It’s Over

“It’s over. It’s over.”

That’s all Breanne could really say the day everything hit her and she finally broke.  She had been strong throughout the whole ordeal, and up until that point had somehow held it together.  With every doctor’s appointment, every hCG test that wasn’t rising properly, every ultrasound that showed that the pregnancy wasn’t progressing as it should, and even the miscarriage, she managed to stay positive and focused, able to see the silver lining in this dark cloud of infertility.  Still, I knew at some point it would hit her.  It needed to hit her.  Otherwise, how could we move on?

The miscarriage happened on Christmas morning.  Yes, you read that correctly – Christmas morning.  Certainly not the holiday we had in mind.  We were opening presents at Breanne’s parents’ house like we do every Christmas morning, when all of a sudden she started cramping.  Being the trooper that she is, she was able to make it through breakfast and opening presents before retiring to her old room to sleep off the cramps.  So while Breanne was incapacitated, I headed outside to fry the Christmas turkey on our 80-degree Mississippi Christmas morning.  About an hour later, I got a text from Breanne.  She was in the bathroom…miscarrying.  My heart sank.  Not because we didn’t expect this – we did and had prepared ourselves – but the timing of it seemed like a cruel joke.

She said the rest of the day was a blur for her.  If you remember from my last post, Breanne LOVES Christmas.  We have a tradition of eating Christmas dinner with the Ivy crew (her mom’s family) and playing games afterwards, so Breanne was determined not to miss out on the festivities.  So I passed her her straightener and make-up bag through the bathroom door so she could slowly get ready, she “hopped on the saddle” (a term I wish I had never learned), and we headed over to the Ivy’s with a bag of feminine products and pain relievers in hand.  Breanne wasn’t quite herself while we were over there – she even relinquished her duties as Dirty Santa coordinator to her sister.  At that point, I knew she didn’t feel good!  Despite the difficult timing of our loss, we wound up having a great night surrounded by family, which is exactly what we needed.  It turns out that having the miscarriage occur on Christmas Day was a blessing in disguise.

We had an appointment with Breanne’s OB/GYN the Tuesday after Christmas.  The ultrasound confirmed that the pregnancy was officially over.  There was no longer a sac.  Ironically, we looked at each other with relief.  After what we went through on Christmas morning, we had hoped the worst of it was over.  Her hCG was still measuring at 3,100, so we were instructed to keep checking it every week to confirm that it was continuing to decrease.  A plateau or rise meant a D&C (surgery).

The next day was Breanne’s first full day back at work since the holidays.  I had taken the entire week off, so I walked her to her car and climbed right back in bed.  A few minutes later, Breanne was back home.  I knew something was up.  I greeted her with a “Well hey there!”  She just stood in the doorway to our bedroom, shook her head, and started crying. And even though my wife always gets bummed every year when Christmas is over, I knew that wasn’t what the tears were for.  She had finally broken.  And in a way, I was relieved.  She’s such a fighter that she often blocks out her emotions to keep her mind focused on the process and our goal of being parents, but sometimes it’s good for her to stop fighting and just feel. And when the tears slowed down long enough for her to speak, she whispered, “It’s over. It’s over.”

She was right, the pregnancy was over.  This chance was over.  But here we are almost 5 weeks later, and even though the pregnancy is over, it feels like the miscarriage isn’t.  We’re still waiting for her hCG levels to drop below 5 and for her cramping and bleeding to stop.  A week after Christmas, her hCG had only dropped 300 points, from 3,100 to 2,800.  We felt so far from the end.  We wanted the bandage ripped off, not slowly pulled back.  A week later, her level had dropped all the way to 850.  We high fived each other when the lab called us with the “good” news.  When people say infertility is like being on a roller coaster, boy are they right!  A few weeks ago, we were praying with everything we had that her levels would keep rising.  Now we are celebrating every drop. She’s now at 59, which means this should all be over in a couple weeks.

We appreciate the outpouring of love we received since we posted that the pregnancy was likely not viable.  I can’t say enough how everyone’s thoughts and prayers are felt and have helped us keep going. We’ll always hold a special place in our hearts for this embryo and the hope it brought us – our first pregnancy!   Now we’re ready to use that hope to push forward to the next step – Transfer #3, coming Spring 2017.


Muddle Through Somehow

A thousand thoughts are running through my head about what to say and how to say it, so I’ll just pick up where I left off.  First, a quick recap – We had a single embryo transfer on November 15th.  Our 10-day post transfer test showed a positive but with a low hCG number of 17.  My hCG continued to rise at a slow rate and finally surpassed 100 a week later.  At that point, we were told to wait another couple weeks for an ultrasound on December 14th.  We’ll begin here.

The ride to Memphis didn’t consist of any hCG talk.  We knew all we could know at that point, so it seemed silly and exhausting to continue rehashing all the details of my low, slow-rising hCG and what it could mean for this pregnancy. As soon as we arrived at the clinic Wednesday morning, they took me back for an ultrasound.  This is what we saw….


A tiny gestational sac with an even tinier yolk sac – a speck.  Brennen said, “Wow that’s it!” We had never seen anything on a scan of my uterus except a “fluffy” lining, so this was a special moment for us, despite not seeing a fetal pole.  Then we met with the doctor who laid it all out for us.  Here’s what we knew after our discussion:

  1. The embryo did not implant in my tubes. It implanted in the uterus right where it was supposed to, and it implanted well.  This was great news for us – our first implantation!
  2. Based on the timing of my transfer, I should have been at 6 ½ weeks.  However, based on the measurements of the sac, it looked like I was closer to 5 ½ weeks.  In “normal” conception, some doctors chalk this up to ovulating later than you think you did.  However with IVF, conception and implantation is more controlled.  Implantation can take longer to occur after the transfer, but a week late is pretty uncommon.
  3. Being that I was measuring at 5 ½ weeks, it could explain why we didn’t see a fetal pole; therefore, another ultrasound was scheduled a week later.
  4. My lagging measurements coupled with the low, slow-rising hCG indicated that the pregnancy may not be viable, as it was not advancing at it should. The doctor gave us a 20% chance.

That’s a lot of information packed into 4 bullet points! We were thrilled to hear that the embryo had implanted where it was supposed to.  Until that point, we had never made it as far as implantation.  So although this news was coupled with our poor 20% chance, we were thankful to have made it that far.

For the next few days, I continued my medications (Estradiol and Progesterone) and hung on to that 20% chance.  Still, I didn’t feel connected to the pregnancy.  Partly because I was guarding myself against that other 80%.  Plus, I hadn’t developed any symptoms other than cramps, which were attributed to an expanding uterus.  On top of that, it just felt odd saying the word “pregnant.”  To me, this was a pregnancy, but I didn’t feel pregnant.  I talked to a few of my friends who are mothers, and they all said it takes some big moment to feel connected sometimes – like hearing the heartbeat or feeling movement.  So I guess I just needed that moment, and maybe, I thought, it would be December 20th when I heard a heartbeat, or hoped to.

The week between my two ultrasounds flew by thanks to a trip to New Orleans for the Southern Miss bowl game and, of course, Christmas preparations.  Monday night after work, I was wrapping the last few presents when suddenly I began cramping.  It felt like menstrual cramps, but I can’t say it was much worse than the cramps I’d been having over the past couple weeks.  I took a break from wrapping to sit on the couch and watch Mickey’s Christmas Carol.  When Brennen walked through the door at 7:30 with our Mexican takeout, I stood up to greet him (and get my food).  That’s when I felt it, and my heart sank.  I looked at Brennen and said, “I’m bleeding.” “Bad?” he asked.  “Like a period.” The next words out of his mouth were, “Oh my God.”  I can’t begin to explain or mimic the tone in his voice, but I can replay it in my head.  With those three words, I could hear him letting go of our 20% chance.

(This next paragraph gets a little graphic so skip ahead if you’re not up for it.)

I rushed to the bathroom and experienced what I had never experienced with any period in my 16 years of “womanhood.”  After a minute or so, we decided to call the nurse.  I told Brennen to go to the other side of the house to call her.  I didn’t want to hear him tell her what was happening. Living it was one thing, hearing it was another.  While he was on the phone, I sat there alone in our guest bathroom, bleeding.  I looked around – stared at our hand-wash-only clothes hung across the shower curtain rod, at the succulent that I had somehow managed to kill, at my stained pajama pants gathered at my knees, then finally into the toilet.  There was that moment – the moment I felt pregnant.  Only….I didn’t feel pregnant until I knew I wouldn’t be much longer.

Brennen returned, not grossed out by any part of the female reproductive cycle anymore, with instructions on how to monitor the bleeding.  He also brought with him two Tylenol for the cramping and a Benadryl to take before bed.  After an hour or so, the bleeding had slacked off significantly.  “What do I do now?” I asked.  I honestly didn’t know what the proper protocol was.  I needed to eat.  I needed to take a bath.  But I almost felt guilty going on with my normal routine.  “First, you’re eating,” Brennen said.  So I ate.  Then, I took the rest of the night one step at a time, just like we tackle this whole process.  I took a bath, called my mom, took what was perhaps the most difficult progesterone shot ever, downed my Benedryl, set the alarm for 8:30 when my OB’s clinic opened, said my prayers, and drifted into a medicated sleep.

The next morning, I called the clinic, and the nurse told me to come in right away. By 9:30 we were in the waiting room. The ultrasound showed a smaller gestational sac, an abnormal yolk sac, no fetal pole, and a bleed.  My OB’s prediction – this was not a viable pregnancy.  But she did say that although there was little to no hope in this pregnancy, it still brought hope with it.  My thoughts exactly, doc.

My next appointment is Tuesday after Christmas.  My OB expects the process to have completed itself by then. If not, a D&C may be in order.  My reproductive endocrinologist (fertility doctor) in Memphis called this morning and instructed me to stop all my medications.  So now we’re just waiting….waiting to miscarry.

We appreciate everyone’s thoughts and prayers during our “space between,” and we ask that you continue to keep us in your prayers over the holidays.  This will most likely be our last post until the new year when we’ll tackle the why’s and plan for the next transfer.  But for now, we’ll enjoy the time we have together with our friends and families over the holidays. It seems like life hasn’t been fair to us when it comes to fertility, but we’ve been more than blessed in so many other ways.  And ‘tis the season to remember that!

We hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year.  It’s going to be a good one! I can feel it!

Someday soon, we all will be together,

If the fates allow.

Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

Judy Garland, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”


Merry Christmas! (Photo Credit: My best friend Lauren!)

Musings from a Netflix Binge

A lot of people have been asking for an update since last week’s post.  We love how everyone is on board for our journey and rooting so tirelessly for Baby H!  But I gotta be honest – this is a tough post to write.  Usually when I say that it’s because I’m pouring my heart out in a post that is so emotionally draining.  But this time, it’s difficult to write because I’m in an emotional conundrum.

Since the transfer, I’ve been catching up on Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.  And by catching up, I mean watching it from the very beginning…again!  Last night, I was watching the episode where dark and twisty Meredith Grey goes in for an ultrasound. For those of you not familiar with the show, Meredith had a miscarriage due to a “hostile uterus” and had pretty much given up hope of ever carrying a child.  Now, there she was at her first ultrasound where she saw a precious little heartbeat. The doctor and her husband McDreamy  both look at the monitor with smiles, but what does Meredith do? She turns her head away.  I had never noticed that she did that in all my years of watching and re-watching Grey’s.  But this time I noticed; and in that very moment, I had never felt so connected with dark and twisty Meredith Grey.  I rewound and called Brennen in to watch.  His response, “Whoa, Breezer! That’s like you right now.  Shonda nailed it.”  Little did I know that Brennen Hancock knew 1) who Shonda Rhimes was, and 2) that she created Grey’s Anatomy. This guy!  But yeah, he’s right – that’s exactly how I feel right now.

I’m not excited.  There, I said it.  I don’t mean to sound like a horrible person; but no, I’m just not excited.  But at the same time, I’m not sad or moping around.  Am I optimistic? Not exactly.  Am I pessimistic? Well, no not that either.  I’m just…here…in that space between…waiting and taking this process one step at a time. As Brennen says, I’m “emotionally guarded.” After all, I have low, slow rising hCG levels.  Still, babies are born all the time that had these kinds of levels, but we know it’s not the norm. And of course, I am hopeful that this pregnancy works out and gives us our Baby H, but at the same time, I can’t quite let myself become attached in case it doesn’t.  Not just yet.  And I think that’s what Meredith was thinking – stay guarded.

Over the past couple weeks we have seen my hCG go from 17 to 19 to 28 to 56.  Then, Friday, we saw our biggest increase in 48 hours – 136.  But what followed was a less astounding increase to 396 in 4 days, not 2.  Basically, my hCG isn’t telling the full story anymore; it’s time for an ultrasound to see what’s going on.  So Wednesday, we’ll make the trek up I-55 to Memphis.  I’m not sure what we’ll see or learn while we’re there, and honestly I try not to think about it; it’s part of this whole emotionally guarded thing.  Right now, it’s easier to just accept those things I can’t control and go with the flow. So now, we wait til Wednesday! Luckily, I have Christmas parties, shopping, and gift wrapping to help pass the time. Oh, and of course Grey’s Anatomy!

The Space Between

Brennen: “You have one whale of a blog post to write.”

Me: “No kidding.”

So I started writing, and I wrote a lot.  There was so much to say and so many updates to give.  As Brennen explained in his blog post, our transfer on November 15th went as smoothly as it could have.  We had a good looking embryo and all my hormone levels were in check.  All that was left to do was wait out the next few days until my first hCG blood test.

Now, for the post-transfer breakdown.

Days 1-5

For the first few days after the transfer, I hung out in a hotel room with my mom in Memphis.  It was miserable.  Not because of my mother, no, but because it was a hotel room. And I was having some pretty intense post-transfer symptoms.  I knew from the day after the transfer that this one was different than Round 1.  I ran a low-grade fever off and on from Wednesday to Saturday and experienced much more cramping than I did after our first transfer.  My hips were also not adjusting well to the progesterone injections either.  They were so sore which is not ideal when you’re basically sitting in a bed all day.  Oddly enough, when we switched to some larger needles from our first transfer, the hip pain got much better.  I never imagined that I would be thrilled to see a larger needle!  After Memphis, we spent the weekend at my parents’ house for some much needed distraction.  And just like that, half of our 10-day wait was over, and by Sunday, I was feeling a little more like myself.

Day 6

One of the first things they tell you is to not take an at-home pregnancy test.  And I promised myself that this time around, I would wait on the blood test.  But Monday morning, before I knew it, I found myself peeing on a stick at 6am.  Brennen claimed he didn’t see anything so he went back to bed, and I hopped in the shower.  When I got out, I saw an ever-so-faint line.  My heart skipped a beat.  I collected myself, hid the test in my make-up bag, and went about the rest of my day.  Well, I tried to at least.  I could not wait to get back home and take another peek at that test.  I blew through the door at 5:00, unzipped the bag, pulled out the test, and said, “Oh, shit!” Not the words I expected to come out of my mouth, but it was a good “Oh shit!”  I was looking at a dark pink line, almost as dark as the control line.  Now, I know there is such a thing as an evaporation line and not to trust a test past a certain amount of time yeah, yeah, yeah.  But I have used my fair share of ovulation test strips and pregnancy tests to know that a line like that doesn’t appear for nothing.  Without a doubt, there was some hCG in my system at 6 days post transfer.  I tested again.  Another pink line – not as dark, but evening urine is much less concentrated than morning urine.  I called Brennen and asked him to meet me at a local mall for their Christmas open house.  I was happy and hopeful and just wanted to spend some time with my husband.  After all, there was a possibility that it would only be just Brennen and me for a few more months.  Once we met up, I showed him the lighter test, the one from that evening.  He said, “Holy crap!” – the PG version of my reaction.  We promised ourselves not to get overly excited and to proceed with cautious optimism. We still had a few days to go until the blood test. We planned to celebrate and distract ourselves by shopping (my idea), but work and the evening’s excitement had exhausted me.  Plus, the cramping was getting to me so much that it hurt to button my pants.  So rather than risk anything by walking around the mall with my pants undone, we went back home.  I rested – husband’s orders.

Then, that night around 9:30 I developed a rash all over my body.  Actually, it’s not fair to call it a rash because it wasn’t raised or bumpy.  It itched but mainly because it made my skin warm.  It was more like my entire body was blushing in splotches.  Lucky for me, Benadryl was safe to take.  It eased the itching AND helped me sleep.

Day 7

I didn’t take a test that morning. Believe it or not! But it’s because I thought I didn’t have any.  So, what did I do after work? I bought some.  I tested when I got home and saw a faint pink line.  I was still feeling pretty good.  This time, I didn’t tell Brennen.  His reaction was so precious in the parking lot of the mall the night before that I wanted to capture it the next time I showed him a pink line.

Day 8

After work, Brennen and I met at my best friend’s house for her to take our Christmas card pictures.  And I figured that while we were there, I would use an extra test she had at her house. Convenient, right?  I also wanted her to capture Brennen’s reaction which she did…beautifully.  There was without a doubt a pink line.  The problem was…it was lighter than the lines I had been seeing.  Brennen chalked it up to a different type of test, a cheaper one; and after Christmas card pictures we grabbed a bite at one of our favorite restaurants to celebrate.  When I told the waiter I would just be having water, I saw Brennen grin.  He was so excited.  But I wasn’t quite there.  I was nervous about the lighter pink line.  He kept telling me to “Be happy,” but when I explained how overwhelmed I was and how I needed to see a blood test before I would let myself get too excited, he understood.  He calls me the pessimist of the relationship.  I’d say I’m more of a realist.  Still, we talked about baby names, grandparent names, and the whole timeline of the pregnancy over dinner.  Like Brennen said, “We’ve talked about this stuff before, but this time it’s real.  How crazy is that!”

Day 9

Happy Thanksgiving!  I took another test that morning.  Still a line! It was light, but it was there!  We coasted through Thanksgiving Day in default mode, unable to really think of anything other than the blood test I would take that night.  Even the turkey wasn’t enough to distract us!  That evening, I had my blood drawn for my first hCG test.  The 20-minute wait for the results was the longest 20 minutes of my life.  We filled the time with talks of Black Friday sales and the food we ate that day.  And finally, a number – 17.87.  It was low, but it was above a 5 which was good!  We FaceTimed Brennen’s parents who squealed with excitement then drove on to my parents’ house.  The rest of the evening was spent sharing the news of our positive with my family members still in town for Thanksgiving.  We weren’t expecting to share so quickly since the number was low and another test was due in 48 hours to verify an increase, but when it’s Thanksgiving and you’re a part of my family, secrets don’t stay secrets for long.  We were excited.  Our families were excited.  And even though there was still doubt in my mind because of the low number and light pink lines, we had never been this far before and shared the news anyway.  Still, the words “I’m pregnant” didn’t quite roll off my tongue.  It didn’t seem real.  I opted for the safer, “We got a positive!”

I held my belly as I went to sleep that night and prayed so hard that our growing embryo would become our baby.

Day 10

I tested again Friday morning before I called the clinic to report my hCG level from the night before. The line was still a light pink, which was worrisome.  The on-call nurse didn’t seem concerned that the number was low.  The most important thing was how it increased over the next few days.  She instructed me to do another hCG test Saturday night, 48 hours from the first.  The rest of the day was a blur, but I’m sure there was some football and leftovers in there somewhere.

Day 11

As if it were a full time job for me now, I peed on a stick that morning.  The line was barely there.  At that point, our moods shifted, and we had this nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.  With nothing else to do except sleep, I crawled back in bed, apologized to God for the things I was about to say, and vented to Him about the unfairness of this all, questioning “Why us?”

By that evening before my blood test, we had accepted that the level had either decreased or showed little change.  Results came back – 19.54.  At that point, we went ahead and let our families know that the pregnancy didn’t seem promising and that the number had not doubled or even come close to doubling over the 48 period as it should have.  We were preparing them, and more so ourselves, for the worst.

Day 12

I didn’t even bother with a urine test.  In fact, the one the morning before would be my last for a while. I  reported my number to the nurse who didn’t seem optimistic but asked me to continue my medications and test again in 48 hours – Monday.  That day I tried to do my best Googling to learn about low, slow-rising hCG levels.  Unfortunately “low” and “slow rising” are pretty vague search terms.  Some message boards had women worried about their 58 hCG.  I read where women were concerned because their hCG hadn’t doubled but had gone from 180 to 300 in 48 hours.  Looking at my report that read 19.54, I thought, “Cry me a river.”  Brennen did his fair share of Googling too, and on the drive home from my parents’ house we found ourselves dwelling on the uncertainties of this transfer and any transfers to come.

Day 13

In a torrential thunderstorm, we made our way to the hospital Monday night for the third blood test.  At this point, we were going through the motions.  We didn’t have much hope for the embryo that was inside of me and figured it was only hanging on because my hormones were being controlled with pills and injections.  To our surprise, we saw the biggest increase we had seen in my hCG level so far – 28.38, about a 40% increase from Saturday.  Still, a 28 at this point was not great, but there was still a shred of hope that we could hang on to. We drove back home in a steady mist of rain, and suddenly, I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I became angry. I didn’t want to keep spinning our wheels and exhausting ourselves on assumptions.  We didn’t know why my hCG wasn’t rising like it should.  We didn’t know what the doctor would say or do next.  We didn’t know when the next transfer would be or if there would even need to be one.  We just didn’t know.  Then, I remembered something I learned after Round 1.  You have to let go of the things you can’t control.  There was nothing we could control at that point other than progesterone injections and Estrace pills.  Everything else needed to be let go.  So before we crossed the Madison County line, we agreed to do just that.

Day 14

I reported the 28 hCG to the clinic this morning.  The nurse agreed that the level wasn’t rising as it should and wasn’t as high as it should be.  We expected that our doctor would tell us to stop all medications, but we guessed wrong.  My doctor called yesterday evening and told me he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel as long as the hCG was still rising.  He recommended another hCG test the next day and hoped that the 28 would evolve into a 50, or there about.  We chatted for about 30 minutes about my symptoms since the transfer – the fever, the rash, the cramping – and discussed what to do next.  If anything, continuing to measure my hCG may give us some insight into what’s going on and how it could affect the protocol of future transfers.

Day 15

My hCG doubled. Finally! 56! Still low for this stage, but it doubled! What the heck?! That’s really all we can say.  We don’t know what’s going on.  Our emotions are in total limbo.  We’re thrilled with the increase but understand that the number is still low, so we’re guarding ourselves.  I don’t mean for it to sound so crass, but I can’t let myself get too attached just yet.  It’s a defense mechanism…because all of this can be so hard to deal with.

We never expected to be here.  We thought we would have a positive or a negative at this point, not the in-between.  Sunday night as we were lying in bed, I told Brennen, “I never even considered being at this point – the space between.”  Naturally, he responded with the chorus from Dave Matthews’ The Space Between, and in no time we were both singing the song in our best Dave impressions.  We didn’t know all the lyrics, and we don’t even know what the song means, but we found comfort in the line “The hope that keeps us safe from pain.”  That’s what this embryo has given us.  We had never seen a positive pregnancy test in all our years of trying until this embryo.  We weren’t even sure implantation was possible until this embryo.  And a few months ago, we didn’t even think we could make a high-grade embryo, and this little guy is a 4AB.  Still, we don’t know what is ahead.  But this little embryo, even in its short existence so far, has already given us more hope than we’ve ever had – the hope that keeps us safe from pain.



Unexpected Emotions

My next post was going to be about our transfer schedule, but I don’t feel like I can give you a true glimpse into our journey without sharing with you what happened between us getting the embryo news and putting the transfer on the calendar.  This post is mainly for my infertility and IVF warriors out there who may be going through the same emotions as me and wondering if you’re alone.  I have to be real about it, even at the risk of sounding whiny or like a terrible person.

The moment Brennen hung up the phone with the lab, he hugged me with tears in his eyes.  It probably would have been a beautiful moment to retell if I would have cried too as we stood there in the kitchen in each other’s embrace.  But that’s not what happened.  My gut reaction was to hold back the tears and harden myself.  I kept saying in my head, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”  I haven’t seen Brennen cry during this whole process.  I’ve cried a lot.  So, I felt like it was my turn to be the supportive one. Maybe that’s where my downward spiral began.  Maybe I should have cried.

Don’t get me wrong. I was excited about the news of our frozen embryos.  I just didn’t do a very good job of showing it.  I didn’t cry tears of joy. I didn’t beam from ear to ear.  I didn’t squeal with excitement.  I got, as Brennen would put it, pissy.

After we talked a little more about what the embryologist said, I made the decision that we needed to get out of the house.  We had been sitting in the living room staring at the phone for almost two days, and the walls were closing in on me. I stepped into my closet, and suddenly I could see what a mess it was.  Then, I couldn’t figure out what to wear.  I tried on about 10 different outfits and piled the disregarded ones on the floor with the rest of the mess.  I saw the cluttered bathroom vanity, the loads of laundry, the dingy tub.  I rolled my eyes at Brennen’s outfit choice of a wrinkled t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops, especially since he told me it was cool enough outside for me to wear my boots.  I think I made some smart ass comment like, “Can you try to look like an adult today?” Harsh, I know.  We walked through the kitchen, and I saw the dirty dishes in the sink.  Once we were outside, I saw the weeds in the flowerbed and the spiderwebs draping our awning.  Then, I remembered the meetings I had coming up at work and the conference I had to be at next week.  Suddenly, everything on my to-do list that I had blocked out over the past few weeks came crashing into my head…all at once.

On the way to my in-laws’ house to drop off our dog for the afternoon (spoiled), Brennen was so upbeat and kept talking about our results.  Finally, I said, “Can we just not talk about IVF, embryos, and all that for a second? Just please, stop.” He looked at me shocked and confused, but he quickly covered it up with a look of understanding, even though I knew he didn’t understand.  He said, “Yeah, ok. That’s fine,” and we drove in silence.  This was NOT how I imagined this playing out.  I texted my mom, “What the hell is wrong with me?” “Hormones?” she asked.

She was right…as usual.  The next day, Aunt Flo made her appearance in all her glory.  So yes, I was probably crashing from all the hormones I had been on, and my body was trying to sneak in a quick PMS episode before Cycle Day 1.  And this hormonal imbalance brought all these negative emotions bubbling to the surface.

There was fear.  Just like when Brennen told me the lab had to watch our embyros for one more day, he was excited, but I immediately thought about how we lost all our embryos on day 6 during Round 1.  When I found out we had embryos to freeze, my mind went to “The last transfer didn’t work.” And because I know that this transfer, or future transfers, may not work, I fear that feeling of loss again.  It’s a loss that may be easier to deal with if I can somehow keep myself disconnected from the multi-celled blastocysts we have frozen, or so I thought.  Even though they are just cells, they are part me and part Brennen, and I am connected.  Maybe it’s that motherly instinct.

Then there was anger. When we got to Brennen’s parents’ house, they naturally wanted to talk a little bit about our big news.  At that point, I was more willing to talk about it.  It was slowly sinking in, and I was getting more excited.  I even hammered out a blog post.  Then, in the middle of the happy chatter, I blurted, “You know it really pisses me off.  It pisses me off that I was lead to believe that something was wrong with me.  That I couldn’t do this. That I didn’t have good eggs and wouldn’t make good embryos.”  It was the truth.  I look back at all we went through, and although I was relieved to know that we were able to get high-grade frozen embryos, I was so mad that I had spent all that time feeling so shitty about myself after Round 1.

And above all, the anxiety.  Like I said, for the past few weeks, I’ve blocked out everything that I thought might add stress.  I’ve been floating along, doing life the Brennen way (I’m so jealous of how he can do life sometimes).  Now, back to the to-do list.  Funny story  – During my little freak-out this weekend, I sat on the edge of the bed while Brennen tried to talk me through what was stressing me.  It went like this:

Me: I’m unnecessarily stressing about things I shouldn’t even be stressing over!

Brennen: Yes, you do that. Just forget about everything else, and tell me what the next step is on your list.  We’ll do it.

Me: I have to write a speech by Wednesday.


Welcome to my head, Brennen!

I’m proud to report that my mood did improve during our late lunch Sunday. We talked about when we thought the transfer may be and how many we would transfer.  We talked about being injection free for a while, and we talked about things not IVF.  We even took the time to hit a few Pokestops.

I’m so excited to have the success we have had so far this round and know we should consider ourselves lucky.  Still, I’m an emotional fuster cluck lately.  I did such a good job prior to and during stimming of letting things go and accepting what was out of my control.  Somehow I’ve gotta whip myself back into shape and find that “zen” I had just a short time ago.  I know it’s not too far gone…

P.S. Hormones. Blah.

Hurry Up and Wait

You would think that as much waiting as we’ve had to do during the IVF process, we’d get better at it; but I guess practice doesn’t always make perfect.  We received a call this morning from the embryologist to update us on the development and growth of our embryos, so we wanted to pass it along.  Before we do that, we want to clear up all the numbers we’ve thrown around lately.

Number of eggs retrieved on Monday = 41

Number of mature eggs fertilized using ICSI (sperm injected into the egg) = 26

Number of embryos on Day 1 after fertilization = 21 (5 of the eggs didn’t successfully fertilize)

Number of embryos on Day 2 after fertilization = 21 (11 rated A- to B+, 10 rated B to B-)

That’s where we were as of Wednesday morning when the embryologist called us.  We had gone from 41 eggs to 21 embryos.  We didn’t get an update on Days 3 and 4.  On Day 3, the embryo cells continue to divide.  On Day 4, differentiation occurs.  During differentiation, some of the cells form a border around the edge of the embryo; these cells become the placenta.  Another group of cells clump up in the middle and will eventually become the baby.  You can clearly see these two groups of cells in the embryo that we transferred during Round 1.



Transferred Embryo from Round 1


From what we’ve read and been told, a high rate of embryo arrest occurs on Day 4 during this differentiation stage.  We’ve heard it referred to as the “die off day.” So naturally, we expected our number to drop from 21.

This morning (Day 5), Breanne’s phone rang at 9:45, and we flew to it with me yelling, “Let me answer! Let me answer!”  The embryologist informed me that we had 6 embryos – 3 that looked really good and 3 that looked pretty good.  However, they weren’t quite ready to be frozen.  It sounded like great news to me, but when I told Breanne, I could see the worry in her eyes.  Like last time, it looks like we have some slow growers.  And last time, our embryos didn’t make it.  She made the connection pretty quickly and just sat in bed staring across the room.  I let her stare for a little while then asked, “Well, what are you feeling?”  She responded, “Chocolate.”  That’s not exactly what I meant, but it summed it all up.  I went and bought my wife lots of chocolate.  So much, in fact, that the lady at Livingston Sweet Shoppe asked me if we were having a party.  I said yes to avoid looking like too much of a fat kid.

The embryologist told me he would check the embryos again this evening, and if they were ready to be frozen, he would call.  If not, he would check again Sunday morning and call us.  Let me just stop right here and say that waiting on a phone call that may not even come is miserable.  As the eternal optimist in the relationship, I hung up with the embryologist this morning feeling really upbeat.  But as the day went on, my excitement turned to nervous anticipation.  Breanne’s sister called around 6:15 this evening, and I jumped.  I could feel my heart in my throat.  Her phone hasn’t rung since.

It’s 8:30 now, and at this point we aren’t expecting a phone call until tomorrow.  So, it looks like tonight will be another night of Tylenol PM and Netflix until we can’t hold our eyes open anymore.


Since Breanne is still feeling sore and groggy and is operating on a very short fuse (trust me), I will be handling this update on the egg retrieval.

Day Before Retrieval – Sunday

As Breanne mentioned in her last post, she took the trigger shot of Lupron Saturday night in preparation for an egg retrieval Monday.  She had an appointment Sunday morning for some blood work, and we were told that no news was good news.  So since Sunday just consisted of hoping we wouldn’t get a phone call, we had some big plans for the rest of the day – see the Peabody ducks, grab lunch downtown, do some shopping in Germantown, and celebrate with a nice dinner that night.  Well, Breanne’s ovaries, and her hormones for that matter, had other plans.  She woke up Sunday morning feeling pretty bloated and crampy, so after the doctor’s appointment, she came back to the hotel to nap. I supported her by napping too.  Around 10:00, I woke up to a whimpering noise and looked over to find Breanne sound asleep with tears running down her face.  I woke her up in a panic asking what was wrong and she told me in the most pitiful voice, “I dreamed you left me.” I felt horrible and held her while I reassured her that was not going to happen.  Then, in true Breanne fashion, she muttered through her tears, “But you bought me a cake.”  I don’t think she ever even opened her eyes.  She just cried for a little bit and went back to sleep. Hormones.  We spent the rest of the morning lounging around the hotel room, eating take out, napping, and watching football. Or as I like to call it – heaven.  She finally started to feel better Sunday evening, so we grabbed us some good Memphis Barbeque and some frozen yogurt for dessert and headed to bed…after we went back to the barbeque joint so we could get Breanne’s purse that she left.

Retrieval Day – Monday

We had to be at the surgery center at 7:30 to check in.  The tricky thing about an egg retrieval is that the doctor had to retrieve the eggs before she ovulated.  That’s why the doctor instructed us to take the trigger shot at 8:30pm Saturday, precisely 36 hours prior to retrieval.  I was so nervous we would over sleep and not make it to the clinic on time that I set both cell phone alarms, had Breanne’s mom call at 6:15, had my mom call at 6:30, and asked for a wake-up call from the front desk.  Breanne would like for me to add, “After all that we still didn’t leave when we wanted to because Brennen didn’t account for his morning bowel routine.”

We made it to the clinic on time and checked in.  While Breanne waited to be taken back, I had to go upstairs to donate my sample, a much easier process than what Breanne went through.  I was able to see Breanne again just before she went back for the procedure at 9:00.  She was in good spirits and ready to lighten her ovarian load!  During Round 1, Breanne had about 16 follicles on the day she triggered, and 10 eggs were retrieved. On trigger day during this round, she had 32 follicles.  So when the nurse came out 45 minutes later to take me back to see Bre, I expected her to tell me they had retrieved 20 to 25.  Nope! She looked at me and said, “Now, she’s going to be sore.  We got 41.” 41? 41! I was in shock! I knew my wife was an overachiever, but I didn’t realize what an OVARYchiever she was!  They took me back to see her in recovery where she was drinking Ginger Ale.  She looked at me in a fog and said, “I don’t even drink Ginger Ale. But I guess I do now.” We had to hang out for a little bit in recovery so that she could use the restroom before we left. Doctor’s orders.  The doctor that performed the retrieval also talked to us about the potential for freezing some off the eggs since they had retrieved so many.  We gave him permission to do that, understanding that it depended on how mature those 41 eggs were.  In other words, if the majority of those 41 eggs were mature, we would freeze some of the eggs.  If not, we wanted them all fertilized.  After only having 10 mature eggs during Round 1, this was a conversation we did not expect to have.

We finally headed home from Memphis.  I love her to death, but Breanne was pretty short tempered on the way home.  We stopped at a gluten free café to get her some oatmeal.  She told me to get something easy to eat while I drove, like a grilled cheese.  I chose oatmeal.  She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the café to the car, the best she could storm.  Then, on the way home, the sound of me eating my oatmeal was making her nauseated, so she needed music to drown out my chewing.  Well, nothing on the radio was good enough, so she opted for her Amazon Prime playlist.  We were just south of Southaven, and service kept cutting out, which led Breanne to tweet some pretty mean things at our cell phone carrier.  Breanne is new to Twitter and still trying to figure it all out, but yesterday she got her first replied to tweet.  Sorry CSpire!

Bre’s mom met us at our house to help cook, clean, and keep Breanne company while I ran errands and what not.  She was a big help, especially in choosing what to watch Monday night.  1 vote for Dancing With the Stars from Bre and 2 votes for football from us.  Thanks, Connie!

Post-Retrieval Day 1 – Tuesday

The lab in Memphis called us this afternoon to let us know that 26 of the 41 eggs were mature enough for fertilization, so they fertilized all 26 yesterday.  21 made it to two-celled embryos today.  We’ll get updates over the next few days on how the embryos are growing and surviving and will know how many we can freeze on Day 5, Saturday.

It’s crazy to think that our future baby may have been created yesterday afternoon while we were driving from Memphis to Jackson.  His or her mother was either napping, fussing at me about oatmeal, or mad tweeting to our cell phone provider.  But whatever she was doing, she was being pretty damn awesome.


We Pulled the Trigger

Today is Stim Day 8, and I am definitely feeling my swollen ovaries.  This past Thursday, a week since my baseline ultrasound, they had doubled in size.  That’s like going from grapes to apricots.  Today, they’re probably the size of plums!!!  The cramping isn’t sharp, stabbing, or even a throbbing pain.  It feels more like inflammation.  You know that pain you get in your bladder when you have to pee really, really, really bad? That’s the closest comparison I can think of.  Except it’s like having two bladders.

Not to complain, but on top of swollen ovaries, I’m also dealing with my jaw.  It all started with a sneeze Tuesday night. Yes, just a sneeze.  It threw my bite off, and, according to the oral surgeon I saw last week, I’ve popped some cartilage out of place or something.  My luck! I can’t have anything normal like a cold or a stomach bug.  Instead I get infertility and a jacked up jaw!

Moving on to more positive notes…

Brennen and I arrived in Memphis last night since we had a monitoring appointment early this morning. During our appointment, the ultrasound tech counted…drumroll please…32 follicles!!! She saw 12 in the left ovary and stopped counting at 20 in the right.  We left our Round 1 notes at home, but Brennen swears he has them memorized.  He says that at this point in Round 1 we had about 16 measurable follicles, so we’re talking twice as many.  We decided to celebrate with a delicious breakfast at Bedrock Eats and Sweets in Downtown Memphis.  I had a glorious gluten free cinnamon roll waffle with cream cheese icing.  The perfect celebration!

With 32 follicles and a good-looking uterine lining, we had a feeling we would be retrieving Monday.  We were right! We got the call this evening to take the Lupron trigger shot at 8:30pm.  The trigger shot is administered 36 hours before the scheduled retrieval.  It’s called a “trigger” because it triggers the eggs to loosen up from those follicles and get ready to release.  However, the retrieval has to happen BEFORE they release.  I have to admit, I’m so nervous that I’ll ovulate before the retrieval; but, as my mother so wisely reminded me, “That’s out of your control.” So with college football playing in the background, we “pulled the trigger.”  And it just so happens that our Southern Miss Golden Eagles scored a touchdown during the shot, so I’m pretty sure that’s a good sign.

Retrieval is scheduled for Monday morning at 8:00am.  Tomorrow we will go in for just one more monitoring appointment.  We’ll update everyone after the retrieval.  Well, I’ll be doped up on anesthesia and pain pills, so Brennen will probably tackle that post.

One more thing…Brennen’s streak of no bruises ended on what turned out to be our last full day of stimming.  I jinxed us in my last post. It’s clearly my fault…


In his defense, the shot was administered in a Kroger parking lot on the way to Memphis.  But I think he still gives shots like a pro!


Here We Go

IVF Round 2 is officially underway. I started taking birth control this morning for down regulation. This simply means my ovaries are being turned off by the birth control so the doctor can better control egg maturation. Later on, the injections will fuel follicle growth and egg maturation, so we don’t want my ovaries to start working on their own and ahead of schedule. Like Brennen says, we don’t want them to be OVARYchievers. Not yet anyway. 

Dr. Memphis’ nurse called with our IVF schedule today. We have a tentative stimming (injections) start date of September 23 and the retrieval planned for the week of October 3. We thought we wouldn’t have to make a trip back to Memphis until the retrieval, but my doctor wants to meet with us next week to go over the stimming regimen and do a sonohysterogram (saline injected into the uterus to check for polyps where he’ll place the embryo). We will be traveling to Memphis next week for this “fun” appointment. 

As I penciled all the dates on our calendar, I found myself tearing up. Countless times throughout this process, my tears have been for heartache. But this time, it was different. My tears were for hope and for gratefulness. And it’s because this time around, I feel more prepared, more equipped. Brennen and I both do. I think it’s because of how much we’ve grown as individuals and as a couple this past year. Without a doubt, we’ve become closer. We’ve learned to trust and lean on each other more than ever before. How can I not trust the man giving me my daily hormone injections! And how can he not be the one whose shoulder I cry on during every breakdown. We’ve learned more about ourselves – our limits, how we handle emotions, how we cope, how strong we are. We’re more educated and empowered. Brennen would say he has learned more about the reproductive cycle than he ever imagined! And we’ve strengthened our relationship with God and learned to put our trust in Him. When I look back at all we’ve gained this past year, I don’t see our three IUI’s and first IVF cycle so much as “failures” anymore.

So tonight, I’ll tape our calendar to the fridge (because for some reason KitchenAid made one that isn’t magnetic). And in the midst of the scheduling and planning, I’ll take the time to stop and be grateful for all that we’ve gained so far on this journey and hopeful for the blessings that are still to come.

Here we go!

A Little Perspective Goes a Long Way

This past May, I celebrated my last 20-something birthday. My mom and mother-in-law kept asking for a birthday list; but, honestly and much to everyone’s surprise, I couldn’t come up with a single thing to ask for.  When you’re turning 29, can’t get pregnant, and you’re knocking on the door of IVF, it puts things into perspective. I didn’t want a new purse or jewelry or any expensive gift. I wanted to get pregnant. That was the only thing on my list. That was my wish.

Now, another reality check, but this time it’s different. Over the past week, my longing for a child hasn’t diminished, but it’s been put into a new perspective by the tragedy that has struck Louisiana.  Yesterday morning on the drive to work, I heard that the death toll is now at 13 and is expected to rise.  I’ve seen pictures of families boating down their streets leaving behind their houses, their belongings, and their memories.  I watched a video on Facebook of a man tearing open the roof of a car to rescue a woman and her dog.  A lot of people say they can’t imagine what Brennen and I are going through right now, but we can’t imagine what these flood victims must be feeling.  To face a tragedy like our neighbors in Louisiana are experiencing is a devastation I don’t know.

Often times when you suffer with infertility, you tend to get lost in your despair.  I’ve done it.  It’s easy to do with all that is involved emotionally, physically, and financially.  It’s hard to put into words how you can mourn for something you’ve never had, miss someone you’ve never held, and love someone you’ve never met.  But you do. And when you mourn and miss and love so much all at once, you’re overwhelmed with a feeling of hopelessness. I’ve been there.  But sometimes, we need a break from our own struggle and should do what we can to turn that negative energy into something positive.  We all should realize how much we have to be thankful for in this very moment.  As I watched that poor puppy in the video almost drown, I held my puppy Nelson a little tighter.  I ate dinner with my husband without the TV as background noise, so I could just enjoy his presence.  I talked to my mom and sister on the phone about nothing really – just to talk.

I guess what I’m saying is that we all have our struggles.  And depending on how you look at them, some are worse than others.  But a lot of it depends on your perspective.  So this week for me, I chose not to be so heavy laden about not being a mother. I chose to be thankful. Even though we don’t have a child, are unsure about whether or not we ever will, and still have a tough road ahead of us, for right now, we’re just going to stop and be thankful for what we do have.  We’re not promised tomorrow, but we have so much to be thankful for today.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to all the families affected by the flooding in Louisiana.  If you’re able to give anything to these people whether it’s prayers, funds, time, or whatever, we hope you find it in your heart to do so.