The Post That Almost Wasn’t

During the last week, I’ve started and trashed about 6 different blog posts. I keep thinking I have something to say, but when I try to say it, it just seems… trite. Yet, things are still trying to get out, so here are the main points:

  • I’m doing okay. Not great. Sometimes good. Mostly just okay.
  • I’m not going to therapy, and I keep forgetting to do my tapping, but I have been engaging in self-care, like a weekly yoga class, fun nights out without the kid, and getting a new tattoo to memorialize our daughter.
  • C is all kinds of awesome! She’s 2.5, and literally every day she says or does something that makes me think, “Who is this little person, and where does she come up with this stuff?”
  • C is not an awesome sleeper. In fact, she’s terrible. Always has been. When she was a baby, I had hopes that she would grow out of it, but I don’t think that will happen. People tell me, “Just wait until she’s a teenager and you’re having to drag her out of bed in the morning!” All I can think is, “Bring. It. On.” I would love that situation RIGHT NOW. But something tells me that will never happen. I wasn’t like that, and given everything I’ve seen since her birth, I don’t think she will be, either. I don’t know if she’s “just” high needs, or if there’s a medical problem we might be missing.
  • C is rocking potty training. I’d say she’s pretty much fully day trained. (Can I just say, I’m constantly in awe of the size of the poop that comes out of her every day. Not just the total amount, but the ginormous pieces. It’s unreal.)
  • I’m so over winter. We received a stupid amount of snow early on, and though we’ve had quite a few warm days recently, there’s still so much of it. Where the lawn is bare, it’s soaking wet, and there’s water standing everywhere. Puddles are great in the summer, but not when it’s 40 degrees. So, playing outside is not much fun, even when it’s warm.

2017: Please Be Kind to Me

2016 was a personal worst year ever. I lost a good friend to suicide just a couple days before I learned we would lose our baby girl. It doesn’t matter that plenty of good things happened in 2016. I won’t remember them. I already don’t remember them.

2017 was supposed to be the year we completed our family.

2017 is the year I turn 40 – the age at which my husband and I decided long ago would mark the end of our baby-making journey, whether we had a baby or not.

2017 could still be a good year. Great, even, if I manage to get pregnant. But, I’ll settle for good. It could be good if I:

  • Love myself.
  • Come to terms with all the shit recently bestowed upon me.
  • Take care of myself, physically and emotionally.
  • Remain open to the good that can and will happen.

I guess those are sort of my resolutions, though I’m not typically a resolutions sort of person. These are things I need to do, though. They aren’t really optional, unless I want to have a very bad year.


It’s Not About the Money

It’s not, it’s really not, but when I think about all the money invested in our FET cycle, plus the cost to terminate, I cringe. And it doesn’t help that we received an unexpected bill for $3,085* from the RE for our May FET. (Yeah, the FET that resulted in the baby we just lost.) It’s like being kicked when you’re already down.

I know many people spend tens of thousands of dollars on multiple failed cycles. I know this, and I realize that we are lucky that we technically have not had a failed IVF or FET cycle. But, when I add it all up…. It’s a tough pill to swallow.

$6,145 – prepayment to RE for FET cycle

$2,275  – for medications

$2,060 – additional due to RE for unplanned costs

$1,900 – clinic costs for termination (not covered by insurance)

$2,120 – flight for 2 to the Big City

$217 – 2 nights at a shitty hotel in the Big City

$200 – food and misc. in the Big City

$14,917 total

Ouch. This list doesn’t include travel costs for FET, or fees for local clinic and lab services that I had done during my FET cycle. Nor does it include the wages lost by my husband for all the appointments and days off for travel. (The bulk of his salary is in production – he gets some paid leave, but it’s peanuts compared to what he would actually make if he was working.)

This is why we’re hesitant to do another FET, even though we still have two embryos. It will be at least another $10,000, with no guarantees. We’re not broke, but another FET in the next year or so would be a stretch.

And that makes me angry. I fucking hate infertility, because it doesn’t matter what route to parenthood we choose, it still costs a fucking insane amount of money for us to have even a chance at another child. I hate this for everyone with infertility. I understand that things like IVF and adoption (and all the other options) can’t be free. In fact, I’m happy to compensate people for their professional services. But, shit, when you think of all the money you spend for just the chance, no guarantees…. It’s so unfair.

* I managed to negotiate the bill down to $2,060 by arguing that we shouldn’t have to pay the re-freezing fee due to the clinic’s mistake. I may have also played the “my baby just died” card. But I’m all out of fucks to give.

7 Weeks & a Due Date

This last week has been the longest, most anxious one I’ve ever had. Even though I’ve had no more bleeding, and I’ve been nauseated almost constantly, I still worried that my baby wasn’t growing. Finally, today arrived, and I had my third scan first thing.

We have a baby! I still don’t have the official dating measurement, but the RE said he saw a week’s growth, and I saw the heartbeat and baby blob during the scan. In fact, even before the tech showed me the screen, I knew it was good news, because she had me hold my breath – which is only necessary to record the heart rate. I could barely hold my breath, because I was already crying tears of happiness.

I was too relieved to remember to ask the RE about the SCH, but it must have resolved, because I didn’t see it on the screen (I looked for it briefly), and I’m pretty sure he would have mentioned it if it were still there. I got my official due date: February 11.

The RE was very happy and very optimistic. He even asked me who my OB would be, and encouraged me to set up my 12 week appointment now. I told him it hasn’t been on my radar, given that I couldn’t be sure I would still be pregnant this week.

My next appointment with the RE isn’t for two weeks, which is another good sign, I suppose, but a long time to wait for another scan.

I can’t even describe how relieved I am! I feel like a new person.

Not-Quite-Two Week Wait

Thank you all so much for the good wishes and positive thoughts on my last post!

I’m happy to report that I’m PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise) with one beautiful embryo.


Please stick, and stick around.

I had a chance to practice some positive thinking and meditation on the 200 mile trek to the fertility clinic, which helped my anxiety a great deal. We had a small hiccup when we got there, though. My RE excitedly informed us that they had thawed two embryos and both were high quality. The problem was that we had decided early on that we would only transfer one. I guess she forgot. Fortunately, the one not transferred was re-frozen. However, for a brief moment I did question our decision. But, ultimately, we weren’t willing to risk multiples.

Before my transfer, I spied this little rabbit just outside the clinic. That has to be a good sign, right?


My spirit animal?

So, my worst fear wasn’t realized. In 9 days, I’ll know if the transfer worked.


The Old Green-Eyed Monster Returns

Damn. I was really hoping to avoid it this time. I thought there was a good chance, too, since I have my swee20523193968_7d332bd912_zt rainbow baby to keep me busy. But, here it is: Jealousy.

I’m jealous of pregnant women, specifically those who already have one or more kids. It doesn’t matter if they also suffered from loss or infertility. I want what they have, and I want it now. I realize I sound like a bratty child, but that’s how I feel.

I don’t even have a right to be jealous, really. I only JUST had my first postpartum period a couple weeks ago, so we haven’t even started trying yet. But already I’m dreaming of a sibling for C. He (or she) is already a part of our family in my mind and in my heart, so the longer it takes for him to get here, the more I miss him. Yeah, I know, he doesn’t even exist yet. But I think many of you will understand this feeling.

Of course, on the other hand, my fear is that he isn’t out there waiting to join us, that the picture in my mind was never meant to be. Part of me wishes my heart could just remain neutral on the subject: If more kids are in the cards, great, but if not, no big deal. Alas, that’s not the case.

For now, I wrestle with jealousy, and try to remind myself every day of the blessing that is my daughter.

Did I Give Up?

Did I Give Up?

I love everything about this post. It’s not about “giving up.” It’s about making choices, the best choices for you and your family. It’s not “giving up” when you choose to stop fertility treatments and move on to surrogacy or adoption. It’s not “giving up” when you choose to stop pursuing parenthood altogether.

So, I refuse to say that I gave up.

And, I refuse to say anyone who stopped trying gave up.

Instead, I think we as society, need to celebrate those who make difficult decisions and attempt to figure out what is best for them today and into the future, regardless of what they choose.