“You’re So Lucky”

On Saturday morning I drove out to the ‘burbs for a hair appointment at a salon I love, but with a different stylist than my usual girl. I got settled into the chair and we discussed the reason for my appointment. The very first comment the stylist made to me after hair convo was, “So, do you have any kids?”


I paused. Long enough that a fellow infertile might have caught the drift, but not so long as to be awkward. I truly didn’t know how to respond. It was like I momentarily froze. After gauging the overall situation, the setting, and the questioner, I replied “No.”

“Oh, wow. You’re so lucky! I have two and I’m a single mom and they drive me completely crazy.”

Half an hour later I sat down in the shampoo chair. A super friendly gal came over to wash my hair:

Shampoo Girl: “So! Are you married?”

Me: “Yep, I am.”

Shampoo Girl: “Do you have any kids?!”

Me: “Errm. No.”

Shampoo Girl: “Oh. Well, you can always start trying! Have you been married long?”

Me (not wanting to admit I’ve been married for 12+ years): “Just a little while….”

This is the very reason I’ve avoided going anywhere lately or meeting new people. It’s beyond difficult when someone asks the seemingly benign conversational question of whether I have kids, and this deep down part of me awakens and screams, “YES! I do have children!” Because I can’t say that.  We all know why. The follow up conversation would be extremely weird.

So I got to wondering: Am I really “so lucky?”

I can sleep in on weekends and go out whenever I want, for as long I want. I can spend my money on needlessly selfish things and take long vacations with my husband. I can decorate my house with fragile décor and leave sharp knives on the kitchen counter every single day of the week. If life is measured by these freedoms, then—in that case—I guess that I am “lucky.”

But you know what? I’ve had a lifetime of these freedoms. I’ve had fifteen years of undivided time to spend with my husband. I’ve had enough “me” to last forever; I’m pretty well over me, myself, and I by this point. I’d give all my money (and it seems that I am, too…) to be awoken in the middle of the night to feed a crying newborn, to scrimp and save my money and spend Saturday nights clipping coupons, to forego vacation plans, to baby-proof my house, to confidently answer “yes” when someone asks whether I have kids. I’d trade it all in a heartbeat to finally have a child of our own. So if anyone is “lucky” here, then it’s my scissor-wielding friend over at the hair salon who apparently doesn’t realize how blessed she really is.

When we decide that the grass is greener on the other side, we often forget the truth that all grass still must be mowed. This encounter brought that to my mind so strongly. Because maybe I’m very much guilty of the same thing, but in reverse. I realized that I have a tendency to think short-term, in that once I finally have a baby I’ll be chillin in those greener pastures without having to do anything further. But that’s not true, because as the saying also goes, the grass is greener where you water it. And for that much, I’m thankful that God can take something that would normally sting (the kids question) and turn it into an opportunity for a small lesson in humility and growth. Sometimes it’s the things we least expect….



PIO vs. Crinone

On the bottom shelf of our bathroom pantry, wedged tightly in the very back, is a big Ziplock bag. Inside of that bag is a month’s worth of unopened Crinone suppositories. Those babies set me back over $300 last fall: for a month’s supply. Of goopy hormones. That my body makes naturally. Yikes.

Dr. C is having me take IM PIO for the FET. I’m worried about how my butt will fare after being shot up daily for 13 weeks with progesterone… I’ve seen you guys’ pics: those dark bruises and dagger-like needles are almost enough to send this chick running for the hills. I have little choice in the matter though, since PIO seems to be the gold standard for REs.

Since it never hurts to check, I called my insurance company to inquire, and, as usual, they refused to cover the cost… apparently PIO isn’t “medical necessary.” (Fun fact: Last time my insurance company gave me this same runaround about stims not being covered, I asked the customer service rep if they’d cover a prescription for Viagra. She said they would. I then asked how Viagra was medically necessary. I have no shame.) Last week my nurse suggested I price out some local pharmacies for PIO, then get back to her about which pharmacy she should order my meds from. And holy canolis was I stunned (in a happy way!) when I had to make the not-so-gut-wrenching decision of choosing to spend $107 vs. $117 for my PIOs.

It’s refreshing while on this weaving, swerving highway of infertility when something—anything—doesn’t break the bank. To pay a hundred-odd bucks for one month’s worth of a medication is a downright steal compared to those pricey stims. It almost feels like I’m taking advantage of them for once. Almost.

There’s still the pesky matter of my Ziplock-encased Crinone. I can’t exactly return it to the pharmacy. And I hate to have spent so much money just for it to collect dust. So if we get a BFP and if my progesterone levels afterward are looking good, then Nurse says Dr. C might let me switch from PIO to Crinone. Those aren’t bad odds. Crinone is not without its own yuck side effects, but at least I already know what to expect with it going in.

At the end of the day, I’m not sure whether it matters how the progesterone gets into my body. I don’t understand why one delivery method is three times as expensive as another for the same hormone, but that’s why they pay people smarter than myself to figure these things out. It could just be a matter of convenience. I think I once read somewhere that, since PIO goes directly into the bloodstream, it can be measured via blood tests, whereas the progesterone that Crinone adds is not measurable on a blood test. Not sure how true that is. Like I said, though: people much smarter than me haha.

Either way, all my meds are ordered and should be delivered soon. I’m partly nervous and still partly neutral about the FET. I’m hoping my excitement levels will go up as I get closer to transfer. It’ll get real soon enough.








As I was driving to work yesterday morning on a perfectly ordinary day thinking about nothing in particular, I suddenly found myself really, honestly full of HOPE about our FET. It sounds cliché, but it was as if a sudden ray of light burst open inside of me and I realized that, yes, I can choose to hope that this is it for us!

This is kind of a big deal because—up until that moment—I’d been pretty much resigned to expecting the FET to be a flop. Terrible, right? I’d felt truly awful for being so pessimistic. If the FET worked, how could I look at my newborn baby and not possibly be a bad person for having gone into this thing expecting him or her to not have made it? Our baby-to-be deserves faith and hope and expectation, not gloomy pessimism and low expectations.

For months I outright refused to discuss our frostie  being a possible child whenever anyone tried to cheer me up by mentioning that we still had a frozen embryo. I was still all messed up about the miscarried embryo. It didn’t feel right to just quickly move along to the next embryo like business as usual. Maybe we just had a bad “batch” and would have to start fresh. To me, the idea of the frostie being our take-home baby was a non-chance, a poor substitute. To go into this FET robotically with underlying discouragement and anger is not fair to this embryo. He (or she, but I like the idea of ‘he’) deserves to have someone in his corner rooting him along.

Hope hurts, especially in this risky infertility business where the odds are rarely in our favor. We always stay cautiously guarded, we learn to be only timidly hopeful. After all, we’ve ridden this roller coaster ride of hoping followed by letdown every single month. We know the flattening disappointment of yet another failed cycle. For some of us, this ride goes on for years. Hope is a step out of our comfort zone and into letting our hearts be open to the possibility of being hurt, of being wrong. Hope is not self-gratifying expectant demanding. Hope is not naiveté. Hope is not a guarantee. Hope is not having your head in the clouds.

Hope is essential.

Only God knows the outcome of this cycle. My hope is in Him.

Psalm 94:19
When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer. (NLT)



FET Prep Festivities


We’re about 6 weeks out from transfer. It sounds far away but I know how fast time flies, so now is the time to get started!

But before I go on, I have indeed been off WordPress for several weeks now. This here post doesn’t mean I’m totally back in the swing of things. Most days I can’t handle blogging or reading pregnancy posts. I’ve been going through some depression/withdrawal/isolation lately.  It’s been [and still is] a very real struggle. I can get up and go to work—and anywhere else that I absolutely have to—but nothing beyond that. Even those few things take major, major effort. I resent when I have to leave my house. I don’t want to interact with anyone. I know this is not normal. Maybe it’s a part of the grief process. Maybe it’s not. Either way, it’s there and some days are worse than others.

Back on subject:

With that said, I’m not sure how I feel about the FET. I’m mostly ambivalent. I’m neither excited about the possibility of a BFP nor bummed about a potential BFN.

If I’m totally honest, I’m Just Not Ready to transfer. But last year we’d purchased a package from our RE’s office that included 1 fresh/1 frozen cycle: therefore, we’ve already paid for this FET. The package gives us until mid-May 2016 to use our snowbaby; otherwise we have to pay for another FET from scratch. Starting a FET from scratch isn’t doable because we need that money for other things… So, yeah. You can appreciate my dilemma here. I pay for all this IF treatment business out-of-pocket and this ish is expensive… Leaving snowbaby frozen in perpetuity is not something that sits well with DH or I either, so—ready or not—we’re plunging ahead.

To be cautious, we chose an April transfer just in case something weird came up with my lining or timing, or which otherwise might push us back a month. I wish we had a few more months to do this. But we don’t. My current feelings on this topic are completely subject to change, though. So, onward!

Here’s where I’m at on the medical and physical end of things:

  • FET Consult: Is scheduled for Friday March 11. DH and I will meet with the nurse and go over the cycle in detail. We’ll sign additional paperwork and order my meds, which I already know consist of Estrace and PIO and post-transfer Medrol. Nothing hardcore in this department.
  • AF, March: I’m still waiting for my March period, which could come literally any time. Tomorrow? End of the month? Twice in a row? Who knows! AF comes whenever she feels like it these days, with or without warning, and (still) never following OV.
  • AF, April: Assuming I get a “regular” April period, our FET cycle will officially kick in at that time. If I end up getting two periods in March (very likely given my track record these days), then we’ll start after the second March period.
  • Supplements: I’m continuing my daily regimen of DHEA, CoQ-10, Vitamin D, and these super good multivitamin. About 2 – 3 weeks before transfer I’ll swap everything out for these prenatals.
  • Uterine Health: I scored 2 pounds of organic loose red raspberry leaf tea online for $18. This yields like a 6-month supply, there’s seriously SO much of this stuff! I brew it in half-gallon batches and drink cold, or steep individually for a hot beverage depending on the day and my mood. I drink two 12-ounce glasses a day, every day. My uterus should be super “toned” come transfer, whatever that means….
  • Acupuncture: I’ve only done acu once, pre fresh transfer… and I completely loathed the experience. Despite my personal feelings, I’m giving it a second chance. There’s too many studies and personal claims out there about acupuncture being beneficial for FETs. My first appointment is scheduled for March 10. I plan to go 1X/week every week, then 1X week of transfer, and, if possible, on the day of transfer itself. I may not enjoy it, but hopefully I’ll at least get used to it.
  • Nutrition: I already eat healthily, but—face it—there’s always room for improvement. Beginning last week I swore off anything unhealthy. At all. (Except natural dark chocolate bars in the event of an emergency. Unpredictable AF = unpredictable PMS = unpredictable cravings.) I’ve been drinking Raw Meal and Perfect Foods shakes every weekday morning since January and will continue until the day before transfer. These things actually taste pretty good with a bit of doctoring up, and I highly recommend them! No more raw foods post-transfer, even in powder form. I’ll miss my shakes!
  • The Big Bad: Okay, here’s where it gets ugly; please don’t judge. No one ever seems to talk about this on IF blogs. But after the m/c I picked back up on a nasty little habit of smoking cigarettes. Not good, I know, I know… I had been so proud of myself for quitting before, too! The stress and physical toll post-m/c was just too much, and I fell back to smoking like a long-lost friend. I swore it was temporary and I wouldn’t get hooked. But I got hooked anyway. All my hard work out the window. Now I’m quitting AGAIN. I’m currently on day 5 and it’s brutal. I only smoked about 6 – 7 cigs a day, but it’s the associations of smoking more than the act of smoking that make it so tough. I’m doing this cold turkey and on sheer willpower. I float between pissed off to livid to psycho-infuriated when I’m having a craving. It truly sucks. And I miss it (sue me). But quitting now gives me a solid 5 – 6 weeks to get nicotine and withdrawals completely out of my system.
  • Meditation: I’ve not tried this before, but many of you guys swear by it. A quick peruse of Amazon shows Circle + Bloom meditation CDs are waaay more expensive than I’m comfortable with, so unless I can score one super cheap I’ll leave meditation CDs on the “possibility” shelf.
  • Caffeine: I do love my 2 cups of coffee in the mornings; I also love my occasional third cup in the afternoons. I do not, however, love the single cup of coffee I’ve allotted myself from now until transfer. Like the Big Bad, cutting down on caffeine produces ugly withdrawal symptoms. On the bright side, simultaneous nicotine and caffeine withdrawal means I’ve only got to get over my addictions one time instead of dragging them out. Switching to only one cup of coffee/day now means it’ll be that much easier to completely stop after transfer. But still. It does kinda suck.
  • Exercise: I’m continuing with the gym 3X/week and walking on weekends. Now that the weather’s getting nicer, DH and I have been hitting up the track after work. It’s only two blocks from our house, and it’s so great to get fresh air instead of smelly gym air.
  • Scary Chemicals: I love making homemade household cleaners, homemade laundry detergent, and whipping up body butters in my kitchen. As a rule, I use natural, organic, enviro-friendly beauty products and avoid parabens, phthalates, animal testing, etc. This could be a post in itself I have so much to say on the subject! Anyways, I’ll continue with my natural and homemade remedies from now until transfer; and afterward, of course, too. My only exception to the Scary Chemical category is my hair color, which I’m getting touched up this weekend. After transfer I’ll let it fade into its natural mousy brown if we get a BFP.

I’m sure there’s more, but this list is already long enough. It all comes down to just making some {very specific} healthier choices as the FET gets closer. It’s a personal challenge I very much welcome.

I’ve had a tough time finding IF-related things to blog about lately.  I’ve started many drafts, but they’re just not doing it for me. So I’ll be posting as inspired or as anything happens.



Normal Female Karyotype


A different kind of TWW—for my karyotyping blood work results to come in—is done.

A few weeks ago I had a recurrent miscarriage panel drawn at my RE’s office. It was done more as a formality, IMO. Something Dr. C figured would appease me.

There was some confusion when a new girl in my RE’s office told me my results weren’t in (they were) and never bothered to share them with me or with anyone else—including my RE! I finally tracked down my fave, most competent nurse. She jumped on the ball and called me back within ten minutes with my results that only moments before “weren’t in yet.” Nurse read my results to me over the phone. She might as well have been speaking in hieroglyphics. I politely listened to a slew of medical terms and numbers, then requested the lab results be emailed to me.

For anyone who geeks out on this type of thing, here’s what the panel tested:

  • Anticardiolipins  (3 types: IgG, IgM, and IgA)
  • Beta-2 Glycoprotein  (2 types: IgC and IgM)
  • My thyroid (not totally sure why this was included in the test, since my primary physician draws a full-out thyroid panel for me every 4 months, but, hey, whatevs.)
  • Lupus Anticoagulant comp (This included a whole raft of subtests, none of which I can pronounce, let alone decipher their meanings).

Everything was squarely in the normal range. The Lupus results were a bit on the higher end of the ranges given, but not enough that Dr. C was concerned.

So there we have it. I am “normal.” Well, not normal normal haha…. but my blood clotting abilities are apparently quite stellar. Hooray.

Through a friend’s recommendation, I’ve been reading the website of a reproductive immunologist, Dr. Alan Beer in California, about RI and RM testing. His site is pretty informative and breaks down all the tests he uses in his RI practice in a way that’s (semi) understandable. Among other tests, I noticed that Dr. Beer includes the following in his RM testing, none of which were included in my own panel:

  • Leukocyte Antibody Detection (LAD)
  • Antinuclear antibodies (ANA)
  • Natural Killer (NK)
  • Antiphospholipid Antibodies (APA)

The terms natural killer cells and antiphospholipids are thrown around a lot on IF blogs. But no matter how much I read online, I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around all this stuff.

I’m a total newb at all things RI, so if anyone can tell me whether my panel sucked as far as being comprehensive, please do. I’m not looking for there to be something wrong with me as far as RI goes, but if something major wasn’t tested that should’ve been, I’m def interested in knowing about it.



‘O’ is for Ovulation


Well, not for this chick. Not this month. Again.

When it comes to checking for OV, I’m really… let’s say, fastidious. I temp each and every morning at the exact same time. I love nothing more than a good session of sitting down to analyze my charts (man has my idea of a good time changed since my 20s!). I like being able to see progress mapped out in front if me every month. In a trial like IF, any amount of feeling proactive helps.

Back when things were “normal,” I’d begin using OPKs on CD 11 or 12; between CD12 and CD15 I’d usually get a positive result. I’d always test one extra day afterward, just to see whether I’d get another positive. Then I’d stop testing for the month. Like clockwork and just like it should, my temp would spike one to two days after a positive result. It was all very non-exciting and routine, but, what can I say? Seeing that smiley face and knowing that things were working as they should made (and makes) me happy.

And, of course, I lived to share the results with DH. It wasn’t unusual for him to get texts like these from me:

Cryptic, huh?


I haven’t used any OPKs since August 2015. There was simply no reason to. After my last AF, though, I happily jumped back on the bandwagon. I hadn’t POAS —on any sticks—in months and was starting to get the itch. Like an addict.

Immediately after AF ended my temp dipped super low. Not too unusual. But at the same time I was getting CM; this was totally puzzling, cause CM should not happen right after AF ends. My temp never spiked after the CM went away. Weird.

On CD11 I began using both Clear Blue Digital and Wondfo.  Day after day after day my tests came up negative. Even using both brands (more on that later), there was definitely no LH surge. Even so, my temp spiked at CD13, just like it normally would.


The cycle drew to a close and I knew I had not OV’ed this month. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ovulated at all since the m/c. I’m currently on my fifth period in eight weeks, which must be some kind of world record. Periods that close together just don’t leave enough time for the OV process to happen.

It took until age 28 for my cycles to level out to a nice, predicable pattern. We’ve been TTC since around then, and I’ve relied heavily on those predictable cycles in that time. So you can imagine how much my cycle still being all jacked up following the m/c has me super frustrated. And sad. What the heck, guys? How long does this stuff take?

I desperately want to get back to normal. It can’t happen soon enough. I sure miss those smiley faces. I miss the normality of my routine. I miss that “mundane-ness” of having a regular cycle and OV, no matter how much I might have once complained about those periods. Most of all, I miss knowing that I even have a shot at a BFP.

Why Hello There Again, Gym


Confession: When it comes to exercise I’ve become the queen slacker of all slackers.

I used to go to the gym (semi) regularly, and supplemented the in-between days by taking long walks with DH and Puppy. I bought an elliptical machine last winter and used it on days when leaving the house seemed too daunting. I also used to meet a friend after work to get a Zumba class in a few days a week. I was what they call, healthy.

Little by little I’ve fallen away from all-things-exercise and found myself teetering on the brink of schlubbery: I moved and no longer have my trusty Zumba buddy nearby. I cancelled my gym membership last spring to “save money.” My elliptical has magically morphed into little more than a very expensive coat rack. And although I do still go for walks, let’s face it: It’s winter. It’s cold. It’s dark. A quick sprint around the block as I drag Puppy along on his leash hardly counts. The toughest reality though is that—on top of my usual ongoing ovary pain—I’ve had near-constant uterine pain and cramping the past several months. Combined uterine and ovary pain make even the thought of working out seem like a date with a torture chamber. (Fun fact: I can now literally trace an outline of the parameters of my uterus, I know it’s location so well.)

Basically, I lost my mojo. 

Over the past few months I’ve noticed my clothes fit just a little bit tighter. (Darn you, washing machine for shrinking all my stuff!) I get winded just a little more easier than I used to (I blame that one on old age—34’s a-comin’!). I’ve felt my energy levels slooooowly dropping (see old age excuse above). I, of course, chalked all this up to stress, IVF, hormones, grief—basically anything I could think of that sounded plausible. I’ve come up with some really great excuses that I could sell to even the most hardened cynic.

Reality: I got lazy.

There’s no way around it. I’ve been loafing, reclining, snoozing, avoiding, rationalizing, blaming, and denying to my little heart’s content.

Time to put a stop to that.

So I rejoined the gym. And I begrudgingly dragged myself there, complaining and mumbling and carrying on the whole way.

And you know what? It wasn’t that bad.

Okay, actually it was that bad. My merciless personal trainer surely had underlying evil intentions that included my walking as if DH and I had spent a wild night between the sheets for a solid week: but functional use of your legs is soooo overrated. Why rely on your uselessly-sore abs to sit up when wriggling off the bed/couch/chair by hoisting all your weight onto your arms is so much more practical?! And would you really want to walk down the stairs on legs muscles that feel like they’re made of gelatin when sliding down step-by-step on your butt is so much sexier? (True stories. Sad, I know.)

I’ve been forcing myself to go to the gym a few times a week, sans said evil personal trainer. And you know what? This crazy thing happened: it’s getting easier! Very slowly, that is, but still easier. I don’t have to safety pin my favorite dress pants closed for work anymore: that’s pretty exciting stuff.

It’s not that I was really overweight to begin with, but I’ve been dogged by these extra few pounds for far too long now (two words: Desk Job). I’m 5’6″ and look my best when I weigh around 130. Imagine my horror when I weighed in at my family doctor’s office (“GP” for my British friends) and she wrote down a number that hovered dangerously in the mid-140’s. Or when said family doctor discreetly and devilishly slipped a graph into my sheath of take-home papers that indicated I was on the cusp of the “heavy” category. Thanks, Dr. S. And to think, your subtlety was almost lost on me.

What does this have to do with infertility?

Well… it’s not really a stretch: I want to do everything in my power to be as healthy as possible, both for natural TTC cycles and upcoming FET cycle. I imagine that being at a good weight is paramount to healthiness. Despite my sometimes ruminating that getting back to my target weight will be moot since I’ll just gain it back during pregnancy, I know in my heart that’s just another of my many tempting excuses. Instead, I try to see it is as a positive: when I gain pregnancy weight, I’ll be able to use my current wardrobe as maternity wear. Silver linings and all.

Will not shedding a handful of unwanted pounds be a deal breaker for taking home a baby one day soon? Probably not. But it is motivation, and this gal will take all the motivation she can get!

And if things go really well, I might even have before-and-after pics to share one day soon.

Peace. ❤



No Surgery Needed


The results are in: no surgery needed to correct my arcuate uterus! Dr. C called me today and said that all the REs in the practice reviewed my recent hysteroscopy; between them all there’s over a hundred years’ of experience. They all agreed that my “dent was moderate” (his words), but not enough so that I should get it fixed surgically.

I’m, of course, good with this. I see the situation kinda like a car: you can drive a dented car and still get around just fine. I guess dented uteruses can be seen the same way? Cause we all know how similar cars and uteruses are….

And—since a few of you guys suggested a recurrent miscarriage panel to me—I floated the idea by Dr. C.  To my surprise, he was totally down with it. He said it was definitely worth doing the panel before transfer, and that he’d have nursing call me to schedule the blood test. So a big thank you to those of you who mentioned the idea; otherwise I wouldn’t have known to even ask for it. You guys are total rock stars and I heart you.

Dr. C and I are on the same page with things right now, which is great: There’s nothing worse than fighting your doctor on something you want done but which he/she doesn’t think is needed. Right now I’m, like, in love with my RE. DH understands. We all have our doctor crushes from time to time.

I’m feeling better about things. Now I just need NO MORE SCARES between now and transfer time to maintain my good perspective. I’m guessing the panel will be drawn soon and I’ll hopefully have a very non-updated update to post afterward.


Hysteroscopy #2: Arcuate Uterus

Arcuate uterus: that’s the latest term the docs are flinging around these days. Yeah, I know, the title to this post sounds like a sequel to a bad movie. But if all-things-uterus-related are your thang, then, please, read on:


Yesterday, after having had something like 4 periods in 5 weeks, Dr. C determined that I’d finally had a “second” period and did my second hysteroscopy. I felt very fortunate that my h/s was scheduled on a day that Dr. C was the surgical clinic doctor and he’d be doing my procedure: there’s just something about having your own RE that makes it so much more comfortable. Well, as comfortable as someone lacing a camera through your cervix and taking an extended video tour of your uterus can be.

The h/s showed that I had no fibroids, polyps, or fetal tissue left in there, so we checked all that good stuff off the list. But then Dr. C was all like, “Hmm, it looks like you have an arcuate uterus. It’s not too bad, but it’s definitely arcuate. See?” He showed me something on the screen that looked (to me) like just a watery blur, explained the condition to me in best-and-worse case scenarios, then wrote it down on a piece of paper. “I know you. You’ll be Googling this the minute you’re out of here. So here’s how to spell it.” Ahh, my doc and I: he knows me so well.

After a bicornuate uterus was ruled out the other month, I’d thought little more of the matter than just my having a weirdly-shaped uterus. But apparently there’s several different medical conditions in which a uterus can be jacked up, and now they’re trying this one on for size.

I, of course, Googled as predicted. I’ll save you the dry, unintelligible, medical definition: here’s an easier explanation that I found online:

A small “dent” in the top of an otherwise normally shaped uterus distinguishes this condition. The Mullerian ducts have fused but have not reabsorbed completely. The problem does not seem to have much effect on normal pregnancy so seldom requires treatment.

arcuate uterine-abnormality

From what I’ve found, an arcuate uterus can be a cause of very little concern:

“…the arcuate uterus probably does not have an impact on reproduction and obstetrical outcomes.”

“… a minor malformation with a benign clinical behavior…”

“According to these results, there is no evidence to support that the arcuate uterus has a different effect on the reproductive outcome in comparison to the subseptate uterus, neither before nor after surgical correction of the anomaly.”

On the other hand, arcuate uterus can have an effect both on fertility and the ability to carry a child to full term. Specifically, it’s suspected of contributing to second trimester miscarriages. Some websites say arcuate uterus is common, others say it only shows up in 3 – 4% of patients scanned.

Fun stuff.

The Plan: So every Monday Dr. C sits down with the other REs in the practice to review cases from the past week that they want to get the others’ opinions on. They’ll make some popcorn, sit back, and engross themselves in re-watching the video taken during my h/s.

Then they’ll tell him what they think I should do. Then he’ll tell me what he thinks I should do.

What Dr. C thinks: For now, wait. If his colleagues suggest that I have my uterus “corrected” then I can have a procedure done to fix it. Will not fixing it affect our upcoming transfer this spring? Maybe. Buuuuuut… maybe not. Dr. C thinks I’ll be okay…. buuuuut he doesn’t want to take a risk of messing up my future chances.

Bottom line: He doesn’t know yet. Therefore, I don’t know yet. The clinic will call me next week with an idea of what to do going forward.

Update to follow.


Anniversaries and Would-Be Milestones

I’m not doing good today, ladies. Like, not at all. Today’s been tough:

  • Today is 3-months since we first learned all was not well with our pregnancy.
  • Today is 2-months since the actual miscarriage itself.
  • And, last but not least: Today would have been my 20-week mark. I’d be exactly halfway along in my pregnancy. Instead I’m halfway along nothing. Absolutely nothing.


I woke up this morning aware of today’s anniversaries and milestones. I’m not quite sure if “anniversary” is the right term to use, but the odds of all three of these events occurring on the same day? Well, you just can’t write this stuff. Before even getting out of bed I determined that, even though I knew I’d probably feel kinda down today and therefore cut myself some slack, I would not let these thoughts really, truly affect my day.

But then, I made a horrible, terrible mistake: I came to work.

And first thing in the morning, Boss started waving a pic of his newborn grandson in my face. Literally, in my face, exclaiming, “Isn’t he cute?!” This prompted like a 20 minute long convo between Boss and Coworker and Associate Guy about the baby. Not wanting to be a B*, I didn’t shut my office door to drown them out. After several minutes of overhearing baby talk, I left to “go to the bathroom.” All suspect-like, I returned to the office 10 minutes later and they were still going on about the baby! I left yet again, returned, same thing. Seriously, this was the conversation that would not end.

Not even an hour later, Boss approaches me and asks, “Let me get your opinion on something, as a woman. Don’t you think it’s really weird for a mother-in-law to throw her daughter-in-law a baby shower?” Apparently, Boss’ wife has been invited to such a baby shower. Boss tends to get really hung up on little details like this.

And then, guys, I inwardly imploded.

  • First off, my being a woman doesn’t automatically make me some omniscient expert on all-things-baby etiquette. Do you see a baby here? Hmm…..? No? Then don’t ask. Just.don’t.ask.
  • Second, I don’t get it: what’s so wrong with a MIL doing that?! Who cares?! If there’s apparently some unwritten standard that a mother throws the daughter’s baby shower, then I guess I’m out of the drawing for ever having a baby shower that I didn’t organize myself.
  • Third, this man knows I just had a miscarriage. I guess my all but becoming part of the wallpaper when babies and pregnancy gets brought up at work (which they do, way too often) hasn’t worked.

I pointedly mumbled something about how I wouldn’t know and went to the ladies’ room. Again.

Cause like I just said, you can’t write this stuff.

It’s just …. rough … today. I can’t fully articulate why, but I’m so angry that I could kick a kitten. Okay, no, not really, I actually love kittens, but you get my meaning.

I even read blogs on here by others who’re around the same pregnancy week I should be, then find myself fighting off feelings of envy and anger. And that’s so, SO wrong. Cause I love you guys! But, at the same time, please understand what I mean. Cause, in our hearts, we all do this/have done this at some time. That doesn’t make it right; it just makes us human. I actually am happy for others, especially my fellow TTC-ers who’ve come out on the other side. Some days, though, it just straight hurts to see right in front of you what you failed to achieve yourself.

Okay, getting all that ugliness off my chest helped. I can’t let all this stuff fester inside of me. I just know you guys get what I’m going through here. Maybe I just needed to vent. I’m sure that being on day 34 of my period isn’t helping matters. Neither is this relentless stomach virus I’ve had for the past 5 days that shows no sign of slowing down. It’s a regular party over here!

I meant everything I’ve posted before about healing, but grief is a funny thing. Some days you think you’ve moved so far and have done so well, only to realize just how close to the surface it still lingers. It’s a long road back.