Sleepless Nights

Pace,

By the time you're old enough to read this journey, you may have already heard the phrase "It takes a village to raise a child." But what you may not have heard yet is that it took a village to have you.

Someone recently told me that the best people in your life "fill your gaps." When you can't seem to make it from one side to the other, they jump in. This blog started as a way to update our closest friends and family during a "simple" IVF journey. However, it became a village; a village of gap-fillers. Family, friends, and strangers came together to support us in a time where our gap seemed extra big and extra scary. And because of them, we were able to cross the big, scary gap to you.

To all these gap-fillers, thank you. Thank you for calling, for texting, for hoping, for praying, for crying, for sharing your stories, for learning with us, and for rejoicing with us.  We are forever changed because of you.

Before July 28, 2015 when I heard people say things like "things can change in an instant", I would think of how many times our hearts were broken in an instant.  Now, my mind flashes to when I rocked you for the first time. Because in that instant, you became the biggest gap-filler of all. You finally filled the hole in my heart that was there always waiting for you.

Little patient soul, I have no idea what is in store for your future. Your dad and I can't WAIT to see it. And while we have lots of hopes and dreams for you, our biggest hope of all is that you'll always know just how loved you are.

Now, it's time for me to go enjoy those sleepless nights.

Love,
Mom

PS. Here's a video of your story!

Pace William

Pace William Monroe was born on July 28, 2015 at 2:33 pm. He came out screaming with his bottom lip quivering, weighing in at 7lbs 3 ounces. There was no greater sound. 

Pace is my maiden name, so this little man shares his name with lots of important people. I hope every time he introduces himself, he remembers that he has a piece of all the Paces in him. I hope he has my dad's integrity, my mom's ability to love so intensely, Katie's open-mindedness, Coatney's loyalty, Calley's sense of humor, Caroline's ability to get along with everyone, and Noah's resilience. And I hope he always knows just how loved he is by all the Paces. 

His middle name is named after his dad (William Jr.) and his grandfather (William Sr.) I hope he has his grandfather's intelligence and his ability to make a mean Bourbon Slush. And I hope he is exactly like his own dad in every single way (except maybe his sulking post Texans-losses).  

And while his name is rooted in family, I also hope he also has a sense of independence. I pray he'll always have his roots grounded in family, but wings big enough to fly.

Will and I had to say a very hard "see you later" to Katy and her family, a few days after Pace was born. (More on his birth story, later.) Our love and feelings towards her and her family feels too sacred to try and explain in this avenue. But as we tried to thank her, we realized her gift to us was also encompassed in our son's name.  Pace, in Italian, means Peace. There is no better description to describe what this little patient soul embodies, and all Katy has given us.  

As I sit here and rock my one-week old, I am overcome with gratitude. But most of all, I'm overcome with peace. Because miracles do happen. 

Counting Down

oh em gee, you guys. We are 36 weeks today. (At first I thought that meant full-term, but apparently full-term isn't until 37 weeks. Whatever, Wikipedia, 36 weeks was my goal.) 

 

Can you believe this? We went from "We're going to deliver at 24 weeks!" to HolyMolyWeAreFullTerm. I'd like to say it went by very quickly (and some weeks it has). But generally speaking, I'm fairly certain Katy has been pregnant for 4.5 years.

 

We've continued with our weekly appointments, and little totsicle is doing pretty well. Sometimes he's hard-headed and doesn't move the required amount, so Katy has mastered which sugary drinks the little man likes in order to get him to "pass" his tests. (He is either the most laid back guy known to man, or he really likes all the extra attention he's getting.)

 

The biggest news is that we have SET THE DATE. We are delivering in TWO WEEKS. TWO! July 28th is D-Day. (We're delivering early for a couple reasons... long story.) Will and I were married January 28th, and Will's birthday is September 28th, so 28 is a lucky number in our house. When Katy called and said "How does July 28th sound as a day to have a baby?" I just began to cry. God loves making coincidences. We will update you on how he is upon his arrival, and if he is as preciously adorable as he looks in the ultrasounds. (I'm totally kidding. He looks like an alien in the ultrasounds. But E.T. was adorable, so I'm ok with it.)

Katy looks great, continues to amaze me with her positivity, and has become one of my closest friends. And as much as Katy amazes me, her kids amaze me even more. People have asked, "How are her kids handling this?" The answer is, "Better than most adults!" They are so generous and compassionate. Her three year old said this morning "Mama, is THIS the week we get to hold the baby?" Katy told her "two more weeks!" Then her daughter said, "ugh, that's what you said yesterday." (I feel ya, sweet darlin', time is movin at a snail's pace!) They hug the baby, kiss the baby, and read the baby stories. Her youngest even wanted to make sure I knew that I had to bring clothes to the hospital, cause the baby would be naked. How cute is that?! (I asked Katy if she'd just give me her 3-yr old instead of the baby she's currently growing. She didn't go for it.) As lucky as we are to have Katy, we're so lucky to have her kids, too.

 

But as lucky as I feel, several times the past few weeks I've struggled with feeling a bit isolated. I've been around a lot of pregnant folks recently, and at times struggled with feeling sorry for myself that I wasn't one of them, and/or having worries or anxiety about issues around our "situation."  

 

(Fertility gibberish defined: "intended parents", or IPs, are what Will and I are called. "Gestational Carrier", or GC, is what Katy is called.)

 

So when I get into one of these funks, it's been helpful to reach out to another IP, who has gone through it before me.  (I've learned that when one wants to feel less crazy, it's helpful to talk to someone who's been down the same path you're on.  More than likely, they'll make you feel less-crazy by telling you that they were equally-as-crazy when they were in your shoes. It's crazy how another crazy can make you less crazy). Learning this, it's made me start thinking about what I want other IPs to know.

 

THINGS I'VE LEARNED IN THE THIRD TRIMESTER:

(FOR ALL MY INTENDED-PARENTS OUT THERE)

 

- HAVE A BABY SHOWER.

Yall, if you knew how much I fought having a baby shower, you may never be my friend. (ie: At one point, I think it was a full-fledged temper-tantrum.)  I had such anxiety about it. Why, oh why, would I have a baby shower? That's weird. I'm not pregnant. This pregnancy journey has been full of such highs and lows. I want to just constantly yell at everyone "THINGS CAN STILL GO WRONG, PEOPLE!" A sweet friend of mine recently had a stillborn. Don't people know that you aren't out of the clear until your baby is HERE?? Why do you look so carefree in that pregnancy photo? You could be on the edge of doom at ANY MOMENT.

 

Well, apparently sisters and moms are put in your life to say "get over yourself." Which is exactly what mine did. I had one shower full of my mother-in-law's friends, who have loved on Will as he's grown-up, and now will love on the next generation of Monroe. And then I had a super laid back baby shower with my closest loved ones (IN OUR PJS!). We had mimosas and chai lattes and amazing quiches. As I opened presents, half my friends would look at the foreign object with the same "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?" look that I had, and half my friends would say "OH- THATS A BOTTLE DRYING RACK! I HAVE NO IDEA WHY IT LOOKS LIKE GRASS BUT YOULL TOTALLY LOVE IT!" Surrounded by just my closest friends, it all felt so genuine.

 

So, intended mamas, have a shower in some way. Because at some point, in the middle of your shower, you'll look around and say "Wow. These people are going to love this baby with me." (And if you're like me at all, you may think "Wow, these people are going to love me even if Dooms Day becomes a reality." And even if you think the latter thought, there's still something nice about it.) So have yourself a shower. Turns out, it's nice to feel loved.

 

- IT'S OK TO STILL BE SAD. (and anxious. and happy. and worried. and sad.)

This is something that a fellow IP told me (the one who was a former-crazy). Full disclosure: I'm still learning this.

 

I told her that I was still getting my feelings hurt about things people would say. How am I not used to it yet? Why do I still feel envious or mad or frustrated when people say things that they don't even MEAN to be hurtful? My "happy ending" (or in reality, my "happy beginning") is two weeks away from happening, but my wounds still feel so open. 

 

I've slowly learned it's not a wound that will heal without scarring. So like all big scars, this scar will always be a bit more sensitive. Someone posted something on Facebook the other day that talked about her cesarean scar and the stretch marks of pregnancy. She said she wore these as a badge of honor. Her body did something remarkable, and that's what is left behind. They're her "pregnancy battle wounds."  As IPs, we won't have those badges of honor, but we'll have a different type of scar. And we will learn to wear that emotional scar as a badge of honor, too. An emotional scar that we decided to overcome, and will continue to overcome. These past couple months, I have learned to try to be proud of that, too.

 

- HOPE WORKS.

As I've mentioned, this blog has been a great way for me to communicate with other carriers and IPs. (I didn't even mean for it to turn into that, but apparently there's a bunch of us out there navigating this very-weird-confusing-secret-society called "Infertility.") The one thing that bonds us all together, no matter the situation, is hope. Every email I get from a stranger-turned-friend is always filled with hope. It's what we all know keeps us afloat. These past couple months I've had a lot of time to reflect on the past two years. And while I still have two more weeks (and then the whole the-rest-of-his-life-thing) to hope, I've thought "THANK GOD I NEVER STOPPED HOPING." Oh man, what I would have missed! I would have missed a close, indescribable bond with another human being, who has chosen to give me the gift of motherhood. I would have missed the opportunity to have conversations with my husband that were hard and vulnerable and heart-wrenching, but brought us so close together. I would have missed friendships that were strengthened because of the women who stepped up and decided to hold me up when life really, really sucked. I would have missed my heart being softened to a population of women that struggle with their own infertility.  But instead, even when it was just a flicker, (and even when people held onto the hope when I couldn't...), hope remained.  So, luckily, I got to experience all of these things.

 

Turns out, if you keep hoping, it may really come true after all. (Stay tuned, Dooms Day could be around the corner. But if not, you folks will be the first ones to know when our totsicle enters this beautiful, brutiful world.)

Hope on,

Kendall

 

Ps. Did I mention TWO MORE WEEKS?

Bluebellgate Update

We've hit 26 weeks! These past couple weeks have been even more painstakingly slow than the first trimester (if that's even possible). However, the roller-coaster has seemed to have slowed down a bit, and we're beginning to get our bearings again.  (And may even eat ice-cream again someday, soon!)

Katy has been a complete champ. (If this little patient soul gets daddy's persistence, mommy's bull-headedness, and carrier's strength, there's going to be no stopping this one!) She successfully completed her IV treatments through home health and can probably teach a class on PICC lines.  She's feeling better and has been great at reassuring us when she feels the baby move. 

After speaking with specialists both in Houston and Dallas, our doctors feel like with non-stress tests and ultrasounds, they'll be able to predict if prenatal distress (ie: stillborn) will occur within the next 7 days.  Katy will continue to go in weekly for tests, and only when/if something looks concerning, will we deliver. If the baby has other complications caused be listeria (blindness, meningitis, seizures, etc.), delivering him early would not alleviate those issues (and we won't know about such issues until birth.) So we'll just continue to pray he'll be healthy upon delivery, and keep repeating our new mantra: "we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

While Bluebellgate will be part of our story, (because it was such a non-eventful story before this...) we are still hoping it's not one that will define our story. Each week we'll wait with anticipation that our little totsicle will continue cooking for another week and continue to thank our lucky stars that we're still passengers on the roller-coaster.

Love to all,
Kendall and Will

Answers bring more questions

Thank you all for your prayers, worried texts, and messages of support.

First, the antibodies came back negative. Huge relief.  However, we've learned more about what this test shows, and it's not exactly what we previously thought. The lack of antibodies just means that Katy isn't fighting off the infection caused by listeria (listeriosis). This is great news, because we want Katy to be healthy (not just for our baby, but for her three little babies!) This also shows that hopefully she won't have any more effects from the listeria that she was previously experiencing (contractions, vomiting, fever, etc.), which is ah-mazing.  However, unfortunately the lack of antibodies doesn't mean that the baby wasn't exposed.

Enter: gray area. (We're hoping the area will become a lot more black/white as the weeks progress.)

Our understanding is that it's impossible to ever be sure if Baby M is currently being infected by the listeria, (except through testing the spinal fluid or brain fluid, which can't be done in utero.) So based on what we know so far and what doctors' have seen, we'll move forward with the likelihood that baby M was exposed. This means weekly appointments, ultrasounds, monitoring baby's weight, monitoring changes in the placenta, and weekly stress tests. The second anything changes and we see the baby is in distress through these tests, we'd deliver.  However, many times there isn't a warning, and perinatal death just occurs. So there tends to be a fine line between the risks of a premature birth, and risking the possible effect listeria could have. (ie: do we risk taking him at 28 weeks, when he may have been fine until 34 weeks, and then struggle with the issues of a 28 week premature baby? Or do we risk keeping him "cooking" longer, and then risk the complications from listeria?)

Because we aren't sure, (and the doctors aren't sure) about what week is the magic number, we plan on talking to lots of specialists (both in Houston and in Dallas), as well as talking to some neonatologists (aka: newborn docs). We have scheduled appointments in Dallas with two different doctors on Monday morning (week from today), and hopefully we'll be closer with a plan of action by then. In the meantime, all doctors tend to agree on her same treatment of IV antibiotics, so she'll continue with that.

We'll keep you all updated with what we learn/decide in the next few weeks.

Little patient soul, today you are 23 weeks. Our little "week-by-week" cards tell us that you're forming taste buds this week. I can't wait to see you taste a lemon for the first time or your first lick of an ice cream cone. (Albeit, not likely Blue Bell.) Just please keep hanging in there, as we aren't quite ready to meet you yet. But when you make it here, I promise the taste of life will be worth it.

Love to all,
K & W

a frozen bump in the road

Remember when I wrote last week that "things are a little TOO good to be true?" Well, let's just call that a mother's intuition.

This week we hit a big ol' frozen bump in the road.

(Note: After reading you're going to want to scroll to the bottom of this to see if this says "April Fools." However, it's April 10th, and I promise you I'm entirely too tired for this joke.)

Last Tuesday, Katy got really sick. She had some contractions and muscle tightening, and just a really nasty stomach bug. She felt really, really sick for several hours, and then slowly got better until she was back to normal by Easter morning. Then this past Tuesday, a week later, she got a call from her local Kroger. (They tracked her down by her Kroger Card.) They let her know that she purchased Blue Bell ice-cream that had been recalled because of the bacteria, listeria. The symptoms? Everything that happened to her the previous week, just about 12 hours after she ate a bowl of Blue Bell ice-cream.  (Pickles and Ice-cream are supposed to be the staple of a pregnant woman's diet, right?!)

She made a call to our obgyn, who told her to come in ASAP. Then she was referred to a perinatologist (aka: high risk pregnancy doc). By Wednesday afternoon, she was admitted to the hospital.

Listeria is a form of food-poisoning, that many of us may have contracted at different points in our lives. However, in pregnant people, it's very dangerous. The CDC website says the bacteria in pregnancy causes "miscarriages, premature delivery, infection to the newborn (meningitis, paralysis, seizures, blindness, or impairments of the brain, heart, or kidney), and 22% of cases with perinatal listeriosis result in stillborn or neonatal death."  

(Many of you have been following this Blue Bell debacle as it is spread all over every media outlet. If you haven't, google "Blue Bell" and settle in for the night, cause there's enough reading to entertain you for hours.)

Right now, we're waiting for two results. First, her cultures. This blood test will tell us if listeria is currently in her blood stream. Because she's not sick any longer, we really think/hope this will be negative. We won't find that out til mid next week. (They grow the cultures in the lab, and apparently they can't speed that up.) The second test is to test for antibodies. If the test shows a positive result for listeria antibodies, then it's likely the baby has been exposed. If it's negative, it's likely she was either able to a) expel the bacteria before her body had to form antibodies or b) she never contracted the bacteria.

We were really hoping to have the antibody blood test back today. However, we have spoken with doctors (both specialists here in Houston and in Dallas), and we feel like we have a general game plan with either outcome of the results.

If the result is positive, then it's a balancing act of debating how long to keep Baby M in the womb and risk horrific things happening, and when to get him out and risk premature problems. Viability is 23 weeks and 3 days. We will hit 23 weeks this Monday. We are praying and hoping and crossing everything in our body that if it's positive, we will be able to keep him in that warm little womb until 28 weeks. That decreases his likelihood of lifelong problems drastically. We'd work with doctors in Dallas and in Houston to find the best spot for her to deliver. (If we have time to control it, she'd most likely deliver in Houston so the little tot could be at Texas Children's.) The plan will be for her to continue on the same regimen she's on right now (an IV antibiotic treatment 3 times a day). 

If it's negative, we will still continue cautiously. Because the Perinatologist said "If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it may not be a duck but we're going to treat it like one", she is going to continue on the IV antibiotic treatment 3 times a day, for 14 days. After that, we will monitor her and the baby weekly by stress tests and ultrasounds. If the baby is ever not gaining weight and/or if the placenta starts to look like it's infected, we'd deliver immediately.

But for now, all we can do is wait. 

Our spirits are higher today than they have been the past two days, although we're very tired and feel like we've been run over by a truck. However, we believe in the religion of Bob Marley, and we know that "every little thing, is gonna be alright."

Love to all,

Kendall and Will

(If you're anything like our families, we know you probably have 100 questions and comments. We thank you for following our story! But please know if I don't get to your questions/texts/emails/messages, we SO appreciate your concern and I will respond as soon as I can!)

Movin' and Groovin' (literally!)

We are past the halfway point, people!! In 2 weeks, we will hit the "age of viability." The age in which if our little totsicle came into the world, survival may be possible. This is mind boggling to me. This pregnancy has been the biggest whirlwind while also being the most agonizingly slow wait. It's some sort of weird combination between the two.

 

Will and I are continuing to go to Dallas monthly for our visits. Last visit was our last ultrasound where they checked out the babe's organs.  We found out that he is definitely a he! We saw his heart beating a strong beat. We saw his eyes flinching like they're trying to open and blink. We saw him yawn and suck his thumb. We saw him cross and uncross his legs each time the ultrasound tech pushed on him. He's just movin' and groovin' in there. He looked like the most perfect little alien you ever have seen.

While we are bursting with excitement, this time has been more emotional for me than the previous weeks. Katy is really beginning to show, and she felt him kick for the first time. (Katy always drinks water, and she stopped for a cherry limeade and the little dude went nuts! And yall, I LOVE cherry limeades! I think we're going to get along well.) I am so unbelievably excited, while also feeling like something horrific is about to happen. It feels like life is a little TOO good right now. Perhaps I'll feel like this until I'm holding him, or perhaps the feeling will begin to fade. But as we have talks of baby showers (don't ask my mom or my sisters about the amount of tears that were just shed over THAT talk) and nursery furniture, I feel like we're jinxing it all. However, at the exact same time, I feel actually EXCITED.  It's a weird emotion to feel-- so excited and so scared.

 

Many of you may remember last Easter. I miscarried on Easter Sunday last year. Sometimes I still feel like that day was yesterday.  Sometimes I still feel like I'm grieving what could have been. However, we continue to remember the Easter message that was applicable to us last year, this year, and maybe every day in between: A new season will come. There is always hope. What looks like the end might just be the beginning.

Happy Easter,

Kendall (and Will)

Ps. Here's one video we made to announce to some of our friends that we were expecting!

We went to a place to just find out the gender, and didn't tell our families we were finding out. Katy told a friend of mine the gender, and then she then handed us the right color silly string without us knowing until we sprayed one another!   (Funny story-- Will is color-blind, and thought it was pink at first. Good news is that he was excited for both genders!)

 

 

 

P.S.S. We told Will's family it was a boy by giving them cupcakes with blue inside the cupcake. (We video taped when we told them, but the video didn't work!)  We told my family by giving them Easter baskets. Each basket had different eggs with candy in them... and only ONE egg had the gender. So they each quickly opened every egg they could to find it!)

 

 

 

 

Second Trimester!

We are nearly 16 weeks pregnant, and in the second trimester. (I'd say "time flies when you're having fun!", except that time hasn't flown. It's done more of a turtle crawl.) The little totsicle is now larger than an apple, has functioning organs, and apparently from the ultrasounds, loves to suck his/her thumb. My sister gave me little cards to read every week that describes how much the baby is growing. It is remarkable to be able to imagine it.

 

I've received lots of feedback with the "why haven't you written!?" or "is everything ok?!" And yes! Everything is great! However, we still feel this "Don't say it's great! Things could still go wrong!" feeling in the pit of our stomachs. We've had two friends who have recently gone through devastating losses. One lost her baby in the beginning of her third trimester, and one lost her little girl during delivery. Our hearts have broken with them.  We are learning to juggle how to be excited, while also knowing that the only result we care about is one that ends in a healthy baby.

 

However, this blog has become both for my loved ones, but also for other people that may be in similar fertility situations. (A link to my blog was posted on a fertility website, so now have followers in a similar boat as we are.) So even with that pit in my stomach, I'm going to try to write more with more specific details.

 

To the new folks whom I don't know: I'm sorry you're reading this. I'm so sorry that you have reached the point where the Google searches of "infertility", or " surrogacy", or "gestational carrier" or "IVF" or "hyper-stimulation" or "I'm freaking the F out" has brought you here. I wish you were at Baby's R Us shopping for a stroller instead. However, all I can say is "you're going to be ok." (I don't even know this for myself, but I know that eventually, somehow, we're all going to be ok.) Most importantly, know you're not alone. We're all in this together.

 

Emotionally, I'd say Will and I are great a solid 85% of the time. We feel excited and blessed and thankful. But also super anxious.  During our last appointment, as they were finding the heartbeat, I thought I may throw up. (Because it took them 5 seconds to find it, rather than the 1 second I prefer.) Katy even laughed and said "It's still in there- stop worrying!"

 

Katy is feeling great. She is constantly cold and sleeps 10 hours a night, but other than that, she's a rock star. Every time we see her, we high five. We got SO lucky. She's providing the perfect little nest for our tot.

 

We've now told all our close friends and family, which has helped make it seem more "real." I am constantly telling myself "Don't tell people. This is so weird. People think this is so weird." And when we do share with people, I still get shaken up about certain questions or feedback. (But at least I can acknowledge now that it probably rocks me more than it should. I was born sensitive, too late to change now!) For those of you that may be experiencing similar situations, I thought I'd be honest and open about my two biggest current sensitive buttons:

 

First: "You're so lucky!" I have the urge to cry and scream when people tell me that I'm lucky because my body won't have to heal post-pregnancy, or I'll be well-rested when the baby comes.  I know people are trying to be nice, and tell me the "pro" side of this "situation." However, it mostly ends in me feeling more envious. If only they knew how much I'd love to experience the labor contractions, the ice diapers post birth, or the tender boobs. It really feels like they're just pointing out another part of pregnancy or motherhood that I'll never understand.  So for those in my same boat, I have no words of wisdom on this topic... other than "breathe through the nose, and out the mouth".  

 

Second: Breast Feeding.

 

Yes, I know "breast is best". Yes, I know I can take hormones to induce milk production. Yes, I know breast feeding is hard. Yes, I know breast feeding helps you bond. Yes, I know lots of children flourish on formula. Yes, I know formula has come a long way and yes, I know they make organic formula.

 

However, I still have the feeling that I may burst into tears at any moment when the topic comes up.  Everyone seems to have thoughts or advice on the topic.  (I had a photographer at a wedding talk to be about her opinion, and her doula's opinion, about what I should do. I knew her for 5 minutes.)

 

What I'd like to do: I'd like to be able to nurse without any hormones, without using a pump 6 months before the baby arrives, and without a tube connecting to my nipple that feeds my baby someone's else's milk. My second choice is to use formula that is just as great as breast milk, and will give my child all the anti-bodies that breast milk provides. However, people keep telling me neither of these are possible. (Damn Nay-sayers.)

 

What we hope to do: We've thought a LOT about it, and have done a LOT of research. For us, the best thing is that Katy has agreed to pump for us. The worst thing is that she's in Dallas. She won't do it long-term, but hopefully we can utilize her milk for awhile, and somehow figure out how to ship it to us at a reasonable cost. (I've heard dry ice and disposable coolers are the way to go, and about a week's shipment is $150. I'll update more when the time comes to give better advice on logistics for those who may need it!)  Additionally, I have some sisters and friends who also have said I can use some of their extra milk, if/when they overproduce. 

(To say this is an answered prayer is a huge understatement. My dear friend Jessica has become such a champion for me in this department. She said "at first my goal was to get enough mothers to help to get you through a year, but then I did the math on how much milk that is, and how much I can produce... So now I'm thinking one month!" I convinced her that maybe we should start with one week! :) ) 

 

We also know we'll also use formula. (There won't be enough milk, even with so many helpers!) So we've decided we'll use The Honest Company and/or Baby's Only (sold at Whole Foods and online.)

 

Maybe I won't bond in the same way that nursing mothers bond. There's never any way for any of us to know, I suppose. However, I have only carried some of my babies 8 weeks, and I was bonded. The love I have for this kiddo already feels overwhelming at times. And my best friend swears "The second you soothe him/her for the first time, I promise you'll be bonded!" So for now, I feel good about this decision.

 

(For those of you who may decide to still try to nurse through induced hormones, check out La Leche League- there's probably one in your area! They can help! http://www.llli.org/faq/adopt.html)

 

However, even with my sensitive buttons, I am overwhelmed with the support we've received. At first I was anxious about Will telling some of his male friends, since I wasn't sure I was ready for their reaction. But recently he had some friends over, and there was an ultrasound on the fridge. One friend said "whose baby is this?" Will answered with a simple "Mine." The guy congratulated him. Then 2 weeks later, I saw him when I was having a glass of wine. The friend said "oh yes, you can have a little, can't you?" I stuttered and said something like "um, well, um, yes, cause um, I'm not carrying. We, um, actually have, like, a carrier." He looked at my brother-in-law to make sure I wasn't joking, and then said "wow- cool. Congrats, guys!" and continued to pour himself a glass. Seemed like a small moment, but to me, felt huge. Maybe this isn't such a weird journey, after all.

 

Love to all,

Kendall and Will

 

ps. Yes- we ARE finding out the gender at the 20 week ultrasound! Stay tuned!

Eight Week Milestone

Dear Baby,
Today we saw your heart beating, and saw the blood pumping through your small little body.  You already have eyelids, all your organs, and have joints in your wrists and knees. You are just the size of a kidney bean, but I swear you're the most loved little legume that ever existed.

Today was a big day for us. In the past 2 years, our hearts have always broken before eight weeks. But not with you. Even the doctors agree that you look beautiful. We haven't been calling you "baby", but just a little totsicle. Today we said "baby" for the first time, and although the look in our eyes is one of pure panic and worry, it is also beginning to look like one of excitement and hope.

Keep on growing, little kidney bean. Happy 8 week birthday!
Love,
The people who will one day ground you

Dear Katy,
Today I texted my family about the good news of another successful appointment and one sister asked how you were feeling. I said you felt nauseous in the afternoons, but overall just tired with the perfect amount of pregnancy crumminess. One sister said "How do you ever thank someone for going through this for you? What an angel. I am so thankful for her." Another sister said "Mostly, what a special relationship. One only a few people will ever understand."

This is exactly how I feel.  I've been taught there are four words in Greek that mean "love." However, it's obvious Socrates didn't know much about surrogacy or he would have made up a new word that describes our feelings for you. Thank you for enduring an ultrasound every week and not making us feel crazy when we ask to hear the heartbeat again and again.
Love,
The people who will put you through agonizing pain in 8 months

Dear Will,
Thank you for reminding me things could still go wrong, while also entertaining me about which baby names sound the best in a slogan. (Obviously for when our child runs for Student Council.) You will forever be my balance. Thank you for always reminding me that this will definitely be worth it, and that this isn't my fault. There is no one else on earth I would want to go through this with than you.
Love,
The girl who keeps crying and getting snot and mascara on your shoulder

Dear God,
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Love,
All the obnoxious prayer warriors who haven't ceased to keep praying for us

little patient soul

We heard a heartbeat, people!!

Katy flew in for the day to be seen by our Houston clinic, and our wonderful doctor came in on her day off to do the ultrasound. We were very anxious leading up to this, and the two week wait felt like two years. Needless to say,  I think people in Singapore could have heard my heart beating out of my chest as we walked into the room.

First our doc says "OK, I only see one sac." An immediate disappointment swallows us. Not twins. (We were really hoping for the "two for the price of one" deal.)

And then she says "Well, look at that flicker! There's the heart." We listened closely, and the sweetest sound you'll ever hear filled the room. Any disappointment of it not being twins left us as quickly as it came. The pain of the past 1.5 years didn't go away, but rather suddenly felt like it had a purpose.

My sister lives in L.A., and has recruited lots of prayers from her friends. (We like to take our prayer requests national.) She forwarded me a text from one of her friends that said "I don't want to speak too soon, but man, that little one is so meant to be. Look what had to happen for him/her to come to be?? Little soul has been waiting patiently!"

Little soul, please hang on. We'd really love to meet you. (And not just because you'd be the first one in our family to be patient.)

Katy will have ultrasounds weekly her first trimester, so it's another day to celebrate and another week to wait.  My colleague, Karen, said "We get to celebrate again!!" (I think she's beginning to figure out that this pregnancy will have more celebrated milestones than any pregnancy in history.)

Little patient soul, we're celebrating you.

To Another Day

We have great news! We got another girl pregnant! (note: I'm not sure if these jokes will ever get old.) 

We have done two blood tests and both had positive results, indicating Katy's HCG numbers are increasing and there is a positive pregnancy.

The "two week wait" (which is really only 10 days) felt eerily similar to when I was going through it. I thought maybe I wouldn't think about it as much this time, since it wasn't happening to my body. I was wrong. So after too many home pregnancy tests (some of which were negative, so a big shout out to my friends who are still my friends after I dramatically told them it didn't work and was a disaster for 3 days), we received the good news!

I wish I could say that we were immediately elated and hopeful and already planning our nursery color scheme. However, our "we've already been here multiple times before" thoughts begin to emerge, and it's been hard to let the joy consume us before our doubts creep in. That may seem hard to explain to some, and I'm not meaning to be ungrateful. We are VERY grateful. But as excited as I want to feel, I feel five times as scared and anxious. We are all counting down until our first ultrasound on Dec 17th.

We went out to dinner to celebrate her first positive blood test, and Will's toast was "To Another Day." Another Day we are thankful that we're this far.  Another Day of hoping and dreaming. And Another Day to pray that we have lots more days like this one.

a brutiful day.

Will woke up this morning, took the dogs outside, and came back upstairs with an excited "It's a beautiful day to knock someone up!" And boy, oh boy, was today beautiful.

My favorite writer, Glennon Melton, writes that the most beautiful things are the ones that are also so brutally hard. She calls these things "brutiful." So maybe that's a better description of today. It wouldn't have been so beautiful, if at the same time, it wasn't brutally difficult.

Blake and Katy got in last night from Dallas, and we got her ready to invite our little totsicles into her body with some Cyclone Anaya's, (since it's only inevitable that our kids will do anything for Tex-Mex). As we sat there laughing about the funny things her kids say, I was struck with how much I genuinely liked them. Yet, I wouldn't know them at all without this insane journey.  A "brutiful" realization, if you will.

Today at Houston IVF, the nurse came to tell Will and I that the embryos thawed successfully. (It's always a risk that they won't make it through the thawing process.) As Will put his arm around me, I knew he was the only person in the world thinking the same thought I was. "This is so hard. This is so great." Looking at him in that waiting room as we prayed together was a moment I'll never forget. It was so freaking brutiful.

As we walked into the transfer room with Katy already prepped and ready to go, I just cried and cried. Cried tears of sadness and grief that I could not be the one to do this. Cried tears of hope that maybe this could be our chance. Cried tears of gratitude that Katy and Blake are in our lives. All just big ol' brutiful tears.

And as we walked out and hugged them goodbye, it was the first time I realized that my little embryos don't go home with me. They stay with Katy, and I have to trust that she'll love them and keep them safe. It's a brutiful thing to have to give up that control, yet also have a sense of peace knowing that I trust her so completely. 

Will was right. Today was a brutally beautiful, brutiful day.

xo,
Kendall and Will

ps. We find out in 10 days if it's worked! So prayers for the next 10 days... and hopefully the next 9 months. (Or why you're at it, the next 18 years.)

 

In attempt to get me to stop crying, we took selfies in the back room. We like to call this one, "waiting to impregnate another person" face.

 

Our adorable baby-carrier and her sweet husband!

 

Burning Bright

It's been a long time since I've written, somewhat purposefully. It's been a whirlwind, and I knew I'd confuse everyone if I updated on every step. We've just tried to keep moving forward with the mantra "If you keep pedaling, you won't fall off."

 

In a quick summary and bullet-point fashion, here's a chronological update:

• Decided to definitely move forward with a carrier. Signed a contract with the GC agency.
• Got matched to a carrier who lives in Houston. We loved her. Got super excited and couldn't wait to move forward.
• After some testing, our doctor did not approve her because of some physical risks. We got sad and defeated and thought "maybe we shouldn't do this."
• We kept pedaling.
• We had two advocates reach out on our behalf to the CEO of our GC agency to ask them to "look out for us."(One is a new friend who used the same GC agency, and one is our fertility doctor. Both contacted the agency without us knowing. We didn't even bribe anyone!)
• CEO, not our normal caseworker, called us and said she had someone she'd like us to meet that she'd been "keeping in her back pocket." The potential carrier works in the fertility industry, and she had recently decided she could do more. She mentioned to the CEO that she may want to be a carrier. The CEO promised she'd find someone for her that would be a good match.
• Enter an anxious and excited Monroe couple.
• In a whirlwind Labor Day weekend, Will and I drove to Dallas. (Don't worry- she's not a Cowboy's fan. We obviously asked.)
• We met her, her husband, and her children.
• We fell in love.

I don't want to reveal too much about her to protect her privacy, but she's wonderful. Her name is Katy and she lives in a suburb outside of Dallas. She's in her late twenties, is married, and has children of her own. She works in the "fertility field" and for years has been helping women with their fertility struggle. Because of this, she knows well what lengths some women go through to become mothers.

In our first meeting, we asked her and her husband why they wanted to do this for another couple. (Her husband is not involved in anything directly, but obviously this is a big step for their family.) She said "I have been involved in the third party fertility industry for years, and have seen first hand the heartache that many parents have gone through to build their families. I have had all uncomplicated pregnancies and I see this as a way that I can help a family. My husband and I are done building our family but we have both discussed and feel that God has called us to continue to make a difference in the lives of a couple to help them grow theirs." (Don't you love her, too??)  She is so genuine, kind, and generous. I really can't believe she's "ours!"

We have already gone through all her pre-testing, finished a long process of contracts with attorneys, and have successfully made it over some speed bumps. We hope to do the embryo transfer sometime before the holidays!

Before our last IVF cycle, we booked a trip to Europe knowing that it was going to either be a "babymoon" (since I would have been in my second trimester by then), or it would be a chance to clear our heads after a loss. However, it turned out to be neither of those things. We definitely have grieved (and will continue to grieve) the baby's who heart we heard beat strong, but never got to hold. And we definitely wished we could have discussed disposable diapers vs. cloth diapers or a "labor plan." But instead, we met Katy right before we left, and so Europe wasn't a trip of nursery planning nor was it a grieving getaway. It was a trip of hope and gratitude, knowing that one part of our journey was over, but a new one was just beginning.

 

When our doctor called the gestational carrier agency on our behalf, we've been told she told the CEO, "I have a couple that I started seeing two years ago, and their light shined so bright. Today they've just left my office, and I'm worried their light is barely a flicker." 

 

I sure hope Katy makes us parents. But even if she doesn't, I am forever grateful that she has made our light continue to burn, and maybe even brighter than ever.

 

With Love,

Kendall and Will

"Opposite of Loneliness"

Over the past few days I've received a couple emails from friends saying "Give us an update!" (To those friends- I love you. Thank you for caring.) The truth is that I've become a bit more "reserved" in the past couple weeks. As we've told people we're continuing down the route of a gestational carrier, I found myself becoming more and more nervous. I was constantly holding my breath to see how someone would respond or what they would say. So instead of putting myself through the anxiety, I decided I would just stop talking about it entirely. 

Well, I just left church and the sermon was one of those "this-is-for-you-Kendall-so-you-better-listen" type sermons. The gist of the sermon was this: If we shut ourselves out to the world, we are missing the most wonderful thing that we can experience as human beings. Going through life with "family",  (not necessarily the family we're born with, but the community/friends/family we choose to surround ourself with), is when we are living out the essence of our existence.  We must allow ourselves to be open, and thus allow ourselves to nurture and be nurtured by others.

One of the sermon illustrations was Marina Keegan, the Yale grad who gave her commencement speech and then was killed 5 days later in a car accident. She spoke about her experience at Yale, and named the commencement address "The Opposite of Loneliness." The commencement essay was about how wonderful it was to be part of something bigger than she was. Throughout the sermon, and after reading her whole essay, I realized that if I don't allow myself to be open, even though with "open" comes "vulnerable", then I'm the one missing out.

So here we go, guys. We're headed on a new journey. I wish I could tell you what happens at the end, but I'm not quite sure myself.  But in a new effort to be open, I'll start by tackling some of the hardest questions I've been asked.

Why are you using a gestational carrier?

This is tough, because I don't have a long diagnosis to spit out. As far as the doctors know, my immune system has never/will never be hospitable for an embryo. It becomes inflamed and can't tell what are foreign cells (like virus or bacteria cells), and what isn't. Therefore, my body attacks anything it doesn't recognize (like an embryo.) Because in most cases a diagnosis like this doesn't change with time, we aren't waiting or continuing with further treatment.

You're going to use a surrogate or a gestational carrier? What's the difference?

This is a hard question to answer because traditional surrogacy doesn't really exist as frequently as it once did. But generally speaking, a surrogate is when the carrier is using her own egg. So a contract would be for a woman to carry her biological child and would undergo artificial insemination with sperm from the potential father. The surrogate is genetically linked to the child she's carrying. 

However, a gestational carrier is when the embryo is not genetically related to the carrier. She is transferred the embryo from intended parents, and then carries it with no genetic connection. She is literally "just the oven."  (Some women do use an egg donor AND a gestational carrier. But that's another story for another time.)

However, since traditional surrogacy doesn't happen much anymore in the U.S., the word "surrogacy" is often used in place of "gestational carrier." So I may say "my surrogate" at times, even though we are using a gestational carrier.

So how does this work? 

Well, we aren't 100% sure. We will be figuring a lot of it out as we go. We are using an agency to help us find a carrier and work with us throughout the process. Gestational carriers do get paid a large sum for their service, but many of them also have a heart to give back to others. (One potential gestational carrier said "The gift of motherhood was the greatest gift I've ever received. It would be an honor to give that gift to someone else." Enter waterworks.)  

All of the potential carriers have had a child of their own, and go through rigorous physical/physiological evaluations. It's a little like "blind dating". We have met a few girls, and we hope we are getting a few steps closer. (We have to like them, and they have to like us.)  If a carrier doesn't live in our area, she will do the embryo transfer in Houston, and then see her own OB/GYN in her home city. We will travel for doctors' appointments and we will be in the room during labor/delivery.

Why don't you just adopt?

Adoption is a wonderfully magnificent way to become a parent. And maybe someday in our future, Will and I will adopt. For now, we have frozen embryos that we want to persue. The wait to adopt a newborn is several years, and almost the same amount of money as the route we're currently perusing.  It is not the "easy quick fix" that you may be expecting. Unfortunately, there is no "just" in "just adopt." 

Why doesn't one of your sisters carry it for you?

My sisters are by far the biggest blessing I could imagine in this world. I would trust any of my sisters far beyond I could trust myself to carry a child. However, this isn't a "Will you run to the grocery store for me?" type of favor. I have three sisters who will all start or continue a family in the next few years. To ask or expect any of them to carry this for me would be asking them to stop perusing their dream family. (Unless I want to ask my sister in college to carry. And I don't think her sorority or Young Life would allow her to walk around knocked-up.) While I know any of my sisters would give her right arm for me, I want her to use that right arm for the life she wants, not the life I'm after.

Does Will have sex with the woman you choose? 

No. Surely you're joking, but since I've been asked the question twice in 2 weeks, I guess it should be addressed. Like I explained previously, the embryo is genetically ours. There is no sex to be had, although I appreciate your creativity. Our embryos have been frozen from our previous IVF cycles. Our carrier will be transferred an embryo in a hospital room, not a hotel room. 

Are you going to tell?

I'm not really sure what this question means, but I've been asked it often. Am I going to tell my child? Absolutely. His/her journey into this world is one I'm already proud of. He/She is very wanted, so there's no reason I would hide this. Am I going to tell a person in the elevator that my baby was born via a gestational carrier? Probably not. Am I going to tell Facebook/whole world? Well, to be honest - I'm just not sure yet. (Baby steps, for now.)

This is so scientific. I don't think God is "in" this. 

I've luckily only received this feedback a few times, and I'm still not quite sure how to say "Hmmm... well we must worship different Gods, then." My God is ever so present in this situation. He has created people who have blessed us in this journey far more than I could have imagined.  It is because of Him, not "in spite" of Him, that we are here. He has created our doctor with genius-like brains and incredible bedside manner.  He has created our embryologists, who have helped science get this far. He has blessed us with Sarah Barnett, a dear friend (who is becoming our personal genetic counselor) who has helped us walk through many genetic questions. He has walked with us through every heartbreak and turmoil thus far. Our God is very much in this.

I know all of you may have a lot more questions, and we know there are more questions than answers, for now. Luckily, we seem to learn more each day. 

Marina Keegan, the Yale graduate, wrote in her essay:  "It’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team."

Thank you, to all of you, for being in this with us. You are the best team.

Heading Down a Road Less Traveled

It's been a rough couple weeks, folks. But we're still standing! 

 

Week before last was mostly just navigating through the physical pain. Finally we had the surgery to remove the embryo, and on day 4 post-op, I was finally off all pain medications and could generally function again. 

 

We've spent a lot of time reading about next steps and deciding if going the route of a gestational carrier was for us. We've talked with our doctor, spoken with a caseworker from a surrogate/gestational carrier agency, and Googled so much about surrogacy that I'm sure my internet pop-ups will now never be anything but diapers and stroller ads.

 

One article we read was from Jimmy Fallon. He and his wife recently had a child born via a carrier. He said; "We tried lots of things before, we told people and then it didn't happen, and it's just really depressing. It's really hard on everybody."

 

We know this is true. We love all of you for crying and hurting with us, but we also recognize that this has been hard on a lot of people. Hard on our families. Hard on relationships with friends who may not completely understand why we have not quite been ourselves. Hard on our careers. Hard on my body. It's been hard. 

 

So because of how difficult this has been, and because of the direction and advice we've received from our doctors, we have decided to move forward with a gestational carrier and stop trying with my body. We know we have completely exhausted our current avenue, and while it has really sucked, we know we've done all we could.  We have tried naturally. We have tried being monitored constantly. We have tried drugs. We have tried IVF with genetically perfect embryos.  We have been tested for everything under the sun. And so six miscarriages later, we now can positively confirm that my body/ immune system just isn't quite keen on me carrying a baby. And while I am so sad, for lots of reasons, that I won't be the one to bring our baby into the world, I am SO thankful that we have another avenue. We have hope and excitement as we prepare to go down the road a little less traveled. 

 

Jimmy Fallon also said, "We tried for a long time. I know people have tried much longer, but if there's anyone out there who is trying and they're just losing hope... just hang in there. Try every avenue; try anything you can do, 'cause you'll get there. You'll end up with a family, and it's so worth it. It is the most 'worth it' thing. I'm just so happy right now. I'm freaking out."

 

So for now we're taking good ol' Jimmy's advice and we're just "hanging in there." We're concentrating on the hope that someday we will have a baby with Will's bright blue eyes and my bullheadedness. We are thankful that we can continue with totsicles we already have and with a doctor we've grown to love and trust. We are hopeful that our potential gestational carrier will become part of our family, and that in the end, we'll get the baby God meant for us to have. 

 

I was telling my family last week that I don't know for certain how all this works, but I hope that the soul of our past babies get to go back into the heavens and wait their turn to be picked again. I hope that they will make their way down to Earth someday in a body that is strong for all 40 weeks and will be greeted with the same love and excitement that we had. My sister, Katie, said "Yes, those souls are back out there. But the soul meant for you and Will is still waiting."  

 

So with that, we wait with hope.

Love to all,
Kendall and Will

Today is a hard day.

Today marks eight weeks of pregnancy. Today also marks the day that we were told the heartbeat has stopped. I'll have surgery later this week to collect embryonic tissue for testing, in hopes that it may bring any answers.

It's almost funny, actually. Last night at bible study our book was talking about Jesus' miracles in the book of John. It raised the question "why are the signs or miracles in the book of John numbered?" Jesus' last miracle in that gospel is His resurrection. It's His 8th sign. After 7 miracles comes His last big miracle that brings peace and new creation. I actually thought to myself last night, "OMG! I'm on miracle of week 8 and am beginning to finally feel peace. Good one, Apostle John!" (Obviously that's not the point of the book or the miracles, but I'm only a selfish human and liked imagining it was Jesus doing a 'Wassup Kendall, this message is for you' type thing.)

If I'm honest, Will and I are not good.  Today is a hard day. Will stood beside me with our video camera ready to film the heartbeat as we were told the news. We are surprised. We feel angry. We feel confused. We wonder if our journey to parenthood ends here, or if we have it in us to continue to surrogacy. We wonder what any of this was supposed to teach us. We wonder how many times we can repeat "This can only make us stronger!"

Mostly, we're waiting for the next miracle, and the peace and new creation that comes with it.

Love to all,
Kendall and Will

A Day for the Books.

If I could describe the past 24 hours, it would definitely be a mix of tears and curse words and tears and hugs and tears. I didn't know it was possible to cry this much.

 

On Tuesday I traveled to Dallas for work. It was a quick day trip, and I thought it would be perfect to distract myself the day before our big appointment. Without going into too many details (mostly because I probably still have PTSD from the experience), I miscarried in Dallas. I was scared and sad and just wanted to be home. I landed at the airport with Will waiting for me, and my wonderful friends Kate and Russell were there to drive my car home. I can't tell you what that night was like. We cried A LOT. The only silver lining was that while I was at the airport in a lot of pain, I bought little Tylenol packets in an airport kiosk. Turns out I was too panicked to read them, and they were Tylenol PM. So after a near overdose of that, the only blessing was that I could sleep.

 

The next morning we went to the appointment. We didn't do my morning shots, because what was the point? We wanted to make sure there weren't any complications from the miscarriage and move on. I was holding Will's hand looking away from the ultrasound screen, and the nurse says "well, there's the heartbeat. Do you want to hear it?" Yep. There was a freaking heartbeat, people.

 

I couldn't hear it because I was sobbing too much, so she calmly let us get our act together, and then showed us again. I am still in a fog from the entire appointment. The only two things I remember are a strong little heartbeat, and through my sobs my husband saying "wait- are you KIDDING me??" (A quote that has been repeated many times since, and one that I will never let him live down.)

 

She then explained that I have a hematoma (aka: a big pocket of blood) next to the placenta that is bleeding. (Hence my experience in Dallas.) This can be dangerous, so we're working on getting that under control. I asked how worried we should be, and she said "We're not going to overreact, but we don't want to under-react either." So I'm going to adjust some of my blood thinner shots and estrogen, and hope it begins to shrink. The worry is it continues to grow and causes bleeding issues, and/or separates the placenta from the uterus. We go back on Tuesday to see if it's any smaller and to discuss next steps.

 

We've googled a lot, and there are lots of different answers. I read this can happen to 20% of pregnancies on one site, and on one site I read that it happens in 1%. The nurse said bleeding happens often, but hematomas are more rare. She also said more than 50% of women go on to have normal pregnancies. (Considering we were told this pregnancy had a 5% chance of working, we'll take 50% odds any day.)  We are not sure if this has been the problem with all my previous miscarriages, or if this is a new issue. (I realize that none of this information really matters, I just wouldn't have done my job freaking out if I didn't fully google stalk the issue.)

 

The rollercoaster of events ended with a moment we'll probably never forget. We know we're not out of the woods and there is still lots of uncertainty ahead. But there is one thing I know for sure; I have never heard a sound more beautiful than this totsicle's beating heart.

Today, we will celebrate.

Not long ago during a softball game, I hit a double. I am pretty sure the entire city of Houston was chanting my name as I rounded 1st base and landed safely on 2nd. (At least my team was, as this was as shocking as Janet Jackson's Nipplegate circa Super Bowl 2004.)

The past 48 hours, every time Will and I discussed how my HCG numbers HAVE to double, I kept thinking of my basically-a-home-run-double and wanting my little embryo to hit this one out of the park. If my numbers didn't double, we'd know it was over.

My nurse just called and my numbers went from 51 to 174. They more then TRIPLED.  (In softball talk, this Totsicle ran right through 2nd and is rounding 3rd.) Clearly this one takes after his/her over-achieving father.

I know last time my numbers were great and still it didn't work out. However, I won't let last time jade me. Today, I will celebrate and be thankful.

We are off to Pace Family Vacation, the greatest time of the year. We will celebrate this week and anxiously await for the ultrasound in 2 weeks where we hope to hear a little heartbeat. Thank you to so many of you who have prayed and hoped and cried with us these past 48 hours. We made it another day!

Wahoo?

We're pregnant! WAHOO!!*

 

We went in this morning for the blood test to confirm the pregnancy. I was completely unprepared for bad news because we had a positive home pregnancy test, so I just went to work and waited on the call.

 

My nurse just called and said "You are pregnant! Congrats! However..." (Note: whenever someone says "however", make sure you take a deep breath before listening to rest of sentence.) She told me my "beta" number, the number that indicates positive or negative pregnancy, is low.  It is on the cut-off of indicating a positive pregnancy. But then she said "While low, we still remain hopeful as it still falls in the range of a positive test." (Translation: "Start panicking.")

 

We know that this beta number HAS to double every 48-72 hours to remain healthy, so we go back on Friday in hopes that it rises enough to still be considered a healthy pregnancy. If it is, we continue the waiting game until the ultrasound in two weeks. We do know that this indicates there is only one embryo. (Recap: last time my numbers looked great, and it wasn't until the ultrasound that we received the bad news.)  So for now, we just wait. You'd think I'd be getting better at this by now, but I think I'm getting significantly worse.

 

One of my best friends said, "It's fine! She's already a southern lady and is just taking her sweet time with those rising numbers! Don't rush the girl!" SO much love to all of those optimistic people out there. (One of our friends even calls herself a "5 percenter", as she's banking on the 5% chance this works.)

 

To our little embryo: If you hang on, I swear I'll be the type of parent that waits in line twice as long as other parents for "Frozen" paraphernalia. We love you so much already.

 

Love to all,

Kendall and Will

 

*I'm saying "WAHOO" because I want to be able to tell my future child, should this one hang on, that I was so excited when I heard the news. (And because if I say what I'm really thinking, my mom will probably wash my mouth out with soap.)

Onward.

We're ready to roll, folks. Today we got the go-ahead that Monday (6/30) will be our transfer date of two little embryos. (I don't know if I can still call them 'totscicles', as they're probably about to begin thawing...) Last time we knew the genders of the two embryos they transferred, but we've chosen not to know this time to help alleviate some anxiety. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

Many have asked why I haven't blogged in awhile. The truth is that I haven't blogged because I didn't want to have to be honest about how I'm ACTUALLY doing. But when I started this blog I promised I'd always be open and honest, mostly because I wanted to remember how I truly felt when I looked back. So I will try to keep that promise to myself, even though currently it ain't pretty. (Disclaimer: I DID promise myself that when I thought I'd only have 3 entries before sending out my cute ultrasound while thanking everyone for their prayers. But fine, a promise is a promise.)

The past couple weeks have been difficult. I was talking to a friend of mine who is currently going through IVF and she said "Do you think it's possible for anyone else to know how bad this sucks?" She captured my thoughts in that moment perfectly. This experience is so isolating that sometimes you think you may be the only person to ever have gone through it. (Disclaimer #2: I know that's completely dramatic.) I think maybe it's just like anytime you have a dark cloud hanging over you, it's hard for others to know what the rain feels like to YOU.

The weeks before the transfer are filled with hormones, shots, and medicines that make you feel like a completely different person. (And by different, I mean crazy.)  I act and say and do things that are so out of character for me that it causes me to be even MORE upset with this process and myself. (I can usually "fake it 'til I make it" in public settings until I'm with someone that I don't have to "fake it" around. Shout out to those "someones", who somehow are all still speaking to me.) Perhaps the biggest truth is that for the first time since this process began, I decided I didn't want it anymore. I decided I was ok to move to Oregon and open up a winery. I decided that I was really good at some things, and having babies just wasn't one of them. I decided that Will and my dogs and my family and my friends were enough. (Disclaimer #3: I still may think that. Not sure I'm completely out of that "stage".)

Last week I was emailing someone who went through fertility issues a year ago and since then has become a dear friend and cheerleader. I was blunt and honest with her and admitted that I wanted to give up.  She basically said, "If you want to dream of opening up a winery, then do that! Daydream and research all you want! In fact, you SHOULD do that! What a great distraction! But you can't stop perusing another dream you're already in the middle of chasing."

Her words got me thinking of the summer that we had to learn the "butterfly" stroke on swim team. After I was forced to attempt the stroke at practice one day, I went home and immediately told my parents that I wanted to quit because doing the butterfly stroke made me feel like I was going to drown.  My parents said "OK, you can quit, but not until next summer. You decided you were going to do it this year, so you need to finish what you started." Throughout the summer's swim meets, I don't think I ever received anything other than the purple "disqualified" ribbon. It was a horrible summer. But ya know what? I didn't drown.

So onward we go. It doesn't matter that we're not skipping to the doctors' offices with lots of hope like we were last time. It doesn't matter that I cry constantly, or that I'm so anxious that sometimes I think my heart may beat out of my chest. It doesn't matter that we met with the surrogacy agency because we're fairly certain none of this will work. It doesn't matter that I curse the hormones every time Will injects them into me. It doesn't matter that sometimes I think "I'd be an excellent wine maker." Instead what matters is that we're moving forward, one day at a time, pursuing a dream that I once thought was attainable. (And in some moments, maybe I still do.)

Love,

Kendall and will

Ps. Final disclaimer: Will read this and would like to be clear that he's not a "Negative Nancy" and he is still full of hope and excitement. So go ahead and change all previous "we" statements to "me only" statements.  (If it's true what they say that "even if someone had to carry you across the finish line, you still crossed it", then thanks for carrying me, Willionaire.)