we are having...

I’ve been horrible in updating. I’m 16 weeks. Here are the babies last week. We found out we are having... two girls!

A Third-ish of the Way Done (Hopefully)

I’ve got two little plums growing away! I am still in the PIO weaning process since my levels haven’t been as robust as my RE would like. We will find out boys or girls in about two weeks. I’m just excited to know so we can pick names. Names make things real. I have stopped throwing up at night since my OB advises me to eat every 2-3 hours. If I get behind on eating, my blood sugar drops and I get sick. I don’t remember this with baby boy.

just updates

This cycle and pregnancy has been fairly smooth, knock on wood. I couldn’t be pregnant without my friend, the subchorionic hematoma, though. Since this is a two for one pregnancy, I got two SCHs. It started with spotting. It progressed to bleeding with a lot of cramping. So far it has tapered off. With baby boy it did that and then came back even worse at the end of the first trimester.... so I know it may not be over. 

I’ve made it to 9 weeks with two wiggly babies with high heart rates. Baby B was especially squirmy on my last scan. They look more like babies and are pretty cute if I do say so myself! 

i don’t understand

I don’t understand how we went through 11 embryos and three hard cycles for baby boy. Two lone embryos left. Frozen for nearly ten years. And they both thawed. Both implanted. Are both growing and both have solid heartbeats! 

Still in shock. 

waiting

I waited only four days between transfer and getting my first positive pregnancy test. I waited five days between my first positive pregnancy test and my first bloodwork (beta). I waited three days between the first beta and the second beta. Now I’m waiting over two and a half weeks for the first ultrasound.

The very telling first ultrasound where there should be a gestational sac, a yolk sac, and baby AND a strongly beating heart.

It’s hard to know what to expect. My first pregnancy, I had “Singleton level” betas doubling nicely and had twins- although one was an empty sac and the other ended up dying. My second pregnancy I had “twin level” betas doubling nicely and one healthy baby (baby boy) by the day of ultrasound. I’m not going to try to guess what will happen. I’m trying to avoid playing any scenarios through my mind. I hope to show up, muster onto the table, and just see!

This wait is so different. It is hard, but it isn’t intense. I have thought what if I’m not pregnant anymore? I’m on progesterone so it’s unlikely I would miscarry even if my baby died. But there are no more reassurances. No more betas. No way to get an early ultrasound.

I even had a dream where I had pain on the left side and told the ER I thought I had an ectopic pregnancy and needed an ultrasound right away. When I woke up, my left side was aching (normal cramping with this process).  As much as my conscious tries to stay busy, my unconscious expresses concern.

I will know by the end of next week. If you are a heartbeat in the sixth week, there’s a 75% chance for a take home baby. I know all the odds, each week and milestone. The scars I carry.

crossing a bridge

703!

What does that mean? I have either one overachiever Singleton or possibly twins. I’ll know in a couple weeks once I can have an ultrasound. Of course assuming I don’t have a miscarriage before then.

The past still haunts. Therapy, medication and faith applied, it still haunts.

I’m just going to try to live in the moment and cross bridges when I get to them.

My symptoms: very tired, sore boobs (this part is from the estrogen- it’s such a nasty medicine that swells everything!), queasey. My sense of smell is in rare form meaning I can smell people smoking in other cars when I’m at a light. I detailed my toilets yesterday, taking apart things I didn’t know I could, to remove any pee smell (boys- baby boy plus nephews plus husband). Even though I’m tired, my obsessive commitment of my anxiety is flaring up.

transfer result is as follows...

I’m pregnant! I know all too well that doesn’t mean a lot at this point. But I turned a digital test positive 5 days past transfer which is pretty unheard of. I had my first beta and it was 170. I will have a repeat early next week and we will see if it doubles appropriately.

I never in a million years thought I would be writing this. We sold ALL of our baby stuff.

A day at a time...

two embryos tucked away

Bracelet from an embryo adoption mama friend- such an encouragement

Dark spot is bladder, round darker area is uterus, and white line is the embryos

Introducing our final two embryos

The embryos are in. Yes, they both survived the thaw! We did pretty much the same routine we've done before. Spend the night before in the same hotel near NEDC. Walk off nerves in T.arget. I even filled my bladder with the same orange V.itaminwater Zero as last time and ate the same Mexican after transfer/insanely long nap to sleep off meds (three hours this time!). You may notice, if you are an embryo junkie like me, that both are pretty perfect. These are both fully hatched and 6AA which is the top quality they can be. 

* * * * * * * *

It was pouring rain the day of transfer. Their number popped up on my phone and I thought surely it was them telling us not to come because they didn't thaw. D was in the restroom, so I had to answer it. It was the receptionist asking me to go ahead and take my pre-transfer meds ASAP because they were running ahead of schedule. I had actually just emptied my bladder (it has to be full to do transfer) so I chugged several drinks and took my meds. We made our way to the clinic. We sat in the waiting room almost no time. 

I went back, got in my gown, put on the blue hairnet. Sat nervously on the bed. I didn't know what would happen if they didn't thaw. At what point we would know. Surely they would have told us by now. But maybe not.

Then I saw the embryologist through the edge of the curtain, and she was holding a piece of paper as well as an embryo picture. She came in and explained they both thawed well and they were both 6AA. We signed the paper, and before I knew it.... it was my turn.

This time was much less pressure. My bladder was way overfull, because I have an amazing bladder, so I emptied for ten seconds and came back. The alcohol to clean my insides didn't burn as much. I think it's because I delivered a 9 lb baby and had a stuck placenta that required manual extraction. Anything is a breeze after that. 

I tried to take some deep breaths and relax as fully as I could. I used imagery of melting down into the table. Legs up and spread and three people looking down at my crotch, and I had no worries in the world. The catheter went in, and Dr K. said it had to go over a bump in my cervix (what a weird job!). I saw it on the screen, no explanation needed. I didn't see the flash of light this time. My hands were pressed tightly against my torso, holding onto my gown that was folded up. And just like that, they were in.

With some new research, they have changed the protocol so you can walk right off the table, go pee, and sit up straight on the hospital bed. D was just chilling in the chair next to the bed, after I peed and returned to my curtained area. 

I had my vitals taken. A dear embryo mama friend stopped by to give me hugs (it meant a whole lot for her to do this!). And we left. Just like that. Two gorgeous, plump embryos tucked safely away inside me. 

* * * * * * * *

How am I feeling? I don't know how to feel. I really didn't think they would survive thawing. I was really fixated on that. But they did. Its scary. But relieving. No more embryos in the freezer. No more souls I am responsible for, in the sense of deciding their fates. 

one pio down

My labs came back good. My lining was 8.9mm which is thickest I’ve had in 5 cycles! Lots of ovarian cysts but none big enough to cancel the cycle. So, all clear and full steam ahead!

I did my first progesterone shot. The needle is SO long and SO thick. I had forgotten. I felt sick to my stomach. It took me a good five minutes to get up the courage to jab. I tried to do it without numbing the skin and I couldn’t tolerate the feel of the needle popping through my hip.

But it’s 95% mental and now that I’ve done one, I should be okay.

let go (six scenarios)

I asked D what he he thinks is going to happen. With the transfer. He said he didn’t know. I asked him if he has a guess and he says nope. 

“How can you not have a guess?”

He says he just doesn’t think about it. There’s no point. He will wait and see what happens. 

I do enough thinking for the both of us. 

Statistically, we will transfer both embryos and have one baby from it. If you just look at the odds, especially combined with our “poor odds” from 2014. 

But one family is never a big enough sample size. There isn’t so much weight in statistics. 

To pursue this path, you’ve got to open your heart to a certain extent. You think about the embryos. You remind yourself it’s for them, when you’re giving yourself a shot or gaining uncomfortable water weight from the e.strace or driving to appointments and reliving painful procedures (physically and emotionally painful). 

That’s why I think as hard as any outcome will be in its own way, I have the outcomes ranked by easiest to hardest and I play them through my head in some ineffective effort to prepare myself for difficulty: 

1. Transfer two embryos and have one child (*this feels horrible; I don’t wish an embryo doesn’t make it- twins are just overwhelming, and waiting to see what happens would be easier with the doubled odds of two embryos rather than one)
2. Transfer one embryo and have one child (*guilty feelings same as above)
3. Transfer two embryos and have twins 
4. Get to transfer and they both died in thawing so there is nothing to transfer 
5. Get to transfer and one or both survived thawing; transfer and get a negative outcome 
6. Get to transfer one or both with a positive outcome but then a loss (miscarriage)

Imagining the scenarios only makes me more anxious. I feel exhausted and sad and tired but too worked up to rest. 

I’m trying to hard to surrender and let go. Trust God. He knows what is best. He will give me grace for any moment I come to. I don’t need to stash manna. I will wait day by day. 

My heart cries out. Let go. 

the price of love

Half a week til I find out if my lining is enough. And if I get to start PIO. This cycle is flying by. 

I just want it to be over so I will know the results. I’m so impatient. 

I don’t want to let myself imagine or dream or plan. I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like odds have never been in my favor so I probably won’t have anything to transfer. I’ve got faith that God *can* do anything. I’m just not sure what He will see fit. 

Last week I was working on Knoxville. Staying in a hotel right by the clinic. My soul did a little wave to the two embryos that are chilling at NEDC.  

It’s almost like a swirling tornado within. My insides spin all around. I’m scared to hope, but I’m scared not to. 

This limbo is torturous. It’s physically painful. It drains my energy. 

This is the price of love. 

** I had someone point out that I never explicitly wrote who I was transferring the embryos for. I guess when I was backtracking I wasn’t clear. We are transferring the embryos for us. 

waves

I’m roughly two-ish weeks out from transfer. 

The medication is not as bad as last time (times). I don’t know if it was the stress and pressure creating imagined side effects. I’m sure it helps this time that I am well controlled on mental heath medication, too. Basically, I’m just not feeling the mood side effects at all (irritability, rage etc). 

I do feel the same disgusting swelling on the e.strace. My face already feels puffy. My boobs ache and ache. And the dosing is only going to increase from here... I’ve had a couple headache that I’m sure are from the medication, but nothing horrible. However, I was very moderate on caffeine last time cycling, cause I wasn’t a mom yet and didn’t depend as heavily on it. Now, I’m much more liberal in my caffeine consumption so I’d guess that moderates my headaches. 

And that’s about all I have on how cycling is feeling, mentally and physically. It’s just not that bad. It’s not that noteworthy. 

Emotionally.... I’ve not had a lot of time to feel feelings. I’m changing departments at work so I went from furiously getting everything pristine to hand off to my counterpart to now learning an entirely new job. That pretty much consumes my energy right now. Cycling is in the back of my mind. 

When I do allow myself to stop and feel, it’s pure nerves. I hope my lining is building ok. I’m trying to walk to keep blood flowing. I hope my caffeine use isn’t restricting blood flow. I can’t use s.udafed for my allergies because I don’t want to restrict blood flow. I don’t spend a lot of time with these feelings and thoughts but when I do, it’s hard. There’s self pressure. Mom guilt. 

And the embryos. Any time I think of them, it flashes through my mind getting to the clinic and they both died in thawing. I know this is just my body’s way to protect me. I know it doesn’t mean that this is what I want to happen. Because I don’t. My ambivalence from the beginning of this year has waned. Even if they don’t ultimately end up as babies, I don’t want them to die in a dish. Because they are still small babies. They’re still lives and they are still Baby boy’s siblings. They deserve love for however long I can give it. Gosh the pressure and guilt.  

These are some tall waves when I start to ride them. 

surrender

One theme that has woven its ugly self into this parenthood journey is guilt. I think that happens to some extent for everyone. “Mom guilt” is a thing. But when mom guilt begins even before pregnancy...  

The best I can compare this past year’s emotions would be to someone who finds themselves pregnant unexpectedly/unplanned. Trying to make peace with the inevitable. Heavy weighted guilt for not being over the moon, at least not right away. Struggling to see how it will all come together. Feeling bad for said thoughts and feelings. Staying a bit reserved and unsure. More guilt. 

Except this is even more complex. I have to sit in this space where I can accept what may be, while the same space requires me to hold my acceptance loosely, because I may not have more kids after all. So I’m prepregnant and may be pregnant next month or may have that chapter fully closed. 

I don’t know if the embryos will survive the thaw. I don’t know if neither or one or both will implant. I don’t know if any that implants would become a healthy baby. 

I have no control. 

Control is my vice. 

This process has been incredibly refining. 

I might show up to transfer, having taken weeks of medication and shots and having ultrasounds, preparing my uterus perfectly... and nothing, if at least one doesn’t survive. They thaw the embryos about an hour before transfer. I will be finding out just as I go along. 

I would never choose a life of this level of uncertainty. But somehow it has found me. 

It has found me trusting. Trusting God that He truly knows best. Knowing that I would have jumped on my IUIs working or so many adoption situations. Knowing that A is the perfect kid for us and I am so glad we have him. In the moment I couldn’t see, but the perfect baby came to us at the perfect time. 

I am surrender my body and my family and my future. 

cleared

I had my baseline monitoring appointment on Thursday (8/30). Instead of using a clinic in Big City for monitoring, I am just driving to NEDC to have it done there. It’s cheaper because it’s included in fees our insurance should cover. Plus Big City Clinic would charge an outside monitoring fee that insurance wouldn’t pay. Plus NEDC may be further but it’s driving away from Big City rush hour traffic which has only worsened since 2014! Yet another benefit is the results are in house meaning I don’t have to chase down labs or ultrasounds in the event NEDC doesn’t get them. 

My ultrasound went well. My lining was 13mm which I’ve NEVER seen. Of course, this was before meds and before my period. Still, even with meds last time I don’t think I ever got above 9mm. I wonder if being off birth control pills for so long made a difference (prior to cycling for baby boy I took birth control pills for many years to help with regulating my period). 

Next step- clear ovaries. My ovaries had no major cysts which is good. I’ve never had any problems with this, luckily. I have tons of small cysts but never any that cause an issue. 

Third step is to have my estrogen blood levels tested. They drew my blood which by now is no big deal. 

While I was there, I opted to have a uterine scrape. It’s just what it sounds like... they insert a catheter into your uterus and vigorously swipe it around, pulling out bits of lining. The proposed science behind it is the scraping creates an immune response which in turn makes the uterus more receptive to embryo implantation. Research is still mixed, but if anything it doesn’t make a difference... it isn’t harmful. I had it done twice before, and both cycles I got pregnant, so I felt like I should just do things the same this time. 

It hurts quite a bit. It doesn’t hurt at all once they stop. There’s just pressure and cramping. But when that catheter is in there scraping all around, it’s agonizing. However, now that I’ve delivered an almost nine pound baby and had my placenta get stuck and have to be manually dug out by a doctor’s hands (once the epidural was turned off!!).... this just seemed a lot more bearable than I remember. 

It’s so matter of fact to cycle. This is my fourth time... but I also have a chubby face to come home to. My heart twinges, but it doesn’t ache. I don’t refresh my email every five minutes to see what Dr K says about my bloodwork and scans. In fact, business hours end with no update, and it doesn’t matter. 

I get an email on Friday morning that says

“Dr. K has reviewed the results of your ultrasound and labs.  You are cleared to begin your Estrace per your protocol.  Please make sure to take your medications accurately, as any variation can negatively impact your cycle and could potentially result in cancellation of your transfer”. Got it. 

I continue L.upron for the next two-ish weeks and start e.strace midweek this week. I hate e.strace. It makes me swell like a tick. I’m puffy everywhere. Ugh.

so this happened...

I've been taking the birth control pills and have now started the l.upron. It's the worst medication in the protocol as far as the side effects. The injects are tiny, though, and I got name brand needles this time and they make a huge difference. It isn't even a big deal this time around.

I'm not sure how I am feeling about it all. Work is really busy right now and there have been transitions with my position, so I am pretty wrapped up in that. It doesn't leave much mental space for cycling. My brain is filled with new processes, math (not good for a social worker), and trying to make sure I don't forget anything.

I just want this all to be past. I want to know the outcome, no matter what it is. I desperately crave closure. It's all so much. No more kids or one more kid or maybe two more. We shall see!

a play by play

late March 2018- The decision is made in my mind. I can't do this limbo anymore. As much as many parts of me don't want to transfer again, I have to. It's not a question anymore. Now I just need to get used to the idea and figure out the logistics.

D is a lot more uncertain. He doesn't have a sense of responsibility to the embryos past obviously them being transferred by another family at some point and not being destroyed or anything like that. He doesn't feel obligated to what potential kids may feel about being in a third family.

But he sees this weight. Even if he doesn't feel the same way, he understands why I do.

A difficult conversation is had.

Here we are, about to return to the NEDC. There is no other option.

3/29/18- I email NEDC to request a consultation. Return transfer require updated testing. Pregnancy, delivery, and even just time can change angles of the uterus, which impact transfer. We will also need updated STD testing which is an FDA requirement. Due to our out of pocket being met only through 12/31/18, my history of thin linings, and the fact the NEDC only transfers on odd months, they go ahead and reserve a spot for me in the September cycle, which is nearly booked already. November just gives no room for error. We are also waive having a current homestudy through a letter from our donors.

Summer 2018- I prepare for a potential pregnancy by consulting a MFM and my psychiatrist about the medication I take. We come up with a plan and I start cross tapering so the combo I will end up on is one D and I feel are the least risky. I also get a tick bite that gets a bullseye rash, so I undergo heavy duty antibiotics for this. My bloodwork comes back clear, and I am "approved" to transfer. I go to a few sessions of therapy to get myself in the best space I can. Cycling is traumatic. It brings back hard memories. It's a very vulnerable situation. 

6/28/18- Sibling consultation completed. The trial transfer is smooth. My uterus "passes" the SIS (saline ultrasound to check for polyps, scar tissue, etc). Without going into too many details, several things fall in place financially with our back storage and our medical expenses. Our out of pocket expenses are exceedingly minimal this time, given our history of bleeding our accounts dry to complete a cycle. D says this will be a "B.argain Hunt" baby, whereas Baby Boy is a "N.ordstroms" baby.

8/10/18- I begin taking BCP, as the first medication on my cycle. L.upron starts 8/24/18. I don't have time to worry about the protocol. It just is. I'm sure part of it is doing this a fourth time. I know what to expect. I am busy with Baby Boy who is a full blown toddler/preschooler with widely swinging emotions, an ever increasing vocabulary, limitless energy. Medication costs for a FET have basically doubled from what I paid four years ago. I'm really thankful to have insurance coverage this time.

turning decisions over to baby boy

The pressure wells within me. It feels like a fiery volcano. Steam building, then rushing for escape.

Maybe I am being very selfish, to want to be financially comfortable. To avoid any more potential grief or loss. To craft this perfect life for my long expected child, not to be interrupted.

I have these walls up. They raised with good reason. Months and years of longing and tears and strife.

But do they have a place anymore in me. In my family. Do they? Be honest.

"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in your weakness". (2 Corinthians 12:9)

* * * * * * * *

Back to baby boy. Staring at his soft, perfect cheeks. Like that of a cherub. He gleefully laughs at a show that isn't even all that funny. He is living this life. But by the mere order his embryo straw was placed in the freezer, he is here. He could still be there. My chest is hurting.

* * * * * * * *

Then baby boy turns the tide. I don't think he knows, but he did. He was running away from D. D lunged to catch him and pulled a muscle in his back. He had severe back spasms and found himself at the doctor getting several injections. In pre-blog times, D ended up in the ICU from NASID induced ulcers. Well, thanks to the medication, he wound up with a second ICU trip for ulcers. A week and one blood transfusion later, he was back home.

How does that play into our decision you ask?

In only the most practical of ways. An ICU trip=$$$. So much $$$ that we end up paying nearly $8,000 out of pocket (because this is our yearly max OOP for insurance).

I am at a new job with different health insurance, and this policy covers fertility.

So we have coverage for fertility treatments AND it can already kick in, thanks to baby boy giving D a back spasm and the subsequent series of events.

* * * * * * * *

I can't live with this weight anymore. I've got to make a decision. I have to take action.

casting out fear

Periodically, people ask what the latest is with the embryos. Will I transfer them for Baby Boy's genetic family?

I don't know. 

I try to explain the barriers, and somehow they seem smaller when I hear myself saying them aloud. 

What if there is a way to make this work?

But there isn't. There can't be.

Am I being selfish? Selfish to try to make something work I shouldn't? Selfish to withhold from another family? Do you see the circle in my head. It's like a dog chasing its tail, and it never ends.

"Perfect love casts out all fears". (1 John 4:18)

These things keep coming up.

Last time, I was looking for signs. My eyes scoured for them, day and night. Any indication that this was finally "it". That things would work out after all. I am not looking for them this time, but they seem to come, if I am honest with myself.

My stomach is in knots. 

i don't want to surrender

I see full circle made complete in someone else. Full circle two and three times, just since I had baby boy. I know a whole brood of children is beyond my limitations or my desires. But the feeling of injustice is there, just the same.

Feelings just are. They are a method of communication. They aren’t really good or bad, in and of themselves.

My therapist asks me to avoid judging my emotions. Judging them's not helpful. In fact, it is driving me crazy.

Then I see this file on a popular social media site. Practical questions to think about when deciding your family size.

My immediate response is rage. It must be nice to have control like that. Maybe it is for the best (and I would say in hindsight, it probably is indeed best) that decisions have ultimately been made for me. But I feel a prisoner to my circumstances. It doesn’t “make sense” to feel that way. But just as my sadness at my perceived injustice doesn’t “make sense”, neither does this.

More numbing. More stuffing.

But I take a second look at the questions. “When you think about limiting or finalizing your family size, what is motivating that?” Options include comfort (check), control (double check), convenience, flexibility, desire for ease?” along with questions about faith and obedience to God.

I don’t want to open myself to more hurt. I’ve endured enough. Tears well in my eyes just thinking about the desperation and darkness of seeking baby boy. I don’t want to feel sad anymore. I don’t want to open myself to the potential of hurt. I am comfortable now. I run from the idea of discomfort.

There’s a certain kind of surrender for so much to hinge on just a couple weeks of medication, not knowing what is really happening inside your body all the while. It’s a high stakes situation. Then, tiny balls of delicate cells are carefully thawed. 

Sure, we have been on the negative end of odds, but almost half of the embryos we have had did not even survive thawing. You don’t know that until you walk in the office. It’s a cruel, unavoidable reality.

In the blink of an eye the embryos are placed from the catheter inside your body. Following that is more waiting.

Then, depending on your level of masochism and style of processing intense news, you either have blood drawn and wait for a call where the person at the other end says they are sorry or says they have good news; or, you could pee on a strip and watch the moisture wick up the strip to reveal either one or two lines. Neither is easy to do.

And this might sound dramatic but assuredly is not, but when you have had past failures and loss and trauma, your brain has a fight or flight response on a very primal level. It tries to protect you from this type of experience again.

Unfortunately, even if you go into a transfer knowing this situation with your brain and nervous system, there is not an easy way to turn the response off. So avoid pain, at all costs. Don’t entertain a circumstance that pulls the scab off.

Where does this leave me? The embryos?

Am I being selfish? What truly is best?

feeling injustice

A dark cave. My bones ache. Winter is relentless. Darkness falls so early in the day. Winter is always a tough season, isn’t it?

Unsuspecting sadness crept upon me. A knife to the heart. It palpably hurts. Bitterness in my mouth.

And then, why should guilt accompany grief? Is the sadness not enough? Guilt compounds the stinging pain. It pushes the sadness deep into my chest. Welling up. Pressure.

 

But there is no “reason” for this feeling. Why is it here? My family is enough. I don’t desire anything more than I have. I am so blessed. Why do I look at someone else’s story of multiplied redemption and have a sense of regret or injustice?

 

Self-judgment. I don’t like this in myself. I fill my mind with anything I can to not think about my feelings. This isn’t a conscious process.

 

This is the beginning of the next chapter, little do I know.

A nagging feeling

Life has a way of getting in the way of the best made plans, doesn’t it? 

Remember I am still covering the last almost two years, and I am not nearly caught up. 

******************

Late summer and fall 2016, baby boy’s genetic family and I worked towards surrogacy. Consulting with attorneys. Doing necessary testing. Therapy session. Just the standard checklist for this process. 

Because this isn’t just my story to share, I’ll just give a brief overview of what came next. 

Baby boy’s genetic family had second thoughts. Not about us or them, but just about practical logistics. A large brood of kids and work stress and other dynamics. 

In vulnerable honesty, we talked candidly about this. Because this isn’t a decision to be made lightly, I agreed to pause the process and let them spend some time making sure a decision they could live with would be made. It’s something so weighty and permanent. 

*****************

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Our contact was nearly daily, about baby boy or their kids or life. We’d periodically touched base about the embryos, but mostly I let that space just be. 

At about the one year mark of putting things on hold, I began feeling really weighed down. It was not something that I noticed one day but gradually, over time. Conviction. Guilt. Pressure. Sadness. 

As baby boy grows, it becomes even more unbelievable that he was suspended in a frozen state for almost six years. 

What if another vial was chosen, by random, and he was still frozen? 

He is so perfect and full of zest and life. 

My chest tightens up just thinking of it. 

It is a sadness unlike one I have ever felt. And how do you explain that to someone else? 

If these embryos are meant to result in children, they are frozen. Helpless. Dependent on us. 

I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. I think I am depressed. No, I am not hopeless or helpless or feel life is not worth living. I am a therapist. That’s depression. It’s not me. 

But I am tired, to my bones. I have no motivation. Driving home seems like an impossible task. I’m sad. I feel responsible for lives but am doing nothing for them. 

A tiny nagging feeling said that if baby boy’s genetic parents couldn’t parent the embryos/possible resulting children (how is that for something to conceptualize?), I would need to make it work. 

deciding a fate

I was surprised at the push back from people around me. Not a certain person or conversation in particular. But just an overall sense of “do you know what you’re doing?”

“Won’t that be hard? For you to carry a pregnancy and then hand the baby off?”

And goodness, a third family. This hypothetical third family. That despite an inability to fully describe the hesitation, something A and I solidly felt, agreed on, and never wavered. Our relationship doesn’t make sense to a lot of people, so I guess our repulsion at making our duo a trio wouldn’t make sense to others either.

How do you add a third family, with their own ideas and perceptions of this journey, to an already blossomed relationship that is so right? Will it be a third wheel situation? Will they want as much openness? We have shared good and bad times together and have been fully transparent with each other. We accept the good and the bad in each other. It feels like a family. It is not forced.

Part of me, the logical part, could maybe see picking another family. Supporting them through the transfer. Watching them experience the joy of a child.

But is that my responsibility? Our responsibility?

What about these embryos, if they become children on this earth? If we don’t see them as often (and travel is expensive, and time off from work is already used heavily to maintain the one open relationship we already have), will they feel left out? Will they wonder why they weren’t able to have as close a connection to their genetic family (and even to baby boy) if the relationship doesn’t end up naturally progressing? How is that fair to them? We could find a family close to us, or close to genetic family, but then one party would be left out of more impromptu contact or get togethers.

Things can’t always be equal. Life isn’t fair. But in this situation, these kids’ lives hang in the balance. With one different decision, their whole fate changes. The weight of that is enormous. What is right? What is best?

Not a third family, at least not for us, in our particular circumstances.

***********

NEDC does not do surrogate transfers, so the embryos would need to journey to Big City.

So I went back to the Big City fertility clinic for some testing. I was worried that the complications I had postpartum may have caused scarring. But nope, a clean bill of health when I had the SIS.

Next requirement- a counseling session. D and I went to the therapist I already see as needed. She gave her blessing to proceeding.

A and I had a phone conference with an attorney in Big City. To explore legal ramifications of surrogacy in my state. It isn’t cheap. But luckily in my state, the laws are supportive of situations like these, and there is the ability to have everything legal taken care of before the birth even happens so everything past delivery is seamless.

I prepared myself for the idea this would be difficult emotionally. I had a traumatic experience last time. And I will be growing this baby or babies and then saying goodbye as they move across the country.

the natural solution

I guess I should say to anyone who may be a new reader here, or for those who may have simply forgotten, the events I am describing transpired in August 2016, around baby boy’s first birthday.

So much has happened since then. I haven’t had time nor energy nor passion to write so now it is a giant dump of so many big feelings and experiences.

As to not leave you hanging, in the middle of T.arget, I offered to be a surrogate for the embryo’s for baby boy’s genetic family.

I have a uterus and can carry another pregnancy. Nothing about the ordeals of pregnancy sounds appealing, but it’s a limited time. Anyone can do something for a limited amount of time. It’s all mental, right?

Baby boy’s genetic family donated him out of necessity. It was not necessarily a decision they would have made, had medical circumstances been different. But since life happened as it did, they donated baby Boy and his sibling embryos to the NEDC.

When a decision is made for you (aside from the decision between donating and alternatives that were never even an option for them), there are shades of grief that are different from the more common “we feel our family is compete” driver behind many donations.

So it wasn’t even a question in my mind. I carry. They parent. The kids are together in only two families. We know each other. We love each other. And even more, we like each other. It just makes sense.

no coincidences

Coincidentally (but truthfully no so much of a coincidence at all, since I view this whole situation as a bigger picture whose details I have been privy to only as I muddled along), as baby boy’s genetic family was reviewing the profile of the family who wanted to match with the two remaining embryos, they were also staying at our house.

Baby boy's genetic family trekked from the West Coast all the way to our humble abode, all seven of them. Our families spent several days together enjoying baby boy and enjoying each other’s company. Baby boy got to smash his first birthday cake with so many loved ones around him.

Everything felt so right. Our families mesh. Authentic. Relaxed. We get along. The connection is just natural. Two families connected through unusual circumstances. But now coupled together in unison.

Alas, though, every good trip must come to an end. I dropped baby boy’s genetic family off at the airport. Then, I did what I do on many a trips home- stop by T.arget. T.arget cures all what ails you. It is the perfect place to pace and browse and fill your life with all the things you never realized you needed. I digress.

So, standing in the baby clothes section, I had a mini panic attack.

I couldn’t let the embryos go. 

As I tend to do in these pivotal moments, I went kinda out of body. My hands started typing to baby boy’s genetic mom, A.

If our family is complete, A isn’t able to carry a pregnancy, and I can’t stomach them going to a third family, I know what has to happen.

I vigorously texted her. My stomach in my throat and filled with butterflies. 

It was a little crazy.  But, then again, there is nothing normal about our situation. 

I know what has to happen. 

freakout

A tipping point. The dictionary defines it as “the critical point in a situation, process, or system beyond which a significant and often unstoppable effect or change takes place”.

A volcano. All the build-up of pressure needs somewhere to go. You can’t see it happening, but when you see it- it’s there. Apparent.

The straw that broke the camel’s back. You stack enough, and everything has a weight limit.

I am, you see, what they call a highly sensitive person. That doesn’t mean being too tenderhearted or a cry baby. What it does mean is that I experience the world in vivid detail. My nervous system soaks everything in. When I feel an emotion, I feel it strongly. I am observant and empathetic to a fault. D calls it “the gift of understanding”.

So when, day after day, I see baby boy’s face from a side angle- his soft, round cheek and dark lashes- just taking in the world, it moves me. It always has. I give him a million kisses. I watch his expressive eyebrows soak in the joy of the world. His over-the-top cackles. His clapping and wringing little hands when he gets a simple sweet treat.

My heart is moved, but I am also punched in the gut. Baby boy could still be frozen. What if the embryologist had grabbed another vial and he was still in the freezer? Mere chance caused him to be born and loved and experiencing life. But, oh God, what if he was still frozen in time? Alone. Cold. No joy.

The sense of guilt and responsibility surges within me. For his two sibling embryos. It’s an odd predicament for children to be frozen. Ordained by God, I believe. Not a sin. But still not within the natural order of how the world was originally designed. Children shouldn’t have to be frozen. Waiting for adults to get it together to make a decision. And not just that they can be thawed or when but also by whom. Whose family will they land in? What a weight! I feel the gravity.

I didn’t give them much thought that first year. We knew financially and emotionally and medically and a million other reasons not going to transfer them. We had our clinic “unhold” them which would allow another family to match. Because our situation is open, any subsequent match would also be open. This seemed right. We shouldn’t be so selfish to withhold joy from another family. There are hundreds of families working with clinics to adopt embryos.

And once the profile was unheld, one of these families wanted to match with the profile. It happened a couple of weeks before baby boy’s first birthday. They picked the profile of his two sibling embryos!

Whether to match is the decision of his genetic parents to make; but in consideration of the very open relationship we have, his genetic mom included me in the decision. She forwarded me the information about the family.

I had a freak out.

I don’t want a third family. It will be too challenging (not to mention expensive with the travel we already budget to fly cross country as often as possible).

I don’t want to add lives into an already formed open relationship. Even if it’s a good relationship, it still won’t be the same. And it will be lots later to start the process. Will those kids wonder why we didn’t give them the opportunity to have the same relationships baby boy has? So much guilt.

heaviness

The things I was not prepared for.

One being the ethical decisions you have to make in this journey.

Not just any ethical decisions. Complex ones that you can’t necessarily talk to others in your life about.

They are nuanced and layered. Threads of emotion and logic woven tightly together in a pattern that isn’t discernible to others.

Complicated family planning. Decisions that will affect children for the rest of their lives. So much pressure. So much weight. The gravity of it all.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When we matched, we could only see so far. Everything was hazy. There was a small, shadowy figure at the end of the long corridor. Wearily, we limped along until we arrived to him. The perfect child for us. Complementary of us in every way.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

We should not ask for more, now that we are here. We have what we’ve been looking for. We are parents. It cost us a lot to get here. The price exceeds money. Time. Energy. Emotions. The ability to breathe with a full exhale, not to exist in a state of being on edge.

We want to live in the moment. We don’t want to spread ourselves thin. We want to cherish what we finally have.

If building our family has been a book, we are ready to write “the end”. Close the cover. And begin a new book, maybe titled “Living as a Family: Our Dream”. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As I live this dream, and pinch myself each day, a certain sadness weighs on me. I did not expect this.

My heart is full. My baby is perfect in every way. Although he isn’t much of a baby anymore. He’s an affectionate, energetic, curious toddler. Sweet. Smart. Healthy. Handsome. Helpful. Playful. Kind.

But that heavy, hazy irresolution I talked about last spring, it has still been there. Heavier and hazier. It doesn’t make sense to open ourselves up to hurt or loss. Loss of hope. Loss of opportunity. Loss of money and time. So why is the irresolution there?

It’s frustrating. It’s depressing. It does not leave. I can push it out of my consciousness. I can numb myself. But it’s always there. It feels like a dark cloud over me. I don’t like this.

I don’t feel there is a good solution or outcome. Several are discussed. Still, a decision is not made. 

Back and forth. Nothing at all. Waiting. Discussion. Heaviness.

The more I try to not think about it, and let time decide, the more I think about it. It’s consuming, and not in a good way.

I can’t live like this anymore.

mic check

I’m not sure if anyone is even here anymore.

I’m back in the land of the living. Baby boy didn’t sleep through the night until well after a year. Even then, it is in our bed. He required one or both of us to lay with him until he fell asleep. Between our parenting style and our bending to him, probably from all we went through, we obliged. We tried “cry it out” but it never felt right for us.

So a couple of months ago we had a fairly rational talk with him that he falls asleep on his own at daycare and he is going to start doing it at home.

Me: Mama is going to go do the dishes. You’re going to stay in the bed and rest. I’ll come check on you.
Him: Me go with you?
Me: No you stay in the bed.
Him: Okayyyy. (No tears, no getting out of the bed)

And just like that, 2.25 years old, he finally fell asleep on his own and slept through the night.

So that means D and I get stuff done. Actually see each other. Get on a more normal, adult sleeping schedule.

So now that I’m human again, I will try to recap some of our experiences and what we’ve learned.

Stay tuned.