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Facebook messenger and Google+ have alerted me that it has been a month since we posted anything new. I'm not sure if I sure start with a list of excuses which would include but not be limited too;

**I was super pissed that the last transfer didn't work and didn't have anything nice to say so I said nothing at all.
**I have a two and a half year old and a 5 year old and I was busy preparing/enjoying/recovering from Christmas.
**My two and a half year old chose the week before Christmas to stop going to bed at night, so I actually have had approximately Zero moments of free-time to write/clean/do anything as I spend anywhere from 1-3 hours helping him fall asleep and/or putting him back to bed.  This kid is soooooo stubborn that he will climb down the stairs and over the baby gate that was installed at the bottom of the stairs just to show his resistance. The gate has since been removed (baby gate for sale?).
**We were undecided about what to do next, so it was difficult to know which direction the blog should take us.
**I got the flu.

It took me about a week to really convince myself that it was not my failure. That I didn't do anything wrong. That my body isn't insufficient or unable respond. I never had any fertility issues with my own kids. I basically thought, "Gee, I would sure like to be pregnant" and the next thing I knew...But this is not working for some reason. Nobody really knows why. And that needs to be ok. Because it could work next time.

I saw one of my cousins over the weekend who is a writer. He is a big important writer who writes for big important people (read: a lawyer who writes for lawyers) and when I told him that I was writing a blog he said I needed to write more often. Like every couple of days so my readers know what I'm thinking all of the time. In the past few weeks, there have been many moments where people ask me what is going on and I look down and then mumble something about trying again and moving forward and meds and whatnot.  This is unacceptable! I have got to get my gumption back and really embrace that this was not a failure but just another turn in the road.

So here is a rededication. I will stop making excuses for why I'm not writing and we will tell this story as we intended to tell it. For now, here is the quick and dirty:

We are back to a fresh transfer, where my body needs to get on Jessi's cycle. So I'm back on the       birth control and will likely start the Lupron shots by the end of the week. I'm anxiously awaiting a friendly phone call with Freedom Pharmacy! I sure hope they are useless again! Jessi is getting ready to bulk up on her synthetic hormones and we are pulling for a great big egg dump this go 'round. I hope Ben is up for the challenge! We anticipate that the next transfer will take place mid to late February. We will keep you posted with our gripes, complaints and hilarity. Stay tuned!

No ragrets (post by jessi)

During the dreaded two week wait, which is the time period between the embryo transfer to Maggie and the blood work to confirm whether or not she is pregnant, I drafted a blog post about how our strategy for the second transfer was completely different than the first.  Preparing for the second transfer had a completely different energy.  Instead of the hurried coordination of appointments, procedures, drug-taking, we quietly waited for Maggie’s ovulation stick to show a happy face.  Maggie had two sessions with an acupuncturist, ate some red meat to increase her chi (or at least we think that was the recommendation the acupuncturist gave her) and while Ben and I babysat her kids, I hid a fertility idol in her house because my co-workers, Megan and Ingrid, (read:  seasoned advisors in spiritual/holistic healing) told me to.  Ben was able to attend the second transfer and Maggie took a week off from her workout schedule.  Everything was different so naturally, we’d expect a completely different result.

About half-way through the two week wait, I knew it failed again.  I don’t know how I knew because I’m typically not a negative thinker but I just knew.  Sure enough, Maggie started her period a couple days before the blood draw date and we had been defeated again.  I was mad.  Stark raving mad!   I’m not sure if this is the usual response but considering that I was anticipating a failed transfer coming on, I had already breezed through the first two stages of grief and gotten stuck in high gear on stage 3, ANGER.  Poor Mo caught the brunt of it.  (I’m sorry Mo, muah!) Also, I really don’t think she gets paid enough for having to deliver such terrible news (Make note Dr D.).  I’m sure most women are shocked, stunned or even speechless, not me though.  I came unhinged.  “How is this possible?!”  “Why didn’t it work!?”  “No, I don’t want to talk to Dr D unless he’s got a damned-good explanation!”  And then, after some reflection and a gin-soaked happy hour with Benny, we realized there are no answers.  No one is ever going to tell us the transfer didn’t work because of X and next time we will do Y and it will work.  It’s never going to be that simple and I eventually came to the conclusion that regardless of all the changes we made for the second transfer that gave us new hope, it doesn’t matter.  It’s either going to work, or it isn’t.  Plain and simple. 

And then it came time to make the hardest decision to date – call it quits or soldier on.  Benny and I are happy with either scenario which made the decision even harder.  In both of our previous lives, having a child was completely out of the question.  Before we had even met, we each made the choice for a childless life and we’re both at peace, confident in our decisions and actively embracing the freedoms a childless life can offer.  If all would fail again, we would resume this lifestyle which comes with great perks like traveling, exotic vacations, sleeping through the night, having disposable income for home improvement projects, spur of the moment adventures and getting to live in the world that’s oblivious to the not-so-glamorous parts of parenting.  But, at the same time, we really, really want to have a family.  We want to replicate the awesome family life that our parent’s gave us.  We want to see the world through the eyes of a child again and embark on one of life’s greatest challenges together.  We want it all. 

So it all came down to “what if?”  What if it worked on transfer 3 or transfer 4?  Our lives would be changed forever and if we don’t give it another go (because we still have the means to do so right now) we’ll often wonder “what if?”  And wondering about "what if" is too close to regret.  We're not the kind of people who live with regrets.  Not even a single letter. 

Control Freak

I'm surprised by my lapse in writing. It's not for lack of content. There have been at least 15 occasions on which I thought- Hey, that would be a great blog topic. And I have been harboring this blog title for quite some time. But shit happens and then it's December.

So Jessi and I were together when we found out the last transfer was a no go. I had talked her into trying out a class called "Barre Sculpt" where you hold onto a ballet barre like a beautiful ballerina whilst pulling your abdominal muscles to your spine, lifting your leg so your toes touch the top of your head and swearing like a sailor. It's amazing. You would love it! In our company was one of our all-time favorite yoga teachers who appeared effortless at these tasks and a great, motivating, inspirational caring fitness follower who is one of those people who makes you feel like a million bucks every time you see her.  Mid-class Jessi ran to the bathroom when her phone rang. I followed and made eye contact with her as she subtly shook her head no. Not knowing what to do next, I retreated and returned to my mat on the floor to squeeze, lift and lengthen some more. The instructor went on, giving cues "if you have lower back issues or are pregnant, don't do this." I wasn't. So I did.

And then. Then. The hot beats of Boom Boom Pow filled the air and I thought, "it's a sign."

I don't really know what the sign indicated. I can't tell. It could have been inspirational. Comforting. Coincidence. Nothing else indicated anything so it probably didn't mean anything.

After a few drunk texts between Jessi and I, we came up with a new plan. Not while drunk, don't worry. We were given the choice of repeating the hormone treatments that we had just failed with or using my natural cycle. Jessi figured that I had done this before with my natural cycle, so why not try it!

All of the hormones I had taken up to this point had been in an effort to have the doctor's control my cycle and have my cycle "sync" with Jessi's natural cycle so that the embryos would be happier. Well, that didn't work, did it? But I have done this before...So maybe I can do it without someone else "controlling" how my body works.

On Tuesday, when I went into the clinic for my first ultrasound since the failed transfer, Dr. D was super impressed with the thickness of my endometrium. By Thursday, he was less impressed, but still willing to go forward. And I asked the question, "is it possible that my endometrium is just thinner than other endometriums?" "Yes," he says, "but statistics say...."

And what did we learn about statistics?

Statistics schmatistics (post by Jessi)

Maggie, Ben and I headed into this life-altering journey armed with statistics.  Based on my age and Maggie's age, we had a 60% chance towards a positive outcome.  The odds were in our favor considering those statistics were based on success rates for women (or their partners) with known fertility issues. None of us have any problems going on with our downstairs.  If you've followed this blog for any time you'd know that my eggs are perfecto, Ben's sperm army is nothing short than admirable and Maggie's ute has produced two gorgeous children without any complications and required nothing more than "legs up the wall pose" for planned conception.  Maybe we were a little over-confident, but wouldn't you be, too, given the circumstances?

We only got three embryos (8 eggs from retrieval, 3 of which fertilized). Two embryos were transferred and failed which leaves us with one frozen embryo.  The odds are already stacked against us for the next transfer because just like any fruit, vegetable or meat, fresh is better than frozen.  The embryos transferred on 11/4 were both fresh and Grade A.  Bet you didn't know that embryos are graded!  Last time I heard, our sole frozen embryo was a Grade B.  Because of its inferior grade, it's less likely to nestle into Maggie's ute than the two As but there's still a chance.  How much of a chance, you ask?  Hell if I know! [Oh shit, did I just say that?  I've had two margaritas and now I'm channeling my Grandpa Holcomb with the "hell if I know" shit! - Also, sorry for the swearing, Grandma, but you know . . .  tequila.]

At any rate, we pick ourselves up and carry on.  'Cause that's what people like us do!

 Special thanks to all of you who've kept the positive vibes, prayers, love and support flowing and will no doubt continue to do so as we embark onto chapter two.  Also, thank you to my parents who kept my mind busy this afternoon by blowing up my ceiling fan (No, really Dad.  That fan was already half dead.) And taking me out to dinner because otherwise I probably would've just eaten  microwaved cheese.  Finally thank you all of you reading this and those that sent happy, supportive texts, vmails, etc (you know who you are).  Today's winner is our BFF, Kate. 

Thanks for the laugh.  This chapter is now closed.  Chapter two begins NOW.

Participating in Miracles

There is this feeling that you have when you leave the hospital, or your home, or the birthing center after giving birth to your first child. It's like you can't believe that the rest of the world continued to go on as normal, while you have been participating in miracles....It's surreal.  You want to stop everyone you see and tell them, "do you know what just happened? The world became a better place because I made this baby. See?"

Today, Jessi and I are headed back into FAHC to do a blood test that will determine my HCG levels which will indicate if the embryos are nestled all snug in their bed or not. We have had almost no contact with the IVF clinic since the transfer. I really miss Nurse Mo so I'm really excited to check in with her but I am also becoming increasingly nervous.

I could barely sleep. I am going over every move I've made in the past 10 days. Every bit of food I ate. People have been asking me how I feel. If I feel "pregnant". I feel guilty when I say no. Mo told me I wouldn't be able to tell, but I mean, I seriously have NO IDEA.  I have noticed slight changes in my body-My digestion, "the ladies" are a little sore, but other than that-NOTHING.

I hope I didn't screw this up.  I hope Jessi and I get a phone call later that confirms that we are participating in miracles.

Transfer Day (post by Jessi)

Today, November 7^th, is exactly 300 days from my first appointment with the docs at the Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility clinic.  I met with Dr Merhi for a consult and we talked at a high level about the process for gestational surrogacy, success rates, risks, costs and our ideal timeline.  When I think back to that day, it feels like a lifetime ago.  And yet, the last three weeks have passed in a total blur.  

Transfer day is the day we have all been waiting for.  It is the end result from the prerequisite appointments, screenings, procedures and drug therapy.  It’s the day the embryo leaves its simulated environment for a natural one, aka Maggie’s ute (ute = fun short hand for uterus).

On the morning of Transfer Day (11/4) Ben kissed me goodbye before he left for work and said “Happy Transfer Day!”  And a happy transfer day it was!  Maggie picked me up at exactly 1:20, just as she promised.  Those of you who know Maggie know that there are very few events she’s perfectly on time for.  This was one of them; she was just as excited as me.  I hopped in her car after she refused to let me drive and we left for the hospital.  

Somewhere in between jokes about getting “knocked up” and patient registration Maggie remembers that she was supposed to arrive with a full bladder.  Minor detail, NBD.  (Hey Ma – NBD means No Big Deal).  Maggie heads into Registration and I got her a bottled water to which she immediately starts chugging.  We arrive at the clinic halfway through the bottle and Mo was already out front in the waiting area.  Maggie explains that she’s been downing water because she forgot about the full bladder thing to which Mo replies “Whoa, just sip it.  We don’t want you to have to pee that badly.” [or something to that effect, honestly I was too excited to pay attention and couldn’t help but notice that everyone in the waiting area was fully enthralled in our pee discussion]

Mo takes us to the way back where the magic happens.  We’re both given fancy clothing to put on – a johnny for Maggie and the hospital version of a Breaking Bad meth lab suit for me.  Then we wait, she on the stretcher and me in the chair next to her.  Across from us is a window to another room with computers and other equipment.  This is where the IVF docs and nurses are getting on the “same page” for the procedure.  This is the very moment our Facebook fan page goes live.  You allow a couple of multitasking masters like us to have some idle time and we’ll make full use of it.  POW!  Created a Facebook page in the IVF recovery room.  [Also, we have to give a special shout-out to Maggie’s colleagues.  You were our first fans and gave us quite the laugh when you liked our page literally seconds after it went live.]

About twenty-five minutes into the wait, Maggie really has to pee.  No duh!  She and Dr Davenport talk about the possibility of her relieving some but not all of her bladder contents but she ultimately decides to just hang in there until after the procedure.  LIKE A BOSS, MAGGIE, LIKE A BOSS!

Five or ten minutes later we’re headed into the procedure room.  It’s modern, clean and much more welcoming than the room I had my egg retrieval procedure in.  The monitors are LED and the equipment looks brand new.  Mo shows me over to the stool where the accompanying partner is supposed to sit and I take a seat.  That’s when I notice the god-awful stirrups.  [I realize now that I should’ve taken a picture because there’s no good way to describe them.  Also, it’s NEVER a good idea to GIS (Google Image Search) stirrups at work.]  They were unlike anything I’ve seen but I’m willing to bet that if you gave birth to a Generation Xer, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.  They were wide, brown leather stirrups without the foot pegs and they looked like they had been salvaged from an underground abortion clinic.  

Maggie gets settled into the archaic contraption and Dr Davenport starts the process of cleaning her cervix and ute.  This is the most time-consuming part because, as you know from Maggie’s previous post, the hormone tablets have NOT been taken by mouth!  Mo is happily giving us a tour of Maggie’s innards via the ultrasound – “I guess you do have to pee, Maggie.  Here’s your bladder.”  A little more poking and prodding and then Dr Murray steps in to prepare for the transfer.  Mo explains that the embryos are floating in a tiny capsule of solution which is surrounded on both ends by air pockets.  Dr Murray positions the straw-like device exactly where it needs to be and flushes it, releasing the air pockets and embryos right into position.  Yes, I said embryos!  We decided to transfer two and doubled our chances.

Below is the ultrasound picture.   Not much to see here other than Maggie’s full bladder (red arrow) and the air pockets surrounding the microscopic embryo party of 2 (yellow arrow).   

And now we wait.

More Estrogen, Please

I began strengthening my uterus on October 20th.  Apparently, in order to provide an optimal environment for the adorable little embryos it is ideal to have a uterine wall that is greater than 7 mm thickness, ideally greater than 8 mm. I was slapping those patches on like a champ when I cheerily skipped to my Tuesday, October 29th ultrasound appointment.  The IVF Clinic appointment rooms line a hallway and in between each two patient rooms there is a shared bathroom. When I'm in those bathrooms I constantly recite to myself, "don't forget to unlock the other door." So I can remember. I wonder how many times the hospital staff have to unlock those doors.  These were my thoughts as I used the bathroom and then, I heard Jessi's and the doctor's voices.

Awkward! I had to use a great deal of self restraint not to yell out, "hey guys, it's me, Maggie!" I've got a good relationship with the doc's but that might be pushing it.

Based on tone and assumption but certainly not me leaning my ear against the wall to listen, I deduced that there was a doings a transpiring.  Then I diligently headed back to my room where I undressed from the waist down and hopped up on the table for an ultrasound that would indicate how my uterine lining was thickening. The doctor came in and we got down to business.

"Oh man!" He says. My uterine had NOT been progressing as he had hoped.  F.A.I.L. I immediately blamed myself, asked what I was doing wrong? How I could fix it? What's wrong with me? The doctor assured me that I was not doing anything wrong, but that my uterus was just not responding to the estrogen as quickly as they had hoped. In other news, Jessi was progressing more quickly than they had thought. So that she might be ready to go sooner rather than later. So we would need to boost my estradiol and thicken my uterine wall, or we would have to freeze eggs and wait for my uterus to catch up before doing the transfer. He said it was more important to have an optimal environment than to have freshies. Okay, he didn't say freshies, but I did.

Next stop, blood work.  Where Nurse Mo explained that I would have to take additional estrogen so we can try and force my uterus to grow. So in addition to the 4 Vivelle patches on my body and the shot of Lupron I would also get to take 2 doses of estrogen a day.

So yes. I failed my appointment.

Later that day, Ben, Jessi and I received an email from Mo with explicit directions regarding the next few days. It was long, so I'll spare you the details, but not the highlights:

** Retrieval is on Friday!! Jessi has specific rules about meds and not getting jostled.
** I was to take the estrogen tablets-not orally- I can stop the Lupron on Wednesday! And have an additional ultrasound on Friday to monitor progress, which will help determine the rest of the timeline.
**Ben had directions including, but not limited to the words "abstain", "sample", "fresh" and the phrase "not enough staff to receive it."

On Friday, my uterine wall, according to the doctor measuring the lining was still not thick enough. Moments after leaving the room, the doctor came back in the room and said to stay tuned because the "team" was scrutinizing over the image. Next stop, blood work. Again.

It was about a C+ appointment.

Later that day, I was told to start the progesterone, 3 times a day. And to come back in for another ultrasound on Sunday morning. Yay! Fingers crossed for more blood work! And if anyone is keeping track, I now would be taking 2 estrogen tablets and 3 progesterone tablets (not orally) each day and 4 estrogen patches being changed every 3 days.

Jessi and Ben picked me up on Sunday at 8:20 for my 8:45 appointment. We were ready for some answers! When the doctor came in he assured me that no matter what it said on the monitor, that it did not have a bearing on the likelihood of this pregnancy working. This did not convince me, but I nodded anyway, because I think that is how you are supposed to respond to doctor's. Obviously, if it didn't work it would be my insufficient uterus' fault.

Lucky for everyone, my ute was on the up and up. Turns out all those doctor's are not on the same page. They have conversations where they disagree about how each of them measure uterine walls. Plus, additional estrogen helps. And I like to think I've been willing my uterine wall thicker. For real.

And so there you have it. I'm ready. The embryos are ready. And then they give us an appointment.
Monday, November 4th at 2:00 PM.