2nd Beta, ICLW and Thanks

I don’t have a good coherent way to piece all of this together so please forgive my disorganization:

If you are visiting from ICLW, welcome! Our infertility resume includes male factor and PCOS. After 3 years, many hormone injections, a planned IVF, a postponed IVF (x2), and a canceled IUI we finally bit the bullet and went through with the IVF. (If you’re interested you can read about our TTC Timeline or IVF cycle). Three days ago we got our first EVER positive pregnancy test, followed by a 1st beta of 408!

It still has not completely sunk in yet.

Today was my 2nd beta and I have to say I was more nervous for this one than the first. At least with the first I already knew it was going to be positive (thanks to my stick peeing), but this time there was no checking first. After what felt like forever, my nurse called (and  my phone didn’t ring! BAH!!) and left a voicemail saying my labs were great, and my level was 778. (a doubling time of 51.5 hours, for those crazy like me)I go back for one more blood test a week from today and then we will schedule an ultrasound (!!).

For those who are unfamiliar, a beta is your hcg level, and they typically like to see it double within 48-72 hours. Well, I thought it was 48 hours and so when it came in slightly low I was worried at first, but some casual obsessive Googling brought me down to earth when I realized it was48-72 hours.

So we are still looking good and I couldn’t be more relieved. It’s going to be a long week until the third test.

On a mostly related note, I wanted to add that I had my worries about creating a public blog almost a year ago. It isn’t common for people to share pregnancy news so early, especially in the infertility world. But I created this space as public and decided I wanted to keep it that way. This experience, for me,  is about the good and the bad and so I am going to share all of it. I have to say I was overwhelmed at the outpouring of support and congratulations yesterday, both from the blogosphere and beyond. I had people messaging me saying they were silent followers obsessively checking for updates and were so incredibly happy for us. I feel incredibly blessed to have had this much support and want to thank all of you for being so fabulous!

That is all 🙂

B Day

Today is probably the first (and likely only) day I’ve ever been excited about being at the dentist. I mean I’m sorry, but who enjoys being jabbed in the mouth with sharp objects?I always brush my teeth right before but I always have this fear that I’m going to have bad breath even though they all wear masks. Then my teeth feel sensitive all day. And trying to keep your tongue out of the way? And why do I always get a million nose itches in that chair? Ok, I digress.  But today when I got there, the lady told me that I was due for some bite wing x-rays. And I got to say:

“You can’t, I am pregnant”

I made it till about 10pm Tuesday night until I caved. I failed to mention that, for a reason that I still can’t explain, I had the urge to look at that test again Monday morning – a full 48 hours later. And there was a second line. Now, I am full aware that tests can’t technically be read for longer than 10 minutes after, but I also knew that positives tend to STAY on the tests, and while it was a faint line, it was clearly there. There was no squinting or moving to better light required.

At first I thought maybe it was an evaporation line, and that oddly gave me some comfort that the negative test I took wasn’t really EVER valid to begin with. I felt  like I was back to square one. But Tuesday evening in my weird attempt to distract myself (I had purchased a book that day and apparently decided Googling random pee stick pictures would be a better form of distraction…), I starting Googling pictures of people who had posted successive pictures of tests to see the line getting darker.  You know what I noticed? Their several day old tests looked a lot like mine.

That was it. I couldn’t wait anymore. And it just so happened (ahem) that I had to use the bathroom.

I used an Answer test first, preferring to dip rather than actually pee ON the stick, because I would totally pee on myself. (Though I’m not sure how having a cup of pee on any household surface is any less gross, really) The test line showed up before the control line did. Shaking, I hauled my butt upstairs for my digital, because for some reason no one, including myself, can believe a test now until you get the one that clearly tells you “pregnant”. I yelled at my dog for getting underfoot (what? he might spill the pee!) and held that thing in the cup for what felt like the longest 20 seconds (seriously? 20 seconds? is that some kind of torture?) and waited for the little hourglass to turn into something.

And then there it was, the word that I sometimes never thought I’d see – pregnant.

I stared at them both, for awhile. And then I realized that the test line on the first test was actually DARKER than the control line.

I was totally knocked up. I called Bryan. I called my best friend. I called my mom. Not telling anyone this soon be damned – I waited too long for this. I briefly debated running outside and screaming, but didn’t particularly want the police at my house.

I slept maybe 5 hours Tuesday night.

It was definitely easier to get through work knowing at least I had a positive test. My nurse called me about 11:45 and asked me how I was feeling.

“Fine” I said

“Are you feeling pregnant?” she asked.

“Maybe??…..”

The beta test was definitely positive. She said they like to see a number over 75-  and my number? 408

Holy hell.

Tomorrow I go back for a repeat blood test to see if the numbers are doubling. Even when you get good news, its still a waiting game. Since I’ve been public about all of this from the get to I debated on waiting until at least tomorrows number, but decided that I refuse to give in to the anxiety, and take things one day at a time. We still have a few hurdles to get over, and I know that.

Today, I am pregnant. And damnit, I’m going to enjoy it.

What post isn’t complete without a pee stick picture?

‘Twas the Night Before Beta.

‘Twas the night before beta

In my small bathroom drawer

The pee sticks, they mocked me

Of that I am sure

With a hope for an answer

To be found before bed

And the visions of a “pregnant”

That keep dancing in my head

I swear that I hear them

They are talking to me

“But surely, my friend

Can’t you eek out some pee?

Put some lines in our windows

Will it be one or two?

While you pace in your room

Not knowing what the F*ck else to do?”

“Shut up sticks, I refuse” I say

Clenching them with my hand

“Stop taunting me or I’ll throw you

Into that small trash can”

Stow them back in my drawer

Out of mind, out of sight.

“Have fun getting to sleep

On this long restless night”

*Still holding out – can I make it to tomorrow?

What the Doctors Don’t Tell You

At some point during the IVF process, someone really needs to sit down with you and say, in addition to the procedural and medicinal explanations that undergoing an IVF will do strange things to you.  And the hormones may or may not be to blame. They also need to create some sort of IVF cycle friendly anti anxiety drug, and slip it into your progesterone. Seriously.

#1- IVF will make you get “The Crazy”. The crazy need to test early. With  Bryan working out of town, we see each other 2-3 times a month. He was home for my egg retrieval but had to go right back, and is taking a work trip at the end of this month. So, we decided to meet halfway for a night. I then had the wonderful  horrible  thought that hey! if I take a test and its positive, I can tell him in person!! So, despite my resolve the night before and the fact that it was 4 solid days early, I took a test, telling myself that if it was negative, it was still early so no big deal.

Wrong.

It was negative, and it was a big deal. Which leads us to

#2 – “The Crazy” will make you more dramatic. Not flip out screaming and shouting at the universe kind of big deal, but enough to leave me bummed for several hours and at one point convince myself this meant it didn’t work. We still don’t know the outcome of this of course, but clearly testing 4 days early and getting a negative does NOT mean it didn’t work. But that didn’t stop me from:

#3 -“The Crazy” will make you obsessively Google stupid crap – I left late because I spent 30 minutes Google-ing stupid stuff like “how many days post transfer BFP IVF”, mentally taking count of the people who said they got theirs later than 5 days after transfer, and inwardly cursing those who saw it earlier.  I might as well have Googled “is this going to work” because others’ outcomes will have ZERO effect on my own, however I still felt the need to compare. (I blame The Crazy)

#4 – “The Crazy” will make you obsess, period- Suddenly, I’m questioning whether I read all of the docs instructions correctly (I did), whether I was following all of them (I was), whether I was taking the right dosages at the right times (I was) and if I could have possibly done something to mess this up and cause a positive to not show up FOUR DAYS EARLY.

(Yes, Jeanette – I get it now.)

After a pedicure, some retail therapy, breakfast for dinner and and awesome shared dessert, I felt mostly normal. And while testing early was clearly not the best move on my part, it opened up some dialogue between Bryan and I and I left feeling much more peaceful about the whole thing – success or not. I think maybe I needed assurance that he was behind me and ok to move forward as long as it takes, if necessary. That isn’t to say that a negative blood test still won’t sting, but I have a plan now and it makes me feel better.

The kicker? I totally disregarded the early test after a positive failed to show up in, like, 30 seconds – which means I didn’t even wait out the full amount, and that my negative may or may not have actually been negative. But since I was being over dramatic (see #2) I assumed failure.

Still, there will be no more early testing for me. The night before at the earliest and I may just wait for my blood to be drawn.

Unless “The Crazy” gets to me again. (I totally think we should make a shirt that says something “I went through The Crazy and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.)

Perspective

I woke up at 4:15 this morning and was having trouble going back to sleep.  For the first time so far I wanted to get out of bed to take a pregnancy test (and at this point, still pretty early).

I didn’t. Luckily, I fell back to sleep.

When my alarm went off at 5:40 I begrudgingly got out of bed and started to get ready for my morning walk. As I was getting dressed I noticed that I felt a little lightheaded and dizzy.

Immediately, crazy “omgmaybeitsapregnancysymptom” alarm bells went off in my brain.

And no, I still didn’t take a test. But I found myself getting excited and briefly had a joyous thought of vomiting.

I can’t remember EVER having a joyous thought (to be clear I just wondered if the dizziness might lead to it) about VOMITING.( I HATE it. HATE HATE HATE HATE. ) Or, for that matter, a joyous thought about feeling ill in any way, shape or form. Any normal person would think I was nuts. After a few minutes, I brought myself back down to earth.

It’s interesting how different something can seem, depending on how you look at it.

Clearly I’m going to have to plan a busy weekend.

Pineapples and Batteries

I try not to be an avid Google-er. It can only make you crazy. I have in the past, however, read about eating pineapple during a certain point in your cycle can help with implantation. Thinking at the time that seemed improbable, I didn’t think much else of it.

Last night I agreed to sit (literally) while my friends’ baby slept during the transition of dad leaving and mom coming home. While checking the blog before I left, The Hopeful Pink Lady, asked if I had started eating my pineapple core. Pineapple core? Turns out the core of the pineapple contains an enzyme called Bromelain that can aid in the implantation of an embryo if eaten the day of transfer and the next four days after.

Crap, I was already one day late.

Now, I just want to throw in there that I am not typically superstitious. I walk under ladders. Black cats are free to cross my path. But darn it, I was not going to go 4 more days without something that might help bubbles and squishy implant. I think something about the time, money and stress of this whole thing makes you willing to try just about anything. (thank goodness she didn’t suggest I stand on my head as I ate it)

Easy peasy, right? I stop at the grocery store on the way to their house, buy said fresh pineapple and I’m home free and helping the little buddies nestle.

Except I have no idea how to pick out a pineapple. They all look the same to me. I pick them up and start to smell them, figuring that if I can’t smell a pineapple-y (yes I made that up) smell then its probably not ready. I ask a random dude next to me if he has any idea how to pick out a ripe pineapple. He states that he thought I was the expert, as I was picking them up and smelling them and all. Soon after I found an employee that explained its actually all about the leaves, though in my defense, the best one did actually smell pineapple-y.

Satisfied with my purchase and contribution, I headed back to my car to drive over to my friends house.

Except it wouldn’t start. My battery had died. At 9pm. In the Publix parking lot. And not just like almost turn over and die, like dead – like none of the interior lights turned on dead. It was dead. (did I mention it was dead?)

Well isn’t that freaking fabulous? At the END of the day that I’ve had 2 days off of work and ALL THE STORES ARE CLOSED, my battery dies.

Not to be outdone, I walked briskly to the Auto Zone nearby, caught the lady RIGHT before she locked up and plead my case. My car battery JUST died – its over there – pretty please can I get a battery. She hemmed and hawed and finally agreed that if I could get someone to jump it so I could drive it over she would sell me a battery and replace it. Thank goodness because I don’t think my “hey but I COULD be pregnant” card would have gotten me very far.

So, $120 later,  I had my pineapple…..and a new car battery. And you better believe that I cut that darn thing up even after I got home at midnight and ate my piece.

The offending pineapple.

Bubbles and Squishy? You better appreciate this.

Bubbles and Squishy

For years I swore I wanted ONE child, and only one child.

Later on down the road I sad one, and MAYBE two.

So when it came down to deciding how many embryos to transfer, I figured the decision would be easy. If I had enough good quality embryos and the doc recommended one, I’d transfer one. If I had some ok quality and he recommended two, I’d transfer two. But the tables kinda turned when I got there and was actually faced with the decision.

So let me start by explaining (and if you’re already familiar with this, please feel free to skip this part) that embryos are “graded” according to quality. My personal clinic tends to recommend 3 day transfers (transfers 3 days after retrieval) when there are fewer embryos and 5 day transfers when there are more to be able to select from. After the embryos are fertilized, they begin to divide into cells – 2, 4, and so on. If they continue to make it until Day 5, they are considered Blastocysts. I’m not sure how embryos are graded at Day 3 in my clinic, and since Day 3 happened to be a Saturday I had no idea how they were progressing until today. So this is what we ended up with:

Of the 21 fertilized embryos, come day 5 we had:

7 Grade 4 AA (the RE explained this to me as an A+)

3 Grade  4AB (“A”)

1 Grade 4BC (“A-“)

2 Morula (which I believe is the stage before blastocyst, though really they should be further along right now – so they are either getting ready to arrest or are just slow growers)

And he said he expects to see 6-8 make it to freeze, but I’ll find that out for sure tomorrow.

So back to the transfer.

While high on Valium (I so get why I couldn’t drive myself – I was practically walking drunk into the clinic), the RE is trying to explain to me the statistics of success. He recommended transferring one due to the potential complications of a twin pregnancy, however the success rate of one was 40-50%, a number that I had expected to be higher. With two, success rate was given as 60%, with a 50% rate of twins (or 30% overall).

I went in there expecting to transfer one, but ultimately decided to transfer two.

I managed to get better at the whole “comfortably full” bladder thing (which, I’m sorry, but “comfortable” and “full” when it comes to my bladder? No.) The transfer itself was super easy, totally painless and the doc said went really smoothly. I then opted to relieve my bladder via bedpan, which, while not one of my finer moments, beat laying there for 25 minutes doing the pee pee dance)

I don’t have pics of the two that were transferred, but I did get a pic of all that has survived.

As far as rest goes, the doc said to basically pretend as though I have a bad head cold. The joke is on him, though, because I pretty much do the same stuff with a head cold as I would normally. (I’m resting I promise!)

Much to my husbands dismay, they were unable to “put the ones back with a pe.nis”, but he suggested we name them and so I’ve decied to call them bubbles and squishy. Both because that’s kinda what they look like and because I really like Finding Nemo (Bubbles, bubbles! I like bubbles! and I will call him my squishy and he shall be mine and he shall be my squishy.)

Fingers crossed!

The Other Shoe

If infertility has taught me anything, its that there is no such thing as pure excitement.

It seems to me that there are four options:

1. An initial bout of excitement that last a few days/hours followed by worry

2. An initial bout of excitement and then immediate worry

3. Just plain worry

4. Numbness or disappointment

The problem is this: we know too much. We know the possibilities. We know the statistics. We know what COULD happen. We’ve either had it happen to us or seen it happen to others. Or Googled it (BAD!). Or imagined it. (What IF I fall out of the bed, break my hip and they can’t transfer the embryos?) Or made it up in our sleep. (What IF a monster in my closet eats my embryos and there are none left?!)

What? It could happen. Maybe if  I had said UFO instead of monster that last one would have been more believable.

But I digress.

Besides the injection issue (which was totally MY error), this IVF experience has gone pretty smoothly. But I find myself metaphorically looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the call that tells me none of my 28 eggs fertilized or some such catastrophe. Or that I have some unknown egg quality issue and they would initially fertilize and then stop growing. (I told you I had catastrophe brain). I spent two days frought with worry and finally had to tell myself that this is ridiculous. Yes, it could happen, but it probably won’t. And if it does, I have NO CONTROL over it.

The OCD part of my brain hates this with every fiber of its being.

We have a 5 day transfer scheduled for 11 am Monday. I even obsessively emailed the nurse today to make sure nothing changed (i.e. did any disaster happen overnight, but I worded it much more casually) and we were still on for Monday. (she said yes we are still on for Monday and all still looks good). I am making it my mission to ENJOY this weekend. (So I’m gonna be practicing a bit of avoidance by keeping busy – is that so wrong?)

My eggs didn’t all die, either. Of the 28 eggs (I didn’t ask how many were mature) we got 21 embryos!! I was smiling from ear to ear when I heard that message. (until I jumped to option number 1). I do want to add that I am incredibly happy and grateful to have such a good outcome so far…I just can’t help but  be a worry wart.

Also, on a related but slightly different topic – progesterone suppositories? Gross.

The Big Harvest

So I realize that technically what we did was the egg retrieval, but a friend of mine called it a Harvest one day and I liked it enough that it stuck.

So onto the Harvest. (Hey, its still egg gathering, so it’s totally legit)

I think I was probably a bit more nervous than I’d like to admit, but one of the things I hate more than anything is being late. I had told Bryan that I wanted to give us a good hour to get there in case of rush hour traffic. Naturally, we left a whopping 7 minutes later than I wanted to, so anytime we got slowed down I picked at him for the timing of his bathroom habits.

We got there right on time, so of course he got his revenge on his way in the door by picking at me.

I totally deserved it.

We were called back and lead into a conference room, playing Angry Birds on my phone while we waited, giggling like 5 year olds at the bird that blows up into what looks like a giant Orange when he hits something. I joked that I was going to get up and start reading the medical journals to pass the time, so naturally Bryan actually got up and started flipping through some of the books. I joked that I can’t take him anywhere.

The doc came in and explained the procedure and then the anesthesiologist followed, explaining the use of the “good stuff” to make me sleepy. I was then led into the back where I changed into a super sexy outfit (I wish I had thought to get a picture)  and super stylish hair net thing and was on my way. (I may or may not have struck a pose)

Let me just say that anesthesia induced naps? Best. Ever.

Bryan met me back in the recovery room and snatched the little monitor off my finger to check his own oxygen saturation. Later he took the blue hair net thingy off of my head (per my request) and placed it over his face, commenting to me that I should try it as it makes the world look blue. (I did, it kinda does).  Then he put it on his own head and plopped into the recliner next to mine. (SO wish I had a camera!!!)

I told you I couldn’t take him anywhere.

Today I’m chilling on the couch with my post retrieval buddy, drinking gatorade, eating salt

and waiting somewhat patiently for tomorrow’s fertilization report of…

28 eggs.

TWENTY EIGHT EGGS!!!

WOO HOO!