Waiting on IVF eggs...

submitted by Kriste

I am in my first (and only) 2ww. I underwent an IVF transfer on Tuesday. I can only afford to do this once, so to be honest, I am almost dreading the blood test next week. It could be a wonderful day, or it might be devastating. In any case, good luck to you! It is so hard to be in limbo like this. I'll be thinking of you.

For anyone who is interested in the experience of my last few days, you are welcome to read on . . .

My younger sister is my egg donor. The egg retrieval came sooner than we expected. It was on Saturday morning, and it didn't go as well as we had hoped. The doctors were not able to reach one of her ovaries at all, so there were only 6 oocytes retrieved. We were very disappointed; no one had told us that this could happen, but they had told us that were at least 12 ready to retrieve. Since this is the only retrieval I was planning on subjecting my dear sister to, we were really counting on those 12 (I was hoping to cryopreserve at least 2 embryos for another try, in case this time didn't work). We were both pretty crushed on Saturday. I was even more so because I knew my sister was upset, and that alone broke my heart.

On Sunday, the embryologist called to say that only 3 of the eggs had fertilized. I spent all of Sunday and Monday terribly depressed and worried about further attrition. I had not contemplated the possibility of coming *this* far and then maybe not having anything to transfer.

The transfer was on Tuesday morning. There was only one really good embryo that had made it to the 8 cell division. One was 5 cells with fragments and the other was only 4 cells. The doctors said that it was possible those last 2 embryos would develop further if they were in the womb, but that they probably wouldn't do as well in the lab, and they probably would not survive cryopreservation. Considering that this was my one and only chance, the doctors felt that it was okay to transfer all 3, even though the limit at this clinic is 2. I was okay with that, since I was not feeling very optimistic.

In summary, I have been alternately freaked out or depressed since Friday (that was the day I started the evil progesterone shots), but yesterday I started to feel a little more positive. I've decided to concentrate very hard on the "now". Right "now", I have three tiny embryos floating around in my uterus- three potential beings! I was diagnosed with POF at age 14 and never in my life thought that this would be possible, so that itself is worth celebrating, right? (Oh, I have pictures of them too- isn't that so weird? Imagine having pics of yourself as an embryo in your baby book!) Hopefully this weekend at least one of them will implant . . .

In the meantime, I am ready to burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

Another kind of two week wait

Here's another Choice Mom/Mum-in-the-making who has a different kind of two week wait.

Pays to be reminded: there are so many thing we wait for in life. Not everything is in our control, of course. Patience, and hope, and open-mindedness to new directions are good things. Sometimes if only to test our resolve and determination as we embark on something new.

As long as we keep on walking in the direction of our goals, rather than letting someone else's decisions end up dictating what we can do with our own lives.

Here's one Australian woman's blog.

What you can do while you're waiting....

also posted on Becoming and Choice Mom blogs, because it's just that important:

A 40-year-old Choice Mom-in-the-making, who lived in the D.C. area, suddenly died Christmas Day while 32.5-weeks pregnant, from the very rare pregnancy complication of HELLPS (Hemolytic anemia, Elevated Liver enzymes, and Low Platelet count).

Her baby boy was born safely, but she did not get to meet him.

On SO many levels this is tragic and makes all of us in the Choice Mom community stop with a collective gasp and remember what a blessing it is that all of us are here to enjoy the friends and family that surround us.

There are two silver linings in this woman's story.

One is that she was connected to her local Single Mothers by Choice community, which is now contributing to a trust fund in her son's name. Choice Moms is now beginning the steps toward establishing a fundraising event to involve our worldwide community. I'll continue to post here as this develops.

The second silver lining is that she was as prepared as anyone can be for this kind of tragedy.

This woman already had a guardian picked out, life insurance, and a will prepared. But most of us don't have this level of foresight, especially when we are so eager to conceive, deliver and embark on motherhood for the first time.

Choice Moms wants to help all of us become better educated about the importance of these steps BEFORE you plan to bring a child home. As Jessica, who told me about this woman's story, pointed out, many insurance companies won't give you insurance if you are pregnant.

We will be hosting an event in D.C. on May 9 (the day before Mother's Day) to help build awareness about what we need to do, as single parents, for our children legally and financially. In the meantime, while you are waiting to bring a child home, check out the ChoiceMoms.org website this month to learn more about what you can do to prepare.

Too Good To Be True

submitted by Jeanne:

Too good to be true – the first words that came to my mind when I thought I was pregnant (that little stick had a dark line!) and when the nurse confirmed it after my bloodwork.

Wow – here I am, 40, and I only had 3 unmedicated IUIs. Many women talk about trying multiple times and eventually introducing fertility medications. Could I have really been so lucky? Let’s face it, up to now, in the “dream family” area, I haven’t been so lucky. No Prince Charming came by on his horse to build the big house with the white picket fence for our 10 kids.

At 6 weeks, I nervously went for my first ultrasound. What if something is wrong? I almost didn’t believe the doctor when she said there was something there, with a heartbeat! I saw the small blip on the monitor, beating away. Okay, so maybe it is true. Then I remember that I’m only 6 weeks, lots could go wrong. But, am I spoiling everything by being so negative? People in my life are telling me to enjoy it – that I can’t worry about it all the time.

So, time passes. Everything seems to be fine. I’m eating well and doing everything I’m supposed to. I relax enough to venture into the maternity clothing shops. Do I dare actually buy something? I decide I have to think positively and I need to build up my wardrobe eventually. I start to let myself get a bit excited, always realizing I shouldn’t get too attached to the “potential baby“ yet.

More time passes – I can’t wait to tell people at work that I’m pregnant. Three other women there are due a few months before me. By now, my family and close friends know I’m pregnant. I have a 12-week ultrasound scheduled on a Monday and decide I will tell everyone about the pregnancy the next day at the staff meeting. Might as well make sure everything is okay first. I had thought to myself, and actually jokingly said to some friends, that it will be nice to have confirmation that there is actually still a baby there. I am feeling fine and there are no signs of any trouble.

I decide to attend the ultrasound alone. It’s fairly routine and the baby won’t look like much yet. An OB/GYN will be doing the ultrasound for me. I get special treatment because of the way the baby was conceived, they tell me. The doctor is an hour behind, but I finally make it into the ultrasound room. She’s with a student, who will be observing the procedure. She starts to look, but can’t seem to find what she’s looking for. She mumbles something about gas, and says we’ll have to try a vaginal ultrasound. She jokes that my lunch (causing gas) is making it tough to see. I start to get a bit nervous, but she seems to act like nothing is wrong. I’m sent to empty my bladder.

When I return, I notice the monitor has been moved to face away from me. No one is saying much and she begins to look around. She snaps a few pictures, but is not saying anything. I think that was the point that I stopped breathing. She looks up and says it’s not good news. Millions of things go through my mind in that split second. At some point I realize she’s telling me that there’s no baby there...nothing...gone.

She can see an empty sac, that’s all. She and the student are just looking at me. I’m not sure if they expect that I’ll collapse or break down. How am I supposed to react? One minute ago I was thinking about all the people I was going to e-mail the ultrasound picture to and about how I’m going to shock my co-workers when they find out what I’ve been up to. The next minute, it’s all over. Gone.

The doctor is very kind and explains my options – wait for the miscarriage to happen or induce it with drugs or a D&C. I’m still sitting there stunned, not able to make any decisions. She must have realized this, because she said we could wait another week and check again. This is what I decide to do.

I go home and start to read all the stuff on the Internet that talks about misdiagnosed miscarriages. I know it’s likely false hope, but could that be what’s happening to me? I haven’t had any bleeding, cramps, etc. I decide it’s good that I’m waiting a week before doing anything, just in case.

A week crawls by. I go to work and pretend all is the same. After all, they don’t know I was pregnant. They have no idea I’d even been trying!

Partly I’m relieved that I don’t have to catch them looking at me with pity, but partly I feel that my loss is not given justice. Part of me can’t help thinking they would think, 'well, what does she expect? Trying to get pregnant that way, and at her age!'

The few friends and family that do know are supportive and caring. But at the end of the day, when you’re single, you go through this alone. The loss isn’t the same to someone who wasn’t the potential parent. There’s no daddy to grieve with. I know that “daddies” aren’t always supportive, but some are! And I didn’t even have the option of having one that is. Another loss to grieve alone.

I return to the doctor, knowing she was right. The baby is gone. A missed miscarriage – that’s why I have had no symptoms. Another ultrasound confirms that. I decide to take the medication that will induce miscarriage so that I can start trying again as soon as possible.

I’m told the medication will cause some pain and bleeding, then it will be done. Again, I feel a bit sorry for myself that I have to endure this experience without a partner. Without getting into huge detail, I end up reacting unusually to the medication. I hemorrhage for 17 hours – 15 of those hours are spent in hospital. I end up having to have the D&C I was hoping to avoid. It takes me over a week to recover from the blood loss. This will delay getting back to “normal” a couple more months.

I search the Internet for support. Most of the time I’m okay, but sometimes it overwhelms me. Miscarriage is hard for any woman. But I can’t help thinking about the fact that I don’t have endless time or an endless supply of sperm. I can’t just get back to trying and see what happens. Given the financial expense, I have to be reasonably sure that my body is ready for another pregnancy.

It’s hard to find a website that supports someone like me. All the ones I find talk about the couple coping with miscarriage. Can they really understand my situation? Maybe I’m not giving them a chance. But, I just feel they’ll read my story and pity me for not being able to find a man. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but I don’t have the energy to find out right now.

So now I wait until I have one natural cycle, and plan to try again. I hope I can stay sane through all this. I hope that if – no, when – I do get pregnant again, I won’t live in constant fear of losing the baby. I know I will probably wait until I’m almost giving birth before I tell everyone again – if I can hide it that long!

I keep trying to tell myself that it’s not too good to be true. That this can happen for me...

Angry about waiting, trying, waiting...

submitted by Joni:

Hi everyone. As expected it will be back to the drawing board so to speak. My temperature fell today, so Aunt Flo is on her way. I'm sad, sad, sad. I knew this wasn't going to be easy, and I knew that it sometimes takes a long time to get pregnant — even if you are healthy, young and part of a couple. I know many friends who tell me it took them more than 6 months to conceive. But I also have friends that seem to get pregnant instantly. I really wish I was one of those and could get off of this rollercoaster already.

In my heart of hearts I thought I'd be pregnant after 6 months. I really did. Probably naive, but that is what I dreamed. I had great results from my fertility testing, and I'm healthy. Yet I'm not pregnant. I guess that is why this month seems so much harder than the rest.

I'm also angry. At me — for waiting for so long to actually do this. I can't help but wonder if I had done it a couple of years earlier if it would have made a difference. I was ready then too — but still held out hope that I would be in a solid relationship by now. And then I'm angry that I'm putting off dating to find someone because I'm trying to conceive (trust me, it gets awkward after about 3 dates!). So it's this awful Catch-22. If I wait to find someone, I most likely won't be able to have children by the time we are ready to as a couple. But the longer it takes to get pregnant, the longer I'm on my own, and the higher the likelihood that I won't get pregnant anyway. And I think I'd be a great mom.

It's also been a year since I actively started on this path, I stopped thinking about doing this and started doing it. Last December I spoke with my family doctor about a referral to a fertility clinic. And in February I began the journey in earnest. I had my first IUI in April. When I started I fully expected that before the year was out, I'd be pregnant.

The good news is that with every new cycle there is new hope. And I'm sure I'll start feeling excited about trying again in a day or so. But today, I can't imagine it will ever happen.

Worrying about miscarriage

A Choice Mom-in-the-making, 8 weeks pregnant, reported on her first prenatal visit. It was a scary prospect for her originally -- a year earlier she discovered there was no heartbeat during that first prenatal visit. Now, heartbeat strong, she knew she was taking a step further than she'd gone before...."and I feel so much -- every pinch, stretch, pull in my lower abdomen, and I find it difficult not to worry." She had looked up symptoms of miscarriage, and was simply looking to the Choice Mom community for reassurance that others had felt what she was feeling. She hadn't yet talked to friends about her journey, because she wants to get past the first trimester before sharing her news.

Choice Mom Christine responded:
Welcome to the beginning of motherhood -- and it sounds like you are following the normal 'worry' path! In one of my baby chat groups, a woman actually laid out the stages of motherhood worry: worrying about miscarriage, about movement and kick counts throughout pregnancy, about birth, about SIDS, about meeting their developmental milestones, about autism. And I think that pretty much gets you through the first three years!

This is not to belittle your worries -- they are in fact very real -- especially when you have already gone through the disappointment that you have. I just wanted to know that you are not alone. If you are truly concerned, I would contact your doc. Also, if you find yourself getting really anxious, close your eyes and remember seeing that heartbeat on the ultrasound and focus positive energy and thoughts down that way.

I don't know if the following will help, but it helped me when I was pregnant with my first. I, too, was very worried about the prospect of miscarriage throughout my first trimester. I had a very good friend who has two children, and I was voicing my concerns to her. She said she was also worried with her first child because she was in law school at the time and carrying a 80 lb. backpack filled with heavy law books all over campus. She said when she brought it up to her doctor (whether the heavy load could lead to miscarriage), he told her that this fetus is either implanted securely or not -- and that there was not a lot she could do from the outside to change things either way.

As a controlling person, it helped me to realize I could not physically control this situation, and it helped me to let go. Whenever I felt myself worrying, I would remind myself I had no control and how much energy all this worry was wasting.

Good luck to you!
Christine, 44, mom to 3.5 year old and 34 weeks with #2

Another Choice Mom-in-the-making wrote:
After two miscarriages (including one of them only discovered at my first prenatal visit, like you), I also worried about every single weird feeling, every bit of discharge, and still don't feel completely relaxed. But I am at 8 months and things look good, so I just wanted to say that I totally understand how you feel and it is very possible to feel that way and still get this far.

I wish you tons of continued sticky baby dust!

Identifying your pivot points

I can be an impatient person. I like to gnaw and obsess and fixate on a problem until I've figured it out and can move on.

Being in the waiting stage of the Choice Mom journey is very much a process largely out of our control. We need to wait for the referral....the test....the savings...the due date...the right time. Women in the Waiting stage regularly visit the Choice Moms discussion board and ask if there is anything they can do to make the waiting easier.

I have a new solution for this agonizing stage: Bide the time by identifying your pivot points. It's fun. It's reflective. It's something totally in your control because it involves only the benefit of your own perspective.

At a workshop I attended at my church a year ago, we were asked to discuss the points along our spiritual journey that helped us become who we are today. It was intended as an innocent get-acquainted step, but became a profound process for every one of us in the circle. Because, really, how often do any of us have the opportunity to think back to specific moments and people who made an impact on our lives, and then articulate it to others?

It was a watershed moment for me. Dare I say, a pivotal moment.

Since then I have consciously been noodling thoughts about how each of us evolves from a handful of life-shaping experiences. Some of these moments are tragic. Some are simple. Some are profound. Some take years before we can realize the impact.

One of my first pivot points, as I call them, was meeting my friend Troy in ninth grade. He was someone who colored freely outside the lines. To this day, despite a great deal of ups and downs between us in the intervening years, he remains my most loyal friend and knows all of my secrets.

I've had about 7 pivot points since then. Moments that deeply affected the course I was on. And these days, I'm consciously dusting them off, greeting them, and embracing them -- even the bad ones -- in order to pass the time between this particular stage of my life and the next.

Two weeks ago, I talked to a new friend about a person I had lost touch with more than 10 years ago, who unwittingly had a major influence on my life but never knew it.

I regret very few things in life, but one that did occasionally gnaw at me was that my old friend never knew that a few comments she made during a simple girls' night outing back in the 1990s led me to deal with some old baggage and eventually open up into the much deeper life I have today. I sometimes wonder, had she not been that pivot point for me, whether I would be a Mom now.

In true amazing universe fashion, after dusting off this old memory with my new friend two weeks ago, I ran into my pivot point not 15 minutes after arriving back in New York City for a Choice Mom workshop. I got her email address and, a few days later, had the pleasure of writing her the story about how she unknowingly had such a major influence on my life.

It felt great!

While you're waiting for the next stage of your life to begin, take the time to reflect and honor the big moments, small moments, unhappy moments, and pivotal encounters that have led you to become the very person you are today.

Warmly,
Mikki