And Then There Were Three……….

I’ll preface this post by saying that we will now be saying “Carroll-Wakem…table for three”

Most of you know that last Saturday, Mama M and I drove up to Seoul in order to stay at a hotel close to the hospital since we anticipated Shim arriving at some point in the very near future.  Little did we know that we would be waiting for eight more days before getting to meet our child.

On Thursday afternoon, after trying to follow every tip in the book to induce labor, we went to the hospital to be induced.  Again, little did we know that we would be waiting four additional days to meet our child.

After a long and drawn out labor lasting 61 hours, our child, the miracle we’d been trying to obtain since 2015, finally arrived.  World, meet Shim, born at 5:34AM on Sunday, March 11th. Weighing in at a hefty 9lbs 12ounces and standing at 21.5″ tall, we are surprised that Shim didn’t hop down and walk right out the door, considering we had birthed a 41-week mini-toddler.

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This kiddo’s arrival has been long awaited for by not only us, but our Army family here in Korea, our families back in the United States, and all of our friends around the globe.

Shim, now known as our son,
Simon Kevin Warren

9 months later….

24991440_876541482274_2052247889102768815_nI will preface this by saying that I am still pregnant. 🙂

I haven’t written in awhile and I feel like I left some of you hanging…especially those of you that aren’t friends with us on Facebook.  Mama M and I have had quite the roller coaster of a pregnancy that I feel the need to catch you up on.  The last update I provided said that we were finally pregnant!

Now sit back, grab a drink (if it’s wine, have some for me!), and enjoy this recap of the past 3 trimesters!

First Trimester: We found out we were pregnant about three weeks prior to our planned move to South Korea.  At the time, our lease was ending and there was a short, 8-day gap before our flight departed for Seoul.  Our friends, the G family, offered to let us and our 2 dogs stay for the week in their guest room.  Little did we know that this offer would turn into the BEST decision that we had made in a long time.

When I notified the military that I was pregnant, they changed the day that we needed to report to Korea to the second week of September — essentially the end of the first trimester.  We had to make a decision at this point about where to live — do we continue to impose on our very welcoming hosts, or do we find a place with a short term, furnished lease.  Remember, by this time, all of our household goods (minus the suitcases that were coming on the plane with us) had either been put in storage, or were on a ship making the trans-pacific journey to the land of the Morning Calm.  After sounding like a broken record for a few days with our friends….”Are you sure it is okay that we stay?”……..”No, really, are you sure we aren’t imposing?”, Mama M and I decided to continue to stay with our friends, their four kids and their 2 dogs for the entire summer.  It was like one BIG happy family — Mama M, Mama D, our two dogs, our friends, T and J, their two dogs, their four kids, and our little one in utero (Shim — a term created to mean she and him since we weren’t planning on finding out the gender).  What could have easily been a recipe for unhappy disaster turned into the best summer of our lives.  Not only did we get to stay in the United States during a trimester riddled with “all-day” sickness, a diagnosis of hypoglycemia, and just general fatigue — but Mama M and I became part of the extended G family — and intend on maintaining that family relationship for the rest of our lives.

Second Trimester: In September, it was time to pack up our bags (and by bags I mean 8 – 50 lb bags, 2 large dog crates (for our 2 smalls dogs) and our 2 carry on bags…total of 12 bags) and fly to our next duty station in South Korea.

Flying to Korea

We might have over packed…..

Upon arriving, and spending 5 days in limbo waiting to find out if we were going to be staying at Yongsan (Seoul) or Camp Humphreys we finally found out that we were going to be stationed at Camp Humphreys, a larger base located about 90 minutes south of Seoul, in a city called Pyeongtaek.  We again packed up our 12 bags and headed down to Camp Humphreys.  We quickly found a house, got settled into a routine at work, and slowly started planning how Shim was going to fit into this life of ours that we were creating on the other side of the world.  A nursery started coming together,  we were set up with a wonderful OB team at the U.S. military hospital in Seoul, and we started exploring this beautiful country that we had the privilege of living in for the next two years.

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Visiting one of the oldest and largest temples near Suwon.

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Spending the day at the Yellow Sea, which is very similar to Monterrey, CA.

During this trimester, I continued to have pretty much every pregnancy symptom in the book.

Continued nausea?       Check.
Rib Pain?                         Check.
Back Pain?                      Check.
Trouble Sleeping?         Check.
Snoring?                          Check.
Heartburn?                     Quadruple Check
Hemorrhoids?               WTF Check!

The list could go on and on, but essentially, this pregnancy was proving to be difficult for me.  I was diagnosed with hypoglycemia at around the 12-week mark after failing a 3-hour glucose test.  Most women fail this test by having glucose levels that are too high.  I, however, was a rare case of the opposite — my glucose level was at 31 at the 3-hour mark.  This level was considered critical and the staff at the OB’s office has no idea how I was still standing, let alone able to walk out of their office and drive myself home.  At our 20 week ultrasound, we were devastated and worried sick when we were told that Shim had developed calcium deposits on his/her heart.  We were sent to a local Korean hospital within two weeks to have a more in depth exam done and, thankfully, the spots had disappeared during that two week period.  Whew!

Third Trimester: The homestretch of this pregnancy has definitely felt like the longest.  We were lucky enough to start it off with a trip back to the United States, both for Mama D to work, and for both of us to take a few days off and visit with our families and friends. Baby Shim was definitely spoiled with multiple gatherings and showers to celebrate his or her upcoming arrival.

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Our Colorado Girls!

In Denver, Colorado, the place where all of the magic took place to create Shim was the first stop on our trip.  Our “Colorado Girls,” as Mama M calls them, hosted a wonderful brunch and baby shower to celebrate Shim.  The highlight was having everyone create homemade bibs for Shim to wear when s/he is a wee bit older.

After Denver, we were able to visit with Mama D’s family in Chicago.  Her cousin, Kate, opened up her home and her heart to all of us.  It was so nice to see everyone together in one place, celebrating the addition of another cousin to the family.  Shim is so very lucky to have quite the extended family living throughout the Chicagoland area!

Our final stop on our trip to the United States was to visit Mama M’s family in Southern California.  How blessed Shim will be to not only have wonderful grandmothers around, but also his/her great-grandmother, Quyen.  We can’t wait for Quyen, Mama M’s mother, and Mama D’s mother to make the trip out here to Korea sometime in the the next few months to meet our new addition!

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The last highlight of this homestretch was our trip to Pyeongchang to witness some of the 2018 Winter Olympics.  When we found out that we were being stationed here, we knew that we had to see at least one event —- even if I was 36 weeks pregnant!  We were lucky enough to obtain free tickets and transportation to the Final Women’s Luge event.  So, with Shim in tow, we went out the event, braved the bitter cold, and got to witness amazingly strong female athletes in action.  Definitely a once in a lifetime experience and one that I will never forget.  Plus, we can tell Shim that s/he was actually at the Olympic Games a month before being born!
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That, my friends, is the Cliff Notes version of the past nine months of our lives.  We are looking forward to having Shim join us in this world, creating memories and adventures together, and, in the next week or so (hopefully!) introducing all of you to the long awaited baby Shim!

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Shim at 32 weeks, partially blocked by his/her hand, but still, an adorable chunky monkey 

 

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!

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. 

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!

A 1:45AM alarm clock

What do a Nebraska Gas Station, an Orland Park movie theater, and a Denny’s parking lot have in common?

The precise timing of injections is one of the key components of a stimulation cycle.  For this round, my injections must be given exactly 12 hours apart.  For me, I chose the 8 o’clock hour as the lucky time when I’d have to give my shots.  At the time, I didn’t think of all of the things that I’d be in the middle of at 8AM or 8PM:

  1.  Watching Beauty and the Beast at a movie theater with my family and friends.  Nothing like having Mariya give me three shots (in the dark) while singing along to the Prologue.  “…..Bonjour! There goes the baker with his tray like always…”
  2. Driving on our road trip to Denver, it was awesome giving myself a shot in the car while at the gas pump.  “Babe!  We need to pull over now!  The alarm on my phone is going off!”
  3. Giving myself shots in the bathroom at school before classes start in the morning
  4. Excusing myself from night school classes in order to give myself shots, again, in the bathroom at school.
  5. Leaving the dinner table with friends in order to go to my room and give myself shots.

The list could go on for, well, weeks worth of injections.

The good news, is the shots and medication are working.  At our doctor’s appointment yesterday, numerous follicles had finally reached the ‘magic’ 20mm+ size.  At this size, they are each (hopefully) filled with one tiny egg that can be extracted during surgery.  As mentioned in a previous post, one of the medications that I am currently taking prevents my body from ovulating and releasing those eggs.  In order to induce ovulation, I have to take an intramuscular shot that is perfectly timed with my scheduled surgery time.  For this go around, the time of that shot had to be at 1:45AM.

Yes, 1:45 AM.   I really can’t describe the immense pleasure of setting an alarm clock to wake you up at 1:43AM so that your wife can give you a shot with a 1.5″ needle in your hip area.  I would say that it was a definite highlight of my life — something akin to stubbing your pinkie toe on the coffee table.  🙂

The upside you might ask?  SURGERY IS SCHEDULED AND I AM DONE WITH SHOTS…..(for now).  Please pray for us and for my surgeon tomorrow.  Surgery is scheduled to start precisely at 12:45PM (Mountain Time) on Tuesday.  Please, please, please let there be multiple eggs that are all mature and ready to become our lucky embryos!