When I feel alone

Why is it, that when you go through IVF, you feel so alone? I know most people don’t talk about it and some people feel ashamed by it. But really….why do I feel alone?

I thought I had the support from my friends, and loved ones…then you start to feel like a burden. You feel like people can’t understand what you are going though, the constant emotional state you feel, the pain from drugs, soreness from procedures.

Yes, I know, I signed up for this. I did. I wanted it. But to hear your own husband doubt when you should or shouldn’t be resting because he’s ‘had it with the kids’, is shitty to say the least. Coming into the bedroom to ask how I’m feeling as a segway into asking when the bed rest is over.

He’s going through the motions when it comes to the injections, and being half asleep when administering them to me. Like a zombie strolling in, giving me a shot and leaving…just like that. Telling me that if it doesn’t work, he doesn’t want to do it again…

THAT DOESN’T HELP! None of that helps. Be in it, with me, walk hand in hand with me. Side by side, this journey. I had him at a couple of the procedures, the water sonogram (which really hurt), and he was shocked when I asked him to come in the room with me. This isn’t 1950, what the hell did you think you were doing here? I know how to drive myself….of course you are here to go in the room with me, and support your wife. He drove me to all my procedures, the egg retrieval, the polyp removal, the embryo transfer…and all of them he didn’t think he’d be in there for. He planned on kissing me goodbye in the waiting room and seeing me when it was done. Excuse me? I have no idea where the lack of compassion on his part has come from, but not acceptable. He even asked me how long these procedures were going to take, because it was taking away from his workday. Sometimes I can’t believe the things that come out of his mouth.

So far, the egg retrieval has been the most painful and debilitating procedure and recovery. But the embryo transfer has been the most important, and I feel like my family is the least supportive of anyone. I texted all my friends that knew about it and they all sent their prayers, and well wishes, and I got such a lovely outpouring from them. Then there’s family…my in laws forgot this weekend was the weekend and went out of town. Not even a text to see how I’m feeling, nothing…so weird. Then there’s my parents…my mother muttered something about ‘faking a pregnancy to get bed rest’…I couldn’t believe my ears…I’m like uh, don’t say that…

So here I am alone…feeling a tremendous amount of responsibility to keep this little embryo safe in me and the people I love the most give me the hardest time. Make me feel more alone. I ask my husband to read some stuff about it, see what I’m going through. He won’t. He doesn’t care. He only cares enough to bitch. He had to do the kids laundry this weekend because I obviously can’t and he’s been sure to bring that up plenty…I keep saying, welcome to my world, where I do 8-10 loads of laundry EVERY goddamn weekend. He mutters how he feels under appreciated and I found it hilarious! Men, do you really need an award for everything? I’m beginning to think so. I have actually tried to really build him up this weekend too, by telling him multiple times how much I appreciate him, those EXACT words…but does he remember? Not if it doesn’t support his claim that I’m being lazy and trying to get out of watching the kids and housework. I’M ON BED REST BECAUSE I JUST HAD AN EMBRYO TRANSFER, not because I just took the weekend off, dumbass.

So here I am, fuming that I feel so alone, that I feel like I should be more supported, and I’m not. My heart is racing, probably from all the drugs, and my anxiety and I’m pissed. I made the bedroom a heavenly sanctuary, where it’s all light and airy and peaceful, everything I wanted to feel while this life attaches to me, and he has come in here and spit on it. I’m pissed at his lack of compassion, I’m pissed at his lack of understanding, I’m pissed at his juvenile attitude, I’m pissed at his ignorance, and I’m pissed he’s making me feel guilty for doing this.

Am I a sadist?

So, I realize when I say this, it sounds a little odd. Maybe it’s the OCD in me, and the preparedness I’ve undergone to get to this point in the process, but for some reason, I find myself obsessed with my shots every day. I plan for them, prepare them, look forward to getting them done and checking another one off the list. For some, they may dread them, and think they are horrible, but for me, at this point, it is keeping me on track to my end goal, this baby girl.

I fear them so much, but deep down, I know they aren’t bad at all. I mean, the shots in my stomach sting sometimes, depending on what pain receptors are poked, and the insane bruising all over my tummy looks worse than it feels.

So far, I’m 9 shots into the PIO (progesterone in oil) and while one hurt a little more than the rest (and the blood geyser shows proof to that), I never feel them going in and barely feel anything at all. Every day, I wait, thinking this is going to be the day, the day I’m going to feel the poke or the oil or something…and nothing. Thank God.

I have my nerdy chart and I have a ticker going with the amount of times I’ve been poked up to this point in the process, I’m up to 78 pokes. Not so bad…I guess…considering I planned on getting upwards of 350 pokes…or so my research found. But, strangely, I look forward to them, they keep me grounded and remind me this is real. Remind me what I’m doing and the past year leading up to this point, seems like it prepared me for the mental torture of the needles.

What the past year did not prepare me for, was the emotional roller coaster of fear I’ve been on and can’t seem to get off of. I think this amusement park ride is destined to stay active until my baby girl is safe in my arms. I’ve feared everything from the actual needles, to the medicine, to the procedures, and then all the way to what if’s?, what if I don’t get a girl, what if it doesn’t work, yadda yadda yadda…it’ll drive you nuts, and nuts it has driven me!

Since my embryo transfer, I feel a twinge, I google it. What does that mean, am I pregnant? I google odds, and blogs and stories…I had a cramp, is that good? I know, I know, stay off the internet…I cannot do that. I just can’t. I can’t even try. The nurse even said in the lecture, after the transfer, you’re going to become very acutely aware of your body…do not call me and ask if the twinge you just felt means your pregnant…hahahahaha, because it’s so damn true. You are sitting/laying here thinking ONLY about this microscopic embryo curled up gently in your uterus…and hoping and praying it stays in the exact same spot until it’s 40 weeks old and read to meet you. Your brain is running a million miles a minute and all you keep coming back to is the worry and fear it won’t work.

Well, since I’m no stranger to signs, I feel like I will share a few I had the past few days…signs, that to me, tell me, just relax woman, it’ll work, stop stressing.

Sign #1: I had gone onto Instagram the night before last and started following a bunch of ‘baby’ related clothing pages, like Gap, Pottery Barn Kids, etc. In doing so, I got a flood of random people who wanted to ‘follow’ me. I do not let random people follow me unless I know you. I have pictures of my babies tushies and I won’t let strangers see that. So, I went one by one and looked at their pages…deleting each request as I went. Then I came to one that stopped me in my tracks…under ‘about me’ were the words “IVF Success (insert baby emoji)” I looked at it closer…why would that be in her about me, why is that even there, how did this person find me and why? Needless to say it’s been my mantra the last 24 hours and I began following her because, well, I like her pictures…lol…and no, I didn’t allow her to follow me.

Sign #2: I had just gotten my new Parents magazine and I love reading them cover to cover. Guilty pleasure I suppose. So I figured, while I’m laying here…I guess I’ll start reading it. I open it up to the first page I can read and the headline is “Savannah’s Stories”. Well, that is baby girls name…I think to myself…thank you for the midday reminder to chill out. But the day wained on and my fears crept into my mind again…google google google…what does this mean, what does that mean…and I decide it’s time to go to bed. But before bed, my husband needed to take a shower…so I decided to go onto Pinterest.

Sign #3: On Pinterest…so y’all might not see this as a sign…because it may seem prompted…but I asked the universe, and I got a response…to me…It’s more of a sign than the other two. So…back to the sign…on Pinterest, I typed into the search bar ‘name savannah’ to see if anything pretty popped up, and really just to see her name spelled out. There were all the to be expected posts of Savannah, Georgia, and travel guides…lots of little plaques with her name and flowers…and I said to the universe, show me a sign, let something stand out, help me relax. And as I scrolled further, I saw it…Her name…and my name (which is really quite rare) right below it…on a post that read, ‘cutest combos of baby names’. I shook my head in disbelief. For one, I never see my name ANYWHERE, growing up, my parents always had to have things made with my name, and to see it clear as day paired with her name, was the sign I needed right before bed. Now, you may think I was able to fall right asleep, nope, insomnia rears it’s ugly head during this process which so many thoughts floating around up there.

So, I woke, a new day…trying not to google much today…besides I googled everything I could. I will be buying home pregnancy tests to cheat though, because I can’t take the suspense. I know if I get a negative, I will be disappointed though…so there’s that delicate balance. But seriously…a two week wait is torture when the process has been so long…

Girl In Progress

Here I am, 19 hours after my FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer). I’m laying flat on my back in bed, as instructed. Trying to find things to fill in my time. Let’s back up to yesterday morning…

I got up early for my husband to give me my shots for the morning. On last Saturday I started the new shot, the dreaded one: Progesterone in Oil. I have been somewhat freaking out about this one since the beginning, but strangely, with all of the shots, I’m taking them one poke at a time since there are so many ahead of me. I’ve read horror stories online again, about how bad it is, and talked to a personal friend who told me they were the worst part of the process, bringing her to tears every time. I swear she told me it starts ok, then got worse for her. I researched so many tips and tricks about what to do to make them better. The first shot, I didn’t even feel it at all. I am supposed to inject them in the morning before 9am. Which in my opinion, is a good thing, because I make sure to get moving and make sure the oil has a good amount of time to flow into my muscle. It does get stiff on my backside, feeling like I have concrete in my muscle. But really so far, it’s just been a strange uncomfortable feeling, I have had little to no pain associated with the actual poke and the shot afterwards. One day, I feel like maybe a pain receptor was hit because I was sore all day, but just sore, not in pain. My secret so far, which is part of my OCD planning, we have a small diagram drawn in a notebook of the two circles the nurse drew (and my husband has redrawn) on my backside. Every morning before the injection, we look at the diagram and we plot out the best location for the injection, that is nowhere near the last one. We also alternate between sides, so there is ample time for the injection site and muscle to chill before getting poked again. He always proclaims a time as if the circle drawn on me is a clock, such as “okay, so 4 o’clock today, got it” and it reinforces we are both on the same page as far as location. When I first get up in the morning I turn the heating pad on (it’s folded in half, with the pre-disposed syringe I prepared the night before in the fold) so that it can warm the oil in the syringe before it’s injected. It is usually in the heating pad for about 15 minutes while I get ready and we do the Lovenox injection. I ice the area for about 5-10 minutes and lay FLAT on my stomach in bed, with my toes pointed in, relaxed. He swabs with alcohol pad and pulls the skin taught and pokes it in. I barely feel the poke, and it doesn’t even hurt. Then he immediately massages the area for about 5 minutes and I put the heating pad on it for about 2 minutes. I immediately get up and move, move, move. I want the oil and the muscle engaged for a while. It seems to be working thus far. We’ll see, as it’s only been 7 shots so far of that medicine. So…back to yesterday morning after the injections/medicines.

Since I was already awake, I decided to head over to my workout class and take some of the stress off by working out. It felt great to get it done and I felt energized and ready to take on the day. After my workout class, I came home and got a bunch of loose odds and ends taken care of, weird things, like putting out the Halloween doormat and hanging a giant Halloween star on my front porch, touching up some paint in my older boys room and I decided to do a fresh coat of paint on my master bedroom door because my kids slimy, dirty little hands are all over the door all the time. The painting went fast and easy…until my hands slipped off the quart size paint can and it came crashing to the floor spilling white paint ALL over the wall and ALL OVER the carpet. I began freaking out, I ran to get towels and sopped up all the globs of paint, and began pouring glasses of water on the paint spots to wash is down. Knowing the paint is water based I knew if I poured enough water on it, it would go away, I just had to get to it before it dried. I spilled on my socks and I didn’t realize it and I tracked it on other parts of the carpet. I am huge on signs and I thought maybe it was a bad sign, but looking at it from a different angle, there were so many good signs, first, I had just taken off my favorite work out shoes, if I hadn’t they would have been ruined. I’d much rather throw out a pair of socks than my favorite shoes. I got almost ALL the paint off the wall, except for a couple little spots I will have to repaint, and all the paint out of the carpet! It’s a miracle. I did however, ruin five bath towels, but on a good note, they were 8-9 years old and I had been wanting to replace them anyways, lol. So, that kept my mind and body busy scrubbing for about 30 minutes, repeating over and over ‘ohmygodohmygod’, hahahaha.

After that was all taken care of, I jumped in the shower, got myself all ready and my husband came home from work to pick me up. I brought the blanket we have for her, that I have different ones for all my kids and they bring them everywhere. I brought hers for good luck. My transfer time was set for 1pm, and they told me to get there by 12:30 to take a Valium and Ibuprofen before the procedure. Well, they were running behind and didn’t call me back until 12:45, then the nurse rushed me through the questions and asked me to change into my operating gown. I thought she would leave, but she just stalled, I’m thinking, I know you are about to see me naked anyways, but give me a little dignity and let me change into the gown without you in here. Finally she left and I changed, but she kept coming back in while I was. I was so annoyed. Then she had me take the Valium and the Ibuprofen, like 10 minutes before the procedure, I don’t feel like it did anything. Also, they made me drink like 40 ounces of water before getting there so I had to pee so bad it was uncomfortable. They had my husband get into a gown and mask and cap and we walked into the operating room. They had me lay back with my legs in these comfy stirrup things and I made a comment to my husband that those were the comfy things I was talking about, and he laughed.

So my doctor came in and put the speculum in me and got right to business. They had the table I was laying on at a downward angle so my crotch was basically right in his face. The nurse was using the ultrasound on the outside of my body and pressing on my stomach where my previous two c-sections were and it hurt so bad, not to mention the pressure from having to pee so bad, it made me gasp. I was gripping my husbands hand so hard from the nerves and pain. They had a tv screen on the wall, and my doctor said, we are doing one embryo, and I repeated back, one baby girl embryo, and he said do you see it on the screen, that little white dot in the middle, that’s it. And he said now they are going to take her and bring her in here, and I saw a syringe suck her up and she was gone from the screen. My doctor said, and he should be coming in here in a second, and the door opened with the embryologist and he proclaimed ‘here’s your baby girl’, and my doctor said the catheter is even pink for her, and the embryologist said ‘that’s right’. and before you know it she was safe and sound in my uterus. It literally only took 10 minutes, if that for the whole thing, from start to finish. They gave me a picture of her, little white dot that she is right now, sandwiched safely in between the walls of my uterus. I can’t stop looking at her. I began sobbing, this was it, the exact moment I take over as mother again, to host this little girl that will one day be. It was so emotional. My husband and I just looking at each other (I had to move his face mask off of him so I could see his face).

The nurse told me I needed to lay there like that for 5 minutes and then I could get up and go to the bathroom and then I needed to lay down for 30 more minutes and I could go, then it was bed rest the next 24 hours. She then left the OR. I said to my husband I hope she comes back, because I don’t know if I get up myself or she does it…lol…but she was in and out and after 5 minutes she helped me up and helped me to the bathroom, which felt amazing! Then I strolled back to the bed I was in and rested flat on my back for 30 minutes, talking to my husband. I did have to get blood work again, but I’m no stranger to needles now. But the entire time, it was surreal, this moment here, her inside of me…just waiting, hoping, excited. When the nurse came back, she said I was free to go, I said, already? and she said, you can stay as long as you want, but I’m sure you want to go home, and she chuckled. So true.

We drove home and I got into bed, laying on a pillow with my butt and legs raised higher than the rest of me, and only got up about once an hour to pee or get medicine. It was much more uncomfortable that I thought it would be, laying like that, and I got a massive headache. By the time it came to go to sleep, I was exhausted, but couldn’t fall asleep, I was uncomfortable and wishing and praying this works.

I slept okay and today is a new day. Laying here flat today, trying to rest and picture her growing inside me and me being a good host to let her be amazing. I will have to wait two weeks to find out if I’m pregnant. I have high hopes. 🙂 Fingers and toes crossed for good news.

Let The Injections Commence

So here we are, a week of giving injections to my tummy again. This time, not so great. I have begun getting ready for my egg transfer, which is a week from tomorrow. I began taking Aspirin, Estrogen pills, Estrogen patches, and Lovenox injections. The morning of the first shot, I woke up early and got myself all ready. My husband came in and was all ready for it, but I swear he needed practice again or something, because not only did the shot hurt, but I bruised so bad it looked like I got hit in the gut with a softball. I thought holy crap, there is no way I’m going to be able to do 120 of these bad boys. Especially since the injection site was sore to touch and felt like an actual bruise. Even though the nurse warned me of the bruising, she assured me they would not be painful, so I thought to myself how I’m not going to be able to do it.

I took to the internet and scoured pages and things that helped ease the pain of these shots and many people complained of the pain associated with them. In that moment I realized I put a rubbing arnica on my kids when they bruise and it helps every time, so I decided the next day I would try the arnica, which is a homeopathic gel that comes in a stick form that helps prevent bruising and swelling. It worked, no bruise. I also followed the advice I read about online, which was to apply direct pressure to injection site immediately following and then ice it again. So it was hard to tell, was it all of it combined that worked or just the arnica or ice? I began reading about arnica and there seemed to be a drug interaction with the lovenox, and I got worried, so I called the after hours nurse and she had never heard of arnica before, but looked it up and said it shouldn’t be a problem. She said she would check with my doctor and let me know his advice the next day. I never heard from them. I used it that day and the day after and then I read it wasn’t safe in pregnancy and I decided not to use it again since I will hopefully be pregnant in a week. I tried the pressure/ice method and it seems to work the same. Now, this isn’t to say the bruising has stopped, because it hasn’t, my tummy is a grid of bruises now, but at least they are just kind of tender, not painful. I am also very OCD about the location of the injection with it becoming a literal grid so I never go over the same area twice. I am also counting down each injection as I go so I can see how far I’ve come and have a visual for how far there is left to go.

I have had mild side effects from the estrogen, like my breasts are super tender, and they are getting fuller every day. My stomach cramps all the time, but mostly when I’m on my feet a long time or walking around. I have been extra hot, but that very well could just be me, because I run hot. And…I hate to admit the emotional side of things, but it’s there. I did have a little cry this past weekend and it felt good to just get it out. Oh, one more thing…and I’m tired…really tired.

So, now I have an ultrasound/bloodwork and lots of questions set for a couple days from now and then I start taking a bunch more medicine, including the dreaded progesterone in oil shots. I’ve prepared as much as I can reading how to help those go smooth, but it is just something I will have to figure out, I’m sure.

Why Fear The Unknown When It Truly Is The Unknown?

Why do we do it? We have a tendency to fear the things we don’t know about or fear the things we cannot control. It’s innate in us, we just have a hard time wrapping our brains around a feeling we have never experienced yet.

When I was told I was going to have to have a Hysteroscopy to remove a small polyp in my uterus, before my egg transfer, I thought, how in the heck are they going to get in there, without cutting me open? When I inquired, the nurse told me they go in through the vagina and in through the cervix. I asked how they open the cervix and she said they would prescribe medication to dilate it. Wait, hold the phone, I know what that means, that means you are going to give me medicine to act like labor, I’m no dummy. She assured me it would not be like that.

When I picked the medication up from the pharmacy, I had the name of it and made the cardinal mistake of looking up information about it online. I read pages upon pages of women’s stories that told of the horror this medication afflicted on their bodies. I read of nightmarish things that made me so afraid of the pain I was going to experience I got myself prepared for the worst. I got lavender essential oil for my diffuser, I got epsom salts for a bath if needed, I downloaded meditation apps, and looked up pain reliever videos on you tube. I was all set to hunker down and work through it all night.

When they called to tell me my surgery time was 2pm, I started tearing up. I asked the nurse, how am I going to make it that long in writhing pain? I won’t be able to do it. She told me it would not be bad at all and not to worry. Of course, I worry, because I haven’t experienced it myself so I don’t know.

The time came to insert the three Misoprostol 200 mg tablets into my vajayjay. I pushed them as far up as I could reach and laid down in bed to wait. The first hour went by, and I felt a twinge of pain for a second, I thought, oh god, it’s coming, and I waited. The second hour went by and no pain, the third hour went by and still no pain. Hmmmm…did I do it right? Based on what other people said I felt like I must have screwed things up. Either way, there was nothing I could do about it now. I stayed in a horizontal position for about 3 hours to make sure nothing ‘fell’ out when I stood up. Really, there was no pain, maybe mild cramping, like a period a little, but I’ve had worse periods. I did take the Tylenol and Ibuprofen as instructed and to the minute based on what my directions were. After the last dose of pain killers, I went to sleep, and I was able to sleep through the night.

The morning came and I still had no pain, I got caught up on bills, made some important phone calls, and just relaxed to get ready for my surgery. When we got to the office, we checked in and since we were 45 minutes early I figured it would be a minute, but nope, I literally was sitting less than a minute and they called my name. To the back we went, and before you know it, there are 5 people in this tiny little pre-op curtained room. I swear to God. I had three nurses, one to ask me questions (which was so confusing with everything going on), one to put my IV in (which I wanted to focus on so I didn’t scream or move from pain) and one to watch the one doing the IV because the one doing it was new. Then I had the anesthesiologist in there asking questions through the nurses, and my doctor came in. Holy mackerel. It gave me a little anxiety before everything. But I told the nurse since I was dehydrated and my veins are small it might be a challenge to find a vein. I expected to be poked at least twice, especially with this new nurse. But she got it on the first try. I thanked her for not poking me twice. Then they brought me this substance to drink, a little shot in a red plastic container. I asked what it was and they told me it was for nausea. The minute I smelled the sour smell I remembered it from my past two c-sections. It tastes like a lemon drop on acid and a deep medicine taste. It is horrible! When all calmed down, I was just waiting my turn in the operating room. My husband was in there with me, and he was playing on his phone and I read a couple articles in my magazine.

Before I knew it, they came in to get me. I walked to the bathroom to pee, and then walked right into the OR. It was the same table as my egg retrieval and they had me back into the table and they untied my gown and had me lay down, with my butt at the end of the table and my legs in these stirrups. They are massive cushiony stirrups and they are lifted up high, and they cradle your legs and strap them in. I gotta say, minus the breeze in my nether regions, it was pretty comfy.

The anesthesiologist put a blood pressure cuff on my arm and strapped my arms to the table. Before I even knew it, I was asleep. They don’t have you count down or let you know it’s going to happen, it just does, and you wake up 45 minutes later feeling like nothing happened at all. It’s the weirdest feeling. I chatted with the nurse once I woke up and I had little to no pain, just grogginess. They gave me Tylenol just in case there was pain and I was on my way. I was starving because I couldn’t eat all day and they gave me something for any nausea associated with the anesthesia, so my husband and I stopped and got some food on the way home. It hit the spot perfectly.

A few hours after getting home, I started to feel cramps in my uterus and it isn’t pleasant, but I took some Ibuprofen and I hope it stays pretty mild. So far, all my fears have been disproven. I hope that continues as I start injections back up tomorrow morning. In fact, the big dog drugs are coming out to play now. Tomorrow begins, Lovenox injection, estrogen patches, estrogen tablets, aspirin, and the antibiotic I’m on from the surgery today. A week after that I add Progesterone in Oil to the mix, another one of my great fears.

One more thing down, and I’m keeping my eyes on the prize. My sweet sweet baby girl.

Everything I Do Is New and Scary

Yesterday was the first day of taking this antibiotic they prescribed me in preparation for my water sonogram. It said on the sheet to take it with food, and I took it when I woke up, knowing by the time I got to work, within the 30 minute mark, I would be eating something. Well, I barely made it to that point, because I felt very weird, sort of out of it, nauseous, sick, everything. I forced myself to eat a Fiber One bar and that was it. I dry heaved for close to an hour and then when the food set in, I felt better. I didn’t even know what the medicine was called or really what it was for. When I got home I looked it up and was shocked to read that it can be used to prevent anthrax poisoning and malaria. CRAZY! No wonder I felt so crappy after I took it. I made sure to take it with food in the evening. I was also instructed to take an Ibuprofen 600 tablet before bed and two hours before procedure. I didn’t feel like it would do much…

I was expecting pain, and I got pain. I also wasn’t sure what to expect, pretty much at all. I read about it on the internet and I thought I would be able to feel the water going in. That, I couldn’t. But where the pain came in was the “mock transfer’ where my doctor put the catheter into my cervix. He had some trouble getting it in and it was painful and uncomfortable. Not enough to make me cry, but my husband was there and I was squeezing his hand. He told me he couldn’t have that happen the day of my transfer, but honestly, I’m not sure what will be different then, maybe just that he knows it’s a challenge. My doctor did find a polyp inside my uterus and he told me that because it is posterior and that is where he attempts to place the embryo for implantation, it needs to be clear of that type of thing. So, now I need to have surgery to remove it.

Having the nurse explain this surgery to me has me slightly freaked out again. Yes, I will be sedated, and yes, it’s outpatient, but when I asked how they will be going in to get it, they told me they will dilate the cervix and go in that way. I said, as if I’m in labor? and they said, yes, but not so bad. I’m thinking, when I had my second baby and I went into labor naturally, I was demanding drugs at 4 cm because I was in so much pain. Now, I have to endure this pain on purpose again? Ummmm, I don’t think so. Ugh. So, another day off of work and I am not looking forward to the unknown again. It just seems like every step is scary. But every time I complete something, it’s one more thing crossed off the list.

Today was also the day they administered my Depot Lupron shot. This is the shot the nurse told me cost $1000 out of pocket, but thank God my insurance covered it. They told me because it’s so expensive, they like to give it at the office, so nothing goes wrong. I had talked to a friend who went through it and she said it was the worst shot ever. It was big and long and scary. Well, I chose not to look at it and I asked the nurse if she could get me a frozen ice pack for my wimpy self. They got me one that was not cold enough and I requested a more solid frozen one, and they obliged. If nothing else, they sure know how to humor me. So I put it on my backside and let it sit for a few minutes. I took my husbands hand and when she gave it to me, I barely felt a thing. That solid ice pack works wonders. Now, to sit back and wait for the side effects, the hot flashes, and night sweats. I hope I bypass all that stuff.

On my way out of the office, my husband had to use the bathroom, and I was waiting by the elevators. This woman came out of the office and made the same mistake I do a million times with opening their new glass door. It needs a little sign that says either Push/Pull, because you always do the opposite and then you feel silly. Well, I made a comment to her, laughing that I do the same thing all the time and she laughed and asked me a question about if it was my first appointment. I told her it wasn’t, then her and I got chatting about all that’s gotten me up to this point in the process. She told me that she just went to her consult appointment and how much information it was to take in. I agreed and we talked for what seemed like forever. She and I seem to be a lot alike and I thought it was cool that she was wanting to go through IVF for the same reason as us. I don’t know anyone who would be willing to go through it like me, so to meet someone else who is thinking about it was pretty refreshing. We talked so long, I said, we should exchange numbers because it was nice chatting. It’s funny because we were talking about signs and she told me she believes in them, when I got in the car, I told my husband that I hope she sees us meeting as a sign, because I know I would have. When I got home I got a text that said she is looking at our meeting as a sign. I smiled. I know all about signs.

So, now I have to wait to have this minor surgery and hope that’s not too painful. Just one more step until my baby girl is growing inside my belly.

The Waiting Game Just Begins

Well, I’m a couple weeks out from my egg retrieval now and I feel like it’s been an eternity. I felt really yucky the week after the procedure, like hard to breathe, move or do anything really. I ended up calling off of work and staying off my feet for five days after, and when I started moving around again, everything hurt. Wasn’t debilitating pain, but a lot of discomfort. After the retrieval they told me I would get the results right away for how many fertilized and then in a week I would get the results of the genetic screening.

The next day, I did get a phone call, to tell me that out of my 22 eggs that were retrieved, 17 fertilized. I was happy, but scared, I don’t know if that’s a good number or not, and truly, I only need one to be a girl, but what if there weren’t any? I anticipated getting another call in a week to let me know how many survived the five day grow-out stage, but I never got a call. I called the office and they said no results yet…waiting some more…called back…still no results. I’m getting antsy now. It’s been a week and half and I go on my first trip of the year to Beaver Island, MI. Just for the weekend, but nonetheless, it gets me the heck out of the mundane and worry. And it did just that, I was able to have fun with my friends and enjoy the beach and weather. It was just what I needed. Not to mention the fact I got some major signs from the universe not to worry.

So, a few posts back I wrote about my experience with reiki, and how I was so driven by worry and fear that it won’t work out that I was having trouble sleeping. I asked my massage therapist, who is a very dear friend of mine, to do some energy work on me. Not knowing what to expect, I was just lying there trying to relax, when a very vivid vision came into focus. Long story short, it was of me, in a field, with my hair down and a bald eagle came soaring down and landed right in front of me, I put a pouch in it’s beak and it flew away. That was metaphorically my ‘bag’ of worries and fears, that I just gave up and let the eagle take them from me.

So, fast forward to now, when I’m on Beaver Island, and my friend and I are walking around the little harbor area, and a bald eagle soars right overhead, so close to us. Not high up in the sky, not far away, 20 feet up in the air right above our heads. It was amazing! I was on cloud nine! I was like, is that a sign I don’t need to worry? I told my friends about the vision and they were all thinking it was a sign too and I relaxed a little bit. They were just as excited as I was to find out the news. Later that day, we were laying on the beach and another bald eagle was flying directly over us while we were resting. Soaring high above the sand and water. I watched it fly down the beach and land in a large pine tree, so I walked over to the tree to try to get a better look. It was so dense and dark I was unable to see anything. But I’m convinced those were signs from the universe to relax.

When I got back from my mini vacation I was searching for property on Beaver Island because it was so pretty, and I stumbled across a picture of a field with tall grass. It was the field from my vision. Almost exactly, only thing missing was the wildflowers and me. I took that as another sign and fell asleep excited to hear the news.

Two days pass, and now it’s been two weeks since my retrieval. I call the office because I thought for sure I would have heard something by now and they told me they got the results for how many blasts made it through the 5 day waiting period. I got 11 out of 17 that were strong enough to survive. Scared me. I thought well, that dramatically decreases my figures for a healthy baby girl. They still didn’t have the genetic screen done. I figured it would be another week, so I began patiently waiting for more news. I told the few people who knew and most were like, there has to be ONE girl, I mean the odds are in your favor. But then there were a couple who tried to poo poo it by saying, if you don’t get one, it’s okay, boys are just fine too. So, to me, that goes to show they truly do not understand WHY I’m doing this in the first place. Keep it positive people! Now is not the time to play devils advocate. And let me tell you, I’m a pro at that when it comes to advice and telling people what I think, but you have to know when the right time is to do that, and when someone is not in the place to hear that the alternative is a true possibility. I mean come on, you think I don’t think that 24/7? Sitting here riddled with worry, I mean seriously.

The next day I get a call from the office and it’s my favorite nurse. I say, ‘omg, do you have my results?’ and she says ‘yes, I do’. I asked her to hold on so I could go somewhere private in case I cry, because I was at work. When I was somewhere private I said, ‘I’ve been waiting so long and I’m so nervous’ and she said, ‘I’ll just cut to the chase and end your suspense, you have three girls!’ I said ‘Are you serious? Omg, I cannot believe this!’ and she ended up telling me of the 11 blasts, I had 5 healthy embryos, of the five, 3 are girls, and 2 are boys. Holy moly, for someone who has more boys at home, I figured the ratio would be a bit the other way. I started crying, I told her I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment and I am so excited. She got me set up with an appointment for a water sonogram, which my doctor prefers to do before I do a transfer.

I am currently on my birth control pill and I will be skipping my period next time to have this procedure. I’m scared and nervous and excited to start the next phase. It’s happening, it’s really happening! Yesssssssssssss!