Private Practice

In light of our second failed IVF cycle, I'm considering setting my blog to private.

When I started this journey, I didn't think twice about displaying my life for the public to see. Friends, family members, and fellow blogger's that I've never met in real life have given me encouragement and feedback that have helped me out tremendously, with the exception of a few weirdo's and their crazy comments.

But my life isn't the only one on display.

Although I'm abnormally indiscreet about all things infertile and medical, out of respect of my very discrete husband I'd like to try a private blog for a few months, just as we struggle with decisions that will lead to our next steps in the future. He didn't ask me to do this, and in fact he knows nothing about this, but close friends and family members follow this blog that place my husband and our life out on display for the world to see. And although I brought this upon myself by choosing to share our journey with everyone, sometimes it's hard to live under a microscope.

Even when you created the microscope yourself.

There is nothing secretive going on, and we aren't trying to hide anything from our loved ones and good friends. We still don't know what the future holds, or what our next steps will be, and I'm not sure if I'll even follow through with making this blog private. In fact, I may just take a nice long break and focus on my God, my health, and my husband. But either way, I want each and every one of you to know how much your prayers, support and love have meant to us.

I don't want to loose any readers, so I hope that everyone will send me an email at Tab2710@aol.com to request to be added to the list that can access my blog if I do choose to make this a private practice. If I know you in real life, I probably won't be granting you access during this time, but please know that I love you and appreciate your prayers. I'm just trying my best to make this blog as real as possible, and that may require some honesty that could possibly be difficult for me to convey properly knowing that people we love interact with on a daily basis are reading.

Please know that I love you and I thank God for you every day; but I need to try something different.

“Privacy and security are those things you give up when you show the world what makes you extraordinary. And when you want them back? Good luck with that one.”
-Margret Cho

Our Last Shot

Thursday, 10-21-09 (Day 36) 8dp5dt

Beta #1: negative. I really hate that word.

It doesn't fit a celebratory 100th post on a blog titled Think (+) Positive.

Even though it was almost a full week ago, the memory of that day is still so vivid and painfully clear. I remember brushing my teeth while my husband stared at the digital, waiting for that beautiful word "pregnant" to show up. I remember the look on his face and hearing his voice tell me that it doesn't matter, it's probably not right as my eyes focused instead on the "not pregnant" flashing on the tiny screen. I remember crying as he held me, whispering over and over again in my ear that we just need to wait for the beta, the test is probably wrong anyway, even though I knew it wasn't.

I remember numbly sitting in the cold, hard chair as our favorite faux hawk phlebotomist tried to joke with me as he fought with my vein. I wanted to yell at him to stop, to stop trying to poke me because I wasn't pregnant anyway, and I could no longer stand the sight of needles, I was just so tired of being poked, prodded, and stuck. I remember hating my body. My ugly, distorted, bruised and hormone filled failure of a body.

I remember texting everyone that knew of our situation, because I didn't have the heart to call them and tell them in person, or the ability to do it without crying. I remember getting the beta results back-zero-and telling my husband, only to watch the tears stream down his cheeks as the reality of our situation finally became truth to him, courtesy of a blood test.

I remember feeling like my life was over.

It just wasn't fair. It's all wrong. All of the signs along the way added up, and this was supposed to be our time. I saw a lady bug yesterday, the symbol of hope, and I knew this was it. My last posting just happened to fall at 99, leaving this post as my 100th, and it just had to be a positive one, literally. There were so many praying for us. People I've never even met in real life were pouring out their hearts to God, praying for our pumpkins, our miracles.

We put in healthy embryos. Two of them. Two beautiful, healthy little expanded blasts that were going to be our little girls. And third, not so healthy one that we just couldn't bear to leave out and try to make it to freeze, because he probably wouldn't survive. He was our little boy. He was supposed to survive in my womb better than in that darn petri dish. I was supposed to be pregnant. I am supposed to be pregnant right now. I'm supposed to be a mother, it's what my body was made for.

Then I woke up the next day, and I was still breathing.

I was very much alive. And I looked over, and saw my beautiful husband lying there next to me. And I thought about all of my friends and family and loved ones who had sent hundreds of text messages, e-mails, voicemails, phone calls, cards, gifts, and flowers, letting me know that they cried as we cried and prayed for comfort and peace for the both of us.

And I couldn't help but feel blessed, despite my empty womb.

My initial feelings of fear were brought on by the realization that this was it for us. After almost three years, two IUI's, one and a half failed IVF attempts, I would never be a mother. I would never have my own biological child, and I felt as if someone had erected a giant wall right in front of my face, and I couldn't move. I was suffocating. I had no where to go. I was being crushed.

And then, something changed. My husband and I decided that we couldn't change our circumstances, but we could change our attitudes. Worse things have happened. It wasn't over, it couldn't be; we refuse to let this be the end for us.

We refuse to give up.

We have absolutely no idea when or how, but we will try again. After a tearful conversation, God gave us peace with the mutual decision that we will allow ourselves-someday-one more 2-cycle try. If after than point we still aren't successful, then we will move on, fully accepting the fact that we tried our best and did all that we could. But until then, until we find a way to do this again, we aren't done.

And now I have something else to look forward too, to hope for, and I'm healing and thinking positive again. I'm feeling grief, but I know in my heart that God hasn't let us down. Just because He didn't give us the answer we wanted from Him, doesn't mean He doesn't love us or hear our prayers. He heard every last one of them, and He answered them just as it should be. We trust that He has something amazing in store for us, and we can't help but feel excited again for the future, and the blessings that we know He has in store for us, whatever they may be.

It's not normal, I know. It's probably strange to everyone reading this that I'm really doing alright, and I have been since less than twenty four hours after receiving the news that our perfect IVF cycle was a failure. But for me, it's impossible to look around at every thing that God's given me and feel hopeless. To feel lost. To feel like it's all over, and I have nothing left.

A dear friend of mine reminded me that in the Bible, it's documented that every single woman that prayed for a child received one. Every single one of them. It may not have been in their time, but it was in God's time, and I really do believe that if God gives you the desire to be a mother, He will indeed fulfill that desire, someway, somehow.

How could I believe all this and not be hopeful? How could I trust that God is in control and not praise Him for all He's given me, and all He'll continue to give to me in the future?

Our first full attempt at an IVF failed. It didn't work. I still have a million questions, I'm still fighting the disappointment and sadness, and sometimes I still reach down to my stomach to feel the life inside of me. When I remember suddenly that those tiny lives no longer exist, I quickly pull my hand away as the grief hits me like a thousand pounds of dead weight.

The sight of pumpkins breaks my heart.

But I know that I'll keep breathing; I have no other choice. I know that God has a plan for us bigger than we could ever dream of on our own. I know that He is holding our little ones in His hands, and I know they are praising Him right now, in a place that's a far better home than my womb and this world ever could have been for them.

And for that, this 100th post is still a positive one.

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be."
-Douglas Adams

Keep On Shooting

Saturday, 10-17-09 (Day 32) 4dp5dt

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): I remember the days when my only concern was how much weight I was gaining from this little pill.

Now all I want to do is get fat; really pregnant fat.

Ciprofloxacin (500mg, oral pill): Last one, praise the Lord!

PIO (1ml, IM injection): Tonight, I showed off my behind bruises to a few choice friends.

I'm pretty sure they were impressed.

4dp5dt-At four days past a 5 day transfer, the implantation process should continue as the morula buries deeper in the lining.

Sunday, 10-18-09 (Day 33) 5dp5dt

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): You'd think that after more than a month straight of taking these, I wouldn't forget to take them anymore.

But I still do.

And I'm blaming it on pregnancy brain.

PIO (1ml, IM injection): The heating pad is my friend. When placed on my backside after an injection and left on for about an hour, it completely stops the muscle soreness that I would normally experience the following day.

5dp5dt-At 5 days past a 5 day transfer, the morula should be completely implanted in the lining, and has placenta and fetal cells.

Monday, 10-19-09 (Day 34) 6dp5dt

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): I don't think these ever really affected my appetite after all. Now that all of my other pills and shots are complete, I no longer have headaches, crazy cravings or fatigue.

PIO (1ml, IM injection):Now if only I could find something to stop the bruising, I'd be set.

6dp5dt-At 6 days past a 5 day transfer, the placenta cells should begin to secret HCG in the blood.

I had full intentions of testing for that precious HCG this morning, but when I woke up to see some pinkish red blood mixed in with the nastiness of last nights PIO suppository residue, I chickened out.

I'm not going to lie; I'm pretty scared, and desperation has set in.

I have the reassurance from fellow IVFers and my doctor that some light bleeding can be completely normal. I also know that I serve a God that is the creator of life, and He is hearing the prayers that are going up today; He is more than capable of perfoming a miracle on our behalf.

But that doesn't mean that just because He can, He will.

Tuesday, 10-20-09 (Day 35) 7dp5dt

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): It's probably just stress and nerves, but my appetite for regular food is pretty much non-existent.

PIO (1ml, IM injection): As much of an inconvienience and bruise maker this shot is, I'm praying that tonight won't be my last one.

7dp5dt-At 7 days past a 5 day transfer, more HCG is produced as the fetus develops.

I was really hoping not to find any scary pinkish-red discharge this morning, but that's exactly what I found. My heart immediately dropped as I realized I was destined yet again to spend the day chugging water and checking my panties for spotting.

Just like yesterday, the majority of the pinkish-red discharge found it's way out early this morning, with just a few episodes of a bit of pink residue on the toilet paper throughout the rest of the day. My doctor asked me not to look to far into the situation, because it's not a full flow and therefore could simply be vaginal irritation brought on by my suppositories, but I know it could also be much more.

Part of me wants to give up now and be realistic-seeing fresh blood is never a good thing-but there is still another piece of my heart that just can't let go of hoping this is our time, no matter how hard I try. I'm still struggling to hold on to the possiblity of a positive outcome, but somewhere deep inside I still feel peace.

I'm hoping this is just another bump in the road to show how powerful God and prayer can be when overcoming the odds seem utterly impossible. And until my beta tomorrow comes and puts an end to this strenuous waiting game, I'll keep doing the only thing I know how.

I'll just keep shooting.

"Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose."

-Tom Krause