Limbo

There are a lot of difficulties associated with having a failed cycle.  Of course, the most difficult is accepting the fact that your 'babies' didn't make it.  Grieving that loss (or in my case, those losses) is excruciating.  And then, once you start to move on, you're faced with the difficulty of waiting.... waiting for your period to come (to only then be faced with a visual of your 'babies' having died), waiting to start whatever is next and waiting for your hope and faith to be restored (though, I'm not sure it ever is restored completely). 

Right now, I'm waiting.  I'm in limbo.  Since I'm still at my dreaded sales conference, I haven't had much time to really stop and think about what has happened to me... again.  I feel it though.  Boy, do I feel it.  I feel it every time someone mentions their child at home and every time a new colleague asks me if I have any children.  That's a heart breaker.  I mean, really... Asking someone if they have children seems to be the new 'how are you?'.  I'm astounded at how easily that question rolls off peoples' tongues...  And how I've realized that I'll probably never, ever, ask someone that question for the rest of my life.

Anyway, I'm also in limbo over what's next.  You see, I received confirmation of my failed cycle on Monday afternoon.  My doctor, I think, was more bummed than I was (remember, I already had six days to react to this devastating news) - she told me that she really believes "in her heart" that this will happen.  Comforting?  Yes.  Doctors don't have to say that.  But, am I assured?  No.  My doctor finally said that there may be an underlying issue with my infertility (thank you God!  I've been wondering this all along!).  Yes, I have a high FSH.  My eggs are old and their quality isn't great.  This is absolutely evidenced by the limited number of eggs that have been retrieved during my IVF cycles.  BUT, the thing is, my embryo quality is always good and sometimes even great.  After eleven pretty darn good embryos failing to implant, my doctor thinks that maybe, just maybe something else is going on.  Perhaps a genetic abnormality?  Or, maybe it's an endometrial lining issue?

During my phone conversation with my doctor, she mentioned a study with very, very limited research suggesting that when replacing estrogen with lupron (over the course of a couple of months), that it somehow recreates your endometrial lining (please forgive me if this extremely elementary desciption is lacking.  I've had literally no time at all to research this in the least due to being at my work conference all week).  My doctor told me that if I had a normal FSH, then she'd absolutely recommend moving forward with this 'protocol', BUT, with my high FSH, she's hesitant to formally recommend going this route because apparently this 'protocol' can initiate menopausal symptons.  And someone with a high FSH doesn't need any help with regard to getting a head start on that front. 

So, my doctor wants to run this 'experimental protocol' by her colleagues, who meet weekly, to discuss patient cases.  Yay for me.  I'm a freak of nature case that gets to be discussed by multiple doctors, because my situation is too out-of-whack for one, extremely educated, well knowledged doctor to make a decision/recommendation on her own. Ugh.  I feel let down and not very reassured.  My doctor let me know that she'd be in touch soon with a formal recommendation.

.................so, where does this leave me?  As soon as I hung up the phone on Monday afternoon, I knew exactly what I had to do next.  And that's go to CCRM.  My husband and I are finally in agreement that this is absolutely the right decision for us.  We need the best.  Period.  If a genetic abnormality is what we're facing, then we want CCRM's world renowned embryologists to perfom those tests.  If an 'experimental protocol' is what's next, then we'd prefer that recommendation to come from the best of the best.

I'm waiting for my cycle to start and plan to call my assigned nurses to schedule our ODWU once it does.  I am beyond scared.  There is so much to figure out, logistically and financially.  There's a lot on the line.  But, I believe that we'll learn a lot more once we meet with Dr. S and his amazing staff in the next couple of weeks.

This is a huge step for us.  But, I believe more than ever, that I need to put everything I have into this.  I'm praying that this is the right next step and that CCRM will give us the answers that we need.

Yesterday & Today

For the past day and a half as I've sat listening to my company's senior leadership present on sales goals, service structure and transformation, my mind has been anywhere but there.  Rather, I'm focusing on keeping my tears at bay and literally making it through each session without having to bolt to the bathroom to release my built up emotions.  At one point this afternoon, a glass filled with water sat in front of me.  While my company's CEO spoke, all I could think about was how I was going to reach out for the glass and not drop it.  I was focusing on just being able to grasp the glass tight enough so that it wouldn't slip through my fingers, similar to how my two 'babies' recently did just that.  Along with losing my tenth and eleventh should-have-been babies, I fear that I'm losing myself.

I'm not present.  I'm far away dreaming of a life that may never exist for me.  Worrying about what's next and if what is next will even work.  In my head I'm considering other options.  Unfortunately, none of which would guarantee a baby as a result. 

My company's sales meetings are very 'rah-rah'.  Listen to us tell you how great we are, how great you are and then get out there and do your job... excel at it... give it your all.  Blah, blah, blah.  An NBA Hall of Famer (Rick Barry... never heard of him to be honest with you) gave a speech to close out today's sessions.  He encouraged us to try, because if you try, you will succeed.  I rolled my eyes.  It's just not true.  Yes, maybe if you keep trying to sink a free throw, you'll eventually get the ball in the hoop.  But, if you keep trying to have a baby, you won't necessarily succeed... maybe not ever.  Trust me, after five very unsuccessful IVF transfers, I'm starting to really wonder if I will ever succeed at becoming a mom.

I've had a rough couple of days.  It's pretty damn difficult focusing on my current job and career, knowing full well that I may never be 'promoted' to the position that I really want to hold.  Motherhood. 

Reason #672868 Why IF Causes Social Anxiety

This afternoon I treated myself to a little pampering... I went to get a manicure and pedicure (yes, it was nice, but no, it didn't help.  Nothing helps).  I always look forward to relaxing while my feet soak in the warm spa tub and I leave with pretty toes and nails.  But this afternoon just was not my day.

First, the woman next to me in the pedicure room was going on and on and on and on and on about how tough it is having two kids.  Now obviously, not having children, or even a child, of my own I wouldn't know.  BUT, what I do know is that if I ever become that lucky, I will not - I repeat - will not be overheard complaining about the following:

1. What a complete chore it is to have to put my children's coats and boots on them just to leave the house in the winter.  Nope, instead I'll be praising God that I'm lucky enough to be able to have a reason to buy those adorable little baby items.  And to put those adorable baby items ON MY BABIES every winter.

2. How annoying it will be when my husband has to call me, while I'm fiiiiiinally able to enjoy some "me" time by getting my toes done, to ask me a question about our six month old baby.  Nope, I'll gladly welcome every.single.phone.call that my husband places to me that is with regard to our miracle baby. 

3. That my chunka munka (ugh, she's soooo heavy that I can barely carry her around in her carrier... gag me) baby just won't eat any real food because she's constantly attached to my boob (seriously, this woman was something else).  Nope, should I ever have the chance for 'my girls' to produce milk, I'll, first of all, probably keep it to myself and if I don't, I most definitely won't talk to the pedicurist - of all people - about my milk supply but second of all, I.WON'T.COMPLAIN.  Nope... rather, I will be thanking God that I'm able to feed my child.  My child.  You know, that CAME FROM ME!!!  Something that, today I realize, isn't nearly as easy as it's made out to be.

Basically I learned that you never, never, know what the person beside you is going through or has gone through.  People need to be quiet.  Would I be this upset if this woman was quietly having a conversation with her pedicurist?  No (actually, I probably would). But, seriously people - she was basically shouting for the entire salon to hear.  Yes, lady.  We get it.  You have two kids and it's soooo hard.  But stop and think for a second, just a second, about how lucky you are!

You can imagine how thankful I was once my toes were painted flamenco pink and I was on my way to have my nails done...

I sat down in a chair and let out a big sigh as the manicurist took a hold of my left hand and began filing my nails.  As she got to my ring finger, she caught a glimpse of my wedding band and the following conversation ensued:

Manicurist: Oh you're married?!
Me:  Yes (I smile and think of the love of my life).
Manicurist:  How long?
Me:  Three years (In my head I'm thinking: Shit, I totally know where this is going.  THIS IS NOT THE TIME, LADY.  Not.the.time).
Manicurist:  Hm.  You have kids?
Me:  No.
Manicurist:  No kids?!
Me:  No.
Manicurist:  Ohhh, three years you've been married and no kids?!
Me:  NO!  And maybe never (Yes I really said that, because it's true - I may never have kids at this rate.  I was also hoping she'd get a clue once she heard my response and that she would just stop.  But she didn't.).
Manicurist:  Oh, well.... you're still young.
Me:  Smile.  I simply stop talking.  Who cares that I'm young, that I'm only thirty.  My eggs are old.  I've had five flipping IVF transfers.  Eleven of my 'babies' have basically died the second they were placed in my uterus.  Seriously?  I just wanted to yank my hands away and run out of there.
Manicurist:  You don't have kids because you want to work?
Me:  Smile and nod.  I still say nothing.  I can't even speak to this meddling woman anymore.  Oh, and news flash Ms. Manicure Lady, EVEN IF I HAD A BABY, I'D STILL BE WORKING (!!!), thankyouverymuch.

That's all.  Oh, and I'm absolutely having heart palpitations as I type all of this out and replay my afternoon's ridiculousness over in my head.

I'm also having major social anxiety about this week's National Sales Meeting.  Last year at our annual meeting, I had to skip a day because of IUI #3 (which was supposed to be IVF #1).  A year later and I'm nowhere closer to my baby.

Please God, Prove Me Wrong

This week has been exhausting.  Physically and emotionally, I'm just worn out.  And, I don't think there's anything worse than getting PIO shots than when you're not even pregnant.

This cycle, I told myself from the very beginning that I would POAS early.  I obviously hoped and prayed that I would be one of those women who sees two lines at 5 or 6dp5dt.  And, I convinced myself that even if there was only one line, that I'd be better off just knowing than holding onto so much (false) hope.  Twice in the past, I didn't POAS at all - and learning that I'm not pregnant (for the first time) from someone else is excruciating.  Both times, I could barely talk to my doctor when she called with the news because I was so focused on just being able to breathe.  I've also waited to POAS until the day before or the morning of my BETA.  I don't believe that there's any "right" way to handle when to find out and so, I just try to go with my gut.  When I want to test, I do.  And when I want to wait to test, I wait.  So... this time, I tested on  6 and 7dp5dt (Wednesday and Thursday).  Both times, the pee stick clearly had one line.  I, for the most part, knew what my fate was with this cycle.  When I found out, I was obviously devastated, but I haven't really 'lost it' as of yet.  I haven't cried my eyes out yet.  Sure, I've shed tears.  Sure, I've pleaded with God to just somehow give me an answer as to why this didn't work... again.  But for some reason, I've handled this better than I've ever handled a failed cycle before.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe I'm just used to single line pee sticks.  Maybe I'm just used to getting bad news.  Maybe, deep down, I didn't think that this FET was going to work anyway.  Or, maybe, I still have hope that tomorrow's BETA will make me regret ever saying that I don't believe in miracles.

*I tested again this morning (10dp5dt) and still, there is only one line.

I'm worried about tomorrow, though.  I always, always, take the day of my BETA off from work (or, I at least work from home).  I know that I need the utmost privacy of being able to answer my phone and talk to my doctor about my next steps without someone overhearing any part of my phone conversation.  I also know that I need to be able to let it all out - cry, yell, etc. - and it's hard to do that when I'm at work.  But, as luck would (not) have it, tomorrow is the first day of my company's National Sales Meeting.  Thankfully, the conference is taking place locally, in Boston.  But, rather than sitting on my couch bracing myself for the most gut wrenching news and confirmation that I'm not pregnant, I'll have to slip out from a packed conference room and whisper to my doctor on the phone in a corridor of a hotel, trying desperately to mask the tears that will surely stream down my face. I fear, that because of this conference, I won't let it all out.  That the anger, sadness and heart ache will be suppressed inside of me for another whole week, which I know is anything but healthy.  I know that my heart won't heal until I fully grieve what should have been my tenth and eleventh babies.

As silly as this may be, I'll continue to pray for a miracle tomorrow, knowing full well that transfer number five will most definitely not be the one to make us a mommy and a daddy.

Please God, prove me wrong.

I Don't Believe in Miracles

Well... I'm not pregnant.

And now that I've just sat here staring at the blinking cursor for five minutes, I'll finish with this:  This sucks.  Life sucks.  I'm sad, but sad doesn't even begin to cover how I really feel.

There, I said it. 

I'll be back another day with some details and most likely with confirmation from my doctor... because let's face it, miracles just don't happen for this girl.

Scared

I'm scared...

...to find out if I'm pregnant or not.

...to POAS.  Because what if I'm not pregnant?

...that I'll have to start over again.

...that I'll have to grieve, cry and feel the truest of true heart ache again.

...that my body has/will fail me again.

...that I'll have to write 'I'm not pregnant' on my blog again.

...that I'll have to make a decision - another FET here or CCRM.

...that I'll make the wrong decision.

...to have hope.

...to have faith.

...that I'll never have a baby of my own.

...that a part of me will never get over this.

...that I'll always carry sadness with me, where ever I go.

...that my life may look nothing like I had pictured and prayed for day after day and night after night.

...that I'll let my husband down.

What if I'm not pregnant?  What if this didn't work? 

I'm scared.

Pain in the butt!

Bed rest started off great... Thursday afternoon Nick waited on me hand and foot and Belle gave me lots and lots of snuggles.  I was doing well emotionally and I napped a lot as I slept off the valium from the transfer.  Friday was just as good... My sister came over during her lunch break and made me lunch, took Belle out and treated me to some goodies (thanks, Whit!).  I did shed some tears on Friday afternoon, though...  I think I was mainly overcome with the thought of either outcome at the end of this TWW.  I talked through my crocodile tears with my mom over the phone and the rest of the evening was fine. 

But then.... I unfortunately awoke on Saturday in P-A-I-N.  Pain in the butt, that is.  I can't even tell you how much pain I was in.  Shrilling pain that I felt when not even moving a single muscle in my body.  The pain from the PIO injections had finally gotten to me - I was down for the count.  As my husband laid on the couch with me, he helped me to ice each cheek on and off for fifteen minute intervals.  But, numbing the injection sites didn't help.  Not even one bit.  My muscles were pulsating in pain all the way down my legs and all the way up my back.  It was terrible.  At one point, I was laying in the fetal position on the couch and tears just streamed down my face.  I couldn't control them.  Nick wanted me to call the nurse at my RE's office to see what I could do, but I opted for the next best thing... my Mom, the nurse.  My mom suggested moist heat, so Nick wet face cloths and threw them in the microwave.  He then pressed them on each side of my bum.  That didn't seem to help either, though.  Finally a little after 1 p.m., I gave up on bed rest.  I somehow got myself up and off the couch and into the shower, thinking that hopefully the warm water would help.  After my shower, we drove to a nearby bike trail and walked a very slow half mile.  I was convinced that moving around would be the only thing to help.  And I think it did.  I was still in a lot of pain for the rest of the afternoon and evening on Saturday (I continued to take it easy on the couch, but would force myself to get up every now and then to walk up and down my hallway), but I woke up on Sunday feeling like a different person... so we celebrated by going out to breakfast (our one and only outing of the day due to another small snow storm in Massachusetts). 

Plain and simple, I was a wreck on Saturday.  The pain, coupled with the overwhelming emotions from all of this, just got to me like its never gotten to me before.  I'll either be pregnant or I won't.  It's black or white.  It's happiness or sadness.  And it's HARD.

So, as I continue to take it easy today (no work thanks to President's Day!), I'll leave you with some documentation of bed rest after my transfer number five (how sick is that?):

1.) Snuggles with Miss B. 

2.) Pineapple... and lots of it... supposedly it can help with implantation?  I'll do anything! 

3.) Belle giving me a run for my money on Friday. 

4.) Ridiculous TV to keep my mind off wondering if I'm pregnant or not. 

5.)  My sister, who's also my best friend, brought me treats to help keep me busy.  I love her. 

6.) Me and B. 

7.)  Magazines.  P.S.  can't wait for The Bachelor x2 this week! 

8.) Kisses for Belle. 

And finally...

9.) Chocolate chip banana pancakes to celebrate no more bed rest and a much less painful bum!

I also have to include the following pictures that I took while my sister and I FaceTimed yesterday afternoon...  Thanks for being such a fun and loving sister, W!!  xo

Happy Valentine's/Transfer Day

This was me, three years ago to the day:

We celebrated Valentine's Day on our honeymoon.

And... this was me today:

We transferred two embryos; one 4AA and one 4AB - both very good grades.  We still have two frozen embryos, which is great news. 

Now, we pray, pray, pray and hope, hope, hope.  And after my self-prescribed bed rest (my doctor just requires "taking it easy" on transfer day), I'll start to break in my new shoes that Cupid left for me this morning :)



Happy LOVE Day to all!

...we'd LOVE for you to continue praying for us and for what we hope will be our miracle Valentine baby(ies)...

XOXO

Out with it

After IVF #2, I stopped live-blogging about my cycles.  For some reason, it was difficult for me to provide updates on my third and fourth cycles as things progressed.  A part of me felt that sharing everything, step by step, caused more pressure during those times that were already filled with the utmost worry.  I sort of convinced myself that the more people knew, the more I'd have to explain when I learned that my cycle failed... again.  I also felt somewhat embarrassed that cycle after cycle, my body continuously failed me.  It became extremely difficult for me to deal with the ultimate let downs on my own, that I thought the less I shared, the easier it would be for me to fill people in on the negative results. 

Now, as I near my transfer date for my first ever FET, I'm feeling compelled to share the steps and progress in this cycle.  I chose to start this blog as an outlet for myself during this most difficult time in my life and I don't want to leave out major steps that I've taken along the way.  As my blog has grown a little and as I've connected more with great women, many of whom are also dealing with their own slice of unfairness that infertility has bestowed upon us, I've become more scared to share the reality of what I'm going through... currently.  And, I don't know why, exactly.  Maybe because I want to keep some of my journey private - not because I don't think I'll have the love and support of family, real-life friends and blog friends - but because dealing with the devastation of yet another failure is HARD.  I began to think that I needed to grieve my loss(es) before sharing with others.  And if I live-blogged about my cycle every step of the way, then perhaps I'd feel obligated to share that terribly awful news with everyone right away - before I would feel ready.  But as my current FET cycle has progressed, sharing and recording the steps have been on my mind.

This cycle has been different.  As mentioned, I've only ever had fresh IVF cycles.  With a frozen cycle, there is a lot less monitoring.  I've only had one ultrasound (on Friday) and three blood draws to test my estrogen levels.  I've been taking Estrace (orally) and haven't had to administer a single shot until Friday night when I was instructed to begin the oh-so-dreaded PIO injections.  With the differences in this cycle from a fresh cycle, have come much different emotions.  In my previous fresh cycles, I would celebrate the small victories as they happened (the addition of follicles, the growth of follicles, etc., etc.) and each time, those victories would bring me a little more hope.  This time, with a FET, I don't have those small victories to celebrate.  Instead, I'm left to worry, worry, worry.  Worry that my embryos won't thaw as they should.  Worry that this cycle will be cancelled due to the potential poor quality of my embryos after they've thawed.  And of course, worry that this cycle will fail... yet again.  I know that all of this is out of my control, but the worry is still there.  A lot of people say that FET cycles are easier on your body than a fresh cycle.  Well, I may have taken less medicine and less hormones this time, but my body doesn't feel much more rested.  In fact, mentally, I'm going nuts.  I feel out of the loop this cycle compared to past, fresh cycles. 

 

Anyway, this time, we are praying for a miracle Valentine baby.  My transfer is scheduled for Thursday, February 14th - Valentine's Day.  I told my husband tonight that my fears are really starting to set in.  It's almost as if, on the surface, I don't want to even go through with it.  Prior to a transfer, I know where things stand.  I know that I'm not pregnant.  Prior to a transfer, I've already dealt with the grief and pain of my past failed cycle.  I've begun to move on.  Hope and Faith have slowly begun to be restored.  But then, once I have a transfer, it's all up in the air again.  The potential for another loss is right around the corner.  The potential for another loss is real. 

But, the potential for success is also right around the corner, and is just as real.  And that's what I'm trying to hold onto.

So, as I try to crawl out from under my hole of cycle secrecy, I'm clinging to the fact that even though I may not have as much hope as I'd like to have this time, I know my family, real-life friends and blog friends will hope for me.  And you all have become so much more reason for me to share my journey - as it happens.  So, thank you.  And please, if you would, pray for us and for our potential miracle Valentine baby.

XOXO

Nemo, 2013

We survived what they're calling Nemo, the Blizzard of 2013.  The state of Massachusetts declared a driving ban, which began on Friday at 4 p.m. and was lifted yesterday (Saturday) at 4 p.m.  The MBTA, our state's subway, which we refer to as "the T" shut down on Friday at 3:30 p.m. and will remain closed until tomorrow.  I went to the grocery store Friday morning for ingredients for a great soup, but when I walked in and saw that there were no carriages left, I turned around and walked right out (I did see a woman leaving the store pushing a carriage with four gallons of milk, though.  I still don't get it!).

Anyway, here's how we spent our weekend (in pictures):

We relaxed and snuggled...

We took pictures as the snow started to fall...

We turned our kitchen table into a doctor's office (I started my PIO injections on Friday night... more to come on that in a later post):

We woke up to a covering of almost 30" (!!!) in snow:

We were finally plowed out and were able to play some more in the snow today:

  

And now I'm nursing my bum, which is already sore after only two nights of injections.

(Em)bracing the storm

Well, this is coming for us:

It's supposed to start tomorrow, really picking up tomorrow night, which is when we can expect two to three inches of snowfall per hour (!!!).  This morning, the meteorologist reported that even if this storm "misses" Boston, we can still expect about a foot of snow.  Oy. 

But it's okay.  This will be our first really big storm of the season.  We have plenty of fire wood ready to go and I have every single Dallas episode from this season recorded on my DVR (love that show!).  I have lots of hot chocolate ready to be made and will go shopping tonight for ingredients for a delicious soup that will surely keep us warm and our bellies full. 

And for this socially anxious (as of late), in sub-fertile gal, a weekend hunkered down with nowhere to go sounds pretty good!

February 6

Wishing my Nana a very Happy 93rd Birthday today!!!

And of course, Happy Anniversary to my husband and my best friend!

February 6th is a special, special day.

Thanks, Dad

You know how sometimes someone will say something to you and it will go right over the top of your head?  Or how, if someone gives you advice and it sounds sort of cliche?  Like this too shall pass or everything happens for a reason?  Well, as recently mentioned, I indulged in about four hours of wedding video watching on Sunday morning (our wedding video was edited by our best man who is not a wedding video professional (ha! I could have also just said videographer), so we basically have our entire wedding on DVD).  Anyway, since then, I haven't been able to get my dad's welcome speech out of my mind.

It's interesting, because watching the video, I can see that while I was definitely listening to my dad as he spoke to us that night, I certainly didn't hear what he was saying or what his message was... until now.  As part of my dad's speech, he spoke to Nick and I telling us how important a strong foundation is in a relationship - that, if you have a weak foundation your house will crumble, but with a strong foundation your house will last.  He went on to say that the good times are going to be easy and that we'll find those.  But the hard times... the hard times will find us and it's important to have a strong foundation filled with love and humor to make it through those times.  I've sort of had a lump in my throat ever since watching the video this weekend.  I mean, how foreshadowing is that?!  The hard times certainly have found us.  But three years ago, I had not a clue what my dad could have possibly been talking about.  I mean, clearly, I never in a million, billion, trillion, quadrillion (is this a word?) years would have thought that Nick and I would be dealing with infertility.  What forever had seemed like the simple act of bringing a baby into this world has proven me so, so, so wrong.  And with this, what I now know as one of the most difficult endeavors of my life - trying to bring a baby into this world, my dad's speech couldn't be more true.

So thank you Dad, for sharing that message with us three years ago.  Thank you for speaking from your heart and for speaking the truth that night.  I'll forever treasure your words.  I'm thankful today that Nick's and my foundation is strong.  And while we may not be getting through this hard time with humor, we at least have a whole heck of a lot of love that seems to be doing the trick.

To My Love

Dear Nick,

Today when you so lovingly grabbed the grocery list off the dining room table and went food shopping for us for the week, I hopped on the treadmill for a quick workout not even thinking about just how lucky I am to have you as my husband.  I normally workout to my "Today's Hits" Pandora station, but today I decided to pop in our wedding video instead, seeing as though on Wednesday we will celebrate three years of wedded bliss.

I LOVE watching our wedding video.  I love how it brings me back to that exact day... to those exact moments - when we exchanged our vows, wore the crowns that now hang above our bed, circled three times around the altar, were introduced for the first time as Mr. & Mrs., danced to our first song, cut our cake and so, so, so much more.  Every time I watch our video, a giant smile is plastered on my face.  True happiness comes back to me.  Happiness that I admittedly haven't felt in two years. 

For the past few weeks, I've had bittersweet emotions about our approaching Anniversary.  Of course, celebrating another three hundred and sixty five days as your wife is the sweet part.  But our Anniversary also marks yet another year that we're still just us - just you and me (and well, of course Belle, too!).  I'm embarrassed to admit that, this year, that's all I've focused on - what we don't have (a baby) and what we haven't accomplished (getting pregnant)...  Until now.

As I ran and watched as we danced our first dance, I saw the love in both of our eyes.  I felt the love in both of our hearts.  I saw our happiness - our true happiness.  I saw the love from our family and close friends there with us on that day (and I know that is here with us today, too, almost three years later).  Tears streamed down my face today as I watched us so joyously celebrating our marriage - I couldn't stop them.  Before I knew it, I was bawling as I ran.  Tears of happiness because I was remembering such an amazing day.  Tears of sadness because yes, I never would have imagined on that day, that almost three years later we'd still be baby-less.  But mostly, tears of sorrow because I am so sorry that I haven't been focusing on what I do have.  Because, I have you.  I have a best friend who has been there for me every single step of the way on this most difficult journey.  For every tear that I've shed, you've been there to wipe them away.  For every time I felt like I couldn't stand on my own two feet from the gut wrenching pain that a negative cycle causes, you've been there to hold me tight and to keep me from falling.  For every time I've wanted to lay in bed and skip making or eating dinner because sometimes depression rears its ugly head, you happily poured yourself a bowl of cereal.  For every time I've apologized because all of this is my fault, you quickly dismissed my apology and told me that we are in this together. 

You are an amazing person, my love.  You are kind, caring and loyal.  You are a good man and you love me even when I'm not so easy to even like.  I am beyond lucky for having you as my husband.  And while I sometimes feel very let down by God because of the cards that we've been dealt in terms of building our family together, I'll be forever grateful to Him for leading me to you - you are my everything.

I Love You, Nicholas.  And I always will.

Love,
Me

Quick FET Update

Frozen embryo transfer... wow!  What a difference from a fresh cycle!  It's almost hard to believe that I'm not at my doctor's office half naked every other day.  And in a really crazy way, I hate it!  Not that I overly enjoy my rather personal and frequent doctor's appointments during fresh cycles... but it's nice in a way because it's comforting knowing that I'm being so carefully and closely monitored.  So far this cycle, I've only had two blood draws to test my estrogen levels (which I guess look fine).  That's it!  I had been taking 2 mg. of Estrace, which was upped to 4 mg. on Wednesday.  Tomorrow, I'll add a third pill, totaling 6 mg.  I go back to the doctor for another blood draw on Monday.  I'm expecting that I'll be instructed to add the, always dreaded, PIO bum injections the following week.  I'm beginning to worry about my embryos making it to thaw, as this is obviously a huge step in a frozen cycle.  As I worry about everything that could go wrong, I'm praying for strength and a whole heck of a lot of hope and faith.

I feel very distant from this cycle as compared to my other four IVF cycles (all of which were fresh cycles)  in the past.  Perhaps it's the lack of monitoring, or maybe it's the fact that I'm losing some of my hope.  I've only ever received bad news, negative pee sticks and negative BETA's.  I want to protect myself this time.  I literally want to shield myself from the hurt and the pain that seems to only gets worse with every failed cycle.  I want to be able to move on to the next step if this FET doesn't work.  I want to be able to pick myself up and move forward.  I don't want to grieve... again.  I don't want to cry uncontrollably for days... again.  I don't want to go through any of this... again. 

But, I want my baby.  I want to make Nick a Daddy.  I want to be a Mommy.  Belle really wants to be a big sister (seriously, we talk about this a lot... and yes, I know, I'm crazy).  I want this to end.  I want to beat infertility.