The Transfer Itself

Part of the embryo transfer protocol is a valium administered about an hour before the transfer itself.  Technically it helps to relax the uterine muscles.  But there's that ancillary benefit too, taking the edge off any nervousness or anxiety that might be felt.

Yesterday was the first time the nurse had ever made it sound like the valium was optional.  She knocked on the door and asked, "Would you like a valium?"

"Oh, yes, please!" I responded, my words practically running together in my eagerness. 

As she smiled and left the room to retrieve my dose, I asked Bryan, "Do you think I should have hesitated before answering?  Was I too eager?"

He just snickered at me.

I can say that between the valium and all the myriad of prayers that have been said (and are continuing), my nervous energy subsided.



I'd like to introduce you to "Dash" and "Violet". 

Dash and Violet were created in 2008 and vitrified five days after fertilization.  (And, if you're new to our story, we adopted them this past spring.)  These are blastocysts, and this picture was taken shortly after the thawing process.  These two were vitrified and stored in separate straws and thus thawed separately. The one on the right was thawed first and is a teeny bit more re-expanded/re-hydrated than the one on the left due to that approximate fifteen to thirty minute head start.

The embryologist was very patient with my myriad of questions.  Both of these embryos look great, with no noticeable cell loss.  It takes about fifteen minutes or so to thaw a vitrified embryo.  After the thawing process, each embryo "rests" for a few hours in a solution. 

The outside rim of each embryo is called the zona pellucida.  This is basically like a shell on an egg.  Through time, embryologists have learned that frozen embryos have a tougher than normal zona pellucida.  To help encourage embryos to hatch (a necessary step that must occur before the embryo can implant on the uterine wall), embryologist nowadays use a technique called "assisted hatching".  See that notch in the zona pellucida of the embryo on the right?  That's what the embryologist did to assist the embryo in its future attempt at hatching.  Both embryos had this done (it's actually standard practice at our clinic on all frozen embryos).  The left embryo had rotated since the assisted hatching was completed - the notch was there, we just couldn't see it.

You can just sort of make out an outer layer of cells, just inside the zona pellucida.  If I remember correctly, this layer is the trophoblast and will become the placenta.

The embryo on the right is a little clearer to see due, perhaps, to its short headstart from thawing first.  At any rate, you'll notice inside the outer rings are two masses, one a cell mass in the left center, and the other a clearer area in the right center.  The cell mass is what will grow into the baby and is called the "embryoblast".  I didn't think to ask what the clearer section becomes but it is called the "blastocoel".

Here's an color picture I found online that labels the blast components (this embryo is further along developmentally than Dash and Violet as pictured above).

 

 



 

Our clinic here in Texas has a big screen tv in the operating room.  We are able to see the embryos right before the transfer and watch as the embryologist sucks them into the catheter and brings them into the operating room.  There is probably a technical term for "the act of sucking into a catheter" but I do not know what it is.  ;-)

You want to know something truly amazing? The embryos had both noticeably grown in the short time since the first picture was taken. I don't know exactly how much time had lapsed between the first picture and the transfer itself, but it could not have been more than a few hours.  And both embryos had visibly grown - it was incredible!

The blastocoel (the clearer inner mass) had grown considerably on both embryos.  One embryo was more than two thirds filled with blastocoel, the other about half filled.  And, one embryo was already hatching, almost like the random internet picture below.  The embryo was just starting to hatch, though not near as far along as the one pictured below.

I didn't really notice the moods of the crowd in the OR (and there was a crowd: techs, doctor, intern, embryologist, plus me and Bryan).  But Bryan said everyone seemed very upbeat and encouraging about Dash and Violet and their growth.

Our clinic had recently changed their post-transfer procedures, so we didn't have to rest for any requisite amount of time.  Just transfer, bathroom (as procedure is done with a full bladder you cannot underestimate the necessity of this step), change back into civilian clothes, and then we were released. 

We then had some of the best burgers in our life at Hopdoddy's.  I had the Greek burger and it was AMAZING.  Perhaps I was still on a bit of a valium high and riding the good vibes from the transfer, but that was one good lunch.

We then wandered a unique toy store (Terra Toys, if you're ever in the area) and then headed back home.

I slept wonderfully last night and my nervous energy is mostly gone today.  This is due in part to the encouraging-looking embryos but most of all due to your prayers.  I am so very thankful for the family, friends, and even relative strangers offering up a few words on our behalf.



I do not know what the future will bring.  However, I know that today I am pregnant. Today, I have both Dash and Violet on board.  I am choosing to live in the moment and embrace it.  And pray without ceasing.

Thoughts Before the Transfer

I've done a good job keeping my mind busy and not over analyzing all the transfer possible outcomes.   Until last night, during my shower.  I felt my spirits plummet as I started down the black hole of "what if's".

I wallowed for a few minutes, hopelessness creeping in.

And then I decided if I have to go to an extreme, I will choose the other extreme. The one of faith and hope.

I am clinging to these beliefs for dear life, attempting desperately to banish those dark, heavy thoughts.

If I believe in a God who can move mountains, then I will choose to believe that He could even turn two into three and grant us triplets if He so desired.

The important thing is not really the exact words I'm saying but the acts of faith and hope that I am deliberately choosing to utter.

God, I believe.

I trust.

I hope.

Four Days

Four days until we meet our last waiting ones, our last snowflakes.  For a while there, I kept telling people I was terrified of this final embryo transfer.  And then, after some contemplation, I realized I'm not.

I am not terrified.

I am not exactly sure what I am.  Resolute is the word that keeps coming to mind, but I've rechecked the dictionary and that word doesn't quite fit. 

I have hope.  Not excessive hope, I don't see things through rose colored lenses.  But I do believe that these embryos will complete our family.  For a while, until I get the adoption bug again.

I have courage. Sometimes it's hard to march back into the same situation, in this case the clinic, when the prior three times have not ended as desired.  I am moving forward.  And with a smile. It may be a teeny tiny little Mona Lisa smile, but by golly, I will smile and go forth with cheer.

I have respect.  For the genetic parents who chose to give up their remaining embryos in hopes of fulfilling another couple's dreams.  For the adoption agency, for believing these embryos are worthy of life. For Bryan, for walking down this road of hopes and dreams, again.





I have been busy and that's helped limit my daydreaming.  Don't know if anyone else is like this, but whatever I daydream never comes to fulfillment. So for now, I limit myself to one of two scenarios.  A negative.  And a positive yielding triplets.  Both situations are possible, though I'd like to think highly unlikely.  And, honestly, after the length of this road, part of me (perhaps the less sane part) would welcome triplets.  (The sane part would be hyperventilating into a pillow.)  Statistically, since we're transferring two embryos, triplets are possible if one of the two embryos splits.  Not altogether unheard of, but extremely rare.

A negative is a real possibility too.  I recognize that.  I don't want it, but I name it as a possibility.  For the sake of transparency with myself, I have to admit that a negative could happen.





I guess in some small way maybe I am finally learning to put my hopes fully in God?  With each of our last three transfers, I always had that back up plan - we can use the remaining set of embryos, or rematch.  I still exerted some miniscule amount of control on the situation.  But now, we're done.  This is it and there's nothing I can do except pray and follow my drug protocol.

One startling aspect: my type-A brain might actually be more relaxed in totally relinquishing control to God.




"Dash" and "Violet", we'll meet you soon.  Your first parents love you.  We love you.  See you Monday, little ones. 

It's Go Time

You know how sometimes time zips past and other times you seem to be aware of the passing of each and every second?

Much of the summer was the second scenario.  And now that we're in the transfer cycle, I feel like every time I blink, a day or more has passed.

I have lots of little house/school projects that I have more or less postponed until now.  And we took our trip to San Antonio last week.  And Moms Group is starting back up at church.  And I'm toying with the idea of teaching a prek/k science class.  And I'm the leader of the family readiness group for Bryan's work.  And there's this thing called homeschooling...

In a three week period, we will have driven round trip to San Antonio once, Round Rock once, Austin three times, and Houston once.  Many people wouldn't blink an eye at that.  But I'm a homebody.  That much driving kind of makes me twitch a bit.

My baseline ultrasound was yesterday (just a status check on the state of my ovaries and uterine lining among other things).  Everything looks good.  Dr. H. thinks these embryos look very promising.  I know she's trying to reassure me, to offer me some hope.  It's been a long road with her.  Can you believe we're now experiencing our FIFTH cycle prep with this clinic?  One cycle, last November, ended up cancelled, but still... 

Assuming next Tuesday's lining check and progesterone labs are good, our transfer will be Monday, September 8. 

I want to feel hope.  I do daydream from time to time about being pregnant again.  But this time I am guarded. 

Cora and Mac are accompanying me on this journey once again.  Cora pretends to take her medicine at each meal, just like I do with my estradiol doses.  Apparently she is going to have two babies, a boy and a girl.  She is undecided on the names as of yet.  And Mac takes his "reminder" role very seriously.  "Momma, don't forget to take your pills!" 

Cora and Mac each assure me that they will be a good big sister and a good big brother.  And they will, I know it, whenever that day comes. 

I wish I could tell them with some sort of certainty when that day will come.  When they can greet new siblings in person.  I have no idea.  God willing, late May.  Right now, this whole embryo adoption process is sort of a fantasy to them.  Momma takes medicine, goes to the doctor several times, and then we end up with more babies in Heaven.  That's our status quo thus far.  And I pray that it will change.  Short term.  I still want all my children, present and future to end up in Heaven.  Just hopefully after a lengthy time here with us.


Jesus, I trust in You. 


Jesus, I trust in You.

Results are in

And they are negative.

Not pregnant.




I feel battered, betrayed even.  I felt pregnant this time.  And yet I'm not.  Apparently even my mother's intuition is jacked up.




Why would God call us so strongly to this path and then break me so many times?




I now have twelve babies in heaven, five from 2009 and seven from 2013 - 2014.




After each failed transfer or miscarriage, I ask how much more can I take???  I ask rhetorically, because that's not a question I want answered.  And then LOSS happens again.  Apparently God thinks I am so much stronger than I feel.



I wanted each of these children selfishly.  I want a baby to grow within my womb, to experience the joys of new life again, and share these joys with my husband and twins. 



I also wanted each of these children with the most noble of desires, to free them from their frozen stasis.  To return them, as much as possible, to a life of dignity.  Yes, Heaven is clearly a life of highest dignity.  I just wish they spent more time with me first.

The Transfer

Today I am pregnant. Who know what tomorrow may bring?  I won't know anything one way or another until late next week.  But today I am pregnant.

We transferred one beautiful day six blastocyst.  One embryo did not survive the thaw.

I mourn the loss of that little one.

Even the kids feel that loss. "What, you mean there's only one baby?  I thought we each would get our own baby to hold!"

I'm sorry, I really am. I wish both had survived the thaw, that both were starting to nestle in.  It feels so cold and heartless, undignified even, that an embryo should reach its end in a Petri dish, rather than in a womb.  Not that I'd chose death at all, but when it happens, I'd prefer it to be with the utmost dignity.

I was fixating a lot on the one lost rather than the one inside me. And then I realized while praying with the kids tonight, that I am precisely where God means me to be.  I don't understand His ways, umm, pretty much ever.  But I keep trying. And I know that He has hand-picked this scenario for us, these adopted embryos for us.  I am their mother, even if it is for only the briefest of whiles.

Thank you all for your prayers, your kind words and encouragement.  I seemed to get little love notes all day long, through text, email, and Facebook.  Thank you.

Closer and Closer

Our last two transfers have not been successful.  May 2013 was a failed transfer (lost two embryos in the thaw and then the singleton transferred went straight to heaven).  December 2013 was initially positive and then I miscarried the day before my first ultrasound.  It's not illogical that I would be harboring fear/anxiety about tomorrow's transfer.

I'm in kind of a weird place emotionally.  I haven't spent too much time dreaming about what if's.  I haven't poured myself into frantic pleas to God, begging Him to let these babies live.  My life has gone on here and I have allowed myself to be carried along with it.  I cannot live distant from my current duties as wife/mother/friend.  And that has been helpful.  Given me mental distractions during the day.

But then when the house quiets down, I find myself a little more pulled in by the what if's.  By the doubts.  And I have to take firm steps towards optimism.  Towards hope.  I try to completely shut down/shut out fear.  Thanks be to God, I've been more upbeat than I anticipated.

During Lent I signed up for a daily devotional.  One quote resonated with me so much that I printed it and stuck it to my bathroom mirror.

"What is most important?  Jesus, You created me in love.  You redeemed me with Your blood.  Then why am I so full of fear?  My life is ruled by fear of failure, fear of what others think, fear of losing the love of those around me, fear of being forgotten, or fear of being lonely.  In the past, I've resisted giving You these fears.  The most important thing in my life is loving You, so I freely give You these fears.  Today I will look for ways to put You first.  If I start to wory again, I will stop, give it to You, and then continue my day.  May my constant acts of trust and surrender bring You joy."  (written by Fr. Leszek Czelusniak)

My fears are different than described in that meditation but the sentiment is the same.  I have gone for a much simpler approach this time around.  I am not begging or pleading with God.  Instead, I have chosen to simply TRUST, putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that God will provide the path beneath my feet.  Still terrifying at times. 

My friend sent me a message a little bit ago, saying her four year old son prayed for me during his bedtime prayers tonight.  "I pray for Mrs. __, because she is going to have a baby soon."  He doesn't know anything about tomorrow's transfer. 

We are called to have a faith like a child's.  Pure, simple, untainted by the world around.  I'm trying, Lord, I'm trying.





The transfer is scheduled for 11:30 tomorrow morning.

The Countdown

1.  Three days until the transfer (June 17)

2.  Two embryos to thaw (after being frozen for seven years)

3.  Three estrogen pills to take each day (until weaned off at end of first trimester)

4.  Two Crinone applications each day (until weaned off at end of first trimester)  [additional progesterone will be added after transfer]

5.  Ten or eleven days until first pregnancy test (I have some flexibility with clinic orders)

6.  About one month until the first ultrasound (week seven of pregnancy)

7.  Countless prayers (on behalf of everyone: embryos, their genetic family, us, the clinical staff)

It's GO time!

Normally infertile couples dread cycle day one because it's a tangible reminder of everything that did not occur in the prior cycle.

No such dread this time!  I have been waiting and waiting and waiting to get this process started.  It will be almost exactly six months since our last transfer and we are READY.

As we're doing an unsuppressed, "natural" cycle, I don't have to take very many medications.  (Unsuppressed and natural mean this transfer cycle will follow my own natural cycle and the only hormones taken will be used to supplement those my body naturally produces.)

Right now, Bryan and I both are taking z-packs, in the middle of that five day regimen.

Today I started my thrice daily oral estrogen dosage.

I'll make a trip down to Austin probably either Tuesday or Wednesday for my baseline ultrasound.

The next dates are a little fuzzy, since I don't yet have my "official" FET calendar yet.  I can make a good guess at each date, though, since these embryos are Day 6, just like my December transfer.  So the protocol should be very similiar.

That means I'll head back down to Austin again around June 12 for my lining check.  If everything looks good (and by "good" I mean is my uterine lining nice and plump, am I still pre-ovulatory, and so forth) then I'll start progesterone the next day (crinone, in case you're curious).

By my estimates, the transfer will probably be June 18, give or take a day.

Both sets of embryos arrived safe and sound at our clinic last Friday.  In case you were wondering, we are only thawing/transferring one duo, the older set.  Well, I say older, but really I think there's only about six months between the creation dates of these two sets (one in 2007, the other set in 2008).  God willing, we will thaw and transfer the other set of two a few years down the line.

The kids and I had a long discussion at lunch, prompted by the reappearance of my estrogen pill bottle (I take one pill at each meal, so I keep it at my place on the table).  Cora and Mac have decided to resurrect the names Habeep and Bappio for these waiting embryos. 

I ask your prayers for Habeep and Bappio, for Cora and Mac, and for Bryan and myself.  For hope and joy and trust.

Learning how to pray

Each transfer I've struggled to find the right words to pray.

This morning I think I finally figured out the words.  I am praying for an end of fear. For complete acceptance of God's will, even if that means our family will stay a family of four (on earth).

Let me just say, I am not there yet.  Still fearful. Of failure, of pain, of loss, of the end of dreams...

But the complete surrender that God wants of me? I'm praying for the supernatural strength to work towards it.

I have a long way to go.


Edit:  I am praying that we end up with two more sets of twins, meaning survival for all four of our adopted embryos. However, my prayer for an end of fear, for Trust in the divine plan, needs to come first.

Getting closer

We have shipping dates!

On Tuesday, May 27, the tanks will be sent from my clinic to genetic parents' clinics.  Each set of two embryos will be loaded up and returned for delivery to my clinic Wednesday, May 28.  That's next week!!!!

We're just in a holding pattern right now, waiting for cycle day one (still about ten days out from that).  All of my meds are ordered, some are already here.  Because we're following my natural cycle, I'm not on any medication currently (other than allergy meds, but that's just due to pollen count, not cycling...)

Just need to get one more form notarized and then I can hand it over at my first appointment.

We are getting closer and closer!



PS.  Could you please say a quick prayer that transport will be smooth and uneventful and the embryos will remain safe?  Thank you.

Meds

We are one cycle out.  Cue outward calm and inner freak outs.

Since we're aiming for a natural cycle, dates are at best educated guesses. That being said, we're looking around the Ides of June.  Right in the middle of the kids' swim lessons so I guess Grandma gets to tackle that one.  Sorry, Grandma, I'll buy you a Route 64 Diet Coke from Sonic to make it up.

My meds are being ordered.  Paperwork is nearly complete.  Just a few more forms to have notarized. And we have to update our own infectious disease screening.

Oh, and there's the minor detail of transport. Our adopted embryos need to be shipped here from wherever they are. I don't actually know that detail this time (just never asked; I could find out if I inquired).  Hopefully this won't be problematic. I'll certainly breathe a sigh of relief once I know they've arrived and are waiting for us.

Tick tock goes the clock.  Seems like we've been waiting forever for transfer!

Finally, an adoption update

At long last, contracts are in!  It took us a few days to get our personal contracts notarized and mailed off.  In the meanwhile, it took the genetic parents a few weeks to get their portions done.  I'm glad we weren't crunched for time because the process this time around has taken FOREVER.

I had my hysteroscopy completed a few weeks ago. Unpleasant, but all clear.  However, it did bump my timeline back a bit for the embryo transfer.

All we have now is clinic paperwork (have to re-enroll in their system each transfer) and then we'll hit the ground running.

Our four adopted snow babies should be shipped this way within the next few weeks.

I'll start meds end of May or beginning of June.  Really, really, really hoping to avoid birth control and do a "natural" cycle this time.   BC for me equals crazy psycho woman.   Given past experiences, I'd basically need to live in the Confessional by week two on birth control.

Right now, my estimates put the transfer the last week of June.  Yay!!  And yet still so far away...

A letter

I wrote this December 12, three days before the embryo transfer.

Dear Habeep and Bappio,

I get to meet you soon.  I may only get to carry you for a very brief while, yet know that I love you.  Your Daddy loves you.  Your sister and brother  love you tremendously and already regale me with tales of your future joint exploits.

I hope, I pray, I dream that you get to stay with me a long, long while.  That you both grow in my womb for nine months and go on to greet the world full of life!

For you have we waited so long.  I pray that you both can become my Christmas joys.  Christmas week will be my first chance to find out if you're nestling in or have already moved on towards heaven.  Please, stay awhile.

Please be my Christmas joy.

Love,

Momma

Optimism

Optimism is...

...bidding on not one but two baby carriers in a local store's seasonal closeout auction. 




Umm.

Make that three.  I threw a wrap in there too.




Perhaps I have a problem.




PS.  A note to my husband, I'm not planning on being super competitive with my bids.  But if I win any of these items, they'll be great deals.  Though I imagine you're still shaking your head at me...

Back in the game!

Got the call this morning while I was teaching our weekly preschool co-op, I am back in the game!  Our December cycle is a go and the transfer is on for THIS SUNDAY morning, December 15. 

Having a transfer on Sunday is kinda stinky.  We'll round up the minions, all two of them, and head to Mass Saturday evening.  Guess I'll load them up on snacks before church because a 5:30 pm Mass with kids just ain't pretty.  On the bright side, Grandma will be with us and perhaps the chilluns will be better behaved with her as our guest.  (Grandma has graciously offered to watch the kids while we venture further into central Tejas for the transfer).

A six day transfer (embryos were grown for six days before being frozen originally in 2003) yields an official pregnancy test on Christmas Eve.  While I'm sure I can find labs open that day, at least in the morning, I'm wondering about the availability of results that afternoon.  Supposed to be a STAT test, does that apply on Christmas Eve?  I imagine we'll do a home test that morning, or the day prior, but it'd be nice to have some numbers to ease my concerns.  Hopefully.  Dear Lord, can we please have some Christmas miracles?

And while I haven't plugged in the dates to a due date calculator, I have done a rough estimate myself.  Early September.  And this is good, very good, because hubby's deployment is for later that month.  So unless my math is wrong or we end up with one very stubborn baby, there's a great chance Bryan can meet our little Habeep and/or Bappio in the flesh before he departs.

My brain amuses me at times.  Many times to be honest.  Yesterday, after realizing we're looking at early September, I was thinking of all the members of the September birth club that I know.  My sisters.  My sister-in-law.  My niece.  All GIRLS.  And then my brain decided that I will be having twin girls in September.  Because, you know, things work like that.

The novena is back on again as well, nine days of prayer for the lives of our adopted embryos and that our prayers to again be parents may be answered. 

Dear St. Gerard and St. Anne, Servants of God, this is a novena for your intercession that Andrea becomes pregnant and delivers healthy babies who will glorify and praise God.

Good St. Gerard, powerful intercessor before the throne of God, wonder-worker of our day, we call upon you and seek your aid.  You know how much Bryan and Andrea desire the gift of more children.  Please present these fervent pleas to the Creator of life from whom all parenthood proceeds and beseech Him to bless this couple with children whom they may raise as His children and heirs of heaven.   

 

St Anne, you gave birth at a late age to our Queen of heaven and earth, the Most Holy Mary. That is what God wanted. With God nothing is impossible. We believe that God, Creator of heaven and earth will look kindly upon Andrea and give her the blessing, through Mary, the Virgin Mother of God and your intercession, of becoming a mother of her adopted children whom she will love and thank God for.

Dear Saints Gerard and Anne, please help our prayers to be answered and that Andrea’s womb will be filled with the beating hearts of tiny babies. We already give you thanks and sincerely believe in your intercession.*



Any prayers or good thoughts will be much appreciated in these coming days!







*A quick note for any non-Catholics reading this, when we pray to Saints in heaven, we are not detracting from Christ's heavenly glory.  We are merely asking individuals who have shown a special strength in an area (in this case, motherhood or care of mothers) to add their prayers to our own.  Just as we might ask earthly friends to pray for us, so we ask those in heaven to pray for those of us still fighting the good fight on earth.  The Saints' proximity to God makes their prayers more powerful than our own, though any graces we receive come from Christ Himself through His friends in heaven.

Thankful

Have you seen that November thankfulness challenge that's going around on Facebook?  I'm not doing that one, largely because I'm not mentally organized enough to post something everyday.  And also because there are some days where I'm just not very thankful.

Today's not one of those days. Today my heart is swelling a bit with pride (the good kind), joy, and thankfulness.

At the urging of my priest last year (and the urging of my lonely spirit), I started up a Moms Group at my church.  Pushed me way out of my comfort zone because, when you get down to it, I'm more of a planner than an executer.  Is that the right word?   It looks funny... Anyway, I digress.  I was lonely and we hadn't been in Texas long.  God, through my priest, said  stop whining and go help yourself.

And I did.  begrudgingly.

Now a year and change later, I have the most wonderful friends to show for it.

One of the moms in our group has really had a dismal last five weeks. She's pregnant, has been put on bed rest and can only walk with a walker when ambulating is necessary.  She has a toddler at home and a deployed husband.  In light of her hardship, I am blown away by the selflessness of our little group.  One organized a meal train.  We've all been taking turns babysitting the toddler.  Today, we had a "pimp my walker" party at  Moms Group.  The walker looks very autumnal now, in case you were curious.

Our kids all love each other and pitch fits when they have to leave someone else's house.  The husbands don't even protest too much when they're dragged along to a gathering.

The other moms have decided to organize a novena for our upcoming embryo transfer.  Note to non-Catholics, a novena is a prayer said nine times, usually once a day for nine days, but any frequency could work.  We're the only couple dealing with infertility and adoption in our group, but it is not a taboo topic by any means.

And I like it. We are all accepted as we are, where we are in life.  My little group gives and loves selflessly.  We share in the joys and sorrows of Catholic motherhood.  We share in the joys and sorrows of loving our Soldiers (and an airman too).  Oh, and we share coffee, wine, and desserts too.

Thank you, God, for pushing me out of my comfort zone last year.  I am so blessed.

Oh, and on another note, I am very thankful that our adopted embryos are now at our clinic waiting for us.  See you in two weeks, Habeep and Bappio!

A child-like hope

First off, I want to say thank you for the kind words and prayers following my last post.  I am, a week later, feeling like myself again.  I can smile and laugh and breathe.  Whew.

On to other matters.  Twenty-two days.  Three weeks and one day.  We will meet our next frozen two in just a shade over three weeks.  While the numbers seem fairly close, the proximity of the transfer hasn't quite hit me yet.  Perhaps because I haven't flipped to that calendar month yet.  tomorrow...

The kids have decided to name these two waiting embryos Habeep and Bappio. These are names of their own creation and they're so delighted to add in Habeep and Bappio to our nightly prayer intentions.  I've been informed that Habeep is a boy and Bappio is a girl.

The child-like trust amazes me. Cora and Mac have sincere hope that they will meet their two siblings face to face sometime after their fourth birthday.  (My due date will be August-ish; their birthday is July).

As an adult, I find myself made cautious by prior failings.  I want to qualify everything with an "if" or "maybe".  Instead I am finding myself fascinated by the hope of children. 

Cora and Mac hope and pray completely for their waiting baby seeds.  Though they experienced sorrow with me in May after the failed transfer, their hope is not dampened. 

They hoped in May for siblings that they could meet and hold and snuggle.  And they grieved the loss of those three baby seeds. 

Here we are again, months later, and Cora and Mac can once again hope fully.

Typical adults would hold back some of their hope, their dreams after prior failures.  There is pain following the loss of a dream.  An adult sees that, remembers that, and proceeds forward guarded.  A child sees that, remembers that, and proceeds forward holding nothing back. 

While I teach my children much about the terminology and biology of adoption and embryo adoption, I am learning too.  Learning about love and hope, how to hope fully with my whole being.  And sometimes, I think they are the better teachers.

Keeping it real

Yesterday I took my last birth control dose.  It's just a small little pill but oh my gosh does it wreck havoc on my system.

When I was doing my prep for our May transfer, I noted that the birth control pills turned me into kind of a psycho b*tch.  It could have been the stress of the transfer and our local move too, but I was not pleasant to be around. 

I was so fearful that I would have the same reaction this time.  In the beginning, I didn't.  Nope, I had nausea, a near fainting spell, and more nausea for the first five of the seventeen days.  I experimented with the timing of the pill, hoping maybe I could find the perfect window that would alleviate those symptoms.  Things did improve.

I've been staying busy and didn't really notice that psycho b*tch was coming back.  Apparently she made a more subtle appearance this time.

I realized today that I can't remember the last time I laughed.  And that parenthood is kicking my behind.  And that if I can't handle the drama of two three year olds, how on earth will I be able to handle homeschooling one day.  And I'm so tired all the time, even though I'm sleeping okay at night.  And that I just want to be alone. 

I realized last night that I feel like I have a screw in my back that's being cranked tighter and tighter and tighter. 

I've always been more serious, more melancholic even, but this?  This is not normal me.  This, I realized in the shower tonight, is a depressed hormonal me, resulting from the bcp's. 

My kids have suffered in the lack of a mom who smiles and laughs and rolls with the punches. 

My husband has suffered in the lack of a wife who is considerate and patient.

My parents are visiting and must think that if I can't find joy in my own two kids, why am I seeking more?

And I want to shout, that's not me!  I'm beating on the walls of this glass case I feel trapped within - let me out!  Let me live my life again!



Before you become too concerned for my mental sanity, let me point out that I will be getting some me time tomorrow.  I took my last dose of the bcp's yesterday and hope and PRAY that my sense of humor and ability to breathe return.  I was on the receiving end of quality snuggles with the kids tonight and even got to hold a sleeping child.  Nothing more serene than that.

I have hope that my hormonal and emotional balance will be righted.  Can you spare a prayer or two that God will help me kick psychotic b*tch to the curb?  It's not really a persona I wish to keep around.




PS.  Thank you for your prayers regarding the embryo transport lack of communication.  Communication has been resumed and we're able to move forward.

Increasingly antsy

The clinic contacted me last week so I could get the ball rolling on shipping the embryos from the genetic family's clinic to ours.  I don't have to do much really, just make sure the agency and the clinic are communicating with each other.

Basically, the clinic said, "we're ready!"  (Last Monday)

And I told the agency, "go!" (Last Monday)

And nothing happened.

I did get an email confirming my request for shipment and that someone would be contacting me soon to line it all up.  (Last Tuesday)

Nothing.

I reached out to both clinic and agency last Friday, to see if maybe they were working out details without me.  I'm not the clinic's first Snowflake patient; there is already an established relationship between the two entities.

Nothing.

I emailed the clinic again this morning (Tuesday). Got an answer - shipping coordinator has heard nothing on her end.

I emailed the agency again this morning.

Nothing.

I'll give them one more day and call Thursday.  This is my fourth transfer over the years to orchestrate with the agency so I can honestly say this is uncharacteristic behavior for them.  Regardless, I can't help but wonder, where are my embryos?!

Could you please say a quick prayer that these communication difficulties be resolved quickly?  As my title indicates, I'm getting increasingly antsy.  Thank you!