Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise-PUPO

The first time I heard that acronym, PUPO, and learned what it meant, I found it incredibly adorable!  What a great way to honor the blossoming life a woman just had placed inside of her!

This is a picture of the two embryos
we transferred on Day 3 of our IVF

The first time I was PUPO, we had two little lives placed inside of me.  They were 8 cells (really 7, growing an 8th).  They were beautiful, they were living, and looking at their picture, our hearts were filled with hope for the first time in a very long time that we may actually become pregnant and eventually become parents.

For nearly two weeks, I walked around the house, spontaneously grabbing my husband's hand, placing it on my belly, and saying, "Let's pray for the embryos."  We stopped about a dozen times a day in the middle of sentences and activities to pray for those two precious lives we hoped were still growing inside of me.

At the end of the first week of waiting, we got a call from the embryologist.  Of the 15 embryos that had developed from the 19 healthy eggs retrieved and injected with sperm, two had been transferred on day 3, leaving 13 embryos, and only one of those 13 made it to the stage of being viable to freeze.  Four had made it to the blastocyst stage on day 5, and would have been candidates for a day five transfer had we not had a transfer on day three, but those four quit developing by the time day six (the freeze day) rolled around.  So, between the final possible day of transfer and the next day in which they'd be frozen, four healthy-looking embryos stopped developing.

I knew, when he told me about the four blasts that stopped growing on day 5, I knew the two inside of me had not made it.  I don't know how I knew, but I did.  I knelt down on the floor in the corner of my bedroom and cried over the lost lives.  I cried for those 14 embryos that never had a real chance.  I wept over the two that were placed in me and begged God to please let them live, but deep inside I knew they were gone.  

As I knelt there on the floor, weeping, the phrase running through my mind over and over again as my heart cried out to God was, "You know."  And that was what I clung to.  I knew that He knew my heart's desire, the longing DH and I have for children from our own bodies; He knows how many cells each one made it to; He knows why they didn't survive; He knew if the two inside of me at that time were still living; He knew how losing them would affect DH and me; He knows each life that He created, why He created it, and what became of each one; He knew my heart was broken and how to mend it.  There were so many other things, and for me what mattered in that moment was that He knew.

I picked myself up off the floor, went downstairs and asked DH to hold me (he had gone downstairs before I started crying and had no idea I had been up there weeping).  He held me gently and asked me, "Are you crying because we only got one?"  I responded through my tears, "No. I'm crying because we lost the others."

Part of what I love about being "PUPO" is the fact that for at least a week, if not even two, I have the privilege of having another life living, and potentially growing, inside of me!  That's exciting!  It's also scary.  

There are so many "what if's" to consider when one is PUPO.  Although there is life, a confirmed growing embryo, there is the question of, "Did it implant?" or, "Is it still growing?"  "What if pineapple core doesn't help implantation at all?"  "What if that tiny nibble of chocolate jeopardized it's chances?"  "What if I stood up too long on the way to the bathroom?"  "What if pushing to pee is as bad as pushing to poo?"  "What if my 15lb cat falling asleep on me while I was napping killed the embryos?  What if struggling to get him off of me did?"  "What if this? What if that?" "What if...what if...what if..."

This time around, it's not the "what if's" that are getting to me, it's the "could this be's".  Last time, after I grieved the embryos, I was fairly convinced I wasn't pregnant.  I didn't notice any symptoms other than the fact that my breasts weren't quite as swollen, I didn't have to pee all the time anymore, and I generally felt normal.  

This time, I'm noticing tiny cramp-like twinges near where I usually have major cramps, and I think, "Could this be the embryo growing after implantation? Or is it simply the progesterone, or the two whole red-bell-peppers I ate today?"

This time, my prenatal vitamin makes me feel sick when I take it, and I think, "Could this be the nausea I hear about from pregnancy? Or is it simply that this company maybe changed its formula, or I'm suddenly reacting to the iron in the supplements?  Or could it be that I just need to eat?  But my sisters could only get their pregnancy nausea to go away when they ate something and that's what makes my queasiness go away, so could it be???"

And I haven't even mentioned yet the fact that for several days post transfer, I didn't feel a thing.  Not one single symptom.  Not a period symptom, not a pregnancy symptom, not even a symptom of being myself.  I was kind of like a machine, I suppose.  I was fully composed, not at all stressed, just super chill.  It was weird and out of character for me.

Well, actually, truth be told, there was one symptom.  I was weepy.  But there you have another "Could it be?"  I wasn't sure if I was weepy because of the hormones I am taking, because of extra hormones my body might be producing because of a growing baby, or extra hormones my body might be producing in preparation for a period and in rebellion to the intentional prevention of it's arrival.  I eventually decided that it was most likely my body reacting in relief, even if my mind was not telling it to, consciously.

For example: The day before the transfer, a good friend of mine commented on how calm I was and how good I seemed about everything, even though I had verbalized concern that our frozen embryo might not survive the thaw.  The morning of the transfer, I was still in that calm mental state, but my body pushed the "override" button and started showing all the classic symptoms I get when I'm super nervous about something (let's just say, it's not pretty).  My assumption is that I was weepy after the transfer, not so much because of hormones, but because my body finally was able to express relief, but my mind was still in denial that it was ever under any stress.

Regardless, my point is, being PUPO is a wonderful, wonderful thing, but it is also a very maddening state of being.  It's wonderful because you have two glorious weeks of believing that there is a life blossoming and growing inside of you.  Hopes are high and the world is grand!  But it's maddening because doubt creeps in quickly and robs you of some of the hope and steals bits of the joy.  An unavoidable self-preservation kicks in that we infertiles know all too well.  We begin, in this PUPO state, to talk ourselves down from the ledge of hope, to a safer place known as "maybe, but probably not."

The embryo we transferred this
cycle. The dark circle in the
middle toward the top is what
becomes the fetus, the lighter
part becomes the placenta.

I must admit, I am head-over-heels in LOVE with this embryo inside of me!  I got to see which part will become the "fetus" and which part will become the placenta.  I was privileged to witness the fact that after it was thawed, this little embryo began to hatch before it was placed inside of me.  I can only imagine how dreadfully painful it will be to have to let go of this one, too, if it isn't clinging to life and growing inside of me.  I don't even want to think about it, but it's there in my mind.  What I want to think about is how neat those little twinges feel and how nice it would be if my queasiness is from the little life inside of me.

I have two and a half more days of being PUPO.  I'm going to do my best to enjoy the possibilities and not talk myself off of that ledge of hope.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers of support through this past week.  It's helped tremendously!  I am so thankful for my Twitter/Blogger support system.  I pray that I will have good news to share in a few days.  It may be a while before I blog about the results, but you'll probably hear on Twitter fairly soon after we know.

Praying for this life inside of me,

Julia

Frozen Embryo Transfer-FET

Let me begin by saying, I was immensely blessed to have the company of my two dear friends G and A as I went through this procedure.  I cannot say enough what a blessing they were to me.  I realized in the middle of the procedure that I needed their presence in the room...that if they hadn't been with me, I would have been a puddle of tears instead of the loopy, valium-induced-calm self that I was able to be.  They assisted me with anything I needed before, during, and after the procedure, and waited on me hand and foot when we got back to my house. Truly I am blessed by their love and friendship.  So, G, and A, THANK YOU!!!

~~~

Words cannot describe how amazing the experience was for us during our Frozen Embryo Transfer, but I'll do my best to find the right ones.

Monday morning, I awoke with a prayer on my heart: "Lord God, please place your hand on this embryo as it thaws and keep it safe and healthy through the thaw."

All I've been able to think about for weeks is whether or not the embryo would survive the thaw.  I had not even begun to allow myself to think about, or even pray about, whether or not the embryo would implant.  I couldn't, until I knew the embryo survived.

When the embryologist came in and showed me the picture of our embryo and described it's condition to me, I could sense that he loved his job.  I got the impression that it would make his day for me to ask him as many questions as I could think of about what he gets to do as an embryologist.  I smiled, wishing I had the time to think of questions for him.

When he told me that there was no evidence of any cell damage to our embryo, and that he couldn't even tell that our embryo had been frozen, an image came to my mind of the hand of God covering our embryo and overseeing the thawing process Himself.  I was overwhelmed by how completely God had responded to the prayer of my heart.  He not only safely thawed the embryo, but he went above and beyond and prevented any damage, and made it so that an experienced embryologist was unable to tell it had ever even been frozen.

But the blessings didn't end there!

It turns out that, although the clinic was in the process of attaining wireless Internet that week, it was not up and running.  I had brought along my computer on the off chance that they may have it so that I could attempt to bring my DH into the room via Skype.  I decided, since I had my computer with me, to see if there were any unprotected wireless services in the area.  Sure enough, there was a dentist office nearby that graciously, though unknowingly, allowed me to access their wireless Internet while I was in the pre-op room. (*Note-a FET is not an operation, but it's performed in the same room as an IVF which is an operation, so the room they prep you in for both procedures is the same and called the "pre-op" room)

I was able to reach my DH via Skype prior to the procedure, but wasn't sure I would be able to access the Internet I was borrowing all the way back in the procedure room.  So, I uploaded (downloaded?) Skype to my iPhone and ran a few test calls to DH.  No luck.  It would not work on my phone.  I tried several times to make a good connection with him on my iPhone and it didn't work.  I decided I should be thankful he was able to be with me before, and that I would be able to contact him immediately after, but that we would still try bringing my computer into the room anyway.

On the way to the procedure room, we lost the Internet connection.  But after a few minutes, I heard the Skype ring on my phone!  I answered it, but there was no response.  My image was showing up, and the phone said we were connected, so I just assumed DH could see everything even if he probably couldn't hear it.  About three minutes later I heard my sweet husband's voice say, "Hello?"

I was beyond excited!  I was thrilled!  He could hear us, AND he could see what was going on.  There was no delay, no scrambled words, no garbled images, no freezing of the screen.  He was right there with us every step of the way, having conversations with the doctor and seeing everything as it was happening!  To me, this is also nothing less than the hand of God intervening and responding to another cry of my heart.  We never have such a perfect connection on Skype, and for it to have even worked on my phone was astounding.

Then another amazing thing happened!

When the embryologist put the image of our embryo up on the screen, it was in the process of hatching!  The energy of the room changed immediately when we saw this on the screen and I could tell it must be a very exciting thing!  (Keep in mind, I was on Valium for this and I was a bit stoned...my reasoning skills were greatly limited.)  I learned later that it is critical for an embryo to hatch in order to be able to implant, so this was a very good sign.  Also, as I reflected on it after the Valium wore off, I realized this meant that the embryo was still living and growing and healthy!  

(I realized as I played the video back later that the doctor actually pointed out this fact to me, but apparently I was too stoned to process it.  

His words were: "So it's looking really, really good. It's not only re-expanded, but it's already hatching.  It's beautiful, isn't it.")

And to a woman who longs for assurance that this just might work, to a woman who has been living with infertility for seven and a half years, even under the influence of Valium, it was a beautiful sight to behold, indeed.

The morning of the transfer, I wore my #hope t-shirt.  I have only worn that shirt twice before, and the last time I wore it, my hopes were nearly extinguished at a pool party.  But the morning of the transfer, I awoke with hope in my heart and with two key verses swirling in my mind from the day before.

"Now hope that is seen is not hope.  For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." (Romans 8:24b-25)

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1)

I know without a doubt that God heard my heart's cry, that He safely thawed our embryo, that He arranged for my husband to be "with" me, and that He graciously allowed us to catch a glimpse of how He "weaves us together in the secret place".  My heart is filled with quite a bit more hope this time than it was last time, even as I try to guard it, knowing that it may not yet be our time to rejoice.

If we become pregnant as a result of this transfer, our hearts will overflow abundantly with joy!  If we do not become pregnant as a result of this transfer, our hearts will certainly break, but we will still have comfort.  I will know without question that the God of the universe, the God I serve, is still good, still God, and still with me.  My hope is not in having children.  It is certainly something I hope for, but my hope is in knowing that I have been adopted as a child of God.

~~~~~~~

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.  For by it the people of old received their commendation.  By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible." *

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.  For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.  For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.  And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  For in this hope we were saved.  Now hope that is seen is not hope.  For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." **

*Hebrews 11:1-3

**Romans 8:18-25

Surviving the Thaw

We have our Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) on Monday, July 25th.

People keep asking me if I'm excited, and I've found myself answering "yes" absently as I wonder to myself if I am.  I know my DH is excited, as he has told me so several times this week.

I am excited that my two close friends are coming to stay with me, and that they will have the opportunity to go into the room with me during the transfer if they want to.

I am excited that we have this opportunity and that I didn't have to take any shots this time to get to this point.

I am excited that it's significantly less money to do this transfer than it was to do a fresh IVF cycle.

But I realized today that I'm not letting myself get excited about the upcoming transfer yet because we don't even know for certain that it will happen.

We could be ready to go on Monday morning, or even on our way to the clinic (as it's quite a drive) and receive a call that the embryo didn't survive the thaw.

When people ask me how they can pray, I tell them to pray for a safe and successful thaw for our embryo.  After that occurs, then I can start thinking about our desire for it to implant and grow and make my uterus it's home for the next nine months.

Right now, I just want the precious thing to survive the thaw.