So Far, So Good

I went for my best test Monday with much trepidation.  Fortunately, my results arrived a mere one hour after the blood was taken, which was a relief because waiting until 4:00 in the afternoon is always torture.  My HCG level was 90.  The nurse reported that this was a "strong" number.  Yay!  Honestly, if you had asked me what kind of number I needed to feel relieved, I couldn't have told you.  But, apparently, 90 fell within that zone.  I was cautiously optimistic once again.  Still, even a "strong" initial number wasn't going to soothe my frayed nerves unless it doubled by this morning.

In the world of infertility, the two days between beta tests feels longer than the two-week wait.  So, we do the only thing we can--try and find solace and comfort on the internet.  In that vein, yesterday evening, I spent some time Googling about miscarriages and betas and all types of things.  I learned that my numbers don't rule anything out--we could have one, two, or three babies in there; I learned that my chance of another miscarriage was not a large as I believed; and I learned (again) that there is a limit to the utility of internet.  Having exhausted what it had to offer, I hung up my searching shoes and went to bed.  Nothing to do but wait.

Woke up this morning to roughly 6 inches of snow.  Blerg.  I diligently headed out in the crappy weather to attempt to get my blood drawn at roughly the same time it was taken on Monday.  Since we wanted actual doubling--nothing less would sooth my soul since Oliver had only increased 80%--the magic number we needed this morning was 180.  I said a little prayer on my way in, got my blood drawn, and then went about my day.  Shockingly, I promptly forgot that I was waiting on a phone call until the phone rang.  I immediately had a giant lump in my throat.  My results were in--quite early again, thank goodness.  The nurse chatted with me for a bit and then we got down to business.  And the answer was.....194!!!!  We had slightly more than doubled!  Woo freaking Hoo!  I did a dance of joy and immediately texted Phil.

At this point, I am feeling very good.  I know that things can still go wonky, but all indicators are that we're going to be fine.  Sometime between now and the ultrasound appointment in two weeks I might get a little nervous.  Indeed, until we see a/those tiny blinking heart(s) on the monitor, I'm not sure anything will really relax me.  But, I am definitely feeling good.  The news I got is the best I could get at this point, so I will take comfort in that.  Besides, every step we make it this time is one step further than the last FET where we didn't get anything at all, and that's something worth celebrating all by itself.

So.  In sum.  "Strong" initial HCG levels that are doubling like they are supposed to.  Whew!  Now I can quit worrying about that and get geared up for Lil' Bit's surgery next week!  Ah, the life of a parent.  Never a dull moment!  And I wouldn't change that for anything.

Yes, No, Maybe So

When we last left our story, I was getting ready for a rough five days.  Dear readers, nothing prepared me for just how rough these days have been.  So, Thursday morning, 2 a.m., I wake up to a crying toddler.  Decide I might as well use the hpt.  I get a very faint positive!  Suddenly, I had all the energy in the world to deal with my baby girl.  I went into her room and slept on her floor, snuggled up with her, until she finally went to sleep.  I was riding high!  Friday and Saturday morning revealed gradually darkening lines--a very good sign:  darker lines = more hCG = growing baby!  We told a few people, but given the loss of Oliver, we were keeping it pretty quiet.  We hadn't planned to announce anything until after the Wednesday beta when we would know if the numbers were doubling appropriately.  In my mind, all I kept praying was, "Please let me make it to the March 14 ultrasound."  Everything seemed to be fine.

Saturday was also the anniversary of my miscarriage with Oliver.  I was feeling melancholy, but my positive result was keeping my spirits lifted.  I was tired, so I took a nap early in the afternoon.  I woke up just after 2 feeling queasy.  I figured it was a good sign and went downstairs for water and crackers.  Just before 2:30, I discovered I was bleeding.  Phil was upstairs napping and I couldn't decide whether I should wake him up to bother him with this news or just cry to myself downstairs.  Around 3 I finally decided to go share.  Telling him made it too real and I broke down.  I was literally having trouble breathing I was crying so hard.  I remember saying, "Not today.  Not again."  Honestly, I am quite ready to erase February 23 off the calendars (no offense to those whose birthday it is).  The bleeding was light, but was still going went I went to bed last night.  It seems to have stopped now, which is a relief.  But, what did it mean?

Was it little babies burrowing in deeper?  Did we lose one?  If we did, are there others still growing in there? Any of these are possible.  And, quite honestly, the beta tomorrow won't tell us much.  Given that I already have positive hpts, we're almost certain the beta will come out positive.  The number might hint at whether there are multiples, but really, we'll likely be just as in the dark as we are today.  Now there's nothing to do but wait until Wednesday and pray the numbers are still increasing.  In the meantime, I am stuck in a body that is still cramping and terrified to go to the bathroom.  I know worrying won't change anything, but it's all too fresh, too convoluted, too unfair.

So, am I pregnant?  Yes, no, maybe so.  What I do know is that I am sad and scared.  So please, pray for me.  For us.  Not for any specific outcome, but for the strength to get through all of this, however it turns out.  Because I am feeling weak and frail and broken.  But, hopefully, as the Beatles said, I'll get by with a little help from my friends.

The Curse of the Two Week Wait

This week started with such promise.  I was living in the giddy glow that I was sure the procedure worked and the only real issue was how many we would have.  I started using hpts to see if anything would show up yet.  Nothing so far, which isn't really much of a surprise.  It would be really rare to see anything this early.  Only, with each negative result, my certainty that the procedure worked started to chip away.  Then, this morning, I got hit with the sads.  An overwhelming, I keep starting to cry out of nowhere, sad.

It took most of the day to realize that at least part of it is the upcoming anniversary of my miscarriage.  But, as I sat with it, I realized that another part of my problem is my control needs.  See, there's no way to prepare myself for every outcome.  It could be triplets, twins, a singleton, or none at all.  There is simply no emotional preparation that is appropriate for all of those outcomes.  Thus, the solution would be to not prepare and just go with the flow.  The whole "what will be will be" mantra.  Only, that's not me.  I'm a preparer.  Indeed, it's one of the reasons I keep using hpts.  I'm trying to prepare myself.  See, if I get an early positive, it's more likely to be multiples.  If nothing has shown up by Saturday, it's unlikely to be a positive beta and I'm not caught off guard by the results on Monday.  Still, my inability to know anything definitively and the continued negative results only feed my fear that this cycle has failed and that I will learn as much only days after the anniversary of the loss of Oliver.  Needless to say, I am an emotional mess.  Come Monday, all of this waiting and not knowing will be over one way or the other.  I just need to get through five days.  So, I try and comfort myself by looking at my picture.  And I hope.  Because, without control or knowledge, it's all I have.  Still, it's something.

Five days and counting...

Premonitions, Superstitions, and Hope

Yesterday was transfer day.  We had three great embryos, two 9-cell and one 8-cell, all growing like gangbusters.  The doctor was extremely pleased by their quality.  Our official blood tests are the 25th and 27th and chances are good that I will use an hpt before that.  If you had asked me before yesterday if I thought it was going to work, I would have said no.  Yesterday morning brought all of the usual anxiety and excitement and I started to get into the, well, it might work, vibe.  Hearing about how good the embryos are--even betterr than the ones we used in the last two FETs--I could feel my heart cracking open and letting in some hope.  But, it was something else about the visit that broke my heart completely open and has me convinced that this one is going to work.

See, when we went through our fresh cycle with Lil' Bit, we got a picture of the two 4-cell embryos they put in.  Having that picture made the babies seem concrete.  Something to focus on and give solidity to the process.  When we went for our first FET, their camera was broken.  No picture.  I remember being sad that Oilver wouldn't have the cool embryo baby picture Lil' Bit did.  Then we had the miscarriage.  When we went for what we thought was our last FET, I remember thinking that if we didn't get a picture, it wasn't going to work.  I only had the thought once, on the way to the transfer, and it didn't stop me from being hopeful, but I clearly remember thinking to myself after we got the negative result, of course it failed--there was no picture.

Time passed and we moved forward with this transfer.  Once again, on the way to the center, a little voice inside me said, it won't work unless you get a picture.  So, as soon as I was in the transfer room, I asked Dr. D--"Do we get a picture?"  He said yes, and I felt my heart break open.  As soon as he handed it to us, I started quietly crying.  I looked over at Phil and whispered, "It's going to work this time.  Because we have a picture."

Yes, this falls into the realm of superstition.  But I also know that belief and outcome are connected.  Maybe the small voice inside me was wrong.  Maybe my hopes will be dashed.  We'll know soon enough.  For now, I want to bask in the unexpected change I experienced--from negativity to positivity--all from a single picture.  This picture.  Isn't life amazing!

Thunderbirds Are Go

Today was my ultrasound to make sure we're on track for next week.  I got the call this afternoon that everything looks good and was given the go-ahead to contine the protocol.  Woo Hoo!  I am a mere 3 shots and 6 days from transfer.  Along with the call came the million dollar question--how many are we going to transfer?  We decided on three.  I told the nurse, "We're terrified, but it's what Dr. D recommended and that's what we're paying him for, so we're gonna do it."  She laughed and said she understood.  She's pretty much heard it all.  So, we're playing the odds and hoping they work in our favor, but not too much.  Ridin' that roller coaster!  Wheeee!

No Longer a Need

Lil' Bit was sitting in my lap and we were enjoying some snuggle time before I took her to daycare.  I reached around her and gave her a big hug and a smooch on the top of her head.  She reached her arms up and snuggled me back.  Suddenly, I had this overwhelming sense of peace and calm.  I realized I wasn't worried about the upcoming procedure.  I'm didn't feel like my world would end if it didn't work.  In that moment, having another child changed from a "need" to a want.  I still want a sibling for Lil' Bit.  I still want to experience pregnancy one more time.  I still want the opportunity to raise and nurture another life.  But that desperate, gnawing, insatiable need is no longer there.  When I think about pregnant women and those trying to get pregnant, there's no anger; only joy and hope.  I don't know if this feeling will last, or for how long, but I am going to do my best to keep it around.  10 shots, 13 days, and counting...