21; Here I Go Again on My Ovum

I know it’s been almost four months since I’ve updated and I should’ve had more than enough time to come up with a wittier title, but just like baby-making, blog-title brainstorming is something I have enjoyed not thinking about. There is SO much to catch up on here, but I think talking to my loved ones and my therapist have really given me what I’ve needed these past few months. However, I do want our history down on paper to be able to look back on and appreciate everything we’ve been through, so here is that post. And I’m going to do my best to keep it short because to be honest, the last thing I want to do today is write or talk about anything conception related.

Previously, on Baby Haupt or Bust, Jen waxed poetic about how infertility feels like being locked between two worlds, neither of which you have the key for. That’s still true, but these past five months since we found out we had a miscarriage again have been…really nice. Josh and I have started thinking about living our lives again. We have each lost some weight, and gotten back into running. We’ve started truly enjoying (not fake enjoying) the things that we used to again, instead of them feeling like filler until a baby gets here. It’s very freeing and I’m very happy we have been able to find that again. I wasn’t sure we ever would.

One of those experiences was staying at this really cool AirBnB in St. Augustine this past September (two words: treehouse bathtub). It was the only time we’ve stayed at an AirBnB twice. The first time was in March 2017, after we’d been trying to conceive for six months and hoping “getting away” would be the secret everyone kept promising us it would be. (Spoiler: No.) But we enjoyed it there so much, we went again this past September and really relaxed. I also saw a tarot/palm reader in downtown St. Augustine, to whom I told I had been struggling with fertility. She looked at the side of my balled-up first for a few seconds and told me 1. I’m fertile, and have a good eight years of fertility left, 2. I had two miscarriages, both boys, 3. I should get my uterine lining biopsied, because that was my issue and after I got it cleared up with antibiotics I was going to get pregnant without the help of IVF.

Funnily enough, I already had my uterine lining biopsied at that point and was waiting for the results. I didn’t mention any of this to her. It was the last test result I was waiting for after a clean bill of blood tests from both Josh and me to check for reasons I might have miscarried twice (no chromosomal abnormalities in any of us, blood-clotting issues on my end, etc.) and our PGS results on our five remaining embryos. The latter was…not good. One of the embryos didn’t survive the thaw, and out of the four that did that they were able to test, one — ONE — is normal. Meaning we have one embryo left to transfer if we want to try that again, which we will eventually, but I will get to that shortly. We didn’t find out the sex of the chromosomally normal embryo, but the three that were abnormal were two male and one female. And our normal one? Our 1BB. The smallest 5-day blastocyst. Which is hard for us to wrap our head around, but for now, that embryo is our little lifeline.

But back to my uterine lining. I got the call a few days later that I did, in fact, have an infection (endometritis, to be exact — different from endometriosis) in my uterine lining, and I did, in fact, go on antibiotics which did, in fact, clear it up, according to the pathology. The doctor isn’t sure how long I’ve had it, but he suspects it happened after the D&C in April last year, which is apparently common-ish. And it can cause miscarriage. I am trying not to think about the money we sunk into two more IUIs and IVF after that, as they could’ve been a complete wash because of this infection, but it does eat at me, I won’t lie. It’s devastating to think about that possibility. So I’d almost rather be in the dark about how long this has been an issue, if that makes sense.

The palm reader also told me she saw children in my future, specifically girls. Which…I don’t know how I feel about when it comes to psychics and such, but I do find it really interesting the way certain people who may be more attuned to someone’s vibe pick things up. For her to know I’ve had two miscarriages and to call out the uterine-lining testing like that kind of blew me away, and inspired me to be a little more open minded. Josh and I have saged our house twice in the past week, hoping to cleanse the air and our minds a bit to welcome positivity and newness into our lives, and neither of us would’ve considered doing something like that a few years ago. But years of infertility will really change you. Luckily for us, I think it has mostly changed us for the better, but oh boy did it take a long time to get where we are now. And we’re nowhere near done.

Speaking of “near done,” I think Josh and I are coming up on that point in terms of this baby path. Today, we did our sixth IUI, our first in over a year. We had them stim harder this time, and I produced 5 follicles on the left and one on the right — two or three they predicted would mature enough to release an egg, all on the left. If this try doesn’t work, we will likely try IUI one more time right after this and if that doesn’t take, come February, we’re going to transfer our final embryo. We wanted to try IUI again first because it has worked for us in the past, is cheaper, and we’d like to save that embryo for a second child since the best time to use my eggs is as soon as possible.

If I’m not pregnant by February, we’re considering a very big life change. Like, rent-out-our-house-and-move-to-NYC-for-a-couple-years change. Josh would need to find a job, but I’m very much hoping I can get on staff at PEOPLE next year and if Josh can get a job making what he makes here, we could do it, and be somewhat comfortable, albeit in a cramped space. And I think we’d have an incredible adventure. But for now, I’m going to take solace in the fact that my IUI went well (good sperm count, open cervix [I think – judging from comfort level based on past IUIs], good timing [again, I think, as I’m cramping like hell right now at 4 p.m. and the IUI was at 10:15 a.m.]). And hope that Haupt baby (or babies) come in 2020. Right when he/she/they were always supposed to. One day at a time.

11; The Numbers Game

So we had our egg retrieval yesterday morning. But before that, Josh had to give me a shot in the butt on Thursday evening (to trigger ovulation) that was probably our most stressful interaction throughout this process yet.

It would have been hilarious to be a fly on the wall in our living room as I lay face down on our couch, screeching about how he was directing the needle too high (he wasn’t) and then in the bathroom as I checked the spot he injected at over and over again. I then proceeded to call my nurse — she didn’t answer — and Google to make sure we put it in the right spot. Like it mattered, as it was already over. LONG STORY SHORT, it was fine.

So we showed up Saturday morning and I got into the robe and the hairnet and all that fun stuff, and I was already nervous as hell. So then the nurse messed up my IV a little. I saw so much blood. I started crying. She felt terrible. I apologized profusely later for making her feel bad because it didn’t end up being a big deal and I barely have a bruise but man was it stressful. It was probably my tense ass’s fault to begin with.

Proof I was being a baby.

So I went under and my doctor got *drum roll* 17 eggs. 17! Which is kind of my lucky number. It’s my birth date (March 17), the day Josh and I admitted we had feelings for each other, and also the day we flew to Europe, which was the beginning of our trying-to-conceive phase (when we got there, not on the plane). The latter two are Sept. 17, which also happens to be my half birthday. Hooray 17!

I’ll have 1/2 lb. of Boar’s Head muenster cheese with a side of solid embryo development, please.

There’s ^ a photo of a not-entirely-unlike-a-deli-counter device that Josh got to follow along with in the waiting room during the procedure, which was only 15 minutes long. He had no idea what it was for lollll but once the doctor told him they got 17 eggs he was like oh God, it all makes sense now.

We were over the moon at this number, all things considering. And then today they called us and told us of those 17, 11 were mature and nine fertilized. Nine out of 11 is an amazing rate of fertilization. We are both very happy, and I would like to thank DHEA for making our reality of getting this far a possibility.

Post-op happiness.

We should be getting another call tomorrow letting us know how many of those nine make it the next 24 hours, and then what the doctor predicts as far as how many will make it to day 3 (Tuesday).

Our ideal scenario is to have enough embryos to let them age until day 5 (Thursday), then either do a fresh transfer then or send them for PGS (chromosome) testing and do a frozen transfer in a few months…but we may skip the PGS testing altogether for a few reasons:

  1. It will add $4,250 to this first attempt. Yikes.
  2. There is a lot of conflicting data out there about the accuracy. The test plucks cells from the outer layer of the embryo and screens those, meaning it’s possible they aren’t picking up whether the nucleus/center of the cell — where the fetus grows — is viable. So those that come back abnormal could, in fact, be perfectly fine, and vice versa.
  3. There are studies that show for women under 35 (38 in some studies), PGS actually has no effect on live birth rate or miscarriage rate and could, in fact, lower the live birth rate. I’m 33, almost 34.

So we’re not sure at this point. We are hoping we know what the right decision is within the next few days. We do both know we want a baby ASAP but we’re also trying to be smart.

“Thank God the stim hormones are done.” – Josh, probably

Josh has done an incredible job taking care of me, supporting me in the ways I’m asking (or trying to ask — I struggle with directness) and encouraging me to allow myself to relax, which is something I’m very bad at. Last night, after shooting me in the ass again with a huge needle of progesterone (the first of many), he thanked me for putting my body through all of this.

It has honestly not felt as hard on my body so far as I expected it to, which I’m very grateful for because I know pregnancy is going to do enough of that. But I know this is a lot to go through regardless, and I’m glad he recognizes that. And that he’s up for doing the shots. He feels bad sticking me with a huge-ass needle, but as long as I don’t have to look at it, I’m fine. Bonus about them being in the butt.

Friday night, the night before the retrieval, we splurged and went out for Mexican. I kinda regret it because I’m still feeling gross from eating in a way I hadn’t for a month. But we each had our first alcoholic drinks — a sangrita (sangria/margarita lovechild) for me — and I regret nothing. I was definitely tipsy off of that one drink.

There was also this text convo from the bathtub afterward, which again was not my finest moment but here we are.

He hid the package after this.

Until next time…think happy embryo thoughts for us and future Bab(ies) Haupt.

(P.S. I hope both teams lose the Super Bowl. #GeauxSaints)