Insecure

Our ultrasound is in two days, and I'm feeling insecure.

My first substantial bout of morning sickness hit yesterday, and though I consciously followed a remedy to combat it, offered by a trusted souce, I'm feeling decidedly alarmed that it worked. And I feel better.

Despite the fact that my best friend assured me that I looked like death for the better part of my day, I have to wonder if it was all in my head.

What if we see nothing on Sunday?

Adjusting...

There is a lot more to absorb emotionally with all this pregnancy business than I was prepared for. I’ve followed dozens of bloggers throughout their pregnancies, and I definitely recall your emotional battle, particularly in the early weeks. But I have to say, I kind of assumed you were just trying to be nice.  Like a peace offering to those of us still in the trenches – “DON’T LEAVE ME, I’m still infertile at heart!!!”… But the truth is you suddenly feel like you don’t belong to the one place you hold dearest, and though you finally fall into the category you wanted the most, it’s not what you thought it would be... I’m 6 weeks 3 days today, but really all that means is two weeks ago some blood work suggested that I’m pregnant. It’s like I know it on an intellectual level, but my heart is still trying to catch up. I suppose our first u/s this weekend will make everything more real. Then again, maybe it's just the fog of fatigue that's muffling my giddiness.

Physically, I’m feeling less and less like my old self. Which is comforting. The fatigue is definitely there. The cramping has subsided, just a few pangs here and there, mostly at night. Bloating, oy the bloating. I had to cave and buy one of those Be.lla band things. Not because I’m by any means showing, but the OHSS bloat comes back with a vengeance in the afternoons and it’s really uncomfortable to have any kind of pressure or constriction on my abdomen.  Am I lame? Did anyone else need “assistance” this early??? And to tell you the truth, I’ve always been a big fan of elastic waistbands, now I have a really great excuse to wear one every day. Here’s to not sucking it in for the next eight months! The girls – they are still extraordinarily sore. A big thank you to Carli who text me about opting for a sports bra at night – holy hell that saved me… But I have to say the most difficult symptom is the slowed bowels. I am popping Colace like tic tacs over here…. Ugh. But I’m not complaining. I’m incredibly grateful for the reason(s) I have each one of those symptoms. Seriously, I smile through every trip to tinkle at 12, 2, 4, and 6am.

So our ultrasound is this weekend. It was initially set for Saturday, but we had some family stuff come up and I had to move it back one day. Even though it sucks to push it back, it’ll be better for everyone this way.  Brian and I are obviously pretty excited. As of right now, I’m thinking it’s just one. Actually I’ve always felt that way, but I suppose we’ll see soon enough. You’ve all been exceptionally amazing with your thoughtful and helpful comments. And I continue to be truly grateful.

Killing Me Softly, Via Delayed Results

It appears as though my twelve grand is up, so Dr.3 is making me go to a regular lab with regular people, and boring nurses lest I stay with him and pay out of pocket for all future blood work. Or any work for that matter. My u/s at the end of the month is OOP, as well.  But I’ve come to love my clinic. My nurses are great, and they’re sweet, and good at what they do.

But, the lab; It’s full of the sick people. And the techs; They seem to be much less discrete about asking people for urine and OTHER samples. Which shouldn’t weird me out, but it does. And holy crap did my phlebotomist SUCK. I have very easy veins, I’ve been told this many times. And while this chick didn’t actually miss my vein, my only guess is that she was very, very angry with it. At least that’s all I could come up with. It felt like she was jamming a chopstick into my arm. And I’m thinking, 'WOMAN, this is ALL you do – ALL day long… How could you not be at least decent at it???'

Any. Way. The last week has gone by pretty well. Meaning I haven’t made myself too crazy. I stopped POAS Wednesday because it was making me more neurotic. But I did decided to use the last one in the box Sunday morning, cause well, it was just sitting there. All dry and clean…. I was thrilled when the test line appeared to suck up most of the dye, leaving the control line pretty faint. And actually the control line took a while to even be visible.  In the way of symptoms there is still not a whole lot going on. I’m getting a little tired in the afternoons, my girls hurt so bad that it wakes me up at night. I read an article that suggested wearing a bra to bed, but that sounds about as appealing as wearing a studded belt with my nightgown. But the pain is kind of getting kind of ridiculous, so I might give in. The cramping has quieted down a little which seems scary, but I’m doing my best not to completely over analyze the lack of twinges. Because the bottom line is, I’m just so grateful to have gotten this far.

So I'm guess the suspense must be killing you, because I'm already dead from waiting forever and a day for Beta#3 results. I got my blood drawn at like 9 am (after waiting 45 minutes) and silly me, I asked the lab tech when the results would be available. She said they'd be to my clinic by NOON. Which meant every second after 11:59 am Pacific Standard Time, went.........by........like........t.h.i.s..... So I called to harass them around 3:30 but chickened out of opting for the emergency line and left a breezy voicemail, like I was just wondering if they might happen to have an idea. By any chance.... At 4:30 still no call back, and I know that they kick the night mode on at a quarter to five, so I hauled ass out to my car and called them again. This time choosing to speak with an operator. They finally got me to a nurse and she politely explained that the results must be seen by Dr. 3 before they can call the patient.... Then she said "Your results were great. 4,873"... Progesterone dipped a little to 43, but she said that's normal, and they're happy with it. They want to see anything between 9 - 50, at this point in the pregnancy.

Holy fucking shit.

I really am pregnant.

I Love You, Man.

Holy Crow, where do I even begin? You guys. Well, you Just. Fucking. Rock. I can’t tell you how amazing it’s been to read all of your incredibly thoughtful and supportive comments. And hearing the personal experiences has been a big, BIG relief. Thank you, thank you for the bottom of my progesterone saturated heart.

I’ve been doing my best not to freak out about the Beta results. I realize that the number was by no means a harbinger of the worst possible case scenario, but for a minute, that’s what it felt like. I think the hardest part about this is the fact that I’ve seen too much. I know what possibly can go wrong, and I’ve seen it happen to way too many really great people – so why should I be any different? Please, please understand how grateful I am to be here. And I’m happy. And excited.  But this part of being pregnant is really scary. And I did not see it coming.

I felt a little better Wednesday because I had read, and reread all of your fabulous comments three or four times. Also I was consistently mildly crampy the entire day. Then yesterday I felt SO bloated and tired – exactly the same way I felt during the worst day of stims, which I am praying meant that my Hcg, E2 and P4 were all blowing up. But today – I feel nothing. No different. I know, I’ve heard symptoms come and go. But well, that just sounds like a cop out. I’m so hopped up on PIO shots, and Progesterone and Estrogen Suppositories; I should at the very least being seeing spots by now… I don’t get it.  This is hard. Not harder than being infertile – but hell, at least I know how to do that…

So here’s where I am treatment wise. I had my Intralipid infusion Wednesday. Even though my follow up NK Assay came back a 0 out of 5 (normal), Dr. 3 prefers to follow up with at least one infusion right after a positive pregnancy test.  All of the nurses who were there for our retrieval and transfer were in the area where they do the Infusion. It was nice to see them all again, but weird because they kept giving me hugs and offering congratulations… Which was cool, but very surreal. Our first ultrasound (gulp) is scheduled for April 30^th, I’ll be 6w6d. Seriously – so weird to say that.

I just want you all to know how insanely grateful I am for all of your support through this – and especially from those of you who’ve delurked.

I'm really just so, so thankful for each and every one of you.

Counting the minutes till Tuesday.

A Watched Pot

The last few days have been kind of a whirlwind. I go from busy and going about my routines to suddenly remembering my extraordinarily good fortune and my breath catches in my chest and a little snarffle-type-whimper/laugh escapes my lips as I picture those positive pee sticks still sitting on my nightstand. I pretty much carried them around the house all day Saturday, and if I didn't think it would have been obnoxiously inappropriate I probably would have made a necklace out of one. And then all at once I feel like it's happening to someone else.


I also go back and forth between feeling SO ready to move on with the rest of my life (See: potentially recklessly over optimistic), and feeling like I'm still in limbo. Like I can't make certain plans for the next few months, only instead of wondering if I'll be cycling, wondering if I'll still be pregnant. And then maybe I will be cycling with our frozen embie (pleasedon'tletthathappen, pleasedontletthathappen). I'm going to be a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding this September and we're going to have to pick out and order the dresses ASAP. What if next week I order a dress for me at six months along and then two months from now I dont' need it? Yikes. That also means I'm going to have to spill the beans to my future SIL (whom I adore, btw) and at the very least the other bridesmaid. Hmmm.


So I FINALLY got a hold of my nurse, I told her I was about to go into a meeting and didn't want to miss her call. I went in this morning at 9am, and got through to her at 4pm! That was really frustrating. So the news is not bad, but it's not fantastic. Dr. 3 wants to see AT LEAST a 60% increase for Beta #2. My increase was at 62%... Putting my number at 233. My nurse said neither she, nor Dr. 3 are remotely concerned. She warned me about Dr. Google and also said that it's possible one of the two embryo's in arresting. Or she said sometimes the second Beta is just wonky - She's seen much stranger beta's result in babies, and then reminded me that IVF is rarely cut and dry. Physically I'm feeling fine, still really no symptoms to speak of which freaks me out just a little bit especially knowing my second beta number now.... I have some minor cramping, and towards the end I of the day I feel bloated. But that's about it. They want me to do another Beta a week from today, as previously planned. (This is where my nurse stressed that if they were concerned they would have me come back Thursday). At that point they'll want to see a number no less than 954. And that's going by the 60% range again.

So. I wait. I'm trying to keep the faith in the unseen, and not freak out too much. Do me a favor and send a prayer or two my way when you get a sec. Thanks in advance.

A Sight Unseen

The first thing I should tell you is how convinced I was that this cycle had not worked for us. I had no symptoms. At least nothing that screamed "Successful IVF cycle". There was nothing that couldn't be a potential symptom of the PIO shots. My boobs started getting sore the day after I started the Progesterone, which was before the transfer had even taken place. I had some lower back pain - but that is not an uncommon occurrence for me. I also had some minor cramping, but again that could have easily been the PIO shots or suppositories, or the left over enchiladas I kept eating for lunch. And what I considered to be the kicker was the fact that by Thursday (7dp5dt), my jeans were fitting normally and my weight was back to pre-IVF. I thought "Shit, no influx of OHSS - we're screwed". Oh, and did I mention that I came down with a cold the day after the transfer? No fever, but a sore throat, congestion, runny nose, yada yada. I figured we were doomed and I had all but uncorked the expensive bottle of wine I'd picked out to be my 40 ounces to freedom.


Though there had been a slight bit of wavering on his part, Brian and I had agreed to test together Saturday morning. Friday night we stared wide-eyed at each other before we kissed goodnight and did our best to get some rest. Which went surprisingly well until about three am, when the dog wanted out. From three am on we vainly tossed and turned until about four, when Brian leaned over and asked if we could watch TV already. I laughed and we decided to watch the Top Chef Reunion Special. It was really good, and very funny which brought some much needed comic relief. When it was over we knew it was time - we both wanted to get it over with. Just before we walked into the bathroom together I confessed that I didn't think it had worked. Something I hadn't told him because I didn't want to ruin his week just yet. I sat down, peed in a cup, then dipped the test in, put the cap back on the test and handed it to him. We both wanted him to deliver the results. We took the test and went back in to the bedroom where I collapsed on to the bed, bracing myself, and feeling guilty for making him be the one to have to give me the bad news. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at the test, then cover it up and rest it back on his knee like he was still waiting to see something. I said "it's negative, right?"... He then, ever so nonchalantly mumbled "well there's a line, but it's really faint..." I bolted upright and grabbed for the test - he said I blurted out something along the lines of "Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?", but I remember no such thing... All I remember was seeing the test and screaming that even if it was light, a line was a line and it was positive!!!!


We're pregnant. 


We hugged and cried and laughed hysterically. I don't think I've ever experienced such unfettered bliss. I sobbed and giggled and shook my head. I thanked god aloud, and when it finally occurred to me that a positive hpt doesn't always equal a take home baby, I thanked god aloud again for letting us at least get this far. 


Two lines. 


We have two lines. 


We looked up our due date. It's mid December. I have a due date, how bizarre is that? We each sent out a few texts to the select group of people we'd let in our our little secret, (those who don't know about this blog, anyway). And really and truly just enjoyed the day. I know that it's a possibility that we may not make it to the end of this journey happily, but I am so incredibly grateful that at least we know something can stick, and for these fleeting moments we know what it's like to be on the other side. And however long we're here I'm going to do my damnedest to revel in every second of it. 


My Beta draw was at 9am this morning, they just called back and my level at 10pd5dt is: 144, Progesterone 56.


I go back Tuesday for a second check.


I can't begin to thank you all enough for your support and enthusiasm on my last post. I cried while reading each one. Hard. I've been offering those same words for so long, it's remarkably strange to realize they are for me. 

This Is Only A Test

Wherever we go; this is further than we've been.

Talk About Your All Time Backfires

At some point in late February while still delayed in this IVF cycle by the Whore-bag Cyst, I began to feel a little restless. So I made the decision to look into the Foster Adoption program within our county. I signed us up for the April 5^th Orientation which was less than five miles away from our home. Since at that point I had no idea how long we would be delayed by the cyst, or if we would even be able to move forward with this attempt, I felt really good about taking the first step toward something we’d been discussing for a while anyway.  And in the days leading up to this meeting I continued to look forward to getting more information on what might be our path to parenthood. But this is where I have to make a confession. Though I had drafted a post about this, I never made it far enough to actually get the guts to publish it... 


Umm, IVF is fucking hard. And I don’t know if I ever want to do it again. Aside from hoping for the reason I’ll never have to do it again – I seriously don’t know if I want to. And yes, I know it’s early and I could change my mind. And that’s fine. But as of now, I can’t say it’ll be my first choice in moving towards being parents. The ‘feeling like a pincushion’ cliché could not be a bigger understatement, my stomach is black and blue from the heparin shots, my ass is KILLING me from the PIO shots, I’ve missed a lot of work due to monitoring appointments and recovery and acupuncture. Doing three shots a day takes up a good hour of my time, drawing up the meds,  icing before and after the Heparin, applying pressure. Heating whichever given side of my ass in prep for the PIO shot, laying there while Brian massages the injection site, then walking around after, then sitting with the heating pad again… Granted my cycle lasted a little longer than most - an extra two and a half months to be exact - and I’m not saying that all this won’t have been worth it if we wind up with a baby at the end, but damn it it’s fucking hard. I really don’t know how so many of you have done multiple cycles. I mean, I do. But…. If I feel like I deserve a fucking metal for all this, you guys deserve like, royal titles, and towns named after you. Cause, shit. This was really hard.  And all of that made one more giant reason why I was looking forward to the orientation for Foster Adoption.

We arrived promptly at 7pm, and by the time the County Worker got started there were two other couples, what appeared to be a single guy – I’m fairly certain he was a cop. And one woman, who was married but her husband was at home looking after their daughter. We signed in and grabbed a packet and began listening closely as the County Worker started her Power Point presentation.  I can’t remember what precisely changed for me, but all of about 15 minutes in I felt a noticeable shift in my comfort level. Substantial enough that I scribbled a sentence on the outside of the envelope packet and pushed it toward Brian.

“I’m not ready for this.”

We glanced at each other, but slowly gave our attention back to the County Worker. Well maybe Brian did, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It felt so surreal, at some point I felt like I was watching myself from outside of my body knowing I was about to have a breakdown. I’m very aware of the fact that childrens circumstances in Foster Programs aren’t the same as kids in standard adoption facilities. These are not all infants with unwed, or incapable mothers – these kids have been removed from their homes. Due to abuse and/or neglect. Occasionally there is a Voluntary Surrender, where the parent(s) concedes that they just can’t care for their child(ren). But it’s less than 1% of the time in our county. I don’t know if it was the fact that she had to describe all the different types and severity as well as what exactly constitutes abuse or neglect, or if it was her emphasis on the fact that the County’s main goal is Reunification with the Biological Family. But it all just became too much. And I suddenly found the tears falling down my face faster than I could catch them. I discretely excused myself to the bathroom, and did my best to pull myself together. But the moment I sat back down in my chair I started to lose it again. Brian made a quick scribble, and pushed the envelope back to me. “Just go, I’ll take care of it”. It took me another minute to get the courage to walk out, but thank god we just happened to be sitting right next to the exit. I don’t know what Brian said to the room or the County Worker, but I’m sure they figured out that I wasn’t just bored. I got about three steps from the door and the second I heard it click I began to sob. I’m just not ready for that. I thought that I would just go and be proactive, and get some information. But holy crap, I’m not ready.

And I’m suddenly reminded of how little control we have over all of this. And just how very open-ended things are for us at this moment in time.

T minus four days until Beta.

Wordless Wednesday - 6dp5dt

No, I haven't test yet. 

And okay, so this post isn't all that wordless.

I just wanted to show you something that makes me smile. 

(fyi, posting a picture of a picture instead of a scanned file goes against everything I believe in, 

but I just had to get these up)

My babies. 

That dark mass in the shape of Montana, is my bladder. If you look below that near the most South-West corner, you can see a faintly highlighted white line with a computer graphic circle on it. Inside that circle are the embryo's safe in my uterus. Aside from the fact that it's probably a CYA for them, I just love that they gave us this picture as well. 

Maintaining My Hatred of Progesterone

I can appreciate the fundamental necessity of Progesterone, but in my life even before ART, it has proven to be a thorn in my side. My breasts are typically sore from the time I ovulate, to a few days after my period starts. Which is just over two weeks at a time. So now that I am post transfer, Standard Operating Procedure is to supplement the bodies own production with messy vaginal suppositories and painful intramuscular injections that require a 25 gauge inch and a half long needle in which to deliver the goods. I'm on day six of said injections and I already find myself wincing as pull my jeans over my backside. And after the shot on the day of the transfer I took the bed rest order a little too seriously and chose not to walk around after the injection. The burning sensation in my left asscheek had me tossing and turning until after 1am.  And last night within ten minutes of starting those bastard little suppositories, I had noticeable cramping.

I use a heating pad before and after the shot.
I've warmed the part of the needle with the progesterone in it, to thin the oil
I walk around after
Is it still normal to be SO sore???
The shot itself doesn't hurt - it's the next day that I feel it.

Oh and my girls are already sore.

That said, here's to eight more weeks of it! 


I'm feeling much better in general. Though I continued to feel bloated and tired from the OHSS, the Gatorade liquid restriction made a huge difference. And after the retrieval I felt exceptionally better with each passing day. The only thing I've noticed is that my belly is still a little distended, anyone else have that? 

Oh, one bit of good news. We have one little guy that made it to freeze on Day Six. A Grade II Blastocyst. I had really prepared myself for the possibility of not having any at all, so to say I'm relieved would be an understatement. I promise I'll get my transfer day pictures up soon - we've gotten a new printer and I haven't managed to figure out the scanning function yet. With all the amazing advances in technology I must say there is still no love for the printer...

Mothership

I took this week off of work, and with the exception of my boss/bff, everyone thinks I had an emergency appendectomy.  I'm totally in the closet at work, but in 10 weeks when I have real news to share I'll probably tell most of them the truth.  I knew that I would want this week to recover from the retrieval, (and boy was I right on that), but I also knew that I needed some down-time for myself. To be still. With my heparin and PIO shots being the only things with significant directive over my day.  And I'm grateful to inform you that I have accomplished just that.


I found quiet.


I found sunshine.


I found some long sought-after peace.


My week has been pretty fantastic and I'll likely share about it at a later date, but I've been getting all kinds of endearing harassment from a select few of you asking for an update. And I can't tell you how much that means to me - you know who you are. Part of me feels bad, because I assumed with having taken all this time off that I would be updating like crazy, but I've just spent a lot of time being a lazy bum and enjoying the sudden onset of gorgeous weather in the Bay Area.


Yes, we had our transfer yesterday morning. It went well. And wow, it was so much more emotional than I ever expected. The first part of our appointment was spent in Dr. 3's office, going over our embryo report. We have five little guys left:


1 Grade I - Blast, which by the time our actual transfer came, was a borderline Expanded Blastocyst
2 Grade II - Early Blastocyst
2 Grade III - Early Blastsocyst


At that point Dr. 3 talked to us about just how many we planned to transfer. He said aside from our one little rock star, based on the quality of all the rest of the blasts we might want to consider transferring three. This was something Brian and I have discussed but not really recently. And the weight of having to make a game day decision on this suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. Brian began to speak saying that he of course wants the best chances of us having an actual take-home baby but... Then he looked at me and I couldn't help but take the lead and ultimately say what felt like the last word. I want more than anything than to increase our chances of becoming parents BUT, I just can't imagine putting myself in the position to have triplets, nor do I want to be in the position to have to selectively reduce. I know ladies out there who've been in both situations; keeping High Order Multiples and Selectively Reducing - and you're incredible women. And I couldn't think more highly of you all - it's just not something I can willingly put myself in the middle of. So I turned to Brian with the most sincere open hearted stare looking for his approval, and he nodded. Then I looked at Dr. 3, and asked him to transfer the best two. Dr. 3 said if I were 38, and not 32 he would be pushing for three, but he thinks we made "a fine decision"... 


The discussion closed with some information about the rest of our embryo's. The lab will let them grow to day six to see where they end up. Best case scenario we get three frosties. But more likely is the case that we end up with one or none to freeze. That part part hurts. I had put quite a bit of faith in the fact that we would have frozen embies hanging out somewhere. We'll probably find out tomorrow what, if any made it.


Brian and I were taken to the very back and given gowns and hair nets. I got a Valium, while he got to keep his pants on. I laid down on the table and they prepped me for the transfer. Then a nurse brought in a folder with the picture of our little blasts. And I lost it. I wept softly, while Brian and I looked at each other and the picture with sheer awe and amazement. Dr. 3 came in with a huge smile and demanded to know if mine were tears of joy. Of course they were. We're here. We've made it so far. And I'm the closest to being pregnant that I've ever been. 


My beta is Sunday April 10th. 


I have no idea if I'll test before then.