Welcome to our second entry. Where were we? Oh yes, the transfer . . .
Three days later we go in. First I go to my acupuncture for preparation. Then on the way to the clinic I drink 32 ounces of water. That's another thing. You have to have your transfer with a full bladder to straighten your uterus so that the doctor gets a straight shot at it. Then they give you valium-at least the last two rounds they did. I'm not sure how people don't pee all over the place with a full bladder while on Valium. We check in. My stomach is in knots from stress and I am full of water. Not good. We prep and sit. They look at my uterus and bladder. Not full enough yet. So they ask me to hang out for 15 more minutes. Not good. The nurse is cheerful and helpful. Then it begins. It takes all of 10-15 minutes but its uncomfortable mostly because you have to hold things in but relax at the same time. Mac is careful. As he should be. But I HAVE to pee. It's the most trying 15 minutes of my life (probably until I give birth-which won't be 15 minutes but I plan to be doped up--stay tuned). Then it's in. I run out of the room to the bathroom next door and all is good again. We get a picture (like we can tell what's what) and we're back to acupuncture to "secure the fetus." The acupuncturist plays a relaxation tape and it says, "Thank your body for doing all this work." I cry. I hadn't done that at all. I take a deep breath. Yes. Thank you. You did well.
Hey kids! Conception!
Can you spot the embryo? We were told it's the dark spot in between the two white lines in the center of this image. Um . . . sure. Okay.
The two-week wait begins. Known in the fertility circle as "the 2WW." It's like waiting to hear if you got cast in a really big show for lots of money when you only have $7 to your name and are living with candles because you can't afford to pay the electric bill. Kind of. It's the worst. You go from hopeful to devastated in a matter of seconds for two weeks and you feel like a psycho. We have learned to occupy ourselves with movies, dinners, and other fun outings. My job is also helpful. I was directing this time, which totally puts my mind away from it and put my energy into creative, fun stuff with a bunch of talented teen-age theatre nerds. But the day before the blood test-I broke down in the car. I felt emotionally exhausted and sick of being stuck where we were while many of our friends came from behind and passed us, and felt that I might have to give up on it. At least on having our own. For real. Adoption is wonderful and amazing. But I just wanted us to experience this and see our parents in our child. I felt I had to give that up. So I was mourning. And was trying to move past it so that we can face adoption with 100% commitment it deserved. I cried on the way to work. By the time I got there I felt better.
Blood test. We learned to just take a day off on that day. Just hang out with your spouse so that you can receive the news at home. Didn't do that the first time and received bad news and I had to go outside to weep before I could come back in to tell my boss that I had to go home. The second time, we went out for a breakfast after then headed to an outlet mall and bought some pants and things rather empty mindedly and came home to good news. This time, we decided to just go home and hang out. I've asked Philip to answer the phone for us. No more than two hours after the test (which is the fastest they turned this around), Mac himself once again called. Philip answered upstairs--I plugged my ears--then after he hung up, I heard him say "yaaaaay" to our dog. He came down the stairs and said, "You're pregnant". I exploded. Or rather, I felt like my face exploded. I cried like a baby. I've never cried that hard out of joy and relief. Philip sat by me and rubbed my back saying "good work!" This Charlie Brown finally got to kick the ball.
That is our conception story from July to August. Tired yet?
Then the worry begins.
We miscarried twice at 7 weeks. Mac told us that if we make it to 9 weeks, we have 97% to carrying it to term. One good thing about IVF is that they do a lot of hand holding. People normally don't get to see their baby until they are in their second trimester, but with IVF they will let you see it every week during the first 12 weeks if you want. We wanted. When you experience your doctor say, "I can't find the heart beat" at an ultrasound, every appointment becomes stressful. There is that pause before you hear it or see it and we collectively hold our breath. Mac confessed that he was even doing that with us. Things go smoothly until week 6-the cursed week-and I bleed. I started bleeding at work and everything went dark. I thought it was over. I call Philip who tells me to call Mac's office. I do. His assistant asks how much I'm bleeding and when I explain she tells me to come in right away. I drive. I don't know how. Philip meets me there and we sit and wait holding hands. I tell him I love him no matter what and he says the same. Mac walks in and says, "Let's just take a look." We go in. Pause. Then the heartbeat. Mac says, "It's perfectly fine." Big sigh of relief. Turns out I was bleeding from the procedure which is common in IVF patients. Baby is fine. We go home in a daze. The rest of the day we are pretty much useless.
Oh, by the way, with IVF you have to do ten weeks of progesterone injections. This one goes in the rear so your spouse has to administer it. With a BIIIIIIG needle. Philip used to get light headed at the sight of a needle but he is now a pro. We began every morning with an ice pack on my butt then the injection then back to bed. Around week six was when I started to feel crappy, which is good. I had almost ZERO appetite but for soup and salad and about seventeen different flavored drinks and I had no stamina. I stood at the copy machine at work for 20 minutes to do something and had to go sit down. I had to forego all dog walks and couldn't even do yoga. I got carsick from my own driving--who knew you could do that? I no longer understood my body. But it was a good sign. But then I read that it was the high level of progesterone that gave you morning sickness so in a way, I was injecting morning sickness in to my behind every morning. It's just ridiculous. But week after week, we go back to Mac and after that brief pause, this zygote seemed to have been hanging on. This MIGHT actually happen. We had kind of lost sight of the fact that there is a child attached at the end of this deal. We were not allowed to even look at baby products or think beyond conception for nearly 5 years. Now we might have to. We have learned nearly everything there is to know about fertility process. But during that, we have learned NOTHING about actually having one. I was a nanny for about 7 years but outside of that, we have no knowledge of anything beyond conception.
That's a totally separate set of panic attacks.
Three days later we go in. First I go to my acupuncture for preparation. Then on the way to the clinic I drink 32 ounces of water. That's another thing. You have to have your transfer with a full bladder to straighten your uterus so that the doctor gets a straight shot at it. Then they give you valium-at least the last two rounds they did. I'm not sure how people don't pee all over the place with a full bladder while on Valium. We check in. My stomach is in knots from stress and I am full of water. Not good. We prep and sit. They look at my uterus and bladder. Not full enough yet. So they ask me to hang out for 15 more minutes. Not good. The nurse is cheerful and helpful. Then it begins. It takes all of 10-15 minutes but its uncomfortable mostly because you have to hold things in but relax at the same time. Mac is careful. As he should be. But I HAVE to pee. It's the most trying 15 minutes of my life (probably until I give birth-which won't be 15 minutes but I plan to be doped up--stay tuned). Then it's in. I run out of the room to the bathroom next door and all is good again. We get a picture (like we can tell what's what) and we're back to acupuncture to "secure the fetus." The acupuncturist plays a relaxation tape and it says, "Thank your body for doing all this work." I cry. I hadn't done that at all. I take a deep breath. Yes. Thank you. You did well.
Hey kids! Conception!Can you spot the embryo? We were told it's the dark spot in between the two white lines in the center of this image. Um . . . sure. Okay.
The two-week wait begins. Known in the fertility circle as "the 2WW." It's like waiting to hear if you got cast in a really big show for lots of money when you only have $7 to your name and are living with candles because you can't afford to pay the electric bill. Kind of. It's the worst. You go from hopeful to devastated in a matter of seconds for two weeks and you feel like a psycho. We have learned to occupy ourselves with movies, dinners, and other fun outings. My job is also helpful. I was directing this time, which totally puts my mind away from it and put my energy into creative, fun stuff with a bunch of talented teen-age theatre nerds. But the day before the blood test-I broke down in the car. I felt emotionally exhausted and sick of being stuck where we were while many of our friends came from behind and passed us, and felt that I might have to give up on it. At least on having our own. For real. Adoption is wonderful and amazing. But I just wanted us to experience this and see our parents in our child. I felt I had to give that up. So I was mourning. And was trying to move past it so that we can face adoption with 100% commitment it deserved. I cried on the way to work. By the time I got there I felt better.
Blood test. We learned to just take a day off on that day. Just hang out with your spouse so that you can receive the news at home. Didn't do that the first time and received bad news and I had to go outside to weep before I could come back in to tell my boss that I had to go home. The second time, we went out for a breakfast after then headed to an outlet mall and bought some pants and things rather empty mindedly and came home to good news. This time, we decided to just go home and hang out. I've asked Philip to answer the phone for us. No more than two hours after the test (which is the fastest they turned this around), Mac himself once again called. Philip answered upstairs--I plugged my ears--then after he hung up, I heard him say "yaaaaay" to our dog. He came down the stairs and said, "You're pregnant". I exploded. Or rather, I felt like my face exploded. I cried like a baby. I've never cried that hard out of joy and relief. Philip sat by me and rubbed my back saying "good work!" This Charlie Brown finally got to kick the ball.
That is our conception story from July to August. Tired yet?
Then the worry begins.
We miscarried twice at 7 weeks. Mac told us that if we make it to 9 weeks, we have 97% to carrying it to term. One good thing about IVF is that they do a lot of hand holding. People normally don't get to see their baby until they are in their second trimester, but with IVF they will let you see it every week during the first 12 weeks if you want. We wanted. When you experience your doctor say, "I can't find the heart beat" at an ultrasound, every appointment becomes stressful. There is that pause before you hear it or see it and we collectively hold our breath. Mac confessed that he was even doing that with us. Things go smoothly until week 6-the cursed week-and I bleed. I started bleeding at work and everything went dark. I thought it was over. I call Philip who tells me to call Mac's office. I do. His assistant asks how much I'm bleeding and when I explain she tells me to come in right away. I drive. I don't know how. Philip meets me there and we sit and wait holding hands. I tell him I love him no matter what and he says the same. Mac walks in and says, "Let's just take a look." We go in. Pause. Then the heartbeat. Mac says, "It's perfectly fine." Big sigh of relief. Turns out I was bleeding from the procedure which is common in IVF patients. Baby is fine. We go home in a daze. The rest of the day we are pretty much useless.
Oh, by the way, with IVF you have to do ten weeks of progesterone injections. This one goes in the rear so your spouse has to administer it. With a BIIIIIIG needle. Philip used to get light headed at the sight of a needle but he is now a pro. We began every morning with an ice pack on my butt then the injection then back to bed. Around week six was when I started to feel crappy, which is good. I had almost ZERO appetite but for soup and salad and about seventeen different flavored drinks and I had no stamina. I stood at the copy machine at work for 20 minutes to do something and had to go sit down. I had to forego all dog walks and couldn't even do yoga. I got carsick from my own driving--who knew you could do that? I no longer understood my body. But it was a good sign. But then I read that it was the high level of progesterone that gave you morning sickness so in a way, I was injecting morning sickness in to my behind every morning. It's just ridiculous. But week after week, we go back to Mac and after that brief pause, this zygote seemed to have been hanging on. This MIGHT actually happen. We had kind of lost sight of the fact that there is a child attached at the end of this deal. We were not allowed to even look at baby products or think beyond conception for nearly 5 years. Now we might have to. We have learned nearly everything there is to know about fertility process. But during that, we have learned NOTHING about actually having one. I was a nanny for about 7 years but outside of that, we have no knowledge of anything beyond conception.
That's a totally separate set of panic attacks.
Comments
Well why don't you just go ahead and break my heart, then! Oh man, I cried when you got to week 6 and you guys said you love each other no matter what. What a long, grueling emotional roller coaster for you! And at the end...an even longer grueling emotional roller coaster ride. Fun!
We love you guys and are so very happy for you!
Michelle & Rob