North of Hope

I’ve been here before.  I’ve experienced the intense anxiety leading up to a frozen embryo transfer multiple times.  One may think I’d be accustomed to the process by now.  But no matter what I do, whether it be positive self-talk, prayer, or distraction, I can’t completely rid myself of the feelings of fear and doubt.  We have poured our hearts, souls, finances, and faith into our IVF journey and we so badly want this round to be different.  Could this be our time?  Could this be the transfer which yields a lasting, healthy pregnancy?  Will I finally get to design a nursery and feel the beautiful little kicks inside my belly?

On Wednesday of this past week, I started my injections.  One of them is Progesterone in Oil, which is to prepare the lining of my uterus for the implantation of the embryo.  This is the dreaded shot in the rear, and despite the nightly angst I’ve had in the past with this particular injection, I have to say I’ve finally found a routine that works for me.  I ice the area ten minutes prior to the injection, and massage the muscle after.  Total game changer.  Last night, however, we were out to dinner with friends and I had to give myself the injection in the public bathroom stall.  Not fun, and certainly not glamorous, but my circumstances could definitely be worse.  The other injection I’m taking (new this time) is Lovenox, which is a blood thinner.  Lovenox is often prescribed in IVF for women who have had recurrent miscarriages, as it prevents the formation of blood clots in or near the embryo.  Due to its blood thinning effects, my stomach has multiple bumps and bruises.  But when I look at the purple circles on my stomach of varying shapes and sizes, I see a body that is working so incredibly hard to prepare for Monday’s transfer.  Along with the two injections, I’ve begun a course of antibiotics and steroids.  The antibiotic is prescribed in advance to prevent infection, and the steroid is intended to decrease any inflammation in my body prior to the transfer.  All of these medications combined have made me extremely fatigued, and at times nauseated.  Work was a struggle toward the end of this past week, but I’ve got the most supportive team, at work and in life, and that makes all the difference.

I was asked by a close friend if I am excited for Monday.  Yes, I most definitely am.  As I’ve said before, it truly feels different this time around knowing that we are transferring a genetically healthy baby.  Statistically, this increases our odds of becoming pregnant, and that is incredibly comforting.  But I’d be lying if I said that my focus this past week has been solely on Monday’s transfer.  This coming week not only brings our next opportunity at conceiving; it also is the due date of our first baby which we lost in August of last year.

In one of my first blog posts I spoke of the anniversary trip Dave and I took to Duluth, which was shortly after that first miscarriage.  On the final night of our vacation, we sat around a fire on the shore of Lake Superior and decided we wanted to give our baby a name.  My best friend, who had also lost a baby not even a month prior, had given us this idea.  She had given a name to the baby they had lost, as she wanted her little one to have a name in Heaven.  We wanted the same for our beloved baby, who we decided would be a boy.  Under the stars, with the sound of waves coming ashore and tears streaming down our faces, we named him Elijah.

We had heard a message in church about the prophet Elijah, and his name seemed to fit perfectly.  In the Bible, Elijah was a man who walked in obedience to God.  Multiple times, God directed Elijah to speak difficult truths and to trust in Him when circumstances were all but fortunate.  Time and time again in scripture, Elijah set the example of loyalty and obedience to God.   While we did not, and at times still don’t, completely understand our miscarriage, we knew with every piece of our hearts that God was asking us to be obedient.  He was searching our souls for the courage to keep pursuing our dream of becoming a mom and dad.  He was asking for our trust in Him and Him alone.

So the past couple weeks, while taking my medications and feeling the related effects, I have been thinking of sweet Elijah.  And all of our other babies, for that matter, who have joined him in Heaven.  We have the best cheering squad around, between our family, friends, coworkers, and church community.  But we also have the memory of our other children strengthening us and reminding us that despite the obstacles we have been faced with, we will prevail.  This upcoming week is big.  It brings the opportunity of another pregnancy.  Another pregnancy which could lead to our first baby who we can physically hold in our arms.  This week also brings an opportunity to not mourn, but rather celebrate, Elijah.

Monday…  Two.  Days.  We will arrive at our clinic at 10:15am, and shortly after, we will meet with the embryologist to discuss whether or not our embryo survived the thaw process.  This is never a guarantee, so we ask for your prayers that he/she is strong.  If all is well, we will receive a picture of our little baby and minutes later, we will be united.  Then begins the dreaded ten day wait, which is always filled with overanalyzing every little symptom I do and do not feel 😊 I vow to keep you all informed.  That was my promise from the very beginning – to share the real, the raw, the fears and the hope.  Thank you for your never-ending love, support, and prayers.  We feel them, and are so very grateful.

XO,
Emily