my Self

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Fort St John, BC, Canada
My husband, David, and I had been trying to have a baby since November of 2007. After 'letting things happen', we got the amazing news that we were pregnant in June of 2008. Sadly, that pregnancy ended at 9 weeks with a natural miscarriage. After two more chemical pregnancies, we turned to fertility treatments in 2009. That decision was a disaster, with lousy medical care and poor monitoring. In December of 2009, we made the huge decision to move onto IVF. Things fell into place like magic and we began treatment on January 15, 2010. After a blighted ovum in March, we did a successful FET in June, only to endure another blighted ovum in July. We kept up and underwent another IVF in September/October of 2010 with the arrival of our son, Brogan in July of 2011! After our lovely success (finally) we decided to undertake yet another IVF treatment and hope for a sibling for our little red headed boy. Well... so far it's worked. Our story continues below!

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

7 Weeks Pregnant

On Monday I went to the lab....again.  I had another blood draw.  I think that if I didn't get my ultrasound this week my veins would crawl out of my arms and let them die a slow, black, painful death.  They are that sick of being poked.  I actually have a tiny scar in the crook of one elbow from all the needles that go in that spot.  The girls at the lab use it as a marker for my stubborn, deep veins.

It's only when they hit a little nerve that it really hurts.  Sometimes they have to withdraw the needle and push it in four and five times.  Each slow movement brings the glittering point almost out of my flesh, only to begin a slow, searching decent once again.  I'm used to it.  I hardly feel it anymore, although I can now actually feel when they poke into a vein now.  Just from how the needle reacts and the slight pressure a millisecond before.  It's very freeing, like being able to breath after holding your breath too long.

Anyhow.  I went in again to for a beta.  I made it through the weekend, and had no intentions of going until I got to work.  I was virtually useless.  Zip for concentration, less for memory and ability to get anything accomplished.  It's because I knew I could be doing 'something'.  So I went and sat in the freaking waiting room for nearly two hours until I could present my de-flowered arm for yet another wanton round of poking.

I tried to get the result that afternoon.  It's a rare day when my GP's office gets lab results on the same day.  At least I was able to focus and work knowing there was nothing more I could do.

The night was hell.  I stayed up until midnight, then tossed and turns among vivid dreams of dead fish, fast rivers and long hikes through a forest with no real shadows.  CSI-like lighting, everything superficially coloured and glowing from an unknown source of light.  There was no fear, or real emotion, just this platter of dead, rotting, but unscented fish that I had to hide.  At one point I brushed against these white, mushy whisker-like things that were on the fish's faces, and they smeared off on my hand.    I recall thinking I should be sick with the feeling and the smell, but could register neither.

After my successful fish-hiding adventures (I threw them in the river and went along my way), I woke suddenly and completely to a very dark, safe and warm bedroom.  I wasn't alone.  My thoughts were screaming through my head, tumbling along, scratching and biting and clawing for attention.  I kept playing the upcoming telephone call in my head.  I heard the nurse, over and over, with different variations of what was continually the same message.  A slow rise - too slow to be promising, or worse, a drop.  I kept hearing her tell me that my beta had fallen to 10,000.  That it was only 13,000.  And in my head, like a director of a sad movie, I rehearsed how I would feel.  What I would do to go on with my day, my week.  How I would tell David, who didn't know about the beta.  How I would feel about the ultrasound, knowing it was doomed.

Anyhow... it gives you a picture.  Of course I was again useless at work.  I kept calling the GP's office and kept being told to call back in an hour, two hours, after lunch... no results were in.  Finally, the nurse called me back.  I mentally prepared myself and hoped I could remember my lines, so carefully rehearsed a million times, and prayed I could go on with my day.

Then she told me.  Seven, two, nine, eight, four.  That's seventy two thousand, nine hundred and eighty four.  Which is the one thing I did not expect.  72,943.  It had rose more than I could have ever hoped.  It's rising 'ideally'.  I cried at my desk.

I have been in shock all day.  So has David, whom I quickly called and confessed the excellent news to. It's all becoming, step by step, moment by moment... a real possibility.

I know this is not a sure thing.  It's just a good sign.  A really, exceptionally, wonderfully positive real good sign.

Ultrasound - tomorrow at 1:00.  David will be there, I will be there, and hopefully, some new little someone will also be there.


  1. YOU GO GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't wait to read about your ultrasound tomorrow!! I am SUPER excited for you and David. I am praying for you hun!!

  2. This is wonderful news! I can't WAIT until the results of the U/S!! I will be checking here and facebook all day....I'm so impatient!! LOL GOOD LUCK!!!!!

  3. Fingers, toes, eyes and legs crossed for you today. Hugs and warm thoughts -

  4. I had tears well in my eyes just reading your post! I am so happy and excited for you and I can't wait to hear how todays u/s goes!! Fingers and all extremities (sp?) crossed for you guys!!

  5. Praying hard, Sonya ... I will check back frequently! *hugs*

  6. I am staying glued to your blog today....sending awesome vibes your way

  7. Hmmm it's 6pm here in Washington on Wednesday... I'm stalking you!!!! Can't wait to hear how wonderful your u/s was and how beautiful it was seeing the heartbeat!