the mood at just the right time, crazy places you had to take your injections (I think my strangest was a highway rest stop), awkward moments with the docs, you name it. I'd like to start getting more feedback on my blog, so please share your amusing moments! C'mon, we all have stories!

Crushed

Well, it was nice living in denial for about 48 hours. Mike called the state-sponsored-insurance folks this morning, and, after waiting on hold for 15 minutes, was made to leave his name and number for someone to call him back. He gave them until 1:00, then called them again and waited until he got a live person. The answer was just what we feared -- we cannot get any of these plans because we have access to insurance through our employer (regardless of the fact that our employer's plan doesn't provide the services we need). The lady told Mike that this insurance is only for people who otherwise have no insurance. Well, you know what? We may as well have no insurance because when it comes to IVF we're in the same boat as those with no coverage at all!
I think Mike has it right -- we should just both quit our jobs, go on assistance and get freebies through the government. After all, why work our asses off to get what other people are getting for free? If lazy people can litter the planet with kids, why can't we? I am just so frustrated right now.
Part of my letdown is my own fault. I already let my mind start planning out the next few months. I was already thinking about when to meet with our new RE, how to transfer our records (and sperm), when to start acupuncture again, etc. I was already letting my heart hope again. My mistake. I should have just stayed in the depths of despair where I had a comfy little place all to myself.

Another Avenue

The other day, Mike had another idea for us -- why not look into buying an individual insurance plan from the state?
The other day, in an effort to visualize things in my mind, and get all our possibilities out on paper, I wrote out a list of our different financing options, e.g., take out a loan, save for the full amount, accept my grandparents' offer to help, etc. I left the list on the coffee table, and when Mike read it the following day, he said it broke his heart. That wasn't my intention, of course, but that prompted him to begin poking around on the internet, seeing what state-sponsored plans he could find. He said he wanted to find out for sure, so that it might at least give me some peace. Again, since we live in a mandated state, it appears all the insurance plans he looked at offer some kind of infertility coverage. I wrote out a list of questions, and he's going to make some phone calls tomorrow to see what he can find out.
I need some major prayers, blogosphere. I don't know much about all this insurance mumbo jumbo, but I'm willing to bet that our biggest obstacle will be getting a plan through the state when we have insurance offered through work. Plus, insurance companies aren't in business to lose money. I'm sure they have all the angles covered, and I know I'm not the first person to think they could get an insurance company to pay for a one-time procedure only to drop them when it's done.
Mike's going to call me at work in the morning after he gets more information. More to come.....

One More Appeal for Good Measure

Just for kicks, I have sent an appeal e-mail to BCBS. I know exactly what they're going to say: DENIED. I don't care, though. I'm appealing anyway. At least it'll be on record.
Below is the e-mail I just sent (and I already got the automated e-mail receipt from them):

Dear BCBS Rep:

I am writing to you regarding an issue with my insurance coverage, and am hoping someone can review my policy and provide me with some feedback.

At this time, my policy does not include any coverage for infertility treatments. My husband, a cancer survivor, was left 100% infertile from aggressive chemo and radiation treatments over the past six years. Prior to his treatments, he was able to bank his sperm for future fertility cycles.

My husband's complete infertility is documented, and our reproductive endocrinologist has agreed that in-vitro fertilization is the only method that can provide us a chance at having our own children.

Since we live in a state with mandated infertility coverage, we are hoping infertility treatment benefts can be extended to us on the basis of medical necessity. The out-of-pocket expenses of fertility treatments are more than we can bear, and the financial as well as the emotional burden is taking a toll on us.

Please advise me as to whether or not any sort of treatment coverage can be extended to us in our attempt to start a family. We can provide any medical documentation needed.

Sincerely,
Lauren

"The Hole in Our Family"

The other day, Mike made an entry in the online journal he sporadically keeps. He hadn't yet read my previous post, so it turned out we both wrote about baby themes at around the same time. I was so touched by what he wrote, and wanted to share it here. Below is his post, which he called, "The Hole in Our Family":

My reading of "The Hole in Our Gospel" is going strong. What a powerful book. I really did not think it would hit me like it has done already.
The book focuses on helping children in poverty and dire circumstances. It breaks your heart to think of children having to live in conditions not even fit for lice. It also keeps my mind on the hole in our own family.
Lauren and I have tried to have a child through the IVF process. I have been sterile since my 2003 chemo treatments. We put some stuff in storage and hope that it will work someday.
We put things on hold just a year ago as we prepared for more chemo and another transplant. All went well and I am recovering from that January transplant. Now, the subject of another IVF try is coming up.
There are two things that I know for sure; one is that I would love to be a dad and second, the uncertainty of my future scares me to death. I am trapped between fulfilling a mutual dream for us and possibly leaving an innocent child fatherless.
I don't care about the monetary cost. I don't care about the fact that I'm 38 years old. I only care about letting Lauren know that I want to give her at least one child.
I read an article she wrote when she was younger and that was published in the local paper. She wrote about how much she admires her mother and the daily self-sacrifice she observed watching her. It was an amazing, heart-felt article.
She wrote one statement that haunts me. She wrote that her desire is to grow up and be as good as mother as hers is to their family. I can only feel that I am the obstacle to her dream.
I know she would never blame me or hate me for that kind of thing. She is the most understanding person I have ever been around. It just sucks to think that I can't give her the one thing she really desires.
I see people have kids and then complain about them. I know it is normal to joke around about the new stress and change of life, but it has a sting that I probably cannot describe.
Being an uncle and a godfather is great, but it will never fill the hole we have in our family.

A Glimpse at My Son

In the pre-digital age, we all took amusing home videos on clunky camcorders, leaving us with piles of dusty old VHS tapes. Between Mike and I, we have a plastic bag full of tapes of old baseball and hockey games, family trips and anniversary parties, Thanksgivings and Christmases. We're finally undertaking the task of moving these precious memories to DVD. Oy, what a process.
We found a place nearby that will transfer videos to DVD, so a couple weeks ago we brought in our first test subject -- Mike's 1984 Little League championship game. I'd seen the video years ago, when we were first dating, but when we picked up the DVD we watched it again. There was my future husband, an adorable 12-year-old with a high-pitched voice, and his hand-on-hip baseball pose. In that game, not only did little Mike nail a few key base hits, but he also pitched and had some nice plays at first base. And was he serious! While some of the other kids took Little League as just another summer activity, or something their parents forced them to play, Mike was all business. This game was the world to him, and you could see the intensity in his little face. It was precious.
We sat there watching the game, and Mike narrated the different plays going on. He told me which kids went on to what in subsequent years, which kids he remained friends with, which ones went off the deep end, and even pointed out one kid who died tragically some years later.
We laughed at the "80s haircuts" and short shorts, cracked up at his dad (also the coach) smoking cigarettes right there in the dugout, cackled when we heard the remarks of his uncle from the bench, and chuckled when Mike pointed out their old Plymouth Volare in the parking lot.
I loved seeing the sweetness of my husband as a little boy, all about baseball and having fun, and just as adorable as he is now. But I also stared at the boy who would become my husband and saw something else -- I had a glimpse at my son. If we had a little boy, a "little Mikey", is that what he would look like? Would he have the same dark, bushy hair, the beautiful eyes and thick eyebrows? Would he be as wide-eyed about a Little League game, and would that be his whole world? Would Mike be his coach, just as Mike's dad coached him? I watched the video, and got a big internal smile. I envisioned our son being that same precious boy. At the same time, I tried not to entertain the thought that I might never have a biological child. I didn't want to fathom the thought of never holding a son, looking at him and seeing my husband's face.
Every time I see a picture of Mike as a little boy, I see our son. I just imagine the perfect reflection of my husband in our child. Our little boy lives in my heart, and I hope it's not too long before we meet. He and his daddy have a ballgame to play.

Highlights from the Past Week

** Still no further followup from my CEO regarding my benefits appeal (no shock there. I think the issue is dead.).

** Co-worker/friend Pam (mentioned in previous post) was moved by my appeal, and decided to devote last Wednesday to prayer and fasting for us. She didn't eat the entire day, and devoted time to pray for our insurance situation. Mike and I decided to join her in a non-food fast -- we gave up TV, and I gave up Internet usage for the day (including Facebook -- that was tough!). During my lunch hour, she and I went out to her car and spent about 20 minutes in prayer for various things, but she especially prayed that our company extend us the coverage needed to proceed with IVF. I added to that by praying that God open our hearts and minds to other paths, if he has something planned for us that's not what we have in mind. That was a toughie. It was nice though to have someone care so much about us that she would devote a day to our cause. The other day, she also gave me this prayer bookmark, made for me by her teenage daughter:

** We took Mike's sister and her three kids (ages 9, 10 and 13) on a three-day trip last week, one that we'd promised the kids two Christmases ago. We all had a terrific time, and it was interesting going from zero to three kids in an instant. Thankfully their mom was there to take charge, but Mike and I still got a taste of looking after kids on a vacation. It was so special seeing them get excited about things and experience sights for the first time. What a joy that must give a parent.

** Mike turned 38 on Tuesday. As he now says with a smile, birthdays are blessings, not curses. It also hit me that by the time both of our parents were our ages, they were done having kids. We haven't even begun. Ouch.

** I'm really getting the itch to start trying to conceive again. The trip we just took provided a good distraction for a little, but now that we're back to the hum-drum of everyday life, I'm starting to feel the emptiness again. Unfortunately, I think there's really only one way to fill that hole, and I still don't feel like I have a clear grasp on when that will be.

Finally, A Reply

As you know, I've been patiently waiting for my company CEO (Mr. M) to reply to my insurance inquiry e-mail from late June. I know he's been busy, and I haven't been in dire need of an immediate response, so I've just been leaving a respectable amount of time before sending a follow-up e-mail. On Friday, I sent one.
At work, Mike's department is adjacent to the executive offices, so I asked one of his close co-workers, Pam, to let me know when she sees Mr. M. I didn't want to just send an e-mail blindly, taking the chance of him being out of the office and having my e-mail get lost or overlooked again. So, early Friday afternoon, Pam sent me this e-mail:

Hi! The Eagle has landed. But he may not be in for very long ~ I believe one of his grand-eaglets was born this week....

I thanked her and immediately sent my e-mail to Mr. M. I wrote:

Hi, Mr. M. I'm just following up on an e-mail I sent you in June (attached below). I know you've been extremely busy with the acquisition, and I don't want to take too much of your time, but I was just wondering if you've had a chance to look at my e-mail at all. Thank you again for your time!
Sincerely, Lauren

Within 13 minutes, he sent the following reply:

I never got your note cause the e-mail adress was wrong. I will give to benefits and ask them what can be done. Not really anything I have been asked to look at directly. I or someone else will get back to youi.

I shot back a quick, Thank you so much. Any input or suggestions are greatly appreciated.

I don't quite know how to take his reply. First of all, I sent the followup e-mail to the same e-mail address I sent the initial request to, so I don't know how he didn't get it. Perhaps he accidentally deleted it, or upon seeing my second e-mail, realized he never responded to the first one. No matter. I now know he read my request.
After I showed Mr. M's reply to Mike, he asked me how I felt. I said, "I feel....weird." I mean, Mr. M is the CEO. I said in the e-mail that I'd already checked with the benefits group and there was nothing they could do, which is why I appealed to him. What would him passing it back to them accomplish?
I'm really not expecting much from this whole thing, but at least I know I gave it a try. At least if we have to go on to finance this ourselves, I can have some peace knowing I tried to get something from our insurance first.

I Want

A few months ago, one of my co-workers became a dad for the first time. He and his wife had an adorable little girl. Recently, after sharing a phone call with his wife -- where they were obviously trying to coordinate some upcoming plans with regard to the new baby -- the co-worker remarked to me, "Boy, I picked the wrong time of year to have a kid. We can't go on vacation or anything."
Now, I know what he meant, and he doesn't know my situation, but all I could muster was a polite smile to his statement and went on with my work. His remark started me thinking of all the "inconveniences" parenthood would bring, and I began making a mental list. In the end, I decided those inconveniences sound pretty good to me....

I want to bounce from one doctor's appointment to the next and get poked a prodded and get stuck with needles for blood draws.

I want to endure the bloating of ovarian stimulation.

I want to be sore from PIO injections.

I want to endure the torture of the two-week wait.

I want to wait for the dreaded call from the doctor's office the afternoon of my pregnancy test.

I want to impatiently kill time from one ultrasound to the next.

I want to have sore boobs.

I want to get morning sickness and throw up each day, have my stomach turn at the sight of a tuna fish sandwich.

I want to be so tired I can barely get through a day of work.

I want to have headaches and backaches and have to pee every 45 minutes.

I want to cry at the drop of a hat.

I want to have heartburn.

I want to miss out on a planned vacation because I can't fly while pregnant.

I want to grow out of my favorite, most comfortable jeans and have not a thing in my closet that fits.

I want stretch marks.

I want to have to pass on drinks with the girls, and just order caffeine-free ginger ale.

I want to have trouble sleeping and trouble getting comfortable in bed.

I want to worry that we won't have the nursery finished in time, and wonder if we're ready for the big day.

I want to feel contractions.

I want to wonder if the pain is ever going to end.

I want to spend two, four, six, eight, 10 -- however many it takes -- hours in labor.

I want to feel the exhaustion of just having brought our son or daughter into the world.

I want to endure one sleepless night after the next.

I want every inconvenience being a parent can bring. I want all of it, because then it simply means I'm a mom.

Killing Time

Things have been up and down during the last couple weeks. My anxiety about things has gotten a little better, and I've been enjoying the nice summer weather with lots of beach time. But still not having any kind of concrete plan in place for another IVF cycle is getting the better of me. Each day I trudge off to a job I don't particularly like (but am still grateful to have), come home to spend time on the computer or watch TV, do some odds and ends around the house, then go to bed for the day. Each day isn't much different from the day before. My life feels like "Groundhog Day." I know I can't complain about the mundane too much -- in my life, dull and routine is always preferred to our all-too-familiar stressful and uncertain spells. Mike and I have re-opened the IVF dialogue in the past couple nights. I just want to know what he's thinking, and what his expectations are for our future. I know he wants what I want, but does he want it as urgently as I want it? Each day I feel like I'm killing time until the life I've been dreaming of finally arrives.

Our main stumbling block to IVF is financial. I'm still awaiting an answer to my appeal e-mail to my employer. In the meantime, I'm also not holding out much hope that it will do any good. So, that means we have to have a plan B. Our thoughts for plan B are all complicated by the fact that Mike and I have been on the Dave Ramsey "Total Money Makeover" plan for the past couple years, and we're trying to get debt-free. Adding a fertility treatment loan would only compound our debt, and simply saving towards IVF would not only keep the rest of our debt at its current level, but it would also mean waiting a considerable amount of time before we could save enough for a cycle. What's a broke girl to do?

Mike has already told me that he is willing to go further into debt for the chance at having a baby, and for that I love him. It's the one thing we both agree is worth going into debt for. He told me a little while ago that he would give me a baby tomorrow if he could. I just love that man. The other day, after we got home from his nephew's Christening, he said to me, "Are you finding it harder and harder to be around other people's kids?" It's little statements like that which remind me that I'm not the only one who aches for a child.

Thought for the day: I heard a stat the other day that at any given time, there are 3.4 million pregnant women in the U.S. Doesn't sound like such an exclusive, elusive group when you hear it in those numbers, does it?

Get a Grip

This post is probably going to end up sounding more like a therapy session than anything else, so if you're not in the mood for a vent, you don't have to bother reading. I've been dealing with a lot of fear lately (particularly in the past few days), and I think this might be a good way to vent some of my inner frustrations.
This morning, I attended a funeral. An older cousin on Mike's father's side died suddenly of a heart attack Sunday night. He went to bed that evening and never woke up. He was only 74, very active, and by all accounts in very good health. I didn't know him well, but he always seemed like such a wonderful man. His sudden passing shocked us. Today we sat in the church and I just watched his five grown children and their kids and I ached for the pain they're feeling. I also found myself wondering what it would feel like to be in their shoes, and wondered if I could bear it.
Whenever a family member, friend, friend of a friend -- or even someone I hear about on the news -- passes away, it raises my fear level about losing someone I love. When the death is sudden or unexpected, my fear level skyrockets.
I've never been a huge worrier, but for some reason in the past few years, I've worried more than ever. I think it really began about four-and-a-half years ago, when Mike was recovering from his first bone-marrow transplant. I don't know what exactly triggered it, but I began getting all kinds of anxiety about my own health. I was convinced something bad could strike me at any moment. For the first time, I really felt like I wasn't invincible. Of course, this kind of stress can lead to physical symptoms, so I would get tightness in my chest and my heart would race. What I later on realized were anxiety attacks, I thought for sure at the time that they were heart-related incidences. These instances didn't last long, and I eventually worked through them, but my fear and anxiety about Mike was just beginning.
In the days leading up to my pregnancy test following our first IVF cycle, I began having terrible anxiety about Mike's health. His cancer was in remission at the time, but I was suddenly filled with horrible fear and dread about his cancer coming back. These feeling continued for weeks after our failed cycle, and within a month Mike did have a cancer recurrence.
My fear over Mike's health has come and gone at various degrees over the past few years. I give myself a break on that, acknowledging that this is part of having your life touched by cancer. Once a cancer patient, always a cancer patient (from a psychological standpoint at least). You always have to be "on guard" and the very real possibility of relapse is always in the back of your mind. I accept that as part of my life now.
I am also now in a place where I really believe Mike's cancer is behind him. I believe that for a number of reasons. I still have my moments of fear, and my heart rate still speeds up a bit each time I think I see a spot on his skin, but I can usually reason through the episode and return to my peaceful state of mind.
More recently, I have been going through fear of losing other family members -- my parents, brother, grandparents, etc. Usually, the fear of loss centers around my maternal grandparents who are 89 and 87. They are two of my favorite people on the earth, and we are very close. They still live in the same house they raised my mom and uncle in, and they are still independent. They've slowed down considerably, and have minor health issues here and there, but are in remarkable shape for their ages. Mike often reminds me that most people their age (if they're still alive, to paraphrase Casey Stengel) are in nursing homes or need constant care. They are a true blessing in my life and I'm so fortunate to have them at my age. But recently I find my mind drifting to scary places, where I imagine getting "the call" that something terrible has happened. These thoughts take my mind captive and just won't let go.
I've even started getting panicked when I call my mom and can't reach her (she's allowed to have a life -- go shopping, garden in the yard, meet a friend for lunch). Where did this all come from?
I think it's the suddenness factor that gets me going, which brings me back to the funeral we went to earlier today. Total shock. Nobody in my family has any major illness or is failing in any way, but that is little consolation to me. You hear about it every day -- perfectly healthy people are going about their business and are stricken down. Nobody saw it coming. No chance to say goodbye. No last "I love you's." Just shock.
Several times, Mike and I have pondered which would be a better way to go -- illness or declining health over a period of time, where loved ones can say what they need to say and unfinished business can be wrapped up, or to be taken suddenly, without pain or suffering and without having to watch someone waste away. Both have their pros and cons (depending on if you're the departed or the ones left behind), but we both agreed in the end that neither is particularly desirable. I don't ever want to be blind-sided by a loss, but death is death. Loss is loss. There's little comforting about the way it happens.
I do need to get a grip. I'm getting to the point where every time the phone rings I have a second where I wonder if it's bad news. When I'm drifting off to sleep at night, I'm thinking to myself, "If the phone were to ring right now, it could only be bad news." Not a very relaxing way to wind up your day.
I'm mad at myself for wasting so much energy on worry, instead of enjoying the fact that I have a cancer-free husband, healthy parents and a healthy sibling, and two active and healthy grandparents. I should enjoy and cherish every moment I have with all of them, and yet my mind keeps focusing on what could happen -- a disease they could get, or an accident they could have. Is that any way to live? I have so much to be happy about, so why am I letting myself become crippled by fear?
Feel free to share any advice, or words of wisdom, or just pray for me that I don't let my worry consume me.
I will close with a verse from the book of Matthew, and hope that I can take its advice for myself:

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Nothing Yet

It's been a week since I sent that appeal e-mail to my employer, but I haven't heard anything yet. I don't mind if he's investigating stuff, I just hope he read it. How long do I give before I follow up??

In other news, I had my annual exam today with my gynecologist (AKA, "the bad doctor," as I call it). I got the usual, "What are you using for birth control?" Nothing. "So, are you in a relationship, married, trying to get pregnant?" Trying, but my husband is infertile.
Read my chart!
I also got this nice tidbit of information -- when I turn 35 next spring, I get to have a baseline mammogram! A mammogram at 35?? I thought older women and grandmothers got mammograms. Way to make me feel old, doc.

Appeal Letter to My Employer

OK, I finally sat down and wrote (with Mike's help) the following letter to the president of our company. I will e-mail this letter to him tomorrow morning. Let me know what you think:

Dear Mr. M,

I am writing to you for your assistance with a matter concerning our health plan. I am sending this appeal to you because I believe you are the only person in the company who can help me with this issue. I will try to keep this as succinct as possible.

My husband, Mike, has been an employee of [company name] for nearly eight years. I have been with [company name] for just over four years, and we both work here at the corporate office. Mike underwent a bone-marrow transplant back in 2003 due to a battle with lymphoma. Thankfully, he came through it just fine, but his extremely aggressive treatments left him 100% infertile. Since we were talking about marriage around that time, he was able to bank before his treatments in preparation for fertility cycles down the road.

Since our marriage in 2004, we have tried in-vitro fertilization (IVF) twice, and failed. We paid out-of-pocket since there was no IVF coverage available through our plan with Cigna. The emotional and financial toll was nearly overbearing.

Although this state is one of 15 states that require insurance coverage for infertility treatments, we have learned that companies which are self-insured are exempt from this mandate.

We had hoped the change to Blue Cross Blue Shield would bring IVF coverage. When we did not see it included, I felt that perhaps an appeal would help. While the new health plan is a welcome change, and the general benefits will help us a great deal, the absence of infertility coverage leaves us with a great financial burden to bear. I’ve spoken with human resources and Blue Cross Blue Shield and, of course, since this coverage is not in the policy they tell me nothing can be done.

Under different circumstances, we wouldn’t think twice about attempting to finance treatments on our own, but we are still left with the financial burdens of our failed cycles. We know this request may sound a bit desperate but, to be honest, that is how we are starting to feel. We are hoping something can be done to extend us infertility coverage on the basis of medical necessity, as IVF is the only method that can ever give us our own children.

Thank you for taking the time to read this appeal, and both my husband and I greatly appreciate any help or guidance you are able to give in our fight for a family.

Sincerely,
Lauren

That's Appealing

On the advice of the "insurance guru" at our prospective new clinic, I am going to write an appeal letter to both the president of our company as well as BCBS. I'm not getting my hopes up, as the rules seem to favor them, but I am going to lay it all out there and plead our case. I hope to convince them that our need for IVF coverage is essential in order to give us any chance at having our own children, and that our case smacks of medical necessity if anything ever did.
Fellow bloggers, have any of you ever tried to appeal your lack of coverage with either an employer or insurance company? I'm looking for any tips I can get on what to say and how to say it.
I've decided to hit my employer with his letter towards the end of this week. I'm hoping that timing this plea within a few days of Father's Day will tug at his heartstrings. I know it will tug at mine.

Made It Through the Weekend

So far, so good. Mike hasn't spiked a fever at all since we found out about his low counts on Friday. It's been a little stressful, taking the temp a few times a day and getting a nervous stomach each time waiting for the reading. Mike will go in for another blood draw on Wednesday, and hopefully the counts will be on the rise. Thanks to everyone for their prayers.

Need a Few Prayers

Mike had his usual every-other-week checkup today. Everything seemed fine -- they even took him off one of his many daily medications and lowered his dose of Prednisone. But his doctor just called with his blood test results and his neutrophil counts are down. Neutrophils are a type of white blood cell that are part of the immune system, and which seek out infection. A couple months ago his neutrophil count was around two million. Today it’s around 350,000. That means he is just above the neutropenic level, and when you’re neutropenic you can spike fevers – and in Mike’s case, end up with a little vacation in the hospital. Normally neutropenia happens a week or two after a round of chemo, when blood counts have bottomed out. In Mike’s case, they’re thinking he might have contracted something viral, and his system is trying to fight it off. The doctor said not to be terribly alarmed, that sometimes this happens, but to watch for any fevers and to call them if Mike’s temperature spikes.
And all this after he was even cleared today to return to full-time work status (still from home, of course).
We believe in the power of prayer. Please pray that Mike’s counts don’t get any lower, and that he doesn’t spike any fever. Please pray that his counts start to rise and he fights off whatever is running throughout his body.

Called BCBS

Yesterday I called BCBS to get clarification on our benefits. After waiting on hold for at least 15 minutes, I spoke to a nice girl who basically told me what I already knew. Our plan will cover office visits and diagnostic tests/labs (10% co-pay on the latter, up to a $2200 maximum for the year), but nothing related to actual treatment or meds. They also won't cover sperm or embryo storage, which is another large, long-term expense of ours.
I just e-mailed the office manager of the new clinic I found a couple months ago, telling her about our new insurance, and asked if she could give me a ballpark figure of what a treatment cycle with them might cost. We need to get an idea of what we may have to shell out from our own pockets.
Now I'm tired and need to tear myself away from this computer -- and the "Seinfeld" re-run on TV that I've seen a thousand times -- and get to bed.

And the Benefits Are....

Yesterday, our new benefits packages from Blue Cross Blue Shield came in the mail. I anxiously opened the envelope, hoping they'd give us something to work with. As I pretty much expected, not much has changed. But, at least they've thrown us a bone.
The new insurance will include coverage for office visits -- a $25 co-pay for in-network visits, and 30% co-insurance for going out of network. The disclaimer at the bottom of the benefits outline states, in small letters, "Infertility services, including prescription drugs, are limited to the diagnosis of infertility only. No benefits are provided for the treatment of infertility." How gracious of them to bring someone to the point where they can find out why they're unable to get pregnant, but can't fix the problem to help them get a baby. Maybe I'm asking for too much, but what good is knowing the problem if they won't help solve it? Seems like a tease to me, and I already know what our problem is.
I'll have to start making phone calls to BCBS to find out exactly what they mean by "office visits." Sounds like that will at least cover a consultation, which is great considering that would run about $350 if we paid ourselves. Hopefully that will also cover some blood draws and ultrasounds, as well as any other diagnostic testing they might want to do to make sure there really is nothing wrong with me.
I still plan on writing a letter to our company's president and pleading our case (thanks for that tip, Tori!). Can't hurt.

Sick

I’m sick with a head cold. At least it’s not swine flu, but I don’t like being sick. After all my efforts and precautions to keep Mike away from sick people, I’m the one who gets sick. Mike seems to have a touch of it, but he’s fighting it off like a champ. His stem cell donor must have been Superman!
I'm stuffy as anything, have watery eyes and wish I could just veg out on my couch until it passes. On Monday and Tuesday nights, right around bedtime, I got the chills and ran a small fever (between 99 and 100), but last night there was no fever. I think I’m starting to get over the hump. I’m still very, very stuffy, but not as bad as yesterday. The worst of it is my nose – I look like Rudolph’s twin sister. What makes it even more lovely is that it’s so raw from me blowing it every 15 minutes (and that’s not an exaggeration), that it’s dry and beginning to peel. To be blunt, it looks like I have snot all over my nose. I feel like everyone here at work is looking at me and wanting to say, “Um, yeah…… you’ve got…… something…..right there……”

A Fresh Set of Eyes

It's been a week since I checked out that new fertility clinic. I've been wanting to post an update for days, but wanted to give it the time and attention it deserved. I didn't get any grand revelations or unexpected surprises, but I was so glad I went and I think having a new outlook had done me a lot of good.

First of all the place is closer than our current clinic -- not by a huge mark, but closer nonetheless. The staff (the office manager and the financial coordinator) who greeted us was very nice and friendly. Mike couldn't make it, so it was just me along with another couple and a single woman.

Dr. H, the founder of the clinic, came out and addressed us all in the lobby. He introduced himself and told us a bit about his background and what sets his clinic apart from others. Over the course of about an hour, he explained the basics of fertility treatments (IUIs, IVF, donor eggs/sperm/embies, etc.) and explained what a typical cycle consists of. It seemed to me the others in attendance that night were just starting out in their IF treatment journeys. From the questions they asked, I just assumed none of them had been through extensive treatments before. I, however, felt like I knew too much. I could relate to what he was saying. I knew the terms. I felt like I was an A student being forced to take summer school. In other words, been there, done that. I guess I was a little glad for that -- in some way my experience helps me to know some of what works and what doesn't (for me, anyway). I also know what I don't have to waste time trying.

Dr. H is obviously a wealth of knowledge. He seems very smart and experienced. He seems clinically minded, and I've heard from a few people that he doesn't have the best bedside manner, but that's something I can tolerate if he can get the job done.
Once Dr. H finished giving his presentation, he took questions. One of other women asked him something about transferring over previous records of her medical history at a nearby hospital. Dr. H said she should, that sometimes they catch things on records that other doctors at other places didn't see. In fact, he said it happens all the time. He said, "We had a patient here who was trying to get pregnant for years. She did IVF three times at another clinic and failed. Then she came here and we found she had several large fibroids. We took them out and now she's successfully pregnant." As he told this story I got shivers. He didn't name names, but I knew from the story that he was talking about my cyber/message board friend "T" -- the one whose success story prompted me to check out this place! I couldn't believe it.

Once questions were over, the office manager showed me and one of the girls around the clinic. She showed us the offices and two of the four different "pods" each doctor/nurse team has. She also showed us the lab areas upstairs. The place is a little smaller and more "no frills" looking than my current place, but again -- who cares? It's what patients take away that matters.

After the little tour, I was able to take a few one-on-one minutes with Dr. H. Below are some of the basics of our conversation, paraphrased and in no particular sequence:

Me: My husband is a cancer survivor, and he banked his sperm before his treatments.
Dr. H: Very good.
Me: So, there's really nothing "wrong" with me; we're doing IVF because of my husband's health history.
Dr. H: How many vials of sperm do you have?
Me: We started with 13 and now we have 12 left. I've done one fresh and one frozen cycle over the past two years.
Dr. H: Where did you go?
Me: [Told him our clinic's name]
Dr. H: [Nodded]
Me: In fact, I think earlier you mentioned a friend I met on message board. She used the same clinic as me. It's because of her success story that I came here tonight.
Dr. H: It's unconscionable what they did. Unconscionable.... How old are you?
Me: I just turned 34.
Dr. H: Oh, you're young.
Me: [with a laugh] That's what everyone keeps telling me but I'm not feeling so young anymore!
Dr. H: How many eggs did you make with your fresh cycle?
Me: 17
Dr. H: [Surprised] Wow. And how many fertilized?
Me: 15, using ICSI.
Dr. H: Wow, I thought you were going to say only a few fertilized. That's great.
Me: Yeah, so that's what's so frustrating and confusing for us. They didn't really give us any reasons why it didn't work. I know after the fresh cycle they said my estrogen levels were pretty high and that could've worked against me.
Dr. H: And after the second failure, did they do an [some term he used for doing a biopsy of the uterus, and I think an HSG] or were they just for going right on ahead with another cycle?
Me: They didn't mention doing any other tests.
Dr. H: Well, I'd want to check to make sure there aren't fibroids or something else going on in there. Also, you don't need to make so many eggs. We just need a few high quality embryos. Were your transfers on day three?
Me: Yes, day three for the fresh cycle.
Dr. H: Did they mention anything about doing a day-two transfer?
Me: Day two? I didn't know there was such a thing.
Dr. H: Yes, we sometimes do day-two transfers. Your body might be a better incubator than a lab.

Around this time, the financial lady came around and we all started talking about our other issue -- insurance. We have nothing in terms of infertility coverage. At one point, before I was employed there, our company had IF coverage, but later dropped it. We live in a "mandated" state, meaning companies based in this state and which have at least 100 (or so) employees must offer IF coverage to their workers. However, the company Mike and I work for is "self-insured" which basically means they don't have to comply with the mandate. It's a loophole which has thrown us for a loop. We all discussed the insurance issue for a few minutes, and both Dr. H and the financial lady think I can contest this exclusion and maybe even win coverage. They said they thought this lack of compliance was illegal (though I'm sure our company's lawyers knew how to get around it legally) and I should push for the insurance. I said I'd give it a try.

So, after spending a couple hours at the place, I thanked them all for their time and headed home. I immediately called Mike and then my mom, and told them all about the place and my chat with Dr. H. I really left there feeling hopeful again, like maybe this is the place we're supposed to use. And who knows, maybe I can challenge the insurance issue. I never really pushed either our H.R. department or the insurance company. I got the "self-insured" explanation and then dropped it. Maybe that was a mistake.

I like the clinic. Like I said, it doesn't have all the bells and whistles, fancy lobby or huge facilities of our current place, but is that all necessary to make a baby? Might it just take one doctor or lab tech who looks a little deeper and doesn't take a situation that appears to be a "gimme" for granted? I'm not calling anyone out or saying our current place messed up or missed the mark. But our RE told us from the beginning, with a good amount of confidence, "I can't see this taking more than one or two tries for you." For two years I've held onto those words for comfort as if they were gospel. Well, here we are two years and two tries later with no child. Even if our situation looks like a slam dunk on paper, I'm no longer willing to just forge on ahead time after time because the odds should eventually favor us. There's a reason we've had two failures, and Dr. H at least gave me the feeling that he wants to explore those failures.
In my heart, I have my own theory as to why we had two failures. As painful as those failures were, I believe God had His hand on them. Within a couple months of each failure, Mike was diagnosed with another cancer recurrence. Had I been pregnant during either of those times, how would we have enjoyed it? The entire pregnancy would have been filled more with dread and worry, not knowing what the future held for Mike. Even worse, would the stress have hurt the baby and could I have even lost the pregnancy? Looking back, neither time would have been right for a baby. All I can hope and pray for is that when we make our next attempt, we are ready and our other health woes are behind us.

Side note: Today at work, our company president sent an e-mail telling us that effective June 1, we're changing insurance carriers. He said we'll be pleased with the changes, such as lower co-pays and higher lifetime benefit maximums (which is an answer to our prayers for Mike, whose benefit payout is now probably up to half a million dollars). Over the next couple weeks, employees will be receiving the details of our new coverage. I hope and pray there is some infertility coverage on this new plan. If there is, our financial barrier will be lifted. Please pray that this new insurance gives us what we need to give IVF another try!

New Clinic -- New Hope?

Tomorrow evening I'm going to a free seminar being offered by an area fertility clinic -- not the one we've been using. I've heard some good things about it, and figure I have nothing to lose by checking it out. I can't say our regular clinic is doing anything wrong or even that they're necessarily missing something, but can it hurt to see what other places have to offer? Part of it also is that I know we're many months away from starting a cycle, so going to this seminar actually makes me feel like I'm doing something to bring us closer to having a baby.
I'll give a full report in the next day or two.

Happy Birthday to Me

I turn 34 today. Yikes! 34? I feel more like 24, which is good I guess, but where have the years gone? At least I don’t have that sick-to-my-stomach knot I got the night before I turned 30. That was a weird feeling. I’m taking 34 a little more in stride – so far.
Today is also Good Friday. Last year on Good Friday (which was March 21 – Easter was earlier last year), I had my FET. I was looking for some symbolism in that day, but, oh, well. Today though, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy my birthday, which falls on my favorite day of the week. I’m not going to focus on what I don’t have (children), but focus on what I do have – a healthy husband, who is getting better and stronger every day, a wonderful family (who sometimes drives me crazy, but whom I couldn’t live without), good friends and a bright future with blessings on the horizon.
I already opened two of my three birthday presents from Mike (a great warm fleece with my favorite baseball team’s emblem on it, and a worship CD) and I get one more tonight. Feels like Chanukah! LOL
My sisters-in-law will also be stopping by later to see me (more presents!) and my brother might even come over.
Yup, I’m going to enjoy it. I’ll worry about what 34 means tomorrow. ;)

Unofficial Blog Design Poll

The other day I changed my blog background using a template from thecutestblogontheblock.com. I can see it fine on my home computer. When I checked it at work though, it didn't come up. I just had a solid, dark blue background -- no design. I thought it might be our work's filter that wouldn't allow my blog to pull information from that site, but when I checked a couple other blogs which use similar backgrounds, theirs came up. What gives?
So, just wondering what you all see when you look at my blog. If you would, just leave a comment to let me know. I get all detective-like with this stuff and have to know why things don't work! :)

I've Got a New Attitude

It seems like ages since Mike and I have talked about TTC again in any real, concrete terms. Today, we did.
I used to be a regular poster on one of the WebMD support pages, and from that support group I started keeping in touch with a girl who uses the same fertility clinic as us. I hadn't been in touch with her in a very long time, and I hadn't lurked on WebMD in months. Today, for some reason, I popped over to WebMD and just scanned the posts to see if anyone I knew was even still on there. Lo and behold, I saw a post from the aforementioned girl -- and she's now pregnant! I immediately e-mailed her to congratulate her and find out the specifics. Turns out she switched fertility clinics -- after years and years of trying, and three failed attempts at the old place -- and got pregnant in her first cycle there. I couldn't believe it. She raved and raved about this new place and said, "I can't say enough about them best clinic around in my opinion."
When I told all this to Mike, it opened up a dialogue that I'd been hoping to have for the longest time, but didn't want to start because I knew his recovery is still our main concern. But he actually said a few things that surprised me. He told me we should give this new place a look, and even agreed that I should go check out their open house in a few weeks. He also said that he would have no problem in eventually taking out a loan to cover our next cycle. Excuse me? What have you done with my husband?
This last statement really shocked me, because for the past couple years we've been making debt reduction a top priority. We just finally sent our last payment for my student loan, and we're on a fast track to paying off our credit cards, car and his medical bills. To add another huge debt for IVF would seem unthinkable. But Mike said he knows how important this is, and this is something worth paying for. We talked about really pounding away at the debt for the next several months -- while he's also continuing to recover and get his immunity back to normal -- and depending on where we're at later this year, we can start looking again towards another cycle.
It's like this cloud lifted from me. I can't say I've been depressed lately, but I've started to feel like trying for a baby is a lifetime away. I'm going to be 34 next week, and while I don't feel old, I can't deny that I'm approaching that magic age when time won't be on my side. That scares the hell out of me.
Since this afternoon I've started to feel like I have a goal again, like I can look forward and plan. I'm reassured that all this longing isn't just living in me, but in Mike as well. It is nice to talk about the future and start to plan a life again. My attitude has been changed.

Trying to Be a Good Sport

On Sunday, one of my oldest friends (we grew up together) had her first baby, a girl. I’m happy for her. I’m thrilled. Really, I am. [Insert forced smile here.]
No, seriously, I am glad for her and her husband. They’ve fought the infertility battle, too. She never told me anything about it for the longest time, until she finally opened up a couple years ago and we started comparing notes. As it turned out, our first IVF cycles were at the same time, everything within a few days of each other. Of course, both our cycles ended in disappointment. While I did an FET last spring, she eventually moved on to donor eggs and got pregnant. Her success story uplifts me, and I know how much this means to her, but when I saw that first picture of her holding her daughter, I felt so left out.
She and I have always been athletic, both pretty good at the sports we played. She was a year behind me in school, and when she finally entered high school, she planned on trying out for the volleyball team. Since I played junior varsity, and planned on trying out for varsity that year, I helped her practice and learn the techniques used by the coaching staff. As it turned out, she lit up the tryouts, made the varsity team and I didn’t make it. At that age and at the point in my life, it was a huge blow. She went on to be a superstar player, make friends with all the varsity girls I thought I’d be friends with, and had the life I was supposed to have (from an athletics perspective anyway). I was left behind. When we started to support each other in our IVF lives, I felt I was again taking her under my wing and working towards the same dream together. Now, she’s having the life I want and I’m still sitting on the bench.
Last Friday, I also became an aunt again (the sister-in-law with the then nameless son-to-be). I’m happy to be an aunt, and I love my nieces and nephews, but I’m tired of sitting and watching from the bench. Several other friends will also be having babies over the next several months, and to them I’ll be “Aunt Lauren” too. How long do I have to warm up in the bullpen before I’m called into the game?

When Goals Remain Out of Reach

In the past week, Mike's been on a setting goals/self-improvement kick. For a long time he's been trying to figure out what he really wants to be and accomplish in his life. I'm really proud of the drive he's found in recent days (part of it is the prednisone he's on for graft-versus-host symptoms, but still....) and I know he can absolutely accomplish the goals he is setting for himself.
On that note, it got me thinking about my own goals for my life. Ever since I got married, and even for a long time before, my future goal was simple: I wanted to be a mom. For many women that's a relatively simple and easily achievable goal, so much in fact that they probably don't even think of it as a goal, but as more of an expected and routine part of their young lives. For me though, it's getting to feel like a goal that could potentially go unfulfilled. I'm a positive person, and I truly believe that one way or another, I will be a mother. But do I see it as an expected and routine part of my future? Not anymore.
So much of this dream remains out of my control (and as Mike would confirm, I can be a bit of a control freak with certain things!). I've done two IVF cycles, and have come up empty. The second time I even added acupuncture to increase my odds, but still no luck. When we're ready to try again, I could increase my exercise, change my diet, get more rest, even try a different fertility clinic. But does that mean I'll achieve my goal? Nope.
Trying to conceive is a different kind of goal when you’re faced with infertility. It’s not like setting a goal to finish college or get a certain career or lose 20 pounds or see Australia. It's the kind of dream that means no matter how hard you try, how much time you devote to it or how much persistence you bring, it still might not come true. It’s a dream with such frustration because you know that you can only do so much. Plus, there’s a very real and undeniable time crunch attached to this goal. This isn’t something one can put off until they're 50.
This was supposed to be a simple goal, so why does it seem so out of reach?

The Name Game

Even though we don't have our kids yet, Mike and I still sometimes talk about them and what they might be like in the future. It's usually a casual mention, like, "I hope little so-and-so doesn't have your stubbornness," or "Someday we'll come here with little so-and-so." But we don't say "so-and-so" -- we say their names. Mike and I have had our kids' names picked out since before we even got engaged. We had our first girl name and first boy named all set pretty easily. We even got our second boy/girl names picked, just in case either of our cycles yielded twins. The names were the easy part.
Within just a few weeks, Mike's sister will be giving birth to her third child -- their first boy after two girls, ages four and three. Although all she and her husband want is a healthy baby, of course, they're thrilled to know they are finally having a boy. One would think they'd have had their boy name all picked out and waiting in the wings. But it looks like the choice is coming down to the wire. For months they haven't been able to agree on any name. Last I heard, there were two finalists -- both nice names -- but no definite decision.
Here they are waiting for a kid, and have no name for him. And here we wait, ready with names, but with no kids. Our little "so-and-so's" exist and live in our hearts. We talk about them like they could arrive at any moment, but we don't know when that moment will be. We have no estimated due date, no countdown, no "X more days until...." We don't yet know what our children will look like, whose eyes they'll have, the color of their hair or the sound of their voices....
But we know their names.

One Can Dream.....

I don't really dream about infertility or having kids -- at least, not in a way that leaves any lasting impression or pain. Friday night I had a quick, but interesting dream. I was by myself (not sure where Mike was at the time) in the second-floor bedroom of some house. I was holding an infant, I think a newborn, and my impression was that the baby was my cousin Alex (who is actually 22 years old now). It was just the two of us in the room, and even though she was a baby, she could talk to me. I was holding her, and then I put her down on the bed and laid down next to her. I think I was crying a bit, and I just said to her, "When you see Jesus, please ask Him to bless us with a baby." The next thing I remember in the dream was my uncle, her dad, walking back into the room (which was what made me think this baby was my cousin).
That was it. It was very brief, but I was struck and confused by what I said to her.
I haven't prayed for a baby, specifically, in a while. Most of my prayers have been focused on Mike's healing, and the usual general health and safety of my loved ones.
Should I be praying for a baby? Is that God's way of speaking to me and reaching out to me? He says to bring all our concerns and petitions to Him, but this is one concern I've kind of given up on lately. Plus, I keep telling myself that we will never have a "miracle baby" outside an IVF clinic. It just can't happen. So until we're ready for IVF again, how can we be blessed with a baby?
Maybe I'm just over-thinking things.

I Have Returned

Yes, I'm still alive. And no, I haven't quit blogging. Busyness followed by laziness has been the reason for my absence.
The short summary of the past few months is that Mike had his transplant and did very well. He's home recovering and, although he still has a long way to go to get things totally back to "normal" (whatever that is), things are looking up.
Now, backing up, it was wonderful to get to enjoy the holidays together, but Christmas still ended up being a holiday with a loved one in the hospital. My grandpa took a spill and broke his hip a week before Christmas, so it was a very different and whirlwind holiday this year.
Mike caught the awful stomach bug going around during the holidays, so his admission to the hospital was delayed by a week. He finally went in January 8 and thus it began. The chemo started that same night, and for the next few days things were business as usual. The following Tuesday is when it started to hit him, but he still came through like a champ. He was given the donor stem cells on Friday, Jan. 16, and while he had no real reaction to the stem cells, the chemo, meds and everything else started hitting him at that point. Those next few days were terrible. He was drugged up and mostly out of it, but when he was awake he had terrible headaches, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and an all-around miserable feeling. At one point he was vomiting so much (and he had nothing in his stomach to throw up) that he told me he felt like he was going to hemorrhage. I was in a panic. Another time during those few days he told me it would be better to "go to glory" than to endure this. I barely ate during that time, and I only left his room to use the bathroom or to leave for the night. Luckily I had gotten a hotel room down the street for several nights, so I didn't have to make the 45-minute drive home every evening.
Around the early to mid part of the following week, Mike was starting to become more alert, and was trying to use the pain meds a little less, but it was still at least another week before he really started to seem more like himself.
Once his physical state started to improve, the mental toll of being locked up in a room started to show. He wanted to get out of there so badly and didn't know how he was going to stay sane. But soon the light at the end of the tunnel started to shine.
The hospital stay for a matched-unrelated-donor (MUD) transplant is typically four to six weeks, and they told him he should plan on about five weeks. Mike was released four weeks and one day after his admission. He was the poster boy for transplants.
The day Mike was released, my co-workers were throwing a surprise baby shower for our manager, whose wife was pregnant with their first child. Luckily, I got the call to come get Mike that morning, and got to skip out on the shower. I had to bring my baby home from the hospital.