Thursday, March 28, 2013

Results Show

Sorry to make you wait! But not that sorry, because I’m going to make you wait a little longer while I take us back in time to Monday, a couple of hours after I wrote that last post.

On Monday Baltimore was hit by a freak spring snowstorm, and my office was closed for the day. I was home alone all alone with the pregnancy tests, with nothing planned to occupy my time.  By the early afternoon, I was going crazy.  Since the snow had turned to rain and I still needed to complete my outfit for my niece’s baptism on Sunday, I decided to go shopping.

I pulled on some jeans, put my hair in a ponytail, and went to the bathroom.  And when I wiped, I saw it: the tiniest little bit of blood, that amount of spotting that only someone who really wants or really doesn’t want their period to arrive can see.

I wasn’t sad; I was angry.  After this cycle, where everything has seemed to go so perfectly, THIS is how it was going to end, with my period overcoming the power of the progesterone supplements to start a full three days early?  I’d been so good about not testing, and yet I was STILL going to find out I wasn’t pregnant while I was alone and sitting on the toilet?  No way was I going to let that happen.

I pulled our step ladder out of the closet, dragged it over to where Henry had “hidden” the tests, and pulled them down.  I went back to the bathroom, grabbed a cup, and managed to squeeze out just enough urine to submerge the tip of the test.  I dipped it before I had time to think. I braced myself for the tsunami of disappointment that was about to hit.

And then, slowly, it appeared: that second line that I never really believed was there. For the first time in my entire life, I had produced a positive pregnancy test.

I wasn’t even really happy, I was just confused.  I had braced myself so hard against the disappointment, and I couldn’t switch gears that quickly. So I snapped a picture of the test and texted it to Henry, with the caption “Henry…”  I think his reaction was the same as mine, because he texted back “Is that real?”

I assured him that it was. We talked some more.  I practiced smiling, which felt wrong, like by showing any sign of happiness I was going to jinx it.  I called my nurse and left a message in case she wanted to move my beta to Tuesday.  And then, because I suddenly had a LOT of nervous energy to spare and there really wasn’t anything else to be done at that moment, I continued on my shopping trip.  It was a little surreal.

Now what you have to understand is that at that point I really didn’t know whether or not to believe it.  First of all, there was that spotting to contend with: what was that?  Second of all, after what happened last time, I didn’t really trust the positive.  I never took a HPT last time but I’m assuming that at a certain point I probably would have tested positive.  I didn’t want to get too excited, only to have the tests get lighter instead of darker, or have the nurse say once again, “Well, it is a positive, but it’s a really low positive.”  So, at that point, it felt less like a guarantee than just a glimmer of hope, another piece of good news in the process, like a great fertilization report.

Henry and I tiptoed around it for the next two days.  I practiced saying the words “I’m pregnant,” which felt weird.  I started a secret Pinterest board and began repinning anything with “Things You Need to Know about The First Trimester/Pregnancy/Childbirth/Newborns!” in the caption.  I lied to my mom, told her we had decided not to test until the beta (which was still on for Wednesday).  But the spotting never reappeared, and the tests (4 in all) got darker.
 
Wednesday morning I went for my bloodwork.  I showed the nurse a photo of my most recent pregnancy test, and she complimented the nice dark line.  I was nervous all morning at work.  I added my due date to my Babycenter profile, then deleted it ten seconds later, afraid of angering the gods before the number was in.  Finally, the call came…. 305!

I called Henry. I called my mom.  After work I talked to my brother, my sister, and my best friend.  Henry called his mom and dad.  I said “I’m pregnant” with a little more confidence.  And I immediately started worrying about the next step, and all the things that could still go wrong – a number that doesn’t double, a period that starts anyway, an ectopic pregnancy, a blighted ovum, a miscarriage.

My next beta is tomorrow, so I’ll hopefully get some reassurance then.  But, as I keep reminding myself, today I am pregnant. I’m going to enjoy it.

10dp5dt

Monday, March 25, 2013

8dp5dt: To Test or Not To Test

I’m now 8dp5dt, and my beta test is in less than 48 hours.
I also have three pregnancy tests in the house.

Henry has declared himself the “Arbiter of Pee Sticks” (I imagine that this is a title conferred by the same organization that anointed Lily “Slap Bet Commissioner” in HIMYM), and put himself in charge of when I’m allowed to test so that I don't go crazy.  He also hid the tests from me, and although I know where they are (and he knows I know), they’re up too high for me to reach without some effort.  However, I’m fairly certain that I could get him to “let” me test anytime.  “Let,” of course, being subjective, since I can get the tests down myself.

So, in summation, I can test whenever I want.  We’re to the point where whatever result I get would probably be the correct one, and I keep going back and forth on whether I want to test before my beta.

Here’s my pro/con list:

For Testing Early:

  • I’ll find out sooner.
  • I won’t find out at work.  I’ll probably cry whether it’s positive or negative, and I’d rather not cry at work.
  • Henry and I can find out together.
  • I can have some time to get used to the idea, whatever it is, before the phone rings.
  • We can not tell our parents that we tested early, and have a day or so when the news is private to me and Henry.
  • It's not fair for the nurse to know before me.
  • All the people who get pregnant naturally get to find out from a pregnancy test.  Is this really yet another thing that infertility is going to to take away from me?

Against Testing Early:

  • It’s easier to find out “no” on the phone than from a smug little pee stick.
  • My nurse told me not to, and she hasn’t steered me wrong yet.
  • No squinting to see if there’s another line or trying to talk myself into the idea that it’s too early – assuming there aren’t any questionable beta issues again, I get an answer, and that’s that.
  • Even if it’s positive, I’m still going to worry about my beta numbers, then my numbers doubling, then the ultrasound going ok, then something else… I might as well stay in this stage of worry a little longer.
  • After seeing so many negative pregnancy tests, I have an irrational fear of them and am sort of convinced the very act of testing early will make it be negative.  Crazy, but I can’t help it.

In my brain, those lists pretty much cancel each other out.  The truth is, if the result is positive, I’d rather find out early (more time to celebrate!), but if it’s negative, I’d rather wait till my beta and just do it like a band aid.  But of course, there’s no way of knowing without testing, so I have this conundrum!  Can’t someone just come and secretly test my pee for me and tell me what to do?

I think what Henry and I have settled on is that I’ll test the morning of my beta.  Then we can find out together, at home, but still keep all the emotions confined to one day.  That feels right to me.

And how am I feeling?  I’m actually feeling pretty positive… I’ve been sort of crampy, which didn’t happen so much last time and I read is a good sign.  Usually I don’t cramp until after my period has started, so I don’t think it has anything to do with my period.  I haven’t had any other symptoms, but I think that’s fine… I realized that other day that after my trigger shot there was a whole lot of hcg in my system, yet I didn’t have sore boobs, nausea, etc.  So why would I get those symptoms now, when even if I am pregnant my hcg isn’t up to those levels yet?

Anyway, it’s all a mystery for the next two days.  Honestly, I’m terrified of Wednesday. 

P.S.  I never wrote about it, but I found out a little while ago that three of my embryos made it to freeze!  If I'm pregnant now, there's a pretty good chance I will never go through an egg retrieval again.  No complaints there!

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Idiocy Averted


I was such an idiot this morning.  See, I’m taking an estrogen supplement right now. I have a reminder on my phone set up to go off at 8 a.m. and 8 p.m. so that I remember to take it.  I’m also taking progesterone, but that one’s three times a day – when I first wake up, when I’m about to go to bed, and in the middle of the afternoon.

This morning was my first day back at work since my transfer. Sometimes, when I haven’t been to work in a while, I sort of forget what my morning routine is.  The alarm will go off at 6, and instead of hitting snooze till 7 while Henry showers like I normally do, I wake right up and am out of bed before I remember that I can sleep a little longer.  That’s what happened this morning; I usually leave for work about 8:20, but I ended up about a half hour ahead of my normal schedule.

Before I left the house, I checked to make sure I had my progesterone in my purse. I did, and I was on my way. I got to my office, took my phone out of my purse, and there it was: “Reminder: Take Estrace!”  Fuck. I’d left for work too early to get the reminder before getting in my car, and my new schedule had thrown me off and I’d completely forgotten to take it.

So there I was with two options:
1.       Drive all the way home to take a miniscule 2 mg pill.
2.       Stay at work and wonder what damage I had done.

Of course I chose option #1 – I don’t want there to be anything I could have done differently or better this cycle to make me feel responsible if it is a negative.  I sent a few e-mails so that people would know I’d been to the office, added a meeting to my calendar for 9-9:30, and twenty minutes later my car was parked in front of my house with the flashers on while I ran in for probably less than ten seconds to swallow a tiny little pill.

At least I don’t feel guilty!

Monday, March 18, 2013

"It Doesn't Get Any Better Than These"

My transfer yesterday went great!  There are officially two good-quality hatching blastocysts in my uterus – as the doctor said, “It doesn’t get any better than these.”

My nurse called me on Friday (day three after my retrieval) with my final update on my embryos.  I had one 4-cell, one 6-cell, one 7-cell, and three 8-cells.  The 4- cell was obviously a little behind, but the other five were great – even cells, no fragmentation.  As we were about to hang up, the nurse added, “If they look on Sunday morning and they’re all early blastocysts, they’ll call and push you back to Monday.”

At first I figured that the possibility of a day 6 transfer meant that my embryos were so great that they could spare an extra day for them to show which was best.  But then I started Googling, and realized that while a day 6 transfer is still pretty good, the very best embryos will be hatching (and therefore ready to put back) by day 5.  So, the possibility of the day 6 transfer had given me something new to worry about. Ugh.

On Saturday Henry was running a half marathon in DC, so that was a great distraction.  A few members of my family were running, too, so my mom was there, and my sister-in-law and her husband brought my six-month-old niece out to cheer for Henry.  The weather at race time was supposed to be cold and rainy but ended up sunny and warm – Henry and I took it as a sign that luck was on our side.  Later, on our way home, a ladybug flew through the sunroof and landed on Henry’s leg. Another sign?

The next morning, I woke up nervous about the possibility of getting pushed to day 6.  The nurse said I’d get the call between 6:45 and 7:15 if I was going to be delayed (we had to be at the hospital at 8 for my 9:15 transfer), and it wasn't until 7:16 that I finally let myself believe that the transfer was that day.  I got all dressed in my green for St. Pat’s Day, and Henry put on his lucky clover underwear.

We got to the hospital at about 8, and as soon as the nurse saw me she started pressuring me to fill my bladder asap.  But I’d been fooled before - during my last transfer I filled my bladder too much too early, and was literally in physical pain before, during, and after my transfer.  I was determined to not make the same mistake again.  And I didn’t! In fact, I managed to achieve the perfect level of fullness.  Here’s a step-by-step on how I did it:
  • Take 20-24 ounces of water with you to the hospital.  DO NOT DRINK IN THE CAR.
  • Empty your bladder right when you get to the hospital.  Your nerves might make you feel like you need to pee, but you’re probably empty.
  • Start drinking about an hour and ten minutes before your scheduled transfer time. Don’t drink too fast, and don’t let the nurse pressure you to drink more or faster.
  • Continue drinking slowly but steadily, so that you’re done about a half hour before your scheduled transfer time.  By transfer time, you’ll probably be at a “I’d go if I could, but can still manage to distract myself” level of fullness.

Anyway, at some point before the transfer the doctor (not my normal one) came back to go over everything before he knocked me up.

“Today we are transferring two good quality hatching blasts – it doesn’t get any better than these! Are you sure you want to transfer two?”
“Yes”
:::stern stare:::
“Yes. I transferred two last time and neither one took, so I want to transfer two.”
“But were they this good?”
“Well, no, but I’m sure”
“Okay…”

I took this as a very, very good sign.

He also said that one of my embryos was being frozen that day, and they were watching two more to potentially freeze the next day.  Not to get ahead of myself, but I may never have to go through a retrieval again!

And then there was the transfer, which seemed to go fine, and a day of napping and watching movies and Arrested Development reruns on the couch, which was great.  I have the next few days off of work for “spring break” (ah, working at a university), so I’m trying to lay around, not exert myself too much, and just be happy.  Today I watched Zoolander and did crafts with my sister and tomorrow I’m going to lunch and a movie with my mom and sister.  YAY RELAXATION!!!!

Nine more days till my pregnancy test…

Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Petri Bunch

All six of our embryos are sill doing great!  So, I wrote a little song for them (to the tune of the Brady Bunch theme):

Here’s the story, of a lovely lady
Whose tubes had closed up and gone bad
She couldn’t get knocked up, despite trying
And it made her sad

Here’s the story, of a man named Henry
Who wanted to be a dad one day
His swimmers swam their best, but with no luck
There had to be a way

And then one bright day this lady and this fellow
Went to a doctor with a hunch
That he could help them build their family
And that’s the way they all became the petri bunch!

The petri bunch
The petri bunch
That’s the waaaayy they becaaaame the petri bunch!

As you may have guessed, Henry and I have named our six maybe-babies after the Brady Bunch kids: Marsha, Jan, Cindy, Greg, Peter, and Bobby.

According to the report I got from the nurse today,  Marsha, Cindy, Greg and Peter are all absolutely perfect. (Marsha, Marsha, Marsha, amiright?). Bobby has 5% fragmentation (which the nurse assures me is still pretty good). And Jan has moderately even cells rather than perfectly even cells. (Oh, JAN!)

So I’ve got four perfect embryos, and two pretty good ones.  I’ll take it!

On the advice of my doctor, and another doctor in the practice, I’m going to go ahead with the transfer instead of having surgery.  The push for surgery has always come from me rather than my doctors, so I’ve decided to just give it up and trust them.  My doctor’s gut just tells him that my hydro isn’t causing a problem – he doesn’t really see it on the ultrasound, and he’s never seen any fluid in my uterus.  The other doctor I talked to, who is sort of crazy but I like him, put it more simply: “Oh, the tube is open? Then you don’t need the surgery. Don’t let anyone tell you that you need the surgery.”

So, a 5-day transfer of two blasts is on for this Sunday.  Let’s hope that St. Patrick’s Day brings this Irish girl luck!!!

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Egg Retrieval Results

I don't have time to write much, but wanted to give the results to anyone out there who might be wondering:

10 eggs retrieved, 6 mature, 6 ICSIed, and - as of this morning - 6 embryos! 

I was hoping that slightly more eggs would be mature but wasn’t expecting 100 percent of the mature eggs to fertilize, so it balances out and we’re right on track for where I was hoping to be!  To compare, at this point last cycle I had ONE embryo, and three more eggs that were being “rescue ICSIed” (two of which would become embryos, but I’m convinced not very good ones).  So I’m thrilled!!!

My retrieval was actually a pretty funny day so I'm planning on writing about it when I get the chance.  Let's just say that it started with porn and ended with getting high on Vicodin.  Who says IVF takes the fun out of baby making?!?!

Monday, March 11, 2013

TMI Photo

I don't have time to write much because I'm busy getting everything at work set so that I can be out for my EGG RETRIEVAL TOMORROW but I just wanted to share this incredibly gross photo of what my stomach looks like after ten days of stims.

Don't worry, it's Instagrammed in black and white so technically that makes it art.

Don't do (fertility) drugs, kids
Thoughts on this photo....
  • No, those dots aren't all needle marks. I'm just freckly.
  • And no, that's not an especially dark bruise in the middle, my belly button is a just a black hole.
  • If you found this blog because you're about to start IVF and now you're terrified, don't worry - none of these shots hurt when I got them, and none of the bruises hurt now.
  • For some reason I was much brusier this time than last time.  Maybe because of the increased doses?
  • Henry is better at doing shots than me - I had to give myself three of the shots and I think I left two bruises.
  • There are a few bruises from early in the process that have faded, so this isn't even all of them.  And some of these aren't as dark as they were a few days ago.
  • But on the bright side, my arms did so much better this time.  The nurses hit my vein on the first try every time, and I could even wear short sleeves around someone unobservant.
Cross your fingers for my retrieval tomorrow!  This morning there were 9 follicles in the right size range, but my estrogen is still holding steady in the 1300s, which indicates 6-7-ish eggs.  So I'm curious to see how things go.  Either way, everything is getting ICSIed (despite what our insurance thinks is necessary, so bye bye, $500), so hopefully we'll get better fertilization and by this time Wednesday I'll have lots of maybe babies snug in their petri cribs!

Thursday, March 7, 2013

My Personal Worst Pregnancy Announcement

Anyone want to hear the story of the worst pregnancy announcement I ever heard?  Yes?  I’ll take that as a yes.

It was last August.  I was going to the beach with my family for a week, and Henry was coming to join us about halfway through.  Also due about halfway through the week?  My period.

I hadn’t told anyone in my family that we were trying.  However, I’m close enough with them that I would have told right away, so I was excited about the possibility of announcing a pregnancy on our annual family vacation.  I’d already worked it out, and if I was pregnant I’d be due around mid-April.

At this point I had monthly battle with myself over whether to take a pregnancy test before my period.  Every month, encouraged by women who posted on message boards about getting that second line seemingly hours after implantation, I would start testing four or five days before my period was due.  When the test was inevitably negative, I would exist in a state of see-sawing depression and hope, alternately crying and reading discussion threads with titles like “Anyone get a BFP after BFN 14DPO?”  There was always someone, so there was always hope, but my period always came.

I decided to force myself to wait this time by having Henry bring the tests if my period hadn’t started by the time he was coming.  Without the option of testing, I figured I could get my mind off of my possible pregnancy and relax.  It would have worked, too, if my boobs hadn’t started hurting on the drive to the beach.

This hurt was unlike any pre-period boob hurt I’d ever felt before; I once read someone describe pregnancy boob soreness as feeling like little zaps of lightning, and I swear that was exactly what I was feeling.  The whole four-hour trip, I would smile each time I felt a zap, certain that it was my body starting to build the milk-making machinery I’d need in nine months.  I didn’t need any test to tell me- I was pregnant!

The whole week I planned my announcement.  I created complicated mixing schemes to ensure that it wasn’t only my 16 year-old sister getting the virgin drinks.  I texted Henry “Make sure you bring the tests!”

When he arrived,  I ran into the bathroom, peed on a stick and… one line.  My heart broke.  I’d been feeling symptoms for days; if I was pregnant, there were enough hormones to get a positive.  I told myself that I’d try again in the morning, when the hormone would be more concentrated in my urine, but deep down I knew that it was over.  I emerged from the bathroom and tried to act normal as I watched a movie with my family.  When it was over, I went into my and Henry’s room and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning I woke up early with dark circles under my eyes and a splitting headache.  I took the second test into the bathroom.  Still nothing, except for a little bit of pink when I wiped; I was officially out.

My mom is also an early riser, and whenever I am sleeping in the same place as my parents we spend the hour or so before everyone else is up on the porch with our coffee.  I knew I’d never be able to get back to sleep, so I joined my mom outside.  I couldn’t decide whether or not to tell her; the words came to my lips several times but I chickened out at the last second.  I just wanted her to ask what was wrong, and finally she did.

“Honey, you seem sad. What’s wrong?”
[Bursting into tears] “Henry and I have been trying to get pregnant and it’s not working!”
“Oh, well, that’s exciting!  It’s ok, it’ll happen.  How long have you been trying?”
[I’m crying too hard to answer so I hold up four fingers]
“Four….” I see the wheels turning as she realizes that it can’t possibly be four years, “… months?”
[Nodding]
“Well that’s not that long, sometimes it takes a little while, especially with the first one.”
“But I really thought it had happened this month! And it doesn’t seem to take long for Tracy!” (Tracy is my super-fertile cousin who was pregnant within three months of getting married, and whose second baby had just recently turned one)
“Well, yeah, Tracy’s weirdly fertile, but It’ll happen for you when its time. Jeeze, from the way you were crying I thought Henry had cancer or something!”

We talked for a little while and I felt better, but still pretty sorry for myself.  The pity party lasted through the morning, until it was time to go back down to the beach after lunch.  Henry and I were walking ahead of everyone else, so I had a few minutes to breathe. “I’m not going to feel sorry for myself anymore,” I thought. “I’m in one of my favorite places in the world, and I am not going to let this ruin my week.  It’ll happen eventually.  I’m going to drink a very strong pina colada and have fun.”  I could literally feel the weight of the disappointment coming off of me.

I swear I’m not lying when I say that not two minutes later the rest of my family walked down to the beach, my sister running ahead. “Did you hear?” she said. “We just got a text – Tracy just found out that she’s pregnant again!  She’s due in April!”

Fuck. My. Life.  I grabbed Henry and said “Let’s go for a walk!”  As soon as I was out of sight of my family, I sat down on the beach and sobbed in front of all of the tourists.  It was the worst I would feel until the day I found out I needed IVF.

So, WHY am I telling this story now?
Because that’s the baby shower I’m going to on Saturday.