After that last post about Julia and Emma's similarities, I also want to point out how interesting it's been to watch Ada interact with her sisters. She knows who is who, she knows who sleeps in which bed, and which sippy cup belongs to which sister. She gets it right 99% of the time.
But every now and then, they'll all be running around, and she'll lose track of who she thought was where. Then she'll yell at Emma for taking her toy, while it was Julia, or vice versa. Emma usually prefers to sit in the back seat of the van, but the other day, she chose to sit up front with Ada. Ada is obviously used to having Julia next to her. Ada looks at Emma who has fallen asleep next to her, and says, "Julia is sleeping." I say, "Nope, that's Emma who is sleeping!" Poor Ada looks utterly confused and perplexed, and says, "There's so many Emmas!"
Now when we accidentally use the wrong name, we joke that there's so many Julias or Emmas. Please excuse my amusement at Ada's expense - it's just so darn cute.
In our defense, Julia will look at herself in the mirror, and say, "Hello, Emma!" or Emma will look at herself in a picture, and say, "That's Julia." Apparently sometimes they can't tell themselves apart either. When all three appear in a photo, everyone knows who is who. However,when I show them a photo of either Julia or Emma, all three of them will get it wrong 50% of the time. So clearly they're just guessing and don't really know.
I find all of this completely fascinating, because even if they're proven to be all fraternal, I do think Julia and Emma share a lot of the same DNA. My guess is that they could be mirror identicals, based on their opposite handedness and opposite hair swirls. Interestingly, their hemiparesis diagnoses is also opposite. Ons has a mild left hemi diagnosis and the other a mild right hemi diagnosis.
I've read that the gene expression can be about 5% different in identicals, and I'm always wondering if that is what accounts for their differences. I realize nurture and epigenetics play a role too. Although, given that they've been in the same environment since conception, I do not know how much weight to place on nurture being responsible for differences.
There are several factors that increase the likelihood of having identals. Not only were my eggs older when we completed our 2nd fresh IVF cycle, but we also had to do intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI).
Interestingly, I also have two sets of twin cousins on my mother's side of our family, but it never crossed my mind that we could become parents to multiples. We were just trying so hard to conceive, that having multiples seemed like an impossibility. Having Higher Order Multiples seemed utterly farfetched.
We definitely hit the baby jackpot, but if it turns out that Julia and Emma are identical, I think it will just underscore how incredibly fortunate we were to have had these three amazing kids at all.
Showing posts with label IVF/ICSI. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IVF/ICSI. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Are they or are they not?
We were told by ultrasonographers and neonatologists that our triplets are fraternal because they did not share placentas. Ever since their NICU days we have thought that Julia and Emma looked a lot alike. Although I've always been able to tell them apart, and they don't look truly identical to me, we have had strangers, family and friends comment on how much they look alike. It wasn't much more than a curiosity, though.
Emma's face is rounder than Julia's, which is more oval. Then I read about an OB who said that the face shape has no bearing on identicalness, because the space in the womb can alter that.
They both have birthmarks, but Ada does not.
And still people kept asking, and I kept shrugging it off. Although, for the first week they were both home, I kept their hospital bracelets on them. I was afraid I would mix them up in the middle of the night. Every once in a while, I'd come into the nursery after my husband or a friend had laid them down, and find the "wrong" kid in the "wrong" bed.
Then Emma and Julia would start doing uncanny things.
One day, Emma stubbed her toe right next to me while Julia was down the hallway in their bedroom. When Julia came running into the room a minute later, she told me that her toe hurts. She pointed to the exact same toe on the same foot.
Sometimes, they'd sit with their backs facing one another, and have the exact same expression on their faces. They find the same things funny, silly or sad, whereas Ada has a terrific, but completely different sense of
humor.
They'd master a new skill the same day while Ada was months ahead or behind, they'd repeatedly echo one another's sounds, while Ada would be off elsewhere in the room paying no attention.
For the longest time, I couldn't tell their cries apart, whereas Ada's cry was very distinct. They cut most of the same teeth on the same day or a day apart, whereas Ada's teething pattern was completely different.
Julia and Emma would lie curled up the same way, facing the same direction in bed at the same time, sound asleep.
I'd be walking them in their stroller and looking at their hair swirls. Their hair would naturally part in exactly the same spot but in opposite directions, while Ada's was curling in its own fancy way. The hair swirling actually makes me wonder about mirror twinning. I am so intrigued by this!
I'd often confuse them when looking at them from the side or behind. That still happens, but now they speak up! The other day, I called Emma's name at the park, and a little voice from right next to me said, "Mommy, that's Ju-hea. Emma's wight here." I often feel that I should just know intuitively who is who without looking, but sadly that has not been true when they're not facing me.
At the doctor's office, their weight and height once matched to the third decimal. I thought they had made a mistake entering it in the computer system, but then the nurses showed me where she wrote it down on the sheet where she weighed them.
We took them to the opthalmologist for their ROP screening when they were only a couple of months old. Ada was cleared by the NICU, but both Julia and Emma needed to go for follow-up. The opthalmologist said, "Now these two are identical, right?" And I answered, "Hmmm. No. They're fraternal." He looked at me quizzically, and said, "Because they both have the exact same unique corneal shape and astigmatism." So that got me thinking. Could they be identical after all?
I started finding articles that explained if the egg (zygote) split early enough (between day 0-3), multiples can develop to have separate placentas (chorions) and sacs (amnions). Our girls were trichorionic triamniotic, meaning they each had their own separate placenta and amniotic sac.
Suddenly, I remembered how an ultrasonographer had once commented - very early on - that they were fraternal, but that two almost looked like identicals because one sac was off by itself in one area of my uterus, while the other two were closely huddled together.
Often, we'd go to an ultrasound, and the two little beans in the sacs closest to one another, would be floating/lying the same way. We had different ultrasonographers comment on that over the course of my pregnancy, yet nobody ever mentioned the possibility that up to 30% of multiples in separate sacs are identicals.
To this day, how they were in utero, is how the triplet grouping has worked in our house. Ada is off in the corner of the room playing her own game, and Julia and Emma are sitting within two feet of one another, parallel playing the same game.
Julia and Emma always want whatever the other has (color, type of toy, everything has to match), while Ada insists on something different. I'd have sets of clothes that coordinate, and allow them to pick. Ada will pick, and then Julia and Emma will fight over the same outfit, even though there are 2 similar ones left. They almost always end up wearing the top of one outfit and the bottom of another and vice versa, by choice, so they can match instead of coordinate.
They find the same games and songs interesting, whereas Ada prefers to occupy herself with sorting and figuring out mechanical things. Ada is very analytical, whereas Emma and Julia are very creative. Ada will tidy up, while Julia and Emma prefer chaos. This creates huge amounts of frustration for everyone involved, including me.
Everytime we go somewhere, I am asked, "Are these two identical?" I always feel embarrassed to say that I don't know and only a DNA test can determine that definitively. After 2.5 years, I have finally decided to order a DNA test from Proactive Genetics. I ordered it online, and received a kit in the mail a few days later. Basically just 2 tubes with liquid in them, with a label on each with the kids' names. There were also 10 cotton swabs for each kid, but we only needed 8 per kid. We swabbed 2 left and 2 right on the inside of their cheek before dinner, and 2 left and 2 right each the next morning.
Now, if you have multiples and would like to have them tested, I suggest you do it before they're toddlers. Even though it doesn't hurt, I had to try every imaginable game in the book to get them to hold still long enough to swab them (3-5 seconds per swab). In the end, I was sweating and the extra swabs were strewn across the floor. Pinning down an uncooperative toddler is not for the fainthearted.
In about a week to 10 days, we should finally have an answer. Although there aren't any pending medical reasons to know, I am looking forward to just knowing, and being able to tell them the truth as they grow up.
Emma's face is rounder than Julia's, which is more oval. Then I read about an OB who said that the face shape has no bearing on identicalness, because the space in the womb can alter that.
They both have birthmarks, but Ada does not.
And still people kept asking, and I kept shrugging it off. Although, for the first week they were both home, I kept their hospital bracelets on them. I was afraid I would mix them up in the middle of the night. Every once in a while, I'd come into the nursery after my husband or a friend had laid them down, and find the "wrong" kid in the "wrong" bed.
Then Emma and Julia would start doing uncanny things.
One day, Emma stubbed her toe right next to me while Julia was down the hallway in their bedroom. When Julia came running into the room a minute later, she told me that her toe hurts. She pointed to the exact same toe on the same foot.
Sometimes, they'd sit with their backs facing one another, and have the exact same expression on their faces. They find the same things funny, silly or sad, whereas Ada has a terrific, but completely different sense of
humor.
They'd master a new skill the same day while Ada was months ahead or behind, they'd repeatedly echo one another's sounds, while Ada would be off elsewhere in the room paying no attention.
For the longest time, I couldn't tell their cries apart, whereas Ada's cry was very distinct. They cut most of the same teeth on the same day or a day apart, whereas Ada's teething pattern was completely different.
Julia and Emma would lie curled up the same way, facing the same direction in bed at the same time, sound asleep.
I'd be walking them in their stroller and looking at their hair swirls. Their hair would naturally part in exactly the same spot but in opposite directions, while Ada's was curling in its own fancy way. The hair swirling actually makes me wonder about mirror twinning. I am so intrigued by this!
I'd often confuse them when looking at them from the side or behind. That still happens, but now they speak up! The other day, I called Emma's name at the park, and a little voice from right next to me said, "Mommy, that's Ju-hea. Emma's wight here." I often feel that I should just know intuitively who is who without looking, but sadly that has not been true when they're not facing me.
At the doctor's office, their weight and height once matched to the third decimal. I thought they had made a mistake entering it in the computer system, but then the nurses showed me where she wrote it down on the sheet where she weighed them.
We took them to the opthalmologist for their ROP screening when they were only a couple of months old. Ada was cleared by the NICU, but both Julia and Emma needed to go for follow-up. The opthalmologist said, "Now these two are identical, right?" And I answered, "Hmmm. No. They're fraternal." He looked at me quizzically, and said, "Because they both have the exact same unique corneal shape and astigmatism." So that got me thinking. Could they be identical after all?
I started finding articles that explained if the egg (zygote) split early enough (between day 0-3), multiples can develop to have separate placentas (chorions) and sacs (amnions). Our girls were trichorionic triamniotic, meaning they each had their own separate placenta and amniotic sac.
Suddenly, I remembered how an ultrasonographer had once commented - very early on - that they were fraternal, but that two almost looked like identicals because one sac was off by itself in one area of my uterus, while the other two were closely huddled together.
Often, we'd go to an ultrasound, and the two little beans in the sacs closest to one another, would be floating/lying the same way. We had different ultrasonographers comment on that over the course of my pregnancy, yet nobody ever mentioned the possibility that up to 30% of multiples in separate sacs are identicals.
To this day, how they were in utero, is how the triplet grouping has worked in our house. Ada is off in the corner of the room playing her own game, and Julia and Emma are sitting within two feet of one another, parallel playing the same game.
Julia and Emma always want whatever the other has (color, type of toy, everything has to match), while Ada insists on something different. I'd have sets of clothes that coordinate, and allow them to pick. Ada will pick, and then Julia and Emma will fight over the same outfit, even though there are 2 similar ones left. They almost always end up wearing the top of one outfit and the bottom of another and vice versa, by choice, so they can match instead of coordinate.
They find the same games and songs interesting, whereas Ada prefers to occupy herself with sorting and figuring out mechanical things. Ada is very analytical, whereas Emma and Julia are very creative. Ada will tidy up, while Julia and Emma prefer chaos. This creates huge amounts of frustration for everyone involved, including me.
Everytime we go somewhere, I am asked, "Are these two identical?" I always feel embarrassed to say that I don't know and only a DNA test can determine that definitively. After 2.5 years, I have finally decided to order a DNA test from Proactive Genetics. I ordered it online, and received a kit in the mail a few days later. Basically just 2 tubes with liquid in them, with a label on each with the kids' names. There were also 10 cotton swabs for each kid, but we only needed 8 per kid. We swabbed 2 left and 2 right on the inside of their cheek before dinner, and 2 left and 2 right each the next morning.
Now, if you have multiples and would like to have them tested, I suggest you do it before they're toddlers. Even though it doesn't hurt, I had to try every imaginable game in the book to get them to hold still long enough to swab them (3-5 seconds per swab). In the end, I was sweating and the extra swabs were strewn across the floor. Pinning down an uncooperative toddler is not for the fainthearted.
In about a week to 10 days, we should finally have an answer. Although there aren't any pending medical reasons to know, I am looking forward to just knowing, and being able to tell them the truth as they grow up.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Retrospective
Today, a year ago, I woke up in the depths of despair. The first self-pay cycle had failed and I just couldn't see us continuing to throw money down the drain for a shot at parenthood. I was lost, sad, angry, frustrated. I had spent months researching procedures, clinics and stats, reading forums and coming up with a plan, only for it to end in failure. Sure, my Endo surgery was successful and I had quality of life back, but still no baby.
I know one failed IVF/ICSI is nothing compared to what so many go through, yet I saw it as a sign that it would never work for us. I was thinking, "How do I pick up the pieces today only to be crushed by another failure a month or two from now?" What would be the point of torturing ourselves with failed cycle after failed cycle?
It all felt hopeless. I just couldn't see a way forward. My Dh wasn't keen on using donor sperm, even though he had relented. Adoption is too expensive, and our age would count against us. Yet I couldn't imagine my future without children in it.
I listened to a lot of Annie Lennox, specifically, "Songs of Mass Destruction" while my husband traveled internationally. The time alone was a blessing. I could lose myself in the despair without him witnessing the downward spiral. I could sob and feel sorry for myself without increasing his guilt. My days were spent trying to come to terms with our childless future while trying to keep it together at work.
The frozen lake near our house, the weeping willows surrounding it, and the stillness of late winter mirrored my state of mind. I was stuck in a perpetual winter.
Then my clinic offered to enroll us in a grant program. I couldn't believe we qualified to get a portion of the next IVF/ICSI cycle covered, but we did. The grant covered enough of the cycle to enable us to try one more time. Just one.more.time, with feeling. I was in a daze. Cycle #2 started just two days after the previous BFN. My husband was still out of the country. I just jumped in, blindly, as soon as my progestorone level normalized.
I was still numb when I went to buy the second cycle's meds. I didn't think it would work, but there was no other viable option on the road to parenthood. One foot in front of the other: inject Lupron and Gonal-F, ultrasound, repeat. I tried not to think too much, and just do.
And then I peed on a stick and was dumbstruck. I POAS again and again and again until there was no denying the second line. It was so early, I thought it was the trigger showing up, but then it got darker and darker instead of disappearing. Disbelief. Even after beta number one, two and three, I didn't dare hope that I could actually end up with a real, live, perfect baby of our own. The ultrasound showed three sacs, and later three heartbeats. Triplets.
It scared me. High risk. So many things could go wrong. The more I read about the risks, the more petrified I became.
Yet, here I am, with three real.live.healthy.babies. Despite the odds, despite my disbelief, despite the risks, despite preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome, despite their prematurity. I know I played roulette and won.
I'm incredibly thankful they made it, I made it, we made it. I know how rare it is to have a happy ending (or in our case, this happy beginning), to have this abundance, this instant family. I cherish my children. Always.
Although I do not wish a high risk pregnancy on anyone - and know of too many tragic outcomes - I do wish for everyone struggling with infertility to have the family they dream of.
I know one failed IVF/ICSI is nothing compared to what so many go through, yet I saw it as a sign that it would never work for us. I was thinking, "How do I pick up the pieces today only to be crushed by another failure a month or two from now?" What would be the point of torturing ourselves with failed cycle after failed cycle?
It all felt hopeless. I just couldn't see a way forward. My Dh wasn't keen on using donor sperm, even though he had relented. Adoption is too expensive, and our age would count against us. Yet I couldn't imagine my future without children in it.
I listened to a lot of Annie Lennox, specifically, "Songs of Mass Destruction" while my husband traveled internationally. The time alone was a blessing. I could lose myself in the despair without him witnessing the downward spiral. I could sob and feel sorry for myself without increasing his guilt. My days were spent trying to come to terms with our childless future while trying to keep it together at work.
The frozen lake near our house, the weeping willows surrounding it, and the stillness of late winter mirrored my state of mind. I was stuck in a perpetual winter.
Then my clinic offered to enroll us in a grant program. I couldn't believe we qualified to get a portion of the next IVF/ICSI cycle covered, but we did. The grant covered enough of the cycle to enable us to try one more time. Just one.more.time, with feeling. I was in a daze. Cycle #2 started just two days after the previous BFN. My husband was still out of the country. I just jumped in, blindly, as soon as my progestorone level normalized.
I was still numb when I went to buy the second cycle's meds. I didn't think it would work, but there was no other viable option on the road to parenthood. One foot in front of the other: inject Lupron and Gonal-F, ultrasound, repeat. I tried not to think too much, and just do.
And then I peed on a stick and was dumbstruck. I POAS again and again and again until there was no denying the second line. It was so early, I thought it was the trigger showing up, but then it got darker and darker instead of disappearing. Disbelief. Even after beta number one, two and three, I didn't dare hope that I could actually end up with a real, live, perfect baby of our own. The ultrasound showed three sacs, and later three heartbeats. Triplets.
It scared me. High risk. So many things could go wrong. The more I read about the risks, the more petrified I became.
Yet, here I am, with three real.live.healthy.babies. Despite the odds, despite my disbelief, despite the risks, despite preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome, despite their prematurity. I know I played roulette and won.
I'm incredibly thankful they made it, I made it, we made it. I know how rare it is to have a happy ending (or in our case, this happy beginning), to have this abundance, this instant family. I cherish my children. Always.
Although I do not wish a high risk pregnancy on anyone - and know of too many tragic outcomes - I do wish for everyone struggling with infertility to have the family they dream of.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
14w2d - CVS news, part 2
We found out Thursday a week ago that Baby B is also a healthy girl! Hubby and I couldn't be happier knowing that we have two healthy girls.
So, our Baby A&B who have been snuggling together on the ultrasounds are indeed both girls. Wow, how amazing is it that I just knew intuitively that they are girls?
It's a bit daunting to think of raising two girls, and to think ahead to the teenage years, but at least we have some time before we get there...
Unfortunately, the chorionic villus sample from Baby C wasn't enough to culture in the lab, and we will not receive any results. Although I have this 6th sense that Baby C is perfectly fine, I'm also disappointed with the lack of information, especially given how painful it was to reach Baby C. It's hard not to feel like that was in vain. Having lived through all the waiting that IVF and pregnancy entails, I probably should have known that there'd be more waiting ahead.
I can't complain, though, we are incredibly fortunate to have three babies after infertility and I'm acutely aware of so many of my friends who continue to fight the IF battle every single day.
So, our Baby A&B who have been snuggling together on the ultrasounds are indeed both girls. Wow, how amazing is it that I just knew intuitively that they are girls?
It's a bit daunting to think of raising two girls, and to think ahead to the teenage years, but at least we have some time before we get there...
Unfortunately, the chorionic villus sample from Baby C wasn't enough to culture in the lab, and we will not receive any results. Although I have this 6th sense that Baby C is perfectly fine, I'm also disappointed with the lack of information, especially given how painful it was to reach Baby C. It's hard not to feel like that was in vain. Having lived through all the waiting that IVF and pregnancy entails, I probably should have known that there'd be more waiting ahead.
I can't complain, though, we are incredibly fortunate to have three babies after infertility and I'm acutely aware of so many of my friends who continue to fight the IF battle every single day.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I'm seeing a pattern (IVF/ICSI #2, stim day 2)
The great news is that I'm already on day 2 of stims and feeling more optimistic than I thought I would. For anyone wondering how to get over a failed cycle, the answer is: try again.
The bad news is that I've been battling a migraine since yesterday. The nasty kind that includes visual disturbances, and have you wishing you could just throw up to get it over with.
I've been keeping track of my symptoms during the IVF cycle (so much to obsess over!), and interestingly enough, I had a migraine on day 2 of last month's IVF cycle as well. It must be my body trying to adjust to all the hormones. My migraines always coincide with shifts in hormone level (around ovulation/menstruation), sleep pattern changes, and physical exhaustion.
Combine crazy early morning monitoring appointments, the extra hor-moans, and the drug-induced exhaustion and you have a perfect recipe for a migraine. Ugh.
I might not be feeling like myself physically, but emotionally, equilibrium seems almost within reach. Today, I hardly flinched when a friend-in-the-know, who was too afraid to ask about the IVF cycle outcome, got excited when I said I felt nauseous.
She: "Does this mean it worked?" she exclaimed excitedly.
Me: "No, I haven't had the heart yet to tell you the cycle didn't work."
She: "Oh no. I'm so sorry. I was hoping nausea was a GOOD sign!"
Other friend who has adult children chimes in: "I could carry them babies for you!"
Me: [Trying hard not to throw up] Thanks, but I'll let you know if I need help.
Then there was the email conversation with my sweet, usually empathetic sister-in-law:
SIL: I'm sorry your little nest isn't full right now.
(Wtf?! I may have eggs, but I'm not a bird, 'kay?)
Me: Thanks, I appreciate you thinking about us. (It doesn't help to correct fertiles, it only aggravates me more.)
SIL: You know, I'm so overwhelmed with everything I have to do this weekend. I am throwing a stork party for my daughter!"
Me: (Speechless) !!
Having a baby and NOT having a baby has NOTHING to do with one another. That is the worst effin' segway I'd ever experienced. And THEN she sweetly tells me that she understands how I feel. Let me get this straight: you have two kids, one of whom is reproducing with a boy she hardly knows, and you know how I feel? Come on. And I was in SUCH a good mood with the migraine already.
Now if I can only figure out how to protect myself from insensitive remarks from fertiles. Step one might be to remind myself not to tell any fertile about this cycle, because the support I thought I'd get from fertile friends has proven to be a mirage. The closer you get to the oasis, the farther it moves away from you. I do have a few close (fertile) friends who gets it, and for that I'm eternally grateful.
I promise, tomorrow will be better. It just has to be.
The bad news is that I've been battling a migraine since yesterday. The nasty kind that includes visual disturbances, and have you wishing you could just throw up to get it over with.
I've been keeping track of my symptoms during the IVF cycle (so much to obsess over!), and interestingly enough, I had a migraine on day 2 of last month's IVF cycle as well. It must be my body trying to adjust to all the hormones. My migraines always coincide with shifts in hormone level (around ovulation/menstruation), sleep pattern changes, and physical exhaustion.
Combine crazy early morning monitoring appointments, the extra hor-moans, and the drug-induced exhaustion and you have a perfect recipe for a migraine. Ugh.
I might not be feeling like myself physically, but emotionally, equilibrium seems almost within reach. Today, I hardly flinched when a friend-in-the-know, who was too afraid to ask about the IVF cycle outcome, got excited when I said I felt nauseous.
She: "Does this mean it worked?" she exclaimed excitedly.
Me: "No, I haven't had the heart yet to tell you the cycle didn't work."
She: "Oh no. I'm so sorry. I was hoping nausea was a GOOD sign!"
Other friend who has adult children chimes in: "I could carry them babies for you!"
Me: [Trying hard not to throw up] Thanks, but I'll let you know if I need help.
Then there was the email conversation with my sweet, usually empathetic sister-in-law:
SIL: I'm sorry your little nest isn't full right now.
(Wtf?! I may have eggs, but I'm not a bird, 'kay?)
Me: Thanks, I appreciate you thinking about us. (It doesn't help to correct fertiles, it only aggravates me more.)
SIL: You know, I'm so overwhelmed with everything I have to do this weekend. I am throwing a stork party for my daughter!"
Me: (Speechless) !!
Having a baby and NOT having a baby has NOTHING to do with one another. That is the worst effin' segway I'd ever experienced. And THEN she sweetly tells me that she understands how I feel. Let me get this straight: you have two kids, one of whom is reproducing with a boy she hardly knows, and you know how I feel? Come on. And I was in SUCH a good mood with the migraine already.
Now if I can only figure out how to protect myself from insensitive remarks from fertiles. Step one might be to remind myself not to tell any fertile about this cycle, because the support I thought I'd get from fertile friends has proven to be a mirage. The closer you get to the oasis, the farther it moves away from you. I do have a few close (fertile) friends who gets it, and for that I'm eternally grateful.
I promise, tomorrow will be better. It just has to be.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Home after egg retrieval and PESA
Thank you, all the loyal blog followers, and ICLWers, for leaving such supportive, encouraging and wonderful comments on my blog. It carried me through the anxiety. I'll be commenting soon, but first, here's what you've been waiting for:
Today was a good day.
Instead of the predicted 8 eggs, the RE retrieved a whopping, surprising 13 eggs. I'm beyond ecstatic, because they also found sperm during Dh's aspiration. No motile swimmers, but sperm nonetheless.
Since the little tadpoles are being ICSI'd 1:1 into the eggs this afternoon, we could care less that they're not motile. Ladies and gentleman, after 11 years of waiting, we now know we have both sperm and eggs! We will receive the fertilization report tomorrow, but I have a feeling we'll have something to transfer.
Dh's is in excellent spirits despite braving an overnight snowstorm that threatened to derail our best laid plans. We were up at the crack of dawn to be at the clinic at 6:30 a.m. (hey, who can sleep in when your future is about to revealed in spectacular fashion?)
My incredible hero of a husband had to brave 16 needle sticks in his nether region, and the urologist finally used the dreaded "gun" to extract tissue from his testicle. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! I'm cringing for his sake as I'm writing this. He's been up and about since 7 a.m., directly after the PESA. The Novacaine's effects are waning, but he says he doesn't need Tylenol. (He's usually a baby when he has a head cold, so I believe him that he's okay!) Men dealing with MF, take heart. Hubby took it all in his stride. My tough guy.
As for me, I'm feeling unexpectedly terrific! I can remember everything prior to and directly after the retrieval, but nothing of the retrieval itself. Okay, I'm a girl, so I have to tell you what I wore: cute soft babyblue socks with dark blue arrow grippies on them, a most fetching hospital gown, and a must-have blue hair net.
A very sweet nurse put the IV in my left arm (no drugs yet), and hooked me up to the heart rate monitor while she was chatting with me. (My heart rate was beeping way over 90 and rather intermittently - I was scared sh!tless!) My resting heart rate is usually nice and low: 50 to 60.
Hubby commented on the stirrups that look like humongous snow boots. It cracked me up. Yeah! I've reached the summit and the only way forward is to go down at breakneck speed.
I was seated in an upright position while the RE, anesthesiologist and nurse walked us through the pre-procedure questionnaire, consent forms, and post-op instructions. The RE popped in briefly to check on me. He was there just long enough to say, "Hey, how time flies. Can you believe you're in the OR already, just 2 weeks later? We're here to get you pregnant soon... and then get you outta here. Are you ready? Start visualizing that cute baby bump of yours. Can you see it yet?" I nodded an emotional "Yes..." and swallowed tears.
The anesthesiologist clipped the oxygen monitor to my left thumb, lowered me with a warning about how fast it will feel and he even let out a "Wheeee!" like a little boy riding a roller coaster. The roller coaster visual totally made me smile, and you IVFers will know what I mean.
The nurse put my feet in the stirrups, the anesthesiologist then gently inserted the air tube in my nose (weird!), and then I was blissfully gone. Asleep. Hubby, who was in the OR throughout the procedure, said I started saying something, but trailed off in hilariously and embarrassingly incoherent fashion as my eyelids started closing.
I woke up to the sound of, "We retrieved 13 eggs!" It confused me completely, because the number was so much higher than I had anticipated. I confirmed 3 times, "Really? 13? Are you sure?" I was lucid then... just in utter disblief. I thought I'd be out of it, sleepy, groggy, but I was wide awake. The nurse brought me my clothes and while I got dressed, she poured some green tea for the drive home, brought me my coat, and escorted me to the car.
I was awake all day, feeling a little lightheaded, but fine. Hubby and I took an hourlong nap. There are a few light cramps every now and then, but nothing like the sharp, stabbing cyst or Endo pain. It's not even as severe as my regular period pain, and I haven't taken any pain meds.
Anyone who's had surgery or an operative laparoscopy: retrieval is a walk in the park in comparison. Of course, if you suffer complications from retrieval, then that's another matter altogether. But I got lucky today.
Today was a good day.
Instead of the predicted 8 eggs, the RE retrieved a whopping, surprising 13 eggs. I'm beyond ecstatic, because they also found sperm during Dh's aspiration. No motile swimmers, but sperm nonetheless. Since the little tadpoles are being ICSI'd 1:1 into the eggs this afternoon, we could care less that they're not motile. Ladies and gentleman, after 11 years of waiting, we now know we have both sperm and eggs! We will receive the fertilization report tomorrow, but I have a feeling we'll have something to transfer.
Dh's is in excellent spirits despite braving an overnight snowstorm that threatened to derail our best laid plans. We were up at the crack of dawn to be at the clinic at 6:30 a.m. (hey, who can sleep in when your future is about to revealed in spectacular fashion?)
My incredible hero of a husband had to brave 16 needle sticks in his nether region, and the urologist finally used the dreaded "gun" to extract tissue from his testicle. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! I'm cringing for his sake as I'm writing this. He's been up and about since 7 a.m., directly after the PESA. The Novacaine's effects are waning, but he says he doesn't need Tylenol. (He's usually a baby when he has a head cold, so I believe him that he's okay!) Men dealing with MF, take heart. Hubby took it all in his stride. My tough guy.
As for me, I'm feeling unexpectedly terrific! I can remember everything prior to and directly after the retrieval, but nothing of the retrieval itself. Okay, I'm a girl, so I have to tell you what I wore: cute soft babyblue socks with dark blue arrow grippies on them, a most fetching hospital gown, and a must-have blue hair net.
A very sweet nurse put the IV in my left arm (no drugs yet), and hooked me up to the heart rate monitor while she was chatting with me. (My heart rate was beeping way over 90 and rather intermittently - I was scared sh!tless!) My resting heart rate is usually nice and low: 50 to 60.
Hubby commented on the stirrups that look like humongous snow boots. It cracked me up. Yeah! I've reached the summit and the only way forward is to go down at breakneck speed.
I was seated in an upright position while the RE, anesthesiologist and nurse walked us through the pre-procedure questionnaire, consent forms, and post-op instructions. The RE popped in briefly to check on me. He was there just long enough to say, "Hey, how time flies. Can you believe you're in the OR already, just 2 weeks later? We're here to get you pregnant soon... and then get you outta here. Are you ready? Start visualizing that cute baby bump of yours. Can you see it yet?" I nodded an emotional "Yes..." and swallowed tears.
The anesthesiologist clipped the oxygen monitor to my left thumb, lowered me with a warning about how fast it will feel and he even let out a "Wheeee!" like a little boy riding a roller coaster. The roller coaster visual totally made me smile, and you IVFers will know what I mean.
The nurse put my feet in the stirrups, the anesthesiologist then gently inserted the air tube in my nose (weird!), and then I was blissfully gone. Asleep. Hubby, who was in the OR throughout the procedure, said I started saying something, but trailed off in hilariously and embarrassingly incoherent fashion as my eyelids started closing.
I woke up to the sound of, "We retrieved 13 eggs!" It confused me completely, because the number was so much higher than I had anticipated. I confirmed 3 times, "Really? 13? Are you sure?" I was lucid then... just in utter disblief. I thought I'd be out of it, sleepy, groggy, but I was wide awake. The nurse brought me my clothes and while I got dressed, she poured some green tea for the drive home, brought me my coat, and escorted me to the car.
I was awake all day, feeling a little lightheaded, but fine. Hubby and I took an hourlong nap. There are a few light cramps every now and then, but nothing like the sharp, stabbing cyst or Endo pain. It's not even as severe as my regular period pain, and I haven't taken any pain meds.
Anyone who's had surgery or an operative laparoscopy: retrieval is a walk in the park in comparison. Of course, if you suffer complications from retrieval, then that's another matter altogether. But I got lucky today.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The day before retrieval
ICLWers, welcome! Please share your ER stories with me to get me through today. Your comments mean the world to me.
Ahhh! Finally, a day off from injections. I'm feeling optimistic about tomorrow's egg retrieval, and of course a little scared, but mostly excited and calm. I keep telling myself it can't possibly be worse than the Endo lap surgery two months ago.
It helps that today is Sunday, and I had homemade, organic scones for breakfast. I'm listening to good music, visiting IComLeavWe blogs, calling my family and generally just chilling.
Usually, I'm a workaholic stress case, an undeniable type A personality who needs to control everything. It's a new feeling to try to be good to myself, to take it easy, to relax, and to let go. I practiced this approach with great success last weekend (see Sleepy Tiger in Sleepy Clothes post) and I'm working on perfecting it today. I have the week off from work to stay sane between ER and Tx, which bodes well for becoming an IComLeavWe Iron Commenter. A girl has to have goals. ;-)
Dh's aspiration is at 6:45 tomorrow morning. We don't know if they'll find sperm, but the RE said he was so sure they would, he'd give us the cycle free if they came up empty-handed. After 11 years and a failed vas reversal, we'll finally know if the boys are coming to the party.
My clinic does ICSI for everyone's IVF cycles. It's included in their regular IVF fee. I'm relieved they do this on a regular basis, and that we'll maximize our chances if they only find a few viable sperm.
My ER is at 8:30. No food or drink after midnight tonight, and no strong smelling perfume/hair spray/cologne allowed. I use natural products with little scent, so this is good news for me. Strong smells can easily trigger my migraines. Jasmine, hazelnut coffee brewing, strong perfume. Blegh. Makes me instantly nauseous. I can't go near Y.anky Candle or the perfume counter at department stores.
Based on what I've read on the blogs, I'm expecting to do a whole lot of sleeping and cramping after ER... Sounds like a good time.
Ahhh! Finally, a day off from injections. I'm feeling optimistic about tomorrow's egg retrieval, and of course a little scared, but mostly excited and calm. I keep telling myself it can't possibly be worse than the Endo lap surgery two months ago.
It helps that today is Sunday, and I had homemade, organic scones for breakfast. I'm listening to good music, visiting IComLeavWe blogs, calling my family and generally just chilling.
Usually, I'm a workaholic stress case, an undeniable type A personality who needs to control everything. It's a new feeling to try to be good to myself, to take it easy, to relax, and to let go. I practiced this approach with great success last weekend (see Sleepy Tiger in Sleepy Clothes post) and I'm working on perfecting it today. I have the week off from work to stay sane between ER and Tx, which bodes well for becoming an IComLeavWe Iron Commenter. A girl has to have goals. ;-)
Dh's aspiration is at 6:45 tomorrow morning. We don't know if they'll find sperm, but the RE said he was so sure they would, he'd give us the cycle free if they came up empty-handed. After 11 years and a failed vas reversal, we'll finally know if the boys are coming to the party.
My clinic does ICSI for everyone's IVF cycles. It's included in their regular IVF fee. I'm relieved they do this on a regular basis, and that we'll maximize our chances if they only find a few viable sperm.
My ER is at 8:30. No food or drink after midnight tonight, and no strong smelling perfume/hair spray/cologne allowed. I use natural products with little scent, so this is good news for me. Strong smells can easily trigger my migraines. Jasmine, hazelnut coffee brewing, strong perfume. Blegh. Makes me instantly nauseous. I can't go near Y.anky Candle or the perfume counter at department stores.
Based on what I've read on the blogs, I'm expecting to do a whole lot of sleeping and cramping after ER... Sounds like a good time.
Donor sperm - will we or won't we?
After weeks of frank discussion, it's clear that my husband is vehemently opposed to even thinking about donor sperm. I could see in his face he was perplexed by me even bringing it up for consideration. His expression said, "As if this journey isn't painful enough, if I don't feel guilty enough for having had a Vasectomy, you now want me to consider being a part of impregnating you with someone else's sperm." Of course, he didn't say a word other than, "I don't think I like the idea."
I do understand his position, and I feel uncertain about it myself, so I dropped it. What I’ve always wanted is my dh's baby. More than a month passed, and we have been engulfed by our first IVF cycle.
Friday night he sat with me while I was relaxing in the tub. He sat on the bathtub’s edge with his feet in the water (you know, bathtubs are bad for his "swimmers" who need to stay cool, calm, and collected). He became really quiet, took a deep breath, and said, "You know. I've been thinking...” Pregnant pause.
My heart raced. What now? Does he have cold feet? Does he not want a baby anymore? Is this IVF cycle too much anguish? Is the cost too high?
And then, he says, “If the urologist goes in on Monday and finds nothing, then I want you to know I'm okay with us using donor sperm for the next cycle."
Excuse me, what? Where did THAT come from?
We often don’t give men enough credit. They sometimes need more time than we think they do. I know some will never get used to the idea, but my open-minded, loving husband had to get to this life-altering decision all by himself, without my intervention. And that is good. Because I love him, and would rather have his genetic offspring than use donor sperm. But I also know him well enough to know he could love any child that came into our lives, whatever the path. He is intelligent, loving, gentle, selfless. My soul mate.
I'm relieved that we have more options on the table now, because adoption is too expensive for us to even consider. If this IVF/ICSI cycle doesn't work, then all we could have done was to try the same thing again and again, maybe with a different protocol of meds and dosages.
With donor sperm, we have at least one more (albeit less desirable) option to consider. With DS, we get to bond with the baby while he/she in my uterus, we get to be present for the birth of our child, donor sperm is easier to match, more affordable, the baby would at least be genetically linked to one of us, and I get a reprieve from Endo and lower my risk of ovarian cancer by carrying our child. It's comforting to have a backup plan as we head into the uncertainty of next week’s retrieval - and hopefully a transfer of beautiful blasts.
I do understand his position, and I feel uncertain about it myself, so I dropped it. What I’ve always wanted is my dh's baby. More than a month passed, and we have been engulfed by our first IVF cycle.
Friday night he sat with me while I was relaxing in the tub. He sat on the bathtub’s edge with his feet in the water (you know, bathtubs are bad for his "swimmers" who need to stay cool, calm, and collected). He became really quiet, took a deep breath, and said, "You know. I've been thinking...” Pregnant pause.
My heart raced. What now? Does he have cold feet? Does he not want a baby anymore? Is this IVF cycle too much anguish? Is the cost too high?
And then, he says, “If the urologist goes in on Monday and finds nothing, then I want you to know I'm okay with us using donor sperm for the next cycle."
Excuse me, what? Where did THAT come from?
We often don’t give men enough credit. They sometimes need more time than we think they do. I know some will never get used to the idea, but my open-minded, loving husband had to get to this life-altering decision all by himself, without my intervention. And that is good. Because I love him, and would rather have his genetic offspring than use donor sperm. But I also know him well enough to know he could love any child that came into our lives, whatever the path. He is intelligent, loving, gentle, selfless. My soul mate.
I'm relieved that we have more options on the table now, because adoption is too expensive for us to even consider. If this IVF/ICSI cycle doesn't work, then all we could have done was to try the same thing again and again, maybe with a different protocol of meds and dosages.
With donor sperm, we have at least one more (albeit less desirable) option to consider. With DS, we get to bond with the baby while he/she in my uterus, we get to be present for the birth of our child, donor sperm is easier to match, more affordable, the baby would at least be genetically linked to one of us, and I get a reprieve from Endo and lower my risk of ovarian cancer by carrying our child. It's comforting to have a backup plan as we head into the uncertainty of next week’s retrieval - and hopefully a transfer of beautiful blasts.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Obsessing about IVFing
Now that I’m forced to wait, I realize I’m getting utterly and joyously obsessive. It’s as if I have IVF OCD. I have read every IVF/ICSI blog I can lay my hands on, subscribed to IF forums, and have Go.ogled the heck out of every protocol on the planet. I have sobbed when reading about cancelled cycles, BFNs, and m/c as if they were my own, and have basically spent every waking moment thinking about IVF.
I’m at the point where I get annoyed if my husband dares ask me about anything else.
Him: “What would you like to do tonight?
Uhm, let’s think about this for a second.
Me: “Read about gonadotropins.” (I say this deadpan.)
Me (distracted, after a minute or so): “Why? What would you like to do?”
Then he sighs softly and walks away towards his laptop, kind of sulking, kind of relieved that I’m not engaging him in a discussion about Go.nal-F. He knows I'm hyperfocused, and he knows I need space. This is why I love him. He gets me.
I’m not really dreaming about a child(ren) as much as I’m thinking about IVF and its impact on our lives. Contemplating what I’m about to do, and how I feel about this point of no return that we’ve been approaching for ten years. IVF has been a vague possibility for all these years, something we’d get to when the time was right. But the time never seemed right, and now, suddenly it’s here, and in focus. And coming at me fast.
If we don't try IVF, we'll never know. And there's some comfort in not knowing. It keeps the hope alive.
I’m overwhelmed by the thought that I’ll finally know whether it’s possible for me to have my husband’s child(ren). I’ve always believed that if we had “intervention” in the form of IVF, we might just be able to realize this dream. I now know that if it doesn't work, I’ll be devestated, not only for the BFN, but for the whole belief being proven wrong. For being so stupid as to have believed that it might work for us.
Soon I’ll relinquish the last 1% of control (or the illusion of control), and just do. Just be. Just breathe. I’m at that tipping point where my destiny is to be revealed.
I’m at the point where I get annoyed if my husband dares ask me about anything else.
Him: “What would you like to do tonight?
Uhm, let’s think about this for a second.
Me: “Read about gonadotropins.” (I say this deadpan.)
Me (distracted, after a minute or so): “Why? What would you like to do?”
Then he sighs softly and walks away towards his laptop, kind of sulking, kind of relieved that I’m not engaging him in a discussion about Go.nal-F. He knows I'm hyperfocused, and he knows I need space. This is why I love him. He gets me.
I’m not really dreaming about a child(ren) as much as I’m thinking about IVF and its impact on our lives. Contemplating what I’m about to do, and how I feel about this point of no return that we’ve been approaching for ten years. IVF has been a vague possibility for all these years, something we’d get to when the time was right. But the time never seemed right, and now, suddenly it’s here, and in focus. And coming at me fast.
If we don't try IVF, we'll never know. And there's some comfort in not knowing. It keeps the hope alive.
I’m overwhelmed by the thought that I’ll finally know whether it’s possible for me to have my husband’s child(ren). I’ve always believed that if we had “intervention” in the form of IVF, we might just be able to realize this dream. I now know that if it doesn't work, I’ll be devestated, not only for the BFN, but for the whole belief being proven wrong. For being so stupid as to have believed that it might work for us.
Soon I’ll relinquish the last 1% of control (or the illusion of control), and just do. Just be. Just breathe. I’m at that tipping point where my destiny is to be revealed.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Farming Out
It's quite the concept to farm out the most significant and life-changing experience to a group of REs, embryologists, nurses, pharmacists, and goodness knows who else.
I've known for more than a decade that IVF would be in my future, but the closer I get to it, the more I'm mourning the loss of conceiving "normally" (whatever THAT means!) I'd like to think I'm totally over the lack of romance this process entails, but maybe I'm not. I'm really resentful that it will take an army of specialists to make an embryo in a petri dish, and that it might not work despite everyone's best efforts. Dh's sperm won't even get to "swim" to fertilize the egg, for heaven's sake. It'll be shot straight into the egg, if we're lucky enough to have eggs retrieved for ICSI, that is.
Some days, I just want to shout from the rooftops, "Why does this have to be so $%&* complex and expensive?" And then the internal whining, "It's not FAIR!" Ugh. I know, I know life's not fair. But honestly, IF just sucks in so many ways. Sometimes I want to give up before I've even tried, because of all the "what ifs." It's beyond daunting, and running away seems like a perfectly reasonable response.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
To Cycle or Not to Cycle – IVF Is the Question
We have not arranged financing, called the nurse coordinator to make an IVF orientation appointment, or had my FSH levels tested to check my ovarian reserve. We’re in a holding pattern. All of this will need to happen in January, but for now I’m enjoying the “lull” after a year of intense pain, three months of blood tests, transvaginal ultrasounds, surgery, and post-op appointments. I’m reading to prepare for what lies ahead (can one ever really be prepared?) , healing from the Endo laparoscopy, and generally just trying to take a break to enjoy the holidays. We will need to wait until February to cycle. In the meantime, we are faced with the “Do we really want to put ourselves through this?”question and “Can we really afford it?” The answer to the first question is, “No, but we have an irrational, biological need to procreate and IVF/ICSI is the only way.” The answer to question 2 is, “No, but see answer to Q1.”
My clock is ticking louder every day. Birthdays and periods certainly don’t help to take one’s mind off the topic. I’m increasingly facing a deadline and realizing it’s “Now or Never.”
Hubby seems distant, sulking, disinterested. I suspect he’s in denial about it all and I’m getting angry because he is unwilling or unable to express his feelings. I know he’s having a hard time with the details, but he’s such a pragmatist that I can understand that he comes across as disinterested. To his mind, it’s “Let’s just do it. No point in procrastinating, or reading all there is to know. It is what it is.” I interpret his laissez faire approach to mean that he doesn’t care. Which I know isn’t true. It just bugs me that he’s not reading, asking questions, or being as “present” as I’d like him to be. Somewhere deep inside, I fear that this is a precursor to him being distant and disinterested in any future child(ren) we may have.
My clock is ticking louder every day. Birthdays and periods certainly don’t help to take one’s mind off the topic. I’m increasingly facing a deadline and realizing it’s “Now or Never.”
Hubby seems distant, sulking, disinterested. I suspect he’s in denial about it all and I’m getting angry because he is unwilling or unable to express his feelings. I know he’s having a hard time with the details, but he’s such a pragmatist that I can understand that he comes across as disinterested. To his mind, it’s “Let’s just do it. No point in procrastinating, or reading all there is to know. It is what it is.” I interpret his laissez faire approach to mean that he doesn’t care. Which I know isn’t true. It just bugs me that he’s not reading, asking questions, or being as “present” as I’d like him to be. Somewhere deep inside, I fear that this is a precursor to him being distant and disinterested in any future child(ren) we may have.
Friday, December 19, 2008
IF Makes Me Trilingual, and Counting
There’s much more to worry about than I ever knew. This journey, with its gutwrenching highs and lows, is well-documented by brave women across the globe. Contrary to what I thought, it’s not that hard to find someone cycling, dealing with insurmountable odds. (In our case, MFI and FFI – Endo Stage IV attempting IVF/ICSI.)
Despite all the emotional turmoil, learning to decipher infertility acronyms is just one more overwhelming obstacle in a road riddled with bumps, pitfalls, milestones and footsteps of those who have gone before. With every new term you discover, you realize you’re slowly entering a collective consciousness that you never chose to be part of. How to make the PIO shots easier, deal with the 2WW, to POAS or not. I still don’t know what 6dp3dt means, but I’m sure I’ll be enlightened soon…
It’s both comforting and disturbing to read everyone’s stories, heartaches, journeys and outcomes. I find myself anxiously awaiting the news from people I do not know, but care about. Every beta day, every BFN, could be my own and it helps to answer the “What if this were me?” question.
I catch myself playing “What if?” more frequently, as I try to come to terms with the infinite number of outcomes. “What if the cycle is canceled?” “What if no embies make it?” “What if I get a BFN?” “What if I m/c?” I resent fertile women who bypass “Go” and start their journey at the “What if I m/c?” phase. Of course, I realize that once you’re pregnant, and have a child or children, the “What ifs?” are infinite too.
Despite all the emotional turmoil, learning to decipher infertility acronyms is just one more overwhelming obstacle in a road riddled with bumps, pitfalls, milestones and footsteps of those who have gone before. With every new term you discover, you realize you’re slowly entering a collective consciousness that you never chose to be part of. How to make the PIO shots easier, deal with the 2WW, to POAS or not. I still don’t know what 6dp3dt means, but I’m sure I’ll be enlightened soon…
It’s both comforting and disturbing to read everyone’s stories, heartaches, journeys and outcomes. I find myself anxiously awaiting the news from people I do not know, but care about. Every beta day, every BFN, could be my own and it helps to answer the “What if this were me?” question.
I catch myself playing “What if?” more frequently, as I try to come to terms with the infinite number of outcomes. “What if the cycle is canceled?” “What if no embies make it?” “What if I get a BFN?” “What if I m/c?” I resent fertile women who bypass “Go” and start their journey at the “What if I m/c?” phase. Of course, I realize that once you’re pregnant, and have a child or children, the “What ifs?” are infinite too.
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