Angela B. Chrysler's Blog, page 4
July 21, 2019
IVF Update – Day 10 AET
Day 10 AET (After Embryo Transfer)
Ever feel like you’ve beaten a topic to death? That’s how undergoing IVF feels. Actually, it feels like a lot of things, but this is one thing that really isn’t addressed much. Most people don’t understand how it’s done. I mean, they know scientists and doctors are fertilizing the eggs on behalf of the couple, but the medications, the time line, the emotions, the process…most parents, siblings, doctors even, don’t know what’s involved.
So when you say “We’re undergoing IVF,” everyone asks, “Explain that to me. What’s involved?” Every time anyone asks for an update, they also ask for a brief, “Explain this to me again. How is it done?” This topic was worn out for me after the third retelling of my first IVF cycle. I’m on my third cycle, and now I just don’t want to talk to anyone about the how. Have a look here if you missed the previous articles.
Two beautiful 3-day old embryos were placed inside of me on Friday, 12 July 2019. Now we sit…and wait. The embryos have to implant and that is pregnancy. On my second IVF, we don’t think they implanted due to a drug the doctor put me on that prevented the implantation (That would be LDN – A drug prescribed to HIV/AIDS patients to boost their immune system). And there is that redundancy I just don’t want to talk about anymore, so I’ll move on.
Let’s talk about food.
Three days after implant, my caloric intake doubled. I went from taking in a well structured 1,200 calories a day to nearly 2,200 calories a day and the appetite hasn’t slowed down. I am always starving. Am I pregnant? I have no idea.
When you’re looking to get pregnant, you look for every stupid little sign that tells you you’re pregnant. The irony is if, I a, pregnant, I’m currently in my second week. Most symptoms don’t start until the 4th or 6th week. And many pregnancy symptoms can be psychosomatic. Can hunger? Riddle me this. The hunger is strong, it wakes me up at 2AM. Can I have psychosomatic symptoms while I sleep? I don’t know.
When I wake at 2AM because I feel like someone’s punched me in the gut and four Chips Ahoy cookies barely takes the edge off, giving me enough time to make an egg sandwich, it gives me pause to wonder if I’m pregnant.
So that is where I am. I take a base-line pregnancy test tomorrow on 22 July 2019, but the blood test on Wednesday, 23 July 2019 will tell me if I’m pregnant or not. In the meantime, I eat, sleep, and relax.
July 6, 2019
All Over New York
Hot enough for you?
It’s 90+ here in New York and I feel like this is the first day in two weeks I’ve been able to just sit.
I was in New York City last weekend for the ballet. I finally, FINALLY, saw Swan Lake performed by the American Ballet Theater at Lincoln Center. It’s the first time I’ve seen the entire story and was just…so moved by it. We left New York on the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots so Gay Pride was everywhere and the City was anticipating a guest list of 1 million+. We got the hell out of New York at 9 AM before the 1 million could arrive and drove for four to Syracuse for a doctor’s appointment.
In Syracuse, the doctor’s examined me. I have started stage #2 of the IVF Cycle. This is the part where I prep my body to receive the eggs. We have two very good eggs frozen and ready for transfer. With over 12 pills to take a day, all spanned over 4 time slots per day, it’s a lot to take in.
At 7 AM I have
Prednisone
Vitamin D
Estrogen
DHEA
CoQ10
Then Levothyroxine at 9 AM
All at 3 PM I take
prenatal Vitamin
Fish Oil
Low Dose Aspirin
DHEA
Vitamin D
And again at 8 PM
Prednisone
Vitamin D
Estrogen
DHEA
But wait….there’s more. Last night I started a suppository at bedtime, a Z-Pack that lasts for 5 days, and daily injections of Progesterone start on Sunday alongside an oral treatment of Progesterone.
From Syracuse, we returned to Endicott. The next stop on our list was Ithaca and wine country on a Saturday. We had a showing of Into The Woods to go to, but my husband and I were too “theater-ed out” to attend, so we sent my sister along with our 11-year-old theater lover instead. My husband I have tickets for the 13th of July and will be attending Into The Woods next weekend.
Meanwhile, my van, my precious “Merry” has died. **Sigh**
My husband managed to hunt down a replacement van that is TARDIS blue. Oh yeah! Tim Bateson knows where I’m going with this!
“Hey! How do you feel about making a trip to Niagara tomorrow?” my husbnad asks.
I stopped. “Niagara Falls?”
“Yep.”
“That’s three 1/2 hours…the other way.”
“Yep.”
From New York City to Niagara Falls in one weekend with a stop to Syracuse in between? Sure! Why not. *rolls eyes*. When we get home we can head North to the Adirondacks. Maybe the mountains will at least be cold. So we headed to the Western-most nook-and-cranny of New York. *sigh*
We have four people in our household who have never seen the Falls. “Road trip!” We pile the children and my sister into the van and head to Niagara.
We stopped in at the car dealership and test drove the van. I love it. We’re getting her, and yes, it will be called “The TARDIS.” I now have to Doctor Who the Daleks out of my new van! (Yes. I just made a modifier out of “Daleks”)
After the test drive, we headed to the Falls.
I have been to the Falls a lot. My first time was in 1992. I was 12. It was a beautiful little park with a walkway. We strolled into Canada along the Rainbow Bridge. I’ve been back three times since. There were rose gardens at one point.
Then 9/11 happened. What. The Falls Happened!? A visitor center has been built up all around the entrance. You now pay $30 for parking. We were greeted by a GIANT, six-story, mall-sized gift shop that said “AMERICA” on the side. (Could they BE anymore white trash?) They filtered everyone into a second tourist shopping center where you have to push your way past over priced food courts and souvenirs. When you finally emerge, people are shoving crap into your hands to buy their crap. We emerge from the sweltering pit of tourism junk and finally enter a…park? Well…there were trees and grass.
A quick walk across the grassy nole and there is the Falls…But now you can’t get into Canada so we’re stuck with the only side view of the Falls…which sucks. Thank YOU, Bin Laden!
After all the selling and the merchandising…it really was anti-climatic. I remember seeing the Falls at 12 and being like “WHOA!” There were plaques telling you that 168,000 m3 (six million cubic feet) of water flowed over the Falls per minute. And that every year the Falls cut one foot from the river so the Falls are moving toward Lake Erie. Nope! None of that! The plaques and actual information that made the Falls amazing was all gone. AND NO CELL SIGNAL! I REPEAT! NO CELL SIGNAL! It wasn’t until we were back in the car and driving home that I could read the info on the Falls from Wikipedia. The entire trip was cheapened by tourism! Ruined by corporate America! Seriously, it is no longer worth the trip.
So we drive down to Buffalo and back through West New York toward home. Talk. About. Rural. We apparently sport a vast collection of wind farms in West New York. The most beautiful things to see…so beautiful were those windmills. Honestly, they were more beautiful than the Falls.
We return back to our Central New York and jump into the pool.
And Books!
I worked a full 40 hours of work this week, which meant I read a full 40 hours of books this week and found my new most favorite romance author, Amy Jarecki! Oh my god. I love her! I received many emails from my Newsletter peeps recommending audio books! Thank you for that! My TBR list is now bulging and growing!
The week ended on a second trip to Syracuse where they added the Progesterone injections to my med list. My transfer has been scheduled for Friday 12 July 2019 at which time, two 3-day embryos will be transferred to my body. Tomorrow, I return to Niagara to pick up the TARDIS.
The Runaway Train
I ignore them. You have to. There are too many, and people lie. Besides, they look like they are quite capable of working. Why don’t they?
It was late one night. Nearly 10 o’clock and I needed to run to one of the three CVS’s on my block, so I grabbed my wallet and headed out. The homeless still sat on the sidewalk in their places. I paid them no mind until one…
He was younger. Much younger. He wore one shoe and a bit of white cloth wrapped around his left foot. A blue blanket, the kind they provide at homeless shelters, was pulled up to his chin. He had his eyes buried in his blanket, and he was silently crying into the blanket.
My eyes dropped to his sign. “I’m 16. I just want to go home.” I froze, pulled $40 from my wallet, and dropped it into his cup.
He looked up from his blanket and said, “Thank you.” I was already walking away, shaking back tears.
“What’s wrong?” my husband asked, then saw the boy. “Did you just give him money?”
“Leave me alone.” I said. It’s all I could manage to say.
I know. I had just broken one of the basic rules of New York. You don’t make eye contact with street vendors. You don’t feed the pigeons *(YOU DON’T feed the pigeons). You don’t give money to the homeless. Why? Because most of the homeless aren’t homeless at all. Most just want weed and are lying about it.
“What happened?” He asked again. “Was it 9/11?”
I shook my head. “I can keep my shit together if you don’t ask. Please leave me alone.”
What can I say? He was 16. He wasn’t a man. He wasn’t a bum or a beggar. He was a child. It was 10 at night. If he had a home, he’d BE home. Where were his parents? Where was his home? I have a 16 year old and a 15 year old. I’ve been watching them STRUGGLE to find jobs for a year now. 16 year olds CAN’T work. Almost no one will hire them. He was the same age as my Emily. So what if he ran away! He made a mistake, if he did. We all make mistakes. He’s 16 and too young to not see kindness from strangers. He’s too young to make a mistake so unforgivable as to remain lost. If he were lying…
And this is what changed my mind. If he were lying then I had just been “had.” But if he wasn’t…If he really was a child who just wanted to go home, could I walk away, do nothing, and still live with myself? There is a risk with the homeless. It’s a scam in most cases…but this was a child. I didn’t need to read his sign to know that. it’s why I looked down in the first place. It’s why I noticed him at all. He was a child. That wasn’t a lie.
Truth is, if he was lying, it was a risk I was willing to take because of that small chance that he was telling the truth. And the risk was worth it.
I returned to the hotel and, at once, explained everything to my husband. I couldn’t stop crying.
“Do you need to talk to the children?”
My children were in their beds. My children were sleeping. That boy wasn’t. Emily was the only one still awake.
A groggy–and very patient–Emily got on the phone.
What do you say? The only thing that was on my mind. “Do you know how to get home? If you run away, and you get lost, do you know how to be found? Do you know that, no matter what, I will want you back. Do you know that I’ll keep the light on for you? Always?”
She did. She confirmed her “runaway plan.” Yes. My children all have “runaway plans.” Unsatisfied, I ended the call and went to bed. I didn’t sleep.
You only gave him $40, I scolded myself. Would it be enough? How do you get out of New York? Where is home? What if his parents had no phone number? Or what if they were so poor, the phone was disconnected and he could no longer call? He didn’t even have shoes. I should have bought him shoes instead of handing him cash. I pulled out my phone and googled “what to do if you find a homeless/missing child.” I learned a lot over the next hour.
Did you know that every city has a “homeless/missing/runway center” for children? That the center will provide food, shelter, clothing, and a ride home for the children? I didn’t. Did you know that most children and parents don’t even know these centers exist? Police know about them. Police will get the children to the centers and get the children home.
Did that boy know about the center? Here’s the kicker. I found the boy on 8th Ave. The center was on 140th ave. A day’s walk would get him there, but he had no shoes. Should I have bought him shoes? The City’s 18th Precinct, however, was on 8th ave, just 1 block down, and they would have driven him down to the center. Did the boy even know about the center? Did he know that the police would help him? He didn’t need to be begging at all. What if the $40 wasn’t enough? Where was home? What if he lived in California?
I didn’t sleep. Instead, I made a plan to wake and buy him breakfast. I would drop off the breakfast in the morning and see to it he at least knew to go to the police. I would tell him about the center and loan him my phone. By the morning, he was gone. Was the $40 I left him enough? I like to think it was. I like to think he found his way home. A week later, I was back in the city in the same hotel. I didn’t see the boy.
I ran away twice as a child. At 8 and again at 15. At 18, I was almost abandoned in Newark with no way to get home and no one to call. For me, runaways are very real things. It’s why my children all have runaway plans. Did I see my own possible future in that boy? Yes. Yes, I did.
When I got home, I had a sit down will all three of my children. I told them about the centers. How, they don’t have to beg for money to get home. “Just go to the police,” I said. and told them about my “runaway plan” for them. “If I lose one of you, the address and the phone numbers would never change until you’re safe at home. The light would go on and it would stay on until you are safe at home.” They could call for a ride. Lecture-free. Judgement-free. Compassion-full. I would drive anywhere and pick them up, and I would bring them home. Don’t beg for money. All you need is a phone.
I’m asking you, if you have children, let them know. Pass this on to them. Look into the runaway centers, just so they know.
January 27, 2019
On Fire and Lies
There still is magic in this world and I have found it. Below the roots of Yggdrasil, beyond the depths of Under Earth it is there…if only you dare to see.
“I was there at the core buried deep within the earth where the Seidr dwells. But something was wrong, very wrong, and I can’t find the words to call it by name.”
Fire and Lies (The Seidr Cycle Book 2)
Blood waters the fields of Alfheim. War rips across the land of usurped kings and elves. The Fae gods draw near, and Queen Kallan’s strength is tested as she follows King Rune into Alfheim. But the Shadow Beast caged within Rune’s body writhes in hunger, and Kallan’s newest companion, Bergen t...
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PreviewOther Library in "Tales of the Drui"
Dolor and Shadow (The Seidr Cycle Book 1)
Winter and Ash (Tales of the Drui Book #3)
About the Book
Blood waters the fields of Alfheim. War rips across the land of usurped kings and elves. The Fae gods draw near, and Queen Kallan’s strength is tested as she follows King Rune into Alfheim. But the Shadow Beast caged within Rune’s body writhes in hunger, and Kallan’s newest companion, Bergen the legendary Berserk, is determined to end the conflict with her life.
As the witch, the king, and the berserk come together, the truth buried within the past resurfaces. Now, Kallan must master a dormant power or watch her kingdom fall to the Fae who will stop at nothing to keep their lies.
Fire and Lies (The Seidr Cycle Book #2) picks up right where Dolor and Shadow left off, concluding one chapter of Kallan’s life as the next chapter begins. Official Page
Details
Authors: Angela B. Chrysler, Angela Chrysler
Series: Tales of the Drui, Book 2
Genres: Dark Fantasy, Fantasy
Publisher: Creativia
Publication Year: 2016
ASIN: B01FKK7XK4
Book Club Resources Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the page above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
Goodreads reviews for Fire and Lies
Reviews from Goodreads.com
Additional reading
“Is Dolor and Shadow right for you” quiz
A Note About A Norsemen’s Honor
Fire and Lies Release Party and Fantasy/Sci-Fi Takeover!
When: 1 July 2016 and 2 July 2016
Where: Here!
Details: Fire and Lies (Tales of the Drui Book #2) is out 1 July 2016 and we’re mixing things up with a Goodreads Author Takeover to celebrate! On Friday and Saturday, 1 & 2 July 2016, authors are taking turns showcasing their books. Takeover hours range from 9:00 AM EDT through 10:00 PM EDT. Fire and Lies is Book #2 of a Dark Epic Fantasy series. Readers! Expect giveaways, games, and prizes! Free Books and plenty of swag!
Authors: Calling all Fantasy, Science Fiction, Urban Fantasy Authors… You are invited to sign up and reserve a slot for the Fire and Lies Release Party and Takeover on Goodreads! Your book will also be showcased on Angela B. Chrysler’s site and Brain to Books. If you wish to participate, fill out the contact form below.
Coming Attractions
Projected Release Date: 1 July 2016 (Release date subject to change)
Book Trailer
Goodreads Giveaway for Fire and Lies launches on 1 June 2016. Scheduled to end 4 July 2016.
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Fire and Lies
by Angela B. Chrysler
Giveaway ends July 31, 2016.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Fire and Lies Promotional Blog Tour and Release Party!
Soul Sciences with Charlene Diane Jones Part #1: Fire and Lies (Tales of the Drui Book #2)
http://www.angelabchrysler.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Souls-Angela-B-Chrysler-pt1.160629.mp3
Soul Sciences with Charlene Diane Jones Part #2: Fire and Lies (Tales of the Drui Book #2)
http://www.angelabchrysler.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Souls-Angela-B-Chrysler-pt2-160629-.mp3
Charlene Jones
Kori D. Miller: Watch live Tuesday 31 June 2016
Heidi Angell
Joshua Robertson
Rainne Atkins
David Wiley
Tabitha Barret
Ashley Nestler
Eager to read?
The full manuscript is available, free of charge, to those willing to leave an honest review. This offer ends 1 August 2016
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On Dolor and Shadow
This page is part of the tour.
There still is magic in this world and I have found it. Below the roots of Yggdrasil, beyond the depths of Under Earth it is there…if only you dare to see.
Dolor and Shadow (The Seidr Cycle Book 1)
As the elven city burns, Princess Kallan is taken to Alfheim while a great power begins to awaken within her. Desperate to keep the child hidden, her abilities are suppressed and her memory erased. But the gods have powers as well, and it is only a matter of time before they find the child again.Whe...
Order Now!
PreviewOther Library in "Tales of the Drui"
Fire and Lies (The Seidr Cycle Book 2)
Winter and Ash (Tales of the Drui Book #3)About the Book
As the elven city burns, Princess Kallan is taken to Alfheim while a great power begins to awaken within her. Desperate to keep the child hidden, her abilities are suppressed and her memory erased. But the gods have powers as well, and it is only a matter of time before they find the child again.
When Kallan, the elven witch, Queen of Lorlenalin, fails to save her dying father, she inherits her father’s war and vows revenge on the one man she believes is responsible: Rune, King of Gunir. But nothing is as it seems, and the gods are relentless. A twist of fate puts Kallan into the protection of the man she has sworn to kill, and Rune into possession of power he does not understand.
From Alfheim, to Jotunheim, and then lost in the world of Men, these two must form an alliance to make their way home, and try to solve the lies of the past and of the Shadow that hunts them all. Official Page
Additional reading
Beneath the Mountain (Behind the Scenes Bonus Features)
“Is Dolor and Shadow right for you” quiz
Pronunciation Guide
Regarding the Dvergar
A Note About A Norsemen’s Honor
Dolor and Shadow art gallery
Ed Ireland summarizes the day’s events here!
The Writing Desk
Immortal Publishing
Kookie Krysp
Ben Starling’s website
Rosanna Leo
Sara Letourneau
Details
Authors: Angela B. Chrysler, Angela Chrysler
Series: Tales of the Drui, Book 1
Genres: Dark Fantasy, Fantasy
Publisher: Creativia
Publication Year: 2015
ASIN: B00VXB916Y
Book Club Resources Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the page above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
As the elven city burns, Princess Kallan is taken to Alfheim while a great power begins to awaken within her. Desperate to keep the child hidden, her abilities are suppressed and her memory erased. But the gods have powers as well, and it is only a matter of time before they find the child again.
When Kallan, the elven witch, Queen of Lorlenalin, fails to save her dying father, she inherits her father’s war and vows revenge on the one man she believes is responsible: Rune, King of Gunir. But nothing is as it seems, and the gods are relentless.
A twist of fate puts Kallan into the protection of the man she has sworn to kill, and Rune into possession of power he does not understand. From Alfheim, to Jotunheim, and then lost in the world of Men, these two must form an alliance to make their way home, and try to solve the lies of the past and of the Shadow that hunts them all.
Goodreads reviews for Dolor and Shadow
Reviews from Goodreads.com
Additional reading
Beneath the Mountain (Behind the Scenes Bonus Features)
“Is Dolor and Shadow right for you” quiz
Pronunciation Guide
Regarding the Dvergar
A Note About A Norsemen’s Honor
Dolor and Shadow art gallery
Ed Ireland summarizes the day’s events here!
The Writing Desk
Immortal Publishing
Kookie Krysp
Ben Starling’s website
Rosanna Leo
Sara Letourneau
Tales of the Drui Series
Beyond the world of mortals, the alfar live and love. They war and die unconcerned with matters of men. For men, the ages pass, but the alfar have their own wars to fight.
The Seidr is an energy with powers to give and take life. Only few can harness the Seidr. Many would kill for it. Others destroy civilizations.
While Norse gods search for the future, and mischievous giants slay kings, Kallan, daughter of the elfin king, draws the attention of the gods. Lost in the world of Man’s Midgard, Kallan must ally herself with her enemy, King Rune. Across the lands of Ancient Scandinavia Kallan finds the Seidr and the will to control it as a twist of fate places Rune into possession of a different power.
On Broken
I’m “cleaning up” my book pages and, in so doing, and posting my original pages to the blog. Maybe I’ll want to go back and change them later. For now…I want things clean and simple. Sometimes, I think, we try too hard.
Próximamente…
“Destrozada” disponible en español
Coming Soon…
“Broken” available in Spanish
“…I had dragons sleeping within,” I said. “Dragons I didn’t know were there. And nothing awakens a sleeping dragon more like happiness and all things good.”
Buy This Book Online
Praise for Broken
“Never put it down, and don’t you dare blink.” – Jin Okubo
“This story has the complexity of The Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy, but written with the flow of Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson.” – Joshua Robertson
I choose this book to review for a psychology paper. I didn’t expect it to be such a great read! Highly recommended!! – Amazon reviewer
“Your heart will have been on such an emotional rollercoaster by the end of this book, it may take some time to learn how to beat steady again.”
“Broken is graphic, shocking, raw, disturbing, intense..”
“And Death it calls as the stone crow breaks. Streaks of blood malform its face. Death becomes its withered eyes and the shadows whisper, “Lies.”
When a young journalist, William D. Shaw, seeks out Elizabeth, an acclaimed author, in hopes to write her biography, the recluse grants him twenty-four hours to hear her story. What unfolds are events that teeter on the edge of macabre and a psychological thriller.
Together, they descend into the bowels of psyche and examine her past filled with neglect, rape, abuse, torture, and pedophilia to explore the psychology of a human being who has lived her entire life without love, comfort, family, physical contact, affection, therapy, or medication.
As William tries to understand Elizabeth’s decisions to embrace an isolated life, he witnesses Elizabeth’s multiple mental conditions that send her spiraling into the worlds of her psyche all while toggling the lines of insanity. Broken takes you inside the mind of a trauma survivor while one survivor relives the memories that resulted in her mental conditions. Experience what BPD and PTSD is like from the inside.
Read Responsibly
The topics covered in Broken are difficult for some people. I portray a number of sensitive subject matters including animal abuse, torture, graphic rape scenes, violence, strong language, and drug references. I do not sugar coat any of this. Rape, torture, and abuse are true horrors people live through. No dramatization was needed for this part, and I do not believe in softening the truth. Broken is brutal, ugly, and honest. It was not written for shock factor. It was written only for me.
If you are victim of sexual abuse, I strongly encourage you to speak to a therapist before reading this book. Not doing so could prematurely awaken memories you may not be ready for. The results could be disastrous.
From the Author
You won’t be told about the abuse. You will relive it alongside Elizabeth. You won’t be told about her feelings. You will experience them. You will tantalize her Id and toy with her sanity while you descend into her subconscious desperate to help Elizabeth as she crosses from one world to the next… and you will go with her, blindly. You will experience the mind of Dissociation, BPD, and PTSD and you will emerge from Elizabeth’s mind changed.
Broken isn’t about my story. It is about perspective. It is about the questions, “Who are we?” “What is reality?” And it forces you to question yours. This is a book that will make you question everything you thought you knew about truth and opinion. It will make you doubt yourself and change your perspective…Repeatedly. It will force you to truly question your beliefs. And it will force you to answer for them.
The beautiful thing about Broken, is that each reader takes away something different from this book. Some of you will walk away reviewing and remembering you own trauma. Some of you will compare childhoods. Some of you will walk away analyzing the psyche and Elizabeth’s medical conditions—of which there are many—and attempt to diagnose her. Some of you will walk away questioning the world around you and dipping deep into philosophy and existentialism. No one will put this book down and dismiss it as “just another read.”
Goodreads reviews for Broken
Reviews from Goodreads.com
FAQ
Is Broken real?
I have two answers for this: The answer I give those who have not yet read the book…and the answer I give to those of you who have read the book.
In short, yes. The events are real. All of them. The characters are real. All of them. Nothing was “made up” as far as reader definitions go. Once you have read Broken, come back and check out The Looking Glass (the password is located at the end of Broken). There, I delve deeper into this answer, spoilers and all.
Broken was written using Gestalt’s Empty Chair Therapy though I didn’t know it then.
I don’t believe in spitting out facts. And my bio is already available to read here. And I’m a writer. Words are my bitch.
I live in New York. Not the gritty, bustling city crammed with people rushing about to fulfill their daily obligations… I love those people…
I live in the part of New York most people don’t know exists.
I live in the mountains. Everywhere I look, high rolling hills surround me. In the fall, those rolling hills of green, paint the earth with splashes of orange, red, and yellows. When you step outside you can smell apple in the air mixed with a hint of fireplace that floats on the wind. And it is very windy up here. The air is thin and many from sea level struggle breathing up here. The water is too high in mineral content to drink. That is how high up I live.
The sing song of the chickadee and vibrant reds of the male cardinal greet me every morning. And our winters here… you can smell ice in the air as early as September. Our springs are warm and inviting. But nothing is as pure and as perfect as our mountain rainstorms. Solid downpours last for three days at a time and, if you’re in the right location, you can gaze upon the world as it once was centuries ago when Native Americans—the Iroquois—traveled the Susquehanna River in canoes.
I have my own touch of earth in my yard where I’ve planted gardens. To make up for all the death I’ve seen—and I’ve seen a lot—I surround myself with life. Nine gardens surround my home, a shade garden, Irish garden, hummingbird garden, butterfly, and bird garden, and a rose garden, spring bulb garden, and lilies. Inside my house you’ll find my tenth garden. We converted our central living room into a full functioning greenhouse where my cats spend their days lounging in the sun.
I drink coffee, write books, mother my children, sing, dance, cross-stitch, play piano, swim, and surround myself with everything I love everywhere. Above all else, I am a survivor.
You can’t see it, but if you look hard enough, you’ll see the scars that have marred my mind. I’m okay now. But recently, I wasn’t. I have been beaten, tortured, raped, enslaved, raped again, prepped for trafficking, and denied human contact, love, comfort, and protection for all of my youth, and most of my life when my only family were the cats who I had to rescue from torture. At one point, I had to choose between being beaten, and being raped. For the record, rape is better. In my case, I knew I could survive rape. I wasn’t sure if I would survive the beatings.
But the thing I am most proud of is my smile. Through it all, I have found me… I have healed, and I’m still smiling.
This is who I am. This is how I became Broken.
I wrote Broken from 7 March to 20 March. During that time, I relived thirty years of trauma, and Broken records it all: the triggers, the hyperarousal, the breakdowns, and the panic. I explain the rationale behind my behavior and the thoughts I used to justify my behavior in a philosophical discussion with an interviewer. I show you the four worlds in my head where I lived for more than twenty years, as well as the four fictional characters I created in place of the human relationships I lacked. I record the conversations I have with my fictional friends and lovers as they took place.
Broken shows you what trauma is like for some survivors years later before they even realize they have a problem. Broken will show you what it looks and feels like to emerge from the mental cocoon I lived in for thirty years. It shows the road I took to awareness while going down that road. It shows how I began my recovery.
Broken is vivid, powerful, and not suitable for some audiences. If you are a survivor of sexual abuse, I strongly recommend that you do not read this until a therapist says you are ready.
WARNING: ADULTS ONLY. Readers are strongly cautioned. “Broken” portrays sensitive subject matters including animal abuse, torture, and graphic sexual violence. There is strong language, drug reference and is not suitable for some audiences. Please proceed with caution.
Additional Reading
Broken Official Page (You’re on it)
Like Broken’s Facebook Page
Audio Excerpts: The author reads from Broken
The Looking Glass: Behind The Scenes
Broken Release Party
What is “Broken?”
Take the “Is Broken Right For you?” Quiz
Living in November Rain
Sample first 20% of Broken here
A note to you, dear reader
Defining PTSD
Broken Uncovered: The author speaks on Broken via audio recording
Follow the Author’s recovery in Unbreaking Me
The Broken Blog Tour
Jay Norry presents “ABC Day”
Lu J. Whitley presents “Release Day Special”
Fantasy author, Timothy Bateson presents “Broken”
Mia Darien posted a “Broken” review
Joshua Robertson and his review on “Broken” TBA
Floryie has a promo that goes live at 10:00 A.M. EST
Aurelia Maria Casey has a promo that goes live at 10:00 A.M. EST
Broken’s event posted on Jo Harrison’s Paper today! Take a moment to check out her site!
Ani posts a Meet and Greet on Right the Writer
From the pen of Ed Ireland
Legal Disclaimer
Broken is a work of creative nonfiction. All events, opinions, and views are that of Angela B. Chrysler and are portrayed through subjective perspective based on the memory of Ms. Chrysler. While all the events are true, names, places, characteristics, and relationships have been altered and/or changed to protect the identity and privacy of the people involved. Some characters have been combined into one. Others have been divided into two, while some have been dramatized to better suit the story. The events themselves remained unaltered to the best of the author’s memory. The dialogue was composed to create the essence of conversations in an effort to recreate the scene and mood best to the author’s memory, and is not to be taken as verbatim quotes.
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Lost and Found
Almost all hurt that can be cured by the written word. I wish I knew why.
A week ago, I miscarried the twins I was carrying. For one blissful week, I had his babies in me. I love my husband. I mean, I LOVE…my husband. He is the air I breathe. My strength to stand. He is my be-all, end-all. My alpha and omega. My omega. My Isaac. We met when we were children. We fell in love with when we were twelve and we’ve been there ever since. When he was near, breathing was easier, nothing was ever wrong, and a warm peace just settled in me. Every day at school, I would arrive twenty minutes before him and I would look for him and wait. He’d walk off the bus and we’d burst into smiles. Instantly, existing became easier. I would walk with him to his class. I’d sit with him until the bell rang, and sadly, I would depart to my own class.
We never touched, never hugged, never kissed, never dated. We simply just were.
In our senior year, being apart from him was unbearable. Being beside him was where I belonged. I got sun stroke and he brought me water. He was so angry with himself for not realizing how long I had been out in the sun that his hands shook. He would not leave my side. It’s like, he was there always the inhale of my exhale. We simply can not be apart.
I hated summer when I wouldn’t see him. And when we graduated and September returned, but not school an overwhelming darkness came down on me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I needed him. I went mad with need. I spent the next three months urging a mutual friend to pass on a message. She kept forgetting. I didn’t. That following January, he called and just like that my breathe came back to me.
Believe me when I tell you, at this point, I still had no idea I had loved him all this time. Loving him is so natural, at first, I didn’t even know it was there. He knew and he gave me the space I needed to discover it on my own. We spent summer of ’99 together. We talked gardened together. We played together. We planned a family and named our children that summer. We were 19 and I knew I would marry him.
He left for college and we talked on the phone nearly every day. We wrote letters and recorded tapes for each other. Every week we mailed back pages and pages. We never talked about love. It was always just there. I signed my letters with “love” and he signed his as “yours.” When he left, I gave him all out letters for safe keeping. I started a journal where I poured my heart out…and then…I lost him.
It was the year that AIM and instant messaging launched. A girl who desired him broke into his account, and, posing as him, ripped my heart out. She told me all the things they did together.
“Why would you tell me this?”
If it were true, he never would have told me. He was kind and gentle. He knew I loved him. He didn’t have a cruel bone in his body.
“Because I want you to leave and you don’t get it.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I was his slave, his servant, his moon and stars, and, if he wanted, the dirt under his feet. I deleted his number, closed my AIM account and walked away. I spent three months toggling between weeping and a state of numbness. I replayed that conversation in my mind so many times. Something was wrong. It just didn’t sound like him. Was it him? I realized, after three months, it wasn’t him. I don’t know how, but it wasn’t him.
I found his number and called him. No answer. I left him countless voice messages. I wrote him letters. All came back “return to sender.” Many simply went unanswered.
That first year, I called and wrote every day. By the second year, I was calling and writing every month. Then only once every three months, then four. I couldn’t find him.
I called him every now and then out of the blue when things got real bad and I needed to try again.
I married. Had children. “He has to know!” I tried again.
No answer.
I felt like a hand had clamped down on my throat and was slowly squeezing the life from me. My perfect love who wasn’t, inside me he beset, his lustrous stone of diamond gold that does not suffer rest. A heavy weight settled into my chest and there it would stay taking my life from me, slowly killing me. At once, all music in my life ended.
Seven years gone and I felt as if I had just lost him. I was still just waiting and looking. I dreamed I would look up one day and he’d be there. I would find him one day…I hoped every day of my life.
By year eight, the pain on the inside was seeping. I remember one summer day, just falling to the floor screaming. In hindsight, in all I’ve lived through, that pain hurt the most. I couldn’t stand. The diamond gold has squeezed the last breathe from me. I was crippled. I knew it wasn’t him who spoke those words that day. I knew it. But I couldn’t find him. My heart bled. I remember looking up from the floor, desperate to relieve the pain. I pushed myself up, and reached for a pen. That day, I began to write.
It helped. I can’t believe how much it helped. I poured my pain into the pen and, somehow, oh, someone please tell me how, the pain eased somewhat. I wrote, and I wouldn’t stop.
The year was 2008. It was November. I listened to my nagging brother and finally signed onto Facebook. Within 24 hours, I received a message.
“Hello,” from my Isaac.
It was like, looking up after ten years from beneath a rock that had me pinned to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, and just like that there was sunlight.
What to say…what to say…What to say that I won’t scare him away.
“How are you?”
It’s all I really wanted to know.
“Why did you leave?”
The flood wall that was holding me together burst. It wasn’t him. I knew it. I was right. Had it been, he never would have asked me that.
“What do you remember about that day?” I asked.
“Very little.”
“I remember it all.” I had played it over in my head for ten years. “You had been talking with me on AIM. You had introduced me to that girl. And then, your words changed. You started telling me about the sex you had with her.”
“I remember,” he wrote. “It wasn’t me.”
“You told me how much you wanted me gone, but I wasn’t getting the hint.”
“It wasn’t me!”
I could hear the desperation in those words. As if he could undo ten years with those words. As if he was willing those words into our past and insert them into my last conversation with him.
“It wasn’t me!”
“I know.”
I believe in red threads. If you had an Isaac, you would believe in them too. His heart is bound to mine through time. Our red thread is made of mithril.
When I found my Isaac again, we were battle worn. We saw the ghosts of the children we had been, but a shadow had descended over us. That girl had told him that I told her I was married and to tell him I don’t want to be friends anymore. She then manipulated and lied him to her bed. He had been as broken and breathless as I for ten years. Hurt like that hardens you and you forget to live. You forget love. All that remains is that pain that forever pulls at you.
He remained a committed bachelor. I was his love and only I will do or none. I filled my life with as much family as could, desperate to fill the hole in me. We had lived like this for ten years. It changes you.
I can’t describe the scars. There are just so many. When we found each other again, the life and breath returned to us. But it was came with fear and trauma. We were terrified to lose each other again. It’s so easy to do. We ran back to each other with all the love of our childhood. And we ran with our shadows weighted with chains. Part of me blamed him. Part of him blamed me.
“How could you not know it wasn’t me?”
“How could you believe I ever would have left you?”
“How could you trust her?”
“How could you leave?”
For me, the hell of believing he would ever hurt me like that lasted three months. For him, believing I would have hurt him like that lasted ten years. It was I who revealed how he and I had been played.
We shared friendship and our childhood. We shared that perfect summer. We both suffered through those ten years. And just like that, he and I were together. Married. Committed. Doing all we could to merge our lives so deeply into the other’s due to a desperation riddled with fear. We were so terrified to lose each other again that we leapt at each other and wound that read thread so tightly around the other that we were creating new scars and had no idea.
As children, what problems we had vanished when we were together. We did not talk about the father who tortured, beat him, and starved him. We did not talk about the rapes I endured or the brother who beat me. While together, we simply forgot all that. I had no idea that there had been any pain he suffered. He had no idea of the pain I had suffered. For the other, we only ever smiled and laughed. Now, as husband and wife, we shared it. We shared everything…and yet there was a wall we just couldn’t get through. Yes, he was my Isaac, but something wasn’t right. Something was very different. It was like the scars from our private ten-year war had formed an infection inside us and that infection had changed us.
A quote from Outlander – Voyager Book #3 by Diana Gabaldon best describes this moment in our lives. “We know each other now less than we did when we wed…Will ye take me and risk the man that I am, for the sake of the man ye knew?”
How I wish I had known those words in 2008. They would have done much to help our situation. I think…when he and I came back together, I think we both believed the other hadn’t changed. I knew my Isaac. My kind, gentle Isaac was still there. We knew, at the core of the other, that we were the same, but something new was there. We were changed, I came to learn this week. Changed by an addition that had been compounded with the old. Oh, we were still ourselves, but we had suffered through the same ten-year war. We were harder, colder, angrier, and we both understood the price of gullibility. We both understand the price of blind faith and trust. And we had both learned never to trust again. Not even each other.
It is 2019. Last November, we officially surpassed our ten year anniversary. He and I have officially been together longer than we have been apart. We had waited long enough. Those children we dreamed up as children…It was time.
This last August, he and I began Invitro fertility treatment. I had my tubes tied in 2007 and…FUCK! JUST ONE YEAR BEFORE I WOULD FIND HIM AGAIN! FUCK!
Okay, THAT hurts.
This August, we began the IVF process. Six months of preparation and $8,000 later, I was pregnant with twins by 10 January 2019.
Reader…Dear reader…Almost at once, I watched my Isaac return. The cold anger that accompanied his return vanished. It melted the cold steel around my heart too. For one week, I got to see the precious boy who I fell in love with so deeply twenty-five years ago. One week of pure bliss…and it was gone. I miscarried last week and we lost the twins.
I had his children inside of me and just like that, they’re gone. It’s devastating, but…losing them has done something to us that…I’m still trying to figure out. Hence this article.
In an instant, we became each other’s rock. We’re gentle with each other. We turn to each other. We trust. We take turns carrying the other through grief. Sometimes, we both just fall to the floor and weep. The weirdest thing…the thing I hadn’t noticed until now was even missing for ten years…is that we both tell jokes and laugh. Every time we talk, we take turns cracking jokes just to see the other laugh. We used to do this as children. We laugh, eager for the smallest excuse to laugh and our laughter encourages the next joke. We hold each other, touch. We’re more sensitive. We actively hunt for ways to ease the other’s pain. At the moment, my husband also has pneumonia, and his grandmother passed away three weeks ago. Yeah, I know. When it rains it…I don’t believe in that stuff. I believe that life happens good and bad. I believe when it rains, the sun will shine again. I believe that’s balance. Not karma, pessimism, or fate. It’s just balance. Ying to Yang. Good and bad. Sad and happy. Life and death. A balance.
I was talking to my husband yesterday and I saw him both as the boy I knew and loved and as the man I found ten years ago. I saw them both at the same time and realized, the man only learned how to wear an iron mask. He hadn’t changed. There was only something new to the boy I had loved and, finally, through our shared grief, I could see him.
Eating is the hard part. It reminds me of being pregnant and then reminds me that I am no longer. We’re re-starting the IVF treatment in February. I’m terrified more than ever as I’m flooded with more “what if’s” than I care to recall. Whoever those two little people may have been, no matter how short their little embryonic life was, they did a lot to restore and heal my love and I. Through shared private grief, we’ve found each other again.
We’ve named them Jeremiah and Hope. Something about giving them a name was important to me. I don’t know why I had to. I told my husband, the next ones will be called Luke and Leia until their birth because they will be our new hope. I had started to knit a blanket for Jeremiah and Hope…I haven’t been able to work on it since the miscarriage. I don’t know what to do with it. Destroy it? Finish it? Never touch it again? Continue it when next I’m pregnant? I thought about finishing it in a soft gray yarn. Finishing it in the happy blue, purple, and white stripes seems wrong. I think I will finish it in gray. Then I’m making a rainbow blanket. I love knitting the baby blankets.
I’ll be back to tell you how the second run of IVF treatments go, and I have a few articles to write (and finish) on how the first set of IVF treatments went though, I have no idea how I’m going to do that.
I’m walking away from Brain to Books and B2BCyCon. We’re closing our doors, but that’s for another article.
If you want to read more about Isaac and I, check out these links:
January 19, 2019
The InVitro Experience Part #1
InVitro. Prior to Autumn 2018, I wasn’t sure what I thought of it. Now, I have the full knowledge of experience to formulate my opinion. I’ll launch this article on my conclusions then walk you through the process if you’re interested.
I was most surprised about…having to give myself my own shots.
I was most upset about…Being told I had to stay on the meds (aka continue injections) up until my second trimester.
I was most happy about…getting pregnant! Having it work!
I was most worried about…Losing the babies
The hardest part was…Giving myself injections and keeping my stress low
I was most frustrated about…The lack of understanding about how many meds we would need and how much they would cost.
Biggest regret…Not doing this when I was 20 so I could have 20 perfect eggs ready to use for my husband to fertilize. Because of my age we got 3 eggs, and one didn’t make it.
Glad I…started pre-natal vitamins when I did!
Is it worth it? Yes
Would I do it again? Yes
Is it expensive? FUCK YES! $20,000 and we had to pay out of pocket. The meds are what cost so much.
Does is hurt? YES! The daily injections do.
How many and what kind of meds? STUPID AMOUNTS! In all honesty? HcG Injection, Prednisone, Aspirin low dose, progesterone vaginal depository, Estradiol, Progesterone Oil injection daily for 4 months, Gonal (14+ injections), and a “Trigger” injection, which is explained below.
How long does it take? Plan on one full month to start because you have to wait for your menstrual cycle to begin. At this time, they recommend starting pre-natal vitamins. Then, one full month starting at the beginning of a menstrual cycle just to grow the eggs. Another full month starting at the beginning of a menstrual cycle to prepare the body for implantation.
It was also exciting, stressful, relaxing, wonderful, scary, and so very worth it.
Here’s the scoop.
I just got back from my family doctor this morning. Now. This doctor has been my doctor since I was 12 years old. She was there for my rapes, my physicals, my STD testing (all negative), My first period, all my pregnancies, my parent’s divorce…This woman is a second mother to me. So when I went to see her today I burst into tears and told her all about how horrible the experience was and how much I hate the Fertility Clinic…and I plan to do it all again in 2020.
Stage #1 – Prep (3 to 6 months of prenatal vitamins and healthcare)
In August, I scheduled a consultation, drove 2 hours north to meet with a doctor on my options. I had planned on a reversed tubal litigation. I am 38 with hypothyroidism, and (at the time), was on Lexapro and Lamotrogine. I was told right off by the doctor not to do the reversal because a) there is an increase risk of ectopic with a reversal, and b), I’m 38 and I may require InVitro afterall making the money spent on the reversal to be useless.
I was told to start taking prenatal vitamins right away. That I did do. And boy am I thrilled!
I learned later that it takes three months to develop one egg. Eggs are rated based on health, which is primarily determined by
Nutrition
Smoking vs. Non-Smoking
Alcohol consumption
Drugs
Caffeine
Pre-natal vitamins
Exercise
If a woman eats well, exercises, limits caffeine (less than 200 mcg), takes her vitamins, doesn’t smoke or drink, and keeps her stress low she will most likely develop near perfect eggs. A near perfect egg is most likely to fertilize, survive the transfer, freeze and thaw without stalling out, not have genetic mutations, and implant. Now, when you spend $20,000 out of pocket and they only harvest three eggs, it matters that they survive. They harvested seven eggs. Three were mature enough to fertilize. Three did fertilize. Three made it to day 3. Two made it to day 5. Two were transferred and at least one of them implanted. The two eggs that survived were near perfect quality. In 2020, my husband and I are doing this one more time to get one (or two more children). Here’s the problem. If I had done this when I was 20, they would have been able to harvest 24+ eggs from me. They could have selected the highest quality. At 38, they only had two eggs. In short, we have to pay out an additional $12,000 in 2020 to repeat this process.
If I could tell myself anything it would be an outline of this experience.
Stage #1 – Prep (3 to 6 months of prenatal vitamins and healthcare)
Stage #2 – Injection Week – Egg Development
Stage #3a – Retrieval
Stage #3b – Embryo Freezing
Stage #4 – Injection Week – Pregnancy Prep
Stage #5 – Implantation
Stage #6 – Wait
So in August, we came up with a plan.
Get off the meds
Get a “clean bill of health” from my Doctor
Get the thyroid under control
Start taking pre-natal vitamins
Get bloodwork drawn
Track my periods (This is vital)
In August, I met with my primary who approved the clean bill and I had 9 vials of blood drawn. Nine. With a pregnancy, they take 6 vials just to give you some perspective. My primary met back with my and I learned that the estrogen levels in my body were off the charts (my family are breeders). If I didn’t have my tubes tied, I’d have 13 children by now.
In September, I was able to cross all this off my list. It was just a matter of tapering myself off the bad meds. I learned that my hormone levels were still so strong that, had I not had my tubes tied, I would have had dozens of babies. That made me smile. Two major hormones are needed to get pregnant: estrogen and progesterone.
In October, I tapered even more off my meds, enjoyed my last taste of alcohol until 2025, and waited for my next period when treatment would begin.
Stage #2 – Injection Week – Egg Development
November 2018 “Make them Grow”
The goal? To force development on my eggs and make them the most healthy for harvest.
Medications: Z-Pack, Gonal, HcG, Trigger injections, prenatal vitamins
Now, one aspect I was not aware of in this was the “When Factor.” The When Factor is important and can seriously screw everything up. You see, the “Make Them Grow” stage all revolves around the date your period begins. Which, for me, happened to fall around Thanksgiving and Black Friday alongside with Christmas rush so I had to make sure everything arrived on time despite the holiday. Miss an injection, and you have to buy more meds and start ALL OVER. Time matters! Screw up and you’re out $3,000. I repeat. Screw up and you loose $3,000.
In November, one week before Thanksgiving, my courses began. I called the clinic. They told me to come in for an exam, which had to be within the first two days of menses.
The examines consisted of vitals, vaginal ultrasound, blood work, and instructions on “how to take your meds.”
The FC wanted me back three times that week so they could check the progress of the eggs. I call that week “Injection Week.” Three two-hour drives at virtually no warning to put the time off from work. And I had to hope my co-workers hadn’t asked for time off for the holiday. The stress was hell, not to mention the sudden need to fill my gas tank three times that week plus the last minute groveling to my manager to let me out of work three times that week on such a short notice during Holiday PTO requests. To be honest, my manager was wonderful about it and my employer was very cooperative. My pay check took a massive hit at a time when I needed the money the most. When I tried to probe the FC for more information, “When can I expect to miss more work,” their answers were vague and mostly consisted of telling me, “Don’t worry. Be happy.” After explaining that I had a day job to report to and that I needed to get permission from my manager preferably more than 6 hours in advance, they were a little less…hm…ditzy about their answers.
I was given a medicinal instruction sheet for 10 days and given “how to shoot myself with needles” lessons. Also, I was told to contact a specific pharmacy that specializes in meds. This pharmacy was a separate entity from the Clinic. “We put the order in. Just call them up. They will ship it to your house and you will have everything you need.”
*Scoffs* No. I will not have “everything I need,” but I’ll get to that in a moment.
I called the pharmacy and paid out $2,600 for this “box.” The “box” turned out to be two styrofoam freezer chests filled with meds needing to be refrigerated.
So the meds arrived. The injections began. What was I injecting? HcG and Gonal.
Now here is where I started to get really pissed. My BFF was a phlebotomist and a diabetic. My husband was an EMT in Boston for three years. Apparently the “how to give yourself a shot” lessons I received were incorrect or not thorough. When they saw how many bruises covered my body, they both gave me proper instructions. Two injections in my belly for 10 days. Within 24 hours I was covered in welts and bruises. By day 8, I was a mess. Self-injections are a form of self-mutilation. There is an unexplored psychology to this insanity. I have no idea how diabetics do it.
I made the drive down. They examined my eggs. Everything was growing in all the right ways.
“We want to see you on Friday,” They said. Great! Now, if the eggs are ready to harvest on Friday (Black Friday, mind you) then we can harvest on Saturday…OR…I have to come back on Monday and proceed with injections.
“I work 700 AM to 5:30 PM on Monday. Let’s shoot for Friday.”
My eggs did not cooperate.
Now, Gonal is an expensive little bastard at $350 per bottle. I would need one bottle per day for 10 days…IF my body developed the eggs on time. If the eggs did not develop on time, the Gonal would have to continue until further notice. At $350/day this could get expensive. On day 8, I realized my math wasn’t adding up. I had only 10 bottles of Gonal total, but had been told to stay on Gonal for a possible of 14 days. I called the pharmacy and they said, “Yes, you will need more Gonal.” I called the FC. “Yes, you will need more Gonal.” I thought, but you said, I would have everything I need! Apparently not. A phone call and $1,400 later, I had everything I need…I thought…Let’s say instead I had everything I needed to get started.
I was really pissed that no one at the FC told me, “Oh, by the way, you will need to “refill your prescription” AKA the “box.” Yes. That $2,600 box comes with 3 un-paid refills. More on that in a moment…
We ordered the extra 4 bottles of Gonal, I submitted for the time off at work, and focused on not getting stressed over the loss of money and the expense of meds. On Monday they decided I come back on Wednesday. **sigh** Another day of work lost. Mind you, keep the stress down. Did I mention I JUST came off my anxiety meds and was going through severe Lexapro withdrawals?
Wednesday came and the examine confirmed we are ready for retrieval.
Enter the “trigger” shot.
The Trigger shot consisted of two injections that stop all the Gonal and HcG meds. It prepares the body for harvest. No more injections! Yeah! Yeah right…
At this point, I had received 27 injections. I missed more than 30 hours of work. I had to fill my tank 7 times.
Retrieval Day…To be continued 21 January 2019
The InVitro Experience
InVitro. Prior to Autumn 2018, I wasn’t sure what I thought of it. Now, I have the full knowledge of experience to formulate my opinion. I’ll launch this article on my conclusions then walk you through the process if you’re interested.
I was most surprised about…having to give myself my own shots.
I was most upset about…Being told I had to stay on the meds (aka continue injections) up until my second trimester.
I was most happy about…getting pregnant! Having it work!
I was most worried about…Losing the babies
The hardest part was…Giving myself injections and keeping my stress low
I was most frustrated about…The lack of understanding about how many meds we would need and how much they would cost.
Biggest regret…Not doing this when I was 20 so I could have 20 perfect eggs ready to use for my husband to fertilize. Because of my age we got 3 eggs, and one didn’t make it.
Glad I…started pre-natal vitamins when I did!
Is it worth it? Yes
Would I do it again? Yes
Is it expensive? FUCK YES! $20,000 and we had to pay out of pocket. The meds is what cost so much.
Does is hurt? YES! The daily injections do.
How many and what kind of meds? STUPID AMOUNTS! In all honesty? HcG Injection, Prednisone, Aspirin low dose, progesterone vaginal depository, Estradiol, Progesterone Oil injection daily for 4 months, Gonal (14+ injections), and a “Trigger” injection, which is explained below.
How long does it take? Plan on one full month to start because you have to wait for your menstrual cycle to begin. At this time, they recommend starting pre-natal vitamins. Then, one full month starting at the beginning of a menstrual cycle just to grow the eggs. Another full month starting at the beginning of a menstrual cycle to prepare the body for implantation.
It was also exciting, stressful, relaxing, wonderful, scary, and so very worth it.
Here’s the scoop.
I just got back from my family doctor this morning. Now. This doctor has been my doctor since I was 12 years old. She was there for my rapes, my physicals, my STD testing (all negative), My first period, all my pregnancies, my parent’s divorce…This woman is a second mother to me. So when I went to see her today I burst into tears and told her all about how horrible the experience was and how much I hate the Fertility Clinic…and I plan to do it all again in 2020.
In August, I scheduled a consultation, drove 2 hours north to meet with a doctor on my options. I had planned on a reversed tubal litigation. I am 38 with hypothyroidism, and (at the time), was on Lexapro and Lamotrogine. I was told right off by the doctor not to do the reversal because a) there is an increase risk of ectopic with a reversal, and b), I’m 38 and I may require InVitro afterall making the money spent on the reversal to be useless.
I was told to start taking prenatal vitamins right away. That I did do. And boy am I thrilled!
I learned later that it takes three months to develop one egg. Eggs are rated based on health, which is primarily determined by
Nutrition
Smoking vs. Non-Smoking
Alcohol consumption
Drugs
Caffeine
Pre-natal vitamins
Exercise
If a woman eats well, exercises, limits caffeine (less than 200 mcg), takes her vitamins, doesn’t smoke or drink, and keeps her stress low she will most likely develop near perfect eggs. A near perfect egg is most likely to fertilize, survive the transfer, freeze and thaw without stalling out, not have genetic mutations, and implant. Now, when you spend $20,000 out of pocket and they only harvest three eggs, it matters that they survive. They harvested seven eggs. Three were mature enough to fertilize. Three did fertilize. Three made it to day 3. Two made it to day 5. Two were transferred and at least one of them implanted. The two eggs that survived were near perfect quality. In 2020, my husband and I are doing this one more time to get one (or two more children). Here’s the problem. If I had done this when I was 20, they would have been able to harvest 24+ eggs from me. They could have selected the highest quality. At 38, they only had two eggs. In short, we have to pay out an additional $12,000 in 2020 to repeat this process.
If I could tell myself anything it would be an outline of this experience.
Stage #1 – Prep (3 to 6 months of prenatal vitamins and healthcare)
Stage #2 – Injection Week – Egg Development
Stage #3a – Retrieval
Stage #3b – Embryo Freezing
Stage #4 – Injection Week – Pregnancy Prep
Stage #5 – Implantation
Stage #6 – Wait
So in August, we came up with a plan.
Get off the meds
Get a “clean bill of health” from my Doctor
Get the thyroid under control
Start taking pre-natal vitamins
Get bloodwork drawn
Track my periods (This is vital)
In September, I was able to cross all this off my list. It was just a matter of tapering myself off the bad meds. I learned that my hormone levels were still so strong that, had I not had my tubes tied, I would have had dozens of babies. That made me smile. Two major hormones are needed to get pregnant: estrogen and progesterone.
In October, I tapered even more off my meds, enjoyed my last taste of alcohol until 2025, and waited for my next period when treatment would begin.
November 2018 “Make them Grow”
The goal? To force development on my eggs and make them the most healthy for harvest.
Medications: Gonal, HcG, Trigger injections, prenatal vitamins
Now, on aspect I was not aware of in this was the “When Factor.” The When Factor is important and can seriously screw everything up. You see, the “Make Them Grow” stage all revolves around the date your period begins. Which, for me, happened to fall around Thanksgiving and Black Friday alongside with Christmas rush so I had to make sure everything arrived on time despite the holiday. Miss an injection, and you have to buy more meds and start ALL OVER. Time matters! Screw up and you’re out $3,000. I repeat. Screw up and you loose $3,000.
In November, one week before Thanksgiving, my courses began. I called the clinic. They told me to come in for an exam, which had to be within the first two days of menses.
The examines consisted of vitals, vaginal ultrasound, blood work, and instructions on “how to take your meds.”
The FC wanted me back three times that week so they could check the progress of the eggs. I call that week “Injection Week.” Three two-hour drives at virtually no warning to put the time off from work. And I had to hope my co-workers hadn’t asked for time off for the holiday. The stress was hell, not to mention the sudden need to fill my gas tank three times that week plus the last minute groveling to my manager to let me out of work three times that week on such a short notice during Holiday PTO requests. To be honest, my manager was wonderful about it and my employer was very cooperative. My pay check took a massive hit at a time when I needed the money the most. When I tried to probe the FC for more information, “When can I expect to miss more work,” their answers were vague and mostly consisted of telling me, “Don’t worry. Be happy.” After explaining that I had a day job to report to and that I needed to get permission from my manager preferably more than 6 hours in advance, they were a little less…hm…ditzy about their answers.
I was given a medicinal instruction sheet for 10 days and given “how to shoot myself with needles” lessons. Also, I was told to contact a specific pharmacy that specializes in meds. This pharmacy was a separate entity from the Clinic. “We put the order in. Just call them up. They will ship it to your house and you will have everything you need.”
*Scoffs* No. I will not have “everything I need,” but I’ll get to that in a moment.
I called the pharmacy and paid out $2,600 for this “box.” The “box” turned out to be two styrofoam freezer chests filled with meds needing to be refrigerated.
So the meds arrived. The injections began. What was I injecting? HcG and Gonal.
Now here is where I started to get really pissed. My BFF was a phlebotomist and a diabetic. My husband was an EMT in Boston for three years. Apparently the “how to give yourself a shot” lessons I received were incorrect or not thorough. When they saw how many bruises covered my body, they both gave me proper instructions. Two injections in my belly for 10 days. Within 24 hours I was covered in welts and bruises. By day 8, I was a mess. Self-injections are a form of self-mutilation. There is an unexplored psychology to this insanity. I have no idea how diabetics do it.
I made the drive down. They examined my eggs. Everything was growing in all the right ways.
“We want to see you on Friday,” They said. Great! Now, if the eggs are ready to harvest on Friday (Black Friday, mind you) then we can harvest on Saturday…OR…I have to come back on Monday and proceed with injections.
“I work 700 AM to 5:30 PM on Monday. Let’s shoot for Friday.”
My eggs did not cooperate.
Now, Gonal is an expensive little bastard at $350 per bottle. I would need one bottle per day for 10 days…IF my body developed the eggs on time. If the eggs did not develop on time, the Gonal would have to continue until further notice. At $350/day this could get expensive. On day 8, I realized my math wasn’t adding up. I had only 10 bottles of Gonal total, but had been told to stay on Gonal for a possible of 14 days. I called the pharmacy and they said, “Yes, you will need more Gonal.” I called the FC. “Yes, you will need more Gonal.” I thought, but you said, I would have everything I need! Apparently not. A phone call and $1,400 later, I had everything I need…I thought…Let’s say instead I had everything I needed to get started.
I was really pissed that no one at the FC told me, “Oh, by the way, you will need to “refill your prescription” AKA the “box.” Yes. That $2,600 box comes with 3 un-paid refills. More on that in a moment…
We ordered the extra 4 bottles of Gonal, I submitted for the time off at work, and focused on not getting stressed over the loss of money and the expense of meds. On Monday they decided I come back on Wednesday. **sigh** Another day of work lost. Mind you, keep the stress down. Did I mention I JUST came off my anxiety meds and was going through severe Lexapro withdrawals?
Wednesday came and the examine confirmed we are ready for retrieval.
Enter the “trigger” shot.
The Trigger shot consisted of two injections that stop all the Gonal and HcG meds. It prepares the body for harvest. No more injections! Yeah! Yeah right…
At this point, I had received 27 injections. I missed more than 30 hours of work. I had to fill my tank 7 times.
Retrieval Day…To be continued 21 January 2019
Brain to Books? Coming or Going
Posting 21 January 2019…
