We had our first ultrasound on Friday.
And there was one perfect little baby and one really fantastic heartbeat. And he/she was measuring right on target. I swear it will never get old seeing the flicker of that heart pumping away.
I’m feeling MUCH different with this pregnancy. With H I had literally zero symptoms. With this baby, I’m feeling nauseous (beige foods are my friend; green ones are not) and lethargic (I swear I could curl up on the couch with a blanket right now) and a lot more cramping.
I almost forgot how unnerving the first trimester is when you can’t feel the baby move yet and you’re still unsure what’s happening in there, anyway. I truly thought we would go in on Friday and my uterus would be blank, empty. Maybe it’s still that defense mechanism—don’t get too attached … yet.
We are excited. Our families are elated.
Next ultrasound is in two weeks around 9 weeks. Until then, toast and perogies will remain my BFFs.
Is in the 2200s. My RE is really pleased.
So are we.
We’re still in a state of shock. I don’t remember it feeling this way the first time.
Ultrasound is scheduled for the 21st when I *should* be almost 7 weeks. I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m excited.
This morning I sobbed nearly uncontrollably as I pulled out of my clinic’s parking lot. I was shocked, if I’m being honest. I’ve cried here and there throughout this journey. But nothing like this morning.
I’d been telling myself for 8 months now that I didn’t care if it worked or not, that we had our little miracle and that’s all we ever prayed for … and needed.
But I was so wrong. I wanted this to work so, so much.
And it did.
This journey is far from over. But we cleared the first hurdle.
And we feel so amazingly blessed.
On the day of our first ultrasound with the Nugget back at the end of February 2011, I heard this Sara Evans song on the way to work.
And I cried and cried.
I know this is a break-up song. But the chorus is what got me through those hard times when I was so sure we would never have a baby.
I know my heart will never be the same
but I’m telling myself I’ll be ok.
Even on my weakest days,
I get a little bit stronger.
And then there are the lines at the beginning:
Woke up late today
And I still feel the sting of the pain
But I brush my teeth anyway
I got dressed through the mess
and put a smile on my face.
I got a little bit stronger.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know how I’m going to feel. Will I feel the devastation I felt with those failed IUIs back in July, August, October, and November of 2010? The days that followed those negatives where I walked around in a daze, in a fog, I could barely cope. I would cry in the bathroom at work and no one ever knew. Or will we get good news and the husband and I will cry as we hold each other again thanking God for the blessings He’s bestowed on our family?
I’m so scared for tomorrow. So scared. I like to think that because we’ve gone through all of this before—the hurt, the pain, the happiness—that I’m just a little bit stronger.
February 7, 2011, post first (and only) fresh IVF cycle:
I had a bout of the weepys yesterday in the car, too. A song came on that made me realize I am so, so happy where I am in life. I have everything I want—an amazing husband, amazing family and inlaws, job I love, fantastic friends, a warm home, food to eat, a lovey puppy. I am so happy. And I realized then, as the tears spilled down my cheeks, that I will be OK if IVF doesn’t work. Not just if this cycle doesn’t work … but if it all never works. I will be OK. We will be OK. And we will live an extremely fulfilled life with or without baby. Not because we want to … but because we have to.
I’m having one of those days where I’m pretty sure … 99.9% sure … this didn’t work. And I know the scenario all too well by now—I’ll cry off and on for three days and then move on. I’ll feel really sorry for myself for a few days and then move on. I’ll cry to God and ask Him why us … and then move on.
I’m feeling quite a bit like this, what I wrote nearly three years ago. I’m feeling so certain this transfer did not work. I have not felt anything. Nothing. I had sworn I was feeling some cramping last night when I was putting H down for bed but truly think it was gas that I was really just hoping, desperately, were cramps.
I’m holding myself together but right now, as I write this, I really just want to cry. I want to crawl under the covers and cry and cry and cry because I just know this did not work.
And I keep thinking that maybe we were just lucky the first time. Extremely lucky and that because we really don’t know why we’re infertile, any other attempts will result in negative results.
Yesterday I took H to get cupcakes after a play date with friends. While I was paying the cashier she grabbed a bar of chocolate from the shelf and opened it (so I had to buy it). I didn’t even look to see what she’d opened until we got home and I pulled it out to show the husband.
It was a chocolate cigar with a wrapper that said, “It’s a Boy!”
I like to believe that God gives us signs sometimes in ways we often miss and sometimes in ways that are so clear and so apparent that we can’t ignore them.
I still don’t feel like this cycle worked. But I think God was just trying to tell me to hold tight, hold on, stay strong. Things have a way of working themselves out.
Transfer day is officially this Friday.
At 11 a.m.
And I’m trying hard not to freak out. I’m trying really hard not to compare everything to the one and only cycle that ever worked and resulted in our beautiful Nugget. This comparing will become even more of a problem post-transfer when I’ll start counting the days until I hit four days past transfer when, for our fresh cycle, I felt cramping for about 30 minutes that night. I know that if I don’t feel that same cramping on 4dp5dt I’m going to think it’s all over.
And I’m going to be devastated.
I’m nearly more worried about 4dp5dt than I am about beta day on the 5th. Because in my mind no cramping = no baby.
I don’t know what I’ll do.
I will cry. I will want to be alone. I will want to count my blessings that this worked at least once for us. So many don’t even have that opportunity and desperately want it.
And I will start to wallow in self pity. The “why me” rants will begin in my head. And I’ll try hard not to curse every person, who gets pregnant without ever having to try or hurt or go through so much just to have the chance at being a parent.
I promise I’m remaining positive. I promise. But there’s that part of me that has to prepare myself. I have to emotionally prepare myself for what happens if ….
I have 48 hours to get my head in the right frame of mind.
Wish me luck.
That’s the date we have scheduled for our FET. It’s a Friday. A perfect day, really, considering I will be on bed rest for two days following transfer and the husband will need to be home to watch the Nugget.
It feels SO far away, though. I wish it were tomorrow.
The Lupron shots have been going well except the headaches this time around have been AWFUL. I had a raging headache all day yesterday and kept thinking it was because I was dehydrated only to realize it was the Lupron.
I’ve actually been doing my own shots, too, which for those who have done any subQ shots, it’s really not a big deal. You can barely feel the prick of the needle it’s so small. But for someone who gets nauseated when she sees blood or has blood drawn or gets an IV, giving myself a shot on my stomach once a day is a pretty big deal.
So that’s about it to report. I took my last birth control pill Saturday night and am waiting on CD 1, which I *hope* doesn’t come until after New Year’s Eve because I so do not want to have to go into the RE’s office on New Year’s Day at CD 2.
Will update as things progress but, for now, it’s unfortunately really, really uneventful stuff!