Week 8 Update! (post by jessi)

Before writing this post I read over Maggie’s last entry and it seems as if years have passed since winter storm Vulcan graced us with its presence.  At that time, we knew there was a sac and it was perfectly situated in her uterus.  The relief we all enjoyed, however, only lasted a few short days.

Six days later on March 20^th, I received a phone call from Maggie to which she started by saying “Everything’s fine, but…”  Yeah, I thought to myself, then why are you calling me on a random Thursday?  She went on to say that she had some spotting but an ultrasound was able to confirm the sac will still there.  However, because the doctors could not detect a heartbeat at the time, we only had a 50/50 chance of the embryo surviving.  She was 5 weeks, 6 days.  According to Dr Google, heartbeats can be detected as early as 6 weeks.  In my mind, she was 6 weeks and this was devastating news that we never expected.

We already had an appointment on the books to check for a heartbeat on Monday, March 24^th but the docs said because they couldn’t detect it at 5 weeks 6 days, they didn’t think they’d be able to detect it at our next scheduled appointment four days later.  For follow up purposes, they told Maggie they’d keep the appointment on 3/24 in case she continued to have more spotting over the weekend but if not, they’d see us all back on 3/31 to check for a heartbeat. 

Unfortunately, there was more spotting over the weekend. 

We texted on Sunday night and she told me she was going in on 3/24, the day that was supposed to be our “see the heartbeat appointment.”  I apologized for the shitshow this journey had turned into, she apologized for having to continually give us bad news and I asked her to email or text me with whatever information she came away with.

10 minutes after her scheduled appointment time on Monday morning, I got the heartbeat video y’all saw on Facebook two weeks ago.  I couldn’t believe it.  I literally thought I was going to vomit. 

Once a heartbeat is detected, the risk of miscarriage is about 10%.  I was much happier with these odds and surprisingly, the last two weeks have been somewhat normal for me emotionally (when compared to the major/minor meltdowns and crying fits of the last few months).   

Today was our 8 week (8 weeks, 3 days to be exact) check-up to confirm viability and we are all elated to announce that the embryo has graduated to a fetus with a strong, normal heart rate and is currently on track with expected growth.  The risk of miscarriage has dropped from 10% to less than 1.5%!!!

So, for lack of any additional creative energy, I leave you with my top ten lessons learned from IVF start to fetus viability.  In no particular order:  

1. Listen to your mother.  My mom has never wavered in her firm belief that this third and final try would work out.  Yes, at times, I wanted to stab her with a syringe because she refused to commiserate with me and instead sent me pictures of blooming hibiscus plants.  In the end she was right, as always. 
2. Knowledge is power but it’s comes with a lot of unnecessary worry.  Remember that ignorance is bliss when it comes to the science of baby making.  Trust your doctor, stay off the internet and remember that everyone’s situation is unique.  MBA research skills be damned.
3. Booking a week-long vacation to Mexico on a whim literally minutes after you receive your less-than-favorable egg retrieval fertilization report can be quite cathartic.  We leave Friday April 25^th.  Mas cerveza por favor.
4. Your friends and family can and will make you cry at the drop of a hat with a nice letter in the mail or a sweet text/email.  We are completely and utterly overwhelmed by the love and support of those we see regularly, occasionally and only-on-the-interwebs friends & family.  Thank you all for reaching out to us – we’ll always remember those sweet gestures of love.
5. Limbo sucks.  Weeks of waiting to see which direction our lives were headed was not fun.  Unfortunately, there’s no way around this one.  Just roll with it.
6. Cautious optimism will become a frequently used term in your vocabulary.  Get used to it.
7. Gestational surrogacy with a BFF intensifies each and every one of the exhilarating happy days as well as the dark sad days that come along with IVF treatment.  I’ll never forget those dark days when we questioned our choices and felt absolutely terrible that Benny and I were the only reason Maggie would ever have to experience a miscarriage. On the other hand, I couldn’t imagine a stranger sharing in our happiness on the good days like Maggie and Jim do.  Peaks and valleys are inevitable, we’re so lucky to experience them in extremes with these people we love.
8. Ditch your expectations.  Shit’s going to happen on its own schedule if you’re lucky enough for it to happen at all.  The world owes you nothing. 
9. Multiply whatever you think it’s going to cost by three.
10. Hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time is a priceless moment in time that nothing else can compare to.  Thank you, Maggie, for giving us this opportunity.    

Winter Storm Vulcan

No news is good news. Accept when you are writing a blog about fertility challenges, then no news is usually not great. March 8th was when we were to report to the lab for blood work to determine if the embryos had attached or not. But Jessi and I are go-getters so on Wednesday, March 5th I woke up and took a digital advanced pregnancy test with a "weeks estimator" and it quickly indicated that I was 1-2 weeks pregnant! I text Jessi immediately and we virtually wept with one another.

After being cheerfully reprimanded by our good nurse, Mo, she happily agreed to allow us to come in for a blood test. So I picked Jessi up from work to the tune of "Happy" by Pharrell Williams, because, really, when is that not playing on the radio? And we buzzed on over to the lab with a skip in our step and a sparkle in our eyes!

Later that day Mo emailed us that my Hcg levels looked good and she wanted me back in 48 hours to monitor the Hcg levels which are expected to double every 48-72 hours. Friday's (March 7th) test indicated that my Hcg level had doubled and we were living easy, especially since we were still one day early! However, writes Mo, "Dr. D does want ONE MORE blood test on Sunday, just so we can track the hormone levels in the “correct” time frame. Dr. Ambroggio and Dr. Merhi are on this weekend so I’ll let them know to either contact you, or let me know so I can email both of you at the same time. On Monday, I’ll schedule an ultrasound for you for around 6 ½ - 7 weeks."

Sunday rolls around and I don't have a care in the world. I teach my first Zumba® class in 2 weeks and head on over to the lab for my blood test. After a short period of time where we only harassed poor Mo, who I'm pretty sure doesn't work 24 hours a day, but seems to respond to our emails at all of those times, we received this:

Okay, so Maggie's hormone level went up, but only to 143. We need to repeat Tuesday.

So... Stay on the patches and Endometrin for now. Maggie - are you having any bleeding or cramping?

Sent from my iPhone

I have always thought that once the embryos stuck, it would be no big deal to hold on to them. I'm great at being pregnant. As previously noted, both Jessi and I were surprised that this didn't work on the first try, but even so, I still thought if it's in it's a win! Multiple worst case scenarios flew through my brain. I texted Jessi to see if she was ok and she was convinced it was a "chemical pregnancy" or an "early miscarriage". This was confusing because my body didn't feel any different-and I had signs that I was pregnant. I emailed Mo asking, "you don't think it worked?" Mo reported that she did think it worked but was worried about an ectopic pregnancy. After my husband researched ectopic pregnancy and secured some life insurance, I consulted with a friend who experienced several IVF cycles before being blessed with a super smart whipper snapper of perfection and a follow-up, surprise, no-assistance-needed baby! My friend reported that she had what they in the fertility business call a "vanishing twin" which resulted in an initially normal report of Hcg numbers and a subsequent slow-down in the "doubling" of the numbers. So this was what I settled on. It was clearly one of these two things.

Those in direct contact with me may disagree, but I feel that thus far, aside from some excessive crying, I have done a pretty great job of keeping my emotions intact. I have worked really hard not to "use" my hormonal imbalance against others or as an excuse to react in completely unreasonable ways, but this? This put me right over the edge. The following "work week" was fairly unproductive. On Tuesday when I went in for my FOURTH blood test and then got the email that they still weren't sure and wanted me to return to the lab on Thursday for another blood test, weather permitting, I really lost it. I stifled back some tears, but sniffled away. I became enraged with modern medicine. Really!?! They can make an embryo in a petrie dish and then transfer it to a stranger but there is no better way to indicate WTF is going on inside my body?

On Wednesday, Winter Storm Vulcan hit. I can't understand why or when we started naming snow storms. Back when I was a kid, we never named the storm and we never canceled school ahead of time. Multiple "wasted" snow days occur out of this new phenomenon. As a Vermonter, I see it as my duty to drive around town at least one time during said snowstorm just to be able to report how bad it actually is. Well, on Wednesday as I prepared to leave work at 5:45, my windshield wipers broke....Not just the wipers but the actual arm of the wiper. I called Jim to blame and swear at him, then I proceeded to sit in the parking lot of my office and weep, uncontrollably for about 10 minutes before making a new plan and moving on. Jim couldn't help me because he has yet to outfit his car with snow tires. I transferred all of my belongings into my backup plan and head home. I probably should have just taken my car with the broken windshield wipers home because it was challenging to see behind the veil of tears I wore on the way home.

That night, Vermont watched as school after school and business after business was delayed or canceled due the the great storm Vulcan. You know what wasn't canceled or delayed? My work. I awoke Thursday morning and prepared for work as my family lay snug in their beds. I put on my winter gear at 7 AM and shoveled my way to my backup plan of a car, which was totally and completely buried by snow. My wonderful neighbor assisted me in the completion of unburying my car and at 7:30 when I went back in to take off my snow gear, blow-dry my hair, again, and head out for the day.

I drove straight to the hospital to get my labwork done. There were few cars on the road and the ones that were on the road were often stopped in the middle of the highway unable to continue to move due to the slippery conditions. I entered the hospital which was basically a ghost town. No one was ahead of me at the lab and I handed my purple check-in sheet to the phlebotomist. He called me up moments later to inform me that they had no order for me in the system. WHAT? Perfect. He offered to call customer service. I assured him that I would run on up to the clinic and take care of it myself.

I jog on up the two flights of stairs and walk up to the check-in desk.

"May I help you?" (big smile)

"Yep. I was told to come to the lab for a blood test this morning, during this snowstorm, and there is no order for me." (no smile) "Is Mo here yet?"

"Um, no," two receptionists look at eachother, "should we get Brenda, let's get Brenda."

Poor. Fucking. Brenda.

I throw myself into a chair and wait. Brenda comes out with a post-it pad.

"Hi, how can I help you." (big smile)

"Well, I shoveled my car out of 2 feet of snow this morning to be here bright and early for a blood test so that I could get to work, and there is no order for me." (no smile)

"Ok. What are they testing for?" (medium smile)

"I don't know, Hcg levels?" (sarcastic grimace)

"Ok. Is this your first blood test?"

Dramatic turn to Brenda with a look of hatred on my face, "no, it's my fifth." I was basically spitting venom.

Brenda backed away and assured me she would take care of it right away.

"Like now? Cause I have to go to work."

I stomped down to the 2nd level where the lab is and say in passing, "it's coming" to the phlebotomist. He informs me moments later that he's ready and as I settle into my seat he asks, "how is your day going?" HA! I answered him honestly at which point he begged me to have a better day moving forward.

Later that day Mo emails:

So… Dr. Merhi wants you to come in for ultrasound Monday. I’d like to get you in as early as possible, during our IVF time. Can you come in around 8:30?

You’ll technically be 5 weeks pregnant tomorrow. At this very early stage, an ultrasound will only show us if there’s anything in your uterus (or anywhere else). It’s too soon to see a heartbeat, which would indicate viability. If there’s a gestational sac in the uterus, it will be a reassuring sign, but we’ll have Maggie come in for another scan at a time when a heartbeat would be seen.

I might have lost my marbles if I had had to wait through the weekend, so I reply:

So if there is no sac would that point to ectopic? I don't understand why we can't do the ultrasound today or tomorrow. This is literally the most stressed out I have ever been. This waiting is excruciating. The possibility of an ectopic is stressful for me and my family.

I win and an ultrasound is scheduled for the following day.

As I enter the clinic there is a line of people leading to the exam room that we have been working with. Every person I see gives me that warm, "hang in there" smile, tinged with a bit of concern. I'm assuming that they have heard of my lunacy with nurse Brenda the previous day and are worried that I've really gone off the deep-end. Mo, Dr. D and the nurse who administers the ultrasound are all in the exam room and we get straight to business.

Here is what we see:

A collective sigh of relief escapes everyone in the room....And I'm pretty sure Mo cried a little bit. I did too. That dark spot in the middle is a gestational sac. In my uterus. This is good news. We don't know if it's viable or not yet and we have another ultrasound scheduled on March 24th, the anniversary of when I first met Jim. At that time we will be listening for a heartbeat.

Dr. D was not ready to say congratulations yet. We are so early in the process, it's difficult to predict what will happen. I remember when I was pregnant with my first baby, Zoey. At about 6 weeks I had an appointment with Tapestry Midwifery in Vergennes. Martha was the name of my midwife and she was everything I would ever want in a midwife. There is this idea that you aren't supposed to tell anyone that you are pregnant until you are through with the first trimester. One of the reasons is because the first trimester is the most fragile time in pregnancy. I asked Martha what she thought about this and she replied,

"What you have to think about is how you want others to respond if it is unsuccessful. Do you want people to surround you with support or are you someone who wants to heal on your own. Once you consider that, you can decide. But there is no right way."

There is no right way. We're all just doing the best we can.

Yoga Release or Why Jessi and I are Still Friends

I went to a yoga class this week. In the past 6 years I have gone to the following yoga classes: Pre-natal yoga, Post-natal yoga and Belly After Baby. No me by myself on a mat yoga classes. Yoga was my first fitness passion. I started practicing in 2002 and I love the feeling I have when I leave a yoga class-A gentle smile on my face and a feeling of relaxation in my muscles.....ahhh. So grateful I found yoga. Then I became pregnant with my first child, Zoey and attended pre-natal, and then post-natal. And then I stopped. I found Zumba and was desperate to take off the "baby weight" so I spent all of my free-time participating in burning the most calories in a short period of time. Yoga is tricky because of how incredibly difficult it is to be mindful when you have one million things you should be doing, including burning more calories, parenting your children, cleaning the house, during that hour. So I stopped until I got pregnant with my second child. I again fell in love with pre-natal, but I couldn't even muster the energy and mental power to do post-natal after having Emmet.

About a year ago, I begin to feel overwhelmed and stressed out about my job, my ability to parent, life in general and I began to realize that I need yoga in my life. I realized that the mindfulness that I didn't think possible when you have one million things you should be doing, including burning more calories is actually essential in order to stay present and be a better parent and not lose my mind at work. I began telling people that I needed to find a yoga class, but never actually went to a class. Finally, about 2 weeks ago a friend suggested that I meet her for a class on a Tuesday and I agreed!

As I was leaving my house I grabbed my neglected yoga mat and headed toward the door. I couldn't wait to get my namaste on! I almost had the urge to pop on the Deepak Chopra channel on Pandora, but I resisted. I thought about how beneficial yoga is for so many people. My mother has been practicing yoga for many years and became a Yoga Instructor about 5 years ago. I'm so proud of her and so impressed with how youthful and healthy she is. I certainly hope that I can maintain my health and movement as I age.

The great thing about yoga is that you know the atmosphere you are walking into. I mean, the purpose of yoga is to establish "peace of mind in order to experience one's true self" so when I walked in and announced it was my first time there, the teacher looked at me with her warm smile and said, "welcome." I'm not going to lie, I felt warm and cuddly and like I belonged there. My friend and I entered the main studio and set up our mats on the beautiful bamboo floor facing "the lotus wall." This was hot yoga so the temperature was raised. There were about 7 people in the room. One man, 2-3 middle aged woman, a 20 something budding yoga teacher and my friend and I, who I refuse to believe are middle aged yet. Many of the participants were getting their "pre-stretch" on, which is always so funny to me because aren't we there to get a little loose? It's like cleaning your house before the house cleaner comes- WTH? I have never had a house cleaner before, but I'd like to think that I would let the person do their job and clean my house. I'm not going to one-up them by "pre-cleaning". That's what they are there for.

The yoga teacher, who was previously seated behind a desk, walks into the studio and as she crosses to the studio to grab her Tingshaw bell I am able to admire her leggings which sport a bamboo motif with an entire thigh-sized panda bear on each leg. You friggen go girl!! I mean, those bad boys aren't for me, but I love that you are rocking them! Once the bell chimes and we are all standing in Fierce Pose facing the Lotus Wall I am in the yoga zone and ain't nothing gonna stop me. Panda girl asks us to set an intention for our practice and to offer that intention to the universe and I immediately ask the universe for release! Release from the tension I've been feeling in work, as a parent. With the universes blessing of release I think that will allow those teeny tiny embryos to nestle right into my ute!


As we progress to our Downward Dog sequence, I hear the token male yogi and his SUPER deep breathing, which sounds like he is actually more gasping or maybe he is a real live humidifier emitting steam in forceful uneven breaths. "That guy" goes to basically every single yoga class I've ever been to. I love a good Ujjayi breath as much as the next girl but, for serious?

I'm totally digging this yoga practice. I'm impressed with my strength, even though I haven't been to a class in years and my breathing is reasonably ocean like.....We settle into the mat on our stomach to get into some back strengthening poses. We are face down on the mat with our arms under our bodies and our palms on the floor under our hips so our pinkies touch each other. It's just as uncomfortable as it sounds. We are preparing to extend into locust pose:

The room is completely silent as everyone is working on raising their legs to a reasonable height without completely throwing their back out, when out of nowhere, the young 20 something girl lets out the loudest public fart I've ever heard! I buried my face into my mat reciting to myself that I should not under any circumstances make eye contact with my friend while I silently chortle to myself, trying all the while to keep my body still so Panda Girl would think I was mature enough to continue to attend class. Holy Mahatma-I'm seriously still legitimately LOL'ing right now.

I somehow managed to compose myself to complete the class after thinking, Oh geez, that was some release! I guess it does take continued practice to really let it go! I'll be back next week for sure! And, I certainly will continue to chuckle my way through the week. Laughing is good for the soul and I'm sure, it's helpful in the implantation of these embryos! My friend and I were not able to discuss this class disruption until the next day, but we are both still laughing about it. It wasn't Jessi with me in that class, but it just as easily could have been. I truly appreciate the kind of friend who will stick by you when things are tough, listen to you and encourage you when you are feeling like a failure, and laugh with you when someone farts in yoga class. Those are the friends that you keep forever. 

Another meltdown at table 6, please (post by Jessi)

When you first meet with the Reproductive Endocrinologist to learn more about IVF and how it works, a good doctor will make sure you know what to expect during the process.  My doctor covered all of the usual bases:

1. It’s expensive.  No doubt!  The IVF cycle alone is $9,100.  That doesn’t include medication, legal fees, and all of the other related health care expenses for the myriad of specialists you have to see in order to just begin the process.
2. It’s emotional.  The phrase I remember hearing was “PMS on steroids.”  In addition to the mood swings, irritability, and discomfort associated with hormone treatments, there’s also the “waiting for the other shoe to drop” phenomenon because the potential for failure exists at every step in the IVF process.  What if I don’t respond to the stimulation drugs?  What if there are no eggs in my follicles when they go to retrieve them?  What if the eggs don’t fertilize?  What if they fertilize but they’re not viable?  What if they die in the dish before they make it to transfer day? What if, what if, what if?  Each little step is a tiny victory that just leads to another step with its own unique set of what ifs.  Emotional. Roller. Coaster.
3. It’s all-consuming.  Over the last two weeks:  I’ve had 5 or 6 ultrasounds on 5 or 6 different days;  I have track marks on my arm from the frequent blood draws;  I know all of the parking garage attendants and how long it takes each of them to open the gate;  I have daily correspondence with Nurse Mo or her back up, Nicole; and I’m constantly reminded about the looming nightly injections by the temporary drug store set up on our kitchen counter. 
4. It’s a gamble.  While FAHC’s success rates are better than the national average for women of our age, there’s still a 60% chance of failure.  But, as a hopeless optimistic, I find this one easier to dismiss.  If we were older I’d be more concerned but in terms of success rates, you can’t get any better than what we’ve got.

So yeah, we were and are prepared to effectively handle all of these issues.  Bet you can’t guess what our biggest challenge has been so far???  Like hysterically-crying-my-eyes-out-wishing-I’d-never-started-IVF-in-the-first-place kind of breakdown?  

The fertility pharmacy and Fed Ex.  Let’s start with the pharmacy, shall we?

I’m sure you’ve read Maggie’s post about her love of the fertility pharmacy.  My first experience with them was not as bad mostly due to the fact that I have to self-pay because my insurance doesn’t cover any fertility medications.  

Random note:  Freedom Pharmacy’s hold music has a lame voiceover that says “we respect that you have a choice in pharmacies and we are happy you chose us”  yadda yadda yadda, it makes me want to scream.  We don’t have a choice, you’re our only choice as this is Vermont and not a single pharmacy stocks this stuff.  

My first stimulation was in October.  A couple days before the egg retrieval I needed to take a “trigger” drug.  This is usually HCG (which I had on hand) but due to my hormone levels, the docs decided it would be best to use Lupron.  Now, let me just preface this by saying that the stimulation prep is a cumulative, day-to-day process.  There’s no skipping or stopping meds for a day or two.  And because a patient’s hormone levels can change daily, the meds oftentimes need to be adjusted at a moment’s notice.  As a fertility pharmacy, Freedom is well aware of the nature and circumstances to which their drugs are used and, in response, provides no-hassle overnight shipping.  

Mo calls in a script of Lupron on the morning of 10/29.  I call 20 minutes later to place the order and explain that it’s my trigger so I’ll need overnight delivery.  “No problem,” says the nurse.  “It should be there by 5:00pm tomorrow, 10/30.”  

On my way home from work on 10/30 (which also happened to be Maggie’s birthday and the night of the World Series), I called Benny to have him check for the package.  “Nope, no package” he says.  Ok, I think to myself.  I’ll just call Freedom and see what’s up.  After the regular formalities of confirming my identity and the script I’m looking for, the nurse puts me on hold.  While I’m on hold, I immediately assume the worst and can feel the emotions start to well up inside of me.  Something’s not right.  

Eventually, the nurse comes back (and by this time I’m quietly weeping and half convincing myself I’m just overreacting) and she starts out by apologizing on behalf of the pharmacy.  She explains the order was processed but the package never left the facility.  It’s still at Freedom waiting to be picked up.  

And that’s when the hormonal gates of hell opened up!  

I don’t remember much of what I said next because I was crying hysterically and driving (yeah, I know) but I’m pretty sure I dropped the F-bomb.  I had come all this way, 7 days to be exact, endured dozens of injections, appointments and was almost to the finish line with stimulation and my drug hadn’t even left Massachusetts?  The next few hours were also a blur of phone calls with the FAHC docs, supervisors at Freedom, emails exchanges between Nurse Mo, Maggie and me.  With each passing minute, I was getting closer and closer to the specific time (11:15pm) I had to take the Lupron or all bets were off.  

Freedom was going to make good on their promise and get me the drug I needed to trigger that night. While that was a relief of sorts, they were still 4.5 hours away which means it needed to be en route by 6:30ish in order to make the 11:15 deadline.  Still not trusting Freedom to come through, we worked out another plan for Benny and me to drive to Maggie’s house at 9:30 on her birthday (Happy Birthday Maggie, we’re here for drugs!) and pick up her leftover Lupron.  Meanwhile, an unlucky courier got the worst assignment of his life.  He now had to leave Boston on the night of the World Series and spend the entire evening in the car to deliver the Lupron which should’ve arrived at our house hours earlier.  Sure, I could’ve called Freedom and said that we’d worked out a plan and there wasn’t any need to rush the courier to Vermont, but I didn’t.  Sorry, Mr Courier Guy – it was nothing against you, but maybe you’d consider being a courier for a pharmacy that doesn’t just leave trigger drug orders on the shelf overnight.    Also, you were late.  Good thing I had a backup plan because had I not, I would’ve missed the deadline and, consequently, had to start all over on meds. 

The second round of stimulation has been much longer.  This is actually a good thing and I can tell Dr Davenport is pleased.  My hormone levels have been lower than last time and so for the last few days, they’ve increased my dosage to get them back up.  I only had so much of my meds on hand, and the Pharmacy was closed over the weekend, so Nurse Nicole helped me source what I needed to get through the weekend locally.  On Monday, I called to place another order of meds to get me through to Egg Retrieval.  Again, I needed this shipped overnight.  “No problem,” says the nurse.  Yeah, I’ve heard that before.  A few hours later I received an email from Freedom with a tracking number for my shipment.  What a huge relief.  There must be a note in my patient file that says “don’t ever mess this woman’s order up again.  She will freeeak out!”  

When I got home yesterday my package wasn’t there.  Checked on the status of my shipment with Fed Ex and saw that it was in Williston, VT at 6am and loaded on a truck for delivery at 9:39am.  How precise.  I thought I better call Freedom, just in case.  They advised me that the package was sent via Fed Ex Ground which means they do deliveries up to 8pm.  It was 6pm.  Ok. Fine.

Here’s what happened next:

• 6:10 – Called Fed Ex to confirm that it was actually on the truck like the tracking number indicated.  Woman confirmed it was on the truck and she couldn’t give out any additional information about the truck’s whereabouts or when I could expect to receive it other than by or before 8pm. OK BYE!
• 6:10 – 7:30 – Make dinner, eat dinner, chat with Benny, check driveway for headlights every 2-3 minutes.  Pretend to hold it together on the outside even though I was screaming on the inside.  Obsessively check tracking status to see if it changed.
• 7:30 – Call Fed Ex again to explain my concerns.  “Here’s my tracking number.  This package has medication in it that needs to be taken tonight and I’m worried about it not arriving in time.”  Dude on other end reassures me they’ll deliver it.  OK BYE!
• 7:30 – 8:10 – Sit and fester.  Fidget.  Continue to stare down the driveway.  Pretend to watch the Olympics.  Pace the floor.  Obsessively check tracking status to see if it changed.
• 8:10 – Call Fed Ex again.  Explain that I don’t think it’s coming tonight and ask how I can get it because it’s an emergency.  A different dude puts me on hold while he supposedly checks in with Williston terminal.  Says he’s confirmed it’s still on the truck. OK BYE!
• 8:11 – Email Mo: “So this might just all fall apart at the last minute because even though my tracking email from Freedom says my package is out for delivery, Fed Ex hasn't delivered it yet. They can't do anything to track its whereabouts until tomorrow.  I'm freaking out!”
• 8:11 – 9:00 – Obsessively check tracking status to see if it changed.  Continue to lose my shit.  Decide the best plan of action is to head into Williston and hold a Fed Ex driver hostage until I get my meds.
• 9:00 – Decide that Benny will stay at home in case this mythical creature they call a Fed Ex delivery guy shows up.  Put on the brand new Muck boots Benny got me for Valentine’s day and head into Williston.
• 9:15 – Check tracking status on my phone while driving.  Delivery status updated from “In Transit” to “Delivery Delayed due to Weather”.  What weather?  It was 40 minutes away on a truck in Williston this morning.  

And that’s when the hormonal gates of hell opened up!  

• 9:15 – Full-blown hysterics begin.  Call Fed Ex crying.  They apologize and ask me for my tracking number for the one-thousandth time.  I explain that I need the package tonight and I’m on my way to the hub in Williston to pick it up.  Customer Service lady explains that no one is there and I cannot access my package because the office closes at 4:30.  “Say what now!?!  If you closed at 4:30 then why wasn’t my tracking status updated until 9:15?”  Proceed to cry, scream and beg them to do whatever was possible to get my drugs. 
• 9:20 - Customer Service person #4 transfers me to Jacqueline, in Customer Advocacy.  Jacqueline wants to know what the drugs are for, when my procedure is and what time I’m supposed to take my meds tonight.  She sympathizes with me but gives me no reassurance that I can actually pick up my shipment.  She then puts me on hold. 
• 9:20 – 9:40 – Still in hysterics considering the worst case scenario.  How did I end up in the same predicament I was in October on a tight deadline for meds?  If I miss tonight’s dose, the last 12 days would’ve been for nothing.  I’ll have to stop all treatment, wait for my period to come and go again and then fork over another $4,000 for meds to start all over.  But the worst part of everything going through my head was that I knew I wouldn’t be able to go through this again.  I’m so close to producing 6 eggs (holy crap, I just thought of myself as a chicken) and I just don’t have it in me to start over again.  This could be the end of the road for us, I thought.  Maybe this is all happening for a reason.  Why is the universe so against me right now?  Damn you rural Vermont. 
• 9:40 – Jacqueline comes back on the line with a name and cell phone number of Matt, the only guy left standing in the Fed Ex Ground warehouse.  She said call him when I get there and he will give me my shipment.  “I love you Jacqueline.”
• Five minutes later I arrive at the warehouse.  It was surreal.  That area of Williston is bustling throughout the day with big trucks and all kinds of traffic and noise.  But at 9:45 on a Tuesday night, it was barren.  No street lights, no traffic, just a dark, empty parking lot with a lone trucker finishing up his paperwork for the overnight run.  I walked in looking like a mess with snot stains on my sleeves and puffy, bloodshot eyes and then I saw it, my package of hope.  He asked for my ID, I signed for the package and drove straight to my parent’s house to shoot up.

Fortunately for Fed Ex, everything worked out and we are still on track for egg retrieval this Friday.  Mo was wonderfully helpful and supportive throughout the evening and was so pissed off she also filed a complaint with Fed Ex. Ain't nobody gonna mess around and jeopardize her patient's shot at motherhood.  Thanks, Mama Bear Mo.

 Look out world, nothing is holding us back now! 

Cry, Cry Baby

Here are a list of things that have made me cry in the past few weeks:

Athletes competing in the Olympics and meeting or exceeding their own expectations.

Athletes competing in the Olympics and failing to land their triple toe loop by just a few centimeters and then having to watch it three times in slow motion, followed by a screen shot of their disappointed face. Just heartbreaking.

Bob Costas' eye infection.

My daughter's valentine's card to my son.

My job. Because I hate it. And also because I love it.

A Zumba® routine my Zumba® friends sent me in order to prepare for the 6th Annual Woman Helping Battered Woman Zumbathon® (that takes place March 22nd from 5-8 at Memorial Auditorium).

Every time someone sponsors me for the WHBW Zumbathon®-Maggie Van Duyn's Page (donate here to make me cry!)

My son telling me I'm the best Mommy and giving me a great big hug.

An episode of Criminal Minds.

My older sister's email with a picture of her and her baby bump.

Every time I hear the song Brave by Sara Bareilles. Check out the video and cry for yourself.

My daughter's excitement to build snow forts with her dad for hours in the backyard.

The loaf of bread that I baked. It's just that I've been saying I

want to start baking bread for about 6 months and I finally did it!

Really, just about anything will do it. I attended an ultrasound on Sunday, February 16th at 8:15 AM and Jessi and Ben also had an ultrasound for 8:30. You know, to get an idea of how we were progressing. Although I was told that my endometrium was happy, we didn't really get any more information except that both of us should call back on Monday to find out what to do next.

After the appointment Jessi hands me a gift bag from her parents, Kevin and Joanne. It should be noted that I have known Kevin and Joanne since I was a hoodlum on the mean streets of Essex Jct. The Holcomb's and my mom would constantly call each other regarding our whereabouts and inevitably catch Jessi and I in some sort of lie. Really all the parents involved just wanted to make sure that we were safe, but at the time it felt like they were ruining our fun and just wanted to get us in trouble. Now that Jessi and I are out of the woods (literally and figuratively) in the troublemaking department, we've moved onto babymaking. Kevin and Joanne have been amazing and supportive and wonderful parents to all of their children, but I'm fairly certain that we wouldn't be going for round three without their incredible encouragement.

So I says to Jessi, I says, "Should I open this now, or is it going to make me cry?" Really this is a stupid question because as you can see from the list above, just about anything makes me cry.
Jessi says, "I don't think it will make you cry. I got one too."

Proceed to opening and hey, look at that. I'm crying.  Enclosed is a gift certificate for my favorite massage therapist and a note card that would melt the heart of a Vermont Winter.

Stupid Sarah McLaughlin (post by jessi)

Wow, we are really slacking with this blog thing.  Truth is:  I’m a lazy writer.  It’s not my favorite thing to do.  I even had a full-blown writing meltdown during the first week of grad school in 2010.  Write, write, write, research, read, and write some more.  You couldn’t PAY me to go back and relive that misery.

So here’s a little update on where we’re at – (see what I did there, Mo?  I ended a sentence with a preposition.  Is your blood boiling now?)

Maggie has been in uterus-shutdown-mode for a few weeks now.  This is otherwise described as hanging out in perimenopause land at the end of your rope with no chocolate or wine in sight mode.  She’s been on birth control pills, Lupron injections (shots in the belly) and Estrogen patches.  I think all of our readers will agree with me when I say that hormones are bad enough in naturally occurring doses so take a moment and consider what it must feel like to be all jacked up on crazy-lady hormones.  I texted her yesterday to check in on how’s she’s feeling and got this response: 

That’s equivocal to the old adage my dad always says which is:  “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  Or in Maggie’s case, keep it brief or break the iPhone screen whilst texting how she really feels.  

In the midst of all of this, she’s also getting ready to instruct for the first time at the 6^th Annual WHBW Zumbathon on March 22^nd.  Here’s a link to here fundraising page.  Go ahead, make her day.  

I’ve also been pumping myself full of drugs in preparation for the egg retrieval sometime this weekend or early next week.  This time around, we reduced the dosage since I responded too quickly last time.  Things have been going much more smoothly and I’m now on day 7 of stimulation.  At my last check up on Wednesday, I had 7 follicles all around the same size which is a good improvement because last time I only had 3 follicles around the same size. 

I’m a little more symptomatic with this stimulation than I was with the first which is weird because the dosage is lower but I think it must have something to do with the fact that I never, in a million years, thought I would have to do this retrieval prep again.  My ovaries feel like water balloons, my belly is swollen and sore from the shots, I hate all my pants and if I see one more story of an abused or wrongfully killed animal I'M GOING TO LOSE MY FRICKEN MIND!  I fully support awareness, people, but enough of the graphic shit on pitbulls and giraffes.  And while I’m at it - screw you and your stupid commercial, Sarah McLaughlin!