Try

Now that I’ve had a little time to compose myself and really take in all of what we saw Sunday, I can fill you in on all the details. And of that, there are a’plenty.

The appointment itself went really well. Dr.3 was running behind, but it’s not like we had better things to do. Actually we did give up Sharks playoff tickets to keep the appointment.  Obviously worth it, just saying. As Dr. 3 got to work with the probe and the nurse dimmed the lights, I closed my eyes until I heard him settle. “Okay, there’s the sac and a tiny heart beat – can you see it?” I opened my eyes to see him pointing at the monitor and underlining the spot where the flickering shadow could be easily seen.  Brian squeezed my hand tightly, and my tears began to fall. I have never been so in awe of something so tiny. Dr. 3 continued the exam, taking measurements and giving notes for the nurse to write down. As he moved the probe over a little further to one side he noted it a tiny dark circle about an eighth of the size of the sac our little one floated in. The other embryo had implanted, but didn’t take. To be honest I wasn’t entirely surprised, and I’m not sure I can explain why. I feel a connection to the little one who wasn’t, but I also hold a great understanding that it wasn’t their time. And I’m at peace with that. The rest of the measurements went fine, my ovaries were nice and quiet - just what he hoped to see.  He closed things up and went over the rest of my protocol, asked if we had any questions then congratulated us with very sincere handshakes. As he walked out of the room, he let out a comically dramatic “Whew!”.  We laughed pretty hard about it then, but I realize now that it was kind of cool to see how much doing the first u/s weighed on him. If he doesn’t do that out loud every time, I’m sure he does it internally.

They asked us to go back to the waiting room so that we could wait to speak with one of the nurses about some other formalities. There were two other couples there and we did our best to keep our composure so as not to flaunt our amazing news in front of them. They seemed like newbies. The nurse, one of our favorites, let us know that we’d need to set up our next u/s with our OB, and she gave us a copy of our records to provide to them. We haven’t been released by Dr. 3 but we’ve chosen not to do any more Out of Pocket appointments with him. She also gave me another prescription for the last round of meds. I have 20 more days of PIO shots. 34 more days of Heparin and Metformin.

In addition to the u/s milestone we had yesterday, I experienced one more. My last Resolve meeting, for now.  In the group that I attend, they invite you back for one last meeting after a confirmed pregnancy. I didn’t realize it was going to be so difficult. Each member sits in the circle and tells you their name and as much about their situation as they are feeling up to.  I began to explain my situation; Trying for four years - as of next month, six failed donor IUI’s,  a yearlong break before IVF. As I wrapped up the details of our cycle, I heard the words “it worked” come out of my mouth and I promptly fell apart. I apologized to everyone and explained how grateful we were, but that acknowledging it – especially there, was overwhelming. The ladies in attendance were nothing short of gracious and congratulatory. But I had a hard time chiming in with information or personal experiences after outing myself.  I always thought that asking the pregnant people/couples to come back for one last meeting was mostly in consideration for those still in the battle, but I can see now that it’s inappropriate for both sides. Listening to heartbreaking story, after heartbreaking story wouldn’t be beneficial. They weren’t comforting anymore. And I’ve heard too many as it is. It’s time for me to accept that, and move on.

Taking the time to step back and analyze my reaction to everything, and just how I’ve processed the existence of this pregnancy so far has truly cemented the fact that I am damaged goods. I’ve had every reason to believe that things were going fine, decent symptoms, decent numbers, no history (thankyougod) of loss. But yet, I couldn’t even acknowledge the simple fact to myself without throwing some caveat up in front of anything that would resemble a statement about our immediate future. It was too scary. 

It still is.

But I'm going to try.

One.

One Heartbeat.

No words...

Baby is measuring right on track. Heart rate is 129.

So, so many grateful tears.

Pictures on the new tab above.

I'm really pregnant.

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.