I hope that it is very clear to everyone that I don't know what I'm doing. I get comments of praise from people that say I am handling everything so well but I also get small comments from people where it is clear that they think this topic is way too personal and we should deal with it in private. I don't know which is right anymore. I'm still not sure if I should talk/write about this topic. I haven't updated for a while but I'm just exhausted. The people around me must be equally as exhausted too.
Some months ago, Ed and I decided with our next try that we wouldn't tell anyone. No blog, no friends, no family...just him and I, like it is for most normal people...well, him and I plus a million nurses and doctors. With our first attempt last fall, I was bombarded with text messages and phone calls before we even left the Dr.'s office asking for updates. I would have to send out mass messages to people after each appointment. I would worry about updating on here because I knew a lot of people were thinking about us. This time, we figured we would have less stress and less to worry about if we did it alone. Please forgive us. :)
However, it was hard to coordinate. We had to find excuses for why we were leaving in the early hours of the morning together. My mother-in-law works in the office under us and would see that we returned only hours later without visible reason. I'm sure my colleagues got suspicious when I had to rearrange my schedule and had to call off sick. I had to secretly give myself the shots. My brother-in-law lives with us but luckily he's usually pretty clueless (love ya, Hannes). It was harder at social events when I had to excuse myself to do the shot in the evening. I had to make sure wherever I was going had a fridge and I had to cleverly hide the hormones behind food items. There were days at work where I wouldn't have time to pee or eat but had to coordinate giving myself the injections. I would be giving my patients medicine while anxiously looking at the clock hoping to get two minutes of private time to give myself a shot in the belly on time. I hid in bathroom stalls - gross, germ-infested bathroom stalls. I tried to set up all of my paraphernalia as cleanly as possible. It all felt very pathetic.
Perhaps what was the most hard on me was the lack of support - the daily, on-going, renewing support that we had the first time. Eddie was on break from school so it was nice to have him with me at every appointment but I still missed being able to talk about it. Above all, I missed the prayers. I know some of you routinely pray for us and I appreciate it but it would have been nice to be able to ask for an extra one here and there or at a specific time of the day. I'm a firm believer in its power.
At each appointment we received bad news. I wanted so badly to talk to someone (aside from Eddie) about it. Eddie is wonderfully supportive but it would have been nice to be able to vent to other sources. I can't remember a time when I left that building not in tears.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, to all you judgmental people out there, I tried both ways. I tried being open and I tried keeping it a secret. Keeping it in proved to be a little bit hard on me.
The day finally came again where they would take out the eggs. On the ultra sound, my doctor estimated 8 eggs that would be able to be retrieved. Ideally, they like to have at least 10 but I was excited because that was more than last time. I did the whole awkward phone-name identification thing with the woman behind the glass in the lab and then the doctor came in. She's not my usual doctor and she was unsympathetic the last time I cried in her office but whatever, as long as she knows what she's doing.
They put me to sleep but when I awoke I was in excruciating pain. I wasn't expecting that at all because I was pain free after the procedure the last time. I was still drowsy but I wept into my pillow and waited for the cramping to subside. The doctor came shortly after and I heard her talk to Eddie. I tried to wake myself up some more because I had questions but apparently you can't "wish" the anesthesia away. I was still confused. I heard the doctor tell Eddie they had a hard time retrieving the eggs and were only able to get 5. Eddie said I sat up with googly eyes and asked questions but I don't remember that. I think it's unfair that they come around and talk to us when I'm not fully coherent.
I remember the number 5 though and that number made me cry some more. I was so hopeful for more. I heard the doctor walk over to another patient to my left. I heard her tell that couple they retrieved 6 eggs from her. In my sleepy state, I could do simple math and knew 6 was more than 5 and I cried some more. A few minutes later the couple to my right was informed that they got 10 eggs...(quick math)10! As in double as many as us...and I cried some more. I tried to cry quietly as to not make the others uncomfortable. We were, however, only separated by a curtain. I'm sure the women to my left and right are also very familiar with the tears of disappointment. I felt like a bad person for being jealous. I was simultaneously still aware that I should be thankful for the 5. It's hard to describe the inner turmoil of all the feelings that you know you should (or should not) feel. At that moment, I was feeling pain in all its forms...physical, emotional, spiritual, and hey, let's not forget financial.
The pain wasn't getting any better. Eddie made me a hot water bottle and summoned a nurse. He asked her if it was possible for me to have some pain medicine. Seconds later, she brought back a large capsule. Let me explain something real quick, people, for months I have been taking pills orally, injecting myself subcutaneously, and giving myself hormones vaginally (sorry!). When she handed me the capsule I honestly didn't know what I was supposed to do with it...or where to put it! Through blurry eyes I examined it and realized she brought a glove with it. "Well, that eliminates one route," I thought. My husband, being the good man that he is, tracked the nurse down again and asked where, exactly, I was supposed to put it. Turns out, it was for my bum (sorry again!). Talk about last shred of dignity being gone. With Ed at my bedside, I did what I had to do to get rid of this physical pain.
After I was able to walk steadily again, we were free to leave. The next three days we tried not to think about it and the days went by surprisingly fast. We never got a phone call so that meant the embryos were developing but we weren't sure how many of the 5 fertilized.
3 days later we went back for the reinsertion. I was smarter this time and didn't chug anything on the drive. They took us back to the procedure room and we waited for the doc (not my usual doctor or the one from before) to arrive. Eddie anxiously asked the nurse prepping the room if she knew how many eggs fertilized. She sweetly replied that she didn't know. I couldn't help but think. "Oh, you know, you're just not allowed to say. I know that game, missy." It's kinda like when parents at work ask me if I know the results of the head ultrasound of their baby. Of course I heard the tech murmur to the doctor that your baby's brain is bleeding...but that is not my job description to tell you about that.
Finally, the doctor walks through the door and introduces himself. I shake his hand but as he's shaking Eddie's hand my eyes dart to the papers he's holding. The top paper is a picture...of our embryo.
Yes, embryo.
As in singular.
As in only ONE.
And my pulse and breathing begin to quicken. The nurse sees what I saw and notices my change of emotional state. She starts to rub my back and whisper things in German. The doctor officially tells us that of the 5 eggs, only one fertilized. Our last attempt gave us 2 embryos: a 6-celler and a 3-celler. He jubilantly proclaimed that this one had 8 cells! 8 is ideal at this stage. He went on to try to point out that the cells were nice and compact and that that is a good sign but I wasn't listening anymore.
The nurse eases me back so that I lie down. She guides my legs into the all-too-familiar stirrups and the doctor starts doing his thing down there. He is calmly explaining things on the ultra sound to Eddie but I'm shaking. I'm trying not to embarrass myself or Eddie by totally breaking down but I feel like I could scream at the top of my lungs in frustration and disappointment. At this point, everyone is fully and awkwardly aware that my stifled sobs are shaking the procedure table. The doc has to insert the embryo in a precise location but I can't hold still. My tears stream from the corners of my eyes and into my ears. There are many of them so they start to soak the hair around my ears too. I think the nurse tries to dab them throughout the procedure but it's useless.
After the procedure the nurse gives me more inspirational words and a hug but I can't help but still feel...cheated. I'm not dumb. I know the chance of one implanting is pretty slim. At the reception desk, we don't bother making another appointment in 2 weeks because we are supposed to fly to America in 1.5 weeks.
As the days go by, Eddie and I make our best attempts to be positive. I continue to take the meds as prescribed and try to give our little guy as calm of an environment to grow as possible. Eddie and I search the internet daily for updates on how many cells the embryo usually has on that day. If we find a good pic, we text it to each other and proudly exclaim Day 8! And the next Day 9! Each day I go without starting my period is a mini triumph.
More days pass and it is finally time to pack our bags for our flight to the States the next day. I went to the bathroom to collect our toiletry items. I drop trou to tinkle and mentally go over our packing list. My heart stops as I see light bleeding. My head falls back and I squeeze my eyes really tight hoping I was imagining things. I beg God not to do this to me again. When I open them my eyes again, the tell tale sign is still there. And I'm numb. "Hey, Ed..." I call from the bathroom. He knows now too. He knows by the way I trailed off at the end of his name. He slowly peeks his head in the door to the bathroom. With my brow furrowed I just shake my head. And for the billionth time I have to watch my husband's face fill with sorrow.
I woke up early the next day and took a test. To the surprise of no one it was negative. I still packed my hormones in hopes it wasn't what I feared...but it was. We told Eddie's mom on the way to the airport and she said she suspected something. As distraught as I was, I was still excited that we were en route to America. Soon I would be in my mom's arms, in my old house, and in one weeks time will would be on the beach with our feet in the sand.
For anyone keeping track that is attempt 2 of 3 that our insurance company is willing to cover half the cost of. Now accepting donations. ;) Just kidding. Not kidding.
251. I used to confuse the words for: drunk - besoffen and busy - beschäftig.
You can imagine my embarrassment when Eddie calls me at work and I tell him how "besoffen" I am and I can't talk!
252. Eddie's family really likes American cookies (like the kind from Cheryl's Cookies). I rarely see cookies like that in Germany.
253. We definitely have a wider selection of doughnuts. There are Dunkin Donuts in Berlin and it's a pretty big deal to the Germans.
254. This doesn't really have too much to do with Germany but did you know America bought Alaska from Russia for about 2 cents an acre? Eddie's dad is personally offended by this and claims the Americans knew there was oil there. Of course they did...suckers.
255. They have things called Butterbrezels in Germany which are basically soft pretzels cut in half with butter in the middle. I love them! My cousin, Tara, does not.
256. I know a German living in America that craves pretzel rolls from Germany called Laugenbrötchen. They are also delicious.
257. Allegedly, Germany's Coke Light (Diet Coke) tastes better because it is made of cane sugar. The average pop bottle is 1.5 L not 2L like in the US.
258. Have you ever heard a group of Germans sing Happy Birsssday? It's pretty amusing!
259. The first time I visited Germany I was so annoyed about the words not matching the actors lips in movies. To me, they were clearly dubbed over! When I looked around, I couldn't believe that it wasn't bothering anyone else in the room but me! I've slowly begun to accept it/not notice it as much. :(
260. Germany has 16 states or "Länder." We live in Baden-Württemburg. Yea, say that 10 times fast!
Some months ago, Ed and I decided with our next try that we wouldn't tell anyone. No blog, no friends, no family...just him and I, like it is for most normal people...well, him and I plus a million nurses and doctors. With our first attempt last fall, I was bombarded with text messages and phone calls before we even left the Dr.'s office asking for updates. I would have to send out mass messages to people after each appointment. I would worry about updating on here because I knew a lot of people were thinking about us. This time, we figured we would have less stress and less to worry about if we did it alone. Please forgive us. :)
However, it was hard to coordinate. We had to find excuses for why we were leaving in the early hours of the morning together. My mother-in-law works in the office under us and would see that we returned only hours later without visible reason. I'm sure my colleagues got suspicious when I had to rearrange my schedule and had to call off sick. I had to secretly give myself the shots. My brother-in-law lives with us but luckily he's usually pretty clueless (love ya, Hannes). It was harder at social events when I had to excuse myself to do the shot in the evening. I had to make sure wherever I was going had a fridge and I had to cleverly hide the hormones behind food items. There were days at work where I wouldn't have time to pee or eat but had to coordinate giving myself the injections. I would be giving my patients medicine while anxiously looking at the clock hoping to get two minutes of private time to give myself a shot in the belly on time. I hid in bathroom stalls - gross, germ-infested bathroom stalls. I tried to set up all of my paraphernalia as cleanly as possible. It all felt very pathetic.
Perhaps what was the most hard on me was the lack of support - the daily, on-going, renewing support that we had the first time. Eddie was on break from school so it was nice to have him with me at every appointment but I still missed being able to talk about it. Above all, I missed the prayers. I know some of you routinely pray for us and I appreciate it but it would have been nice to be able to ask for an extra one here and there or at a specific time of the day. I'm a firm believer in its power.
At each appointment we received bad news. I wanted so badly to talk to someone (aside from Eddie) about it. Eddie is wonderfully supportive but it would have been nice to be able to vent to other sources. I can't remember a time when I left that building not in tears.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, to all you judgmental people out there, I tried both ways. I tried being open and I tried keeping it a secret. Keeping it in proved to be a little bit hard on me.
The day finally came again where they would take out the eggs. On the ultra sound, my doctor estimated 8 eggs that would be able to be retrieved. Ideally, they like to have at least 10 but I was excited because that was more than last time. I did the whole awkward phone-name identification thing with the woman behind the glass in the lab and then the doctor came in. She's not my usual doctor and she was unsympathetic the last time I cried in her office but whatever, as long as she knows what she's doing.
They put me to sleep but when I awoke I was in excruciating pain. I wasn't expecting that at all because I was pain free after the procedure the last time. I was still drowsy but I wept into my pillow and waited for the cramping to subside. The doctor came shortly after and I heard her talk to Eddie. I tried to wake myself up some more because I had questions but apparently you can't "wish" the anesthesia away. I was still confused. I heard the doctor tell Eddie they had a hard time retrieving the eggs and were only able to get 5. Eddie said I sat up with googly eyes and asked questions but I don't remember that. I think it's unfair that they come around and talk to us when I'm not fully coherent.
I remember the number 5 though and that number made me cry some more. I was so hopeful for more. I heard the doctor walk over to another patient to my left. I heard her tell that couple they retrieved 6 eggs from her. In my sleepy state, I could do simple math and knew 6 was more than 5 and I cried some more. A few minutes later the couple to my right was informed that they got 10 eggs...(quick math)10! As in double as many as us...and I cried some more. I tried to cry quietly as to not make the others uncomfortable. We were, however, only separated by a curtain. I'm sure the women to my left and right are also very familiar with the tears of disappointment. I felt like a bad person for being jealous. I was simultaneously still aware that I should be thankful for the 5. It's hard to describe the inner turmoil of all the feelings that you know you should (or should not) feel. At that moment, I was feeling pain in all its forms...physical, emotional, spiritual, and hey, let's not forget financial.
The pain wasn't getting any better. Eddie made me a hot water bottle and summoned a nurse. He asked her if it was possible for me to have some pain medicine. Seconds later, she brought back a large capsule. Let me explain something real quick, people, for months I have been taking pills orally, injecting myself subcutaneously, and giving myself hormones vaginally (sorry!). When she handed me the capsule I honestly didn't know what I was supposed to do with it...or where to put it! Through blurry eyes I examined it and realized she brought a glove with it. "Well, that eliminates one route," I thought. My husband, being the good man that he is, tracked the nurse down again and asked where, exactly, I was supposed to put it. Turns out, it was for my bum (sorry again!). Talk about last shred of dignity being gone. With Ed at my bedside, I did what I had to do to get rid of this physical pain.
(Before the procedure. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to sit down and stop being so hopeful.)
After I was able to walk steadily again, we were free to leave. The next three days we tried not to think about it and the days went by surprisingly fast. We never got a phone call so that meant the embryos were developing but we weren't sure how many of the 5 fertilized.
3 days later we went back for the reinsertion. I was smarter this time and didn't chug anything on the drive. They took us back to the procedure room and we waited for the doc (not my usual doctor or the one from before) to arrive. Eddie anxiously asked the nurse prepping the room if she knew how many eggs fertilized. She sweetly replied that she didn't know. I couldn't help but think. "Oh, you know, you're just not allowed to say. I know that game, missy." It's kinda like when parents at work ask me if I know the results of the head ultrasound of their baby. Of course I heard the tech murmur to the doctor that your baby's brain is bleeding...but that is not my job description to tell you about that.
Finally, the doctor walks through the door and introduces himself. I shake his hand but as he's shaking Eddie's hand my eyes dart to the papers he's holding. The top paper is a picture...of our embryo.
Yes, embryo.
As in singular.
As in only ONE.
And my pulse and breathing begin to quicken. The nurse sees what I saw and notices my change of emotional state. She starts to rub my back and whisper things in German. The doctor officially tells us that of the 5 eggs, only one fertilized. Our last attempt gave us 2 embryos: a 6-celler and a 3-celler. He jubilantly proclaimed that this one had 8 cells! 8 is ideal at this stage. He went on to try to point out that the cells were nice and compact and that that is a good sign but I wasn't listening anymore.
(Our little guy.../girl?)
The nurse eases me back so that I lie down. She guides my legs into the all-too-familiar stirrups and the doctor starts doing his thing down there. He is calmly explaining things on the ultra sound to Eddie but I'm shaking. I'm trying not to embarrass myself or Eddie by totally breaking down but I feel like I could scream at the top of my lungs in frustration and disappointment. At this point, everyone is fully and awkwardly aware that my stifled sobs are shaking the procedure table. The doc has to insert the embryo in a precise location but I can't hold still. My tears stream from the corners of my eyes and into my ears. There are many of them so they start to soak the hair around my ears too. I think the nurse tries to dab them throughout the procedure but it's useless.
After the procedure the nurse gives me more inspirational words and a hug but I can't help but still feel...cheated. I'm not dumb. I know the chance of one implanting is pretty slim. At the reception desk, we don't bother making another appointment in 2 weeks because we are supposed to fly to America in 1.5 weeks.
As the days go by, Eddie and I make our best attempts to be positive. I continue to take the meds as prescribed and try to give our little guy as calm of an environment to grow as possible. Eddie and I search the internet daily for updates on how many cells the embryo usually has on that day. If we find a good pic, we text it to each other and proudly exclaim Day 8! And the next Day 9! Each day I go without starting my period is a mini triumph.
More days pass and it is finally time to pack our bags for our flight to the States the next day. I went to the bathroom to collect our toiletry items. I drop trou to tinkle and mentally go over our packing list. My heart stops as I see light bleeding. My head falls back and I squeeze my eyes really tight hoping I was imagining things. I beg God not to do this to me again. When I open them my eyes again, the tell tale sign is still there. And I'm numb. "Hey, Ed..." I call from the bathroom. He knows now too. He knows by the way I trailed off at the end of his name. He slowly peeks his head in the door to the bathroom. With my brow furrowed I just shake my head. And for the billionth time I have to watch my husband's face fill with sorrow.
Mission Status: Fail.
I woke up early the next day and took a test. To the surprise of no one it was negative. I still packed my hormones in hopes it wasn't what I feared...but it was. We told Eddie's mom on the way to the airport and she said she suspected something. As distraught as I was, I was still excited that we were en route to America. Soon I would be in my mom's arms, in my old house, and in one weeks time will would be on the beach with our feet in the sand.
For anyone keeping track that is attempt 2 of 3 that our insurance company is willing to cover half the cost of. Now accepting donations. ;) Just kidding. Not kidding.
America vs. Germany
You can imagine my embarrassment when Eddie calls me at work and I tell him how "besoffen" I am and I can't talk!
252. Eddie's family really likes American cookies (like the kind from Cheryl's Cookies). I rarely see cookies like that in Germany.
253. We definitely have a wider selection of doughnuts. There are Dunkin Donuts in Berlin and it's a pretty big deal to the Germans.
254. This doesn't really have too much to do with Germany but did you know America bought Alaska from Russia for about 2 cents an acre? Eddie's dad is personally offended by this and claims the Americans knew there was oil there. Of course they did...suckers.
255. They have things called Butterbrezels in Germany which are basically soft pretzels cut in half with butter in the middle. I love them! My cousin, Tara, does not.
(You do not eat them with a fork. Ignore the fork.)
258. Have you ever heard a group of Germans sing Happy Birsssday? It's pretty amusing!
259. The first time I visited Germany I was so annoyed about the words not matching the actors lips in movies. To me, they were clearly dubbed over! When I looked around, I couldn't believe that it wasn't bothering anyone else in the room but me! I've slowly begun to accept it/not notice it as much. :(
260. Germany has 16 states or "Länder." We live in Baden-Württemburg. Yea, say that 10 times fast!
(Do you guys even pay attention to these "facts?" Do you even like them? Do you have any questions about Germany/Europe? Something you heard/read/or saw that I could clear up with my own expertise? Let me know in the comments below!)
