Waiting For the Other Shoe to Drop

If you follow me on Twitter, then you may be aware of how anxious I have been the past several days.

It all started when I woke up ravenously hungry, without that constant knot in my stomach keeping me from wanting to eat.  I thought it was strange, but fully expected the knot and the nausea to return sometime that day.  It didn't.

The next morning, after having stayed up well past midnight, I awoke bright and early to find that I was far from feeling exhausted (as I had felt every morning and all of every day for the past three weeks), instead, I felt refreshed and alert.  Not only that, but the morning sickness was still missing.

I began to panic a little, but when I took a spontaneous nap later that day, I felt a little reassured.  However, I still did not feel anywhere near as tired as I'd been feeling.

Everyone tried to find words of comfort to reassure me, and I learned from many people that apparently it's "normal" to not feel sick and tired all the time in the first trimester.  That was news to me, because all I'd ever heard about were those miraculous pregnancies where there was never nausea or exhaustion, or about how exhausting and sick-feeling the first four months of pregnancy are.  Never had I heard of this "vanishing at 8 weeks" mystery I was experiencing.

Needless to say, I wasn't so sure my symptoms were "normal."  Especially in light of all the recent tragedy I had watched so many of my friends go through.

By the time Sunday rolled around with still no nausea and no exhaustion, I was convinced the baby was no longer living.  After all, I had gone the entire morning, past noon, without eating anything other than a communion wafer and sip of grape-juice without feeling anything other than hunger pangs.  AND (when I finally did eat) I was able to cook without the smell making me want to hurl.

Never in my life have I longed so much to feel the waves of nausea and be overtaken by exhaustion!  I spent the majority of Sunday afternoon in tears, listening to a comforting song over and over on my iPhone.

This morning, I called the clinic to tell them of my lack of symptoms.  I asked if it was normal or if I needed to schedule my upcoming sonogram for earlier in the week.  Because it's Labor Day, they had a skeleton crew, so the lady put me on hold for a while and then came back on the line and suggested I go in today.  She said they could see me at 1:00.  She mentioned something about the possibility that it could be normal, but that I should come in anyway just to be sure.

I was relieved that I would be able to know one way or the other today, but I was a little nervous that there was enough concern on their part to show me that I wasn't overreacting.

I called my in-laws to ask them to go with me because I knew there was no way I could make the trip back from Austin alone safely if the news wasn't good.  I sent DH a text message to let him know what was up, and headed to Austin.

DH's internet had been down the day before, but was thankfully working today.  He chatted with me via Yahoo! chat the whole way to Austin and helped me stay calm.  Then I was able to have him on my computer via Skype during the sonogram.  I'm very thankful that even though he's not able to physically be in the room with me that he makes every effort to be with me every step of the way, especially when I need him the most.

When the doctor (who is amazing) came in, I expressed how deeply concerned I was.  Rather than belittling my concerns, he somehow managed to validate my concerns without making me feel more anxious.  Like I said, amazing.  

I cannot put into words how incredibly relieved I was to see the baby and it's heart beat, and then to get to hear it again!  (And the baby decided to show off and do a little dance for us, as if to say, "See, Mom!  I'm FINE!  Stop worrying!  It's cramping my style!")

I shared with my in-laws (who are also amazing) on the way home that it must seem to people that I'm overreacting and how thankful I am to have a doctor who understands my concerns.  I told them that it takes a special breed to be able to work with infertile couples because emotions are so much higher and shakier and what seems normal to most people seems so incredibly BIG and daunting to couples dealing with infertility.

My father-in-law made the comment then that it only makes sense with all that infertile couples go through that they are waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I told him that that was it exactly!  It's been nearly impossible these last few weeks for me to nestle in and enjoy this pregnancy, and I've been chastised reminded by people who have watched me walk this journey to relax and enjoy every minute of the pregnancy.  They are people who love me, who have rooted for me and cheered me along each step of the way, and they want to see me enjoy what's been given to me.  But all I could think was, "Yes, but how much has been given to me?  How far will I get to carry this baby?  God didn't promise us this child.  What if His plan is for us to go through more heartache as a result of this pregnancy?"

Now, don't get me wrong.  I don't see God as a merciless being sitting and watching, rubbing his hands together eagerly waiting for an opportunity to wreak havoc in someone's life.  I don't see him that way at all!  In contrast, I view Him as loving and merciful, hearing and responding to His children and bringing good things out of every difficult thing they face in life.  He has proven that to be true in my life (and I hope I've conveyed that clearly through this blog).

But I do know that amazing people that love the Lord with all their heart have been brought through facing the loss of a child.  I also know that God saw fit to bring us through years of longing for a child.  Never once in all of these treatments did God promise that this pregnancy was going to be completely fulfilled.  And I know better than to assume that I know His plan for me.

So, I did what any veteran Infertile would do, I braced for impact of the potential "other shoe." 

In the midst of all my "Chicken Little" antics over the last week, it occurred to me that I had begun to view this baby as mine, and I had begun to see God as a potential threat to the life of this child.  When I realized that, I came before the Lord and told him that I had begun to view this pregnancy that way and I told him I was scared he was going to take the baby from me.

But, from the VERY BEGINNING of trying to have a baby, my husband and I had acknowledged that any child we were blessed with truly belonged to God and we viewed ourselves as being privileged to be trusted to raise that child before Him.  (That's our belief.)  So, when I realized how I had begun to view things, I took a step back.  No wonder I was so worried!  I can't control God.  I can't control life.  And trying to do either generally doesn't work out very well, in my experience.

So, in my conversation with God, I gave the baby back to him.  I told him that it was his from the beginning and asked that if it was his plan to take the baby from us that he would prepare our hearts and help us through the grief.

I needed the reminder that all I have has been given to me by God.  I needed the reminder to enjoy this pregnancy.  I needed the reassurance that all was well with this baby.  And I needed the affirmation from my father-in-law that it makes sense that I would be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Knowing that that's what I've been doing, will make it easier to recognize and let go of that mentality.

Thank you to all who encouraged me through my "Chicken Little" moments.  Thank you for not berating me, but for being there for me when I needed you.  May we all find a day when we no longer feel the need to brace for impact from the proverbial "other shoe."

Blessings,

Julia

A Time to Weep and a Time to Laugh

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:...a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;" Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 4


First, I wasn't sure how to post about our joyous news without causing pain to my fellow infertiles still "in the trenches," so I waited.


Then, the nausea hit, along with the Random Moments of Comatose Sleep, so that I found it difficult to get myself out of the house, much less find the wherewithal to make sense of the thoughts inside my head for a blog post.


About the same time as the nausea hit, actually that same day, sadness seeped into my world over people I care about deeply, and a blog post about our joy seemed not only inappropriate, but was nowhere near the forefront of my thinking.


In one day, I learned of two people I care about deeply whose hopes were dashed.  One twitter friend who has had a major impact on me learned that her final attempt at IVF had resulted in a BFN (Big Fat Negative) and, based on certain circumstances, it seems (for now at least) she has no further options.  Another IF friend I know in real life had a situation that was drawn out over the course of the last week and a half, but that day I received the news that she was miscarrying.  Her pregnancy was a non-medicated pregnancy (meaning no help from a doc), and she was exactly the same number of days pregnant as I was.  She is one of my dearest friends, and my heart was torn in two.


Her situation became more complicated, and it was discovered that she had an ectopic pregnancy.  The entire week and a half was a heart-wrenching roller-coaster ride of emotions for all of us.  Even DH, half a world away, was full of sorrow at the news of their loss and the drawn out process of getting medical closure, and we grieved together over Skype, praying for our dear friends.


In the midst of that, another twitter friend went in for a routine ultrasound at 9 weeks, only to be told that there was no heartbeat.  I was dumbfounded.  My heart paused and I couldn't breathe as I read her tweet: "It's over. No heartbeat. I feel numb."  I flashed back to the day I had read her joyous news of her BFP (Big Fat Positive) and I remembered watching her heart melt and unfold each day as she embraced the joy of her pregnancy.  I was heartbroken for her, and I immediately imagined myself in her shoes.  She was two weeks ahead of me.  I had just, the day before, heard and seen our baby's heartbeat and had scheduled my own 9 week sonogram.  I was stricken with grief for her and fear for myself in the same moment, and I wept for her and prayed.


In the midst of all of this, there have been lots of prayers and lots of weeping.  People keep reminding me to enjoy each moment of this pregnancy (and I am enjoying it), but my mind and heart keep turning toward those still "in the trenches" of this journey through infertility, toward those suffering loss and attempting to find a way to pick up and move on, even as another battle scar forms on their hearts.  There have been moments in the past two weeks where I have asked God why these dear friends have to go through more pain when they have been through so much.  I am reminded that pain serves a purpose and, in the hands of God, hearts that go through it not only receive peace but they become stronger.


But it still sucks.  I'm sorry, but there's no "nice" word I can think of to describe how sucky it is.


In light of the suckiness of the pain of infertility, I desperately long to be mindful of those still waiting on their BFP.  I'm also very much aware that this week, this day, may be my last day of having the joy of this particular little life growing inside of me.


So, I have been hesitant to post on this blog, not knowing what I could say to express my joy without rubbing salt in the wounds of my readers.  I have been tentative in my tweets on twitter, trying only to answer questions about the pregnancy rather than volunteering information (although, if you follow me on twitter, you may have caught a glimpse of what I call my Incredible Hulk side coming through in response to every day circumstances...I don't have a very good filter on my brain lately).


After our sonogram, DH was eager to post the news of our pregnancy on Facebook.  Prior to the sonogram, we had agreed together that we would post on Facebook after we saw the heartbeat.  But I had not yet reached a dear infertile friend to let her know we were pregnant, and I did NOT want her to find out via Facebook!  After I was able to get a hold of her on the phone, she and I had a good visit and we both cried together as I reassured her that her tears were completely understood, and she reassured me that her tears did not diminish the joy she felt for me.


In preparation for our upcoming Facebook announcement, I reposted a twibbon from resolve.org on my profile picture, just to refresh people's memories that we have been struggling with infertility, and to remind them that chances are extremely high that they know someone who is suffering silently through infertility.  An acquaintance I have as a friend on Facebook, "liked" not only the new picture with the twibbon and a blip about infertility, but also the link to resolve.org that I posted.  Since she seldom, if ever, "likes" anything or comments on my page, I went to her profile page and immediately all the facts and signs came flooding to my mind to confirm in my heart that this friend is infertile.  Suffering silently, as far as I know.  I then learned that her sister had suggested she talk with me about IF, although she hasn't yet. 


This new information made me even more hesitant to broadcast our news via Facebook just yet, and I sent a text message to someone who could convey to this girl's sister that she had my permission to tell her we're pregnant, because I do NOT want her finding out via Facebook!


Here I was, aware of this girl, her age and circumstances, and yet it never occurred to me that she, too, might be infertile.  Yet I was the one posting a link, informing people that they probably know someone who is struggling through infertility and aren't even aware of it.


I would LOVE to talk with her about infertility.  I would LOVE to be an in-real-life support for her through this journey!  The question is, now that I'm pregnant, would she really want to talk to me?


My infertility hasn't gone away because I happen to be pregnant.  This sounds crazy, I know, especially to those not dealing with IF.  One response I have received to that statement was, "Well, right, because you don't yet have a living child in your arms."  To which I responded, "Even if I had a living child in my arms, I'm still infertile.  It still takes medical intervention to bring about pregnancy in me."


One thing that HAS happened as a result of this pregnancy, which totally caught me off guard, is that my infertility has suddenly become less about me and more about other people.  Getting to experience these things I thought I would never experience makes me more mindful of those who still long to experience these things.  There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not thinking about one of my IF friends' circumstances, whether I check twitter that day or not!


I'm a little bit afraid to post our news on Facebook, because I'm afraid of what my response will be to the people who assume we waited on purpose (not that I've kept it a secret, people just don't really pay attention on Facebook).  I'm afraid of how I'll respond to idiotic blanket statements or cliches.  I'm afraid of how I'll respond to people who bring up the infertility issue and grossly misrepresent, or show their complete lack of understanding.


I have found that lately I don't have a whole lot of grace to extend to people in my Incredible-Hulk-like mentality. ("You won't like me when I'm angry.")  It's not that I can't tap into the source of grace, or that grace is unavailable to me to extend.  I find that I have lost my desire to extend grace to certain people, and I am quick to respond as I feel a situation warrants. If a person is behaving like an idiot, instead of trying to see the good in them, or trying to figure out the motive for their asinine behavior, I'm more likely to simply call them an idiot.  Not behind their back, like I might have before.  But within ear shot of them, or even directly to their face.  (And when I use the word "idiot" here, I'm keeping it PG.  There are other words I've been using on a regular basis of which I'm not proud.)


So, in a nut-shell: 

• I'm enjoying this pregnancy, but am even more aware of both how fragile it is and how many people there are still hurting and suffering through the loss and heartache of infertility.  
• I am not anxious to post on Facebook for various reasons, but don't want to rob DH of his joy in this, especially as we are not together to celebrate.  
• I have limited patience and am not very nice while being flooded with new hormones.

And finally, I am simply trying to figure out where I "fit" now in this realm of infertility.

If you're one who prays, please pray that I find that balance, to be able to still encourage and support those waiting on a BFP that results in them getting to hold and raise their living child; that I will feel the freedom to enjoy this pregnancy fully without fear, without apprehension, and without guilt; and that I will not punch people in the face or cuss them out (as is often how I imagine my response), but that I would instead extend grace and even educate people along the way (you can pray that that "education" would involve a lesson in humility on their part if needed...that I'm okay with) ;-)

May the God of the universe hear and respond positively to each of you in the cries of your hearts and give you strength, and may he help me know when to laugh and dance as well as weep and mourn!

~Julia

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.

The Wait is Over: Peace in the Pain

I forget sometimes that Twitter is not my blog ;-)  I'm on Twitter so frequently, ranting about my day or updating people on the latest happenings, that sometimes it feels like I've actually updated my blog.

My apologies for leaving you all hanging in the middle of my two-week-wait, when clearly that has long since passed!

Sunday, June 12th, was the day we had the blood work done to find out if we were pregnant.  We got up early, drove to Austin, had the blood drawn, ate a nice brunch, and drove home.

I was extremely tired from all of the progesterone in my system, and more than a little grumpy from all the other hormones, so I took a nap while DH read his Nook for a bit.

When it was finally time for us to page the on-call nurse for the results, DH asked if I would please take an at-home test so that if it was negative we would not be hearing the news from a stranger.

I complied because I honestly didn't care one way or another.  I wanted him to have the buffer if he needed it.  I just wanted to be done with the waiting.  I was fairly certain that the results would be negative.

And they were.  The pee stick showed a negative result.  A minute and a half later, we got the confirmation from the on-call nurse that the beta was in fact <1.  I thanked her for her time and tried to sound reassuring in my tone because I can only imagine how incredibly difficult it must be to be the one who has to give couples such difficult news.

The phone was on speaker, so I didn't have to relay the information to my sweet husband. He held me and we cried.  I cried for him because he was so completely heart-broken.  I did not have any sad tears about the loss of the embryos, and I wasn't sure why.  (I realized later that I had truly mourned their loss when we got the embryologist report a week earlier.  I had lost hope that day that they had survived.)

DH and I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with each other, hashing through the emotions and implications of the failed cycle.  We notified his parents and my parents of the news through a phone call, and we texted and e-mailed the rest of our friends and family, asking for some time to grieve.

I was blown away by the realization of the perfect timing of every detail (as difficult as the details of the day were).  I'll spare you a running recount of events, but it was amazing to me to see how specifically spaced out each event was in the course of that day.  It was very comforting to me because I could clearly see the hand of God all over our lives, and I had a peace wash over me regarding His timing for our family.

I shared that with my DH, and although it didn't ease his pain that day, over the next two days, he too was able to see the same perfect timing, and it also brought him comfort.  He commented that while the events that make the perfection of that timing clear are incredibly sucky, difficult, and/or frustrating, it's BECAUSE of how difficult those things are that we're able to see the perfection in the timing.  (Irony was an extremely difficult concept for me to grasp in high school...I suppose God is making sure that I get a full grasp of it through hands-on training.  lol!)

We have one beautiful frozen embryo in the blastocyst stage.  We have scheduled a Frozen Embryo Transfer for the month of July.  This month is devoted to shrinking down the remaining follicles on my ovaries, and making memories prior to DH's deployment.  He will not be able to be here for the transfer since we are having to wait until July, but we are trusting God's timing in the midst of all of this.

In the mean time, if you are one who prays and are wondering how we can use prayer, you can pray that the thawing of the embryo will be successful on the day of transfer and that the embryo will survive the thaw.  You can also pray that we will make the most of each day that we have remaining together and that I will not be in a funk.  While I was not at all depressed about the failed IVF, I have found myself battling depression at the thought of being separated from my husband for another year.

Thank you for your patience with my own imperfect timing.  Thank you for your support through your comments and through reading this blog.  And thank you for your prayers.  You are greatly appreciated!

Blessings,

Julia

An Anniversary Post

Three days ago, my husband and I celebrated our ninth anniversary.  And by celebrated, I mean we went out in T-shirts and jeans to a BJ's Restaurant, had a casual and early dinner, then went to spend the evening with friends.  Both of us have been so focused on this two week wait and the upcoming deployment that we basically forgot about our anniversary until the night before.

I awoke Wednesday morning as my husband was preparing for work.  He called out to me, "Happy Anniversary, Babe!"  I walked into the bathroom where he was getting ready to shave, kissed him on the cheek, and sleepily said, "Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.  Even if we never have children, I'm thankful to have you as a husband.  I wouldn't want anyone else in the world."  

I turned and walked groggily back to bed and slept most of the morning away.

That moment in the bathroom was one of my favorite parts of that day.

Eleven years ago, my attitude was quite different.

I recall a day in which the subject of children came up between the two of us before we were even officially dating.  We both talked about how we wanted to have a large family and I was surprised that he wanted to have as large a family as I did, even though I had not told him how many kids I'd love to have.  When he busted out the number "12" in answer to my question of how many kids he wanted to have, I was blown away b/c that was the number in my heart.

I was so passionate in that discussion, and apparently in future discussions we had, about wanting to have many children that my Sweetheart (now my Dear Husband) felt compelled to ask me what I would do if we couldn't have children.  He asked if I would consider adoption.  

I told him that I certainly wanted to adopt, but that I wanted to have children biologically as well.  This was not answering his question completely, so he asked again, "What would you do if you found that you couldn't have children?" 

I am appalled today at what my answer was to him.  I remember telling him very sincerely, "I'm not sure, but I can tell you this: We better not find out whose fault it is, because if it was mine I'd be devastated and if it was his, I'd regret that I married him."

Wow!  What a little...UGH!  If I could go back in time and slap myself, I absolutely would!  There were so many occasions when I had such a pig-headed attitude (like the time I told someone that the day I dated my DH is the day pigs fly, or the time I told my DH that I'd be mad at God if I knew that God was going to make me like him in the future!  Ugh!  I don't even know the appropriate word to describe the person that I was).

Well, thankfully, God loves me too much to leave me the way I was, and he's done quite a number on my heart.  

You should know that my DH asked me that question in various ways at least a dozen times while we were dating.  So many times, in fact, that I actually asked him if he had some information about himself that I needed to know.

We had only been married a year and six months when we decided to stop using contraceptive.  The interesting thing is that I don't remember at all caring about who was to blame for our not being able to conceive.  I just remember being so disappointed and frustrated that it wasn't happening.

I remember, too, being concerned that we might get so consumed with getting pregnant that our marriage would suffer, so I communicated with my DH regularly on what I was thinking and how I felt, what my concerns were and what I thought we should do.  From the beginning, we were a team in dealing with Infertility.  And from the beginning, it was our goal to keep the desire for children from trumping our marriage.

So, we took breaks.  In seven years, we've only had five procedures (with one year of a holistic approach-which makes six "procedures," I suppose) to try to get pregnant.  I spent a year charting my cycle before we tried medical intervention.  But we only pursued the medical intervention because I was having so many issues with my cycle, and my options were to either take the birth control pill or get professional help.  By God's grace, we have been careful, thus far, not to let the desire for children consume our marriage. 

There was a time when I would have never considered having fertility treatments.  There was a time when I thought I wouldn't be able to love someone anymore if I were to find out they were the reason I wouldn't be able to have children.  I am so thankful for a husband who loves and fears God and who is able to love me when I'm at my worst, who is able to be so patient and tender as he trusts that I will not be at my worst forever.

I eventually came to a place where I realized several things:

• My marriage is more important to me than having children.
• My dream to have children is still alive in my heart, and will happen, someday, someway.
• God is the author of life, and it is his alone to give and take away.
• God has used every single time in my life that I have been angry with him to teach me more about how he loves me, his faithfulness, his forgiveness, and his grace.
• God has used every single trial I have faced in my life to strengthen me and to get rid of disgusting parts of who I am (like the attitudes I described above).
• I am blessed beyond measure to have the husband that I have been given and I treasure him more each day.

So, I am thankful to be able to say with my whole heart that regardless of when, if, or how we have children, I am THANKFUL to have been given the privilege of being married to my husband and I have NO REGRETS that I married him.  

I still sit in awe, sometimes, when I think of how he had seen me at my absolute worst on numerous occasions and was still willing, and even desired, to marry me.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart!  May this be only the beginning of a long and fruitful life together!

~Julia

IVF Unknowns

Life is full of unknowns.  We live with them on a minute to minute basis.  They're such an integral part of our existence that it's almost surprising when we become overwhelmed or concerned about the unknown.

When my husband and I embarked on this journey toward In Vitro Fertilization, there was very little about it that I knew.  

• I knew it was expensive
• I knew it was invasive
• I knew it involved a lot of shots, medications, clinic visits, and sonograms
• I knew it was our best shot at getting pregnant (since nothing else had worked)
• I knew there were no guarantees

Enter the Unknowns.

True to human form, I like knowing that if I put money toward something then I will receive something expected in return.  (If I give the grocer money, I get groceries; If I give a real estate agent money, I get a house...you get the idea.)

The procedures leading up to this point along our bigger journey through infertility had required money, but not the kind of money a person could give a car dealership and come home with a new car!

Needless to say, the Unknown of what would result from our attempts at IVF was very daunting, indeed.  I am not really a gambler, and not a huge risk taker.  Yet here I was, embarking on what seemed to me the biggest gamble of a lifetime.

Little did I know that all the other IVF Unknowns would begin sneering at me as we moved forward through this procedure.

If a person has undergone either an IUI or a Timed Intercourse with Ovarian Hyperstimulation procedure that required the use of stimulation medications rather than chlomid, then they are somewhat prepared for the prep work required for IVF.  If not, then there's the first little Unknown.

Thankfully, my husband and I had done the stim shots for two prior procedures, so I wasn't daunted by the shots I had to take.

What I hadn't experienced was how the amount of medication injected (WAY more than for IUI or Timed Intercourse) would cause bruising, making it difficult to find suitable injection sites toward the end of the cycle.  I also had not experienced my ovaries expanding to the point of making it painful to walk, sit, pee, laugh, and much more, because with IUI (and the like), you want to see significantly fewer follicles formed than with IVF.  In fact, if too many are formed with IUI, it can be cause for canceling that cycle.

Other Unknowns:

• How many follicles would we get
• How many of those follicles would have eggs
• How many of those eggs would be mature
• Will we be candidates for ICSI
• How many eggs will fertilize
• How many embryos will keep growing
• Will we have a day 3 or day 5 transfer
• How many embryos will we get to transfer
• Will the embryos "stick"
• Will we stay pregnant
• Will we have a child
• Will we have any embryos to freeze
• Will we have to start all over

Insignificant Unknowns (but on my mind, just the same)

• What should I wear to the egg retrieval
• Where will they put the IV
• How long will I have to have the IV
• How bad will the IV make me feel (in case you can't tell, I've had bad IV experiences)
• Will I be super cold before and after surgery (I hate being cold)
• How much pain will I be in
• What will the pain feel like
• When will the pain go away
• Will I be nauseous afterward
• Will the pain meds make me want to puke since they have codeine in them
• Is it really worth it if we don't become pregnant
• How much activity is acceptable after transfer
• Does pineapple core really help implantation

I now have answers to some of these unknowns.

We endured (and survived) egg retrieval and we're scheduled for transfer at 11:30 tomorrow morning (Wednesday, June 1st).  But we still don't know how many embryos are still growing and will be candidates for transfer and cryopreservation.  We still don't know if the transfer will take place on Wednesday or if it will be moved to Friday.  We still don't know if the embryo(s) will "stick" and grow and be born healthy and thrive.

The interesting thing about this journey through infertility is that while it can break you, it can also make you stronger.

Yes, there are thousands of unknowns we face each step of this journey, but in the grand scheme of things, there are truly millions of unknowns we face each day of our lives as humans.  We just don't think about them.

So, in light of what I do not know, I am choosing to focus on what I do know.  This is where my husband's and my faith comes into play.  Our faith is not just something that "gets us through" when we find we're in a rough patch or need a little extra help from a higher power.  Our faith is an integral part of who we are.  I put it this way to a friend who asked about our faith:

"Faith doesn't just play a part in our journey, it is the undercurrent of our existence and our journey through infertility plays a part in our faith."

My husband and I are choosing to focus on the things we hold as truths in our faith.  These truths bring us great comfort and peace and keep my mind from swirling around and around in circles of despair over the sneering Unknowns.

If you have questions about the IVF process, our experiences as we walked through it, and even our faith, please feel free to ask :-)  I'd be happy to share anything I can to make your journey, or even your potential journey, less stressful and more restful.

Blessings,

Julia