The little Boobal that could

Third time's a charm is an understatement.  But as I sit here trying to compose the post I have waited my entire adult life to write, I am lost for better way to describe it all.  I have thought about writing these magical words a thousand times over, and I am quite overwhelmed to finally have the opportunity to do so.  I want to get this right.  I want to use the right words to accurately describe how amazing Sunny Hubby and I feel right now.  How truly grateful we are to be able to share with the world that we, after three years of pain, loss and confusion, are finally able to celebrate.  Because...

 

It is still very surreal to say those words out loud and in front of people other than just the two of us.  Feels like, if we say it, it must really be real.  And it has taken us quite some time to let it really sink in.  But as the weeks have gone by, and we attend each obstetric appointment and glimpse the tiny, precious little life growing inside my womb and hear its magnificent heart beat, it is slowly and surely becoming real.  

I am just over 13 weeks along as I write this.  I wanted to be able to write this post a lot sooner, however the first trimester has been jam-packed with experiences that have left me both exhausted, unwell and overwhelmed.  My morning sickness, or as I refer to it - general grossness, hasn't been as horrible as people told me to expect.  I tended to get more nauseated as the day went on, differing in severity depending on how much rest I got the night before.  The migraines on the other hand have been a bit of a struggle to get used to, knowing that I can only take paracetamol and not use my trusty wheat pack on the back of my neck.  But, up until week 11 I was feeling rather proud of the fact that I hadn't had any major dramas or let the first trimester grossness get the better of me.  Week's 11 and 12 were much rougher on my system.  I had consecutive days of severe migraines, caused by high blood pressure and low blood sugar.  Followed the next week with an emergency department visit for a nasty kidney infection.  I am just now finishing up a long course of antibiotics for my kidney, and very grateful it is nothing more serious.

I won't lie, I make a very anxious pregnant woman!  I get nervous about every little back ache or stomach cramp right now.  But it's something that I'm working on with the help of my wonderful Husband, Obstetrician and close group of friends.  We are blessed to be surrounded by so many people who have been where we are now, and they never tire (or at least they pretend not to) of hearing my silly questions.  Right now we are just taking this incredible experience day by day.  We are fortunate also, to have our fertility specialist as our Obstetrician.  He has been with us for 99% of our treatment and we couldn't feel in safer hands with this little one.

People say that once you have your prayers answered, it'll be easy to look back and feel that everything that led to that moment was worth it.  All the pain, all the confusion, all the anger, all the loss of faith in yourselves.  And I now understand that.  God has an amazing way of fulfilling our hearts desires.  We need only wait, in faith, for Him to show us when the time is right.  This last IVF transfer was difficult for us.  I was upset the whole day, sobbing in the car on the way to the clinic, thinking that this was our last chance for a long time and how heart-broken we would be if it failed.  But He heard us in our darkest moments.  He felt the weight of our grief and chose February 6th, 2013 as the day to answer our prayers.  And as I watch my belly slowly start to grow, and hear our tiny one's strong heart beat on the monitor, I have never been more grateful for anything in my life.  Every single second has led Hubby and I together, and this baby into our lives.  Nothing is more important now.

 

    

The one where I get mad at God

This year is already off to a surprising and, let's say, challenging start.  Surprising in that I made enough real ovulation hormones to create a viable follicle and uterine lining and had an FET in the first week of January.  And challenging in that, despite all the positive signs and our doctor's enthusiasm, I got a very heavy, very scary fanny-blowout dead on seven days later.  

This loss feels very different from losing our first FET Boobals.   This loss feels very frustrating, very aggravating and also vindictive.  Problem is, I don't know why I feel like this, and I don't have anyone to blame.  And yet there is it!  I feel like we have been personally scorned and I don't know why.

Sunny Hubby and I have always had a strong faith in God.  We were both raised with Christian beliefs and have been mindful to include God in our marriage at all times.  We say our prayers, we give thanks, and we read scripture to enrich our daily understanding of the Lord's work.  And I was taught that when I pray, He hears me.  And that when He is silent in our lives, we are being put to the test; taught a lesson that will be invaluable to us for the remainder of our days.  God provides us with wisdom in many ways, but silence is by far the harshest of these.  And right now I feel like there has been radio-silence between the Big Man and us for way too long!

I know this post may spark up conversations in your own home, or may conjure thoughts that my faith is dwindling.  Let me reassure it is not.  I still wholeheartedly believe that God loves us and that we love Him.  It's just that right now I don't LIKE Him!  And I think that is ok.  I have a very open relationship with God.  We speak often and about all manner of topics.  I talk to Him while driving to work, doing to groceries, sometimes when sitting on the toilet even.  I tell Him about our lives (not that he doesn't already know every little detail), about our hopes and aspirations.  I say thank you and please.  I get cross at Him.  And then, eventually, I apologise for raising my voice or saying harsh things to Him.  My relationship with God is somewhat similar to my relationship with my Husband.  And I don't mean that like I think the two relationships are equal; more that both relationships thrive on open and honest discourse.  And so I treat God as is He were here, physically, living in our home.  Now of course I wouldn't say some things to God that I say to Hubby, I do add a slight verbal filter when I'm cross.  But, He gets the best of me, the worst of me, and the 100% honest version of me.  And trust me, right now He's getting it ALL!

I am mad that our FET's aren't creating lasting pregnancies.  I am mad that no one can explain why not.  And I am mad that this wonderful, surprise opportunity was dangled so carelessly close to our faces and then whipped away just as quickly.  And I am mad mostly at God for that.  And I think I'm mad at Him because I have no one else to be mad at.  Can't be mad at the doctors or nurses.  Can't be mad at the embryos.  Can't be mad at Hubby.  I have no one to blame, bar my dodgey uterus and ovaries, which is ultimately me.  And I am mad at me!  Never underestimate how infuriated you can be at yourself.  But I am also mad at God.  

Why?  Well, because I have prayed to God every day since Hubby and I were married (12 Sept 09) that He bless us with children.  Granted I did not specify a number or a time frame because we trust that He'll make the right choices for us.  (Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full. John 16:24)  After learning of our breeding difficulties our prayer remained essentially the same, but with a bit more specificity: please let us not lose another baby.  And for the last two years, that has been our daily prayer.  As God became more silent, we started to bargain with Him.  As the bargaining fails, we make more promises to Him.  Never committing to anything we couldn't achieve, never offering Him something we wouldn't deliver.  And as the silence continues you start to feel alone.  

Hubby has a much stronger constitution than I do about all this.  I think that's because he was born into a pastoral family and has been raised, physically, in the church.  My faith has been something I had to build of my own volition.  Something that I struggled with for a time, and came out the other side with full-blown Lord-loving.  Hubby likes to remind me that things can always get worse, and to see the positive signs in all things.  These are hard things to hear when you're down and out, and quite frankly feeling sorry for yourself.  But then this big sign comes along: *DING DING DING, YOU'RE A WINNER, YOU MADE YOUR OWN HORMONES!!*  And my optimism starts to recuperate.  

After praying one evening I came upon a bible reading that I hadn't explored fully before.  It has the story of Hannah, a barren woman who "poured out her soul to the Lord" to bless her with a son.  The Lord heard her prayer and granted her with a son, Samuel, "Because I asked the Lord for him". (I Samuel 1:1-20)  I have read and re-read this bible passage hundreds of times over in the last fortnight.  I have read it and wept, as I prayed that God would hear us now in our time of need.  I know that Samuel wasn't born straight away, and that Hannah probably spent night after night crying into her pillow the way I do, until her beloved son arrived.  But Hannah has become very personal for me.  Hannah has become a constant reminder that God does answer prayers.  And Hannah brought me reassurance that this little embryo might just make it.  

So when my period started so soon after the transfer I felt betrayed.  Betrayed by God.  I felt betrayed because He had heard Hannah and not me.  That He let another embryo die.  That my Heavenly family were gaining yet another baby that I would have to wait a lifetime to meet.  And above everything else, I felt betrayed because I know He has heard our prayers; I know that He feels our pain and anguish, and yet He remains silent when we need Him most.

My faith is not dwindling, but my heart grows heavier.  I have this well of grief and pain inside my heart that only one person can mend.  And that person is not just any person; He is the Lord.  
               

         

'13 - Lucky for some? (farewell 2012)

I remember this time last year I was thinking how glad I was to see 2011 disappear.  With all it's ups and downs, surely 2012 would be a bigger, brighter, more positive kind of year.  
Well it sure was BIGGER! So I thought I might do a bit of a re-cap on some of the more significant moments of our year...

• JANUARY - My awesome brother married his sweetheart in a beach side wedding, two days after our final attempt at IUI.
• FEBRUARY - I turned 26!
• MARCH - Hubby turned 30!
  
  
• MAY - I began the long list of medications to start our very first round of IVF.
• JUNE - We retrieved a massive 33 eggs during our first IVF egg pickup.  10 of those went on to become DAY 6 blastocysts and were frozen.  Physically I was a mess with a bad case of Ovarian Hyperstim and we weren't able to transfer back for a couple of months.
• JULY - Hubby and I decided it was time to shake things up in our professional lives.  I started a new kind of nursing job, which I love so much.  Hubby went back to university to study business, communication and public relations.
• SEPTEMBER - our first FET following three weeks of medications to build up my uterine lining.  We transferred back two of our embryos, and sadly lost them both.  We also celebrated our Third Wedding Anniversary with a coastal vacation.
• OCTOBER - I  re-started the meds for FET, but unfortunately my body did not respond well and we were forced to cancel our second round of FET.  We took this as a sign that we weren't quite ready to start again with the emotional roller coaster, and decided to take the rest of the year off from baby-making.
• NOVEMBER - We were very happy to learn that we were going to soon have a baby nephew.
• DECEMBER - With a very frantic countdown to the end of the year, Hubby and I made plans to have a very quiet Christmas.  This is starting to become a running joke in the Sunny household, as every time we plan something "quiet" it turns into the exact opposite. 
  Christmas was a lovely day spent with my family.  I don't usually spend a great deal of time with them, mostly out of self-preservation after many years of family disputes.  But we were very nicely surprised by how much we got along with them, and I was sad to drive away from them at the end of the day.
  We also ended up with a house full of Hubby's family, including Ma and Pa,  several sisters, nieces, a brother and some aunts and uncles.

2012 has felt like a monster of a year.  There were a lot of tears, a lot of stress, high anxiety, and heart ache.  But I am grateful for every moment.  It was also a year that brought us the creation of our Boobals (frozen embryos).  A year that brought Hubby and I even closer together; stronger together; cemented us together.  It was a year that we felt overwhelming love and support from our family, friends and all of you who read this blog. 

We decided not to make a New Years resolution list for 2013.  Our only goal is to remain hopeful that soon we will have a baby in our arms, and to stay thankful for each other.  We weathered 2012 together and now we know NOTHING is impossible!

As for the baby-making plans... well we have been ever so pleasantly surprised already.  A recent trip to my doctor proved that my body has enjoyed the time off we gave it, and I have managed to ovulate independently for the first time in over a year.  We are taking advantage of the this new-found hormone surge and will do another frozen embryo transfer (FET) a lot sooner than we expected.  I will endeavour to keep you up to date with all that as it happens.  But, as I'm sure you'd all understand, we have our anxieties about another transfer and so my updates may not always be full of detail.

For all my blogger friends out there I want to say thank you for giving me something to read when I didn't feel up to writing.  You have inspired me to come back to my keyboard again.  Congratulations to the many of you who recently found out you're expecting, or have given birth to your bundles of joy.  I may not always comment on your posts, but I share your happiness with you nonetheless and am cheering you on from afar!

To everyone who reads my blog and has stuck with us since it's inception, I say a BIG, FAT THANK YOU!!  There have been times when I've wondered if anyone really reads this rubbish.  But then I read your awesome comments and see all the 'likes' on the FB page and I can't help but smile a big, goofy smile.  

Whatever your plans for this brand new year, I hope above all else it brings you happiness.  I am rooting for you all!  And I really do love hearing from you, so please drop me an email, post a comment, like me on FB or volunteer to guest post!

Happy 2013!

Christmas trees, presents and tears

I got a text message today from a dear friend who lost her first baby this year.  She was sitting in her car, in the parking lot of the local shopping centre, crying her eyes out.  Her attempt at a normal round of Christmas present buying had proven too hard a task.  She was trapped inside her grief, inside her car, and didn't know what to do next.

It made me wonder how many of us have been in this same situation.  Whether it was at Christmas time, a birthday or anniversary, outside a friend's house as a baby shower goes on inside... How many of us have attempted to do something "normal" like buying a gift or simple grocery shopping, in order to feel "normal"?  And how many of us have broken apart at the seams in the cereal aisle, or surrounded by a crowd in the kids section of Target?  And why do we make ourselves feel so awful when this happens?

I am guilty of trying to act like a normal person since we lost our babies.  Planning parties, organising family dinners, and putting up our Christmas tree on December 1st.   I have tried to buy baby gifts for girlfriends, only to cry all over the gift wrapping.  And I am guilty of trying to pretend that grief doesn't blanket every emotion or thought in my heart and head.  And this seems to be exacerbated ten-fold when someone tries to do something lovely for me!  I can't receive a card or gift without immediately converting to the blubbering version of myself.      

But at Christmas time, we don't play these games in our house.  Christmas Day is a sacred day for so many reasons.  First and foremost it is the birthday of Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.  And in the spirit of hope, family and unconditional love, Christmas Day is also the one day a year when Hubby and I be and feel whatever we need to in that moment.  We spend the day in each others company giving and receiving gifts, eating our specially prepared meals and expressing whatever feelings overcome us at any given moment.  

For instance, we usually try to attend church on Christmas morning.  This is tradition that we were both raised with, and one we hope our children will be able to share with us too.  I hold Hubby's hand throughout the whole service as we pray and hear the message of the day.  I can hold my own pretty well until it is time to sing carols.  For whatever reason, for as long as I can remember, singing Christmas carols is for me like opening the floodgates on a year's worth of held in, pent up emotion.  The moment the choir begins rejoicing in "O Holy Night" I am slapped back into my chair, face in my hands, sobbing.  Some years the sobbing is with grateful thanks for the wonderful blessings in our lives, and sometimes it with sadness over not being able to share that Christmas with a beloved family member who passed away during the year.  But this year I know, and I am VERY prepared for the fact that all my tears will be for our babies.  

The thought of this terrifies me!  The thought of crying like a banshee in a church full of people trying to celebrate their own Christmases is mortifyingly embarrassing!   You see, I'm not a "pretty crier".  When I cry, and I mean really, REALLY get into a full on tear fest, I can not be accountable for the drooling, the oozing boogers or the groans that come out of me from somewhere deep within.  Usually when I feel one of these moments coming on, like my dear friend, I search for the closest exit to the room/building/situation and I find a warm, quiet place to hide.  Problem is, church is for some people that warm, quiet place to hide.  And on Christmas Day we are all going to be there together.  I have voiced these concerns to my Husband, who promises to come prepared with extra tissues stuffed into every available pocket, and a coat of some sort to drape around my shoulders so I can hide my face from onlookers.  And if need be, he will hold my hand and guide me out the front door and into a private corner so I can collect my dignity and redo my makeup.  My hero!

Let's face it, Christmas is a hard one.  There is so much expectation put on this single day to magically be able to visit ALL of our family, no matter how far the distance between homes, to cook a meal even a Master Chef would be proud of, and to be constantly chipper in a way that I feel can only be medically or alcoholically induced.  And the person who puts the brunt of this expectation on us is ourselves!

So here is my Christmas wish for you...
I pray that take a moment with your Husband or Wife and allow yourselves to really feel what is in your heart this Christmas.  I don't believe in self-pity or dwelling in grief, but I DO believe in acknowledging it and the role it plays in our lives.  So whether it be first thing in the morning, last thing at night, or you sneak away from your Aunts and Uncles at the family gathering, it really doesn't matter when.  You'll be surprised at how cathartic it can be to have a big old cry.  It may just be what you need to get you through the rest of your Christmas Day duties!

I also wish you much love this Christmas.  The love of our family and friends is the greatest blessing during our hard times.  And I pray that you feel love in abundance.

Merry Christmas everyone! 

All my love, 

Sunny xx  

 

The post that took three months to write

I have been hiding.  But you've probably all noticed that already.  
I have been taking cover in our little home, away from my computer and keyboard.  Away from writing, away from talking, away from facing the reality of what was happening.

Our call from the clinic nurse 14 days after our FET twin transfer was not a positive one.  But we already had a fairly strong inkling it wouldn't be.  I had started to feel the first signs of nausea and cramping at around 9-10 days post transfer, but they disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived.  By Day 13 I felt nothing again.  But we set the alarm nice and early on Day 14 so we could do the home pregnancy tests together.  We did two of different brands just to be sure.  One positive (only just) and one negative.  That was enough to convince me.  Three hours later the nurse called and confirmed what we already knew.  Our little ones didn't make it.

I think at first I told myself it was ok.  We had spent months before the transfer toughening ourselves up.  We knew the risks, we knew the failure rates, we'd been told that two embryos may not take as well as one.  But we'd made an informed choice together.  And then we suffered the loss together.  And it only really hit me when I saw my beloved Husband explaining what'd happened, through tears, to his Mum on the phone.  Our two tiny sparks were no more. 

I didn't bleed straight away.  My body didn't want to give up until it was medically induced.  And then when it did, so did my brain...  I couldn't stand the idea of going through this all again.  But our doctor encouraged a second cycle due to the high hormone levels still floating around my body, and that it would be of benefit in another cycle.  So we went ahead with more preparation drugs, however they did not take.  My body rejected the artificial hormones and we cancelled the cycle two days out from the FET.   Sitting in his office alone, weighing up the options of increasing my doses further or cancelling the cycle altogether, I fell apart.  He reached forward, grabbed my hand and told me it was alright to be upset.  He'd had such high hopes for Hubby and I, and even his heart broke for us. 

That afternoon when I got home, Hubby was waiting for.  I didn't have to say a word; didn't have to explain what'd happened during my appointment.  He had a fairly clear idea from the beaten look on my face.  It was right then we decided that we'd definitely had enough for this year.  2012 had been a bust.  We were grateful for the big steps forward we'd made; I mean, we still have eight beautiful, tiny, frozen miracles.  But, we were broken from our losses.   Not long after that we went into our cocoon, where we have been ever since.  We've had some exciting news from family and friends about their own pregnancies.  We are going to be an Aunt and Uncle again very soon to our first beautiful, little nephew, and we couldn't be more excited.  But as for our own baby plans, well they are on hold again for now. 

 

           

Our Candle

Three little flames burning bright,

For the three little ones not with us tonight.

Mummy and Daddy have always loved you.

x x x

October 15th - Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

Join us tonight at 

Sunny's Wall of Light  

for Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day.

October 15th, 7pm.

Share a photo of your little one's candle burning bright and feel the love and support.  

Because you are not alone in your grief.

Sunny xx