Pilot Light

**Previously written on February 28, 2015**

This post has probably been the most anticipated update since the beginning of my blog 3 years ago. I've been playing out how I wanted to write this if the day ever came, yet it's officially here and I'm rather at a loss for how to continue! My emotions are all over the place and for every sentence I write, I seem to delete the next one. This is basically the see-sawing trend of events my life has taken on since November. Teetering emotions? Why, that's just the tip of the iceberg that is pregnancy, my friends. 

And pregnant is what I am (forreal, with pictures and errrthang)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Ten weeks today, to be exact. Do you know how hard it has been to keep this secret? I have gotten asked multiple times in multiple ways on a daily basis since January 1st. I knew in late November the date of my transfer: January 9th. We knew it worked on January 19th and saw a heartbeat on February 9th. Since then, things have worked like they are supposed to in early pregnancy. I had spotting off and on for about three weeks which caused mild panic and serious doubts, but other than that, I've been nothing short of a model of a perfectly normal, healthy, baby-carrying female. The thing about going through this for the fifth time is that there is a lack of excitement when you find out you're pregnant. You can stop reading here, if you wish, for what I have to say isn't the rosey-rainbow gushing of praise about finally being pregnant. 

First of all, let me throw out my disclaimer, even though you know me well enough that I shouldn't even have to make this statement. I realize how monumentally lucky, blessed, fortunate, etc. we are. I don't remember the numbers precisely, but the percentage for IVF working on the first cycle isn't that high. We did the first time, SPECTACULARLY, I may add. I was considered the perfect case for a single-transfer (meaning, the odds were in my favor, highly, of us transferring just one embryo and it working). We decided on transferring two, though, not because we were greedy, but because if the fates allowed us to have more than one child, why not do it at the same time and be done with it? Okay, so that's what I told the doctor. Selfishly, I figured if we transferred two, got one, perfect, got two, even more perfect, and then I'd call it a day and have them take out ALL my parts, the end. I'm the poster-child for things not working out as planned, so, one embryo stuck, therefore resulting in a successful IVF cycle with one healthy, singleton pregnancy!

I've read too many other stories of women who have had success and they suddenly forget they ever went through any hardship to get there because they are blinded by the baby dust. And the thing is, I don't want to forget what I've been through just because we finally seem to be getting what we've worked so hard for. Since I first went to a fertility doctor, my world has been covered in "ifs". "If this works" or "if I stay pregnant" has been the constant mantra. I've made it to ten weeks, more than double the time I've ever made it before, I've seen my baby 3 times, and yet Mike and I still find ourselves saying, "if we make it until September". It's very frustrating but it's very real. And you all know that while I lean toward the label "optimist", I'm a realist before anything else. 

I even have slight guilt over actually being pregnant because I know there are so many women out there still trying (and failing) for the same thing. I've been there and I know what it's like to hear about that one more pregnant person that isn't you. One thing that I wouldn't let happen to myself is turning my pilot light out, and therefore that's my greatest advice for people who are struggling just like I did. When things were at their bleakest, you still have to have some sort of glimmer of hope that things will eventually work out. With my first pregnancy, I had flames so bright shining off of me that I should have had a "FLAMMABLE" sign tattooed on my forehead. And with every miscarriage, the flames dimmed. Whenever I wiped blood here recently, I stopped and said to myself, "This is just a test, if it's going to make it, it will". Things have progressed as they should; my pilot light grows brighter every day, right along with this baby.

So! While I'm still quite scared of things working out for the better, even though I've been told everything is perfectly fine, there have been no shortage of pregnancy symptoms that have taken over my 29-year old body. At this portion of the program, you may find yourself thinking pretty lowly of me, as this is going to sound ungrateful and complain-y. But remember, as I do, OFTEN, not only have I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed for this to finally happen, I also PAID for it to...

1. Can we just look at my boobs, please? While they are sore as snot and I will quite frankly body-slam anyone who remotely puts an appendage in the vicinity of my chest, they look FABULOUS. Sadly, I've never understood what women talked about when they mention their boobs "from their 20's". WHAT? My boobs from my twenties have been small, lumpy, and kinda droopy to the sides when I lay flat. My not-pregnant boobs of my 20's had been replaced with the boobs of my future 70's. As a matter of fact, my 75-year-old grandma has a pretty righteous pair. Clearly, I wasn't swimming in the same gene-pool as her when I should've been. (I was probably at the concession stand getting a hot dog while those traits were being passed down). My pregnancy boobs are bangin'. Not too big, but they fill out my bras (the way they SHOULD be, because I've been known a time or two to buy a bigger cup-size for appearance purposes). 

2. Irritability. I can not stand to be in public places for more than ten minutes. Or at work. Or at home. I'm not sure how I've ever tolerated people while not pregnant. A man at the ATM in front of me this morning took for-ev-er to complete his transaction. I was huffing and puffing and griping and moaning and all but blew my horn at him to hurry up. Yet I was in my pajamas and had nowhere else to be for the rest of the day. 

I can't stand the music that comes on the radio. 

I screen shot like 100 Facebook statuses a day and send them to my friends so I can whine about how ridiculous people are being.

I made a playlist the other day and the following songs made it: Out of Touch by Hall & Oats, Forgot About Dre by Dr. Dre, Kerosene, by Miranda Lambert and If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher. (<----You have not LIVED until you are in a car with me when that one comes on). Obviously, nothing satisfies me at the present. 

3. Let's talk about the mother of all symptoms: food aversions, cravings, and NAUSEA. Week 6, Day 1 I woke up, ate breakfast, and sat on the sofa. 30 minutes later, my head felt funny, like I couldn't move it without feeling like I could puke. There have been 3 total days since Week 6, Day 1 where I haven't felt constantly nauseous. I haven't vomited, and I realize I'm quite lucky in that aspect, as women I've known have spent their entire first trimester in a toilet. But being so sick that you can't move your head, well, I don't know which is worse. Ironically, this feeling intensifies when I've gone awhile without eating...yet most of the time the thought of any food makes me squirm. It's a vicious cycle. 

All of my favorite foods in the world have taken a back-seat. The thought of them makes me want to hurl. There are about 5 things I can tolerate: peaches in a cup (the fully-loaded syrupy kind), Pizza Hut Breadsticks, Little Debbie Oatmeal Creampies, anything sour, and Goober Grape sandwiches. In every single pregnancy book I've read, the diet I should be adhering to looks like the government's version of the Food Pyramid. The authors of these books were MEN. They MUST be. I couldn't eat a piece of broccoli right now if somebody covered it in chocolate and called it Chris Hemsworth. The decision of "what's for supper" at my house is like trying to pass a bill in congress. A suggestion might grab my attention, but then I think of the smell of it and I have to change my mind. I'm a giant pain in the rear to live with, so please give Mike Peebles a pat on the back when you see him.  

There are SO many things about being pregnant that I need to gush about, but I'll save it for another post. Besides, from the looks of things, I'm going to be at the height of my pregnancy during the summer, which means I'll be inside next to an air vent with people cooling me down with palm leaves. There will be plenty of time for writing. You might have thought that since I officially clocked out of my job at the "Fertility Theme Park" that I wouldn't have anything to write about anymore. You thought wrong. This is only the beginning.

I'll leave you with these pictures, sort of mementos from our transfer and the time after... 

These were the 2 embryos we transferred. The one at the top had already started to hatch, which makes me think he was the one to stick. Also, he looks like a bully. Overbearing. Has to have all the attention. Probably shoved the other one out. Definitely my kid.

This is my, "PUT THEM IN MY UTERUS RIGHT NOW FOR THE LOVE OF CHRISTMAS COOKIES" selfie.

 This is right after leaving the lab following the transfer. I wanted the embryos to like me, so I gave them a chocolate chip cookie as sort of a house-warming gift.

 This was Day 3 of bedrest following the transfer. Rudy liked to keep them company.

            

And this was my last visit at Dr. Edelstien's office when he officially released me back to Dr. Gospodnetic, my regular OB. I was crying. Horribly. I didn't want to leave. Mike was mortified at my behavior, I'm sure. Don't zoom in, I have ugly-cry face.

                 

Diary of a Potentially Pregnant Woman

***This post was previously written on January 18, 2015.***

Tomorrow is the end of the elusive two-week-wait post-embryo transfer. Except I haven't had to wait two weeks. I basically jumped in the express lane towards the end of this process and now I'm fah-reeking OUT because tomorrow we find out IF...IF this whole deal actually worked. 

I had the frozen embryo transfer done on the afternoon of Friday, January 9, 2015. We got to pick the date and since I'm insanely obsessed with odd numbers (that's a whole other post in itself), I thought that particular date was the perfect match. Also, it means I didn't have to take off work for the mandatory bed rest that the transfer requires. For two and a half days, I barely walked to the bathroom and when I did, I perfected the role like I was Betty White walking the red carpet at the Golden Globes. 

How funny, I kept thinking, how many women out there never know the true date of their conception, yet continue leading their extremely dangerous lives all the while the inner workings of their tag-team tubes/ovaries/uteruses design and begin the process of making a baby. How many women were jumping up and down during an aerobics class, unintentionally shaking up the egg/sperm concoction they made with their mates the night before? How many women were shooting tequila at a mexican restaurant with friends? How many women were watching Channing Tatum perform his Oscar-award-winning dance to Genuine and then rush off to their bedrooms with husbands and boyfriends to have sex and cause their uterus' to contract, therefore giving said egg/sperm concoctions a very difficult time to STICK to the walls? 

How funny that most of the normal women in the world were doing all of these normal things and I was laid up like I had the Titanic necklace somewhere on my body. You know you wouldn't be able to move with that thing on you. They make babies every five minutes and continue doing these things like it's nothing. Ugh. I couldn't even get a sip of Pepsi for fear of over-caffeinating the embryo.

I digress. So tomorrow is the big day. It will be Day 34 in my cycle (the first day of my last period was December 17th). My last pregnancy (October 2013), I took a blood test on Day 27 and pregnancy was confirmed. I started bleeding on Day 37. I'm hopeful to find out the result as it should be clear as day by tomorrow. 

How pitiful that we won't even be able to get excited if I get a positive beta tomorrow?? (Beta means number or level of the pregnancy hormone HCG in your blood once an embryo has implanted itself into the lining of the uterus). The majority of women I know (or read about) have IVF done because they've never been able to get pregnant. I've done it four times, just can't stay that way. I never really got nervous about the egg-retrieval and preparing my body because clearly I've been able to do that part on my own four times. Plus this time, the little buggers are actually hand-delivered into the exact place they need to be. I just basically signed for it and Dr. Edelstein is a fancy-dressing Fed-Ex guy.

The blood tests following a first positive beta is just the absolute worst. It's all about the numbers and I'm a wordy kind of girl. 48 hours after the first positive test, I have to do it again and pray that the numbers have doubled. If they haven't or are slow rising, it means high potential for the pregnancy not to last. And I've been down that road. Got the t-shirt. 

I'll be excited when I see what I need to see nestled into my uterus on an ultrasound screen with a heart-beat; after all, we've never made it quite that far before. It's been a highly-stressful last 10 days. On Day 7, post transfer, I woke up with period-like cramps that lasted alllll day and allll night. It was devastating. It was quite the mental melt-down and I pretty much have been retired to my couch since that day. The cramps subsided the next morning, but after a scare like that, your brain can't settle down. I'm trying to contain myself tonight so I can focus on this upcoming week. It should be a DOOZY. I'll leave you with "A Diary of a Potentially Pregnant...via IVF...Woman's Guide to Surviving the (Didn't Even Make it to Two Weeks) Wait". 

1. Don't buy any books with the remainder of your Christmas Amazon gift card balance. Your brain can't settle enough to READ. Unless it's the same three sentences over and over over until you just say "F*@& it" and throw the Kindle to the love seat where it bounces into the floor and stays there for the next 4 days until you spontaneously decide to vacuum. <--- See #5

2. Don't read online community forums about what you will experience over the TTW (two week wait). It's worse than WebMd because it's pretty much women jacked up on junk food and estrogen and progesterone and they are IIINNNSSAAANNNEEE. Let me put it to you this way: Bitches. Be. Trippin'. Here's all you need to know if you ever go through this: if you cramp, there's nothing anybody can do. You might be pregnant. You might get your period. Deal with it and move on. Also, the progesterone shot EFFFINNNN SUUUCKKKKKS. There's no way to sugar-coat it so don't let some rando try to tell you tips to ease the pain. It hurts. It doesn't go away. End of story. 

3. DO binge watch Gilmore Girls on Netflix for an approximate total of 35 hours in a 48-hour time period. Can Lorelai Gilmore and Mindy Lahiri PLEASE, for the love of GOD, find each other and do a spin-off? Nevermind. My brain would explode.

4. DON'T watch Channing Tatum's Oscar-award-winning performance to "Genuine" on the Oxygen channel. Number one: it's not in HD. Number Two: you can't have sex afterwards because *in my whiny, mocking doctor voice* "sex is forbidden until the end of time times infinity because we don't want anything to contract the uterus" Yada yada yada. 

5. I realize that Lay's return of Tangy Carolina BBQ Potato Chips would be a bigger miracle than what I'm about to say, but it is entirely possible that you may, just for about 30 minutes, might want to clean your house. (It's brief, but it happened. It was magically horrid.) 

6. There are not enough People Magazine Celebrity Crosswords in the entire world. There. Just. Aren't. Let me rephrase. There are not enough People Magazine Celebrity Crosswords that I can actually complete in the entire world. (I've done like 87 over the last four days, yet none of them are done). 

7. Annnnd number seven. Stop reading what other people suggest you do while waiting for literal life-changing news. It's not worth going crazy over, like I am right now. I'm preaching to the choir, and every person that tells you "it's all okay" or "stop thinking about it" can royally suck it. Time is either going to go slow or go fast and the most important thing you can do while you wait is decide how you are going to handle the news, good or bad, when you get it. 

So what will the outcome be? Did it work? How many babies will it be? I guess you've been waiting over three years to find this out, just like me. 

One more day won't hurt us...