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 End of Anonymity

For the first time ever in a post I’m about to share our ACTUAL faces. No weird crops to avoid exposing our identity, and no avoidance with cutesy clip art. It’s taken us awhile to become comfortable with sharing our story without hiding behind a keyboard in a shroud of anonymity. So what’s changed?

For starters, we are tired of feeling like infertility should be something people don’t talk about. Ever since we’ve started opening up, we are absolutely shocked by how many people who have come out of the woodwork to tell us their struggles and grievances with fertility issues and conception. Some people don’t understand why we are being so open about what they view as a very private matter. Those people can worry as much as they want about my life, but not only does it not affect them, it actually hurts others. If we stay silent simply to make others comfortable, friends of ours who are struggling will continue to feel alone and isolated, just like we did for such a long time.

Another thing that changed is we had our miracle IVF baby almost a year ago. We got over that huge mountain we thought we may never climb, and we gained confidence. Now we don’t feel like we are sharing raw emotions as they take place, but we are looking at them in the rear view mirror. It makes our experience a lot easier to talk about. We don’t know what the future holds with our family building, but I can tell you one thing, it’s going to be approached with a lot more transparency.

About three months ago I decided to compete for the title of Mrs. California. I told Chris my goal was to lose the baby weight and promote one of the greatest causes of all: infertility awareness. So with the platform of “Infertility Support and Advocacy” I set off to try to shed some light on our community of warriors. I was completely transparent when speaking with the judges in interview, and they were lovely to talk to. And you you’ll never believe it…they picked me to represent California for 2017!

So now I have this new shiny hat, and I have set out to do great things with it. First, I attended the American Fertility Expo and got to catch a screening of “Vegas Baby.” Holy moly, the tears were rolling. Has anyone else seen it? It hit really close to home.

Then, we attended the Walk of Hope in San Diego with who you all know as baby “Casper” but his name is actually Mason.

Next, I had the opportunity to attend Resolve’s Advocacy Day in Washington D.C. last week. I’ve never done anything more empowering in my entire life. Meeting with members of Congress and sharing our story was life-changing. I felt like I was educating our nation’s leaders on the emotional side of infertility. They were more receptive and empathic than I anticipated they’d be. The experience was one I will never forget, and it gave me such an emotional high that I’ll go back again and again until infertility coverage in this country is so good there’s no need for lobbying on Capitol Hill. 💙

I’ll keep you posted on my journey and events I attend that benefit the infertility community. If you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them, too!

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.

 

 

Graduation and NIPT

It has been three weeks since our last update, and quite a bit has happened since then. Things are going well. I’ve had a hard time blogging, however. First of all, I’m scared to give a positive report. I don’t want to jinx anything. I’m normally a sane, logical type, so I’m aware of how absolutely ridiculous this is. However, this isn’t the first time I’ve felt superstitious during the IVF process (and apparently this is common–women in my support group talk about this all the time). Secondly, there are so many people out there who are still struggling and coping with the madness of infertility. I would never want to flaunt my pregnancy, or makes others who are still going through this process feel badly. Thus, it has been hard to want to sit down and write, when on a daily basis I read other’s blogs who are still going through the nightmare of infertility. There’s a strange sense of guilt that comes from overcoming this challenge.

Right now, we don’t feel like we fit in anywhere. Moms and pregnant women who conceived naturally don’t really share the same perspective (don’t even get me started on those online groups of women who share your due date. I have nothing in common with these women and find their complaining about pregnancy symptoms to be incredibly irritating). At the same time, we don’t really fit in with the infertile crowd completely either. It’s been weird to give up my monthly Resolve meetings. I miss the support, and the ability to speak to people who totally understand what it feels like to go through this process.

I feel like the first trimester of pregnancy after IVF is its own purgatory. We’re so desperate to be on the other side of this struggle. Pregnancy has not solved a lot of the issues I thought it would. I’m still worried that I might never be a Mom. I’m worried something could happen to my baby, and that I’d be forever scarred by loss. This is hard to admit, and harder to write about. I know it isn’t positive, and it isn’t optimistic, but it is something I think about on almost a daily basis.

Despite these emotional struggles I’m facing, things have been going well. The bleeding I was experiencing has completely stopped. I’m 10.5 weeks pregnant. At our last appointment with our RE at 8 weeks, 6 days, we got to see Casper on the ultrasound. He was kicking his little legs and flailing his arms the whole time. It was so cute! His heart rate was strong at 182 beats per minute. That day we graduated from the infertility clinic. At first, this was incredibly exciting. We are so pumped to have that chapter behind us. However, being transferred to the regular OBGYN is a brand new experience. This is the longest wait we’ve had to go between ultrasounds, and it is scary. I bought a Doppler so we could listen to Casper’s heartbeat at home in the meantime, and I wasn’t able to locate it. I think he’s still too small. You can probably imagine, this didn’t calm my fears at all.

A week ago, I was taken off all my medication. As much as I’m happy to not have those daily injections anymore, and constant leaking from the suppositories, going off the meds was absolutely terrifying. I worried pretty much all week that perhaps my RE had taken me off the meds too soon. I’m finally starting to really settle in to the idea that I trust my RE, he’s done this thousands of times, and he knows what he’s doing. I might be starting to relax a little bit. I’m sure Chris will be relieved when I can start to feel more at ease in this pregnancy. Poor guy has been on 24/7 reassurance duty, and I’m sure it’s not easy for him either.

I’ll leave you with a picture of Casper, who is starting to look less like the friendly ghost, and more like a gummy bear. 🙂

Our baby boy at 8 weeks 6 days.

 

Grounded

I’m seven weeks pregnant, and have been home on bed rest for the past two weeks since I started spotting. On Wednesday they switched me to PIO injections to try to slow down the spotting. Everything was going okay, until Thursday. I’d been feeling a little crampy all morning, but assumed my stomach was just working on digestion due to all the extra progesterone in my system slowing things down.

Suddenly, our dogs started barking furiously and it almost sounded like someone was trying to get into the back of our house. Of course, I was home alone and so I panicked. I stood up from my nest of pillows on the couch, and started walking toward the back door. That’s when I felt a huge gush of fluid come out. One visit to the bathroom confirmed it was dark, red blood. I was super scared, and started shaking. (Of course, no one was trying to break in, it was the wind…those little turkeys had gotten me all riled up for nothing.)

My heart was racing as I tried to call Chris. He was in meetings and wasn’t checking his phone. I left him a message telling him what was going on, and asked him to come home as soon as possible. Then, I phoned the clinic. One talk with my nurse, and I wasn’t feeling reassured. I could tell my symptoms didn’t sound good. She asked me to come in that afternoon. I texted Chris the time of our appointment, and hoped he’d make it in time to go with me.

My husband is my hero. Chris made it home with time to spare. We made our way to the appointment downtown. I could tell he was freaked out.

When we checked in at the clinic, our nurse came out and met me in the waiting room. “Have you ever had a miscarriage?” She asked me.

I explained that I never had been pregnant before, but at our last clinic we’d had a failed IVF cycle. We knew she was thinking the worst. As she walked away, I started crying in the waiting room. A pregnant couple came in glowing. She was six weeks and complaining about nausea. I was so envious of her in that moment. Then, a nurse walked in with her baby. Chris and I couldn’t even look at her. The pregnant couple were oohing and ahhing over the baby. It was way too much.

Finally, we got called back into the ultrasound room. Our doctor came in confidently, and said we were his fourth case of bleeding that day, and it was probably nothing. Then, he started searching for Casper on the ultrasound. And searching. And searching. Nothing. I was ready to hear those words no one ever wants to hear.

To our surprise, at last we saw a little flicker in the center of the screen. He was there! Our doctor let out a huge sigh of relief. “Did you see that?” he said, “Your baby is a ninja! He was hiding on the ultrasound!”

For the first time we got to actually listen to Casper’s heartbeat via the Doppler. It was one of the coolest sounds I’ve ever heard. His fetal heart rate is 149 and he’s measuring 1.36cm from crown to rump, which puts us a little ahead of schedule. His estimated due date is now June 4, 2016. He’s doing really well, and we are so freaking happy to see that.

After looking for a while with the ultrasound, our doctor identified the cause of bleeding. Apparently, I have uterine tissue that grows into my uterine muscle. He said this is pretty common and he didn’t see this as being a problem or a threat to the pregnancy. He said I’d probably continue to bleed for a few weeks. Doc assured me that even though the symptoms seem dire, not to associate what I see with a miscarriage. That being said, I’ll have to continue with daily shots of progesterone for awhile since I’m bleeding.

Our RE gave me a hug before he left the room. I think he was relieved too. Our ninja baby gave everyone a huge scare. The second he left the room, Chris burst into tears. He couldn’t even speak he was so emotional. Finally he was able to get out that Casper is grounded…for the next eight months. I agreed wholeheartedly. Casper, we love you, and we already know you’re going to be a little spitfire. Just like your Mommy and Daddy.

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!