The Plan

Ay, ay, ay. Let me tell you: the power of a solid plan is a wonderful thing. The problem? Our plan sucks.

About three weeks ago, I had one of those sleepless nights when my brain just wouldn't shut off. I decided what I thought was a genius plan. John even woke up, listened to the plan, agreed it was good, and rolled back to sleep. The next morning, I asked if he remembered the conversation, he said he did and he thought it was great. Ok, so we had a plan.

As it turns out, it wasn't The Plan. It seemed like every other day, I had a sudden panic stricken realization that I hated the plan. Are we headed down a dead end? Is this going to be a waste of valuable resources? Time, money, energy? I started to notice along with these questions that I just want a baby in my arms. Now. Yesterday!! I am so, completely exhausted of being in crisis mode. I just want this chapter to be over. I want to move on and resume the otherwise happy life I once lived.

But it's not that simple. Because I simply cannot imagine living a full and happy life without becoming a mother. So we must press on.

But how? Where do you go after the most aggressive form of baby-making fails you? IVF was supposed to be the last resort that should have worked. We were stunned when IVF #1 failed. We were absolutely blindsided when IVF #2 produced not a single transfer-worthy embryo by Day 3. We were heartbroken that our one and only blastocyst from IVF #3 failed to implant from our FET.

It is clear that this isn't working. The definition of insanity... Well, you get it. More IVF and more IUIs is just insane.

I have learned though the many running accomplishments I have made to never say never. I remember the days I said, I could never run a marathon! I could never run a 5K in under 24 minutes! I could never break 4 hours in the marathon! I have run 10 marathons, I have run a 21:45 5K, I have run a 3:42:54 marathon. Never.say.never.

But I find myself saying at this point that I never want to do IVF again. It has been so traumatizing... The time from ER to ET... Watching them all die... Knowing how expensive it is and how there's nothing we can do to fix it.... I cannot put myself into that situation again and expect to come out sane on the other side. It makes me sick to even imagine doing another IVF.

So what next? How are we supposed to overcome this great obstacle set in our path? What will The Plan be?

IUI #5 Baseline

Don't ask me why we're doing this... it feels futile.

I went in this morning for my baseline scan. The computers were down so they were running very slowly. And I'm on CD2, so that means I'm a mess.

I'm starting Letrozol tonight for five nights, and will overlap with Follistim (75iu) beginning on Saturday. I'm going back in on Monday for monitoring.

I wish I could be more positive about this right now, but all I see is reality.

Feeling Like Myself Again

And how you might ask? Well, running of course :)

When we first started our treatments with the RE one year ago, I had to cut my training back pretty significantly. For a while, I fought the uphill battle of trying to fit my training in during the 'safe' times of my cycle. This ended up causing more frustration and disappointment than anything.

Then when we started IVF in September 2013, it was another drastic cut to my already minimal training.

Running means so much to me. It is my saving grace, my mood equalizer, my source of strength and balance. It is my social outlet, my validation and confidence builder, my happy drug. So to take it away at the time I most needed it took a bad situation and made it worse.

After I recovered from my IVF #3 ER at the end of February, I started the difficult task of staging my running comeback. It was challenging and frustrating. Suddenly, I was a beginner again, starting at square one. Yet my experience and trophy room boasted 10 marathons, countless half marathons, and numerous 'victories' from shorter distances.

I had to come to peace with the fact that my speed and endurance were gone for the moment. But I did realize going through this that they would come back as long as I stuck with it.

But, man oh man, did it ever feel terrible! Every single run for the first three weeks felt absolutely awful. Lungs gasping, heart pounding, legs burning. And this was at a pace that was more than 2 minutes slower per mile from my previous 'easy pace.'

Even though it felt yucky, I knew with each run I was getting stronger. That part made me feel good.

Finally after three weeks, it started not to feel awful again. By the time I hit my five week mark, I had lost most of my IF weight. But I was still s.l.o.w. That's ok. One thing at a time!

Then I had to take a two week break from running for my FET. I was so focused on our precious Ninja that I didn't care that I wasn't running. I knew my fitness wasn't going anywhere.

After our crushing BFN, it would have been easy for me to slip into a deep depression. That spot on the couch with the carton of ice cream was looking good.

But something within told me to lace up and just get out there. Every fiber of my body screamed in protest, but I forced myself out the door.

It was the best thing I could have done for myself. I am not exaggerating when I say that I felt happier and lighter within my first stride.

Run, run, run. Repeat. That's what I've been doing for the past several weeks. And today, I get bragging rights!

My first caped race at the Superhero Half Marathon!

I am so proud of this medal. I worked hard to earn it.

Kicking it to the finish line never felt so good!

After the Storm

I have heard this song many times, and I'm sure I will listen to it much more. I couldn't more accurately and eloquently say how I'm feeling lately, so I give you "After the Storm" by Mumford & Sons:

"After The Storm" by Mumford & Sons

And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That's why I hold,
That's why I hold with all I have.
That's why I hold.

And I won't die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and man so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

Saying Goodbye

I wrote a letter to Ninja today to say goodbye. The nine weeks that we had our ninja were so special. I went to visit her at the clinic everyday. I would sit in the parking lot, playing music from my car stereo, doing my Circle+Bloom meditations, and talking to her. I always looked forward to our time each day, and it was truly the highlight of my day for those seven weeks before our transfer.

The view from my sunroof when I would visit Ninja & meditate

I was truly happy when Ninja was with us. I really believed that she would be our baby. I told her when I was driving home on beta day that I wouldn't be mad with her no matter what happened. I know she tried her best, and so did I. We all did.

I believe that her soul will come back to us again, and we will be happy once more. It might not be the way in which we imagined... I never in my wildest dreams thought that we'd get through three IVF cycles like this.

I love you, Ninja. I miss you. Please don't be mad at us for moving on. We will never forget you and hope to see you again soon in happier times.

Stuck

The world is whizzing by, and I am stuck in an endless pit of incredible pain. Dramatic? Yes, but that's what it feels like.

I have come to accept that I will be the last one in every possible social circle to have a chance at motherhood if that blessing is ever bestowed upon me. So I guess if I have to be last, then I should be ok with everyone else moving on. It's not that easy.

I am slowly and painfully working my way through the stages of grief. Anger, denial and depression - very much depression - back and forth, over and over. I tend to get stuck the longest on depression. Bargaining has never been my thing, and acceptance seems so far away.

We have some options with how to proceed. They are confusing and unfavorable and I feel like my mind is sprinting in 20 different directions. Everything sucks right now.

Broken Dreams...

Frostie Ninja is no more... Ninja is gone. Our dream, our miracle embryo, ceases to exist. We had 7+ glorious weeks from the time of ER to FET. During that time, we had so much which we thought was lost forever. We had hope, dreams, and the joy of our imaginations for what might have been. 

April 13th was the day when we met our precious Ninja once again. We watched with hope and joy in our hearts as the embryologist loaded Ninja into the catheter. I even saw the little white blur on the ultrasound screen as the doctor transferred Ninja into my uterus. It looked like a little shooting star, and I don't have to tell you what I wished for. 

Every 11:11, every prayer, every opportunity to make a wish has been for our beautiful Ninja. It breaks our hearts that our plea hasn't been heard. 

On April 22nd, John & I gathered around my phone as we listened to our nurse tell us that she was sorry, it was negative, my beta was zero, and I was not pregnant. 

What now? What could we possibly do now that our hearts are so truly broken? I don't know. The past week has been filled with heartache, tears, and grief. The pain ebbs and flows. Sometimes, we have a period of a few hours which is filled with smiles and laughter. The next moment, I am sobbing and so completely broken. We had truly believed that Ninja was finally the one. How are we possibly going to recover from this great loss?

At this point, there is not much to say. Which is probably why I have been absent from this blog. I wish I were here reporting happier news. I am still in disbelief that this is real life. How can it all be so unfair? 

The love, hugs, support and space from my dear ones has been overwhelming. Thank you for giving us what we need to work through this terrible nightmare. It will take us more time to figure things out. It will be slow and painful. But we will persevere. I don't know what the future has in store for us... But I know somehow we will move through this. And on the other side, we will come out stronger. Better.