Pinch Me!

September 24, 2014
We had our injections class with Connie today!  I'm not so much excited about what we learned, but rather the idea of us getting closer to the end.  It is definitely becoming more of a reality now.

Joshua and I were the only ones in the "class", so Connie brought some nursing students in to teach as well.  It was nice to be the only ones going through the process so we could make sure we understood.

As she began teaching us, she asked us, "who will be giving the injections?"

I pointed to him and he pointed to me.

So, she taught us both.

Hubby was a champ.  He is so good at retaining information and he listened attentively as she walked us through step-by-step.  We had a chance to practice what each injection would involve (because there are more than just one type).  One of them was in a pen-shape that allowed you to twist the dial and view the amount in the window.  All we would have to do is pinch me and click.  I wasn't as afraid of that one.

The second type required actual mixing of the medication.  This made me a little nervous.  It came in two vials that you would combine by using the syringe.  Yuck!

The third one was a pre-filled vial that you attached the needle and "tah-dah"!  I liked the idea of that one the most.  (As much as you can when thinking about sticking yourself in your belly).

Since choosing not to speak of our treatment with our family, it has been nice to have the support from other women that have been in my shoes.  My sister-in-law's good friend, Ashley, was blessed with her little boy after going through our doctor.  As a nurse, she has great advice from both personal experience and medical.  Therefore, I have been fortunate enough to lean on her through some of the difficulties.

We received the results back from my ART screen and learned that my amh levels were at the highest they've seen.  "Normal" registers between 4-8.  Mine were at a 21!  Combined with the fact that both of my ovaries are proving to appear very young and fertile with over 25 follicles on each, I am now at a higher risk for developing OHSS, ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome.

Since learning of my situation, the doctor is taking preventative steps by changing my medication protocol.  In fact, they are looking at starting me at only 75mg of follistim which is unheard of since most women use 300mg.   

ART Screen and Mock Transfer

First of all, my IVF nurse in amazing.  She has been so helpful with all of my concerns and available for questions.  Just the finances alone can be daunting at first.  We feel strongly about not going in debt to do this so we can actually provide for the little one when they get here.  And, since we have chosen not to finance out our treatment, making sure we apply for any discount programs is crucial.

I've researched so many programs out there, but to no avail. Connie has been great to deal with and help to educate us on our options. 

 After countless days of oral medication, today was our first "big step" in our treatment.  We had our ART screen and mock transfer in order to get started.  Of course there was a little discomfort, but nothing unbearable.  Besides our nurse, we had a residency student in the room as well.  She was very kind and thanked me repeatedly for letting her come in.  I thought I would be against it when I've thought about it in the past since I'm so modest.  However, I feel like there would be better physicians out there if they had hands-on experience to start out with.  It helps that my doctor is incredible.  He has such great bedside manner and is very thorough when explaining things with a great track record.
I am so thankful that Joshua was there with me.  His involvement in the whole process is something I don't take for granted.  I am so glad I will have the opportunity to share with our little one that their daddy wanted them just as much as I did.

Now, we will wait for our results to come back in and we will discuss injections next week in our injection training class with Connie.

Living in the Gray Area

This was it.

The moment of truth.

I found myself staring in disbelief at the reflection in the mirror as the light perfectly hit the silvery coarse wires of hair at the top of my head.

For twenty-six years I had the natural brunette hair that God blessed me with.  I have always found pride in myself for never dying, highlighting, or perming my subtle brown hair.  In fact, the color changed with the seasons just like the leaves so it never got old.  I enjoyed the sun-kissed blonde that traced my face when I had been out in the summer sand.  And, just as the daylight faded, the blonde would disappear and cinnamon would come in its place-just in time for the holidays.  2014 was the year that all of that changed.

For the first time in my life, I noticed my soft brown hair turning dull.  Maybe it was the outward signs of exhaustion I had felt after finally taking time to breathe.  Maybe it was the fact that everything I had been through had taken a toll.  Whatever the reason, I was living in the gray area.

I have always said that I would never dye my hair until "I needed to".

Well, world.  

It was time.

September 5, 2014 I walked into the salon and handed my hair over to a man with an English accent.  

He was kind as he talked me through three hours of waiting.  

Wash, dry, and start a new stage of my life.

Happy Birthday

Life has been in full swing at the Bailey house.  It seems that our calendar continues to fill up and responsibilities never cease.  We are about to wrap up what we like to call, "Birthday season".  That is, the time of the year where we live in a whirlwind of birthdays for all the little ones of friends and family.

Birthday season officially begins with the first birthday invitation of the year.  And, each year it seems to come earlier than the last.  

And the winner is...Kenzington!

The first invitation of 2014 officially marked the first birthday of our sweet cousin, Kenzington Paige.  Shortly followed was the party of little Finley.  Then, our eldest niece, Kennedy, would celebrate her last year before double-digits.  Which was just around the corner from Hadley's party.  We would soon receive word that sweet Eleanora would be turning one-just a month before Gavi's birthday.  Mixed into the upcoming months were the three brothers, Beckham, Graham, and Liam.  We would watch Zoie turn a year older and wonder, "where has time gone?"  Only to wait until the facebook feeds fill up with more parties for inspiration to plan our "little man" nephew, Krew's next party.

Despite the joy that comes with all of these parties and celebrating these adorable kiddos, there is an amount of exhaustion that seems to intertwine with these emotions.  There is nothing like the added reminder of your struggles like the seemingly, never-ending children of your friends.

Now, if I can add something here.  I don't ever want it to seem like we don't truly love these babies.  Because, the truth is we do.  We work really hard to make the parties, put on a happy face, and focus on celebrating the life of another precious child.  We sacrifice time with one another and search for the perfect gift for each of them even when finances are tight.  We enjoy seeing each of our family members and friends, and we wouldn't trade these kids for anything.

  

But.

But, it can also be really hard on us.  In fact, there are a lot of things that we keep to ourselves about the constant struggle we are experiencing about our journey of becoming parents.  To speak for myself, it can be really hard on me.  

I remember playing with my baby dolls as a child and wrapping them in the white bunny blanket that I was sent home in from the hospital.  I grew up "playing house" with my childhood friend, Lauren.  My "daughter's" name evolved over the years into "the list" Joshua and I have formed.  In time, I began dating and experiencing my first boyfriend.  I even had serious relationships where we would dream about the future-college, marriage, children.  

I've come a long way from baby dolls and boyfriends, but not being a mom never crossed my mind.  It wasn't in the dreams.

There are some days that I can put aside the grief of the loss of motherhood.  Most of the time I can enjoy my life and the blessings I've been given.  I think to myself that I am young and have plenty of   time to be a parent.  I am thankful for the "extra" time I have with just my husband and the past five and a half years of getting to know one another.  By God's incredible grace, I have a hard-working husband and three precious fur babies.  We have a roof over our heads and food for our bellies.  We have incredible friends and jobs that we enjoy.  We have each other.

But.

But, there are some days that I don't even feel like getting up.  In the midst of a really "good week" I am knocked off my feet with the overwhelming disappointment of the reality we are faced with.  

It may come in the form of a pregnancy announcement of a dear friend

-for all my pregnant friends, I am selflessly ecstatic for your new bundle of joy.  

It may come in the form of an invite to watch your kiddo play ball

-I pray their team wins and they feel proud of their accomplishments.  

It may come as I vacuum the hall and round the corner to see the "baby room"  

-I close my eyes and can see the pinterest inspired nursery come to life with a tiny person sleeping in their crib.  

It may come as I walk down the aisle in the middle of Target and see the newest baby clothes on the rack

-I secretly hope you save all your baby clothes so my child can wear them too.  

It may be in the middle of a restaurant where I catch my husband playing peek-a-boo with the baby at the next table over

-the day will come when I make Joshua the happiest man in the world and watch him as the greatest daddy, ever. 

It can come at any moment. 

And, just understand it may come in the mail with a simple birthday invitation.