Don't Count Your Eggs

Knowing what's important

It's Black Friday y'all! Time to rush out and buy another flat screen and five new pairs of jeans at Macy's, right? Not for me. While I am a strong believer in a little retail therapy now and again, watching all the commercials for stuff has really made me realize what's important. The only place I would stand in a line for hours or push through crowds is a Black Friday sale at a fertility clinic. Buy one embryo get one free? Can you imagine?

Though living on IF Island has been rough, there have been some unintended consequences that I consider to be positives. I'm going to stay on the theme of gratitude and appreciation for as long as I have pumpkin pie in my belly, so this morning I'm going to share three positive unintended consequences of living the last three years with infertility. I'm not at all saying this has been a positive experience. I could write a book about the negative consequences, but trying to look for life lessons or growth helps train our mind to search for a little bit if light in an otherwise obvious oblivion of dark.

The first unintended consequence is that I no longer want stuff. I don't care about shopping or clothes or things. There is one thing in the world I want, and perhaps that has helped me straighten out my priorities and has led me to a much simpler lifestyle. Not that I was ever extravagant before, but now I really couldn't care less about things. We're on a bit of a tighter budget, which sucks on one hand, but also helps remind me what's important and what is frivolous. I think this is a good thing. I helps me not be wasteful or vain and prioritizes what's necessary. Love, food, and family.

The second unintended consequence is that Noah can talk about his feelings better, which has helped bring us closer. I married and emotional rock, not just in the sense that he is solid and strong, but also in the sense that there were times pre-IF when talking about feelings with Noah was like trying to milk a stone. Perhaps it was necessary at the time, because I've always been very....emotive and very comfortable sharing every single feeling I have every minute of the day. We joked that this imbalance in our personalities was why we worked together so well, but now that I've learned to rein it in a bit and he's learned to open up a bit, we've found a new balance that feels even better.

The third unintended consequence is that I've been able to be more mindful about my life and my thoughts and my body. I have a new relationship to the word "should" and the word "control." They've been replaced by the words "is" and "acceptance." When we tell ourselves we "should" be doing, thinking, or being something that we're not, were going to be unhappy. When we realize something just "is" we can better accept it and sit with the uncomfortable parts of whatever it is.

I know I "should" be a mom. I know that it isn't fair and I "shouldn't" have to go through all this. But I'm not yet a mom and this "is" what it is. I can lean into these hard moments with clarity and hope only when I can fully accept the situation I'm in.

While I don't think I needed IF to happen in order to learn some valuable life lessons, it happened, and is happening, so I may as well search for something positive to take away.

Giving Thanks-- the most obvious blog post, but...

...This year we have more unusal things to be thankful for. Yes. We have so much gratitude for our family and friends, good food on the table, the fact that my in-laws grow apples and have made some sort of massive "crumble," my sister for all she tried to do for us this year, my yoga practice, the roof over our heads, each other. There's a lot to appreciate always, and it's important to remember all those things we have when we are feeling so lost and empty. But we also have to appreciate that there are people out there who donate parts of themselves to people like us and that we live in a country where, though it's wildly expensive, it is legal and not completely frowned upon. Though egg donors and sperm donors may have additional incentives to donating, it's an amazing gift for a stranger to give another stranger. Another gift we've started looking more into is embryo donation or embryo adoption. I'll write more about it when I can fully wrap my head around it, but for now I'll just say that people on IF Island have choices about what they want to do with their unused embryos, and some people choose to donate them to people like us. I'm so thankful for all those couples who make that choice, because that just may be where our baby comes from. Wishing everyone out there a beautiful holiday. I am thankful for all the support from my online family and hope you all have a day full of gratitude and pie.

Seriously?

So I wrote about dusting off the OV strips and I shaved my legs for the first time in a depressing while, and I tested my pee twice a day since cycle day 9, and on day 14 rather than an ovulation predictor kit smiley face meaning "go time," I started bleeding. Huh? Let me scramble that word around, UHH!

My doc thinks a cyst may have burst. It sounds dramatic but just means I'm bleeding and my cycle is thrown off and I'm probably not going to ovulate. These are the moments where I feel like my life is some cruel joke. EVERY MONTH COUNTS in such a major way. I built up so much hope and optimism and belief in my body--that we could do this, that I was going to be one of those stories you hear, "After years of infertility it just happened..." THAT WAS GOING TO BE US I DECIDED!!

Once again I'm reminded that I have no control and really am at the mercy of my body right now. I'm trying to stop thinking about my body as something separate from myself. Like my mind is the maser and my body is some renegade beast doing its own thing. I'm trying to integrate mind and body even though I'm ridiculously frustrated right now. I've never bled between cycles. Consistent ovulation was the one thing I've had! 

Ok. Temper tantrum over. Sometime we have to just...go with the flow, pun intended. I can't fight it, so I have to embrace that my body is me and we are still working some things out. Medications perhaps. Life lessons I'll understand in two years, maybe. But the bottom line is my doc told me not to waste any more time or money on this cycle (meaning time spent peeing all over my hand twice a day and money spent on the OV strips). 

Noah and I are all packed up and headed to the airport. Apparently so is Obama so it may be a hot mess out there. More importantly (than the president, obviously) I'm leaving the OV strips behind and am ready to fully embrace being out of our lives for a few days!

I'll post from the road so stay tuned!

More than IF

A while back I received a really nice comment on the blog from someone about being more than an infertile woman, and it got me thinking about how much infertility takes on its own un welcomed identity, and how hard that can be around the holiday time when we will most likely be interacting with people we haven't seen in a while.

Noah and I are headed up North to spend time with his family and friends back home and I started dreading the thought of being asked, "what have you guys been up to," or "how have things been going." Let's see... If I honestly answered that question I would be met with dumbfounded stares. I would come off as crazy and angry and bitter, or I would be pitied. My other choice is to be vague, "well, we've had kind of a rough... Two years, but we're doing alright..." I guess that's true. It just doesn't do any of our experiences justice.

Noah and I are comfortable in our comfort zone. We feel ok with our immediate friends and family who now speak and understand IF jargon and who can understand that this... Situation, has completely taken over much of our lives. But people we haven't seen or who we only see once a year don't know that, so I have have to give them the benefit of the doubt. It's a fine balance between being true to myself and not having a totally awkward conversation over stuffing and sweet potatoes.

So much of who I am and what I've been doing revolves around infertility issues. This is not something I chose to become an expert in, it just kind of happened. In fact, we are meeting with a fertility clinic up there the day before Thanksgiving to see a lady about eggs. There is no escape that this is the most pressing issue on my to do list: figure out how to have a family.

But I have to remind myself that I'm more than IF. I had things to say and contribute before IF hijacked my life. I can ask about other people and remind myself that not everyone is going to understand or care about our struggles to conceive. And that's ok. I have to find a way to be okay that every one of Noah's friends up home have new babies and that too is ok (kind of). It just sucks to feel so isolated.

I think it's important to be honest and to take care of ourselves over the holidays. It can be a sensitive time for sure, because people will ask how we've been and people won't always understand the intensity of what our lives have become. People may also not agree with what we've been doing to try and make a baby. Hmmmm....I hadn't really thought of that one, but I know several people whose family and friends are ethically opposed to IVF. I couldn't imagine having to face that!

It's hard to leave the "safe zone" of our home, but I think it will be good. We're both looking forward to being away and spending time with Noah's peeps. I have to constantly remind myself that I'm more than my infertility, and that this doesn't define me. That it may be on the forefront of our lives right now, but it won't be this way forever.

The words we feed ourselves

Many of us on IF Island have been on some kind of "fertility diet" filled with warm foods and yams and missing everything delicious like sweets, coffee, dairy products--you get it. I'm often hyper-conscious of what foods I feed myself and yet have realized that I often pay little attention to the words I feed myself.

IF lingo is very...negative. Every time something doesn't work it's a "failure." Some women are told they have a "hostile uterus" (that's the worst one) and words like "premature, "insufficient," "blocked," and "diminished," float around like it's absolutely normal for us to refer to ourselves and our body parts in these terms. If you constantly fill your body up with crappy food, chances are you're going to feel crappy. The saying is kind of true, you are what you eat. But if you fill your mind and your emotional self up with negative terms, chances are you may start viewing your body and yourself negatively. You may start believing that your body is "dysfunctional" or "broken" or "hostile." We have to somehow shield ourselves from some of these terms and force ourselves to ingest more positive thoughts and feelings about ourselves and our body. 

Spending the last two years injecting some kind of hormone into my body has taken its toll. So has the massive amounts of treating myself to sweets after an unsuccessful procedure. I'm not gonna lie, I'm often bitingly sarcastic about my "broke down" reproductive system and joke that I may be 33 but my ovaries are 50. Lately, I've been referring to myself as a manatee and had a mini break down the other night trying to fit into "real pants" so we could go to a friend's birthday party. My "real pants" don't fit me anymore and on top of feeling broken and like a "failure" through all of our medical interventions, I also felt fat and embarrassed. 

As I tried squeezing myself into various pairs of pants I started to feel my eyes water and had to take a time out. I had to remind myself of all my body has endured and send my tummy some gratitude for being a human pin cushion and really taking one for the team these past few years. I had to convince myself to be patient and tell myself my body is just coming out of an abusive relationship. I had to take a deep breath and think about all the amazing things my body can do. I sent love and compassion to my poor thighs who just wanted to crawl back into pajamas and hide for the rest of the night. 

Our bodies are amazing. They are what we get to live in for the rest of our lives. Hopefully they will get to carry and bring life into this world, but if they don't, their arms and heart will be there to embrace and protect and give love. Our bodies allow us a vehicle to experience so much of life's beauty, so we have to forgive the ten extra pounds and take a step back. Besides, who says you can't jazz up a cute pair of solid black yoga pants on a Saturday night anyway?

I believe that the words we feed our selves and our souls are just as important as the foods we ingest. Our self-talk forms the foundation of our beliefs and we must believe that we can, and our bodies can. We must believe we are functional and beautiful, and perhaps beautifully flawed. We must cut out the negative self-talk as if it were a super caffeinated double shot espresso. Sometime our words can be even more detrimental then the dreaded caffeine! 

We must feed a loving voice and a kind mind full of compassion and positivity. This isn't easy to do, especially when we may look and feel not quite ourselves or "the way we used to." Yeah, shit happens and things change. We are still on the battlefield and sometimes things can be a little rough out there. We don't have much control over the after effect of these meds or the physical and emotional exhaustion they cause. But we do have control over what we tell ourselves. We do have the ability to be accepting and loving rather than harsh and judgmental.

Wishing you all a positive and loving internal dialogue this week. "Why yes Maya, you do deserve an extra piece of pumpkin pie...of course with whip cream because you're fabulous and your yoga pants have great elasticity!"

Dusting off the OV test strips

Soooo.....We've really done EVERYTHING in the medical world we could do. Clomid with timed you know what, IUI's with meds, IVF, IVF with sister donor...what else? I feel like there is more...an FET...ummmm....wow. Those few things took YEARS? Ugh.

Anyway, now that we're in a bit of a pause with no medical intervention on the horizon, we're going back to basics. Busting out the ovulation test strips and that silly little pee cup that comes with them when you buy enough in bulk online. 

I remember the long year plus of TTC with the trusty OV strips and my thermometer.  I charted my basal body temperature and even had an online program that made little charts. Talk about obsession. There's something tediously awful about charting, yet it did help me get in touch with my body in a different way. It seems like so long ago when we first started trying to make a baby. We were so naive, so hopeful, so confused.

Now we're less naive and less confused, but we have to be just as hopeful. We're going to give it the good ole' college try (well, not exactly like how we were in college) and maybe some miracle will happen. I've been hearing lots of stories of couples who do a zillion things and then one day it just works--either IVF or IUI or trying naturally. Some times the stars align (ok, not stars, but you know what I'm talking about) and it happens. We never know.

I don't know how I'm feeling hopeful or where I'm find this extra reserve of optimism. Maybe I know the alternative and it's not a pretty place to be. I know better than to hold my breath, but I also know better than to think I have some real control over how things play out on IF Island. Just being open and willing to get up to bat is all I can do. 

Sorry to any family members who are reading this--TMI, I know.

But to everyone else... Don't Stop Believin' (you know how to sing that out loud!)

Hubs says obsessed, I say determined

I appreciate that Noah wants or needs to take a break, and I recognize that I do have a one track mind, but what can I do? Figuring out the puzzle that is our family-to-be occupies every last corner of brain space I have.

Obsessed (verb): to preoccupy or fill the mind continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent.

Determined (adj): having made a firm decision and being resolved not to change it.

Hmmm...maybe I need to define "troubling extent."

Ok. OK. But researching family building options is better than...I don't know, being obsessed with porn or having a serious shopping habit, or being addicted to cosmetic surgery or something. It could always be worse. 

I admit there is some obsession going on. My name is Maya and I'm addicted to trying to find our family. There. I said it. And honestly, I'm ok with it. I'm on a mission and this will get figured out, some how, some way. But I do also have to remember that balance is key and that Noah needs to fill his brain with other things.

So I try my best. It's important to find some balance and take a mental vacay to get some space and perhaps some perspective. I agree with that. It's good to have other interests and other things to talk about, but it's REALLY hard when your life and brain are stuck and time is ticking.

The easiest way to get out of my head is to get into my body. Doing yoga, working up a sweat, doing walking meditations or taking a boxing class--that helps get me out of my head. It's kind of the only thing that works. That and cooking.

The brain likes patterns. It was a survival thing back in the day. It's easy for our brains to hold on to repetitive thoughts and play them over and over in our heads. Sometimes we need to tell our brains to shut it down. 

I'll forgive Noah for calling me Captain Ahab lately, and I'll try to broaden the topic of conversation in the house. I'll keep doing yoga and anything that gives my mind a little break. But I won't stop trying to make us a family. I can't. 

A little balance can go a long way, so I'll make more of an effort. This will get figured out. I will have a family. I will be a more interesting dinner guest, one day. 

One day.

Hubs guest post: Step Away From the Vehicle

This journey through the land of infertility that we’re going through is overflowing with metaphors and analogies. We use them to help ourselves put things in perspective and to try to give the outside population some sort of reference point for what this is all like. So you’ll forgive me if I pull out the old “we’re in a car driving along a never-ending road” adage in today’s guest post.

Journey, driving, blah, blah, blah, our latest blown tire or breakdown on the side of the Infertility Highway. Maya, as you know, has long been a proponent of getting the car moving again as quickly as possible after we get derailed on our drive towards Family City. She’s amazing that way. She’s like an emotional NASCAR pit crew. Every time we have a breakdown, though, my instinct is to step away from the vehicle, to take stock of where we are and to take a moment to collect ourselves on the side of the road. Let’s catch our breaths; even for just a moment.  These have always been our differing styles of dealing and coping, not just with infertility but with major roadblocks in life. In completing our third year on this journey, Maya and I have changed and grown in huge ways, but this differing of opinions and styles shows up, unchanged, after every unsuccessful attempt at IVF/IUI/FET. I also add FML. While "FML" is not a medical term, it is applicable here.

Sometimes Maya will ask me if she wasn't the one pushing us ahead to the next event, how I would proceed. I say "hmm" as if choosing from a list of many options, though I think instead of my answer she imagines me on the couch watching Bob's Burgers reruns and half-researching IVF success percentages on the Internet. So maybe it's good that one of us is always thinking and always moving.

We keep asking ourselves how we continue down this path when one of us wants to calm down for a minute (“let’s take the rest of this year off and enjoy the holidays with our family and the friends we haven’t discarded”) and the other wants to keep driving (“I have so many doctors to call! Now!”) 100mph until we either reach our destination or the car breaks down again. What do I do? How do I help my wife step away from the vehicle? 

We will fix our car. We will get back on the road. Some how. We will not stop until we reach our destination. But, holy shit, sometimes I need to pull over at a rest stop for coffee and a pee.

Finding your happy

I had coffee (the real kind) with a friend the other day. She went through many years of fertility treatments and after 6 rounds of IVF decided to call it, so she knows and understands the deal with IF. She asked me how long we were willing to do this? How long were we willing to live on IF Island?

My answer was, as long as it takes to get a baby. 

Her next question was are we happy?

I paused. I didn't really know how to answer that. Our baseline of feeling content and fulfilled with our lives has slowly shifted to a point where happiness is being told I have enough follicles to start injecting hormones into my stomach. Happiness is the last day of shots or the first day after a successful transfer. Happiness is when I wake up and don't feel like crying because I've spent the last three years in this nightmare. 

Are we happy?

That's a questions a lot of couple have to ask themselves. Some people look at their current quality of life and the strain infertility takes on their body, mind, relationship, bank account, and lifestyle, and decide it isn't work it to keep pushing. That is totally fair and legitimate. It's something Noah and I have talked about--the potential of living child-free. Other couples white knuckle through it. They know it's going to be rough so they board up the windows and the doors and hang onto each other through the storm. It's all a very personal choice.

Noah and I have decided it's not time yet for us to step away. I feel like we've been waiting in line for a cronut for three days, we can't turn away now. But that's not the only reason to keep at it. We want a baby. We want a family. And at this point I still feel like we have the energy to keep at it. Ask me this question in a year and I might say something different.  Actually, if you ask me this question in a year I might not say anything because I'll probably be in a mental institution somewhere. Ugh.

But then we come back to are we happy?

Sometimes happiness is easy. When life circumstances align in such a way so that a person feels fulfilled in their job and relationship and family, it is easy to feel happy.  Having basic needs met, some friends to connect with, good food, a vacation planned, and maybe a stunning new pair of boots--can make a person feel pretty content. But sometimes even with all those things people aren't happy with themselves or what they have or their lives.

Perhaps happiness really is a state of mind.

Sometimes happiness is more of a challenge. When life circumstances keep handing you hard, dry lemons, it's hard to keep trying to squeeze out some lemonade. So you have to work at it. Happiness becomes more of a choice, perhaps, because there are less obvious reasons to be happy. Sometimes the lemons are sooo sour you've really got to dig deep to find a little sweetness. 

So are we happy?

I think we're learning to be.  We're learning to find happiness deep within ourselves and within our relationship. We are learning to appreciate the little things. We are learning to fully enjoy certain things we perhaps took for granted before. We have moments of laughter and we have good food and good family. There's no jumping for joy going on right now, but there are moments of happy. 

I've had to make a conscious decision to be happy, or at least work towards happy. I've had to count the good things in my life daily and remind myself that the crappy things are temporary. It's basically a full time job, but it's an important one. Maybe the most important one. 

Sending every one out there a little happy today. 

 

How can we be wherever we are if we don't want to be where we are?

I've met a lot of new friends. fellow warriors, other IF survivors, through this blog and my time spent as an IF Island native, and I'm constantly amazed by all the suffering and the strength. I've been hearing from ladies in their 2ww, people waiting to see how many (if any) embryos develop, gals waiting to start a cycle, or scheduling their WFT doctors appointment after an unsuccessful cycle. I have a new online friend who is patiently waiting for her beta numbers to go down after yet another chemical pregnancy. She got a BFP last week but it's slowly fading. I'm anxiously waiting beta results from another new friend who has a bad feeling about it as she's been testing her pee and hasn't seen two lines. 

I woke up this morning thinking about all these people and the very different places we are all in, and I felt my chest tighten up. While we may have some similarities in our past experiences, what we all have that may be exactly the same is the this difficulty taking a full, deep breath and this sense that we'd rather be anywhere else than where we're at. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm speaking for people and I shouldn't be. But I know that there have been so many situations, so many moments on this never ending journey where I've felt suffocated by what's going on and I've thought, "Wow, I'd rather be ANYWHERE but here!"

OK. Maybe not anywhere, but I swear I would rather take my chances outrunning a pack of hyenas than wait for a negative beta again. Hm.  Maybe. Hyenas as pretty fast. Anyway, y'all know what I mean. So much of this non-sexy baby making process is so painful, trying to escape it seems like the only logical thing to do.

So we can distract ourselves with bad TV and good books. We can treat ourselves with ice cream and a massage. We can go to work, sometimes zombie-like, just to get our brains to try and focus on something else, but unfortunately the feelings of panic or sad or anticipation usually linger. Wherever you go, there they are.

While distraction can be great, it's also important to learn to be wherever we are, even if we really don't want to be there. I woke up this morning feeling heavy in my heart. I was thinking about the millions of people who deal with IF and just felt...sad. I thought about it being a Monday morning, the start of a new week, and how I am no closer to my goal of having a family than I was in November 2010 when we started trying. That's not entirely true, I guess I've learned a lot. But I've never been pregnant and I don't have a baby. That was my goal three years ago. I started counting my frustrations and feeling panicked about not having a tangible plan and then I stopped myself and asked:

How can I be where I am even if I REALLY don't want to be here?

I don't totally know. But I'm trying. Here's what I did this morning:

1) I thought about all the things that we're bothering me and I let the worries and the frustrations swell like a tidal wave. I acknowledged the presence of all this crap and all the years of crap I'm trying not to resent, and then I imagined that wave crash against the sand and become calm. I said, "Good morning" to my baggage and checked it.

2) I sat up and tried to meditate for 15 minutes, and all that meant for me was I tried to take deep breaths. I felt like I couldn't breathe when I woke up, like there were paper weights in my lungs or something, so I sat and breathed and just focused on the air going in and coming out.

3) Hubs brought me a cup of tea and I have been doing a little mindfulness practice, noticing the heat, the taste, the smell. Feeling grateful for him that he does this for me almost every morning. 

4) Then I realized I can run, but I can't hide. I'm going to be wherever I am, so I have to just embrace it. I can remind myself I won't always be in this space, in this place in my life, but I am now. If I can fully learn to sit with it I'll be better off. 

So that's where I'm at this Monday morning. Learning more about patience and acceptance (I'm going to have  PhD in those subjects very soon!). Trying to find gratitude and perspective. Remembering nothing stays the same forever and that this chapter will one day end and a new one will begin. Sending so much love to all those in a place they don't want to be. 

Appreciating life

My uncle died a year ago today. Maybe it was yesterday, but it was about a year ago that he went into the hospital with heart issues and never came out. He was in his early 60's and was such a sweet, sweet man. Always fun loving and goofing around--I can still hear the sound of his laughter if I close my eyes tight enough and imagine. He was a present focused man--very "live in the now." 

He died the same week our first set of embryos died a slow non- cell dividing death in their petri dish. One year ago. 

Today, Noah and I are going to spend some time with my family, eating my uncle's favorite foods and remembering him. We're going to remind ourselves of the absolute miracle it is to be born and the gift it is to be alive. Even when it feels like I'm drowning or that my heart is shattering into a thousand pieces I still have to remember that I'm still here on this earth, and that makes me lucky. 

In addition to honoring my uncle's memory today, I'm also going to send some thoughts into the universe for our little embryos that never came to be. It is strange to mourn the loss of something that never was, but to me, those three Junior Mints (as I affectionately referred to them) were our first hopes for a family. I was really broken after they didn't make it. I didn't know that was even a possibility, for them to fertilize but not divide. It was the first time I realized that there are no rules on IF Island. There is no such thing as fair or meant to be. It was a harsh entry into this land where hope and disappointment are two sides of the same coin and what side you land on is complete chance. 

There is a lot of loss in life. There are a lot of things we wish for that never come to be. There are times when it feels like the bad news will never end, and times when we think we just can't handle another slice of darkness. But there is also a lot of light in life. There's a lot of love and a lot of laughter. There's beauty and there's calm. There's the sound of your favorite song and the cozy feeling of fleece socks against cold toes. There's the delicious taste of fresh squeezed juice and the sweetness of a loved one's smile. There's the smell of fresh laundry and fresh baked cookies. There's so much to live for and appreciate. Sometimes we have to wipe away the tears and clear our noses and crawl out of our beds to fully experience it. 

Today I'm going to remember people that I no longer have and I'm going to appreciate the ones I do have. I'm going to remember the experience of having no embryos to transfer during our first IVF cycle and I'm going to remember happy times I spent with my uncle. It's all so bitter sweet. And that's life, right? The good, the bad, the ugly, the confusing, the bizarre. That's life.

Wishing all of you out there on the Island a little sweetness today. Hoping you all find something beautiful to appreciate, even if you're in a moment of extreme darkness. 

Good Egg Hunting

It's funny how differently I see people now, especially women. I no longer pay much attention to what a gal is doing or saying, her clothes or her shoes (I feel like shoes kind of say a lot about a person). I just focus on whether this person would make a good baby with my husband. Sounds totally perverse, right? 

At yoga class, I think, ohhhh, she seems healthy and has great skin, I wonder how old she is? At the market, hmmmmm, she's got a great smile and looks around 20, she'd make a great baby with Noah. It's crazy! I never thought I'd be standing in line waiting to pay for blueberries and checking out women who would make good babies with my husband! Never say never right?!

It's a strange thing when nothing seems strange anymore. I was thinking about all the different levels of letting go that has to happen before a person can laugh at their situation. There is NOTHING funny about infertility, but there are times when finding some humor can really help. And the ability to let go is absolutely imperative.

I've had to let go of conceiving naturally, of thinking my family would happen at a certain time in a certain way. I've had to let go of what that family may end up looking like, and I've had to let go of my own biology. I've been trying to let go of the past experiences, of the anger and sadness and losses. I've been working on letting go of the sound of my doctor's voice saying the word "unfortunately," and the sound of my own hysterical tears. I've had to let go of ideas of what could have been and what should have been. I have to still let go of feeling like no matter what happens now I'm somehow "behind" the developmental milestones of all my friends. I've had to let go of the money spent and the current limitations of our financial situation. I've had to let go of thinking I have any control over this. I've had to let go of the unfairness of living on IF Island for so long. 

When I'm able to let go and free myself of the past disappointments and the present expectations, I can really be open. I can be more open to the idea that we will have a baby, it may just look nothing like either one of us. I can be open to the additional people who may come into our lives as a result of a baby that doesn't start out with pieces of our DNA. I can be more open to the time it may take. I can be open to the idea that a family is a group of people who love each other, and a baby is a little miraculous person with tiny fingers and toes. 

I'm not saying I'm open all the time, nor am I claiming to have totally let go of all my...stuff. But the more I can try to open my heart and my mind to my story unfolding, the better I feel. I can then look at our options with an open mind so we can figure out the next game plan without panic or anger. 

Wishing all those with heavy hearts and minds some peace and love and openess this weekend. 

Never Say Never

It's hard to see the light at the end of the dark tunnel sometimes, and it often feels like there is no way things are going to work out. I've felt that, most people on IF Island have felt that at some point. It sucks. One thing I've done to help convince myself that there is in fact a light out there, some where, even if it's a tiny speck, is to remind myself never to say never.

I was once guilty of being a "never/always" gal. After some procedure didn't work out (notice how I'm refraining from the word failure?) I would find myself feeling and saying, "This is NEVER going to work out, I'm NEVER going to have a baby!" While this statement felt true, and even now sometimes feels true, I remind myself that it isn't. Never is a strong word, as is always. They are both so definite and I'm finding that things in life often aren't that definite (notice how I'm using the word "often" and "sometimes" a lot?). 

Sometimes never is true. I will never be 5'8" and have nice legs. Fact. 

I will never...gosh. It's actually hard to come up with true NEVER scenarios! The thoughts that just ran through my mind were: I will never perform open heart surgery on myself, followed by the counter thought that maybe one day I'll get into a plane crash and be one of two survivors. If the other survivor happens to be a heart surgeon whose legs are pinned under the plane and can't get to me, perhaps he/she will talk me through a procedure that can save my own life. Yup. All that just went through my head just now. So did, I'll never kill an animal with my bare hands but then I thought what if I'm stranded on an island and some scary beast tries to attack me and I have to defend myself with a homemade sword and kill the beast!? Then I thought, I'll never be a blond, followed by, maybe I should reinvent myself in the new year? Maybe not.

Never is really hard!

I hear people say, "I'll never be pregnant," and I feel that way sometimes too. And it may be true for some. There may be a physical reason why a pregnancy can't happen, and that is a huge loss. But it may take re-framing our goals to reestablish what we really want. If it's a family or a baby we want, we can get that. If the most important thing is to be a parent, it can happen. We just have to get creative.

I found myself thinking that I'm never going to have a biological child. I've been letting go of my biology for a while, because I've had to in order to move towards our goal of having a baby and a family. It's sad but I've let it go. But in my heart I don't think I'm never going to have a biological child. I think I am. Perhaps I'm totally delusional and perhaps it actually won't happen for me, but I truly believe that one day, Noah and I may be able to rub our parts together the old fashioned way and make a baby. I just do. I've been told my ovarian reserve is nil, my AMH is undetectable, the eggs are crap. Fine. But the body changes. Life changes. Things may be possible. We all have to believe that. And if there really is a definite never (again, I will never be 5'8") then we have to find our own solution (a pair of 3" stilettos).

I know the loses of what our body can and can't do is devastating. I know sometimes it feels like we will NEVER get off this Island or that we will ALWAYS be stuck in this life situation we didn't chose and wouldn't wish upon our worst enemy, but remember things change. 

Things ALWAYS change, eventually, and things NEVER stay exactly the same. 

I heart retrospect

One day, either this will all make sense, or we'll be able to look back and say, "remember when..." Retrospect is a beautiful thing in that regard. It creates our past and allows for a different perspective in our present. That's the beauty of life and time. It keeps moving forward. And with this forward movement we are left with no choice but to learn how to cope with uncomfortable feelings. How to sit with or lean into the crappy parts and how to fully enjoy the good times. 

Over the past few years I've been learning to just be with whatever situation or feeling is present. It's a difficult thing to do, because when you feel like you're up Shits Creek without a paddle, all you want to do is swim out of there. Find an escape, flag down a rescue boat, drink enough of whatever to help you feel numb to the fact that your floating along these nasty waters. If you start to sink, yes, muscle your way out. GET OUT however you can. But if you happen to just be sitting there looking out onto a sea of confused nothingness, learning to just be with it and be okay with all the feelings that come with being at this place may help you eventually find clarity. The more I can accept our path and what has happened and how I feel, the better I am at coming to terms and then calmly and creatively thinking about a solution. Can I build a paddle out of a tree branch? Can I signal the Loch Ness monster to swim by and carry me to shore so I can look back at our little rubber dinghy and think, "huh, I'm glad I'm not there any more." 

I think we have to allow a little time and space for our feelings to simmer, and I think it's important to really sit with them. Invite the feelings, however painful, to take their course so we can process them and then let some of it go. Then we can wipe our eyes, uncurl our fists, and approach the next step with courage and clarity. It's not easy, but it's doable. Maybe not today, perhaps tomorrow.

Wishing much love to all those out there floating on their own rubber dinghy. May we find the strength to be present with our hurt so we can eventually  find a way to shore.

Now what?

Noah and I keep trying to have the Now What conversation, but we can't. We try, but just end up looking at each other blank faced, and then I bake something, and then we stuff our faces. How do couples decide what to do next? How do couples who are not on the same page get on the same page? How do you trust your gut when your gut has been injected with drugs and totally compromised by desperation?

Those are the questions I'm proposing this Tuesday morning. So far, we've moved forward based on a strategic decision tree that we constructed last year. Its got arrows and "if not, then" categories. Our plan had a baby by now and just teeters off with, "sell all our stuff and flee the country," at this point. We never thought we'd be here, at this crossroad, with no road ahead of us.  We're two dummies holding shovels, looking at a mound of dirt!

So now what? Start digging? Hope we find a path underneath this pile? Hope our gut instincts start speaking to us again? Yeah. Pretty much. 

So we'll just start digging. Maybe we'll find something we didn't expect, maybe the road will start to form and we'll gain new energy towards our goal. That's the hope.

Runaway Train

It kind of feels like Noah and I were just thrown from a runaway train that has been circling IF Island for years. It was slightly comforting to be inside the railroad car, knowing that even though the train was clearly off the tracks we at least had a conductor and a little shelter from the storm outside. Now we're standing in the bushes in the middle of nowhere wondering what just happened and how we're going to find our way out.

We were hoping that train would eventually stop and let us off at some clearing in the forest that led to a campsite full of happy families. But that wasn't where our train was headed. So instead, it's just the two of us once again, with Noah's trusty headlamp and my terrible sense of directions. 

What I do know is that we've gotten out of major jams before. I know we can make some sweet ass lemonade out of sour lemons, and that Noah is always able to keep me warm. I know if we have to make a decision between sink or swim, we're going to swim as hard as we can. And that if I don't feel like swimming, Noah will drag me to shore by my hair if he has to. And that's how you survive being pushed off a runaway train on IF Island. 

We may need to wander a bit to get our bearings. We may need to huddle under a tree for a few more days until we don't feel scared anymore. But eventually we'll start navigating our way to some place different. It may not be exactly what we wanted or where we hoped to end up, but it won't be here. 

We watched a documentary a few days ago on happiness and a quote from a psychology professor, Richard J. Davidson, stood out to me. He said, "One of the key ingredients to happiness is being able to recover from adversity more quickly." I think that's something Noah and I have been learning more than anything over these past few years. How to bounce back. 

So we'll bounce back soon and eventually find the next path we will travel down. Until then we'll work on our lemonade recipe and keep each other warm.

Post BFN Trauma Disorder (PBFNTD)

I'd like to propose a new category of trauma to the new DSM-V. I know I'm a little late in this proposal as the new DSM has already hit the shelves, but there's got to be some way to make Post BFN Trauma Disorder legit.

Because going through these cycles and getting repeated BFN's is TRAUMATIC! 

Case in point, there are symptoms of re-experiencing or re-living the awful moment of getting that phone call, of all that has led up to the phone call, of the intense anxiety waiting for that phone call. And of course the horrible flashback of the nurse saying, "Your beta was a negative, sorry. Have a nice weekend!" HAVE A NICE WEEKEND? 

There are symptoms of avoiding--avoiding certain things, people, social situations, body types (the ones with round bellies) that are reminders of the traumatic experience you've just endured. This kind of avoidance can lead to feelings of isolation and detachment...ummmm...sound familiar?

There are symptoms of "increased arousal" like crying uncontrollably, having anger outbursts, irritability and any other "excessive emotions," like the deep paralyzing fear that a family may never happen for you or the feeling of utter despair because you don't know what to do next and your body and bank account have limited your options.

There can be nightmares and intrusive thoughts, and moments of feeling totally numb. There can be distorted blame, persistent negative beliefs and expectations about oneself or the world. There can be alienation and problems concentrating. There can be physical symptoms, like feeling jittery or totally exhausted all the time.   

I think it's pretty legit. Being on IF Island is like being exposed to a chronic and persistent traumatic situation. You become totally addicted to the hope that some medical intervention is going to get you off the Island, and that hope becomes  the obsession. When that hope fails you, all seems lost. 

It's absolutely traumatic. And the trauma and feelings after a BFN are normal and make sense for the situation. But they aren't fun.

After my last BFN in August I think I was in total shock. I quickly made peace with what happened and was a little too zen about the whole thing. Maybe in the back of my head I knew we had the Lone Ranger sitting in the freezer, maybe I was in shock. But about two weeks after the bad news I had a total breakdown, as if I were hearing about it for the first time. HOW COULD THIS NOT WORK?!! It was a delayed response. Being aware of some of these things this second time around is helpful, but I must say I'm not sure where this is all headed for me.

It's a really personal experience for sure and people go through it differently. In the end we have to find ways to take care of ourselves and each other. Writing and talking about it seems to help me, because there is this moment where my present direct experience suddenly becomes the past. "We tried again, and it didn't work." Past tense. Behind me. 

This morning I woke up not looking like an amateur boxer, the way I did yesterday morning. That was good. I hardly cried yesterday and I'm not sure if it hasn't totally hit me yet or if I'm actually ok.  Time will tell. In the mean time, I'll wait for my boobs to deflate from the progesterone and Noah and I will try to come up with a list of options we have left (probably written on a post-it). 

If and when my feelings...hit the fan, as they say, I'll know it's part of the deal here and that I have to make an extra effort to be good to myself. 

The Morning After

The morning after a BFN has some similarities to other "Mornings After," in that you wake up feeling a little confused, you don't really know what just happened, and all you want to do is get the hell out of the situation. Oh, you also have a raging headache and wish you could hit the rewind button.

But this kind of morning after is also different. At least for me, because I don't feel embarrassed and I don't have regrets. Well, that's not entirely true. I regret that certain experiences turned out the way they did, but I don't know if that's really something I can regret. I regret that my sister spent her summer going through the IVF process with us because it was a lot to ask from her and it was painful for all of us, but I don't regret that we did it, if that makes sense. We can't regret things based on the end result. We knew we had to try donor eggs with her and what she showed us we the meaning of generosity, love, and family in a way that not many other sibling sets get to experience. So I guess regret isn't the right word, I'm sad that she went through all that she did and that in the end we had nothing to show for it. 

Every step of the process has been about making the best choice from a handful of crappy choices, and while the various IVF's and IUI's have given me nothing more than an extra 10 pounds around my belly, I don't regret trying. We had to try. We had to dive in head first, because this was our shot. I can only look back and know we did everything, EVERYTHING we could to make a baby the way we were being told we could, and it didn't work. No regrets. 

What I've learned is that I have more strength and determination than I ever imagined. I've learned a new language and met a new group of incredible people who are surviving this madness every day. I've learned that I have the best family in the world and the most patient, loving,  and supportive husband. I've learned that even though our baby hopes just fell apart at the seams, I actually am very lucky.

So we'll take the weekend to cry it out. In the 13 years Noah and I have been together I have waken up before him a total of four times, so the fact that I'm up and he's still in bed is a signal that he is totally exhausted from all of this. Totally, and utterly beat down. Eventually we will get back up and count what we have left. Unfortunately, it isn't much, but it isn't nothing. It's pretty close to nothing, but not nothing.

So I'll make a big cup of coffee, the caffeinated kind, and go to yoga, and slowly we'll pick up the pieces of our lives and put it back together again. Wishing all who are going through this much strength, and sending thanks to everyone for the kind words of support.

And so it goes...

And sometimes things work out for the positive.

And sometimes things don't.

And sometimes it feels like things happen for a reason.

And sometimes it doesn't.

And sometimes you win.

And sometimes you lose.

And sometime you smile.

And sometimes you cry.

And sometimes your heart breaks again, even when it's already being held together with super glue and duct tape and you can't imagine it breaking into any more pieces.

And sometimes life is fair.

And sometimes it's not. 

And sometimes you want something so badly you think it's bound to happen, because there is no other way.

And sometimes even then you come up empty handed.

And that's life.

That's our life.

We came up empty handed. Again.

We so appreciate all of your support and love and good thoughts, but sadly the saga continues.

Waiting for beta...

Here's us this morning on our way to draw blood at the doc. There really is nothing left to say. I think we've officially lost our minds. 

 

T'was the Night before beta...

T'was the night before beta and all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.

All fingers were crossed, all prayers had been said,

Yet Maya and Noah could not go to bed.

They tossed and they turend and thought, "Could this be it?"

Were they finally going to get out of this pit?

They'd spent three long years patiently trying,

Maya was ready to finally stop crying!

They felt lots of doubt, they'd been here before,

Another BFN would be such a bore!

Whatever happened, they knew they'd be okay,

But they hoped that Lone Ranger was here to stay.

So Noah got close to Maya's round tummy,

And begged the Lone Ranger to make Maya a Mummy.

They kissed goodnight, and hoped for a good dream,

They felt so much gratitude for all on their team.

And tomorrow they'll know if a miracle took place,

So that 9 months from now they can see their baby's face.

With much thanks and much love to all in this fight,

Sending good luck and good vibes and of course a good night.

 

Hubs guest post: Patiently Waiting with Patience

Maya asked me to write another guest blog. I’m starting to feel like I’m writing too much, though. Dear reader, I still want our interactions to feel special and I want you to notice when I’m not around. But one more note couldn’t hurt.

As we await the upcoming beta test to find out whether or not we are taking the next step towards our family (or two steps back), the word that keeps popping up for me is “patience.” I am, by nature, a patient person. My wife, by nature and in practice, is not. And, like it or not, this stumble through the harsh jungles of infertility is not a “I get what I want and I want it now” sort of endeavor. It is, in fact, an excruciating lesson in patience and staying focused on what is important.

Time spent dealing with infertility is like a rubber band. It has a way of expanding (how many times have you uttered, “I can’t believe we’ve been going through treatments for this long”) and contracting (shots and injections every day at the exact same time), sometimes feeling like it is going in both directions at once. The quality you must exhibit, aside from other things like faith and humor, is patience. You take each day as it comes, each injection as it stings, and each phone call as it delivers disappointing news. You do this and you are patient because, in the end, you will have your baby. It may not happen tomorrow or in nine months. It may not even come from you body. Point is, we will all find our finish line. And as long as our goal is to have a family, we will make it happen, one way or another. It is that end that will keep you patient, keep you dedicated when the numbers aren’t right or the test comes back negative.

I’m trying to manage my expectations for the end of this week. I feel like we’ve been knocked down time and again and there are moments when it doesn’t seem like it’s worth getting up and trying any more. But I’m thinking positive thoughts. I’m telling my wife I love her every five minutes. I’m even taking out the trash without being asked. OK, sometimes she has to remind me. “I’m trying. Please be patient with me,” I tell her.

To Pee or Not To Pee

That is the question. I've been reading about this topic of taking a home pregnancy test (hpt) on different blogs and message boards (many of them found on this incredible resource/blog list known as "the Stirrup Queen's Completely Anal List of Blogs That Proves That She Really Missed Her Calling as a Personal Organizer" at http://www.stirrup-queens.com/a-whole-lot-of-blogging-brought-to-you-sorted-and-filed/). 

What I've found is that a lot of people test their pee WAY before their beta hcg blood test, and many people get positive results as early as 5 days past 5 day transfer aka 5dp5dt. I had NO IDEA hcg would show up so early in pee (granted some of these women transferred multiple embryos and may have multiple babies), but still. I am now 10dp6dt and last night I asked Noah about taking a test. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Do you think we should take a pregnancy test or not?

Noah: No.

Me: Why? If we test and it's positive then we can feel a little relief going into the beta, feeling more confident. If it's negative, we can start preparing to process that this didn't work, again, and we can know it was still maybe too early to detect and have some hope left for the blood test?

Noah: No.

Me: WHY? I have two left over pregnancy tests, granted one is expired (how sad) and one is a super cheap one, but we can just use what we have left and then that's it.

Noah: I don't think it's a good idea.

Me: BUT WHY NOT? Don't you see...If I'm holding to the idea that it's either going to work or it's not, then we can't believe we are going to jinx something, if that's what you're thinking.

Noah: That's not what I'm thinking.

Me: Well, what are you thinking?

Noah's raised right eyebrow: You really want to know what I'm thinking?

My bug-eyed annoyed face: Yeah!

Noah: I'm thinking you really aren't asking for my opinion, you are telling me why you are planning on doing this so that when you're crying because it's negative or wondering if it's a false positive because the tests are cheap or from last year, I'm going to have to talk you off a ledge! I don't feel like playing that game, again! Have you met you? You think you're going to take a test and whatever the result it just be satisfied? How are you going to hold it together at work for the next two days? Friday we will know. We will be together to get the news. That's what I think.

Me (walking away): Geeze. Who asked you anyway.

Noah: YOU DID!

Sooo....that was the To Pee or Not To Pee discussion. As you can see, we're at a bit of a standstill. It's only a few more days I suppose, but it feels like it's taking forever! 

When I opened my computer this morning Noah sent me this hysterical video with the subject, "This is what we want?!"

Yup. This is what we want. 

Monday Morning Meditation

I haven't been able to do my physical yoga practice at all during this 2ww, so this morning I decided to do a different form of yoga, meditation. I go back and forth with meditating, mainly because being still and quieting my mind are hard, and watching back-to-back episodes of Master Chef is easy. Sometimes it's okay to take the easy way out, but other times it's important to find discipline. Within that discipline eventually comes a quieter mind and a less obsession, so I got up this morning, lit a candle, rang my little gong bell thing, and started breathing.

I usually start my meditation with a body scan. Starting at the top of my head I kind of let my concentration move from head to feet, as if I'm slowly pouring warm water over myself to put out the fires in my brain and relax the rest of my body. 

Today, I did that, and then focused on my heart. Imagining it as that white lotus I envisioned when I saw that shaman. And then I did what some people think of as a compassion meditation, thinking about all the people out there on IF Island who are suffering along with me. I thought about new friends who have shared their stories, one in particular who is going in for her FET on Wednesday. I thought about all the people who have had losses, who heard their baby's heart beat one day but not the next. I thought about everyone who has been disappointed by their body, and anyone who has made sacrifices to enter the very elite world of assisted reproductive technologies. I thought about people who have had their babies grow in another woman's belly, and people who've had to beg, borrow and steal parts of DNA to make their family whole. I thought about a good friend who had a still birth, and another couple we know who lost a baby to SIDS. I thought about all the parents, my parents, who have to watch their own children suffer so much to try and make a family. I thought about the single women on IF Island, who don't have a partner to hold their hand at doctor's appointments, and people who live in countries where third party reproduction is against the law. I thought about people who came close to adoption, only to have it fall through. I thought about the pain of just getting an infertility "diagnosis," whatever that even means, and about going through a medical condition, like cancer, and then having to go through infertility. I thought about all the husband's who can feel completely helpless, and all the wives who may feel broken. I thought about the men with male factor infertility and how they especially suffer in silence. I thought about all the gals who went through all this madness and are now pregnant and about people who eventually decided or are in the process of deciding to live child-free. I thought about all the friends and family members who don't know what to say and about anyone who has felt isolated and alone. I thought about people in the 2ww and people in the post IVF heartbreak. I know meditating is supposed to quell the thoughts, but this was different. I thought about all these people (did I miss anyone?) and I sent them love. I sent a wish that their suffering and heartache would eventually dissipate, and that they could soon find their family, whatever that may look like. I sent compassion and a hope for healing out into the world, and back into myself and my Lone Ranger knowing that though much of life involves suffering, there is also a lot of joy.

I hope this isn't too spiritually heavy on a Monday morning. But I am thinking off all the incredible people out there who have gone through and continue to go through so much to find their baby. 

I found a quote from one of my favorite Buddhist monks, Thich Nhat Hanh.

"The seed of suffering in you may be strong, but don't wait until you have no more suffering before allowing yourself to be happy." 

May everyone allow themselves to be happy, even for a moment, even in a shit storm. Sending so much love and respect and hope to everyone. 

Sending a little love for the Sunday Blahs

Noah keeps asking me what's wrong because my face looks like I'm sucking on lemons. My eyebrows are like two caterpillars making their way towards each other, and I kind of can't help it. 

Nothing is wrong, everything is wrong, I don't know anymore! 

I believe that the longer a person is on IF Island the more attuned they become to every single physical and emotional sensation. This is just a theory with no scientific base, but it sometimes feels as if my emotions are like some insane French mime making a different crazy face every 30 seconds. I feel each expression as if it were real and because it's all moving at super speed, and eventually I just feel tired. That's how much of the week has been. Poor Noah, he now enters whatever room I'm in with such caution. But he's been very sweet which really helps. Husbands should NOT under estimate the value of nodding at a crazy request and simply validating the thought or feeling, however irrational!

(That's my selfie of the day)

Hormones much?

The weather?

The dull ache of waiting to find out if my ticket off this friggin' island has finally arrived?

I've been kind of a maniac for the past few days and now have crashed a little, just taking it easy. I think Noah misinterprets the quiet calm as a sign he should start boarding up the windows because something BIG is coming. All I know is I'm fine right now. I swear. My face doesn't necessarily show it, but I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is really right. Everything just is. And sometimes that's ok. Sometimes not really thinking much about anything or doing much of anything is ok. Contrary to the rule of this Island, we don't always have to feel super happy or super sad, right?

I woke up this morning and knew I was going to have a scrunchy face for no apparent reason, and that was that. Should I fight it and try to get out into the day and do something fun? Maybe. Should I just let it be and have a quiet day filled with yummy foods and cozy socks...perhaps. How we each want to deal with the very volatile issue that is the ever changing mood of a given moment is a very personal choice. Learning to be compassionate and patient with ourselves is what's most important. 

Wishing all those husbands and significant others out there much strength and patience. And wishing anyone on IF Island with a case of the Sunday Blahs a little love.

2WW has officially become a 1WW

The weeks go by whether you're having fun or not, so might as well have the most fun possible I suppose. Part of what has been really fun for me is obsessing on TTC message boards about possible "symptoms" during the 2ww, of which I have none. Well, I have had a slight tightness on the left side of my belly which, could very well be gas because I also have gas, which I have not found in my research to be a pregnancy symptom. I have been having some vivid dreams though, the last one being about running up a jungle gym with no pants on trying to hit bad guys with various stuffed animals from my childhood. Oh, and I did have another dream the other night that I was pregnant but it was with my sister's egg and our friend's sperm and everyone was crying and upset that it worked because our friend regretted giving us sperm and Noah and I were like, "why did we do that?"...it was a hot mess. Really strange and I woke up with a weird feeling.

This morning Noah woke up chipper and said he had a "good dream." He has a less insane psyche than I do so I was glad to hear his dream involved a glimpse of a possible future that was positive, but he won't let me share it because he's become a little superstitious. Good dreams are better than bad dreams. That's all I'll say.

I knew a gal who went through IVF and it didn't work out the first round. She did it again and PGD tested the embryos and in the end had two normal embryos, a boy and a girl. By transfer day she and her husband were told that only the girl was developing and the boy embryo had arrested, or whatever they call it when it seems to stop developing. The night before the transfer her husband had a dream that they had a son, and when they went in for transfer he insisted the doctor put both embryos in. Hesitantly, the doctor did, and they got pregnant and now have a beautiful, brilliant, healthy boy. 

I don't know what my point here is really other than I'm going to try and clear up my unconscious mind as much as possible, and keep dreaming. Wishing that everyones dreams come true, unless you're chasing bad guys with no pants and a bag of decrepit stuffed animals. 

Pre FET video post...thinking of pizza

Finally we have a short clip of last Saturday's FET. Well, it's in the waiting room before the procedure. We figured we didn't need to show the actual procedure again because we have footage of that first transfer video here if you haven't seen it already. It was way more magical than the second time around anyway. More people, more excitement, more embryos. 

But this last transfer felt like Noah and I were really just in it to win it together. We were giving it our all and felt like we had nothing to lose. Lone Ranger was kind of our bonus embryo. We had nothing on day 5 and he plumped up on day 6 giving us one more shot. 

What I appreciate most about this scene is how VERY different Noah and I are, and I thank my lucky stars for that every day. I know when I'm obsessing and over thinking things during the remainder of this 2WW I can just ask Noah what he thinks about something and my brain will be stopped in its tracks and refocused on something way less complicated...