we're normal!

Turns out... we're normal! Despite my parents questioning my normalcy for years, science gives us both two thumbs up.

This past month has been full of getting the "tests" out of the way as we prepare for next month. We took a blood test that would sequence our DNA and look closely at our chromosomes. There can be 'chromosomal switching' that would allow us to still appear to be normal, but when passing it down to the embryo, could cause miscarriage repeatedly. It would be impossible to fix.

When we met with the genetic counselor, she explained everything I wish I remembered from Sophomore High School Biology. The blood test showed that all of our chromosomes are exactly how they should be. This is also good news because it increases your likelihood for a successful IVF by a few percentage points. This gave us the green light to continue.

So what's the timeline and game plan? Got me.  We're kinda like the Texans over here; we think we know what's happening, but when it's time to answer questions or execute, it's obvious we have no idea what we're doing.  We're trying to listen to everything the doctors tell us, but there are so many "if this, then this" situations, that it's very difficult to follow.  (Kubiak seems to be having the same problem.) 

Our IVF process will begin the first week of December. The schedule will constantly be in flux; I'm monitored the entire time I'm taking the shots/medicines, so nothing will ever be 100% set in stone.  Generally though, pills and shots will happen in December/January, with the egg harvest in mid January. After embryonic genetic testing results (assuming results are positive), I would have the embryo transfer end of Feb/Mid March. I'll explain more of what that all means later. (Note: when I know more of what it means.)

Will and I have been completely humbled by the outpouring of love from so many of you. We even started a little book of the sweet cards we've received to be able to show our child, however we get one someday, "Look at how many people knew you were a pain before you even got here!" (I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Sorta.)

Thank you for all your support through texts, calls, emails, hugs, and encouraging words. Many of you have asked Will or myself "So, how are you doing?" My only answer is "Depends on the time of the day."  We left the doctor on Friday and Will pointed out it was the first time we left without crying. We are beginning to feel encouraged, and even a little excited. However, I have this constant pit in my stomach similar to when you're on a roller coaster and you start ticking straight up. You haven't even done anything yet, but you know you're about to fall and all of the sudden you want to say "ok, never mind. I don't want to do this anymore." I feel a lot like that. (I also know half the time the roller coaster ends with me vomiting, wishing I never did it, and half the time I want to go again. I'm anxious since I don't know how this roller coaster will end.)

Every year we go around our table at Thanksgiving and say what we're thankful for. This year, I know Will and I are thankful for all of your support.  I also am thankful to be in this position, when so many women have gone in to my same doctor and have been told there are no options for them to conceive through any avenue. I'm thankful I have a husband who declined going to the National Championship for FSU (knock on wood they're going), because he doesn't want me to leave me when I'm doing shots. I'm thankful to have a family who says things like "Kendall, when you have kids..." rather than "if you have kids." I'm thankful this is just a fertility issue, and not a life-threatening issue. I'm thankful I have the resources to be able to do this without having to remortgage our house or get a second job. I am thankful.  (I try to remember this on the days when I just want to get off the roller coaster.)

We'll update more specifics later, but had to share the good news that while my husband may not always portray it, we are, in fact, normal!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,
Kendall and Will

Miracles do happen.

A couple lenten seasons ago, Will decided to give up red meat for his 40 days. (Such the good Catholic.)  I decided I'd join him. It couldn't be that hard. About 5 hours after the decision was made, all I wanted was a juicy steak. Night two of being red-meat-free, I begged Will to cook some ribs. Day three, I gave in and ate a frito pie. (of all things...)

I decided having kids is a lot like lent.

Will and I always knew we wanted kids. That's a topic you discuss on date 3. However, we were flexible on a time frame. We knew we had a lot of traveling and things to enjoy before we started our family. We're so young, after all. (I keep reminding my husband he can't keep telling people he was the age he was LAST year. People have figured out he's turned another year.) But when a doctor tells you "You probably won't be able to have children naturally", the natural desire for a family suddenly consumes you.

My first pregnancy wasn't particularly planned, but we were definitely excited that this is where we were headed. (We took biology, we knew what route we were on.) A family! We were thrilled.

I was 6 weeks along when I miscarried. We know that so many people miscarry, and it can be absolutely normal. After all, that's why you don't tell Facebook with the cute little shoes in a row until at least week 13.

My second pregnancy was similar. Another heartbreak. We realized that something probably isn't right. Based on previous health issues, we knew my body isn't the average 28-year-old's, so we thought it was best to go to a specialist. We went through lots of testing, and she said it could be a fluke, or maybe something was wrong after I got pregnant (like low progesterone levels) that could easily be "fixed." She said we may have to do something more extreme, and it was up to us what route to take.

Naturally (literally), we wanted to avoid any "drastic measures." I became pregnant again, and we felt great. We were able to see the doctor a couple of times a week, and my hcg levels looked great. I was taking progesterone and being monitored.  We told our families and closest friends the great news. And then we prayed, and waited, and prayed, and waited. At the 8 week appointment, there wasn't a heartbeat. She told us to wait, and maybe there could be one at 9 weeks. It was a terrible week of emotional roller coaster what-ifs. At week 9, it was confirmed there was no heartbeat. We decided to wait naturally to miscarry. However, I made it a week before deciding I couldn't wait for nature. I wanted "it" out of me. We decided to have a medically induced miscarriage when I could be at home.

That day was one of the worst days I've ever had. If I didn't have Will, I can guarantee you I wouldn't have made it. The pain gods would have taken me away.  The pain associated with miscarriages isn't discussed. It was a horrific and terrible day. (At a later check up, it was found that the sack grew into my uterus, and thus took park of my uterus with it, hence the extremity of my pain. Let's just say I wouldn't even wish that on Ted Cruz.)

After dealing emotionally and physically with that, we had the "what's next" conversation. Seeing one of the best fertility doctors in the nation is a a blessing. (Even more than that, it's an honor and a privilege to even be in her office. Luckily my dad knew someone who referred me to Dr. McKenzie, and I recommend her to everyone. As I told her while crying one day in her office "I really like yall, so at least I don't have to leave you!" She assured me her plan was to make it where I did leave her eventually.) We trust her, and we know she's leading us down the right path. We know God chose her to be our doctor. (Sometimes I even forget she sees other people and she's not just my own personal doctor. And she's not even reading this, so I'm not even trying to get brownie points.)  She said she wants us to stop trying naturally. My body can't take any more unsuccessful pregnancies.

She said in-vitro fertilization is all we can do. Don't want to get too technical (yet), but it's my eggs that are the issue, in her opinion. For genetic reasons, my eggs could never make it longer than 12 weeks. However, with embryo testing, our hope is that enough eggs can be harvested through IVF that at least one can be found that isn't "incompatible with life." (Yes, Dad, I know that's a double negative.) You take a lot of drugs to try and make your follicles create a lot of eggs to be harvested. (I remember when harvesting used to mean good wine was coming...) Even then, the probability of IVF working is less than 50% for each trial.

As we've gone through this, I've been incredibly private. Which is unusual for me, as I'm usually a pretty open book. But we've finally decided to share our story for several reasons.

First, Will and I believe so strongly in the power of prayer. I recently was mad at my mother for sharing with someone that I didn't feel like would understand. My mom said it simply: "They don't have to understand or have gone through it. They have to pray. The more people praying, the better."
So we are here asking you to pray along beside us.

Secondly,  1 out of 4 women have had or will have a miscarriage, and only 1 out of 10 admit it publicly.

Throughout these months, I've been embarassed. Embarrassed that this comes so easily to others, and yet somehow I'm still struggling. Embarrassed I can't give Will something he so badly deserves. Embarrassed that I can't answer questions like "So WHY is this happening?"

I've been following the blog "Motherload" on the  New York Times website that is a parenting blog. They recently have a writer who did IVF live on The Today Show, and found out in front of all of America she's pregnant. I began following it because I wanted to know her experience. However, she miscarried. Someone asked her "Do you wish you kept your story private?" Her answer is a lot of the reason I'm choosing to share.

She said "No, my pain is real. Keeping it private doesn't make the pain less. Feeling embarrassed, ashamed, and isolated makes it worse. I want every woman to feel like she can tell her story, and still be accepted. That's what women should do for one another. I'm calling all women to come forward and tell their story, whatever it is, and for the women surrounding them to tell theirs. And for all women to be supportive of one another. For those of you that aren't ready, that's ok, too. You can sit on the sidelines and wait. We're hoping to start a revolution to have you feel like one day, it's ok to come out from under the covers."

We all know I'm not one to sit on the sidelines. (Even as many times as my softball team wants me to.) So here we are.

Thirdly, those who we have shared with have been graciously kind, sensitive, and so supportive. They have asked us to be "kept in the loop." So for those of you who want to be in that loop and get a glimpse of what IVF entails, you can subscribe to this blog and it'll alert you with any updates. We don't know exactly where this journey will take us, but we thank you for being part of it with us.

My parents sent me an engraved bracelet in the mail yesterday. My mom said she knew nothing had happened this week in particular, but she just wanted me to always remember it on days that got hard. I told Will I'm not taking the bracelet off until I have a baby in my arms. In little letters is the powerful message, "Miracles do happen."

All our love,
Kendall and Will