Still Waiting

The past week was one of the most difficult weeks I've had in a while. On the one hand, it was a good distraction from the wait, but on the other hand, it was exhausting. It was all work drama. I have an irrational fear that someone from work (or someone in my city of more than 5 million people) will figure out who I am, so I won't give details. Suffice it to say that the week included lots of closed-door meetings, a controversial announcement about a reorganization, and a cancer diagnosis for a dear friend at work. Scary.

This weekend, I decided to mostly do just what I wanted to do, which involved not one but two long naps, three Oscar-nominated movies, and lots of Olympic-watching.

I'm sort of dreading tomorrow (Monday) but I'm sure everything will be okay eventually.

I am thinking that we might hear something about our embryos this week. I still feel afraid about the results. Having never had a frozen transfer, this "intermission" between the retrieval and transfer is a strange new experience. I don't like it. I feel like I'm just suspended between hope and the fear of reality. And I've lost my motivation to follow the regimen given by the acupuncturist in Denver: at least 64 oz. of water daily, 30 minutes of walking daily (walking, not running), absolutely no caffeine of any kind, and electro-acupuncture. I think if I get good news, that will get me back into the swing of things. And if we get bad news, I plan to get seriously caffeinated and run like the wind. It's good to have a plan B. However, deep down I don't think I'll need it. Time will tell.

Fingers crossed!

The ride continues

Emotion of the moment:  fear. I don't know why, but I'm feeling scared that none of our embryos will be normal. It hit me yesterday that that really could be the case. I'm hoping for at least two of the six to be normal, but it very well could be that none of my 39-year-old eggs can make good embryos.

I just got a call on my cell phone from area code 303 and thought, "It's the lab." My heart froze because I'm not sure I'm ready to hear the truth of the matter. It actually was our hotel. I accidentally left my Blackberry cord behind and they are trying to return it to me.

I am so ready for a conclusion to this journey. If none of the embryos are normal, I think we then move toward adoption. But DH will be 50 in a matter of months. Is adoption even a possibility? And how long could that take?

So. Fear. And my old friend, impatience. That's what I've got going on today.

I'd like to thank the Academy . . .

AmyG at When you gotta glow gave me an award earlier this week -- a first for me! Thank you, AmyG. You have been such an encouragement to me. I am still pretty new at what I will call "interactive blogging," and you've helped me get out there and connect with people.

Blogging has helped me deal with circumstances in better ways. For example, the other night, DH and I went to dinner and a basketball game with some friends. I love these friends, especially the wife, and seeing them is always a treat because we don't seem them very often. We always laugh a lot with this couple. During the past year and a half, the four of us have bonded over IF issues and they have both been very in tune with our IVF attempts. So over dinner, after asking all kinds of questions about our time in Denver -- and our declaration that if they want to try another IVF cycle, they should consider going out there -- here's what happened:

Him: We've got something to tell you.

Me: You're pregnant.

Him: Yes.

Me: Congratulations!

Him: Oh come on!  F*ck you! I know that's what you want to say.

Me: No, it's not. I'm happy for you guys!

Him (laughing): Go ahead. Curse at me. Do it!!

Me: No. That's really not how I feel. I've been working on this. I've actually been blogging and wrote something about being happy for people the other day. I really, really am happy for you.

And I was being genuine. Without this blog and the community of bloggers I've met here, I might not have been able to respond that way. We talked and talked about their pregnancy and our hopes for success and I even made a great discovery:  if I get pregnant, I can borrow her maternity clothes!  : )

Back to the award. It comes with rules:

1) Thank the person who nominated you for this award

2) Copy the award and place it in your blog
3) Link to the person who nominated you for this award
4) Tell us 7 interesting things about you
5) Nominate 7 bloggers and link to their blogs

So 7 things about me:
1. I have a black cat named Lucky. She is Lucky because I adopted her from a shelter.
2. There's a legend in my family that my grandfather eight generations back was an Indian chief who disowned his son because he married a white woman (my grandparents seven generations back). My mom's family is obsessed wih trying to substantiate this story.
3. DH and I have been married for two years, four months, and five days. We are so, so happy together.
4. In my 20s, I briefly went to nursing school and also completed about 35 hours toward a Masters of Divinity degree. Just couldn't figure out what to do with my life!
5. Until 2006, I had not travelled outside the U.S. beyond a brief excursion across the border to Mexico and a trip to Montreal and Quebec. Since 2006, I have been to England, Scotland, Costa Rica, Finland, Estonia, Sweden, France, Ireland, and Italy.
6. I can bake an awesome chocolate chess pie using my maternal grandmother's recipe. When I had to give up all caffeine (including chocolate) last November, I learned to bake a pecan pie using my paternal grandmother's recipe. It is awesome, too, if I may say so myself!
7. I love to read, especially during the summer months. One of my all-time favorite books is The Brothers K by David James Duncan.

Seven bloggers to nominate:
I am going to fail here. I am still so new to the blogosphere, I haven't even been follwing seven blogs. But here are a few, in addition to AmyG's When you gotta glow:

1. Pie at Slice of Pie, who is about a week or two ahead of me in all of this and one of my new friends in the blogosphere
2. Arminta at Life Family and the Pursuit of Sanity who just finished her first trimester and has the most adorable two-inch-long baby
3. Lynn at Wistful Girl, the only other Georgian I've encountered on here
4. Mo at Life and Love in the Petri Dish, who provided early encouragement for me to get engaged in the blogosphere, with her list of CCRM bloggers and her great CCRM stories

I've also been reading Mel's Stirrup Queens, but nominating her for this award would be like saying that perhaps Katharine Hepburn or Meryl Streep should be nominated for an Oscar. I'm sure she's already been awarded every award there is. I love reading her blog.

So that's about it. I'm really grateful for this community of courageous, hopeful and kind women.

Show and Tell: Grow Here

This is my first Show and Tell. Click on the chalkboard above to go to the archives and learn more about this project, which Mel has been coordinating for at least 92 weeks now.

Click here to visit Mel's Show and Tell post for this week, which includes links to what other bloggers are sharing.

I want to share a photo I took earlier this month in Colorado. "Grow Here" is a marketing message for a new live-work-play real estate development that's coming up all around the medical center next door to CCRM.

"Grow Here" banners welcome you into the development, most of which is still undeveloped, along a parkway that leads to CCRM. Day after day, as I passed the banners on my way to the clinic, I received "Grow Here" as a positive message of encouragement just for me and the other patients of CCRM. At first I received it as an imperative statement: "Grow Here, follicles!" And I would literally tell them that -- out loud, along with a gentle pat on my midsection -- in the car when we were approaching CCRM. After the egg retrieval, Grow Here became reassuring, as if the banners were telling me, "Yes, you have come to the right place for growth. Your embryos will Grow Here." Even now, 1,200 miles away in Atlanta, I like that fact that those banners are lining the road to where my embryos are stored.

Someone could probably stake one of those banners in my front yard now, because I think the excruciating wait for the genetic test results is going to make me grow a little bit, too . . .

Lunchtime thoughts

What follows is a really long post, most of which I composed today at work over lunch. I finished it up tonight. It may seem disjointed, but what can I say?

*****

The snow has melted and all is back to normal in the ATL.

I am feeling a bit melancholy today -- okay, more than a bit melancholy or I wouldn’t be writing about it on my lunch hour -- but I’m not sure exactly why. It really started over the weekend. When I have a problem, I want to fix it -- so I hate feeling this way. “This way” being down without the ability to pinpoint the source of the feelings (and thus the ability to fix it, and fast).

Feeling melancholy -- even depressed -- is not an unfamiliar feeling, but it is one that hasn’t been present much in the past several years. Five years ago? That’s a different story. I was a total mess. Recently divorced, stuck in a relationship I had no business in (and afraid to get out), and grieving the sudden loss of my dad. It took hours and hours and hours of therapy and some wonderful friends and family members to get me through that.

Just thinking about those days in 2005 makes me think, “Everything’s fine!” because by comparison, it is -- without a doubt!

Last night I told DH that I’m feeling some post-retrieval depression. That could be the source of my feelings. The excitement of a new cycle has passed. To this point, all has worked beautifully, but I won’t know for sure for four or five weeks when we get the genetic test results on our six embryos. I think I’m feeling some impatience and some frustration at the fact that I still don’t know what my life is going to be like.

This very much ties in with my feelings about my job. I’ve been in the same job for more than seven years now and while I love what I do, I believe deeply in my organization’s mission (I work for a nonprofit), and it continues to offer opportunities for growth, I would be dishonest if I didn’t say I probably would have moved on if I didn’t have like 12 weeks of sick leave (maternity leave) built up. If I leave, I lose it. If I find a job at another nonprofit, it’s probably not going to have paid maternity leave as a benefit. So some days I feel stuck. It stinks because sometimes it causes me to  lose perspective on why I want to have a baby. Not that I would necessarily quit my job if I had a baby. I actually plan to stay and enjoy the fact that I know my job and my organization well, which would make the transition into motherhood a little bit easier, without the pressure of learning a new job and juggling the myriad feelings of being a new mom with a career she’s passionate about. I'm pretty sure I will seek out that next opportunity if we end up childless. (I actually have a Plan B that involves a new job, another degree, an impractical car with only two doors, but that’s for another post.)

*****

In other depressing news, I learned that another woman at church is pregnant. I was thinking yesterday afternoon how odd it is that someone’s good news has the potential to create such a problem for me. Why should her happiness and good fortune have any bearing on how I feel about my own life? Why should the fact that she is pregnant NOW make me feel like I need to be pregnant just as soon as possible so I can be happy for her? Why can’t I just be happy for her now? And truly, when I put it that way, I am. I certainly wouldn’t wish IF on her. If this is what she and her husband want, then that’s great. And I mean, of course that’s what they want. That’s what just about every reasonably responsible adult wants, isn’t it? That’s the way the universe works. That’s what people do. They meet, fall in love, commit to each other, and naturally want to start their own family.

Why can’t it work that way for me?

Asking why is something I haven’t spent a lot of time on, because I don’t expect to ever find an answer. My IF is unexplained, except for the fact that I’m 39 now. There’s my explanation.

I’ve actually spent lots of time asking why my dad, who suffered a brain injury in 1996 (14 years ago tomorrow, as a matter of fact) and never walked or talked again, didn’t improve much cognitively, functionally, emotionally, you name it -- despite having great medical care, good physical therapists, and the best full-time nurse in the world (my mom). I’ve also spent time wondering why he didn’t die in the car accident. He certainly would not have suffered like he did. His injury robbed him of his career, his hobbies, his plans for retirement, his ability to bathe and feed himself, his ability to communicate, his sex life…. And pretty much left him with a nightmare of a life. But what he did have was a wife and two children and extended family members and friends who were absolutely devastated by his losses. People who stayed by his side to love and encourage him -- the new him.

When he died in 2005, I grieved the loss of the dad I had for 25 years and the dad I had come to know for the last nine years of his life. At first, I wanted him back either way I could get him -- it didn’t matter if he could only communicate by giving me a thumbs up or thumbs down to my yes/no questions, it didn’t matter if he had no quality of life -- but eventually, I accepted that he was finally at peace and I had to let him go. It has taken me five years to be “okay” with his absence. This past holiday season was the first one since his death when I thought, “Okay, I can do this. It’s going to be okay.”

I think if I’m going to ask why, I should think about my dad some more. Or think about the senseless loss of the Olympian from Georgia, who immediately lost everything while doing what he loved. Or I should think about Haiti or Huntsville, Afghanistan and Iraq.

The world is so full of why.

*****

Writing this immediately made me feel better this afternoon. Not that I ended on a cheerful note. But it was just the therapeutic act of writing, of getting it all out, of acknowledging my sad, impatient feelings and voicing my questions. It made it all bearable and took away much of my melancholy feeling. It’s still there, but I stopped feeling it with such intensity.

And then, I got home tonight and checked the blogs that I follow and saw that AmyG gave me an award! That’s so cool! Thank you very much, AmyG. This means I now have an assignment, but it will have to be completed later this week. It's late! 

Southern Snow!

I must confess that I have felt a little jealous of everyone up near D.C. with all of that snow. (Please don't comment and tell me how insane of a statement that is. I get it. Things up there are really a total mess and most everyone is inconvenienced and frustrated.)

I grew up in a place that has mild winters like we do in Atlanta. But I went to school in the Shenandoah Valley and we got lots of snow. I'm sure the Valley is buried in snow just like D.C. is. My freshman year, I remember stealing trays from the dining hall and going sledding for the first time ever. In my hometown, even when we did have snow, we had no hills.

The entire time we were in Denver, we never really saw snow fall. Well, to be completely honest, we saw a little bit fall the night we arrived and the day we left, but it was not a pretty snow and we didn't get to see anything accumulate.

Well! I'm thrilled to report that Atlanta has snow! And it is beautiful! And I got to come home from work early and put on my fleece pullover and cozy pants and take a long nap on the couch. Here's a photo of my front yard.

I just love it! This is the biggest snow Atlanta has seen in a few years, I think.

After my nap, we made a big pot of soup and sat down to watch part of the Olympics opening ceremony. Tomorrow morning, I may have to put on my ski pants and jacket and go for a walk. I'm dying to make a snow angel. If I do, and if it is attractive, and if I can get a good photo of it, I will share it.

Good night!

Six on Day Six

And then there were six.

The lab called today to report that yesterday (day 5) they biopsied and vitrified four of our embryos and then today (day six), there were two more to biopsy and vitrify. When she said "four" my heart sank, but when she told me about the two today, I felt better. I was a little bit disappointed because I was sort of hoping for another astounding report (I imagined perhaps 7 to 10 making it to blast), but when I really thought about what we have achieved, six is wonderful.

Again I asked for the details and she told me the grades: 3AA, 4AB, 5AA, 5AA, and two "two-thirds." Has anyone heard of this "two-thirds" grade? She explained it and then I asked her to explain it again. She said they are early blastocysts and they can almost tell where the intracellular mass (cells that become the baby) will be, but not enough to give them a real grade. However, they are good enough to make it to the next round. The very nice lab lady said that anything higher than a BB is considered a good embryo.

I asked about the ones that didn't make the cut and she said there were two ones, two that looked the way they should look on day four (so they were a few days behind) (there was a name for that but I can't figure out what it was -- I googled it and still couldn't get it -- it started with an M and sounded like oreo), and 3 arrested.

I also asked if she thought this was good overall, considering we started with 17 eggs. She said it is about what they would expect. I was sooo glad she didn't end that statement with "for someone of your age." That was so nice. Does anyone else cringe inside when you sense that phrase coming?

So if this were American Idol, my entire reserve of eggs stood in line for days to audition in front of Simon, Randy and Cara; 17 eggs got the chance to actually sing for them; 14 made it to Hollywood; and now six have made it into the finals.

Too much TV, you think?

Too much time off work! I pretty happily went back today, even if it was a 10-hour day.  (And yes, I was very happy to come home and watch the first AI episode featuring Ellen D.)

So I feel good about where we are. I don't have any anxiety about waiting six weeks for genetic test results and I sincerely told two people today that if zero come back normal, I will not regret doing this. I am so happy that we went to Denver. I feel like we have done everything we could possibly do to conceive a child. If this fails, I think it will be a sign that it is time to move on to another approach to building our family.

I just realized that in the past two paragraphs, I've used the word "happy" (or some variation thereof) three times. Yes, I feel happy. I am happy that our biggest hurdle to IVF success (making eggs and thus, embryos) has been jumped. The only two embryos we made before were below average on day three. Until now, I'd never made a blast and I'm pretty happy that I made six with pretty good grades! I'm happy that the stimulation phase is over and I probably don't ever have to do that again. Our plan, since we don't have insurance for this, was always to try three times and then move on. If it doesn't happen in three attempts, maybe it's not supposed to happen this way.

In addition to happy, I also feel relieved. I have been hopefully anticipating the possibility of pregnancy and parenthood off and on for.... well... almost 17 years. That's a long time to wish for something intermittently and to have almost no indication of whether your hopes will ever come to fruition. I am happy because I know that one way or another, this not knowing about something so important will be over before too much longer. (I was married before, at age 22, for 11 years. We tried off and on with no success during that time. Never sought help for the issue because I wasn't convinced I wanted kids with him. Soooo glad that didn't happen!)

So. Final "happy" count in this post: Eleven

That's a lot of happy. (Twelve!)