Where We Stand

I want to thank you all for your kind words of comfort and for reaching out to us with so much love this week. This has been a trying time for us and we are grateful for the myriad of ways in which you have stood by our side as we continue to weather this storm. I apologize if I haven't gotten back to each of you individually - I'm just now, today, beginning to feel like I'm coming out of the fog. But know that your words were read and appreciated -- thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

Monday was one of the crappiest days we've experienced in a very long time. The level of hopelessness hit a new low as we faced the reality that after three transfers and all four of our precious embryos, we were still unsuccessful in bringing about the miracle we have so longed and yearned for. And there is no clear reason as to why. We must start all over again, from follicle stimulation, to egg retrieval, to the "creation of embryos," to transfer. Thankfully, the loan package we have "purchased" allows us two full IVF cycles, from start to finish, and any subsequent frozen embryo transfers. We have completed one full IVF cycle and all frozen embryo transfers that resulted from that first full fresh cycle - Monday's negative beta marked the end of that first full round and thus the half-way mark, so to speak, as we have one full round remaining.

For several reasons, we have chosen to take a step back for a few months and resume treatment in March (at either the beginning or the end, depending on how we feel). My body needs time to rest and heal, especially since it will once again be put through the ringer. We need some time to emotionally process what we've endured thus far and get our heads and hearts back "in the game." From a practical standpoint, we need so save up money for the stimulation medication and I need to accrue more PTO hours, as I have nearly depleted my reserves with all of the appointments I have had in the past six months. Lastly, the weather will soon take a turn and driving up to the clinic and back by myself will no longer just be taxing - it will also be dangerous. January and February are our most "wintry" months and it would not be wise to be on the roads so frequently once the snow, sleet and ice make their appearance.

I had a chance to talk to our doctor yesterday and ask him some questions regarding what we can do differently this next time and there aren't many options. Our embryos were good quality, my uterine lining reached the desired thickness each cycle, and the transfer procedures went well each and every time. So what else is there to do? Genetic testing, which would test the chromosomal makeup of the embryos, is what the doctor suggested, as there might be something genetically wrong with our embryos (all of them? really?) but the procedure is $4,000-5,000 additional, out of pocket. So, that's completely out of the question. The other suggestion he had is something called Endometrial Receptivity Array (ERA), which is basically a biopsy of the endometrial lining. If my lining is found to not be receptive (meaning not likely to accept implantation of an embryo...which is obviously a major issue), they would adjust the transfer time either forward or backward to accommodate whatever the biopsy shows. Here is a description from an online article about the procedure: "A new test, the Endometrial Receptivity Array (ERA),...provides insight into how receptive a woman’s uterus will be at a particular stage in her menstrual cycle. Essentially, this will help fertility doctors to determine the best time to transfer an embryo in hopes that it will implant." This procedure can only be done during a frozen embryo transfer cycle, so we'd decide whether or not we'd want to try it only AFTER our initial fresh embryo transfer and of course, only if that first transfer was unsuccessful. This procedure is roughly $1,200, so we'd have to first see if we could somehow scrape together the funds before we committed to giving it a try.

Basically, it "should" be working...but it's not. Everything is happening as it should leading up to transfer, but it's not resulting in a pregnancy. So when this happens, after several failed cycles, the doctors must consider other reasons as to why it may not be working: chromosomal abnormalities, and uterine linings that are not receptive to implantation. Most unfortunately, we've found ourselves in the category of "unexplained infertility." But our doctor also said that he still feels we have a good chance of eventual success with IVF - and he assured me he would be honest and tell me otherwise if he felt we had no chance of conceiving a biological child in my own uterus. But we only have one full round left and "eventual" is very open-ended. The realist in me has a lot to say about the word "eventual" -- but the optimist in me, the bit that I'm training to become more and more vocal, keeps whispering, "Don't go there yet. You don't know what you don't know." So I'm trying hard to listen and remember that hope is still very much alive. I am certainly not thrilled about the prospect of putting my body through another full round, but we are committed to seeing this process through (both financially - we've already committed to paying back the full loan amount - and emotionally), and committed to the dream of our family. So if we must do this again, we must do this again. And then we'll know we did everything we could.

Are we frustrated? Yes. Beyond frustrated. Scared? Very. Angry? Uh huh. Heartbroken? Absolutely. This has been the least holly-jolly holiday season we've experienced since 2011, when my grandfather passed away, our family dog passed away, and we miscarried. The fact is, we are many things at present, but one thing we are NOT is beaten. It ain't over till it's over. And it ain't over. We hope and pray that 2016 will bring better days and happier times, and we are so grateful for each of you. May 2016 bless you and your families - and may the coming year be filled with joy, laughter, a minimal amount of hardship, and love in abundance.

We wish you a Merry Christmas ~ Thank you for everything <3

Negative

I've been sitting here, staring at the cursor, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Some eloquent descriptor of our pain and devastation. But I am at such a loss. The closest word to describe how we feel is bereft - like someone has died. And in essence, they have. We are mourning the loss of our four beautiful embryos - four beautiful souls who, for reasons unknown to us, were not meant to be. We are mourning what might have been. And it hurts, more than I can say or try to explain. But maybe some things are better left unsaid.

Thank you for loving and supporting us through this season of our lives.

Monday is Beta Day

I think it goes without saying that Monday's outcome carries a LOT of weight - more so than in past months, which seems impossible, and yet it's the truth. If the news isn't good, it will be doubly devastating on multiple fronts. This is our third try. Each time is harder than the last. Since the change in transfer plan meant they put in two embryos instead of just one, it would be double the loss - but it would also mean that we're out of frozen embryos so we'd be tasked with starting all over again from square one with a fresh IVF cycle. Compounding it all is the fact that it's the holidays, which is hard enough on its own for couples on this journey, even when you're not actively trying but especially when you are. And especially when you're dealing with heartbreak. So we're hoping and praying and hoping some more for good news. We desperately want and need good news. Please oh please, let it be good news!!

It's no secret that this is my favorite time of year but if I'm being honest, it's been a struggle. I feel a bit like I'm sleep-walking my way through the holidays this year, which is definitely not the norm for me. And quite frankly, it makes me sad. I look forward to the holidays literally as December 25th is coming to a close. We sit in front of the tree, lights off, reveling in the beauty of a room lit solely by Christmas tree glow, and I feel so sad because just like that, it's over and we have to wait a whole year for it to come around again. Sometimes, I even tear up at the thought. We sit there and we think, maybe next year will be the year we'll get to share the season with our child. Maybe, just maybe. And there is such hope. But Thanksgiving was tough, the toughest for me since the one following our miscarriage. I cried for no reason other than I felt suddenly overcome with immense fear - I told J that I just can't imagine this attempt not working; I cannot fathom entering in to yet another new year without knowing if it will be THE YEAR we welcome a child in to our family. February 2016 will mark year 8 of hoping, wishing, trying for a child. We were 24 years old when this all began. Yes, we took a year "off" in 2010 following my heart surgery, and then we took time away from active family building June 2012 - December 2013. But not for one day during those times away from this journey did we forget our yearning for a child. It still hurt, and our hearts still ached for our loss in 2011, as well as for the unknown path that lie ahead.

There is a Coldplay lyric from their song The Scientist that has really resonated with me lately and it is, "Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard." Because of family history, we didn't expect to build our family without issue - but never in our wildest dreams (nightmares?) did we expect it to take this long nor be this challenging, in many more ways than one. And yet... Well, it is what it is. And that's all that it is.

Monday. December 7. Beta day. Despite how it sounds, we do have hope. Quite a bit, actually. But, admittedly, I feel like I'm in defensive mode - guarding my heart with cautious optimism. (And, I haven't "checked in" since transfer day, so I guess I have a lot to say!) It's strange, this simultaneous wanting to know but not really wanting to know. I feel like my body has a secret it's not quite ready to tell. So in the meantime, we hope and we send positive juju out into the universe and we decorate the house and listen to Christmas music. We plan a holiday party, even though we're struggling to find merriment. We strive to remember how very blessed we are, even though we find ourselves in this place of unfulfilled and unrealized dreams. Because despite it all, we are immensely blessed in other, important ways. We laugh and we hold each other tight - because Monday will come whether or not we're ready.

Please let it be good news. Please.