When you least expect it...

Here's a post that I wrote back on December 14, 2014:

As I grieved the loss of our miscarriage a few months ago, my sister told me that I could accept that this was it--that we were to be a family of three--but that she refused to accept it. She was convinced that we would end up pregnant when we least expected it. She imagined that our son would be headed off to college when we became pregnant. Her first prediction was right. Her second? Not as accurate.

The ACOG suggests you wait three months after a miscarriage to try to conceive again. Three separate doctors have reviewed our records and indicated that it is highly unlikely that we could ever conceive without intervention. Two doctors want me on Lovenox, a powerful blood thinner, when I am pregnant to prevent clots and loss. I had decided to take some time off of my prenatal vitamin and go back on caffeine and alcohol pretty hard for me. I was definitely not expecting a late period just one month after my cycle reset. Nor did I expect an elicit run to the drug store while on vacation with my in laws. Nor a positive pregnancy test while bathing our son.

Holy shit! We are pregnant, and we definitely didn't expect it.

Half-grieving

I've been half-grieving since Thursday, when I got the worst kind of news when trying to referee what could only be described as an epic Greek and Latin Stem Word Pictionary Battle. I was so caught off guard and in the middle of everything that I had to call back later when my students were working individually to process the information. Unfortunately, the second time around, the nurse's news did not improve.

My HSG, the pregnancy hormone, levels did not rise at the rate that they want. They look for at least 66% rise in two days, and mine had gone up just about 33%. What could it be? Well, miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, a healthy pregnancy that defies the trend (15% chance), or even more unlikely, our single embryo split into twins, one of whom was surviving and the other wasn't. What to do? Wait and repeat on Monday.

Today, I took the initiative and called when it was convenient, and on my school land line since the cell service in my classroom is terrible. I knew it wasn't good when the nurse hesitated to tell me anything at all since Dr. B hadn't reviewed my charts yet. Oh, shit, not the miracle I'd been praying for.

My hormones went up about 30% again, and they're at a good level for someone who is 6 weeks pregnant, but the slow rise makes Dr. B think it's an ectopic pregnancy. Yeah, that's when your baby is growing OUTSIDE of your womb.

Bad stuff. Risk your life to internal bleeding and destroy your lady parts if you don't end it bad stuff. Chose between poisoning your doomed baby with chemotherapy drugs or surgically removing your doomed baby bad stuff.

I go in for a sono to see if it's actually bad stuff, or just an oddity of modern medicine. Maybe we have a perfectly healthy pregnancy and weird hormones. Supposedly it happens (15% is the number that you see), even if it appears to be documented NO WHERE on the internet. NO WHERE.

So, I am trying to be hopeful, to not return my stack of new maternity clothes, to believe in this miracle, in this pregnancy, in the beautiful hatching embryo in the picture. It's hard though, since I am half-grieving. I can't be truly hopeful, but I can't give into the all encompassing grief. I am stuck in between, where no one has anything to say other than they'll be praying for me.

That's where I am. I suppose you can pray for me.

A prayer for peace of heart

Dear Lord,

Please be with us tomorrow as we try to become parents to another child. Make my womb a healthy place, and steady the hands of our health care professionals. Please be with us if we do conceive, so that we can learn to dedicate ourselves to another child, while raising our son in your image. Please be with us if we do not conceive, so that we can grieve the loss of our hopes and continue the business of being your servants in ways that are within our grasp. Most of all, bring peace to our hearts, no matter the outcome.

In Jesus's name, Amen.

The Other Shoe

When you're battling infertility and walking the path towards conception, you are constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. We must have an amazing shoe wardrobe because it seemed to be years of escalating bad news, plenty of dropping shoes:

miscarriage

zero normal morphology

low testosterone (pills)

low count

failed IVF

no embryos for freezing

Leiden Factor V blood clotting disorder

bizarre physical effect of varicocele surgery

no improvement in sperm morphology or count after varicocele surgery

lower testosterone (more pills)

lower testosterone (shots)

induction instead of normal delivery

lots and lots of blood thinner delivered through lots and lots of shots

Finally it seemed that we'd go barefoot for a while. We had Wisebaby. He came via the natural start of labor that I had given up on. He weighed the right amount, and he was a nice height. Perfectly average. We could breath easy and wander around, letting the grass and sand and and carpet and water tickle between our toes. 

I've realized though, that I never gave up holding my breath for some sort of set-back. We've taken them all in, seething, grieving, adjusting, surviving, thriving. I keep waiting for some major set-back to happen with Wisebaby, and it has and it hasn't. Yeah, he's stubbornly refusing to walk even after his first birthday. Yeah, he wouldn't eat solid food for a while, four months if you must know. Yeah, he's been doing crazy things with his nap schedule since day one. Yeah, he's been to the doctor a lot--slow gainer after birth, tongue tie, nursing difficulties, five ear infections, RSV, strep throat, hand foot and mouth, rashes, colds, and ear tubes. Through it all, I've said to Wisehubby a million times, "I know he's been sick a lot, but don't we have just the best kid?"

Maybe a lot of other mommas would freak out as the shoes all start dropping, but I've just sort of been rolling with the parenting punches the way I learned to roll with them when we were just TRYING to become parents. Maybe we had a bit more practice at dashed hopes and altered expectations than the average fertile couple? As it is, I'm holding my breath and waiting to see if a shoe will drop on us during this frozen embryo transfer cycle. If it does, we'll just dodge it and keep on trucking.

Clear for take off

In the last week I've had an FSH blood test and a hysteroscopy to make sure that I'm not suffering from any new complications since it has been a long time since I've done a work-up. I got the call last week that my hormones are A-OK, and today I got to see for myself that that my uterus is looking pretty during the hysteroscopy. What's next? Just a follow-up/planning session, a med order, and a period. Then, frozen embryo transfer, here we come!

The hysteroscopy is something that a lot of people dislike. I would put it on par with having a pap smear. The speculum is very uncomfortable, but it was removed as soon as the scope was in place. After that, you can just watch the monitor in amazement as your doctor points out the pin point holes that are your tubes. It's pretty cool. A little leakage and very mild cramping are the only side effects.

I'm feeling pretty stressed out right now, which I think is a combination of a lot of factors. A good friend of mine is going through a divorce, Wisebaby is turning one and getting ear tubes, we are getting our windows replaced and they keep pushing back the date, and then there is the make or break feeling of unfreezing our one and only embryo for the transfer. I had a pretty big melt down yesterday when I dropped Wisebaby's smash cake and destroyed the icing job before his birthday party. My husband saved the day, again, some more, but I think it was a good indicator that I'm more stressed than I would like and that I was letting myself think. I'm going to keep doing my yoga and trying to relax because I want to be a happy, healthy body for our frozen Wisebaby.

Anyway, that isn't my most well-conceived blog post--fertility pun intended--but, then again, we all just conceive however we can!

Preparing mind and body

The summer before our successful IVF, I took Zumba and Power Barre and got fit--not thin--fit. I didn't lose weight or change sizes, but I worked on making my body whole. I also transferred schools from a stressful work environment to a much more relaxed school. Finally, I graduated from with my master's degree, so I took graduate school off of my plate. In addition to the introduction of a blood thinner to our regime, I think those changes had a big impact on my mind-body connection going into IVF. I felt good about my body, and my body, in turn, worked for me.

This summer, I've been working hard to get into that good mind-body connection zone. I'm doing some extra work writing curriculum and teaching PD to earn money for the FET, but I'm staying mindful to focus on being the best me that I can be, and to let go of the things that are not in my control, namely, work politics and other people generally. I'm taking Zumba again, this time with my amazing 57 year old mom. I'm taking yoga for fitness with two girlfriends of mine as well. I'm doing everything I can to get in that happy zone for my baby maker.

Tonight, at yoga, I started to think back to some of the practices of prenatal yoga, which I did and loved. It was one of the best experiences of my life to become that aware and connected to my body and to my baby. I honestly miss Wisebaby when I do yoga now. I feel a little hole where he used to ride. So, during the shavasana pose, where I normally struggle and let my mind wander to earthly problems, I decided to think deeply about my uterus, to send my breaths to my baby, even though he or she is still just chilling out--literally, chilling out in a freezer! I did it, and it felt good. I didn't think about the drama in my life, work, or the chores that awaited me. I just sent breaths deep down to where I will hopefully grow our second Wisebaby. Namaste.

Relaxing a touch

I'm relaxing a touch now that we've gotten through both blood tests, and my HCG levels are rising appropriately. I cannot wait to see the Wisebaby(ies) via ultrasound on December 5, but I guess I will have to.

Wiselady's IVF Tips

Looking back on my IVF cycle, I learned so much about myself and IVF in general were I to do things again, here are some tips that I would follow.

1. Have band aids ready during injections. You never know when you'll get a little blood droplet, and Wisehubby had a better time not staining my waistband or cringing when he could quickly apply a band aid. It didn't really help physically, but it was easier on both of us.
2. Take off at least one day after the retrieval. I only took off the minimum amount of days by doctor's orders, and it was a little bit of a mistake. Retrieval was, to me, the most painful part of the process. Your ovaries still feel so swollen, even after being relieved of your eggs, plus you have cramping because the retrevial involved puncturing of your lady parts with a needle. I was totally distracted by the two week wait, anyway, so I wasn't any good to my students at work.
3. The needle goes straight in with a firm push. Seriously, push a little. Nothing sucked worse than the morning that I accidentally let my Lupron sharp bounce out of my tummy. Who wants to stick themselves twice?
4. Put on your glasses and double check the dosage. Wisehubby administered only half of the dose of progesterone in oil, which is delivered in big, nasty needles into the butt. Ok, so something did suck worse than letting my sharp bounce out. That was a rough morning, because we had to switch needles for drawing down, draw down again, and then stick the other cheek. It was the hardest day to keep from crying.
5. Get a good audio book to listen to while you're waiting. Wisehubby and I listened to Catching Fire, the second book in Suzanne Collin's Hunger Games trilogy, in the car and using headphone splitters. It got our mind off of all of the what-ifs that nag you while you wait, which you do a lot when you're going through an IVF cycle. Day time TV stinks anyway, so it was nice to avoid pretending to be interested in it while we waited after the transfer.
6. Make an IVF box. I had a plastic box dedicated for storing all of my non-refrigerated IVF supplies. I appreciated it after the male Dr. B confirmed our failure; I just put the lid on it and shoved it to the back of my closet. It'll be there for when we try again.
7. Make an IVF bag. I used a pretty insulated lunch sack for storing all of my refrigerated IVF supplies. I could easily grab it, throw in an ice pack, and go if I needed to administer drugs on-the-go. It also looks just like a lunch sack, so it reduced questions. If people saw it while we were out on the town, it just looked like a lunch sack or purse. If house guests looked in our fridge, it didn't stand out. I did tell a lot of people about our IVF, but it didn't mean I wanted them staring at our meds.
8. Wait until you are "all done" to get a log of all procedures and charges. I started off trying to provide substantiation to our FSA for every charge, but it got to be too much. Plus, the male Dr. B's office staff would file everything with insurance and then carry charges over into your next visit. This made individual visit receipts worthless to the FSA. You have a long time to provide substantiation, so I just asked for a complete itemized receipt of all services when I went in for our WTF follow-up appointment. Faxed to the FSA, it seemed to take care of business.

Why his throat hurts

Wisehubby has been complaining about his sore throat that appeared because of his three-hour long intubation during his varicocele surgery. A lot. He's never complained this much about anything medically related before. He even has been talking in this weird whisper voice that my damaged ear drums can't manage to understand.

Finally, today, Wisehubby confessed to why he keeps bitching about his sore throat. He said, "My balls are sore and my abdomen is swollen; nothing seems to be going right." He complains about the sore throat because it is something that he seems to have some control over. He should be able to kick this, but he knows that his fertility issues and the new issues springing from his varicocele surgery mystery aren't going anywhere soon.

If I could just heal the hurt, I would, but I can't. So, until then, I'll try to understand what he's saying when he croaks at me softer than I can understand.

Stir (stim?) Crazy

Today, I organized for six straight hours leading up to my first stim injection--stim meds are what cause you to grow lots of follicles for egg retrieval (ER). I thought that the anticipation of my first injection ever would be the worst, but I now realize that each milestone will bring on new levels of anxiety.

This morning at church was stewardship Sunday--you know, the one where the pastor tries to guilt you into tithing. About halfway through the sermon about paying unto Caesar what is Caesar's, I started to feel panicky. Oh my bills! I haven't even begun to pay for IVF, and the front corner of our house is sinking because the clay soils of North Texas were not meant for home foundations.

One of the results of our trials in the last six months has been cutting off our regular offering at church. We've given all we can for the time being. We've got to stay solvent in order to pay for our mortgage, Wisehubby's graduate school because we didn't qualify for financial aid, our car, our new electrical panel, our foundation, and IVF. I am normally a compulsive charitable giver, but times have been a little tough for us Wisepeople lately.

Anyway, those concerns launched me into a stir crazy mood that lasted all day. I cried on the way to Sunday family lunch when Wisehubby suggested we sell our tickets to the OU-Texas A&M game to help off-set the cost of foundation repairs. My Wiseparents are normally great lunch time company, but there was a distinct down vibe today.

Then I got home, and I let my stir crazy mood out to play. I cleaned the kitchen, folded the laundry, put away the laundry, organized our mail, shredded documents, organized our medical bills and other papers, and generally put my life in order. I'm not one for organizing anything, so this was a majorly weird string of events.

So, I'm stimming in earnest, and I think that the anticipation of moving forward with IVF is the root cause of my sudden panic today. Luckily, I've worked through the problem that triggered my panic in the first place.

I think that I'm going to adopt the attitude that I'm just participating in a different type of financial stewardship. Instead of giving a large percentage of my paltry teacher's salary to the church, I'm giving it to the Quest for Wisebaby. When we've got a Wisebaby (or two?), we'll give him or her to God's service. You can't give a better gift than that!

Out of control: On home repairs, flossing, manicures, and infertility

Wisehubby and I keep ourselves pretty busy.

We're both in graduate school and teach middle school full time. We play in our church's orchestra and volunteer for a local grief support group for children. We have two special needs dogs that require specific behavior plans to keep them from aggressive tendencies; one even takes thyroid medicine. We take our job as Godparents to our niece very seriously, and she lives an hour away on the other side of the Metroplex. We are very close to our families, and maintain close friendships and a healthy social calendar.

As you can see, our plates were quite full before we started living daily with "ghosts of unconceived babies."

My OB, the female Dr. B, broke the bad news of Wisehubby's male factor infertility to us in June. Since then, we've struggled to feel in control of our lives.

Now, in our defense, we've had a string of bad breaks on the home repair front. First, our front yard was flooding, and we had to replace a bit of piping. As it turns out, the clay soil crushed our main waterline.

Then, moisture got into our electric cook top and blew the breaker to the entire house. We had to replace our entire electrical panel. In case you were wondering, that is a very pricey home repair.

This was sandwiched by our pool pump breaking, turning our backyard oasis into a swamp. This was our cheapest repair, but also our most time consuming, as Wisehubby did it himself. To complicate it, the local pool supplier had a warehouse fire, and it took two weeks to track down the correct starter to replace our broken one.

Finally, Wisehubby started to notice the jamming doors and cracking walls in one corner of our house. At first, I thought that he was allowing his fears of infertility to manifest themselves in phantom house sinking. Then, he showed me a crack that ran horizontally away from a closet door frame for a foot and a half. I was a believer. Today, we found out that we'll need 10 steel piers to lift the northeast corner of our house the 2.5 inches it has sunk since we bought it in 2008.

Today is also the day before we start stimming in earnest. Tomorrow, I will start injecting myself with hormones that stimulate my ovaries in rather unnatural ways. Tomorrow, I get my October pay check. This is the paycheck that we will use to pay for our IVF cycle in cash.

So, we've had a lot going on in our lives that has made things feel out of control. The night when I blew the power out for our entire house, I bawled for two hours on the phone to Wisesister about how awful and out of control and disappointing my life was. It's been a rough year since we miscarried our first Wisebaby.

What does all of this have to do with flossing and manicures? I'm an easily distracted person, and I've never been one for habits of any sort--well, discounting my Facebook and Diet Coke addictions.

However, since finding out about Wisehubby's infertility, I've started trying to control my life when I can. So, I've started painting my nails to make them look decent, and then removing the polish before I look like a moron--something I've struggled with in the past. I've also started flossing. My dentist will be so proud! As it turns out, flossing is pretty satisfying, and I can minimally guarantee good gum health on my horizon.

This has all made starting IVF both exciting and peaceful. We've pretty much bled ourselves dry financially between our infertility and our house, but we're starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I know that a thousand things could go wrong that I haven't anticipated, but I am not going to let that pessimistic outlook control me. After all, I learned to floss, didn't I?