Han Solo

This will probably be disjointed because, well, I feel disjointed right now!  First, some refresher background...

We name our embies.  It's a thing.  Our first cycle we just called them "The Blobs" because that's what they looked like.  After our second fresh cycle (embies dubbed "The Jedi"), we took the 3 day embies we had left from that cycle and went to a different clinic.  At the new clinic, we thawed the ones that were left and cultured to 5 day blasts.  We transferred two "Return of the Jedi" and froze the last remaining one.  It ended up being a day 6 slow grower, but passed their litmus test for freezing.  Then we did a third fresh cycle, had Chipmunk (we transferred three that cycle so they were Alvin, Simon, and Theodore), and now we're back for our final embie.  I introduce you to Han Solo:

You know - he was frozen and thawed out and all.  Seems timely to be continuing the Star Wars theme for this pack of embies about now.

The embryologist felt it had perked up since the thaw and she graded it at A+.  The photo was taken just after the thaw and by the time they put it on the screen just before transfer it had already expanded.  Pretty neat.  We're feeling hopeful.  If this works, Chipmunk will be a big sister to her technically-older sibling. 

Beta isn't until 1/4 with the holiday.  I promised J I wouldn't pee on anything until the New Year.  Chillin' for the afternoon.  Thanks for all of the happy thoughts.

All Systems Go

We are a go for transfer on the 23rd.  They wanted 7mm.  I was 7.1.  There's still mucus in there, but they're letting me go.  SO GLAD!  

Quick funny story.  My hair has been curly since Chipmunk was born.  I decided to chop all of my hair off and rock it.  I'm having a good time.  I walked into the clinic today (without tripping)  and the receptionist said, "I love your hair!"  Phlebotomist said, "I love your hair!"  I'm in the stirrups.  Doc comes in and says, "Sorry I took me so long to get you.  We have another Lisa HapaHopes and she's a patient of Dr. Awesome's too.  I thought she was coming so I was confused.  They are so cool.  They won this video contest and got a scholarship for their daughter.  It was from Ferring and..."  I said, "Dr. M, that's me.  I just got a hair cut."  He laughed so loudly.  I'm pretty sure I signed all of my HIPAA rights away with that video about a billion times over.  I'm just glad they think we're cool.

Can't I Just Go Back To Bed and Try Again Tomorrow?

I had my first monitoring visit for our FET last week. My lining wasn't great, but it wasn't horrible either.  She thought I'd be fine by this week.

Not so much.

My day started when I literally tripped into the clinic.  Yes, literally in the real sense of the word,  not the way people butcher it now.  I somehow walked right on out of my shoes and landed flat on the concrete, cutting my knee and scraping my chin.  That should've been my first clue that today was destined to suck.

My lining has actually shrunk.  What was a 6.5 is now a 4.7 and I still have a bunch of mucus in my uterus.  They pushed back my transfer to the 23rd and I'm adding Vivelle dots.  Two of them twice a week.

I cried the whole way to my office.  As much as I've tried to remain cool, I don't think I really tuned into how emotionally ramped up I was about this cycle.  I can't stop crying.  I can't get it together.  I'm all E2ed up and I can't. stop. crying.  I guess all of this estrogen is just going to my emotions and my ass.  Both seem out of control lately.  I hate FETs.  I think I've mentioned that before.  I also think my lining did this before.  Swell.

I went to fill my prescription.  Insurance apparently only pays for one box a month, not two.  So I filled the one box, cried again, and will hope that the angel nurses at the clinic can fix this shit sometime in the next 15 days so I don't run out of patches and can get them filled before I have a new deductible to tackle.

I hate this.  I hate the drama.  I hate watching my body fail again.  I hate worrying about insurance and money.  I hate over analyzing everything I do.  I hate being sad when I should just be enjoying the holidays with my healthy, happy two year old.  I hate it all.  This SUCKS.  It all just sucks.

And my chin hurts.

So an FET is happening...

We were planning on telling no one, but a visit to the RE today reminded me that I need my tribe.  I know this means that a few IRL friends are reading this.  Unless you're "Farrah," please understand that I'm in a weird place and don't really want to talk about it in person.

We have one embryo left.  The fresh cycle for this embryo started at "the clinic which shall not be named."  It was a day three embie from a set of 8 (I think), thawed for our FET, and cultured to day 5. We transferred the two best blasts from that cycle and planned to freeze the rest.  This was the only one that survived and it was a slow grower.  It's a day six 3AB expanded blastocyst from a now twice failed cycle.  We don't have the highest of hopes for it, but we feel very connected to our embies and we want to give it a chance.  Since we're about to hit out deductible, now's the time (because when you can't build your family the old fashioned way, you base your childbearing decisions on deductibles).

Going back to the clinic was unexpectedly strange.  I had a sick feeling in my tummy all morning that J didn't really understand until the visit was over and his feelings mirrored mine.   Since winning the video contest, we have an odd little celebrity there, so it's strange to walk in, be immediately recognized, and everyone from the front desk to the embryologists wants to know what your kid is doing for her birthday in a few weeks.  Unsettling too in a way.  I just kind of wanted to keep my head down and get this over with if that makes any sense. Instead, everyone just assumes the cycle will work and they are "dying to see what 'Chipmunk's' sibling will look like."  Maybe it was bothersome because we walked in being okay with not having much hope.  We both walked away feeling bad that we were okay with not feeling hopeful.  Like we should be more hopeful, excited even.  Perhaps we're just still scarred and reeling.

It is different, though.  If this doesn't work, we're okay with it.  We'll be sad, disappointed, but three years ago, the thought of a failed cycle meant looking at our future completely differently.  Now it doesn't.  It means the future we envisioned will stay the same, because another child would be a bonus.  I know so many women are reading this and thinking I'm nuts.  I didn't envision a one child family, but as conception became more difficult, and we started to see a family of two adults as our reality, Chipmunk became the bonus.  I no longer feel a hole in my heart for a second child to fill. I would welcome one, of course, but there will be no more fresh cycles.  If this FET doesn't stick, the door is closed.

I don't know, maybe I'm still sorting out how I feel.  I just know that I stood at that desk scheduling FET class and words like saline ultrasound, E2, FSH, and PIO were pouring out of my mouth like second nature again and I hated it.  We're heading down the gauntlet one more time and I fucking hate the gauntlet.

Do Re Mi #MicroBlog Monday

 Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is?  Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

This space holds so much responsibility.  A responsibility I've been slacking on.  Responsibility to keep you all up to date on how great life is.  How much all of your support resulted in a happy, healthy little family.  Responsibility to bring hope to others.  I can at least keep up with some Microblog Mondays for Pete's sake!  So here we go!

I am a vocalist from a long line of vocalists.  I've written about how I wanted so badly to share that legacy with my child.   I have a particular interest in music perception as far as my work life is concerned, but my grasp on the development of music skills in kids is pretty basic.  When Chipmunk started "singing" I was a little concerned.  She sounded... well... tone deaf to me.  I asked one of my coworkers, an SLP with a degree in vocal performance, what she thought and she patted me on the head and said, "It's okay, Lisa.  Maybe she'll play piano."  I laughed it off as God's little joke.  Here's your bio baby!  She's awesome, love who she is, not who you want her to be.But by George, she's getting it!  This girl is running around the house singing and dancing every chance she can get, and you can actually tell what she's singing!  She even jumped up on her dresser while I was changing her diaper and gave an impromptu performance of "The Hot Dog Dance."  I'm loving it.  My heart is so full I think it's going to just bust.  I was going to post a video... but then had second thoughts.  It's on Facebook, shared with a special group of friends who have taken the "Chipmunk Pledge" so if you want to see it, we'll just have to become Facebook friends (hint hint, nudge nudge. :)

Giggle Box

The Chipmunk likes to wear her daddy's socks. Only they aren't socks for her. They're more like thigh highs. She was running around this afternoon, wearing said thigh highs, when she suddenly sat down and decided to take them off. She was pulling on the toes, as not quite two year olds are wont to do, but of course that wasn't working. "Sock off momma" she said and I obliged.

Since I am a rockstar comedian, I promptly picked up the socks and sniffed them, making a grand gesture out of their supposed stinkiness. Naturally, this was hilarious. Like I said, I'm a rockstar comedian. The Chipmunk started laughing so hard she didn't know what to do with herself. She was waving her arms and yelling "Peeww! Peewww!" The giggling was quickly contagious. Then J snorted.  That did her in. For the first time in her life she laughed so hard she could hardly breathe. It was that laugh you reserve for your best girlfriends. Seeing the look on her face, discovering that feeling for the first time was amazing. It was a combination of a little bit of fear and a whole lot of joy. She knew she had discovered something amazing.

As soon as she caught her breath, she did what I knew my girl would do. She picked up the other sock and said, "again momma."

Driveway Happies

"Heart!" she commands, dictating to me with a chunky stick of chalk clenched in her tiny fist.
"Heart," I repeat, connecting two curved lines on the gray concrete.
Scrape Scrape as she attempts to copy my drawing by making two quick straight lines on top of my curved ones.
"Heart!" she hollers again.
"Okay!  How about a blue one this time?"
Scrape Scrape. She tries again.
"Tar!" she giggles with a mischievous grin.
"Star," I giggle back.  "Here's a yellow star.  You like those."
Her delicate eyebrows bunch up into a fledgling furrow, wheels turning.
"Heart?"
We're back to the easy stuff.  She plants a kiss on my cheek and we admire our handiwork, rooted on driveway, hearts among the stars.

Rough Day

I will get through today.  I will focus on the happy and I will get through today... after I lay all of this out in the blogosphere.

I've been struggling the last few weeks with infertility demons.  It seems that everyone and their sisters, even the infertile ones, are having their second babies.  It hurts way more than I thought it would.

I'm happy with our family of three.  I know that the embryo we have  on ice is very unlikely to stick.  I know that I do not want to go through the rigmaroles of IVF again.  I know we had extremely poor fertilization.  I know there were likely implantation issues.  I know the realities of the situation and yet, it hurts so much to know that my family building choices are not my own.

Chipmunk is amazing.  I want to give her everything I can, and I can't give her a sibling.  I know there is no guarantee she'd want a sibling or even like one she ended up with, but the choice is out of my hands.  It's the one thing most people can give to their children that I can't.

All of this is compounded by my coworker who is in labor right now.  She's chosen a name.  The same name we planned to give a boy if Chipmunk were a boy.  The name that has come to represent the child we couldn't have.  The one we mourn in our own way.  Now I have to hear that name every day and meet a child that it now belongs to.  A child that deserves to be celebrated.

I feel so selfish for even feeling this way.  We are so amazingly blessed.  We really truly are.  I have a child for crap's sake.  A child I didn't think I'd be able to every have, and she's amazing as all get out.  I just can't shake this sadness lately and I don't know how to get a grip.

Little Moments

"They" say to cherish every moment.

"They" probably have no idea what it's like to raise a child that was longed for, prayed for, and struggled for.  "They" probably planned to raise multiple children.  "They" weren't constantly reminded that this was it.  That this would be the only chance to feel belly kicks, gaze into trusting infant eyes, watch a bald spot fill in, wrangle a first set of pigtails, nuzzle a clean little noggin, or dry a fresh set of tears.

Every day she needs me a little bit differently.  What was once a need for life and sustenance is now a need for security, validation, and love.  She rolled away, then crawled away, then walked, and now she runs.  She's always looking back over her shoulder.  Double checking.  Is mama still there?  She will run back for a hug.  A tight squeeze and a sloppy kiss with a big "Mwah!" at the end.

Cherishing every moment is easy.  The hard part is letting go of that hug and remembering that your arms are still open for whatever comes next.