We have a heartbeat! BIG sigh of relief. Yesterday was our last 2-hour drive to the clinic and visit with the RE. We were told we had “graduated” to the regular OBGYN now, but to keep in touch. Kind of bittersweet. I told our doctor that IVF was a pleasant surprise. After 5 long, painful years of infertility, the actual treatment was a breeze for us. I know we are lucky.
Every couple’s infertility journey and diagnosis is different. As a male-factor couple, our toughest moments were spurred by marital dynamics and deciding what to do. Not to mention that one doctor that told us we were basically sterile, prompting us to tell all our family and friends to back off with the “when are you going to have a baby” questions because all iotas of hope were lost. Adoption was a disaster. The unsolicited advice and comments infuriating. But actually seeking treatment? Straightforward.
We are extremely blessed that on our first IVF round of with ICSI we transferred one embryo and we have a beating heart! Oddly the doctor saw another sac in there too – he can only speculate that the embryo split and there were identical twins, only one stopped developing very early on. I have a follow up scan in a few days to see what the regular OBGYN has to say.
At just shy of 8 weeks I am feeling all the glorious nausea and food aversions and exhaustion that I’ve heard about. I’m learning to manage it, but my main concern is gaining too much weight. I know it sounds superficial, but I am not a small girl to begin with and want nothing more than to give this baby a healthy start in life. Unfortunately, due to the months of hormones, surgery, pregnancy, exercise restrictions and wayward appetite, I have already gained 10 lbs. I am usually a healthy eater but suddenly can’t stomach the thought of fruits or vegetables. All I want is bread and butter about 8 times a day. I am still exercising (although embarrassingly out of breath all the time) and trying to just let my body have what it needs at this point.
It’s such a small complaint, though. I am pregnant. My body is growing a baby. If I have to look like a cow doing it I will gladly take it, because for years there I wasn’t sure this day would come.
We told my mom and my sisters yesterday, and there was celebrating. I still selfishly feel uncomfortable talking about it; is that odd? All along infertility, especially my husband’s sperm count, has been an awkward thing to discuss with anyone by Ryan or the doctor. With all the questions that come our way I half feel like saying “back off! none of your business! I am pregnant and done talking about it.”
But I remind myself this isn’t all about me; this is God’s work and His glory working through me. I have not enjoyed one moment of my marital reproductive life being laid out for open discussion, but I am trying to humble myself and just let it happen. If this is how God wants to show His power and His goodness and His there-ness, then ok. I’d better step back and not get in the way. We aren’t out of the woods yet, I know the worry and concern is only just beginning. Still, no matter what happens tomorrow, I feel incredibly blessed to have made it to today.
“Every good and perfect gift comes from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17