Clove’s Training and Fertility Treatment Log: Weeks 3 & 4, Cycle Four

Either way I can say bye to this for a while. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We’re a little under two weeks from a big sea change here; I’ll either be miraculously pregnant, or I’ll be training for Burning River.  The biggest change this week has been the shift in my mindset; I feel as if I’ve turned the corner from hoping and praying and moved on to envisioning a day at Burning River.  In many ways, I feel as if I’m just waiting out these last two weeks so I can get started on my training, and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.

Week Three

I think I was the tiny one in yellow last time, too.  Maybe I need to spice up the running wardrobe!
I think I was the tiny one in yellow last time, too. Maybe I need to spice up the running wardrobe!

Saturday, June 1:  19 miles, Pilates/core class.  Great fun shaking up our typical Saturday morning run.  Our morning group was participating in a “virtual run” for CF (cystic fibrosis) awareness, hosted by a friend whose daughter has CF.  She needed to get some miles in ahead of setting up for the run (which began at 7:30 am), so DB and I met her and our friend Phil at 5:15 to log about 8 miles.  Then DB and I kept running in the interim, ending at the park just before 7:30 am, and finishing up our last 6 miles with the group.  The only bad part was that my back locked up horribly at the end of the run – I’m definitely going to have to head back to the chiropractor soon, particularly for some electrical stimulation on the old back.

Okay, the really fun part.  So I had made these clandestine arrangements to meet this “on-call” pharmacist on Sunday to pick up that Bravelle, but it then dawned on me that I actually needed it SATURDAY.  I was dreading calling her back, and even worse, I was still pretty ticked about having to shell out $490 for a pack of five vials when I only needed ONE and knew that we weren’t doing any hormone treatments after this.  I finally got the bright idea to just, well, beg.  I knew my doctor’s office was open on Saturday mornings for scans and weekend IUI’s, and I knew they had sample vials of the Bravelle because they had used one to show me how to mix the injections.  And I just seriously thought it couldn’t hurt to try.  So after the run, I run up to the office, and as I’m going in, I actually bump into a former co-worker from my law firm days.  We exchange the odd pleasantries:  “So good to see you, but of course not here,” and it turns out she is actually there to have her embryo transfer (IVF) – right then!  I give her an excited hug and she tells me that’s how they had their first and they’re trying for number two now.  I quickly tell her my tale of woe, and she laughs sarcastically – she had to order an extra box for the same reason and has a few vials at home.  Heh.  So, short story long:  SUCCESS!!!  The nurse on weekend duty DOES have a vial, and better yet, she gives it to me for FREE.  Awe-some. 

150 iu’s of Bravelle.  Done with nun piss.  Do not see Hangover 3, we did that night and two thumbs down.

Sunday, June 2:  OFF.  I taught Sunday School, then had a baby shower to go to, then went straight to our first Badwater crew meeting for Darris.  Trigger shot night:  5,000 iu’s of hcg in 1 ml fluid.  This shot always sucks, but I must compliment myself on the execution.  I’ve gotten much better.

Gratuitous Badwater shot.
Gratuitous Badwater shot.

Monday, June 3:  Two back to back spinning classes.  Damn it, I am tired of Vin Diesel punching me in the thigh.  This just HURTS.

Tuesday, June 4:  Eight morning miles and half a Pilates/core class with the neighborhood group before the IUI procedure.  Remember how I’ve mentioned that I get pregnant-lady smelling superpowers on this shot?  The cat jumps onto the bed and I yell “DISGUSTING” and (gently) push him off.  Darris thinks I’m mad, but I can smell litter all over him.  Gross.  So I added “wash comforter” to the list of things I wouldn’t get done that day.  My favorite doctor does the procedure.  The count is lower than usual, and very likely affected by Badwater training.  Then again, it only takes one, and it hasn’t worked when we’ve had 4 times this count, so, you know.  I mean, what do you think this is, science? 

As usual, I feel crampy and exhausted for most of the day, but I do haul my butt upstairs to my office at noon and actually get five hours of work done.

Wednesday, June 5:  Eight slow evening miles.  I go to Panera to work in the morning and the pastry case is like sensory overload.  The cinnamon, the lemon, the buttery sweetness!  The guy at the table across from me has a chocolate chip cookie on his plate and I actually consider just swiping it on my way out.  This kicks off four straight days of sheer LUSTING for cookie dough.  Screw the baking, just give me the goods.  100 mgs Prometrium, the weight gain drug of champions.

Thursday, June 6:  Eight morning miles with the neighborhood group and an evening spin class.  Cravings have now transitioned to bacon AND chocolate chip cookie dough.  Bacon bits are soy – no animal products – so I toss a couple handfuls of those down to shut my brain up.  Consider buying roll of tollhouse cookie dough, but deem it too dangerous.  100 mgs Prometrium.

Friday, June 7:  Eight mile run mid-morning followed by bi-weekly massage appointment.  Very unhappy with massage for the first time in five or six years.  I can take a lot of pain and I’m all for deep tissue, but there’s an ankle yank in this one that just HURTS.  Crappy attitude – warranted – for the rest of the hour.  100 mgs Prometrium.  Still managing to avoid the cookie dough.

Weekly totals:  51 miles; 3 hours of spinning; 150 iu’s Bravelle; 5,000 iu’s hcg; 300 mgs Prometrium.  See that hormonal cocktail?  Probably why I’m feeling okay about the upcoming break, regardless of the outcome.

Week Four

Saturday, June 8:  13 miles with DB and my friends Catherine and Scott; the rest of the group is off at a marathon.  My ankle still isn’t completely right after yesterday, but the low Saturday mileage was already planned in an abundance of caution (implant, spawn of Blackford, IMPLANT!)  During the run, our friend Scott announces that he and his wife are expecting twins.  I am so genuinely happy for them.  They are a younger couple (both in their mid/late twenties), and they are truly fantastic, grounded, loving people.  More than being happy for them, I am extremely relieved.  Back on a run right before Christmas, it was just Scott and I, and the subject of my planned treatments came up briefly.  Since it was only Scott and I on the run, I took some time that day to tell him that I knew he was young, and suspected he and his wife wanted kids, and that I didn’t ever, EVER want him to feel worried or guilty about telling us when that day came.  I told him what I tell everyone when this comes up; that our struggle does not mitigate our friends’ joy, and we would never take that from them.  I’m not a damn infertility hero; I just felt so good knowing that he was able to share his exciting news with happiness and joy, instead of worrying about hurting the old infertile couple’s feelings.  That being said, I am really NOT a hero.  I didn’t cry, but I spent about an hour after that run drinking coffee and doing the math on ALL THAT happening NATURALLY!!!  100 mgs Prometrium, and yes, I give in to cookie dough.  But I don’t buy the roll; I just cover my frozen yogurt with the little chunks from the topping bar.

Sunday, June 9:  Eight long, hot, overwhelmed miles after a tough day at Sunday School.  Dude, kids have so much ENERGY when school is out!  100 mgs Prometrium.  More frozen yogurt, used as a vehicle for more cookie dough. 

Monday, June 10:  Two back to back spin classes.  Today is the day I give in to Burning River.  We have a week and a half to go before final results, but I confess my sordid secret to DB:  I can’t WAIT to start training again.  I can’t wait to be bone-crushingly tired, severely dehydrated and subsisting on popsicles.  Even if it’s not going to be a groundbreaking performance, I just can’t wait to be in the game again.  DB, awesome soulmate that he is, says “it’s about time.”  100 mgs Prometrium.

Tuesday, June 11:  Eight early morning miles with the neighborhood group followed by Pilates/core class.  100 mgs Prometrium and hcg “booster” shot – 2,500 mgs suspended in .5 ml of fluid.  Not that bad, and the.  last.  shot.

Wednesday, June 12:  Eight afternoon miles with DB and a single spinning class, one grape and one coconut popsicle.  I am definitely not in “heat mode,” so that was a wake-up call.  I worry that I pushed too hard because we don’t know the status of the spawn yet.  Reassured that as long as I rehydrate, a single hour in the heat isn’t going to affect this.  100 mgs Prometrium, and a weird dream about raw eggs.  I order fried eggs in a restaurant, and they keep coming out raw.  I send them back, they come back raw again.  So you tell me how “over this” I really am ….

Thursday, June 13:  We skip the morning run due to lightning (not the rain part) and go out for eight a few hours later.  Single spin class later in the evening, where I scale it back in an abundance of caution.  Because, you see, here’s the thing.  If the God that I completely and sincerely believe in were to show up in my living room and offer me a choice:  infant or amazing ultra career, a great Burning River, guaranteed entrance to Western States and Badwater, etc., etc. – I would choose infant.  I would choose infant without thinking, without blinking, without reservation.  But I’ve learned a lot in the last several years; not just through this journey, but through life.  Through my friends’ experiences, through witnessing the terror at Boston, through hearing stories of kidnappings and devastating childhood illnesses.  And the fact of the matter is that we don’t know how and why battles are assigned.  We don’t know why this child gets cancer, or why the dance teacher lost her leg, or how the girls in Cleveland got out of that house alive, or why DB and I got this, which is certainly the least of all these  We get what we get, and it just may not be ours to understand.  But I will never sh*t on all the blessings and talents I have because of one life challenge.  I will hug my husband, run through the woods, snuggle my dog and FIND PEACE.

But there’s still a chance of “infant” today, and I’m not ready to mess that up.  100 mgs Prometrium.

Friday, June 14:  Eight early morning miles with the two Scotts.  Super wound up and PSYCHED to head to Mohican as spectator/crew tomorrow and see so many dear friends.  100 mgs Prometrium.

"Ultra "  A more perfect crew bin could not exist.
“Ultra Latch.” A more perfect crew bin could not exist.

Weekly totals:  50 miles flat; four hours spinning; 2,500 mgs hcg; 700 mgs Prometrium.

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Trail and adventure enthusiast. Girl who swears like a sailor but not when she's teaching Sunday School. Survived infertility without a successful pregnancy. Self-employed, primarily working for Clif Bar and Company. Thirteen 100-mile race finishes with seven top 3 placements. An original Saltine.

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  1. The worst part of these things are the waiting, isn’t it? No matter what the final outcome is, I can totally relate to the feeling that you just want the battle to be over. Fighting is hard. Still, this battle is so worth the struggle, and I’m praying for you and DB every day. Wish I could be there to hug you!