Another Child

It honestly feels weird to think about another child at this moment. Both because I am borderline overwhelmed with parenting the one and also because I am content. But I know I probably won't always be content. That's not a reflection on Garrison; I always wanted a big family. The itch for another child will return. I'm not sure when that typically happens. When do normal, fertile couples begin to think about trying again? Surely not at 5 months. But here's the thing. It took us almost four years to get Garrison. If we don't want Garrison to be starting kindergarten before a sibling arrives, it feels like we need to get started.

While in Jacksonville finalizing our adoption of Garrison, we stopped in at FIRM, the clinic where we did IVF. We have four (maybe three) embryos frozen there. We have decided that before we pursue any other family building opportunities, we will complete our frozen embryo transfers. In a lot of ways, these embryos feel like a weight. And that's totally not fair; I know. They are our children, long awaited for, fought for, prayed for, but it appears that it is very unlikely that we will ever meet them. The doctor confirmed that it is unlikely we will see a bring home baby out of this IVF cycle. And yet, we feel that we must give them a chance. 

When we completed our IVF cycle in January 2014, we paid to keep our embryos frozen for two years. At the time, it seemed like we would not need the full two years. We knew our embryos were lower grades and we figured that even if we got lucky, we'd try for a sibling within two years. But then the first transfer failed. And then the second. And then an entire year passed by. January 2016 will be here quickly. I know that as the months with Garrison just fly by. I feel as if I'm constantly sticking a round sticker on his onesie and exclaiming "another month went by so fast!" We have a few months to decide what to do, but the decision is (as always) complicated. 

We met with a different doctor for our consult as my doctor was out of the office and we were only in town the one day. This doctor was more of a straight shooter. He agreed that in light of our past transfers and the quality of our frozen embryos, the odds of success with any of our remaining embryos is low. He didn't really bat an eye at our request to transfer all four...that's always a really bad sign. He agreed that the Endometrial Function Test would be a good next step just to rule out any implantation issues. If something came up, he said we'd correct it and then his recommendation would be to transfer two. He agreed that our issue is very likely embryo quality (with a root cause in egg quality) but that if he had proof that there was a problem with my lining, he would be unable to say with certainty that our previous cycles failed because of embryo quality and transferring four would be riskier. However, his bet is that all is normal with my uterus and lining. That's my bet too, but I've never been one to turn down answers. 

And I guess this is where my ideas on family building and next steps are changing. I'm just not sure how much more money I'm willing to throw at my body. There are other ways to build a family, ways that I'm really open to and even excited about. I do believe that given all the money in the world there is likely a doctor out there with enough expertise to help me get pregnant with my own eggs and Sam's sperm. But we don't have all the money in the world, and if I'm being honest, there are other things I'd rather do with money (like pay off student loan debt) than throw darts at $30,000 a toss at a moving dart board with a shrinking bullseye. 

The doctor did mention and agree that this test for my lining (at $1,500) would be valuable information for later transfers, whether that's our embryos or donor embryos. And while IVF may be less and less glamorous to me, embryo adoption still holds a lot of appeal. So we have to decide if we want to do this test. It needs to be completed about 2 cycles before our transfer. We also have to decide if we want to attempt to transfer these embryos before the middle of January (when our payment runs out and we'd need to pay $500). To do the transfer without the test would cost approximately $2,500 including travel and medication. Adding in the test would bump that to about $4,000. That's a TON of money to come up with in 6 months, especially while paying for daycare at the cost of $10,000 a year. Which ultimately brings up the biggest  question: are we ready (and can we afford) another kid? Yes, the cycle is VERY unlikely to succeed, but I can't help feeling negligent if we don't calculate our ability to provide for another child if the cycle were to succeed. 

I have a feeling the answer is no. In fact, I know the answer is no. Daycare alone is almost $1,000 a month, and we don't have $1,000 margin in our budget each month. Will we ever? Absolutely. But in January, no probably not. The wisest thing to do would be to table the "another child" conversation and work diligently to pay off our student loans, start college funds, save for retirement, etc. But fear and doubt always wiggle back in from the depths of my mind when I think about postponing a second child. The doctor so kindly pointed out that "his recommendations would be different if we were having this conversation and I was still young." Gee, thanks. It's interesting that at 28 I was "so young and healthy" but at 29 I'm "no longer young." The clock is admittedly ticking (probably far faster for me as my egg quality already sucks) if we want to try IVF with my own eggs again. But even outside of IVF, I feel the clock ticking. Family building outside of the sheets takes time...lots and lots and lots of time. So do we table it, relishing in our current joy, and continuing to pay to have low quality embryos frozen? Or do we recognize (and maybe even embrace) our circumstances and the ways our family is likely to be built and begin the journey anew with the start of the new year by jumping with both feet back into the TTC game?

I have no answers. Time will tell. 

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Guys, can you go over to my sweet, sweet friend's blog and give her some love? She just miscarried again and is having a really rough time. My heart is absolutely broken for her. I know she'd appreciate some love and support during these hard days. She was ready (like really ready) to start her long-awaited cycle at CCRM only to discover she was pregnant...surprise. But now it's over and it's so hard to answer the big questions when what appears to be the greatest blessing ends in more despair.

One Year to Decide

Today marks one year since my IVF transfer in Jacksonville. It's not a particularly special moment, not like a due date or anything, but as this day has approached, I've been thinking a lot about next year. January 12, 2016 will mark two years since our first transfer, and more importantly two years since our remaining embryos were frozen for storage. FIRM, the clinic we used for IVF, requires an upfront payment as part of IVF for storage of any unused embryos or eggs. That payment covers two years, so you can see how this time next year becomes important... we're already halfway there (how can that be?!?). Essentially, we will need to either use our remaining embryos by this time next year, pay another storage fee, donate our embryos to another couple, or agree to discard our embryos.

Many couples face this decision at one time or another. It's often once a child (or more) comes home that the couple is faced with this decision. The decision is really personal, and as many posts have been written on this topic, I take it that it's a pretty hard decision for everyone. For us, the decision is already made (in part). We're using our embryos. We simply cannot discard them for moral and ethical reasons. And I also don't think we could donate our embryos, not because we are against embryos donation (we are strongly FOR), but because our embryos are of poor quality. I know if I was going through an organization like Snowflake Embryo Adoption and read our profile, I would scroll right past us. "Four embryos frozen on day 3, all grade 3, and 8, 6, 4, and 3 cells with no live births from the cycle" does not read like a winning profile. These embryos are our responsibility and we take that very seriously.

However, if I'm being honest, I don't really want to shell out another $800 to keep these embryos in storage, so I'm feeling the burden to transfer all of them before this time next year. For one, the embryos aren't a source of hope for me. For some, the thought of having embryos frozen is a source of hope either for another chance at the first bring home baby or a future sibling. But for me, these embryos feel more like a weight, like a duty, like something I have to get back to. And truthfully, the embryos don't feel like a real possibility of a child. I mean day 3, grade 3, and four cells??? That embryo is a full day behind in growth (embryos should reach four cells by day 2) and the cells are also unequal. If you google day 3 embryo grading, you'll find that, transfers are far more successful, no matter what the grade, if the embryo has between 6-10 cells at 72 hours after fertilization. I've got two that fall in that category (frozen in different groups), the other two are very, very, very unlikely to even make it to the blastocyst stage, let alone implant and become a viable pregnancy. But truthfully, none of them feel like a real shot because we've already transferred better embryos, both in grade and cell division, but all have (obviously) failed.

I say all of that to explain, paying for another year of storage doesn't really feel like a wise investment of money. Truthfully, it feels like delaying the inevitable. I'd really like to just bite the bullet and move forward with the FET(s) within the next 365 days. However, as always, finances play a big, big part in the decision making process. A single FET will cost approximately $1,500 not including medications or travel... so it's really more like $2,300. As I mentioned above, our two best chances (which still aren't great) are frozen in separate straws and there's no way to thaw one embryo within a straw... it's all or nothing.

In light of the odds, the costs, and the way in which our embryos are paired, I want to transfer all four at one time. I know that sounds scary, and maybe I'm crazy, but at this moment, it feels right. Dr. Duffy has agreed to it, mostly, I believe, because he's not really all that confident that the three cell embryo even fertilized correctly. He started yammering about meiosis and mitosis and lost me completely during that phone call (biology was so not my thing), but basically, he really feels like it would be a three embryo transfer, which he wanted to do on the original transfer. However, he also wants to do the Endometrial Function Test, before transferring the last of our embryos to ensure that we're providing the best possible environment for implantation. The test costs about $600 by itself, and then there are the additional costs of performing a mock cycle, the biopsy, and the overnight shipment of the sample. I'm guessing it'll round out at about $1,000. If I'm going to go through the expense and trouble of the EFT and the biopsy, I figure I might as well do the E-tegrity test (the one CCRM requires) at the same time if possible. That test is another $600, but if I could get the biopsy in the same cycle, I'd save some money in the long run.

I'll be honest and say I don't know exactly what the future holds for us in terms of family building (who's shocked?). If I had to make a plan today, I'd say that we'd complete this domestic adoption (please God), then we'd transfer our four embryos. If that fails, which it likely will (just being real), I think I'll be ready to jump back into TTC. I don't know which way we'll go though: IVF with my own eggs, IVF with donor eggs, or donor embryos. My hunch is that due to financial circumstances, we'll go the donor embryo route.

When I think about the expense of the tests in terms of the future, be that another round with my own eggs, donor eggs, or donor embryos, the tests don't seem to be so extreme. While I don't know that the outcome one way or another will change the chances for these four embryos, it will certainly be good information to have going forward... and I'm still confident that there will be a forward. I still believe that we will pursue a pregnancy in one way or another, even after adoption. And I imagine if we went the donor embryo route, the donors would probably be pleased to hear that my uterus is nice and cushy and full of the appropriate proteins. Maybe they'd be more likely to pick us and take a risk on us even though we haven't achieved a pregnancy.

All of that to say that, best case scenario appears to be that we complete one final Hail Mary transfer with our remaining embryos in Jacksonville before officially closing the door on that chapter forever. However, I'm completely stumped where the $4,000 will come from between now and then. I mean, it's not like we're shoveling all available money towards an adoption or anything like that, right? Oh well, I guess we've got a year to decide and figure it out.

Some Days are Hard

Some days are just hard. Today is one of those days. Today would have been the due date from our first IVF transfer. I already knew the date before we even got to the beta. I was in no way confident that our IVF cycle would work, we had had too many things go differently than planned during that cycle, but I still just needed to know, "if this works, when would we be due?" The date was engraved in my mind for the two week wait. And then for one, one billionth of a second I was pregnant. Again. Me. The girl who never gets pregnant. Somehow, despite all odds, it happened. A pitiful, little six yes, but it was still there. The date mattered. We knew how things would go before the phone call even ended. This would not be our take home baby. October 3, 2014 would not be our day. We wouldn't write it on the calendar, with hearts and stars and hope. We'd just tuck it away as a day to remember and reflect. A day to reminisce and mourn.

By the time I returned for another beta on that Monday in January it was over. It was most certainly over before it even began, but it was real. For one brief moment in time, two of our precious babies were placed inside of me. I'm pretty confident that only one implanted.... the numbers were just so low. But for a small window of time, we were connected, that baby and me. I was providing life and he/she was fighting for it. I'm not sure who failed whom... is my body to blame? Or did my sweet baby never have chance? Either way, our time together was important. That little bundle of a few hundred cells was half me and half my husband and all God-breathed.

Many will wonder where my hope for tomorrow is. Isn't adoption exciting? Aren't we hopeful that our baby is out there? Of course. But the hope for tomorrow doesn't negate the pain of today. We are thrilled about our adoption. We are nervous and excited and overwhelmed to start our home study. We are eager to get started so we can get finished, because the Lord knows this is not a fun process. But our joy and our anticipation for what tomorrow may bring doesn't change the fact that today hurts. Today was the day that life was supposed to enter the world, wailing and crying and furious over the traumatic entry. We had placed months upon months worth of money and hope and prayers into today. Today was the day that IVF was supposed to change our story.

Tears have been stinging my eyes since they opened this morning. I wanted those babies... both of those babies. They were fiercely and dearly loved. They were meant to be my miracle, my October babies, my last chance to sneak a baby in before my 29th birthday. They were 10,000 hopes and dreams and prayers all centered within those tiny bundles of life. But they are gone and we are here, and we have no answers as to why. So many questions still unanswered. Some days are just hard. Today is one of those days.

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I also wanted to give a brief update on the adoption. We met with our adoption consultant on Wednesday. Everything went really well. She said she thinks we'll do great, but I'm guessing she says that to everyone. We've got two tasks we're working on right now, and they both feel daunting. The first is our profile book. This is a physical book that will be mailed across the country to various agencies or attorneys so that they can present us to a birth mom. It's supposed to tell the birth mom about us and why we want to adopt... essentially a "pick us" type book. No pressure or anything. The second task is the home study. I completed the application for the home study last night.... not the home study, just the application. I didn't know the answers to half of the questions, so I'm feeling really positive about this process. But on we press and we cling to hope. We've been brought to today for a reason.

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And one last thing. Caroline over at In Due Time is about the sweetest thing ever... you all know that. She has a HUGE heart and has graciously offered to host an online Stella Dot party as a fundraiser for our adoption. How cool is that?!?! I'm going to attempt to invite everyone this weekend, but in the mean time, consider yourself invited. The party is open until October 31st, so if you're interested click this link. Only eleven weekends until Christmas!

Where We Sit

My mind is a swirly mess of deep thoughts these days. Between preparing to close on our first home, researching adoption, researching CCRM, and discussing our remaining four embryos, it all just feels like a mess of BIG stuff. One day I think I'm on top of it, and the next it just feels overwhelming again. Today is one of the latter days.

As far as the house goes, believe it or not, I think this might work out. If I'm still supposed to be terrified of it all falling through, I guess I just don't know any better. Our offer has been accepted by the seller, we've submitted all of the loan paperwork, the house appraised for a sufficient amount... it just feels like the boxes have been checked. But, we don't close for another three weeks, which feels like forever... I'm guessing there is still stuff to be done that I don't know about yet. But you guys, the house is so cute! I can't wait to post photos. It has an adorable little backyard with a great space for entertaining. The yard is currently in need of a little TLC, but worst case scenario, I'll just pay Erika to come lovingly sing to my brown grass. Buying a home is a complicated process with a lot of steps that I'd never heard of, but I'm just hoping that we've dotted enough Is and crossed enough Ts that it's not all going to fall apart now.

As far as adoption goes, we're still researching. We're still talking to adoptive parents. I'm still reading. But truth be told, we're feeling pretty good about adoption. I'm still not sure that I'd say we've been called to adopt, but maybe it's enough that we simply want to adopt. We've got a couple of meetings scheduled in the next several weeks with a few adoption agencies and adoption professionals to ask all of our (8 million) questions. We think we know who we want to go with, but I of course need to do a little due diligence to make sure.  You may remember that I have commitment issues when it comes to stuff like this. We're getting there though, and I know that, because my biggest issues swirl around ethical concerns (knowing we're working with an ethical agency) rather than attachment concerns (worrying about loving an adopted child).

As far as CCRM goes, oh man, I don't know. I'd love to go to CCRM and have all our dreams come true*. I'd love to cycle one more time, and finally get to experience a pregnancy. But I'm just not sure I can do it. Do I want to? Yes. Should I? I don't know. The money is a HUGE deal... CCRM would be $30,000 easy... more likely $35,000ish after all is said and done. That's for one more IVF cycle. That doesn't include the costs accrued if the first transfer fails... assuming that we have embryos to freeze, it would be several thousand more dollars for each attempt at a transfer. Are children worth that price tag? Absolutely. Is the chance of better eggs yielding better embryos ending in a successful pregnancy worth that? I don't know. I guess it would come down to what that chance is... 90% definitely, 70% maybe, 50% ummm, 30% probably not, 10% definitely not. Julia brought up some great points a few weeks ago. She said the success of CCRM is in their lab, and their Comprehensive Chromosome Screening (CCS) increases their success rates. Something like 80% of women using their own eggs do CCS at CCRM. After the testing, CCRM only transfers genetically normal embryos, which means that in at least 80% of the transfers, CCRM transfers genetically normal embryos... no wonder they have such good success rates. I say all of this not to detract in any way from the quality or caliber of CCRM, but rather to suggest that without knowing the success rates of the 20% or so who don't do CCS, we really don't know what our odds might be without the tests… maybe it would be 40% rather than 77%.  If Sam and I are unwilling to do CCS testing (which is still debatable, but seems unlikely) then I'm not sure that CCRM can help us any more than FIRM or RBA or any other clinic.  BUT, I definitely still need to talk with a doctor there and get some questions answered before we decide to close the IVF door forever.

And as to our four remaining embryos in Florida, well, things are just confusing. I had a phone consult with Dr. Duffy to discuss our next steps today. Sam and I discussed it before the consult and decided that we're really only interested in pursuing an FET as a next step if we can transfer all four. Dr. Duffy didn't think it was a terrible idea since it's still debatable whether we even have four embryos (that 3 cell is questionable). However, he highly recommended the Endometrial Function Test that he mentioned last time before moving ahead. He still feels like we have a significant chance with our remaining embryos and his words were, "I wouldn't want you to waste them all on a transfer without knowing the quality of your uterus." Ughhhhhh. Can I just admit that I don't want to drag this out any longer? The EFT requires a mock cycle and a biopsy... after it's all said and done, I'm guessing it would be an additional $1,000. But I feel awful about even considering the transfer without the test if he thinks it's that big of a deal. I certainly don't want to risk our embryos in an environment that they can't survive in. But if I'm being abundantly honest, I just don't have much hope for the embryos we have left... healthy uterus or other wise. The EFT feels like simply prolonging the inevitable to me, but Dr. Duffy seems to disagree. I'm not sure what would happen if I pressed the issue, but I got the feeling today that he'd refuse to transfer all four embryos if we don't do the EFT. And I really can't see transferring two more embryos again... not 3 cell and 6 cell grade 3 embryos.

So that's where we sit... in a jumbled mess of BIG decisions. I have no idea where we should go from here. When people ask how I'm doing, I reply "fine," but that's code for tired. Next month marks three years of trying to conceive and I am exhausted. I feel physically broken and mentally confused, but ultimately I'm just tired. I know that there are a ton of couples who have been at this so much longer than we have... five, six, seven years. The thought of three more years like this is more than my mind can handle. I was not made for the marathon... endurance has never been my thing. But onward we will go because what else can we do? And though I don't feel confident in this moment, I do feel confident that we will resolve this, we will research and wrestle until we feel confident. The big mess will eventually whittle down into a recognizable something and we will move forward from here. I may not know where we're headed exactly, but I'm sure that we are on a journey somewhere.

*By looking into CCRM, I'm not suggesting that an adopted child would be second best or that we wouldn't feel as if our dreams came true through adoption. IVF at CCRM is simply an option, and one that would allow us to experience a pregnancy. We're researching options, but that doesn't mean that we aren't excited about the idea of adoption.

Hard Choices

For the sake of simplicity in this post, I'm dividing our next steps into two groups: group 1- we both (Sam and I) have a genetic relationship, and group 2- one and/or both of us do not have a genetic relationship with our child.

I'm currently struggling with our next steps. Unfortunately, I don't even really know what I want, which makes it particularly hard to agree (or disagree) with Sam about any of it. Every time I try to talk about any of the options, I start to cry. I'm feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment and all possible plans make me feel even more so. But I like to have plans, so I continue to think through them even if it's uncomfortable.

There are things that I like and don't like about each of the possible plans. I like that domestic infant adoption feels quick(ish)… it's certainly not a guarantee, but the possibility is there. I like that IVF gives me the potential to overcome infertility. I like that donor embryos is a cheap less expensive option. But with all the plans that fall into group 2 (donor egg, donor embryo, domestic and international adoption) I have a couple of things that I really don't like, a couple of things that I'm afraid of and can't seem to work through.

I've said several times before that adoption has always been a part of my family building plan. In my teens and early twenties, my dream was for 4-5 biological children first and then 1-2 adopted children, specifically via international adoption. To say I had a rose colored glasses view of adoption would be an understatement. I had never heard of adoption scams, or stealing infants from hospitals. I would never have dreamed that there was an underground rehoming network taking place in my own country. Adoption just seemed beautiful: it was all about rescue and redemption. I never thought I might need adoption in order to have a family, so it seemed almost ministerial rather than simply family building. 

My view of adoption has slowly changed. I'm honestly a little afraid of adoption. I'm afraid of getting in over my head, of unknowingly contributing to crime, of separating a child from his/her first family unnecessarily. In no way do I mean to say that adoption is bad. I have many, many friends who have or are currently adopting. I've seen adoption work. I've seen adoption be beautiful just like I imagined. But I've also heard things that make me nervous, things that seem to freeze my feet in place. 

My greatest fear with adoption seems to be spreading into all forms of family building that don't have a genetic connection, essentially all plans in group 2. My greatest fears center around the third party... the biological mother and/or father. Whether you want to admit it or not, adoption, donor embryo, and donor egg/sperm all have a third party involved. The fact that I would not have a genetic reflection in the face of my child isn't what I'm afraid of... looking at my child and not seeing high cheekbones or thick brown hair doesn't frighten me. What scares me is how the third party (or lack there of) might affect my child. How not knowing anything about his biological mom might forever leave a giant hole in his life. It seems to be a nonissue for some kids and a giant deal for others… I'm not sure if the difference is in the children or how they are raised.

In donor egg/sperm situations there is almost always no information available. In some instances, the couple receiving the eggs only knows height, weight, hair and eye color, and education level. Other than that, they simply know the donor passed whatever sort of preliminary tests required of donors. Unlike is most adoptions, even once the child turns 18, there is simply no additional information to provide the child… she will never know more about the woman who helped create her. The lack of information is typically to protect the donor from a child/children hunting for her years later. I don't think this eliminates donor eggs for us, but it's certainly something to think about, something to prepare for, something to process.

If the fear of raising a child who feels like a giant piece is missing from her life due to the lack of information frightens us, it seems that our next steps should be some form of open adoption or open embryo donation. But the moment I hear "open" an entire new set of fears arise.  I'm not sure if it makes me insecure or shallow but the idea of my child knowing and/or seeing his biological parents scares the dickens out of me. My dream of parenting never included a third party... the "adoption triad" as it's called. I understand why it's often the best situation for the child, but oh my heart. I'm not sure if I'm mature enough to handle that dynamic... I imagine I would forever be jealous of any connection my child might have with his/her biological parents. Meeting up at a park or inviting them to birthday parties scares me... and not simply because our parenting styles might be different or they might not be people I'd naturally choose for my child to hang out with. My biggest fear is that my child would prefer them over me. (insecure much?)

I can literally hear it ring in my ears, "you're not my mom." She might scream it as she turns, flouncing her hair, and slamming her bedroom door. The words probably came following a fight about boys or make-up. I'm pretty sure I said equally mean and hurtful things to my parents growing up, but that phrase might just rip my heart out if I ever hear it. It might be my biggest fear about losing the genetic connection with my kid(s). I certainly don't want to raise kids who feel incomplete, but I'm also afraid of allowing the biological parents into our lives. I'm afraid of how the third party would change my relationship with my child. It all just feels scary and foreign in ways I wasn't prepared to feel until group 2 was really right in front of me.

All of these thoughts have been swirling around ever since I wrote "Plans G-K". I had asked Sam several weeks ago to start thinking through our options so that we could discuss it soon. We finally talked about how we each feel about the different plans this past weekend. Essentially, I feel like we have six options (not including another FET or living child-free).

1. Expensive IVF: Somewhere with GOOD statistics like CCRM or maybe Advanced Fertility Centers of Chicago
2. Cheap(er) IVF: It would be $1000 less to go back to FIRM (which was already a fraction of the cost) for another round
3. Domestic Adoption
4. International Adoption
5. Donor Eggs
6. Donor Embryos

It should be shocking to no one that Sam and I didn't list our options in the same order. That would make things way too easy.

Sam's list: 3, 5, 6, 1, 4, 2
Amanda's list: 1, 5, 6, 3, 2, 4

Sam likes adoption for two things: he thinks it will be faster and that it's more of a sure thing.
I like IVF with CCRM (or other really good clinics) because it eliminates all of my above fears and allows me another shot at beating infertility (I'm not normally so competitive). International adoption is at the bottom of my list because, if this happens to be the only child we ever have, I don't want to miss having a baby. And I think repeating IVF at FIRM is at the bottom of both of our lists because of my poor response. It just seems dumb to repeat the same thing and hope for different results.

So how do we move forward from here? Obviously, we arm wrestle for it. I think the best move from here is to research each of our top options first. We might have a phone consult at CCRM and go to a few informational meetings at a couple adoption agencies. I've just finished reading Called to Adoption: A Christian's Guide to Answering the Call. I'm on the hunt for other good reads. I don't think we're in a desperate hurry to make up our minds… I'm in a desperate hurry to have a baby, but as all options cost a good chunk of change, it won't be any time soon. We've got time to research and talk and pray… hopefully our next steps will seem clearer to both of us with time. I do think I'll schedule a consult with Dr. Duffy at FIRM in the coming weeks to at least discuss the possibility of transferring all four remaining embryos. If he likes that idea, that may be our next step as it's certainly the cheapest and we'll have fully exhausted our options before moving forward.

Essentially, all of these are good options… there's no bad option here is it brings us a child of our own. But that doesn't mean choosing is easy… these are hard choices to make. These are decisions that I never in my wildest dreams thought we'd be making, not even when infertility was dumped on us. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the reality of our life. There are moments when I just want to cry, tell God he's completely unfair, and refuse to give up any more than I already have. In those moments I just want a baby without stress or fear, without worry or heartache… I just want it to be simple. But simple it is not. I certainly don't believe the old saying that the Lord won't give us more than we can handle… I think the story of Job pretty clearly disputes that. But I do think wherever He leads me or allows my life to go, He'll see me through. He's allowed infertility to be a part of my life for one reason or another… I have to believe He'll see me to the other side, hard choices and all.

The October Baby

I never talked about this on the blog leading up to or during IVF because it was just silly... it's still silly. I try not too read to much into signs (maybe for this very reason), but sometimes things just feel meant to be. Anybody else out there feel this way? IVF in January was one of those things for me. You see, a mid to late January transfer would yield an October due date. Even more specific than that, an October due date before my own birthday.

Why on earth does any of this matter? Well obviously it doesn't really, but for a moment, you have to step into my strange logic where this kind of stuff does matter. Maybe a little background will help you to better understand:

I distinctly remember being in college, head over heels about Sam, and planning out our future in an art history course (yawn). The key to success hinged on spacing all five of our children out appropriately. But I couldn't simply start two years after the wedding with baby number one. No, no. I had a deadline...29. 

Why 29 exactly? I don't really know other than that's how old my mom was when she had me. I guess as a kid, I always felt like my mom was kind of an older mom (don't laugh). I wanted to be a young, hip, fun mom, so I arbitrarily decided that if she stopped having babies at 29, I would too. Now of course, the dream has changed. Mathematically there hasn't been a way for us to have five babies before I turn 29 for quite a while, but somehow that date, that year still meant something. For some reason, I still hung on to the age 29... It just changed to: have A baby by 29.

Our IVF baby would have snuck right in with an October 2, 1014 due date (or so the handy dandy calculators tell me). More specifically, the October part seemed even more meant to be because October is a BIG DEAL around here. Apart from it being my favorite month, favorite season, and my own birthday month, it's also Sam's birthday month and my mom's. I can't really explain how or why exactly something that simple (and silly) made an October due date seem so appropriate, but it did. I was desperate to start IVF in December or January rather than February or March, not because one more month really made that much difference, but rather because once I had calculated and actually seen that early October due date, it just seemed too perfect. It somehow felt like the stars were aligning, and if I could just get that transfer to occur in the right window of time, all would be okay.

It was obviously not okay. Not okay at all. And now every time someone posts on Facebook or tells me that they have an October due date, I kind of cringe (i.e. wish I could stab my eyes out/rip my ears off). I fully recognize that all of this is silly. If we are blessed with a pregnancy from our upcoming FET, the due date would be somewhere around December I'm guessing. To pre-infertility Amanda, a December birthday seemed like a crime... "why would you do that to your kid? Ughhh, Christmas and birthday in the same month and then NOTHING for the next eleven?!?" To infertile Amanda, a December baby is amazing and a miracle and the greatest thing ever... that kid could come on Christmas day and I wouldn't care. Yet somehow, despite recognizing and admitting that this is all so silly, the loss of that October baby, it stings. I can't really explain it anymore than that it just seemed meant to be... but it wasn't.

IVF: A Recap

I've been meaning to blog about this for a long time. I guess part of the delay is that thinking back through IVF is kind of painful. There were a lot of disappointments for us along the way. And part of the delay is just that I'm struggling. Struggling to stay relevant, to stay present in this moment. Hell, I'm struggling to get up in the morning and care whether my hair looks like a frazzled mess or my eyeliner is on straight. Every moment of time spent awake I'm pretty much counting down the hours until I can go back to bed. But I'm pretty sure that my misery is a terrible, horrible no good, very bad blog topic, so instead I'll recap IVF.

I really want to recap IVF not because I need a summary but because I want to take some of the fear factor away for others who might be considering IVF. I've said multiple times before that IVF was terrifying to me. It seemed monumental... like some kind of Mount Everest type endeavor. I was scared to death of the shots. I was worried what the medications would do, side effects, etc. It all just seemed overwhelming. And while I'm certainly not here to say that IVF is no big deal, it wasn't as bad as I expected.

We'll start with the injections. I whined about injections until I'm sure everyone was sick of me. I don't like needles, don't like shots, and don't like whomever has the task of stabbing a needle into me... que dramatic circumstances for IVF. Luckily, every single one of my injections was subcutaneous. So I still can't vouch for any intramuscular stuff... if I have to cross that bridge, I'm sure there will be more whining and worrying. But the subcutaneous ones were really not that bad. Really. You heard it here folks. I did Gonal-F, Menopur, Cetrotide, and Lupron... Menopur was the worst, no doubt. It burned and I'll admit there were some curse words shared, but it wasn't that bad. Two minutes of burn and then it was over most nights. Also, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I was forced to do my own injections towards the end... it was better. So if you're scared of the injections, at least try it yourself. And ice... ice, ice, ice. No one said I couldn't ice the area, so I did every time. The one time I didn't I really regretted it. But regardless of your system, I guarantee that there is a system that will work for you... so don't delay or give up on IVF because of the shots. It's ten to twelve days for most… anyone can survive that.

Another fear was the medications and the effects they might have on me. I'd heard all kinds of stories... people passing out, ending up in the hospital, allergic reactions. And of course there's always the stories of breast cancer and other terrible issues that arise later in life. I obviously can't speak to the increased cancer risk quite yet, but I can say that I had little to no side effects. It's crazy and I still can't really believe it, but it's true: I had more side effects from 100mg of Clomid than I did on all the IVF drugs. No lie. Some people report moodiness, uncontrollable rage, tears that just won't stop... I had none of that. I think part of it may be the lack of stress... I was in Florida, not working, hanging out with my mom or husband most of the time. But still, no tears were shed, no freak outs occurred. I never felt like I was out of control or that my body (or hormones) were betraying me. In addition, I had very few physical side effects either. I find that really strange. On Clomid, I had 3-4 follicles and felt like I had a sack of potatoes in my abdomen. On Follistim, I had 5 follicles worth note (around 7 total) and I felt like someone kicked me in the ovary every time I sat down. Both Dr. Slayden and I were worried about IVF and the pain. If an IUI on 75 units of Follistim for five days brought me to an 8 on the pain scale... IVF was sure to do me in. And I have absolutely no explanation, but I was never really in pain. There at the very end I started feeling some discomfort, but it felt more like ovulation pain than stabbing, miserable, excruciating pain. Dr. Duffy hypothesized that maybe the difference was drug related... regardless the side effects were not as bad as I expected.

In addition, I really thought that I'd be at the doctor all. the. time. For hours and hours while they stole pints and pints of my blood. In reality, I went in for the IVF start date, three monitoring appointments, the retrieval, and the transfer. That's it… well, actually I had to swing by once to meet with the nurse about the retrieval and pick up my Lupron since I had ordered hCG from the pharmacy. But essentially it was a total of six appointments… My first IUI was four appointments and my fourth IUI was five appointments, so really not all that much difference.

Let's look at some overall wins, shall we? First of all, if you, like me, have suffered through test after test to find an actual diagnosis rather than unexplained, IVF may just be your diagnosis dream come true... or not. It's certainly not a "win" to know that my eggs are less than stellar and only slightly better than abysmal, but IVF did answer some questions we otherwise would have been unable to answer. A second win: weight loss. I know what you're thinking... huh? But it's true, I lost about 10 pounds leading up to and during IVF. I'm sure a huge part of it was the diet choices I was making... cutting carbs eliminated about 75% of my daily caloric intake... it was hard to put calories back in the form of protein. But I'm pretty sure I'd have lost a little weight no matter what... post retrieval I just felt like crud and nothing sounded good. There were a few days when the bloat weight started to make me think I'd gain it all back, but I finally deflated and settled at about 10 pounds lighter. Now, admittedly I haven't weighed since the pregnancy test, so I have no idea if post IVF has led to weight gain... Starbucks, a dozen chocolate chip cookies, Ben and Jerry's, and Steak N' Shake milkshakes don't lead me to believe I'm still 10 pounds lighter, but ignorance is bliss.

And because I can't end on too perky a note, let's look at some losses. First of all, IVF is a gamble, there's absolutely no doubt. Doctors can make all the predications they want, but there's no real way to know how any one woman will respond to the different medications. It's all just an educated guess. We went in with predictions of success as high as 70% per transfer and left with about a 35% chance for our first transfer... definitely a gamble. I think it's probably wise to think of IVF like this: IVF#1 is a trial run... you may get lucky, lots of people do, but you may also need IVF#2 to learn from the first round. Womp, womp. In addition, the medication ordering system is difficult to pinpoint. I ended up buying medications three times because I kept running out, but then right after I ordered the last round, I got the call that my E2 was too high and I'd be stopping stims soon. I ended up with five vials of Menopur, one syringe of Cetrotide, and one multi-dose vial of Gonal-F left over... even with the discounts, that's over $500 in medications. It's so hard to know how much you'll need, but you don't want to be stuck without it. So I guess, the negative aspects of IVF all circle around the unknown... you just have to bite the bullet, take the plunge, etc.

Reading back through this, I'm not sure if I'm actually doing a very good job of convincing anyone to go for it. Admittedly, I am not the poster child for IVF the doctors thought I would be. But I guess if I'm coming out of IVF with mega disappointments and a failed transfer and yet still vouching for it, then there's really no higher recommendation needed. If you're on the fence, I'd say go for it. Do your research. Know your facts. But don't waste years because of fear... it's really not that bad.

Plan G-K

Our Plan A went out the window a long time ago... we all know that. It was just over two years ago that we moved onto Plan B also known as Clomid, but it seems ages ago... like seriously, lightyears ago. But it is what it is; plans change and we have to adapt and change with them. When one door closes, you can either try to pry it open, or you can move onto the next one.

My dear sweet husband has calmed my ever increasing anxiety over our FET by reminding me that it won't, in fact, take half a year or more to save up the funds. I completely forgot in my absolute panic that we take money directly out of my check each month and place it into our health savings account... $500 to be exact. Add in the fact that Uncle Sam owes us big time, and well, the FET isn't too far away after all.

Speaking of tax refunds: whoa friends, itemizing medical expenses is about as much fun as a root canal. Seriously, it took us all weekend to do our taxes. And while we are getting a pretty decent refund, it was also immensely depressing to see where all of our money went last year. In case you didn't know, if you spend a large chunk of change on medical expenses, you can choose to claim those as deductions if you itemize your taxes. And by large chunk of change I really mean it. You used to be able to claim medical expenses if you spent over 7.5%, but of course that recently went up to 10%. I don't understand tax jargon, but the 10% is based off of your adjusted gross income... whatever that is. Sooo, all of this is to say that we spent almost 40% (37% to be exact) of our income on medical expenses in 2013. And no, I did not have chemotherapy, a boob job, or get a lung transplant. Nope, that's 99.9% infertility treatments and testing. Lovely. Oh, and that doesn't actually include our entire IVF... everything that we paid for after December 31, 2013 doesn't count towards that total... we're just getting a jump on next year's tax return. But like I said, at least there is a refund with our name on it. It won't make up for not having infertility coverage, not by a long shot, but at least it's something.

Anyway, moving on. The FET will (fingers crossed) be my next cycle... which should start the first week of March. If not, then I'm certainly hopeful it will be the next cycle. But as I've said before, I can't get too excited about the frozen embryo transfers. Not with day 3, grade 3 embryos... it feels like a long shot at best. To keep myself from spiraling into the abyss that is "woe is me" I'm trying to look into some backup plans incase IVF and all subsequent FETs are a bust for us. I know that the research doesn't actually do anything, but it eases my mind just a bit to feel like there's a plan. If I focus all my energy and hope into these precious embryos that struggled for just three days of life, I will fall into despair at the mere suggestion that they will fail. But if there is a backup plan, failure doesn't seem quite as hopeless. Make sense? No, I didn't think so.

So what would be next for us after these FETs? I feel like we've been here before... in fact, I'm pretty much sure of it. "The plan" was to do one IVF, if the IVF failed (which it did) we would systematically move through the available FETs. If all of those failed (which they might) we would move on to adoption. Eeek! Screech! Bang! That's me putting the breaks on. Six months ago I was ready to dive into adoption. But I suddenly feel anxious when I think about adoption... I've got to sort through my feelings on this before I can definitively say that it is our next step. I've got to think this through a little bit. And wouldn't you know, Mr. I Don't Know How I Feel About Adoption, is ready to move forward. But suddenly, adoption seems very scary, very foreign, and very overwhelming to me. I can't explain why exactly, it just does. But I'm not eliminating it, it's definitely still an option, it's just... there are other options.

Typically, lists start with A or 1, but let's be real... none of these are our first option for our first baby. We'll start with G, that seems about right.

Plan G: CCRM... I know, I just said one fresh IVF. One and done, that was our deal. Whoever said IVF was addicting... they were right. A small piece of me doesn't want to give up the dream of our baby inside of me. A bigger piece of me wants to beat infertility. Like knockout style. I don't want to go out on a losing note. Is that reason enough to haul our butts all the way across the country to a place where I will most assuredly be unhappy (I get the feeling CCRM and I won't get along) on the chance that they can do better with the dreadful eggs my body offers up? I guess that's to be determined. Cost for IVF at CCRM approx $26,000… not including travel.

Plan H: Donor embryos. For some reason, donor embryos have been on my mind a lot lately. I love the thought that I can save someone's embryos from being trashed. I don't love the thought that we might be buying embryos of poor quality. I know that you know the grades going in, but let's be really honest: those embryos are another infertile couples' leftovers. Everyone works through their embryos best to worst, so it is safe to assume that any remain embryos are the poorer quality of the bunch. I'm sure some are excellent and destined to be beautiful children, but some are most likely not. However, donor embryos is significantly cheaper than many other options, so it's probably the most feasible for us. In addition, it gives us the added bonus of experiencing a pregnancy. Admittedly, this is probably a little more important to me than Sam, but I think a pregnancy would be special to him too. Cost for donor embryos approx $6,000-10,000.

Plan I: Donor eggs. This would essentially solve our two greatest desires for Sam and I... genetic connection for him, pregnancy experience for me... at a cost. A significant one at that. I think the most likely scenario for us would be to return to RBA and use their My Egg Bank program with frozen donor eggs. The cost is significantly less than a fresh donor egg cycle, but you only get 6 eggs... scares the dickens out of me. Cost for frozen donor eggs approx $16,000-18,000. Cost for fresh donor eggs approx $30,000.

Plan J: International adoption. It was always part of my dream. And maybe it still is. I don't know. I think I kind of had a rose colored glasses type of perspective on international adoption. I still think it's beautiful, I'm just not sure how to ensure it's beautiful rather than painful, violent, or heartbreaking. Jen Hatmaker's series on international adoption opened my eyes and I can't close them back. And there's the price tag, and the hurdles like: we're not 30, and we haven't been married 10 years, or another 800 things some of the countries require... I don't know if we'd even be accepted into an agency at this time. And lastly, at least for our first child (looking like only) I really just want a baby, not an 18 month old, not a four year old, a baby. Cost for international adoption approx $25,000-40,000.

Plan K: Domestic Adoption. Again, the blinders are fully off. I've known quite a few people who experienced failed adoptions last year... it's not as simple as it looks. And if I'm being abundantly honest, I'm kind of afraid of what it would feel like to raise a child who wants to know their "real mom"... I'm afraid I'd constantly have to compete with "the other mom". And we're quite a number of steps between now and bringing home an infant via adoption... no social worker would clear us in our current living arrangements. So a house or a much nicer rental location is required before we could even start the process. Cost for domestic adoption approx $30,000.

So like I said: when one door closes, you can either try to pry it open, or you can move onto the next one…. we haven't decided which plan we're going with. We might try to pry open the stubborn door of IVF with our own eggs and sperm, or we might move on to a different door. And who knows, we might circle around the doors a few times knocking to see if there's a bring home baby behind one. But for now, I guess we're focusing on FET #1… and researching on the side just in case.

Moving On

First of all, I just have to say thank you all so much for your comments from the last post. I guess maybe we all feel that way now and then… good to know. I got a ton of emails from ladies who don't blog but just felt that they had to share that they too had felt that way. Bless you all. I'll never take for granted the physical, in real life friends that I've been blessed with… there's nothing like a real hug. But just in case there was any doubt, Tuesday's comments sealed the deal… infertile sisters, you are my people. Infertility has molded me and changed me until I am a different person, and anyone who hasn't walked this road will never understand me, not really. It is a beautiful thing to know and be known. So thank you all for not hating me for the truth, the truth that sometimes I'm a wee bit jealous.

In case you've been living under a rock, or maybe you live in a county other than the US (I think I have a few Canadian, Australian and Russian readers), the South was hit with Snowpocalypse 2014, on Tuesday. Which means we got between trace amounts and, oh, about four inches of snow. Athens got the good part, the part that gets you out of work but not stuck for 10+ hours in your car. Have mercy. I'm the first to admit that Southerners are hilarious when it comes to snow. Like A snowflake falls and they all lose their minds, rush to the store and buy milk and bread… if I'm snowed in, I don't even want milk and bread. And really, do you mean to tell me that if by some miracle you really are trapped in your home for, I don't know, 36 hours, that you don't already have enough food to survive? So yeah, admittedly, Southerners have plenty of reasons to be made fun of in terms of Winter weather response. Tuesday was not one of those times. Atlanta and the surrounding areas failed miserably to respond appropriately, leaving thousands of people stuck on the interstates for hours. I can't even tell you how many people took to Facebook to find shelter for loved ones who ran out of gas or literally could not get past traffic accidents to get home. It was insane.

Meanwhile, the Greavus both made it home to share in a glorious day of nothing on Wednesday. Seriously, I didn't even get out of my pajamas until 6 o'clock (in the evening) and the only reason I did was because Sam wanted to go to the UGA basketball game. Then I came home and got back in my pajamas. Thank you snow. It was literally just what I needed. I wish I could say that after the day off I'm refreshed and ready to move on, but I'm not. Not really. I took the ultrasound photo of our two embryos being placed into my uterus off the refrigerator this morning…. I sobbed my eyes out. In addition to random outbursts of tears, I'm dealing with rage. Like fire breathing, steam boiling, RAGE. Like don't ask me for anything, or come in my personal space, or look at me the wrong way or I'm liable to rip your head off, RAGE. I'm 99% sure that this has to do with the loss of all of the hormones… everything plummeted along with my mood. At least that's what I'm telling myself. The only other option is that I'm possessed. I'm hoping that with the onset of a new cycle, the hormones will level out and life will continue at a slightly less volatile state. And hopefully I don't do any permanent damage before things return to normal.

Several of you have asked what our plans are for moving forward. Do we have frozen embryos? How many? What quality? When will we go back? Unfortunately, the news isn't that good in terms of our remaining embryos. I finally got the nerve to call and find out exactly what the grades are and well, I kind of wish I hadn't. If I was struggling to drum up enthusiasm over an FET before, I'm definitely going to struggle now. Here's the down low:

We had 18 visible follicles via ultrasound before retrieval.
Only 13 eggs were retrieved. (at least 5 follicles were empty)
Only 8 eggs were mature. (5 eggs were immature)
We transferred 2, grade 2, 8 and 12 cell embryos on day 3.
We have 6 embryos frozen on day 3 in groups of 2.
Group 1: grade 3, 9 and 8 cells
Group 2: grade 3, 8 and 4 cells
Group 3: grade 3, 6 and 3 cells

I know the grading part doesn't make a ton of sense. The grading system for day 3 embryos is confusing, even for people who understand blastocyst grades. It's so different. Essentially our first two (the two we transferred) were our best. They were both on track or ahead as far as cell division, all of the cells were the same size, and there was only minor fragmentation. Our remaining six embryos are either on track or behind in terms of growth, but the cells are not the same size, and there is some fragmentation. Day 3 embryos are supposed to have between 6 and 10 cells. Obviously, the 3 and 4 cell embryos are very behind. I honestly don't know what our chances are with any of the possible transfers. Maybe Dr. Duffy will have some insight at our follow up consultation.

As to when we will go back for our embryos, well, I really can't say. Unfortunately, everything about our time in Florida proved to be more expensive than we had planned. We spent every last penny in our IVF account and then some. So we're back at the saving up dimes and nickels stage again. I'm predicting it will cost us about $2,500 for a FET, including medications and travel. So as to when we'll have $2,500 to go again… your guess is as good as mine.

I'm in a hurry only because I'm ready to move on. I have never been more ready to move past this season of life. I'm officially tired of putting X, Y, and Z on hold for years (and years, and years) all because of infertility. If IVF in Florida with our own eggs and sperm is not going to lead to our take home baby, well I'm ready to know that so that we can move on. I really have no clue what out next, next steps would be... how long it would take... how much it would cost. I'm still trying to wrap my head around $2,500 at the moment. So yeah, we're moving on... ever so slowly. Did you really expect anything different from us?

It's Over

It's officially over. BETA came back at 1 today. I was once again pregnant for the briefest moment... just a blip on the radar really.

From here I simply stop all medications and wait for a new cycle. We're not moving forward with a frozen embryo transfer this next cycle, so I guess it's back to life as normal. I went ahead and let them schedule a follow up consult with Dr. Duffy in a few weeks. The problem is I don't really have too many questions about future FETs; I do however have a lot of "what the hell?" type questions regarding IVF... unfortunately those don't matter. 

I'm obviously sad. I know this won't really make much sense, but I don't think I'm any more sad than if it had initially been negative... either way we lost two embryos. It just took us a little while to make it official. I also feel guilty because, well, I'm not quite as sad as I was after the first miscarriage. I'm definitely still sad, just not like a puddle of goo on the floor sad. I don't think it will wreck my life for three months like the first one. Give me a week and I think the random outbursts of tears will be over. The only way I can explain it is this: with IVF, there are only two options. The embryo becomes your bring home baby, or it dies. I guess I had resigned myself to that. I'm definitely sad, but I guess I just recognized the distinct possibility, the likelihood even, that we would lose some in this process. That's not how I felt about the first... a miscarriage back then kind of came out of left field and shocked me. I guess I was better prepared this time. Maybe preparation take some of the sadness away, at least at this early stage. 

And I suppose I'm sad for another reason too. The loss of the two embryos is certainly significant, but it also feels like the loss of our best chance. I don't know if the doctors would say any of ours had a "good" chance, but those two were the best shot we had. I can't help but think, if those two failed, how can the others stand a chance? I know it's a defeatist mentality, and hopefully I'll shake it before too long, but right now, I just can't get excited about a frozen embryo transfer. I know FETs often have better results because the body is less stimulated and less stressed, but that doesn't change the quality of what we have left. And honestly, I don't even know what that is. I know we have six frozen in groups of two, and that they were all frozen on day 3 (because they didn't think they'd survive to day 5), but I don't know how many cells each had when they froze it or what the grades are... I guess I need to call about that.

Tonight is one of those nights I really wish I enjoyed alcohol a little more... I nice glass of red wine seems in order, but I guess I'll make do with my drug of choice (Diet Coke). A long bubble bath seems like it's due as well as I haven't had a good soak since the night before the retrieval. And I might even treat myself to a Starbucks in the morning... yeah, that sounds about right.

Thank you all so much for your encouragement and your prayers. It was a long weekend, but now we can officially move on. We're simply trusting that our story is not over... onto the next chapter.

"It's positive, but..."

I'm pretty sure I'm good if I NEVER hear those words again. I think I officially have PTSD surrounding that simple phrase... my heart stops, my stomach twists, my eyes tear. Essentially, I received a positive BETA today... positive as in 6. The nurse followed up her "It's positive, but" with "it's really low and it's unlikely that it's viable." Yea, I know. I've heard those words before. Twenty-eight months ago a nurse called to tell me "It's positive, but you're likely miscarrying." Yea, I remember exactly how that feels.

My infertile sisters all see the writing on the wall so to speak, but there are a lot of other people who were waiting for news today, so let me explain. The test assigns a number based on how much hCG is in your blood. Anything over 5 is considered pregnant, so yes, "technically" I'm pregnant. However, I'm essentially at the "missed period" stage meaning I should be able to take a home pregnancy test. HPTs vary in their sensitivity, but a First Response Early Result home pregnancy test (the gold standard) has a sensitivity level of 25... I would not get a positive. Other tests like the Error Proof Test or ClearBlue Easy Digital have a sensitivity level of 40 and 50 respectively... definitely not getting a positive. The "positive" result most likely means that one or both of the embryos attempted to implant, hCG was created and began to circulate, but soon after the embryo deteriorated and so the hCG level is now falling.

Basically, I'm miscarrying, it's just extremely early. The doctor won't even refer to it as a miscarriage; he'll call it a chemical pregnancy... but we won't use that hateful term around here. It makes what's happening sound like a figment of my imagination or a pregnancy in numbers only. Well, it wasn't in numbers only, the numbers wouldn't be there if it didn't happen. The strange thing is, I'm pretty sure I'd feel the exact same way if it the numbers had come back as a 3 or a 0. To me, my babies were alive, and now they're not. Sure they weren't breathing or looking anything like a baby, just a clump of less than perfect cells, but they were growing. I would have mourned the loss of our two embryos just as intensely if the BETA had been negative. The only additional bitter part about this is that it really hurts to come so close... to know they tried to implant, to know they survived at least a few days beyond the transfer. Sure, a positive BETA would have still meant we were ages away from a bring home baby, but we were closer than we've been in the last twenty-eight months.

I really can't process what this means going forward yet. Does this mean my eggs suck more than we knew? Are all of our embryos destined to die from early chromosomal issues? Is there more at play here like hostile uterine environment or killer cells? These are questions for another day. Right now, I'm just sad. In my heart, it feels like two of my babies have died, and well that just hurts... a lot.

I do of course have to stay on the medications and retest on Monday... it's standard procedure anytime there is a positive BETA. Many of you will want to know if there is any hope. I'll say this, it's incredibly unlikely. There are a wide range of potential results from a BETA at 4 weeks... anything from a 5 to 426. But keep in mind, those levels don't all become take home babies, meaning those aren't the numbers from only successful pregnancies, those are numbers from all pregnancies, ones that end in a day, a week, a month, the first trimester... they are all included. The American Pregnancy Association suggests that there are a few possible reasons for low hCG: a miscalculation of pregnancy date (not possible for me; we know exactly how far along I should be), an ectopic pregnancy (very unlikely with IVF), a blighted ovum or miscarriage. So yes, technically, I'm pregnant, and yes, things could turn around, but in this situation, knowing what we do and with our history, it's unlikely. The test Monday will most likely confirm a hCG level below 5 and I'll come off of all medications. However, I will say that I believe in a God of miracles, so I'm not discounting that He could show up in a mighty, mighty way... we're abundantly ready if He chooses to do so.

Until then, we wait. Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers today. Test day is incredibly stressful and I can't tell you how much your texts and messages warmed my heart during the wait. It feels wonderful to know that so many people are hopeful for us. Your encouragement means the world to us.

"Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength"- Isaiah 40:31

Lord, give me strength.

Some Answers

For those of you who are not eagerly counting down the days until Pregnancy Test Day, I'll clue you in on the countdown: four more days. So the question everyone wants to know is: "how are you doing?" I'm doing okay. Better than expected, really. I mean, I'm still sane, I'm still functioning, I haven't chosen a two week sleep as a means of coping, and really that's about all you can ask of yourself during the two week wait. But in all seriousness, I'm doing okay. There are certainly moments that sneak up on me... moments of complete despair, moments of potential bliss, but for the most part, I'm just living each day, trying not to let all that Friday represents take over.

The next question that everyone wants to know is: "how do you feel?" Normal. I know, what an answer. On one hand, normal is a HUGE improvement to how I was feeling. There were a few days where I just wasn't sure which terrible drug had caused it, but I knew that at least one medication was wreaking havoc in my body. Thankfully we're past that. But in some ways, normal is also terrifying. It seemed more plausible that a pregnancy might exist when I felt like crap (even though I knew I didn't feel like crap because of a pregnancy). Feeling normal seems to be the antithesis of feeling pregnant, so I'll admit that I wish there was something to complain about. But sadly, all symptoms/side effects have cleared out.

Another thing everyone is asking is: "are you optimistic/excited/anxious?" It depends on when you ask... the answer could be different 20 minutes from now. I guess I could summarize by saying I'm realistic, yet hopeful. Realistic means that statistically, we are not pregnant. We were once given odds as high as 70%... yea, um, that was before we found out my eggs officially suck. I read somewhere (I know, get off google) that transferring two day 3 embryos gives about a 35% chance of success. It's really heartbreaking and frustrating to hear that after all we went through, after three weeks of work, 14 months of saving, and $14,000 that we only have a 10-15% increase in odds over a normal fertile couple my age... that's just plain crazy! It seems like after all of that, we should at least be over 50%... it should at least be likely that we succeeded. So I'm realistic when I say that the odds are not in our favor. I'm not a betting woman, so I'm unwilling to say I feel confident or optimistic. However, I'll add that I believe in a God that is in no way bound by numbers. I'm hopeful that He has heard out cries and will mercifully answer our prayers. So yeah, realistic, yet hopeful kind of sums it up.

The last question my friends want to know is this: "how's your heart?" This one's tough. I want to say fragile. Because it is. I've experienced the disappointment before. I know that a whole slew of things can quickly follow on the heels of a failure like this... anger, sadness, regret, depression. And yes, I fear those things. I fear what fighting infertility can make me become. I fear the shell of a woman, of a friend, of a wife I could turn into for weeks, months, years... I've seen it in my own friends. It's a terrible thing to crawl out of your own empty husk. However, despite the fact that the human heart is fragile, I'm feeling optimistic about surviving Friday intact, no matter the results. Yes, I will be sad... super sad. Yes, I will be frustrated... immensely so. Yes, I will feel despair... how much longer will we have to walk this road? I will feel all of these things and more if it is a negative result. And obviously if it's a positive result, I will be elated, terrified, shocked, thankful... too many emotions to describe. Essentially, I guess I'm as close to at peace with the outcome as I think I'll ever get. It will be what it will be... we just have to be ready to move forward with either result. So I guess the answer is fragile, my heart is certainly fragile, but I feel comforted that the Lord's got this. He's in control, He sees the bigger picture, and He's not going to let us go. Friday could change everything or change nothing, but either way, we're going to be okay... eventually.

So four more days of waiting... four more days and then we'll know.

Thoughts on being PUPO

For those of you not in the know, PUPO is a term infertile women use to describe the unique time frame post IVF transfer and pre pregnancy test. It stands for: Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise. I'm not sure if I really buy into it for myself, I mean, I was always happy to celebrate other ladies who were PUPO, but me? Am I pregnant? I mean they're in there, but are they still alive? Are they going to implant? Those two things seem kind of critical to the idea of being pregnant. But whatever... my community likes to call it PUPO, so PUPO it is!

Before we get into the more emotional and spiritual thoughts on being pregnant until proven otherwise, let's cover the physical aspects, shall we?

First of all, recuperating from IVF (retrieval and transfer) has been significantly worse than my laparoscopy. I know. It makes no sense. I don't have Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, so there's really no excuse. All I know is, I've felt pretty terrible since Friday afternoon of last week. My stomach is soooo sore, like someone beat me with a crowbar kind of sore. And food, all food, sounds marginal at best, and vomit worthy at worst. Which leads me to my favorite thing about the two week wait: discovering you have every early pregnancy symptom known to mankind. I currently have:

• food aversion- triple check
• increased urination- yep, we're coming back to this one
• fatigue- I fell asleep at 8:30 last night... for good
• tender breasts- have mercy
• nausea/vomiting- the only thing I'm currently missing... it's a miracle

And just in case there is anyone out there thinking that this is good news and is about to offer congratulations, today is day 6 of our little embryos' lives, better known as implantation day. Which means today is really the first chance that the embryos could implant, meaning all of the above "symptoms" are not from the embryo or any hCG. They are just the fun side effects of all the drugs I'm on and having hormone levels that are all over the place. I know, I have absolutely no idea why fertile people don't choose to procreate this way... it's so much more fun playing these guessing games.

So let's go back to that frequent urination bit... I know, infertility blogs are full of TMI. Feel free to skip ahead. So Sunday night, better known as dose number four of Crinone (progesterone), I started exhibiting the signs of a UTI. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up researching all the side effects of each medication I was taking... Crinone matched everything. Less than 5% of people get any of those side effects, but they were all listed. I decided to tough it out until yesterday when I caved and called the clinic to see if there was anything to be done. They said they had to rule out an actual UTI first. I rolled my eyes but agreed to go get one since they said I could take those AZO pills to ease the discomfort. Well, don't you know, the OB's office thinks I actually do have a UTI... lovely.

And last but not least, I look pregnant. I'd say a good 12 weeks, maybe even 14. I swear I cringe every time I pass a stranger... if someone asks if I'm pregnant I may completely lose it. I'm assuming this is all bloat, but it looks legit. I'm thinking about making a t-shirt that says "just had IVF... don't even think about asking" just so everyone is really, really clear. The good news is that the bump is adorable if I do say so myself. I mean for a bump that is bloat and not baby, it's pretty cute. So just in case there is any future opportunity for a bump that is baby, I have high hopes that it will be a really cute bump.

Okay moving on. My thoughts are as usual, kind of all over the place. One moment I'm really hopeful and jazzed thinking things like "I'm closer than I've been in 2.5 years" and "we've got 4 chances at this" and the next second I'm sure that I will not be one of the lucky ones, that IVF is simply a cruel temptation to prolong my misery. I'm trying really hard not to let my mind go there, but sometimes it sneaks up on me. In fact yesterday I found myself researching next steps in case this fails. Suddenly I realized what I was doing and felt so guilty. I can't give up on these babies yet. There is a lot of fear tied in with this whole mess and my crazy mind thinks it will hurt less as long as there is a backup plan. But that's a lie; it's going to hurt like crazy if that first beta comes back negative. It doesn't even matter that statistically it will be negative. It's still going to hurt. So I'm refusing to allow myself to look into CCRM, or adoption, or donor eggs, or donor embryos... none of it. There will be time when and if we have to cross those bridges.

In the mean time, I'm trying not to focus every minute of every day on "am I pregnant?" and "was that an implantation twinge?". I'm really, really, really trying to trust that the Lord's got us, that He's in control, and that He is big enough to handle whatever comes next. I've begged and pleaded for these little lives, but ultimately it is 100% out of my hands. He'll either breathe life, or He won't. And although it's going to hurt like crazy if we fail, and I'm going to want to crawl in the darkest hole and cry my eyes out, I'm constantly reminding myself that He is faithful. He will not call me out on the waters and abandon me; He will see me through. 

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown, where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep, my faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours, and You are mine

- Hillsong United "Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)"

Transferring Life

Thank you all so much for your prayers! No really, thank you! Saturday was one of the darkest days of my life. It was actually worse than you may imagine initially because the phone call from my doctor was confusing. I don't blame him as I was sobbing and may have been hard to understand, but he said that the embryos should have been 8 cells on day 2... which is incorrect, but for the next three hours I was certain that they would all die. Sam eventually looked it up online and showed me that no, they should be 4 cells which meant that most of ours were behind, but not that behind. I called and confirmed it with a nurse, but still felt really unsure about their ability to even survive the night. The doctor had called them fragile, and there was no arguing that most were a half to a whole day behind in there expected growth. It was such a long day and long night!

But someone somewhere has a special seat up front in the Throne Room, or maybe it was the collective cry of so many. I can't explain it, but those embryos "perked right up" overnight, as my doctor said. I'm still confused on the numbers and how this happened, but we have eight embryos. He said there were seven on Saturday and eight on Sunday. In addition to that, half of them were on pace or ahead. We had two 8 cell, one 9 cell, and one 12 cell on day three when they should be 8 cells. Now nothing had a perfect grade, but most had a grade of 2 meaning a little fragmentation but all the cells are equal. I'm not sure I can adequately describe the change in their outlook from day 2 to day 3... even our doctor was really impressed!

Despite the change, he still recommended that we go ahead with a day 3 transfer. And after chatting with Dr. Duffy, I'm much more okay with this. He admitted that he is probably the only doctor in the clinic who would recommend this... everyone else in the practice likes to push for day 5 blastocysts. And I was suddenly reminded why I chose him, why I like him. He is for giving each of my embryos the best chance at life, not pushing them to survive in a lab with manmade medium so that only the fittest survive. He said pushing for day 5 may only leave me with one or two blasts, or none, and there's absolutely no proof that an embryo that perishes in the lab between day 3 and day 5 wouldn't have survived and grown into a beautiful baby if transferred earlier. I know a lot of people disagree with this, but that's okay. We just want to give them all a chance. It probably means that future FETs (frozen embryo transfers) will fail at a higher rate, but our embryos fought really hard to get to day 3... we're not giving up on them just because they had a rocky start.

We ended up transferring two embryos, an 8 cell grade 2 and the 12 cell grade 2. He did still offer to transfer three and explained that this would be against ASRM's Transfer Guidelines, but that if our absolute goal is a pregnancy from this cycle, that's what he'd recommend. Essentially, day 3 embryos are just harder to judge.... the ones that would have died in between day 3 and day 5 in the lab might very well die in the uterus... there's no good way to know, which is why a day 5 transfer is typically preferred. I will say that FIRM is a little flippant with the embryo transfer guidelines... Nazis about OHSS, but not so much on how many should be transferred. They of course have a slightly higher twin rate because of that. We decided to stick with two. These are my reasons:

1. My goal is not to get pregnant no matter what out of this cycle. My goal is to get pregnant. If it's not this cycle than hopefully next.
2. I'm still not super comfortable with the Lupron trigger, I feel better about it, but not great. Therefore, putting all of me eggs embryos in one basket uterus, doesn't make me very comfortable.
3. We want a safe pregnancy for me and the baby (or babies). There is undeniably an increased risk for each additional baby.
4. We don't want triplets. Twins is one thing, but triplets? Not really in our plans. The odds of all three implanting as day 3 embryos was crazy small, but I don't gamble. And I also would feel super weird hoping that one or two dies during the next two weeks... super weird.

The transfer went really smoothly. Dr. Duffy said I was the best transfer of the day. The one thing I've got going for me in the reproductive department is a normal uterus and an easily accessible cervix. It really felt no different than an IUI in terms of procedure (other than the painfully full bladder)... there was the HUGE difference though in the fact that they weren't injecting several million sperm but rather transferring 2 precious embryos. There are a couple of things that I really hated about the transfer though, most notably was that Sam couldn't be in the room. I had never heard of a clinic that didn't allow the spouse to be in the transfer room. It's a really special moment and I hate that Sam missed it. The second thing I hate is that they didn't give me a picture of my embryos... I thought that was standard. I did however get an ultrasound image of them at the moment of transfer. 

The embryo in in the little glowing blob. I'm not sure why it glows, but I
assure you, the embryos are not radioactive. : )

It was so weird. I went into the transfer a sad, depressed, mopey mess... even with the news about the improved quality I was feeling bummed that our IVF journey did not turn out as we had hoped. And then they transferred those embryos inside, the tears started to flow and my whole mindset changed. I'm not giving up on these embryos. I was reminded that these are the exact embryos that I was fighting for with all of those doctors... I said I didn't want just grade A and grade 1. I wanted them all because they all have a chance at growing into a take home baby. Well, I've got them. They're not perfect, but they're ours. They are genetically ours and now, more importantly, physically ours and we so desperately want them!

And that was it. My clinic strongly discourages bed rest. In fact, they don't even allow you to rest after the transfer. They get you up immediately and send you to empty your bladder. They said that they used to require bed rest, but recent studies have shown that bed rest is not only not helpful, but can be hurtful. I'm on the fence about it, but my desire to come home won out. Sam couldn't get off of work for an extra day and I was kind of an emotional mess after the roller coaster of Saturday and Sunday... I just wanted to be home with my husband and my sweet Sterling and Everest. As it was a day 3 transfer and nothing can implant for several days, I decided to come home yesterday after the transfer. It was a long drive and the entire time I was second guessing the wisdom, particularly with every bump in the road, but I'm trying to trust that they are snuggled in my uterus and hopefully were uninterrupted in their task of cell division by the bumpy roads. I decided to take today though and stay home as I'm still exhausted and sadly still recovering from the retrieval. We won't call it bed rest as I'm fixing my own food and beverage and doing some laundry, we will just call it being lazy and recuperating from a very long three weeks! 

So thank you again for all of your words of encouragement: your text messages, comments, and emails meant the world to us during one of our darkest days. And thank you for your prayers! The Lord decided to breathe life and we are so, so thankful!

Now settle in... eleven days and counting until the pregnancy test!

Not the News We Wanted to Hear

I'm not going to keep you in suspense. This is a post that I hoped I would never have to write. The news is not good. Dr. Duffy called this morning with the report. I started sobbing early in the conversation, but this is what I think he said:

1- 5 cell
2- 4 cell
2- 3 cell
2- 2 cell

A day 2 embryo should be 4 cells, which means more than half of mine are behind. He also mentioned that the 5 cell is already a grade B, so he's not very optimistic that it's the leader. Of the 13 eggs retrieved, only 8 were mature. They successfully fertilized one of the immature eggs, but it has since died. As has one of the mature eggs. That leaves me with 7 total embryos. Essentially, what this all means is that my babies are dying. They of course don't call it that... the medical term is arrested development, but that's not what it feels like. It feels like my babies are dying.

His recommendation is to move ahead with a day 3 transfer. I debated a 3 day transfer all along, so you would think that I'd be fine with this. But I'm not. I'm not because I wanted to transfer on day 3 (possibly) just because it was best for the embryos to be in the natural environment rather that in the lab. I never wanted to be recommended a day 3 transfer because they don't think they'll make it to a day 5... that feels really different. It feels really awful. He also mentioned that we should start thinking about transferring 3. Before anyone reading this gets excited that my doctor will let me transfer 3 and has beautiful images of triplets in mind, let me assure you, he doesn't recommend transferring 3 because he wants me to have triplets (or even expects me to), he makes the recommendation because he's not sure transferring 2 will give me a good shot at a viable pregnancy.

I never thought I'd be here.

He called my embryos "fragile".

My babies are dying.

I can't even describe where my head is right now... I guess it's in the lab where the result of our money, blood, sweat and tears are fighting for life. Where my fragile embryos fight to simply divide one cell into two. My heart is in that lab too. Broken into so many pieces I'm not sure that I'll ever find them all... part of my heart will probably always remain in the embryology lab where our embryos fought and lost.

We're meeting with Dr. Duffy in the morning before the transfer to get an updated report and to discuss what we should do. I obviously want to know if he has any idea what the issue is. 7 embryos fighting for life is a far cry from the place everyone predicted I'd be.... making babies and freezing future siblings.

One million thoughts have gone through my head since I received that call. Things like: "we should go straight to CCRM" and "we'll never be able to afford CCRM". Other things like: "I don't think we can do this again" and "maybe adoption is our next step". The one thing that I can say for certain is this: everyone criticizes me of being a pessimist. I call it being a realist, but whatever, the name doesn't matter. In this, in IVF and our chances, I was an optimist. I may not sound optimistic and that's because I don't want to get other people's hopes up... it's bad enough to deal with my own disappointment, but adding in everyone else's is just too much. So I use "pessimism" as a defense mechanism. I share the sad, terrifying, awful stories of my friends so that no one expects too much, but I never really expected those stories to be mine. I really expected to get 20+ eggs; to fertilize 12 eggs, and freeze the rest; to see the embryos make it to day 5; and to become pregnant. For days now, I've been thinking about twins. I already had plans for future posts like sharing all the things I did (i.e. no carbs, acupuncture) or how it feels to leave the frozen embryos behind in Jacksonville. I don't care what it looked like, or how it came across, I was optimistic about our chances. Right about now, it feels like I was cocky. And now, I'm officially not.

I never in my wildest dreams thought we'd be here. Not me, the girl with an AMH level of 5+... 2 embryos on track after IVF... that's unheard of. But it's reality. It's the current situation we're in and all we can do is move forward. The easiest course would be to mentally give up, to say these embryos are doomed and start thinking about our next steps. I'm refusing to let me mind go there, to let my heart give up. I serve a God of miracles. There is nothing I can do for them at this point, but He can. I'm not going to give up on them until the end had come.

Transfer is set for 9:15am tomorrow. More to come. Our story is not over.

The Retrieval

If the abundant like of wit and creativity in the blog title didn't clue you in, today has been rough. I'm not witty, or creative, or really 100% here right now. I've been trapped in a sort of fog... cotton in my head and a lack of neurons successfully crossing the synaptic gap... that's been my day. But I wanted to get a post together to let everyone know that I'm alive and that thankfully I'm feeling better. I credit my long awaited for bowl of Rice Krispies for the improvements.

You may remember from May that I was terrified of the anesthesia needed for the laparoscopy. Like lose my mind once-and-for-all kind of terrified. And that surgery and the anesthesia ended up fine. I woke up, felt mostly normal, took a percocet because I was afraid of pain and slept for about 4 hours. Everything I did that day (drink ginger ale, eat saltines, take pain meds) was from fear of what could be rather than an actual need. So going in to today, I was nervous, but I kept telling myself if I can survive deep anesthesia and full intubation, I could survive this. Well, I survived and that's about all that can be said for the cocktail of meds they gave me today.

It was actually harder to wake up and stay awake. I fell back asleep EVERY TIME the stupid arm cuff released me and woke up EVERY TIME that stupid thing beeped and squeezed my arm. Ughhh. I hate that thing! Everyone told me I'd want to know how many eggs they got as soon as I woke up, but I had no idea why I was even there. Thankfully, I got my favorite nurse today and she was super sweet and let me be pitiful. I knew something was different about this medicine right away because I had the shakes really bad, like almost had to get a nurse to put on my underwear because I couldn't hold my arms steady. It was soooo weird. It's a terrible thing to feel like you can't control your limbs, like your motor skills have abandoned you.

We had to drive about forty-five minutes to the beach house (we left the hotel life behind thanks to some incredibly generous people). About 15 minutes in, I started to feel really dizzy and the beginnings of nausea. By the time we made it to St. Augustine, I was miserable, but just kept telling myself not to vomit. Sam stopped to grab himself some lunch and I just stayed in the car, afraid to move, with the door open and my head in my lap. He showed back up with his Chick-fil-A and I came so close to losing it all over the car. The smell was ungodly. I never thought Chick-fil-A could insight vomit, but apparently it's possible. Somehow I made it back to the house, but that's as far as I made it. Vomit fest ensued.  I never get sick and there was nothing in me (no food since 7pm last night), but my stomach pretended not to care. After that, I crashed. I was out from 12ish to 2:30 and then from 2:45 till sometime after 5. I could have slept longer, but I made myself get up and move. It was a good choice because I've felt much more normal since then. No real cramping, spotting, or pain to complain of. I would say I feel sensitive and a little sore, but no pain. It was just the cocktail of meds that did me in today.

My nurse did tell me how many eggs (13) multiple times during recovery. She explained that though they could see 18 follicles going into the procedure, several of mine were empty. I'm thankful I was capable of just nodding that I understood at that point. It wasn't until I got in the car with Sam (they never allowed him back to recovery) that I lost it. Once again, I fully recognize that I should be over the moon with 13, but I'm not. I was (apparently) really expecting 20 eggs. Even when our follicle counts were lower than expected, so many people assured me that there are always hidden follicles, that I'd get more. Unfortunately, that's not always the case. Sometimes you get less. Thirteen obviously is the number of eggs, not necessarily mature eggs... the retrieval doctor mentioned to Sam that he was expecting around 10 mature. I spent the last three months researching and praying about what I should do with 20+ eggs. How many should I freeze as eggs, as pronuclear, as day 2, as day 5... none of that matters anymore. We obviously fertilized all of the eggs.

To say that I am disappointed would be an understatement. I go back and forth between feeling like I let us down, like my body didn't perform up to its capabilities and feeling robbed, like the protocol and the doses just didn't get what my body could offer. One moment I'm mad at myself for failing to perform and the next I'm mad that the doctors were unwilling to push me. This was supposed to be our one and only egg retrieval... one and done, that was our deal. The doubts are already creeping in though and I can hear myself making excuses for why we should try just one more time.

Despite being bummed about the retrieval, I actually am really thankful... I know that sounds weird, disappointed and thankful at the same time, but that's how I feel. Thankful to have 13 eggs that might be mature, that might fertilize successfully, that might grow and multiply well, and that might lead to a bring home baby. It's more than we've ever had before. Today we are closer than we've been in a long, long time to our dream, and for that I'm very thankful.

Obviously, my sadness and happiness teeter on a very narrow divide... everything (for now) hinges on the fertilization report. Speaking of which, I won't hear anything tomorrow. Which is crazy. I've never heard of not receiving a fertilization report the day after retrieval. Instead, my clinic gives a report on  day 2, Saturday. They kind of combine fertilization report and transfer recommendation into one day. Saturday, I'll hear how many fertilized, how they're doing, and whether they recommend a  day-3 or a day-5 transfer. It's going to be a looonnnnggg time until Saturday morning.

However, if all goes according to plan, I should have a pretty nice distraction tomorrow. Sam surprised me with this news: We're going to Disney World! Ahhhhhh! People, I'm not sure if I can adequately explain my love for Disney World.... like I could have gotten married there if my husband didn't think it was stupid... like I would happily have honeymooned there... like I ordered the vacation planning DVDs when we'd been dating for about a year to try to convince Sam that we desperately needed to go. Unfortunately, Sam doesn't share my over the top love of all things Disney. He always said we'd go once we have kids. Well people, stop the presses, but if all went well today... we've got kids. Granted, they haven't even begun cellular division, but whatever, if that distinction is enough to get me in the gates of Disney, I'll take it. I'm really hoping I feel up to it tomorrow. My nurse said I could return to normal activity tomorrow... I'm not sure if that includes the Magic Kingdom, but I really hope so!