An attempt at explaining the deep significance behind our son’s name
We’re just volunteering to be head sheep of this weird little herd in our area, with every intention of pointing to our Shepherd.
Its been a minute, I know.
The last post was nearly 4 months ago, when we heard a heartbeat that didn’t belong to either one of us, but then again sort of did.
I’ve struggled a lot with what this blog and our story would look like once we got our happy answer.
It been a fantastically wonderful difficult hard beautiful gross confusing 4 months.
As a quick update:
We’re having a boy. His name is Truitt Charles Bush. More on his name in another post, because that’s a meaty one.
Our boy is big, healthy, active, and we already see ourselves in him.
I know, this may sound a little ridiculous and probably makes me look extremely hard to please. It is what it is.
Being pregnant is hard. Harder than I was prepared for. If it were just the physicality of it, I’d probably not post about it.
Physically, I am mostly fine. My body, however, was not “made for this” as so many crunchy folks like to say. No judgement to the crunchy, i consider myself partially crunchy (as partially crunchy as one can be after taking the amount of hormones I did and excising weird stuff off my innards with laser beams). If one more person looks at me and says “your body knows what to do!” I am going to give a very detailed explanation of how NO my body DOES NOT know what to do, it is VERY CONFUSED. There is another HUMAN in there.
My migraines are now peaking at 5-6 days a week. I am still able to work full time by keeping a watchful eye on the weather, my sleep schedule (lol at sleeping while pregnant, amirite?) and medicating (safely) often. I am on a strict no-Botox diet until Truitt says hello from the outside (we listen to a lot of Adele, I’m not sorry), and since I’m bellybutton deep into the second trimester, it doesn’t look like they are letting up any time soon. That’s difficult for me, because I feel like a flake. Beyond work, I can’t make a lot of commitments, because having migraines and hurting almost constantly is exhausting.
Beyond that and some scar tissue induced round ligament spasms, I’m a pretty perky prego.
Mentally, I’ve been a mess.
“WHY?! You’re pregnant! It worked the FIRST TIME!”
I know, it usually doesn’t.
“This is exactly what you’ve been praying for, working for, trying so hard for!”
“You must be so EXCITED!”
No doubt about it. The English language is not adequate enough to explain how we feel.
But why us?
I decided to go public with our journey because I didn’t really know anyone who’d been through this. I’d found some random faceless women on some message boards and online groups, and I’m thankful for them. But I thought surely someone I know has done this, been through this. And then I thought maybe I/we could be that someone that someone knew, when they dealt with this. There had to be others. I wanted to find the others that I already knew I knew, I just didn’t know.
Boy, did we.
We have been overwhelmed with the echoes of “me too” we have gotten after going public. People who have told us publicly and in confidence. People who are searching for community. Families who are actively dealing with this hurt and struggle and journey and understand the hardship and just get it on a level that no one else can.
We have found so many great confidants in this journey. People who are public with their journey, people who are not. Several have reached out to us, as we are a bit ahead of them in the journey, just as we reached out to a few couples who have been instrumental in our own journey.
We were made for community. Doing this alone is not healthy, I honestly don’t get how people do it. We need one another – we are good for each other. We would have been lost and overwhelmed without this little community that we scrounged up from the depths of the internet and high school and and friends of friends of friends.
In this community, not everyone wins. Not everyone has the happy ending they set out to find, especially not on the first try.
Sweet friends that I knew that I knew (I just didn’t know) who are dealing with this are seeing more loss, failed cycles, bad news. My heart is so broken for them.
They didn’t get to/haven’t yet heard their heart beat. Or they heard their heart beat, and then have experience the death of their baby.
My heart hurts. A lot.
I feel so guilty that it worked for us. Like I should maybe hide my joy and excitement and annoyance with migraines and pregnancy discomfort because how dare I? These friends still hold such a special place in my heart, and I want so much to follow their journey, hold their hand, be a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear.
But I am pregnant shoulder. My ears still hear my baby’s heart beat. My belly feels his kicks. He is still “mine”, for now.
I don’t have one. This post doesn’t really resolve into a great epiphany of understanding and enlightenment.
I don’t have it figured out. I don’t know that I ever will.
I know that we are not pregnant because I ate enough pineapple, or took the right drugs at just the right time, or prayed hard enough with just enough faith. I am pregnant with a healthy baby boy because of God designed science, and because God has a plan for this person. It has nothing to do with me. It is for His glory alone.
We are living in a weird gray area. Yes, both Mister and I. This is a family journey, not a female journey.
We are over the moon excited about our son. We have a son. I feel him move so much, he keeps me awake, he’s sassy and possibly left handed. He parties all night and is a total grouch like his Daddy at early morning ultrasounds. He is soothed and calmed down by listening to Mister snore. Yes. Snore.
Pregnancy is what we’ve gone through hell and high water to achieve. I am so excited I get to experience it, I love it. I thought it may never happen for us, for me.
Its gross and weird and sometimes it sucks and is hard and it hurts, a lot. The anxiety we’ve both experienced during our short time with our boy is overwhelming, and he’s not even “here” yet.
We are broken over those who are still struggling. When we see a friend get told “I’m sorry…”, again. When another family learns that IUI isn’t enough. When they don’t know why its not working. When they don’t know what to do next. When someone else tells them to “just relax” or “quit thinking about it” or “have enough faith.”
This community is still so important to us. We are still very much a part of it. We are attempting, again, a support group of sorts, beginning next month. I have mixed feelings about leading a group of struggling families as a big ole pregnant lady. This is too important to us to ignore just because we have our baby growing, but its something that must be handled with a grace and dignity I haven’t quite figured out yet in order to be sensitive and understanding to others.
We are overjoyed. We are anxious. We are broken. We are thankful. We are conflicted.
We are gray.
Where Dr. Seuss and Endometriosis Awareness Month meet.
Teeny tiny human popcicles.
Today we had our final monitoring appointment.
When we left our clinic on Thursday, doc had canceled our Saturday monitoring appointment because I was a “slow grower”. Not much had changed between our Tuesday appointment and Thursday appointment, all 20-25 of my follicles were still mostly too small to be measured.
NOT the case today.
We’ll backtrack to this weekend for a minute. Saturday I started feeling a bit “uncomfortable”. That was to be expected. Sunday afternoon and evening, “a little uncomfortable” was now “ok this sucks.” Again, to be expected. But I don’t have to like it. Sunday evening/night, I was just one big ball of grump and tired. My gut hurt all over. It hurt to touch (I’m pretty bruised up at this point from all the shots), it hurt to move, it hurt to go over bumps in the road, and I drive a Wrangler. No bueno.
At today’s appointment, Doc asks how I’m feeling and how this weekend was for me.
Well, he says, lets take a look!
As soon as he flips the ultrasound on and gets to the appropriate neighborhood, Nurse says:
WOW. That’s a TON! I’m going to sit down, we’re gonna be in here a while.
They were huge. The ovaries. The follicles. And there were so.many.of.them. As he measured, I started counting on my fingers.
We thought my number had dropped a little between Tuesday and Thursday, but NOPE. The little slow pokes caught up, plus a bonus one! This whole exam was extremely uncomfortable. I was glad when it was over. For a minute.
Doc looked over all the information he’d just rattled out to my nurse and took a deep breath.
From the beginning, our biggest concern was ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome. We tried really hard. But you’re there, and its happening.
Well, crap. ok.
OHSS, as defined by the MayoClinic:
Ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome may occur after using injectable hormone medications during in vitro fertilization (IVF), a treatment for infertility. Injectable fertility medications stimulate the development of eggs in the ovaries, but it can be difficult to tell exactly how much medication you might need.
Too much of the hormone in your system can lead to ovarian hyper stimulation syndrome (OHSS), where your ovaries become swollen and painful. A small number of women may develop severe OHSS, which can cause rapid weight gain, abdominal pain, vomiting and shortness of breath.
The more you know, folks.
He continues to tell me that my trigger shot tonight will likely make it worse, and that he wants me on additional meds to help control the effects of OHSS. He’s not comfortable proceeding with our current plan of a fresh transfer, 5 days after my retrieval. He wants to freeze everything he gets, and wait a month or so until my ovaries return to a zen place and a normal human person size (they’re fist sized, folks) before he did a frozen embryo transfer (FET).
So, recalculating route:
Our egg retrieval is set for Wednesday morning. I just paused from typing this paragraph so Mister could jam the largest needle that a human has ever made (I may be exaggerating) in to my bum and pump in a bunch of HCG for my trigger shot.
Wednesday, they’ll fertilize my eggs with Mister’s contribution, and for the first time ever, Mister and I will be parents. We’ll let our sweet little blobs grow for 5 days, and the fighters that make it to Day 5 will all go in the freezer until I can get to a healthy place again.
We will be parents. We will be responsible for lives other than our own. We will make decisions that are best for tiny groups of cells living in petri dishes. The responsibility started weighing on both of us today. Its a weird place to be in, to know that we’re making all of these combinations of our DNA, these individuals. These future babies and children and adults that we haven’t met yet, but on Wednesday they’ll be real and exist, and then on Monday we’re putting them in a freezer for at least a month for a couple, years for the others.
I’m in a weird SciFi movie.
We’re bummed about this turn of events, with the the feeling crummy and the extra stress on my body, and the added wait when we’ve already been waiting 3 years. However, I know its the right decision. We picked this doctor because he was of similar heart and spirit. He’s protective of his patients, both the ones he can see in the exam room and the ones he needs a microscope to see. He is a good steward of life, and we want to be good stewards of life, too.
Its a weird world we’re living in, and Wednesday its about to get a lot weirder.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. Psalm 139:16
While this was a surprise to us, it was not a surprise to God. He knows our children’s birthdays.
Ten years ago, MS high school graduates had to have 2 lab sciences under their belt in order to qualify for a 4 year university. I think its more than that now. I don’t know. I’m done with that mess. I ended up with 4 anyway, because I’m a nerd. I took Biology I and II my freshman and sophmore year. I broke my chemistry teacher’s heart and my mother’s heart (who is also a chemistry teacher…Sorry Mom and Mrs. Malone) when I took one year of that mess and had a strong “EW no thanks” response my junior year, and my senior year, I went back to my happy place of AP Biology.
One of the only things I remember from Biology II (sorry Coach) was a genetics unit we did where Coach had us “dropping our genes and making babies.” Coach was so scandalous and punny. We had different gene traits on paper slips, we’d drop our genes (ba dum ching), record the answers on our punnet square, and then end up with a randomized “baby”.
I feel like that’s what we’re doing this week. I can’t drop my actual jeans, as I can’t get them past my hips these days, but we’re fixing to drop both of our genes off in a lab and in just over a week, we’ll be parents. How crazy is that? Science is so cool. Medicine is wild. And God is so, so big.
On Friday, after a green light from our doc, we started the twice daily hormone injections of Menopur and Follistim. I’m taking 3 doses a day right now, but thankfully can mix two of those in one shot, so I only get stuck once in the morning and once at night. I loath the shots, but Mister hands me a seasonal Little Debbie after every stick, and that makes me a little bit less of a grump. I’ll start a 3rd medication later this week (an estrogen suppressant, joy!), and we’re on track to have our egg retrieval on February 3.
We’ll be going back and forth to Jackson every other day for ultrasounds, blood work, and monitoring. Our first monitoring appointment was today. Doc found 14 follicles on my right ovary, and 13 on my left. One follicle houses one egg. Math is hard sometimes (which is why me and chem didn’t jive), but that’s 27 follicles. During IUI, I only ever had 2 follicles develop at one time, and I thought I was bloated then. This probably explains why I feel like a blimp. We are thrilled with that number, but also a little overwhelmed. Of course that number will drop by the time we get to mature eggs, fertilized eggs, and embryos that continue to grow until Day 5, but we don’t know how much. It could drop by 6-8, or it could drop by 15-20. Either way, we’ve got a solid number to start with.
We’re really doing this and its blowing my mind. The human body is blowing my mind. What my body is doing is incredible, and I am super impressed with it. I make sure to cheer on the belly button zip code every day, and apologize for the bruising. I’m gaining 2 lbs a day. I feel like an over inflated balloon. I am eating ALL THE THINGS, and by 7:45 I’m yawning, by 8:00 I have crashed. I couldn’t even hang with the girls Saturday night for an early dinner at our favorite spot. Sorry, y’all. But I know this (the stims) will be over in a week, and this whole cycle will have an answer by the end of February.
We are continually blessed by those who are praying for us, rallying with us, and constantly encouraging us. After my “gangsta socks” post in early December, my mailbox was overwhelmed with ridiculous socks from some of my favorite people. I think I have enough pairs to carry me through a full-term pregnancy, and each one reminds me specifically of the wonderful folks that sent them.
We are marveling at what God is doing now, and wait with great anticipation on what he has for us in February.