Merrily We Roll Along
It's been a hot minute since I've written, I know. Things have been moving a lot more slowly the last week or two, but they're starting to pick up again, so here we are. Back at our respective computer screens, typing or reading away.
I think most people reading this already know that we got some good news a week after we found out that five of our eggs had fertilized. I reached out on Facebook and asked for lots of prayers, and we got them from all over the country, from all different faiths, from all different people. It was, as much of this has been, truly humbling to see how many are willing to help in a time of need. I just needed for all of those embryos to make it to the blastocyst stage. I couldn't take the prospect of having to wait another month and go through another retrieval cycle. The thought of having to depress myself with all that estrogen again... Not a fun one. There's enough injecting myself ahead without adding that.
On Saturday the 1, all our prayers were answered. All five of our embryos made it to blastocyst! I was beside myself with excitement. Usually, only 60-80% of them make it, and we had 100%. Finally we were ahead of the game! And it looked like I would not have to do another retrieval cycle. So moving ahead was a little bit closer.
Besides, we weren't at all concerned about the next phase. We have no genetic issues between us, so none of the embryos should be lost after genetic testing was complete. No worries at all.
My period started that Tuesday, so I had to call my nurse to tell her it was day one. She returned the call and "delivered the good news" that all five of my embryos had made it. While that was lovely, I couldn't help but roll my eyes; this news had already been delivered. Of course, I know that they don't keep the world's greatest records in terms of communication, but it's always nice to be reminded.
On a brighter note, she did start putting together a plan for taking birth control. Yay for planning.
We were supposed to wait two weeks after the blastocyst news to get the results of our genetic testing, but instead I got a call on Friday the 7, over a full week before expected. It was... not as exciting as we had hoped. We had lost two of our embryos, as they were not "genetically normal." That was all the nurse would tell me. I've googled it and talked to a science teacher friend, and that really is all they can say. Those embryos just don't have the normal number of chromosomes, for whatever reason.
Which is just kind of crazy. One of the lessons of this entire process has been just how much biology works against those of us who are trying to have babies. There are so few days a month that conception is even possible; then only about 4% of sperm need to be a normal shape to be considered normal semen (meaning that we can just disregard 96% of the white stuff that comes out); and now there are only about half of a woman's eggs that are chromosomally normal to even stick in a uterus successfully.
It is seriously a miracle that anyone gets pregnant ever.
Anywho, so yeah. We have three remaining embryos. Two are gone. That is a hell of a statement. We lost two of our children. Sure, they were only about 300 cells, but they were two parts that had come together to make a whole. I even found out what gender they were; two boys. We lost two potential sons. It's so odd. To some degree, it feels like we artificially created real life (which is a statement all in itself) only to go ahead and destroy it. It's a little painful.
I'm trying to separate myself from it. If I had conceived either of these embryos naturally and internally, my body would have expelled them; I would have miscarried. In that way, losing two at once in a petri dish somewhere is still a loss, even if it is of a different color.
I'm also trying to comfort myself with the fact that, as I said, the two embryos we lost were male. The remaining three are two females and a male. Since we paid to know that (mostly to know which were genetically normal, but also for gender), we get to pick which we want, and we've both wanted a girl for years. We're lucky that we know that, and we're lucky that our two girls survived. So I tell myself that those two embryos probably wouldn't have been used even if they had been normal. We would have gone for one of the girls, and then we don't know what we want to do about a second child. We'll see when we get there. But the chances of using both of those males was slim to none, anyway.
That makes me feel a little better. But not entirely.
More mixed news: Since we got the genetic results so early, we could schedule the transfer! Huzzah! Except I hadn't thought so much about the scheduling part. I had made yet another stupid assumption and thought that I would have my embryo transfer two weeks after I got my period. In my head, it would be happening sometime around the 18-20. And then I might even get to take my pregnancy test before New Year. (I think I talked about this in my last entry.)
Not quite. My nurse excitedly told me she had managed to snatch up a date for my transfer that morning. As soon as she saw that my genetic results were in, she worked her butt off to get me the first date that she saw.
December 31.
Isn't that wonderful?
Sigh. Yeah, I guess. Two weeks later than I had thought it might be. As I said, assuming makes an ass out of u and me. Why would I think that they'd just be able to do the transfer when my body would be ready for it? (I mean, maybe because that's how the retrieval works. Maybe that's what made me disregard scheduling things too far in advance. And I have a feeling that the transfer isn't going to take any more time than the retrieval, so maybe I do know where those stupid ideas of mine came from.)
But this is why birth control had been talked about. I would have to take it for a short amount of time to line my cycle up with when they're going to do the transfer.
Now that I have a transfer date, a calendar of medication was created for me and e-mailed over. I took a look at that throughout the day. Birth control was to be started that night and continued through until this Thursday. Sunday the 16, I have to go in for blood work and ultra sound. I also have to start taking Estrace twice a day, which is more estrogen. (Oh joy and rapture.) I think I do pretty much nothing for the 10 days after that, which is weird, and I have a feeling I'll get some more blood work thrown in there somewhere. Then on the 26, I get to start progesterone injections. Merry Christmas, me. I'm supposed to take my first one in the morning between 6-8am, but if I'm going to take them at night regularly, I need to take a second one that evening (8-10pm). Seeing as we get up at 6 to go to work, and I spend a lot of that time getting ready to leave the house and then prepping my classroom for the day, night is probably better. Also, if they're super painful, at least I can just sit or lay down afterwards. Shots and pills are then taken every day until the 30, when I go in for more blood work and ultra sound. I also get to "insert one applicator of vaginal gel" that evening. Something I can't make up: the gel is called Vandazole, which I've been pronouncing like Vandazzle. Makes it sound like more jazz handed fun, doesn't it?)
And then the big day arrives: the 31. I don't have a time for the procedure; they'll call me at around noon that day to tell me when to come in. (Based on the phone calls I heard going on the day I had the retrieval, I'm actually expecting this phone call earlier in the morning.) They'll also ask me if I want to receive laser acupuncture that day to support the procedure. (Why not? Anything that helps, right? That's another $200 we can tack onto the bill.) I can eat and drink normally, at least, as there's no anesthesia involved. I will have to insert a progesterone suppository at 11 that morning, and I can expect that to burst and be a big, giant, uncomfortable mess. No fragrances can be worn by myself and anyone else who will be in the transfer room that day (re: hubby), including deodorant. So I will be a moist and stinky blob when they insert my lab created child into my womb. Delightful. Can't wait to tell this little girl the story of her conception.
Then I keep taking pills and shots. To the office on January 2 for estrogen and progesterone levels, which I believe is done through yet another blood test. And on the 9, I take a pregnancy test.
It has to work, right? If nothing else, for my sanity, it has to work. So if you've been praying for me, keep up the prayers. (And let me know if you need any in return.) I really am not all that negative feeling about it; I do believe it'll work on the first try.
Most of the time. Sometimes I can't help thinking that 65% is nowhere near 100%. And about 90% of people I've spoken to have had successful transfers with my clinic on the first go. So the other 35% has to come from somewhere. It could be me. I hope, pray, wish, dream that it isn't.
When I first got the date, I just wanted it to get here. I almost wished I could take the last 10 days of school before winter break off because my head is swimming. Aside from that being impractical, though, I also know how much work takes my mind off the other nonsense. So far, I'm amazed at how fast the days are going. Have to stay busy. Keep going.
Not that that's too difficult these days. We bid on a new house and are about to put ours on the market. I'm doing my best to detach myself emotionally from that process; I have enough other emotions bouncing around inside me. It's hard because our house has been a wonderful place to live for the last seven years. We like our neighbors. We like our neighborhood. For a long time, we thought we'd stay where we are and build up. Our house is small, two bedrooms, a single floor with an unfinished basement. It's been all we've needed until now, and our low mortgage payment has allowed us to save a decent amount of money and go on wonderful trips over the summer. We've never wanted for anything.
But now we're wanting for more bedrooms. Even though they won't be a necessity with a single child, what if we have more? And what if we have guests? While considering what to do about this, I looked into school systems in NJ, and I found that the town we currently live in falls around the 125 in the state mark. Not so great. And though a few of our neighbors have tried to convince us to stay, they've also sent or are trying to send their children to private schools, which doesn't help the cause.
So we've been looking in areas with much better schools. Found a town where the taxes are quite low. Bid on a house that we really like. We're still waiting for the sellers to agree to come down to our offer (after a little back and forth, of course), but as they haven't received any other offers in the six months they've been on the market, we're not that concerned.
Good. That gives me something else to worry about. ;)
And in the meantime, we're packing up our own house, trying to get it ready for someone to come and take pictures so we can put it on the market. That's added stress, but again, keeps our minds occupied with something else.
I did have one funny thing happen with the pharmacy that my meds come from this week. They called on Friday to confirm what it was they were shipping and how I was paying, etc. I gave them permission just to charge my credit card without having to tell me what my total was because honestly, what am I going to do at this point? Say, "No, I won't pay another $1,000 even though I've already spent $5,000?"
I went out to a choir rehearsal that night, and the pharmacy called again around 8:30. Seeing as it was so late, I assumed the call was going to be very important. As soon as I had a chance, I ran out of rehearsal with no explanation and checked the voicemail they had left me, which merely said, "Call us back." Seeing as how I had that stupid prior authorization issue last time, I worried that it would be that again and that I'd have to make a bunch of insurance calls...
Instead, when I got someone on the phone, they informed me that one of the medications was not covered by insurance. Shit. I knew how much those meds cost. Thousands of dollars. What was I going to do?
"Do you want to know how much it's going to cost?" the woman from the pharmacy asked.
"Yes please," I said as politely as I could muster without sounding terrified.
"$3.50."
OMG. I burst out laughing. All that nonsense for something so small? The total of the rest of the meds, with insurance, was going to be about $110, which they don't call to tell me about, but the $3.50 that's not covered? Yeah, let's make a big stink about that. I understand they have to; even if it's $1, they have to ask you if you want to pay out of pocket if it's not covered. At least the woman on the phone and I could have a good laugh about it.
Oh, the absurdity.
Note: Since I started writing this (yesterday), our bid on the new house was accepted! Huzzah!
Right, so now ours has to go on the market, and we have to fill out all the paperwork, and mortgages, and bills, and change of address, and blah, blah, blah.
Not stressing about it now; I'm honestly just excited to be able to live in a "big girl" house, one that I can be really proud of that has so much of what I've always wanted.
I'll just have to do my best to remember that when the stressful parts do start to pour in.
I think most people reading this already know that we got some good news a week after we found out that five of our eggs had fertilized. I reached out on Facebook and asked for lots of prayers, and we got them from all over the country, from all different faiths, from all different people. It was, as much of this has been, truly humbling to see how many are willing to help in a time of need. I just needed for all of those embryos to make it to the blastocyst stage. I couldn't take the prospect of having to wait another month and go through another retrieval cycle. The thought of having to depress myself with all that estrogen again... Not a fun one. There's enough injecting myself ahead without adding that.
On Saturday the 1, all our prayers were answered. All five of our embryos made it to blastocyst! I was beside myself with excitement. Usually, only 60-80% of them make it, and we had 100%. Finally we were ahead of the game! And it looked like I would not have to do another retrieval cycle. So moving ahead was a little bit closer.
Besides, we weren't at all concerned about the next phase. We have no genetic issues between us, so none of the embryos should be lost after genetic testing was complete. No worries at all.
My period started that Tuesday, so I had to call my nurse to tell her it was day one. She returned the call and "delivered the good news" that all five of my embryos had made it. While that was lovely, I couldn't help but roll my eyes; this news had already been delivered. Of course, I know that they don't keep the world's greatest records in terms of communication, but it's always nice to be reminded.
On a brighter note, she did start putting together a plan for taking birth control. Yay for planning.
We were supposed to wait two weeks after the blastocyst news to get the results of our genetic testing, but instead I got a call on Friday the 7, over a full week before expected. It was... not as exciting as we had hoped. We had lost two of our embryos, as they were not "genetically normal." That was all the nurse would tell me. I've googled it and talked to a science teacher friend, and that really is all they can say. Those embryos just don't have the normal number of chromosomes, for whatever reason.
Which is just kind of crazy. One of the lessons of this entire process has been just how much biology works against those of us who are trying to have babies. There are so few days a month that conception is even possible; then only about 4% of sperm need to be a normal shape to be considered normal semen (meaning that we can just disregard 96% of the white stuff that comes out); and now there are only about half of a woman's eggs that are chromosomally normal to even stick in a uterus successfully.
It is seriously a miracle that anyone gets pregnant ever.
Anywho, so yeah. We have three remaining embryos. Two are gone. That is a hell of a statement. We lost two of our children. Sure, they were only about 300 cells, but they were two parts that had come together to make a whole. I even found out what gender they were; two boys. We lost two potential sons. It's so odd. To some degree, it feels like we artificially created real life (which is a statement all in itself) only to go ahead and destroy it. It's a little painful.
I'm trying to separate myself from it. If I had conceived either of these embryos naturally and internally, my body would have expelled them; I would have miscarried. In that way, losing two at once in a petri dish somewhere is still a loss, even if it is of a different color.
I'm also trying to comfort myself with the fact that, as I said, the two embryos we lost were male. The remaining three are two females and a male. Since we paid to know that (mostly to know which were genetically normal, but also for gender), we get to pick which we want, and we've both wanted a girl for years. We're lucky that we know that, and we're lucky that our two girls survived. So I tell myself that those two embryos probably wouldn't have been used even if they had been normal. We would have gone for one of the girls, and then we don't know what we want to do about a second child. We'll see when we get there. But the chances of using both of those males was slim to none, anyway.
That makes me feel a little better. But not entirely.
More mixed news: Since we got the genetic results so early, we could schedule the transfer! Huzzah! Except I hadn't thought so much about the scheduling part. I had made yet another stupid assumption and thought that I would have my embryo transfer two weeks after I got my period. In my head, it would be happening sometime around the 18-20. And then I might even get to take my pregnancy test before New Year. (I think I talked about this in my last entry.)
Not quite. My nurse excitedly told me she had managed to snatch up a date for my transfer that morning. As soon as she saw that my genetic results were in, she worked her butt off to get me the first date that she saw.
December 31.
Isn't that wonderful?
Sigh. Yeah, I guess. Two weeks later than I had thought it might be. As I said, assuming makes an ass out of u and me. Why would I think that they'd just be able to do the transfer when my body would be ready for it? (I mean, maybe because that's how the retrieval works. Maybe that's what made me disregard scheduling things too far in advance. And I have a feeling that the transfer isn't going to take any more time than the retrieval, so maybe I do know where those stupid ideas of mine came from.)
But this is why birth control had been talked about. I would have to take it for a short amount of time to line my cycle up with when they're going to do the transfer.
Now that I have a transfer date, a calendar of medication was created for me and e-mailed over. I took a look at that throughout the day. Birth control was to be started that night and continued through until this Thursday. Sunday the 16, I have to go in for blood work and ultra sound. I also have to start taking Estrace twice a day, which is more estrogen. (Oh joy and rapture.) I think I do pretty much nothing for the 10 days after that, which is weird, and I have a feeling I'll get some more blood work thrown in there somewhere. Then on the 26, I get to start progesterone injections. Merry Christmas, me. I'm supposed to take my first one in the morning between 6-8am, but if I'm going to take them at night regularly, I need to take a second one that evening (8-10pm). Seeing as we get up at 6 to go to work, and I spend a lot of that time getting ready to leave the house and then prepping my classroom for the day, night is probably better. Also, if they're super painful, at least I can just sit or lay down afterwards. Shots and pills are then taken every day until the 30, when I go in for more blood work and ultra sound. I also get to "insert one applicator of vaginal gel" that evening. Something I can't make up: the gel is called Vandazole, which I've been pronouncing like Vandazzle. Makes it sound like more jazz handed fun, doesn't it?)
And then the big day arrives: the 31. I don't have a time for the procedure; they'll call me at around noon that day to tell me when to come in. (Based on the phone calls I heard going on the day I had the retrieval, I'm actually expecting this phone call earlier in the morning.) They'll also ask me if I want to receive laser acupuncture that day to support the procedure. (Why not? Anything that helps, right? That's another $200 we can tack onto the bill.) I can eat and drink normally, at least, as there's no anesthesia involved. I will have to insert a progesterone suppository at 11 that morning, and I can expect that to burst and be a big, giant, uncomfortable mess. No fragrances can be worn by myself and anyone else who will be in the transfer room that day (re: hubby), including deodorant. So I will be a moist and stinky blob when they insert my lab created child into my womb. Delightful. Can't wait to tell this little girl the story of her conception.
Then I keep taking pills and shots. To the office on January 2 for estrogen and progesterone levels, which I believe is done through yet another blood test. And on the 9, I take a pregnancy test.
It has to work, right? If nothing else, for my sanity, it has to work. So if you've been praying for me, keep up the prayers. (And let me know if you need any in return.) I really am not all that negative feeling about it; I do believe it'll work on the first try.
Most of the time. Sometimes I can't help thinking that 65% is nowhere near 100%. And about 90% of people I've spoken to have had successful transfers with my clinic on the first go. So the other 35% has to come from somewhere. It could be me. I hope, pray, wish, dream that it isn't.
When I first got the date, I just wanted it to get here. I almost wished I could take the last 10 days of school before winter break off because my head is swimming. Aside from that being impractical, though, I also know how much work takes my mind off the other nonsense. So far, I'm amazed at how fast the days are going. Have to stay busy. Keep going.
Not that that's too difficult these days. We bid on a new house and are about to put ours on the market. I'm doing my best to detach myself emotionally from that process; I have enough other emotions bouncing around inside me. It's hard because our house has been a wonderful place to live for the last seven years. We like our neighbors. We like our neighborhood. For a long time, we thought we'd stay where we are and build up. Our house is small, two bedrooms, a single floor with an unfinished basement. It's been all we've needed until now, and our low mortgage payment has allowed us to save a decent amount of money and go on wonderful trips over the summer. We've never wanted for anything.
But now we're wanting for more bedrooms. Even though they won't be a necessity with a single child, what if we have more? And what if we have guests? While considering what to do about this, I looked into school systems in NJ, and I found that the town we currently live in falls around the 125 in the state mark. Not so great. And though a few of our neighbors have tried to convince us to stay, they've also sent or are trying to send their children to private schools, which doesn't help the cause.
So we've been looking in areas with much better schools. Found a town where the taxes are quite low. Bid on a house that we really like. We're still waiting for the sellers to agree to come down to our offer (after a little back and forth, of course), but as they haven't received any other offers in the six months they've been on the market, we're not that concerned.
Good. That gives me something else to worry about. ;)
And in the meantime, we're packing up our own house, trying to get it ready for someone to come and take pictures so we can put it on the market. That's added stress, but again, keeps our minds occupied with something else.
I did have one funny thing happen with the pharmacy that my meds come from this week. They called on Friday to confirm what it was they were shipping and how I was paying, etc. I gave them permission just to charge my credit card without having to tell me what my total was because honestly, what am I going to do at this point? Say, "No, I won't pay another $1,000 even though I've already spent $5,000?"
I went out to a choir rehearsal that night, and the pharmacy called again around 8:30. Seeing as it was so late, I assumed the call was going to be very important. As soon as I had a chance, I ran out of rehearsal with no explanation and checked the voicemail they had left me, which merely said, "Call us back." Seeing as how I had that stupid prior authorization issue last time, I worried that it would be that again and that I'd have to make a bunch of insurance calls...
Instead, when I got someone on the phone, they informed me that one of the medications was not covered by insurance. Shit. I knew how much those meds cost. Thousands of dollars. What was I going to do?
"Do you want to know how much it's going to cost?" the woman from the pharmacy asked.
"Yes please," I said as politely as I could muster without sounding terrified.
"$3.50."
OMG. I burst out laughing. All that nonsense for something so small? The total of the rest of the meds, with insurance, was going to be about $110, which they don't call to tell me about, but the $3.50 that's not covered? Yeah, let's make a big stink about that. I understand they have to; even if it's $1, they have to ask you if you want to pay out of pocket if it's not covered. At least the woman on the phone and I could have a good laugh about it.
Oh, the absurdity.
Note: Since I started writing this (yesterday), our bid on the new house was accepted! Huzzah!
Right, so now ours has to go on the market, and we have to fill out all the paperwork, and mortgages, and bills, and change of address, and blah, blah, blah.
Not stressing about it now; I'm honestly just excited to be able to live in a "big girl" house, one that I can be really proud of that has so much of what I've always wanted.
I'll just have to do my best to remember that when the stressful parts do start to pour in.
Comments
Post a Comment