38 Weeks

I cried today over the thought of delivering the baby.  

I wept bitter tears.

I sobbed for so long and so hard that I ended up with a rather large headache.

Am I scared? Am I dreading the delivery process and the pain? Are those the reasons I cried?  The answer is, No.

I cried today over the thought of delivering the baby because it seems like she only just began existing.  I feel that I haven't had nearly enough time with her...with DH and me both enjoying the pregnancy, together.

I hear that most pregnant women, by the time they reach their 38th week, are beyond ready to get the baby out of them.  So much so that they grumble and complain and do silly things to try to get labor started.

I, on the other hand, am wanting to extend the pregnancy as long as possible...not yet ready to sever this connection I have with the life that is growing inside of me.

I am looking forward to meeting her and to seeing what she looks like and discovering all the amazing things about her that I can when she's here...but (God willing), there will be plenty of time for that after she arrives.  However, once she is born, there will be no talking to my belly, no mystery of what's going on inside of me, no feeling little kicks, squirms, wiggles, and hiccups.

I told DH all of this as he supported me in my less than rational state of mind.  And then I said, "She's safe inside of me.  Once she's born, she's not safe."  And that's part of it.  Granted, a lot can go wrong on the inside just as it can on the outside, and her being in me doesn't keep her any safer than she would be outside of me.  But there's that sense that right now she's protected.  She's protected from my mood swings, from temperature changes, from hunger, from diaper rash, from the cat's curiosity...  

And in a way, I'm protected, too.  I don't yet have to be "super-mom."  Sure, right now I have to take care of my body, but I do that anyway.  Once she's born, I have to be available in ways I'm not accustomed to.  "But didn't you realize that when you embarked on this journey toward parenthood?  Didn't you consider the cost?" you may ask.  Of course I did!  None of the things we've been preparing for are surprises to us.  We have diapers and wipes and an entire array of baby things we will need to meet the needs of this little girl once she makes her appearance.  We recognized almost a decade ago the challenges that come with parenthood.  We counted the cost and are still more than willing to meet those challenges head on.

But today, as I complete the last day of my 38th week, as my hormones fluctuate in preparation for labor, I realized how fleeting these 38 weeks have been.  I look forward to seeing our daughter face to face.  To cuddling her, nuzzling her, caring for her, hearing her precious newborn cry...

But as much as I want to meet her and see her in my husband's arms, I'd be okay with her hanging out inside of me just a little bit longer.

Copyright 2012 Rebekah Lynn Photography

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

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

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.

Buying a Baby (Guest Post)

I asked my husband if he would be willing to write a guest blog post for this blog.  He graciously agreed and blessed me with his willingness to be involved even in this part of our journey.  The following is his blog post.  We hope you enjoy it.  Feel free to comment. Blessings! ~Julia

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If they don’t like me for who I am, I’m not going to buy one of their used babies.”

-Jeff Bingham (Rules of Engagement)

This is a quote from the fictional character Jeff Bingham played by Patrick Warburton on  CBS’s Rules of Engagement.  In the show, Jeff and his wife Audrey struggle with infertility and are attempting to adopt.  I think this quote reveals something important about how men experience infertility and how that experience can be very different from the one that our wives experience.  The purpose of this guest blog post is to explain a chief aspect of the male experience of infertility.

I sincerely believe that the experience of infertility is different for men than it is for women.  We experience the sadness that comes monthly with our wife’s cycle.  We feel the loss of legacy that comes with the regular disappointing news.  We feel a little less human than those that seem to easily get pregnant by having sex and we certainly feel jealousy of those we deem “less worthy” of having children.  For crying out loud,  I have a regular job and make a decent amount of money while the poor and maladjusted seem to sprout kids like weeds.  


So, in all of those areas I think men and women experience infertility in a similar fashion.  There is one aspect of infertility that consumes me and probably consumes most men in this struggle.  I am referring to MONEY.  

My wife and I found out that our first IVF cycle failed in June.  The disappointment was extreme for me and I have been trying to figure out why it made my cry like Ben Stiller at the end of There’s Something About Mary.  I am sure that the regular feelings added to my sorrow as well as the expectation that it would truly work this time.  My upcoming deployment to Iraq also added to my grief because my wife will have to pursue further treatment while I am away.  Every one of these factors compounded my grief but I am focusing today on why money brought me such sorrow.  It may seem shallow, weak and intemperate but the following is genuinely how the money factor added to my grief over the failed IVF.

IVF costs a lot of money.  When you break it down an IVF cycle is a financial transaction similar to any other transaction you do on a daily basis.  You go to the grocery store, pay money and leave with groceries.  You go a fertility clinic, pay money and services are performed that are suppose to lead to a healthy child.  The “child” part is where the difference lies because there is no guarantee, yet you still spend the money.  


Let me put forth an analogy.  Suppose that you and your spouse do your homework, choose a car you like, go to a car dealership, barter a fair price and pay the money.  Then pretend that after you pay the price, the salesman tells you that the factory built the car, tax title and license were processed, the salesman received his commission for the sale but your car fell off the transport truck in transit and was destroyed.  Because services were performed you won’t be receiving a refund but we can try again next month as long as you pay for another car.  By the way; next month there is still only a 30-50% chance that the car will make it to the dealership.  


Most of us would sue if we hadn’t signed a mandatory arbitration agreement (which we all probably did.  It is just a little thing that waives our right to trial by jury but that is a side note and not the purpose of this blog).  The point is that we would be livid.  No one expects to pay tens of thousands of dollars and not get what we pay for but that is exactly what happens with a failed IVF.  I know this is not a logical argument so if you are a guy and your logical brain is picking apart my analogy just STOP.  It is an argument stemming from emotion but infertility and money are both emotional topics so I am okay with the argument.  

Let me get to my final point.  When I pay for a car I am not paying for the salesman’s commission, transport fees, factory workers salary or sales tax.  I know that is were the money goes but as the consumer I don’t care where my money goes.  They can fold the money into origami swans and light them on fire for all I care.  I just want a car.  When we do an IVF we are not paying for services we are paying for a baby.  I know the money goes to the doctor, embryologist, lab fees, hospital fees and fertility clinic staff but I am not paying the money because I want them to have money.  I am paying because I want a baby.

This is the part that makes money emotional.  Infertile couples have to pay for a baby whether it be through ART or adoption.  The thing that seems to come so easily and accidentally to 7 out of 8 couples we are required to pay for.  It is just one additional injustice in the long line of injustices that consume infertile couples' thoughts.  It is also the injustice that seems to consume my thoughts and probably the thoughts of most men.  On the bright side, if the fertility treatments work I am sure that I won’t regret a dollar of the spent money.  If it doesn’t work, well I don’t want to think about that because it will just piss me off.

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