"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!

Blessed Beyond Measure

On the eve of my retrieval, I can't help but think this: I have been so very, richly blessed. I am so humbled by the outpouring of love and support for Sam and I during our journey towards tomorrow. Infertility is a really rough hand to be dealt; there is absolutely no denying that. But I feel so thankful to be here, to have arrived at this day, to have this opportunity. I could have been born in a different century, heck, a different decade in which IVF wasn't an option... I'm so thankful that I can even attempt this. I could have been born in a different country, a country where I would be shunned for my inability to produce offspring, or a country where I am unable to pay for something like this... I am so thankful for the financial stability and the freedom to pursue treatment. I am incredibly blessed to be right where I am.

In addition, I am so blessed to have such an incredible support system! I have been showered with so much love and support... and so many gifts. Seriously, did someone leak the secret that my love language is gifts? Okay, maybe I shared that, but never in my life have I felt so loved. So many kind, sweet, thoughtful people have reached out to let me know that they care and are thinking of me... it's an incredible feeling and I am truly humbled.

Kara, a precious lady who found my blog and reached out to me during my IUIs in 2012 has been such a treasure to me. She was one of my first legitimate friends that I made via the blogosphere. I hate that you guys don't get to know her like I do, but the good news is that she now holds her miracle... she gave birth this year to a precious baby boy. She's a real gem and someday, I'm going to get to Raleigh to actually meet her and her sweet family.

Kara sent the world's softest PJ's, a box of decaf teas, and a precious
CD of songs that she listened to while she was pregnant!

Caroline is also such a good friend. It takes a bond like infertility to make Gators and Dawgs play nice, but I can say I'm honestly thankful to be friends with a Gator fan! My IVF cycle lines up almost exactly 11 months from when she started her IVF cycle... but she has been through so much since then. Caroline has had such a rough year, and yet she has been so selfless in supporting me! And today I actually did get to meet Caroline! She was sweet enough to drive from Gainesville to Jacksonville to come hang out and get pedicures! Sadly, neither of us thought to get a picture, but I promise, it happened, and it was LOVELY!

Caroline's sweet care package for the retrieval! Some
comfy, purple pajama pants, fluffy socks, and Shrek:
the movie she watched after her transfer.
Hopefully, I'll be sporting these fun socks next Tuesday!

I've mentioned before that I get the pleasure of working in my church's preschool environment. I have the most beautiful, special group of two year olds that I absolutely love to pieces! But in addition to all the hugs, smiles, and 'I love you's that I get every Sunday, I have the pleasure of serving with some of the most fantastic women I know. I am so blessed that the Lord led me to them... serving alongside them has changed my heart and gifted with me some beautiful friendships!

My Waumba team's gift of a soft, fluffy robe (monogrammed), socks,
Burt's Bees,  Essie nail polish, and a collection of Nicholas Sparks movies!

When my mom came down to stay, she brought her own special care package. Not only that, but mom stabbed me with the needle every night (and morning)! I know she didn't enjoy it any more than I did, but she was a trooper and did a great job! I'm so thankful that she has has been so supportive of Sam and I on this journey. She's pretty special!

An overnight Cinda b bag filled with all kinds of goodies like body butter
from The Body Shop and a super cute workout outfit!

My friend Jennie was sweet enough to send an excellent gift! In the midst of the holidays and trying to convince her new son that he does, in fact, like a bottle, she was kind enough to ship me her left over Crinone! So thoughtful and generous!! Jennie is precious and finally welcomed her miracle son this year, but she has been so sweet to continue to cheer me on through our journey! Crinone is EXPENSIVE and after we just shelled out more than twice what we expected on meds, it was a very nice reprieve to not have to make an additional order for progesterone!

And lastly, sweet Suzanne! Suzanne and I couldn't possibly have journeys that look more different... we struggle with completely different issues and it has led us down very different paths. But I could not ask for a sweeter, more kindhearted friend to walk this road with. She is constantly and consistently asking how I'm doing, checking in throughout the week, and cheering me on with every next step. Suzanne is another sweet friend that someday, somehow, I am going to meet!

Beautiful flowers from Suzanne to brighten up the space! 

And it's not just all the gifts... it's the incredible outpouring of love and support that has meant so much to me. Every hug, text message, comment, prayer... they have inspired me so much along the way! So thank you all so, so much for your encouragement!

No matter what happens tomorrow, I am blessed beyond measure. That, however, does not mean that I'm not praying and hoping for even more blessings (I'm greedy that way). Please join me in asking the Lord to bless us richly tomorrow with beautiful, healthy, mature eggs and the start to our future family! I'll give you all an update as soon as I'm lucid!