The Art of Being in Flow

I am frequently amazed at how quickly time can pass and by how much can happen in a short period of time. Weather shifts, decisions are made, memories are created, and growth happens. It is particularly useful for me to reflect on this fact after a period of time of feeling stuck. There are times, like most of the month of July, when I feel desperately stuck. I wonder when the shift will happen, where I will be after the shift, and if it will involve my desired outcome. It is also during these periods that I feel like nothing is happening. Then, I reflect back and realize that actually a whole lot happened and that I am indeed in a different space than where I started.

In May, after we learned that we could not do a fresh transfer, we decided to do a frozen transfer in August. That was our decision and we were sticking to it. While we would talk about things that we needed to start doing in preparation (e.g., acupuncture, ordering of injectable hormones, scheduling days off work) we just could not put that first step forward. So we just kept sitting with the decision. When the topic of donor eggs came up, we allowed ourselves to open up and consider an alternate path. We noted an immediate shift in our energy and found ourselves set into motion. So we went with the flow of this new energy, observing the roots and asking ourselves "What else?" It got us talking about the reality of the frozen transfer. And about our reasons for not doing a second round of IVF. Where were our decisions being made from fear and where were they being made from love and hope? Where were we in flow and where were we getting stuck?

 We discovered that the frozen transfer is not our desired path. We were both immobilized because in our hearts, in our essence, we were aware that we could get to the morning of August 13th and find out that C1 had not survived the thaw and that we would be in the same place we were January 1st with one more loss. We also realized that another round of IVF holds quite a bit of hope for us. The worst case outcome is that we do not get any blastocysts and we do a frozen transfer. Best case scenario, we get multiple blastocysts and can do a fresh transfer of two and keep some with C1 for later.  That realization put things in perspective.

For weeks we had thought that choosing another round of IVF was the fear-based choice; a choice based on the fear that C1 would not make it. The reality is that the frozen transfer was the true fear-based choice as it was coming from a space of finding out that I could not grow more eggs. Clarity. Understanding. Relief.

Over the past month, I became aware of the fact that one reason preventing me from saying yes to another round of IVF is the feeling of shame. Infertility is loaded with shame. From as long as I can remember, I had been taught that women have babies. Period. Making babies is our magical power and it just happens. My family is fertile so there was never any doubt in my mind growing up that I would make babies. When I discovered that I could not have a successful pregnancy on my own I was deeply ashamed and convinced I was a freak of nature. Over time I have realized that I am not alone in my experiences, that I am not a freak of nature, and that there is hope. There was shame around going to the fertility doctor. Then I heard stories from women who went for treatment and had success on their first try which provided hope and a layer of shame when the first round did not end up as planned. So what does it say about me if I need two rounds of IVF? Thankfully I now recognize that shame. I am calling it out and I am working to shift that story.

As soon as we decided to go for a second round of IVF we both found ourselves energized. Phone calls were being made and planning and hopeful energy was back in the space of our journey to parenthood. Our energy shifted 180 degrees and it became even more clear that we were on a choice that is right for us. There have been so many moments over the past 5 years that I have wondered what decision I should be making for successful pregnancy. Many moments of feeling lost and worried that I am making the wrong decision. But each step of the way, I have practiced being open. We have leaned into our marriage and the essence of our couplehood, and stayed in flow. I believe that has served us well and I also believe that these are all lessons that will continue to benefit us when we are parents.

We are back on the IVF roller coaster with hormones starting Saturday (August 2nd). The retrieval will be either August 12th or 13th with transfer planned the week of August 19th. We're envisioning two fresh, beautiful embryos for transfer.  We are also working to make other shifts to create the space for peace and passion in our home.  Each day is a conscious effort to step with awareness and with an open heart. Infertility and IVF does not have room for self-judging and closed spaces. Instead it is a constant invitation to allow ourselves be supported and to see what magic can happen. When we are in this practice, even during times of feeling stuck, we are actually making steady progress to shift away from what no longer serves us and into what we desire.

Hindsight is a real bitch

Infertility can be a terribly isolating diagnosis.  While I know that many women have infertility and that the majority of them have success stories to share,  there is always that voice in my head that is aware that their story is not my story. And while I am boosted to hear of so many success stories with IVF and other fertility treatments there are moments when my experience feels so unique and overwhelming that I need some more than hearing about other's experiences. There are moments when I would much rather have the crystal ball to be able to look ahead into the future to know if I am making the correct decisions. 

I have been depleted since the retrieval and the news that we needed to wait until August for our transfer. My energy has been low, my emotional realm has been zapped, and my mental realm is going gangbusters with fear stories.  I have been feeling stuck and wondering where release is going to happen. I have been searching for a reason for why I have been given the burden of infertility and why it is apparent that I have shitty baby making luck. I have been feeling regret about decisions in the last ten years of my life - none of which, in realty, I would change because of where I am now - most of which feel easy to blame for my current struggles. Regret is not a great emotional space to spend much time in. Feeling stuck isn't either and it can make me feel desperate for change change.

I have been going to Nia to dance with my experience, find my sweat, and be in community. These past two weeks, as I was taking class I have become aware of how I am finding the moves in a new routine and able to make the choreography work for me. I was flowing in and out of movement and into and out of community with ease. There is progress. There is flow. So I have been able to carry with my the awareness of progress and flow, no matter how small, with me outside of class. I have been able to remind myself that I am making good choices for my body. I nurture it through movement. I have been making better food choices, choosing to eat so that I feel better physically and not falling into the pit of emotional eating. And I have asked for help. 

We have been focused on the fact that we have a single blastocyst (C1) that is viable but that there is only a 75% chance it will survive the thawing for transfer. I practiced positive thinking and dreaming of our desired outcome but have felt deep regret for not doing the fresh transfer without the genetic testing. I have been meditating on a series of questions I once heard from Loretta Milo (Nia Trainer and Life Coach) - What do I want? Is there a different way to get what I want? Pete and I do not want another loss and that includes both the loss of the blastocyst during thawing and a miscarriage after transfer. Pete and I talked for a while about repeating the retrieval process to see if we can get more blastocysts for the transfer. Based on the information from our doctor and the clear message from my heart, we knew that was not a viable option.  Adoption has always been on the table but we have not felt ready to invest in that route just yet. So we continued to sit with the questions. 

Then a friend of ours stepped in and said "I want to donate my eggs to you."

Our first reaction to this was "no." For us, the recipients of the egg, it feels like too huge of a gift to accept and it was not something we had even talked about. So we started talking about it. Together, with our friend and her husband, we're exploring this as an option for us. There are so many emotions tied to IVF by itself, but considering a donor egg kicks it into high gear. It is really facing the limitations of my ability to create a baby. It is grieving the loss of my eggs as participants in making a baby. It is exploring what it feels like to have a baby that I will carry and deliver but that will not have any of my DNA. It is feeling out the fact that egg fertilization, even when it happens in a petri dish, feels incredibly intimate and it would not be my egg. It is processing what it means for the relationship with the egg donor - anonymous vs. friend. It is realizing that this option does increase our success in August.

A second blessing from the universe came at class on 4th of July. A woman I have taken Nia classes with for years approached me to let me know her story of infertility and that she eventually went with a donor egg. The rush of relief at meeting someone who had been through so many years of infertility and ended up with a donor egg was immense. It was the help, resource, and experience I was needing to find to pull me out of my fog of isolation and to show me hope.

I am thankful for each moment of progress and flow I have found in the past week. I am thankful that today I was able to spend time taking care of myself and able to get perspective on where I am going. I am deeply grateful that the Universe delivers what I need, when I need it, and that most of the time I have the awareness and open heart to receive. 

In transition

On Monday we found out the results of the genetic testing of our two embryos. We have one embryo that is normal and there was one that was missing the #8 chromosome. We have one. We have one little embryo that has made it this far. Monday I left myself get excited. I started picturing the transfer date, planning on what would be next. Then we met with the doctor. He let us know that only 3 of 4 frozen embryos make it through the thaw process. And after that, we have a 50/50 chance of pregnancy. My heart was crushed. I was overcome with regret that I had not done the fresh transfer instead of waiting for the genetic testing.  I feel like my choice to freeze this last embryo may result in its death and that feels really, really shitty.

When we were making the decision to wait for the testing, we asked the question of the chances were any different for success with frozen vs. fresh embryos. The response we got was not really. So we evaluated all of the pros and cons of waiting for the genetic testing and chose to wait. It felt like a solid decision at the time. Now I am terrified that my fear of a miscarriage will ultimately result in the loss of our final, normal embryo.

I have grieved the loss of the other 10. In many ways, I have been able to accept the loss of those embryos because they were not viable. They would not likely have made it, even in my womb. In reality, the fact that so many did not make it made me grateful that we had not tried to get pregnant again on our own. I looked at the numbers and realized that during our years of trying, the odds were stacked against us. I am thankful to the universe for giving me those 10 embryos. I have been able to find peace and healing in the process of retrieval, fertilization, and growing.

But it feels completely different with this last little one.

I desperately want this one to make it. I am so ready to be a mom. I have a strong desire to have a big baby belly. I want to not to be able to see my feet. I want to complain about being uncomfortable. To feel the baby kick inside of me. I want to buy baby clothes, prepare a nursery, and get excited for birth. I want to labor and deliver. And I want this little baby. Not another one, down the road. This one.

We are scheduled to transfer on August 13th and that is a freaking long time from now. Whenever I think about the fact that it is two months from now before we will know if the embryo can make it through the thaw, I am overcome by anxiety. I feel like time is slipping through my hands and that another year will be gone and I will be standing at the precipice of a new year with an empty belly. As I step out of the fog of regret, anger, and sadness I am finding the good in the two months I have been given. I am able to return to Nia where I know that I am able to heal physical and emotional wounds. I am able to go through a natural cycle, which will have me at a stable place for transfer instead of the hyperstimulated, not very happy place I was in after the retrieval. And I can do some spirit work to prepare for the first trimester of pregnancy.  I will count my blessings, note the abundance that surrounds me, and say a little prayer for my little embryo that is sitting and waiting to come home.

The reality of making a baby is that no matter how awesome the science is, no matter how perfectly I follow the directions, it is still a miracle. It still takes magic and I need magic.

The Power of Now

In my experience grief can sneak up out of nowhere and land like a ton of bricks, surprising both myself and those around me. It can be all consuming and crushing.  Sometimes it takes a trigger, like hearing a particular song or seeing something that is a reminder of previous lost pregnancies. Sometimes it can come from absolutely nowhere. Grief is infinite and nonlinear, moving like a wave through time and my body. Last Thursday night, I went to bed and read my book. My book is funny and it not at all about pregnancy, babies, or grief (or at least not in the particular chapter I was reading). Shortly after shutting off the light and laying in bed I was overcome with anxiety that transitioned into deep, deep sadness. I was grieving the loss of the 9 embryos that did not make it. I grieved the loss of the fresh transfer that we had so eagerly anticipated and planned for. And I worried for my two embryos that were sitting frozen in a lab, while we wait for the news from the genetics lab. My grief surfaced, rocked me to my core, leaving me exhausted.

I remember on Friday feeling a bit empty and stranded. The emotional and physical sensation was very much like the feeling I have felt in previous pregnancies just before learning that the pregnancy was over. I was positive it was a sign that this is not going to work. That the magic of all of the love and support that whooshed us into the process back in May had dissipated and that we were suddenly on our own. I was also at a loss with what to do with myself. I am an inherent planner. I love knowing what I am doing ahead of time and now that I found myself in a place of limbo with IVF I struggled to find my footing.

Then magic happened. I was gifted with a Saturday so incredibly rich with everything that my spirit needed; the day was uplifting and throughout the day my heart opened. My whole body soaked in the gifts of the day. Sunshine is good medicine for my body. As is fresh air, fresh fruits and veggies, laughter, time with friends, and getting moving.  I ate meals that day that were nourishing and exactly what my body wanted. We spent time in the sunshine talking with friends and participating in the farmers market community. I shared laughter with friends and went for a long walk. I released into being led by the universe from moment to moment, noticing that I was being given everything that I needed but did not know how to ask for.

Since then we've received messages from friends and family reminding us that they are thinking about us and sending us support. And each message is a gentle lifting up of my spirit and a reminder that the magic is not lost. We are not in this alone and we continue to be embraced by people who are holding the space and hope for us. And that is a very powerful antidote to the worry, anxiety, and grief. I entered this week feeling hopeful and more at ease. And for that, I am deeply grateful.

Believe

I admire my husband's ability to believe, wholly and completely that this round of IVF will work for us. That we will get pregnant. I love that he hears good news and that it bolsters his belief and makes it strong. I need to have that dose of optimism and faith that he provides because it sustains me during days like today when I am filled with doubt.

We have two frozen embryos that are waiting. Two samples are set to be shipped to the genetics lab on Monday with results coming a week later. I really, really want to believe that one of them is a viable embryo. I feel like not believing is giving up on these two little embryos and that if I do not believe they will not make it. But wow, waiting and hoping and believing for the next two weeks feels like a huge effort and I am tired, anxious, and wanting my answer now.  While waiting two weeks seems short in the scale of how long we've been trying, the fact that we have been waiting for years is precisely why waiting two weeks feels so epic. 

I sustained belief that this will work for us all last week and when we did not get to do a fresh transfer my belief faltered. I was boosted with the news on Sunday that we have the two embryos that grew enough for biopsy but there is a level of awareness of how old the embryos are vs. where we've gotten in pregnancy and, there is quite a bit of fear that neither will be viable.  I also received the news that if this round is not successful that IVF is not a viable route for us and that we'll need to talk other options, including donor eggs. Donor eggs had not even crossed my radar as a possibility and suddenly I find myself slogging through feelings of inadequacy for the hypothetical scenario of needing donor eggs. I am clear and absolutely believe that if there is a transfer, that I can sustain a pregnancy. I fully believe that my body is capable, as she has demonstrated a willingness to hold a pregnancy in the past. Why is it so challenging extrapolate that into believing that my body is able to produce at least one egg that becomes a healthy embryo? 

I know that we will be parents. I do not know how or when or what road will get us there, but I know it will happen. I pray to God that it happens with this IVF. While we wait we will keep doing what nurtures hope and we keep stepping forward in the process. We stand by our garden each day, celebrating the growth of our seedlings that we planted on Saturday, finding comfort and strength in seeing something tangible grow from our care. We lean in to each other and communicate. We allow ourselves to be supported by friends and family who bake cookies, send movies and books, and drop us little notes of love. And...we wait, believing that in two weeks time we'll be scheduling a transfer.

And then, there are the valleys

This week has been rough. I hyper-stimulated from the HCG trigger shot, leaving me feeling pretty yucky and spinning up my fears. Bloated, in pain, and guzzling Gatorade like crazy I have been desperate for relief from the symptoms and scared that it was a "sign" that this whole IVF thing was not going to work.

Throughout this process I have been keeping at bay the fear that there will be a moment that this dream will not end happily ever after. And I have been successful...mostly.  After 5 miscarriages it is not an easy thing to trust that pregnancy can happen for me. It is much easier to slip into the belief that I am cursed to cycles of losses. There is far too much data to support it. For years and multiple pregnancies we have dove into whatever it takes to improve our marriage, improve our health, and shift priorities to create space for a baby. And for years that dream has not manifested.

When we decided to go the route of IVF it was because we were hopeful that the process would work for us. It was also to get some closure on what has caused our previous losses. The answer to the question of "why" was lying along the path of stimulation hormones, progesterone, retrieval, fertilization, and transfer. Our analytical minds could understand breaking things down to the little steps and looking at it through a microscope to find out how it was all working. And then, we would end up with a baby at the end of it. Closure and dream come true - we're all in.

Of the twelve eggs harvested, 11 fertilized. We got the call this morning that of those 11, 8 had stopped growing and were losses. There are three that have slowly grown to this morning but are not at the stage for genetic biopsy. It was time to make a decision - do we do a fresh transfer without a genetic biopsy and hope for the best or do we see how much growth has happened overnight, biopsy, and schedule a transfer down the road?  It feels like a huge decision. It feels like a test of how badly do I want a baby. It feels like a test of my faith. My brain is clouded by the fact that 8 little embryos did not make it and those feel like little losses.

Am I choosing from love or from fear? I have great clarity that I do not want to endure another loss if at all possible. In there is a little bit of fear of what I may become if I lose another baby. Pregnancy loss is a dark place and each time it takes longer and longer to pull out of it. And my ability to find hope is diminished with each loss. So there is also a component of love for myself and my relationships in all of this.

But what if I am meant to take this leap, transfer what we have, and see what comes of it?

I am not sure what the *right* choice is. We have decided to wait on the transfer and see what happens tomorrow. If our three little embryos continue to grow, they can biopsy and then freeze them for a transfer date in 1-2 weeks. So for the next 24 hours we pray that our little ones keep going, keep growing, and that our dream is not over yet. We are both aware that this is completely out of our hands and that we are riding the wave of becoming parents. Yet, that feeling of powerlessness does not get easier and the frustration of really wanting something and not being able to do anything to manifest it is ever present.

I am aware that the news that we received this morning is our answer to "why." The majority of my fertilized eggs do not result in a genetically viable embryo.  I won't ever know why my eggs did not produce viable embryos in all 11. It could be from exposure to toxins, genetics, really bad luck, etc. But I do know that it means that the previous losses were not because of something I ate, or going to a concert, or any of those actions.

I enter my day feeling quite a bit of sadness at what is not meant to be, desperate hope that our three embryos are viable and flourish, and a sense of closure.  I am also moving with a little bit of fear of what the news will be tomorrow. But all I can do is move through the emotions of today while holding tight to my hopes and dreams. It is not over for us.

An Agnew dozen

We are officially t-minus four days from the transfer date. On Sunday, May 26th we will be headed to Dr. Thompson's office to complete the transfer of our embryo(s), welcoming them "home." We're currently circling in a holding pattern, waiting to hear how many of our embryos can be biopsied and then again, how many of those biopsied are good for transfer. It is kind of a numbers game right now. And, we're kind of killing it.

The retrieval was very successful. They were able to collect 12 eggs, right on target with the statistic that 2/3 of follicles will produce eggs for retrieval.  Peter (AKA Gladiator of Loin Juice) provided his army of soldiers who were delivered to their task immediately. And to apparent success - eleven of the eggs fertilized, surpassing the statistic of 80% of eggs fertilize.  We are spending the next five days encouraging along our little embryos so that they might grow enough for biopsy on Saturday and so that we get a number of embryos for transfer.

One of the things I am thankful for is that I have been able to shift some stories I have had about my body this past week. At the start of IVF I had the belief that my body "did not like" synthetic hormones and that I would not be able to take them without major side effects. I had the story that there was something fundamentally wrong with my ovaries and that I would not generate more than 6 to 8 eggs in this process. I had the story that I could not handle anesthesia and that it was going to be "hard." My truth is that none of these stories are true. I was able to handle the hormones with minimal side effects. The majority of the symptoms came after the very first dose and then my system seemed to equilibrate. More amazingly, my body really responded to the medications and grew follicles faster than we all expected, moving everything up by two days. I grew TWELVE eggs that were happily harvested this week, while under anesthesia. I woke up from anesthesia feeling great after about 30 minutes, able to enjoy a sweet afternoon and evening with my honey.

So now that all of those stories have been busted as myth I am now aware that my biggest story - that I am not able to carry a successful pregnancy - could be bogus as well.  This is a big story. It is the thesis statement of my relationship with myself and my pregnant body and one that I have been working on shifting for a long while. I am aware that my self-healing has been chipping cracks into this story and I am ready to break it wide open and emerge from it with a full, happy belly.

I am using today and the rest of the week to tie up loose ends and to create the space for me to take care of my newly transferred embryos through rest and ease. I am calling in support through acupuncture and family for support this weekend, before and after the transfer. I am visualizing the most comfortable, welcoming, and warm environment for implantation and growth to happen. Both internally and externally.

Grow, grow, grow little embryos. We are ready.