Weeks 1-2

Most people don't know that they're pregnant until they've hit week 5 or 6 or sometimes even much later. Really, only couples undergoing fertility treatments get to know and live weeks 1-2, since week one technically starts with the first day of your menses. Even crazier, IVFers can start the process at -2 (yes, NEGATIVE two) weeks or earlier depending on their protocols.

For me, this time, I started on day 2, week 1 with estradiol pills (estrogen to make a happy home) and lovenox (blood thinner to make sure the estrogen doesn't kill me or the embryo). Medically speaking, t's a lot less intense than rounds 1 and 2 of IVF that we've been through. Now that we've got a toddler? It's a whole different ball game.

Today was good, but yesterday? Oh goodness. There are no words for yesterday. Ok, there are some words for yesterday, but they're not really for polite company.

Hopped up on estrogen, I've been moody, confrontational, petulant, and extremely tired, which doesn't help with the first three. Two nights ago, Wisehubby and I had a wicked fight, but I realized that I was being pretty irrational, so I reined it in, called Wisesister, wrote down my promises for what I could do to improve the situation, and spoke calmly with him, eventually resolving the fight. Needless to say, I didn't get to bed exactly on time, and I had a hard time sleeping.

The next morning, instead of sleeping until about 7, which is typically for our son, the little guy (1 yo, mind you) woke up at 5. AM. Holy. Hell. You expect it when they're newborn, but mommies always say, "Don't worry! This won't last forever." Yes, 1 year of sleep depravation isn't literally forever, but it feels like it, for sure. On top of that, he's recently decided that being a toddler means that he is going to cry because things aren't going his way. A lot. That website, Reasons My Son is Crying, suddenly seems relatable instead of funny or cruel.

So, I had a meltdown--a throw the kid in the car and drive to the nearest mall to power walk your feelings into submission meltdown. I called Wisehubby at work to let him know I was spiraling out of control because I was tired and I was hormonal and I had forgotten to take my lovenox injection and I couldn't find the garage door opener and... and... and... Geez, there was a laundry list of other problems that I can't even remember now. 

It was bad enough that he suggested I drop the kid off to be watched by my dad, who is currently being a bachelor for the first time while my mom is out of town. That wasn't a bad idea, but my crazy hormonal brain wouldn't give in. I knew I could conquer this by myself, well, and with the help of a little bit of fear of public shaming. "Get it together!" I thought, "There's no crying in mall walking!"

After a 3 mile walk through the mall and a stop at Chick Fil A for some comfort food for me and the babe, I managed to get him home for what was surely the world's shortest afternoon nap for two such exhausted souls. The nap and the walk were enough though, and we took the rest of the afternoon to play just the two of us. He pulled all of his books off of his book shelf, we watched Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, we filled the water table and kiddie pool, we took the dog on a walk, and we even went swimming with the dog our pool. Daddy brought home some take out, and I'd officially survived the worst day of all of my infertility treatments.

What's the moral to this tale? Even if the FET is supposed to be easier, being infertile and being a parent is something completely crazy. You're so grateful for what you have, yet that gratitude can make you less willing to admit when you are having a hard time. Once you do have a baby, the appointments and procedures and hormones are met with less ceremony and less support than the last time. I've done most of the procedures by myself, and Wisehubby hasn't helped me through a single injection. It's not that he doesn't care, because he does, but that he has someone else that he has to care for more--our son. Instead of taking in all of the crazy hormones and thinking promisingly about how they were going to change my life, I'm just so freaking tired. So tired. Please, please, baby sleep tired.

Would I change a thing? No. Stick me, prick me, hop me up on hormones. Give me a shot at a second baby and another year of my life lost to the beautiful delirium of sleepless nights and parenthood.

Waiting

Today I did a mock transfer so that Dr. B can be sure he knows the geography of my womb and get the catheter with the embryo in the right spot. It's a very quick, fairly painless procedure, but it requires a full bladder. Even though I cut back from 32 to 24 ounces of water based on my previous experiences, I still was scolded by the sonographer that I was too compliant and should have "let off a little pressure" in the restroom before the mock transfer. I wish I had known while I was sitting there with my full bladder, waiting for my appointment that was 30 minutes late! Eep! I can't believe I didn't wet myself, to be honest.

Anyway, all was good and should be smooth next month. Now, I'm just waiting for my period, excited for it for one of the few times in my life.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The Good:

We're rolling on down to our FET. Just one more procedure stands in our way, a mock transfer. Other than having to fill and hold your bladder, that's an easy and comfortable procedure, relative to everything else. We're on track for a FET during the week of August 11-14, which would put us on track for an early May baby! The best part of the timing is that both Wisehubby and myself are off work for the last time before school starts up that week. Couldn't be better!

The Bad:

Dr. B's bedside manner, or lack thereof, just continues to astound me. If he wasn't "holding our embryo hostage" as Wisehubby puts it, we'd be working with another doctor. I was there for a hysteroscopy exactly a week ago, and he didn't remember. It's fine if you don't remember, but at least look at my chart in advance of the appointment, dumb ass. He also asked about 10 questions that we paid $50 copay to answer about one month ago, and he also didn't read his notes from that appointment. Ugh.

The Ugly:

I had to get a script for Lovenox today. Joy. As much as I look forward for the possibility of another pregnancy and Wisebaby, I do not look forward to a daily injection of blood thinner. It's the ugliest aspect of this whole thing.

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!

We figured we had one on ice.

"Hey, y'all! Good to see you! Doesn't it seem like you were just here?" asks the male Dr. B.

"It's crazy, but we're back," I reply. "We figured we had one on ice."

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That was the start of our next leg of the Quest for Wisebaby journey. It was maybe a little more lighthearted than our last IVF cycle, and definitely more light-hearted than the earth shattering news that got the whole ball rolling that culminated with our first IVF cycle.

We went in yesterday to talk about doing a frozen embryo transfer, FET, with Frostie, Wisebaby's lone surviving embryo sibling. Frostie was recently dubbed "Austin Powers" by a colleague who finds the idea of an bundle of human cells lying in a freezer, cryopreserved, a little funny. It's been helping me keep things light.

Anyway, the fruits of the appointment are this:
(1) Screening tests in July
(2) Drugs and FET in August
(3) Possibly a May 2015 baby
(4) FET is indeed a fraction of the cost of IVF with ICSI ($300 for meds instead of $3000, $3000 in medical and laboratory fees instead of $12000)
(5) The male Dr. B's bedside manner is still shitty, but he still respects my OB, Dr. B, and has a great track record.
(6) They're using electronic medical records now. Cool?
(7) I'm still on the hook for Lovenox shots for blood clotting. That sucks, but what can you do?

After the appointment, Wisehubby and I went to dinner to celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary and discuss the road forward. We both feel at peace going into this FET in a way that we didn't--or maybe couldn't?--feel during our last two trips towards an embryo transfer. We know that we have just one embryo to transfer, and that our track record gives that embryo just 2 in 5 odds of turning into a pregnancy and 1 in 5 odds of turning into a live birth. Those are shitty odds, and so we must face the possibility that we're about to spend $3300 to be disappointed again.

Why are we at peace then? Well, with an amazing Wisebaby in our lives, eleven months old and charming the pants off of us each day, we can lay this one more confidently in God's hands. We can pray for the expansion of our family or for peace if it is not meant to be. We can be happy being the three Wiseman, even if we'd be so full of joy to be the four Wiseman. It would mess up our Christmas cards, but it's a small price to pay. I promise we wouldn't sign it from Austin Powers.

19 Weeks

Every morning I wake up, say a little prayer, put my hand on my belly, and remember that my dreams are coming true. The bump is definitely growing; there is no denying that our quest for Wisebaby is more than halfway done.

Ok, so gestationally speaking, at 19 weeks 1 day, I am a few days shy of halfway, but our journey has been too long to count in weeks, so I feel more than half through.

Everyone keeps asking if I feel ok; the sonographer asked if we were always so calm. The truth is that even though we're 19 weeks into our pregnancy, everyday feels like a very special miracle, and all of the little annoying things about pregnancy don't even register when I'm watching my belly grow because of a little baby boy--that's right, it's a boy! I am too awestruck to be weepy or antsy. Just like on the day that Wisehubby proposed to me, I am mostly at a loss for the right words to describe the peace and happiness that God has brought into our lives as we begin to transition our lives into their next incredible stage.

Speaking of the sonogram, we had our anatomy scan and everything about our little boy seems completely perfect. On our 19 week mark, he measured a little ahead of schedule, 19 weeks 4 days, weighing in at 11 ounces. His head is on my left side, and he is lying on his back. There are four chambers in his heart, he's got a brain growing strong, his kidneys are there, the stomach is clear, and his cord blood is flowing properly. He's got two arms and legs, ten fingers and ten toes. He used his little hand to wave at us and then he stuck out his tongue. We could even see his little face. We're completely in love with this little guy, and all we've see of him have been a few grainy pictures and a glamour shot of him way back when he was growing in the petri dish.

Now that I've written this post, maybe I'll not have to touch my belly tomorrow morning to check to see if this all is real or not. I doubt it though; it is nice to have a reminder that your dreams are coming true.

Post-script: We're also 189 shots in! Sweet Wisebaby is worth every prick.