Parenting after Infertility

One would think that parenting after infertility would be the easy part.  I mean really, after days, months, years of trying, of dealing with failure after failure, parenting should be the easy part.  After temping, taking ovulation enhancing drugs, sticking myself with a needle for daily, no make that twice daily, injections just to BECOME a parent.  Parenting should be the easy part.

As it turns out, that’s not the case.

First, all that I’ve gone through, all the emotions, all the let downs.  The day that I found out I was pregnant was a joyous one.  For a minute, or maybe two.  Then the fear set in.  I was only about 5 weeks along.  I had to make it to week 13 for the chances of a miscarriage to drop drastically.  That means harboring this precious secret while every day I  live in fear.  Every time I  pee I checked the toilet paper for red.  Then it happened, spotting.  A phone call to the doctor in tears.  A quick visit to the doctor and affirmation that everything was OK.  The heartbeat was strong. 

As the weeks pass I gain a baby bump.  I deal with the heartburn, extreme fatigue, sore breasts, morning sickness, hunger, cold sores, bloody nose, Charlie horses, bloody gums, headaches.  And the fear remains.  I don’t want to complain about the symptoms, after all, I’ve worked so hard to get here and so many couples out there are still struggling to get to where I am today.  So I have to suffer in silence for fear of alienating those friends that I have made.  I start to show, but still I cannot tell anyone.  Only a select few people know outside of K and I.  My best friend, one other close friend who gave me an OB referral and my mom.  Another close friend is pregnant and shares her happy updates.  I feel my heart sink with every update, living with the what if that infertility drives into your mind.  What if this baby doesn’t stick.  So I don’t even tell this friend that I am pregnant.

Week 13 comes and goes.  I can’t hide it anymore.  Whispers are in the hallways.  People have it figured out.  Week 14 and I can’t continue to hover over this secret, but telling it is going to jinx it.  Telling everyone will make the worst happen.  That’s what infertility has taught me, right?  But I have to.  Hiding it now is tearing me apart.  So I do.  I tell my employees, the rest of my closest friends and family, but that’s it.  Then I hold my breath for days on end, fearing what will happen.  Then I spot again.  End up at the ER, scared to death.  I’m pushing 20 weeks, I can’t possibly lose the baby now.  This is happening because I shared in my good news.  But all turns out OK.  Some of the symptoms of carrying another being have dissipated.  Morning sickness is reduced, although still shows up sometimes.  Heartburn sucks, but again, I don’t complain. 

As the weeks go by I start to get more comfortable in being pregnant.  Sometime in the middle of my second trimester I finally buy the first baby item.  It’s a monkey head with a little blanket.  I sit at the store fingering the edges, loving on the softness.  I give in and purchase it.  Then a pair of socks.  Then as the third trimester nears we finally allow ourselves to buy the crib, the glider.  The room starts to get set up for the baby, although it doesn’t get finished until the third trimester.

Then I am slammed with more fear as I call the doctor in my 31^st week of pregnancy with some symptoms that I cannot fully explain.  They have me come in for a stress test to find out I’m having contractions.  Nothing big, but they’re there.  So onto bed rest, for 5 ½ weeks.  By this time my whole body aches as I continue to gain weight, but am not allowed to get up and move to help relieve the pain and pressure.  I’m only 5 feet tall, so the baby is sitting on my bladder and pushing into my ribs at the same time.  I can’t breathe.  But still I am afraid to complain. 

My due date comes and goes.  I don’t want to be induced, and I know the doc is watching me close.  But what if something goes wrong with the labor?  What if my baby is born still?  These fears are so real that I can taste them.  I have now felt this baby move for months, I have fallen in love, as has K.  But what if. 

I go into labor.  For the one time during my quest to parenthood I am able to allow my body to do what it was meant to do.  The fear is there, but hidden in the back of my mind for now.  Finally.  Labor is long and difficult (29 hours).  They have to break my water and break scar tissue.  I am on oxygen.  We deal with the baby’s heart rate dipping.  We have internal monitoring and they mention possible c-section.  I am so afraid to let it go longer, but want to do this the old fashioned way.  Finally, she is ready to come meet us.  A vacuum is used, but no big deal.  It’s a girl.  She’s beautiful as they lay her on my chest in all her red faced screaming glory.  She is ours.  She is love.  SHE is the reason that we went through the treatments, the medications, the injections, the pain, the fear, the marriage almost lost.  She is amazing.

She is running a fever and very jaundiced.  She ends up in NICU for 2 days.  I am so afraid, but thankful that her issues are minor.  She is released less than 24 hours after I am.  We never even left the hospital, she goes home with us.   

Now it should be easy, right?

We struggle with breastfeeding.  It’s not easy, but I was warned, I thought I was prepared for this. 

Now we are at home, with a newborn.  We want to do everything right.  She wants to nurse, but falls asleep at the breast.  After 1 day we call the pediatrician in tears – she hasn’t had a wet diaper.  They want to see her.  They are very pro breastfeeding, but he tells me we HAVE to give her a couple of ounces of pumped breastmilk in a bottle.  We have to KNOW that she is getting some.  She drinks it that night.  Next day still not enough diapers.  They check her bilirubin levels again and tell us to keep it up.

Now we’re exhausted, and our little miracle screams.  All day.  All night.  She won’t sleep, which means I don’t sleep.  She wants to nurse, All.  Day.  Long.  But it hurts to nurse, because she doesn’t have a good latch.  So I almost give up.  K says it’s OK to give up.  But I WON’T.  I refuse.  I want her to have this, I want to have this.  So we continue on.  We use an SNS, we use a nipple shield.  I pump daily to make sure she’s getting enough.

After weeks I feel like I’m going to break down.  But I can’t complain, because there are others behind me that are still trying to do this, and they DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT.  They don’t want to hear how TOUGH it is being a parent.  They’ve made the same promises I did when dealing with treatment.  They just KNOW that it won’t be this hard on them, so why is this hard for me?  I can hear their voices in my head asking me this.

By the time she is a month old, I feel broken.  Maybe this was why I wasn’t meant to be a mother.  I can’t handle it.  I think, and people tell me, that crying is normal.  But I know it must be something else.  A baby screaming all day and not sleeping at all is not normal.  But I can’t hardly think straight because I’m so tired.  I fear going back to work in a few weeks.  How will I ever make it?

But still, I can’t complain.  Because I’m infertile.  Because I’ve PROMISED that I won’t complain.  I’ve BEGGED to have this.  I’ve PRAYED to be blessed with this child.  So I can’t complain.  There are others who are still out there, trying for their miracle.  There are others that would sneer at me for complaining about this wonderful life I now have.  They are there, in the background, just waiting for the moment that I mess up and break down.

At 4 weeks old our little girl is diagnosed with Reflux.  At 5 weeks old she starts medication.  By 6 weeks she is a whole new baby.  I am finally able to mostly wean from the nipple shield.  She even starts taking a bottle.  From K only, not me.  By the time I go back to work, things have settled down some.

She never did become a good sleeper.  At 4 1/2 she's finally getting better.  There have been days, weeks, where I thought I would lose my mind due to lack of sleep.  I took days off of work and took her to daycare, just so that I could go home and sleep.  I started this blog sometime around her 5^th month.  While some of my followers were IF followers, some of them were not.  Some were and have come out on the other side.  I allowed myself to open up on this blog more so than anywhere else.  I allowed myself that chance to complain as non infertile mothers are allowed when they struggle with parenthood. 

Parenting after Infertility provides it’s own unique set of circumstances.  Fertile mothers are allowed to complain through all these trials and tribulations.  They are allowed to have moments where they dislike being pregnant, or where they have to put their baby down and go into another room.  Infertile parents are put on a pedastol.  We asked for this, so we have to take it in stride, with no complaints.  We have to accept that we begged for this, so complaining puts a stigma on your head.  It shouldn’t be like this. 

Parenting is HARD.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  There are so many beautiful moments, but there are difficult, heart breaking moments as well.

2 children born now, after the throws of infertility.  When I first wrote this she was not even 2 yet.  Now we have a son who will be 2 very soon.  He too made for difficulties, but nothing compared to her - nothing compared to even how she still is.  He had reflux that was more difficult to treat, we spent hours bouncing on the exercise ball to calm his nerves and reflux.  But he was not soothed by nursing to the extent that she was.  Which was the one thing that by his birth I knew how to do well.

Parenting after infertility should not be the journey that it is.  Most parents feel this isolation that I speak of, this thought that everything should be perfect.

Please know, it's not, and it's not supposed to be.  I know we asked for this, we begged for this, we cleared out our savings and our sanity for this.  That doesn't mean it's going to be easy.  That doesn't mean that we'll love every Godforsaken moment of it.  Because there's a reality in there that we aren't recognizing, that is as true for us infertiles as it is for the rest of the world.

That reality my fellows, is that parenting is HARD.

But I promise, it's the most rewarding thing that you'll ever do.

For once - it will meet that expectation.

It really CAN be fun

Goose is a 15 months old now.  He hasn’t cut any new teeth in about a month, but has had a cold during that time.  So his sleep has been a bit better.  Still waking up, but for the most part not a million times a night. So I’m officially almost 2 years out from the stress of going through our last IVF cycle. I’m officially 8 years out from when we first started trying to get pregnant.  And through the miracles of science (and other stuff) we have our 2 beautiful miracles. And in the last few months as sleep has gotten better and we’ve all felt more human, I’ve found something that I’ve been missing now for over ½ of my marriage.  This is not the fault of people, but rather of circumstances. Sex.  No, Making Love. And as it turns out, it really can be fun. It can be meaningful, and sexy, and (somewhat) spontaneous.  It can be devoid of worry and full of smiles and enjoyment of the moment. It is, officially, truly and really, no longer baby making sex.  No longer ‘we hope it will happen so that we don’t have to do IVF for number 2.’  No longer scheduled out based on when ovulation is happening, JUST IN CASE. It’s more like when when we first got married.  No, we are not in those stages of tearing each other’s clothes off any chance we get (because trust me, with Bug and Goose the opportunities aren’t coming out of our ears), but it’s that ‘whenever we have the chance and one/both of us isn’t so overtired that we wouldn’t enjoy.’  It doesn’t matter if it’s on Sunday, or Tuesday, or Thursday or any day in between.  It doesn’t matter if I’m getting ready to ovulate or not.  It doesn’t matter if we were getting ready to walk out the door and the kids are behaving and playing in the other room (oops, did I just say that?).  It doesn’t matter, well anything.  It just DOESN’T MATTER.  If the mood strikes we take it and run with it.  And it’s FUN.  Did you hear that folks?  It’s actually FUN!  After 8 long years of turning something fun into not so much fun we have found the fun again.  We have found each other again.  We are reminded that we are attracted to each other and can have fun with that attraction. Have I mentioned FUN enough in this post for you?  Do you think I may be trying to get a point across? After we got pregnant with Goose it did get a lot better, but there was still the exhaustion of a non sleeping kid involved, so while it no longer had the same stigma on it, there was still something about it that was different. That. Is. All. Gone. It’s FUN, Every. Single. Time. I enjoy him and he enjoys me.  12 years of marriage.  7 years full of TTC and then 1 year of sleep deprivation after the last kid came.  More than ½ of our marriage had this stigma in some way or another. And I always feared during all those years that we’d never get back to what we had, that we’d never view intimacy the same, that it would never be as wonderful as it was when we were blissfully unaware.  I feared we had lost something so magical, and that magic doesn’t just come back into our lives no matter how hard we wish it to – because believe me, during all those stressful, hellish years, I wished for that magic back.  And now I know that I was wrong during that time, that I was wrong that the magic would be lost forever. Because folks, We got it back. And you know what??? NOW, it's better than EVER!!

11 years

So I missed the day in terms of blogging, but K and I just celebrated our 11 year wedding anniversary on June 22.

11 years.

I think about all we've been through in that time, and it amazes me.  So I thought I'd do a brief timeline, because unfortunately I've been sick, and my head has been hurting to migraine level.  But I have 5 minutes and want to take advantage of it, so here goes.

January 2000 - We started a 4 hour class on Microsoft Office at our local community college.  A few weeks in was when K got caught by a train and stuck sitting next to me.  The teachers name was Ms. Love.  K and I never looked back.

December 2000 - We moved in together.

March 2001 - Got Engaged.

June 2002 - Got Married.

2003 - We agreed to finish college before we started a family.  So we decided to look for a house.  We purchased a house, closing on my Birthday in April of 2003.

2004 - We continued to work full time and trudge our way through school.  We had fun, drank too much, did some travelling.  It was a pretty uneventful year.

2005 - K graduated from college.  We got cable for him as I had one more year (yep, it's one of those oddities I remember).  We bought a sailboat, learned to sail, had lots of fun and partied a lot.  Got our dog.

2006 - I graduated from college.  Took a 3 week trip to Europe.  Did so much that we wanted to, explored, enjoyed long meals and walks, lots of good wine and tons of culture.  Threw out the birth control and started trying to get pregnant.

2007 - Started seeing doctors for our now diagnosed infertility.  Continued to enjoy making new friends and identifying new hobbies.  Worked on our house a lot.  Did a lot of gardening and canning.

2008 - Did our first 3 rounds of IVF, with our final attempt coming down to a BFN on July 25, 2008.  This is where we had some marital issues.

2009 - Tried to sell our house in T Town.  I moved to Indianapolis, K stayed in T Town.  We worked things out and we spent weekends together.  K went back to school to get his pilots license.  Got pregnant through unconventional methods.

2010 - Welcomed our awesome daughter, Bug, into our lives on July 25. Cleared out the house in T Town and decided to think about renting it instead of selling it.  At the end of the year K got a job with the company he was a 727 Mechanic for as a Flight engineer on a 727 (cargo).

2011 - Got renters into our house.  Started discussing the possibility of having a second child.  Made the decision to give IVF ONE more fresh cycle chance (cancelled cycles not counting) and any frozen transfers if we had any frozen embryos.  Met with a couple of RE's in Indianapolis.  K got furloughed after the company his employer contracted with went under.  Made the move to Cleveland.

2012 - Met with 2 more RE's in Cleveland, picked a doc.  Weaned Bug, started IVF.  CONGRATS!  Success, we were going to get to see what OUR baby looks like!  K started flight instructing.

2013 - Welcomed our son Goose into the world.   Excited that when I do this summary in another 10 years, there won't be years where my summaries mainly center around infertility and treatment.  We are Done building our family, and content!  K got a job as a co-captain flying a mining companies West Wind.  He continues to flight instruct to get to his 1500 hours so he can get his ATP.

It's been an amazing 11 years married, 13 years together.  We've been through heaven and hell, we loved and hated each other.  But we always found our way back to our love, and in the process we really realized what it meant to love another adult (and what it meant to love children more than yourselves!).  We learned how to work through our difficult times.  We learned that we really can weather any storm.  I love K, with all my heart.  I wouldn't trade our lives, our troubles, our happy times, for anything in the world.  We are who we are individually and as a couple because of each and every moment we have lived through together.

Thank you K, for choosing me to spend your life with.  I love you more than you'll ever know.

Take THAT infertility!

***I wrote this post 2 weeks ago, but had other posts scheduled so decided to wait to post this one***

After K and I had been trying to get pregnant for over a year, we finally decided to talk to my Ob/Gyn about testing.  She tested us and while I had slightly low progesterone, I was otherwise fine.  Which was interesting to me as my cycles were insanely irregular and she had to induce it a couple of times in that first year or so we were trying.  K on the other hand was not so good.  In fact, his issues were pretty severe, and not anything that we could fix with environmental changes, vitamins or even surgery.  There was No. Way. to make his numbers better.

 

We went to see a urologist that specialized in male infertility, then we self-referred to an RE.  Out of all 3 docs they all gave us the same basic news… that it was unlikely we’d ever get pregnant on our own.  The urologist basically told us to move on to adoption.  That first RE said he could get us pregnant through IVF, but that if we continued to try on our own our chances were abysmal.  The stats that he gave us were that if I ovulated every single month, and we managed to have sex at the right time every single month, for 10 years, we had a 1% chance of managing to get pregnant in that time frame.

 

Yes, I remember those words like I heard them yesterday.

 

That stat was very frightening at that time.  It was the culmination of almost 2 years of trying at that point, and the beginning of the horrifying journey of infertility treatments.  Our hearts were broken, and we thought the best way to move on was to jump into the treatments. 

 

That fateful first meeting with that RE where we were given that stat was over 5 years ago.  We had no idea what lay ahead of us, or what we would go through to get where we are today.  We still had a lot of hope that we would be parents, it was before we became shattered shells of the individuals that we were in the beginning.  We didn’t know that through all of the hell that we were about to go through we would come out the other side with our marriage intact and two beautiful children.  We didn’t know that our faith would be squashed and then restored.  We just didn’t know.

 

Yesterday I started my period.  And for the first time in over 7 years I’m annoyed that she is here.  I’m not even sure that’s the right way to put it, because every month for that time frame I would wish she wouldn’t come, but then end up hoping she’d show so that we could move on with the next cycle. 

 

But this time is different.  I know that my child bearing years are over.  That’s bittersweet to me, as I love pregnancy and babies and everything that goes along with it.  But we never wanted more than 2 children, and I don’t think that has changed for either of us.  I feel complete, fulfilled with my babies.  I look at them and feel happy, ecstatic, satisfied, amazed, but most of all grateful.  I know that never again will I deal with the shots, the heartache, the hope mixed with fear.  I know that I got those things that I most wanted in life, and every day they remind me of the innocence that I once had and lost. 

 

K and I agreed that we would tempt fate.  We agreed that hormonal birth control doesn’t work for me (I become crazy), I’m not excited at the idea of an IUD or anything like it, and we both hate condoms. 

 

Suddenly, that 1% stat that made us cry all those years ago, that 1% stat that we hated with a depth unknown to most people, that 1% stat that almost killed us, has suddenly become an OK thing.  It’s suddenly become the thing that leaves us comfortable in our decision to not use birth control, but leaves us with little worry that anything would come of it.  That horrible horrible stat is suddenly something we’re OK with, in a strange sense almost thankful for.

 

Because we recognize, that if that 1% stat were to come true, if it were to happen, then it would truly be our miracle that we were meant to have, that God always intended for us.  If one of those few little guys was ever able to make it to his final destination and meet his mate in my egg, then we know that would be one heckuva strong baby that was MEANT for this world.  (and yes, in some ways I hope that happens, and I think that's because of infertility ~ I'd love to get the one thing I was told I couldn't)

 

So take that INFERTILITY.  I still hate you and what you did for us (and continue to do for others), but now I’ve accepted you in a way that I never thought would be possible.  And as I move on with my life and leave those dark clouds of Infertility behind me I put my face up to the sun and soak in the warmth with my husband by my side and my CHILDREN in my arms.

Today

April 14.

This is an important day in my life.  For one, it’s the day I was born.  Today I turn 33 years old.  I cycle through another year of my life, and realize just how very very happy I am.  I have everything I have ever dreamed of having; a loving husband and two beautiful children.  We even have the dog J 

Last year, on my 32^nd birthday, we took a leap.  Last year on my birthday, sometime around 10:00 in the evening, our last fresh cycle of IVF became a reality as K gave me my trigger shot.  It was our last attempt at having a child that is biologically both of ours.  We were hopeful, scared, excited and nervous. Our prior attempts at IVF had gone over so poorly that neither one of us were really sure that it could work.  We wanted it to so bad, bad enough that we were willing to try one last time even though the hope we had was very cautious hope.   Up until the trigger shot it wasn’t as real, it could have been cancelled as so many times before, it could have been stopped and we could have moved on as if it never was.

But we didn’t.  We took a deep collective breath, and took the leap.

And on my 32^nd birthday, we became parents again. 

I know, nothing was fertilized yet, but it was the big leap in the process that gave us our precious little boy.  We were parents multiple times over at this point, but only to 1 living child.  This was the day that the wild crazy ride really really began of being parents to 2 living children.

K and I struggled with some relationship issues this past year.  They were very difficult, and potentially marriage ending.  But we got counseling and worked through it.  We both made the decision that we WANTED it to work.  That we needed each other, and that we wanted nothing to come to an end.  It was tough times, but we made it through to the other side. 

So I say Goodbye to 32 with happiness as well as sadness.  But I say Hello to 33 with love and excitement as I know that I have the family I have always wanted.  That while IF will always hold a part of my heart and soul in its nasty vice grip, that I will never have to confront it in the same way again; I will never have to fight to overcome it in order to expand my family.  Instead I can (attempt) to gracefully accept that it is and was, and look at the two beautiful children I gained out of it, and remember how much I love them, and how much more I appreciate them because I had to fight so hard to get them.  I had to put on my armor and fight infertility as well as the marriage separation and almost divorce that stemmed from infertility 4 years ago, but we are now long past that. We are renewed, in our hope, in our faith, in ourselves and each other.

I turn 33 where I thought I would be years ago, but that no longer matters.  Because as I turn 33, I am right where I want to be, with everything I could dream of having.

Welcome to the rest of our lives.

Gender Disappointment

So as you all know, we didn't find out what we were having when we were pregnant with Goose.  We didn't with Bug either, and they truly were the greatest surprises of our lives, like the ultimate Christmas Day.  I always said that it didn't matter what we had, that I'd be happy.

With Bug I was convinced we were having a boy, and was actually really excited about the prospect of having a son.  Then we had this amazing daughter, and I found this love that I never knew existed.  I couldn't have imagined the outcome any other way.  She was, and is, the apple of my eye.

Going into our second pregnancy, I felt the same way.  Healthy, that's what I hoped for.  On one hand I hoped for another girl, to give Bug a sister and see a friendship blossom like I'd never known (I had brothers).  Plus, we had everything we needed for a girl, plus some.

On the other hand I really wanted a boy.  To have a son, to raise a little boy, to get that mother son relationship that I've envied when I've seen what an amazing bond it is.  Like the father daughter bond that just isn't quite the same as the mother daughter bond is.  The thought excited me so much.

Then Goose was born.  This beautiful little boy, and he was all mine.

A week or so in, the hormonal tornado, the avalanche of post delivery emotions hit me.  I suddenly found myself mourning the little girl that wasn't.

Now don't get me wrong, the connection and love for Goose was profound, and immediate.  The willingness to throw myself in front of a train if it meant saving him was just as strong as it was, and is, for Bug.  The knowledge that we gave Bug her own little man to watch after her was exciting.

But I still found myself mourning the little girl that wasn't.  I like to think that the second embryo that we put in  that day last April, the one that didn't take, was the little girl I find myself mourning.  She was an angel that God decided the world wasn't ready for, so he let her be in our lives for just those amazing, hope filled few days.  I'm OK with this, as like our other embryo angels I know that she will watch over us all, I will memorialize her in some way as I did our others, and I will move on.

I was so afraid to admit to even myself that I had this mourning, this slight disappointment.  I cried over it.  I felt so horrible, I felt horrible because I couldn't believe that I was sad and crying over the fact that I had a little boy instead of another little girl.  I mean, I begged for this baby, for this perfect little boy, and I loved him with all my heart, so why did I feel like this?

I am sure that Infertility in general played a part in my slow acceptance of my feelings.  It's always that shadow that hovers in the background, and at times makes an attempt to block your sun.  I refuse to let it.  I finally admitted to myself that I was sad that Goose wasn't another little girl, that I was mourning that little girl.  I told K that I realized I had wanted a little girl more than I realized, and as it turned out, so did he.  It's OK to feel this way, and I know that now.  It's not a bad thing, it just is.  The quicker you accept it, the quicker you can move on from it and realize the joy that is there waiting for you.

As what I assume to be the baby blues passed, as I felt my hormones make attempts at righting themselves and sleep got a little better, the worst of it passed.  I still mourn that little girl that could have been, but I couldn't imagine life without my little boy.  The little boy that I have this amazing bond with, that mother son bond that I have envied.  The way he wants me over anyone else, the way he rests his hand on my chest as he nurses, the way he looks at me with those clear bright blue eyes as if he's looking into my soul and soothing it, the way he settles immediately when I wrap him in my arms, it's amazing.  Without him I wouldn't be whole, without Bug I wouldn't be whole.  He is the perfect little man to complete our family.

And everyday when I think it's impossible to love my kids any more, because my heart already wants to burst with a love that I never could have imagined possible, one of them does something that just makes me love them more.  Bug is such a little mama and she adores her little brother.  Yes, we have jealousy, but the way she wants to see him and misses him when he's gone, the way she hugs and kisses on him, the way she gives him her most prized possessions, it just warms my heart.

I am a lucky, lucky mama.

Checking In

Oh man, the last couple of weeks have been crazy.  At work my openings were finally approved to fill.  So I started interviewing this week, but it's gonna be a few more weeks at best before I have people picked and offers out to them.  That's OK, it's moving.  I'm still really stressed at work, but I'm trying to take deep breaths and just keep plugging away.

I had my checkup on Monday, I am now 23 weeks.  My next appointment will actually be in 5 weeks, at which time I'll do the glucola screening (yuck) and get my rhogam shot (ouch).  It'll be fun ~ not.  But, I'm almost to viability, so that's amazing!!

So, the doc has worries about my weight gain.  I've only gained about 10 pounds from my pre-pregnancy (and pre-IVF) weight.  That's not much considering I'm pretty thin and short.  I'm at the point where I should be gaining about a pound a week, and that's just. not. happening.  I'm eating, I swear.  But I'm stressed.  I don't have the same appetite that I did when I was pregnant with Bug.  The doc said my fundal height is measuring on, so she feels the baby is growing as he/she should.  Her worry is that because I started out so thin I won't have a lot of stores, and what I do have the baby will take, leaving nothing for me.  I know she's right.  So she told me to find a place to add in more calories each day, and if I think to myself 'I probably shouldn't eat that,' that I should go ahead and eat it.  She said we're just going to keep an eye on it for now.  Otherwise, K20 is great.  Nice strong heartbeat, EXTREMELY active, in general doing well!

On the other hand, I'm dealing with some pretty crazy personal stresses.  K and I will be starting counseling again Monday night, and we definitely need it.  I'm not going to get into what's going on, but it caught me very off guard and I've been a wreck for the last week.  So, I have a feeling that between the work stresses and these new personal stresses, that is part of my weight gain problem.  Especially since over the last week I suddenly feel like I'm not handling much of anything very well, I'm really really struggling.  I feel horrible because it feels like I have a shorter fuse with Bug, not that I'm snapping or yelling at her, but more just that I feel like I'm giving up easier, like when she starts to throw a tantrum.  I try and then I feel like I just can't anymore.

We did have her early intervention meeting yesterday, and they did agree that there is some level of concern on her speech.  So we have another evaluation on 9/24.  Her hearing has been checked out, and that is fine.

So, that's it for now.  A lot, and I'm sorry that I'm not posting more often.  Please hang in there with me!!

The Fear Factor

I think that I have pinpointed part of the reason that this pregnancy feels so surreal.  I don't know why it took me so long to figure this out, but it's the Fear Factor.  Any woman that has dealt with pregnancy after infertility, pregnancy after loss, adoption after an adoption failed all know this feeling.  It's an overwhelming fear that some greater force has made the decision that this baby is not meant to be.

I believe in God.  Strongly.  I believe that what happens is his will.  But that doesn't take away the fear factor.  That wouldn't make a loss any easier, or another cycle after a loss any easier.

I've realized over the last few days that I spend time every day worrying.  Wondering.  Fearing.  Agonizing.  Being Scared.  Every Day.  I remember this now from the pregnancy with Buggie.  It never fully went away, but it did get easier as the weeks went on.  As I passed the 12 week mark and the threat of miscarriage reduced.  Getting the RhoGham shot and the threat of loss reduced.  Passing viability.  Making it into the 3rd trimester.  Making it through bed rest and threatened pre-term labor with the baby still safe and snug inside me. Making it to my due date, and then yes, even overdue.

So, as this realization hit me, as it really sunk in today that I've been fighting this feeling I'm making myself a promise.  This will, most likely, be my last pregnancy.  I will not waste time worrying about it.  I will trust in God, and yes, pray that he keeps us all safe, even this tiny new life growing inside of me.  I will take one day at a time, and enjoy every moment of this life being in the one place that I have a little more control over keeping it  safe.

I will live every day knowing that Today, I am Pregnant.

Don't Ignore

So, this week is National Infertility Awareness Week.  The campaign asks bloggers to start a blog with the words Don't Ignore.  So, here goes.

Don't ignore your Heart.  So many of us that deal with Infertility learn to put our feelings in a place where they are unreachable.   It's a protection really, and I'm well known to do it myself.  But we must remember not to ignore our heart, ignore those feelings when they need to creep up.  We need to allow ourselves to feel, to really feel, what infertility is doing to us, what it is taking away.  That raw open wound that is easier to hide away, but facing it allows you to grow from the experience and move on as necessary.  It allows you to say Goodbye to those little souls you've lost, to those babies that could have been.  It allows you to keep moving forward, pushing towards your goal.

Don't ignore Hope.  This is a tough one.  Without hope we can't make it through.  With hope we are torn down  time and time again.  Without it we think we can move through the motions of making a baby with nothing attached to it.  With it we allow ourselves to put everything we have into doing what must be done, into doing all the things that may just work for us even if they haven't worked for someone else.  (or maybe they have, and that's why we're trying it).

I wish I could write as eloquently as so many of the bloggers that I follow.  When I think of these posts, it seems like I can get my thoughts all straightened out, but when I put it 'on paper' it never comes out just right.  I don't know if I really get my point across sometimes.  This is no different, but what I'm trying to say is that without heart, and without hope, the attempts are so much more difficult.  Yes, easier in some ways because you can distance yourself.  But in the long run that is so bad.  After months or years it wears you down and will eventually break you.  If you remember to let your feelings have their time and place, if you remember to keep hoping when it seems impossible, then you will be able to make the right treatment decisions for your given situation, and then you will be able to live with those decisions and the possible outcomes.

Please remember those in your lives that do not have children.  If they've never told you it's because they don't want children, then that may not be the case.  They may have spent much time struggling to reach that dream that for some is so difficult to reach.  They may still be trying, they may be mid treatment cycle, they may have just failed another, or maybe even just found out the last one worked but they're not ready to tell yet.  They may have recently suffered a miscarriage, or another miscarriage.  They may have finally chosen to live child free.  They may be struggling on the path to adoption, waiting for the call to come.  One never knows the struggles that someone is going through, and this is one of the most difficult there is.  It's life changing in so many ways.  It makes relationships stronger and breaks them up.  It wipes out savings accounts, racks up debt, keeps someone from buying a house, going back to school, taking a dream vacation, or quitting the job they hate; maybe even to be a stay at home parent to their first miracle.

Don't ignore the human side of infertility.  It's not all about stats, it's all about people and their dreams.

Weaned

It's been just over a week. I think that Bug is officially weaned. She's handling it pretty well, although whenever she's stressed, tired, or hurts herself her hand still goes right down my shirt and frantically moves around until she finds my boob, my nipple. And it calms her. So it's nice to know that I still can calm her with my boobs LOL.

The other day I think I realized one of the reasons why weaning her was so hard for ME. K is still at home with her everyday, so she prefers him right now. It still breaks my heart, but I know that as time goes on it'll change. Sometimes she'll prefer him, sometimes it'll be me. I've accepted that.

But weaning. That was still my thing. It was when she always wanted me, no matter what. It was the comfort that I could give her when nothing else worked, and it always worked. It was our time together that K was never a part of, and never could be. After work she would take my hand and lead me to the glider, where we always nursed. She loved those moments, and so did I. I was comforting her the other night just by rocking her when it hit me. K was playing with her hand to help, and I asked him to stop. I wanted those moments. I explained to him that by weaning her I had given up something so special. He understood.

I still wish that I could've nursed longer. I still wish that I could have let HER decide when it was time to stop. I still wish that we were still nursing. But the pain is lessened. I still cry sometimes, but it doesn't hurt as bad as time is wearing on. As I get geared up and excited to start the IVF process to try to make her a sibling. It's easier knowing that's why I made the decision. But as I type this I can feel the tears in my eyes, so I know it's still fresh that I made a very difficult decision, but for all the right reasons.

I still laugh at the time that I thought I would NEVER nurse past a year. Then when I kept going I thought to myself 'by 18 months, no matter what.' At the end I know I wouldn't have stopped if she wasn't ready. At the end I knew that I would've kept going until 2 years, maybe even 3 years. I think that there would've been an eventual cut off for me, but obviously I was proven wrong on that thought a couple of times, so I'm not so sure that I wouldn't have gone until later than 2 or 3. I'll never know, and I'm coming to terms with that.

I think another reason is that if I do get to have another baby, I don't know how that relationship will be. Bug was always so gentle, once we got it down. She only bit once when she got teeth. She loved it as much as I did. Will a second? I don't know, but I sure hope so. I really do. But if not, then I know that I've gotten to have something that is so special. That I gave her the best for as long as I could.

The best part? I saved some frozen milk from my days pumping. It's in a deep freeze so good up to a year. Every night before bed that's the milk she gets now. So she still gets some of mommy, she still gets that goodness for a bit longer.

That makes me happy, and a proud mommy.

will i regret it?

I try to live by the adage that I will regret more what I don't do than what I do.

Tonight I didn't nurse bug. When I did last night it was so precious, so bittersweet. It was the last time. Possibly ever. That's hard. I hope to God these next few days are easy. I hope to God I don't regret this decision.

Today I will say it. I hate infertility and the choices it forces me to make. Today I am trying my best not to let it drag me down. Today I take deep breathes and allow myself to feel that hatred.

Tomorrow I can move on. But I will allow myself this tonight.

So much to say...

Wow, it's been a while since I've written. I've been following blogs still, but not posting as much as I would like. It's just been crazy over the holidays, still settling in, and busy at work. Plus, our work filters now won't let me post, so I have to wait until I get a chance at home, which is rare.

I will catch up later from the holidays, but for today I want to talk about Infertility.

I'm just about due for AF. I know she's coming, but I want to deny it. I've said before that I'm not struggling this time around as badly as I did when we were trying for our first, which is true. But. That doesn't mean it's easy. I'm about 10 months post first AF after Buggie was born. So, we've officially been not preventing, and trying, for that time. I know the chances are so slim of it happening on its own, but I can't help but to hope.

I was never a tester. When trying for our first, I knew, every single month, that I wasn't pregnant. K always wanted me to test, but I never wanted to. I didn't want to see that 1 pink line, that just reiterated what I already knew. Knowing was bad enough. There were a few months that I gave in and tried to appease K, and those were probably the hardest negatives to face. Once we headed down the IVF path he stopped asking me to test. We stopped temping, stopped paying attention to CM (cervical mucous), stopped everything. It was our attempt at gaining some of our control back. Looking back on it now, it never really worked. What it did do was allowed us to take at least 1 step back. It was still the main thing in our lives. The one topic of conversation that was always ongoing, the one thing that pushed everything else back to the back burner.

This time around I've not done any of it. Nothing. The only reason I've even tracked my cycles is because I knew that I'd need to for our RE appointments. Since AF has been back I've been more regular than I've ever been before. Except one month, when K was gone and buggie wasn't sleeping and wanting to nurse all the time. I gave in and tested. The negative was glaring, but I handled it with a shrug of the shoulders. It really was expected, and really didn't have a bad effect on me.

So. I didn't write down my cycle last month, but I know I was at the tail end of it when I had my girls weekend, which was December 10. So, AF is on it's way. I know this. But. I am hoping. I have had these weird twinges for the last week or so. I spotted a little bit after sex over the weekend (which isn't abnormal when AF is on her way), but there's been no more spotting, which is abnormal. Typically I spot off and on for at least a week prior to AF rearing her ugly head. To top it off, a couple times in the last few days there has been what looks like tissue in the toilet after I pee. Maybe a little tinged red, but not really bloody - which I've never had before. I know, probably TMI, but here my brain is hoping it's implantation. One would think I'd be beyond this by now, but obviously that is not the case.

I suddenly find myself wanting to test. I suddenly have this overwhelming urge that maybe, just maybe, I'm pregnant. It's so wrong because I know what will happen. I tore apart the bathroom yesterday when I had 5 minutes away from K looking for a test. I thought I still had one, but alas, I couldn't find one.

I keep hoping that it will miraculously happen on it's own, that way I won't have to wean buggie.  That way if she decides to self wean during pregnancy as I hear happens so often, it's her choice.  I want it to be her choice, not mine.  But I don't want to wait for too much longer since we can't go through treatments if I'm still breastfeeding her.  It's such a difficult decision.  This coming from the woman who never thought she'd nurse past a year.  Buggie is almost a year and 1/2.  It's amazing, and crazy.  I love every minute of it, and so does she.  But I want so badly to start trying to give her a sibling.

**sigh**

19 Kids and Counting

So, the other night I was exhausted.  I did some studying for the GMAT, and then watched about 10 mins of TV before crashing out just after 9:00.  Bug hasn't been sleeping well, so that means I haven't been either.

So, I was flipping through the channels, and I knew I only wanted to watch for a few mins, so I didn't want to get hooked into anything.  So, I was looking for something stupid to stare at blankly for 10 mins.  What do I stop on?  19 kids and counting.

Now, you may be asking yourself, why in the world would an infertile choose to watch this show?  I don't know, I'm asking myself the same question.  I've never watched it before, I've always refused based on the obvious. 

I swear my hand had a mind of it's own, and picked the stupid show.  I really did only watch about 10 mins of it, but in that 10 mins I managed to get myself worked up.  How is it, that one single family can have this many children, when so many people out there can't even manage to get pregnant, or carry to term, or hold beyond birth, one child?  Is that really so much to ask for?  Don't get me wrong, I realize that I'm lucky enough to have that one child, even though I do want another. 

But it still pisses me off for my comrades, those soldiers that I fought this war next to that still do not have a child.  Those soldiers that are now trying for number two, those soldiers who had to mourn never having a child, instead choosing to live childless.  Those soldiers who had to mourn never having a 'biological' child, only to realize that their adopted child is.  These soldiers are good people, they deserve the chance to be a parent.  To hold their little one and watch them grow.  To see them off to college, to watch them get married, to help them welcome in their own child.

It's just not fair.  Good for the Duggars, if it's really what they want.  But they don't take care of their own kids, the other kids do!  So now you're forcing children to grow up before their time and become parents to their own siblings.  My big question?  How do they afford it?  Who pays for it all?  At least before the TV show that I'm sure makes them gobs of money.  For God's sake, let it be someone else's turn!!

I just remember too well the pain and heartache and suffering of primary infertility.  I'm remembering it everyday as I struggle with secondary infertility, and the decisions that must be made, just to have a child.  Something that should come naturally, something that no one should have to fight so hard for.  Something that causes so many marriages to fall apart, sometimes that helps to put them back together, and something that causes people to feel like failures as women and men. 

Every day I live with the burdens, skeletons, and choices that infertility left me with.  It's who I am, without it I would be missing something so important and integral to the person that I have become.  I would not trade my experiences, even if I sometimes wish I could go back and make better choices.  I do NOT want to go through it again, but I know that we will come out the other side.

To those still in the trenches, remember how many before you have sat in your shoes and been able to make those difficult choices and come out the other side as a better person.  Remember all those that struggled for more years then you think you could handle, and how in the end they got their miracle(s).  Let it help keep your hope alive, even though hope is sometimes what makes the fall that much more difficult.  Without the hope you will not make it through.  With it, with the knowledge that so many have made it, and with your beliefs (whatever they may be), you will make it through too.  Your time will come.

And please, for God's sake, DO NOT WATCH 19 KIDS AND COUNTING!!!

Sorry, I'm off my soap box now, I think.

Aftershocks of Infertility and Failed IVF

So, I've written all about our failed IVF treatments.  I've told you how they affected us while we were going through them.  I have not yet told you about the aftershocks.  They rippled through our entire lives, and affected us in countless ways.

First off, we agreed to jump right back on the bandwagon.  We were going to try IVF again in October 2008.  But then the fighting started.  The harsh words.  The blame.  The avoidance of each other.  The drinking to forget (for me).  Our relationship went downhill, and it went so fast that no one even realized how bad it had gotten until we hit rock bottom.

Rock bottom started on the day that we started sleeping in different bedrooms.  Then K moved out and in with his mom.  We talked less and less, and when we did, it was always fighting.  I remember the day my boss put an offer on the table for me to move for work.  I told him No, but then when I told K about it he freaked and thought I said yes.  We screamed at each other over the phone for my entire 2 hour drive home.  That was the night that we started sleeping in different rooms.  He moved out right before Thanksgiving, but we still hosted a family dinner.  It was the absolute pit of Hell for both of us, and ended with me locking myself in my bedroom bawling.

We started to live our own lives.  We starting talking about divorce.  We couldn't look at each other.  But he did tell me that I would have to file, that he never would.

I finally went back to my boss and told him I was interested in what he could do for me to move, 4 hours away.  I needed out.  A week later, he offered me a moving package that I couldn't refuse.  I told K.  He was upset, but took it in stride.  Looking back now, that move was the best thing for us at the time.  We were so angry with one another.

With the decision of divorce, we both started dating other people.  I moved.  He went back to school.  We both lived the single life, and for a time, loved it.  We still had to talk because we owned our house back home.  I had started going to church before I moved, but now I started RCIA classes and decided to be baptized catholic.  We spent a lot of time talking about the rite of marriage and it hurt to know that I was throwing that rite away.  I started realizing how much I missed K, the him before we dealt with infertility.  The me before we dealt with infertility.  I was afraid to admit that to him, or even really myself.  I continued to date, so did he.  I got counseling, and slowly came to grips with the tragedy I had endured, with the loss of my babies, and inadvertantly, with the loss of my love, my husband. 

Slowly, the talks became less fighting and more talking.  We became friends again.  We even had some talks about the people we were dating.  The more we talked, the more we talked, if that makes sense.  I started finding myself checking my phone to see if I had texts from him, even when I was with the guy I was dating.  That became my sign.  I knew what I had thrown away.  K had always said I would have to file for divorce, but I could never bring myself to do it.  But I didn't think he'd have me back.  Not after what I had done. 

I ended things with the guy I was seeing.  K and I started talking more.  I was so afraid to let him know how I felt.  He was no longer dating anyone either.  He said it though, he was stronger than I was, 'Let's try this again.'  I was so afraid, afraid that it wouldn't work, and that one of us would hurt the other.  We had plans to see each other over Christmas, and I told him that we would see how that went and go from there.  He agreed.  We talked about it more and more.  We saw each other a couple of times, but it was a non intimate situation.

Then the other shoe fell.  The one thing that in my mind could ruin any chances of making it happen.  I never realized that in the long run it wouldn't have that effect at all.

I found out I was pregnant.

Somewhat ironic that someone who thought they couldn't get pregnant ended up pregnant 'by accident.'  I thought I knew my cycle, but I messed it up one month.  I forgot that while I always considered US infertile (and still do), I forgot to remember that I could get pregnant, that we suffered from severe Male Factor Infertility, and there was 'nothing' wrong with me.  I got careless.  When I found out it was a moment of pure joy, I was elated beyond belief, then I had the moment where I thought to myself that it was the wrong situation. 

The day I told K I cried so hard.  He took it well, but he cancelled our plans for the night and went out to have his alone time.  I was devestated, and had prepared myself for single parenthood.  But I was wrong about K.  He called me and said, 'you know, this is what we always wanted.  wanting this almost destroyed us, and now we've been offered a miracle.  I love you and love our child.'  He also pointed out that we were getting divorced, that he made the same choices that I did, he did the same things that I did, but he really couldn't get anyone else pregnant.

He opened his arms and took me back, with unconditional love.  I'm not saying we haven't had to work hard, because we have.  We had a lot of hurdles to get over, a lot of apologizing and forgiving to do.  But we did it.  We made it in one piece.  We learned how to communicate.  But it has all been worth it and now we are stronger than ever.  K adopted Bug, so we are truly one unit, one family, Bug is his daughter, period.  We even have to catch ourselves before giving K's medical history for her. 

I was baptized at Easter last April.  I was 6 months pregnant, and it was right before my 30th birthday.  I thank God, literally, for giving me my life and love back.  I thank him for making me see the light, I thank Him and my counselor for getting me to accept and move on from my demons.  We go to church every week, with very few exceptions.  We have finally found GodParents for Bug (virtually no one we know is Catholic), and are getting ready to baptize her.  Every day, every week, I thank God for K, for Bug, and yes, for our sperm donor.  I thank God for helping me to get back on path, and to help keep me on it.  When I struggle, I talk to K now instead of keeping it in.  I am, in a good way, a changed woman.

The wrong situation turned out to be the best thing of my, of our, lives.

IVF

Oh my, I cannot believe that I forgot to mention this!  BUT, I think it may just deserve its own post.

So, K and I were discussing our IF treatment options this weekend.  We did this after we joined a sailing club here in our new home town, after being without a club last year (boo!)...

So, I told him that I kinda wanted to try IVF one more time.  Just once.  Just to give him a little one that was biologically his.

His answer?  So do I.

Wow.  That was a big decision that I think we just made really easily.  We had already agreed to start counseling before we started treatment, so I am going to be finding us a counselor in the next couple of weeks.  We agreed just one try.  That if IVF doesn't work this time around, we will go the route of donor sperm and an IUI/AI.  It's just not worth the strain (financially and emotionally) to do it anymore than that.  Especially after the way we handled it (OK, really, the way I handled it) the last time around.

I haven't told anyone yet.  Just you guys know (which I recognize is, like, the whole world wide web, but no one that knows me IRL reads this yet!  In part, for this reason!!)

So, I think we have narrowed it down to two options for a clinic.  The first option is in our insurance network, and will therefore our office visits, ultrasounds and possibly lab work (if they do it right there) will all be paid by insurance and just subject to my responsibility.  I have also received a recommendation for this clinic.  They are also close to work, which is very nice (as those of you that have IF experience, I will be spending some time there!!).  The second clinic is not yet in network, although I have requested them to be recruited.  (OK, and here's where I admit that I am a manager in a contracting department for my health insurance company.  I do not handle the area I live in though, so this rep does not report to me, nor will I be making any decisions that would affect their joining, so no ethics issues here).  This clinic has come pretty highly recommended as well.

We agreed to at least do consults with both, and go from there. 

I'm excited.  I'm nervous.  I'm hopeful.  K told me this weekend that he really does want another baby.  This is great news as so do I! 

Phew.  Wish me luck!  We were planning on starting treatments sometime after Bug turns 1, which is in July!

~Emms

Infertility, the IVF Final Chapter

I've been trying to figure out when to put this one out, and I know when I do I will forget a lot.  Because I don't want to read it over after I have written it.  I just want to get it out there.  Really, when to put the words in writing that will be very difficult for me.  The hardest chapter, one that had lasting consequences.  Tough, life altering consequences.  After this post I will update on the after effects of what happened, and how it all got fixed.

So, here goes.

It all starts in May, 2008.  I talk to my RE's office on May 19.  They tell me we're changing the meds protocol, again.  The fact that I responded to the antagonist protocol the way I did made them want to go back to a Lupron cycle.  So they tell me that we'll extend the amount of time on BCP's, then up the dose of Lupron (suppression) and keep a low dose of repronex (stims).  Then, they will start in with ultrasounds and blood work on day 3 instead of day 5, and keep a close eye on me.  Apparently my case had become quite the talk of the office.

So now, I just have to wait for AF to rear her ugly head.  We feel hopeful, but scared.  After what we'd been through we wanted to remain cautious, but optimistic.  So AF comes on June 5.

Let's get this party started.  I start taking the BCP's.

June 13 I start my Lupron.  As before, the side effects are horrendous.  But I'm getting better (slightly) at dealing with them. 

Baseline u/s looks good (did I mention that all of these u/s are trans vaginal?  I've never let so many people look at my vagina as I did during this time.  Hello to the world she seemed to be saying).

June 27 I start stimming.  I get more and more hopeful.  This is it, I think to myself.  It has to work this time!  The odds are in our favor!

June 30 I have blood work.  My estrogen levels look good!  Wow, I breath a little sigh of relief. 

July 2 I have more b/w and another u/s.  We are looking at somewhere around 30+ follies, and my estrogen levels still look great.  Oh man, oh man, we're looking better than ever before!!

July 5 my b/w and u/s look great.  They are talking about Egg Retrieval (ER) and Embryo Transfer (ET).  Oh my, we've never really talked about those before.  Could this really be it?!  They mention maybe triggering on the 8th.

K and I can't help but to be excited, happy, and nervous.  We have no idea what to expect at this point.  No clue, but we just KNOW it will work, as do friends on my online community.  After all we've been through, this is our cycle, we just know it.  Our hopes are so high, we forget to keep them in check so that they can't come crashing down.  Every infertile does it.  They let themselves get so caught up in believing that this cycle will be it.  HOPE.  We cannot help but to hope.  It's a necessity to have during this struggle, but it is also what breaks us down.  With it we're broken, but without it we are nothing.

July 7 we have our last u/s and b/w.  My estrogen is at 3100 which is a good number.  I have 10 great looking follies.  They tell me that they'll  call me later with date and time for trigger, but it'll probably be July 8.

Somewhere in all of this we did a mock transfer with the doc.  It went smooth.  He feels that my uterus is beautiful and perfect.  Never thought I'd be so glad to hear that!

Wait, did you just say Trigger?  We've not gotten to do this yet!  Panic mode!  We don't know how!  It's more meds, and it has to be in the hip area, right?!  Isn't that what we remember from our IVF training?  Oh man oh man oh man.  Deep breathing.  Slow down. 

The call comes.  Trigger tonight (July 7) at 11:30pm.  Come in for the ER at 10:00 am on 7/9.  But that morning, you have to POAS and make sure it comes back positive.  Ohhhhhh my, it's happening.  It's really really happening.

K and I are in tears we are so happy.  That night he has to wake me up and give me the shot.  Painful?  A little, but almost a relief.  We stop everything else.  Now we let my body do it's thing and hopefully they'll get out a lot of little eggies!

Making it through July 8 was just about impossible.  I couldn't concentrate at work.  All I could do was picture what my body was doing, and what my little eggies would do in their petri dish.

July 9 is a crazy day.  I get to the docs office and they take us back to a room.  They give me an IV, which the nurse manages to screw up and blood is shooting all over the wall and the floor.  I won't watch.  They give me two drugs, one is waking anesthesia and the other is a relaxer.  It works pretty quick and I'm feeling laid back.  About this time K has to leave the room.  They lay me back and get the ultrasound going.  They take a very long, ugly looking needle and go in through my vagina, and through my uterine wall.  I know it would hurt if I could feel anything.  I pass out for a little bit (from the meds) and wake up to watch them on the u/s.  I can see them going into each follie and pulling out my eggs.  My future babies.

Poor K has to give two samples because they get so little usable sperm from the first.  We try not to let this stress us out.  I relax the rest of the day and wait for the next days update call.

14 eggs were removed.  11 were fertilized.  1 fertilized abnormally.  That left 10.  'That's a great number' we keep thinking.  Every day we get a status report, and while some are slow growing, we have 2 that look like prime candidates for transfer, and another 2-3 that look good for freezing.  Our hopes grow.  This is really happening!  We're going to be pregnant!!

We go in for the transfer.  I have to have a full bladder.  It's so full that it's painful.  Kev gets to stay in the room with me this time.  They turn on the u/s machine and take a catheter tube with our two best embies and transfer them back into my body.  I lay back for about 20 minutes, until I think my bladder may explode.  They give us a couple of ultrasound pictures of those little embies doing their thing, and we pray, harder than we've ever prayed, that they will implant.  At least one.  For the next two weeks I have to use progesterone vaginal suppositories.  They are unpleasant, but I don't care.  If it means I get pregnant, I'll do anything.

We forget the u/s pictures at the office.  I cry.

I take 4 days off to remain on bed rest.  I barely move, except to go to the bathroom and get food when Kev isn't there.  I play on the computer, I watch TV and movies.  I relax.  I have some strange cramping, but the doc says that is normal.  On the second day the office calls and tells me that 3 embies will make it to freeze.  They say they will call back once they are frozen.  This is not the normal person that called with all of my lab updates, so when I don't here back 2 days later, I call them.  Oh no, they tell me, none of your embies made it to freeze, we're so sorry, the tech must have gotten two cases mixed up.

This is when everything begins to unravel for me.  I'm heartbroken.  They said those embies looked so good.  I let myself go down the path of ' if they didn't make it, did the two they transplanted make it?'  It was tough. 

I try not to think about it.  I try to live as normal a life as possible in the remainder of the TWW (two week wait).  I drive myself crazy with every little sign that could mean AF or pregnancy.  Why does mother nature treat us cruelly by making the symptoms all the same?

Then I spot.  I feel broken.  I call the office.  'Don't worry' they tell me, 'that happens sometimes, could be implantation bleeding'  But I worry.  How can I not?  After all we've been through, all the emotional and financial strain.  What if this doesn't work? 

July 25, 2008 comes.  This is my beta (blood test) to see if it worked.  I'm nervous.  I go get my blood taken in the morning.  I tell K when they call me with the results I'll conference him in.  The next hours drag by slower than anything I've ever been through.

The phone rings.  And I know.  I know the answer.

I answer the phone and quickly put the nurse on hold and call K.

'I'm sorry' she says to us.  'You are not pregnant.'

July 25, 2008, the day my world fell apart.  The day that the shell of a person I had become broke down into dust.  The day I didn't even know if I could continue to live my life, knowing that my embies, my perfect LIVING little babies, died.

Two years, to the day, before I became whole again with the birth of my beautiful daughter.

I sit in my office and sob.  I can't even talk to K I'm crying so hard.  'Come home' he tells me.  I can tell he is heartbroken too.  Once I calm down enough I walk into my bosses office and simply say 'I need to leave.'  She takes one look at me and says Go.  I know I look like death warmed over.

I beat K home.  I can't go in the house.  The empty, silent house.  That should have been filled with baby cries in 38 more weeks.  We go shopping instead.  We go out to dinner that night.  We are broken and I don't feel well, but I can't go home. 

That weekend we get a hotel room.  We try to relax some.  But AF comes.  Harder than she ever has before, as I basically miscarry my two little babies.  I practically sit on the toilet for hours because it is so heavy, and the clots are huge, and I hurt so bad.  Physically and emotionally.  I cry.  I cry for myself, I cry for Kev, I cry for my babies.  I cry for the future that looks so bleak, and the possibilities that are no more.  I cry because we have come so far, only to fail again. 

Looking back now, this is probably when I began the blame game.  The game I swore I would never let myself play.  Blaming K for us going through IF.  The 'it's his fault but I have to deal with all the meds, side effects and procedures.'  Blaming myself for my embies not sticking.  The 'my body rejected my beautiful little babies for no good reason.'  Blaming everyone around me because they had never dealt with anything like infertility, and they didn't know how to comfort me.  I refused to go back to counseling. 

I spiral out of control.  I start drinking too much.  I start fighting with K.  I tell him that when I look at him I see what he cannot give me, what we should be able to do naturally, and I can't stand it.  I am a cruel cruel image of my former self.  I hate the person I have become but I cannot stop it.  I say things that I can never take back, and to this day I am so sorry for that.  I wish I hadn't let that happen to me.  I wish that I could have held myself together.  I wish I could have realized what was happening and have gotten help for it.  I'm not proud of the person I was during this time frame.  In fact, this is the closest that I'll ever be able to honestly say I disliked myself.  I did.  But, it is another aspect of my life that made me the person I am today.  I am so lucky that even after all that I put K through, that he was able to continue loving me.  He is a strong strong man, and one that I will never, ever treat this way again.  I can only thank God for him.

This is where I let Infertility ruin me.  This is where I let Infertility win.

Infertility, Part 3

Short recap - we agreed to do IVF with ICSI, went through all the injections, everything was cancelled 2 days prior to ER due to OHSS.

So, picking up where we left off... I finally received a call from the RE advising that the RE's in the office had discussed my case.  Apparently my case was the talk of the table so to speak.  They had made a decision to change my meds protocal to an Antegon cycle.  This works a little differently than a Lupron cycle, in that they are not going to stop my body from ovulating right away.  Instead, they are going to wait until I have so many follies hit a certain size and THEN start the Antegon and therefore stop the impending ovulation.  The point here is to kill off the smaller follies, thereby having less come mature.  It's a great concept, right?

So, we have to wait for my next cycle.  The wait seems endless, but we are renewed with hope.  New Meds, it'll work this time, right?

In so many ways I was secretly hoping AF wouldn't come, hoping that I would be magically pregnant.  That somehow one egg lived through my killing of them by Lupron, and managed to hit that tiny minimal margin of us being able to get pregnant on our own.  Ouch, that's a hard wish in an infertile's shoes.  And one that every infertile knows all too well, one that we all wish month after month after month.  Only to be let down, again, when she rears her ugly head.

And she did.  I was sad, but in other ways glad, because it meant we could get started again!  So, onto the birth control pills I go, started a week before my birthday in April 2008.  (Does anyone else think it's SO funny that when going through infertility treatments you start with BCP's, which are meant to KEEP you from getting pregnant?  Ohhh the irony.)  I hang on the BCP's for a little over a week this time.  Then I start the Repronex (stims) just a few days after my birthday.  This happens after an ultrasound to verify that my ovaries 'cooled off' enough to start again, which they did. 

Ohhh the Repronex.  The food for my little eggies.  The injection that the first time around made me one big welt.  So, they start me right off on a low dose of it.  A dose so low that the RE advises that most people's eggies wouldn't live.  It's all good though, because I'm cautiously optimistic. 

So, an ultrasound on day 5 of the stims.  My eggies seem to like this way so far, yep, they seem to be thriving in this environment.  But not too much!  My numbers are a little high we find, but not too bad.  They say keep doing what you're doing, continue with the Repronex only, and we'll see you back in 2 days.

No Antagon yet?

No, they tell me.  Why not?  Well, my biggest eggies were not quite big enough to start the Antagon.  A couple more days, and those should be good, and we'll start the Antagon.  Two more days should be FINE they say.  No worries about ovulating.

So 2 days pass, and I go back in for more bloodwork and an ultrasound.  I'm getting uncomfortable for sure, but NOTHING like what I was the first time around.  I'm thinking this is good, right?!

Except.

I know, you're thinking 'nothing can go wrong this time, can it?'  I know we were.  The odds had to be in our favor this time, right?  I'm happy, and floating on a cloud of optimism.

But it was not to be.  Again.

They call me with my lab results.  An LH surge they say.  What's that? I ask them.  Well, it means you're ovulating.  Those little eggies, all those immature little eggies, are doing there thing.  What they're supposed to do of course, but they weren't supposed to do it this early.  Now it's too late to do the Antegon.  Now it's another cancelled cycle. 

*sigh*

So many tears.  We still DTD, even though I hurt so bad, just in case.  Maybe one egg was mature enough and it would work.  Maybe.  Maybe.

So, first cycle was cancelled 2/23, second one almost 2 months to the day on 4/24.  My heart breaks a little more, my mind shuts off a little further.  Why, oh why I ask anyone who knows and will listen.  Why is this happening?  We've done things right!  We got married, bought a house, finished school, THEN and only then did we decide to try for a family.  So now, we've been married just shy of 6 years, and a family seems so far off that it is only an unattainable dream.  We've officially been trying to have a baby for 2 years now.  2 long, hard years.

So we take another weekend away.  And AF rears her ugly head again, this month she is really horrendous, like she is laughing at me as she is busy dashing my hopes and dreams for what seems like the millionth time by now.  All I want to do is curl up in a ball and hide away for the rest of forever.  I have to take the time to mourn what could have been, and that is so hard, so very very hard.  I am a miserable human being.  I don't know how to make it through this in one piece.  I envy those with children, and find myself judging people that had an easy time making babies.  Fertiles.  Here I am, part of this club of infertiles, and I don't want to be here.

Infertility.... in general

It sucks.  Infertility sucks.  Why is it that the one thing that I should be able to do naturally, I can't.  We can't.  There is something there that stops us.  The elephant in the room that at one time we never talked about, but now we do.  Which is good.  But..... that doesn't stop it from sucking.  It's feeling empty, it's feeling like you are failing.  It's being a part of a club that is exclusive but you don't want to join, you are made a member even when you fight it with all of your might.  The club, as it turns out, is larger than you would expect.  According to the CDC, there are 430 clinics in the US to treat those of us infertiles. 

The numbers are staggering, approximately 10% of women, or 6.1 million of us between the ages of 15-44 have difficulty getting or staying pregnant. 

Wow.  That's a lot.

7.5% of sexually active men have reported a visit to help with concieving a child.  Of those, 18.1% were diagnosed with a male related infertility problem.  Wow, that's what we fall into.

I don't want to be in that category.  I don't want to be one of those statistics.  Can't I give it back?  I want to!  I don't like being here!  It sucks, the sign on the club door should tell us to stay away, but we can't, it's like an invisible force that draws us in. 

The want to be parents. 

For me, it was almost a need.  It was the culmination of everything that I made right in my life after all that I had done wrong.  It was my opportunity to show the world that I made it to where I wanted to be, and I was going to be able to raise a child to be a good person.

So why did the universe have other idea's in mind?  Why did I have to fall in that statistic?  Did I mention that I don't want to be a statistic?  Especially part of this one! 

Infertility broke me.  It made me become the person that I never wanted to be.  I became the adult version of my teenage years because I didn't know how to handle it, and no one around me understood except for Kev, and he was dealing with his own issues because of it all.  We tried to help each other, but how do you help each other when you don't know how to help yourselves?  It's virtually impossible.

So, I found myself a support group after we started going through treatment.  They were a great group of women, very supportive, and all dealing with the same thing.  The big IF.  Here is my first post after our cancelled cycle:

I think I'm just looking for someone to commiserate with. We are going through IVF due to severe male infertility due to a medical condition DH had as a baby. There's nothing they can do to fix the numbers. I waited for a year before getting us checked, and that was only after months of DH urging that we needed to. He knew, I didn't want to accept it. Then another six months of going to Andrologist to see what we could do. Finally we moved on to the FC for IVF with ICSI. Started my first cycle, had to cancel two days before retrieval. RE told me that if he gave me the Hcg that I would be in the hospital. I had 60+ follicles with my estrogen at 5500 already, and none were mature enough to take. By the time we would have had some, there would have been 20+ mature and ready, and god only knows what my estrogen would have been at. I love my RE, and I understand why he cancelled, but that doesn't stop the hurt over it. We've been dealing with all this, and I had such a hard time with the Lupron/Repronex mix. He said he would have to change it, but he wasn't sure what he was going to do yet. He said give it 6 - 8 wks for my ovaries to cool down. Depressing. Any one else in the middle of it right now??!! It just Sucks!!!!

 

The support I got from the women over at mothering.com was amazing.  They deserve kudos.  But I didn't let them, a counselor, or even Kev and my friends and family help me as I should have let them.  Some of them didn't know how to or what to do, but I didn't help them to help me.  I became a shell of a person.

 

So, after our first cancellation we agreed to try again.  We just had to wait for AF (aunt flo) to show up.  Which she did amazingly quickly.  We called the RE, they had discussed my case wihin the clinic and had come up with a way to change my cycle.  It was an adjustment to the meds.  So I went into round 2 with a new level of hope.  Thoughts that it would work this time around.  After all, it couldn't keep failing, could it?

Happy New Year

Wow, what a year it has been.  At this time last year it was still sinking in that I was finally pregnant.  Life was great, even though I was so scared of losing the pregnancy.  At this time we were getting very close to that precious 14 week mark where the chances of miscarrying drop drastically.  I was preparing to share the exciting news with everyone, although I was afraid that by sharing it we were jinxing it.

Onto 2010.  It has been the best year of my life!  While I dealt with some morning sickness, exhaustion, and a few weeks of bed rest due to threatened pre-term labor, all in all my pregnancy went smoothly.  I was due on 7/21, but I went 4 days overdue.  The doctor had finally scheduled an induction because she didn't want me to go too long overdue, but thankfully I went into labor on my own before our induction date.  Thankfully, because I really didn't want to be induced.  I'll post the birth story at a later time, but suffice it to say it was an amazing experience.  I cried when they laid our new baby girl on my chest.  I couldn't believe we'd finally done it - we finally had a baby.  She was healthy and had 10 fingers and 10 toes!  It was such an amazing experience!!

I have realized this year that I never really knew what love was.  I did not understand what it meant to love someone so much that I would throw myself under a bus to protect her.  This little tiny person that started out at 7 pounds 2 ounces has taken my heart and now grasps it in her little hands.  As she has grown (now around 14 pounds) she simply grasps it more tightly.  In all her giggles, smiles and talking she lets me know that she will never, EVER give it back.  Know what?  I'm OK with that! 

As the days pass, I have realized that the best thing to wake up to in the morning, even if it is only 3am and is the third... fourth... fifth time you have awakened, is the gummy little grin that shines upon that little face when she sees her mama coming to get her.  She shares it every morning, and every morning it makes me melt.  I will never tire of it.

I realize that there is nothing like seeing that gummy smile for the very first time.  Nothing grabs at your heart more than the first giggle, the first time you hear her voice, and the first time you realize that she has figured out volume with that voice.  There is nothing that grosses me out anymore.  I've been spit up on, pooped on, peed on, snotted on.  Every bodily fluid you can imagine has come out of this precious little being and made it's way onto me and my clothes.  I hardly even notice.  It makes me smile a little when I realize at lunch time that I've been walking around with spit up on my shoulder all day.  Blow out diapers?  No problem!

I realize that the want to ensure the safety of my little girl outweighs everything.  All those heels I love sit at work and get put on when I get there, and come off when I leave.  So I can wear flats when I carry her into and out of our home, which involves stairs.  The bruises on my legs are nothing, even though when I see them I know they came from carrying her in her car seat.  And that flabby tummy that I still have?  It's not much, but it's enough to make all my pre-pregnancy pants fit just a little too snug and leave me with a little muffin top.  But I don't care, because that's just one of my mommy scars.  In fact, I wish I still had the negra line down my tummy.  It's a sign of the most precious little girl in my life and where she came from.

I have learned to live with exhaustion that could take down a herd of elephants for an entire week.  I have learned that even if mama is running a fever and sick as a dog, somewhere there comes an inhuman strength to continue to care for my Bug because dada is out of town for work. 

I have learned that a mama kiss can dry tears, bring about smiles and giggles.  I have learned that I can nourish my baby by simply putting her to my breast, and that the bond it builds is not just for her, but also for me.  I have learned that a baby massage can help calm an overtired baby.  I have learned the way to hold my bug depending on what she wants and needs at that moment. 

I have learned what cry means I am hungry, I am tired, I am wet, I need you or I need alone time. 

I have learned that I cannot always do it all by myself.  I have to ask for help sometimes, even when I have in the past been too proud to ask.  I have learned that being a good mama sometimes means asking for that help, because a happy healthy mama equals a happy health baby.

I have learned to write down questions for the doctor, and not to be afraid to call them.  I remember to ask those questions! 

I have learned to not judge other people's situations with their children, or parenting styles.  Everyone is different, and does what works for them and their children.  Everyone's situation is different.

I have learned that no one can ever prepare you for the joys and sorrows of motherhood.  I realize that as she gets older I will find new joys and sorrows that I cannot prepare for.  I like knowing that I am in a sisterhood that has millions of members, but is exclusive.

I have learned that the wait was worth it.  I have learned that infertility cannot overtake me.  I have learned that during all those times that I almost gave up, but refused because I wanted to experience this so badly were all so worth it.  The pain, dispair, heartache, ups and downs, were all worth it.

I have watched my husband become the father I have always known he would be, was meant to be.  I have seen the love shine in his eyes and know that everything I have felt and been through this year is reflected in his own pain and joys.  I have learned why I love him all over again, and again, and again.  I have seen gentleness in his touch that makes me want to weep tears of joy.  I have seen the way he can rock our little girl when she doesn't feel well and calm her down, while she looks up at him with a complete sense of security.

I have learned that communication is key.  Remaining calm and talking through everything helps make it all better.  Realizing that you will not always agree with your spouse.  That's OK too.

I think this sums up motherhood:
“Making the decision to have a child-it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
–Elizabeth Stone

So bring it on 2011, I can take whatever you bring to me.  And when you possibly bring the realities of dealing with infertility again, I will not let you become a ruined, want to forget you year.  I will embrace you as I embrace my little Bug (and K of course), with love, hope and excitement.  With the knowledge that I can make it through anything and come out in one piece.  That with Gods help, he will lead me down the road I am meant to be on.

I love you K.  I love you Bug.  With you and God, I can and will, do anything.

Happy New Year!