Tag Archives: secondary infertility

Life After IVF: 1 year after birth

13 Monday Jan 2020

Posted by in Life After IVF

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My second, and last, IVF baby turns one year old this week. And I’m feeling all the feels. It’s been a whirlwind of diaper changes, marathon nursing sessions, little sleep, cries, smiles, and firsts. I stare at my baby and my heart overflows with love. And as most say, I can’t believe it’s already been a year. Where has the time gone?

For once, my time has not gone to injections, doctor appointments, acupuncture sessions, or healing from surgeries and egg retrievals. Not once have I researched fertility supplements, ERA test implications,  methods for managing inflammation, or the merits and risks of PGS testing. I have not ordered, mixed, or recycled any medications or related paraphernalia. I have not lost sleep, nor daytime hours, to the all-consuming anxiety of pinning over the welfare of my embryos. I have not missed or rescheduled work meetings, or pretended that I knew what someone was saying when my mind was so very far away. I have not touched a pregnancy test.

My stomach and rear are free from bruises. My mornings do not involve intimate moments with an ultrasound wand and paper sheet. When I cry,  it’s from feeling overwhelmed in the moment – not from feeling like my heart has been ripped out of my chest once again. I think there are even whole days that go by where I don’t think about IVF even once.

How strange this is, given how much IVF used to consume my entire being?

So while I navigate being a mom of two littles, I’m also forging a new me. I know how lucky I am to be on the other side of IVF with two healthy daughters. So many don’t get here and my heart aches for them. Still, there is no denying how much my experience with infertility has changed me. I know I’m not the same person who decided to start trying for a baby nine years ago. And sure, who really is the same that they were almost a decade ago, infertility or not? But infertility took a spontaneous, fun-loving, spirited, energetic, somewhat naïve, newly minted Ph.D. graduate and changed the course of her path 180 degrees.

Now, I am more calculating, cautious, introverted, and serious. I have fewer friends. I miss parts of me that I’ve lost along the way, the parts that used to laugh more. I’m also braver, stronger, and a better advocate for myself. I know more about reproduction and the conditions that impact fertility than I ever thought I would. Likely more than my OB/GYN. I know I can handle more than I ever thought I could. I can ask for help, and I can help myself.

While the trauma of infertility is dulled now, having left most of it in the past, a touch of it lingers on. It will always be a part of who I am now. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Again, I know I’m one of the lucky ones that found the golden egg. Twice. And that also colors my perspective. So for me, I will always identify as “infertile with kids,” which I know will sound strange to many. But to those of us who have walked this path, we understand.

Happy birthday little one, from your Mom who loves you with her whole heart.

 

Pregnant After Infertility: IVF reflections and the needle shot

17 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by in Pregnancy After Infertility, Uncategorized

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PicsArt_09-17-02.02.50I saved my IVF needles. All of them. That’s a total of 6 egg retrievals, 2 fresh transfers, 2 frozen transfers, and 2 mock cycles. Some people, including probably everyone who has never gone through IVF, would think I’m a bit nuts for holding on to all these needles. But it’s oddly hard to part with something that you’ve put so much of yourself into. Something that symbolizes an experience, or maybe a part of you.

I even have my needles from my very first IVF cycle over 4 years ago – the one that brought me my feisty daughter. At that time I think it was just feeling a bit overwhelmed that kept me from taking the time to bring them back to my RE’s office for disposal. I didn’t have any grand plans for them. But this second time around, I did. I kept the needles from each cycle in a separate sharps container. I envisioned making one of those IVF baby announcements one day when it finally worked. You know, the cute pictures where all the needles are arranged in the shape of a heart with care, surrounding baby’s first ultrasound picture. Maybe a onsie or booties, too. I was so hopeful back then, and it made me smile every time I saw one of those pictures.

But as my failed cycles piled up, so did my needles. The idea that once symbolized optimism and success, morphed into something quite different. Now I have a giant pile of needles. I’m actually missing about 80 percent of my Gonal F pens because my nurse would discard them when I’d bring them in for her to combine the tails to get me an extra dose or 2 of meds. My pile began to feel chaotic as one cycle blurred into the next. The FET that finally worked consisted of 2 embryos from 2 different egg retrievals; I lost track of which sharps containers led to which of these embryos.

I’m left with a big pile of needles and no desire to shape them into something pretty.

Why did I keep these needles? Because when I look at this pile on my table I see my pain and strength. I see determination and perseverance. Countless hours spent crying in the arms of my loved ones, and even more spent crying alone in the bathroom when no one knew. Friendships fading away, while unexpected ones blossomed when I needed them most. Miracles. I see isolation and connection. The highs and lows that no one really understands unless you’ve walked in my shoes. Failure and success. Baddassery (especially when I self administered my first PIO shot). Luck – sometimes good, sometimes bad. I see hours of research and hard decisions made. Coping skills executed and eventually exhausted. Asking for help, and helping myself. Enduring more than I thought I could, and then a little bit more. Making a healthy decision of when to stop and finding peace with that. The emotional, spiritual, and physical tolls. Pride in myself. Somewhere along the way, infertility became a part of who I am. It is not all of who I am, but it has challenged and changed me in ways I never anticipated. And I’m different now. Oddly, I wouldn’t change that.

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Me and my almost 4 year old IVF baby and 17 weeks pregnant with my second IVF girl.

If all goes well, I will be a mom to 2 daughters. Yet in my mind, I will always be infertile. Despite the failures, I got the outcome that we all hope for. I am so very blessed. And, well, really I think I’m just lucky.

An Unlikely Outcome to an Unlikely FET

22 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by in FET #2 (after IVF #6)

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Yesterday was beta day. I didn’t even bother taking the day off of work because I was prepared for the outcome. I basically expected this to fail, again. After all, it was an unlikely FET. The fall seems a little less painful when you set your expectations so low. In fact, in the days leading up to beta day I really wasn’t even anxious. My husband was a nervous wreck, but he had high hopes. I’d just smile kindly at him and think to myself, “you poor, sweet fool.”

So I decided to go first thing in the morning for the blood draw, then do my PIO shot, and only after I got all of that out of the way, then I planned on taking a home pregnancy test (hpt). Women who take hpt’s and get negatives, but still have to go through all the motions until the confirmation beta must be made of steel.  I just can’t imagine going for a blood draw and taking meds if I already knew it was a bust. Still, by doing the hpt after all that, I at least save myself the dreaded all day wait for the nurse to call to deliver the results. Plus, as I learned from my last cycle, this method allows me to get the news on my own terms rather than from an awkward nurse who isn’t quite sure how to break it to me. I’ve had enough of those awkward nurse calls, thank you very much.  

It was a long 3 minutes waiting for that hpt. Seriously, how can 3 minutes take that long?! After waiting in another room for the seconds to crawl by like a dying snail in the sun, I went in to see the test. I couldn’t believe my eyes. For the first time ever, there were 2 lines. And they were nice dark lines. OMG!

My hands were shaking so bad as I picked up the test and tried to use my phone to tell my husband. I sent pictures of the miracle test to the people who are close to us that have been supporting us all along. These are the few people I would tell regardless of the outcome. I prefaced each text with, “don’t get to excited yet, but…”. Because I wanted people to stay calm and rational about this. No one did, of course, but I guess really I’m just trying to keep myself calm.

I waited 4.5 hours for the nurse to call with my beta results. It seemed like a whole day at least. And I finally got good news. My HCG was 365. A solid number. I had a moment of relief.

To my confusion, my clinic recently changed the way they do betas, so they weren’t planning on doing a second beta until a week from now. Honestly, I don’t get that since the doubling time is more important than one number. But I guess it’s because they are doing them later now, rather than earlier (mine was 12 days past a 5 day transfer, which is like 17 days past ovulation), so if you have a good HCG level at this point they are less worried about it, I guess. I’m not less worried though, so I asked the nurse for a sooner beta. She agreed and said I could do another on Friday, which is 4 days later. I’m sure I’ll hate myself for asking for this come Friday morning, but hopefully by the afternoon I’ll have a little more reassurance.

So here I sit, pregnant. I’m still in shock. The beautiful hpt is still sitting on my desk a day later. I don’t know what to do with it, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away. It was very hard won. It’s like gold. Maybe I’ll take it for a walk later or pet it. I never had one of these with my first IVF pregnancy because I was so traumatized by years of negative tests that I was simply too scared to take a hpt, even after my positive beta.

Despite the shock though, somewhere inside of me is a calm. It’s the same underlying calmness that I felt during my pregnancy with my first IVF baby 4 years ago. I had that calm despite 2 rather large bleeds that were reminiscent of crime scenes due to a nasty subchorionic hematoma early on in that pregnancy. It’s a calm that says, “everything is going to be okay,” despite the statistics that might suggest otherwise. If I let my analytical mind begin to stir, I start mulling over miscarriage statistics for my age, and panic starts to pound in my chest. So I’ve decided to simply be irrational and not think at all during these next weeks. Is that possible?

One thing I do know for a fact is that worrying will not change the outcome, it will only make me miserable in the process. So I’m making the conscious decision to trust that calm wave that’s flowing through me right now. Maybe it’s my intuition telling me that everything really will work out. Maybe it’s hope sneaking in. Maybe it’s completely irrational. Whatever it is, I’m going to go with it. Otherwise I’m not sure how I’d survive the next 4 days.

Of course, this may be easier said then done. Must. Stop. Thinking.

FET, Emotions, and Control

11 Friday May 2018

Posted by in FET #2 (after IVF #6)

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Another frozen embryo transfer is complete. We transferred my 2 remaining blastocysts on Wednesday the 9th. One is the surprise embryo left over from my last fresh transfer, and the other was PGS tested and labeled “abnormal”. I know how that sounds, but you can read more about how my RE and I came to the decision to transfer these two here.  The transfer went well. Both embryos were thawed about 5 hours before the transfer and immediately began showing great growth. One was almost completely hatched. The procedure was easy and lots of laughs were shared among the RE, nurse, my husband, and I, as usual because my clinic is awesome. I did pre- and post-acupuncture, then relaxed.

FET blasts

Hatching day-5 blast, early blast day-6

And so there it is, I have two tiny embryos doing their thing in my uterus. And by day 2 after transfer, I completely lost it. Typically, the panic and worry doesn’t set in until much closer to beta day. Normally, I’m in a happy “pregnant until proven otherwise” state, with my hand on my belly sending good energy to my embryos. I envision it working and the good news I’m soon to get. I put all my intention, prayer, and determination into a positive outcome.

But not this time. This time, I feel scared to touch my belly and think of these embryos. I feel scared of being hopeful. Maybe I’ve simply gotten bad news one too many times.

Here’s where it gets tricky though. My mind has started playing games with me. I know a big factor influencing this is the estrogen and progesterone I’m injecting, which makes me not feel quite like myself anymore. Despite rational thought to the contrary, I’m scared that if I don’t set my intentions and focus on these embryos that maybe it will fail because I didn’t want it bad enough – because I didn’t try hard enough. You see, I’m a person who believes in both rational science and the magic of the universe and power of the mind. Sometimes I feel conflicted because these two sides of me don’t seem to mesh, while other times I have no problem seeing how beautifully they dance together.

The truth is I want to protect my heart. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want to spend this next week connecting to a baby in my womb just to find out that the embryos were dead all along.  It’s a set up for a big fall. But I’m scared that in allowing myself that distance, I’m somehow sabotaging the outcome. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Logically I know that can’t be true. My very first IVF, the one that brought me my daughter, I was absolutely convinced by beta day that it failed. Earlier in the wait I was more positive though. Then, years later when I transferred my PGS normal girl, I was certain it worked. And it didn’t. Last cycle I spent the whole time sending energy to my embryos, connecting with them, and sending my intention out to the Universe to be heard, yet none implanted.

My logical mind tells me that it doesn’t really matter what I do. At this point, whether my embryo implants and grows or not only depends on the strength and make up of that embryo. Inside my uterus, where my lining is perfect, there is silence, safety, and opportunity. I’ve done my part, and now it’s up to the embryos. But my emotional mind, and possibly my spiritual self, struggle to surrender to that.

At the beginning of this cycle I told myself that I wasn’t going to try to control or influence the outcome, which may only be a perception of control anyway.  Of course, I follow protocol instructions, take good physical care of myself, and all that. But I decided not to stress, over think, over analyze. I decided not to pray every night, light candles, or visualize. The Divine knows my desire, I’ve not been shy about it. So I let this one go. I surrendered to the Universe. I’ve been able to maintain that less anxious attitude all the way up until yesterday, when all the fear crept back in. When I started to second guess myself and whether I’ve done or am doing enough to make it work.

As though I can control it.

Maybe that’s the lesson here. To learn to truly let go.

 

 

The Moments That Give Us Pause

03 Tuesday Apr 2018

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StockSnap_COT4YSOLEHThere I was, sitting at my desk having a perfectly good day. It had been a while since I was on Facebook and so I decided to see what my friends had been up to. And as a scrolled there it was – my dream. A woman holding hands with her husband and toddler, a beautiful pregnant belly growing obviously under her dress. Everyone in the picture was smiling with what could only be described as bliss.

I’ve seen this picture a million times in my mind’s eye. Only in my picture, I’m the woman. This was supposed to be my future. But today this picture was of a friend who is not much younger than I am. I was happy for her, yet also sad for the loss of my dream. I know I am not quite done with infertility treatments yet, but the end is very near and our last efforts are a long shot at best. So I am preparing for, and on most days accepting, this loss.

It did make me wonder, though, how some older women get pregnant so easily and others are fighting an uphill egg quality problem due to age. I began to get irritated. Maybe even angry. On the one had you see all these stories of women getting pregnant well into their 40’s, many even seem to be natural conceptions. Everyone knows a mom, friend, or friend of a friend who had a healthy baby after they passed age 40. On the other hand, any fertility expert will warn you that egg quality dips after 35 and plummets after 40. That doesn’t mean that there is nothing that can be done to help improve egg quality. But I feel like I’ve done all the recommended strategies – supplements, healthy clean eating, removing toxins and endocrine disruptors from home care and beauty products, weekly acupuncture, etc. – and still my egg quality has been dismal. I’m not sure why these strategies seem to work for some women and not others. I’m not sure what the norm is.

To many women, stories of others conceiving in their 40’s gives them hope. And in the beginning of this journey they gave me hope too. In fact I delayed seeking infertility treatment for about 5 months because I had so much hope. But at this point those stories don’t give me hope. Call me a pessimist, but I prefer the term realist. I think it really comes down to perspective. While we see these great stories of pregnancy success in older women, what we don’t see posted are all the stories of the women who didn’t become pregnant. Now I know we do see many negative outcomes in IVF support groups for women over 40, but still, what about all of the women who are silent? Can you imagine what it would look like if we knew how many women tried and were unable to conceive in their 40’s? How much would those stories outweigh the successes? Would that give us a more realistic picture of our chances?

When I thought that age was just a number and it didn’t really impact fertility, I felt hurt, confused, and depressed when my IVF’s failed. I simply couldn’t understand what was going wrong. When I take a more balanced perspective and realize the positive stories of conception in older women are exceptions not the rule, then I don’t get so down and hard on myself when things fail. I know that now, I’m the norm – unfortunately. It’s still sad and part of me wishes I would have been able to try when I was younger. But I also know that life circumstances simply didn’t work out that way for me, and I wouldn’t necessarily change them.

I may never get my dream picture, but I will adjust and heal. I will enjoy life and all my blessings. But I think there may always be days when I see my dream manifest in other people, and I will take pause and hold loving space for that loss.

Thoughts on Approaching the End of the Road

27 Tuesday Mar 2018

Posted by in IVF #6 with Fresh 3-day Transfer, Uncategorized

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How do you decide when to stop infertility treatments?

I got an email from my IVF nurse coordinator saying that it is good that I’ll be talking about my options with my RE on the 9th, but she also indicated that my RE is leaning toward recommending we do a frozen embryo transfer (FET) with my PGS “abnormal” embryo that we still have on ice. Since we didn’t do Next Generation Sequencing, we have no way to know whether this embryo is mosaic or not. It has one small issue that would either result in a failure to implant, early miscarriage, or self-correct and turn into a healthy baby. There’s just no way to know. It won’t result in a live birth of a baby with a chromosome-related disorder. In my mind, I’ve been saving this option in my back pocket for our last ditch effort before discontinuing treatment. It is a long shot after all, but still a possibility. So I don’t want to leave this one embryo behind, but I’m not expecting it to work. Honestly, I really thought my RE would recommend one last egg retrieval and fresh transfer before going with this long shot FET.

I know it’s my choice. My body, my money, my choice. So I think I could talk my RE into one more IVF try. That’s what my husband wants to do, but he is open to hearing what the RE’s rationale is. But if my RE ends up recommending transferring the PGS “abnormal” embryo rather than another IVF fresh transfer, then he is basically saying that  I’m at the end of my road with my own eggs. He’s saying that the chances for success with my eggs is so low that it’s not worth going through another cycle.

But it’s still my choice. So how does one make that choice?

It’s a heart heavy equation. You weigh your dream against your finances, the physical impact of the medications and procedures, the emotional toll this takes on you, the effect on your relationships, and you try to figure out just how much more you can take. Or how much you want to take. I think I can take much more, but honestly, I don’t know that I want to. Many women won’t have to make this decision because IVF will work before they reach their limit. But some of us do have to make the decision.

People tell you, “don’t give up.” Never give up. But I think that is naive advice at best, and potentially harmful advice as it can make you feel like a failure or guilty if you stop. Not everyone can afford endless rounds of IVF. I’m lucky to have insurance coverage or I would have had to stop due to finances long ago. But that still doesn’t mean I should never give up. I’m fighting an uphill battle against age. I could do this 10 more times and have less chance of success each time as I get older and my egg quality decreases. But honestly, the factor that is weighing heavily on my heart is quality of life. I’m tired of my life revolving around IVF cycles. I’ve missed conferences and trips. I’ve missed time with my family. Often, I feel like I’m missing life. Every decision I make revolves around my fertility – what I drink and eat, when and how I can exercise, when I can go out of town, what I read, the appointments I fit into my schedule, how emotionally connected and present I feel with those around me. Some days, many days, during IVF I don’t even feel like myself anymore. The hormonal fluctuations are real and they change how I feel and perceive things. It changes how happy I am in life.

At the end of all of this, whether it works or not, I will still have my life to live. And my life is filled with so many blessings. Not the least of which is my daughter from my first IVF years ago. And I want to enjoy all of the blessings in my life, and sometimes that’s hard to do when I’m so deep in IVF hell.

So I have to weigh out all the factors in my equation and decide when it’s time to stop. After this last cycle failed I found myself feeling really good about the idea of doing one more egg retrieval and fresh transfer, then the last FET with the PGS “abnormal” embryo. If I did those 2 cycles, I felt that I would be satisfied knowing that I didn’t “leave anything on the table”. I would have given it my best shot without sacrificing myself.  Doing more cycles beyond that tipped the scales too much and didn’t feel worth it. But am I ready to go straight to the FET with the PGS “abnormal” embryo? Can I forgo one more retrieval and fresh transfer and still feel okay about my decision if I end up not pregnant? I’m not sure. That ending almost feels too abrupt. But I won’t lie – there is a part of me that feels relieved at the thought of not having to go through another whole IVF cycle. I want to be realistic about my chances.

I’ve done 6 IVF cycles in total. I know some women do many more than that. If I didn’t already have my daughter then I know I would be willing to do more. But part of me feels like I’m missing out on fully enjoying my daughter’s life because I’m so caught up in infertility treatments and the hormonal emotional roller coaster that goes along with this. But I want to give her a sibling so much, and we want to expand our family. However, the truth is she may very well be my only child – how much do I want to miss out on? I could say that I’m not really missing out on anything with her, and maybe that’s true for some women. But it’s not true for me. The medications and the emotional ups and downs do impact me, and negatively affect my relationships and my ability to really enjoy life. IVF is hard. It gets depressing. It becomes all consuming. If can even feel addictive.  And I’m tired of paying that price.

It is okay to stop. That doesn’t mean that you are giving up or are a quitter. It means you are carefully weighing all the factors, which are unique to you, and making a smart, healthy decision. That stop point is going to look very different for different women. And that’s okay.

I suppose I’ll wait to hear what my RE ultimately ends up recommending and what his rationale is before I make my decision. I feel like I’ll have to make a quick decision after our meeting since I’m already on birth control pills to get ready for my next cycle – whether that be another IVF or the FET – and I don’t want to drag out being on those pills. Will I feel like I’m done if I do only the FET? Will I regret not doing one more IVF? Do I want to do another IVF even if the chances for success are so low? Those are the questions I have to weigh.

But my body had other plans…

11 Monday Dec 2017

Posted by in IVF #4

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My mini IVF cycle was really off to a great start. I responded excellent to the meds and at my first ultrasound I had 7 follicles. Even my left ovary, which tends to be sleepy, was producing well. It felt like this might be the protocol to do it. Each ultrasound was good and my follicles grew well and consistently. We got to last Thursday, did an ultrasound and labs to make the final decision of whether we would trigger on Friday or Saturday. My nurse called and based on my estrogen level it was decided that we would go one more day for optimal growth – trigger on Friday and retrieval on Sunday. I was right on schedule with my predicted calendar.

And then I got a second call late in the afternoon. Apparently they measured by LH in addition to my estrogen and to everyone’s surprise my LH was high – like ovulation peak high. Wait, what?! Despite the antagonist I was injecting daily, which blocks your brain from releasing LH, my brain decided to do it’s own thing. I was about to ovulate. Just two days before, my LH was low as they would expect. I was informed that my retrieval would be the next morning. I was stunned.

I spoke with my RE in the morning before the procedure. He said this happens in about 1% of the cases with antagonists. Of course I’m in that 1%. He told me of the one other patient he’s had where this happened. He waited 36 hours after the high LH reading to do the egg retrieval and ended up missing all the eggs because she had already ovulated. So, this time he’s doing it earlier – about 24 hours – in hopes of getting the eggs. Of course, the problem is you really don’t know when the surge began so there is guess work.

After waking from retrieval, I was informed that he got 2 eggs. I was devastated. And angry. Such great potential with this cycle – wasted. The issue wasn’t that I had already ovulated, rather my eggs weren’t fully detached from the fibers that hold them in the follicles. He scrapped, trying to release them, but only got 2. So we ended up being a little early. He told me to have sex since I have potentially 5 eggs that are about to be released, but I know that my chances for a natural conception are low, especially with my shotty fallopian tubes. We decided to not waste any time, since I don’t have much, and go straight into another stim cycle when my period starts in about 2 weeks. Is there a possibility that one of these 2 eggs could be the golden egg? Sure. But with stats like I’ve had, I’m not holding my breath.

This all feels surreal, as does most of the IVF process. How do we go from such a great start to this? Part of me is angry, but part of me just feels numb. And I go through the motions because what else am I going to do? After the epic failure of my last cycle, where none of my 9 eggs made it to blastocysts, this simply feels like par for the course. The fertilization report came the next day. One egg fertilized and is growing. In general, you’d expect a 50% drop off from fertilization to blastocyst. Humm, 50% of 1 isn’t looking too good. And if it did make it, would it be chromosomally normal? It’s a long shot. People have told me to have hope – that it only takes one. I get it, really I do. People want you to feel better. And they want to have hope too. But I’m getting tired. I had so much hope and optimism during these last 2 cycles and all the way up to retrieval on this 3rd. Each time I though that THIS was the one that would get me that baby. I really believed it. And all the hope and belief didn’t make it so.  I know I’m sounding really pessimistic here. But at some point, I feel like I have to protect myself from the pain. I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t feel like I’ve come to the end of my road. And neither does my RE. But right now, I need to feel neutral. I need to feel okay with a negative outcome so I don’t drown in it.

Today, I have no idea if this is going to work. I don’t know if I’ll ever have another baby. If my daughter will ever be the big sister that she so desperately wants to be. But I do know that at the end, whether I’m pregnant or not, I will have given it my best. I will have tried everything. And that’s the best that I can do.

For the next cycle we are going back to my original high dose protocol. It’s the same protocol that brought me my PGS normal embryo, as well as the failed cycle that ended in zero blasts. This will answer the question of whether that failed cycle was simply “a bad batch” or if it truly reflected a fast decline in my egg quality. My RE said that after 3 cycles of no good blasts, that’s when we would say that this isn’t going to work. I’ve had one cycle like that. I’m not counting this cycle that we just had, regardless of the outcome, because we were not able to do the egg retrieval at the right time. So I guess there is an end in sight. I truly hope there is a happy ending to this story. I’m not ready to think about the alternative.

Taking a Moment to Remember

02 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by in IVF #3, Uncategorized

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*Trigger Warning* – I just want to give an upfront warning to those struggling with infertility who might not be in a place where they want to read about another person’s experience with birth. This is that kind of post.

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It was 3 years ago today that I went into labor. Well by this time I had already been in labor since 2AM. My daughter’s birthday is tomorrow. So, yes, it was a long labor. About 32 hours. Each year since her birth, these two days have given me pause. They bring up such a mix of intense emotions – many of which are hard to name. This is the first time that I’m actively trying to conceive again during her birthday, and it seems like that is adding another twist to the emotions.

Like every good student, I studied up on all my birthing options and put together what I considered to be the best plan for supporting the beautiful, natural birth I had envisioned. I found an excellent team of nurse midwives who could deliver at my chosen hospital. The nurses who generally worked with the midwives were on board with natural, flexible birthing options. They were backed up by OB’s who respected their judgment. My doula was caring and experienced, and was studying to become a midwife herself. I wrote both a birth plan and a baby plan. I had practiced hypnobabies diligently in preparation. My bag was packed. My mind was filled with images of strong women crouched down, birthing their babies into their own arms. I knew to be flexible despite my planning, because things don’t always go as planned. I wasn’t that naive.

But I truly did not expect what happened. I spent thoughtful time after her birth processing what had happened. Long story short, although I was completely dilated, pushed for 4 hours, and could see the top of the baby’s head for quite some time, she simply would not come out. Due to the lengthy session of strong pushing, she was so tightly lodged in my pelvis that they actually had difficulty getting her out during the emergency C-Section. We later found out, informed by the OB who performed the C-Section, that the bone opening the baby had to pass through was 1.5 inches to small in diameter. It wasn’t that my child’s head was too large, it was simply my structure. He said I would never be able to birth a full term baby. My midwife actually agreed that there was nothing we could have done differently to have a different outcome. And we had tried every natural option and strategy they could think of. I felt okay at the time, knowing that the C-Section really was medically necessary and not a result of a cascade of medical interventions. While I was at peace with that knowledge, and felt grateful for the advances in medicine that helped me both conceive and birth my child – neither of which would have been possible years ago – that didn’t take away the birth trauma. I talked to both my midwife and doula at later appointments about what happened. I processed the trauma successfully.

Now, at this time of year, I light a tealight in a goddess candle holder that I only use for this purpose. For these two days I honor that birth. The birth of a daughter. The birth of a mother. I acknowledge the unbearable pain that I found the strength to bear. I remember feeling let down by the team I built around me who were supposed to give me support. I remember feeling alone, scared, and confused. I remember speaking up for myself even when I only had a few words. I honor my voice.  I honor my body for all that it did despite the parts that it could not do. I hold space for both the sadness and the joy.

Many people are quick to say, “as long as she was born healthy – that’s all that matters.” I am grateful beyond words that my daughter, who had to be revived three times after this traumatic birth,  came through it healthy and safe. I would have endured anything for that. But it’s inaccurate to say that that is all that matters. Birth matters. A woman’s experience matters.

I feel blessed to have gone through that transition into motherhood. And I honor it in all the chaos that it was. I hope beyond words that I get to experience birth again in all it’s raw beauty, power, and pain. I know many women on this path never get to give birth to a baby, and I am grateful that I have. And yet, still my heart yearns for one more child.

IVF, New Beginnings, and the New Moon

20 Friday Oct 2017

Posted by in IVF #3

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The time is finally approaching to start my third IVF cycle. I’m currently still taking provera to bring on my period and control my ovaries until it’s time to begin IVF. I have three more days on it, and I seriously can’t wait to be done. It seems, for me, progesterone is the most crazy making of the cocktail of hormones I take during this process. I get irritable, short-tempered, and really want to retreat within myself. The latter likely compounded by the turning of the season, as fall brings cool weather, shorter days, and longer nights. I’ve been countering the effects of progesterone the best that I can by enjoying the fall festivities and creating a lunar inspired bullet journal. I’ve set this journal up so that it follows each lunation – the lunar month beginning with the new moon, waxing until the full moon, and then waning to the dark moon. The journal has been a fun, creative endeavor and has been helping me become even more intimately connected to the moon and her cycles. And I do love the moon and her mysterious energy, which tug on my emotions as well as by body rhythms.

I set some new moon intentions to carry me through this lunar cycle, especially since my egg retrieval will take place during this lunation. Since every full moon has an associated meaning, I decided to link my new moon intentions with the theme of the full moon that will accompany this lunation. That will be the November full moon, known by many different names such as the Mourning Moon, Beaver Moon, and Snow Moon, among others. Since this is the first full moon to follow Samhain, some see it as the beginning of a new year. A time to leave behind that which no longer serves you to make room for a fresh start. A time to wash away the past and focus on the joys of the future.

As I thought about this idea, it truly seemed perfect for what I’m about to embark on. I’m setting aside my last IVF/FET failure, and with an open heart, I’m opening up to a new beginning. And quite literally, my body is going to be growing the seed for that new beginning. So with candles lit I focused on my new moon intention:

I let go of past failure and fearful, anxious thoughts. I focus on a new beginning – a new life. I’m creating healthy eggs. My focus is on a healthy embryo, who will become our second child. Expanding our family fills my heart with joy and gratitude. 

Then I decided to draw a couple cards form my favorite decks to see what messages I would receive to go with my new moon intention. From the Womanrunes I pulled The Cauldron of Dancing Women. The rune of honor, loyalty, and commitment. From the Spirit de la Lune I drew the waning gibbous “Surrender“. To me, the message in these two cards is saying that it’s time to show up with steady purpose. Something I will certainly need to get me through the grueling IVF process. It’s about trying again so that I can create a partnership. Hopefully that will be a partnership with a new child that I will carry in my body. I’m committing my energy and love to this. The path is not easy, and I cannot control it. Not every current will always run smooth. I will need to relax and be carried by the current. I surrender to what I cannot see, and with an open heart and trust, I will do this.

new moonBy the time this lunar month comes to a close with the dark moon, I will have injected a full protocol of stimulation medications into my body, underwent another egg retrieval, learned how many eggs were retrieved, waited for and received the news of how many fertilized, found out how many embryos made it to biopsy for PGS testing and what quality they were, undergone two uterine biopsies for more ERA testing, and will be anxiously awaiting PGS results.  Waiting on the fertilization report, embryo biopsy report, and PGS results will be some of the hardest parts to endure – far worse that what I will physically go though, which is by no means easy either.

All of this will happen during this lunar cycle. It’s almost overwhelming to think about. But I will show up – committed to making this child, ready to love her before she is even conceived. And I will flow with the current, surrendering to the process during it’s inevitable ups and downs. I can do this.

FET: Unexpected Apprehensions

19 Wednesday Jul 2017

Posted by in IVF#2 with FET

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I have an apprehensive feeling setting in. I have my baseline ultrasound and initial blood work for my frozen embryo transfer (FET) scheduled for Friday. This is the real deal. We have one embryo. One shot. And that’s making me nervous.

It’s so different from the first time we did IVF three years ago. Then we did a fresh 5-day transfer. When I showed up that day, 5 days after my egg retrieval, I didn’t even know how many embryos had made it. I knew that at least some did because the transfer wasn’t canceled. But I didn’t know anything about the embryos. That day I found out that 3 of 7 made it to early blasts, and 1 was lagging even more behind so they were going to watch it to see if it continued to grow. The RE recommended transferring 3 due to my age, 35 years, and quality of the embryos. We didn’t do PGS testing back then so it was based on visual grading. I was shocked when he suggested transferring all 3, but it gave us the best chance of success per his statistics and the risk of triplets was so small. I had been through so much by that point that I was willing to do anything to get pregnant, so we transferred all 3 and I was thrilled. That fourth one arrested so we didn’t have any left to freeze.

When I look back on that I realize there are some similarities between then and now. In both situations no embryos will be left over after the transfer. So really they are both one shot deals. If either failed, we would have to start IVF all over again. But I didn’t feel apprehensive that first time. I felt excited. I felt like for the first time EVER I had a real chance of becoming a mother. Why did I feel that way then, but feel so sacred now?

Well, I think there may be a few things going on now that are impacting my emotions.

First, let’s face it – my biological clock is screaming. We’re past ticking. I’ll be turning 40 in the middle of this FET. Happy birthday to me. The thing that scares me most about that is how poor my egg quality was despite supplements. At age 35 I still had some time for multiple retrievals if I needed them. We didn’t do banking, though I now wish we had. At that time we were paying out of pocket and doing multiple rounds for banking would have been a challenge. Plus my RE didn’t even mention it, and I was so focused on just trying to get pregnant that banking never even occurred to me. Truthfully, I thought one child would be enough if I was ever lucky enough to have one. And I am so blessed to have my daughter, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t still feel a deep desire to grow our family like so many other people do.  If this FET doesn’t work and I am faced with doing another egg retrieval, my egg quality could be even worse than it was this round. It might not work at all. So time isn’t my friend and that makes me nervous.

This time I was given the option of doing another egg retrieval after the first for banking, but I decided to move forward with the FET. It’s a gamble really. At this point we are only trying for one more child. We decided to go for it with our PGS normal embryo because my RE gave us a high chance for success. So we are betting on this little one.

Another thing that makes this time different from the first is the expectations. Mine, my husbands, my family and friends, even our daughter’s expectations.  I was so fortunate that our first IVF worked for us. But I knew what a miracle that was. I read all the statistics about how most couples need multiple rounds of IVF to bring home that baby. I even participated in the Attain Financial program where you pay up front for three IVF cycles at a discounted rate and they reimburse you a large percentage of the cost if they all fail, so you don’t go completely in debt for nothing and can afford additional treatments or other options if necessary. There’s no reimbursement if it works on the first try, so really I ended up paying more than I would have if I had only paid for one round of IVF. But I don’t regret that decision because having that safety net was so reassuring during the process. I made that choice initially because I knew it would most likely take multiple attempts. But my loved ones hadn’t read the research I had. They pretty much expected IVF to work. And it did. So now my family and friends are already planning for my second baby. And, truth be told, so am I. PGS testing seems to make that expectation even higher. A normal embryo should stick, right? I know it’s no guarantee, but it raises the bar.

All in all, I suppose it’s kind of like expecting the worst and getting the worst. It’s harsh, no doubt. But when you expect it to work and it doesn’t – well that’s even more devastating. I want to be optimistic, and up until now I have been – but as I start this FET I feel more shaken than I had in the past. My expectations are so high. I don’t want to fall that far.

We’ve also been very open with our daughter about this whole process. It’s something I have mixed feeling about. I can completely understand why many parents would keep this a secret from their child until the pregnancy is well established. But I can’t even poop without my 2.5 year old all up in my business. Do you think I could administer 4 shots daily without her noticing? No, I couldn’t. So we decided to be honest with her. We told her that we are trying to make a baby and this is how mommy makes a baby. Of course she wanted to participate in the process. So I gave her a job that she proudly did every morning and evening. She was in charge of the alcohol wipes and wiped my belly before each shot. She talked about wanting to take the shots herself because she wanted a sister in her belly. We explained to her that if we are lucky to get a baby it could be a boy or a girl and we’d be grateful for either, but either way it will be in mommy’s belly. It was sweet. I have no idea where she got the idea of having a sister from but she was adamant. When we found out that we actually had one normal embryo – and it was a girl – we caved in our excitement and told her. She was so excited. I know telling her may not have been the smartest decision, but we couldn’t hide our elation. It’s done. And I’m terrified of letting her down. I want to give her that sister.

And the last thing that I think is weighing on me this time around is that I’m already picturing our lives with this second little girl. Somehow, knowing up front the gender of this little embryo that isn’t even in my womb yet has made her all the more real to me. I’m not sure if that even makes sense. With my first IVF baby, we didn’t even find out the gender until she was born. It was one of the best moments of her birth, at least in part because it was a pretty traumatic birth and seeing the look on my husband’s face as he told me our baby’s gender was a precious bright spot. I loved not knowing the gender during pregnancy, but honestly it did make me feel a tiny bit disconnected. It’s not that gender is so important, in fact I think it’s a bit overemphasized. But there is something more personal, to me, about naming the baby and connecting in that concrete way. Knowing that this little embryo is a girl has made her seem more concrete – more real. We’ve even started calling her by name. I can envision my two daughters growing up together.

Going though the lengthier mock transfer process has allowed me so much more time to create this attachment to this little embryo than I had when I did my fresh transfer 5 short days after my first egg retrieval. How can I be attached to an embryo that isn’t even in my womb yet? I’m not even pregnant yet. Still I sit here having these real feelings. And that make me more afraid of loosing her before we ever even had a chance.

As I write all of this out, it makes more sense to me why I’m feeling all these scary feeling as I begin my FET, rather than the excitement I expected to feel. While I really don’t want to go through this whole FET fearful, I do want to acknowledge these feelings and give them the respect they deserve. I do have good reasons for feeling the way I do, and I feel less confused having explored them. So now that I’ve acknowledged these feeling and have a better understanding of them, I’m going to look for ways to move past them. Ultimately, I want to go through this FET with hope, joy, and cautious optimism. With the help of the Divine and a small circle of support people, I think I’ll get there.