Mind Games

On October 19th, after 49 days, my period came. On its own. No provera, no clomid or letrozole, just your run of the mill menstrual cycle. I was shocked. I had some symptoms that made me wonder for about a week prior, but I had convinced myself that the possibility was simply too slim to count on and I went about my life.

For days following cycle day one, I kept saying, "I cant believe it!" Because its true. I couldn't believe that for the first time in over 10 years my period just... showed  up. Was it a fluke? Did I ovulate? Will it happen again? I made the assumption that if it were to happen again without any intervention from pills or shots, I could expect my period to arrive in about 50 days time. If it didn't come by then, I still had my provera prescription and I could write this cycle off as nothing but a random happenstance.

Imagine my surprise when I woke to find my periods arrival 36 days later. 36! That is what most Doctors would consider a "regular" time frame. What? How? What does this mean for us?
Most women will get a period if they did not get pregnant that cycle. That is common knowledge. What most people dont know, is that you can get a period without ovulating at all and that can happen for several cycles in a row without any knowledge its happening. When that first period came, I assumed that is what happened. I was only a week or two away from beginning my next round of provera and thought that perhaps my lining was thick enough and just needed to shed. It was safer to think it was a fluke, rather than debate on whether or not a mature egg actually existed.

One of the things I had just came to accept, was that we would never get to "try" on our own. You can have as much unprotected sex as you want, but if you are not ovulating you have a 0% chance of conception. I went YEARS without periods and ovulation, only to have them when I was undergoing treatments or inducing cycles with hormones. My cycles have been more synthetic than natural and I got use to that. Now, there is actually a chance that we could "try" every month like everyone else.

I mean, logically, I am aware that the chances of things happening on their own are so incredibly slim, I am probably more likely to be hit by lightning or something. But... what if?

After the arrival of that first period, I considered going back to my ovulation testing days. When we first started to try, I was testing with those good old fashioned pee sticks. They are so damn cheap to purchase in bulk, it was pretty easy to convince myself that it wouldn't be a horrible idea to test on certain cycle days. Not too expensive, ya know? Then I remembered that PCOS makes those tests unreliable the majority of the time and peeing in a cup every morning gets pretty exhausting. I further convinced myself that it wouldn't matter if I ovulate or not. I cant get pregnant on my own anyway, right? So I took them out of my amazon cart and pushed the thought away, allowing more "what if" thoughts to plague me.

When the second period came so soon after the first, I decided that while the guessing game is extremely exciting, I didnt want to play any more. I decided to renew my Ovusense subscription and my new sensor should be here in a couple weeks or so. The sensor was top notch and worth every penny when we began treatment and has actually improved over the few months that I have gone without using it. I am anxious to see what I can learn about the cycles I am having on my own, but also terrified.

I can already see myself learning of ovulation and immediately reverting to our timed intercourse days, where sex was the least desirable its ever been and infertility stress was at its peak. I can also see the possibility of learning that I am not ovulating at all, leading to all sorts of disappointment about my body and our situation. There is also that rare chance that I have a cycle with a perfect, mature egg, with perfectly timed sex that leads to a positive pregnancy test. It is that slim to none chance that over powers any thing else... so here we are. Our little silicone, sperm shaped friend will be apart of my nightly routine once again, coming with consequences we may or may not be ready for.

****

I look at our cute little Christmas tree this year and ache every time my eyes land on the twinkling lights. When we set it up last year, we had just moved into our big, beautiful apartment. We had an empty spare room with hearts full of hope. I looked at Isaac with a big smile on my face and said, "Next year we wont be empty handed. Next year will be different."

We are certainly different people now but not the different I was hoping for. I was imagining I would have my hair in a messy bun while I peeled a nursing baby from my chest. Christmas toys would be wrapped and placed under the tree, knowing that the memory we were trying to create was really only for us, because after all, that cute baby of ours wont be old enough to remember. Of course, I was logical in my day dream and knew, even then, that we had a long road of fertility struggles ahead of us. So sometimes I would day dream that I was standing in front of our tree with a belly so big I couldnt see my feet, reaching carefully to hang ornaments without knocking everything over with my new, over stretched tummy.  If I was trying to be really really logical in thought, I would imagine that I was posing for a picture in front of that tree with nothing to show but some bloat and a strand of ultrasound pictures. Wouldn't our Christmas tree be such a cute backdrop for a pregnancy announcement?

Christmas 2018 

Infertility gets harder and harder the longer it lasts. We are approaching two years of trying for our babies and I have yet to fall pregnant. Holidays become more and more triggering the longer you are infertile, too. Perhaps that is some of the reason I feel inclined to track the ins and outs of my cycles, despite the stress and strain it could put on us.

If I can regulate my cycles, perhaps that will mean I am healthier than I was at the time of our IVF in July. Maybe when we do our frozen embryo transfer (or FET for short) my uterus will be happier than it was then, making our embabes more inclined to stick around.

Presently, that is the train of thought I am trying to stick with. Its much easier to financially and emotionally prepare for the event of a FET rather than the chance that I will wake up one day pregnant after a wild night with my husband. My heart still entertains the thought every day, but I wont allow my mind to fixate for too long.

I want to thank those of you who take the time out of your day to read the blogs I share. Sometimes far and few between, but always made with the intention to be heard. As apart of my emotional growth and healing, I have come to understand that having a space to share my story as it unfolds is important for me. I get carried away if I am not careful to express myself often in the right avenues. Knowing friends and family read and cheer us on from a distance is helpful, believe it or not. So as always, I intend to take the reality of our infertility to my keyboard and share updates with you often. Now that my body has figured out it has a job to do, maybe ill be able to do that more often.

Thanks for the love, y'all.

Provera Induced Psychosis

Okay, the title is just a joke, but only a little.

After 40 days came and went with no sign of a period, I called up my doctor to get a prescription for a drug that will induce a period. Its basically a crap ton of progesterone and then all the sudden I stop it and BAM. Aunt flow arrives for her visit. I took it once before when we began the process, but haven't needed it since because we have been doing treatments back to back for the better part of a year.

Before you freak out, No. I am not pregnant. As a matter of fact, my Doctor didn't want me to come in for a cycle check or a pregnancy test. All of us already knew.

Ill be taking this medication for 10 days every other month until further notice. My doctor agreed that we should at least keep up on cycles, even if that means its medically induced and I do not ovulate during this time.

Its kind of sad thinking that we have basically stopped trying to have a baby. I mean, yeah, I am not on birth control any more, but we are well aware that doesn't make a difference for us.

Anyway, the first time I took the drugs, I felt pretty crazy. I remember being happy one moment, then looking at Isaac with huge tears in my eyes saying, "I don't want to do this for the next five years! I cant do this!" Not even two minutes after cracking jokes. I remember feeling feisty, having a hard time sleeping, and having a weird appetite. Psychotic was the only way I could describe how I felt inside. By the time the meds did their magic I felt so much better. I realized then that I wasn't crazy, just hormonal. And maybe a bit stressed.

Here we are. A year later and I am getting involved with useless Facebook drama, working some long shifts on 4 hours of sleep, and I can't finish any of my meals (but I can down a bag of mini m&m's like it was going out of style). Its taken me a few days to realize that its these damn hormones and I am instantly more frustrated. How am I still tied up in hormonal upswings and depression down shifts? What is happening over here?

I feel crazy and I probably look crazy to anyone that doesn't know me or understand my struggle. I suppose this is something I should get use to. After all, it is none of my business when it comes to what others think of me, even in settings where it could intertwine with my professional life. I must move forward and allow the shifts and swings to do their thing. Roll with the punches, I guess.

Today is National Rainbow Baby day. A rainbow baby is a baby born after a pregnancy loss/stillbirth. For weeks I've been trying to navigate the emotions I have been experiencing since our failed embryo transfer. Some would argue that this is absolutely nothing like a miscarriage but I (somewhat hesitantly) admit disagreement.

That embryo was growing. It was real. It was inserted into my womb and if all would have gone well, that baby would be 9 weeks gestation. It could have been a little girl with curly dark hair just like me. It could have been a boy, who would have his Daddy's smile. Our embryo didn't get to reveal any of those things, for reasons I don't get to know, but that doesn't change how I feel about it or what the experience has done to impact my life. I am pro choice all the way, so lets not make this a pro-life argument. Its not about politics and whether or not this was considered life. Instead, I just want a safe place to write publicly, that this was indeed a loss, one worth celebrating and remembering. One worth thinking about and one worth discussing. My husband and I have had to deal with the reality that one of our little babies couldn't come earth side, leaving us with empty arms and sad, sad hearts. Two pink lines on a pregnancy test or a heart beat found during an ultrasound do not take away from what could have been and they wouldn't have changed its value in our eyes.

In honor of the battle I am currently fighting in order to get my babies here and in honor of all the rainbow babies that came to be, I am ending my vulnerable rant and finishing with a picture of our "rainbryo"

If you happen to see me pulling an '07 Brittney, shaving my head with that look on my face, don't be alarmed. It's just the provera and I'll return to my normal self in about 10-12 business days.

Triggered

July was one of the strangest months of my life. It's weird that I'm not on some sort of medication. I'm not getting ready for a fertility cycle to start and I'm not waiting for one to finish. No beta blood draws, no pregnancy test, no shots.

We are months and months away from doing another embryo transfer. At best we pay $2,300 and are back in the game before the end of the year. The more likely scenario is that we spend $4,100 and do the transfer some time next spring. Insurance is still processing our cycles from months ago, so we aren't holding out hope that there will be any coverage left to use. Our insurance had a beautiful, large, lifetime max for fertility coverage and IVF cost just about every cent of it. I'm grateful, believe me, but I'll never stop being heartbroken about the fact it takes upwords of $30,000 just to try to get pregnant. I should be able to do it for free!

Since getting pregnant has been forcefully put on pause, I decided to make something of my Doula work. I figured that a handful of births would get us to our own babies so much sooner, so in the matter of a month I built a website, created a pretty decent network of connections, and spent A LOT of money on two different certifications. I've been studying and putting all my free time into making this legitimate. It's exhausting trying to start and run a small business.

If I'm being honest though, it's even more exhausting that my calling in life is also triggering.

At the beginning of this journey I was 100% capable of separating my personal struggles from my career. However over the course of the year, I've been stripped of my ability to keep it cool on the inside. My heart aches every day because of what I do. I wish jealousy and envy were not normal human emotions, but they are. What frustrates me the most, is I'm so passionate about what I do. I really love studying the physiology of birth and all that goes into it. I love taking care of Mothers and offering physical and emotional support. I truly adore every second of the career path I've chosen, but damn it's hard on me. It won't be easier when I overcome Infertility, the difficulty will just be...different.

I look forward to the day where I am no longer triggered by pregnancy announcements or crying babies. When the physical urge rip my hair out while I scream until my throat bleeds dissipates... When I can do my job without that pit in my stomach as I walk the hospital halls displayed with photographs of infants. When I stop considering it good luck when I feel a baby kick from the inside and when I have my own kids to stress over... I really look forward to that day.

Until then, Isaac and I will absolutely be walking around like sad zombies. If you're wondering if we are okay, the answer is no. If you're wondering what you can do to help, the answer is to stop telling us God will give us a baby when it's "His time." You could stop saying anything of the sort and just love us. We are constantly trying to put out the fire of emotions that burn within us every time we see you and your cute little family. Please do not make it worse by fishing for something to say. Just.... Love us.

Infertility is awful. It's sad, gut wrenching, depressing, and ridiculously expensive. The waiting to try feels like a slow death of all things maternal within me. I see it weigh on Isaac and that kills me even more. I've never fully understood the full sense of the word triggered, but I get it now. It's all over the place and it's finally catching up to us. Our babies are frozen in petri dishes and a 45 minute car ride would take us right to them... And yet we are so far from holding them and kissing their cheeks.

Shoot guys... The Forsgren family could use some love and some reprieve.

Also, $4,000 if you have it.

And Then There Were Three

Last week the dread of our failed IVF cycle hung over our heads like a giant rain cloud. Things were confusing, uncertain, and just plain sad. The weekend offered us a glimmer of hope for reprievement and we decided to go all out. We spoiled ourselves at the book store and bought some new throw pillows for our couch. We got dressed up for a wedding we attended and danced together the whole night. I had a couple Pina Coladas and cut and dyed my hair. We went on a date and slept in. We reconnected and felt refreshed when the week started again. We called our weekend, "consolation weekend". These were the small prizes we won to make up for it all.

On Monday our doctor called me from her personal number to talk about our cycle and our next steps. She started by telling us that 60-70% of the time transfers fail because of the embryo, not the uterus. While the embryo we implanted looked great, it could have been abnormal, we just don't know. We have done all of the standard testing on my uterus and even removed that polyp via hysteroscopy. This cycle my lining looked really great. Even though things seem flawless, my Doctor recommended doing a test for endometritis, just to be sure.

Endometritis is inflammation of the inner lining of the uterus. It requires a biopsy to see if I have it and if I do, some special antibiotics is all it should take. This is found in 5-7% of patients who have failed embryo implantation and the percentage is even higher in patients experiencing recurrent pregnancy loss. The percentage sounds so small, but if we have been this unlucky, it can't hurt to rule out. I've had a few pelvic procedures as well and it's a valid possibility that I'll test positive. The cost of a frozen transfer is so high it feels worth it to do the test and treat the endometritis if necessary. Honestly, I'm willing to do anything to increase the chances of our babies sticking around. The cost or the discomfort don't outweigh the reward of having our family.

Yesterday we got a phone call we've been waiting for since our first transfer. The clinic that genetically screened our embryos finally called us with the results. Of the 4 embryos we had remaining, 3 of them are genetically normal and viable for transfer. THREE! We can't believe it. We didn't have a lot of expectations about our results. We hoped for at least two to be normal and viable but knew it was possible that none of them would be. Some stars aligned for us and now we have three precious, beautiful, normal embabies waiting to be reunited with me. When I heard the news, I couldn't help but cry.

We have no clue when we will be able to transfer our little embryos. If it were up to me, I'd get the biopsy tomorrow and transfer the moment I was cleared, but lots and lots of money stand in the way. I don't know how I feel about waiting but I don't have much of a choice and will utilize the time I've got to get myself ready.

We know the genders of our little embabies. A secret we are keeping between us until it's time to share. I don't know what God I have to pray to or what spell I have to cast, but I'll do anything to will the universe to give me all of these babies. We want them and need them here. All of them. All three. Not at once, but definitely all three.

We are so grateful to know what we know. Transferring healthy, genetically normal embryos will be the game changer for us. We have to stay brave and stay focused and our babies will come... Right? 

This is Infertility

About 5 days after my transfer I decided to take a pregnancy test. I was so sure it would be positive I woke up every two hours to check the time, hoping that it was morning and I could test. 5 am seemed early enough, so off I went. The First Response Early Detection tests are "the best" tests to use because they are the most accurate detecting early pregnancy. Most IVF moms get a positive five days after their transfer and expected myself to be no different.

I waited for 3 minutes only to find that it was negative. I didn't even have to squint and decide if there was a real line or an evap line. Oh, yeah. For those of you who pee on sticks and move on with your life, you may not know that sometimes after a few extra minutes of sitting, a second line appears only because it's soaked enough, not because you're pregnant.  I've gotten lots of those over the months of testing, but not this time. Not even a little.

So I proceeded to cry in Isaac's arms for two hours. There was something in me that knew it was over. It was still early but I just... knew.

6 days, 7 days, 8 days past transfer. Negative, negative, negative.

I stopped testing after that. I didn't want to waste the clear blue digitals I bought to use only when I saw the two pink lines and needed confirmation in the form of 8 visible letters. I could feel the breast tenderness start to go away, indicating that the progesterone I've been making is starting to go down, even with the thrice daily suppositories.
Any woman going through fertility treatments as long as we have, just knows when it hasn't worked.

We have 4 embryos that should be having their genetic tests done as I type this. In about a weeks time we will learn the results and if they are good for transfer, we will skimp and save to have two embryos transferred. No questions asked; a second round of this makes me less scared of the small possibility that we will end up with twins. I'd rather be on bed rest for half my pregnancy than never get my babies here. Besides, if I wasnt apart of the 62% that ended with a successful transfer of a single embryo, why the hell would I bank on getting two damn babies?? Our goal is one and it may take all of these embryos to get it.

The embryo we transferred was strong and healthy from what we could tell. I don't think "it happened for a reason" applies here. That embryo, that little clump of cells, was our baby. It doesn't all the sudden not become our baby because it didn't stick. That was apart of me and apart of my husband and that was our baby. It was meant to be here with us but for a reason we may never know, the little embryo that could, all the sudden could not.

I don't know how we will afford a frozen embryo transfer. It's not cheap and as we all have learned by now, has no promises. While we feel blessed to have 4 souls on ice right now, we are well aware that not everyone will make it to a live birth. This is just the way the cookie crumbles.

Hope is hard to come by when the reality of infertility weighs down like the darkness of a sky without stars. The heartbreak and devastation never leave. Rather, they linger and each day gets a tad bit tougher. At this point giving up doesn't seem like an option. Even logically, I know we've come too far to only get this far.

I'm sad. Isaac is sad. I'm a mother without my baby. Where is my baby?

I'm tired of being told no, try again later. Where is my yes?

Princess Days

The day of the transfer and two days after I was instructed to have my "princess days". After a 5 day embryo transfer, it's expected that the embryo will implant some time in the first 48 hours. The embryo is only about 2 millimeters in size so even the smallest uterine contractions have the potential to throw them off course. I was told no exercising; anything I couldn't talk through was way too hard. It was suggested I Netflix binge, take some naps, and basically lounge around dreaming of our little embabe.

I was looking forward to these days. I work 6 days a week and am on call basically 24/7. Having scheduled days off designated for my pampering sounded like exactly what I needed.

The first day, after Isaac left for work, I hurried into my swim suit. I've been dying for a pool day and thought this was the perfect chance! Tying up my top it occured to me that the chlorine water is probably not the best thing for me after having all sorts of crap (and a precious, floating embryo) up in my business. So I crawled back into bed, putting on comfy  PJs and and a marathon of "Snapped". That was great for 2.5 seconds....

Typically, on the days I finally have to myself, days where the house is clean, the laundry is done, and we have plenty of snacks, I relish in the self care opportunity. But this? This was hell.

Give yourself two whole days in the house with nothing entertaining enough to keep your mind from wandering in and out of all your deepest fears.  You'll go crazy pretty fast. This is either it or it isn't, he/she is here to stay or we do a frozen embryo transfer in a few months.

So I sat there. Thinking about whether or not it is... Or it isn't.

Today, the second day, was probably the worst. I began to feel some cramping after running through the house to catch my cat. For the 5th time this week he had dumped all the water in his automatic water fountain dish. I was determined to use his fluffy fur as a damn mop, so I chased him in circles for like, a minute.

I hope you're laughing and not calling the cops on me for animal abuse.

Anyway, when I had finally cleaned the water and got back into bed, I felt some very, very minor cramps. They only lasted a few seconds, a minute a most. Any other time in my life I wouldn't have thought for one more second about them. However, this wasn't just any other time. This was THE time.

I began to ball my little eyes out. Saying out loud to no one but my good for nothing mop cat, "please stick baby, I am so sorry!"

The idea that I could have done something to dislodge our implanting embryo made me sick to my stomach.

You're probably wondering why I'm even sharing this. It's kind of embarrassing to admit I was wailing and saying these things to a cluster of cells that absolutely cannot hear me.... But this is infertility. It's complicated, but to me, this is my baby. This is the closest we have ever gotten to parenthood and the only thing I had to do to help it stick, was to stay relaxed and calm. It's irrational and logically I know that I can't blame myself if this cycle doesn't work. But at the time I felt like I had done something to harm my child.

I was able to calm down after I did some meditations and almost immediately I felt positive and happy that this could still work.

It's a bizzare place that I am in right now. Still have the IVF hormones coursing through me and it won't be long before I have pregnancy hormones to replace them. I'm exhausted because trying to relax my mind and my body (anxiety totally manifests in physical ways) takes up all my energy. I'm desperate for time to fly but terrified for it to speed up. I can only say "I'm pregnant!" for so long until I'm not any more.

A time so magical is also so scary.

How am I going to survive the next few weeks?

Infertility sucks.

Oh, and if you were wondering, Opie made a really bad mop.

All of Our Eggs in One Laboratory

Guess what?! We had our embryo transfer today! The long awaited day finally arrived and I am so proud of us! This has been such a journey and making it to this day feels like such an accomplishment.

Our egg retrevial was June 20th. They got 16 eggs and we were absolutely thrilled with that number. A couple days prior to retrevial I began to feel the effects of having ovaries the size of tennis balls. I don't actually know if they were that big, but it sure felt like it. As soon as I woke up from the anesthesia I felt a million times better. The discomfort (aka the bloating and constipation) lasted for a few days but steadily got better. I was so terrified of getting OHSS and having to postpone the transfer, so I was kind of a nazi about the amount of protein
and electrolytes I was getting, as well as being adamant about keeping my legs elevated as much as I could. Not easy to do being on my feet as massage therapist, but I did the best I could.


The following morning they let us know that 14 of those eggs were mature and 13 had fertilized. We couldn't believe how these numbers were looking. A miracle to us, if we have ever seen one.

Our day three growth report was a phone call we were extremely anxious to get. I was working when they called us and thankfully they were kind enough to leave a detailed message for me. I noticed the voicemail in between clients and as I listened my jaw dropped. "As of today, you actually have 14 growing embryos. Turns out the one we didn't think was progressing actually did fertilize and has caught up with the other embryos. All of them are within the right cell count and are looking great!"

I. Was. Shocked! I was expecting numbers to go down, not up! I had time to listen to it twice, text Isaac with the heart stopping results, and continue on with my client as if nothing had happened.

For two days Isaac and I looked at each other a million times with beaming smiles on our faces saying, "FOURTEEN!" We hadn't felt this much hope in so long. We wanted to savor every bit of the happiness we felt. To us, this meant success. We knew numbers wouldn't stay this way, but starting out so high gave us great odds. We expected about 40-50% of the embryos to make it to day 5 and we felt good about those numbers.

The day of transfer you're instructed to arrive unshowered without any lotions, deodorants, or anything that has harmful particles. Embryos are apparently very, very fragile and even small particles in the air can damage them. So we showed up scruffy, probably smelly, and extremely excited.  We arrived 30 minutes early because the clinic prescribed Valium to take before the transfer and wanted me to take it there.  Thank goodness I had that damn pill because I was an anxious wreck. By the time Dr. Conway came in, I was relaxed and ready. Poor Isaac is still recovering from his anxiety.

We were handed a sheet with a picture of all the best embryos. Five beautiful, precious embryos were photographed with the best one up close. It sounds silly but I was a little emotional looking at it. These are the babies Isaac and I worked so hard to create and there I was, seeing them at 5 days gestation.

We went back and fourth for days on whether or not we should transfer two embryos to increase the odds of one sticking. It was agony. There was a lot to consider with only a few days to make the choice. We decided a healthy baby and a healthy pregnancy was ultimately the goal. This whole infertility process has been so difficult mentally and physically, we felt like it wasn't a good idea at this time to increase the risk of complications. So we transferred the beauty on the left and the rest will be biopsied and sent for genetic testing.  

We were able to watch a live feed of the embryologist sucking the embryo up into the cathetar while Dr. Conway did a practice run with her tools. The transfer itself was quick, painless, and we were able to see right where the embryo was placed on the ultrasound screen. 

                       

I relaxed on the table for a little bit so my little embaby had the chance to float around and get comfy before I got up and moved around. It was surreal to lay there and realize that just like that, we were done with IVF. 

I'm officially pregnant until proven otherwise. That's at least what IVF couples say during this time. I'm feeling so positive and hopeful that I will stay this way until spring of 2020 rolls around and it's time to bring this soul Earth side. 

I am so excited to protect, nurture and nourish our baby. I am so excited to love them for everything that they are. I look forward to helping our children develop their talents, embrace their unique qualities, and make this world a better place. 

I am grateful that I get to be a Mom. Today really couldn't have gone any better. 

Wish us luck and lots of baby dust! 🧡

The Trigger Has Been Pulled

I am done with injections! 26 of them in total. I've been stabbed too many times to count since I was ordered for a blood draw every time I went to our clinic. If I look back on my calendar and count how many appointments we had in a 10 day period, the answer would be 6. Add a couple incompetent nurses to the mix and you've got yourself  a number too high to count with some nice bruises on your arms to match.

On Friday we had our first follicle scan and we were so impressed! Not only were there quite a few, but my left ovary did in fact give us some follicles! I actually cried when I watched her swing the wand over to the left. Right away we saw two huge follicles and we were elated! I couldn't believe my eyes! I was not fully convinced that ovary even worked! I felt incredibly proud of my body. Things were happening at the right speed and I was responding beautifully. I was ready to begin my cetrotide injections so they gave me my first dose right there in the office. Cetrotide was the medication designed to keep me from naturally ovulating the follicles that were growing and I was to take it every day while continuing to stimulate growth.

The blood draw aftermath

When we went back for our next scan on Sunday, the Nurse told me that there were only about 5 that had grown in two days and they were almost big enough to trigger. That scared the living shit out of me. Excuse my french here, but our goal is to have as many good quality eggs as possible. When we go from up words of 14 follicles down to 5 your heart almost falls out of your asshole. The "trigger" shots tell my body its time to ovulate and 36 hours later I am in for retrieval. If we were to trigger on Monday with only a few follicles looking big enough for all of this, that would cut our chances tremendously. I mean, I logically knew that I couldn't discredit the ones that were lagging behind. I knew I would continue to stimulate and even change doses if necessary to ensure optimal growth. I also knew that size doesn't necessarily equate to bad quality or that they are incapable of fertilization. I was hormonal, exhausted, starting to bloat, and obviously a little overwhelmed. Everyone reassured me that everything was looking fantastic and there was nothing to worry about. My blood levels kept coming back in the clear and we were right on track. I did have a melt down though and the rest of the day was basically a fog. It didnt help that this was the visit that required help from the anesthesiologist to get my blood drawn properly.

Luckily, the next two scans showed a lot of growth with our follicles. Finally, we were given the green light to trigger at 8:30 tonight. I am even lucky enough to only take one injection to trigger! We spent a lot of money on a compound mixture that would be given to me just in case my estrogen levels were too high but everything looks great and we won't need to use it. Insurance denied coverage of this injection so we had to pay for it out of pocket. Im only slightly peeved we have it and it will go to waste but I'm happier knowing my body is handling this well.

We are set for our retrevial on Thursday morning. This is exactly what we had planned for. Knowing the whole time that this day could come sooner or later depending on my body's reaction gave me a lot of stress. I held on tight and braced myself for delays since every cycle previous was prolonged by 5-7 days. I'm honestly still in a little shock that everything has gone so smoothly. Isaac finally takes a part in all of this by taking one pill tomorrow morning and giving the clinic his sample when we get there on Thursday. For me, I'll finally be able to sleep in a little bit and give my belly a rest. The bloating and bruising are all too real.

I can't believe the stimming days are over! No more injections for the cycle. Over all, the stimming process was way easier than the Femara and Clomid cycles. I expected insane mood swings and hot flashes but really, some bloating and a few headaches are all that ever showed. I've slept well and kept my stress levels reasonably low. I mean, this is a whirl wind. No doubt about it! However, before this process even started Isaac and I agreed to do everything we could to keep the triggers at bay and stay stress free. We definitely cancelled plans, took extra naps, and have even avoided social media dumpster fires (you know, my favorite thing).  I know that acupuncture can help ease the side effects of IVF and I wouldn't be surprised if that is what is helping the most. I'll continue to go up until one of our beautiful little embryos is reunited with me.

We will know pretty much right away how many eggs have been retrieved and how many fertilized. By transfer day, we will know the total amount of embryos that made our cycle complete.

You know, there was a minute that I tried to detach myself from the outcome of this working the first time. But, as the days go on, I decided that hoping with all I have can't hurt me any more than the reality of having to do this again. So for the last couple of weeks we have given all of our energy into staying positive and trusting that now is finally our time.

It's surreal that we are here and doing IVF. Both of us knew deep down when we had our very first meeting with Dr. Conway that none of the smaller scale treatments would work for us. We remained as optimistic as we could. Hell, an IUI cycle tricked us and we thought our fate had taken a turn.

Here we are though. 35 hours before egg retrieval. Almost pregnant, if there is such a thing.

I am excited, nervous, and ready to nurture and protect our little embabies.

Just Keep Stimming

We are totally rocking the crap out of IVF. We are 5 days into the injections! It's been a whirlwind of a week so far and the time has gone by so fast.

Day 1 began on Sunday. I woke up at 6:50 am in order to give myself plenty of time to mix my solutions and get them ready to inject. Injection time is 7:15 am every morning. They needed to be done by 9 am and have to be at the exact same time every day. On Saturday and Sunday my days begin a lot earlier than the rest of the week. So, 7:15 was the latest I could go while not being rushed. I'm not a morning person and while I've done plenty of injections throughout our fertility journey, I was nervous about these medications. They need to be exactly right. So I needed to be up early to watch the instruction videos 2 or 3 times before I was ready to do it myself. Now I get up 10 minutes before and I'm ready to go before 7:15 even hits!

That night, one of my Doula clients went into labor! 39 weeks and one day. I brought my injections with me and just kept an eye on the clock. Luckily it wasn't too intense come injection time and I was able to do it quickly with the rising sun being my only light. At 11:50 am Monday morning, the baby was born after Mom had a 30 hour unmedicated labor. It was absolutely incredible and gave me nothing but hope and good vibes! 

Days 3 and 4 were just as eventful. One of my other Moms was hospitalized for preterm labor so I've been on high alert and going on little sleep. I've welcomed the distractions from my own thoughts. Up until today I didn't have a lot of time to really get into my head. Having a break from that has been important for me. 

I tried accupuncture for the first time yesterday. I've heard really surprising things about the success accupuncture gives IVF. I've been listening to meditations and visualizations specifically for IVF cycles, so I put my headphones in, laid back, and gave myself about an hour of time to positively think about my body and my babies. It was oddly calming and I look forward to continuing treatments through out the next couple of weeks. 

My accupuncture shirt. Basically I'll wear/do anything that puts those good vibes out there. 

It's weird that we are already half way through the stimming process. We go in tomorrow for our first follicle scan. I have lots of fears about my left ovary producing nothing for us even though my Doctor is sure that the amount of hormones I'm taking will absolutely stimulate that ovary. Whenever that thought creeps into my head, I just remind myself that so far my body has done everything right. It's listening and responding well and it's all going to be okay. My first blood draw revealed everything was right where it should be so I'm holding onto that victory.

Im trying to enjoy this. That sounds weird, I know. But this is a life-changing process that's made easier by seeking the good. The fact we have made it this far and I haven't completely lost my shit speaks volumes. We are fighting so hard to maintain the positive energy. I've even allowed myself to day dream about what birth will be like. Or the first time I get to take our babe to the pool. Thoughts like this make me smile and help me stay focused.

We are aiming for our egg retrevial to be June 20th with a fresh embryo transfer 5 days later. To think I'll be PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise) in just a couple of weeks is incredible. I'm so excited to finally be pregnant and stay pregnant. I'm beyond ready to move on to the next phase of our life. We are ready and deserving of this experience and I know it's coming.

The Greater The Risk, The Higher The Reward

I had my hysteroscopy yesterday. The procedure was quick, only about an hour or so. The pain has been basically non existent but I have done a great deal of sleeping and resting since then.
The polyp wasn't as big as the nurses made it sound at the water ultrasound and I guess it doesn't really matter because it's gone now. Sending fresh, new cells to my uterus can help encourage implantation so today was a really important step in making our IVF successful.

Just a few minutes after I woke up 

There is a lot that I have to process and heal from in the next few days. Emotionally, as we travel to Colorado to celebrate the life of my Grandmother, and physically as well. Come Tuesday morning I've got a full work schedule to return to and just a few weeks to go before we begin the stimming process for IVF.

I go back and fourth every day when it comes to how I feel about our upcoming cycle. Sometimes it changes hour to hour.

How many healthy and mature eggs will be retrieved? How many will fertilize? Will we get anything healthy enough to transfer? Will we have anything left to freeze? What if we have to do this more than once? More than twice?? 

These questions run through my mind like your most hated songs on repeat. I struggle to do anything else but think of these things.  In an almost literal way, this IVF cycle is us putting all of our eggs in one basket. We are paying for all the stops and doing all the things with the naive hope that we will only have to do this whole process one time.

My hysteroscopy was in the same room that my egg retrieval and transfer will take place. I asked them specifically if this was the case with the idea in mind that I could use my memory of the room as a visualization tool. When I laid down for a nap after surgery, I imagined what it would be like to be in that room, holding a picture of our little embryo (yes, they do that), while they transfer him/her back to their rightful home. It brought genuine joy to my soul.

My new motto is: The greater the risk the higher the reward.

There are a LOT of risks with IVF. Financial, emotional, physical, mental... But it could also bring us the opportunity to grow our family. Every time I think about giving up I remember what that really means. IVF is worth all the risk because we want a baby that much.


Our first ultrasound to start everything off is on June 7th. After that time will fly as we move towards our egg retrevial. Despite the worry, I'm fully aware of the depth the opportunity of IVF really is. So many don't get this chance and here we are. I really do feel so grateful we get to try.  Our insurance is covering an unbelievable amount of this process for us, including the blood work/monitoring and the medications. We have extra money set aside to PGS test the embroys we have left over while we hope our fresh transfer takes. We have jobs who are more than supportive and understanding about the strain IVF is, and they have given us the time off we need to make it happen.

If I widen my view I see how wonderful and inviting our home is, how strong and happy our marriage is, and how lovely our life has ended up. When we tell people all that's missing is a baby we aren't kidding. Our life would be our idea of perfect if we can have a baby. I may even tempt the universe and say we want two or three!

Oh May Oh My

How is it only May 7th?? I sincerely feel like I've lived a whole life in the last 7 days. I don't even know where to begin!

On May 1st we met with Dr. Conway and officially agreed to IVF. We started birth control that night after hearing that my blood levels looked good. We scheduled our Plan of Care visit as well as the saline ultrasound before we left that day.

For us, these appointments were a huge deal. We would learn all the medical details of our IVF protocol. When to stop the birth control, when we could potentially be having our retrevial and when we could expect our transfer to be. We would also learn if my uterus was happy or sad (my words of choosing).

The exciting day came yesterday.

We started with our Plan of Care meeting. Mallory, the IVF coordinator, printed out the entire IVF schedule for us. Everything down to the time frame injections are to be administered is listed on this calendar. It was exciting to see that June 20th is our potential egg retrieval day and 5 days later will be our transfer! Plans could change by a day or two but for now, the last week of June is where my heart is choosing to focus.

Right after we met with Mallory, I was taken back for my water ultrasound. It was not painful but I did feel like I was gutted for a bit after words... I guess that is just what happens when you have something up in your business for 20 minutes.

The ultrasound showed us a sad uterus in the form of a polyp. Of course, it could have been keeping me from getting pregnant with previous cycles and with IVF in our very near future, we want to have it removed. A hysteroscopy will be performed some time this month while I am still on birth control but the surgery has yet to be scheduled. My uterus is pretty sad and so am I. It won't postpone our plans and it probably won't be a big deal. Just a couple days at home and I'll be back to normal, but the idea that it's been there the whole time really gets to me.

Before we started treatment a minor abnormality was found during my first water ultrasound. A couple nurses and our Doctor reassured us that what they saw was so minor, that there was no need to be concerned. Even though I brought up this "abnormality" on more than one occasion, treatment continued and I never did get pregnant. It's too late now, but I'll always wonder if our eggs were being fertilized but struggled to implant.

Only a few minutes after I got home, with little time to digest the details of our appointment, I received news of my grandmother's passing. Immediately my mind shifted to grief and sorrow rather than fear and panic. When we first started trying for a baby, we didn't tell anyone. We knew we would struggle but didn't know how much or for how long. It wasn't until recently that I talked to my grandma about the details of our infertility. I had honestly hoped the conversation could have been avoided all together by announcing a pregnancy after a little medical intervention. There was no pregnancy announced or a baby for her to meet before she passed and that has been tough for me to swallow.

The Month of May looks rather stressful and somber right about now. To say I am worried about the timing of it all would be an understatement. I am trying to have a little bit of faith that I won't be spread paper thin trying to show up in all the places I am needed.

When it rains it pours, right? One could only hope that after the sheets of rain fall from the sky, a beautiful rainbow will appear in it's place.

IVF Got This

We finally had the chance to sit down with our doctor today. The main purpose was to discuss in detail about what IVF is, why we are still good candidates, and to decide when we should start. We came today knowing that if at all possible we would jump for the chance to start now. She pulled out a calendar and looked at us. Pointing to the months laid out, she said, "What do you think about shooting for a June IVF cycle?"

With that she handed us a perscription for birth control, the first step in the IVF process. I will begin the birth control tonight and will remain on it until our nurse tells us otherwise. We anticipate to be on them for a few weeks.

Next week we will figure out the finances, coordinate our treatment plan, and have a saline ultrasound to make sure my uterus is in good shape. The process of preparing my eggs for retrieval will begin after we end the birth control. We hope to do a 5 day fresh transfer with an embryo that is healthy, sticky, and strong while the rest will be frozen for later attempts (let's hope much later, like when we are ready to give our baby a sibling, later...)

We can't believe it's finally here. We can't believe we finally get to start!

So much of this process can go south so quickly, but we know this is where the most success is found. I feel more at peace about doing IVF than I thought that I would. I am not looking forward to the insane amount of shots or the added debt. I'm not looking forward to the fear and anxiety of the waiting game we will play not once, but twice... Once to hear how many eggs fertilize and make it to the 5 day blastocyst (where they are then transferred or frozen), then again as we wait to see if it was successful. There is a lot of difficult things we have to unpack.

But.... We could actually get our baby! We could actually hold a piece of us in our arms. It's all worth it to us and we are so excited.

The Wave

Each Summer as a kid we would spend time at six flags in Denver. We would get there early before the sun reached it's highest point. We would run to the big rides first in attempt to skip the long lines and would continue in that pattern until we needed to cool off. Naturally, when that time came we would head on over to the Shipwrecked Falls, their wooden water ride. We would hop over and dip under the metal bars designed to keep unruly kids like us in line, but they were never long enough to obey the rules and we were always too excited to care.

My favorite spot was the very first car. I'd hop in, never minding that my shorts were instantly wet from the last go round. The seatbelt gets buckled and we pull out from the shaded cover and into the roasting sun. The car chugs up the hill, preparing for a sharp turn and a huge drop into the water. I liked the very first seat on the coaster because I could see everything that was approaching me. Flying down the hill in theory is the fastest part of the ride but for me it always felt like time had temporarily slowed down. Keeping my eyes open until the last second, I would watch the coaster hit the water, causing the pool to jump up and reach for us. Then Bam! Cold, dirty six flags water has soaked us head to toe.

Shipwrecked Falls (stolen from Google)

***
Imagine keeping your eyes open as a huge wave envelops you, only to spit you out, wet, ragged and confused. That is how this cycle has felt for me.

The wave feels a lot like the acceptance of IVF. I could find out I'm pregnant on Friday but I feel calm. Like the slow movement up the hill before you get dropped into the water. Calm like before the storm.

There is no baby as a result of this IUI. I know it in my gut because all of the emotions and all of the physical symptoms that plague me during the two week wait are here, in full swing, and I recognize it now. Been there and rode that ride, right?

I've started to set aside my cash tips in a special jar that reminds us what we are saving the money for. I've talked to my employer about IVF, made plans to raise money, and I've spent hours and hours crying over the loss of the way I invisioned my future to be like. We have accepted that our circle of support is very, very small. Mostly because we aren't adopting or buying a house.

Yes. People have actually suggested our money is better spent on buying a house.

I've walked around in a fog for 9 days with only 4 more to go. I'm ready for all of this to be real now. I've let go of a lot to make space for what is to come.

***

After the water ride was over we would make our way to the black pavement so we could cook from underneath and above. The sun warms our bare shoulders and our shoes squeek with every step. It never took long for us to dry off and recover from the whip lash of such a short and intense ride.

Thinking of this gives me a tad bit of hope, something I basically lost during the "you're not pregnant" call. The sun will eventually come out. Some good karma will come my way and wring me out.  IVF has a 60% success rate and our fertility clinic has some of the highest monthly success rates in the nation. This really could be the answer for us and I am finding ways to be comfortable with that.

All of this is hard. The wave is vastly approaching and just as I did when I was a kid, I'm keeping my eyes open. Whatever I have to do to get our little babies here feels worth the endeavor.

Buckle up! It's Going to be a Wild Ride!

I went in for a baseline ultrasound yesterday. Baseline appointments are pretty simple. We want to see thin uterine lining and cyst-free ovaries. I consider the baseline the start of the roller coaster. Its kind of like the moment the protective bar comes over your lap and locks you in. They warn you to stay seated as the car starts to chug up hill. There is so much anticipation of what is to come, even if you've been on it a million times. You know the feeling, right?

I enter the clinic to see at least one pregnant celebrity on the cover of People magazine. It's sprawled out for my infertile eyes to gaze upon. A couple of adorable kids are in tow as their Mom and Dad work out appointments at the front desk. The song that plays over head is the one from that commercial about the sad and neglected dogs. You know, Arms of an Angel? Just what I need to hear to put me in a good mood!

My name gets called and I am taken back to the room. That same People magazine is sitting pretty on top of the stack on the side table. Is this supposed to encourage us? Do they know how annoying this is?

I undress from the waste down and laugh at the low lighting they have in the room. The ultrasound wand is almost always cold and never as inviting as they may look. I guess low lighting is the least they could do, with the exception of maybe some vibrations. 
The nurse checks the lining first, then slams the wand to my right, almost throwing me off the table. She quickly swings to my left and of course, it's small and has nothing to show us. We discussed the new protocol, she handed me a stack of prescriptions, and we booked my follicle scan.

I will go back next week to see if my follicles have grown to maturity or if we will need more medications. The goal is to be ready to do the IUI next week or so, but as history has displayed, it takes a lot longer for my body to figure out what is going on.

I call the baseline appointment the start of the rollercoaster because I leave unsure about where my emotions are. A part of me wants to reserve my hope for the success of our first IVF cycle. Why spend what we have left on an IUI that probably won't work? The other part of me is hoping that our little baby comes, right before we pull out the big guns! How does one maintain hope while also preparing for it to fail? How do you research and prepare for such an expensive journey while simultaneously holding your breath in anticipation of good news?

As one could imagine, it's difficult to stay balanced. Once the hormones start to kick in the challenge becomes even more daunting. We are along for a ride that doesn't seem to have an end in sight. We continue to prepare and we continue to wait. That's what infertility is.

Maybe Momma

I was waiting at a red light when the mini van in front of me caught my attention. Two little arms stretched out from the car seat, fingers spread with excitement. I noticed a window decal displaying a stick figure family of 5. Moms in mini vans make my heart twist in a way I never knew was possible until I came to know infertility. 
The light turned green and sure enough, I would be following this family the remainder of my commute to work.

I pulled into the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief. Only for a second though as I trudged up the stairs and unlocked the door with the pink "Maternal Massage" sign on the front. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I am greeted by photographs of beautiful, pregnant women days away from their due date. Clutching their bellies, their skin displays that perfect, soft, pregnancy glow. I would be lying if I said that doing what I do does not have its moments of torment. After all, its been over a year of trying to conceive and my womb is still empty.

When Isaac and I got married I did not picture myself here. In fact, I tried to convince him to be cool with starting sooner than we originally agreed upon because I was so anxious to start a family! He was just as anxious but not as ready and insisted we keep with our plan because, "What if it happens right away?"

Lets all laugh together, shall we?

*****

For the last 14 months of our life, most days within every month, have been filled with peeing on sticks of all kinds (ovulation predictors and pregnancy tests). Its been full of  words like, "Ill ask the Doctor" and "Will this ever happen for us?" Its been thousands of dollars in tests, ultrasounds, blood work, and hormones. Shots in the stomach and weeks of anxiety. For a handful of days after my fertile window has came and went, I call out to Isaac from the bathroom asking him if he sees that second pink line on the test. We squint and stare at those tests in our hands. Shine the flash light on them, take pictures and edit the light, in hopes that our naked, human eye just isn't seeing the positive result. When we have agreed that there isn't a second line I find myself, hours later, digging them out of the trash. You know, just to be sure. The process begins all over again when the fertility clinic calls to give you a bland and rehearsed "I am sorry but you aren't pregnant" phone call.

We went in at 10 am today for blood work. This was beta day. The day we would learn if our IUI had worked and if we were pregnant. We knew it would take a while to have them call us with the results, so I have been not so patiently waiting next to my phone all day long. Of course, it rings off the hook for massage appointments, shooting my heart all the way through my butt every time my phone started to go off. I had a late afternoon massage session and knew they would happen to call during that time because how else does it go? When I finished my massage and checked my phone, I saw two voicemails from the fertility clinic. TWO! Ten minutes ago! It must have been so important, they tried to call TWICE! But alas, the clinic had closed and no one would be there to take my call. My heart started to pound and my vision literally tunneled. My hands were shaking and I was still waiting for my client to get dressed and check out. I had to compose myself in the outside because the inside was a mess. 

I typically wouldn't panic this much. At this point in my cycle, I have been taking tests and paying very close attention to the signals my body gives off before my period comes. By the time beta blood day rolls around, I already know the end result, therefore I am not pacing the floor for hours on end waiting for them to call me. This cycle was different though. We tried the IUI. We had 28.4 million sperm make it through the wash. The rest of our intercourse was timed perfectly. We remained positive and hopeful right up until beta day! My temps stayed high (I track my core body temp with a device that allows me to confirm ovulation and possibly pregnancy- you want high temps) and I had 4 days of sore breasts. Sore breasts is not a common symptom of my period, as a matter of fact, that never happens to me! I know for a fact that tender breasts is one of the earliest signs of pregnancy so we remained hopeful that this time we wouldn't get the "you're not pregnant" phone call. 

Let me back track just for a second here and give you some insight to what infertility really looks like. 

After 3 days of having sore boobs and getting too much anxiety to handle myself, I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. What? No way.  This experience was so unusual it could only be pregnancy or a late side effect to a new medication I tried this cycle. I tried to google information about the drug and wasn't finding anything that seemed reliable. Women can get a positive pregnancy test as early as 9 days after ovulation and I was at 11 with negative results. It didnt make sense that I had pregnancy symptoms for so long but was getting negative tests. I tried to convince myself that it was still early and waiting for the blood draw was best. However I couldnt stop thinking myself into circles of anxious insanity. I needed validation that it was possibly pregnancy and that my levels were just too low to register on a HPT or confirmation that it was a side effect of the hormones.I was one day away from beta but the reassurance was too necessary, or so I believed. I called in a panic and left a voicemail for their nursing staff. A few minutes later they called back. I was right about a potential pregnancy and it was also possible that I produced more progesterone than normal and was having a reaction to that. I would like to say that helped me balance my expectations, but..... 

Fast forward to the two voicemails waiting for me. I quickly pressed play and hoped I could listen to them both before my client needed my attention again. I was expecting them to tell me they needed me back for another beta blood draw on Friday and to call before they closed to schedule it. Instead, no valuable information was given in either one but both of them ended with, "... You will have to call first thing tomorrow morning to get your results..." 

What?! Tomorrow?! I cannot wait until tomorrow! I put my phone down and held back tears as my client walked down the hall and into our lobby. The whole process probably only took 5 minutes or so, but by the time she had said good bye and the door shut behind her, I felt like an eternity had passed. I immediately called the clinic and without even thinking transferred myself to the emergency hotline. When the Nurse answered I apologized profusely because it was certainly not an emergency, but I was desperate for my results and if anyone was still available to read them to me I would be so grateful. 

Within two minutes I was answering a call from a nurse with UFC telling me that I was not pregnant.

We got the phone call. Again. 

The nurse did inform me that the Doctor wants to get aggressive with medication this next IUI. It is our last one before IVF becomes our only option, so we want to do everything we can. The protocol will be pretty vigorous and I was told to prepare myself. 

The call ended as I folded into myself and wailed. 

I never thought I would be here. As a matter of fact, every time I have sat down to start this blog, I have told myself that if I post it and find out I am pregnant the next week, I will look like the girl who was just impatient and whiny. Ill be the girl who exaggerated about her "infertility". I didn't think it was bad enough to blog about it. 

I realized how dumb that is, so here we are. 

We have been trying to have a baby for 14 going on 15 months. I have one functioning ovary on my right side and a flawless tube on my left. Nether side functions properly all together. I have a pituitary tumor and PCOS. Both cause infertility, one threatens egg quality and both make my reactions to fertility drugs slow. Slow reaction time only makes treatment more expensive because it requires more medication and more monitoring. 

This has been a long, exhausting road. And guess what? It has also been extremely difficult. Studies actually show that people with infertility experience the same stress level as someone with cancer. Learning that helped me see that perhaps I should give myself a break.

So I am starting this blog. I am going to be open and it is going to be public. Sometimes it may be too much, but such is infertility. 

I am triggered by things that also bring me joy. Like babies. As I type this I hear the faint cries of a newborn through our thin apartment walls. The feet of a toddler dance up and down the hall way above us every night. I cant escape triggers because I have a job I adore that revolves around pregnant moms. Most days I dont even want to leave my house because I live in Utah, where everyone is pregnant or just had a baby. I talk seriously about giving up and accepting a life without kids. That never feels right so we press on. 

I ask myself on a daily basis, "Do you believe that you will ever hear someone call you momma?"

The answer right now? Maybe. If I am being honest, the word maybe holds so much unknown, and that brings too much fear. An IUI procedure only gives us about a 20% chance of pregnancy. While IVF is a whopping 60% it also cost about 30 grand. It is so unfair that people who don't want babies are getting pregnant while on multiple forms of birth control. Meanwhile, I have to do all of this to no prevail.  How come thirty thousand dollars stands between us and a baby? Why is this taking so long? Why is this so hard? 

If there ever was a limbo, its called infertility and its actually more hellish than actual hell. 

Maybe,  someday, almost for certain, we will be parents.... 

5 days worth of tests. Some with false positives after the medications that give false positives have already left my system