Almost Time!

We should have news to share by the end of this week--hopefully sooner rather than later. Yeah!

Why the switch?

Some of you may notice that in earlier postings, I talk about adoption occasionally. Then, I switched to fertility talk as our focus becomes more and more geared towards making Bird babies first. I wanted to take a moment to clarify why exactly this switch happened.

It's not because we no longer want to adopt, and it's not because we "want to have our OWN baby first." We believe that adopted or birthed, any child God grants us will indeed be our OWN, meant to be in our family. Instead, we are chosing to go the fertility-route now for some very simple and not very exciting reasons. First, we our young (and with my PCOS, this is a definite plus) and second, third, and fourth, we feel it's easier (relatively speaking), less expensive (believe it or not), and faster (yep, believe that or not too--of course, depending on the length of fertility treatment) than the international adoption we want to one day pursue.

After walking happily down the adoption track for several months, I kept feeling that the simplest way for us to bring home our baby Bird at this point in our lives would be to try to make one in a lab before we cross the far-away seas. :) At some point--perhaps sooner than later--I believe that we will walk that road and dream about our far-away miracle once again. In fact, I actually already long for that child too. The most important point to me, however, is that Tim and I are in complete agreement, whether in the fertility office or the airport terminal. IVF is where our agreement has brought us, but we are willing to shift gears again as new information and new direction leads.

For now, though, I feel I can only focus on getting one Baby Bird at a time. (And with 12 on ice, that may be no small undertaking). Happy baby-making/waiting!

Still Waiting

Yes, still waiting. If it's driving you crazy, how do you think I feel? :) Today I went to the doctor for more blood work. I see them almost every other day at present.

I thought that in today's blog I might answer a question that a friend recently asked me. "So, are you hopeful or are you just waiting for the bottom to fall out (as it seems to do periodically)?" Followed by, "How will you feel if it doesn't work?" Because we've known one another since childhood, she can ask tough questions like this.

My response was quick although I was only a couple of days into the process, still on bed rest in fact. "It would feel like a miscarriage," I answered. It would feel like loss. It would feel ten times worse than the day I drove to our new Houston home from Galveston in the pouring rain, sobbing because the blood work came back negative. It would feel like the quiet moments of whispering baby names back and forth with Tim had been stolen from me. It would feel like part of me fled with the loss. And then, after time passed, it wouldn't hurt as much, and I'm sure we'd try again.

I have another dear friend who lost her son around 35 weeks before doing IVF and delivering her beautiful, healthy baby girl a couple of years later. The strength of her words despite the tears that form anytime he is mentioned teach me that each sadness can be used to build an inner fortitude that stands solid despite the next discouragement. I've heard this referred to as the ministry of disappointment.

I do not write this (rather dismal) entry because I expect disappointment. On the contrary, I am extremely optimistic at this point. Instead, I write this to provide an inside glimpse to anyone who may not have experienced loss of a baby-hope. It might benefit us to all be more sensitive in our comments or to learn when to just be silent and grieve a while until the time for smiles returns. For though weeping remains for a night, rejoicing comes with the morning. Come, rejoicing, come.

Just a chat

This morning I went into the doctor's office for my second follow up appointment. No news yet, of course. (Basically, I'm at the place where most people wouldn't be really even wondering whether or not they were pregnant except that I saw two tiny dot-babies placed inside me.) As I sat in the waiting room, surrounded by silent, strong women, I was struck by the fact that we were all sharing a similar struggle and yet none of us felt comfortable even looking into one another's eyes. Is there something shameful about this process? Is it so private that it becomes secretive? Is it so difficult that we'd rather only whisper about it to the people we love?

I would have completely avoided eye contact (as is the unspoken fertility waiting room etiquette) except that a smiling, young black woman who was practically glowing (really) looked me right in the eye and whispered a polite greeting. In the past three months in that waiting room, I don't think I've ever had that response. Sitting across from us was a woman staring intently at her magazine of choice. A moment later, another woman--this one thin, white with long, blond hair--entered the room with a pained expression on her features. She hadn't even yet signed in and she looked as if she might cry at any moment. As she sat nearby, she made the fourth corner of our silent little female fertility party.

I broke the ice, looking at the friendliest face first. She seemed happy after all. "Are you finished with all your treatments?"

She nodded and smiled the grin of the finished. "I'm in my two week wait."

"Me too," I answered, happy to have been warmly received. Within a few minutes I found out her story, using the lingo that all fertility females know just like our ABC's. Day 5 transfer. 25 eggs. 19 fertilized. Ended with "only" 17 embryos. "Only?" I asked, aware that the women sitting near us may not have dreamed of every being that lucky. But this gal was only 26, an embryo herself in the world of fertility.

"We tried for a while, and then we decided to adopt," she said. "We went through CPS and had our little boy for a year and a half before he was taken back to his mom." She said it with the socially-expected non-emotionalism, but I could tell that baby was hers heart and soul. Still, she seemed cheerful, saying that she just wants what's best for him.

When this young woman and I discovered that our transfers were approximately 45 minutes apart on the same day with the same doctor, she asked another standard question. "Have you been checking your levels?" Of course. And we compared ours. Similar, as expected.

The magazine woman was called into the doctor's office, leaving us with a triad of fertility females. Although the pained woman had interjected occasionally, she began to share more of her story eagerly after the smiling woman and I had talked for a while. She's almost forty, had a successful IVF, and lost the baby at two months. She had no embryos left over to freeze. "It's so frustrating to start from the beginning again," she said, her eyes downcast. Her husband is out of town, so his sperm is on ice, ready and waiting for the next fertilization.

"I'm so sorry. I could tell when you walked in that you were having a hard time." Simple words, but she seemed ready to hear someone who knows what this is like to look her in the eyes and apologize for her body's betrayal of her desires.

At one point during the conversation, I joked that we should start a support group, and I received a few chuckles, even from magazine woman. Perhaps that extreme isn't needed, and maybe eye contact, a grin, and a sincere "I'm sorry. This really sucks, doesn't it?" is all that's needed.

So, to any woman (fertility females or not) who is reading this and struggling through her own difficult place (with a man, a baby/child, a boss/job, an adoption, or your own body), let me take a moment to say "I'm sorry. This really sucks, doesn't it?" Now, let’s go forward together.

We’re strong women after all.

Rested

If I am not rested by now, I never will be. 72 hours of bed rest later, and I am up and around somewhat. I'll be returning to work for in-service this afternoon, and tomorrow all my little (and bigger-than-me) kiddos will return to start a new year.

On Thursday we arrived and dressed down completely in surgical gear. Tim had to wear a full blue-paper body suit that caused me amusement (particularly because I was loaded up on Valuum). They lead us to the operating room, and Dr. Gill came in and informed us that we had 12 "perfect" (yes, that's the word he used!) blastocysts. The procedure wasn't painful as they transferred two blastocysts, and Tim and I were both surprised at the emotional connection we felt to the little blobs that looked like "Boboli" pizza dough and carried our DNA.

I'll be visiting the doctor every other day beginning today to do blood work and ultrasounds as needed. Now we wait.

Amazingly...It's Time

I received a call from the doctor's office today letting me know that I am scheduled for an embryo transfer tomorrow at 12:15pm. Two embryos will be transferred into my uterus while Tim and I watch on the big screen; I will then recover (with my valuum and IBProfen) for 45 minutes before heading home for bed rest. It's surreal that the time is finally here, and I welcome the distraction that my work day brings from obsessing about the procedure. Thanks for all your thoughts!

Update

We received a call from the doctor's office yesterday, and 21 of our 22 eggs fertilized. They will grow until Thursday morning (although several will most likely not make it until the Day 5 blastocyst stage), and then the doctor should have a good idea of which two embryos will be the best options to implant. I am currently taking progesterone in oil shots along with a variety of other hormone meds, and I think the shots make me more sore than any other shots I've taken. I'm also continually fatigued, but as a friend (who is also a new mom) just told me today, "You'll be tired for the next 18 years." Guess you have to start sometime.

Tomorrow I'll be preparing for bedrest and Wednesday I'll be back at school for the first in-service day. I'm excited about Thursday because Tim and I will have the opportunity to watch the embryos be placed in the uterus and then receive a picture of them just chillin'. :) I'll try to post the picture a few days after the implantation. Thanks to everyone for your encouraging words and support!

Hatched

This morning was my egg retrieval, and I was more loopy and in pain than the last two hysteroscopies. I kind of felt as if someone had kicked me in the ovaries. Pleasant, huh? Tim, Sarah, and my sis Lindsay are taking good care of me by turn though, and right now I'm relaxing on the couch, drinking my Gatorade and watching Sense & Sensibility.

When I walked into the surgery room this morning, I noticed a long bin on wheels with a clear top. It truly looked like the incubators in which farmers place eggs that are ready to hatch into baby chicks. And that's where my eggs went, ready to be hatched. The nurse told us that the eggs and sperm incubate (separately, I believe) for approximately four hours before the sperm are injected into the eggs, making tiny embryos. So, depending on when exactly you believe life begins, you might consider Tim and I semi "mom" and "dad" by 2pm today. :) crazy weird!

So the announcement is that I had 22 eggs total, although some of these might not be mature or may have passed maturity, etc... We'll know more tomorrow after they have been fertilized. Over the next few days, I will be resting and preparing for three days of bedrest starting Thursday most likely. Let me know if you have any suggestions for bedrest activities or movies!

The "Whatever" Gene

I just took my Lupron shot, and I'll take one more at 9:30am tomorrow morning. After that, my body will do what it must to begin the ovulation process before the egg extraction on Saturday. I am hoping they can retrieve 15-20 eggs. We'll know soon!

I was talking with my sister Lindsay tonight, discussing our extremes: me, the planner and sometimes "freaker-outer" extraordinaire; her, my cool, calm, and always relaxed younger opposite. As we pointed out these differences, I told her that I hoped my baby got the "whatever" gene, the one that allows him/her to relax and let life come and go and just be.

Tim definitely has this gene, and it must be somewhere in my gene pool if my look-alike little sis has it. I'm thinking baby has at least a chance. But, hey, there must be some good in the "do-it-now-or-I-will-do-it-for-you" gene because baby probably wouldn't have a chance of getting on this earth if the "whatevers" just let life be. :) At least that's the way I make myself feel better.

Moody Me

The past couple of days have been quite a ride, especially for Tim, who has to bear with my laughing hilarity one moment and my sad anxiety the next. But no, I'm not crazy (at least not yet). It's the hormones. (The hormones offer a variety of excuses!) My estradiol is very high right now, and although I don't completely know what that means, I am assuming it contributes to the whirlwind that is me at the moment. I am hoping to take my "trigger" shot (Lupron) tomorrow night.

However, we received good news today. I can stop one of the injections, so I'm down to only two per day, and we will most likely proceed with the egg retrieval on Saturday. The embryo transfer would then most likely be the following Thursday. The reason for the delay between the egg retrieval and the transfer allows the embryo to develop to a Day 5 blastocyst, which will be more likely to implant and grow in my uterus. Of course, all is subject to change, but as of today, it looks as if I will be on bedrest from Thur-Sat, August 13-15, before resuming light activity.

I am super girl

I visited the doctor again this morning, and because they decreased my injection dosages, I now have 20-25 follicles total.  They are measuring between 12-14mm.  When they reach 16-18mm (which I expect will be in the next couple of days), then I know I am close to the egg retrieval.  The latest date I expect that to happen is this Sunday.  

The past few days I have felt tired and occasionally a bit nauseated, and my tummy is bruised and sore from constant poking and prodding (I'm up to three injections a day right now).  I'm thankful I have another week and a half of summer to take naps as needed.  

Tim is really afraid of needles (like "I'd rather just pass out right now than have to look at a needle" kind of afraid), so I've been giving the injections to myself.  Yes, I am super girl after all.  He is pretty funny though when he stands a few feet away from me, trying to cheer me on with phrases like "Go, Kristen, I'm here for you" (all the while looking away/running away as needed), while I take a deep breath and poke and prod at my stomach.  At least there's some fat there to absorb the pain :).

Hope to post news of the egg retrieval soon!!!