Laughing with Sarah

Forty-six percent. That was the possibility that we would get pregnant transferring two embryos (blastocysts, if you want to be accurate). In those first few days after our transfer, with those two little dudes trying to figure out how and whether to stick around, I thought about how good a near-fifty percent chance was. My glass was definitely half-full . In those first 24 hours, I felt sure and terrified that we'd end up with twins, because if they put two of them in there, of course two of them would stick around, right? As the week went on, I felt the shift in my soul, from the glass being half-full to the glass just being, well, half-something. Not half-full. Not half-empty. Just half. I realized that there was just as big of a chance of us not getting pregnant as there was of us getting pregnant. But I yet continued to remind myself that in nature, if you're doing this whole "let's get pregnant" thing the old-fashioned way, you have around a th

This is me, standing in the fog and drizzle on the patio outside the Shedd Aquarium, texting family and friends that our first IVF cycle ended up negative. In so many ways, this picture sums up the mood. --- Thanks to Matt for planning a Chicago getaway today, where we could celebrate if there was something to celebrate, and enjoy ourselves (and distract ourselves) if the news came back negative. We got the phone message about the bad news while we were on our way to see the penguins. We took a quick break to text close friends and family who had been praying for us and to call the doctor's office to schedule a follow-up consultation. But then, we went right back to enjoying all the fishies. We saw sharks and sting-rays and turtles and all sorts of crazy and colorful fish, and there were eels and frogs and manatees and starfish and seahorses and penguins and otters. Oh my. Otters are cute. By the time we left the aquarium, this is how I was feeling. Much better, do

Days never move so slowly as when you are waiting. And especially when you are waiting for something over which you have no control. Saturday and Sunday and yesterday, I felt so optimistic and hopeful about the chance that at least one of our transfers might implant. This morning, I woke up and felt decidedly not pregnant. Don't get me wrong - I hadn't felt particularly pregnant any of these last three days, but today, it hit me just how not-pregnant I felt. I woke up this morning feeling a little bloated and kind of crampy, but cannot for the life of me convince myself that this could be a good sign. I can only convince myself that it means we have already struck out this round. I've had one person tell me that the beauty of this post-transfer wait is that I can consider myself "pregnant until proven otherwise." I've had another person tell me that this post-transfer week of waiting was the hardest thing she had ever done. I so wish that I could

This is the quiet space after all of the injections and early mornings at the surgery center are over. This is the quiet space where, upon reflection, that first night of self-injections seems to be three months ago instead of just three weeks. And all of those blood draws and ultrasounds barely seem real. This is the quiet space after eggs and embryos and blastocysts and retrievals and transfers. This is the quiet space where there is nothing else to do but wait. Wait quietly and wonder what's going on with those two little dudes, and wondering if either of them have decided to stick around. This is the quiet space where I keep wondering if I feel different at all...if there are any weird twinges, or if I'm more tired or usual, or if I'm sleeping worse or dreaming more or feeling sick.... This is the quiet space of counting days as they pass so slowly toward Friday's blood draw, which will give me some sort of news, hopefully good. A space to fill days wit

Just shy of three weeks ago we were here: So many meds! Needles... And vials, and a sharps container... And an injection pen... And then this morning... Matt looks like an astronaut... And we are all smiley as we head in for our embryo transfer!! So this morning, we transferred two day-five blastocysts, both having come through their preimplantation genetic diagnosis looking great! And then a third blast also came through PGD looking great, so that one is all set to be frozen for a future cycle, and there is one other blast that they sent off for testing this morning, and if that one looks good, they'll freeze that one as well! Beyond that, there are two iffy embryos that don't look promising, but that are still growing, so my RE will keep an eye on them as well. This news was a huge relief after last night, when I got an email from Dr. Morris telling me that three embryos had reached blastocyst stage and were sent off for genetic testing, but t

Saturday morning went great. We arrived at 900 North Michigan Ave. in Chicago right on time, bright and early at 5:30 a.m. I'm very familiar with the 900 North building - there is a whole beautiful mall/shopping center there that my family would visit during our annual pre-Christmas Chicago day, where we would walk Michigan Avenue, visit the Christmas tree and windows at Marshall Field's, and head to the 900 North Michigan shops, mostly to see the large Christmas tree and huge wreath...and to visit the Jessica McClintock boutique, where we girls would ooh and aah over all of the dresses. I had no idea that 900 North also housed a surgery center! Anyway, we were one of a handful of couples slated for the earliest surgery slots, and very quickly after arriving, we'd filled out all of our paperwork and were ushered to a small room that would serve as both pre-op and recovery for me. This is me, waiting. I look far happier than I actually felt! I changed into a hos

I am writing this at the crack of dawn. Pre-dawn, actually. It is 4:16 a.m. and I am awake, albeit grudgingly. Because the good news from my Thursday morning appointment was that I could trigger Thursday night for egg retrieval this morning! Scheduling my retrieval seemed like such a good and happy thing back on Thursday. Now that Saturday morning is here, I'm a little anxious. Not quite sure how I feel about anesthesia, or about being back at a surgery center (a different one - this one is downtown Chicago!). I promised myself that I would not get anxious like I did for my HSG, because seriously, I am 30 years old (going on 31), and I really should just be able to power through stuff like this. I mean...I thought I'd never be able to survive a week and a half of nightly injections, but I powered through and they turned out to be no big deal. I never thought I'd survive frequent blood draws, but those are getting pretty easy as well. I remember looking up the IV

After Monday morning's bloodwork and ultrasound, they called to tell me that I could stop the Follistim, and I did a little happy dance, because it's nice to be scaled back from three injections to two. It also made me feel like I was on the home stretch. So we did this two-injection protocol on Monday night and Tuesday night, and I went back in yesterday (Wednesday) morning for bloodwork and ultrasound, hoping that since I was out of Ganarelix, that must mean that we had hit the end of the injections. The ultrasound tech and the nurses I talked to yesterday morning all seemed pretty pleased, and thought there was a good chance that I'd be able to do the trigger shot that night in preparation for a Friday morning retrieval. No dice. They called yesterday afternoon, assured me that "everything is looking GREAT!" and then told me that I would do another night of regular injections, and come back for another round of bloodwork and ultrasound this morning (Thu

I am starting to hit a bit of a wall. I'm just feeling a little tired of all of the doctor's visits and needles, I think. I had bloodwork and ultrasound yesterday (Saturday) morning. Quick and easy. Got the call late in the afternoon about my new dosages for last night (Saturday) and tonight (Sunday). Made it through last night's round of injections just fine. Made it through tonight's injections just fine, though feeling a little weary and resentful, as if I'd throw a temper tantrum about being tired of all of this if I weren't 30 years old... And then tomorrow morning, another round of bloodwork and ultrasound. Going to the doctor every two days really feels like you are just spending all of your free time there. And they are all so nice, and fabulous to us, and sweet and caring. So it's not a problem to go, and I'm even getting used to the routine enough that I don't get anxious about the bloodwork until I'm actually lying on the

I had bloodwork and a follicular ultrasound yesterday morning. I knew that they'd call me in the afternoon with instructions for how to modify my injections. I thought I remembered that at this point, they'd bump me from one to two injections. Nope. I was wrong. They bumped me from one all the way to THREE injections. So last night's routine and this night's routine involved drawing hCG from a little vial into an empty insulin syringe for one injection, opening up an individually packaged, pre-filled syringe for the Ganarelix injection, and then loading a cartridge and putting a needle into my Follistim pen. Three injections, three distinct preparations. Yeesh. My red plastic sharps container is really noisy when you shake it these days. Getting fuller and fuller of needles. It is an odd sort of trophy...