I have found it to be interesting how naturally I have gravatated back to my blog as we have moved into our FET journey. I didn't plan to be away. I didn't plan to come back to blogging. It just happened.
The longer I have been on this journey of TTC, infertility, reading blogs, and blogging, the more I have come to be aware of the fact that the blog world for me is my crystal ball. I started reading blogs 5+ years ago. I know this because some of the bloggers I stumbled across back then's first borns are 5 years old.
We had barely started TTC back then. Maybe we hadn't even actually started. But we had no idea the path of loss and reproductive medicine that would be our road. But I found myself reading blogs- blogs about infertility and loss. Why? I don't know. I just don't know. Sometimes the superstitious side of me thinks that by starting to follow IF/RPL blogs I caused my own destiny. ..... I know that is silly, but ....
But I do think that in an unconscious or subconscious way blog reading was a way to seek control for me- it was my way of trying to see into my own crystal ball and know how my story would go. I read blogs to feel like I could figure out what my story would look like.
Would our IUIs work...would I get pregnant with endometriosis....would we get pregnant with low morphology...would we get pregnant after 1 miscarriage....2 miscarriages....would we get pregnant with IVF....would we stay pregnant....would we birth a live baby.....
How would my story go.....
It was futile of course. But it, at times, gave me what I needed to hang on.
If her IUI worked, maybe mine would, if SHE got pregnant after multiple losses, then maybe I could, if SHE had a baby after years of infertility, than maybe, just maybe that is how my story would go.....
And then I had my baby. She is here, really here, in my arms. And my longing to know how my story would go subsided. The longing was fulfilled in so many ways, and I stopped wondering.
This upcoming FET has triggered that wonder again. Wondering how this part of the story will unfold, but it is far less intense than before. More than anything, I am finding this blog space to be a place where i can talk out loud - I can talk about estrogen patches, and vaginal u/s, and FET transfers. Being back in the fray, I am remembering how there just isn't space in our public lives to discuss these things. Staff lunches, family Easter dinner, playdates at the park- there are very few real live people that know about this FET. It just doesn't easily come up.
So, I blog. I write. I ponder how this story will go.
Lining confirmed today to be nice and plush. Estrogen is excellent. Transfer is a Go! for Monday.
I am excited. I am hopeful. I am grateful for how easy a FET is compared to a fresh. I am grateful that I feel good. I am beyond grateful for my pudgy, happy, smart, strong-willed toddler that fights diaper changes and drapes her arms around my shoulders and presses her face into the crook of my neck when she is exhausted at the end of the day.
I am a little scared how I will feel if we don't get pregnant. Or if we get pregnant and miscarry. I feel strong. Centered. Resilient. ....right now. But it has been a long time since I have been crushed by a BFN or by the red spotting that predicts the end. I don't want to feel that again. I just don't.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
A Christmas Baby
I never wanted to have a baby born around Christmas. I don't why. Maybe lots of people feel that way just because of the hecticness of the holiday and not wanting the birthday celebration to get lost in the shuffle. Maybe it was from having a Mom with a late December birthday who often talked about feeling short-changed with a birthday that time of year. I don't why- but in all my dreaming and scheming in my head I have always avoided the possibility of a December baby.
Until infertility. and miscarriages. and life in the detours.
We have scheduled our FET. We actually scheduled, cancelled and scheduled it again. The first time the husband got cold feet. We pulled back and he quickly came around and so we scheduled it again. I knew in the back of my head that we'd be looking at a due date in late December- but the priority was a) finding a day the lab had an opening, b) making sure it worked with my work schedule, the husbands work schedule, and arranging childcare. for our now 16 1/2 month old daughter. And, I just am done being patient. I want to try our luck with our Frozens and see what happens. I was done waiting any longer. I want, and NEED to know if we will ever have a second child.
Our transfer date is set. Been cleared through all the steps. Been taking lupron/birthcontrol. Everything looked great at my suppression check yesterday. A couple more weeks of prepping my lining, two more visits to the clinic for blood work and another u/s. And it will be transfer day.
There is a hope, and a joy, and an excitement that is just bubbling in me that I can't contain. Maybe it is the relief that comes with actually DOING something- sure, that something is nightly injections. But we have a plan in place. Maybe it comes from ill-placed confidence that the 1st time worked, surely the 2nd try will work. I don't know why the hope, but it is there. And I just am excited.
There, as always, are so many hurdles between now and bringing a baby home that, even after doing this previously, I can't wrap my head around the end point yet. We have no control over how this will go. None.
But what I do know? What is certain, is that if, IF, this embryo sticks and thrives, its due date will be ......December 25th.
And in my mind, it couldn't be a more perfect day. Oh, how infertility changes us.
Until infertility. and miscarriages. and life in the detours.
We have scheduled our FET. We actually scheduled, cancelled and scheduled it again. The first time the husband got cold feet. We pulled back and he quickly came around and so we scheduled it again. I knew in the back of my head that we'd be looking at a due date in late December- but the priority was a) finding a day the lab had an opening, b) making sure it worked with my work schedule, the husbands work schedule, and arranging childcare. for our now 16 1/2 month old daughter. And, I just am done being patient. I want to try our luck with our Frozens and see what happens. I was done waiting any longer. I want, and NEED to know if we will ever have a second child.
Our transfer date is set. Been cleared through all the steps. Been taking lupron/birthcontrol. Everything looked great at my suppression check yesterday. A couple more weeks of prepping my lining, two more visits to the clinic for blood work and another u/s. And it will be transfer day.
There is a hope, and a joy, and an excitement that is just bubbling in me that I can't contain. Maybe it is the relief that comes with actually DOING something- sure, that something is nightly injections. But we have a plan in place. Maybe it comes from ill-placed confidence that the 1st time worked, surely the 2nd try will work. I don't know why the hope, but it is there. And I just am excited.
There, as always, are so many hurdles between now and bringing a baby home that, even after doing this previously, I can't wrap my head around the end point yet. We have no control over how this will go. None.
But what I do know? What is certain, is that if, IF, this embryo sticks and thrives, its due date will be ......December 25th.
And in my mind, it couldn't be a more perfect day. Oh, how infertility changes us.
Monday, January 28, 2013
A Year Older
I am a year older. I celebrated my birthday this week.
It was my second birthday as a mom. But to be honest, I don't remember much about my birthday last year. My daughter would have only been two 1/2 months old, and i probably was, well I know I was, still in the fog of breastfeeding/sleep deprivation/new parenting.
This year, we didn't do much. We just were together as a family. And the gratitude spilled over in tears a couple times during the day. I love my daughter. I love my husband interacting with her. I have loved every age so far, but this age (almost 15 months) is really fun. She is just getting smarter and wittier every day. And she is showing compassion. Which melts my heart. I am in love in a bizillions ways.
My husband has been less ready than I to embark on TTC#2. He feels overwhelmed sometimes just keeping our family of 3 afloat. And I agree. Rationally, I agree. It doesn't compute how we'd manage a second child. But I really feel strongly about having kids close together in age. I felt a distance with my sister (3 1/2 years apart). So I have it in my head, I want (if possible) to have them closer. I also feel like I have put my career on hold, just working part-time here and there, and some day I will need to return to more lucrative income, but hoping to wait until Elementary school age. So having them close together makes good financial sense for us. My husband and I are also getting older. We just are.
He has come around though. So much so that we have a date penciled on the calendar for our embryo transfer that he agreed with. We have two frozen. So maybe two tries. And then we are likely done. Likely. I have typed and deleted this paragraph numerous times. I am still not sure I am ready to return to it all- appointments, prodding, decisions, paying out of pocket, waiting, hoping, waiting... I scheduled and then cancelled my required Hysteroscopy several weeks ago. I called today after much procrastinating and rescheduled it for two weeks from now. They could of seen me this Thursday- but that was too quick for me. I need to take this slow.
If I can wrap my head and heart around this in time. IF the hysteroscopy is normal. IF my bloodwork is normal. IF the lab has an opening, IF....then we are aiming for transfer on March 29.
If.
It was my second birthday as a mom. But to be honest, I don't remember much about my birthday last year. My daughter would have only been two 1/2 months old, and i probably was, well I know I was, still in the fog of breastfeeding/sleep deprivation/new parenting.
This year, we didn't do much. We just were together as a family. And the gratitude spilled over in tears a couple times during the day. I love my daughter. I love my husband interacting with her. I have loved every age so far, but this age (almost 15 months) is really fun. She is just getting smarter and wittier every day. And she is showing compassion. Which melts my heart. I am in love in a bizillions ways.
My husband has been less ready than I to embark on TTC#2. He feels overwhelmed sometimes just keeping our family of 3 afloat. And I agree. Rationally, I agree. It doesn't compute how we'd manage a second child. But I really feel strongly about having kids close together in age. I felt a distance with my sister (3 1/2 years apart). So I have it in my head, I want (if possible) to have them closer. I also feel like I have put my career on hold, just working part-time here and there, and some day I will need to return to more lucrative income, but hoping to wait until Elementary school age. So having them close together makes good financial sense for us. My husband and I are also getting older. We just are.
He has come around though. So much so that we have a date penciled on the calendar for our embryo transfer that he agreed with. We have two frozen. So maybe two tries. And then we are likely done. Likely. I have typed and deleted this paragraph numerous times. I am still not sure I am ready to return to it all- appointments, prodding, decisions, paying out of pocket, waiting, hoping, waiting... I scheduled and then cancelled my required Hysteroscopy several weeks ago. I called today after much procrastinating and rescheduled it for two weeks from now. They could of seen me this Thursday- but that was too quick for me. I need to take this slow.
If I can wrap my head and heart around this in time. IF the hysteroscopy is normal. IF my bloodwork is normal. IF the lab has an opening, IF....then we are aiming for transfer on March 29.
If.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
1 year later
I am overwhelmed today with the beauty of my daughter.
We celebrated her 1st birthday a few weeks ago. It was a beautiful celebration of life. We invited our "village." The amazing amazing family and friends that have surrounded us as we have been raising our daughter in her first 365 days of life.
And more tears have fallen in the past couple of weeks then in all of the first year of her life. They are tears of.... I don't know... probably a mix of joy but also probably some tears of grief and relief.
Her 1st birthday was much more than a celebration of her 1st year of life, it was much more than a celebration of the amazing village that loves her and has loved her even before she was born. For me, it was the anniversary of the end to the darkness and the beginning of a new chapter. And the beauty that flows out of this new chapter is so hard to fathom, it brings me to my knees.
I have said it here before, and I will say it again- holding a child in my arms is not the cure all for all of life's woes, nor does it erase the pain and woundedness of years of loss and infertility, but the profound joy that trickled into my world like a ocean wave the day she has born has only continued to multiple. the joy is uncontainable.
Her birth for me was the end of a very dark journey, one that I wish no one knew. But a journey that forever will be my story and will be part of the fabric of who I am. The days, weeks, months, and years of longing often brought me to the edge wondering if I could take it any longer. The waiting upon waiting...without knowing how it would end broke me in ways that I shudder to remember.
And yet, I did not break. Instead, who I am today is a delicate interwoven story of strength, joy, and gratitude that well up from those near broken places in me.
I know without a doubt that infertility gave me a gift- a gift that allows me to hold my daughter with a bit more intensely, knowing how long she was longed for. It gave me a gift of awareness that no matter how frequently and easily others seem to announce they are pregnant (again), that I know that every life that comes to be is a miracle too big to comprehend. And it will take a lifetime I think to even begin to comprehend the miracle that runs into my arms each day with slobbery kisses and wonderful hugs.
We celebrated her 1st birthday a few weeks ago. It was a beautiful celebration of life. We invited our "village." The amazing amazing family and friends that have surrounded us as we have been raising our daughter in her first 365 days of life.
And more tears have fallen in the past couple of weeks then in all of the first year of her life. They are tears of.... I don't know... probably a mix of joy but also probably some tears of grief and relief.
Her 1st birthday was much more than a celebration of her 1st year of life, it was much more than a celebration of the amazing village that loves her and has loved her even before she was born. For me, it was the anniversary of the end to the darkness and the beginning of a new chapter. And the beauty that flows out of this new chapter is so hard to fathom, it brings me to my knees.
I have said it here before, and I will say it again- holding a child in my arms is not the cure all for all of life's woes, nor does it erase the pain and woundedness of years of loss and infertility, but the profound joy that trickled into my world like a ocean wave the day she has born has only continued to multiple. the joy is uncontainable.
Her birth for me was the end of a very dark journey, one that I wish no one knew. But a journey that forever will be my story and will be part of the fabric of who I am. The days, weeks, months, and years of longing often brought me to the edge wondering if I could take it any longer. The waiting upon waiting...without knowing how it would end broke me in ways that I shudder to remember.
And yet, I did not break. Instead, who I am today is a delicate interwoven story of strength, joy, and gratitude that well up from those near broken places in me.
I know without a doubt that infertility gave me a gift- a gift that allows me to hold my daughter with a bit more intensely, knowing how long she was longed for. It gave me a gift of awareness that no matter how frequently and easily others seem to announce they are pregnant (again), that I know that every life that comes to be is a miracle too big to comprehend. And it will take a lifetime I think to even begin to comprehend the miracle that runs into my arms each day with slobbery kisses and wonderful hugs.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Doing it all over again
When we were going through the dark and ugly journey of multiple miscarriages- there were several times my husband and I said, "we just can't do this again."
And through the month and years of IF, I would look back on the road behind us after month after month of TTC failed- and I would say to my husband "I don't know if I can keep doing this."
As much as I longed to be pregnant, and as beautiful as it was to finally experience it, I felt rotten, miserable, horrid for almost the full 40 weeks. And I said over and over again to anyone and everyone "I just can't do this again."
And now, now that I have smelled, and held, and kissed the chubby cheeks of Baby girl, all I can say, all I can think about is that "I want to do this all over once again."
She is 5 months old and there hasn't been a week (or day...) that has passed without me thinking to myself that I want to do this again- and soon. I want another child. I want to be pregnant again. I want to give birth again.
I never thought I'd be one of those moms that wanted children close together- but it is almost all I think about.
But I have gotten a little bit cocky, I think. I think about it, and plan for it- as if it is an absolute. And nothing is for certain in this long long road of IF.
we have two frozen babes on ice. And I am certain those emb-babies are what are contributing to my cockiness. I KNOW we have two more tries. And given we got pregnant and had a RLB with just one fresh IVF cycle, my logic assumes one of those frozen babes will be the magic ticket to number two.
But the doubt is there. the grief still bubbles slowly and quietly up. I know there are no guarantees. I know I have no control.
I dont' know how I'll handle if one of those two don't stick. I haven't begun to let it sink in that this may be the one and only in my arms. But I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I'm hoping come Fall, or for sure early winter, to try for #2. DH still needs some time to warm up to the idea of doing it that soon- so I am being patient to let him sit with the idea.
But one way or another- I want to do it all over again. I do. It is worth it to me the risk of more heartache. So worth it.
And through the month and years of IF, I would look back on the road behind us after month after month of TTC failed- and I would say to my husband "I don't know if I can keep doing this."
As much as I longed to be pregnant, and as beautiful as it was to finally experience it, I felt rotten, miserable, horrid for almost the full 40 weeks. And I said over and over again to anyone and everyone "I just can't do this again."
And now, now that I have smelled, and held, and kissed the chubby cheeks of Baby girl, all I can say, all I can think about is that "I want to do this all over once again."
She is 5 months old and there hasn't been a week (or day...) that has passed without me thinking to myself that I want to do this again- and soon. I want another child. I want to be pregnant again. I want to give birth again.
I never thought I'd be one of those moms that wanted children close together- but it is almost all I think about.
But I have gotten a little bit cocky, I think. I think about it, and plan for it- as if it is an absolute. And nothing is for certain in this long long road of IF.
we have two frozen babes on ice. And I am certain those emb-babies are what are contributing to my cockiness. I KNOW we have two more tries. And given we got pregnant and had a RLB with just one fresh IVF cycle, my logic assumes one of those frozen babes will be the magic ticket to number two.
But the doubt is there. the grief still bubbles slowly and quietly up. I know there are no guarantees. I know I have no control.
I dont' know how I'll handle if one of those two don't stick. I haven't begun to let it sink in that this may be the one and only in my arms. But I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I'm hoping come Fall, or for sure early winter, to try for #2. DH still needs some time to warm up to the idea of doing it that soon- so I am being patient to let him sit with the idea.
But one way or another- I want to do it all over again. I do. It is worth it to me the risk of more heartache. So worth it.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
It is April.
It is April today. The month of March is gone. It came and went without fanfare. For the first time in 5 years, March came...and went...and I didn't even notice. It wasn't until today, as I flipped open my April calendar that I realized the significance.
There were no tears shed this March. None.
There was no grief that left me gasping for air. None.
There was no emptiness. None.
There has not been a March in the past 5 years that wasn't gut wrenching.
March 2008 we grieved the shock and devastation of our first miscarriage, March 2009 brought out second miscarriage, March 2010- the agony of more trying and waiting and nothing. March 2011- we finally saw our first heartbeat, and we cried, and held our breath to see what would come.
March 2012- came and went without a second glance, and it can only be that that emptiness is healing, and with healing comes contentness.
I know I haven't written in ages. I know I owe you a birth story and pictures. I still think of this space all the time. I don't know what to write most of the time.
I don't want to sound like having a baby is a cure all. I don't want to imply that our daughter in our arms washed away all the agonizing years of infertility and loss. I don't ever want to in any way discount that the past 5 years were absolutely gut wrenching- and I would be doing a disservice to myself and anyone who has walked that road if I were to in anyway imply that a child, and only a child heals those wounds.
But...
I never thought I would ever be able to pass through the month of March without a second glance. I always thought it would tear me apart in some way.
But it didn't. And the joy I feel being a mom surpasses anything i could have ever imagined. It is that good.
There were no tears shed this March. None.
There was no grief that left me gasping for air. None.
There was no emptiness. None.
There has not been a March in the past 5 years that wasn't gut wrenching.
March 2008 we grieved the shock and devastation of our first miscarriage, March 2009 brought out second miscarriage, March 2010- the agony of more trying and waiting and nothing. March 2011- we finally saw our first heartbeat, and we cried, and held our breath to see what would come.
March 2012- came and went without a second glance, and it can only be that that emptiness is healing, and with healing comes contentness.
I know I haven't written in ages. I know I owe you a birth story and pictures. I still think of this space all the time. I don't know what to write most of the time.
I don't want to sound like having a baby is a cure all. I don't want to imply that our daughter in our arms washed away all the agonizing years of infertility and loss. I don't ever want to in any way discount that the past 5 years were absolutely gut wrenching- and I would be doing a disservice to myself and anyone who has walked that road if I were to in anyway imply that a child, and only a child heals those wounds.
But...
I never thought I would ever be able to pass through the month of March without a second glance. I always thought it would tear me apart in some way.
But it didn't. And the joy I feel being a mom surpasses anything i could have ever imagined. It is that good.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Diagnosis Day
One year ago today, we got our diagnosis.
Endometriosis.
That unexpected diagnosis changed the rules of the game and we unexpectedly headed straight to IVF/ICSI.
One year later, as I type this, baby girl is sleeping on my chest. And as I feel the weight of her little body on me, and feel the softness of her wispy hair on her tiny little head, I am in awe that we are here. Four long years, but we are here. It was a scary decision to jump into IVF- scary physically, emotionally, and financially. But I am so glad we did. There are no words.
Endometriosis.
That unexpected diagnosis changed the rules of the game and we unexpectedly headed straight to IVF/ICSI.
One year later, as I type this, baby girl is sleeping on my chest. And as I feel the weight of her little body on me, and feel the softness of her wispy hair on her tiny little head, I am in awe that we are here. Four long years, but we are here. It was a scary decision to jump into IVF- scary physically, emotionally, and financially. But I am so glad we did. There are no words.
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