Learning to say goodbye

The past 36 hrs have been hard ones. The beta from today marked the end of a 2.5 yr journey towards pregnancy and biological children. There have been tears and anger. Despair and numbness. We both feel lied to, blaming ourselves and the world for this pain. Yet, in the end, both Grey and I know that this is the end. We've fought a good fight; it's time to let go.

The struggle for us now is grieving and saying goodbye to the children we wanted so desperately. These past few months, the image of them has slowly faded from my mind, but I never allowed myself to truly believe that they would not exist. Afterall, IVF is suppose to work; happy endings are suppose to happen following loss and struggle. Yet here we are at the crossroads, both of us knowing full well that we need to grieve this loss and bury them in order to move forward. That without doing this, our children will never find us.

How does one go about saying goodbye? Keiko Zoll posted about writing a letter to her biological child, while others have talked about doing something to mark the transition, be it with a memorial or some act. Right now my mind is clouded and healing needs to be the main focus, but I do want to do something for them. I'm just at a loss for what.

In 3 days, Grey and I will be celebrating our 8th wedding anniversary. It's bitter-sweet to think about us as a newly-married couple, full of hope for the future and sure of our family. How different we are now and uncertain. Yet how determined.

Tonight I'm holding the images of my sweet someday children tight, kissing them each goodbye. I know very soon that those images will be nothing more than a memory. A sweet dream that was never meant to be.

Thank you all for your sweet words and prayers. I've shown Grey all of your emails and comments, each of which have helped both of us feel less alone in the world during this time.

Been here before

Transfer day. A day that everyone going through IVF/FET waits for with baited breath. Since my last miscarriage, I haven't really allowed myself to think about this day. Partly because I've been grieving the loss of my last pregnancy. Partly because I've been scared to think there could be a different outcome. Over the weekend, both Grey and I have struggled with finding hope for the cycle; seeing a positive outcome. Grey especially has had a hard time, since a co-worker recently gave birth and now his workspace is filled with images of her and her new daughter. Happy for the co-worker, but in pain from the reminder of what we've lost.

On Sunday, a phone conversation with MissConception and reading Dandelion Breeze's recent post, snapped me back to reality. On a side-note, if you haven't already, go send these women some love. The news of Dandelion Breeze's most recent IVF/PGD cycle not working is heartbreaking. MissConception is still working through grief from the loss of M&A while trying to embrace her little Raspberry.  Both of these women are amazing and inspiring individuals, but they could use the extra TLC right now.

What I was reminded of (directly from MissConception, too) was that despite the grief of loss, there can be hope. Dandelion Breeze's suggestion of finding non-traditional therapies reminded me that despite the fact that nothing is really changing during this FET on the medical end, there have been lots of chances for this cycle. I started seeing Dee regularly to work through my grief. Grey and I started putting together our adoption plan. I started acupuncture (which I love!!!). This cycle is during summer break, meaning I'm a bit more relaxed. And Grey and I are on the same page. Even though we are both struggling, we are struggling together.

The end result of all of this was the realization that I needed to lower my guard and openly admit some things. I can't be continually steeling myself for the worst, as it will negate any possible good from coming from all of this. So Monday evening, I set out to prepare for this FET.

I started by sitting down and making a list of things I hope for. This may sound silly, but I've spent a lot of time focusing on what I fear. Fear of a BFN or another miscarriage. Fear of never being able to carry a child to term. Not once since April have I allowed myself to be hopeful for this cycle.

The truth is, I want this cycle to work. As much as we've been preparing for adoption (a route we now know we will be taking no matter what), I want to carry Grey's child. I want my embryos to survive the thaw and to become pregnant, but I want more than a BFP. I want to see a heartbeat, to watch my belly grow, to have my husband hold this body while it is carrying his child and ultimately to see a baby with Grey's eyes and my nose.

In addition, I started doing things to help my body prepare. I quit caffeine when I started the Crinone (for some strange reason, progesterone makes being caffeine-free easier for me), I started the Circle+Bloom program again, I've been loading up on water to counter the effects of the Doxycyclin and I bought a pineapple. Actually, I bought two. Grey used the first one to make Pineapple stir-fry. I have no idea if pineapple actually helps with implantation, but pineapple is in season so it can't hurt.

I've also been trying to distract myself. Reading has helped with this and I need to pick up my knitting today. The night before the FET, I made pies. Probably not the best activity at 10 pm the night before FET, but I needed a distraction.

Strawberry Rhubarb with a buttermilk pie crust

And finally, I packed Polaris. I no longer care what people think about me carrying this bear.

My security blanket

Tuesday was a packed day. My first acupuncture appointment was at 9 am, so Grey and I were up early to make sure I had everything that I would need for the day. Following the appointment, which helped relax me like never before, we stopped by a local French bakery to pick up some tarts for the clinic staff. After working with all of them for so long, I figured we were long overdue for a thank you gift.

And then it was time to go downstairs to prep for the transfer.

Socks from Tami-Scrabble at Submerged. Everyone got a kick out of them

Finally, the embryologist was ready with her report. And to my astonishment, we learned that our two 3AB embryos had survived the thaw and one had been upgraded! So we were transferring a 4AA and 3BB.
*No photos this time. The University decided the clinic does not need a camera to photograph embryos.


The rest of the day was spent promoting implantation. Following the second acupuncture appointment which was immediately after the transfer (and which I managed to sleep through), I spent the rest of the day on the couch trying to out-sleep my nurses.

Movement is not an option

Today I'm home again, taking it easy. Despite everything else I *should* be doing, MissConception words of wisdom of "being a Mommy to these snowbabies" has been foremost on my mind. And with the news that they managed to survive despite the odds, I'm taking it as a sign that I need to do my part and give them every possible chance.

Somehow, someway, I'm finding hope again. Despite the fact that we've been here before, I'm praying for a different outcome.

Behold the dragon

Dragons. Webster's dictionary defines them as "mythical animal usually represented as a monstrous winged and scaly serpent or saurian with a crested head and enormous claws." The Chinese view dragons as symbols of strength, power and good luck. Referring to someone as a "dragon" is the ultimate in compliments, indicating that this person is outstanding and excels. But Dragons are also viewed in a negative light. European cultures view dragons as villainous reptiles who reek havoc and destruction. To encounter a dragon is the ultimate test in strength and survival, as these creatures are also cunning. It is fitting that these creatures are seen as a symbol of change.


This past Friday, I met with Dee to begin a series of painful therapy sessions. I'll write more in the near future about what we've been doing and provide an update. Prior to the session, though, we talked more about adoption and I began hitting her with a number of naive questions regarding starting the process, finding agencies, etc. Smiling, she proceeded to hand me two books to provide some basic information. The first one is called "Adoption After Infertility," by Patricia Irwin Johnston. Though an older book, Dee thought it would be a good place to start.


Following my meltdown after the adoption information meeting on Saturday, I picked up the book and began to read. The first section called the "Challenge of Infertility" opened with the metaphor of the dragon. As I read, I found myself nodding along with many of the observations from the author. Starting with the idea that people who are quick to throw adoption out as a viable alternative are usually the same who would not even consider taking a similar route. The fact that most people view the road to parenthood as a pretty pleasant and defined path: have sex, get a positive pregnancy test and 9 months later you're congratulating one another on the ability to pass on your genes. That infertility is really an uncharted territory for most, an unspeakable fear that many would prefer to ignore.


What struck me most in the first chapter was the statement by the author that infertility is not simply one loss. It involves multiple losses: 
1) Loss of control over many aspects of life 
2) Loss of one's genetic continuity linking past and future
3) Loss of joint conception of a child with one's life partner
4) Loss of the physical sensation of pregnancy and birth
5) Loss of the emotional gratifications of pregnancy and birth
and finally
6) Loss of the opportunity to parent


Infertility robs us of all of this. With the help of modern medicine, those who undergo treatment have the opportunity to regain all of these. But what if treatment fails? What about those of us who come to the end of the road for this part of the journey, finding that our arms are still empty? Adoption is most certainly a road to recover the last opportunity, but it's far from an easy journey.


I've been struggling a lot with all these losses recently. Struggling with the fact that the future is still very unclear. This Mother's Day was particularly hard, as I spent it as a bereaved mother, painfully aware of what milestones I would be checking off for both of my pregnancies if they had stuck. So like any animal in pain, I've been lashing out. In my head, I reasoned that Grey would be better off without me, giving him the ability to find a life partner who could give him children and ultimately happiness. I was pushing him away. 


Something happened, though. Something that was completely unexpected. After a particularly painful lash, I picked up Ms. Johnston's book and read a story about a woman who survived infertility, who resolved through adoption. Yet despite her happiness, she spent years mourning her body, which had failed her. Like me, she felt guilty that her husband suck beside her, reasoning that she was holding him back from a more fulfilling life. One day, this woman attended a RESOLVE conference and hear a male therapist talk about how men grieve differently from women. Following the talk, she went home to talk to her husband, asking him to share his thoughts. The conversation startled her, leading to a message that could not have been more self esteem enhancing or important to their marriage. The husband told his wife how carefully he had thought through all those offers and threats of divorce from the years before and how frightening they had been for him. That what he wanted (telling her from the ten-thousandth time, but which she had failed to hear) was not fertility, but her. That the thought of losing his wife, their relationship, their life together was more terrifying than the thought of losing his ability to have biological children.


A moment later, Grey came and sat be me, repeating pretty much the same thing. For the first time, I actually heard what he was saying. And in my heart, I knew I felt the same. That if the chose was a life with Grey and infertility or a life without Grey and fertility, I would chose Grey. 


Mother's Day was spent in the mountains, reflecting on this conversation as well as what I had been reading. As Grey and I hiked into the wilderness, I thought about how the Chinese written expression of "crisis," which contains the characters of two different words: danger and opportunity. 

Image from http://www.chinese-symbols.com/

Infertility is most certainly a crisis, filled with the danger of loss on so many levels. But what I realized while passing the families with small children on the trail was that infertility is also an opportunity. Grey and I have developed communication skills for that enable us to move swiftly through dangerous situations. Time and again, I witness couples on the trail where those communication skill did not exist, leading to potentially dangerous situations. There are many other things that came to mind during the hike, hard-won gifts that we never would have discovered if not for this experience; gifts that we are still learning about. 


Tonight, I am preparing for our next confrontation with our dragons. The dragrons that are dangerous: those of fear, loss, grief and pain. But also the dragons of opportunity. From the time they were conceived, we've referred to our embryos as dragons, as they were meant to be our baby born during the Year of the Dragon. With only four (4) left, that wish may no longer be a reality, but they may instead be the key to the door leading to our children, children who we will be united in the future. A bittersweet thought, but one that I hold on tightly to. 

Hearts a mess

First off, thank you for all the wonderful comments on the last post. I needed them more than I knew. I'm still hurting from all of this, but slowly healing with each passing day. And a big part of that has to do with this community. Ladies, you are awesome.

The past few days, I've become more and more aware of the hole that exists in me. The years of failure topped with loss has left me questioning the process and what I want out of it. Mainly this idea of continuing treatments vs trying another path. Grey and I talked at length about all of this the other night, both agreeing that the hardest thing about this journey is not knowing what the outcome will be.

Last Sunday Grey and I had a phone conference with Dr. Optimism. Following my meltdown in the WTF appointment, we all decided it would be best to have a couple of weeks off to allow me to reset. During that downtime, I had a chance to do some reading and some thinking. The hope was to find some information or formulate a hypothesis for what had happened in order to determine how best to proceed. The two weeks after this were spent looking for any new research indicating that we had missed something. The end result: nothing.

My REs are making the best decisions based on all the information they have. They are doing everything that is medically indicated, if not more. If I was losing these pregnancies later on, then APA panels and looking at clotting disorders would be indicated. But I'm losing everything around 5 weeks. There is nothing in the literature about this. And it's so frustrating because I think we're missing something, but the only way to get at it involves doing research, getting at the basic biology of implantation failure. It's amazing how little we know.

But another thing has emerged from all of this, which is that we are quickly approaching the end of this journey and coming to the crossroads for the next paths. Grey and I have both weighed our options, looking at living child-free, choosing surrogacy, or pursing adoption. We've talked about adoption extensively, but it's always been a "when we get there" kind of thing. On the radar, but distant. Since the events of this month, though, things have begun to change. Adoption is no longer distant. And with recent signs, it's almost like it's meant to be.

Two nights ago, I awoke crying from a dream. In the dream, both Grey and I were in a hospital, surrounded by cries of women giving birth. Initially I was panicked, wondering why we were in this place when it was clear I was not carrying a child. Grey silently hugged me and then whispered "turn around." When I did, I found a women in white holding a small bundle. She walked towards me, beaming the whole way, and placed the bundle in my arms. Though I couldn't make out the face, I knew that this was our child. And as I pressed this small creature close to my heart, I could feel the hole inside me begin to fill. That it didn't matter where this child came from, because I already was in love with him/her.

Waking up was torture.

As I sit here and write, I'm very aware of the hole that exists in me. How empty I feel. I'm also completely aware that I have zero faith that this next FET will work. But I also know that if we don't pursue this that we can never really close the door on this chapter and move forward. Because I no longer have this image of my children having Grey's eyes and my nose.

My hearts a mess. How I long for the day when this hole is a distant memory.

Picking up the pieces

The last couple of days have been hard ones. Harder than I every imagined. I've cried a lot, both in private, with friends and with Grey. I've watched him cry too, which broke my heart all over again. I've bargained with the universe, had moments of sadness and anger. But mainly I've been kicking myself for allowing myself to finally feel some peace follow the first couple of betas. Though short, those few days where everything was progressing allowed me to feel that we might actually be able to move forward for the next few months. How foolish of me.

Today I went in for my final blood draw. When I called the clinic to find out where I could pick up my lab slip, I learned that Dr. Sage wanted to see me after my blood draw. I barely held it together in the waiting room, dreading seeing all of them again. But I'm glad we saw him. Dr. Sage examined me and confirmed that, though the pregnancy didn't last, there were good signs that this cycle had been successful. He told me that he thought it was simply a bad roll of the dice and encouraged us to take a month off and then to proceed with a FET. I have an appointment in 2 weeks with Dr. Optimism to check on my progress of recovering and to talk about the future. In the meantime, I've been ordered to rest, allow menstruation to start and to take care of myself. Both Grey and I received many hugs and condolences as we were leaving, reaffirming how lucky we are to have found this clinic.

The question, now, is how long do we stay on this path. The answer is different for everyone; some stop at IUI and immediately move on, others will continue with treatment for many years. There's no "correct" choice and I would never be naive enough to suggest someone take a particular path. Yet it's something, if you've been on this road long enough, that you'll start thinking about.

Last night, something shifted. A good friend took me out for some tea and we spent 2 1/2 hours of me talking/crying and her listening, followed by 30 minutes of her offering words of support and comfort. During our "conversation" it became clear that I needed to begin the process of resolving my infertility. I've been on this journey for too long and I only have a short amount of patience left for treatment. That's when our conversation turned to adoption.

A bit of background on Grey and I regarding this issue: we come from families with two very different view points on this issue. Grey's family is rich from adoption; his maternal grandmother was adopted, one of his cousins and even his eldest nephew. He's always viewed this process as a beautiful thing, as without it he would not have the family he has today. My family views adoption as a great option . . . for everyone else. Like many others in this country, adoption is very misunderstood and is seen as something only "broken" people pursue. And adopted parents are seen as substitutes for the child's "real" mother and father. Granted, this is never spoken outright. Hell, they'll even deny it! But this summer, this view-point became glaringly clear after my mother and aunt conspired to have me adopt my cousin's son after the state threatened to remove him from my cousin's custody. My mother's response to my reasoning why this wasn't a good option of "no child you adopt will ever truly be yours" still echoes in my head.

My view on adoption began to change when I first meet Grey's nephew. Though physically different from the rest of the family, this child was clear one of them. And it was infectious, as they demonstrated to me that love was not a conditional thing. When Grey and I were starting off our marriage, adoption was something we talked about, something to consider after we started our family. It wasn't until last year that I was faced with really analyzing this option that it became apparent it was something I really wanted to do. As I talked with members of my support group about resolving, I realized that no matter if pregnancy was or wasn't an option, adoption would be the path we would take.

Now I know that the road to adoption is a hard one. The process is filled with many different options (domestic vs. international, closed vs. open, infants vs. small children) and I'm more than aware of all the stories of heartache from adoptions that have fallen through, delays and even stress from the process.  In addition, there are many things that need to be considered within the next few months, if this is going to happen, and none of it can be decided overnight. But I also see the stories of those who have come out on the other side and see how much they love their children. The joy that is there in those families. And I want that.

So, here's our plan for 2012: We're giving ourselves 6 months.  We'll proceed with the FET and hold onto hope for pregnancy. But in 6 months, if our situation hasn't changed, we begin the adoption process. I've already looked into local agencies such as AMARA and Holt, but plan on spending time that I normally would worrying about a cycle on researching our options.

Tonight, we are saying goodbye to our two embabies. We will tell them, though they were with us for such a short period of time, how much we love them and miss them. Tomorrow, we'll begin picking up the pieces and moving forward.