Tomorrow

Tomorrow could be it for us: It in a bad way or it in a good way. Tomorrow may begin the last chapter of our journey through embryo adoption. Tomorrow could even be the final page. Or wonderfully, it could be the beginning chapter of an incredible new story as we finally embark upon parenthood.

But no matter what happens, some very integral pieces of this story will indeed be written tomorrow. So much depends on the thaw.

To recap the plan, the embryologist plans to start by thawing two embryos: One embryo from Libby’s pair and the final embryo from Vicky’s batch. The survival of both of these embryos would mean we still have a final embryo of Libby’s remaining on ice. It would mean we still have one more chance. I will be overjoyed. I love them all and I don’t want any of them to die. But of course I would also love another chance.

Tomorrow we will know if we still have one more chance.

If both do survive, we will transfer them together - one of Vicky’s and one of Libby’s. This means I could potentially become pregnant with twins who are not genetically related to me or each other. Or I could become pregnant with a singleton baby and we wouldn't know it’s genetic background until birth.

Tomorrow we will know if one of each will be transferred.

We've wondered and worried since March about the embryo from Vicky’s batch surviving thaw.  The embryologist wasn't optimistic due to the way it was thawed and refrozen using slow freeze. If Vicky’s final embryo dies tomorrow, I will grieve the mere fact it’s gone. This is the last remaining snowflake of its kind. There will never be more. Ever.

Tomorrow we will know if Vicky's snowflakes are gone forever.

If Vicky’s embryo dies, we will transfer both of Libby’s final remaining embryos. I will be beyond anxious about the results of this transfer not only because I want to hold these babies in my arms, but also because I will have none remaining on ice. Everything and I mean everything will come down to this final transfer. If it doesn't work I will never have another chance to feel baby kicks, to know a life is growing inside of me. If it doesn't work, I will not only grieve the loss of Libby’s precious snowflakes, but also that I will never know what it’s like to be pregnant to term.

Or in a real terrible turn of events, they all might not survive thaw. There may be none to transfer. I will feel blindsided. This is unlikely, but possible. So the final page to this chapter could even be written tomorrow.

We will finally know how this part of the story will be written tomorrow.

I will arrive at the clinic at 7:30am for an 8am CST transfer.

I am eager, hopeful, and scared for what tomorrow brings.

2013 hanging on the tree

Every year since Kevin and I have been married, we've made a point to get a special ornament to put on our miniature "keepsake tree" in our family room. Each ornament on this special little tree represents something important that happened to us that particular year. At first, I jokingly said it should be a PIO syringe. Ha! But yesterday, I found two beautiful ornaments at Hobby Lobby that seemed very fitting for 2013.

The snowflake-strand ornament on the left represents the three frozen embryo transfers. And the ornament on the right is an angel inside of a snowflake globe which represents our beloved snowflake babies who were born straight to heaven.

I'll leave you with a Christmas serenade from our dog, Oscar.

Yeah, I know. I'm laying the Christmas stuff on thick right now. We are enjoying ourselves, so why not? :) If nothing else, it's keeping me distracted.

Our Friday night consisted of...

Last night we finished the Christmas tree! We're enjoying it while we can...which is hopefully all season long and our season isn't shortened by devastating news. Merry Christmas! Even if it's not even Thanksgiving yet. :)

The roller coaster ride

With each passing day, the more I realize what intense roller coaster emotions I am experiencing. It's like the tallest, most spirally roller coaster ride you could imagine.



Much of the time my emotions are even keeled and I think I can be prepared for any outcome. But then out of the blue I'll start to feel real and intense grief about this transfer not working and the idea of being abruptly thrust off of the path of embryo adoption. I'll try to talk some sense into myself, finally get it together and go on with my day. Then maybe a few hours later I'll fall into blissfully daydreaming about this transfer actually producing a real-live baby (or two!) I'll dream about receiving good news (for once) on beta day, even making it all the way to the ultrasound where we identify a heartbeat. I'll dream about Kevin squeezing my hand with tears in both of our eyes as we realize we've made it further than ever before. I'll even go as far as to dream about what it would be like to learn we were having twins! Then like a cruel rubber band, I get snapped right back into the grief and I tell myself that these events happen to other people, but not us.

It's driving me certifiably insane.

I can confidently say that approaching such intense crossroads is not for the faint of heart. And I can feel these bipolar-ish swings getting more and more intense each day that grows closer to transfer and beta day. I really wish I could fast forward and see the outcome of all of this. I wish someone could hand me a sealed envelope that contains the future and I could quietly go into my bedroom with a box of kleenex, tear it open, and process the results. I know that the exponentially heightened emotions for this transfer are because of how much is at stake.

I'm also thinking a lot about all of the things that are planned post beta day as life inevitably moves on. I am thinking about how blissful future events (especially Holiday events) will feel if it works, and how awful and empty they will feel if it doesn't.

One event that comes to mind is the annual Holiday party Kevin and I throw every December at our home. I was hesitant to plan it this year seeing how it would be December 14th, which is barely beyond beta day. Being realistic, the party could possibly land right in the middle of a miscarriage. How in the world could I host a Holiday party if things go badly? But if one thing the past three years has taught me, it is that I can be strong, even when I think I don't have it in me to be strong. And even amidst our grief and sadness, we can choose to have moments where we set it all aside to live life again.

I think back to 2011. The very morning of that year's Holiday party, my mom was admitted to the hospital. During that stay, doctors prepared our family for the end. They assured us she had only about a week left to live because the cancer had caused her liver to shut down and was sending toxic fluid throughout her bloodstream. I immediately booked a flight to Utah for the following Friday to say my final goodbyes. The news was absolutely crushing. Yet somehow I still went on with the Holiday party that night. I really didn't think I could do it, but it was too late to cancel on everyone.

But what shocked me is that I had a lot of fun.

I find myself drawing strength from that day when I believe I can't make it through an event where I'm supposed to be happy. That night I chose to have fun, and fun is what I had. We are entitled to a night where we can forget our problems, our losses, and grief, and feel like everything is okay. And this year, I want to laugh, dance, and listen to Christmas music with my friends and coworkers no matter what. I did it once, and I know I can do it again.

I just hope I don't have to pretend. I hope I can enjoy the party sipping on non-alcoholic cider and hot chocolate because I'm six weeks pregnant with my beloved snowflakes.

Deck the halls

I know...I know....It's not even Thanksgiving yet.

But Kevin and I decided to get out the Christmas tree and decor last night. Don't judge. :)

In years past, we've taken it out no earlier than Thanksgiving day. But this year, Kevin said on multiple occasions how much he wanted to get it out even earlier. I was hesitant because it's waaaaaay early. But I finally gave in when he pointed out that we could at least enjoy it a few weeks early just in case we bad news about our cycle in December. He had a good point. I remember how his birthday went this year after the miscarriage news and it was just awful. So what do we have to lose by having it out a couple weeks early? If the cycle is success we get an extended season in this house. We aren't decorating the outside yet so no one else has to know but us.....and well, you guys. :)

So we got out the egg nog, turned on the Christmas music, and dragged the tree down. We put it together, hung wreaths, and decorated the fireplace. We aren't quite done yet, but it was fun getting it started. I'm going to enjoy this as long as I can. I never know when those sad days are going to hit me, but luckily last night was a happy one.

The explosion of Christmas stuff as it all was laid out

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Our miniature keepsake tree is decorated!

Why?

Why do I want to just cry today? Hormones?  I feel like a whole bunch of stuff is hitting me all of the sudden. It's getting real. Really real.

This could very well be my last shot at becoming pregnant. Like ever. In my life, ever. I may never know what it's like to hear the heartbeat of the tiny life growing inside of me. I may never get to feel little baby kicks. I may never get to wake Kevin up in the middle of the night to tell him "I think it's time."

This could be my last chance.

I'm thinking about what lies ahead with traditional adoption. How can we come up with 30k? What if we get scammed? What potential heartbreak lies ahead on this path? What if we never get picked? What if we do only to have the birth mother decide to parent after all?

I'm seeing birth announcements now for babies conceived after Maggie was. I should have Maggie in my arms, but I don't.

I should be nearing the end of my first trimester with our second pregnancy.

I miss my mom. I'm starting to forget her voice. It's scaring me to realize that.

Why in the world is Libby forced to endure the current circumstance with her beautiful daughter?

I'm trying not to cry myself into a mess as I write this on my phone from my work parking lot. I don't want to ruin another day for myself over nothing. I'm having one of those days that I'm sure many of you who have been through infertility and loss can relate to.

I hope I can get it together here soon and have a happy weekend.

Thanks for letting me get this out.

Green light!

I had my final lining check today and....

We are officially a GREEN LIGHT for the November 19th transfer!

My lining is at 8.8mm and perfect triple stripe. Yay! My RE said the words "beautiful" and "perfect" at least ten times over the course of the ultrasound. Ya gotta love that!

While in the waiting room before my appointment, I was surprised when my embryologist came out to chat with me and to tell me again that my snowflakes were there safe and sound. I got goose bumps knowing they were actually just feet away in the lab! While chatting, I learned that they are gearing up for their very first round of transfers next week now that they have opened their new location in Austin. And while I won't be their first embryo transfer, I will be their very first frozen embryo transfer at the new location. Pretty exciting!

Even though everything was perfect with the ultrasound, I'll admit that I went into it expecting bad news. I didn't want to feel that way, but for some reason I just did. As you may have noticed, I've found myself incredibly guarded about this cycle and I'm sure it's my heart's way of trying to protect itself. However, after the good news from the appointment I felt my heart swell with the foreign emotions of joy and excitement for the first time in a very long time! Within a few minutes of basking in the hope that this cycle just might actually result in parenthood, I felt an intense sense of fear overwhelm me for daring to feel hopeful again. I felt like it was unsafe to feel this way. I tried hard to shake that notion, but it stuck around for a bit and tainted my blissful moment. Then afterwards, I found myself fascinated at the polar opposite emotions that unfolded so quickly. It's clear that the events of the past few years have damaged me. I hate it. Ugh.

I am working hard to try to change that as much as I possibly can. When I got my BFP from FET #2, Libby gave me some great advice about hanging onto hope that I keep telling myself over and over. She helped remind me that it's okay to be scared. But guarding myself from joyfulness and hope won't completely avoid the heartache that may or may not come in the future. Failure and loss will hurt really bad whether or not I had hope leading up to it or not. Therefore why allow myself to be robbed of joyful moments as they come along? I should enjoy these moments every chance I get! I'm trying to do that with all my heart, but it's definitely something that comes much harder for me than it used to.

I'm hope I can squash that fear and keep the negativity monster at bay and relish in the good news as long as I can! Thanks for the prayers and encouragement. You've helped me immensely.

Welcome to Austin!

Out of the blue yesterday, my embryologist emailed me to tell me that she had transported our snowflakes from San Antonio to Austin and they were tucked in all safe and sound. We are excited to be doing our transfer in Austin instead of San Antonio this time because our RE opened up a brand new location here last month. This means that we won't have to make the long trek to San Antonio on transfer day!

I had no idea they were even moving them this early, but I'm happy to know they made it! Kevin was just asking me on Saturday how they planned to get them from San Antonio to Austin. I told him that they will be driving them, simple as that. He was a little concerned about our snowflakes getting in a car accident. But I reminded him that two of these embryos flew all the way from the west coast and one from the east coast, and had to be transported on the ground in a FedEx truck. So a little 1.5 hour drive would be small potatoes comparatively. But still, a snowflake dad worries! I'm honestly glad I had no idea yesterday would be the day they moved so I didn't have to worry as it was happening, but I'm also glad that my embryologist let me know they made it. I love knowing they are in the same city as me! Is that weird!? Welcome to Austin, little guys! It's a great city and you're going to love it here.

On Sunday, Kevin and I went to get breakfast at a mom-and-pop diner. They always serve their coffee in an assortment of random mugs that they've collected over the years. Check out the mug they served Kevin's coffee in! I hope it's a sign of good luck.

November 19th is just two weeks from today, friends!

Where do I go from here?

Both Kevin and I are constantly thinking of Libby's daughter and her family. I have just wracked my brain trying to think of other ways to help. I know I can't fix anything - but man, oh man...I wish I could! Thank you, my wonderful blog readers, for showing her family support through your prayers, comments, and donations.

I had an idea hit me while thinking about ways to help. I decided to reach out to my wonderful cousin who is currently reigning as her state's Miss _______ ( but I won't name which state.) In September, she competed in the Miss America pageant. Yup, the actual Miss America pageant! I told my cousin about Libby's daughter and she wanted to help. So she will be sending me a little something to give to her courtesy of a real beauty pageant queen! I hope it makes her daughter's day a little brighter to get something from a special person who is thinking about her!

I'm not sure where to go from here. My cycle and problems just feel so insignificant. But it does move forward. But please know that just because I continue blogging about my life events and my cycle issues doesn't mean for one second that I've forgotten about Libby and her current situation. They are in our hearts for the long haul. It just seems weird to talk about anything else because my issues seem so small and unimportant. But I will continue to blog. It does help me and I know it's helped others too.

So I guess onto my cycle news, I have my final lining check on Wednesday. I have no idea what to expect since FET #1 I had no issues and FET#2 I did. But the attitude I have for this cycle is - just go with the flow, Liz. I'm really not stressed about it. I realize what is meant to be, will be. I trust in God and have faith He will show us the road to our babies someway, somehow.

But that being said, every once and a while it will hit me as to what is at stake here.

It could actually work, which would mean:

• I could end up with twins who aren't related to me or each other. Or a singleton pregnancy in which I don't know my baby's genetic background until birth PLUS have a snowflake left...

or

• I could end up with twins or a singleton from Libby's batch with no snowflakes left.

Of course in either of these scenarios I'd be pregnant so I would be thrilled and it would be incredible.

Or on the flip side, it might not work at all or end in another miscarriage which could mean I could have either one snowflake left, or no snowflakes left at all. And no baby to show for it. We'd move onto traditional adoption. Adoption is promising, but brings a whole new set of stresses and fears. I'm scared. I'm not going to deny that.

So many variables with huge implications here. I have no idea what the future holds. I'll know part of the story on transfer day, but only time will tell how the rest turns out.

And if I might say one more thing about Libby...I am in awe of Libby and her gigantic heart. Can you believe that she actually texted me this morning to tell me she's thinking of me and the snowflakes?! There just are no words for how incredible she is. 

Long before facing infertility, I used to hear stories about IVF and third party reproduction and think it was really amazing science. And I still do. But I am realizing after adopting these snowflakes and having made these connections with these incredible women, that while science does play a part, to me this is mostly about an incredible human connection and massive amounts of love. I have nothing but love for both of our donors and embryo adoption is one of the most overwhelmingly incredible experiences I have ever had in my life.