Part 3: The Results

This is Part 3 of a series of posts telling the journey to our third little miracle baby.

Part 4 will be published soon. Click the links to read Part 1 and Part 2. 

Fear and Faith

Monday morning, three days after my transfer, I woke up to find that I was spotting.

My heart sank. I was so scared.

I immediately prayed. As I was getting the twins up, I didn't know what to think. I almost felt like I was in shock and was putting that energy into doing all sorts of random chores. It wasn't bad, but of course I was really worried about what it meant. I had heard of implantation bleeding before, but fear of the worst came over me. I prayed, Chris prayed, and for a while it stopped and then started again. Part of me was saying that this was it, "game over." The other part of me was hoping that maybe this was a sign that this would work, that our little embryo implanted and I was experiencing implantation bleeding. I never bled when I got pregnant with the twins, but apparently it does occur in about 1 in 3 pregnancies. My nurse at the fertility clinic said it was probably just implantation bleeding and that I should take it easy.

There were many things pointing to this being a great sign, but I was still so scared. I stopped bleeding two days later, but late that night my mind wouldn't stop trying to figure out what all this meant. I prayed for peace and comfort until I was asleep. When I woke up the next morning I felt different. I was happy and hopeful again. And when I was alone, I didn't feel alone. Throughout this entire transfer process, every time I have sought after the Lord in faith I have felt His comfort and my fears were cast away.

The Results

One week later I had my blood test to see if I was pregnant. Fortunately Chris got to be with me and we spent the rest of the day together as a family. I hadn't decided how I wanted to receive the news, so I just left my phone in the other room. I ended up missing the call with the blood results at about 3:00pm. I checked my phone shortly after and noticed I had a voicemail from the clinic. I started to tremble a bit because I was so nervous. Chris and I decided to go for a drive and listen to the voicemail together. We ended up at the Oquirrh Mountain Temple. The air felt heavy as Chris pressed play. I'll add that before our drive began I had feelings of rejoicing, feelings of love. I didn't know what it meant but I embraced it. The moment the message started to playback I knew.

The only word I can remember is "Negative".

I wasn't pregnant.

It felt like a minute passed before I could breathe. Then came the sobs for what felt like hours. It was one of the most painful cries I have experienced. I was crushed. In situations like this it is so common to start asking God, "Why?" But this time was different. Even though my heart was so heavy, so broken, I prayed to my Heavenly Father. I thanked Him for the opportunity, thanked Him that I had a chance to give this embryo a home even though it was much too short. I thanked Him for Boston and Lyla. I pleaded with Him asking what I'm supposed to learn from this and what I'm supposed to do next. I then remembered what Chris had said in a blessing he gave me a couple weeks prior. In the blessing I was told to keep my head up. So that's what I did. With tears streaming down my face I held my head up and tried to focus on what I needed to do for my family, but I was unable to speak for 4 long hours.

At one point when the twins woke up from their nap I went in to get them, but the moment I saw them it just set me off. I fell to my knees in tears. I am so thankful for them. So thankful for their perfect little bodies and the chance I have to be their mother. With my hands on their cribs, Boston reached out and rested his hand on top of mine and Lyla gave me a smile. They are such precious gifts.

I feel so bad that Chris married a woman that has a hard time conceiving, even when all the conditions are almost perfectly controlled. He came to me wanting to add to our family. He wanted this so much. I wanted it too. You never know how much you want - no, need - something until you can't have it.

I'm fighting that urge. That horrible urge to give up. To sleep all day and not eat. My body wants to but my spirit is saying don't give up. Take care of your family. Hold your head up.
With my failed IUIs I would always pick myself up and try again. I've already said I never want to do IVF again. It is expensive and so stressful, emotionally and physically. And I can't deal with the thought of more frozen embryos waiting for a home - however temporary it may be. Though I held this embryo in my body for only a short time, I carried it in my heart for so much longer. The loss is devastating.

After I got pregnant with the twins I felt invincible against infertility. Like I couldn't be stopped again. I really thought this was going to work. We had so many answers to our prayers. It felt so right. I knew exactly how I was going to announce the pregnancy to everyone. I could imagine watching Boston and Lyla play while I held a newborn baby in my arms. I would think about our family of five. But the truth is, I still suffer from infertility. Before we started treatment I was terrified this wasn't going to work. Now I am terrified that because the transfer did not work that I won't be able to have more. I am terrified that I am done.

To those that have experienced miscarriages and still births...my heart aches for you. I cannot imagine your pain, your broken heart, your emptiness. I saw my embryo before it was carefully placed inside me. I have a picture of him or her. I don't know if it implanted or not. I'm almost sure I experienced implantation bleeding but it must have stopped developing after it implanted. I didn't experience a positive pregnancy test or hear a heartbeat and then lose the baby like so many have. I only know the pain and sorrow from knowing there was a precious living embryo inside me that didn't grow. To those that had a baby growing inside them but lost it, I am so sorry. I only know a fraction of your pain and it is some of the worst pain I've experienced.

I am mourning the loss of my embryo. The loss of the idea of a third child. The loss of a growing family. Of the defeat of infertility. And the despair of not knowing what to do next, that my call to motherhood begins and ends with Boston and Lyla. I don't want to be done, but I am so afraid I am.

Until I can pick myself up, that's all I have words to say.

The journey continues. Click here for Part 4.

Infertility Is...

It's strange to look back on my fight against infertility. Your focus completely changes when you're pregnant.  Sometimes it's hard for me to remember how difficult this has been all because I'm so happy for what's to come in 5 months. Nevertheless, I'm afraid it's something I will have to battle for each precious child we are blessed with. 

It's heartbreaking how many people face infertility. It reminds me of the quote, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Infertility is real and it is hard. Many battle it privately. More people than you would realize.

This is infertility:

it's learning a second language of acronyms

it's having a spare bedroom waiting to hold a crib

it's deleting Facebook to avoid pregnancy announcements

it's skipping your friend's baby blessing
it's day dreaming 
it's comparing yourself to the pregnant teenagers, drug addicts, alcoholics, and unmarried

it's holding back tears through baby showers

it's bruises on your stomach, arms, and hands from all the needles

it's forgetting what it's like to feel "normal" because of all the hormone treatments

it's a constant prayer in your heart

it's a constant taunt in the back of your head

it's hiding the pain, tears, appointments, medications, and failures from your family and friends

it's repetitive research in hopes to find something new

it's wishing you were normal

it's  making decisions you never thought you'd have to make

it's evaluating everything you eat

it's avoiding future plans

it's incessant torture of what ifs

it's slowly opening to the thought of adoption

it's always having a tear ready to fall

it's dreaming you're pregnant only to wake up empty
it's a torment of whys 
it's bills upon bills

it's looking in the mirror and imagining a baby bump
it's seeing your doctor more than your friends

it's feeling too young for infertility
it's a test of your endurance 

it's having names picked out but wondering how many you will actually get to use
it's trying not to get your hopes up 

it's wishing you had everything that pregnant women complain about 

it's being thankful for the friend you can confide in and trust

it's being so nervous to take a pregnancy test you make yourself sick
it's feeling guilty - guilty to your husband that you can't do your part 

it's pushing your limits of hope

it's love 

it's a miracle

it's turning your heart to the Lord and trusting He hears your cries.

Rolling With The Punches...At Least Trying

The two week wait is already starting to take its toll. Just the day after transfer the roller coaster started. Ups and downs, highs and lows, hope and fear. 

I got an unexpected call last night. The woman on the other end was one of the embryologists.

"Good news! One of your embryos lasted through the extended culture and is ready for cryopreservation. You have one great looking embryo for freezing!"

Wait. What? One? 

"Just one made it? The other two didn't last?"

"The other two didn't make it, but the one you have looks great!" 

This seemed to rehearsed. Her cheerful tone was her trying to make up for the fact we lost two embryos. I was dumbfounded and the phone call ended. Chris could hear the conversation and immediately got upset. I just didn't understand.

What extended culture? I thought they froze them on Saturday? Weren't they going to freeze all three of them? You mean to tell me we just paid well over a thousand dollars out of pocket to just freeze one little embryo? Why did they extend the culture? No one told me they were doing that?

My mind was moving a mile a minute, but was stunned and slow at the same time. What just happened? Chris started asking me all these questions that I didn't know the answer to. I couldn't contain the tears. 

All that work just for three embryos? Two transferred fresh and just one that has a 50% chance of making it through the thaw for a frozen transfer? I felt doomed. Doomed that I would have to do this all again. The blood tests, the ultrasounds, the medications, the shots, the surgery. Doomed that there isn't enough left in our infertility benefit for another full IVF. 

How did we go from 19 to 10 to 9 to just 3? Why do I have to go through this? I'm too young. This isn't fair. I was supposed to have 3. That could be at least 2 more transfers, not just one with an undesirable chance of survival. 

All this was like a flash, and then it occurred to me. 

"Chris, it doesn't matter how many we have frozen, what matters is the two that are already inside me." 

I have never wanted twins more in my life. 

The Bachelor was about to start and I had already made plans to watch it with my neighbor. I dried my tears, covered my face with my glasses, took a deep breath, went over and pretended everything was fine. 

I couldn't sleep last night. I couldn't sleep this morning. I can't stop praying. I need this to work. My heart broke a little with the news last night. I can't handle anymore heart break. 

Please give us twins. If not, please just one.

Embryo Transfer!

Saturday was the BIG day! I am blown away at how far we've come.

We arrived at the clinic at 8:30am Saturday morning with my bladder very full. They ask you to come with a full bladder because it helps straighten the uterus and visually helps through abdominal ultrasound because water helps with ultrasound waves. TMI, but I never peed when I got up that morning, so I really had to go! 

First we met with a nurse and signed some papers. From the sounds of it everything has been going by the textbook. Usually by day 5, half of the embryos are too poor quality to keep for freezing. With transferring the 2 that day, we would only have 3 leftover for cryopreservation. Good thing is that those three were all good quality and should be great for future frozen transfers.

The nurse offered me Valium and I almost said yes, but for the wrong reasons (I'm hilarious on it). I'd heard that transfers are similar to an IUI so I knew I could handle the pain. Plus I wanted to be coherent during the procedure. This time Chris got to join me in the OR. I got to put on my sexy grown, hat, and booties, and Chris got a ravishing yellow cover, complete with booties, hat, and mask. What's with the mean face Chris?

When we went into the OR we had to wait for awhile, so we got to chat with one of the Medical Assistants and get to know her better. I was cozy with warm blankets and my husband's hand holding mine. It was also very cool because they had a TV screen showing the view through our embryologist's microscope in the next room over. It was amazing to see him prepping our little embryos. He introduced himself as our "babysitter" and that they've been doing great! He also kept calling them our little babies. I thought that was funny because I figured the embryologist would be more technical in his terms. I loved it though.

Eventually our doctor came in and got everything ready which included the dreaded speculum. That thing was just hanging out in my you know what for a good 20 minutes. I've lost count how many times I've had to encounter that evil device. But I didn't even care this time, I was too excited. They have to handle things very carefully and have a set of keywords to know when the doctor and embryologist are ready and are transferring the catheter with our two precious little embryos, or what I like to call our little "embies". I actually didn't even realize when he inserted the catheter and released the embryos, I was that relaxed! Sometimes you can see a little speck pushed through the catheter into the uterus on the ultrasound, but I missed it. The embryologist then checked the catheter to ensure both got out. Everything looked good, so they had me rest for a little while and then sent us on our way.

We went home and took it easy the rest of the day per doctor's orders. I felt bad because it was my brother's birthday and we had to miss his family dinner. The next morning I had exerted myself a little too much, so now I'm really paying attention to my body and making sure I'm relaxed as possible. I'm still on several medications and have added in progesterone and Cabergoline. The Metformin still makes me sick, but I just taking it all in stride.

And the best part of all this? We got a picture! It might sound weird to love a bunch of cells, but I do. I love them for their potential. Their potential to make us parents and give us not just one, but maybe even two very desired children, and to fulfill our dream of starting a family.

Babies first picture?

We are just so excited and truly hope it works this time. Knowing I have two precious embryos inside me is just so surreal. I can't tell you how overjoyed I will be if I become pregnant! It's strange to think that if all this works out, technically I will be three weeks pregnant tomorrow. What?! It's weird because I'm not pregnant, but by the way it is measured I would be three weeks pregnant at this point. 

Implantation should happen within the next few days. Praying and having faith is all we can do at this point, and boy are we praying!

See the sucker in his mouth? That's his favorite part of going to the doctor with me!

 

Cancelled

On Saturday I had my follicular ultrasound after taking three 150 unit rounds of injections. We saw my right ovary with some small follicles that didn't stand out. It didn't make any sense. Then we moved to my left ovary and there was nothing. It was cloudy and unclear. My doctor asked if I had a history of endometriosis. I replied no, but I was terrified that it could be. It's a disorder where cells from the lining of the uterus grow in other areas of the body, like the ovaries. She took some pictures of the ovary, said she wanted another doctor's opinion, and sent me home. Usually at this point I should have at least one follicle greater than 16mm and should plan on taking the trigger shot. A few hours later she called me back explaining that what we saw was most likely the corpus luteum which meant I already ovulated and we missed it. I went in for a progesterone blood test which confirmed that I did in fact ovulate somewhere between cycle day 10 or 11, which is too soon and unusual for me. So my cycle was cancelled and I didn't take my HCG trigger shot or get an IUI. If our timing was right there could be a slim chance the egg could be fertilized, but I am so exhausted of having so much hope and then for it to have gone to waste.  

Each day is harder and the desire gets that much stronger. So much to the point that it consumes me and it is hard for me to focus on other things that are important too. I'm stuck between covering up my feelings so I have the outward appearance that I am perfectly fine and the feeling of losing it at any moment. I've had to be strong before when I lost my dad to suicide, so I know I can be strong again. The only thing is...this battle with infertility has been harder for me to go through, but no one knows it because I try to hide it.
I've tried to draw even closer to my Heavenly Father through this experience. I battle the deep emotions of "Why?" every single day, but I know that is what Satan wants me to ask. I get through this by fasting, having intimate prayer with my Heavenly Father and scripture study every morning. The more I do it the more comfort I receive. 

I can testify that through hard times and trials we are not alone. God loves all his children here on earth. He gives us trials because we are here on earth to be tested. Tested to see if we endure or give up. Tested to see if we will call upon him for help or tested to see if we walk away from him. I believe there is a reason for everything and with his help I can overcome hard things. 

I know that my Savior, who has atoned for us, truly knows our pain and can heal and comfort us. He can keep the pain away. Christ can make us whole, even emotionally. Because of his Atonement, Christ knows the sorrows of my heart. He has felt my pain. He is the only one who knows how to completely comfort me. He will dry my tears and can make my most cherished purpose possible.