All the Sun For You

A mom, two boys, a husband, and a whole lot of adventure!

Category Archives: Infertility


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Life Interrupted

As we get further and further into this pregnancy, I wonder if this is the last time I’ll be pregnant.  I know I’ve talked a lot about this – about trying for a third because of our 5 frozen embryos – but as we get closer to bringing this baby home, I’m starting to wonder if we’ll want to try for a third, or if we’ll count our blessings and be done.

Before infertility, I was very active.  WE were very active.  B and I met via extreme fitness.  I’d decided, in a drunken haze on New Year’s Eve 2005 (going into 2006), that I would sign up with a friend to do a 10 week kickboxing and strength building course.  I went 6 days a week – many times I did two classes a day – for 10 weeks straight.  I ate it up.  I lost tons of weight.  I lost heaps of body fat.  I was FIT.  I was strong.  I was, for the first time in my adult life, lean.

B taught the kickboxing classes I was taking – it was something he enjoyed and it was a side-job/recreation for him outside of his normal existence as a project manager.  We never dated, or even thought of dating, while I was a student, but the night of my 10-week graduation, we got to talking and we dated ever since.  We “met” (rather – got to chatting) on a Saturday night, March 25th, and then hung out again on the 30th of that month – and then only spent 4 nights apart from that moment forward.  It was a whirlwind romance – all started because of fitness.

Truly.

B was an avid runner – I mean – a CRAZY runner and running was something I had no interest in.  Until I watched him and his buddies run the Living History Farms race the weekend before Thanksgiving in 2006.  I decided that I would maybe enjoy trying a little running.  I did it for the camaraderie of it, but I was quickly hooked.  I ran all the time – at least 4-5 times a week in all weather conditions.  I decided to start running races with “the guys” and that quickly became an obsession.  Hell, I even started a running club that was quite successful for 2 years.

It was fun!

We decided to try something new so took up mountain biking.  This was something that B was much more natural at than I was, but I still enjoyed it a great deal.  I took some serious spills (as did B) but that never got me down – I just got right back up and tried something harder.  Trying something “harder” was in me back then – working harder and pushing my body to its limits is what I did.  It’s what we did.  It’s what we did together.

We then found a new thing to do – something even harder.  We started “Adventure Racing” and we were good at it!  Well – sort of.  This was something we could do together and it was really difficult – I mean – the hardest thing either of us has done.  We did our first 8+ hour race as a co-ed team with a friend of ours – and we won!  I’d never won anything physically challenging in my life – but we won that race.  I was hooked and so was B, so we found another AR to do in my hometown area.  We came in third in that one – and that specific race was, to this day, the hardest thing we’ve ever done.  It was 108 degrees, with a heat index of 115.  People were dropping out of the race left and right due to heat exhaustion.  For some reason, B and I kept on going.  We canoed 11 miles on the open Missouri river against a 25 mph head wind, next to huge barges and cargo boats.  We trekked downtown Omaha and rural areas with nothing but a compass and UTM coordinates.  We biked, and biked, and biked God-only-knows-how-many-miles until we were finally done.  It was a 12 hour race and it took us more than that to finish – but we came in third.  We fought hard for that third place finish.  At one point, neither of us could even get ourselves to start walking from a dead-stop – it was just impossible in the heat and with little fuel in our bodies.  We each went through 9 liters of water that day, and that was not enough.  At the finish line, I collapsed and cried.

Hardest thing I’ve ever done – but the funnest day of my life up to that point (and up to the point of Matthew’s birth).

And then… as I was planning our fall schedule of Adventure Racing?

Then Infertility happened.

And my life was interrupted.

Our lives, even though B would have preferred otherwise, were interrupted.

We were diagnosed in September 2009, just a couple of weeks after placing third in the Omaha AR.  Just a few weeks after doing the hardest, and “funnest,” thing either of us had ever done, we were catapulted into a new phase of our lives that would challenge us in so many other ways.  A phase that would challenge in us in ways that, to this day, I wish we hadn’t been challenged.

B also started his “new job” at the same time we were being diagnosed, so it was just a shit-storm of changes, none of which we were really prepared for.  I tried to keep going to kickboxing, etc., but after being asked on three different occasions why we weren’t pregnant yet (after more than a year of trying on our own), and one time being told that my “eggs are screaming, you need to get B to get you pregnant,” – I quit going.  I just could not take it.  I certainly could not take watching women come and go from class who were newly pregnant, or coming to class to lose the “baby weight.”

No thank you.

I kept running but treatments got in the way of that.  You’re not supposed to exercise much if your ovaries are the size of grapefruits, and without a regular pattern of fitness, I just got out of shape.

And I was depressed.  Depression, infertility, and lack of physical activity will ruin your physical fitness in no time.  And it did.

Once pregnant, I wanted to start running again but it just seemed wrong to introduce something “new” into my life when I felt simply lucky to be pregnant.  I didn’t want to put anything at risk.  Once Matthew was here, I again wanted to start running but my big, nursing breasts made that really intimidating.  I went for a few runs this past spring but never got into a groove.

And now I’m pregnant again.

I’m not complaining, I’m just stating a fact.  Starting running now, in the dead of winter while pregnant, is the furthest thing from responsible.

But I ache for it.

I ache for it so much that I am trying to sign B up for any and all races he’ll let me sign him up for – road races, adventure races, you-name-it.  I want to live vicariously through him if I can’t do this myself.

Which gets me to the point of this post.

I am happiest when I’m healthy.  I am happiest when I’m fit.  WE are happiest, individually and as a couple, when we feel good about ourselves.  I miss my old self.  I miss my old energy levels.  I miss the fun that B and I had as a couple, all of it related in some way to fitness.  I miss my uninterrupted life.

I know that having a baby would have changed my life regardless, but had we not struggled with infertility, I would have stayed fit up until pregnancy and I would have kept running through the pregnancy.  I know this.  I know this for a fact because I was still running, biking, hiking, and AR-ing as we tried in that first year to get pregnant.  Yes, parenthood changes many things, but it does not need to change that – and it wouldn’t have for us had we not been dealt the hand of infertility.

It is what it is, and I’m grateful for the overall journey and the end result, of course, but I miss my old self.  I want to meet her again, and I want to meet her soon.

I have plans to get back into shape rather quickly after having this next baby.  I will not let my nursing breasts stand in my way again.  I will suffer through it and adjust.  It is that important to me to find myself again.  B is signing up for an AR camp this spring and hopefully an AR for the summer, and my goal is to be back on his team in the summer of 2014.  That will require lots of work on my end, but I’m ready for it.

My life will not be interrupted much longer by infertility.  Even if we do try for a third child, I know that I won’t be stimming again so I can be physically fit up until transfer day, which makes me so happy to realize!

I can’t wait to get back to my fit self, and I can’t wait to introduce physical fitness to our children (childREN!)!

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A Promise

2012 was good to me.  It was good to US.  We started out the year with the plan to start trying for Baby #2 in June.  I figured I’d stop breastfeeding Matthew in May and that my period would return in June.  I delayed ending our BFing relationship, though, out of pure heartbreak – that was by far the hardest decision I made this year.  I finally had Matthew weaned by mid-July and was back at the RE’s office in August planning our work.

I never thought our work would be successful so quickly.  I really didn’t.  After spending 2.25 years of trying to get pregnant with Matthew, and a full 3 years from start to finish before we brought him home, neither of us thought the first FET would work.  Of course we hoped it would, but we didn’t think it would.  We stressed about how much a fresh cycle would cost if/when we got to that point, we discussed how cycling would impact possible vacation schedules, and we talked about not letting myself get so wrapped up in TTC again that Matthew would feel the impact of it.

And then it worked, and all of that stress and all of those unknowns went out the window.

Instantly.

Which is foolish because of course this pregnancy could end tomorrow, but in my heart of hearts, I feel very confident that this pregnancy will work out just fine.  In fact, I don’t even think about it not working out – I just go with it knowing that everything is fine.  This is such a change for me.

So here I am, at the end of 2012, officially in a second trimester that I didn’t expect to happen this year.

I am grateful that it happened.  I am grateful that I will never have to do a full IVF cycle ever again.  I am so happy knowing that if we choose to be done with family building with this second baby – that yes it was hard-earned – but it was much simpler than last time.

I am at the end of my IF journey if I choose to be.

But…

I wear my heart on my sleeve.  2012 was apparently my/our year – but it wasn’t the year for so many others.  And you know who you are.  I hate that 2012 wasn’t the year to make all of the dreams come true of the wonderful men and women I follow daily.  I hate that it worked for me, but that it didn’t work for you.  I hate that one of my dearest old IRL friends just started her first IVF cycle this month as I’m possibly finishing up that chapter in my life.

Thinking about the uncertainties that these men and women are going through at this time makes my heart hurt, and it makes me angry.  I remember all too well what it’s like to spend every waking thought on IF and the fear that it brings into your life.  My life was on hold for years due to our infertility, and I know that no matter how hard you try, it often times is just too hard to stop that vicious cycle of halting and starting your life again as each IF cycle comes to an end and then starts over again.  I cannot sit here and be grateful that we are possibly done with our IF journey without feeling mutliple things for those who are not yet done.

I know that many in the ALI community are hoping beyond hope that 2013 is their year – because 2012 stuck it to them in a major way.  I want all of those men and women to know that I am in your corner.  I will continue to support you.  I will continue to cheer for you.  And I will continue to know in my heart of hearts that this will work for you – whatever “this” is.  We will all get there in some way or another – wherever there is.

Not a day will go by in 2013 that I won’t think of my friends who are still fighting to build the families they want.  That is my promise for 2013.

 

 


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The One That Stuck

I’ve gone down memory lane to share our first IVF experience and our first FET experience – both failures in their own ways – and I think it’s time to put into writing what our cycle was like when we conceived Matthew.

We’d been through the IF wringer (or so we thought based on our own experiences) – 1 failed IUI, another cancelled IUI, a failed IVF cycle that appeared to be picture perfect, and a failed FET that was described as “textbook” to us.  When it came time to do another fresh IVF cycle, I was just not into it.  I’d poured my hopes and dreams into all the failures before it, and I was done.  I had nothing left to emotionally lend to the cycle.  I was ready to quit and move on with adoption, but B wanted to follow our RE’s instructions and give IVF three full tries.  The idea of a second, and possibly a third, IVF cycle made me crazy.

I should backup.  We still had 5 frozen embryos from our first failed IVF, but when we did our first FET, I negotiated with our RE that we would only do one FET and then move onto another fresh cycle if the FET failed simply because I had no faith in the embryos from that first IVF cycle.  I had had some slight OHSS with that cycle and when they triggered me, a couple/few follicles were much larger than their target for trigger – I truly believe I was a little “over-cooked.”  When we went in for our WTF appointment after that failed IVF cycle, our RE said that we’d do things differently if we needed to stim again.  All of the trauma from the cycle, and the RE changing his game plan for us if we were to stim again, made me give up entirely on those frozen embryos.  I went forward with the one FET out of obligation – I mean – it is not really responsible to do another fresh cycle with 7 embryos in the freezer.  But if that FET failed, I was moving on to a new batch of embryos.

And that’s what happened.

So there we were, in another WTF appointment with the RE after our early miscarriage with the FET, and our RE told me the new plan.  I listened like a student, not like an acting participant.  I was so emotionally removed that I just wanted to know the what’s and when’s (not really the how’s) and get started.  We talked stats, but I already knew them.  We talked protocol, and I wrote it all down.  We would stim more slowly this time, and more steadily.  Sounded just fine to me.

With our first IVF and FET, B did all of my shots – even the easy sub-q ones.  By the time we got to IVF #2, I was feeling the need to take some control so I did all of my sub-q’s by myself unless B offered (I usually did them privately so that I could do them, but if he knew I was doing it, he’d ask if he could do it and I’d let him).  I didn’t stress about it – I simply did them when needed.  I checked things off of my spreadsheet as we progressed through the cycle, but I didn’t get wrapped up in it like I had before.  I didn’t get hopeful.  I didn’t think it would work.

The stimming seemed to take forever – because it DID.  I think it took 3-4 extra days to get my follicles to where they needed to be versus the first IVF cycle.  I was nervous about this, but went with it.  I knew the follicle count was much lower than our first IVF, but our RE explained that we were going for lower numbers, higher quality.  I wasn’t sure what that meant because 11 of the 16 eggs retrieved from IVF #1 were described as great quality.  But again, I went with it and didn’t give it much thought.

When we finally triggered, I was relieved to be getting near the end.  I was a little nervous about OHSS, but I already felt better than I did during IVF #1, so I thought that was a good sign.  I went into the egg retrieval emotionless – I expected very little to go well.  When I woke up from the retrieval, I was told they got 10 eggs and I cried.  TEN.  The first time, we got 16.  How could we only get 10 this time?

Because of the number of eggs retrieved, I decided it was best to remain unattached to the cycle and the possible outcome.  I continued to just go through the motions.  We did my PIO shot that night and waited for the fertilization report the next day.

When the phone rang, I was slightly hopeful.  All hope was stripped from me when I was told that only 5 eggs fertilized.  FIVE.  The time prior, we’d had 11 fertilize.  Five is not a lot to work with.  I was devastated.  I was convinced this cycle would end in failure as well and we’d soon be moving on to the third, and final, hail-Mary IVF cycle before calling it quits.

We heard nothing else until we went in for transfer.  I think those few days were some of my darkest.  I dwelled almost every second on whether or not our embryos were growing and surviving.  I worried about the news I’d get when we went in for transfer.  Would there even be 2 decent blasts to transfer?  What if we had to do this all over again, knowing it was our last attempt?

When transfer day came, I went in with zero emotion.  I just wanted to get it over with so that we could move on with our last IVF attempt.  When we got there, we were told that we had 2 perfect blasts to transfer, and that one was already in the freezer.  Hope started to creep in.

Just a little.

We were told that one embryo had arrested but that the final one was looking good and would like be frozen the next day.

A little more hope.

The transfer was done and we went home.  I took an extra day of bed rest because, well – you know, I could and I wanted to.  I tried not to think about the embryos that were hopefully doing their thing in my uterus, and I was pretty good at ignoring the situation.  In fact, I was great at it.  The first day off bed rest, B’s boss was running his first marathon so we went down to cheer him on.  As we were walking to one of the checkpoints, we heard his wife screaming his name so we knew we were about to miss him – so I sprinted three blocks to catch him.  I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to be running at all (I used to be a big-time recreational runner).  It didn’t dawn on me until long after the event was done, and after I’d sprinted once again with one of the runner’s kids to make it to the finish line to hug his dad, that I had forgotten that I was PUPO.

My body didn’t let me forget for too long that things were supposed to be happening in my uterus.  At 5dp5dt, I had what I thought was implantation bleeding.  I was so positive of it because there was no reason to bleed because I’d taken all the medications that would suppress a period – especially one this early.  Right?  WRONG.  As I thought through this, I realized I hadn’t started my estrogen patches.  I hadn’t consulted my spreadsheet in days.  I quickly pulled it up and realized that I was FOUR days late starting estrogen.  I quickly slapped on my patches and called the nurse and cried and cried my eyes out about my huge failure.  I told her the truth – that I simply forgot that I needed to be taking all my meds.

How does someone in the midst of an IVF cycle forget to start a critical medication?

The nurse assured me it was fine as long as I was taking my PIO shots (I was because who could forget those?) and didn’t even order a blood draw to test my estrogen.  I told her about my spotting and she said that that would not be a period or from not taking estrogen, and that her hope was that it was a good sign.

Three days later, I P’dOAS and I got a faint positive.  We’d been there before so I didn’t get too excited.  But every day, the line got darker and I was feeling pretty positive that this was our sticky baby.

More hope crept in.

The beta was done at 10d5dt (2 days early for our clinic) because the embryologist didn’t want me to have to wait over the weekend – she said I’d been through enough with our first two failed cycles.  At 10d5dt, I was most definitely pregnant with a beta of 561.

Cue even MORE hope!

Three days later, the beta was 1695.

Two days later, the beta was 3224.

This was it!

But how many were there?

We went for our ultrasound at 6w4d pregnant and there was one little baby with a beautiful strong heartbeat – and there was one sad, little deflated sac that had tried but didn’t make it.  I was sad for the baby that didn’t make it, but so happy about the one that did!  Later that night, I did an internet search on “twin pregnancy” images and decided I was relieved to not be having twins after seeing photos of women in their third trimesters with twins.  It did not look comfortable.

At 6w4d pregnant, I finally embraced this cycle!  I finally became emotionally involved.  I finally became excited!

And that’s the one that stuck!


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What We Want and What We Get

So I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I want our family to look when we’re all done building it.  It’s no secret – we still have 5 embryos in the freezer and we really want to give them a chance.  At this point, we’re thinking we want 3 children.  But then I wonder – do we REALLY want 3 kids, or is it because that’s the potential due to our frosties?  If we didn’t have those frosties, how many children would we have had?  How many children would we have seen ourselves with?

Before we found out we were infertile, we both said we’d be happy with just 1 child.  ONE!  Then we were told we couldn’t have any children and the floodgate of emotions were opened and I started to think about the things I never really knew I wanted – like the amount of kids I wanted.  At the time, I was feeling very cheated because, “what if we want 2?  Then what?”  We didn’t even have 1 yet, and I was feeling cheated by infertility because it felt like it was taking away my choices to have more than 1 child.

We were at a holiday party last night and a close “couple friend” said that 2 children didn’t feel like enough for them, but that 3 feels like too many.  She wasn’t complaining – she was just stating the exponential addition of work when you go from 2 to 3 children (I hear this a lot and understand!).  That comment made me pause and wonder, “will 2 not feel like enough for us?”

I can already say that 2 doesn’t feel like enough – and we’re not even there yet.  I see us with 3 children – I just do.  How did I go from seeing us with ONE to seeing us with THREE?  How did THAT happen?

Again, is it because we have 5 frozen embryos that we moved heaven and earth for?  Have I just folded the idea of one of them into my vision of our family?

This all makes me very nervous for our future – and not in the way that fertiles would think.  I’m not nervous about providing for 3 children, or having enough time for 3 children, or having enough time for B with 3 children.  What I worry about is this – am I setting myself up for complete devastation if one of those 5 embryos doesn’t turn into my third child?

I have convinced my head that a third child would be “gravy,” that it would be the cherry on our sundae, that if it doesn’t pan out, that I’d be OK with that.  But would I?  I know that I will never stim again – I know that we will never EVER do another fresh cycle.  If none of those frosties turns into our third child – then we will be a family of 4.

A family of 4 is great – but is it enough for us?  Is it what we truly want?  Or do we want a family of 5 because we have the potential for it?

I guess we won’t know until the time comes to start working on #3 (we will NOT be doing a transfer again on October 12 – HA!) – but I wonder.  I wonder a lot.  I wonder all the time.

What do we really WANT, and will IF, ultimately, decide what we GET?

 


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Happy VLOGiversary, PAIL!

PAIL Bloggers is 6 months old – which means I’ve been blogging for 6 months.  PAIL is near and dear to me because the creation of it is what got me to start blogging in the first place.  Thank you, PAIL!

This month’s theme post was supposed to be a VLOG entry – so that readers could see and hear us.

I failed miserably at this assignment – and not because I was hesitant to film myself.  The long and short of it is that I do not know how to make a video on my computer.  I can take a video with my phone (of other people) with no problems, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with my webcam, software, etc.  My tech support guy (B) has been very busy this week and working into the evenings, so the idea of even bothering him with it while he’s dealing with work stuff was a fleeting one.

But I will answer the questions – because I am a joiner (even if I have to do it in a weird way!)  😉

1) What country do you live in? If you feel comfortable sharing, what state or region as well?

We live in the United States – in the middle of it – in Iowa – in the middle of it – in Des Moines.

 
2) What is your favorite “ordinary moment” of the day?

This is an easy one for me.  My favorite “ordinary moment” of the day is when I go in to get Matthew up from his nap, and he chit chats with me, his Boo monkey, his Max monkey, and whatever kitties of ours are in the room.  He wakes up so happy from naps and that makes me happy!  He’ll sit in his crib for up to 5 minutes chatting me up and showing me all of his crib friends who napped with him.  It’s adorable.  I love Matthew’s voice more than anything and after his naps, he loves to use it.  It’s like he’s telling me all about his dreams or something.  It’s magical!

 
3) What is the first thing you do with your little one in the morning?

The very first thing we do is get his milk ready and then go in and pluck him out of his crib and bring him into bed with us to watch an episode of Curi.ous Geo.rge with the lights dim.  At least two of our three cats are always on the bed at a given time, so it’s the only time of day that our bed is truly a family bed.  We all love it – and B & I wish that Matthew would stay tuned into CG a little longer than just one segment.  Matthew snuggles up to B and they sit with their arms around each other, and I get random hugs and kisses from Matthew throughout the episode.  It’s great fun!

 
4) What has infertility changed the most about you?

Infertility has made me a better parent.  I truly believe this.  Our struggle to get Matthew taught me patience and the acceptance of lack of control, and both of those things have carried over into my parenting.  As I posted the other day, I am much more patient than I ever thought I would be and I accept things for what they are much more readily than I did in the past.  IF taught me that there are just some things we can’t control – and if we feel we can – then that is just an illusion of control.  I needed to learn this.  I make way fewer spreadsheets now than I did prior to IF.  What does THAT tell you?

 
5) What do you wish people knew about pregnancy or parenting through the ALI journey?

The second I read this question a week ago, I knew my answer.  And my answer is simple.  I wish that people struggling with ALI in the moment could know, and truly believe, that in the end, most of us get to where we want to be.  You could have told me this when we were struggling and I would have rolled my eyes at you.  But the statistics are in our favor – eventually.  Some way, some how, most of us get to be parents.  The road may be ugly, and it will never be forgotten, but most of us get there.


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Good With It

I’ve been reflecting a lot on our IF past.  I think this is because it’s starting to feel like it’s more in the past than in the present.  It’s strange.

People have asked me what it was like to lose the pregnancy that resulted from our first FET way back in summer of 2010.  They’ve asked if I still think about it.  I’ve been asked if it haunts me.  I’ve been asked how I mourned it.  I’ve been asked if it will stick with me forever.

It won’t.

In fact, it’s never really haunted me and I don’t think about it much at all (if at all, really).  Not like when we had our first IVF failure.

That’s weird, isn’t it, to not be bothered by a miscarriage?  I think that’s what bothers me the most about it – that it doesn’t bother me and I think it should.

I never had any faith in our first FET.  The 7 frozen embryos were from a cycle in which everything went perfectly until the very end, when I stimmed too quickly over the weekend before retrieval.  That was the cycle that landed me in the ER with minor (but what felt like major) OHSS.  After that first cycle failed, I wrote those embryos off in my mind.  Something was wrong with them – all 7 of them.

When our doc wanted to do the FET, I knew it was the responsible thing to do.  I knew it was not responsible to do another fresh cycle with 7 embryos in the freezer, with the very real possibility of adding to that collection.  B and I truly want to give all of our embryos a chance (even those last 5 we still have in the freezer) and the thought of adding more to the freezer terrified us.

But I also knew it wouldn’t work.  Not with those embryos.

The cycle did not go well from the start.  My estrogen wasn’t rising appropriately so I was put on estrace tablets twice a day that had to be administered vaginally.  Ugh.  They were blue and dyed my lady bits blue and made my urine green.  It was terrible.  People who haven’t been through this may think this is a minor inconvenience and you know what – it really is minor.  😉 But at the time, the last thing I wanted to be doing in addition to hormone shots was MORE hormones put up my lady parts.  It was just… humiliating.  Every time I had to do it (have I mentioned I had to do it twice daily?) I would cringe and be on the verge of tears.  I hated it.

My lining got better, but was never better than the minimum/average they wanted.  I didn’t get all wrapped up in that because I knew it wasn’t going to work anyway.  I sort-of didn’t care.  I was doing this cycle out of obligation – not desire and hope.

The transfer went well and the blasts they put in were perfect (again).  I still had little to no hope and had a hard time taking my bedrest seriously.  I did enjoy my bedrest though – that is when I watched the first season of Glee back-to-back and fell in love with all the crazy talent on that show.  We were living in a corporate (furnished) apartment because we’d sold our town house without a new house picked out (only we would do such a thing in a down market – we got freaking LUCKY!) – so I wasn’t even “home” for my bedrest.  After 2 days, it was done and I went back to work, not thinking at all about the cycle.

I had some light spotting at 5dp5dt and got excited for the first time that cycle.  I started testing at 7dp5dt and got a positive HPT – so I took the day off to celebrate with B.  Here I’d been all gloom and doom about the cycle but it was seeming to have worked!  Who knew?

I tested again at 8dp5dt and I got another BFP but it was not darker.  I got a little concerned.  Everyone will tell you that they don’t always get darker – but let’s be honest – they usually do.  Gloom and doom came back and never left.  Day after day, I tested and got faint BFP’s – nothing seemed to be getting much darker at all.  I just knew we were in trouble.

We went for our first beta and I told them I’d gotten a BFP, but that it was rather faint.  The nurse told me not to read into it and sent me on my way to wait for the call.  We went back to our little apartment and waited.  They called before lunch.

76

The target at 12dp5dt is 100 and more.  I got a 76.  B was happy with it – I was not.  The nurse told him it’s not what they were hoping for but that they were being cautiously optimistic.  I told him it was over.  We returned 2 days later and it was 140 – not quite doubling.  B said it counted as doubling and so did the nurse, and I called BS on them both.  140 is not 152.  But the nurses were still obviously concerned because I was scheduled for another beta to check again.

We actually had a weekend away scheduled so we went to Atlanta and I was a freaking wreck the whole time.  All I wanted was to get back and get my blood drawn so we could stop the charade and move on from what I was calling a chemical pregnancy.  B stayed in Atlanta for work and I flew home alone to keep testing.  at 18dp5dt, my beta was only 357 when it should have been 608.  I knew we were in serious trouble and just wanted someone to call the game.

Two days later, my beta was 549 – far from the 1216 we needed.  It was over.  I asked the nurse to have a doctor call me with the results because I was tired of the song and dance, so the other doctor in the practice (whom I’d only seen once) called me to give me the news.  He started by saying, “I’ve been told you like blunt honesty, so I’ll give it to you straight.”  THANK YOU!  That’s all I wanted.  He told me the number and said it’s most likely going to be a miscarriage.  Dr. C said that he wanted me to keep taking the meds, though, because he’d had a recent patient with similar betas and she was currently 20 weeks pregnant – and that he wasn’t telling me that to give me hope, but to explain why he’s making me keep up with the shots.  We discussed what would be done if it is a miscarriage and he assured me I could have a D&E.

Fine.

So I kept doing the shots and let me tell you – you don’t truly resent PIO shots until you’re taking them just to cover everyone’s asses, including your own  😉

Doctor C said that we’d have to wait 6 days to do an ultrasound because my betas were still too low to show anything on ultrasound.  That made sense, so we scheduled it for 6 days later (when B would be back, so that was nice!).  The nurse showed us the (empty) sac and said that that was what they expected to see at this point.  I knew that was BS and when she left the room, I told B that she was just telling us that so that the doctor could tell us the truth.  He sort-of scolded me for being negative.

We crossed the hall to an exam room where we waited for Dr. Y.  He came in and immediately said, “I’m sorry guys, but this is a miscarriage.  It’s an empty sac, there is not fetal pole at all.”  God, I love when people are straight with me!  I could have hugged him – truly!  I did not cry – there was just nothing to cry about.  There was no baby.  I felt like I had lost nothing but time.  I was relieved – I got to move on to a better cycle, one that may work (we had an agreement with Dr. Y going into the FET that we would only do one FET before returning to fresh cycles because of my lack of confidence in those embryos).

I was thrilled!

Dr. Y told me to consider my options and I told him I already had and wanted a D&E.  He agreed, saying that the sac was not degenerating at all and it could take weeks for my body to figure things out on its own.  The D&E was scheduled for 3 days later.

The D&E was no big deal.  No tears.  When Dr. Y came in prior to surgery, we laughed.  We joked.  I told him I was ready to be done and move on.  I told him I wasn’t sad at all.  He believed me.  I thanked him for being a great doctor.

And it was over.

I walked out of that surgical center with hope that I’d get my period soon and start a new, fresh cycle.  Because there was no fetal pole, I did not have to wait multiple cycles to start again.  I started the next cycle exactly one month later.

And it worked!

I never think about that baby that could have been.  In my mind (and biologically), there was no baby.  It was an empty sac that was confused.  That empty sac bought me the time to get to the magical cycle that created Matthew, and now this new baby that we’re expecting.  It was part of fate’s plan for me.

And I’m totally good with that.

 

* Please note that this post is simply about how I felt about MY experience with an empty sac miscarriage.  In no way am I implying that others in a similar situation should feel the same way.   

 

 


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Especially Thankful

I’ve never been one to reflect much on what I’m thankful for on Thanksgiving because, well, I think that’s something you should do regularly and not specifically on one day.  I was always annoyed as a child and young adult when we had to go around the table to state what we were thankful for, because in my mind, the list was endless and how was I supposed to pick just a few things to focus on?  Once infertility entered our lives, I began to resent that table-talk even more as everyone would talk about how thankful they were for their multiple children, as we sat there wishing that we could have just one.  It was awful.  I think that I’ll always resent that conversation because of those 2 Thanksgivings of wishing for the opportunity to be thankful for a baby.

With that said, I do have one thing that I am especially thankful for this year.

Of course I’m thankful that we have Matthew.  I am thankful of that every single day – multiple times a day.  When he gets to be a little difficult at times (few and far between), I still always catch myself thinking, “I’m so thankful for this little boy.”  He may get away with a little too much because of this.

Of course I’m thankful for my husband.  I never thought I’d meet someone like him – and I certainly never thought someone like him would want to marry me.  I thank my lucky stars all the time for him being a permanent fixture in my life.  B has brought so many wonderful things to my life (babies, fitness, happiness, challenges, love) and I will always be thankful for him!

Of course I’m thankful for my family.  Sure, they can be crazy, but without them, I wouldn’t have my best friend (my little sister) or my big sister who has helped me navigate some of the hardest moments in our family.  My sisters keep me sane – and I am so lucky to have them.  They are the reason that we really want a sibling for Matthew, because we know how much love and fun can come from sibling relationships.

Of course I’m thankful for my pregnancy.  We had our 8w ultrasound today and all is just great!  I still can’t believe that we’re here – that it worked the first time.  I don’t think it’s sunk in yet and I find it hard to be excited  because it just doesn’t feel real.  But I’m very thankful for it.  I’m thankful that we finally had an easy road when it came to TTC.  I’m thankful that Matthew will have his own little friend in seven short months.

Of course I’m thankful for my friends – online and offline.  I love them (you) all and I know that I’ve hit the jackpot when it comes to friendships.  I have so many people I can count on for fun, support, idle chit-chat, gossip (gasp!), lunches out, and play dates for our kids.  Because of my strong, wonderful friendships, Matthew is making strong friendships already at the age of 17 months.  I could not be more thankful for this!

Of course I’m thankful for the life we live.  B and I worked very hard, together, to get to where we are and we know that individually, we would not have gotten to where we are together.  This is just a fact – we are a strong unit that makes great things happen when we work hard and focus on our goals.  I know that we are fortunate, but I also know that we’re fortunate by hard work and not by luck.  I am so thankful that we’ve made our life wonderful together!

So what I am particularly thankful for this Thanksgiving?

I’m thankful that I am done with IVF.  I am thankful that I am done doing fresh cycles.  I am thankful that I am done with the fear.

One of my latest posts talked about the cycle in which we flat-out failed.  I was surprised by the support I got in the comments not because I wasn’t expecting support, but because what we endured was just part of the deal.  It was what it was.  It was hard, but we survived it.  It still makes me sad, but it’s over and done and I’ve had a great outcome.

What makes my past failure so hard for me to think about now, though, is the many people still going through it for their first baby.  So many commenters said that they couldn’t imagine going through IVF and the truth is – they’re right.  Until you’re there, until you’re told that this is the end of the line for a biological child – you just don’t know what that’s like.

We didn’t know what it was like until it happened to us.

This is what it was like from our perspective (I just added these last two sentences because they should have been in my original post to clarify my intentions.  This is the only edited part of my original post).

Many people get to start out with clomid, natural IUI’s, medicated IUI’s, stimmed IUI’s, etc. before moving onto IVF.  We were not so lucky – our diagnosis landed us with trying one IUI as to “not waste the clomid needed for pre-IVF testing.”  After that one attempt, we were told to move straight to IVF.  We tried one more IUI because of the clomid challenge test but they wouldn’t even let us go through with it because it was a waste of time.  We went in for the IUI, and we were benched that day.  No surprise really.

So no – we didn’t get to move through the phases of IF treatment.  We went from trying naturally to being told that we had one shot at having a biological child – and that one shot was IVF (in all fairness, we were told that we would try it up to 3 times but after 3 times, there’s no point).  All of our eggs were in the IVF basket.

When we went to the RE, I thought we’d start with clomid, then IUI, etc. and I found peace in that.  There was always something else to try if the first, second thing didn’t work.  That peace was ripped away from us after a few tests, before our first IUI.  We were never just put on medication and told to go home and try.  Our diagnosis was straightforward and all we could hope for was success with IVF with ICSI.

That was it.

We were told that if it didn’t work in 3 tries, that it wouldn’t work.

Period.

Scary stuff.

After our first failure, I started to worry.  What if the next one fails and we only have one try left?  What then?

Stimming for IVF is hard.  It’s hard work for all involved, but super hard on the female partner.  Your ovaries get to be the size of grapefruits and they hurt.  In my case, I had some OHSS which was not fun – it landed me in the ER because I couldn’t breathe.  After retrieval, things got worse when I thought they’d get better.  All I wanted was to feel normal again.  And then we failed.  There was no longer “normal” in our lives.

I know that many couples are limited in IF treatments because of finances or religious reasons.  I get that.  But honestly, it’s not the same thing.  You can always try to find an IF grant (I’ve seen many gals get these), you can join an IF trial, you can take out a second mortgage on your house, you can save the money the old-fashioned way, you can borrow the money from family (if possible), you can change jobs to one that covers IF coverage (a friend of mine did this), you can move to a state where IF coverage is mandated, you can finance your IVF, you can join a shared risk program.  THERE ARE FINANCIAL OPTIONS to extend your family.

But when you do IVF – you are at the end of the biological line.  If it does not work – you are done.  You can’t wish to win the lottery to pay for more treatments, you can’t borrow the money for another type of treatment, you can’t mortgage your house for the next option.

You are done.

And that is scary stuff.  There will always be the person who can’t get to IVF because they don’t have the money – but it’s just not the same thing.

It isn’t.

I have a child now, and one on the way.  I am so far away from that fear of, “what if this does not work?”  But that fear still creeps in.  I feel it now for others.  I feel it for my online friends who are still trying for their first baby.

It makes me feel cold.

It makes me feel helpless for my friends.

It makes me sad.

And it makes me thankful that I am done with that phase of my life.


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Staring down the infertility train

I’m having a very reflective week for some reason or another, and feel the need to share this post from one of my favorite bloggers. Read it – it is worth your time.

ivfmale's avatarIVF male

http://instagram.com/p/MVsHmYDj4o/

The challenge for this week is to write about a moment when our lives changed in an instant. Couples struggling with infertility are all too familiar with these life changing moments. For the infertility journey isn’t a single instance, but a series of life changing instances.

We start with a dream, built into our instinctual biological fiber, to procreate so a form of our DNA will live on. To have a family of offspring to raise and guide into adulthood hoping they too will continue the process. Thus allowing our DNA to survive our own mortality. A need shared by all living creatures.

After a year of attempting to naturally fulfill this dream, I was asked to submit a semen sample for analysis. The results started the train of life changing moments. Finding out I have a “very low” sperm count and I was the reason behind our struggle…

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We Could Not Fail

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about our IF past anymore – it’s been over four years since we first started trying to have a baby.  That number surprises me, because although it seems like a lifetime ago on most days, it feels like just yesterday on others.

Today is one of those days that it feels like yesterday.

***

When we did our first IVF cycle, I didn’t think we could fail.  I spent tons of time researching success rates with our IF factor, I specifically researched and memorized the stats from our clinic, and I built spreadsheet after spreadsheet so that I could track my cycle and not miss a single thing.  In my mind, we were going to be the, “one and done,” because our diagnosis was clear.  Our diagnosis was easy to treat.  Our diagnosis was the one that people wished for.

I get really irritated when I read comments on people’s blogs saying to, “think positive – positive energy goes a long way.”  As my RE says, positive thinking does not get you pregnant.  If it did, we would have been the, “one and done.”  I truly did not think we could fail.  I thought that we would walk out of the RE’s office 8 weeks later with at least one healthy baby in my uterus.  The thought that our cycle could fail never occurred to me.

It should have occurred to me that things may not be perfect when I stimmed way too fast over the weekend just before egg retrieval.  My dosages of Rep.ron.ex and Follis.tim were cut in half on Friday afternoon and by Monday, I had at least 13 follicles at target size or larger for trigger.  I didn’t worry too much because we were told things looked good – and they did.  By the time we did our egg retrieval, we got such glowing reports that there was truly nothing to worry about.

Our RE retrieved 16 eggs.  This cycle was already looking perfect.  By the next day when we got the fertilization report, I was convinced all over again that we could not fail.  Of the 16 retrieved eggs, 15 were mature and 11 fertilized with ICSI.  There was no reason to worry – they had plenty of embryos to choose from.  I was excited for the transfer and I couldn’t wait to see how many embryos made it to day 5.  Instead of worrying about my embryos, I challenged them to all make it to the freezer.  It was a game in my head.

We could not fail.

By transfer day, I was hyped up on positive mental energy.  WE.COULD.NOT.FAIL.  We arrived and were told that we had 9 strong embryos and the two being transferred that day were both graded 4AA (“Perfect” by all REs’ standards).  I smugly grinned, thinking to myself, “one and done.”  When we went in for the transfer, I asked how good our chances were and our RE said well over 75% – and the embryologist held her fingers up signifying that she thought both would stick.  That is what I wanted to “hear!”

The transfer was done and we were told that 3 “wonderful” blasts were already frozen and that they thought the other 4 would make it to freeze as well.  We were on cloud nine.  Not only did we have 2 perfect embryos where they belonged, but we also had 3 in the freezer for when it was time to persue baby #2 (the other 4 were frozen the next day).  Cue another smug grin.

I spoke with my little sister on transfer day as I did my obligatory bed rest.  When I said, “I can’t believe it, I may actually finally be pregnant,” she quickly responded with, “I have something to tell you I’m 12 weeks pregnant.”  I was stunned, shocked, bitter.  How could she tell me this on the one day I’d worked so hard to get to?  What was she thinking?  She took the wind right out of my sails.

She wasn’t the only one.

My two week wait was hell.  I promised B that I wouldn’t test, but a friend of mine convinced me to test at 8dp5dt in the evening and the test was negative (it was digital).  We chalked it up to being too early to test (not to mention not using FMU), but in my heart I knew it was probably right.  My friend and I were stunned because we both thought that there was no way this cycle could fail.  I got a non-digital test, and with not enough urine in my bladder, I tested again – BFN.  I knew I couldn’t trust that one because I hardly peed on the stick.  But… I kind of knew.  I told B when he came home that it was negative and he said to wait until Saturday for the real answer.

I was struggling with my little sister’s (MLS’s) announcement.  Here she was, with one baby already, and had already lapped me again and was pregnant with baby #2 with only one ovary?  How, how, how?  My mom was in the thick of my cycle and driving me nuts with questions and the such.  I emailed her the night before my beta that MLS’s announcement was hard on me, that I knew it was wrong to be struggling with it but that I was.  My mom knew I’d had the BFN’s earlier that week.  Her response was, ‘you can’t focus on MLS’s good news right now.  You’ll get your own good news tomorrow.’  She sent me a “suck it up and get over yourself” lesson via email.

I did not get good news the next day.  We went to the clinic for my beta and I just had a bad feeling that we’d failed (I mean, I already had 2 BFN’s under my belt), but tried to remain hopeful.  The waiting room was packed and I looked around, guessing at who would get BFP’s and who would not.  That’s just terrible of me – but I did it.  I lumped myself into the 50% of people who ‘looked like’ they’d get a BFP.

Good God.

We were told we’d get the call by noon.  B volunteered to take the call and that made me happy.  We had a two story townhouse at the time and he locked himself upstairs in his office, waiting for the call.  He didn’t want me to hear the phone ring when it did.  I sat on the sofa downstairs and obsessed.  As time went by, I knew we were going to get bad news.  I was convinced that they saved the BFN calls for last – that they liked to call the BFP’s first and get their follow-up betas scheduled before they called the poor gals who weren’t going to get to schedule follow-up betas.

And then I heard the phone ring.

And then I heard B slowly walk towards the stairs and take a couple steps down them.

And then I said, without looking at him, “It didn’t work.”

And he said, “It didn’t work.”

And I sobbed.  I sobbed more than I’ve ever sobbed in my life.  Just writing this makes me cry now – 2.75 years later.

B came over and held me on the sofa as I sobbed and sobbed.  He cried too.  It felt like that lasted forever.  It was the darkest moment of my life (and still is).

I pulled myself together long enough to send an email to my family with the subject line, “it didn’t work,” and simply wrote in the body of the email that I wanted time alone and to please not call or write.  That wish, of course, was not respected – but I knew it wouldn’t be.

I texted my dear friend, M, who had been through the exact same thing just one month prior.  She called me immediately and we cried together on the phone.  She couldn’t believe it.  I couldn’t believe.  We had both failed.  We had both not beaten the odds and would have to try again.  She confessed that she didn’t have much hope for herself anymore – that she needed this to work for me so that she knew it could work for her, too.  We were both beside ourselves.

B and I decided we needed to get out of the house.  We headed to a convenience store to pick up some soda and snacks on our way to rent some movies.  We went to a gas station that we had never gone to before – one that had never crossed our minds.  Why we chose to go the way we did is beyond me because it wasn’t the most direct route to the movie store.  When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw a familiar car.

My friend, M, was there.  My friend – who helped me navigate the IVF process and cheered me along even after she had her first failure*,  who was the only phone call I took after my official BFN that day – was at the same convenience store as us.  M and I met on her way out and my way in as our husbands waited in the cars.  She held me for quite a while as I cried on her shoulder, and she cried on mine.

A few days later, after the storm had passed, M and I talked about how neither of us ever went to that particular gas station – ever.  That that night, it was out of the way for both of us – yet we both ended up there at the exact same moment when we needed each other the most.  I’m not religious (but am spiritual), but to this day, I truly believe that that chance meeting of ours was not by chance.

***

I drove by that gas station/convenience store on my way home from lunch today.  I have never stopped at it – not since that night when we found out that we’d failed our first IVF cycle.  In my mind, I refuse to go there.  I’ve never said that out loud to anyone, but I will NEVER go there.  Driving by it is one thing, but going in would tear my heart out.

It’s been more than two years since that awful day, but I am still brought to tears when I think of B coming down the stairs, echoing me saying, “it didn’t work.”  We are fortunate in that we have a very happy ending with a beautiful little boy who wouldn’t be here if that first cycle had been a success, but the memory of that moment – that moment when I realized that WE FAILED – will always emotionally bring me to my knees.

 

* M’s next cycle was cancelled but she was successful on IVF #3 and is once again pregnant now with baby #2 who will be born a week from TODAY!