Tag Archives: #ivfandfaith

Today I Did My Hair

What a couple of weeks it has been.  I feel like I am living in bizarro-land.  There has been so much happening but I have not had the capacity to write the past several days.

In short, I was in the hospital two days getting two Albumin transfusions and left Sunday feeling a bit better and better able to eat and drink on my own, my Albumin (protein) levels just below normal range but high enough to give my doctor satisfaction.  By Monday I was again very full in the abdomen and still fighting the nausea and pain.  I also awoke that morning with some new symptoms, in particular swelling in other areas of my body.  I went in to my RE in hopes of another tap but the ultrasound indicated that a tap actually would not be able to drain much fluid because the fluid had now begun to spread throughout my body — stage two of OHSS.

Over the course of the next four days I gained 15+ pounds of fluid throughout my body, putting the total fluid weight gain at 25 pounds in about a week.  My clothes do not fit, fluid on my spine makes it painful to rest on my back, my feet and toes are swollen to the point of numbness and tingling, and all of that adds up to a good bit of difficulty walking and getting around.  The rest of the week involved more IV fluids at my RE’s office, an ER visit to ensure I didn’t have a blood clot because of asymmetrical swelling in my legs, and, finally, an appointment with my RE on Friday where we finally saw my kidney function improving.

While those symptoms I just mentioned are still true today, I also am beginning to notice some improvements.  Late last week I began peeing normally (sorry if too much information), indicating that new fluids entering my body were being processed by my kidneys.  Now it is a matter of the fluids stored up from the past two weeks getting pushed to them and peed out — that’s right, we’re looking at peeing out 25 pounds worth of fluids over the next week.  This process, thankfully, has already begun and I’m down about 4-5 pounds.

Let me be clear about this: I do not care about the weight.  What I care about is the extreme discomfort and how I can’t get around so well.  Percocet and anti-nausea meds have been my friend the past week and are helping to relieve enough of the pain to be able to eat and get up and around for a bit at a time.

Perhaps more importantly, let me be clear about this: I am so grateful for this pregnancy and I am not complaining in that regard.  I am so so grateful.  And this pregnancy, to potentially have a baby at the end of this, is worth every ounce of discomfort.

Last Sunday when we were discharged my RE’s partner, who was on call and making rounds, let me know that OHSS typically lasts nine days in women who are not pregnant and 21 days in women who are.  At that point, about 11 days in, I could not imagine being able to tolerate another ten but getting these slowly-increasing Betas certainly has pushed me on and makes it all worth the while.  In fact, my RE told me about my first Beta on the Thursday before we were supposed to find out.  She called to let me know some of my other, worrisome numbers and to have me come in for fluids, labs, etc. but then said she also had good news, that she had run an HCG the day before (1 week post transfer) and my Beta was 51.  I of course was shocked but this news buoyed me, helped me to push through the pain, to continue to force feed and hydrate myself despite feeling as though there was zero room for anything else in this body, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was an intentional move on her part.

I can’t imagine going through this process of OHSS and not being pregnant, my heart goes out so deeply for women who do.  Staying on the OB mother/baby floor last weekend, I could only imagine how cruel it would be to be there, not pregnant, hearing the cries of the babies and in such pain.

My betas have continued to rise, but not at normal rates due to the OHSS.  My doctor told me this from the beginning, not to expect the doubling every other day that we typically see, because blood levels in a woman with OHSS are so skewed because of the enormous amounts of fluid in her body.  So after the initial sneaky Beta of 51, my second was drawn in the hospital at 1 in the morning and my RE texted me the result at 3 a.m. — 86.  Still pregnant.  So very early still, but pregnant.  That was when I first began to believe and let it sink in.  Last Wednesday it registered at 581 and Friday at 1315, it actually did double in that two-day period.

I am doing a lot of hanging on and a lot of waiting — what we infertiles do best.  With OHSS it is a game of waiting it out and of symptom management.  Today is day 21 of this, but as my doctor has reiterated I don’t know how many times, we never can know how long someone’s body is really going to take to get through it.  The trick now is for the effect of my Albumin levels, hopefully continuing to rise because of now being able to eat, to overcome the effect of the HCG, hopefully continuing to rise because of the growing pregnancy.  My dear mother-in-law who is a dietician has me on a high protein diet and I am trying to waste no bite on anything that does not contain protein.  Save the fried pickles and pretzels outing that Hubs and Jess took me out to over the weekend which involved airlifting me into the restaurant.

This morning as Hubs went to church I watched a streaming Easter service online and wept thinking about God’s salvation and taking a broken, messy situation and redeeming it, breathing new life into it.  His goodness to us to make us beautiful again, his goodness to me to allow me to be pregnant.  I showered and put on a dress I could zip half-way (yay for Anthropologie baggy styles) and actually did my hair and make-up.  I took a few minutes to put a tablecloth and the china out on the table for Jess and Hubs and my Easter lunch, and those little things felt like big accomplishments.

So today, much like my body is requiring me to do, my mind and heart move slowly, one foot in front of the other.  So grateful for each increasing Beta, celebrating each pound peed out!, beginning to let myself dream a little about baby names and nursery colors, and holding my breath until that ultrasound next Monday and looking for our little heartbeat.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

For Today I am Pregnant

However short-lived, this we do know today.

We got a text from our doctor this morning letting us know that of the four embryos, two were healthy blastocysts, the other two were at earlier stages.  At the appointment I first had an acupuncture treatment (yum), then Dr. C and the embryologist came back and showed us a picture of the to blasts.  They were beautiful (in my humble opinion).  I asked why they were oblong — more like a figure 8 than a circle — and the embryologist said it is because they already have begun to hatch, even better!

The other two are still hanging on, but one seemed to be stalled in its growth and would not result in a baby, and the other they are going to let grow through tomorrow morning and then check in.  If it has reached blastocyst stage (they estimate about a 50/50 chance) we will be able to freeze it for a later transfer.  You know what I’m praying for.

So, in the end, having two healthy blasts, we decided to transfer one and freeze one for a later transfer.  Both Dr. C and the embryologist were fine with whatever we wanted to do but felt more comfortable transferring one.  The likelihood of either of them becoming a baby is the same whether they’re transferred at the same time or separately.  So transferring one does a couple things for us: it reduces our likelihood of multiples, it gives us more than one transfer (praise God!!), and the second transfer may even be slightly more optimal than this one because the uterine lining tends to be healthier when your body has not just undergone stimming and retrieval.  This second transfer could always even be for our second child down the road, if all goes well this go round!

All in all, the disappointment from the low fertilization rate has been quelled a bit and we are very grateful to likely get to have one other transfer from this IVF/retrieval process.  I have to admit, physically I feel pretty cruddy right now.  No one warned me how rough it can be post-retrieval!!  This is the worst part by far!  My ovaries will continue to be enlarged for another couple weeks, my digestion is whack thanks to the anesthesia and progesterone (which was so high it didn’t register on the clinic’s machine — just what they want to see), I’ve been sleeping terribly thanks to those symptoms and the side effect of the steroid, eating isn’t sounding so great but I’m guessing is kind of important for staying pregnant, and I overall feel like I just might pop.  Of course it is all worth it to give the little pearl babies a fighting chance but I will say I am glad I’m taking off the remainder of the week from work to rest and recuperate.

So tonight I am more pregnant than I ever have been (or known I have been) before.  Our embryo is with us, the beginning of a baby.  I’m imagining it continue to hatch and slowly make its way to a comfy spot in my uterus to hang out for nine months.  (We will know a week from Friday.)  I’m connecting with it and praying for him or her.  Trying to be at peace and in the moment in this emerging relationship.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today There are Still Four

Just got the update and all four embryos are still moving forward!  We have two 8-cell, one 7-cell, and one 6-cell.  Dr. C said she thinks we’re looking at one to two blastocysts on transfer day Wednesday and that she would be surprised if there were fewer, ecstatic if there were more.

I will continue to pray our four embryos fighting in the incubator down the road and that there would be four healthy blastocysts on Wednesday.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today I Am a Mother

I have learned a lot about myself in the past 48 hours.

1.  I have tough skin.

No, unfortunately not metaphorically, quite literally.  The nurse anesthetist had quite a time getting my IV going on Friday and, after telling me the first one “burst” and I told her that the word burst made me anxious, declared that despite my being a dainty lady (fairly certain that will be the only time in my life that I hear that), that I have tough skin.  After several tissues worth of palm sweat my husband wiped off my hands, providing much-needed comic relief, laying me back to prevent a further vagal response, and a couple tries later, we were in.  I, as usual, was a high maintenance patient as my anxiety got the best of me.  I wish it were figurative, too.

2.  I am a curious anesthetic drunk.

My friend Laura warned me that she was a sobby and sappy anesthetic drunk, that all the emotion of IVF buried deep emerged as she came out of the anesthesia post-retrieval.  Me?  I was that before it even started.  As the nurse walked me back to get changed and Hubs left to provide his sample, I broke down crying.  It all rushed in.  I gathered myself, read Scripture on my phone (coincidentally the passage of the day was II Corinthians 1 on “The God of All Comfort), and again resumed crying when Hubs returned.  And then when the nurse came back, and the anesthetist, and my RE.  It was all a bit overwhelming.  For some reason I chose to wear a ring Hubs gave me for my 20th birthday that I hadn’t pulled out in a while.  As I looking at the thing, I couldn’t help but think back to those two innocent kiddos and how they had no idea what the future had in store.  Certainly infertility is not the only thing — most of it has been great  — but we had no idea we’d be in that room, doing this wild thing 11 years later.  They somehow managed to get me back to the operating room and my RE and the nurses wished me well on my trip to the beach and requested I bring a drink back for them.  Have I mentioned how great they are at my clinic?  They were all so understanding and comforting with me and all my emotion and wispiness.  I was awakened when they brought my husband back and quickly began asking him questions about when had I woken up, how did they wake me up, how many eggs (of course), etc..  Not a single tear, I was fairly clear-minded, super relieved that part was over, and wondering why the heck I still felt so full in the ovaries (apparently they pop the follicles to retrieve the eggs, and the follicles become cysts — great).

3.  I like dried prunes (and I cannot lie).

No need for a lot of details, but did you know they taste like those Whole Foods fruit leathers?  Yum!  I can be so close-minded with my produce selections.  I still lament all the years I spent without avocado in my life.

4.  My friends are amazing cooks.

They (you all) have brought us the most delicious meals, it is no wonder we live in the foodiest small town in America.  Quinoa and roasted vegetables, lentil and rice soup, extra-ginger carrot soup, vegetarian ziti, spinach enchiladas, southwestern grits, Dahl and brown rice, sun-dried tomato artichoke quiche (dairy-free!)…and lots and lots of chocolate and cupcakes which I have been eating indiscriminately but don’t tell Julie the acupuncturist.  Biggest thanks for all of this love.  And I am proud of you, my community, for your incredible cooking skills and being the hands and feet of Jesus.  You people have even taken our terror of a puppy on hikes — that is love.

5.  I am a mother.

Lastly and most importantly.  It feels weird to have been chipper in this post so far, because I’m actually very very worried and sad and scared.  The low-down on the retrieval: the procedure itself all went very well, they harvested 13 eggs as we had hoped, the sperm report was perfect.  We got a call Saturday, though, that only four had fertilized normally.  Of the 13, three weren’t mature (in line with the 80% we predicted), and of the ten remaining, five had signs of maturity but did not fertilize, one fertilized but abnormally and so would not result in a baby, leaving our four embryos.  That is a low fertilization rate of 40% when you’re usually looking at 70%.  Our RE said that we should realistically hope for just the one fresh transfer.

The blastocyst conversion rate — how many day-1 embryos make it to a day-5 blastocyst — is 50%, meaning statistically speaking, we are hoping for one to two embryos by Wednesday to transfer, likely none to freeze for later.  What a blow after all of that work and pain and time and hope.  It is bad enough if we are not pregnant this cycle but have frozen embryos to thaw for a later attempt, but so much worse if we are not pregnant and that was our only shot after this long and grueling process.

As many have reminded me lately, it only takes one.  I am praying for this and was encouraged today to hear a story of a friend’s friend having one embryo and now having a rambunctious five-year-old girl.  But, more than that, I am incessantly praying for our four babies.

This morning I couldn’t help but realize that I am, in fact, now officially a mother.  I just felt different in my love and concern for them.  I feel desperate for them, want to fight for them, be with them, do anything I can for them.  Of course at this point that is next to nothing except for prayer.

I realize that it is highly unlikely statistically, but I am praying and asking others to pray that all four would fight and make it and be strong and healthy on Wednesday.  That the Lord would do that fighting for them.  “He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20).  This verse hung in my sister’s twin’s nursery who were conceived with the help of fertility meds and sustained after being born 8 weeks early.  Today in church we sang “He is Able.”  This is true and I believe it.  All four may not make it, but it will not be for me not having asked.  And, on the other hand, they just may.  I am that persistent woman before the judge this weekend, asking this of the Lord over and over and over again.

We’ll get a report on them midday tomorrow.  It has driven me crazy today to think of them, 20 minutes down the road, not knowing how many are still there, how they’re doing, if they’re growing.  But I am believing in my babies and my Father who is with them, hoping they have tough skin like their mama.  Praying that the Lord would see them through.  I’m very aware that they are ours, that we are their parents and love them already.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today I Had Zero Shots

After the four yesterday, and the fourteen(ish) the week
prior, I am glad that part is over.  My ovaries are officially
giant, last antagon and stimming are finished, trigger has
happened.  All is quiet tonight. Tomorrow morning is our
retrieval.  I can’t believe it.  I feel like I’m in some
kind of whack time warp where tomorrow can’t come quick enough and
yet I can’t believe it is here.  Tomorrow our follicles will
leave the warm comforts of my body for a hot date in the lab with
some stud sperm.  Hopefully they have sharpened up on their
pick-up lines and are ready to make some magic. Tomorrow night our
potential babies will be made. It really is awe-inspiring.  It
can be easy to lose sight of the miracle of it all amidst the
logistics of the past, well really, two years.  There is so
much striving for a baby, so many things to pay attention to and
keep your eye on, appointments to go to, research to complete, that
those details necessarily come to inhabit more space in your mind
than that elusive baby, child.  But tomorrow really is the
beginning of life.  (Not intended to be a political
statement!) I am feeling good, a bit anxious about the process,
tomorrow’s news, the news Saturday morning with the fertilization
report, the news two weeks from tomorrow when we learn what has
come of this all.  How could I not be, with all that is riding
on it all?  I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep tonight but
am remembering all of the prayers being spoken for us tonight and
am finding peace amongst the internal, excited clamor. Goodnight
Moon.  Goodnight Hubs.  Goodnight sweet Pearls.
 Tomorrow night we’ll be apart but you’ll be well on your
way.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
2017 Lenten Readings

West End Presbyterian Church

sweetbeetcityfarm

An urban farm in Durham

exploring the (in)fertility journey day-to-day

Maberry Miscellanea

exploring the (in)fertility journey day-to-day

From A to Pink | A Blog by Katharine Scrivener

The life of a 30-something writer, cystic fibrosis patient + advocate, with a penchant for hoarding books.

The Infertility Voice™

An Online Hub for the Infertility Community — by the Infertility Community

Childless in Paris

struggling with infertility while dealing with the Frenchies...

Barren & Unemployed

Slightly Dramatic, Completely Honest, One Woman's Journey with Infertility

IVF male

IVF from the male POV

anemptywomb

A great WordPress.com site

whatisarutabaga.com/

My journey to more conscious eating.

All These Things

exploring the (in)fertility journey day-to-day

Something Out of Nothing

From 0 sperm to a family of three

Tales of a Twin Mombie

Because when you're a parent, there's always a story to tell.

Risa Kerslake Writes

Formerly Who Shot Down My Stork?

acupofbliss

Reflections on lattes, life, and love

hopefulandhungry

The road to conceiving a baby....enjoying food and life along the way

Dwell in Me

Seeking God in the Every Day

%d bloggers like this: