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! 🧡