So It Has Been a Week…

I guess I have a lot to write.  My beta last Monday was only at 3800, which was just 800 up from the previous Monday–making me annoyed that they didn’t give me another beta in between, just so I could know if that was already heading down, or  if that was as high as it got.  All was moot however when I started bleeding on Thursday.  And man.  It got heavy.  Like, overpower-a-tampon-in-twenty-minutes heavy.  I also saw the sac pass, as well as a lot of other, er, stuff.  I will say that for as emotional as I can get about this whole process, I am pretty proud of how well I handled it all once the bleeding began.  On Friday of last week my beta was drawn and was 1600, and I will go tomorrow again to see how much it fell since then.  I really don’t know how long it will take to get back to zero–I know with my d&c a few years ago, I got a period a month after it happened, and I also think I started an FET soon after that…I know it was done by the end of June of that year, and the miscarriage happened March 20, d&c was March 25, first period was April 26 (crazy how these dates stick in one’s head), and I was on estrace in early June.  I also remember that they effed up my first try at an FET by dosing my lupron wrong, so it could have actually started before that.  Who knows.


I am floating somewhere between trying to think about our family being “complete” already, trying to think that maybe an FET with less than stellar embryos could work, the potential for adopting embryos down the line in a year or so…and it’s a strange place to find myself.  Emotionally, I have not been a wreck (Alleluia, alleluia).  I have not spent minutes/hours/days in tears–but I still have it all weighing on my heart and my head.  I am a little tired of “qualifying” things–by saying how blessed I am to have the boys I have, how lucky, how fortunate, how grateful…because OF COURSE I am all of these things.  And I guess I keep saying to convince myself, as well as to let the world know that I KNOW I could be in a much more devastating place right now, if we didn’t have the two boys.  But I cannot yet bring myself to think of getting rid of tiny baby boy clothes, baby toys, and the idea of another one of us in this world.  The regular folks of the reproducing world get decide when they feel their family is complete, and I am still jealous of that.  It amazed me–last night I spoke to my grandmother on her 93rd birthday, and while I don’t really tell her about all we have gone through, she knows some of it.  And who would have thought Nana would get it right–she said to me, “I can say you are so lucky and blessed to have the boys but when your heart wants more that is just how you feel.”  Thumbs up, Nana.  You nailed it–who would have thought?


The emotional aspect of potentially being done hasn’t completely hit me yet, but every time I see a pregnant person with two children, I do still feel that stirring inside, that sting.  It is nothing like it was when I was trying for P, and then the even harder journey of trying for A—but it’s still there.  When I told P that it seemed the doctors hadn’t been able to fix “Mommy’s broken belly” he told me, “Oh Mom, that’s alright.  There are like ninety years to life, you still have plenty of time to get someone to fix it.”  I loved his simple view–being four and a half makes him almost as wise as Nana at 93–but sadly, I don’t have plenty of time.  I have one more shot–one more partial-shot.  And that fresh cycle didn’t give me a baby–so why will the frozen one? (I am going to try to ask my Dr if I can cycle using Ganirelix instead of Lupron through–it will decrease the whole cycle time by at least two or three weeks, and I am a DISASTER on Lupron. Dis.As.Ter.)   Of course, I can’t help but HOPEHOPEHOPE that maybe God is guiding us to this last option, to show us that the reason all the recent cycles have failed (so, two FETs and one fresh in attempt for #3) is because our little one is waiting for us already somewhere in a freezer in Greenwich, and that HE is the baby that we are waiting for.  But I know that isn’t how God works–mainly from experience.  I love being a mom more than anything I have ever done, and likely anything I ever will do.  It fills my heart so completely, and I will surely struggle as I come to grips with knowing I won’t be journeying through new motherhood ever again…

Lost the coin toss

Today I went in and “forced” an ultrasound.  They just wanted to check my levels, but I KNEW I just KNEW that things had gone south.  My body was battling two conflicting issues–morning sickness and the ever-telling pull of my uterus wanting to shed a nice built up lining.  I knew this as of Saturday…and then I just prayedprayedprayed that the period-cramps and other happenings held out til Mother’s Day was over.  It is by far, for obvious reasons, my favoritest holiday in the whole world.  Favoritest.  Has surpassed my old favest, the birthday, and is now in close running with Christmas–not Christmas for me, Christmas for the little ones.  Anyway.  My prayers were answered until yesterday evening, miraculously.  There was no telltale signs of Things Gone Wrong until about 5 pm last night.


This morning I got a sitter for the boys, and got to the office with enough time to play some IPad solitaire to numb my mind.  When I went in for the blood with my favorite nurse, I told her I needed an ultrasound.  She is the BEST I tell you, the BEST.  After she said “Shit, what happened, I was out Friday!” and I told her nothing that the office knew of–just that I knew.  She put me in a room right away, and the other doctor (whom I now favor to mine–why, you ask?  Because she has something called COMPASSION.  and BEDSIDE MANNER.  And…WORDS.)  I saw the sac, saw it was still small, and was so damn glad to know I had been right, and this wasn’t going to give me some awesome, surprise, meant-to-be baby.  She was great.  And I was great, let me tell you.  No real breaking down, no sobbing mess, just asking all the right questions about What Happens When You MIscarry (I’ve only had that one with the twin pregnancy–and it was a missed one–and they did a d&c for that whatwith all the copious tissue….).  She told me we might try to give it a week, but schedule a surgery for early next week, so I am not waitingwaitingwaiting for this to happen, and can move on.  I guess there is a chance once I tear off the 4 estrogen patches and stop injecting 1.5 cc of progesterone in my ass, it happens naturally.


I definitely cried on the way home.  T is away on business and was therefore unreachable after I left (I swear, he’s not a douche–he was on an airplane.  So seriously unreachable).  I called my SIL/best friend/otherhalf and she cried with me.  But I am going to be okay from this, I just know it.  I guess it was always seeming to good to be true–or even, too bad to be true.  Sometimes I wish I never saw those damn TWO PINK LINES…because two pink lines infer a baby, but sadly, not this time.  We have some amazing things around the corner for our family of four–and I am trying to focus on the belief that perchance, somewhere down the road, I will understand why I was only given two children.  We do of course still have some frozen enbryos with this current clinic (of mediocre-to-poor quality), so the expectation will be low.  It was our plan to be “done” by my 35th birthday which is right around the corner at the end of June–and that is out of the question now.  I know how long it takes for numbers to fall after a loss.  I also know there are embryos out there somewhere, waiting to be “adopted”–and since we likely won’t risk crazy amounts of cash for another cycle with my sucktastic eggs, I know T would be willing to adopt some frozen embryos down the line if we decide to do so.  Part of me is like, “I’m ONLY going to be 35…” and the other part is like, “Shit, I am going to be 35.”


I am just going to continue to pray for peace, pray for an “easy miscarriage” (whatever the hell that means–because that sure sounds like an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one), and I am going to be so damn grateful for the two miracles I was somehow blessed with.  I know I have so many amazing and wonderful gifts in my life–I know that it is now the time to focus on that, and move forward.  Thanks for your support—kind words, reassurances, understanding, and just…reading.


It Happened/May Not Happen

I have not blogged about this at all–but we did an FET in April.  It was fairly uneventful, and based on my 0-for-3 FET history, as well as my notsogreat fresh history, we had little faith.  I tested negative the morning of 6dp5dt…but a light positive that evening.  Squinter light.  It got gradually less-squinty until the beta at 14dpo (a wednesday) came in at an underwhelming 32.  Nothing to get excited about, but not low enough to figure it is completely a chemical.  Slow-forward two days, next bext beta comes in at 85.  Slow-forward three days, beta #3 comes in at 297.  Slow forward three more days, beta comes in at 975.   And four days after that….2999.  Clearly doubling.  Clearly doubling within the window of double-time.  But clearly, low.  Pretty low.  Not hopeless low, just low enough to have limited hope, and I am afraid, to get smashed down.  The following day after beta #4 (so this would be 27 dpo), doctor wanted me in for an ultrasound.  I saw the gest sac.  I BARELYBARELYBARELY saw the yolk sac. Dr saw it.   We did not see a fetal pole (I was technically 5w6d at the appt).  After forcing my doctor to share some information with me (he was satisfied with “see you in two weeks” and I was NOOOOOTTTT), he did give me 50/50 odds that this turns into a viable, healthy pregnancy. I also forced him into telling me what I was measuring (“about 5 weeks”). Yuck.  No one wants a flip of a coin determining their ultimate future.  I tried to be all positive and say, “well, there is as much of a chance it works as there is that it doesn’t!” until my usually optimistic husband introduced the coin-toss analogy and I lost all positivity.


I have heard that FETs take longer to build steam.  I have read stories of people who didn’t see fetal poles at 5w6d and saw one at their next ultrasound.  And I have read many many stories of people who have miscarried after an experience like mine.  Fifty-fifty, not the greatest.  It is going to be a long trip from today (Wedneday, one day past ultrasound) until next Friday, ultrasound number two.  It is the earliest he would do it.  It will also put me at 7w2d.


I am having a hard time understanding why this would happen at the end of the journey–why didn’t the powers that be let me go out with a fizzle, rather than a Bang! No! Wait! No! Not a bang! Just a…….?  So I just wait it out until next Friday.  Not much more to do…but wait and hope.  It’s not in my hands.