The Dream

Our society is not conducive to waiting.  Do you need to know the hours at the local pizza joint?  How about what time it is in Berlin?  The weather in Anchorage?  Who won the world series in 1994? (Ha!  No one!  It was cancelled for only the second time in the history of the league thanks to a players strike.).  All of the answers to these questions can be given to you in a matter of seconds thanks to the little wonder-machines that we keep in our pockets.  The world is literally at your fingertips.

The one thing that the internet can’t tell you, though, is if you are pregnant.  That, my dear, is something that humans still have control of.  Sure, we can find out fairly quickly after conception occurs thanks to home pregnancy tests, but definitely not in the amount of time that it takes to discover that 8 of the 10 highest peaks of the world can be found in Nepal.

On Wednesday morning, five days after our embryo transfer, Mariya woke up from a pretty vivid dream.  In it, she said that we had 16-year old twins — a boy and a girl — and that she was talking to them about something that they had done wrong.  Mariya has crazy dreams all the time that are very vivid.  In fact, former co-workers can attest to the fact that there was a period in time where I received phone calls each morning when I arrived to work (once Mariya had woken up), just to confirm that “yes, we are still married…..yes, I still love you…….yes, that was all a dream.”

Mariya’s dream on Tuesday night was vivid enough that she told me to get out of bed and go take an at-home pregnancy test that we had bought earlier in the week.  Our official blood test wasn’t scheduled for another four days, so the chances of getting a positive test this early were pretty slim.  But, I went into the bathroom — messy hair, morning breath, stiff from sleeping, in my pajamas — and peed.  I turned the test upside down to give it some time to work, and both of us continued to wake up and get ready for our day.  Our movers were scheduled to arrive shortly to start packing our items for our big move to Korea and so the day was going to be a busy one.

After a few minutes, we looked at each other, flipped the test, and saw:

Day 5 Test

………..”do you see what I see?”……….

We kept looking at each other, looking at the test, and looking back at each other — in awe that there was a smidgen of a second line.

“OMG…….babe, IT WORKED,” I screamed, before hugging her tight and bursting into tears.  I was a blubbering mess for a good ten minutes, repeating over and over again “it worked………oh my God, it worked……..”

At the time, the only people that were around to share the news with, were our movers that arrived an hour later.  Despite having only met us that morning, they shared in our joy — as evidenced by a little heart that we found on a box they had packed later that night 🙂

Moving Box

We wanted to shout the news from the rooftops!  OMG, we are having a BABY!  At the time, the only folks that we told were our siblings and a few close friends that have been sharing this journey with us.  As the week progressed, our daily tests got stronger and stronger:

Day Seven

Finally, Sunday rolled around — the day of our “official” test.  By this point, I would have been shocked if the result was negative.  I had taken multiple tests at home and, unless I had the bad luck of purchasing four faulty pregnancy tests at CVS, I was convinced that we’d be getting a good call later in the day from our doctor’s office.

We went about our afternoon, packing up things for our flight to Korea, and waiting……….

Finally, around lunchtime, our nurse called. A good result at this point was and HCG level over 50.  Ours came back at 186!  We were officially pregnant!!!  We hopped on Facebook, told our extended group of friends/family and then went right back to packing.

(Yes, anticlimactic, but it needed to be done!)

So there we have it!  WE are going to be moms!  Heck, we are going to be awesome moms, if I must say so myself.  After decades of practice with nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends, we are ready for this!

Thanks, again, for following along.  Our journey is far from over, and we plan on continuing to write in this journal so that you can be with us every step of the way.  The next big things on our calendar are more labs tomorrow (to make sure that my pregnancy hormones are continuing to increase), and our first ultrasound somewhere around July 12th.  It is at that point that we will know what happened to both of our embryos.  We know for sure that at least one decided to burrow in for the long haul.  Who knows if the second one did, too!  Stay tuned — I’m sure that this pregnancy journey will be exciting — especially as we travel to the other side of the world!

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******Some folks might be hesitant to share positive news early on in their pregnancy, for fear of a miscarriage or loss.  In my eyes, that is the exact reason why you would want to share the news. God forbid something goes wrong, I would want my friends and family knowing what I was experiencing.  If nothing else, this journey has taught me that infertility, miscarriage, and heartache are more common than any of us think.  I can’t tell you how many private messages I’ve received over the past few months from friends sharing with me just how widespread infertility is.  One thing is for certain, you are never alone on this journey.  Look to your left and look to your right.  I’m nearly positive that one of your sister-friends is going through the same thing as you.********

Choosing half of your child’s DNA

While we continue to count down the days until we officially know if we are pregnant or not, let’s talk about an issue that a few of you have been curious about……

“Swipe right, he’s cute!”……….
“Ugh, left – too much heart disease!”……….
“Right, Right!!!!!!”

Tinder possibilities, you might ask?  No, but that is exactly how I felt while trying to pick our perfect sperm donor.

There are many different types of sperm donors out there.  Some are known donors — friends — that are willing to assist.  We had plenty of generous offers from close friends, but, as nice and convenient as that would have been, Mama M and I decided against it.  That left us with using a sperm bank.  One of the largest banks in the United States is California Cryobank.

So, while sipping wine one Friday night a few months ago, Mama M and I searched…….and searched…….and searched.  He had to be perfect — heck, he was contributing to half of our children’s DNA!  I will say that an advantage to using a sperm donor (versus the spouse found in a heterosexual marriage) is that you can seriously weed out characteristics that you don’t like:

“Did you have to wear braces or are your teeth naturally straight?”
“Did Uncle Lenny die of a heart attack at age 40?”
“Do you have a serious lack of math skills?”

Items that you would normally accept from your spouse can now disappear as you pick your ideal match!

So, how did we do it?  What parameters did we use?

When it came time to finding a donor to match up with Mama M’s eggs, we tried to find someone that reminded us of me.

  • 5’11” or taller
  • brown or blonde hair
  • green or blue eyes
  • 50% Irish and 50% Eastern European
  • Book smart / nerdy
  • No need to have a history of being a star athlete (our kids will get enough of that from Mama M!)
  • Grandparents that lived into their 90’s
  • A donor that was open to replying to contact from any future offspring.
  • CMV Negative (This one was actually the most important.  Cytomegalovirus is a virus that most adults have been exposed to at some point or another in their life.  Most often, it feels like the common cold.  Once you have it, you have antibodies for it that can pass through bodily fluids.  After testing, it was discovered that I don’t have the antibodies for it.  If our sperm donor was CMV+, I could develop CMV during pregnancy.  I’d feel fine, maybe congested.  Our baby, though, could have severe birth defects….)

Using those qualifications, we were able to narrow the field of over 400 donors down to 4.  At this point, Mama M gave me the freedom to choose whatever one “spoke” to me.  I delved deeper into the information available — and boy, was there a ton.  Childhood photos, likes/dislikes, academic testing scores, health/occupation information for siblings, uncles/aunts, grandparents, parents, cousins, etc.

The last guy on my list was it.  He was it.  He made me laugh — deep, belly laughs — as I read sections of his profile.  Under “Express Yourself” — a section normally dedicated to a story/poem written by the donor, this guy wrote that he wasn’t necessarily artistic, but that he would use the space to list out additional traits:

– I have no sense of direction
– I am kindhearted
– I have never been more than 10 pounds overweight
– I believe that I am of (at least) above average intelligence.
– I love parentheses (they’re great)

He then went on to talk about his love of writing, public speaking, and working with machines.  Oh, and how his grandfather was a college art professor — and wrote a book that was regarded as the “Sculpture’s bible” in its day.

This, amongst many other tiny details, got me hooked.  I loved this guy — a guy that I had never met, but that was going to become an incredibly large part of the rest of my life.  In addition to being a great physical writer, he was literally going to write the next chapter in the book of my life.

So, cheers to you, Donor #XXXXX.  You have given me hope and excitement at a time when I thought that losing my genetic identity in my offspring would be devastating.  No matter what circumstances motivated you to donate (financial? kindness? etc?), I thank you.

……………….

Now, can Sunday get here so that we can get the official word on whether or not I’m pregnant?  I don’t feel any different at this point which makes me pause just a little bit.  But, maybe that is just our little peanut giving me a break before the onslaught of morning sickness!

These legs are meant for…..laying down

Mama D here. Thank you so much for the positive feedback on this week’s flurry of posts!  Mama M’s part of our journey to motherhood was definitely not easy on her.

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But, she was a trooper and hung in there.  Out of the seven eggs that they retrieved on the day that photo was taken, 5 were mature and fertilized properly and 4 of those made it to the blastocyst stage (i.e. grew five days into a nice little ball of a hundred cells).

Similarly to our retrieval in March, we sent her four embryos, plus my one lone embryo from April, off for chromosome testing and hoped for the best!

Fast forward to a few days ago. After my acupuncture appointment (as if taking shots wasn’t enough needles for me, I’ve been doing acupuncture to increase blood flow in my abdomen), we treated ourselves to dinner at an Indian place in Lawrence, KS.  My ringing phone interrupted my enjoyment of a great piece of naan bread.

Oh man……..a Colorado phone number………

“Hi, this is Dr ___ calling with the results of your testing — is this a good time?”

Let me just say that when I am waiting for important news, anytime is a good time.  Feeding my face? In the bathroom? Carrying something heavy? I will stop on the freeway to hear what you are going to tell me. I scrambled to find something to write on — a sharpie in my purse and the restaurant placemat would have to do.

“So, your lone embryo is unfortunately abnormal — an extra #22 chromosome, so incompatible with life.”

“………..oh………..”

“but, the amazing news is that every single one of Mama M’s embryos came back chromosomally normal. You’ve got four great ones waiting for you!”

Mama M told me that my face looked as though I had finally seen Santa Claus, won the lottery, and eaten a super delectable treat — all rolled into one.  Four good embryos!  I’m still in shock.

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It looked like a transfer (and the possibility of pregnancy) was finally plausible.  Finally!

So where do we stand today?

I, for one, am not standing.  I’m on bedrest for the next few days while these guys/gals settle in:

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We spent last night driving here to our doctors office in Denver. This morning, I popped a Valium, did some acupuncture treatments, and focused on creating a temple…..no, a palace…..for these little nuggets to get comfortable in.

There was a slight snafu, and Embryo #2 (a girl) did not survive being thawed, so these nuggets are actually Embryo numbers 1 and 3. We specifically chose to not know the genders. If they arrive in March, as we hope they do, their genders will be a complete surprise to all of us.

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There are a lot of unknowns right now. My body could decide that it isn’t ready to be pregnant….the embryos could say “see ya later gator!” and exit the premises, we could have one embryo implant, we could have both embryos implant, we could (god help us no) end up having one of the embryos split and become twins, thereby having triplets.  Again, lots of unknowns.

One thing I do know for sure, though, is that these little balls of cells that are resting in my uterus are loved by us, our families that have been on this journey with us, and by all of you that have been following along.

Oh, and one other thing I’m pretty sure of — bed rest is the perfect opportunity to Netflix binge and knit propped up — and not be given any flack for it. ❤️

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Pregnant until proven otherwise,

Mama D

 

My Wife Lied to Me

I’ll just start this entry by saying that I have a very LOW tolerance for pain.

Prior to starting stimulation medications, a baseline scan of your ovaries is necessary.  Unfortunately, at mine, they found a decent-sized cyst on my left ovary.  This is the same kind of cyst that caused Mama D to have to fly to Denver to get drained back in February (thus, missing her sister’s surprise birthday party!), so I knew that it meant that I’d have to go in for a “quick procedure,” too.  I found a doctor here in Kansas City that wouldn’t charge an arm and a leg to do it, and scheduled the procedure for the next morning.

I left home under the assurances from Mama D that the pain would be along the lines of an ear or naval piercing, followed by cramps.  Despite being completely NOT EAGER about having this done (seriously, who wants a needle through your vagina and ovary????  Hands?  Anyone?), I knew it was necessary for us to do this retrieval.  If I didn’t, all of this expensive medication that I had negotiated for would get sucked up by the cyst and not by my little follicles/eggs.

Mama D had to go to work that day and so I went down to Kansas City solo — again, with the assurance that it would be a relatively easy procedure.

It started just like any other OBGYN appointment.  The doctor came in and explained what would happen — a vaginal ultrasound to confirm the presence of the cyst followed by a needle that would then be inserted through the vagina and into my ovary to drain the cyst.  A big part missing from her explanation was any mention of anesthesia.

“Oh,” she said, “that’s because we don’t use anesthesia here because it takes too long.”

SAY WHAT.

At this point, I was facing either bad pain or a canceled cycle.  I decided that the canceled cycle would be worse than the pain in my lady parts.

The draining itself went as expected — the pain was just like Mama D had described.  The only difference was that the pain didn’t go away, the cramping in my abdomen was like a charley horse in your behind (seriously, the pain in my rear made me think that this doctor had stabbed me through and through), and, as I laid there waiting for the pain to subside, I was bleeding…….so much so that the doctor and nurse had to sit there with multiple rags trying to sop it up.  I have no idea how much it was in the end, but I imagine that it looked like a crime scene down there.  The doctor assured me that this happened sometimes and that it was nothing to worry about.

After about 15 minutes, the nurse asked me if I wanted to go to the restroom to clean up.  Instead of having me get completely dressed, just to dart across the hallway into the bathroom, she peeked out into the hall and let me run across really quick —– in my t-shirt, flip flops, and a little paper dressing covering my lady parts.

As I sat there in the bathroom, the cramps got the better of me.  I started shaking and getting light headed.  All I could think was:

OMG – I cannot pass out in the bathroom with no pants on!

I mustered up the strength to get to the door, open it, and start to walk across the hall……and that was about as far as I got.  The next thing I knew,  I was laying on the cold floor of a medical room, half naked, with a nurse holding my legs up over her shoulder, another shoving a small desk fan in my face, and the doctor holding a paper bag over my mouth and telling me to breath.

This definitely wasn’t how I imagined this experience going.  The only things I could mutter enough strength to say were “Someone call my wife to make her feel bad about not coming to this appointment with me” and a half-apology to the nurse holding my feet because half of my ass was hanging out of this makeshift toga.  Eventually, I was well enough to leave the office — thanks to some friends that came to pick me up.  Mama D was still in school and, although I gave her a guilt trip about it later, I knew that missing more classes would hurt her in the end.

After the cyst draining, my retrieval was pretty much by the book — with the exception of some odd abdominal bruising, continued cramping in my behind (seriously, I have no clue where that came from), and apparently my body decided to let my intestines descend throughout the week of stimulation medications.

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In the end, our doctor was able to retrieve 7 eggs from me.  From those 7 eggs, 4 of them grew normally to Day 5 and were frozen and sent off for chromosome testing.  Hoping that our little kiddos are somewhere in that 4!!!

Passenger vs. Driver: Medications

Those of you that have been around me for more than a minute know that I will ask for a discount at a 7/11.  No, seriously, I will.  Mama D’s cheeks normally turn red, but lately, that extra money has been absolutely necessary.

10% off at Smoothie King?  I’ll take it!  That $0.80 can go toward growing an eyelash on this baby!

You would think that since we have done three rounds of egg retrievals over the past year, that ordering medications for my cycle would be a piece of cake.  However, it was far from it.  Did you know that medication prices on fertility medications (and likely all other medications….) change prices ALL THE TIME!?????!?!!  Not only that, but the prices can vary greatly from pharmacy to pharmacy.

Once I had a list of the medications that I was going to have to take during the month of May, I asked Mama D about how I should go about ordering them.  She chuckled and said that, as the driver, she’d been calling around (usually during her lunch breaks at school) in order to get us the best deals.  As the passenger, I had no clue!  So, with a list of medications, possible pharmacies, and a pen in tow, I sat down to start making phone calls.

I knew how much money we had spent in the past for medications, but calling and hearing the prices all over again made me sick.  I tried everything I could to get any sort of discount.

“Do you have military discounts?”
“Do you have student discounts?”
“Do you have any discounts?”
“Do you price match?”
“Do you have a punch card, because this is our fourth round of IVF!!!!!????”

After two solid days of phone calls with a half a dozen pharmacies, we ended up with a 25% discount on some of our medications, with a total price somewhere in the $4,000 range.  I had to pay slightly more than Mama D — partially because prices mysteriously went up in May, and partially because our insurance charges me a co-pay (she gets some prescriptions free since she is active-duty).

Needless to say I have a completely different respect and appreciation for all of the times my wife did this.  I was honestly clueless as to the amount of time and research that she put into all of this every month.

Now that I had my fertility medications ordered, it was time to sit back, pop some birth control pills (I know, seems counterintuitive, but it lowers your overall hormone levels so that my doctor would have a clean slate to work with in a few weeks), and start looking forward to something that I hadn’t seen since the age of 14 — freaking acne.

Let me just state that I have never taken birth control and only know it as some magic pill that prevents pregnancy.  Mama D came home from school one day and found it quite amusing when I started asking her:

“What pill do I take?”
“Why is the first pill labeled Monday?”
“Why are there different colored pills?”
“What are these ‘day of the week’ stickers for???”

Mama D looked at me and asked if I was kidding, and then showed me how the little book of tablets worked.  I wish I could say that this was the end of my birth control experience, but NO, it wasn’t.

I’m convinced that my body was revolting against all of this fertility medication, thereby causing me to have almost every side effect listed on the box.  Birth control may stop you from getting pregnant with a child, but it sure doesn’t stop you from getting pimples so large that you feel like you should name them.

As I was popping my birth control pills, Mama D was popping hers, too.  Our doctor was prepping her body for what would hopefully be a transfer a few weeks after my retrieval.  I remember looking at her clear complexion in the bathroom mirror one morning while contemplating if I should name the third eyeball that had popped up overnight on my forehead.  When I asked her if she ever had these issues while taking it, she said “No, I think my body is used to it after taking it throughout my 20’s.”

Well, this body was not used to it, nor was it used to being on the highest dose available  (Did you know that there are different doses??????  I didn’t!)  All I could think was that this was a terrible start of the medication train that I was about to embark on.

I was looking forward to being off of the birth control so that I could regain control of my face, but, with it, came the fear of shots.

I   HATE   SHOTS!

No, really, I hate shots.  I have always hated shots and that will never change.  Heck, it took me 3 weeks before I was actually able to give Mama D her shots for the initial IUI cycles that we did 2 years ago.  Even then, I would sometimes chicken out.  When we received all of the medications that I had priced out, and I saw the needles packed in that shipping box, all I could think was “Oh man………here comes the dreaded Day One…..”

Batter Up!

After the subpar performance of my ovaries during retrieval in April, Mama M and I followed the recommendation of our doctor and decided to switch over to trying to use Mama M’s eggs instead of mine.  This decision was not an easy one for me to make — but one that was really the next logical step in our journey to become parents.

The next few posts have been written by Mama M in light of the last two months of our journey….

Where to begin….?”

Double the moms, double the fun?  Double the choices, double the fun?  It’s the bottom of the 9th, bases are loaded, 2 outs and Mama M is up to bat!

I love my wife and there isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for her and for us. These are not just hollow words….anymore.  As you all know we have been trying to get pregnant for the last 2 years. It feels weird saying “we have been trying to get pregnant” because I wasn’t much of an “active” participant, if you know what I mean.

During the multiple IUI and IVF treatments that we went through, I was right by mama D’s side — I attended the multiple medical appointments, gave her shots, searched through sperm donor profiles, sat at each ultrasound uncomfortably holding her things, counted down the days until we received results from each IUI/IVF, and held her each time we got the heartbreaking news that things did not work out.  Our hearts broke together each time we got the news — but it was mostly her heart breaking because it was her body that wasn’t giving us the results that we wanted.  Let me tell you, there is nothing more difficult than seeing your best friend/partner/love of your life get her heart broken over and over again — especially knowing that there is nothing that you can do to make it better or to fix it.

Or is there……?

Throughout this entire process, I have felt very helpless and useless — like I have been sitting in the “passenger’s seat” while my wife has been in the “driver’s seat.”  I went along to every appointment, drove the entire 9-hour trek each way to Denver (Mama D is great, but cannot stay awake in the car to save her life!), and I have sat there as she has been poked and prodded.  I felt like there wasn’t much else I could do to help, aside from providing moral support.

In mid-April, when the doctor called to tell us that we only had one embryo after our most recent retrieval, we looked at each other and I swear that I felt both of our hearts break again.  The doctor continued to explain that, after 3 rounds of IVF, with a total of 22 eggs retrieved, and only 2 that made it to the blastocyst stage, he felt that Mama D’s eggs had a very low maturation rate and that our best option would be to use my eggs……MY EGGS?!!??!??!  I remembered those words that I spoke earlier in the year — ” I would do anything for you and for us.”  My stomach dropped.  Those were no longer going to be hollow words, those were going to be the truth.  In a matter of minutes, my life as a passenger had ended and I was now going to be in the driver’s seat.

I had no idea about the road that was ahead of me.

*This week, we are going to do a post per day to catch you up on our story. Feel free to check back tomorrow (and throughout the week) to see Mama M’s take on being the driver, reacting to medications and procedures, and, ultimately, how her retrieval turned out.*

Mother’s Day and Grandma “U”

Growing up, my grandparents lived two blocks away from us and, as such, they spent enormous amounts of time in our lives.  My grandmother was our go-to babysitter, the holder of a never-ending secret candy stash, the one with plenty of cough drops and tissue whenever you had the slightest case of the sniffles, and my chaperone on tons of elementary school field trips.

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Celebrating my 4th birthday with Grandma Uhlarik

I vividly remember starting the 3rd grade and our teacher, Mrs. McKeever, brought up the topic of field trip chaperones — specifically, moms or dads.  I didn’t raise my hand but approached her after class and asked if it was okay if my grandma came on my trips with me.  I really loved the time that she spent with me — riding the bus to some museum that I’m sure she had seen numerous times, scolding the boys in my class because she always seemed to catch them misbehaving, and in the spare moments in between, sharing stories of her life growing up.  A childhood during the Great Depression, where she was paid a dime to scrub the hallway floors on her hands and knees, where she took typing classes because that was the skill needed to find work, or how she played basketball in high school.

A topic that never came up in our talks was infertility.

Grandma WeddingGrandparents WeddingMy grandparents got married in 1944, in a small ceremony where my grandma proudly wore a blazer and skirt with pumps.  My grandpa was 26, while my grandma was 23.  I imagine that they thought they’d start a family and spend the rest of their lives raising their children.

Fast forward 14 long years, to 1958.  By this point, I’ve been told that my grandma had accepted the fact that she would never have children — it just wasn’t in the cards for them.  After feeling ill for a bit of time, she went to the doctor and found out that a miracle had happened.  At the age of 36, she was pregnant!  I can’t imagine the absolute joy that she and my grandfather felt.  What a miracle my mother was to them.

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So proud of her one and only miracle child.

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My great-grandmother holding her only granddaughter, with my grandma proudly watching.

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Thank you, mom, for everything.  I am who I am today because of you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When my mother got married, it took four years for her to get pregnant.  Although it wasn’t nearly as long as the wait my grandmother endured, my mom mentioned that it was hard seeing all of her friends get pregnant almost immediately after getting married.  She, too, had to endure the constant questions about why she wasn’t having kids.  The same type of questions that seem to be asked of me, have apparently been around for centuries.  Eventually, I was conceived and motherhood, once again, became part of my family legacy.

My grandmother had to endure Alzheimer’s disease during the last few years of her life.  Her journey here on Earth ended in 2012, shortly before I left for Afghanistan.  The topic of infertility never came up, but oh, how I wish I could go back in time.  Go back to those field trips — to that alone time where we were seat partners on the bus — and pick her brain about how she felt.  The emotions, the lack of medical options, the frustration, the tears, etc.  If I only knew back then that I’d be repeating her story 60 years later, at the same age that she was at.  Maybe this means that this year will be my lucky year — becoming a mom at the same age that my grandmother entered motherhood.

Grandma, if you are out there listening, I’m walking in your shoes.  I’m enduring your heartache, I’m feeling your pain.  Please send a little luck our way this week as Mama M endures hormone shots and, hopefully, an egg retrieval in a few short days.  Oh, how I miss you and wish you were here for all of this.

Same Spot

A few years ago, literally, in the same spot in Chicago that my grandmother stood on her wedding day, in 1944. 

Processing My Thoughts

It has been a hard month for me to process all the different thoughts that have been flowing through my head.  About a week after my doctor’s office froze our one sole embryo, we had a follow up call with him to discuss the way ahead.

After my last retrieval, my doctor was able to do a little bit of analysis on my eggs and he has come up with one conclusion: my eggs are genetically abnormal.  There were a few different scenarios that had been occurring with my eggs:

Egg Scenario #1:  “I don’t need no stinkin’ sperm!”
Some eggs decided to just start dividing on their own, absent any sperm.  I guess they decided they could reproduce asexually and create clones of me.  Unfortunately, this isn’t normal and so they died off after a few days.

Egg Scenario #2:  “Sperm!???!??!  EEEEEEK!  ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!”
Some eggs had one look at the sperm that had entered their territory and decided that life just wasn’t worth it.  They either died upon first sight of their new mate, or else within a few hours.

Egg Scenario #3: “Yawn…….this splitting and growing thing is just plain ol’ boring.  I think I’m going to take a looooooooong nap.”
This scenario actually sounds pretty typical of me.  I’ve been known to have the ability to nap on demand — anywhere, anytime.  My fertilized eggs carried on that trait — except their naps were so deep that they just ended up dying.

Egg Scenario #4: “Fertilization!  Woohoo!  Lets grow, grow, grow!”
This is the best case scenario.  Grow and divide, grow and divide, repeat for nine months!  So far, we’ve had two embryos follow this scenario.  The first one, however, when tested for chromosomal abnormalities, came back as abnormal — and not just abnormal in one way (i.e. Downs Syndrome), but more than three abnormalities.  The word the doctor used was “chaotic.”  Our second embryo that grew has yet to be tested.  I’m really afraid that it, too, will come back as chaotic.  We will find the answer to that question soon.

So where do we go from here?  Our doctor gave us a few possibilities.  The first was to use Mama M’s eggs.  A “her bun, my oven” scenario.  The second is to use a donor egg with our current sperm donor.  The third was to accept and use a donor embryo.  These are extra embryos that were created by other couples for use in creating their own families — but they ended up being surplus.

After a little bit of thought, we’ve decided to try using Mama M’s eggs.  The process to retrieve her eggs is identical to the process that was used to retrieve mine.  The only difference is that I, at the same time, am taking medication to prepare my body for a (hopeful) transfer of 1 or 2 normal embryos that will be made up of Mama M’s egg and our donor sperm.

This scenario has definitely put us in a financial bind due to yet another retrieval and surgery, has resulted in us having to find a new sperm donor (our original donor resembled Mama M…….this new one is a bit more white), and, for me, created a big mental hurdle for me to overcome.  This entry is long enough, though, so that’ll have to wait for another day.

Your continued thoughts and prayers are appreciated as we endure this cycle.  We’ve both started medication and two hormonal women living under the same roof is definitely making for a test of our patience and love.

Where We Stand

Part of me wanted today to get here quickly so that I could know the answer.  The other part of me wanted today to never get here — so that I could live in the “They retrieved 12!” bubble forever.  In reality, I knew the number could be no greater than 4 since a phone call last week let me know that only 4 of our 12 fertilized properly.  Nevertheless, the number 4 kept circulating through my head as the number that I’d love to hear the embryologist say come Monday.

The call came this morning while I was in the library, printing off handouts for my Intro to Korean class.  I was trying to whisper due to the setting, which I’m pretty sure made the embryologist on the other end of the line think that I was waiting with bated breath for what she was going to relay to me.

“Yes, this is Dannielle.”

“Hi, this is _____ from the embryology lab, calling with your Day 5 report.”

At this point, in my head I kept thinking “please, please, puh-lease let us have a bunch to work with.”

“We were able to grow one Day 5 3BB blastocyst, which we are going to freeze for you since you wanted us to skip chromosomal testing if there were only 1 or 2.”

“…….oh………”

“I’m sure that Dr. ________ will be calling you in the next few days to discuss specifics.”

“…….oh………..um, okay.  Well, thank you for the phone call.”

One.

Only One.

A Dozen

Just a quick not to say that egg retrieval surgery yesterday afternoon was a success!  The doctor was able to retrieve 12 eggs (!!!!), which is great news.  As you might recall, my last two surgeries retrieved 4 and 6 eggs, respectively.  Due to natural attrition that will take place over the next few weeks, I’m really hoping that these 12 will result in 3 normal embryos.  Please pray for them as they grow this week and as they are sent off for testing in a week!