Happy Birthday Bubbles and Squishy

Remember how I said I laughed when the doctor called to schedule a c-section at 38 weeks, declaring there was no way possible we’d make it that long? Even after we’d made it past 35, 36 and 37 weeks I was convinced the babies would play a cruel joke on momma and send her into labor mere hours before the surgery was scheduled. But, we made it.

My parents, aunt and sister came into town over the weekend so they were able to see my large and in charge belly again before the babies came.

We celebrated a nice Mother’s Day and had a nice dinner Sunday night. Surprisingly enough, other than a couple bathroom trips I slept a solid 6 hours Monday night and awoke not to my own excitement or anxiety but to my alarm clock at 5am. A shower was already running in the house and I discovered that my dad had been awake since 3. I showered, got dressed and took a final belly picture.

The final belly pic

Bryan, my dad and I arrived at the hospital at 6am. We registered and went up to the L&D unit where I was set up in the recovery room before surgery. Not much exciting happened there – an IV was placed, blood taken, fetal heart rates checked. I was nervous about the spinal anesthesia but it turned out to not be so bad.

The experience of a c-section is bizarre. Obviously you are numb, but can still feel pressure. Getting Miss Abigail out was interesting because she was always sitting so low and at one point it was difficult to breathe because it felt like they were pushing on my lungs. But, she arrived safely at 8:29 am. Miles followed shortly after at 8:31am. They let me get a brief peek at each baby after they were born and then were taken to be assessed. Both babies were declared healthy and weighed 5lb 13 oz and 6lb 12 oz consecutively.

Hi! We were just born

Both babies were brought into recovery to feed, and both latched on like champs! They were both then taken for further assessment and I was taken to my room. It wasn’t too much longer before they brought both to us.

I’m a hot mess

What was supposed to be a72 hr hospital stay turned into a fourth day because Miss Abby’s bilirubin level was too high at 72 hrs. Luckily they let us stay so I could nurse her. She spent about 12 hours under the lights and did so with style.

Madonna wanna be

We were all released home yesterday and so far all is going well. Both babies eat and sleep well – up to 3 hour stretches. Both have calm dispositions – and if I do say so myself, are beautiful. I am a bit biased though.

you know you cant handle the cute

This whole experience so far has been wonderful and surreal. A part of me still can’t believe they are mine – I feel like I still have to return them to someone. We take pictures constantly. I love seeing Bryan as a daddy – he has been absolutely wonderful and watching him with the babies absolutely melts my heart. After all we went through I can say without a doubt that they are worth every tear I ever shed about infertility. I can’t believe that I’m a mom.  They were truly worth the wait.

Mommy and daddy love you both more than words could express.

Dear Babies

Dear Babies,

Tomorrow is your eviction birth day. I say eviction because it sounds funny but in reality am still so glad we made it to full term…and some beyond! To be honest I’m not sure the reality has sunk in yet. I can’t believe  that you will both be here in less than 24 hours. That we will be holding, feeding (well I’ll be attempting feeding) and snuggling the both of you. That you’ll have a line of family and friends waiting to visit you. That today is the last day it will feel like aliens in my tummy. The last day of hiccups. The last day watching my stomach move. Even this morning I looked at my reflection in the mirror with my big belly where you are both living, and stared at it in wonder for awhile.

I get asked all the time if I/we are ready. Even after 3 years of infertility I can’t definitively answer that question. As soon to be new parents we only know whats in store in theory. I’m sure there will be thousands of both challenges and rewards to come parenting twins. The reality is that we’re as ready as we’re gonna be – and I think that is ok.

I can tell you both a few things for sure. I can tell you that I’ve dreamt about your birth day for the last 3 years. I’ve imagined first kisses, first cries, first snuggles with daddy. I’ve imagined comforting you both when you cry, and I’ve imagined crying with you when I can’t figure out WHY you’re both crying. (Hey I’m a realist here) I’ve imagined laughing when I’ve been peed on for the 10th time in one day. Or maybe crying. I guess it just depends on how that day went otherwise. I’ve imagined first smiles. And because I’m a total nerd, I’ve imagined our first jogging expedition as the three of us, hoping you’ll both enjoy it as much as I do. I’ve imagined Bryan as a daddy – taking care of you, playing with you, taking you both on outings. I’ve imagined both of your personalities and wonder who will be most like me and who will be most like Bryan.  Even though I’m admittedly nervous I imagine all of that and deep down I know that even though we’ll often feel overwhelmed we will be ok. We will be a family.

Tomorrow marks what will probably be the most life changing day the both of us will ever experience. We can’t wait to meet the both of you – our two children who have been present and living in our hearts for the past 3+ years. The ones who made the difficult journey worthwhile. The ones that are absolutely worth the wait.

See you tomorrow.

Love,

Mommy (and Daddy)

 

Nearing the Finish Line

When I first started this blog I sat for a long time trying to figure out an appropriate name, particularly because the point was to blog both about the marathon I was training for and the long road down infertility lane.

A race ends when you cross the finish line.  Our journey through the murkiness of infertility would be over when we crossed the finish line: bringing home a baby. Over the years I’ve learned that neither is quite that simple. Yes,  a race is over when  you cross the finish line but there is always more to learn and do to do better on the next one. Similarly, there is no real finish line to infertility – baby in the end or not. It’s something that stays with you always.

Four days – almost exactly- from now, we will meet our babies. The ones that, from start to finish, we have waited almost 4 years to meet. It feels very surreal. It also means the end, or the finish line, of the pregnancy – something I’ve found I have very mixed feelings about.

Finding out we were expecting twins I went into this knowing there is a good chance this will be my only pregnancy and in a way this makes me sad. Perhaps later down the road we will decide to try again, but for now two seems a good number and I in no way shape or form desire going through the ups and downs of the treatment process again – available frozen embryos or not. I actually think I’d like to donate them, but that’s a topic for another day.

My pregnancy, particularly for a twin pregnancy has been…..well….pretty easy. Aside from the few partially self induced scares surrounding all the Braxton Hicks contractions, it has been pretty free of complications and all in all mild discomfort. This isn’t to say I’ve enjoyed EVERY second, for example:

I won’t miss purchasing witch hazel wipes and other related products. Though I did feel less embarrassed about it given the belly.

I won’t miss taking a daily pill to keep me from vomiting thanks to reflux, and I won’t miss having to drink Miralax every morning to keep my digestive system moving.

I won’t miss hitting everything with my stomach. Well maybe a little – because it is kinda funny.

I won’t miss not being able to find a comfortable position to sleep in for more than 30-60 minutes. Though my sleep is soon to be interrupted for a totally different reason.

I won’t miss not being able to exercise.

I say that knowing that many of you out there might be reading this and thinking you’d give your left foot for vomit and an inability to sleep. I get that because I’ve thought it too. I want it to be understood that this list is not meant as a list of complaints. I always have and continue to feel amazed and blessed that I was able to experience it at all. Heck I may even find that I DO miss it a little. I’m just saying that I’m sorry but NO journey comes without some discomfort, regardless of what it is.

I’m pretty sure though, that when I think back on this pregnancy I won’t be thinking of the above list much anyway. I’ll be thinking of all the belly dance parties, watching it grow while wondering how it could possibly get any bigger (and it always did), the ultrasounds to check growth, hearing the heartbeats. I’ll be thinking about all the compliments I’ve received about how cute I look and how I don’t look pregnant from behind. I’ll be thinking about Bryan talking to my belly at night before bedtime telling the babies how excited he is to meet them. I’ll be thinking about the weekly pictures we took, the beautiful maternity photos, the fabulous baby showers and sharing the news, story and journey with everyone along the way.

I am very excited to meet these babies in 4 days, but a part of me will grieve the end of the pregnancy a little. I’m determined to enjoy these last 4 days as a human incubator (albeit a huge one) as much as possible. To stop and really feel when they move, take a few more pictures, eat a few more desserts. Like nearing the end of the marathon where the finish line is starting to come into view I feel simultaneously excited and sad. Excited to see the finish because it means all the determination paid off….and because everything hurts. Sad because its the end of another journey.

It is bittersweet. With races I sometimes look at the medals and remember them fondly. The same to be with pictures and memories of this pregnancy. The good thing, though, is that in both cases – there is still so much more to come. This journey may be ending, but a new one is about to begin.

Full Term! (37 weeks)

Whether the babies make a debut “early” or we make it to our scheduled date (5/14), this will be my last pregnancy update. I know I mentioned this before but holy cow did it fly by. All the waiting felt like forever but the pregnancy just flew. I’m feeling a bit bittersweet about this…a topic for another post.

The Good

• Wow. Just wow. We made it to full term…with TWINS. I am simultaneously shocked and not shocked. I know this sounds odd. Early on in the pregnancy I remember telling my mom about a concern about my small body carrying two babies, but that I felt fairly confident that if anyone’s small body could do it, it would be mine. But, all the pre-term labor talk freaked me out and so I had convinced myself they were going to show up early. All I have to say to this is: go body!
• SIX days or less until we meet the babies.
• Since I’ve stopped working the cankles have almost gone away. And I’m still miraculously able to wear my wedding rings.
• I think I’ve finally mastered the blind pee in a cup.

The “Bad”

• My body is definitely starting to wear down. I have to wear my support belt pretty much 24/7 because my stomach is so heavy. I had a cruddy weekend with this weird side cramp type pain until I smartened up and realized I needed something to hold my belly up because it shifts oddly to the left thanks to the way they are positioned.
• My crotch hurts pretty much every time I walk. Waddle, waddle, waddle.

The Weird and Amusing

• There is no more question: I am a spectacle. I’ve been warned it gets worse once the babies get here. There is something about multiples, apparently.
• Some days are better than others here at the Preggo-lympics. Some days you lose, some days you win.
• You know how you seem to find the perfect bed position right before you have to get up? Well I tossed and turned all night last night, only to figure out the perfect pillow position (both between the legs and under the heavy belly) right before I got hungry and needed to get up to eat. Figures.
• A nurse, on the maternity ward of the hospital no less, looked at me after my most recent NST and said “woah!” Though this is not quite as funny as the person at registration who came up to me the week before and asked me if I was there to give birth.
• Yesterday I got up at 730. I ate breakfast, soaked in the bath (thanks to my friends the ‘rrhoids), took a shower, got dressed…..and then I was tired. So I took a nap. What? That was a lot of work.

The final week by the numbers:

A Baby Story’s Watched: about 22. (yes, pathetic, I know)

Naps taken per day: 1-2

Waist size: 44″

Number of weeks pregnant I am measuring: 44 (if I did it right)

Weight gained: as of Monday still holding steady at 39 lbs.

Number of times I’ve been told I’m about to pop (or some variation): at least 20

Number of times I’ve been told I don’t look pregnant from behind, or that I am “all belly”:  pretty much everyone says this. I’ve taken to facing forward, then backward in a “now you see it, now you don’t” type way.

I didn’t hit anything or anyone with my belly this week!

Final week pic (though if we make it to the scheduled day I’ll probably take a delivery day pic) at Bubbles and Squishy

Preggo-lympics 2013

As we near the end of this pregnancy I have to say that I can’t believe how fast it went. I feel like I went to bed one night and woke up the next morning with a 42″ waistline. In less than 2 days we will reach full term, which for twins is fabulous. But even if I went into labor today, they would still be ok, and for that I am happy.

My body is starting to wear down.  But since I’m measuring 43 weeks pregnant (at last check anyway) I can’t say I am surprised. In fact I probably made it longer than most do before the aches and pains kicked in – over the last week or so they have really increased, and I’ve made more than one comment to Bryan about how getting off the couch has turned into an Olympic sport.

So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my version of the Olympics and the only Olympics I’ll ever get to participate in: the 2013 Preggo-lympics.

Events are timed and judged on a number of factors such as: amount of waddling, number of facial grimaces, number of attempts and number of grunts and/or curse words used.

Help! I can’t reach the remote!

So you’ve finally gotten yourself comfortable on the couch, the DVD is in, your water is laying next to you and you’ve just finished your 5th snack when you go to turn the TV up and realize……you can’t reach the remote. Shit.

You lose: you wait till have you to pee again to get up. What? its the Olympics. There has to be *some* challenge here

Bronze medal: you maneuver yourself in such a way to reach the remote in less than one minute

Silver medal: you maneuver yourself in such a way to reach the remote in less than 30 seconds

Gold medal: you get your husband to get the remote for you

The Bed Roll

You’ve settled into bed with your 6 million pillows. You’ve finally calmed your mind down after about 30 minutes and begin to fall asleep…..then you realize your hip has fallen asleep and its time to roll over.

You lose: you fall asleep and wake up 5 min later with hip pain.

Bronze medal: you grab your belly and roll over, then realize you’ve forgotten a pillow and so blindly slap around the bed to retrieve it, cursing under your breath.

Silver medal: you grab your belly AND all pillows, grunting on the way over, but successfully complete the maneuver.

Gold medal:  you grab your belly, all pillows and roll without making any extraneous noise.

Crap, I have to pee

Now that you’ve rolled, gotten into position and have begun, yet again, to fall asleep….you realize you have to pee. This becomes a crazy feat because now not only do you have to sit, stand, walk, sit, stand, walk and lay down again-  you also need to try to do so without cursing.

You lose: this doesn’t happen in this event. If you manage to get to the bathroom without urinating on yourself, you get a medal.

Bronze medal: You attempt to sit up, but didn’t brace yourself properly so it takes a couple tries. You curse under your breath. The third time is the charm and you’re sitting. But, you forgot to use the momentum to swing your legs over to the side of the bed and have to brace yourself again.You curse again, a little louder this time. You get on your feet to discover that the ligament in your pubic bone has shifted and so you waddle painfully (cursing) to the  bathroom, plop down on the toilet and realize you forgot to turn the light on and so can’t see the toilet paper. When you finally reach it you’re so annoyed that you curse again. You manage to get back up, to the bed and plop in not caring about position, but you wake up 5 min later because your hip has fallen asleep because you didn’t take the time to position the pillows correctly.

Silver medal: Sitting up takes a couple tries but you remember to use the momentum this time to get out of bed. You make it to the bathroom (and remember to turn the light on) in 4 waddles or less. You haphazardly position the pillows when you get back into bed and wake up 30 minutes later.

Gold medal: Not only did you sit up successfully the first time AND used the momentum to get out of bed, but make it to the bathroom in 2 waddles or less (walking semi normally t he rest of the way), use the bathroom and make it into bed positioning the pillows correctly. You wake up again in 1-2 hours.

I’m all ready to go! Except my pants….

You’ve got it all -bra, shirt, hair done, teeth brushed. You’re ready to go – except- you’re not because your pants aren’t on yet.

You lose: you walk around half naked all day. (Please don’t show up to work like that)

Bronze medal: You hop several times before you manage to get even one leg in, and repeat the process with the other leg. By the time you’re done you’ve had 2 braxton hicks contractions and you have to sit down afterwards because you’re out of breath.

Silver medal: You get one leg in successfully but hop around for the second leg. One braxton hicks contraction. You finish getting ready without resting but do so breathing harder than you normally would

Gold medal:  You get smart and sit down before you attempt to put any legs in your pants.

That concludes this years preggo-lympics. Now go collect your metals, have a snack (what? its been 20 minutes) and take a nap.

Large and in Charge (36 weeks)

The Good

• My thoughts that these babies would make their debut before the end of April was obviously wrong, but that’s totally ok because it means we made it to 36 weeks.
• I am totally proud of my little body for holding up and carrying these babies so well.
• Our last growth scan was yesterday and it estimated Miss Abby at 5lb 7 oz and Mr. Miles at 6lb 8oz! Somehow there is nearly 12 lbs of baby squished into this stomach.
• Still feeling pretty good since being home on maternity leave. I officially caught up with everything at work yesterday and so that means I’m…well, done. At least for the next 12 weeks. It’s a weird feeling.
• Other than the installation of car seats everything is ready!
• I’ve actually noticed fewer Braxton Hicks over the last several weeks
• Still wearing my wedding rings, amazingly.

The Bad

• Weird, random crotch pain- to be filed under “things no one tells you about late pregnancy”.

The Weird and Amusing

• Weird, random crotch pain – causing me to waddle like crazy. Waddle, waddle, waddle, waddle……and its not something you can really be verbal about, because what exactly do I say when I stand up and flinch and someone asks me what is wrong? “Uh…well my crotch hurts when I stand up?” I mean I can blame the waddling on size but this one is a bit harder. Taking suggestions.
• Getting up off of the couch, out of bed or rolling in bed have become an Olympic sport. I used to always get annoyed at people in the gym who grunted as they were lifting weights and every time I roll over I sound just like them.

This Week By the Numbers

• Waist size: 42.5″
• Fundal height (i.e. number of weeks pregnant I’m measuring, if I measured it right):43-44cm or 43-44 weeks
• Weight gained: holding steady at 39 lbs
• Number of grunts in the night: at least 5
• Number of times I’ve been told I’m about to pop/asked when I was due: 6
• Number of times I’ve been told I look tiny for twins when I explain why I look like I’m about to pop: 6
• Number of Gilmore Girls DVD’s watched: 19 (I’m on season 4)
• Number of A Baby Story’s Watched: about 12 (less this week since I’ve had Gilmore Girls on)

And to prove today’s title, I leave you with this amusing photograph:

Don’t worry, I got up

New pic at Bubbles and Squishy

Good Night, Sleep Tight

Our nursery doesn’t really have any kind of fun back story. For some reason I felt drawn to owls and, go figure, its apparently really popular right now. I contemplated and under the sea type theme to go with Bubbles and Squishy but decided that I didn’t care how popular owls were, I liked it and so I was going to use it. And so without further ado – pictures!

Those are wall decals, I’m not that creative

A coworker painted the Owls for us

Name letters done by a co-worker and friend. Aren’t they cute?

 

The door where the dog tries to sneak in

Nice table and rocker ready for sleepless nights

 

So its nothing fancy but we really like it

Now it just needs babies.

You Can’t Beat Me (Joining the Movement – NIAW)

National Infertility Awareness Week is drawing to a close. Yesterday a fellow blogger on Twitter posed a very interesting question (and I am paraphrasing) asking how many of us with infertility who have kids (regardless of how) feel like they beat infertility?

My immediate response (in my head) was ME! YEAH! TAKE THAT INFERTILITY! (admittedly my head response also contained profanity) And then I put down my boxing gloves and thought about it for a minute. The truth is, the answer to that question is not at all cut and dry.

Personally I’ve felt that 1-2 children would be enough to make our family feel complete, and so when our successful IVF turned into a twin pregnancy part of me was VERY relieved that there was a decent possibility that we wouldn’t have to fight this battle again. For most people, though, a child doesn’t signify the end of the struggle. Often, an attempt for a second child, something that is still very easy for most, starts the whole process of emotions and frustration all over again. Whatever the method, it brings up all of the questions you thought the first time: how long is this going to take? How many cycles? How much money? How much heartache? Will it work at all? Can we afford adoption again? Can we afford surrogacy again? Can we afford more donor eggs?

Then my thoughts jump to the place where we all started: those who are still childless and still struggling through round one. The ones that read a blog like this and think to themselves be thankful you have even one child. I know this because I thought it not too terribly long ago. Not because I didn’t get that the struggle continued but because I would have given anything to have even one. Happy for them but still sad for me. Even those who have completed their families or have made their decision to stop treatments and remain child free after months or years of heartbreak- they are often left with unwanted reminders in the form of continued irregular cycles thanks to PCOS ovaries or no ovulation at all,  pain from endo, or whatever dysfunction of the system that caused the issue in the first place.  Without all of that, there are always memories. And Mother’s Days.

Doesn’t make infertility sound very beat-able.

Childhood was a bit awkward for me. I had big poofy hair and until high school when I joined band didn’t really have a group I fit into. I was teased through all of elementary school, some of middle school and even a little into high school because wasn’t I lucky getting a locker next to one of the kids who had teased me all through elementary school. Bullying is not something I have or ever will take lightly. I struggled with body image, disordered eating and depression in college. I’m not saying I blame these kids for that as I was also generally just a very sensitive kid and person. The point is that I pushed through it. I survived. I am living a life that I am proud of. It took awhile, but in the end I didn’t let the bully beat me.

One of the things I admire and respect the most about my fellow infertility sufferers is their strength, their determination, their resilience and refusal to give up. They struggle, their relationships struggle and their finances struggle and regardless of where the path leads them: to a child or a decision to remain childless, they continue to stand strong. They find a way to not only survive, but live.

In the end, do I feel like I have beaten infertility? Do I feel like most of us would feel like we’ve beaten infertility? No.

But we won’t let it beat us.

 

*For more information please visit:

Infertility Overview

About NIAW

 

A Spectacle (35 weeks)

The Good

• YAY we made it to 35 weeks!! With those few pre term labor scares (i.e. attack of the Braxon Hicks x3) I am very thankful for this.

• The countdown to babies is officially under 20 days (19 or less!)
• I got a crazy out of the blue phone call today from the fertility clinic we went to. I wrote them a testimonial a couple weeks ago for the website and they are going to be doing a study on the effects of environmental toxins on fertility. Apparently it will consist of testing the embryos in some fashion – I got a bit of a description but no details. Anyway it appears the study caught enough notice that our local news channel wants to cover it and asked for a patient who has been through or going through IVF to interview (obviously doesn’t have to be related to the study – they don’t have any participants yet) and they called me of all people. So I’m waiting to get some details but I might be on the news!
• Stopping work when I did turned out to be a really smart move. I feel like a different person – I’m no longer constantly exhausted and sore all day.
• While typing out the lower sections I got a phone call from the Doc at the fertility clinic who had noticed my Facebook banner and had personally called to say how cool he thought it was that I was putting myself out there. How fabulous he took the time out of his day to do that. I am totally shocked and appreciative.

The Bad

• We took another visit to the hospital over the weekend because I was worried that I wasn’t feeling Miles move. Turns out he moved position a little but was totally fine

The Weird and Amusing (i.e. pregnancy first world problems)

• Most of my maternity shirts are too short.
• Today I officially become a spectacle. I met a friend for lunch and after ordering and walking away, got a “WOW”. Yeah, I get it.
• Cankles have made a permanent presence. At least my toes are pretty.
• After my prenatal massage this past weekend ( which was fabulous BTW) I had thought about stopping in Ross for another couple cheap, non short shirts. I walked three doors down and realized I was in TJ MAXX. Upon determining that Ross was another 4 doors down, I decided it was too far, walked back to my car and drove to Target.
• Dude, you should try to watch me put my pants on. Seriously. Its hilarious. Thank goodness sock season is over down here.

This Week by the Numbers

Number of times I’ve been told I’m about to pop: 1 officially, many others unofficially (i.e. WOW)

Number of reflux pills taken so far: 15

Waist measurement: 42.5-43″

Weight gained: 39 lbs (clearly I didn’t need to worry about the temporary lost weight, I found it and then some…I blame cankles….and maybe Drumsticks)

Days left till babies: 19 (or less….wow)

New pic of the belly that looks like I swallowed a beach ball (or two) at Bubbles and Squishy.

Twelve Percent (NIAW)

National Infertility Awareness Week kicked off a few days ago. Anyone who has read this blog for any length of time knows infertility is something I feel passionate about. The fact that its the same week I start my maternity leave is just ironic.

Twelve percent.

On a normal basis inclusion in a somewhat special, different or elite group would excite me.

Graduating in the top 10% of my high school graduating class. And above a certain grade point average in college and grad school.

Percent of people in the US who have run a half marathon: 17% (though not 100% sure about this stat, it was harder to find) (source)

Percent of people in the US who have run a marathon: .05% (source)

Graduating at the top 10% of my high school class isn’t really as relevant anymore, but I have to say that it feels satisfying knowing I’ve done something that only .05% of others have done.

Percent of couples who suffer from infertility: 12%

I got included in this group, too.

I read back through several old blog posts I wrote during our IVF cycle, and doing so brought back many memories of worry, anxiety, hope and fear. And this was during a time where we were given the best odds of achieving a pregnancy, meaning that I had the most hope of any other attempt and yet still felt mostly fearful. It is difficult for someone who has not been there to understand, and I get that, because I remember some comments I made while younger and totally uninterested in children at the time, and just how insensitive they would have been to the wrong person. I, too, am guilty of saying stupid things. I won’t deny that.

We finished the nursery recently, and as it was being put together I spent a good deal of time resting, sitting in the glider and looking at everything in awe. I felt amazed and grateful, like I couldn’t believe it was in our house. That this monster belly houses two babies. That the constant jiggling I feel is their movement. I remembered what we went through to get here.

Around 90% of couples are able to get pregnant on their own within the first year. The rest who haven’t then usually begin to seek treatment. Many are unsure where to start. I got a bit of a jump on our situation because I had always had irregular cycles and asked for some testing during  a routine visit. My hormone levels were all normal, but it was discovered that I had a blocked tube. Nevertheless I was told “you only need one”. One didn’t work. We sought out a fertility specialist and discovered that due to testosterone replacement therapy, hubby had no sperm. And that the chances of recovery were not guaranteed. Several months of further testing lead to some sperm but only enough for the mack daddy: IVF. A VA hospital endocrinologist put him on a regimen of other hormones which did at one point raise his count to within normal limits nearly 8 months later. But then my blocked tube issue got in the way. We set up and postponed two IVF cycles before diving in, trying and hoping for a miracle naturally in the meantime.

It never happened.

There were hundreds of days counted, ovulation sticks used and prayers sent up. Hundreds of runs used to rid myself of the frustration. Many conversations about whether my desire to have children or my relationship was more important because it became such an obsession. Much bickering when not enough attempts were made during that critical window allowing us to have the best chance. Depression.  Tens of thousands of dollars. Damaged and nearly damaged friendships. 3 years. Jealousy. Lots of jealousy.

Thousands of tears.

And in the end we were lucky. We needed only one IVF cycle. So many attempt cycle after cycle without success and continue to push through. It is a feat that I cannot imagine. We may be nearing the light at the end of the tunnel  but it doesn’t mean we come out on the other side unscathed. This 12% is not a group I would have elected to add to my list and yet that is how it happened.

Pardon my mouth when I say this: this shit is no joke. And if you happen to know someone going through it, just keep that in mind.

We will never forget.

For more information (if you are going through infertility or just want to learn more), visit Resolve’s website. They can probably  manage to explain it without the use of curse words.