My approach to blogging is to write when something is going on that I need to work through or when a musing or occurrence inspires me. I find both the physical aspect of sitting down at my laptop to type and the mental aspect of organizing my thoughts to be cathartic. In recent weeks, I also feel like my writings may have caused whiplash. From languishing over our domestic adoption wait, to finding and communicating with my birth mother, to the estrangement with my parents (whom I’ve not seen or spoken to since Christmas day), to embarking on a donated embryo cycle (seemingly from out of the blue), to coming to terms with remaining a family of three should this (these?) deFETs not prove successful. It all gives way to my blogger identity crisis.
The majority of my posts over the last two years have been about wanting to complete our family, deciding to adopt, moving through the adoption process, going live with our agency, and being angst ridden about the wait, month after month. Most of the blogs I read are from other adoption bloggers whether waiting or on the other side. The ‘secret’ FB groups and members-only Yahoo groups I belonged to were adoption related (past tense as I left or unsubscribed from all of them over the weekend).
I don’t know, maybe there is something about the aging process that lends itself to more easily navigating concurrent life stressors in a more manageable way. Certainly, I have better coping mechanisms and wisdom. And, that I am not working has been both a blessing (I don’t have the added pressure of having to produce or perform professionally) and a curse (I don’t have the distraction that working outside of the home provides). There is an underlying “shit, this is a lot at one time” feeling but I am strangely OK with it. In my younger years, I would have been in a funkified funk, pushed over the edge and into a vat of Chunky Monkey or Cheetos having to deal with just one of the current balls I have up in the air.
Above all, I am filled with such gratitude. Yes, I wish the situation with my parents was different, but it is not something that I can change and I recognize that. I have found my birth mother, something many adult adoptees of closed adoptions are never able to do and I am communicating with her. I know more now than I did when I hadn’t confirmed who she was. I am so grateful for this gift of certainty and closure, regardless of how guarded she is in our communications. I love my husband and his flexibility and willingness to take these many journeys with me. He is the perfect mate for me and I am reminded of that particularly in times of struggle. I love and am abundantly grateful for my son. I garner a strength from just being his mother that supports and propels me through these challenges. It is NEVER lost on me, the many who are still struggling to have their ‘one’ and how much I root for them to realize the dream of motherhood no matter what path leads them there.
I sometimes wish things in my life were more linear, but that has never been the case. I am trying to do my best and make the most sound decisions I can with the cards I’ve been dealt. Being grateful, win or lose, buoys me when I might otherwise sink.
“As each day comes to us refreshed and anew, so does my gratitude renew itself daily. The breaking of the sun over the horizon is my grateful heart dawning upon a blessed world.” ~Terri Guillemets
I cannot be pregnant with twins. It is not even a matter of desire (although I have never wanted to have twins). It is far too risky a proposition to even consider. My kind of incompetent cervix (rapid shortening with funneling) is not conducive to supporting a twin pregnancy. Therefore, I cannot knowingly put myself in a position to become pregnant with twins and must act responsibly and prudently when it comes to transferring embryos. (I am talking about becoming pregnant. Me. Wow.)
The six donated embryos were vitrified on Day 3 and frozen in two straws of three. Why any clinic would freeze donor/donor embryos three to a straw is beyond me. In fact, I posed that question directly to my RE and I can’t say that he had a good answer. He seemed to believe that it was, perhaps, the quality of the embryos that drove the decision to freeze them that way. And, by quality, I mean their cell count on Day 3. Since we now know that two fresh embryos (a 6 and a 5 cell) from the cycle produced twins, in hindsight I doubt they would have made the same decision. Nevertheless, that is the reality. And, I found out today that each straw contains one five cell and two four cell embryos. I am glad that I do not have to thaw both the five cell at the same time.
My RE is well aware of my physical limitations to being pregnant with twins. Still, he is a proponent of transferring two embryos. His own experience (and that of some researchers) shows that transferring two embryos increases the odds that one will take. But it also increases the odd that both will. And, therein lies the rub.
That these embryos are from young donors and that they are frozen three to a straw creates challenges to only transferring one. If all three thaw and live, my RE doesn’t feel that they will refreeze well just based on their slower initial growth rates. That means, possibly, that we pick the one that looks the ‘best’ and discard the other two. I see no harm, then, in growing the other two out and seeing what happens (no harm, right, if we were going to discard them anyway?), but I do see his point that even if they grow out and even if they are re-frozen, once thawed again they may not actually have the ability to produce a pregnancy (and why pay storage fees in that case?). So, something to consider should all three thaw well.
Another consideration if all three thaw well would be to grow them out beyond the requisite few hours to see that they are alive and viable and actually allow them to continue to grow for 24 – 48 hours. I already know that my RE is not a proponent of this. He ascribes to the ‘uterus is best’ school of thought and doesn’t want to risk an otherwise viable, thawed embryo to arrest just because it is in a culture medium. Point taken.
The situation that will be more difficult for me would be to have two survive the thaw. Even if one had a slight advantage over the other in appearance, if they were both alive, it would be far more difficult for me to not want to transfer them both. I won’t, but it is going to be much harder to say no. Or, worse, if two survive but neither looks that great. Ugh.
All of this, of course, it outside of my control and is nothing to obsess over. However, I do believe in having a well thought out plan in place so as to remove from the realm of possibility the discussion surrounding transferring two. We all have to be on the same page. And, I’m not saying that my RE won’t be supportive, he will, but I can see him making a sound argument for transferring two, especially if they both look so-so.
I am not a cart before horse kind of person, so at this point, I’m not thinking too far ahead. I have been taking my meds as prescribed and have a lining check on Friday. Let’s see if things are progressing nicely in there. Most of the time, I can’t even imagine making it to transfer, so much of this mental acrobatics seems a bit premature.
“Worrying is like a rocking chair, it gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere.” ~Glenn Turner
I was surprised to find the note from my birth mother in the mail yesterday. Her notes always come when I’ve forgotten to look for them. I knew by the size and weight of the envelope that it did not include the family health history checklist I included with my last letter to her. That made me a bit more anxious to see what she had to say.
Once again, she managed a cool detachment and I found her words to be as measured as with her first note. She provided some information, either her mother or father died of complications from colon cancer, but essentially nothing else notable.
My approach of asking what I thought were soft-ball questions did not elicit the response I had hoped for. So, she responded. Great. But not much in terms of content or detail. I am disappointed in the way that I would have been if one of my sales people came back from a client appointment without enough detail for us to write or fill their job order. I would be disappointed because they should have known better, done better. And that is how I feel about this. She likely could have provided more detail, but didn’t. Even though I took so much care for her feelings and perceptions in how I crafted my letter to her, she did not consider me and what I wanted to know at all in her response. I find that both sad and disappointing; sad that she is so stunted an unattuned (like a certain other mother in my life) and disappointing that yet another person who should do right by me, isn’t.
How does this make me feel, though? Well, she is still a stranger to me, even though we share DNA. I don’t know her, nor do I pretend to want to, but she is making what I do want, information, tougher to come by. That is disappointing, too. Part of me feels like, “you made the right decision in placing me 46 years ago, can’t you muster the same attitude now in answering my questions directly?”. But that’s just it, isn’t it? Her placing me was actually about her and not about me. It was about doing the socially acceptable ‘right’ thing back then. I don’t mean to sound harsh and that isn’t a judgment. I just quickly and clearly see that actually getting information from her is not going to be a straightforward task.
So, if this is about her and not me, how do I get her to tell me what I want to know?
“Wisdom is knowing what to do next, skill is knowing how to do it, and virtue is doing it.” ~David Starr Jordan
It is hard to fathom that I am discussing this in terms of myself. It is so completely otherworldly that I am here.
I can’t believe how quickly this deFET is upon me. It is CD2 and I have started meds. My protocol will include both oral estrace and estrogen patches, baby aspirin, pre-natal vitamins, and folic acid. Once we get to transfer (early in the first week of February), we will add Endometrin, progesterone lozenges, and a Medrol dose pack. It will be my first in 11 cycles (7 own egg, 1 donor egg, 2 FETs (1 own egg, 1 donor egg) that is completely non-injectable.
I have so many competing thoughts and emotions. In discussing this path with my husband, his question was “Then what?” Meaning, if these opportunities (likely two transfers) don’t work, where will we be? It struck me then and has continued to percolate, that the “then what” is I will be done. If I thought I was battle weary 2 1/2 years ago, I am down right fatigued now (and this cycle is just underway!). But, what I mean is, that everything from our failed own egg cycles, to our failed donor egg cycle, to the protracted and lackluster adoption process, to the renewed (if shaky) hope in these donated embryos have all been a process of coming to terms. I love my son and my husband and our family of three. I have gone to lengths far and wide to make the dream of completing our family a reality. I have been a warrior.
I’ve commented before that I have been ill-equipped to cope with letting go; that there has been no other life goal that I’ve put even a tenth as much effort into, that I’ve ever walked away from. But, I am ready now. I have tried beyond what I ever thought I would do. I felt that our previous ART failures led to the forced choice to adopt. That doesn’t mean that we weren’t fully committed. We were. We came to choosing adoption when we’d reached our end of the road with ART. And, yet, here we are again. My heart knows we are done. This isn’t some arbitrary line in the shape shifting sand but it is the natural and organic culmination of eight years of my life pushing the boulder up hill.
It has been very hard for me to come to terms with being back at this place, the place where I am relying on science & my own body to assist in the realization of a long held dream. However, in order to move forward, I have to also let go and give myself permission to be OK with being done. To some, it may seem like some artificial way out. That it is easier to accept defeat as I’m facing the possibility of success. But it is not that at all for me. This process, this endeavor to have another child, has brought a kind of wisdom that couldn’t have been learned any other way but for having gone through it. It is hard to put into words the metamorphosis that has occurred as I’ve processed what it means to be cycling again, this time with donated embryos. The best way to explain it is that THIS is our end of the road. The mere fact that I have had to consider being pregnant again in an effort to bring another child into our family has proven to me that I have literally done all that I can do. And in knowing that at my core and in my bones, I have gained a freedom to stop that couldn’t have come to me in any other way.
I am not sure that I have two cycles in me. I can barely believe that I have one. But, I do have one and I will see this through. Regardless of outcome and regardless of whether I decide to cycle again if this cycle is unsuccessful, this is the end of the road for me in terms of trying. I am finally, FINALLY at peace with being a family of three. If it is not in the cards for us by way of these donated embryos, then I will be loosed from the shackles that have bound me to trying all these years.
I cannot adequately convey what a gift it is to finally have found my peace in stopping trying, but the relief is sweet & poignant. I tell my son that all he has to do is try his best and it doesn’t matter what the outcome is. It is the effort that matters. Well, I finally know without question that I have tried my best. All these years spent with no take home baby have not been in vain. They have been my deliverance to what will be my contentment without resentment at being a family of three. I could not have gotten here but for this opportunity. I will have tried my best and that IS enough.
“Contentment consist not in adding more fuel, but in taking away some fire.”" ~Thomas Fuller
