A Final Farewell

Today was tough. It started out with ants in my kitchen which in turn led to me ripping things apart and cleaning like a wild woman, while at the same time trying to manage a rambunctious toddler who was yelling, “ANTS”!

Shortly after that, I received the news we had been waiting for on the infertility front- the results of the final semen analysis conducted a few weeks ago. While I won’t go into specifics, I will say that it is not the result we had hoped for if we wished to try on our own. Odd as it may sound, I think the hardest part of hearing the results was knowing this was the last time I would be talking to my RE.

After she went over the results and said she was sorry, there was a short silence followed by “I guess this brings us to the end of our journey,” on my end. As I uttered those words, the large lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. I felt like a part of me was leaving. The realization that this chapter is truly and completely over washed over me for the first time in those few moments on the phone with her. I pulled myself together and thanked her again for everything, and she ended the conversation with how much they all love me and to please visit sometime with Miracle.

I then knew it was time to face what I had been dreading. I took Miracle to my mom’s house for a bit, and I began packing up a good majority of the baby stuff that I had been holding onto for so long. All the emotions came and went as I rummaged through bags, boxes, drawers and closets. I packed it all in the back of my car and took it to the local second hand store. Tears were shed, not only because another baby is not in the cards, but because the time has gone so quickly with my miracle. I want to stop time and cherish every minute of him. It just isn’t fair sometimes how quickly it goes.

Is He Your “Only” One?

As she watched her 3 kids tumble around the playground and chatted with me about her growing baby bump, I could sense it was coming. I started to feel a strange anxiety building up to it.

How would I answer this question once she finally spit it out? Should I tell this stranger making small chat with me the struggle leading up to him being my “only” child? Should I say “yes…here on Earth” and leave it at that, making the woman feel sadly awkward for asking what seems like a normal question? Or how about a simple “yes” or simple “no” depending on how technical we want to get here? The possibilities were endless and they were playing out over and over again.

The question was inevitable. And so it came. Is he your “only” one? Can I just say how I hate the emphasis on only here. Like it was no feat to have him. Maybe if I had three it would have been a greater accomplishment without the word only attached to it?

Of course I know I am being unreasonable thinking any harm was meant by asking a common question, but I cant help the fact that it urked me. And although I am quite verbal about my story and the struggles to get my Miracle, my answer that day on the playground was “yes, he is.”

Moving Forward

Today I met with our RE for the complimentary follow up visit after an IVF cycle fail. Commonly known to IVF frequenters as the WTF appt.

Even though we know there will be no more IVF in the future & have voiced it to our clinic already, there were still some things to visit. The start of the meeting was somewhat somber with my RE saying again how bummed she was that the last little one did not make it. I tried not to focus too much on it not working, instead I told her how blessed we are that it worked with Miracle. How many women out there never get even 1 baby here on Earth after numerous IVF’s. Of course we talked about the embryo’s quality, the transfer, my protocol, etc. but it was brief as I did not feel the need to search for answers on why it did not stick.

We went on to reminisce about what a miracle he really is & that day back in May 2016 when we found out I was not only pregnant with him, but also with a baby in my tube. A.k.a. my heterotopic pregnancy experience from FET3. She told me how she shares my success story with other women in her practice often to give them hope. Specifically those who have to undergo a major surgery when pregnant, that it can work out. I cried when she told me that because if there was ever any good to come out of all the loss and hurt and IVF crap other than my son, it is giving hope to someone who needs it the most. From there we somehow got into talking about this blog and supporting women in the trenches.

At one point I actually forgot I was talking to my doctor as it was more like a conversation you have with a close friend. And thats when I realized she is a friend. Im truly lucky to have found a doctor like her.

We will be doing a sperm analysis in the weeks that follow. If you have been following along for awhile, you know we are affected by Male Factor Infertility. Back in 2013, my husband underwent a Varicocele Repair. We did IVF 6 months later and that is the last time a sperm analysis was done. It has been almost 5 years now. We are curious to see what it yields. It is out of our hands now & in His.

And Then There Was None

Miracle will be 2 yrs old soon. Hard to believe it. I mean how cliche is it to say time flies, but boy is it so true. The past year or so I have found myself struggling through stages of infancy and toddlerhood only to blink and see a new stage upon me and miss the old stage like crazy.

Back in early 2014, we had 18 eggs retrieved via IVF with ICSI, 8 of which made it to day 6 blasts. 7 were put on ice and 1 transferred back fresh at that time. 5 transfers total, 6 embryos miscarried, 1 miracle baby boy & 1 embryo that never implanted.

Our last embryo was transferred back to us early this month. We had high hopes that it would complete our family and bring Miracle a sibling. The cycle failed. I sort of knew going into it that it would not work. That sounds awful, and so much for the power of positive thinking. I blame myself sometimes for my ‘mindset’, that maybe if I had been more positive it would have worked. If I would have taken it a little easier after the transfer. If, if, if.

And of course I blame my body. The actual transfer itself was a nightmare. The catheter would not go in correctly which was never an issue in our prior 4 transfers. I guess since I dilated the full 10cm during labor with Isaac things changed down there. Who knows. Finally it worked but the cramping was not ideal. I wasnt exactly relaxed.

And then there was the quality of the embryo itself. 30% of it did not survive the thaw. The inner cell mass was still in tact as it was the trophectoderm (aka future placenta) that died off. We were told that successful pregnancies have occurred with even 50% not making it and to stay positive. Sigh. It was just another sign in my mind that things wouldnt work.

But the truth is none of this even matters because in reality if it was meant to be it would have been right? So now we pick up the pieces and try to move on from life after IVF. There will be no more IVF for us. It has taken up too much of our lives for too many years and I dont want it anymore. This cycle brought back so many ugly feelings that I remembered all too well once they surfaced. And I dont want those feelings anymore.

Crickets

Where do you begin when you haven’t blogged in over a year? From an avid blogger to a ghost. Some people might think you fell off the face of the Earth. Others could guess you have tried to turn over a new leaf, assuming you are trying to put your “infertile” past behind you now that you have a baby….I wish it was that easy.

So many times I have stared at a blank screen and wanted to write. I miss blogging. I miss using my voice & interacting with such a supportive community. Blogging was therapy & a huge part of my daily life for years.

Anyways, so here I am. I am back. I never really left. I silently read posts and commented in my mind on them. Prayed for those hurting, rejoiced with those rejoicing. Why havent I blogged? I guess I feel out of place at times now since having my rainbow baby. I am worried I might hurt someone still in the trenches. I dont want to be misunderstood. It is difficult to put it all into words really. Hopefully as time goes on I find how to put it all into words because writing this tonight makes me feel good and reinforces how much I have subconsciously yearned for it.

I will leave with this thought which has been on my mind lately-Infertility without an earthly child is hard, but so is infertilify after having one. Will the feelings of infertility & loss ever truly leave one’s soul? Until next time ❤️

2 Years Ago

A few days ago, Word Press reminded me that I started this blog 2 years ago this March. 


2 years ago at this time I was on a medical leave from my position teaching Fourth Grade. I had just had my 3rd IVF miscarriage at 10 weeks pregnant. I was beyond devastated. I chopped off my hair and got 2 tattoos within weeks. I wanted to morph into a different person but I soon realized that wasn’t possible. 

So during my medical leave, I decided I had to find other ways to cope other than taking scissors to my hair or ink to my body.  With the encouragement of close friends & family, I started this blog as an outlet. Up until that time (March 2015), we were quiet about our infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss struggles. Only those closest to us knew we had been trying to conceive for close to 7 yrs, had underwent both his & her surgeries, failed IUIs, IVF cycles, and miscarried 6 embryos with 2 still frozen. 

It felt SO amazing to come out of what I like to call the “infertility closet.” I decided from the start not to make my blog anonymous, to even link it to my FB page. I wanted the world to know that I was not a mean bitch when I didnt come to your baby shower, or your kid’s 1st birthday…or when I walked away as you gleefully told everyone what gender you were expecting. I wanted them to know that I had just learned we lost another baby, a healthy baby boy with no explanation. That I just had a D & C for the fourth time. That we had just thrown another 10,000 down the drain. That I wasnt being lazy when I called into work sick yet again. I wanted to be understood finally!

And I was. In fact, I had more than one person tell me that they had misjudged me before they knew our story.  To think if I had never started sharing they would have never knew the real me, well I cant even imagine that now. 

To some, I might share too much, but I have found being an open (and honest) book is what works. To ME, it is far better than leading a life no one knows exists.  That said, I found it pretty cool to see how much this blog has been a part of my life…


You can see that when at the lowest point in our journey (March 2015-June 2015), I was sometimes blogging multiple times a day. Sure, things have changed now, but I am still proud to say I havent missed a month. I guess you could say blogging is sort of therapy for me. 

Here’s to another 2 years Word Press! 

I Will Never Forget 

Although we have finally made it to a point in our pregnancy where we are very hopeful we will bring our rainbow baby home, it doesnt mean I will ever forget. 

I’ll never forget the sleepless nights dreaming of what it would be like to become pregnant and watch my belly grow. To feel life inside of me. 

I’ll never forget the desperation every month to see 2 pink lines. The timed intercourse over & over again, the old wives tales I held on to, organic foods I stuffed myself with, and the vitamins I overdosed with time & time again. 

I’ll never forget the disappointment and heartache month after month when it never happened on its own. Ever. 

I’ll never forget how scary every single treatment I had was. Every shot, ultrasound, IV of anesthesia, blood draw, d & c, egg retrieval, fibroid removal, hysteroscopy, HSG, tube removal, MRI, SIS, and transfer.

The various emotions I felt monthly, if not daily…bitterness, denial, hope, sadness, excitement, fear, anger, love, jealousy, peace, rage, the list goes on. 

I’ll never forget all the 2 week waits and the bargains I tried to make with God. If you….then I’ll…

I’ll never forget all the arguments and money spent trying to have a baby, something that should be so easy. 

I’ll never forget how I had to put my career on hold to be able to carry our baby. Something most women can do without a problem. Why couldnt I be normal too? 

I’ll never forget all the tears shed every pregnancy that was stolen from us.

I’ll never forget what it was like to hold my breath everytime I went to the bathroom pregnant, praying for no blood. 

I’ll never forget all the family and friend gatherings I avoided over the years to remain somewhat sane. 

I’ll never forget the anger and why’s I yelled out to God. 

I’ll never forget all of the endless trips to the doctor and psychologist. The anxiety attacks, nightmares, and medications that followed. 

I’ll never forget all the nights I tried to self numb my pain and distract myself but it never worked. Shopping trips, yoga, girls nights, drinks, date nights, you name it. 

I’ll never forget all of those pregnancy announcements that seemed to come so easy for some. The endless bump shots and ultrasound photos I couldnt bare to see at times. 

I’ll never forget what it feels like to be left behind or misunderstood. Gut wrenching. 

I’ll never forget the conversations based solely around kids and being the only one in the group without one. Trying to find an excuse to get away before bursting into tears. 

I’ll never forget what it was like to fake a smile just to get through the days without having to explain. 

I’ll never forget the support of those who picked me up when I needed it the most. 

I’ll never forget all of the people in this community who helped me realize I wasnt alone. Oh the gratitude. 

I’ll never forget all the babies we lost. Every date is forever in my heart. 

I’ll never forget that we are in fact infertiles and suffer from recurrent pregnancy loss. 

And I’ll never truly feel we “beat infertility” as it will always be a part of us. Always.