I know I said I wasn't posting anything until tomorrow, but since the whole point is to share the journey, here's what's been going on the last week or so.
Fertility clinics and many fertility patients will tell you that hpts (home pregnancy tests) are evil. Why? Because they can be wrong and cause extra turmoil on an already rough road. For people doing fresh cycles, if they are done too early, they can pick up the hCG from the trigger shot, causing a potential false positive. For other people, they can cause false negatives because the hCG amount is too small to be picked up on the hpt even though the person is pregnant. For me, they have been emotionally taxing, but I am ultimatelly glad I chose to use them.
Before I explain, here is some terminology from the ttc (trying to conceive) community:
3dt = 3-day transfer, i.e., the embryos are 3 days old at the time of transfer
dpt = days past transfer
dpo = days past ovulation
Thus, 2dp3dt means 2 days past a 3-day transfer, which is equivalent to 5dpo.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes. When I went through my fresh cycle with Lil' Bit. I followed the advice of the clinic and refused to use an hpt. I was afraid that a negative would cause too much despair and a positive would make me question whether it was just residual trigger shot. I would question the result either way. So, if it couldn't give me any answers to make me feel better, I wasn't going to use it. At 11dp3dt, my beta was 22 and, based on the subsequent numbers, she more than doubled every 48 hours. Since many hpts only have a sensitivity of 25 and the lowest I've seen is 15, my pregnancy with her likely wouldn't have shown up on an hpt before the beta.
When I went through the first FET, I decided that since there was no trigger shot, there was nothing to cause a false positive, so I would give it a try. I first used an hpt 8dp3dt and got a very light positive, which got darker over the next few days of testing. The positive result was confirmed by my blood beta test, which was done 11dp3dt.
Having had two successful transfers (i.e., both achieved pregnancy even though I miscarried with the second), I saw no reason to expect anything different and I began testing at 6dp3dt. My plan was to see how early the test would show me those two lines. Well, the plan blew up in my face. I got negatives both 6 and 7dp3dt, but I wasn't surprised because it was still extremely early. However, as the days went by, every morning I got the same thing: a negative. Each new negative made it less likely that I was pregnant. I was not without hope, however.
According to my research, the latest a blastocyst will implant is 10dpo or 7dp3dt. If implantation occurred that late, it was unlikely to show up this morning on even the most sensitive test. In addition, I looked back at my numbers from Lil' Bit and, as noted above, that pregnancy probably would not have showed up on an hpt. So, it's still possible. How probable it is I don't know. There are no statistics for how many embryos implant late and, of those, how many take, etc. etc. All I can do is wait.
We won't get an official answer until sometime tomorrow. And the truth is, even then, we go back for another beta on Wednesday because it's possible that it will show an increase even if the first number is super low. So, even a negative tomorrow isn't definitive--although it certainly makes that outcome more likely. But, as much as I have been all over the place these last few days with the negative results and trying to hold on to hope, I think that I am ultimately glad I tested. It has helped me pre-grieve and prepare myself for a negative. That way, if it comes, I will be more capable of holding myself together at work tomorrow. And, if I get a positive instead, I will be that much more excited.
9.21.2012
See You at the Top
Yesterday was our last FET. The doctor transferred two good, growing embryos-one 8-cell and one 6-cell. I'm now on bed rest for two days and then still have a few restrictions. The most difficult is that I can't lift my daughter for four days! It's meant rearranging our schedule and trying to explain to a toddler why mommy can't pick her up or put her to bed at night. Still, it's only a few days, so I know we'll manage.
Blood tests are scheduled for October 1 & 3. However, as with the last one, I intend to poas (pee on a stick) starting September 28. Results will not be announced until the official blood test, however. That way, if we do get a positive early, we have a few days to enjoy the knowledge ourselves and, if we get negatives, we can disregard them until we get the official word.
So, here I am. In my last tww (two week wait). I realize that it's only a 7-day wait to some degree given my choice to poas, and it's only 10 days until the official test. Still, in pregnancy land, we have standard language that everyone understands, so we stick with it. Besides, it doesn't matter if the wait is only 2 days, it feels like forever. This time around, I find myself both more and less anxious to know. Much like Schrodinger's cat, as long as I don't look, there's still the possibility that there's a baby in there. But, for now, I know that there are 2 babies in there. Only they can decide how long they plan to stay, but I keep talking to them, letting them know that we're ready and we hope that one or both of them choose to stick around.
And the truth is, we mean it. Would twins be hard? Yes. Would another child with medical issues be hard? Yes. Do I have any idea how I would handle it? No. But I do know that I can handle it. I am capable of handling whatever comes. Would I prefer easy? Yes. Wouldn't everyone?! But, ultimately, we'll get what we get. And so we wait. Anxious. Excited. Happy. Terrified. Just like both times before.
Having sped down the first giant hill and flipped through a couple twists, we have arrived at the slow, anticipatory climb up the next big hill. It serves as time to both catch our breath and freak out about what is up ahead. But as we climb, I notice that the top of the hill flattens out a bit and splits off in two directions. One way has a quick drop that then heads directly back to the station. The other drops into some loops and heads off toward more hills and twists in the distance. Since I don't know which one we're going to get, I am going to try and sit back and enjoy whatever time I have left on this ride. See you at the top.
Blood tests are scheduled for October 1 & 3. However, as with the last one, I intend to poas (pee on a stick) starting September 28. Results will not be announced until the official blood test, however. That way, if we do get a positive early, we have a few days to enjoy the knowledge ourselves and, if we get negatives, we can disregard them until we get the official word.
So, here I am. In my last tww (two week wait). I realize that it's only a 7-day wait to some degree given my choice to poas, and it's only 10 days until the official test. Still, in pregnancy land, we have standard language that everyone understands, so we stick with it. Besides, it doesn't matter if the wait is only 2 days, it feels like forever. This time around, I find myself both more and less anxious to know. Much like Schrodinger's cat, as long as I don't look, there's still the possibility that there's a baby in there. But, for now, I know that there are 2 babies in there. Only they can decide how long they plan to stay, but I keep talking to them, letting them know that we're ready and we hope that one or both of them choose to stick around.
And the truth is, we mean it. Would twins be hard? Yes. Would another child with medical issues be hard? Yes. Do I have any idea how I would handle it? No. But I do know that I can handle it. I am capable of handling whatever comes. Would I prefer easy? Yes. Wouldn't everyone?! But, ultimately, we'll get what we get. And so we wait. Anxious. Excited. Happy. Terrified. Just like both times before.
Having sped down the first giant hill and flipped through a couple twists, we have arrived at the slow, anticipatory climb up the next big hill. It serves as time to both catch our breath and freak out about what is up ahead. But as we climb, I notice that the top of the hill flattens out a bit and splits off in two directions. One way has a quick drop that then heads directly back to the station. The other drops into some loops and heads off toward more hills and twists in the distance. Since I don't know which one we're going to get, I am going to try and sit back and enjoy whatever time I have left on this ride. See you at the top.
9.16.2012
Finding Peace Amid Sorrow and Joy
Last week, I went for my ultrasound to make sure everything was on schedule for my FET this week. It was all good news and we "are go," as the Thunderbirds used to say. I was 10 mm--they like to see at least 8--with an ideal triple stripe pattern. There I go, overachieving again. So, where does this leave us? Well, tonight was my last shot. Barring gestational diabetes that needs insulin, I am all done with self-injections. Can I get a Woo Hoo?! Tomorrow I start progesterone, Tuesday I start antibiotics and steroids, and Thursday is our "professional installation." Being our last round, this is a pretty big week for us.
As it turns out, it's also a very emotional week for other reasons, as I rejoice and mourn for myself and several of my friends. On the joyous side, one friend will have her first ultrasound this week and get her first view of her baby(ies?). On the difficult side of things, Thursday would have marked 35 weeks with Oliver and will also be the anniversary of another friend's miscarriage.
It is a reminder to me that joys can be tinged with sadness. But I also remember that joys can feel so much greater when they come after experiencing so much adversity. So this week, as I prepare for my last chance at becoming a biological mother, I will lift up in prayers and celebrate strong women everywhere. Women who have experienced infertility. Women who are denied the children they so desperately want. Women who have lost children too soon, at whatever time and whatever age. Women who have provided for their children as best they know how by giving them a life with someone else. Women who have raised children without help from families or community. Women caring for special needs children. Women struggling with their own chronic or terminal illness while trying to meet the needs of their children. Women doing the best they can with the life they have been given.
And whether this week brings joy, or sorrow, or some of both, I know that I will get through it. Because the one lesson I have learned over and over--as I struggled with infertility, gave myself shots, weathered my daughter's health issues, and survived a miscarriage--is that I am so much stronger than I ever thought possible. And so, as I go into this week of sorrow and joy, of beginnings and endings, of life and death, I will find peace in the knowledge that I am strong enough, come what may.
As it turns out, it's also a very emotional week for other reasons, as I rejoice and mourn for myself and several of my friends. On the joyous side, one friend will have her first ultrasound this week and get her first view of her baby(ies?). On the difficult side of things, Thursday would have marked 35 weeks with Oliver and will also be the anniversary of another friend's miscarriage.
It is a reminder to me that joys can be tinged with sadness. But I also remember that joys can feel so much greater when they come after experiencing so much adversity. So this week, as I prepare for my last chance at becoming a biological mother, I will lift up in prayers and celebrate strong women everywhere. Women who have experienced infertility. Women who are denied the children they so desperately want. Women who have lost children too soon, at whatever time and whatever age. Women who have provided for their children as best they know how by giving them a life with someone else. Women who have raised children without help from families or community. Women caring for special needs children. Women struggling with their own chronic or terminal illness while trying to meet the needs of their children. Women doing the best they can with the life they have been given.
And whether this week brings joy, or sorrow, or some of both, I know that I will get through it. Because the one lesson I have learned over and over--as I struggled with infertility, gave myself shots, weathered my daughter's health issues, and survived a miscarriage--is that I am so much stronger than I ever thought possible. And so, as I go into this week of sorrow and joy, of beginnings and endings, of life and death, I will find peace in the knowledge that I am strong enough, come what may.
9.04.2012
Selling Nostalgia
When I was newly pregnant and even shortly after Lil' Bit's birth, I used to wander the toy aisles scoping out all the toys, looking to see what was new since I was a kid. And, if I came across a toy from my childhood, I got giddy at the thought of buying it for her so she could have as much enjoyment as I did playing with it. But, here's the thing, it only works with *some* toys. Things like Lincoln Logs or Legos are fun because you get to build things with them and that doesn't change from generation to generation. [I speak only of the "regular" Legos and do not include the new "girl" Legos as I think they are an affront to females everywhere. But, I digress.] Care Bears, Cabbage Patch Kids, GI Joe, Transformers, My Little Pony, and Strawberry Shortcake can get facelifts and be sold for years into the future as well.
It works less well with what I call "household item" toys. In particular, I remember seeing two Fisher Price toys that I loved when I was a kid and initially wanted to snatch right off of the shelf then and there, so I would have them for her to play with--the record player and telephone:
Fortunately, I overcame my impulse and didn't buy them, for which I am grateful. See, as Lil' Bit has grown up, I realized that these toys would not be much fun for her. What made them fun for me was that they were play versions of things my parents and older siblings had/used. That is no longer true. Lil' Bit loves her fake cell phone because it looks like mine. A rotary phone and record-player don't have that same appeal. At her age, she wants to do what we do and use what we use. These objects don't fit that mold.
Watching Lil' Bit play with certain other toys has only reinforced my belief that this is true. I have an old-school Winnie-the-Pooh Busy Box that was mine as a child. It has switches, knobs, and dials which, when pressed, cause a character to pop up. Lil' Bit mastered all of them quite easily--except the rotary dial. Why? Because she doesn't see one anywhere else so she has no behavior from which to learn how to use it. I also got her a Super Grover remote, which she enjoys, but even that has issues--namely, rewind and fast-foward buttons. When the buttons are pressed, Grover makes these great noises that are hilarious to anyone who ever had a VCR. But for Lil' Bit, who has known only DVDs and DVRs, the sounds may be silly, but she'll never get the joke.
The truth is, toy companies are selling is nostalgia. They are intentionally preying on our emotional attachment to our childhood to get us to buy toys for our kids. I don't know that there's anything necessarily wrong with it, mind you, as long as we're aware of it. Why? Because if we give in and buy the toys, our kids may not play with them, or may not enjoy them the same way we did, and we might be disappointed. This is not to say that we can't or shouldn't go ahead and indulge our nostalgia. Besides, isn't that part of why we have kids in the first place--to have an excuse to buy toys for ourselves? So go ahead. Buy that record player and listen to that tinny, plinky version of "twinkle twinkle little star" as many times as you can stand, or run your fingers along the "needles" to make a cacophony of plinks. Enjoy every second of your nostalgia. Just be honest about it.
It works less well with what I call "household item" toys. In particular, I remember seeing two Fisher Price toys that I loved when I was a kid and initially wanted to snatch right off of the shelf then and there, so I would have them for her to play with--the record player and telephone:
Fortunately, I overcame my impulse and didn't buy them, for which I am grateful. See, as Lil' Bit has grown up, I realized that these toys would not be much fun for her. What made them fun for me was that they were play versions of things my parents and older siblings had/used. That is no longer true. Lil' Bit loves her fake cell phone because it looks like mine. A rotary phone and record-player don't have that same appeal. At her age, she wants to do what we do and use what we use. These objects don't fit that mold.
Watching Lil' Bit play with certain other toys has only reinforced my belief that this is true. I have an old-school Winnie-the-Pooh Busy Box that was mine as a child. It has switches, knobs, and dials which, when pressed, cause a character to pop up. Lil' Bit mastered all of them quite easily--except the rotary dial. Why? Because she doesn't see one anywhere else so she has no behavior from which to learn how to use it. I also got her a Super Grover remote, which she enjoys, but even that has issues--namely, rewind and fast-foward buttons. When the buttons are pressed, Grover makes these great noises that are hilarious to anyone who ever had a VCR. But for Lil' Bit, who has known only DVDs and DVRs, the sounds may be silly, but she'll never get the joke.
The truth is, toy companies are selling is nostalgia. They are intentionally preying on our emotional attachment to our childhood to get us to buy toys for our kids. I don't know that there's anything necessarily wrong with it, mind you, as long as we're aware of it. Why? Because if we give in and buy the toys, our kids may not play with them, or may not enjoy them the same way we did, and we might be disappointed. This is not to say that we can't or shouldn't go ahead and indulge our nostalgia. Besides, isn't that part of why we have kids in the first place--to have an excuse to buy toys for ourselves? So go ahead. Buy that record player and listen to that tinny, plinky version of "twinkle twinkle little star" as many times as you can stand, or run your fingers along the "needles" to make a cacophony of plinks. Enjoy every second of your nostalgia. Just be honest about it.
9.02.2012
The Demise of Mutant M
So, back in January when I was undergoing my previous FET, I mentioned how my doctor had pronounced me a mutant because I didn't seem to experience any of the side effects of the medicine and, lo, Mutant M was born. Sadly, Mutant M seems to have passed. This time around, I have had headaches, stinging and slight rash at the injection site, and, most frustratingly, become an emotional wreck. Every time I get into my car to go somewhere--work, the store, day care, dairy queen--I get all teared up and sad.
Now, there are any number of reasons for this. One possibility is that I am totally stressed, which is making me emotional. Possible. But, honestly, if stress were going to cause it, I think I would have experienced it back in January when we were still learning how to cope with Lil' Bit post-surgery with meds and everything. My personal theory? My anti-depressants. I am physically, chemically different than I was the last two times I took the Lupron and, since side effects are essentially chemical responses or reactions, it makes logical sense. Ultimately, though, it doesn't really matter what has caused it. And, at least now I can empathize with all the other ladies who experienced these symptoms. Still, I (and likely Phil) am sad to see Mutant M go. On the plus side, since this is our last try, I don't have to worry about whether it will bother me in the future.
So long Mutant M. It was nice while it lasted.
18 days, 14 shots, and counting...
Now, there are any number of reasons for this. One possibility is that I am totally stressed, which is making me emotional. Possible. But, honestly, if stress were going to cause it, I think I would have experienced it back in January when we were still learning how to cope with Lil' Bit post-surgery with meds and everything. My personal theory? My anti-depressants. I am physically, chemically different than I was the last two times I took the Lupron and, since side effects are essentially chemical responses or reactions, it makes logical sense. Ultimately, though, it doesn't really matter what has caused it. And, at least now I can empathize with all the other ladies who experienced these symptoms. Still, I (and likely Phil) am sad to see Mutant M go. On the plus side, since this is our last try, I don't have to worry about whether it will bother me in the future.
So long Mutant M. It was nice while it lasted.
18 days, 14 shots, and counting...
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