Hello friends. If I've left some of you in suspense this past week, I'm sorry! You remember that we got our exciting BFP call from Karen. The follow up blood work was great. My HCG levels were rising quickly. We scheduled our first ultrasound for December 10th at 2:30. Donny and I couldn't wait to see our baby for the first time! Unfortunately, I picked up a cold from one of my little darlings at school that kept me in bed the weekend before the appointment and forced my to take a sick day on Tuesday. I went to my general practitioner and founded out my cold had turned into a secondary infection. Ick! Morning sickness and nausea also struck. It's no fun to lose your breakfast in the driveway as you are trying to leave for work.
When Wednesday finally arrived, I was excited, but still feeling sick. I got through my half-day at school and went to Donny's office. The plan was to grab lunch together, hang out, then head to our appointment. I really wanted to enjoy the afternoon, but it was a struggle to get the broccoli cheddar soup down and sit up as we ate at Panera. We decided to go walk around Babies-R-Us (finally a happy visit to that store). As we cruised up and down the aisles packed with the mysterious accoutrements of parenthood I couldn't help feeling a little better. The stroller and car seat section was a source of lots of conversation. Donny patted the handle of a double stroller with a joking grin and said, " We'll needed two of these. One for you and one for me!" I laughed and kept walking. Oh, if I'd only known...
We arrived a little early for our ultrasound and Karen took us right back. I think she was just as excited as we were. As she inserted the probe, I watched the screen eagerly, expecting to see one or two dark spots. Ask she moved the probe around, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There were several dark spots. "Well, this isn't exactly what I hoped to see," Karen began, "Can you tell how many we are looking at?"
I stared at the clear four-leaf clover on the screen, "four?"
"Yes, we are looking at four. That's more than I wanted to see. Let's get some measurements." She continued to reposition the probe, freeze images, and place little asterisks on the top, bottom, and sides of each little one. She paused over each tiny baby to point out a flickering dot, the heartbeat. All four babies had heartbeats and measured almost the same size - the correct size for 6 weeks and two days.
After the ultrasound I was given my first snapshot of my growing family and ushered into another exam room to talk with Dr. Steinkampf. Donny and I were grinning at each other as we waited and I couldn't stop giggling! It was a giddy high. When Dr. Steinkampf came in, he congratulated us with a cautious smile. He sat down and began to explain some of the concerns with multiples. Each extra baby subtracts an average of four weeks from the normal gestation. With quads - 3 extra babies - 12 weeks early is terrifying. Half of quadruplet pregnancy end in all four babies succumbing to prematurity.
Then he presented our "options":
1. Terminate the pregnancy and try again (NOT an option).
2. Attempt to carry a quad pregnancy (sounds about right, but "attempt" is a scary word).
3. Near the end of the first trimester, selectively reduce the pregnancy to twins (NOT AN OPTION).
He also said that sometimes one or more of the babies stop developing and re-absorb. He said we couldn't make any decisions now. We would return in a few weeks for another ultrasound and would then develop a plan if attack. I told him that Donny and I believed strongly in the sanctity of life and we would no reduce our pregnancy. Obviously we are not the first couple to tell him that. He didn't berate us, but he did say that you could make the case that reducing the pregnancy respects life by giving two babies a better chance at survival. This argument doesn't change our mind. God allowed four of six follicles to become babies. I will do everything in my power to carry all four of them as close to full term as possible.
I must admit, the prospect is very daunting. I am scared for my babies. I'm really not sure how we'll handle the day-to-day realities of caring for four, most likely premature, infants. Right now, I'm praying that all of the babies that are born will be healthy. I'm eating like a horse and sleeping every chance I get. I stay exhausted and get queasy and shakes, but thank goodness for nausea meds! Donny has been waiting on me hand-and-foot. He is my cheerleader and my hero. I have no idea what the future holds. We'll have more answers after of ultrasound on January 5th. Will we see 4 still? 3? 2? For now, I'll drink another glass of water, get a snack, and lie down! Mama is worn out!
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Monday, November 24, 2014
Counting Our Blessings
Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I have been looking back on 2014. I had my students write about three things they were thankful for this past year. As they wrote, I mused. It was challenging to chose just three. I am so blessed, and though this year has had some ups and downs, I am grateful for ever step.
I am thankful for my husband, Donny. He has held my hand for every IUI. When they failed and I fell apart he held me. We have the same goofy, child-like sense of humor and have kept each other laughing. I am beyond grateful that God protected him during the rough blood sugar low. He is my hero. Thank goodness he could give me those icky injections!
I appreciate Alabama Fertility Specialists. Dr. Steinkampf has made solid, professional decisions in my treatment. I have never doubted his leading. Karen has been my fairy godmother, always bubbly and welcoming, a listening ear, and usually the one who performed each IUI. Leslie, the sweet smiling face behind the front desk who bravely delivered so many bad reports to me month after month. I could not do her job!
Finally, I am thankful for my baby. That's right friends! Today we heard the most wonderful news! We are pregnant! I was so nervous today before the appointment - terrified that the injections, our big guns, had failed. I'd been hurting more this cycle. This past week my lower abdomen and back had been hurting, sometimes sharp pains, other times a dull ache. The girls have been sore too. I tried to explain it all as injection side effects. By the time I got to the doctor's office I was shaking, I was so nervous. We had our normal visit - talk with Dr. Steinkampf, have blood drawn, and wait.
As we were leaving, Karen called down the hall, "Leigh! When we give you your positive, can we take Hawk's vest off and love on him?" That made me laugh. It turns out that she was right. About an hour and a half later I answered my phone and heard Karen on the other end. I instantly felt hope. Karen has never called to report my results before.
" Hi Leigh! Tell Hawk to get ready! Your whole fan club is here in the office to give you the news. You are so pregnant!"
All I could do was say, "really?", cry happy tears, and hug Donny. I could hear cheers in the background. What an amazing Thanksgiving! God is so good! Praise His name! His timing is perfect!
I am thankful for my husband, Donny. He has held my hand for every IUI. When they failed and I fell apart he held me. We have the same goofy, child-like sense of humor and have kept each other laughing. I am beyond grateful that God protected him during the rough blood sugar low. He is my hero. Thank goodness he could give me those icky injections!
I appreciate Alabama Fertility Specialists. Dr. Steinkampf has made solid, professional decisions in my treatment. I have never doubted his leading. Karen has been my fairy godmother, always bubbly and welcoming, a listening ear, and usually the one who performed each IUI. Leslie, the sweet smiling face behind the front desk who bravely delivered so many bad reports to me month after month. I could not do her job!
Finally, I am thankful for my baby. That's right friends! Today we heard the most wonderful news! We are pregnant! I was so nervous today before the appointment - terrified that the injections, our big guns, had failed. I'd been hurting more this cycle. This past week my lower abdomen and back had been hurting, sometimes sharp pains, other times a dull ache. The girls have been sore too. I tried to explain it all as injection side effects. By the time I got to the doctor's office I was shaking, I was so nervous. We had our normal visit - talk with Dr. Steinkampf, have blood drawn, and wait.
As we were leaving, Karen called down the hall, "Leigh! When we give you your positive, can we take Hawk's vest off and love on him?" That made me laugh. It turns out that she was right. About an hour and a half later I answered my phone and heard Karen on the other end. I instantly felt hope. Karen has never called to report my results before.
" Hi Leigh! Tell Hawk to get ready! Your whole fan club is here in the office to give you the news. You are so pregnant!"
All I could do was say, "really?", cry happy tears, and hug Donny. I could hear cheers in the background. What an amazing Thanksgiving! God is so good! Praise His name! His timing is perfect!
Monday, November 10, 2014
Shots, it had to be shots!
Everyone knows that scene in Indiana Jones. The daring hero who faces soldiers without fear stares in horror at a snake. Needles are my snakes. I've gotten better about having blood drawn thanks to our RE visits. They want blood almost every time I step through the door. I used to shake when a nurse came up with a syringe, now I just look the other way, take deep breaths and count - one, one thousand, two, one thousand, three, one thousand. This cycle was a new challenge. Since Clomid turned out to be a failure for me, we moved to ultrasound monitoring and injections.
On day two of my cycle I went in for a baseline ultrasound to check my ovaries and ensure there were no cysts. These ultrasounds are not the gel-on-the-belly knees you see on movies. Instead it is internal. Pretty uncomfortable on cycle day two! When that probe is pushing into you achy ovary you want to kick the operator. It's like when you've got a nasty bruise and someone keeps poking it. Even though it felt like something had to be wrong with my poor sore ovaries, Karen said I was good to start the new regimen.
Donny and I drove to Southern Pharmaceuticals in Irondale to pick up the injections and supplies. Then it started to become real. I was carrying a bag with alcohol prep swabs, a follistim injection pen, needles, follistim cartridge, pregnly, and a sharps disposal container. Sunday evening I put together the pen, dialed up up the correct dose, swabbed my stomach to the right of my belly button, and grasped the pen. I was determined to administer the shot myself, but as I stared at the needles my resolve wavered. I changed my grip, steeling myself. And I couldn't do it! I walked into the living room, handed the pen to Donny, and had him give the injection. Then, because I'd worked myself up, I burst into tears.
I didn't try again. Donny gave me the shot every night: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Then Friday morning I went in for a follow-up ultrasound. Karen said I'd responded beautifully to the injections. I watched as she measured the follicles on the ultrasound screen, placing little plus-shaped cursors at the top, bottom, and sides of the follicles. She said they want the follicles to measure 1.6 centimeters and mine ranged from 1.2 - 1.4 cm. Karen said one more follistim injection should put them at exactly the right size. She didn't tell me how many follicles she saw, but I counted six as she measured. She instructed that we do a follistim shot Friday night, the trigger shot of Pregnyl on Saturday night. Our sixth IUI was scheduled for Monday. Only two more shots! The end was in sight! The trigger shot was the worst of the set. There was so much more medicine in that dose, Donny had to go more slowly. I ended up with a big bruise from that one, nasty red and purple.
This morning we went in for the IUI. Those have become old hat by now. I know exactly what to expect. This time, I was surprised by the discomfort level. I guess things in there are more inflamed then I realized. Things that are normally mildly uncomfortable hurt. The speculum made me have to controlled breathe and mentally coach myself through. I have to admit I teared up once Karen was out of the room. Donny grabbed my hand and prayed as I lay there on the table. He is my coach, my nurse, my cheerleader, my leader, and my love. I can't imagine doing this without him.
I want to be positive about this cycle, but I'm having trouble. Five previous negatives make it hard to get excited. Donny is the one who is staying positive for both of us. It does help that I was able to actually see the follicles. The last cycles we had blood work and ovulation test kit results that said I was ovulating, now I know I am. Now we pray and wait.
On day two of my cycle I went in for a baseline ultrasound to check my ovaries and ensure there were no cysts. These ultrasounds are not the gel-on-the-belly knees you see on movies. Instead it is internal. Pretty uncomfortable on cycle day two! When that probe is pushing into you achy ovary you want to kick the operator. It's like when you've got a nasty bruise and someone keeps poking it. Even though it felt like something had to be wrong with my poor sore ovaries, Karen said I was good to start the new regimen.
Donny and I drove to Southern Pharmaceuticals in Irondale to pick up the injections and supplies. Then it started to become real. I was carrying a bag with alcohol prep swabs, a follistim injection pen, needles, follistim cartridge, pregnly, and a sharps disposal container. Sunday evening I put together the pen, dialed up up the correct dose, swabbed my stomach to the right of my belly button, and grasped the pen. I was determined to administer the shot myself, but as I stared at the needles my resolve wavered. I changed my grip, steeling myself. And I couldn't do it! I walked into the living room, handed the pen to Donny, and had him give the injection. Then, because I'd worked myself up, I burst into tears.
I didn't try again. Donny gave me the shot every night: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Then Friday morning I went in for a follow-up ultrasound. Karen said I'd responded beautifully to the injections. I watched as she measured the follicles on the ultrasound screen, placing little plus-shaped cursors at the top, bottom, and sides of the follicles. She said they want the follicles to measure 1.6 centimeters and mine ranged from 1.2 - 1.4 cm. Karen said one more follistim injection should put them at exactly the right size. She didn't tell me how many follicles she saw, but I counted six as she measured. She instructed that we do a follistim shot Friday night, the trigger shot of Pregnyl on Saturday night. Our sixth IUI was scheduled for Monday. Only two more shots! The end was in sight! The trigger shot was the worst of the set. There was so much more medicine in that dose, Donny had to go more slowly. I ended up with a big bruise from that one, nasty red and purple.
This morning we went in for the IUI. Those have become old hat by now. I know exactly what to expect. This time, I was surprised by the discomfort level. I guess things in there are more inflamed then I realized. Things that are normally mildly uncomfortable hurt. The speculum made me have to controlled breathe and mentally coach myself through. I have to admit I teared up once Karen was out of the room. Donny grabbed my hand and prayed as I lay there on the table. He is my coach, my nurse, my cheerleader, my leader, and my love. I can't imagine doing this without him.
I want to be positive about this cycle, but I'm having trouble. Five previous negatives make it hard to get excited. Donny is the one who is staying positive for both of us. It does help that I was able to actually see the follicles. The last cycles we had blood work and ovulation test kit results that said I was ovulating, now I know I am. Now we pray and wait.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Adversity in All Forms
So much has happened friends...SO much. I have waited to blog the past couple of weeks because I didn't really know how to share the events without upsetting dear friends. As I waited, even more occurred! Originally, I was playing with a three point, alliterated sermon-style post - Prophecy, Prayer, and Praise. I know... you're impressed :). The more I rolled that around my mind, the more ridiculous it sounded. Donny and I have encountered tests of spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical natures the past couple of weeks. Through every single test, we have grown and God has proved himself faithful. Are you ready for the whole kit-n-caboodle? Here it goes.
Three weekends ago, Donny and I were blessed to host in our home one of his childhood best friends and his spouse. I was braced a little for the weekend, because this wonderful couple is expecting their first child next year. Those of you who have been following my journey from the beginning know how tough it is to be happy for another expectant couple without feeling the pain of your own empty arms. Saturday went beautifully. We had a great time doing "tourist-y" things around Birmingham. It really is fun to play tourist in your own town. Then we came home in time to watch Mississippi State stomp Auburn (ouch, War Eagle anyway). Donny was over the moon. He LOVES his bulldogs :) Sunday also seemed to be going smoothly, beautifully even. The sweet wife prayed over me tearfully, holding me up to the Lord. Praying that Donny and I be blessed with a child. It was truly touching. I teared up.
And then...isn't if funny how quickly things shift... and then, Sunday evening as we sat around in the living room chatting childhood friend began to ask about whether we believed God could heal Donny and allow us to have kids. I braced myself for the completely well-intentioned advice I knew we were about to receive. Donny answered for us, cutting his eyes over at me to assess how I was handling the turn the conversation had taken, "of course we believe that God could heal him if He wanted to." Then over the course of several minutes, this friend told us that God had revealed to him that Donny and I would have a biological child that was not the result of donor sperm and IUI. THAT I was NOT expecting to hear. I thought it would be the typical "just relax, it will happen when you least expect it" advice that makes me want to claw out eyeballs, but just gets a gracious smile and nod. I'm a steel magnolia. Every southern girl knows the smile-and-nod routine.
I could feel the blood rushing into my face, tears fought to pour from my eyes. I have never in my life felt to incredibly torn between my gut reaction and my faith. I wanted to scream at him, "How dare you! Do you have any idea the pain you have just inflicted! Don't pretend you understand! You are expecting a baby!" The other side of me was in pain too, but completely different. "Are we out of God's will? Did we spend ALL that money on sperm, IUIs, doctor consultations, and HSG for nothing? I can't say God did not tell him that!" Childhood friend turned to me and asked if I believed (at least, I think that's what he asked, the world was swimming before my eyes). I leaped out of my seat, simultaneously starting to sob. I said something to the tune of "I'm sorry, I can't listen to this" and ran out to the barn.
An obliging pile of lumber provided a seat, I pulled my knees to my chest, and sobbed. Loud, uncontrolled, gasping, heaving sobs. If the neighbor had been in her backyard she would have thought someone died. A little while Donny found me, I was still sobbing. I told him he'd have to see our guests off because I couldn't go back inside.
I struggled with the prophecy for the next couple of days. I cried a lot. I sought God. My sister came over and prayed with me. Mom prayed with me over the phone several times. Donny prayed with me. I sought advice from other believers that I trust. I was broken by the thought that I could be out of God's will. If I went ahead in November with the ultrasound monitoring and injections, was that rebelling against God's plan? I knew that the friend really, truly believed he had a word from God that had to be shared.
Monday evening was the breakthrough. I had just cried again and Donny had prayed over me. I had prayed. I sat on the couch trying to calm my breathing and get rid of the runny nose and mascara raccoon eyes when God stepped in.
"Do you really think I'm that weak?"
"Weak Lord?"
"Do you really think I'm so weak that something you do, or don't do, will mess up my plan?"
Wow! What relief! What freedom! I could feel the oppressive weight I'd been struggling under lift off my shoulders. So what did I do? I'm a girl. What do you think? CRIED! Again! But this time in gratitude to a Lord who is not cruel. Who does not play hide-and-seek with his children who are truly seeking His will. We have sought his will in every single step of this journey. He is not hiding it from us and he has not shut doors. We just have to trust and keep walking until a door closes and he opens the next route.
God gave me a week to marinate on that new learning. To praise him for his strength and wisdom and enjoy the freedom from doubt. Then the new tests came. Let's just say that teaching is not the cute profession that it is portrayed as on movies, television, and in books. The hours are long. It is exhausting in every possible way. I had a week of testing that required me to again lean heavily on the Lord. He again proved himself faithful. I was tired and looking forward to a weekend to physically, mentally, and emotionally recuperate. My wise sister told me something the Lord has been teaching her this year. If you don't have adversity, then you don't have an adversary. If you don't have an adversary (as a Christian) you are doing something wrong. You are attacked when you are being effective for God's kingdom! That's when Satan finds you to be a threat and throws his darts your way. The previous Sunday I'd taught about the Armor of God in children's church, another example of God's perfect timing. I was outfitted with the equipment I needed to extinguish those flaming darts. Then, just to see if I was paying attention, another test reared its head!
Donny got up early on Saturday, around 6:30. I was determined to sleep. I asked if he was OK. He said yes, he was just awake. So I snuggled deeper under my pile of blankets and shut my eyes. Around 7ish he turned on the TV in the living room - a bit more loudly than usual. He is very considerate when I need to sleep late, often turning the volume all the way down. I got up, stumbled in the living room and again asked if he was OK. He said he was so I asked him to turn down the volume and went back to bed. Around 8:05 I woke up to the sound of his cell phone alarm. He has alarms set at remind him to test his blood glucose level. I ignored it. It kept going off. I waited and listened. The beeping continued.
I got out of bed and came into the living room to find Donny in his recliner, staring at the ceiling, soaked in sweat, and completely unresponsive. He had a plate of almost untouched food sitting on his stomach. He'd crashed so quickly that he wasn't even eating. His pump was still connected, so I took it off then ran into the kitchen and dashed back with his tabs. Even when he's unresponsive, he'll instinctively chew the glucose tabs. I fed him five, pausing between each one, hoping they'd take effect. Then he began to seize. I was praying aloud, holding his shoulders, crying. The glucagon rescue shot was in the medicine cabinet. I snatched it off the top shelf. As I attempted to mix the liquid from the syringe with the powder in the vial, I bent the needle. In case you don't know, those vials have metal tops! I was able to straighten it back out and draw up the dose. Then came the worst part. I'd never had to give Donny a shot before. When I swabbed his thigh, the cold of the swab made him seize harder. I sobbed and apologized aloud as I pushed that long needle in. The seizures didn't ease up. I grabbed Donny's phone and dialed 911.
In what felt like forever, but was really only a couple of minutes, a team of three paramedics from the nearby fire station arrived along with three ambulance personnel. Donny continued to shake and his breathing was ragged. They quickly got an IV drip going. When they tested his blood glucose, I had come back to 67. I hadn't even tested before. Most likely a number wouldn't have even registered when I found him. Most monitors eventually stop showing a number and just say "low" or "high" if it is out of range. After a few minutes on the drip, Donny winked at me. He doesn't even remember doing it, but that was when I knew he was going to be OK. A few minutes after that, he was able to tell the clipboard paramedic his social security number. Whew. The worst was over.
The medics wanted to take Donny to the hospital in the ambulance, but since we knew exactly the cause of his seizures - extremely low blood sugar - we opted to call his endocrinologist from home. Of course, when the six medical personnel vacated my living room, I fell to bits! Even steel magnolias have a breaking point! By 11:00 you would have had no idea that anything had happened. Donny was completely back to himself. I took a little longer to recover. My sweet sister had been visiting my parents in Opelika and delivered Chuck's Barbecue from home for dinner. She is exactly right, it IS comfort food and no one else does barbecue like Mr. Chuck! His Brunswick stew is thick, warm, and PERFECT!
So, that's my past couple of weeks, trial by fire. These periods of pain, prayer, and brokenness have taught me more than I could possibly learn in the easy times that go just according to plan. My God is faithful. He does not ignore his children when they cry out in pain, fear, or frustration. He loves. He comforts, He protects. Praise the Lord! I can say, with complete confidence, that I am thankful for the past two weeks. I have seen God spare my husband's life by waking me up at exactly the right time. I have seen him mend my broken heart and strengthen me with the promise that He will not hide his will from me. I cannot mess up his plan in my weak bumbling. So I take a deep breath say, "Lord, whatever's next, I'm hanging on for dear life. Let's go! Onward and upward!."
Three weekends ago, Donny and I were blessed to host in our home one of his childhood best friends and his spouse. I was braced a little for the weekend, because this wonderful couple is expecting their first child next year. Those of you who have been following my journey from the beginning know how tough it is to be happy for another expectant couple without feeling the pain of your own empty arms. Saturday went beautifully. We had a great time doing "tourist-y" things around Birmingham. It really is fun to play tourist in your own town. Then we came home in time to watch Mississippi State stomp Auburn (ouch, War Eagle anyway). Donny was over the moon. He LOVES his bulldogs :) Sunday also seemed to be going smoothly, beautifully even. The sweet wife prayed over me tearfully, holding me up to the Lord. Praying that Donny and I be blessed with a child. It was truly touching. I teared up.
And then...isn't if funny how quickly things shift... and then, Sunday evening as we sat around in the living room chatting childhood friend began to ask about whether we believed God could heal Donny and allow us to have kids. I braced myself for the completely well-intentioned advice I knew we were about to receive. Donny answered for us, cutting his eyes over at me to assess how I was handling the turn the conversation had taken, "of course we believe that God could heal him if He wanted to." Then over the course of several minutes, this friend told us that God had revealed to him that Donny and I would have a biological child that was not the result of donor sperm and IUI. THAT I was NOT expecting to hear. I thought it would be the typical "just relax, it will happen when you least expect it" advice that makes me want to claw out eyeballs, but just gets a gracious smile and nod. I'm a steel magnolia. Every southern girl knows the smile-and-nod routine.
I could feel the blood rushing into my face, tears fought to pour from my eyes. I have never in my life felt to incredibly torn between my gut reaction and my faith. I wanted to scream at him, "How dare you! Do you have any idea the pain you have just inflicted! Don't pretend you understand! You are expecting a baby!" The other side of me was in pain too, but completely different. "Are we out of God's will? Did we spend ALL that money on sperm, IUIs, doctor consultations, and HSG for nothing? I can't say God did not tell him that!" Childhood friend turned to me and asked if I believed (at least, I think that's what he asked, the world was swimming before my eyes). I leaped out of my seat, simultaneously starting to sob. I said something to the tune of "I'm sorry, I can't listen to this" and ran out to the barn.
An obliging pile of lumber provided a seat, I pulled my knees to my chest, and sobbed. Loud, uncontrolled, gasping, heaving sobs. If the neighbor had been in her backyard she would have thought someone died. A little while Donny found me, I was still sobbing. I told him he'd have to see our guests off because I couldn't go back inside.
I struggled with the prophecy for the next couple of days. I cried a lot. I sought God. My sister came over and prayed with me. Mom prayed with me over the phone several times. Donny prayed with me. I sought advice from other believers that I trust. I was broken by the thought that I could be out of God's will. If I went ahead in November with the ultrasound monitoring and injections, was that rebelling against God's plan? I knew that the friend really, truly believed he had a word from God that had to be shared.
Monday evening was the breakthrough. I had just cried again and Donny had prayed over me. I had prayed. I sat on the couch trying to calm my breathing and get rid of the runny nose and mascara raccoon eyes when God stepped in.
"Do you really think I'm that weak?"
"Weak Lord?"
"Do you really think I'm so weak that something you do, or don't do, will mess up my plan?"
Wow! What relief! What freedom! I could feel the oppressive weight I'd been struggling under lift off my shoulders. So what did I do? I'm a girl. What do you think? CRIED! Again! But this time in gratitude to a Lord who is not cruel. Who does not play hide-and-seek with his children who are truly seeking His will. We have sought his will in every single step of this journey. He is not hiding it from us and he has not shut doors. We just have to trust and keep walking until a door closes and he opens the next route.
God gave me a week to marinate on that new learning. To praise him for his strength and wisdom and enjoy the freedom from doubt. Then the new tests came. Let's just say that teaching is not the cute profession that it is portrayed as on movies, television, and in books. The hours are long. It is exhausting in every possible way. I had a week of testing that required me to again lean heavily on the Lord. He again proved himself faithful. I was tired and looking forward to a weekend to physically, mentally, and emotionally recuperate. My wise sister told me something the Lord has been teaching her this year. If you don't have adversity, then you don't have an adversary. If you don't have an adversary (as a Christian) you are doing something wrong. You are attacked when you are being effective for God's kingdom! That's when Satan finds you to be a threat and throws his darts your way. The previous Sunday I'd taught about the Armor of God in children's church, another example of God's perfect timing. I was outfitted with the equipment I needed to extinguish those flaming darts. Then, just to see if I was paying attention, another test reared its head!
Donny got up early on Saturday, around 6:30. I was determined to sleep. I asked if he was OK. He said yes, he was just awake. So I snuggled deeper under my pile of blankets and shut my eyes. Around 7ish he turned on the TV in the living room - a bit more loudly than usual. He is very considerate when I need to sleep late, often turning the volume all the way down. I got up, stumbled in the living room and again asked if he was OK. He said he was so I asked him to turn down the volume and went back to bed. Around 8:05 I woke up to the sound of his cell phone alarm. He has alarms set at remind him to test his blood glucose level. I ignored it. It kept going off. I waited and listened. The beeping continued.
I got out of bed and came into the living room to find Donny in his recliner, staring at the ceiling, soaked in sweat, and completely unresponsive. He had a plate of almost untouched food sitting on his stomach. He'd crashed so quickly that he wasn't even eating. His pump was still connected, so I took it off then ran into the kitchen and dashed back with his tabs. Even when he's unresponsive, he'll instinctively chew the glucose tabs. I fed him five, pausing between each one, hoping they'd take effect. Then he began to seize. I was praying aloud, holding his shoulders, crying. The glucagon rescue shot was in the medicine cabinet. I snatched it off the top shelf. As I attempted to mix the liquid from the syringe with the powder in the vial, I bent the needle. In case you don't know, those vials have metal tops! I was able to straighten it back out and draw up the dose. Then came the worst part. I'd never had to give Donny a shot before. When I swabbed his thigh, the cold of the swab made him seize harder. I sobbed and apologized aloud as I pushed that long needle in. The seizures didn't ease up. I grabbed Donny's phone and dialed 911.
In what felt like forever, but was really only a couple of minutes, a team of three paramedics from the nearby fire station arrived along with three ambulance personnel. Donny continued to shake and his breathing was ragged. They quickly got an IV drip going. When they tested his blood glucose, I had come back to 67. I hadn't even tested before. Most likely a number wouldn't have even registered when I found him. Most monitors eventually stop showing a number and just say "low" or "high" if it is out of range. After a few minutes on the drip, Donny winked at me. He doesn't even remember doing it, but that was when I knew he was going to be OK. A few minutes after that, he was able to tell the clipboard paramedic his social security number. Whew. The worst was over.
The medics wanted to take Donny to the hospital in the ambulance, but since we knew exactly the cause of his seizures - extremely low blood sugar - we opted to call his endocrinologist from home. Of course, when the six medical personnel vacated my living room, I fell to bits! Even steel magnolias have a breaking point! By 11:00 you would have had no idea that anything had happened. Donny was completely back to himself. I took a little longer to recover. My sweet sister had been visiting my parents in Opelika and delivered Chuck's Barbecue from home for dinner. She is exactly right, it IS comfort food and no one else does barbecue like Mr. Chuck! His Brunswick stew is thick, warm, and PERFECT!
So, that's my past couple of weeks, trial by fire. These periods of pain, prayer, and brokenness have taught me more than I could possibly learn in the easy times that go just according to plan. My God is faithful. He does not ignore his children when they cry out in pain, fear, or frustration. He loves. He comforts, He protects. Praise the Lord! I can say, with complete confidence, that I am thankful for the past two weeks. I have seen God spare my husband's life by waking me up at exactly the right time. I have seen him mend my broken heart and strengthen me with the promise that He will not hide his will from me. I cannot mess up his plan in my weak bumbling. So I take a deep breath say, "Lord, whatever's next, I'm hanging on for dear life. Let's go! Onward and upward!."
Monday, September 29, 2014
Broken
I am going out on a limb here. It very well may break and I'll fall flat on my "tabumpty", as my mom would say, but here it goes. I'm struggling with anger. Anger at God for this whole infertility mess. I've been patient. I've persevered. I've praised in the middle of the valley. I've prayed for a child, for this IUI to work. And what is the result? Another big fat negative. I was so sure this was the one. This was our last attempt on Clomid before moving to more aggressive treatment.
We went for our follow up today instead of just doing a home test because of the Clomid side effects this month. I can't do another month of Clomid. After letting Dr. Steinkampf know that we are down to our last three IUIs for the life of our insurance policy and the Clomid was making me sick, he decided to change my treatment. I will take a month off to let the Clomid mostly clear my system then I'll have ultrasound monitoring and daily injections of Bravelle until my follicles look mature. Then I'll give a shot to trigger ovulation and go in for an IUI 36 hours later. Sound scary? Yep, to me too.
I was hoping against hope that this IUI worked and I could avoid this intense regimen, but it didn't. I'll have to miss a lot more half days of school to go in for ultrasound monitoring. When I got the call, "I'm sorry Mrs. Mott, your test was negative," and the news began to sank in I got angry. I feel broken. God made the human reproductive system for crying out loud. Every test so far has been clear. Everyone who has done an IUI on me has said I have a "perfect cervix". I ended up sobbing out my anger against Donny's chest. He tried to point me to scripture and remind me God had a plan. I couldn't listen. I was furious.
Nothing Donny said was getting through and I could feel my guts twisting into knots. Finally I decided to go for a walk, a long angry, stompy walk. I walked to the park and started around the track. If I'd been in the middle of nowhere I would have ugly-cried the whole way, but I was sharing Leeds Memorial Park with several joggers and strolling seniors. I argued with God, or more like fussed at God as I sped around the track. I threw every reason at him why I should be pregnant after this attempt, wrapping up my brilliant tirade with, "why not now God? Why?"
"It isn't time."
The angry child pounding her fists on the chest of her King turned into a weeping, exhausted woman in the arms of her forgiving, understanding, loving Lord. I sat down on a rock outcropping and continued to cry out. The anger didn't vanish by any means, but I had permission to talk it out. God understands. He allows us to hide in him and cry out our anger, frustration, and broken dreams. I'm still far from ok, I'm broken. But God understands. He has a plan. This was not the time.
We went for our follow up today instead of just doing a home test because of the Clomid side effects this month. I can't do another month of Clomid. After letting Dr. Steinkampf know that we are down to our last three IUIs for the life of our insurance policy and the Clomid was making me sick, he decided to change my treatment. I will take a month off to let the Clomid mostly clear my system then I'll have ultrasound monitoring and daily injections of Bravelle until my follicles look mature. Then I'll give a shot to trigger ovulation and go in for an IUI 36 hours later. Sound scary? Yep, to me too.
I was hoping against hope that this IUI worked and I could avoid this intense regimen, but it didn't. I'll have to miss a lot more half days of school to go in for ultrasound monitoring. When I got the call, "I'm sorry Mrs. Mott, your test was negative," and the news began to sank in I got angry. I feel broken. God made the human reproductive system for crying out loud. Every test so far has been clear. Everyone who has done an IUI on me has said I have a "perfect cervix". I ended up sobbing out my anger against Donny's chest. He tried to point me to scripture and remind me God had a plan. I couldn't listen. I was furious.
Nothing Donny said was getting through and I could feel my guts twisting into knots. Finally I decided to go for a walk, a long angry, stompy walk. I walked to the park and started around the track. If I'd been in the middle of nowhere I would have ugly-cried the whole way, but I was sharing Leeds Memorial Park with several joggers and strolling seniors. I argued with God, or more like fussed at God as I sped around the track. I threw every reason at him why I should be pregnant after this attempt, wrapping up my brilliant tirade with, "why not now God? Why?"
"It isn't time."
The angry child pounding her fists on the chest of her King turned into a weeping, exhausted woman in the arms of her forgiving, understanding, loving Lord. I sat down on a rock outcropping and continued to cry out. The anger didn't vanish by any means, but I had permission to talk it out. God understands. He allows us to hide in him and cry out our anger, frustration, and broken dreams. I'm still far from ok, I'm broken. But God understands. He has a plan. This was not the time.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Fifth attempt
This morning I had my fifth IUI. It's strange, I'm not excited this time. Instead of thinking about a maybe baby, I am spending more time thinking about the next cycle. I think when I finally do get pregnant I'll just be shocked. I feel like I'm just stuck in a pattern of trying to get pregnant.
Clomid has decided not to be my friend this month. In fact, it's been downright nasty! My period cramps were worse and lasted longer. I had bouts of nausea, one time so day I thought I was going to throw up in front of my classroom! Last night I was really dizzy and today my lower abdomen has been achy. That wasn't terribly helpful today with the IUI. Normally I cramp a little, but the achy-ness has made it more uncomfortable this afternoon. Added to that is the crazy emotional swings. I get stressed - really stressed- easily. I want to cry at the drop of a hat. I'm so sick of it!
I spoke with Karen about it when she did my IUI and she said there are other meds we can try, possibly even injections. We'll go back in in two weeks and talk with Dr. Steinkampf about our options. We are approved for 2-3 more IUIs, but our insurance will only cover 3 more IUIs. We have some major decisions coming up.
I have found a support group on Facebook this past week for women and their families who are trying to conceive through IUI. It has been wonderful to find a community of 900+ women who are all on the same crazy roller coaster ride. Now my Facebook feed is not just endless baby pics and pregnancy announcements from proud parents. In the mix, I now see posts from girls hopefully beginning new cycles, dealing with heartbreaking disappointment from failed cycles, and occasionally sharing a BFP to give the rest of us hope. I have never been alone in this process thanks to my God, my wonderful Donny, and my family. Now I have an entire army of fellow combatants in the infertility battle.
Thanks to all of you who have been keeping up with me through this mess. Your calls, letters, facebook messages, emails, and words of encouragement have meant the world to me. Please keep the prayers coming! I am so thankful for each of you prayer warriors!
Clomid has decided not to be my friend this month. In fact, it's been downright nasty! My period cramps were worse and lasted longer. I had bouts of nausea, one time so day I thought I was going to throw up in front of my classroom! Last night I was really dizzy and today my lower abdomen has been achy. That wasn't terribly helpful today with the IUI. Normally I cramp a little, but the achy-ness has made it more uncomfortable this afternoon. Added to that is the crazy emotional swings. I get stressed - really stressed- easily. I want to cry at the drop of a hat. I'm so sick of it!
I spoke with Karen about it when she did my IUI and she said there are other meds we can try, possibly even injections. We'll go back in in two weeks and talk with Dr. Steinkampf about our options. We are approved for 2-3 more IUIs, but our insurance will only cover 3 more IUIs. We have some major decisions coming up.
I have found a support group on Facebook this past week for women and their families who are trying to conceive through IUI. It has been wonderful to find a community of 900+ women who are all on the same crazy roller coaster ride. Now my Facebook feed is not just endless baby pics and pregnancy announcements from proud parents. In the mix, I now see posts from girls hopefully beginning new cycles, dealing with heartbreaking disappointment from failed cycles, and occasionally sharing a BFP to give the rest of us hope. I have never been alone in this process thanks to my God, my wonderful Donny, and my family. Now I have an entire army of fellow combatants in the infertility battle.
Thanks to all of you who have been keeping up with me through this mess. Your calls, letters, facebook messages, emails, and words of encouragement have meant the world to me. Please keep the prayers coming! I am so thankful for each of you prayer warriors!
Monday, September 1, 2014
Unwelcome Visit
Not matter how much I make it clear she is not welcome, she comes anyway! I beg. I threaten. I plead and still she arrives - Aunt Flo. This time she decided to be cruel and arrive a couple of days late, day 32 instead of day 30. I knew she was on her way. Two negative tests don't lie, but it still gives you a tiny ray of hope when the icky monthly visit is delayed.
So we're back to square one. New sperm ordered and Clomid refill called in. We decided to swap donors since the last three IUIs were all with the same donor. On a better note, our original donor had vials available and is listed as having successful pregnancies.
The biggest difference this time is my reaction to the failed IUI. I am incredibly disappointed, but I am just sick of having a meltdown when I get the bad news. I don't like the person I become, curled up in a ball sobbing my eyes out. I have shed a few tears, but only a few. I have to find another way to handle the negative tests. I don't know how else to handle it.
A fourth failed IUI is really starting to make me question if I am capable of getting pregnant. I know the medical tests say otherwise. HSG said I am wide open and clean. Blood work says that I have plenty of remaining eggs and my progesterone levels are good. I know in my head that I could still get pregnant in the next 2 - 3 attempts, but my heart is seriously beginning to doubt.
How many times should we try? When do we move to adoption? How often can I ask my parents and in-laws to financially help with our quest to become parents? There are a lot more questions than answers right now. My comfort is my God! I may not have the answers or know the plan, but God does. I do wish he'd give me a peek. I know there is a reason that it is taking so many disappointments. Nothing is coincidence, but is controlled my loving, holy, and wise God. One day I'll look back and be amazed. For now, I am hanging on and trusting in His plan.
So we're back to square one. New sperm ordered and Clomid refill called in. We decided to swap donors since the last three IUIs were all with the same donor. On a better note, our original donor had vials available and is listed as having successful pregnancies.
The biggest difference this time is my reaction to the failed IUI. I am incredibly disappointed, but I am just sick of having a meltdown when I get the bad news. I don't like the person I become, curled up in a ball sobbing my eyes out. I have shed a few tears, but only a few. I have to find another way to handle the negative tests. I don't know how else to handle it.
A fourth failed IUI is really starting to make me question if I am capable of getting pregnant. I know the medical tests say otherwise. HSG said I am wide open and clean. Blood work says that I have plenty of remaining eggs and my progesterone levels are good. I know in my head that I could still get pregnant in the next 2 - 3 attempts, but my heart is seriously beginning to doubt.
How many times should we try? When do we move to adoption? How often can I ask my parents and in-laws to financially help with our quest to become parents? There are a lot more questions than answers right now. My comfort is my God! I may not have the answers or know the plan, but God does. I do wish he'd give me a peek. I know there is a reason that it is taking so many disappointments. Nothing is coincidence, but is controlled my loving, holy, and wise God. One day I'll look back and be amazed. For now, I am hanging on and trusting in His plan.
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