IVF Number Three & How We're Doing Now
I’ve been working on this post for awhile. About two months now to be exact. Today is Derick’s grandma’s birthday and it just felt like a good day to release this part of our story and start to look ahead again. I haven’t had the boring cabin fever version of COVID-19 quarantine. As an instructor at a University my work there quadrupled as we literally redesigned the semester in response to the pandemic. These last few months, in light of the changes brought about by the virus, have certainly not been the 2020 we had hoped for. Right after the new year rolled in we began our third IVF cycle in January. My dad was living with us through the entire cycle as he wasn’t cleared to go home yet after his surgery over Christmas. He was there for every shot, watched us leave every other day for a doctor appointment, and was there on February 13th when we found out none of our three embabies made it.
We are not pregnant. We lost three sweet little embryos that we fell in love with again and saying goodbye gets harder every time.
The Stimulation Cycle
My medications really took their tole this round as new ones were added and many injection dosages were increased. I was a walking zombie for an entire month and even had to cancel class or miss work near the end when my entire existence struggled. My body was in pain. Sitting, standing or lying down offered no relief. The cruel irony of stimulation (and post-transfer symptoms) is many of the side-effects of IVF are the same as those you expect to have when pregnant.
Fatigue, nausea, bloating, sore breasts (and oh-so heavy!), bleeding, headaches, depression, night sweats, and body aches basically cover the everyday joy of IVF
My head was a complete fog and processed nothing the way a human brain should. My emotions were like a key-party in the 70’s. It was really anyone’s game. And it wasn’t pretty.
Looking back, we were so hopeful and went into this cycle extremely positive and upbeat. Third time had to be the charm. Multiple shots a day going into hard lumps in your flesh from where the needles make it tighten up only phased me in that moment. I would take injections the rest of my life if we would have been able to keep our babies. And I may have proposed this to God a few times. We went to our appointments optimistic and when retrieval day was here we were encouraged by the fact we were able to get eight strong eggs from the procedure, later to have five fertilize successfully. We got calls daily to let us know how our little guys were doing and by transfer day we had an “A” and two “B’s.” It’s rare for my doctor to give an A. She’s a tough cookie. We were so hopeful about little A and couldn’t wait to bring our embabies home with us safe in my tummy. It felt like we were finally starting our family.
My dad being with us through the process felt like even more insurance. Surely HE wouldn’t have to go through this too. This just had to be it. I wore lucky socks (for both retrieval and transfer) that Derick got me which I was in love with and so were my nurses - these. I brought my lucky clover my mom had made me for cheerleading tryouts to put in my sock. - in the lucky socks it went. We prayed with our pastor on the phone before our procedure, went into the transfer uplifted, then went to brunch afterwards and moved on to the two-week-wait with faith. We ate the McDonald’s french fries on the way home (look it up if you aren’t familiar. It’s a thing in the TTC world). We had so much hope. We carried our heads high and proceeded with a positive outlook from that day on.
Two Week Wait
Um. Torture.. Nothing shy. There is so much build-up before a cycle - For a year we held strict to a fertility diet and changed many many aspects of our life hoping to be the change. Acupuncture regularly, chiropractic adjustments, holistic therapy, you name it…I did it. During the cycle it still feels like forward motion - that you are doing SOMETHING towards your goal. But when the embryos are finally nestled in your uterus and you wake up that next day, all that’s left to do is wait and torture yourself as you overthink every ache, pain, upset stomach, sore breasts or debilitating fatigue. You tie yourself in mental knots and the world around you keeps going…but you remain in limbo.
The Call
When test day arrived we were full of emotions. I have never “cheated” before and taken an at-home first. But this time I was so sure. All the physical symptoms were there. We had done ALL THE WORK. For so long. We really felt like our prayers were being answered and it was going to be so special to share the moment with my dad - even though I missed my mom through this so much it hurt. So I took a test the night before. And it was negative. I tried not to lose hope. This happens??!! False positives are a thing and I tell you what, we set up camp on that desperate thought for about 20 hours. We went to our blood work appointment and felt our hope sink when our sweet nurse’s demeanor shifted after we told her about the test. Later that day, she called to confirm her fear with a shaky voice and choked through the results of the test that crushed that hope we had held onto with such humility. We can’t say enough about our doctor and nurses. They literally go through this process with you and they are very special people. One of the hardest things we had to do was tell my dad, who was waiting like a kid on Christmas morning. Crushing isn’t the right word to describe the silent look on his face. Pulverizing might be a better fit. This was February 13th. Needless to say Valentine’s Day was accompanied by a dark cloud but the storm didn’t roll in until much later after we woke up in our empty reality. I had booked myself a facial at Aura Spa + Beauty Studio for February 14th. Not because it was Valentine’s Day. Because I thought one way or another I would need it. I would either be celebrating or grieving. Unfortunately it was the second option. It had been another long exhausting cycle. It takes so much out of you that a facial seemed like a good reward. It was literally what got me through that week - having it to look forward to in the excruciating wait. To my surprise, Derick had paid a visit before my arrival and I was greeted with flowers, a card (that made me cry), and a love knot bracelet in my room. Who doesn’t look alive when they see that little yellow box? It was so sweet and a reminder that he knew what a terrible Valentine’s this was and was right there in the dark with me.
Today
Today we have found ourselves lost and swimming in grief but this time the water is so deep we can’t see the bottom. We are grieving for the child that should’ve been. This journey is HARD. Hard on your body and hard on your soul. Your faith can take the brunt of it and it takes time for your soul to recover. I can’t say our souls have recovered. Not yet. But I’m sure they will. We may feel left behind, again, but we know that we are loved. Even on the days it feels we have been stripped of the chance to have pure joy in our life. We are Loved. We are learning how to pick up the pieces again. Even though we are tired of picking up those #&@%! pieces. It’s still hard to pray when you are terrified that one prayer may never be answered. But we still pray. We still wake up every day and work hard. We still love each other and for that I am thankful. We are exploring new options and seeking second opinions. We are working on us and coming together in the aftermath.
With Love, The Colwells….
