Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Memories

I've been reading a lot of posts from friends who are still struggling to achieve a pregnancy. I wanted to write something here that I hope to be encouraging because I remember all of those thoughts and feelings so incredibly well.

Back in the beginning of our journey we had a lot of tough decisions to make. We got married in October of 2009 and had planned to start trying right away. Not so long before that we discovered that my kidney disease was actually pretty bad. It was progressive, and the doctor told us to have kids as soon as possible. I'd been diagnosed with PCOS at 17, and Andy was showing signs of some sort of problem, so we both went to the doctor shortly after the wedding. We'd decided to postpone TTC due to the medication I was on for my kidneys. It was considered "safe" but I was certain they hadn't studied it in the doses I was using, so we decided against it.

To my surprise, all my tests came out normal. My FSH was in the 4s and I felt a lot better about things. Until we got Andy's test results, which indicated a pituitary tumor. If I recall, his prolactin was in the 300s. His S/A showed a total count of about 7 million, which wasn't enough to even try IUI. We were fairly devastated, and we started TTC in February while Andy was on meds for the tumor, knowing our chances were just about 0. Needless to say, our attempts were fruitless. Each month brought negative tests, despite Andy's improving numbers, which finally got high enough to try IUI in July. We were so excited until the MFM doctor told me to cancel. She said my kidneys weren't in a good enough spot for a baby, and we needed to try to help them out first. Devastated isn't a word I'd use for this. Completely heartbroken might be a better term.

I went back on meds, and they did nothing. I was losing more and more protein from my kidneys, thinking all the time that  at some point they were going to stop filtering and it would be too late to have a baby. I spent a lot of time crying. And trying on our own, and seeing blank white sticks. Eventually my nephrologist called the MFM and said the medicine wasn't going to work, this was the best it was going to get, and if I was going to have a baby, the best time was now. After consulting with her, she actually agreed, but we decided we didn't want to waste any time and moved directly to IVF. My RE was on board, and our insurance approved us right away. The one bright spot to that horrid year was that Maryland has a mandate that insurance companies must approve IVF if there is male factor. We didn't have to wait another year or anything.

When I started the IVF process I was incredibly excited. I though "Finally I'm doing something that really has a chance at working!" They put me on a high responder protocol and I was ready to go in April after a month of BCPs. Egg retrieval was one of the lowest points of my journey. I remember having 22 antral follicles, but only 12 developed. And we got 6 eggs at retrieval. I cried my eyes out. It was embarassing and I was a sniveling mess. 6 eggs? Me? I couldn't believe it. And we didn't know if anything would fertilize with MFI. The next day we got the call that 5/6 were mature, and 3 fertilized. I had 3 embryos. I tried so hard to be OK with it, but it was hard. And it was hard the next day when I only had 2 (Now that I look back on it I know these are decent numbers. That many people don't even get that many. At the time I was living in a fantasy land where my body responded perfectly and I did a 5 day and had 5 embryos to freeze and everything was perfect. So I hope this isn't offensive. It was just not what I expected. Live and learn I guess?). I'd just assumed we'd do a day 5 transfer, and it didn't happen. I assumed they'd put both in since I only had 2 and it was day 3, but that didn't happen either. And two weeks later, I knew I wasn't pregnant. I'd taken tests, knowing what the outcome would be. I remember getting my beta drawn and the nurse said "You don't look excited!" and I told her I wasn't. With good reason. IVF number one had failed. This would be low point number 2.

I remember at that point thinking "If IVF didn't even work for us, that's it. I will never see 2 lines. I will never hold my own baby in my arms. I will never feel my little one moving around in my body". I remember mourning the loss like it had been a confirmed pregnancy. Why didn't it sick? Why did we get so few? Were my eggs bad? Was I too overweight? Did Andy have more issues? I cried for days because I missed my baby. The little embryo I had a picture of that looked so perfect. I cried because I thought it would never happen. How could IVF fail us? We were such good candidates. And how would we afford another one? The only way I knew to get through it was to keep looking forward, so I tried my best to focus on another cycle.

I couldn't figure out why my RE wanted to use the same protocol. At this point I just wanted to get started, so we skipped our WTF and went forward. I kept thinking I was going to be one of those women for whom IVF simply did not work. And all the while I watched other people have successful first attempts. And friends get knocked up on their honeymoons. And I cried every time someone in my real life got pregnant, and I felt horrible for that. We went forward, still excited, but still wondering what was wrong. Still thinking it might not ever happen. That maybe I simply could not get pregnant.

Our second attempt was clinically much better. We got 22 follicles, and retrieved 12 eggs. We had 5 embryos, and by day 5, 4 of them still looked perfect. We were pushed to a day 6 transfer so they could pick the best one. I was a little dumbfounded, and infinitely more positive. We transferred 1 embryo and froze 2. This was the cycle I'd imagined the first time. about 6 days later I knew I was pregnant. I had this stretching feeling in my abdomen that I just knew was a good sign. I was terrified and excited to test. Terrified that I was wrong, excited that maybe I was right. And when I finally peed on that stick, 2 lines appeared instantly, and I broke down in tears. The fear faded instantly on seeing those two lines. I could get pregnant. I didn't know how it would turn out, but it was possible. After so many negative tests and thinking it couldn't happen, I... ME... I got two lines.

I'm 11w5d today, and I'm still in shock sometimes. And I read the journals of other infertiles and I remember all of the feelings of doubt an uncertainty. Of thinking it would never happen. That IVF was the end of the road and if even that didn't work....

But I'm here. And I'm still praying every day that my baby is OK. And I hope that soon all of my friends are here too. And I'm cheering you guys on so hard.

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