Read-a-thon-ing

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Hello, friends!
I’m doing something fun and different that I’ve never done before today -I’m joining nearly 2000 readers!
Dewey’s 24 hour Readathon actually began at 6am, but I had to do meds at 6 so I’m starting at 6:30. I’ll be posting updates and doing some challenges here today while I male a big ‘ol dent in my TBR pile.
Ok, let’s go!
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1) Northern Colorado, USA
2) Making a big dent in my current read Drums Of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon
3) Nachos!
4) I’m a wife to my BFF, a stay-at-home pet mama to 2 dogs, a bunny, and a bird. I’m in the midst of an very long, frustrating, infertility journey-learning-experience and that’s mostly what I blog about here. I read for the escapism, and it gets me through the hard days, but have been a reader since I was young and have loved Stephen King since 5th grade. I’m a fan of stories and not really genre specific. (Stories are what I love most about people, too.)
5) This is my first readathon and I guess I’m mostly looking forward to learning how this community works and joining in…that, and the books!:)
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Six hours in!
I’ve read nearly 4 of them, with breaks for breakfast, and joining the Twitter community (I’m team Goldfinch), doing a couple mini challenges, checking back with the readathon blog to follow along, etc. I’ve only been reading the one book so I’m thinking I’ll switch things up for a bit and perhaps actually finish a book today. Though, it’s totally fine if I don’t. We’re all here for the fun of it!
I’ll leave you with my Operation: Quotation! Challenge quote from my read this morning:
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Over half way!
I confess: I’m kindof a slow reader. I’m easily distracted. Also, my husband kidnapped me for church and dinner and a drive around town. But, you know, he’s worth it!😉 (And He’s worth it.)
I’ve read a little over six hours. I have a goal of 12 in mind so we’ll see if I can make that up tonight. My hubby also offered to stay up playing video games as moral support! It’s love y’all.
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I am about half-way with book number two: Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. And, I’d like to finish it. Though I’m starting my second half with a third book, a graphic novel French Milk by Lucy Knisley. I’m excited because I loved Relish by her.
Ok, I’m off to stick my nose in a book! Here’s another mini challenge quote from today:
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THE END.
I only made it 9 hours of actual reading, but I had so much fun with the community that is all worth it! There’s another Dewey’s 24 hour Readathon in October (2!Every year!) & I’m excited to do it again. Next time I’ll have a big stack of Lucy Knisley graphic memoirs to read. I read 3 books but only finished the 1 graphic memoir, French Milk. I did get well over half way with another book I’ll finish reading today Where’d You Go, Bernadette . And got a nice chunk out of Drums of Autumn .

All in all, my first readathon was great!
Happy Sunday!:)
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The Long Wait

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We’ve been taking a lot of naps around here.

Hello, friends.
I’d like to say -I have so much to tell you!
But, I really don’t.
So much of this process is rinse and repeat that there’s not much to report. And there’s the waiting…seemingly endless amounts of waiting.

Here’s what I can tell you:
While the Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) is different from a normal round of IVF it’s not so different you’ll need a step by step.
I’ve been taking my meds like a good girl. I stuck to the complicated schedule and all my ultrasounds and blood work over the last couple months have looked great.

I had one intense day when I switched to progesterone shots and about an hour after my first one I got nauseous and fainted in the bathroom. I was only out for a minute and I did make it back to bed on my own. (D was at work) I tried to sleep, felt pretty awful, vomited over the side of the bed into a trash can. D came home early and I was supposed to be driving him to the airport that day…it took a lot of convincing but he did make his flight thanks to his sister. I eventually called the doctor’s office to make sure it wasn’t the meds; which would’ve been unlikely since I’d done this before with a different brand but same drug. It wasn’t.  My elevated temperature was a sign to my nurse friend that I had a stomach bug. Luckily, it was mostly kicked in two days. Two very sore and uncomfortable days.

That fear though, that it might have been my meds, is great way to illustrate that this infertility stuff doesn’t get easier the longer you’re dealing with it.  For me, it feels like it gets harder. The stakes get bigger. The fear of something going wrong gets bigger. The I’m so tired of this gets much bigger.

That’s my truth -I’m so tired of this.

So, my regimen of 5 estrogen pills and 1 progesterone shot a day has been my normal for a while. And, the number of alarms in my phone has gone from a dozen to just those 6. Yay!

The day of transfer I was pretty nervous waiting for a phone call expecting our embryos not to survive the thaw. I even got a phone call that had nothing to do with the transfer but freaked me out in the moment the phone was ringing. I was so surprised and relieved and thankful when Dr Sharry came out with this photo:

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Yes, that’s D’s hand holding it, yes it looks rough, he’s in construction, that’s his normal.

The exciting news is that both embryos survived and looked really good! Hallelujah!

I never thought I’d say to a doctor “I’m really looking forward to that catheter.” But I did. And I was. Full bladder + ultrasound + speculum = thankful for the catheter. It’s amusing the things you get used to when you see doctors and nurses for so long. I remember the first transfer during IVF the catheter was my biggest concern since I’d never had one before. This time it was the second best part -after that photo above!

Everything else has been the same as last time.  The transfer went great, followed by bedrest for 3 days -I have the best family and friends who came and hung out with me on the couch, made my favorite foods and continually pray hard those embryos are making themselves at home.

So, now we wait. The longest weeks of our lives to find out if we’ve finally come to the transition part of this journey. The transition from infertility to parenthood. I’m anxious. I’m doubtful. I’m hopeful. I’m hanging on. I’m leaning in….
I’m complicated.

(Infertile) Bookish Thoughts

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I haven’t read very many books on infertility, in fact this is the first. If you know me you might think that’s odd considering I do a fair amount of reading. I’ve just always preferred to read about the baby part, What To Expect When You’re Expecting, rather than the struggle part. I get all my struggle knowledge firsthand, thank you.

A couple weeks ago I came across an article talking about link between infertility and PTSD… Post Traumatic Infertility Stress Disorder or PTIFSD.

“Infertility awareness requires not only an understanding and recognition of the disease itself but of what that disease can do to us.”

I found validation in that article and discovered the author had also written a book -so I ordered it.

Enter The Infertility Survival Handbook.

Firstly, it was written in 2004. You and I both know medicine advances can change dramatically in that amount of time, the same is true for fertility medicine. However, most of what’s written is still relevant even if not perfectly up to date. If you’re on the fence or confused about what procedures come with signing up for infertility treatment this is a perfectly good place to start. It breaks things down and gives you a good foundation to begin to ask your doctor informed questions about your health and what you might be getting into.

There’s no sugar-coating here; in fact, the author is afraid of needles, she might have you unduly worried about needle size and placement. While she gets you concerned over drug side-effects, which DO happen but don’t ALWAYS happen (I have had very little), she also tells you it’s okay to have bad days. To be devastated and excited in turn as you go through this process. It’s very reassuring for someone who’s gone through things multiple times to say “you can do it” and also “you don’t have to do it”.

She talks about the money involved in treatment, navigating insurance, managing stress, telling your family and friends, and even about choosing adoption. I also like that there is an entire reference section of resources to help you with what’s next; be that support groups, immunology, adoption, surrogacy, etc.

My biggest peeve with the book is actually the way the author constantly reminds us of how smart she is, especially during the first several chapters. There’s multiple mentions of “putting on the white coat” so she can explain these complex medical procedures with big words. I find that totally unnecessary. I also disliked later in the book where she talks about marriage trouble and assumes her four years of therapy are enough to allow her to comment on your marriage. There are many instances of her joking, sarcastic, snarky inserts added to the writing in parenthesis where I rolled my eyes, or sighed in frustration.

Advice to milk your treatment trauma with your husband who has gotten off easy during this process bothers me. She does later talk about being a support for your guy if you’re dealing with male-factor infertility but I find it insulting to assume husbands need you to use your bad days as leverage for pampering. Maybe I’m over-sensetive to husband criticism or over-optimistic about the majority of the husband population. I do believe that this process makes you more intimate on an emotional level and simply asking for what you need is usually enough. Don’t underestimate the toll it takes on a man to see his wife go through this process. He’s not blind to that or immune to the excitement/devastation rollercoaster.

So, if you’re on Goodreads (let’s be friends) my review rating is 3 stars. I liked The Infertility Survival Handbook. I didn’t love it, though it had very good info, and I didn’t hate it, though it had some problems. Also, if you’re really wanting to read it, let me know, I’ll gladly send you my copy!

Is  there an infertility book you think I should read? Recommended away!

Until next time -♡.

On Creating Your Own Safe Space

I want to chat for a minute (or ten) about safe spaces.

Sometimes the places you think you should be safe aren’t, and the places you are afraid to be vulnerable are the best places to do just that.

Have you ever noticed how like attracts like? People with similar (I’m going to call it for the sake of this discussion) trauma seem to find each other. Sometimes people on the outside of your hurt, no matter how close to your heart, cannot understand what you’re going through. There’s a reason humans create support groups, that we seek experiences like our own.

If you are going through something painful, difficult, confusing, or emotionally draining I want to encourage you to seek out a safe place, with safe people, to talk about all that these kinds of life experiences encompass. You might be surprised what and who that looks like.

Your safe place might be with family members. Or it might not. It might be with close friends. It might not. It could be that your safe place is with a professional counselor, or with a group of strangers…gathered because they share a similar need. Someone to understand.

There should be no judgements in your safe place. Dirty laundry isn’t dirty in a safe space. You’re allowed to be selfish, angry, hurt, raw, or whatever you need to be in your safe space. You’re allowed to not make sense, you’re allowed to say bad words, to ugly cry.

Sometimes our traumas need to be held by more than one body. Sometimes we need to spread the burden a little and hear we are not alone in order to cope day to day with the huge thing overshadowing everything else in our lives.

When you start to look around you and decide who is allowed access into your safe space I want to encourage you not to allow guilt to follow those people in. In your safe space there’s no room for guilt over who’s included and who is not. It could be just one person, or it could be a whole group of people. Size doesn’t matter; that’s true for so many things and especially here. What matters is building a trust that gives you the freedom to get brutally honest. What matters is people who love you no matter what ugly stuff you have to say in the moment. Let’s face it -trauma is ugly, pain is ugly. People who hear you and let all of that be ok -that is beautiful.
That is a safe space.

Even if you are thinking you don’t need that, you’ve got this thing handled. Let me just say, oh friend, we all need it at some point. And the blessing of needing a safe space is that when the tide turns you have become someone else’s safe space in the process. That is surely an amazing calling. Being trusted that much, loving someone through the most difficult days of their lives…well, there’s divinity in that, and we might all pray to be so blessed.

Don’t be afraid to mindfully create your own safe space. Don’t let past let downs keep you from trying to find just the right people to let in. Sometimes there’s set backs, no body is perfect. But when you find just the right people, when your safe space comes together and actively holds up that burden for you a little…well, there’s magic in that. I hope everyone is touched with that magic at some time in their lives even when it hurts to get there.

To the people who make up my own safe space -thank you, I love you, I’m so thankful for each and every one of you.

Here and Now

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Hello friends!

After a long and much needed hiatus I’m back…here to keep you in the loop…and in that office I spent so much time in last year.

We met with Dr.B last week, got the low down on what we do now, and signed a stack of consent forms thick enough to give us hand cramps.

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Today I had my baseline ultrasound; everything begins here, same as before. And, thankfully, everything was still utterly normal. I also picked up my calendar and prescriptions to get filled. The calendar is already up and ready to begin the count down. Here’s a blurry look at that:

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Schedules. Schedules.

So, the simple way to explain all these drugs is that the Dr. shuts down the part of my brain that runs my hormones and then supplements, monitors, and controls my body’s natural rhythm. The goal for IVF was to get my body to make eggs, lots and lots of eggs, and we manipulated my chemistry to accomplish that.

For a FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer) our goal is to control and balance my chemistry to create the best possible home for those little embryos. Last time the focus was on the ovaries, this time all the focus is on the uterus.

Some people say that a frozen embryo cycle works better than a fresh embryo cycle (FET is better than IVF) and this switch in focus may be the key.
Please, God, let it be the key.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. We only have two frozen embryos, it feels like our last chance. We are praying when the time comes both those little seeds survive the thaw; there’s always a chance one or both may not. We’re praying those little seeds continue to grow, and eventually take root in this perfectly welcoming environment we will be creating.

Want to pray for us?
Pray I can be diligent with my complex drug protocol (Good news! Only two shots!) and pray I have the willpower to treat my body well to prepare it in every way possible.

We’re marking off our first of many days committed to this next thing. Thanks for hanging in there with us!

Did I forget something you’re curious about? Just let me know and I’ll address it in another post.

(If you’re new here Welcome! and wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into you can scroll back in time and catch up on all things infertility HERE.)

Trust

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Not too long ago I wrote a letter to Dr. B. I’d run into him out shopping one evening and got to give him a hug and wish him Merry Christmas. I hadn’t seen him since he called to say the IVF didn’t work; I had been expecting to feel…upset or sad, maybe sorry or guilty…like we worked really hard, prayed really hard, for this thing to happen and maybe it was my fault it failed.

I didn’t feel any of those things though, I just felt joy. Seeing him for the first time out of the office, realizing I missed the people we’d spent so much of our time with this past year. And later, knowing I needed to tell him that the year, though difficult at times, was all part of the plan -I wrote him a letter.

Here’s what it said:
After our disappointing IVF I was having a hard time wrapping my head around all the whys and how comes. It’s been a hard 8 years hoping for this dream, and so much hard work by so many people this last year chasing it. It feels like God keeps asking me to walk toward a cliff and put my toes over the edge. That’s scary, I’m tired, it hurts, I’m a slow walker.

So, I was doing a Bible study called Discerning the Voice of God. I’m pretty sure in the 12 weeks we took to go through it people are generally supposed to learn something new every chapter. Things about obedience and seeking and whatnot. But my study was full of one thing: Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.
And arrogantly I think ‘that’s what I’m doing! ‘.

Then He got really real…
He asked me -If I offered to turn your fertility over to your best friend would you want me to?
I’m, of course, saying -Yes! Let’s do that! I trust her, she wants what I want, we’d have this fixed by dinner.
And the response I get is -Why do you trust your fallible human friend more than your infallible God?
Ouch.

So, back to my cliff, I was talking to someone recently about this image of God asking me to put my toes over the cliff and do that hard trust thing, and it brought up yet another question from God.
-If Dr. Bachus asked you to jump off a cliff would you do it?
And my answer was -Yes! Of course! Because I trust him. I trust if he asked me to do that then I would be tethered.
The response to that was simple and profound -Then trust me to have you tethered and keep walking.

So, I’m not trying to raise anxiety about this crazy patient with too much trust in you, but rather to reaffirm the importance of the process.
It’d be great if God let you be in charge of our infertility, we’d have this fixed by dinner, right?
But it’s not up to you.
You just get to do your part, bring the science! And turn the whole thing over to the only One who knows the reason for the journey. Maybe, we hope, it’s a baby. But maybe it’s something we can’t see yet because our toes haven’t found the edge of the cliff. Frustrating that the answer can’t be even an inch closer.

Sometimes, I get questions about if doing these treatment things are really trusting God.
Well, there can be no doubt when each moment -from admitting to my heart that adoption was a means to an end but not a solution to a problem, to right now- doors flew open before us. Some opened with a tragedy to lead us to a blessing and on to days of frustration. But, the doors haven’t closed yet so we keep going where they lead. They may not lead in the direction I want, but I can’t doubt the leading for my own expectation. Of course it’s trusting God, the dude invented everything science is based on!
Sure, He could snap His fingers and make this easier -but dang it if easy is not the point. Father’s are so like that.
*insert my teenage eye roll here*

It’s not a Christmas miracle, but a Christmas blessing instead…tears don’t make for a bad year, sometimes they’re just growing pains.

Waves

I am standing on a shore
In the tide line
I watch the waves break
The frothy sea rushing at my feet
It does not reach my toes
I smile and look up
I can see an endless horizon
Feel the warm sun on my face

I do not sense the change
I only feel the sand slipping beneath me
Looking down, the sea has claimed my toes
My instep, my heals
Sea overtakes my feet

Step back, I think, step back
I cannot move
I cannot lift my feet
I cannot lift my eyes
I can only allow the wave to come
Cover me, sink down in it
Wait

I think there should be a rhythm in the waves
A setting-off point
A noticeable shift before I am covered
Trapped

As unpredictably as it arrived
It slips away
The sea draws back
Only then can I move
A laborious tug of war
Drawing myself from the sand

I stand and watch the waves break
I lift my eyes

Grief

Grief is your doctor saying his prayers weren’t answered; hearing his disappointment before he speaks the hard truth aloud.

Grief is trying to hold it together long enough to finish the conversation so you don’t blubber into the phone.

Grief is curling up in your bed and sobbing until it feels like your head and chest will explode with the pain.

Grief is wishing you could sleep until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Grief is clinging to a photo of your babies and knowing they’ll never be more than those few cells but it feels like a miscarriage all over again.

Grief is putting on makeup and sunglasses and hoping no one asks how your day is going.

Grief is giving into the ugly cry when you need to; pulling over to sob until you can see to drive again.

Grief is letting tears fall when they need to, packing extra kleenex, and knowing you have to let the pain in for it to get better.

Grief is feeling angry when people want to comfort you; even tender words to a wounded heart can hurt.

Grief is praying for acceptance of whatever happens; praying the pain doesn’t harden your heart.

Grief is time. The oblivion of sleep, the stray tears of insomnia, moments of distraction, moments carried under by the waves.

Grief is waiting; choosing to move slowly, being tender with your body and your heart. Allowing the weight and truth be what it is and not trying to rush to cover it or push it away. It’s knowing those sparks of life deserve to be grieved just as they were loved; wholly and completely.

The Transfer Story

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Awake at 5am, not because I needed to be but because I think I was worried about my bladder. I got up at 2am to pee, and I needed it refilled to very uncomfortable for the embryo transfer this morning. Having a full bladder helps push the uterus into an optimal drop off position for the transfer and is one of my few jobs today. Get my shot, take a shower, don’t pee, lay with a flat pelvis afterwards.

So, needless to say I was awake at 6am when my actual alarm went off. I’d been thinking about and praying about our little embryos in the dark while I waited, excitedly nervous-hopeful. At 6:45am we were greeted by my nurse Jeneka’s smiling face, she’s a favorite, I was very happy to see her. I got changed into my gown, socks, hat, and mask -the extent of my OR prep today. Yay! D put on coveralls over his street clothes, booties, hat, and mask to accompany me this time. I got comfy on the gurney, we signed consents, Jeneka asked what I remembered about retrieval. When I told her I said “just a pinch” when it hurt so they wouldn’t stop she said she guessed it was more painful than I let on and maybe having tattoos prepared me to handle it so well.

Dr. Shari came in, that was our first face-to-face meeting and I was glad I got to shake her hand. She had the picture above to give us with the encouragement that they divided and compacted together just like they should, they look great. She also said we have 4 more about that stage and so we’ll see how they do over the next couple days to know how many we can freeze. We stared at the picture a little in awe that life begins so small, so miraculously, and that medicine can touch magic in such a way.

Dr. B came in and we were ready to roll! I did roll in fact; gurney to OR, scooted over onto the table and tried to relax while I looked around a bit at all the things I missed from being drugged a few days ago. Jeneka set the ultrasound on my pelvis, Dr. B explained what we were watching on the monitor, and then sneeky-as-can-be he dropped off the embryos via catheter. Bodies are so sensetive as to how things get delivered sometimes, geesh. He then drained my bladder for me so I could remain flat for the next 45 minutes and not be in agony. It’s the relief of 2am on a cold winter day and not having to leave the warm nest of your bed to walk across a cold floor to the bathroom. He talked over my going home instructions while we waited. Pelvis horizontal until Wednesday night (let’s call it Thursday morning), no activity that strains the lower abdominal muscles -heavy lifting, crunches. We need a nice gentle home for implantation. Then, I scooted back to the gurney, rolled back to the prep area and relaxed a while.

Dr. B told me my retrieval was one for the memoirs, and such a good story. He said it was hard work for him and so had to be hard for me. You’re so strong. He said, and I teared up. Apparently he’d almost given up on that right side ovary. He’d tried, and it was stubborn and there was a section of bowel in the way he couldn’t risk hitting to get to it. He’d started breaking down the instruments and decided he’d give it one more shot. I’m just stubborn. He said, Couldn’t leave it alone, so I checked one more time. That’s when we had you do the hyperventilating. He grinned. When you took a deep breath it changed the pressure in your belly just enough that the bowel moved aside and I could get a straight shot into the ovary. (This is with Hilary also aiding us by pushing on my belly from the outside.) He was afraid he couldn’t just have me hold my breath forever…to which I said he could have, I’d have held my breath as long as it took, that’s all I was thinking about. I’ll do anything. He said Yes. exactly what he feels too, we do whatever we have to.

So, with the needle in the ovary I let out my breath and the bowel pressed on the needle shaft while he extracted an egg. Then he asked me to take a deep breath to move the bowel so he could safely reposition the needle for the next egg. We did that over and over and it worked. He laughed It was the darndest thing. A most unique retrieval. I told him about how I had all these people praying Move, ovary, move. He said that was prefect and surely it worked.

It’s so humbling to have a doctor tell you you’re a strong person. Because oh my gosh I don’t feel that way. Keeping my smile, being willing to do the process, he knows it’s not easy and he notices those things. When I tell you that Dr. B and his staff are an important part of our journey this is why. He didn’t give up. Not all doctors would do that.

While I waited to be released to get up, get dressed, and come home I daydreamed about how maybe this time next year we’d be asking them all to stay late after work. We’d bring our baby(s) to introduce them to all the hearts and hands that worked so hard to create them. We’d have a photographer friend come and take ‘family’ photos. We’d celebrate. I’m praying in that direction, one day, one day.

Lastly, I had two songs in my head all morning…
Third Day -Sing a Song
BJ Thomas -Hooked on a Feeling
Don’t ask me why, but that’s my morning soundtrack. One for each embryo.😉

The Embryo Update

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Thank you Google images.

Retrieval success!
On Thursday morning I was given a very nice drug cocktail that made the day seem like a dream I can’t quite grasp.  And then Dr. B (with much assistance from my posse of favorite nurses: Kelley, Hilary, and Jeneka) poked my ovaries with a needle and collected 10 little eggs. The good Lord answered our prayers and allowed access to that stubborn right ovary! I did have to hold my breath a few times to help push it into place, and that’s mostly what I remember from the procedure.

Dr.B: Okay, take that big deep breath.
Me thinking: You will hold this breath as long as it takes to get those dang eggs.
Hilary: You can breathe normal.
Rinse and repeat several times.

There was minimal pain, I did feel a sharp stab a few times, but only once I remember flinching and gasping and when they asked if I was okay I said “just a pinch” so they wouldn’t stop. I kept thinking push into the pain that’s how he’s gonna get to them. And he did, 5 eggs from each ovary.

Then I went home in a sleepy stupor and mostly slept till 3 pm. I’ve had a little soreness, a little crampy feeling, more so on the right than the left, but nothing that I needed meds for after the fact. I began my anti-rejection drugs that night and my progesterone shots the very next morning to prep my body to receive back embryos. Now that we’re caught up with me let’s talk embryo development!

Everyday we get a report on what’s happening with our little seeds so I’ll update this same post as we go when I know the next thing so it’s easier to track development. (Sorry if it gets long.) Here’s a chart that might help:

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Friday’s Report:
Dr. Shari, the embryologist, erred on the side of caution and fertilized 8 eggs with ICSI (Intra-cytoplasmic sperm injection) and 2 she allowed to fertilize on their own. 5 of the eggs are visibly fertilized -4 ICSI, 1 natural. There was no difference in egg quality or outcome between the different ovaries. Also, just because she only saw the 2 pronuclei stage (image 1 above) in 5 eggs doesn’t mean there aren’t more. It’s a temporary stage so we may end up with a different embryo count over the next several days. That’s why we get a daily report. For now, we celebrate the 5!, pray for continued superstar development and wait.

Saturday’s Report:
Dr.B called to let me know 2 embryos are at just the right stage in development, and 3 are half-a-step behind. He said that’s totally normal and looking good for today. Tomorrow he should be able to tell a little better about quality and whatnot. We just need 2 good seeds for transfer on Monday so we are very thankful. Grow, babies, grow!

Sunday’s Report:
Dr. B called with very good news! We have 4 embryos at the 8-cell stage (3 ICSI, 1 natural), and 2 embryos at the 4-cell stage. If you’ve been following our math you’ll be noticing we got a little baby bonus. He was careful to tell me it is a small bonus, and things can change quickly, but that they’re continuing to monitor growth with hope for even the one-step-behind embryos.

Our reunion is set for tomorrow morning at 7am! We’ll head over to the office a little early and have a conversation about who’s coming home with us and who will be frozen for a later cycle. Assuming things stay on this same trajectory we’ll most likely choose the two best looking embryos for transfer. If something unfortunate happens over night we’ll decide best course of action for success. One of the things I love about Dr. B is that he’s willing to push the envelope, but still approaches things with a conservative heart. He’s okay if we have twins, and he’ll push a little in that direction since we are open to that. But, he worries about triplets for my health and the health of the babies. He wants me to have a healthy, happy pregnancy and healthy, happy babies to show for all our hard work!

In our perfect world we’d obviously like this to be successful on the first go. I want to be pregnant tomorrow, that’s my prayer. We’d also like to have embryos viable for freezing, that would mean a chance at siblings later on in this perfect world we’re thinking of. However, if hard things happen and we don’t get the dream tomorrow having extra embryos will give us a chance to try again without needing to repeat the retrieval process. While that’s not the perfect world it would still be a blessing. So, as you continue to pray for our family you are armed with all our hopes. Thank you so much for your continued love and support! If any babies could be prayed into existence it will be ours. How many kids can say they weren’t just a parent’s dream, but were born first in the hearts of an entire community of family and friends? That awes me to no end.

We are so grateful.

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In Color Order

A journal for a girl who likes words + photos.

a cuppa and a catch up

tea + craft = bliss

A journal for a girl who likes words + photos.

Ali Edwards Blog

A journal for a girl who likes words + photos.

june at noon

A journal for a girl who likes words + photos.

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