Five Stages of Grief

Last month we were approved to go ahead with our third embryo transfer. This time we were given a 70% chance of success. We thought those were pretty good odds. Our embryo was pre-genetically screened and deemed “normal.” It was a fair quality embryo and our only girl.

Our transfer went smoothly. Post-transfer, I obediently rested for two days on the couch and used the time to pick out baby girl nursery decor. Man, oh man, I found the absolute cutest, sweetest little girl items to decorate our home. As hard as it was, I obediently refrained from picking up my IVF miracle toddler (much to both our dismay) so we could protect his little sis. Chris gave me shot after shot after shot to help keep my hormones at the perfect levels for our little girl.

As many of you know, there’s not much to do during this time but daydream, so we thought about our daughter a ton. We talked about what she might be like. Chris has always been crazy about the Fourth of July, and her due date was set to be right around that time. He was thrilled. We shopped online for cute little outfits containing more ruffles, floral print, and bows so big they go all the way up to Jesus. We were so excited to become parents of a little girl.

Beta Day was the day before Halloween, and just like that, our hopes were crushed in one simple email. Negative. How was this happening to us again? I felt numb. The news simply wouldn’t sink into my brain. I talked about it with a hollowness in my voice. I couldn’t believe it was true. The tears wouldn’t fall. I couldn’t laugh. All my emotions were frozen. For nearly two weeks I was deep into the first stage of grief: disbelief.

A phone call snapped me out of it. A relative told me she was in the early stages of pregnancy. Due early July. Like we should have been too. Something inside me snapped and all the sudden the suppressed feelings hit me like a Mack truck. Our daughter was gone. There would be no Christmas pregnancy announcement. My belly would not swell with the growing life of my little girl. There would be no big bows, and floral prints. The perfect name we picked would never go to a child of ours. Mason would never have a sister. We were simultaneously bummed for someone telling us their happy news at such an sensitive time, and utterly depressed that infertility has us deep in the clutches once again. I laid on the couch and sobbed for most of the weekend.

The stages of grief are no joke. I feel like my emotions are a pinball machine, and I find myself bouncing from one thought to another. The same thing is happening to Chris and not at the same time. There’s not a lot we can do except feel what we feel and try not to judge our emotions. We still have some grieving to do. We’ve talked to our family therapist, and she’s supporting us through this time. To be honest, most people really don’t comprehend our pain. And why would they? It’s not something the majority of the population has any experience with. Most expect since we have Mason already, we will be fine. He definitely makes us so happy, and we are beyond thankful for him. But our life will always be different moving forward. Part of us will always feel the absence of our daughter. Time may help us heal, but it will never give her back to us.

Our clinic reviewed out charts. Since this is the second embryo we’ve lost that was expected to be a successful outcome, they’ve decided they want to try some new options with us in the future. They want to try an endometrial scratch prior to our next cycle. This brought me to another phase of grief: bargaining. If we’d tried this procedure prior to our transfer, would she still be with us right now? They’re ready for us to move forward at any time. My heart is still broken and in mourning for my daughter. I want to process this. I want to move forward. I’m terrified of another disappointment. It’s hard to say what our next step will be, or when. For now, we are just loving on each other, praying, and trying to find a sense of peace.

Journey to Baby #2

Two and a half years ago I decided to start a blog about our struggle with infertility. Our name, Meet the Hopefuls came from my infertile play on the movie title Meet the Parents. At the time, we were still working toward receiving an official diagnosis. We were completely naive in our understanding of fertility treatments. We thought a simple pill or better timing would allow us go home and get pregnant the good, old fashioned way. Initially, we told no one about what we were facing. In fact, if you’d have told me two years ago that one day I’d be more openly blogging about our struggles with infertility, I wouldn’t have believed you. Or I’d have thought sometime in the future I was going to completely lose my marbles. Nevertheless, I sit here with a stomach full of butterflies as I type our first non-anonymous blog post about our current steps in our building family journey. In moments where I lack courage, Chris says, “get your butterflies to fly in formation!” Bear with me as I harness these fluttery little suckers…

For our first two cycles of IVF we hid in a shroud of anonymity. Very few people even knew we were infertile. Even fewer knew we were pursuing fertility treatment. Even fewer knew about this blog and those who did were people we would’ve openly shared our feelings with anyway. Writing with anonymity felt safe and comfortable. We never censored ourselves. When people in real life made painful comments, we openly wrote about and processed our feelings in the blog. When we were scared, we our fears poured out of our fingertips and onto the keyboard. When we were devastated, we journaled our sorrows. When we got pregnant with Mason, we hesitantly shared our success. We shared all these emotions without a filter because so few people we knew personally were reading our raw emotions as they transpired.

This time things are a little different. For starters, having Mason changed us in a big way. He helped us heal from some of the heartache infertility put us through, and validated our experiences. Having Mason also made us less shy about talking about infertility. We’ve  grown so much by opening up about our personal challenges. Now, our family and friends know about our struggle. Most people are hugely supportive of us. After coming out of the infertility closet, we’ve learned how truly “not alone” we were all along. A surprising number of people in our lives have shared their stories of struggle, loss, and infertility with us too. They’ve told us how thankful they are for our transparency. We hope we’re making the topic of infertility less taboo by our willingness to talk about our experiences. On the other hand, some people in our lives seem to be scratching their head as to why we would share something so deeply personal. Everyone is different, and I hope on some level even our critics can respect our decision and pure motives in helping other people who, like we once did, feel lost, hopeless, alone.

While we’ve come a long way since our initial diagnosis, recently we’ve found many of those old infertile feelings and emotions coming back into play. It all started when we decided to start trying for baby #2. To state the obvious, in our case that doesn’t mean bow-chicka-wow-wow. It means email the nurse coordinator and ask her what the first steps are in starting another frozen embryo transfer. I know, super romantic. Shortly after reaching out to the clinic to get the ball rolling, it hit me. Even after having a baby, we are still just as infertile as ever. That’s right about the time I started noticing the pregnant women–they’re everywhere. We are involved in activities with other parents and babies and children. We’re in a sea of fertile people. Mason gives us the appearance that we fit right in, but at the core we never will.

Our journey to baby #2 quickly brought me back to our old stomping ground; the fertility clinic. My nurse scheduled me for a mandatory hysteroscopy, mock embryo transfer, and cultures, prior to starting our next cycle. The procedures went well. The HSC revealed that there are no polyps or fibroids; my uterus looks good after an emergency cesarean childbirth with Mason. The mock transfer gave my RE the information he needs to place our embryo in the best spot possible. Going under anesthesia this time felt different. When I was told to bring my advanced directive, my heart sank as I thought about my miracle son. Even if the chances of problems are slim, I felt guilty for putting myself in harm’s way when I have a child. Yet, if I want to give my child a sibling, it’s the only way.

Prepping for our third FET coming fall 2017!

Being in the clinic again made the memories come flooding back. I vividly remember sitting and waiting for our first appointment–we were interviewing a new clinic after a failed cycle at the clinic from hell. We were so apprehensive, guarded, and afraid. Yet, we moved forward because that’s the only choice you have with infertility. I remember going in for our egg retrieval with a full bladder, as directed, and how badly I had to use the bathroom! The nurse finally caved and let me pee–just a little bit–so I wouldn’t wet the waiting room chairs. I remember Chris getting in his hospital gown for his second MESA/TESE procedure, and the phone call that followed telling us there were millions of sperm that time around. I remember waiting for blood draws and beta tests and ultrasounds. I remember the agonizing wait to see the doctor the day the nurses suspected I’d had a miscarriage, and what a horrible sense of loss and emptiness we’d felt, only to yo-yo back to security when we found out Mason was okay. I found out my symptoms were due to a disease called adenomyosis I didn’t know I’d had all along. I remember the day we were discharged from the fertility clinic, and how exciting and scary it was to be released to a regular OBGYN’s care.

We have been through a lot in that little clinic. It feels strange to be back. in some ways we feel like we beat infertility–we went on to have a successful pregnancy and healthy baby. At the same time, infertility still holds us captive. We haven’t experienced these feelings for a long time, but they’ve been silently in the background all along. I wonder what our future holds. We still have three frozen embryos–two boys and one girl. We just learned this week that our girl is our lowest quality at a 4BB. All along we planned to transfer her next. And when I found out her quality, all the sudden I found myself bracing for the emotional roller coaster ride. Regardless of our feelings in the matter, we’ll stay on this ride until we’re finished with our family building journey.

The difference a year makes.

I have had every intention of updating this blog in the last several months, but a serious case of writer’s block has left me staring at a blank page and a blinking cursor every time I’ve sat down to write. Yet for some inexplicable reason, that block was removed tonight as I sat down to reflect on the events of the last 12 months. Maybe it’s that I finally found my creative mojo…or, more likely, maybe it’s the steady stream of kiddos running around our neighborhood in search of candy.

Halloween has always been one of my absolute favorite holidays. My parents made such a big deal out of it when we were growing up–this season fills me with nostalgia and happiness. Last year my teacher friends and I handmade the most adorable “three blind mice” costumes to wear for our costume parade at school. We planned them out months in advance, and got together in our off time to work on our creations. The costumes turned out to be adorable. We couldn’t wait to show them off at school.

After our second round of IVF I got pregnant, and things started getting a little scary. I started spotting and cramping at about six weeks into my pregnancy and wound up on a month of bed rest. As it turned out, I missed the Halloween parade at school. But my two trusty friends weren’t about to let me miss out on all the fun. They came over to my house, we threw on our costumes, and I was a captive audience on the couch as cute trick-or-treaters came by our house in throngs.

I remember studying their parents’ tired faces. I remember thinking just how grateful I would be if one day I could be in their shoes. I remember wondering if they knew just how special their little ninja turtle, princess, skeleton, [insert adorable kid’s costume] was. I was so jealous of them in that moment. Their child was there. Safe. Secure. Healthy. Would my little miracle baby be among them someday? I hoped with every fiber of my being he would be.

If I could go back in time, I wish I could give myself the reassurance that all would be well. That my 6AA would, in fact, hang in there. That he would grow to be a perfect, beautiful baby boy. I’d give myself the heads-up that his birth was going to go NOTHING as we planned, but that he’d arrive unscathed. I’d tell myself that my little boy would be wearing an adorable costume right along with all the other little kids in the neighborhood. I wouldn’t have to look at their folks and be jealous, because I’d join the ranks of parenthood, too. My heart would be so full it could burst. I would feel so incredibly thankful.

Just when we think we’re leaving the world of hopelessness of infertility behind, a reminder of the past in the form of a phone call from someone dear to us, who just experienced a loss brings us back to an unfortunate reality. Not everyone has an effortless conception. Some, like us, struggle. Even for those who conceive somewhat effortlessly, not everyone has a smooth pregnancy. Some will end in heartache and loss. My heart breaks for those hurting families. I wish I could look into the future and tell them happiness is ahead. I wish I could tell them the pain they are feeling is nothing compared to the joy that is coming.

Chris and I held each other close this morning. We talked about how unfair it seems that something as beautiful and hopeful as pregnancy can be shrouded by such difficult circumstances for some couples. It can seem incredibly unfair. We know some incredibly deserving, loving people who should never have to go through these situations. Hearing their stories brings me to tears. It can be so hard for me to look at. I know their suffering all too well. Other people will never feel the pain of this struggle. I know many people who have had healthy, flawless pregnancies and never experienced any suffering. Struggle. Loss. I look at them, and I am happy they are free from any trauma surrounding conception, pregnancy, and delivery.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a contest or a competition. I don’t look at the fertile, happy couples and think “Gee, what I wouldn’t give to be them.” I can say to you truthfully, my son means so much more to me because our experience was a struggle. The struggle made me realize just how special this gift of a child is. I wake up every single day and I say to Chris, “Look at him. He’s perfect. I’m so happy.” We’ve lived through some dark, hopeless days to get here. But we never gave up.

Tonight we hug our little one a little tighter. We thank God more humbly. We hold those in mind who are suffering. We say prayers for those who are struggling. We hope that one day soon their rainbow comes.

P.S. Now that I have finally broken through the writer’s block, I intend to fill you guys in on the latest in our lives very soon. Stay tuned.

Reflections on Infertility at 6 Months

It’s time for me to break the blog silence, and write again. In my last post, I mentioned it has been hard for me to write when I know others out there are still struggling. We are so grateful to be about six months through our pregnancy with baby “Casper.” We also understand our pregnancy might sting for some people. The hard thing about overcoming infertility is when you know other people are still dealing with that nagging pain and emptiness that used to feel way too familiar to you too. I have a friend who has been going through fertility treatments far longer than we have. She and her husband have experienced more loss and heartbreak than anyone should ever have to endure. They are wonderful people, and Chris and I want them to get pregnant so badly. And here we are moving forward, and watching them go through the process again. It’s unfair. It’s cruel. It’s a reminder of how we should never take what we have for granted. We pray for them, and for all those of you who are still struggling, everyday.

Our struggles with infertility have definitely shaped how we’ve approached sharing our pregnancy. For starters, Chris and I have not posted anything at all on social media about being pregnant. I remember how much those posts used to break my heart, and I’d never want to bring that pain on someone else. I’m still not back on Facebook, and have been away from it for almost a year.

Every infertility situation is so unique. Midst the joy, anxiety, and gratitude of my pregnancy, every now and then I think about the future. Of course, I find myself regularly wishing that “Casper” was already here, and wanting to speed things up. In those moments I have to remind myself to be thankful for this opportunity, this pregnancy, and this journey. I don’t want our baby to arrive a minute too soon. I want him to grow strong, so when he’s here, we can simply enjoy being the parents of a healthy baby boy.

In other moments, I find myself having the realization that this pregnancy is not a cure-all for the challenges we’ve faced. For a long time, during the phases of fertility treatments and ups and downs, I thought of pregnancy as the finish line. After becoming pregnant, I quickly realized infertility had left some pretty thick emotional scars, which resulted in being a fairly anxious mommy-to-be. Even despite meditation, therapy, positive self-talk, and affirmations I found myself being uncontrollably anxious in the beginning. We bought a doppler device so I could listen to our son’s heartbeat in these challenging moments. That little tool helped me so much in the first trimester. Now that I can feel our son moving, I have relaxed a even more. Every milestone helps me to overcome the tormenting fears of the past.

Our hearts are overflowing with the gratitude that this pregnancy is going smoothly. We met with a perinatal specialist in weeks 10 and 20 to double check on our sons growth and development. Both times I felt exceedingly anxious in the days right before our appointments. And both times, the doctor told us everything looks “perfect.” What a huge sigh of relief for Chris and me. Every bit of positive information about our son makes me feel more confident and secure in this pregnancy.

 

 

Hanging in there

I’ll be seven weeks tomorrow. I’ve been spotting for a week and a half. It’s pretty light and I’m not cramping. I’m starting to feel like I’m driving my doctor’s office crazy with the constant emails and questions. 

At first, they were assuring me that spotting is normal and to just keep my blood pressure down and do a modified bedrest. I bugged them again today, and they said to stay on complete bedrest until the spotting stops. They are also switching me from lozenges to progesterone in oil injections daily. I’ll keep doing the Endometrin suppositories, but now only twice a day. Of course, I’ll continue the Estrogen injections every three days. I’m a little bummed that they’re changing my medication, because I just got it refilled and I spent over $700 on stuff I won’t be using now. However, we’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep our baby safe. There’s no price on that. 

My next ultrasound is a week from today. I am literally counting the days. It cannot get here fast enough. Not knowing if he’s okay is pretty darn hard. I’m just going to assume he is doing great in order to keep myself sane. 

A Little Scare

I haven’t really felt any symptoms of pregnancy since Friday. This is weird because I’d been consistently nauseated prior to Saturday. On Sunday, I was using the restroom and noticed a pinkish tinge on the toilet paper after going potty. Of course, I freaked out and called Chris in to have a look (I’m aware of how weird this is, don’t worry). 

For the next couple of hours, I probably went to the bathroom 10 times to check and make sure everything was okay. It never got super dark, but was noticibly there for most of the afternoon. I emailed our clinic and asked them if there was anything I could do. Since it was Sunday, obviously no one responded. 

Then I started googling my symptoms. Let’s just be clear–this is NEVER a good idea. I texted my sister-in-law, Andrea, and my friend Krystal looking for reassurance, but I’d already started to spin out. My mind can seriously be my worst enemy. I’ve been working on my anxiety for the past couple of years, but I’m realizing I’m still a serious worry wart. When I get a bad idea planted in my mind it sits there spinning on repeat at all hours of the day. I woke up in the middle of the night thinking the worst. I woke Chris up at about 3 AM to talk about it, that’s how anxious I had gotten.

Chris reorganized his whole day today (Monday) so that we could go into the clinic and figure things out. My ultrasound was originally scheduled for Tuesday, so we figured moving it up a day for peace of mind was probably a good idea. 

It turned out to be the best thing possible that we went in today. For starters, Casper is alive and kicking. Praise the Lord! We got to see his heartbeat for a few seconds on the screen, which was miraculous beyond words. Our doctor is super conservative, and didn’t want the ultrasound in there for too long, since it’s still so early. It was such a joy to see him for even just a few seconds.  

Casper is the size of an orange seed!

 
Doc said I have a little bit of fluid in my uterus, but it’s not a major concern. However, he said any hint of blood is the body’s way of telling us we need to chill out and take it easy. He said the next two weeks are critical for Casper’s development, and we need my body to be as relaxed and low stress as possible. So, he ordered that I take a two week leave from work.

At first, this really freaked me out. I’ve never talked about my profession on my blog, but I’m a teacher and I seriously love my job. I’m super attached to my students, and the idea of being away from them for two weeks was a little more than I could handle at first. I called my boss and explained that I was dealing with a physical challenge, and I’d need to be away. She was absolutely great about it. I spent the afternoon getting together my sub plans for the next week, and reminding myself my students will be just fine without me for a bit. 

So here’s to two weeks of rest, relaxation, and a full-term, healthy pregnancy. 

IVF #2: Beta #2

We spoke with our clinic yesterday, and they informed us that my hCG levels are rising appropriately! Yay!!! On Friday my hCG was at 7,008. That was a huge relief to hear! It means little Casper appears to be growing at a healthy, normal rate. They also said that my progesterone and estrogen levels are within normal range, so I should continue taking my medication as prescribed. 

The progesterone has made me feel so incredibly backed up. My stomach isn’t the happiest right now. All day I’ve been drinking lots of water and eating high fiber foods in an effort to counteract what’s going on. Hopefully it’ll ease up soon. 

My morning sickness seems to be coming and going. I read an article today that said morning sickness symptoms include lightheadedness, and exhaustion. I’ve definitely been feeling those. I’ve only thrown up about three times since finding out that we were pregnant, but I feel nauseated at least once a day. It may sound weird, but that’s an incredibly comforting symptom to feel. I actually feel more at ease when I’m nauseous and throwing up than I do when I feel totally fine!

We get to see baby Casper via ultrasound on Tuesday. I will only be five weeks and six days at that point, so I’m trying not to get my hopes up that we’ll see much. It’s still really exciting to think that in a couple of days we will be able to see our baby’s growth and progress!

IVF #2: Decision-Making Standstill

We met with our RE on Friday for blood work and an ultrasound. As he was speaking with us, he mentioned our PGS results and said, “Now you guys just have to decide which embryo you want to transfer.”

“Just one?” I clarified.

He launched into an explanation of higher risks associated with multiples, and how if it were his kid and his choice, he’d choose just one. He added that at my age (31) I’m likely to bounce back from a singleton pregnancy, but twins would do a number on my body. “You don’t want all that saggy skin,” he harped.

No, I don’t want saggy skin. Most of all, I don’t want to put my babies at risk. I don’t want to put myself at risk, either. What do I want? To be pregnant. To deliver happy, healthy, baby(ies).

This advice from our RE is a little unexpected. When we interviewed Dr. W, we loved that he said we could transfer two embryos, and we would. Why the change of tune? I didn’t ask, because I was in too much shock. Is it because we did PGS and filtered out the ones he knew wouldn’t stick? I’m so confused, and frankly disappointed.

Last time we transferred one embryo, because it was all we had. In return, we got nothing but a negative beta, devastation, and complete heartache. I really liked the security of transferring two this time. In my mind, it sets us up for a greater chance of success. I wonder how much more we have the ability to endure. Are we strong enough to go through that pain again? I am afraid it might break me.

Then I think it through and realize, the thing that would break me more is to feel like I made the wrong choice. Heaven forbid we choose to transfer two embryos, and that decision is at the cost of the health or lives of our babies. Damn you, infertility. Fertile couples don’t have to make decisions like this.

Chris and I have talked circles around what to do, and what the best decision will be for us and for our family. All we’ve concluded is that this is a more difficult conversation than we realized it would be. To be honest, we are pretty stressed about making the right choice, and that has resulted in us treating each other less than our best. I love that we’re aware of this, and we’re doing everything in our power to turn it around, work together, and get on the same page. We know we’ll figure this out together. Eventually. 😉

IVF #2: Cycle Update and PGS Results

Aunt Flo decided to grace us with her presence on Monday. TMI alert: this month she’s been ugly. Super heavy flow, horrible cramps…pretty much miserable. I know it was heavy after our first IVF cycle, but I don’t remember it being THIS bad. Regardless, sometimes in IVF seeing your period is pretty exciting.  It means things are rolling again, so bring it on!

Our transfer date is scheduled for September 21st. In preparation for transfer, I started taking birth control again, and I’ll be on that for about 10 days. At the beginning of September, I start Delestrogen injections, which I’ll do every third day. This is different than my last doctor who had me on estrogen pills. The medication is in castor oil, and it looks super thick. It’ll be interesting to see how that feels to inject. I’ll also be taking Endometrin vaginally 3x/day (which means I get to take it to work–oh how fun!). Additionally, I will be taking Progestrone lozenges 3x daily underneath the tongue. They are weird looking purple squares that smell like grapes:

Lovely lozenges 😉

Our nurse called this morning to tell us our PGS results were in, and ask of we’d like to know the genders. In this crazy process, I try to look for all the cool aspects. Of course I want to know the genders! That’s not something fertile couples get to know right away. I want all to experience all the “perks” IVF has to offer, because let’s be honest, there aren’t a ton!

Of our seven embryos, all are boys expect for ONE! Of the seven, FOUR are normal. I’m grateful to say, my one little princess is among the “normal” ones! It’s always sad to see embryos not develop, or develop abnormally. We’re really happy to have four still, but there’s a little bit of heartache that comes with learning some of our embies have chromosomal issues.

 

Our PGS results in detail.

I’m so grateful we decided to do PGS. I feel like it will ultimately save us a lot of heartache. It’s really fun to know the genders, and to think about what decision we are going to make regarding transfer. We would like to transfer two embryos, and we’d love at least one boy and one girl in our family. I’ve always wanted a little girl, so I am really hoping she is a strong fighter, and makes it all the way. Of course, we wish that for all of them. 

We keep going back and forth about which gender combo to transfer first. There are benefits to both. If we transfer two boys, and are lucky enough to deliver two bouncing babies, they’ll have a built in playmate for life. If we transfer a boy and a girl and both make it, it’ll be really amazing to raise boy/girl twins who have an understanding and compassion for the opposite sex. Hopefully our doctor can help guide our decision a bit further with embryo grading information. We’re feeling pretty torn about which direction to go, but so thankful to feel like we have a choice. 💙💗

 

 

IVF #2: Embryo Report

  
Our little miracles have been growing away in the lab, and the time has come to announce our final count for blastocysts for round #2! On day five (yesterday) of development, we had a total of five blastocysts. The embryologist decided to keep watching a couple other slightly slower growing embryos into day six, and we gained two more. Our grand total for round two is SEVEN blastocysts!!! We are elated! 

I am still in shock. The sting of our first round made me so cautious with my emotions. IVF #1 was traumatizing. This result for round two feels surreal. I know we still have a long way to go, and it’s far from over, but we are definitely seeing signs of wonderful progress. We are staying super positive, and hope this good news keeps coming!

Next on the agenda is PGS on all our blastocysts. We’ll get the results back in about two weeks, which means a bit more waiting. However, having several blasts gives us reassurance. We are confident there will be some very healthy little embabies in the group. Best case scenario, we’ll never have to do a full round of IVF again. Wow, I like the sound of that!

We’re not sure of our transfer date at this point. I am supposed to phone our nurse when my period arrives, and we’ll go from there. Nothing is certain, but I have a really good feeling about this. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I feel confident about our future as parents. 💗