My phone rang yesterday around 2:00. It was Memphis. “That’s odd,” I thought as I answered. The next few seconds were fuzzy. I can’t remember exactly what the nurse said. The only word that I processed was the one I scribbled down on the Post-it note I grabbed off my desk – “CANCELED.”
After a pause, I woke up from my brief fog, asked the questions I needed answered, and jotted down much better notes. In a nutshell, my prolactin level is too high to proceed with the transfer. We’ve known since we first started fertility treatments that I have an elevated prolactin level, but we don’t know why. I even had an MRI back in 2015 to see if I had a pituitary gland tumor, which I didn’t. Thank goodness. So now, I’ve stopped taking the Estradiol since this transfer cycle is over and am on Cabergoline (again) to lower my prolactin. In a month, I’ll have another blood test done to see if it has dropped. In the meantime, my doctor will let me begin birth control for down regulation (again) once I start my cycle. The timing should work out to where my repeated prolactin test will take place just before my baseline ultrasound (three days after stopping birth control). If the level is high…another cancellation. But if it’s back to normal, I can proceed with the Estradiol (again) and then onward to the transfer.
After all that sunk in, how did we feel? Well, pretty freaking annoyed. This isn’t fair. Never has been. Never will be. And what next? I mean, really, what the hell? It feels like a stale story line on Grey’s Anatomy, sans plane crashes. But after letting out a few choice phrases and grunts of frustration, I tried to find the silver lining (because let’s be honest, I need those silver linings to get through this). If something is wrong, I don’t want to move forward; so I’m thankful my doctor is being cautious with my elevated levels. We can’t risk a precious embryo if my body isn’t ready. And after I thought about it, I realized my mind wasn’t ready either. I have been so unbelievably nervous about this transfer. After all, it’s our third, and the third time seems like so many more times than the second. I’ve woken up sick in the middle of the night twice this week; Brennen chalked it up to nerves. I’ve had heartburn out of this world! And for the most part, I’ve been…blah, for lack of a better term. Tuesday night, Brennen wanted to shake me out of my slump. Literally, he told me he wanted to shake me! I had also been dreading the pregnancy test, which would have been the weekend of Mother’s Day. I don’t think I even need to explain my reasoning behind that one. So I guess if I’m looking for that silver lining and trying to convince myself this postponement is for the best, once I get past the frustration, there is a little relief. An extra month (and hopefully that’s all) gives me some time to get my mind and my body right.
For the next few weeks, we’ll take a break from the blog and all things infertility, except the daily pre-natal and the twice-a-week Cabergoline. We’ll plant our crops for the year in our suburban garden, finally get those Christmas decorations back in the attic, and celebrate my 30th birthday (maybe at the beach hint, hint). Until then, please pray for a happy mind, a happy body, and a much lower prolactin. See you on the other side of 30!
Southern Fried Ovaries 