First Office Visit for Q

My sister is expecting her 8th child, a boy, in June. We lovingly are calling this child "The Ocho." Yes, it should be el ocho, but The Ocho is funnier. While praying and waiting for Henry, we called him "Baby P". Well, now we are on to Q. I like this. It makes me think our second child will fashion lots of gadgets. Which will work well seeing as Q's older brother can turn a matchbox car into a cell phone at will.


Yesterday was my first official return to the wacky world of assisted reproductive technology. This time will be easier because I know what to expect and also, we'll be doing a frozen transfer of embryos harvested in the quest for P. So less shots, drugs, blood draws, ultrasounds, and waiting. And they have even switched the protocol from four months of progesterone shots to 4 weeks of shots followed by other means of progesterone therapy. SOOO happy about that one.


So I had my physical and trial transfer yesterday and got all of my prescriptions. My insurance may pick up the tab for the scripts this time as we're not actually trying to grow any eggs. We will be keeping our fingers crossed as this will save us around $700.


For now, I'm just beginning prenatal vitamins. (My hair and nails thank you, Dr. T.) At the beginning of my next cycle the craziness will begin. I'll start pill popping estrogen and baby aspirin and injecting progesterone. Then possibly around May 14th, we'll do the transfer.


They'll thaw out the embryo on the day of my transfer. I have four on ice. Because they were frozen in pairs, they'll thaw out two. My embryos are technically blastocysts at this point. This basically means they have greater cell division. Blastocysts are the most fragile and least likely to make the thaw of all embryos. That being said, should a blastocyst make it through the thaw, they are more likely to become viable pregnancies. So it could be that we thaw out 2, none of them are viable, so they very quickly thaw out the next two.

On the one hand, I'm nervous about the ethical (and logistical)dilemma that the thawing of two embryos at a time raises. What if both look fabulous? There is no refreezing these puppies and I'm also adverse to just tossing one. So then we'd have to transfer both. And then what? Pray for twins which will inevitably put me in the hospital on bed rest, wreaking havoc on Henry and Sloan? This is not a welcome thought. But it's a reality.

And so once again, I'm trying to trust without understanding. I trust that God is far more capable at managing all of the details. In fact, I'd say it is pretty fair to state that God is better at extending grace through my mistakes than I am at making good decisions. So there is some peace in that. Rationally, I'm quite calm about all of this. God is going to do His thing. He's going to show us His power and love for us. All I gotta do is wait and watch.

There have been no mental break downs this time around. I have yet to cuss out anyone I see that is pregnant. And I've been careful to only hold sweet babies like the 3 week old, Gray Brock, for a couple of minutes for fear I may want to steal him. Not that I'd really steal him. But the fact that I've consciously decided that it'd be better to steal a stranger's baby than a friend's gives me pause and insight into the depths of which my sin and desire for a baby could take me. So the restraint is really a stop gap to keep me from those baby-stealing thoughts. Yeah, it's funny for a bit--ha ha, don't leave me alone with your baby--but the fact that I've actually decided who amongst my friends' kids could be passed off as my own is not so funny. (Reppards, Puseys, and Cowleys are in the clear thanks to your fair haired genes.)

And yet, my body is still betraying me. As in, I've broken out in hives. Everywhere. At first I thought it was poison ivy from all of the yard work I've been doing lately. But the rash that used to just be at my neck spread to everywhere on my body save my back and face. And seeing as I'm not the type to do yard work in nothing but a bikini, it is safe to say it is NOT poison ivy. And, wouldn't you know it? The steroids the doctor has put me on mess with your cycle AND make you irritable.

Just what I need.

And yet, not because I'm level headed or pragmatic (2 words that have NEVER been used to describe me), I'm not really peeved about the snag this may or may not put into our plans. It is what it is. And this lack of hysteria, my dear friends, is a sign that God is at work already. I called the nurse at our fertility doctor's office to tell her that we'd probably have to wait until June to do the transfer and was completely cool with it. She thinks it may not mess me up, but I'm not even crossing my fingers.

What's an extra month? The earth will spin 30 more times. Big deal. I'll still have a lifetime to be Q's mommy and smother him or her with kisses. Besides, I've still got a big 'ol box of wine in my fridge and it isn't going to finish itself.