Don't Count Your Eggs

The battle continues

My Aunt Flow came to town this morning and the reality of what just happened has set in. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm a detective, trying to solve the mystery of who my baby will be. But it's starting to feel like I'm just a crappy detective who's always 10 minutes late to a crime scene, looking around going, "What the heck just happened?" 

When I'm in an IVF cycle it feels hopeful and purposeful. It's terrible, no doubt, but I do what I'm told.  Shots and appointments and medication and bed rest--whatever I am told because that's what's supposed to make this work for us. After the follow up doctors appointment when there is a failure I just feel like I'm floundering. We don't yet have the emotional health to go back to our "list of options" because the fact that we are going to have to choose between two Plan D's and one possible Plan F is really upsetting. 

The outside world starts to creep in and I don't want to be around anyone, yet I don't want to be alone. I often come back to the writings of Buddhist Nun Pema Chodron when I feel that way. There's a passage in her book, When Things Fall Apart, that I read over a few times last night:

   "Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and they fall apart. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy."

I know that nothing stays the same forever and that I can be sad for as long as I need, but that we will move on. I've been reading all of the comments and feel so grateful to have this online community and to hear stories of people finding their ONE GOOD EGG. I also feel the heartbreak of that first failed IVF cycle that some of you write about--it's the worst because that first time you really feel like there's no way it could fail. You pay all this money and go through all this pain and you think this is the solution. It's all terrible.

Yesterday I consulted with another doctor I saw for insemination a while back. I called him to tell him what had happened and to ask his advice on a few things. He said something like, "Infertility is a war you have to fight over and over. It's a battle and you have to be a warrior because you will win. In some way, you will win." I'm making him sound more poetic than he is but that was the gist. We are warriors. And every day we go to battle when we face the world, when we make the best decision out of a handful of crappy choices, when we accept our path and draw lessons from our experiences, when we love our significant others from the deepest and most honorable places of our hearts, and when we never stop playing detective in the search for our family. 

It's just not our time yet. He says.

The air in the house feels different. It's a lifeless quiet, yet our sadness feels heavy, like there's a third person following us around. Noah and I don't really know what to say to each other. I'm eager for a plan. He's eager for a break. So we talk about what to eat for dinner and predict what may happen next on Breaking Bad. We watch Giants highlights in bed and wish the team was playing better. We both go to work and it feels like our minds are in a fog. Nothing really matters.

He says it's just not our time yet. I guess. 

I think we're still in shock. 

I want answers. I want to know why and how this happened. I want to know what's wrong. I want to know when our time will finally come. I try to remember what life was life pre infertility and can't. What was my obsessive brain filled with back then?

One thing that's really keeping me going is all the support out there. Anyone with happy endings against all odds, finding that one good egg, please write in! Some of you have already and we appreciate it. It helps knowing anything is possible. 

Today between clients at work I'm going to research a shaman that comes recommended, a Mexican healer that is in town for only one week and already has a list of people lined up to see her, and countries we can escape to. Fleeing the country is all I can really think to do right now. But it's not going to happen this minute so instead I'll make a piece of toast and decide what shoes I'm going to wear today. Life goes on.

Life after a BFN (Big Fat Negative)

Is hard. Is surreal. Is sad. Is confusing. Goes on.

Last night I woke up at 2am with an overwhelming sense that I needed to throw up. And I did.  I sobbed and barfed in the darkness and then woke up this morning and went to work. Well, went to the doctor first, but he had no real answers. Something is wrong with my eggs. Something didn't go well with my sister's eggs. Will this happen every time? Maybe. Can we each one day possibly have an egg that is good? Perhaps. Science is amazing and these doctors are amazing but they don't know everything. Sometimes things just fall apart and there is no explaination. 

What I do know it that I can't crumble. I'm the queen of the crumble and am really good at wallowing in my sadness for as long as I see fit. But I can't do that this time, because my husband needs me. He's the saddest I've every seen him--so sad he almost squeezed out a tear yesterday. My parents are heartbroken and now that this has become such a family affair we all need to take care of each other, not just them taking care of me. And my babies, wherever they are, who ever they, are need me to keep fighting to find them. So I will. I can be sad. I can cry. But I can't give up. We don't know what comes next but we will figure it out. We don't have many options or any money so that kind of narrows things down. 

I believe it isn't the things that happen in life that define a person, but how that person deals with those things. I so appreciate all the love and support from everyone out there in cyberspace who have commented and sent their love. While we may be strangers in the traditional sense of the word, we share the same longing and pain and perhaps even a similar experience. So that makes us family of sorts, or at least a community of fighters who will wrestle tigers and bears for our babies to be. I thank you so much for all the support and send it right back at all of you.

Hubs guest post: Always Keep a Diamond in Your Mind

There is a Tom Waits song I really like. As with most Tom Waits songs, the lyrics are from another realm and are often useless to try to decipher. In that voice that is straight out of my childhood nightmares, I hear, "always keep a diamond in your mind / wherever you may wander, wherever you may roam / always keep a diamond in your mind." Since we did our embryo transfer (click here in case you need a refresher video), that line has been stuck in my head. The chance to have a baby, while risking multiples, has been the diamond in my mind, the beautiful goal. I've believed. I've been positive. I've hoped and prayed to any and all that will listen. This morning I arrived at work feeling confident that I'd get a call from a tearful wife saying that we were officially pregnant and one step closer to our family. Instead I got a call from a tearful wife. "It didn't work," was all she had to say.

For the rest of the day I was numb. Numb the way you feel after there's been a major catasptrophe or a death in the family. The volume was turned down on the rest of my day, replaced with nothing. I was numb while trying to do creative for a television show. I was numb in Los Angeles traffic. I was numb when I embraced Maya. I was numb during our drive back home, the only sound in the car coming from my sobbing wife; crying like she was trying to run out of tears. Two blocks from home, stopped at a light, I noticed a sticker on the car in front of me. "No Bad Days." Temporarily, numb was replaced with rage. Then back to numb.

For those of you that know me - if only through this - I am not the most emotional person. But today was different. Today I feel broken and I know I can't do that right now. One of my best friends from home told me today, "take care of yourself so you can take care of Maya." I'll process this later, I just want her to feel better now. Or at least not feel worse.

If there is a positive to be taken from this, it is that both Maya and I are becoming more comfortable talking about this process. We've had family and friends who have been critical of Maya opening up on a forum like this, but I know it has helped her. And whatever helps, is fine with me. And with this communication comes messages and tweets and texts and hugs. We sat in bed tonight marveling at how perfect strangers from around the world have been thinking of Maya today, praying for her, wishing her well. It made me cry. And my tears are normally only reserved for World Series victories. 

So thank you to every reader and every comment on here. And thank you for thinking of my wife. She needs it. I hope we'll have good news to share in the future. And, if you've got the time, I recommend picking up that Tom Waits song.

 

Picking up the Pieces, again. #BFN

My Beta just came in. Negative. We can't say it was a lack of effort. We've did everything we could, coming up empty handed feels utterly unfair. But this really isn't about fair and unfair. I don't know what it's about. Timing? Luck? The Gods not being on my side? My karmic debt? My biology? My sister's biology? It is what it is. So now what? I can't even think. Maybe I'm in shock. I thought this was it. The ending of this chapter and the beginning of a new one. I am the fool once again.

While I don't know why this didn't work or what we are going to do next, I do know that I have one chance to live my life fully. There will be lots of sorrow and lots of happy moments. And that's what it is. Today and possibly for the rest of the week, month, maybe year, I will have to piece back together the pieces of my broken heart. But I have a heart and it's still beating so I have to do what I can to move forward. 

Thanks for all the support and love. Sorry to disappoint. 

One. More. Day.

Until my beta HCG test. I've been learning about what that means now that I've actually gotten to the stage where this is all a possibility. HCG is the pregnancy hormone that the doc will test my blood for tomorrow. A level of over 25 mIU/ml means I'm pregnant. According to the internet. But maybe I'm wrong. Seems like all these tests can really vary so we will just see what happens tomorrow. Whatever is there is there. Trying not to OBSESS today...stay tuned...

Happy Friday Embryos!

I made it through the week. Staying busy is really the key to the 2ww. I don't feel anything, which concerns me, though I don't know what I would actually feel. Little specks of dust in my belly? 

I've been reading up a little bit on assisted hatching, because it was something we ended up having to do. The day of our transfer the doctor told us the outer shell of the embryos were too thick so they had to do a procedure that basically cracks the shell a little bit so that the embryo has a better shot at busting open. Without doing it, the embryos had less of a chance. At that stage of the game there are no real questions or decisions to be made. All we could do was nod. $955? Okay. Poking a needle through the shell of the embryo? Yeah, ok. Whatever it takes to increase our odds. And in reading up on assisted hatching it seems like many clinics do it and that it does help increase success. 

So I added that to the list of things to feel positive about and will spend the day in the sunshine with my yoga buddies, appreciating that we got this far and praying that we leap over the next hurdle next week.

Reasons To Stay Positive

I feel like I've been doing a good job just being present and feeling hopeful. I'm not really the optimistic type by nature, and going through IVF failure has definitely darkened my lens. So happily puttering around the house (yes, I haven't left the house since Thursday), imagining my embryos sticking to my uterus like barnacles has been good. Barnacles or those old school Garfield dolls that people used to stick to their car windows in the 90's, all wide-eyed and grabbing on for dear life. That's how I'm picturing them.

But yesterday afternoon I got thrown down a rabbit hole. I found out a person I know is pregnant with twins, and while there are a million reasons why that could be upsetting to me, the first thing I thought was, "If she's getting twins, there is no way I'm also going to get twins." As if there is a baby farm and every time someone else has a baby or gets pregnant it means it won't happen for me.  I wish I could think the opposite. I wish I could see that a miracle happened for her so that means it's possible, but I don't. Not right now at least. This one thought spun me down a serious path of doubt and negativity that started with the thought that not more than one person in a given social circle could have twins and ended with being afraid that this silly cashmere belly warmer that my mom insists I wear has actually made my tummy too hot and thus boiled my babies. It's crazy town. I worked myself up into such a tizzy that I was then convinced my embryos wouldn't survive because I was so upset, so I tried to cry in a semi-psychotic looking "calm" way that turned into a pathetic moan and tears just streaming down my face. 

When Noah got home he did what he knows best. He hugged me and turned on th Giants game. We watched as they blew opportunity after opportunity and turned it off in the 5th inning. 

"I want to make a list of reasons why we should stay positive," I said. Noah looked at me like I was insane. In his mind you stay positive because that's just what you do. He is hopeful, end of story. His brain doesn't work up endless scenarios of why things should or shouldn't work, but mine does, so we made a list.

One thing I've learned through this process is that there really is no reason for things. I don't believe things happen for a reason, but only that things happen and that we make meaning or find life lessons in them in order to grow. I also don't believe this process has anything to do with being deserving or being so exhausted that the next thing "has" to work. It's all kind of random.  Poor embryos can make great babies. Retrieving one egg can result in success when all the percentages are stacked against you. And sometimes it just doesn't work. I do believe we will have a family, and constantly go back to my motto that babies exist and we can get one.

But this time around we also had some statistically better things on our side, like the age of my sister's eggs, and the fact that I didn't have all the stimulation medication in my body. We made a list of 15 things, some science based others that say things like, "We have people of all different faiths praying for us, so that covers our bases." And, "Gilli is helping and Gilli is magic." Maybe we're grasping at straws a bit, but it made me feel better. 

I keep reading over the list, reminding myself what will be will be. The best I can do is eat well, sleep well, and hang on to hope, even though sometimes it takes me on a wild ride. 

Video of our Embryo Transfer!

Ok. So this may not be as thrilling as watching Elysium, but it's the most exciting thing I've seen and experienced in quite a while.

It has truly taken a village to get to this stage. The credit list to our babies may be longer than our movie. You never know where life may take you and who will show up with unconditional love and support. We've been truly blessed.

PS. My dad wanted me to add that that giant spot on my tummy is not a birthmark but a healing bruise from the last Lupron injection. A war wound.

 

Good Morning Embies!

Well I made it through the weekend, primarily on my back. I was starting to get a little concerned when my ass began to merge with the couch, but for a busy body like myself, I think I did a pretty good job. I did have a lot of support and distractions though. Some awesome girlfriends came by to take turns babysitting me and brought treats and flowers and smiles. My parents took a few turns bringing food and spending time. And then my group of yogi friends came to do our teacher training sessions at my house. We are doing our final practice teaches, which I must say is a challenge when I can't do any of the poses. But it definitely distracted my brain from wondering if my embryos were still in there, if there were hatching and sticking, and if they were normal and going to make it.

The list of worries while on bed rest is enough to drive a gal cray cray! I freaked out the first time I had to cough and my eyeballs nearly popped out trying to hold in a sneeze, as if these two actions would cause my abs to squish our embryos or something. I've been eating pineapple core and only warm foods and drinks, which I read helps with implantation, but have been obsessing over whats too much or too little, too hot or too cold. At the end of the day I know this is either going to work, or it's not, but if there is anything in my power I can do to help I'm going to do it. I guess maybe it's a false sense of control for me, which is a little worrisome, because what if it doesn't work? Will I blame myself for eating too much pineapple or for sneezing? I can't go there. I'll do my best and let go.

It's so crazy how each step of this process I'm actually just leaping over the next big hurdle, but I never feel like I'm in the clear. I guess I'm not. I won't think about all the other things we have to get through and instead will just focus on today. The present moment. Visualizing my little cauliflower looking babies busting out of their shell and nuzzling into my lining. I will be ever grateful for all the friends and family who have been on this journey with us, and for Noah, who wakes up through the night to make sure I'm sleeping on my back. Yeah, he literally builds a little pillow wall around me to keep me on my back because I'm a stomach sleeper, and when he unconsciously senses I'm creeping onto my tummy, he pulls me onto my back.  We're insane. No one said I couldn't sleep on my stomach. But after this long of living with infertility nothing seems crazy and everything seems worth a try. 

Bed rest should be more fun...

But it's not. The idea of being in bed, reading trashy magazines and watching TV sounds appealing, but the reality is it kind of sucks. I've been on my back on the couch since noon yesterday, and for a gal who is used to running around the house and being super active, this is not fun. My doctor told me not to go up stairs, so that meant I slept on the couch as our bed is upstairs. UGH! But of course I'm NOT complaining. (It just kind of sounds like I am). The fact that we got embryos in was all I've wanted to if I had to be confined to a coffin for three weeks I would do it...ummm...yeah, ok, I'd do it.

I just picked up my "Post Embryo Transfer Instructions" and read the sections the doctor highlighted:

1) Total bed rest (flat in bed). Avoid using your stomach muscles. To get up, roll onto your side, them push up with your elbows.

2) Tomorrow and the following day...rest on the couch...you can sit up for meals....then return to a reclining position...from this day forward DO NOT TAKE BATHS! (Yes. That is in caps)

3) A bunch of stuff about medication and drinking alcohol (as if I'm going to celebrate my ET with a glass of champagne) and then it says, DO NOT strain to have a bowel movement. (Um, am I going to poop out my embryos? I get it, it has to do with the tummy, but wow.)

4) On the 4th day after your transfer, you may resume a restricted activity level. For the entire 1st trimester (through week 13) you may not: swim, bathe, submerse in water, exercise, lift anything over 5 lbs, stand for prolonged periods, or have intercourse. (FOR THREE MONTHS?!!! Noah was not too fond of this one.

It goes on about no traveling and medications and then says, "It's common to have some bleeding after ET...DO NOT PANIC!" Again in caps.

So that's my life now I guess. I'm basically a paralyzed kangaroo. But I'm fine with that. I'm really good at bossing and am excited to have lined up a handful of babysitters for today who will come over and hang out. I just want my babies to grow and divide and hatch. I'm trying not to panic every time I roll over or get up to pee that they are being squished or something. And now the real worrying begins, and I guess if this works, it never stops. 

All in! Transfer day complete!

I can't believe we made it to transfer day. We've been in the land of ART for over a year and a half and this is the closest we've gotten. Our first transfer day. 

Gilli, my acupuncturist, was there, and she did a pre-transfer treatment. We sat in the darkness as she told me to imagine opening all the doors to my house, letting my babies in. The doc came in and explained the procedure and we watched as he put them in. Three little soap bubbles.

Noah, my sis, Gabe with the camera, Gilli--it was a big baby making party. I never imagined it would take so many people to make our baby. So much more interesting than a glass of wine and a roll in the hay, right? 

Gilli did a second treatment and told me to shut the windows and doors. LOCK THOSE BABIES IN! And now we wait. I'm flat on my back, my mom is scurrying around the house making food, and my dad just went to Costco to buy me a massive box panty liners. What love. So I guess this is it, huh? Just waiting around, trying not to sneeze or move. My doc doesn't want me to go upstairs so that cuts out getting into bed. Hm... whatever. Nothing matters except the fact that my babies are in. 

 

This is it. The moment we've been waiting for

I thought I was going to die yesterday. Like, literally die. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to beat right through my chest. I don't know if I was thinking the worst or if I was just totally overwhelmed by the physical sensation of fear. I cried it out a little and told myself all the same crap that never works to calm me down when I'm freaking out. "Whatever happens will happen, worrying about it won't help. I have no control...blah blah." 

I fell asleep dreaming of our embryos, like soap bubbles, dividing away in a dish. I prayed that the doctor would call us at his usual 7:30am with only good news.

This morning Noah and I were wide awake at 6am. By 7:30 we were pacing. By 8:30 I was ready to jump out the window. I called the doctor but he was with a patient. My brain went dark immediately. I convinced myself he didn't call first thing like he always does because he had patients waiting and he knew it would be a longer call because he had bad news and I would start crying, so he waited. It had to be bad news. "Maybe he just hasn't had time to look at the embryos, or time to call," Noah said in that rational Noah voice.

I saw doom, he saw a man busy at work. I'm so glad I married a man who can think logically when emotions are exploding. 

The doc called at 9am and told us three out of the five normal looking embryos were dividing and I should prepare for transfer tomorrow morning. He will call us at 8am to confirm that all the embryos made it through the night, and at 10am tomorrow we will put them in. 

So that's where we are at. Excited to have this chance and praying everything looks good tomorrow.

Fertilization Report: Good news bad news cycle continues

The doctor just called with his usual, "I have good news and I have bad news" greeting. Clearly, my heart has been racing since 6am and usually my ears only hear the bad news, but he said that out of the 16 eggs we got, 8 of which were good or excellent, 10 fertilized, but 5 of those look like they were fertilized by two sperm.

Huh?

How is it I feel like a total expert on all things fertility and now at this late stage in the game I'm hearing about things I never knew existed? What does that mean?

The doctor said 5 of those 10 eggs were "party animals" and let two sperm in. So...some of my sister's eggs are a little slutty? I Googled "two sperm one egg" and saw the word "hermaphrodite" and promptly closed the window. Why? What? How? Does this mean that there is a greater chance for abnormality in the other fertilized eggs or that the others should be just fine? I've heard of all but 2 eggs in a batch of 20 eggs testing poorly during PGD and the two good ones resulted in one healthy, beautiful baby. But I also see there may be something genetically off about our eggs. WTF!?

The doc was in a rush so I don't have any answers other than we are really watching 5 fertilized eggs to see how they divide. If anyone has ever heard of this let me know. I'm confused about how to feel but will have to wait and see what happens tomorrow. Is this how most IVF cycles just go? An anxiety ridden nightmare of not knowing what is happening and waiting and hoping, or did I just get lucky with the drama here?

For now I will go to yoga, clean my house and buy a pineapple (to help with implantation) in preparation for bed rest. I will focus on what we do have, 5 normal looking fertilized eggs, and visualize a healthy division. Stay tuned.

Retrieval complete! My sister's job is done.

We had the egg retrieval this morning and my sister did great! We got two excellent eggs, six good, and a handful of poor. I'm feeling hopeful that our babies are on the way! It was such a strange experience to be sitting in the waiting room alone while Noah collected his sample and my sister was in the operating room. I could have been home eating pizza and watching TV while my babies were being made! 

We know we are not in the clear yet, but I was still able to exhale a little, knowing we have some eggs to work with. Noah keeps saying we're one step closer. One step closer. 

And now we wait. Tomorrow we should know what fertilized and then we go from there.

Chasing Ten: Donor Eggs Good News!

We went to the doctor this morning and FINALLY got a piece of good news! My sister's follicles grew, so we are now chasing ten! Ten plump juicy follicles and one of them has our baby! The emotional toll this is taking on my family is insanely exhausting. Every appointment thus far has felt really...dreadful. But today we are back in business and we can all finally exhale for a moment. That's the thing with this process. You never know. It could all fall apart tomorrow or all ten eggs could make great embryos. While I know this, my emotions can't help but ride the roller coaster. I try to be present but it's hard not to forecast or try to predict or plan. In this moment we have hope. In this moment we have so much love. It's taking a family to make a family and that's an amazing experience not everyone gets. The most important message I guess is to never give up.  We have been fighting for our baby for years now, and we won't ever give up!

Donor eggs phase...uhhh, where are we again? Finger crossed

My sister has been the most amazing trooper. Not one complaint, not one tantrum, not one sense of resentment or anger, even after she was told she has to extend her meds for an extra two days. She's been the most gracious host for our babies-to-be. Yesterday she had to pull over while driving and give herself a specifically timed shot in the car in front of a laundry mat on Venice Blvd. And she texted me joking about it. What she is doing for us is truly the meaning of love and sacrifice and generosity, and while I know we've always had a close bond, this experience has solidified a connection and an appreciation that is unexplainable. 

So our aspiration day has been pushed to Monday and transfer day is either Thursday or next Saturday. Somehow this process seems to always go on as long a possible, and I am forced to figure out a way to not die from anxiety for another few days. I think the trauma of having nothing to transfer the last time we did IVF has scarred me. I have this tight feeling in my chest, always, and read into the doctor's decisions and behaviors and the subtle way he scrunches his eyebrows together and slows his speech down. I feel like the fact that he donated the extra meds we needed for the two extra days means something bad, like he has a bad feeling. But I know I can't make assumptions and I can't let my fear overwhelm me.  We are in it, deep. So I have to push aside my fear and dread and guilt and all the other zillion emotions I have and focus on one. Hope. Believing our babies are resting in my sister's swollen ovaries and that in about a week they will be nuzzled in my fat little poochy belly.

I'm trying not to think of the worst as some kind of subconscious defense mechanism. I'm trying to remind myself of the things I'm grateful for, like the fact Noah's hamstring injury is a tear and not something that will need surgery. I'm trying to remind myself we just need one good embryo, and though my sister's numbers and response aren't what we had anticipated, there are follicles in there and we just need one good one. It's really friggin' hard.

When am I going to catch a break? The IVF roller coaster continues

So several things have happened in the past few days.

1) We found out my sister is not responding well to the medication and we are going to end up with a much lower egg count than initially hoped for. Her meds were increased and she will be on them for two days more than planned. 

2) Two of my friends gave birth on the same day (which makes four births in the past month) subtly reminding me how LONG we have been in this process.

3) Noah got injured playing softball and ruptured or tore his hamstring, which landed him in the ER yesterday. An MRI is soon to come. We are praying he doesn't need surgery.

Oh, and my belly looks like I was dancing naked in the middle of a paintball war. I have a gorgeous photo of my bruises but can't figure out how to upload it. Maybe it's better that way.

The doctor keeps telling us to be positive and to relax. How? When it rains it pours, right?

There is literally nothing I can do but eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch and pace my house. So I guess that's what I'll do. This is just how it goes I suppose. I can take a deep inhale through my nose and let it out my mouth. Reminding myself I am alive, I am trusting the process, and I am doing the best I can. 

I'm over my morning dose of menopause

So if this is what I have to look forward to in 15 years, count me out! I've been on Lupron for about two weeks now and while the effects aren't drastic, they are...strange. I feel like I'm in a fog. I was at yoga last night and while I could hear my teacher's voice I felt like I couldn't pay attention. It was very out of body. Is this normal? I just feel totally out of it.  Last week as I was pulling into a parking spot I slammed the car into a metal drain pipe, swiping it right off the wall! I'm not used to being so spacey. But I only have three more days of my morning shot of menopause aka cranky juice. I feel like I'm on mile 23 of a marathon and it just won't end!

On another note we went back to the doctor yesterday where I learned one very important thing. My sister is a supreme super hero bad ass! She had her injection lesson, and while you may remember my first shot:

 The drama, hand gripping, deep exhale, sweaty arm pits, my sister just jammed the shot right into her skinny belly and shrugged. My dad and I looked on with shock and awe. That's my sister for ya! If we didn't look so much alike I would question if we were really related.

So she has started meds and though her follicle count dropped a bit, I have to believe that our babies are somewhere dormant in her bad ass ovaries. I need to focus on curbing my anxiety and crankiness and have to try not to do anything too spaced out and stupid. She needs to keep being herself. And everyone on team Junior Mints has to send loving energy so our babies to be can start to GROW!