Transfer day

Well folks, I am currently PUPO.  In the world on the infertile that stands for Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise.  

Yesterday was the day of my embryo transfer.  

Despite the daily injections and pill popping that I've been doing for weeks to ready my body, the day sort of arrived quicker than I was mentally or emotionally prepared for {I'll save that for a later post}. Physically, as my scans and labs proved, I was ripe and ready to incubate and hopefully grow a baby.  Or babies.  

If you're just joining me here, please feel free to read about how we make babies here.   

Originally, Paul wasn't supposed to be there for the transfer.  He's was in NYC at a big conference and would never have made it for the 12:30 transfer.   It wasn't until the morning of that Paul let me know he would be with me.  Holding my hand.  Watching our tiny embryos shoot like stars into my uterus.  He had been very upset prior, knowing he wouldn't be there.  It was really important to him.  As it was to me too.  Though I downplayed those feelings to spare him additional guilt.  But he made it work.  I am so grateful.  My best friend was supposed to be the pinch hitter, so she still came with us for support and love.  She is-plain and simple-the best. 

Minutes before heading back for the transfer.

As soon as we arrived we were taken back and told to change into the stunning napkins you see above. I took the Valium they gave me and was feeling good in no time.   I wasn't nervous for the procedure itself, but was on the edge of my seat awaiting the thaw report to see how our embryos survived coming out of cryopreservation.  There is always a possibility that they will arrest or be damaged. 

We have four frozen embryos from our last fresh IVF cycle that gave us Elena.  We are grateful that the two we decided to thaw survived and looked good.  They were graded 5BB and 5BC at the time of vitrification. 

Our embryos- Macaroni & Cheese.  Yes.  We name them.  We believe Elena was "Egg" from Taylor Ham, Egg, and Cheese from our last cycle. 

The procedure itself is quite simple.  You lay on a table with your legs in stirrups.  Always a fun time.  Then they insert the speculum.  Again, fun stuff.  The doctor preps your girly parts, making chit chat and laughing with your husband, of course.  You know, because he's the one staring up your vajingo.  Not your husband.  Not that my husband usually stares up there, but you know what I mean.  I hope.  Anyway, where was I...yes, this is when the nurse has the ultrasound wand on your belly so the doc can see your uterus. And they're telling you how thick and cushy it looks.  And you're all "Yay!" for your plush endometrial lining.  I was proud. 

There are a few others in the room and the mood is light and enjoyable, actually.  Dim lights.  Classical music.  Husband holding my hand.  And seriously, this doctor? This nurse?  The IVF coordinator?  They're all there and we're all friends at this point.  They have been with us since the beginning of this journey back in April 2008.  It really is a magical and surreal moment.

 Then the embryologist comes in to confirm who you are and brings the catheter containing both of the embryos and hands it to the doctor.  He guides it in to the perfect spot in my uterus and injects them.  And it's crazy because you can see them.  The little fluid bubbles that they are in or whatever, like little shooting stars.  One and Two.  Once the embryologist confirms under the microscope that the catheter is empty.  We are done and done. The nurse raises the bed so my legs are elevated and I get to rest there with my husband for the next 30 minutes or so.  

You're pregnant.  Those were my husband's first words to me when we were alone.  I believed him.  The power of positive thinking keeps me going. 

I imagine, that because my husband and I cannot ever procreate the way most people do, I try to find all the ways that make *our way* special.  And this moment, here?  This IS special.  To be able to actually see with your own eyes your children {yes, I believe at this point, they ARE my babies, whether they survive or not} being placed inside your uterus is, in a word, amazing.  Tears streaming down your face, husband-hand-squeezing amazing.  To know the exact moment that your embryos have entered your womb to hopefully make a home.  Awesome.

They recommend 24 hours of bed rest, which is laughable to me with an 18 month old.  But I did my best.  I was starving so we stopped at the diner on our way home to pick up my favorite tomato rice soup for lunch.  When we got back to my Aunt's, she was taking Elena for a walk so we were able to get a few bites before they came back.  

All that little girl wanted was her mama.  And honestly, I just wanted to hold her.  I let her sit in my lap and share my soup and then I retired to the couch.  I spent the rest of the afternoon between the couch and the floor playing with Elena and watching TV, not really resting, per se, but definitely taking it easy and letting my aunt and Paul help out.  

I was so grateful to have Paul home.  It made all the difference in my stress level.  I sat on the floor in the bathroom while he did bath duty and then I helped dress her  and get her ready for bed.  Paul put her in my arms so I could rock her for a  few minutes and then he got her to bed.  We both went to bed early.  I even called it a night before Scandal, which I'd been waiting for since last week's cliffhanger!  I slept like a rock. 

I tried to take it easy today too, but Elena is cutting her eye teeth, I think, and was cranky and needy all day.  

Now I just have to endure the two week wait until my beta, which is scheduled for the 17th.  I'm praying for an early Christmas miracle.  In the meantime, I'm overanalyzing every twinge, flutter and cramp.  I'm positive I felt implantation the first two times I was pregant and tested positive on an HPT fairly early.  So, I keep hoping for that same gut feeling.  I've had some twinges today, a little bit of that stretching, pulling sensation and a brief moment of a tiny, barely noticeable cramp.  Could it be implantation?  Sure.  Or it could just be the less than healthy things I've consumed today turning my insides out.  Including, but not limited to 6 mini cinnamon donuts I inhaled right before I came up to bed. 

For any inquiring minds, yes, I will definitely be peeing on a stick.  I have no self control.  

Thanks for sharing the journey.  Prayers, sticky vibes, happy thoughts, baby dances...whatever you got, are all welcomed. I thank you in advance.

Stay tuned...

xoxo

This is how we make babies

I actually started my first blog in 2008 to document the beginning of our journey with infertility.  It was a private blog with no followers.  Equal Parts Hope and Faith.  It was really just an online journal to document the pain and frustration that burdened my heart. I deleted it a while back.  All of that emotion and information and research.  I wish I hadn't, but I can be hasty like that on rare occasion. 

I had another blog I started when I learned I was pregnant for the first time, back in February 2010.  I documented everything.  Cycle days.  Protocol.  Doctor appointments.  It was the first space I wrote the words- "I'm Pregnant." 

And then on St. Patrick's Day I learned my pregnancy was no longer viable.  And was told to go home and wait to miscarry.  So I did.  With a hole in my heart.  I never wrote about the miscarriage.  I ended up having to have a D&C on April 6, 2010.  It was a day that breaks my heart over and over.  My baby was a little boy.  He would have been two this month.  I quit blogging while I tried to heal the hole in my heart.  Again, I wish I hadn't.  For me, writing is healing and I should have given a voice to those emotions. 

When I began preparing for my 5th fertility treatment (4 IVF cycles + 1 FET), I decided that I was not going to blog about it.  I can be superstitious and felt that maybe I was jinxing myself, prematurely getting my hopes up.  Sharing too much of what might not be mine to keep.  Ridiculously juvenile thinking in hindsight.  I get that now.

It was a difficult cycle.  I developed severe OHSS and was on bed rest.  I was  pregnant with multiples and lost Baby A at 9 weeks.  Our second angel.  They actually suspect I was pregnant with triplets but the third sac was empty so it was never confirmed. 

I wish that I had blogged during that time.  I wish that I had the foresight to know that this pregnancy was real and would last and would be the one to finally make me a mother.  But I didn't.  I took pictures of my belly every week, documenting a pregnancy I didn't believe was real, but I didn't write about it. I am grateful for those pictures but sad that I didn't capture my pregnancy with words the way I had always dreamed I would. I didn't write in any of the pregnancy journals I received as gifts.  Didn't fill in the pregnancy calendar identical to the one I had been so detailed with for my first pregnancy.  I couldn't shake the feeling that this baby was not guaranteed to be mine until I held her in my arms. 

I suppose that is what happens when you become comfortable and accepting of the struggle.  And I don't mean just infertility.  I have always been a glass half full type of girl despite the hardships I've endured.  But I carefully balance that with always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

So although I'm not ready to delve into the complexity and severity of our infertility, I do feel that I am ready to make a home for parts of it on this blog.  And I am certainly open to discussing or answering questions if you'd like to direct them to me in an email. 

So that brings me to today.  Where I get to share that we are working on Baby #2.  It sure isn't happening the fun old-fashioned way, but I've grieved that loss already.  It still stings from time to time, but I am ever grateful to modern medicine and all that has enabled Paul and I to become parents.

We have 4 frozen embryos from our last IVF cycle (the one that gave us our miracle, Elena) that are sitting on ice in NJ waiting for us.  We have decided that since we will be home in NJ for the month of December, we will coordinate a Frozen Embryo Transfer with our trip so we can cycle with our beloved fertility clinic. 

I am nervous and anxious and scared and uncertain.  Translation- I am down right panicked.  But excited, hopeful, and positive at the same time.

So yes, friends, this is happening right now.  This is how we make babies. 

Baby making cocktail sprawled out on my mother-in-law's bed...scandalous! 

If you decide that you don't want to follow along as I document this go-around, I understand.  But I'm making no apologies and no hasty blog-deleting decisions, no matter what the outcome.

 I realize that, although infertility doesn't define me or my husband, it is a huge part of our lives.  One that I feel needs to be included and incorporated throughout this blog of mine, as it is still painful and real and present, even now that I have a child. 

Once Upon a Dime is here to stay.