OK - appt. is confirmed with the Reproductive Immunologist and plane tickets are booked to Chicago. The whole family is flying out next Thursday and I have a cyber-friend, Lani (hi, Lani!), from the Resolve board helping me figure out where to stay and what fun things to do while we are there.
An additional piece of good news - I FINALLY was able to enroll for my BC/BS benefits through my work today. Nothing like getting it in down to the wire, but according to the HR Director, I should be effect October 1st (in time for my appt. Oct 4th!). That means double insurance coverage. Something of this will hopefully be paid by someone other than me! Fingers and toes crossed on that one.
So on the one hand, I feel very purposeful and productive. On the other hand, I'm like, what the hell am I doing? Planning my vacations around doctor's appointments? I haven't even discussed this with my RE. I'm just GOING. I feel like this is a little crazy. But I know it's the right thing to do. That's all there is to say about that.
We celebrated my darling husband's 37th birthday last night. A whole night dedicated to eating, drinking and being merry and NOT thinking about IF treatments. How about that? I almost didn't know how to act. We had friends over and it was such a nice evening. Thanks to everyone who came out and made it special.
That's all for now. More to follow. I haven't even mentioned the fact that I will also be consulting an infectious disease specialist who is also an OB/GYN. But let's not go there - then you might think I'm REALLY going off the deep end . . .
Nighty night,
-kelly
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Interesting information.
So, it looks like we may have an answer, or at least the beginnings of an answer, to why we've been struggling to conceive.
The testing we intitated prior to our IVF that took weeks to complete finally came in a couple of days ago.
It's very strange to try and explain this, because I essentially understand little to none of all the ins and outs of genetics, but I'll do my best.
When a woman gets pregnant, her immune system has to recognize the developing embryo as different from herself - as a separate developing entity that should be allowed to stay. That means that genetically, a man and woman should be different from eachother and not too similar. If it happens that there are genetic matches on particular alleles, trouble can occur. The woman's body may think it's her own cells that have altered, or mutated in some way, similar to how the body recognizes and destroys cancerous cells.
Well, my dearest husband and I are an exact match on an allele that is notorious for both causing a.) immune problems and b.) miscarriages. Hmmm - sound familiar?
I don't know whether to feel happy or upset about this. Yes, it is good to finally start getting some answers! But what I read tells me that our situation is treatable, but it involves a LOT of meds, transfusions, and travelling to get what is most likely needed.
I feel a little daunted right now. It will probably pass, but I am wondering - will this REALLY work? I am so incredibly cynical anymore.
One step at a time. One day at a time. Breathe, Kelly, breathe.
So, Chris and I talked last night and decided - let's make lemonade out of lemons. He is taking a couple of days off work and coming to Chicago with me, and we're taking Christopher out of school and bringing him with us. We've never been to Chicago before and it IS a great american city and all. So we're going to make an adventure out of it. Of course, we're not telling him that mommy is seeing a new doctor - I'll go and do my thing while they find something fun to do. I think it will be fun.
Crazy - so now we're planning our vacations around specialist appointments in different cities around the country? Friends, life takes us to some veeerrry strange places, it does.
Meanwhile, it's my husband's birthday on Tuesday and still have NO idea what to get him. Time to focus on the here and now for the next several days.
As always, thank for checking in.
-kelly
The testing we intitated prior to our IVF that took weeks to complete finally came in a couple of days ago.
It's very strange to try and explain this, because I essentially understand little to none of all the ins and outs of genetics, but I'll do my best.
When a woman gets pregnant, her immune system has to recognize the developing embryo as different from herself - as a separate developing entity that should be allowed to stay. That means that genetically, a man and woman should be different from eachother and not too similar. If it happens that there are genetic matches on particular alleles, trouble can occur. The woman's body may think it's her own cells that have altered, or mutated in some way, similar to how the body recognizes and destroys cancerous cells.
Well, my dearest husband and I are an exact match on an allele that is notorious for both causing a.) immune problems and b.) miscarriages. Hmmm - sound familiar?
I don't know whether to feel happy or upset about this. Yes, it is good to finally start getting some answers! But what I read tells me that our situation is treatable, but it involves a LOT of meds, transfusions, and travelling to get what is most likely needed.
I feel a little daunted right now. It will probably pass, but I am wondering - will this REALLY work? I am so incredibly cynical anymore.
One step at a time. One day at a time. Breathe, Kelly, breathe.
So, Chris and I talked last night and decided - let's make lemonade out of lemons. He is taking a couple of days off work and coming to Chicago with me, and we're taking Christopher out of school and bringing him with us. We've never been to Chicago before and it IS a great american city and all. So we're going to make an adventure out of it. Of course, we're not telling him that mommy is seeing a new doctor - I'll go and do my thing while they find something fun to do. I think it will be fun.
Crazy - so now we're planning our vacations around specialist appointments in different cities around the country? Friends, life takes us to some veeerrry strange places, it does.
Meanwhile, it's my husband's birthday on Tuesday and still have NO idea what to get him. Time to focus on the here and now for the next several days.
As always, thank for checking in.
-kelly
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I will survive this . . .
This is my mantra. I will say it over and over to myself, until I have no choice but to believe it. I will survive this. I will not let myself be claimed by infertility. I will fight back - I will survive. I will not be bitter, although I will cry. I will be better - a better person, a better mother, a better wife.
This is all I can say to myself today, when there is nothing else to console and comfort me.
Because the child we so prayed for chose not to join us at this time, I will continue to focus on calling our next child into this world, and trust that when the time is right, he/she will come. I will continue to shower love on the one miracle we have - our son, for he so deserves every bit that I can give him.
So now I go into battle-ready mode. I will scour my medical record for clues. I will pour over medical research to increase my understanding of why did our IVF fail? I will fly to Chicago in 2 1/2 weeks, and I will go to a specialist that helps people find answers.
There may be a time when surrender becomes a viable option, and if that time comes, sobeit. Now, however is not that time.
I am, of course, devastated. For many reasons, not just because the IVF didn't work. It feels so awful to have worked so hard, and to have failed. To have to tell those who are pulling for us is so hard that it just didn't work this time. I hate writing this post.
But it is what it is. I now join the ranks of "those" people. People fighting to reclaim their fertility - who pour their physical, emotional and financial resources into overcoming the odds. I am now, a statistic. I am the 1 in 8 people you know who is struggling with - dare I say it? Infertility.
There it is. That's really all I can say for now.
I will survive this.
-kelly
This is all I can say to myself today, when there is nothing else to console and comfort me.
Because the child we so prayed for chose not to join us at this time, I will continue to focus on calling our next child into this world, and trust that when the time is right, he/she will come. I will continue to shower love on the one miracle we have - our son, for he so deserves every bit that I can give him.
So now I go into battle-ready mode. I will scour my medical record for clues. I will pour over medical research to increase my understanding of why did our IVF fail? I will fly to Chicago in 2 1/2 weeks, and I will go to a specialist that helps people find answers.
There may be a time when surrender becomes a viable option, and if that time comes, sobeit. Now, however is not that time.
I am, of course, devastated. For many reasons, not just because the IVF didn't work. It feels so awful to have worked so hard, and to have failed. To have to tell those who are pulling for us is so hard that it just didn't work this time. I hate writing this post.
But it is what it is. I now join the ranks of "those" people. People fighting to reclaim their fertility - who pour their physical, emotional and financial resources into overcoming the odds. I am now, a statistic. I am the 1 in 8 people you know who is struggling with - dare I say it? Infertility.
There it is. That's really all I can say for now.
I will survive this.
-kelly
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Back to work and other miscellaneous thoughts
Well, here I am smack-dab in the middle of the dreaded two-week-wait. This is that "nth" day of 100 degree temperatures in the summertime, when you are just looking for some relief from the heat. This is the phone that isn't ringing when you desperately need to talk to someone. The dolldrums - when there is no wind when you just want to steer your sailboat. All one can do is rock on the waters, and drift aimlessly - the currents of life take me where they will.
So, I've thrown myself back into my work. Or rather, I'm trying. Although they've bumped me up to a priorty status (I've increased my hours), they are still struggling to bring in the OT referrals. I didn't get to see any patients yesterday, but Tuesday was busy, and that was a great relief from the drifting. The drifting is awful.
My son is my greatest blessing, always, but particularly in these nether-world days when the promise of a baby is still close - but just out of reach. So we do fun things together. Go to the park, visit flower gardens, take hikes, visit with friends, go get ice cream or have a special dinner out.
He deserves this time - all the weeks of preperation for the IVF: the shots on schedule, the ultrasound and bloodwork appointments, the surgery to remove eggs, the procedure to replace one much-loved embryo - every one of those things means time taken away from him. Yes, for the greater goal of providing him with his longed-for sibling, but I see that it takes it's toll on him.
So my days from here on out are dedicated to him. And when he's in school, to my work. So far, it has kept me focused during this drifting, dreaming time - when the longed-for baby is still a possibility.
For over two years, I have entered into the two-week-wait feeling determinedly hopeful. There was a time when I felt I knew my body and it's signs and would attend to them with an air of expectation. After literally being through this dozens of times, and subjecting my body to various procedures and many medications, I have now had to surrender any sort of ability to forsee the outcome. The medications fool my body into thinking it's pregnant, so it behaves that way. Healing from the surgery produces symptoms that make one feel bloated and heavy. The mind manages to play tricks with the rest, and one can begin to convince herself of anything. The truth is, I have no idea is this worked.
To all those who wait and wonder with me, I feel I owe some words of caution. As a veteran of the cycle of hope and despair, try not to become too invested in the outcome. I know many, many deserving women, women who would make the best mothers, and still have not gotten their miracle. The unfairness, injustice of it happens everyday, and I don't know why.
I just don't know what will happen. I feel responsible for those I've invited on this journey - I know how a heart can break for someone else when they don't get that miracle - I spend more and more time consoling those who don't. But I also know the joy when someone finally catches a break, and it is just so sweet.
So I hope you all can stick with me, regardless of the outcome. I realize it is difficult. I hope that we, me and this (hopefully) exponentially growing blastocyst (or should I visualize it as a rapidly differentiating fetus by now? I'll have to check my old college textbooks . . .), do not fail to disappoint.
I may post a couple of times over the next week or so, but I will be trying to shift my focus to things of this world for the time being - to what is. Sometimes my greatest consolation is to simply live life in the present and accept the fact that the tides have control - they will take me where they may.
As always, thanks for reading.
-kelly
So, I've thrown myself back into my work. Or rather, I'm trying. Although they've bumped me up to a priorty status (I've increased my hours), they are still struggling to bring in the OT referrals. I didn't get to see any patients yesterday, but Tuesday was busy, and that was a great relief from the drifting. The drifting is awful.
My son is my greatest blessing, always, but particularly in these nether-world days when the promise of a baby is still close - but just out of reach. So we do fun things together. Go to the park, visit flower gardens, take hikes, visit with friends, go get ice cream or have a special dinner out.
He deserves this time - all the weeks of preperation for the IVF: the shots on schedule, the ultrasound and bloodwork appointments, the surgery to remove eggs, the procedure to replace one much-loved embryo - every one of those things means time taken away from him. Yes, for the greater goal of providing him with his longed-for sibling, but I see that it takes it's toll on him.
So my days from here on out are dedicated to him. And when he's in school, to my work. So far, it has kept me focused during this drifting, dreaming time - when the longed-for baby is still a possibility.
For over two years, I have entered into the two-week-wait feeling determinedly hopeful. There was a time when I felt I knew my body and it's signs and would attend to them with an air of expectation. After literally being through this dozens of times, and subjecting my body to various procedures and many medications, I have now had to surrender any sort of ability to forsee the outcome. The medications fool my body into thinking it's pregnant, so it behaves that way. Healing from the surgery produces symptoms that make one feel bloated and heavy. The mind manages to play tricks with the rest, and one can begin to convince herself of anything. The truth is, I have no idea is this worked.
To all those who wait and wonder with me, I feel I owe some words of caution. As a veteran of the cycle of hope and despair, try not to become too invested in the outcome. I know many, many deserving women, women who would make the best mothers, and still have not gotten their miracle. The unfairness, injustice of it happens everyday, and I don't know why.
I just don't know what will happen. I feel responsible for those I've invited on this journey - I know how a heart can break for someone else when they don't get that miracle - I spend more and more time consoling those who don't. But I also know the joy when someone finally catches a break, and it is just so sweet.
So I hope you all can stick with me, regardless of the outcome. I realize it is difficult. I hope that we, me and this (hopefully) exponentially growing blastocyst (or should I visualize it as a rapidly differentiating fetus by now? I'll have to check my old college textbooks . . .), do not fail to disappoint.
I may post a couple of times over the next week or so, but I will be trying to shift my focus to things of this world for the time being - to what is. Sometimes my greatest consolation is to simply live life in the present and accept the fact that the tides have control - they will take me where they may.
As always, thanks for reading.
-kelly
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Doing OK!
Lots of calls today from people checking in - just wanted everyone to know all is well. I am resting - my dearest husband grounded me past my mandatory 24 hour bedrest to extend through the remainder of the day. We figure - give that little embie an extra chance to snuggle up!
Nothing new to say, really. I've got 2 weeks of waiting to hear anything about whether this works or not. There's no point in trying to figure it out beforehand - believe me, I've done that. After today, I will try to put it out of my mind and focus on other things.
I'll start back to work next week - which will be a much-needed diversion. Believe me, I have my misgivings over it. I worry that it will jeopardize my chances of making this a success, but that is a silly worry, really. Best to just get back into it. Otherwise, I will make myself a complete mental case.
Well, I may do that anyway, but at least I will be getting paid!
As always, thanks for checking in and for all your good wishes.
A special shout out to Monica - thank you for your email today. I especially feel your positive vibes right now. I won't out you and post your email, but know that I hear you getting all of this!
-kelly
Nothing new to say, really. I've got 2 weeks of waiting to hear anything about whether this works or not. There's no point in trying to figure it out beforehand - believe me, I've done that. After today, I will try to put it out of my mind and focus on other things.
I'll start back to work next week - which will be a much-needed diversion. Believe me, I have my misgivings over it. I worry that it will jeopardize my chances of making this a success, but that is a silly worry, really. Best to just get back into it. Otherwise, I will make myself a complete mental case.
Well, I may do that anyway, but at least I will be getting paid!
As always, thanks for checking in and for all your good wishes.
A special shout out to Monica - thank you for your email today. I especially feel your positive vibes right now. I won't out you and post your email, but know that I hear you getting all of this!
-kelly
Friday, September 7, 2007
Back from embryo transfer
I now have a 6-cell, grade 2 embryo snuggling up inside my uterus! It doubled in size over night, and showed a little fragmentation and some uneven cell size this morning, but not a bad little embie, all the same. It's growing - it's a fighter!
They did the assisted hatching to make it easier for the embryo to come out of the shell and burrow in. I know this isn't the most perfect scenario - but in life, sometimes the best things don't start out as perfect. I acknowledge the realities, but also realize there is a chance - perhaps the first real chance for us in years - to have a baby. This could be our month.
Thank you for all the positive energy from the board members. I go now to lay in bed and focus my attention on my little embie, and encourage it to grow - cheer it on! The RE told me it takes about another 48 hours or so before implantation occurs. I will try to focus my energies to encourage it over each hurdle this little one must jump.
I think I'll also watch a Harry Potter movie today. I just finished reading the last book - and it was so good! Better than I ever imagined. Now I'm ready to re-watch the old movies. Maybe play guitar and sing to the little one for awhile, and take a nap.
-kelly
They did the assisted hatching to make it easier for the embryo to come out of the shell and burrow in. I know this isn't the most perfect scenario - but in life, sometimes the best things don't start out as perfect. I acknowledge the realities, but also realize there is a chance - perhaps the first real chance for us in years - to have a baby. This could be our month.
Thank you for all the positive energy from the board members. I go now to lay in bed and focus my attention on my little embie, and encourage it to grow - cheer it on! The RE told me it takes about another 48 hours or so before implantation occurs. I will try to focus my energies to encourage it over each hurdle this little one must jump.
I think I'll also watch a Harry Potter movie today. I just finished reading the last book - and it was so good! Better than I ever imagined. Now I'm ready to re-watch the old movies. Maybe play guitar and sing to the little one for awhile, and take a nap.
-kelly
Thursday, September 6, 2007
One more thing - an open letter to my embie, on the night before our transfer
Preface: Apologies if this is too much/too sappy. I needed a catharsis tonight - to put these thoughts/this energy out into the universe, and this is the best way I could think to do it, on this night before my ET. I hope none of you mind the imposition.
Someone earlier this week on the Resolve board wrote a letter to their ovaries. I thought, then why not write one to my one remaining embryo?
Hello little one,
Tomorrow I will be coming to claim you. For the last 3 days, I've slept and ate little, for thinking of you and willing you to grow and thrive in a lab a few miles from our home.
I have gone to yoga, eaten organic, forsaken coffee, alcohol and (just about) anything fried. I have had ice cream a few times - I hope you don't mind. I have gone to a massage therapist for lymphatic massage to purge my body of impurities and to my psychotherpist to clear my mind of clutter and negativity. I have gone religiously to acupuncture, taken herbs, then not taken them as directed by my doctor. I have been given many shots, some I even gave to myself (although I did cry a little both times I had to do it), and have had countless blood draws and ultrasounds. I have purchased - and listened to - recorded meditations to calm myself, and practiced positive affirmations and guided imagery.
I have researched, obsessively, the ways in which I can make my body a home for you for the next 40 weeks, and I will continue to do everything I can to make it possible for you to survive. I am ready to fly to Chicago in two weeks to enlist the help of a special doctor who will make sure my body does not misbehave should you choose to stay awhile.
I have been learning to play the guitar, and taken up my long neglected piano playing to create more balance in my life, and to give the gift of music to you - one of the most precious gifts my mother gave to me as I was growing up.
Of all the possible combinations of eggs and sperm, you were the only one that made it from this cycle. I know you are strong and healthy and you can latch onto me and grow, grow, grow.
I can't promise that life will be easy for you, should you choose to stay. But here's what I do know: you have a family waiting for you. I don't know that a child was prayed for or longed for more than we all have longed for you. Not only is there a mother and a father who are waiting for you with open arms, but you have a big brother who constantly asks when will he get to meet you? He is so good, loving and kind - he will want to make you laugh and always try to keep you safe, just like your mom and dad.
There are aunts and uncles, and cousins and grandparents (2 sets) - none of whom are perfect, but I've seen how they are with your big brother. They will love you and love you and love you - and most likely spoil you rotten, but I think I can live with that.
We have dozens of friends here with children for you to play with. And sweet teenaged babysitters who live across the street just waiting to hold a baby, should mommy need a break. They are all good people who are calling you to this world, too.
I've never felt the power of prayer and positive energy so keenly than since I started this process and shared my journey to you with these good people in my life. All this goodwill and love - for you.
Now, if it comes to pass that you are unable to stay, know this, regardless of the outcome, before you ever even had a heartbeat, know that you were loved.
My heart, my mind, and my body is open to receive you tomorrow. I pray that you choose this life, this time, this family.
I am calling you, my child, to me. Come home.
love,
mommy
Someone earlier this week on the Resolve board wrote a letter to their ovaries. I thought, then why not write one to my one remaining embryo?
Hello little one,
Tomorrow I will be coming to claim you. For the last 3 days, I've slept and ate little, for thinking of you and willing you to grow and thrive in a lab a few miles from our home.
I have gone to yoga, eaten organic, forsaken coffee, alcohol and (just about) anything fried. I have had ice cream a few times - I hope you don't mind. I have gone to a massage therapist for lymphatic massage to purge my body of impurities and to my psychotherpist to clear my mind of clutter and negativity. I have gone religiously to acupuncture, taken herbs, then not taken them as directed by my doctor. I have been given many shots, some I even gave to myself (although I did cry a little both times I had to do it), and have had countless blood draws and ultrasounds. I have purchased - and listened to - recorded meditations to calm myself, and practiced positive affirmations and guided imagery.
I have researched, obsessively, the ways in which I can make my body a home for you for the next 40 weeks, and I will continue to do everything I can to make it possible for you to survive. I am ready to fly to Chicago in two weeks to enlist the help of a special doctor who will make sure my body does not misbehave should you choose to stay awhile.
I have been learning to play the guitar, and taken up my long neglected piano playing to create more balance in my life, and to give the gift of music to you - one of the most precious gifts my mother gave to me as I was growing up.
Of all the possible combinations of eggs and sperm, you were the only one that made it from this cycle. I know you are strong and healthy and you can latch onto me and grow, grow, grow.
I can't promise that life will be easy for you, should you choose to stay. But here's what I do know: you have a family waiting for you. I don't know that a child was prayed for or longed for more than we all have longed for you. Not only is there a mother and a father who are waiting for you with open arms, but you have a big brother who constantly asks when will he get to meet you? He is so good, loving and kind - he will want to make you laugh and always try to keep you safe, just like your mom and dad.
There are aunts and uncles, and cousins and grandparents (2 sets) - none of whom are perfect, but I've seen how they are with your big brother. They will love you and love you and love you - and most likely spoil you rotten, but I think I can live with that.
We have dozens of friends here with children for you to play with. And sweet teenaged babysitters who live across the street just waiting to hold a baby, should mommy need a break. They are all good people who are calling you to this world, too.
I've never felt the power of prayer and positive energy so keenly than since I started this process and shared my journey to you with these good people in my life. All this goodwill and love - for you.
Now, if it comes to pass that you are unable to stay, know this, regardless of the outcome, before you ever even had a heartbeat, know that you were loved.
My heart, my mind, and my body is open to receive you tomorrow. I pray that you choose this life, this time, this family.
I am calling you, my child, to me. Come home.
love,
mommy
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