IVF seemed like a whirlwind. There was always something to do. Always an appointment to go to, always an injection to have administered, always research to be done, always chatting with friends who had gone through similar experiences, always a next step, etc. The days passed by quicker than I had thought, and being busy helped keep me from thinking too much. Since I had planned for IVF mentally (as much as one could), I think I handled my emotions about it all pretty well. I enjoyed blogging about my experience, in hopes that I could help someone else going through infertility, and I liked the comfort and peace I felt from my family and friends knowing the details of our journey.
After finding out that I was actually pregnant (wow!), I struggled emotionally with the following weeks. Honestly, I was more prepared for not getting pregnant from our first round of IVF, than I was for getting pregnant. With each passing day after the first positive pregnancy test, I grew more and more scared that I would lose the baby. I wasn't my peppy, cheery self. I was much more fearful about the experience and Googled more than I should have. I was grateful for the congratulations from my family and friends, but I never truly felt like congratulations were in order since I feared that at any second, I would lose the baby. I had heard and read too many IVF journeys about other people. I think I took their journeys on thinking that their stories were my stories. If I read that someone had a miscarriage after their first ultrasound (which I did read on an IVF blog), I feared that that would happen to me. I actually felt sad before my first ultrasound because I remember thinking that I would have a miscarriage after it, since that had happened to someone else. I was in a strange place. Once I realized I was doing that, I would tell myself, "that is not my story." I didn't want to hear or read about anyone else's stories because I knew I wasn't mentally strong enough at that point in my life to not allow a bad ending to scare me.
The core of who I am - the me that believes so much in the power of positive thoughts and affirmations, meditation, deep breathing, controlling your thoughts, trusting that my path is unfolding perfectly - was challenged. I thought I was strong and ready for IVF. Maybe I was ready for IVF, but I definitely wasn't ready for pregnancy and all the "scares" that came/come along with it.
I've had a few scares since my first positive pregnany test. At week 5, I had some spotting when I went to the restroom. I was at lunch with a friend. I remember being shocked when I saw the blood on the toilet paper, and then I instantly began mourning the loss of my pregnancy. My thoughts spiraled out of control. Within seconds, I was already thinking about the next possible date I could try another round of IVF. I pulled myself together, told my friend that I needed to leave (it was right at the end of lunch, so the timing was perfect - although using the word "perfect" when talking about this story seems strange...), and we walked out to the parking lot. As soon as I got into my car, I called HRC. I wasn't crying when I called, but I started to when the receptionist told me that the nurse I had asked for wasn't available. When I started crying, she transferred me to another nurse, Cynthia. I explained what had happened, expecting that she'd say to come in for an ultrasound right away. Instead, she said that I was probably okay and that it could have been implantation spotting, that I should go home and put my feet up for a couple days, hydrate, and come in for an ultrasound at week 6 (two days after the spotting). She calmed me down and didn't say anything that scared me, which was good since I was in a fragile state. For the next two days, I rested and rarely got up. I didn't know what the spotting meant, but I knew that I would do exactly what the nurse had told me to do. I watched a ton of TV and distanced myself from the social media world and from Google.
The week 6 ultrasound was our first one since two positive blood pregnancy tests. I was extremely nervous. I rocked myself back and forth on the exam bed while we waited for Dr. Norion to come in. Brad tried to distract me, but I had lost control of my thoughts and they were running wild (in a negative direction). Dr. Norion walked in and said that I was six weeks pregnant and due on March 8th. That didn't mean too much to me...I just wanted to know if my baby was still alive. He did a vaginal ultrasound and explored with the camera for hours before saying anything - okay, it wasn't hours - it was only a couple of seconds, but that's what it felt like because I was holding my breath the entire time waiting for him to say something. When he finally did speak, he said there the baby was and asked if we wanted to hear the heartbeat. I was shocked that there was a baby in my belly, AND that we'd be able to hear the heartbeat! I read that people can sometimes hear the heartbeat at week 6, but often it's too early for that. When I heard the heartbeat, I felt a wave of emotions, mostly of relief and then absolute amazement. I looked over at Brad, and his mouth was hanging open. I had dreamed about the day that I would hear my babies heartbeat, and I finally was! It was incredible! Dr. Norion said he didn't see anything that could have caused my spotting, so that was good. We set up another ultrasound for the following week. He told me to take it easy. I was a high risk pregnancy because of the spotting (not the best thing for me to hear).
After the ultrasound, Brad and I were happy, but we were still on edge (or maybe that was just me). I felt much better about everything after I heard our babies heartbeat, but almost immediately after we left HRC, I started feeling like I was going to lose the baby again. I was happy that everything was okay at the time of the ultrasound, but I wanted a way to know 24/7 that 6AA was still alive. I didn't feel like blogging about our first ultrasound. I didn't feel like sharing good news that I was sure would turn into bad news. I was in a dark place during a time that very well "should" have been exciting, happy, and good. Fear took over much of me. I put "should" in quotation marks because I don't believe in "shoulds" when looking at the past because that is regretting something that has already happened. I rarely use the word "should" (except when I'm in a dark place) and it feels strange when I do use it. I almost always correct myself when I say it. That dark place was where I was meant to be. It was a part of my journey that was unfolding perfectly.
Throughout week 6, I started feeling really nauseas and developed some pretty intense food aversions. Going to the grocery store was an interesting experience for Brad and I during that time. The contents of the cart were very unlike me. I walked down the aisles while Brad followed me. I grabbed things I'd never normally buy - cinnamon toast crunch (okay - it was organic and wasn't your normal cinnamon toast crunch because it was from Clarks, but it was still a box of cereal), plain white bagels (no seeds!), salted crackers, pretzels, and ginger ale. It was a cart full of carbohydrates and no color. Where were the fruits and vegetables? Where was the raw milk and raw cheese? Nope, I wasn't feeling any of it. I thought I'd eat perfectly if I ever got pregnant, but once I experienced "morning sickness", that went out the window. And really, "morning sickness" is so very misleading! I felt sick all day. No, it was not like the movies (which is where I got my idea of how morning sickness would be) - I wouldn't throw up in the morning and then feel better for the rest of the day. I never threw up and still haven't. I remember waking up early in the morning begging Brad to go get a box of cereal for me. I ate some cereal and woke up hugging the box closely to my chest a couple hours later. Week 6 was strange.
At week 7's ultrasound, Brad and I decided that we wanted to know if 6AA was a girl or a boy. Originally, we had wanted to find out at the time when "normal" pregnant women find out, which is week 16 (I think??), but we talked about how we weren't "normal" and that we might as well take advantage of that perk of genetic testing. After hearing 6AA's heartbeat again at the week 7 ultrasound, and getting a good report back from Dr. Norion, we asked the gender.....we're having a girl! Honestly, I didn't care about the gender (or so I had thought), but after hearing it was a girl, I was really excited! I allowed myself to think about cute girl clothes and going to the princess tea event that my friends took their daughters to this year. Brad was excited about a girl, too! I had wanted to do a small gender reveal, since I had seen so many gender reveals of Pinterest over the past six years, but when it finally came down to it, I wasn't feeling up to a party. I ended up ordering a golf ball from Amazon and had Brad hit it in the backyard. Pink exploded out of it! It was a Kodak moment for sure.
Weeks 7-9, I still felt poorly and had no interest in my favorite restaurants (no La Volata?????). I just wanted to sleep all day so I didn't have to feel sick any longer. Oh, and I was still getting daily injections into my booty. I felt bad for myself and still let fear take over me, even though things were going well with our little girl. I still wasn't in the place where I would allow myself to think too much about what life would be like with our little girl because I was so fearful of losing her. If I didn't think about the fun we'd have, I wouldn't hurt as much if I lost her (that's what I told myself). Being nauseas and fearful, and then getting a daily injection was more mentally challenging that I had thought. I often cried at injection time because I couldn't handle the pain any longer and I was feeling down. When Brad was gone for business, one of my wonderful personal nurses - Jill, Kirsten, or Dana (okay - they're not my personal nurses, but they might as well have been because they dropped everything and helped give me my injections at 5:30 p.m. on the days I needed them) came over and gave me my injection. I made myself be stronger when they were there, so I never cried in front of them (sorry, Brad).
At week 9's ultrasound, Dr. Norion gave us another good report. Our baby girl was making nice progress. I started back at school during week 9, which I was nervous about because I didn't know how my nausea would be and I didn't know if I was going to overdo it. I'm used to giving 110% of myself to teaching, but when I wasn't feeling 100%, I wasn't sure if I could do it. I did get to share at our back to school staff meeting that I was pregnant. I have been teaching for twelve years, and I can't tell you how many times we've come back from summer break, and a teacher reports that they're pregnant. I always longed to be that person. When someone would write, "guess who is pregnant?" on the whiteboard before the meeting, people used to guess me, but as the years passed by, I wasn't one of the popular candidates. Well, this year, I got to share that I was indeed pregnant! The majority of the staff knew of my infertility journey, so everyone was happy for me. I felt more confident about my pregnancy that week, too, so that was nice.
Last week, week 11, I had a little spotting Sunday night. I didn't cry that time, but I did immediately get sad. Brad reassured me that everything would be okay, and even Googled it for me, but spotting when you're pregnant is scary and the only thing that would have made me feel better at that moment would have been an ultrasound. I had started decreasing my hormones since Thursday night, so that could have caused the spotting, but I was worried that maybe I was losing the baby since I had decreased the hormones and maybe my body wasn't making enough hormones for our baby girl on it's own. I went to bed early that night and called HRC the following morning. I spoke to Cynthia again, and she said that I should be okay. She said to stick to the original plan of coming in for an ultrasound on Wednesday. Brad was gone last Wednesday for work, so my mom went with me.
At the week 11 ultrasound, my mom and I got to see an active little girl. Dr. Norion said she was like a Mexican jumping bean! She was moving her arms and legs all around. I instantly asked if that was okay, worrying that maybe I was too anxious which was causing her to move around too much, but he said it was good that she was moving around. He said that her heartbeat was at an ideal heart rate and that she was at an advanced size her her age (which was good, too). Dr. Norion said that I could officially stop all my IVF medication (wow!) and that I would graduate that day. One of the nurses brought me a baby blanket, and everyone hugged me. I still can't quite believe that I graduated. It honestly seems like just yesterday that Brad and I were meeting with Dr. Norion for the very first time. It was a wonderful experience getting to share my graduation day with my mama! I would have loved for Brad to be there, of course, but having my baby girl's grandma with me, was quite special!
Although this journey is still very much active and no where near the end, I am so very grateful for all the people that have helped me through it. I have been quite self absorbed lately, and my family and friends have loved me unconditionally throughout it all, and have been there for me every step of the way. This isn't a journey I'd want to go through alone, and I'm forever grateful for the support that I have been given. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Looking back over this post, I see so many words that I don't normally use (scary, scared, worried, down, dark place, should, struggling). It is no surprise that I have been struggling over the past month or so. However, I honestly believe that I was doing the best I could. I am letting myself off the hook and not feeling bad for the feelings that I had. I was challenged in a way that I wasn't expecting, which I think is how challenges normally go. I may have not learned all the lessons that I was presented with, but I did learn from some of them. I am feeling much better now - I think stopping the medication helped a ton with that (Brad would say that it has ;)). I'm also giving myself permission to think more about our little girl and the life that we'll have together. I talk to her often. I place my hand over her and tell her how much fun we'll have together. This morning, on my walk with the girls, I told our baby girl that she's going to love the walking routes we go on. I told her that we'll protect her and love her unconditionally. I told her that she's perfect in every way. I told her that she's our everything.
Today, I am 11 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I am almost three months pregnant! Our baby girl is the size of a fig (I bought one at the farmer's market yesterday in her honor) and she owns my heart. I know that I could lose her, but allowing that scared, negative thought, to keep all the positive, happy thoughts at bay, is not fair to her or me. I am a mom and this new love I have for my baby girl is something that I don't want to keep hidden away any longer. Being pregnant is indescribable. I'm carrying a beautiful living thing inside of me and it is a true honor. Now, when I walk around and see all the mamas, I don't think about how I wish I was them - instead, I think about how strong they are. How strong they are to have carried and given birth to their baby, or how strong they are to have gone through the adoption process or whatever process they went through to get their little angels. I have a new found appreciation for moms (thank you, mom!). Sweet Adeline - I am so proud to be your mama and can't wait to meet you in March! I'll love you forever, I'll love you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby girl you'll be...
