Scratch That...Start Again.

Last week, I took a routine blood test to check my HCG levels and make sure the pregnancy was progressing as it should. Confident that we had successfully crossed the hurdle of implantation, I was not at all prepared for the news the nurse delivered. I had been anxiously awaiting the call and preparing myself for the revelation of a multiple pregnancy. I was equipped to deal with that, but not this. My levels, which are expected to double in those first 48 hours, had only increased 2 points. An embryo had implanted but was not growing. And the pregnancy was failing. I was ordered to stop my meds and told I would miscarry within a few days. I was speechless, heartbroken and scared of what was to come.

I left Sean and Willa behind and headed for a long pre-planned weekend of market in LA. I had tons of appointments and stayed busy with work. And when I wasn't working, I was shopping for winter wear for Willa, which has a way of lifting my spirits. Now I'm back, and I've survived another experience that hasn't killed me, and therefore must have made me a little bit stronger. Certainly.

I had blood work Tuesday, and an ultrasound today, and both confirmed that everything is okay and we can move onto another cycle right away. The beginning of a cycle is the best part - the slate is clean and optimism is high. The process never gets any easier, emotionally. But it does become familiar - and I think I'm back in the mode of living the process. I'm feeling a bit like the infertility veteran - battle-scarred, and a tad bitter, yet adept at a variety of reproductive protocols, well versed in the lingo and closely in tune with my sense of humor. It's not a terrible place to be. For today at least. : )

I'm Pregnant!!!

The Transfer

Last Thursday, we went in for the embryo transfer. Upon admission, I was given a stunning backless gown, hair net, and some fuzzy slippers, and all sorts of instructions as to what we should expect during the procedure and what kinds of activities I should avoid over the next few days (like work, seriously - as if I could avoid that.) I signed a bunch of important papers, popped a Valium, and tried to relax while we anxiously awaited the Embryologist's report on the thaw of our embryo. When she arrived, she was happy to report the good news - the first TWO embryos selected, had thawed successfully and had received excellent ratings. I thought maybe I heard wrong. Until I saw this:

Count 'em. One. Two.

Someone screwed up. Our wishes to conservatively transfer one embryo at a time had been miscommunicated, or perhaps, not communicated at all, and now we were faced with another decision - to select the healthiest looking one and attempt to refreeze the other, or transfer both of them and take a chance of ending up with two babies. My doctor came in after a little while and sat next to me on my bed, apologized for the error, and tried her best explain our options and to ease our concerns. Refreezing would be risky, and the likelihood of twins was still slim. Her recommendation was always to use two, and so we agreed. I asked if this had earned me two Valium - was told "No," but maybe two baby gifts. Sean kept reminding me to stay calm, that his babies would need a peaceful womb.

So, the thing that finally did relax me was the realization of what little control I had. And that if I am blessed with two healthy babies, it was all part of a greater plan. Whoa. And the end of my life as I know it.

The transfer was quick and painless. Implantation occurs, or doesn't, within 36 hours. And the pregnancy test is Saturday. Y'all wish me luck!

Beecher

In the midst of everything else that has been going on, we have lost Beecher, our beloved 12 year old Golden Retriever. Two weeks ago, I took him to the vet for pain we assumed was arthritis, but he was diagnosed with Lymphoma. I made arrangements for my friend, Sondra, to come in from Austin and take some photos of Willa and her big, hairy friend. These were taken on Tuesday morning, just before he took a turn for the worst. By Wednesday evening, after a house call from the vet determined that his cancer had progressed more rapidly than expected, Sean and I made the tough decision to say goodbye, and end his pain. Anyone who had ever met Beecher, knew that he was the ultimate dog, who lived every day of his life to the fullest. He was joyful and rambunctious, yet patient and gentle, with eyes that revealed the sweetest heart. We will miss him so much.

On a positive note, I can not believe how lucky we are to have such beautiful photos of his last days with us. I am so grateful. Thank you, Sondra.