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

Just a Quick Note

Hey!
I am out of town and visiting family, but I realized some of you don't follow me on Twitter.  I wanted to let you know that the embryo implanted and we are pregnant!


I'm dying to share on here the story of hearing that news, but sadly it'll have to wait a bit.


Didn't want to leave you wondering.  Have had two blood test to measure the Beta (HCG levels).  The numbers are looking good and have more than doubled, which is what we want them to do :-)


Hoping you are all well!  I plan to get on and post again soon!


Blessed beyond belief!
~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.

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"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.

Blood Clots, Friends, and the Sound of My Blood

Three nights ago, I was at my in-laws' house and a strange thing happened with my left leg.  We were sitting on the couch looking at blue-prints for their new house when suddenly my left leg was swollen, throbbing, slightly purple, and going numb.

I adjusted my leg several different times, finally propping my left foot up on the ottoman (footstool).  Ten minutes later, the swelling went down, the throbbing stopped, the original color returned and my leg felt fine.  I mentioned it to my husband when we chatted that night (via Yahoo! chat), but he was not concerned.

Normally, such a thing would just be a strange phenomenon and I would think nothing of it, but in preparation for our upcoming Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) I am having to take estradiol, which is a hormone that has the potential to cause blood clots.  

I am healthy, I don't smoke, I don't have a history of blood clots, so the chances are slim that I would have an issue.  Normally, the concern for blood clots is far from my mind.  However, my leg also does not normally swell up suddenly and go numb.  So, I have been a little more aware of my legs and their behavior the past couple of days.

Last night, while visiting a dear friend in a city a few hours from where I live, my friend and I went for a walk.  It was truly just a stroll around the block.  However, halfway through the walk, my feet were swollen and throbbing and my hands were so swollen it was too painful to let my arms swing by my side.  These things are also incredibly unusual.

I propped my feet up, once inside, then went to bed a little while later, exhausted.  As I lay there drifting into sleep, I noticed that my lower left leg felt like it was bruised, so I reached my hand down to touch it and my leg was very tender.  But there was no bruise, and I had done nothing that would have bruised it.

I made a mental note to tell my DH when we were able to chat next, and I fell asleep.

This morning, my DH was able to call me via the telephone.  The connection was terrible, but it was wonderful to hear his voice!  I told him about my leg feeling bruised the night before and his tone changed.  He asked a few more questions, and based on my answers, he mentioned that I might want to go to the hospital to have it checked out.  He also indicated that since he wasn't here and able to truly assess me that he wasn't certain I should go.

So, we agreed that I should call the fertility clinic and speak to a nurse.  I called the clinic this morning and left a message.  She spoke with my Reproductive Endocrinologist, and he said that I should definitely go in to the emergency room to rule out a blood clot.  He told her to convey to me that it's highly unlikely that I would have one considering my age and health, but that with the symptoms I was having (which I have not described fully here) it would be best for me to go in to be certain.

So, my friend drove me to the military post hospital here in town, and I received excellent care from the emergency room staff :)

When I described my symptoms to the nurse, he was concerned, especially when he learned that I had been in the car for long periods of time many times recently and what type of medication I was on.

The doctor, however, was not as concerned.  His face actually fell when he heard my description of my symptoms and located the points on my calf that I described as tender. I could tell that he was clearly unconcerned and it felt as if the tests he ordered at that point were simply a formality for his own protection.

I felt a bit stupid, but my friend reminded me of the importance of being cautious and advocating for my body, taking care of it, especially in light of the importance of future events (the FET).  Which also reminded me that I had been encouraged by my husband (a PA) to go in, and had been instructed by my physician to go in.  So, even if the ER doc thought that I was a waste of his time and taxpayers' money, I believe it was still the right decision for me to go in.

The doctor ordered an ultrasound of my leg, and it showed that my circulation from my foot was good and there were no clots.  I must say that the sonographer (x-ray tech, whoever) was very nice and did a great job.  AND, I must also say, that my blood flowing through my veins sounds super cool!!!  It's amazing! 

Now, lest that ER doctor (a 3rd year med-school resident) be slandered, I should inform you that he was very nice, very knowledgeable, and very thorough.  I should also let you know that I conveyed my perspective of the doctor to the nurse, about how I felt like he considered my case to be a waste of time and why I felt that way, and the nurse (who was spectacular) had a heart to heart with the doctor.  

Afterward, the doctor came in prior to discharging me and had a completely different attitude and demeanor, took the time to talk to me like a person instead of a warm body, and displayed the fact that he can not only handle constructive criticism, but that he has a teachable heart and is willing to admit he's not perfect and adjust his behavior to apply things he's learned.

So, Kudos! to the nurse named "Cowboy" at the hospital for caring enough about the patients to listen to them and the resident docs to take them under his wing.  Kudos! to the doc for doing a great job and for redeeming his reputation by showing he actually does care.  Kudos! to my amazing friend and her husband for allowing me to dominate so much of their time today and to my amazing friend for sitting with me for hours and talking sense to me when I was prone to be dramatic and nonsensical.  And Kudos! thanks and praise to God for providing for my needs in a town that is not my home, for blessing me with friends that love me unconditionally, and for keeping me safe and healthy.

I am to follow up with my Primary Care Manager (PCM) in about a week to have another ultrasound of my leg just to be certain there wasn't a clot hiding in my lower leg.  (The week gives it time to travel into my upper leg, if there's a clot, where it can be located by ultrasound.)  Apparently an ultrasound is only done from the knee up on the leg if a clot is suspected.

Thank you to those of you who were so kind to express your concern via twitter!  I appreciate your concern and support.  What a privilege it is to be uplifted so frequently by this community.  Kudos! to you all as well!  ;)

Blessings,

Julia