secondary infertility | Laughter Through Tears

Our “Heaven Sent” Baby Shower

Heaven sent banner with angel onesies. Onesies have angel wings on the back which we can now use as photo props.

Our shower was way back in October but this is the first opportunity I have found to upload photos. This is ironic, because at this very moment I am typing with one twin on my chest and one next to me in the crib. More detail to come on that in a later post!

My sisters and Mom put the small event together very early in my pregnancy (21 weeks!) because I had a complicated pregnancy with my daughter Evie and I was sure it would be the same with twins. After all it was a high risk pregnancy and I am almost 40. From day one I mentally prepared for preemies and an uphill battle.

But once again, God had his arms around us and we were able to make it to 38 weeks. I am still amazed that I was able to deliver perfect twin babies with no NICU time necessary.

This is simply more proof that these babies were “Heaven Sent” which was the theme of the shower. My sister Cassie, better known as “Momma Cas the Pinterest Queen,” designed nearly everything and corralled the help of sister Kelly and Mom Bonnie to pull it all together into an event that I think represents her best work yet. As you can see they put love and care into every beautiful detail.

Thanks ladies. It was perfect!

The shower was a brunch complete with chicken and waffles finger food.

Mimosas anyone?

Heavenly divinity cookies

Twins in their watermelon bassinets courtesy of my Mom

Clothespin game for the twins. I lost mine in the first 20 minutes or so.

Party favors for guests

Homemade gourmet popcorn

My favorite party favor, and perhaps my favorite part of the shower too

Homemade cake courtesy of sister Cassie

Gifts for “The Price is Right” and “Clothspin” games

“The Price is Right” game

Life is Stinking Hilarious

Back in January, in one of my very first posts, I wrote about being a Rebel in a Bathtub, describing all the taboo ways I exercise my freedom after a failed cycle. Shortly after writing that post I began to feel old and desperate, overwhelmed by the sound of a ticking clock in my brain, and I decided it would be wise to start following the rules again, which I have pretty much stuck to the last few months. I haven’t exactly been a t-totaller, but I have limited my alcohol, eaten healthy, moderated exercise, and popped hundreds of supplements. I had only three glasses of wine when I learned of Blob’s demise and only 9 total over the course of two months preparing for our last failed cycle.

All that effort at purity and perfection came to a halt last night when I accidentally had way to much to drink which also led to other choices that are not too great for my upcoming cycle like eating gluten. Actually, I didn’t just eat gluten, that would be understating it. Rather, I had gluten with a side of gluten and a little gluten sprinkled on top for good measure. There is more that I did and shouldn’t have, but not that I can put in writing for the fear of losing my low insurance rates.

Today I awoke in a haze and when the memories came rushing back I instantly began hating myself and my youngest sister for the influence that inspired my bad choices. I belly ached to my husband, sharing my self loathing, and also posted to my favorite fertility board about my transgressions. My IVF pals and husband all said the same thing, one night of bad choices is not going to lead to a failed cycle and it might even be good for me. I am human after all and loads of women get pregnant every day in much worse condition.

They are probably right. At least that is what I am choosing to believe. Besides, I can’t change it and its not as if stressing about whether I have destroyed good eggs is going to help me get pregnant. Better to move on and use my guilt for something good, like a run.

While I was punishing myself and trying to eliminate toxins on that run this morning, it occurred to me how ironic life is. There was a time many years ago that bad choices while under the influence might have led to, gasp, a pregnancy that we didn’t plan and didn’t want yet. Fast forward a decade and here I am hoping that the bad choices, which really weren’t all that bad, will keep me from getting pregnant.

Very funny life. Very funny.

And here is another really funny thing about life. It has a way of moving at the speed of light when you want to savor it, but gets stuck in molasses when you are looking forward to something. Tomorrow we meet with our new fertility doctor over Skype and it seems like time has come to a stand-still as I anxiously await his counsel. This is the first time I have ever experienced anxiety about a meeting because we have reached the point with my age and history that being turned down by a clinic is a real possibility. Bill thinks I am crazy, and that just like Celebrity Miracle clinic they will gladly take our money especially given the fact that we still produce so many eggs and conjured up three genetically normal embryos in our cycle late last year. Still after five fresh IVFs and 9 transfers they may advise us to move on to donor eggs. We will find out tomorrow, if tomorrow ever comes.

Image by rubyblossom via Flickr

Meanwhile, my daughter is far too rapidly making the transition from toddler to little girl. Today when I put her down for a nap she did not want to say “good night” to the owls painted on her bedroom door, our routine since she was born. She also did not want to give me “one more kiss and one more hug” like she always asks after I rub her back and sing her one song. She has become a master procrastinator and manipulator at nap time which only further demonstrates how un-baby-like she is. We couldn’t possibly be having any more fun but the arms on the clock measuring our time with her are whizzing around and around leaving memories of my baby in a beautiful but painful blur.

Very funny life. Very funny.

*I finally picked back up on reading the book “Writing Tools” and posting samples of my work on the Writing Tools page. Hence the extraordinarily long second sentence in this post. It has proven very difficult to keep up my work on writing skills while in the midst of IVF but now that we have entered a waiting period I hope to be able to work on it and add posts on most weekends.

Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day. A day that brings mixed feelings for Mom’s who worked a little harder to build our family than most. Its a day of celebration for those of us who longed to receive a flower at church or breakfast in bed courtesy of a proud, flour covered child. We are finally part of it, rather than being on the outside looking in.

But it is also impossible to forget the pain and loneliness we felt in the days when this day was just another reminder of that title we had yet to earn. For the infertile woman whose heart is aching to be a Mother, this day and all its sappy commercials in the weeks leading up to it can’t come and go fast enough.

For me, Mother’s Day is even more conflicting because of what it means to us. You see, Spork was transferred to me as one of three microscopic embryos on Mother’s Day three years ago. She had been waiting in cryofreeze for over a year for me to finally bring her home. 12 days later I learned I was pregnant for the first time. For that reason, Mother’s Day will always be magical for me. It’s the day I was literally reunited with my first and only child after years of infertility and three previous embryo transfers.

But I have not forgotten what this day meant to me before I became a Mom. I can’t forget my friends who still desperately want to become a Mom. And of course I cannot forget those who lost a pregnancy, infant, or child of any age.

Today I am praying for all women, not just Mother’s. I am praying that those who have never known the pain of infertility and loss never do. I pray that the wait ends soon for those that are still waiting. I pray for peace and healing for those who are reliving a loss today. I pray for all mothers who gave their child and adoptive family the greatest give you can give. And I pray in great thanks for what I have and for the people and processes that made it possible, because I do know what I have. I do.

Peace and love to you all. May the world be kind to you today and may our Mother’s Day story bring those that need it hope instead of pain.

Nesting

Image by Kenneth Spencer via Flickr

I do it every cycle whether its IVF or FET… Every. Single. Cycle.

In the final days leading up to our procedures I start cleaning and organizing. And when I am done, I clean and organize some more.

Pregnant women nest in order to prepare the home for baby. I suppose it also helps relieve anxiety about the impending birth, the pain, the joy, and changes it will bring to the household. I really wouldn’t know thanks to several weeks of prescribed bed rest when I was pregnant with Spork. But I know a lot about nesting before IVF. I even know why I do it, however having that knowledge doesn’t save me from practicing my own personal brand of crazy.

I nest before IVF in order to gain control over my environment as things begin to feel more and more out of control. I clean in an attempt to occupy my mind, however I try to convince myself and others that I do it to prepare the world around me for 12 days of light activity and waiting.

This time, I took it to a whole new level. My bags are packed, every single linen and piece of clothing in the house is washed and put away, the bills are paid, the drugs I will use this week are neatly organized into a pill box, those drugs that I no longer use are tidied up and stored for a possible later time that I pray never comes. I even boxed up Spork’s 24 month duds and broke out her hand-me-down 2T sizes, washing them and tucking them away (sigh).

This is what I do and I do it so very well.

My nesting began three weeks ago when I began meal planning so I could eliminate stress during the cycle by ensuring that I always had gluten free leftovers to carry with me throughout the state of Michigan as I traveled to and fro for work. Never mind that I never cook anyway and I would have been just fine leaving dinner up to Bill like I always do.

Tonight my nesting ends with an impeccably clean attic. That’s right, attic. I won’t even see my attic over the next 2 weeks while I wait to find out it we are going to have another baby, but I would know it was a flippin’ mess and that would be enough to make me crazy. Not only does this cleaning save me from being even more nuts than I will be during the two week wait, it helps make me sane in the short term.

Cleaning the attic stops me from obsessing over questions like:

What if there are no eggs in my follicles?

What if we overstimulated and the eggs are immature?

What if Spork permanently damaged Bill’s little swimmers when she jumped on his lap a few days ago?

What if the eggs don’t fertilize?

What if I spill the only HCG within 3 hours of us tonight when I trigger?

The list goes on and on.

If you have followed my blog for more than 5 minutes you have already correctly diagnosed me as a control freak. I could try to fight it but after 38 years I know its pointless. All I can do is recognize it and try to be balanced by not letting my desire to relieve stress create more stress than it relieves. The meal planning failed that test, plus my cooking was pretty bad, which is why I stopped it last week. However it was sort of fun to watch Bill pretend to like my food so I may bring it back for some comic relief during the two week wait.

In fact, I think I will. After all, I can’t control whether or not my embryos attach and grow into healthy babies, but I can make a terrible batch of gluten free swedish meatballs to ~~enjoy~~ eat while we are waiting to find out the results.

Besides, other than a few bland meals, what’s the downside? My attic as well as my soul are better for this.

Do any of you do this as well or am I alone in my infertility induced obsessive compulsive behavior?

Who Says You Can’t Come Home Again?

Image:David Simmer II via Flickr

We had our Homecoming at New/Old clinic yesterday. Bill and I are both thrilled with the plan we have developed and also the stark difference in bedside manner and genuine caring we received from every individual we interacted with, especially our doctor.

I must confess that it was only six short months ago that I was angry with this clinic. I never stopped loving our doctor or nurses, but our last cycle was tough. We had a difficult transfer, lost 4 embryos total in the freeze/thaw process, and ultimately had a miscarriage. It was time for us to try something different and we did, even though I had a nagging feeling that I shouldn’t leave a team of nurses and doctors who understood me, my body and my history so well.

Over the years I have gone back and forth on the importance of beside manner. Does it matter? Do I care whether my doctor is nice to me, or for that matter even takes a moment to speak to me, as long as he gets the job done?

As it turns out, yes. It does matter to me. I want a doctor who listens to me, who has obvious passion for our joint objective, and who appreciates the power he has to eliminate stress in one aspect of this intense process.

I have that in New/Old clinic and it was clear yesterday.

First, rather than spending only 4 minutes with my doctor, we spent more like 40. Surprisingly, he put his ego completely aside and reviewed with me every aspect of my cycle with Celebrity Miracle Clinic. We discussed what we liked and didn’t like and adjusted our plan accordingly. There were a few things he said “no” to putting in the plan, but when he did he justified it with studies and science.

One example of this is intramuscular injectable progesterone. He agreed to let me do less painful suppositories, but only after I am pregnant. Studies show an ever so slight but still meaningful increase in pregnancy rates with injectable progesterone because suppositories can cause cramping and the implantation threatening uterine contractions that come a long with it.

We were most pleased with how much we accomplished yesterday and how flexible the clinic was in making it happen. Our appointment was only for a consultation, but when I told our doctor that I had a cyst since February that hadn’t budged despite being suppressed the whole time, he immediately squeezed us in for an ultrasound. When we saw that the little booger was too big to ignore, we weighed the options and decided to drain it in a painful but quick procedure. They made this happen even though is wasn’t “in the schedule” and it was late enough in the day we would likely be keeping the entire office there well past closing time.

To prepare me I was given a high powered antibiotic and 800 mg of ibuprofen. Because both could upset my stomach I was given crackers and juice. When I told the nurse I was gluten-free, she was clearly ready to check with the entire staff to see if there was anything they had in their personal stashes that I could eat. I told her that I thought it was a good excuse to break the diet and that it had been months since I had Cheez-its so not to worry.

When she left the room my husband turned to me and said “She is going to go ask everyone here if they have anything you can eat. The other clinic would have sent us to their kiosk down the corridor from their big beautiful waterfall and wouldn’t have given a damn.”

While I am not sure that is true, the point is we feel like this clinic really cares about us. Our doctor cracks us up because after decades in the business he still is obviously super geeked about advances in ART technologies. He doesn’t talk down to us and also recognizes the value of our opinion. But most of all, we are so impressed that the clinic recognized how far away we were from home and did what was necessary to remove the cyst rather than having us come back, or worse, waiting another month or two to see if the cyst went away on its own.

That just couldn’t have happened at Celebrity Miracle Clinic because access to the doctor is too limited and the clinic is too big to be that nimble.

So as you can tell we are pleased with our decision. While it may have taken more green to prove it, the grass is not always greener on the other side. And even more importantly, we are excited about our plan and even a bit surprised by some of the changes we made. Here it is in short form. As we progress through it I will pick it apart and explain the “why” behind some of what we are doing in more detail.

1) Stop birth control on April 16th and start maximum dosage of stimulation meds on April 18th. I love that we aren’t wasting any time and that we are beginning with the highest dosage to enlist as many of my resting follicles as possible. I will take 150iu of Menopur in the morning and 300iu of Gonal-F at night to stimulate growth of the egg yielding follicles in my ovaries.

2) Begin taking Omnitrope, a name brand of growth hormone, when I begin stimulation medications. I will inject 24iu a day during the entire time I am stimming. Studies show that this can improve egg quality in older women. It is theorized that because naturally produced growth hormone decreases as you age its decline may cause quality issues. Sample sizes are small for these studies but results are promising.

3) Use Cytotec to soften the cervix due to my difficult anatomy 7-10 days prior to transfer. The doctor also scheduled the transfer at a time that he was sure to be the one to do it since he knows our history with difficult transfer. We will also check my bladder level prior to going back for the procedure since it has been a problem for us in the past.

4) Inject HCG into the uterus the day prior to transfer to increase implantation rate. Studies have shown that growth factor injected into the uterus prior to transfer increases implantation rates.

5) Use time lapse photography to take snapshots every 8 seconds of the first two days the embryos are developing to rule out embryos that are not developing properly and are likely aneuploid (abnormal number of chromosomes). While this is not as accurate as genetic testing, it works to accomplish the same outcome while not damaging the embryos.

6) Assess on day two of embryo growth whether we freeze all the embryos or proceed with a fresh transfer on day three. This was a surprise. I thought we had ruled out a fresh transfer but both my doctor and my husband want to proceed with a fresh transfer if we have a number of good embryos. We will prepare my body for a fresh transfer and make a game time decision. I am as nervous about this as I am excited because it means I may be pregnant the first part of May, the same month I conceived Spork.

I feel like with this plan we are doing as much as we can to give this cycle the best chance of success possible.

We spent the entire afternoon building this plan and removing the cyst which could have been a taxing and exhausting experience. But it wasn’t. If anything it was invigorating. We accomplished so much in one afternoon, removing all obstacles and setting up our plan of attack. It wasn’t taxing at all because we weren’t in some sterile, cold, and beautiful mecca of fertility where our doctor was kept safely behind a curtain.

We were home.

Control What You Can Control

I spent the majority of the day worried that my treasured iTunes library with all its organized playlists had disappeared forever. I spent two hours with Apple support and an equal amount of time beforehand in chat rooms and reading troubleshooting links trying to avoid Apple support.

Of course I backup my Mac regularly like any responsible person who stores thousands of songs and family photos on her computer should so it shouldn’t have been a problem, right?

Yeah right.

I diligently backup like every 8 months or so.

I wasted the evening away desperately searching for a way to not have to go back to July of 2013 to replace the playlists. Early on in the process I was able to recover the music, but not the playlists. There was a point where I nearly gave up and accepted that it was enough to have all my music even if it wasn’t organized neatly in a slew of lists that together represent a chronological and musical expression of my entire being since I became an Apple user.

These playlists mark so many phases of my life. As a runner, I have playlists for certain distances that I run. For a short time today, the playlist that kept me company for nearly (but not quite!) four hours during my first marathon was lost. And there was so much more, like the first lullaby list I made Spork and countless playlists I have created as gifts for special people at special times. And let’s not forget my myriad fertility playlists with meditations and music put together in collections designed for specific stages of the IVF process.

All were gone for this short but panicked period of time.

I have mentioned before that I am Type A. This is why I have playlists that are the perfect length with just the right BPM to cover 5, 7, or 10 mile training runs. This is why I have multiple fertility playlists. This is why I spent the better part of the evening turning over every cyber rock I could find to determine how to get these playlists restored without losing a single song. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. I won.

I usually do.

In the fertility world, this type of behavior makes me a cliche. I am about to embark on my fifth IVF because I waited too damn long to start trying to get pregnant. I had a world to conquer, a career to develop, and a Master’s degree to complete before I could even fathom making babies. When I finally got serious at 34, we discovered that baby making was going to require more effort than all of these things combined.

So its no surprise that like a lot of women I try to exert as much control over the process as humanly possible. I do this despite knowing that IVF is a process that you simply cannot control. I have written before on the importance of acceptance and I believe fully in the mental benefit of being at peace with the fact that there is very little you can do to control or change infertility.

I fall short, however of relinquishing all control. There are certain things you can influence in IVF and as with other things in life I choose to live by the rules of the Serenity Prayer, letting go of those things I can’t control and controlling what I can.

There is so much with infertility that we have no ability to impact. Ultimately I cannot control whether we will have another baby or not. But I think its necessary to recognize that you can influence certain aspects and do your best in the process. There are things you can control. Many things.

I can make sure I take my shots on time and schedule my meds to arrive when I need them. I can control how I manage stress. I can control my weight. I can control my nutrition and exercise regimen. I can control my quality of care by being an educated patient who asks questions and advocates for myself.

You get the idea.

This is why we are taking an ungodly number of supplements. Its one tiny little thing that we can do to improve our odds of success.

Each and every single one has some added benefit that in one study or another led to increased success rates. Every item on the list has been vetted by one of the best clinics in the country and they believe it could have a positive impact.

So why not take them?

I do, however, think its a good idea to keep our ability to directly influence the outcome in perspective. My eggs have been with me since birth and we are having trouble because they are getting old and sticky, no longer dividing cleanly and quickly. All the Coq10 in the world is not going to reverse the impacts of aging.

However we have noticed a difference in our lab tests and our actual cycles since starting this regimen last year. My resting follicle count increased and our embryo production improved by 26% (22 resting follicles produced an additional three embryos). Bill’s count and motility were always good, but his morphology improved from the very low end of the range to the high end of the normal range in the last two specimens since starting the supplements.

So yes, the crazy number of supplements are probably an exercise in exerting control over infertility. But I don’t think that’s bad nor do I feel its futile. If it creates that one super healthy sperm that unites with that one magical and nutritionally nurtured egg to make a perfect little baby it will have been worth it.

I can’t change who I am any more than I can change the fact that we are infertile. It’s in my nature to try to control and influence. My DNA doesn’t allow me to give up without a fight. But I have at least learned to not allow the ability to control give me the false sense of responsibility when a cycle fails. That is the risk you run with trying to control infertility. If you accept that you can make a difference, then it is all too easy to make the mental leap that you are to blame when things don’t go well.

You cannot blame yourself when things go badly. What you did still may have had a positive impact, it doesn’t mean you did something wrong any more than it means you should stop trying to make a difference. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, pop a few more supplements, be compassionate with yourself and proceed to Plan B.

Hello, Goodbye- Part 2

Image: John Via Flickr

Phew. Glad I got Part One out of my system. Now that its done, that goodbye has been said, let’s talk about the FUTURE.

Well really, let’s talk about NOW because our next step is already well under way.

Hello Future.

We don’t stay down for long in this family. Before the sun set on us Sunday night I had already emailed the new/old clinic to explain our situation and set up a consultation. It often takes time to switch clinics. Time for diagnostic testing, Time to get on the calendar. I was expecting it to take time this time too. Nope… we are in full swing.

Before we left our new/old clinic we already had a consultation with our Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) to hear his recommendations for what we should try next after our miscarriage. Those of us in the fertility world call this the “WTH” (What The Heck?) appointment. Some more colorful ladies use another letter besides “H.”

I am more comfortable just calling it a consultation myself. If you think about it, with the odds of IVF being less than 50% the WTH appointment should be reserved for when a patient actually gets pregnant. At least that is how it feels for this unlucky girl.

In preparation for this discussion my new/old RE created a plan. All our lab work and other testing is recent enough that there is no need to repeat. So when I opened my email Monday morning and one of my favorite nurses had already responded, I was pleasantly surprised to find we could pass go and go straight to cycling. All we had to do was call the business office and pay a deposit.

By close of business on Monday, the deposit was paid and we were on the calendar for a May retrieval. We set up consultation appointment on April 10th to review the plan and also make necessary adjustments based on what we learned from Celebrity Miracle Clinic. I was told to call with my “pre-month” menses which I took to mean April. However when my monthly friend arrived Wednesday I called to be sure and they told me it was close enough that we could get going. Yes!

Drugs have been ordered and are scheduled to arrive. I am back on birth control again and we are taking supplements to improve egg and sperm quality. At the consultation we will pick a date in May and count backwards to select a date when I will go off the pill to begin another antagonist cycle (I will explain what that means in a later post). We will retrieve my eggs in May and create our embryos which will all be frozen.

In June we will thaw several of them for transfer. We are doing this because I have never been pregnant on a fresh cycle. Some women just do better with frozen cycles and I appear to be one of those Ice Queens. More importantly, we know that my embryos are slow starters and a frozen cycle will allow us to better match the time when the lining is receptive to the development of the embryo.

Over the last few days I have already talked to three of my favorite nurses. I am excited. I am nervous. But mostly I am just glad to be ready to go and to be working with my old friends.

Now I just need to give new/old clinic, new/old nurses, and new/old RE a more creative and acceptable name. Something as fitting for them as “Celebrity Miracle Clinic” was for the other one.

I’m thinking about it…

Any ideas?

Hello, Goodbye- Part 1

It has been a busy, hectic, and emotional week. In fact we almost haven’t had time to process what happened last Friday.

Almost.

While I felt guilty in the moment, looking back I do not regret caving in the 11th hour and taking the home pregnancy test. Testing before the official test allowed us to leave early for our weekend of water sliding and cleared Friday night for much needed time to discuss the sad news and what would come next.

Our discussion that night was one of the most challenging in our marriage. Bill and I process bad news in different ways which often leads to disagreements during times when we should be most supportive of each other, like the night of a failed pregnancy test. Especially this failed pregnancy test.

After eight procedures, twenty embryos, one miscarriage, and putting all our hopes and money into the Celebrity Miracle Clinic for one full cycle, we were both reeling and not at all in a position to give to the other what was needed that night. The weight of a disappointment of that magnitude could crush even the most perfect of couples.

Because so much of the IVF process centers on me, it is easy for me to forget that we are both invested in this. We are both elated when we are at a peak and devastated when we are in a valley. I have often made the mistake of expecting Bill to be there to take care of me, to put me back together when I am falling apart, only to realize that he may not be whole himself. This was the case Friday night.

Adding fuel to the fire, we were not at all aligned with what we wanted to do next. I decided long ago we would go back to Celebrity Miracle Clinic for one more attempt at creating a baby with my own eggs. Who cares that we didn’t like our experience there? I reviewed statistics for the best clinics in the country and determined that Celebrity Miracle Clinic was the place to be for an old lady with egg quality issues who was serious about getting knocked up.

Bill, on the other hand, has a deep seeded dislike of Celebrity Miracle Clinic and suggested in a less than subtle way that we consider alternatives.

Cue massive, explosive argument.

Throwing a wrench into the recovery plans of a hormonal Type A infertile woman is bound to cause a wee bit of a problem. It was a long night. Hurtful things were said. The evening culminated in our holding each other at 2 AM seriously discussing whether or not we could go through IVF again at all.

In the physical world, some explosions are devastatingly destructive. Others are critical steps toward building something new and breathtaking, like an expansive tunnel to the other side of an enormous mountain. I feel that Friday night was creative destruction, the clearing of one set of ideas and mental debris that allowed us to find a new path through this huge obstacle in front of us.

The truth is I don’t care for Celebrity Miracle Clinic either. Take for example what happened Saturday. I went for my blood work at 6AM mountain time. At 12:41 PM a nurse from the clinic called me to see if I had done my blood work. I told her that I had. She was then supposed to call the lab and call me right back to give us the results. Five hours later, there was still no call and no results. I eventually called the after hours answering service and had to demand to speak to the on call nurse because I was told “lab results are only discussed during normal business hours.” After five phone calls I finally received a call back with the results of my long awaited pregnancy test.

This type of thing happens all the time at Celebrity Miracle Clinic, but I explain it away and suppress my feelings about it because they supposedly have the best lab and results in the country.

Bill’s suggestion that we consider going back to our old clinic, the one that gave us Spork, made me angry at first. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me.

We initially went to Celebrity Miracle Clinic because we didn’t know if we were still making chromosomally normal embryos. While our old clinic can do genetic testing, they do it at an early embryonic stage that can damage the embryo to the degree that makes it less likely to survive and implant.

Celebrity Miracle Clinic uses technology that allows the embryo to be biopsied at a later stage and therefore does less damage to the embryo, using only a small number of cells from the part of the embryo that will become the placenta.

I debriefed with my Celebrity Miracle Doctor on Monday. He said that we had three genetically normal embryos that were of good quality and we were just “unlucky” this time.

Hmmm… maybe. Maybe it’s a little more than just bad luck.

In our cycle at Celebrity Miracle Clinic we had 5 embryos make it to the blastocyst stage. Of those five, the initial genetic test results came back with two embryos as genetically normal (euploid), one abnormal (aneuploid). The remaining two embryos had to be retested because the tests were inconclusive.

What? Retested? What does that mean?

That means Celebrity Miracle Clinic achieved a 40% failure rate on their amazing state-of-the-art testing and we had to do it again. After retesting, one embryo came back abnormal and the other embryo was Blob. In order to be retested he had to be warmed and biopsied a second time, removing even more cells from his 100 or so to support the test.

When Blob was frozen the first time he was a 5BA blastocyst which meant he was still in his shell. During the second biopsy he completely reanimated, expanded, and even shed his outer shell. Then he was flash frozen again.

After that he was never the same.

Embryos are supposed to fully expand after being warmed. In fact, re-expansion is the most important indicator for a successful implantation. Blob barely had a chance once he was warmed again and only slightly expanded.

What Blob looked like at transfer

What Blob should have looked like at transfer

Had the test worked the first time, or had Blob not been tested at all, he could be happily growing inside me. There is no way to know, but the testing could have been too much for him. It could have been too much for the other two normal embryos that didn’t implant in January as well.

My new/old clinic transfers embryos at an earlier stage, generally untested but also undamaged. Now that we know more than 25% of our embryos are likely to be chomosomally normal, we can go back to the new/old clinic and continue with some confidence that it will likely just be a matter of time and patience before one of those embryos sticks and becomes Spork’s sibling.

While we do run an increased risk of miscarrying an abnormal embryo that wouldn’t have been transferred at Celebrity Miracle Clinic, as well as an increased risk for Down’s Syndrome or other chromosomal issues, these risks aren’t higher than any other 38 year old who gets pregnant and are still relatively low. The trade off is that we put the embryos back to their natural environment without damage sooner, which bodes well for delicate embryos.

Armed with this knowledge, today we said goodbye to Celebrity Miracle Clinic. I sent the official form from new/old clinic requesting all my medical records. I called my nurse to tell her voice to voice. It felt a little like an overdue break-up, like severing a slightly dysfunctional but at one time mutually beneficial relationship that is no longer beneficial.

We said goodbye to more than just a clinic with that call today. At our first consultation with them back in July we were so filled with the hope we would wind up on the right side of their jaw-dropping statistics. We were mesmerized by their program and amazing facility. Today we are no longer awe-struck. We said goodbye to that child like wonder and the certainty that Celebrity Miracle Clinic would swoop in and fix what was wrong.

We also said goodbye to Blob today. Even though I knew at transfer he had a slim chance, I fully believed he would make it. The start of my period today underscored the fact that he did not, something I have known since Friday but becomes so real when this time comes, the time when a cycle officially comes to an end and a new one begins.

While a little saddened, we are also turning a page. I received a call with the plan from the new/old clinic today thus taking our first steps through the tunnel we blasted into our own personal mountain. While the pain of goodbye is still fresh if I dwell on it like the pain of a fresh break up, there is nothing like the promise of a new relationship to help the memory fade.

It’s already time to look forward.

And so it is with infertility as it is with so many things in life.

Three Theme Songs for The Two Week Wait

Image via Goff/INFphoto.com

Two Week Wait Theme Song #1

Amy Winehouse- Rehab

Last night on my way home from work Bill called me and told me he was stopping at a pharmacy to pick up some cold medicine for my sister. Apparently she didn’t call me because she was worried I was too busy. Busy, yes? But I was only 200 yards from Walgreens and it would have consumed all of about 10 minutes of my time, a small contribution to help my sick niece get well. Especially since it was my sweet little petri dish of a daughter who passed along this nasty cold.

Still, I declined. My workload had nothing to do with it. I didn’t take it off my husband’s plate because I am a wimp on the verge of completely caving at any moment. I ~~fear~~ know if I walk into any institution that sells or contains pregnancy tests I will walk out with at least one, if not more.

I need an intervention.

Image via nydailynews.com

Two Week Wait Theme Song #2

Ozzy Osborne- Crazy Train

I awoke yesterday morning feeling total normal. The tell-tale exhaustion from the day before was gone, my “girl”s were a little sore but not tingly anymore, and the tightness in my lower abdomen disappeared. After being convinced for several days that the symptoms I experienced meant a Big Fat Positive (BFP) was just around the corner, I felt sad and dejected. The feelings of sadness and dejection made me think maybe I had PMS. I was spiraling out of control and I needed company. I immediately texted a friend, my sisters, and my Mom to share the insanity.

Keep in mind, I am only 3 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Even in the best case scenario any HCG in my system would be minimal. Any symptoms I have are much more likely to be caused by hormones I am taking than a pregnancy at this early stage.

By the end of the work day I was yawning mid-sentence when talking to one of my employees about a client. I almost hurled when I walked by the Keurig we have in our lobby. Coffee was my only aversion when I was pregnant with Spork. It was so bad Bill had to brew his morning cup of joe in our garage.

So now I am sane and hopeful again, even though I know it means nothing. All aboard!

Image via wikipedia

Two Week Wait Theme Song #3

Carly Simon- Anticipation

I love Carly and this is one of my all time faves. The ballad begins:

We can never know about the days to come
But we think about them anyway
And I wonder if I’m really with you now
Or just chasing after some finer day.

Anticipation, Anticipation
Is making me late
Is keeping me waiting

This beautiful little ditty goes on to describe the longing for a lover, but this first verse and chorus makes me think of Blob. Are you still with me now, Blob? Are you still living and growing?

Or is this cycle just a step toward a finer day when we will have another baby in our arms?

Whatever the case, I am more than eagerly anticipating the days to come. Specifically Saturday when this part of the wait will finally be done. With any luck we will be done waiting for pregnancy test results forever.

If you had a theme song for how you are feeling today, what would it be?

Pitch Drop Experiment Vs. The Two Week Wait

My post yesterday about the mysteries of IVF reminded me of another great Radiolab episode that helps put the torturous wait for our pregnancy test results in perspective.

It could be a lot worse.

It could be like the Pitch Drop Experiment.

Nine days of waiting feels like a really long time, especially when a healthy chunk of retirement savings rides on the outcome. The wait is painful and and requires great patience. However it doesn’t begin to compare to the patience practiced by the late professor John Mainstone.

Sadly, the revered researcher went to his grave without ever seeing the results of his test. Those results are due at any time now, and were estimated to arrive last July.

But still, we wait.

John Mainstone Watches and Waits

The experiment began under the supervision of another scientist in 1927. Eighty-seven years later researchers are still longing to see the results, making my 9 days pale in comparison. However just like my pregnancy test, the wait will end in a fraction of a second creating a mesmerizing moment where time that has lagged dramatically slingshots into high gear, moving at the speed of light toward what comes next.

The contrast is fascinating.

What is this intriguing and insanely lackadaisical experiment?

Pitch is a substance that is technically viscous, however if you hit it with a hammer it will shatter. The experiment is all about attempting to observe the substance’s liquid like properties and take note of what happens in the moment in which pitch drips out of a glass like a viscous substance should.

To accomplish this, a sample of pitch was heated and poured into a funnel shaped glass. Once the pitch settled, a process that took three years, the bottom was cut from the funnel.

Then the wait for the pitch to release a drop commenced.

Slowly but surely, the pitch began to stretch and prepare to drip. Over the last 87 years it has lazily dripped 8 times, an average of once every 10.87 years. However, the drops have never been observed. The experiment began before it was feasible to use cameras to monitor the pitch and the researchers consistently missed the fraction of a second they patiently anticipated.

Capturing that moment is exceedingly difficult. How do you observe something that happens anywhere from every 8 to 13 years but in a blink of an eye?

At one point, professor Mainstone was monitoring the pitch at a time when it was crazily close to dropping. He went to get coffee and when he returned, the pitch had dropped. Imagine his frustration! I am sure it was far worse than a two week wait, especially considering the experiment had to have grown to feel like “his baby.”

The last time the pitch dropped, there were was a camera on it but it malfunctioned.

Seriously, this poor dude was doomed.

Today the pitch has three cameras trained on it and there is a live video feed on a special website set up by the School of Mathematics and Physics at The University of Queensland where the experiment began.

Click to go to the live feed of The Pitch Drop Experiment

There are people hopelessly addicted to watching the live feed, wanting desperately to see with the naked eye what no other human has ever seen live. I too was sucked into the obsession when I first learned of the Pitch Drop Experiment, but soon realized that you could waste your life away by devoting it to following the imminent drop.

This is another way the experiment is like a two week wait. You can obsess about it non-stop, but it won’t make the moment arrive sooner. Wasting your time and energy thinking about it is pointless, but its amazingly difficult to avoid.

Thankfully there is no chance I will wait for nearly a century for my results.

So Dr. Mainstone, I tip my hat to you for your patience, fortitude, and resolve. I am so sorry you will miss it, again.

Personal Update: Feeling more pregnant than ever. With Spork I didn’t have much morning sickness but I was so exhausted every day I came home from work and would fall asleep on the couch before dinner. Its way too early for real pregnancy symptoms, but I did feel that tired yesterday. I am hopeful Blob has stuck and is already putting his Mama to the test!