Confessions

We love music in our house. I guess that makes sense, seeing as Chris leads worship and grew up singing with his family. Thus, we often have music on. Not being able to take any more toddler CD's, I turned on Christian radio. (I really don't trust any other station with Noah's little ears and tendency to repeat everything.)

Anyway, a song came on that we used in worship at Christmas time: "God Speaking" by Mandisa from American Idol two seasons ago. Beautiful song. (The video is below.)



This is so incredibly cliche, but I had a "moment" with the song. Yes, I'm getting more hormonal and emotional, as today marks ONE WEEK until transfer day. I can honestly say, however, this was a divine appointment in which I got a lot of clarity.


The question Chris and I have wrestled with from time-to-time is WHY? Why did he get cancer? Why did he survive? Why are we walking the road of infertility when so many people out there don't deserve to be parents or don't even want children? We know all the "right" answers, all the right Scriptures, etc. But sometimes, the right answers don't feel 100% right.

For this cycle, I have the answer to my why.

Confession time:

For a long time, I have felt rather lackadaisical about my faith. A lot of that comes from working in the church, I'm sure. People's expectations, problems, complaints start to weigh on you after a while. There are some days when I dread going to church (gasp) and feel like I'm simply going through the motions of faith. I needed a wake-up call, a revival that I wasn't expected to help plan or execute.

This cycle has been my wake-up call.

We are at the end of ourselves and even of science. The science and medicine ends after next Friday--what happens after that is up to God . .

For the past few months, I have been searching the scriptures and gleaning so much from them for the first time in a very long time. I've been acutely aware that my prayers are going beyond the ceiling.

But even if our precious embryos do not grow into babies for us to cradle and kiss, their microscopic lives carry a divine purpose. I needed them to bring me back to His throne, to be able to truly hear Him again. I am humbled that the God of the Universe is so good that He revealed Himself to me through a handful of cells, suspended in time. May He receive all the glory.

from "God Speaking"

Who knows how He'll get a hold of us?
Get our attention to prove He is enough.
He'll do and He'll use
Whatever He wants to
To tell us, "I love you."

Wow!

Check this video out! I was looking on Youtube for more about "Snow babies" aka frozen embryos and stumbled across this one:






I loved it because (a) the kid's name is Noah; (b) Noah (in the video) was frozen for two years, just like our embryos; (c) it calms my fear about some freak natural disaster striking Durham and resulting in the death of our embryos; (d) I loved that someone thought about the embryos and their parents and worked so hard to save them! I loved that even those tiny lives were worth rescuing; (e) I see how NOTHING can thwart the purposes of God. NOTHING!

I'll do another post on the "Snow baby" concept later . . .

I vs. We

One of our on-going "jokes" is that Chris had nothing to do with Noah's conception. It's funny how I look back and remember that he literally did nothing--no shots, no exams, nothing. It was all me from conception to delivery. Oh, he gave/is giving me the shots, but that's where it stops. (If you're reading and don't know the back-story, Chris is a leukemia survivor, and we used his sperm that he banked 13 years ago.)

In my most hormonal days (which so far have been on the birth control), I've had that's-not-fair thinking. (For example, it's not fair that my body is the one that gets wrecked while he gets to do nothing other than stab me with needles. So melodramatic, I know.) I'm so glad, though, that mindset was fleeting.

Otherwise, I might not appreciate the ways that he has encouraged me through this. He knows how to make me smile and to encourage me with small gifts.

Beyond giving me these small gifts and so many encouraging words, the best gift he is giving is a "We are going through infertility treatment . . . "

Thanks, Octomom.

So far, things on the estrogen have been going well. I've felt stable though I can tell it makes me sleep restlessly. Last time, I had terrible insomnia from really high levels, but I don't think my estrogen level is as high this time since I'm not growing a bunch of mature eggs at once. Anyway, the patches are really starting to itch as well--one of the downsides of sensitive skin. Two more weeks . . .

Anyway, as I was looking around on the Duke Fertility Center's website for any info about the patch, I happened to stumble upon something that made me feel good and nervous. My doctor was interviewed for an article in Time Magazine on the octuplet issue. I felt so great that she was considered an expert in the field and was contacted for her thoughts. AWESOME! Here is the part of the article in which she speaks:



From Time Magazine
Octuplets Fallout: Should Fertility Doctors Set Limits?
By Bonnie Rochman Monday, Feb. 02, 2009

. . . Over the weekend at Duke Fertility Center in Durham, N.C., the extraordinary birth was on everyone's mind. Fertility clinics are round-the-clock operations, and women came and went for fertility monitoring. Susannah Copland, who oversees the IVF program at Duke University, was on call and noticed that "everyone was buzzing about the octuplets." Some were shocked, others unnerved. "I don't want eight babies," they told her.

"And we don't want you to have eight babies," she responded.

"I will continue to counsel patients that one embryo is the way to go," says Copland. "What does Mother Nature usually give us? One baby at a time."

Yet she worries that some patients may be inspired by news of the octuplets. "It's a pebble dropped in the pond," she says, "and who knows where the ripples will go?"




Now obviously, I agree with her: we do NOT want eight babies at once!!! But here is where I am slightly nervous.

• We have our six embryos stored in batches of three.


• The "best" batch of three will be thawed first.


• IF only one embryo survives the thaw, they will thaw the other batch of three.


• IF all three from that batch survive, we would be left with four embryos.


• We are not comfortable disposing of any of our embryos.

When we met with our doctor, whom I truly LOVE, she did say she would not be comfortable implanting more than three. We agreed with her and said that our vision was ONE baby, maybe two, but no more than two.

Fast forward to a conversation with our nurse--when she wrote down our "thaw plan", she said that the Duke Fertility Center has never implanted more than three. She also said it is not likely for all three in one batch to survive, but you really never know.

SO . . . I am nervous that we might end up with a battle on April 17. What are we going to do if we end up with four live embryos? While we don't want quadruplets, Chris and I personally could not ever consent to disposing of one of our live embryos. I know that fertility doctors are even more sensitive to the number of embryos they implant due to the octuplet mom, and the reality that our doctor spoke out publicly on the issue suggests we might meet some opposition if we end up with four.

I am already praying that we would not encounter this situation, as I truly have no idea how it would turn out . . .

Results . . .

Thank you to everyone who prayed for my estrogen level! The nurse called this afternoon and informed me that my levels looked good and to continue on with the patches. Yay for no pills!!!!

The Not

The Not got me last night.

We were driving to church, and as always, the conversation dead-ended at THIS. We were breaking down the schedule of when we would have the pregnancy test and the ultrasound.We were brainstorming ways of how to break the news to our families. We were doing what we always do: talking as if this were a done deal.

Chris says, "You know what's crazy? We could be announcing that we're pregnant really soon. Like in a month."

I say, "Yeah, I know. What are we going to do? I want it to be creative and fun."

The conversation goes back and forth a little bit on that subject, and then, IT showed up. The NOT.

The "We could also NOT have ANYTHING to announce" was said. And we stopped talking and sat with the NOT for a minute or two: we can't expect to be lucky twice in a row. 25% chance is not that promising . . .

The NOT is always there, looming behind our excitement. When it shows its face, I can't even describe how our tone shifts . . . it becomes still, pensive, and somber.

So it got me thinking. If we do NOT achieve a pregnancy, do we call it a miscarriage? Technically, it wouldn't be a miscarriage. What do you call it? A failed pregnancy . . . no . . .? I feel like it needs a name tag so that I can call it by name and move through the grief.

This is what I do with big things--I try on the grief for size so that if it enters our world, I won't be caught off guard. It goes back to the death of my grandmother, I know. Her death was not something I was expecting, and the subsequent grief was heavy, dark. I expected her to beat the cancer; I expected her to be immortal, I suppose. And thus, I don't let myself NOT imagine the worst. I will NOT be caught off guard again.

So . . . as crazy as this next part may be . . . here is what I imagine we will grieve:

(1) The lives we never knew--it's so, so different this time. The sight of that 8-cell embryo is forever etched in my memory . . . those cells grew into cheeks I kiss, hands I hold, a face I wipe, a body I bathe, a person I love. The potential of these lives is so enthralling. They just need to be unlocked . . .

(2) The disappointment of failure/rejection

(3) As selfish as this may be, the loss of the money will be hard to swallow. We worked so hard to make it all work . . . for nothing?

I know this post is not very hopeful, and I apologize for that. But this part of the reality of infertility. Chris said he felt like this was a game of Russian Roulette--hit or miss. And the problem is that we don't have the money (or sperm for that matter) for misses.

I remembered something else vividly as we were talking: two Mays ago, we were sitting in the waiting area minutes before the transfer. Chris asks, "Did you bring the camera? Shouldn't we document this or something?" I don't remember what I said in reply, but I remembered why I don't have any pictures or any of my thoughts written down from that time. I was afraid of the NOT. I didn't want to have the evidence of failure; I didn't want to get too excited too soon.


This time, we are definitely less cautious because we "get it" this time. The lives of our embryos, whether they grow into babies or not, are lives that I want to celebrate regardless of how long they live in this world.

Yes, I am attached to them as their mother because I have a mother's heart this time. It makes the NOT so much scarier . . .but I will not bow to it . . .

We know Who holds our future and that He already knows the outcome of April 17, 9 am . . .

Strange

I just had the strangest phone call. Our nurse Soonja called. After the customary introductions, she said, "OK, Mary. It's time to talk dates." I thought we had already done that, but I was glad for the checking-in/confirmation. I guess it means my doctor was OK with the way the ultrasound looked.


The bottom line: I will be impregnated on April 17 at 9 am.

If I step outside of my own reality for a minute, I have to admit that I could have never imagined this six years ago. April 17, 9 am, sounds more like a dentist appointment, a conference, a coffee date . . . strange . . .

In other news, on Friday at 9:45 am, I have an appointment to get my estrogen level tested. She said not to be surprised if I have to take estrogen pills in addition to the patches. Good thing she told me because I would've been surprised. Very surprised. I really don't like the idea of pumping even more artificial hormones into my body, so my prayer is NO PILLS!