Tornadoes

Growing up in tornado alley, I learned how powerful and destructive these storms can be. The summer in the midwest is tornado season, with sudden shifts in temperature giving reason to watch the skies. As a small child, prior to understanding what they were, I remember being afraid of these monsters as I was convinced they would crawl out of the sky and gobble me whole. As I grew, I learned how to protect myself from these threats. And then later on as a teenager, while working as a lifeguard, I became attune to the signs and symptoms of these storms: high temperatures forecasting thunderstorms, sudden shifts in temperature, hail, the sky turning green and even how to read the clouds. Though I've never seen a tornado, I have seen funnel clouds and seen the aftermath of them touching down. The damage ranging from bits of siding being removed from a house to streets being torn apart.

The thing about tornadoes is that after a period of living in an area that is primed to have them, you begin to learn ways to cope. Sure, the fear certainly exists (I remember accusing a friend of going on a "suicide mission" when he insisted on driving even though the sirens were blowing), but after awhile you learn that even if the worst happens, as long as you protect yourself, you'll rebuild and survive. Part of that protection meant fortifying your house, knowing which areas were unsafe when the weather shifted, finding cover and staying clear of glass. The other part involved being prepared, having a plan and not losing your cool.

Infertility is similar. While living in the land of IF, you learn through the help of others as well as trial and error how to survive. When bad news hits like a tornado, you learn to protect yourself so you are not mortally wounded. Sometimes the tornadoes catch us off guard and we are greatly hurt. But with help and time, we rebuild and heal. And we learn how to fortify with the hope that the next storm won't yield as much damage.

In December, following our first IVF cycle, Grey and I let our guard down. With the news of our first ever BFP, we began to relax and look towards the future. The news on January 1st was a class 5 tornado that surprised both of us, destroying everything in it's path. Following the confirmation that I had indeed miscarried, we began to pick through the rubble, hoping to find something that could be salvaged. Our wounds from those couple of weeks are still not completely healed and will definitely result in some lovely scars, but we are healing and have found moments to treasure from the cycle in December. In addition, we still had 6 embryos and the doctors reassured us that they still had hope. And so, cautiously, we made plans to try again, fortifying ourselves to another tornado.

Today was my first beta. The day started with signs of a storm, as my clinic was suffering a brown out and couldn't perform basic services. We were shuttled off to the main hospital for the blood-draw, performed by a new phlebotomist who was so very nervous he would hurt me (he did a wonderful job and I made sure to tell him so) and then began a process of trying to figure out where I could pick up my prescription for more Crinone if the test came back positive. What should have taken us only 20 minutes took 1 1/2 hours. At one point I looked at Grey and reasoned that if everything was going so wrong, maybe it was a good sign. After all, the last time everything went so well and we lost everything. Maybe the Universe decided this part of the process was to be our storm.

Somehow I made it to work in time to give lecture and then went off to lab meeting. All the time thinking that the later they called, the more likely it was that this cycle was a flop.

At 1:30 pm the nurse from my clinic called. She started taking about instructions for Sunday when I stopped her to ask her the result.

Nurse E: "Wait a minute, I thought Dr. Optimism had called you"

Me: "Nope. So what's the number."

Nurse E: "Well, I'm not suppose to tell you. That's Dr. Optimism's job. But I will say this . . . it's good"

Me: "How good?"

Nurse E: " Like beta = 306 good"

Cue uncontrollable laughter.

I did get a chance to speak with Dr. Optimism about the number (loss of power for 4 hours tends to royally screw up a work day) and she's really happy and optimistic. Still Grey and I are cautious.

We're cautious because we've been here before and been so greatly hurt.

And we're cautious because we are not longer naive. We now know first hand that pregnancy does NOT equal a baby. That all of this can all be taken away. That we are still in the middle of tornado season and it can destroy everything we've worked so hard for.

Tonight I am happy, but I am also nervous. Because of this, I'm staying close to my cave, refusing to think too far into the future.

Beta #2 is on Sunday. In the meantime, I'm watching the skies for funnel clouds.