Thursday, October 3, 2013

That One Time We MADE A BABY

So, chances are you're here from Facebook, because I just dropped the most epicly fantastic bombshell ever - and now you want to hear all the super fun TMI details about how it happened.  (Because you know there will be plenty.)

If, however, you aren't hailing from Facebook, and you've read the title and happened to glance down at the picture below and are about to wet yourself from the anticipation...

Yeah.  That's Baby Milne, the tiny peach-sized human currently residing in my uterus.  (The ultrasound picture is a few weeks old, but it's the best one I had.)  

Any of you that have been reading my blog, may or may not remember that back in March I mentioned that we had met with our fertility specialist, and she gave us a 75% chance of getting knocked up if we did In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) - but that I had no intentions of sharing with the internet when we actually planned on doing IVF, just to avoid all the, "Did it work?!" questions that would inevitably follow the procedure.  Because if it did work, I didn't want to have to tell people so early, because I'm a paranoid spaz.  And if it didn't work, I was going to have to have a meltdown every time someone asked about it.

So, now I feel comfortable telling you that we finally did IVF back in July.  Obviously it worked and Shawn and I couldn't be any more thrilled if we tried.  I do feel a little overwhelmed with writing this blog post.  There are so many things that have gone down in the last several months that I’ve been dying to overshare on the internet, but haven't been able to.  Which is why we’ve had a bit of radio silence going around here in these parts.  Nothing came even remotely close to as interesting as making a baby was.  So forgive me in advance if this post takes you 17 hours to read, but you know how I roll.  Plus, everyone loves a good "How I Pushed My Baby Out My V-Hole" story, but how often do you get to read to the non-pornographic version of the"How We Made Our Baby" story?

Anyways, I've been trying to figure out how to write all this down - and I decided that I'm just going to go chronologically with dates that different things happened, at least for this particular blog post.  This'll just be the getting pregnant portion of this story.  The actual being pregnant portion will come later.  Promise.  So, go grab a Diet Coke and settle in.  It's time to read about a miracle.

(May 25, 2013)

After a lot of praying, countless meltdowns, and saving a lot of money - Shawn and I finally decided that after two and a half years of failed attempts at trying to start a family, we were ready to take a massive leap of faith and start the process for IVF.  

Spending so much money on a procedure that might completely fail, was not a decision that came easily.  Shawn always asked, "But what if it doesn't work?" and the only answer I could ever muster up was, "But what if it does?"  I was willing to do nothing short of lighting myself on fire to get pregnant (because, you know, that works).  And although adoption has always been an option, I knew that my heart would never be fully in that particular route if I didn't exhaust all my options of getting pregnant myself.

So, we let our doctor know that we were ready - and this was the day she started me on birth control.  Yeah, I know.  Seems kind of counter-productive, right?  But apparently that's just protocol for IVF - the birth control apparently resets your system and makes sure that you won't magically get pregnant right before giving the doctor 15 thousand dollars.  Because that would be tragic.  

Or, if you're me, the birth control is just a trial run of pregnancy symptoms, to make sure you really want to grow a baby.  I mean, my boobs were fireballs of extraordinary pain.  I was a champion nap-taker.  And pooping.  That had to be a glimpse into what giving birth is like.  Except it felt like I was giving birth to an damn velociraptor.  And the thing that kills me, is that you can spend so much time trying to expel what feels like 8,000 shards of glass, only to find a Skittle-sized bunny turd in the toilet.  And I realize that brings my blog to a whole new low.  But seriously.

(June 3, 2013)

Speaking of poop, this was the day Shawn just about crapped his pants.  It was our appointment with the "IVF Coordinator", Tanya, more fondly known as the woman I'd end up calling 800 times throughout the next few months with truly ridiculous questions about symptoms, if I could take certain medications, and if it was okay to have sex yet.  Shawn remembers her as the woman who handed him this piece of paper:

We knew this wasn't going to be a cheap venture, but seeing all those numbers right in front of our faces was a little soul-crushing.  The look on Shawn's face and his tightened grip on my hand told me that his heart had just sunk clear to his butt.  At first glance I was like, "Okay, $7,900 doesn't sound that awful."  But as she went through each item, that total got a a lot higher at a very unnerving pace.

Then she handed us this sheet of paper:

It was our IVF schedule.  Yee haw!  Some of the dates were tentative, depending on how my baby maker responded to the drugs, but it was kind of fun (with a side of totally overwhelming) to be able to see everything at a glance.  

She briefly went over the calendar, and answered our questions about it.  Then she told me I'd need to go to the store and buy some low-dose Aspirin and two vinegar douches.  

Douches?  I had no clue what on Earth I needed douches for.  Well, I mean, I know what douches are for.  But I wasn't totally sure how they were relevant to baby making.  So, instead of being normal and asking about it, I just smiled and nodded my head like I've been douching it up since I was 15.  Which, for the record, I haven't.  I had never even seen a douche.  Minus the ones who suck at driving.

Anyways.  She asked what my blood type was, and I told her B+, and that I had it on of those Red Cross cards.  (I've donated blood exactly one time in my life, and it was solely so I could get one of those cards and figure out what my blood type was.)  Naturally, I couldn't find the card in my black hole of a purse, so I had to get tested for that, as well as several other STIs.  You know, just in case I had decided to whore it up and contract Chlamydia in the last year.  So they drew my blood, she answered a few more questions we had (none of which I can even remember at this point), and then she gave us some paperwork about financial aid.

After we left, I was feeling pretty good that we were finally making some progress towards making our very own miniature Chelsea-Shawn hybrid.  It felt good to have a plan.  A new plan. A plan that almost quadrupled our chances of a pregnancy.  

(June 10, 2013)

Before I could start my IVF protocol in July, I had to have a water/saline ultrasound.  It's pretty much where they shoot an ass-ton of water up your v-hole with a catheter, and then they check out your uterus to make sure there aren't any polyps, fibroids, or anything else that would prevent an embryo from implanting into your uterine lining.  Super fun.

So, I wasn't overly concerned about the procedure, only because up to this point, I've had a bazillion different wands, tubes, and medieval contraptions shoved up my vagina - so this couldn't be much worse.  They shot the water up there and looked around on the ultrasound.  And noticed a really small polyp.  My doctor said that it was so small, that it might end up going away, but it was still significant enough that I might need surgery to get it removed.  Lovely.  She wanted me to come back next week to see if it was even still there, because she didn't want to send me to surgery if I didn't need it.  Hey thanks, doctor.

After she was finished, she let me know that I might leak a little bit from all the water, and handed me one of those super thin pantyliners, just in case.  So I put my pants back on, with the the pantyliner, and all of the sudden it was like NIAGRADAMNFALLS in my pants.  I felt a massive gush of water, and looked down at my crotch to find that my jeans were completely soaked through.  Every step I took, more and more water gushed out.  

See?  (Because yes, I took a picture.)  And that went clear over to my butt too.  So, needless to say as I walked out to the lobby, where several woman and their husbands were waiting, I was nothing short of completely mortified.  I don't know how my nurse thought for even a second that the tiny pantyliner they hooked me up with was going to stop that monsoon from happening.  As I was checking out, and could feel everyone's eyes staring at my completely soaked ass.  I cracked a joke about how they should give out diapers after water ultrasounds instead of the ridiculous pantyliners they give out.  The receptionist laughed, in the most uncomfortable, OMG-DID-SHE-JUST-SAY-THAT way, as I hauled major ass out of there.

(June 17, 2013)

Went back for my second water ultrasound - which I came fully prepared for.  I had sweat pants on and one of those enormous overnight pads that go from the top of your buttcrack to your freakin' bellybutton.  They did the ultrasound, and found that the polyp they saw the week before was gone.  My doctor said it must have just been a nick from the catheter.  So that meant no surgery - hooray!  They handed me another teeny pantyliner, and I told them that after last week's pool party, I was already well-equipped with a diaper of my own.  Crisis averted.

(June 23, 2013)

I was supposed to start a 10 day round of antibiotics today.  I didn't actually remember until about 5:00pm that night, and hadn't even had my prescription called in.  I panicked hard.  I was convinced that I was already effing up my cycle.  I called Tanya and told her I was already failing IVF, and she assured me that as long as I finished the antibiotics before I started the IVF meds, I'd be just fine.  I ended up getting the prescription that night anyways, because I'm a paranoid freak and didn't want to challenge the all-powerful calendar.

(June 29, 2013)

The specialty pharmacy I was getting my drugs from called this day to let me know my grand total was $2,500 bucks.  We had applied for some financial aid from a program, and I wanted to wait to hear from them before shelling out the goods for my medications.  So I thanked the pharmacy for ruining my day, and told them I'd call back.

(July 1, 2013)

Finally heard back from the financial aid program, and they gave us 50% off of one of my medications.  It only saved us about $400 bucks when all was said and done.  But hey, $400 bucks is better than $0 bucks.

(July 2, 2013)

Last day of birth control pills.  Happy dance!

(July 6, 2013)

All my drugs finally came in the mail.  It was like Christmas, except not really.  

(July 8 , 2013)

Today was the big day.  Well, one of them, anyways.  It was Day 1 of our IVF protocol.  I went in to get what's called a "baseline ultrasound", which is basically the ultrasound they do at the beginning of a cycle to make sure your uterine lining is good, and that you don't have any cysts.  I had been on birth control for the last several weeks, so I knew I was good on the cyst front.  They told me my lining was a little bit thick, probably since my period hadn't started yet - but that it was still okay to go ahead and start the drugs.

Then I had to hand in about 8,000 different consent forms saying we understood the side effects of the drugs, the risks of anesthesia, and what we'd want done with our embryos in the case that one or both of us died - that was a nice, morbid conversation to have with Shawn.  

Then the nurse took me into her office and showed me how to do shots.  

Juuuuuust kidding.  Well, about the alcohol part, anyways.  The only alcohol involved was in a wipe used to sterilize where I was going to jab myself.  (But seriously, you know that "Shots" song by LMFAO?  It's kind of completely awful (and totally catchy), but every time I'd give myself shots, I'd always be singing, "SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTSSHOTSSHOTS SHOTS SHOTS! EVERYBOOOODY."  How can you not, really?)  

Anyways, I wasn't a stranger to jabbing myself with needles, I had done it in past cycles, so this was more of a refresher course.  That's not to say I was good at it, by any means.  When I went home later that day to take my first round of drugs, I squirted all sorts of medication across the bathroom.  I've talked to several women that are appalled that I do the shots myself.  Like hell I'm going to have Shawn stab me and not know when to expect pain.  Because some of those meds sting like a beeotch.

After the ultrasound, the consent forms, and the shots, it was time for the part both Shawn and I had been dreading.  I walked over to the receptionist to check out, and she cheerfully said, "It's payment day!"  Sigh.  She pulled up our file and with no hesitation said, "Looks like you're going to owe $10,000 today."  I whimpered.  A lot.  The women sitting in the lobby behind me were all like:

We had a few different checking accounts we were using, plus a Flex card - so I started handing her 8 bazillion cards, while muttering that this had better work - or my husband may or may not set their fertility castle on fire.  (Words that may or may not have come out of his mouth at one or several points in time.  Hint: They did..)

(July 13, 2013)

This day was my first ultrasound to see how my ovaries were responding to the 6 days-worth of shots I had been giving myself up to that point.  I figured my ovaries had to be doing something, because every time I laughed, pooped, or sneezed - it felt like my ovaries were going to explode in a big way.  Nevertheless, I was still nervous.

Our ultrasound tech came in, and was probably the nicest person I've ever talked to in my life.  She kept telling Shawn and I how funny we were.  And I'm pretty sure she was just saying it to be nice, but it certainly didn't stop Shawn and I from cracking vagina wand and ovary jokes.  (Vagina wand, referring to the ultrasound stick they use for transvaginal ultrasounds.  And for those of you who haven't had the pleasure...)

Pretty horrifying, right?  Anyways... She got all up in there and was instantly amazed at my champion follicle-producing ovaries.  (And if you're not familiar with what a "follicle" is - it's pretty much a sac where the egg will eventually be once it has matured.   Generally, women who aren't on ovary-stimulating drugs will have one dominant follicle every cycle.  Women who do IVF and have a good response to the drugs will *usually* have somewhere around 15ish (though it totally varies.))  She started to count all the follicles I had (and how anyone can tell anything apart on an ultrasound is just beyond me), and she told me that I had more than 30 follicles on each ovary.  That is a lot of follicles, guys.  So apparently when you tell my ovaries what to do, bitches be crazy over-productive.

Also, apparently my nervousness manifests itself via butt sweat.  So when I stood up, my bare ass pretty much took the whole roll of paper covering the bench with me.  Real classy.

(July 14th, 2013)

Went in for another ultrasound today.  The ultrasound tech was equally as astounded at how many follicles I had as she was the day before.  She finally stopped counting and said that I had plenty on each side.  None of them were "mature" yet, and that's what we were waiting for.  Once the follicles are mature, you can go in and retrieve the egg.  And by 'you', I mean a highly-paid medical professional.  They had me start another drug called Gannirelix - it's another shot that more or less prevents the follicles from releasing the eggs on their own - because that would be less effective.  And as much as I want kids - I think I'm okay to not have 30 at a time.

Oh, and just like the calendar says, today was the last day for sex.  You can imagine how thrilled Shawn was.  Homeboy may or may not have had one serious draught for the next month.  Sorry, husband.

(July 15, 2013)

Went in for another ultrasound to see how my dozens of follicles were growing.  As the ultrasound tech and I were shooting the breeze while she wanded me, I told her that I had just learned that the "Lime in the Coconut" song was about adultery.  Naturally, she didn't know either and was super shocked.  Which is when it suddenly dawned on me that I really meant the Jimmy Buffet, "If You Like PiƱa Coladas" song.  She laughed pretty hard.  And I felt like the dumbass of the century.

Anyways, I still had plenty follicles, and several of them were making good progress.  She told me I was on track to have my egg retrieval on the 19th, just like my calendar said.  I was pretty proud of my ovaries - even though they felt like giant bowling balls of fire.  This is around the time that I started Googling about egg retrievals and found women who went in for their retrieval and ended up with a bunch of empty sacs.  So just as I was starting to feel a teeny bit confident - I suddenly was consumed with paranoia that my little follicle farm was going to be a bunch of empty sacs of fail.

(July 17, 2013)

Today's ultrasound showed several mature follicles.  They told me to take the shot I had been given to "trigger" ovulation later that night.  Later that evening my nurse called and let me know that I needed to take a different shot than I was planning on.  I had to drive 40 minutes back to the office where she had the shot waiting for me.  The shot I was originally going to take, would lessen the chances that I'd overstimulate my ovaries and end up in the hospital.  But my doctor wasn't overly concerned that that would happen, so she switched me to an HCG shot that helps mature lagging follicles while simultaneously triggering ovulation.  Fun times!  (Keep in mind that taking the HCG shot also meant that I would get a false positive pregnancy test for about the next 10 days. Because that's what I needed.)

After I got home and took the shot later that night, I had a complete freak meltdown about IVF not working.  Thank you, hormones.  I had to remind myself that hey, I was finally done with all my shots and even closer to a baby.  And I had a stomach full of gnarly bruises and pinholes to prove it.  T-minus 36 hours until egg retrieval time.

(July 18, 2013)

My doctor's office wanted me to call and let them know if I got a positive pregnancy test this morning - I guess to make sure that I'm not a moron and actually gave myself the HCG shot the night before.  Lo and behold, it was positive.  And even though it was totally fake, it was still awesome to see the all-elusive second pink line show up.

My anesthesiologist called to make sure that putting me under wasn't going to kill me.  Got my medical history, and told me to be ready with $500 the next morning.  Sure, dude.  Let me just go out back and pick some money off my tree.  Sigh.

Remember those douches the IVF coordinator told me to make sure and buy?  Well tonight was DOUCHE NIGHT.  I feel really ridiculous admitting that I had no idea what a douche even looked like.  I must have imagined something pretty horrifying in my mind, because pulling it out of the box was the most anticlimactic moment ever.  Turns out douches are just water bottles with a long-ass vag nozzle.  (Suddenly the term 'douche nozzle' made perfect sense.)  But hey, if it was going to get my egg runway squeaky clean for the retrieval the next morning, then whatever.

(July 19, 2013)


I started out the morning with another douche.  Because apparently vaginas are that gross.  Shawn collected his "sample" in a cup, and was sure they'd all be flexing for the embryologist.  We got to the doctor's office, and they had me put on one of those fun gowns where your whole ass hangs out.  I laid down, and the anesthesiologist started prepping to knock me out.  The last thing I remember was them telling Shawn to kiss me, because he wasn't allowed to stay for the procedure - he kissed me, my eyes rolled back to my brain, and I was gone.

If you're curious about what exactly happened while I was knocked out, watch this video:

If you don't feel like watching the video, pretty much my doctor stuck a giant needle up my lady business and poked all the mature follicles I had on each ovary, and took the eggs out of each of them.

Waking up from the anesthesia was probably the weirdest feeling ever.  I was just gone for a half hour, and had no idea what had just happened.  They could have paraded me around the office buttass naked, for all I knew.  As I woke up, they welcomed me back to the world and told me I did great (as if I could have done anything, I was dead to the world), gave me the warmest blanket ever, led me to a cozy "waiting room", and told me my doctor would be back to tell me how many eggs they retrieved.  As I sat there telling Shawn how my ovaries were on fire, our doctor came in.  She told us, with a smile, that they had retrieved 36 eggs!  I remember her telling us before we started any of this, that they're usually happy if they can get about 10-15ish eggs.  Apparently my ovaries were just making up for lost time.  A wave of relief instantly washed over me.

The doctor went on to say that because I had produced so many eggs, she was a little worried about something called Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (OHSS).  Remember how I had 48329483290483920432 follicles?  The problem can be that they're filled with fluid, and that fluid can start to leak into your stomach - which would not be fun.  She told me to start drinking Gatorade/Powerade like it was no one's business - and drink one of those whey protein shakes every day - because supposedly it would all help reduce the fluids.  She then told me that my ovaries were 4 times the size they usually were, so I might feel pretty tender for the next few weeks, and I should take it easy for the next few days.

She reminded me what we were going to do with the eggs.  There's a procedure called Intra-Cytoplasmic Sperm Injection (ICSI), where instead of letting all the sperm swim around in a petri dish and find the egg on their own, they inject the sperm right into the egg.  Generally couples who have male-factor infertility (crappy sperm) will use this method.  We had decided that, although Shawn had great swimmers, we were going to ICSI half of my eggs, since we didn't actually know if that could have been our problem - that Shawn's sperm and my eggs hate each other.  Then the other half we were going to do the normal, sperm-swims-to-the-egg-on-its-own way.  That way we'd be able to tell if they could even fertilize to begin with on their own.  They were going to call us in the morning with our fertilization report.

Also, if you feel so inclined, this is a short video of ICSI being performed on an egg.  It's actually pretty cool that ICSI is even a thing.

As soon as I got home, I went straight to my bed and curled up into fetal position.  I was sore.  I was so paranoid about getting OHSS that I'm pretty sure I drank about 6 things of Gatorade that night.  You know, because that's healthy.  Bob had to have known that I was feeling a little yucky, because as soon as I laid down, he instantly came and snuggled right up to my ovaries.  Atta boy, Bob.

(July 20, 2013)

When I woke up the next morning, I was definitely feeling yesterday's retrieval.  My ovaries still felt incredibly sore, I was crampy, and it hurt the bottom of my rib cage when I'd breathe.  I started to get nervous about possible OHSS, but I still hadn't gained any weight and I was still peeing - which were signs they said to watch out for - so I figured, if anything, it was just a mild case.  Even so, I kept drowning myself with Gatorade.

Today was also the day I started progesterone vag pills.  They were different than the waxy vagina bullets I've talked about in the past.  They were actual pills, but came with tampon-like applicators to push them all up in there.  I had to do this 3 times a day until around 11ish weeks.  Not something I was really looking forward with all the disgusting chalky discharge that accompanied the pills - but if it was going to help my baby, then fine.

I had a baby shower and a wedding shower to go to that day, and it kind of made me feel like dying.  I sent Shawn to go pick up the gifts - and like a champ, he did it without complaining (not to mention all the women were super impressed when they found out that Shawn had picked out the most adorable baby outfit allllll by himself. Way to go, husband.)  I was having a hard time even moving without wanting to drop to the ground and take a nap.  The part that made this even more difficult, was that my family had no idea we were doing IVF.  We wanted to be able to surprise both our families with the news if it did work - and we knew we wouldn't really be able to do that if they knew we were doing IVF.  So there I was, hobbling around like a senior citizen and making up excuses to my family about why I was drinking so much Gatorade.  I started feeling super bloated, and managed to secretly completely unbutton my pants during both showers.  Practice for later, I suppose.  My mom even asked at one point, "Are you sure you aren't pregnant?  Dad and I were noticing your boobs look huge!"  You know, in the least creepy way possible.  I told her I had bought an awesome bra, and it was all an illusion.

After I finally got home, I went straight back to bed - and that's when the embryologist finally called with our results.  My heart was racing.  He told me that they had done ICSI on 24 of my eggs, and 18 of them fertilized - and they had done the normal IVF on 10 of my eggs, and 5 of them had fertilized.  We had 22 EMBRYOS!  22 beautiful embryos that were all ours.  The even better news was that Shawn's sperm like my eggs!  I managed to forget that my babymaker felt like a war zone for a few minutes, because I was feeling so awesome.  They said they'd call again on the 22nd to tell us how all our embryos were doing.

(July 21, 2013)

Still felt pretty crappy.  I was bloated like no one's business.  Oh, and pooping made my ovaries feel like they were going to fall out - which is kind of a stressful feeling when you're trying to take care of business.

(July 22, 2013)

My family had an upcoming trip to Durango, Colorado planned for the upcoming weekend.  They were planning river rafting trips, and all sorts of stuff that I knew I wouldn't be able to do.  So I spent a lot of this day coming up with excuses of why we couldn't water raft or do pretty much anything.

The embryologist called and told us that we now had 24 embryos.  Say whaaaaaa?  He went on to explain that apparently they were waiting to see if the other eggs/sperm would fertilize, and two of them had caught up.  He let us know that we have a some really good looking ones, some in-between ones, and some that still had some catching up to do.  They said since they had some good embryos, that I could go ahead and plan on a 5-day transfer (usually they either do the embryo transfer 3 or 5 days after "conception", depending on how your embryos are looking and/or what your doctor prefers.) 

Later, that "Home" song by Phillip Phillips came on, and I just sobbed like a baby.  I realize that doesn't make much sense, but as I was listening to it, I couldn't help but feel like it was my song to my embryos.  (And don't even get me started on that "A Thousand Years" song by Christina Perri that seemed to come on every time I drove home from the fertility clinic.  I bawl every time I hear it.  And even though it's a cheesy love song from Twilight, it's MY baby song.)

(July 24, 2013)


I woke up feeling pretty excited that today would be the day that I'd be housing two sweet embryos - technically pregnant, even if it was only for a minute.  When we got to the clinic, they had me take a Valium, which was a first for me - but weeeeee!

We finally were called back and my doctor came in and showed us our baby's very first picture:

How incredible is that?  She explained that the two embryos in the top left-hand corner were the best quality embryos.  She told us that they were a perfect B grade - which I wasn't totally thrilled by, because I wanted A+ embryos, but I was still pretty happy.  She went on to explain that the rest of the embryos in the other boxes were ones that they would keep watching until tomorrow to see if they were viable enough to freeze.  Other than those, the rest of our embryos had "arrested" (or died off), which was fairly normal.  She recommended that we transfer both the B embryos in, since it would give us a greater chance of getting pregnant.  I was fine with that.  Because hey, if it resulted in twins, we'd get two for the price of one.

The actual embryo transfer took like, 3 minutes.  They pretty much just put the embryos in a tube thinger and drop 'em off in your uterus.  You could actually see just barely see it on the ultrasound.  Shawn took this picture, but I don't really expect anyone to see much of anything (because I don't even, really)..  But that was my uterus with two embryos in it.

Now we just had to wait and see if one or both of them would stick.  My nurse commented on how alert I was - apparently I handle my Valium well.  It didn't really knock me out, but it made me feel very calm.  I was nervous to move at all - I just wanted to sit and do absolutely nothing so those little suckers would burrow.  Even when I went to the bathroom, I was so sure I was going to pee them right out.  Even though that's obviously ridiculous and wouldn't ever happen.

They wanted me on bed rest immediately following my transfer, plus two days after.  They referred to the bed rest as my "Princess Days" - which I kind of loved.  (When Shawn saw the "Princess Days" on my calendar, he gave me a hearty, "Ohhhhhh boy."  I know how to rock a Princess Day, and he knows it.)  

(July 25, 2013)

I was back to having a hard time breathing and pooping, so that was fun.  Laying down kind of hurt, likely from the fluid retention I had going on still, but it was making bed rest less fun than it should have been.  They also called and let us know that we had two embryos to freeze.  I was hoping we'd have a few more than that, but I was still relieved to know that if this cycle didn't work, we'd have a few backups to try out.

(July 26, 2013)

Naturally I had already started symptom-spotting - something I had become a pro at after two and a half years of reading the cray crays on "Trying to Conceive" forums online.  I was grasping at straws to try and find any hint that one or both the embryos were snuggled tightly into my uterus.  The only "symptom" I really had was that I felt really crampy.  But I was convinced the cramps were just trapped farts.

Shawn had called later that day to see how I was doing, and apparently the bed rest had made me extremely slap happy.  He asked what I ate for dinner, and I told him cereal, because I was being healthy.  (Or not.)  He asked, "Did you eat the Trix I bought for you?"  And I responded with a clever, "No, silly rabbit!  Trix are for kids!"  I died.  I literally laughed about it for 20 minutes.  Literally.  Tears streaming down my face hysterical.  Shawn must have thought that I had maybe eaten a special brownie, or something.  Because he wasn't nearly as amused.  I later read something about how some study found that laughter can help implantation.  So now I'm convinced that my joke is what did the Trix.  (Badum sssssss.)

(July 27, 2013)

I wasn't on bed rest anymore, and today was the day we were going to Durango with my family.  Shawn and I had decided that I'd wait to pee on a stick until we got home, just so if it was negative, I wouldn't have to ruin everyone's vacation with the meltdown of a lifetime.  Well, "we" decided that up until the point that I found a box of pregnancy tests hidden in our cupboard - soooo, naturally I smuggled them to Durango in my purse, without Shawn knowing.

(July 28, 2013)

Up until today, I had felt really crampy and it had really hurt to lay down on my stomach or sides - kind of a hard pain to describe.  But today I started feeling a lot more normal, and of course it made me nervous.  I figured that I couldn't possible feel normal and be pregnant.  That night, due to the lack of symptoms, I had another meltdown.  Just sobbing to Shawn that I was so sure it wasn't going to work.

(July 29, 2013)

(Warning: You are about to get totally inundated with pictures of pee sticks.  SorryI'mnotsorry.)

After my meltdown the night before, I couldn't wait to pee on a stick any longer.  It had been 10 days since I took the HCG shot, and supposedly the hormone from the shot should have been out of my system by then.  When Shawn was gone, I grabbed one of the tests I had snuck in and went to town.  My heart sunk as nothing appeared the first several seconds of putting it on the table.  When all of a sudden, I saw this:

There was A LINE. A SECOND PINK LINE.  It was the faintest line on the planet, but naturally I started bawling while I stared at the pee stick making sure that I actually saw a line, and I wasn't just imagining things.  I was half bawling because I was so happy that I saw the line - but also because I wasn't sure if this was actually a real line, or if it was leftover HCG from the trigger shot I took.  It was hard to let myself believe this could be a baby line.

As I was overanalyzing the test, Shawn came into the bathroom (because apparently we don't have very many boundaries in our marriage), and when he saw the tears and the pee stick his face was suddenly washed over with a, "Oh shit" look.  I started sobbing even more as I told him I cheated and peed on a stick, and I shoved it in his face and said, "PLEASE tell me you see this."  The panicked look immediately left his face and was replaced by relief, and a little bit of confusion.  He said, "Yeah, I see it!  But where did you get this test?  What happened to waiting?"  I explained to him that he should know me better than that and that I had snuck the tests to Durango.  I went on to tell him that I was still unsure if it was a "real" positive, or if it was still the shot - so naturally, I was going to have to take another test in the morning, so make sure that the line continued getting darker.

(July 30, 2013)

My test was a little bit darker than the one I had taken the day before - and we were so. happy.  After seeing the test, Shawn excitedly said, "This is like CHRISTMAS!"  And it totally was.

(July 31, 2013)

I couldn't stop staring at my tests all day.  And it was killing me to not tell me family.

(August 1, 2013)

We were finally home from Durango.  My test didn't look a whole ton darker today, but it was still darker than the first.  I wasn't feeling very many "symptoms" - and after reading about pregnancy symptoms for the last two and a half years, it was really weird to just feel... normal.

(August 2, 2013)

Today was the day I was going to get a blood pregnancy test, just to confirm it had worked.  But I still peed on a stick, because I'm a maniac.

The line was so much darker than any of the other lines had been and it was the best feeling in the world.  When I got to my doctor's office, the nurse asked me if I had cheated with a pee stick, and with a giant smile on my face, I told her I had cheated like a boss.

They called with the results later that day.  They told me my level was 71, and they considered anything over 25 as a pregnancy.  They congratulated me on my pregnancy, and through tears I thanked them and hung up.  Over the last few years I've received that call several times telling me I wasn't pregnant.  So to hear them say the words, "You're pregnant!" was the most amazing moment ever.  I can't hardly bring my words to justice to relay just how elated I felt at that moment.

(August 8, 2013)

Peed on another stick, because seeing the second pink line just wasn't getting old.  Apparently I just have to pee on ALL THE TESTS.  Who knew a pee stick could bring someone so much joy.

(August 9, 2013)

Had a follow up blood test, just to make sure my levels were rising appropriately, and sure enough my level was 1,573.  This was real.  I was finally pregnant.

(I have so much more to tell since we found out that I was pregnant (and it's coming, I promise).  But for now, know that everything is going well.  I'll be 13 weeks tomorrow - even though baby is measuring 4 days ahead of that (fatty) - and we're due on April 11, 2014 - 3 days after our anniversary.  Squee!)

The last several months have been an incredible, stressful, and emotional journey - and I wouldn't take a second of it back for anything.  I would do it all over again.  I can honestly say that dealing with infertility for the last two and a half years has easily been the most difficult trial I've ever faced.  It was heart-breaking to be denied something Shawn and I both wanted so much.  It was even harder for me to not be able to bless Shawn with children, when I've always known what an amazing father he'll be.  I've never felt like more of a failure.  I've never felt more broken.  The one thing my body was suppose to be able to do was create life, and it remained lifeless.  It took a lot of prayers, temple visits, and priesthood blessings to accept that God's timeline was different than mine.  It wasn't our turn to start a family yet, and that was a hard pill to swallow.  Especially when it seemed that everyone we knew pretty much just washed their clothes together and got pregnant.

It's funny how when you pray for patience, God gives you something to wait for.  I've refined my patience down to an art.  It's still not perfect, by any means - but through patience, and the love of family, friends, and my Savior, I was able to get through the last years without going to a really dark place.  It's all been completely worth it.  Even if I had to wait 3, 5, or 10 more years, I know that it would eventually be worth it when one of God's sweet children was placed in my arms.  This baby is already so incredibly loved by so many people.  And I can't wait for the day when I can meet our baby and tell him or her just how much I love them.

Thank you to all our friends and family who have supported us throughout this journey.  We appreciate the prayers, the thoughts, the fasts, the kind messages, and the good baby juju you've sent our way.  We're incredibly blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives - and we can honestly say that we've felt your love so strongly when we've felt the most hopeless.  So, thank you.

I need to wrap this up, because I'm DYING to post this on Facebook.



  1. Such a happy post. I'm so glad it finally happened for you guys. You'll be amazing parents.

  2. What a crazy journey!!!! Can't wait to hear more. Like tomorrow please. SPOOOOOOOFJDJSKSJFJFJD HAPPY

  3. I can't even really form the right words... congratulations! I'm so excited and happy for you!!!!

  4. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  5. I am just super stoked and happy for you both! I feel like I've been waiting for this post for years! :) Can't wait to hear more and more and then see the baby pics! It's going to come so fast! Yeyeyeyeyey!!

  6. Congratulations! Best of luck throughout the rest of your pregnancy.

  7. I am so so so so SO beyond happy for you guys! I can't even tell you how much fun I'm having planning your shower on Pinterest. ;)

  8. I cried when I read this because I am so freaking excited for you! Congratulations:)


  10. I've been following your journey for awhile now - Collette is our mutual friend - and I sobbbbbbed through this whole thing. I hadn't read your blog in awhile so I didn't know you were pregnant. I am so happy for you. Overjoyed. Congratulations!!

  11. So... I am a bit of a creeper and just found you on my instagram explore page. I think that means we have mutual friends or something. I don't know... any way, I just wanted to thank you for sharing your story. My husband and I are coming up on two and a half years of trying in October and it feels like every month is a meltdown. It is so comforting to know I am not alone, or abnormal. You are a pretty hilarious writer! Congratulations on your beautiful little boy!

    1. Eh, what's the Internet for if not for creeping? Thanks so much for the kind words. I'm so sorry to hear you and your husband have been struggling with the same thing for so long - it's definitely a crappy situation. But you're definitely not alone OR abnormal. Wishing you the best of luck in your journey. Hopefully those baby makers will figure it out SOON! (And I know I'm a total stranger, but if you ever need to blow off steam to someone who totally gets it, email me.)