Girls on Film

At long last, a photo of Nayla and Erin, on the occasion of Nayla's Baby Shower.
I don't get to see Erin very often, as we live in different states, so I was honored she was able to attend my baby shower on March 12.
For those of you who don't know, Erin is enjoying life with a baby girl, who was born this summer.

In the days before the shower, I was very worried about my emotional reaction to being around a group of women who were happy about my pregnancy. Not that I myself wasn't happy about it, just more that my post-traumatic fertility disorder might make me cry continuously or run out of the room.

But the shower was just perfect, just my mother, mother-in-law, and 8 of my close West Coast friends. I am lucky to have such great support and understanding.

The Road Not Taken

Today I am 17 weeks pregnant. It is difficult to wrap my brain around that fact, even though I am definitely sporting a bump these days, and the ultrasounds all confirm that the bump contains a very wiggly baby.

During my previous 2 pregancies (or 2.1 pregnancies, if you count the chemical pregnancy of last winter) I practiced positive thinking. This did not get me anywhere, so this time around, I gave myself permission to keep thinking about Plan B. Plan B, as is in, what will I do if this pregnancy does not result in a baby?

DH and I have talked all along about adoption, and about gestational carriers, and even, briefly about egg donors, after a particularly bleak consultation with a doctor in Portland.

We didn't get very far in our discussion about egg donors, but I have kept up in my reading about them, because I understand what it is like for anyone for whom living child-free is not an option. As for gestational carriers, we talked a lot about them. DH was nervous about the whole thing, but I had lost such confidence in my body, that I felt like literally anyone off the street could do a better job of gestation than I could.

Meet the Twiblings is a great article in the New York Times Magazine about one couple's journey to parenthood by using one egg donor and two gestational carriers. I love many things about this article, but today I will share one passage that really struck me about how one might choose a genetic stand-in:

I decided the Fairy Goddonor was the person I would have been had our family stayed in Los Angeles; had my hair stayed blond; had I grown up as a sunny outdoorsy California person instead of a brooding indoorsy East Coast person. And if there are brooding genes I prefer they die with me. She was athletic and played tennis and surfed, as I imagined I would have done, and would still do if only I didn’t suffer from the chronic pain condition that I wouldn’t have if I were her — and wouldn’t then pass on to my children. There was an air of appealing gaiety about her. She seemed reasonably, but not excessively, introspective. She did not seem like someone who stayed up late every night writing in her diary for hours, as I did at her age.

Meanwhile, last night my husband brought home a bottle of sparkling cherry juice, and we wished our wiggling fetus a happy new year. Maybe, for us, positive thinking will make a return appearance. Plan B will still be out there; other people are working out the kinks.

Oranges are not the Only Fruit

The big news: I am pregnant.

Fourteen weeks ago, I went to CCRM for a frozen transfer of two blastocysts.

About ten days later, I started feeling very nauseated 24/7, and blood tests confirmed that I was pregnant. I have stayed nauseated ever since, so nauseated that I had to get a few different medicines from the doctor to stop losing weight. (Note to others who might experience this: zofran and phenergan are safe in pregnancy.)

Nausea has been my primary preoccupation. I have done almost nothing more than sleep, take my nausea medicines, try to eat, and cuddle with my dog, who is very happy I am home all of the time. (I did teach a class this semester, and I wonder if my students have figured out why I started bringing lollipops for all halfway through the semester.)

Meanwhile, I check on the status of the contents of my uterus via the book What to Expect When You’re Expecting, the Mayo Clinic Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy, and the iphone app Pregnancy Companion. All three sources like to compare the embryo or the fetus to some kind of food, which is particularly difficult to think about if you are dry heaving at the thought of brushing your teeth. On occasion, these sources mention other food items, but usually, fruit is the comparison of choice.

This week, the fetus is the length of a large lemon. Previously, it has been a plum, an apricot, a lime, a cashew nut, a cherry, a macaroni, a blueberry, a grain of rice, and an apple seed.

Week 15, which starts in two days, the fetus will be the size of a navel orange.

On Death and Dying and Harry Potter

Or, more accurately on grief and caregiving.

Once again, this blog has been more about fertility than mortality for some time. I guess that's because I spend more of my time feeling hopeful, or at least helpful, rather than dwelling in grief. And that's good, right?

I still read every article on death and dying, and grief and caregiving.
Today I stumbled across two interviews, one the Oprah interview of J.K. Rowling, and the other an interview with Arthur Kleinman, director of Harvard's Asia Center.

The Oprah interview touches on the death of Rowling's mother, and how the grief and depression Rowling suffered influenced everything about the writing of Harry Potter. Kleinman talks about caring for his wife at home for 7 years after her Alzheimer's diagnosis.

And while we're on the subject of Harry Potter, I should mention that during bed rest, I looked quite a bit like Bellatrix LeStrange. Except in pyjamas.

Bed Rest

Bed rest is not easy. It sounds like it should be easy, what with the terms "bed" and "rest", each of which on its own conjuring up pleasant associations. (I guess I should acknowledge that usually these associations are with things that are optional.) When mandatory, and when in concert, "bed rest" is quite difficult.

First of all, after you've had your first luxurious nap, you want to get out of bed and stretch, or run around, or get your own glass of water. These things are not allowed. You can get up to go to the bathroom, but then you have to got back to bed, and refrain from jumping up and down on the way. If your bed rest is after the transfer of two genetically normal blastocysts, and after 2 miscarriages, one chemical pregnancy, 3 fresh IVF cycles and 4 IUIs, then you have some incentive to follow the doctor's instructions, policing yourself and trying to practice yogic breathing whenever you feel like you might jump out of bed and run around the room in circles.

After the transfer on Monday, the nurse wheeled me out of the clinic while my husband brought the car around. Following the nurse's instructions, my husband reclined the front seat of the car until it was flat, and I carefully climbed in, letting them buckle me in for the ride. As you can imagine, I felt ridiculous. Then we went back to the hotel, where I thoroughly enjoyed every step toward the elevator and down the hall to our room.

If the biggest challenge of bed rest is the actually staying in bed, then the second biggest challenge is eating and drinking while reclined. I recommend you acquire a bendy straw to avoid dousing yourself in your beverage of choice. Unless you are into that kind of thing.

N.B. Bed rest is more pleasant if you have a fluffy white dog to keep you company.

Transfer Day

A Brief Summary of the Past Month:

22 Days of Lupron

8 sessions of electro-acupuncture (Imagine someone running an electric toothbrush up and down your sciactic nerve.)

25 Vivelle patches

15 Endometrin vaginal suppositories

1 new class prep.

And here we are--transfer day.

I go in at 9 a.m. for some acoustic acupuncture. At 10, I will swallow a valium and begin drinking 16 or so oz. of water so that I can fill my bladder, and thus straighten out my cervix.

At 11, the doctor will transfer 2 genetically normal blastocysts into my uterus.

And then we hope for the best.

The Magic Number

Six is the magic number.

As you may recall, we did CCS genetic testing on 11 blastocysts 2 weeks ago at CCRM. We have been waiting for the results ever since, with no small amount of crying and cuddling my small dog like the baby substitute he is.

Wednesday night we got the call from Dr. Surrey. We have six normal embryos! Of the 11 blastocysts tested, four have genetic abnormalities incompatible with even a positive pregnancy test, and one is still a question mark. And six are normal and of "more than high enough quality to result in a live birth."

We are relieved.

FET approximately September 27.