Baby steps

No, not actual baby steps.

Figurative baby steps.

That's what we're taking in the Ziolkowski household these days when it comes to our journey towards parenthood.

Each year that passes brings new insight and oddly, new closure, if that makes sense.

It's as if the years of the crushing weight of infertility have vanished.

Honestly, I'm not sorry to see them go despite the fact that we're still not actually parents.

But I can tell you that if you're looking for them, they're in a huge box in the bottom of my new hallway closet. I have dreams of having this amazing picture one day showcasing every syringe, every medication bottle, every...everything used during our infertility journey. When we moved, I consolidated it all and as I stared at this huge box packed to the brim, I saw more growing and love instead of heartache and grief and then I promptly realized how weird it was to be staring at old syringes and I closed the box and shoved it to the back of the closet. It was oddly cathartic.

This season is definitely different from our four year sabbatical of what I now refer to as 'the complacent years'. Perhaps its basis is in faith, perhaps its basis is in maturity, but regardless of where this season of life is stemming from, I love it. It feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold winter's day and that equals a sense of comfort and security.

A little over a month ago, we had one of infertility's lovely curveballs thrown at us again when we got confirmation that we would actually have to pay to adopt our baby if we used a surrogate.

It's because the child is not biologically ours.

Even though we technically have 'ownership' (such a cold word) of those frozen embryos, once a baby is born, we have to go through the adoption process. This next phase includes a lawyer and contract writing ($1500-3k), embryo transfer (around 3k), home study (3k) and about a 7k-10k price tag for the actual adoption.

Meanwhile crack heads on the street corner...I digress.

Our worst case life plan scenario is our best case financial scenario. And our worst case financial scenario is our best case life plan scenario. Either our pockets hurt or our hearts hurt.

At this stage of the game, we're used to both...so luckily no scenario has an advantage on the other.

Obviously, we want a baby, but if it doesn't happen through the surrogate route, then we're both (slowly) getting used to the idea of fostering.

Again, our ultimate goal has always been to be parents.

The means by which we get there quite mattering years ago.

 I'm not sure how the rest of 2016 will play out and for once, I'm perfectly okay with that.

We have full confidence that we go nowhere by accident and that where we are always where we're meant to be.

As of a week ago, that's two houses down from our niece and nephew and that's the most perfect place.



#StartAsking

 

 

 

It's National Infertility Awareness Week and since I have a blog because of my infertility diagnosis,  I figured I should probably write about it.

 

The overall theme to this year's week is Start Asking.

 

Honestly, it's a hard theme for me to process because I've been personally asking questions for over eight years now and I'm just exhausted with the whole thing.

And, over the course of those years, I sometimes feel like that's the only thing I ever get asked about (well that and cookies).

 

It was National Infertility Awareness Week several years ago that gave me the courage to start posting on social media. For that, I am grateful for this particular week of the year. In fact, the theme for the first NIAW was "What IF", which is how my blog title came to be.

 

Since we became super vocal with our story about four years ago now, I feel as though the people in our social circle (and the facebook friends who are bombarded with the shared articles/blog posts about infertility) have gotten really comfortable with the topic.  Perhaps not so comfortable talking about it openly, but comfortable learning about it and being aware of it (and if they haven't, then they've probably hidden me from their newsfeed by now).

 

But some people haven't. Some people are just starting down this scary, dark, seemingly endless road.

 

And they need to know it's okay to start asking. They need to know it's okay to be the one asking the questions and the one who's being asked the questions. Because asking means people are talking about infertility, which leads to awareness, which may lead to answers.

 

This journey...it never ends, so people may as well get over the stigma associated with infertility. 1 in 8 couples will receive an infertility diagnosis.  That's thousands and thousands of family and friends who are also impacted. Whether the couple ends up somehow bringing children into their family (Because YES a husband and a wife alone are STILL A FAMILY!!!!) or make the decision to stay childless...the experience of infertility will always be with them and those who love them.

 

Eight years into our journey and I still have absolutely no clue how our story will unfold.

Surrogacy...fostering...?

All I know is that come hell or high water (and both are a serious probability) we won't stop trying.

As a seasoned infertile (ugh..who wants that title?!), here's my start asking advice.

 

To the general public

*Be gentle with the way those questions are worded when you start asking.

*Be careful as to not turn your questions into unwarranted advice.

*Let the person to whom you're speaking know that you will be supportive of whatever questions they may have for you or for doctors and that you'll help them solve their questions as you're able.

*Be sensitive as to not make your questions become their questions.

 

To the 1 in 8

*Forget that whole you need to wait 6 months (if you're over 30) or a year (if you're under 30) before you start asking your questions. That's crap. If you suspect a problem, trust your gut. Ask your OBGYN for help, have the dude visit a Urologist for an SA, do your own research.  Make an appointment with the RE before you reach those milestones, because the waiting lists for new patients can be ridiculously long and you've already waited long enough.

*Start asking questions with the group of folks you are most comfortable. Perhaps it's your family, or a best friend, or a doctor or a group of online strangers in an online support group.

*When you think you have all your questions answered, be prepared for more to arise. Infertility LOVES to throw curve balls.

*NEVER STOP ASKING. Ask for help, ask for answers, ask for support.

 

But, for the love of all things, please don't ask every day.

People are so much more than their infertility diagnosis.

 

When I first started on this journey, I joined a chat room/support group for people going through IVF during the same time frame. Our journey was less than two years old and there was a lady who had been battling infertility for five years. I remember feeling so sorry for her and vowing I would NEVER be in her position, yet here we are 8 years later and I AM that lady.

 

I'm well aware in each and every moment that infertility is part of my story, usually because I'm still figuring out how to solve it....but you know what else?

 

Most days I'd like to forget about infertility and flush it down the crapper.

And just be.

 

Be me.

Be us.

Be happy.

 

How to be those things are those are the most important questions to start asking...and to answer. 

 

Eventually, infertility won't be the biggest chapter in your book.

 

And you'll realize you won't need a designated week to chat about the subject.

 

 

 

 

 



Now seeking a womb reservation

I thought one of the oddest posts I would ever write would be about the time we went on a hunt for a sperm donor.

Nope.

I think asking to borrow someone's uterus for eight-ten months just might top the list.

Now this is an entirely new world for us.  Full of terms like lawyers and contracts and counseling and wills and questions…oh, the questions.

But, since we've been digesting our new reality since Wednesday, I have had the opportunity to mull some things over. 

When the decisions get too heavy (though, quite honestly, I don't think I would know a non-heavy decision at this point in my life unless it smacked me in the face), I turn to humor.

Sarcasm is my safe place.

Life's too short to be serious all the time.

Considering our past eight years, I feel as though almost every conversation has been serious.

And, rightfully so.

The when (and how) you bring children into this world should be seriously considered.

But, goodness gracious, our story has been way too dramatic.

So I have to inject some sarcasm and wit into it.

Please read the following in that light.

__________________________________

Now seeking a womb reservation.

(I'd say a womb to rent, but there are no funds here to pay rent)

Preferred space needs to be available for eight-ten months, though potential tenant could have long lasting effects.

Living structure needs to be quite stable (so does the landlord, for that matter).

Previous tenant required.

Non-smoking, alcohol free zone also required.

Space should have awesome circulation.

Potential tenant comes with their own contract. 

Potential tenant may cause the landlord some problems. 

Landlord needs to be willing to work through them.

Landlord needs to weigh all risks and benefits prior to listing womb space.

Super Serious landlords only.

Potential tenant will supply a list of references. 

________________________________

While we have had time to process what our last attempt at pregnancy means, it has still only been four days.  We do know our future has surrogacy in it, but we are just beginning to delve into this world.

The how and when still need to be worked out.

The Why has been there all along.

Because, we want (and need) to be parents.

Broken Relief

I'm not even sure where to start with this one. 

 

That's the thing about keeping things quiet...a secret.

When it's time for the truth to come out, you just don't know where to start.

 

So, let me back pedal for a minute.

_____________________________

 

There are stories about 'Rainbow Babies' and research showing that often, you're more likely to get pregnant the month following a miscarriage. 
(Now, obviously, that depends on a lot of factors...your health, how far along you were, etc.)

 

So, when early January rolled around and my monthly visitor showed up right on time...even after an 8 week miscarriage, Paul and I hit the ground running again.

 

I'm not exaggerating.

 

When doing a Frozen Embryo Transfer, you start on estrogen on Day 1 of your cycle.

 

We went from "Who knows when we're going to try again?!" to fully committed to a January transfer in about 2 hours.

 

The doctor gave his blessing to try so soon and I had leftover medication and that was that.

 

I woke up on January 4th with no clue when our next step would be and by the end of the day had our transfer scheduled.

 

I've told you before, we're either all in or all out.

_______________________________________

 

We made the decision to not let too many people in on this information.

One of my sisters knew (because she knows everything anyway), a handful of women at work (who are so great about checking in with me and I CANNOT lie) knew, and the biological mom of the embryos knew (and of course, Jenn & her mom from the Race knew because we needed our race funds!).

 

Considering I have been so incredibly open with our story, this secret story line was difficult for me.

But, it was so needed.

 

I needed to almost forget this transfer was happening. I needed to pretend that it didn't have absolutely everything about our future riding on it. I needed to not have a bunch of different folks bringing it up.  I needed to not drag my family and close friends through the agony of yet another two week wait.

 

And, I know those of you that pray for us, are always praying for us.

__________________________________

 

On Friday, January 22nd, Paul and I made our way to VA IVF.

Our appointment time had gotten bumped up because of the impending snow and we arrived at the clinic shortly after 10:00 am. It was just beginning to flurry on our drive in and it filled me with such a peace. I LOVE when the snow starts to fall.

 

We were all checked in and actually sitting in a room when the doc called my cell to tell me one of the two embryos we thawed did not survive. We asked for two more to be thawed and we waited patiently.  Around 11:35 the doc showed up and told us we had two good looking blasts ready for transfer, but unfortunately the second one in the second set did not survive the thaw either.

 

This means we have four of our adopted embryos left.

 

We were home by 12:15 and we snuggled in for a long, snowy weekend.

 

Remember how frozen embryos are referred to as snowflakes?

The beauty of millions of falling snowflakes was just so...calming.

 

And thus began our wait.

__________________________________

 

I have the same dilemma every single transfer about when to take a home pregnancy test. 

I usually give myself a target date and then randomly on an adrenaline induced whim, take one early.

 

And, that's exactly what happened.

 

My first bloodwork beta was scheduled for Monday, Feb. 1st, so I gave myself the goal of making it to Sunday morning. 

But, Friday, after work, that adrenaline kicked in and I caved.

 

Two beautiful pink lines showed up.

I knew they would. I had felt the implantation happening.

 

But, unlike the last time, when I had some random early pregnancy symptoms, this time, I had nothing.

 

When Sunday morning rolled around, my test was stark white.  I couldn't have imagined a second line there if I wanted to. And trust me, I tried.

I took a second test just to be sure the first wasn't a dud...and yep...still stark white.

 

I was SHOCKED when my beta test on Monday came back positive.

I've had a positive home pregnancy test before and my beta had been at an 8.

So, when the nurse told me my beta was 23, I was really, really surprised.

Honestly, though, I was more annoyed that I had to stay on my medication regimen, when I knew in my heart how this story was going to unfold.

 

Today's bloodwork confirmed a dropping beta...21.

 

And so it shall be.

 

My fifth positive pregnancy test.

My fourth chemical pregnancy.

 

And it's officially over.

__________________________________

 

And all I feel is broken relief beyond measure.

 

This weight of will I/won't I ever carry a successful pregnancy is finally over.

 

Relief.

 

I will never, ever feel a baby kick in my womb.

 

Broken.

 

We can move onto our next phase.

 

Relief.

 

Officially saying goodbye to the one dream I have had all my life...carrying a baby.

 

Broken.

 

I'll never accidentally pee myself when I sneeze.

 

Relief

(Come on, I HAVE to find the humor in this and all the mom's I know say that happens!)

 

Our eight year journey continues and throws us for another curve ball.

 

Broken.

 

So the cycle continues.

 

Broken, Relief, Broken, Relief.

_________________________________________

 

And I just keep telling myself.

 

There will be beauty from the ashes.

 

 

 

 

 

Peace that passes all I know.

I remember when the boyfriend I had during my senior year of high school and I broke up.

I remember falling to my knees in my bedroom and sobbing that summer day.

For the entire year, I thought I was going to marry that guy and in that moment, I simply could NOT imagine what my future would look like.

My whole world had been flipped upside down with one simple decision for us to part ways.

My 17 year old self was devastated in the way only 17 year olds can be.

 

Well guess what happened?

Within the year, I met the man who was supposed to be my husband all along.

The one God had designed to be my other half.

And my life has been more beautiful than that 17 year old could have ever envisioned.

 

That's the thing about certain devastating moments. They tend to grasp tightly to our way of thinking and somehow our entire thought process becomes filled with confusion, disappointment, sadness, negativity and it can be really, really hard to dig ourselves out of it...even if we know better.  As humans, we're almost programmed to think the worst.  One of my favorite sayings used to be

"Expect the worst, hope for the best."

 

The older I get, the more crappier I think that statement is.

Now, I'm not necessarily saying you shouldn't plan for the worst.

From simple things like always making sure you have extra TP in the house (because realizing you just ran out of the last ply of the last roll while you're on the commode alone in the house is the absolute worst, am I right?). To bigger things, like having a financial savings so the hard times aren't so hard.

But to EXPECT that the worst will happen? 

Why give anything negative any extra thought?

If it happens, you'll need all your energy to deal with it in THAT moment. So, for the life of me, my older self cannot figure out why anyone would want to waste time dwelling on 'expecting the worst'.

 

There's a strange thing that's been happening in the Z household since December 1st, the day we said goodbye to our little girl.  Well, really over the last 4 1/2 years...but the process has been sped up to warp speed within the past almost two months.

 

There is a peace about our present and an excitement about our future that is palpable (although maybe only to us).

 

And it's one hundred percent contributed to this book we've challenged ourselves to read

(yes, the entire thing).

To us, it's been our saving grace, our hope when all hope seemed lost, our promise of something greater than we could ever imagine for ourselves.

 

The Bible.

 

I used to be leery of people who talked so openly about a relationship with Jesus.

But, the older I get, the more trials I have to walk through, the longer my life plays out in a way I hadn't planned, the more I need to lean on something stronger than myself....then the more I turn into that person.

 

And, I'm okay with that.

It's a hard struggle for me most days because I'm a firm believer that we have the power and the responsibility to individually change our situations and to be the best versions of ourselves. I believe that we better serve each other and the Lord by being doers and givers...not takers. 

Romans 5: 1-5 sums it up perfectly for me.

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. ² Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. ³ Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴ and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵ and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."
 

Peace.

Hope.

God's love.


At the risk of already sounding too 'preachy'...this IS the answer to all the questions people ask Paul and I.

The how, the why and everything in between.
Any and every question.
All the answers point back to that book.

It's a peace that passes all I know.

 

 

My outlook on my future, our future, is entirely different than what that 17 year old girl perceived fourteen years ago.

And it's all because of peace.

 

 

Whether you find your peace in the same place I find mine.

Or you find it taking a walk through nature.

Or you find it while you meditate.

Or you find it in one of your hobbies.

Or you find it while you're in the simple midst of day to day, crazy, loud life.

 

 

I just hope you know it, too.

 

 



24 hours

A day.

24 hours.

1,440 minutes.

86,400 seconds.

A lot can change.

You've made it through your moment and now comes the real processing time.

And depending on what your moment was about, your processing time and approach will be unique to you.

But the first 24 are always the most significant.

Good moments and bad moments.

You're now fully aware that your world DOES look different.

Perhaps better, perhaps worse, but definitely different. 

And tons of things affect this time period.

Your personality, your faith, your support system, your beliefs, your spirit, your…whatever.

Perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse, but definitely different than another person (probably even  different from someone who's experienced a similar huge moment).

Those around you will process your huge moment differently.  For the obvious reason because it didn't directly happen to them and for the not so obvious…because we all process differently.

To say our 24 hours post huge moment has been all easy would be a lie.

To say our 24 hours post huge moment has been all bad would be a lie.

It's just been.

And it happened.

And there is nothing that will change those facts.

To dwell on it too long would be a waste of life's precious moments that are already too fleeting.

Like sand slipping through our fingers.  Or trying to grab at running water.

Blame it on my line of work, blame it on the fact that my husband's profession has no certainties. 

I simply refuse to dwell on the negative.

So, yes, while processing questions from nurses about what to do with the remains 

(remains that I could have easily miscarried on my own based on the gestational age)

were difficult, my heart is all too aware of those women I know who have had or will have to bury their full-term babies.

Knowing that our day and our moment was nowhere near as painful as other women (and men's) moments helped me put my moment into perspective.

And, oh, how my heart ached for the specific people running through my mind.

Your angel babies are etched so deeply into my heart.

When you carry other people's stories with you, you give yourself a good dose of reality.

It's like I said yesterday, our blessings so far outweigh our heartache that I can't even be mad about it.

Please don't mistake my apparently easy processing of this whole sucky scenario as a lack of caring, I'm just trying to convey that I know it could be worse…and that puts this in the okay column in my head.

Our support system has shown up so wonderfully that I feel like they've carried our burden for us and with us and made it so much lighter.

From texts and calls and sweet messages to us and through my PR person (thanks Brittany!) and dinners and Facebook comments.

We feel and cherish each one.  

Honestly, the most challenging part has been finding a new routine.

I've been focusing so hard for the past six months on preparing my body that I've forgotten what my world look like before.

From diet and exercise changes, to adding acupuncture, to even our nightly shot routine.

It's different now.

On a lighter note, I now have no excuse not go to the gym…bummer.

I can't even begin to explain all the ways in which I see God's blessing and grace in this whole scenario.

Take the timing of it.

For one, this happened two weeks before our Disney trip.

If all continues to go well, I will be feeling completely back to normal by then.

I'm grateful it didn't happen right before our trip or on our trip.

Take today.

Today was D&C day.

Not ever having one before used to be in my blessing column, so I need to find something to replace it.

I'm replacing it with the fact that I got to spend an entire unexpected day with my husband.

With compassion and love and forgiveness and all the best qualities of married life fully present.

And it was a gift.

And he has loved me so well.

The blessings are seared so deeply into my heart that I don't currently have the energy to even try to convey them all.

Percocet.

That might be the biggest blessing of them all!

THE Moment

You know those moments in life where you actually think to yourself.

 

"Ok, this is a HUGE moment".

 

It's those life changing events.

 

It's the obvious moments like graduations and proposals and wedding days.

 

And it's those not so obvious moments...maybe the first time you meet someone, or getting a diagnosis from a doctor, or finding out unexpectedly someone has passed away.

 

Those moments where your head spins and your world tilts and everything shifts into an entirely different fuzzy focus than it looked a mere thirty seconds ago.

Where your breath briefly escapes your lungs and you forget to inhale again and you actually remind yourself to just breathe.

 

Because in your heart you're aware that life is always about a series of moments.

The good ones and the bad ones.

 

And the thing about moments is that they're HUGE while you're in them....until the next HUGE one hits you and your world shifts again to make room for the newest moment.

 

And that's the best way I can describe what it feels like to realize that there's no flickering anymore on the ultrasound screen before the doctor even says it.

 

An actual brief sucker punch to the gut.

To know the doctor already realizes it and to watch the news spread across your husband's face.

That is the absolute worst.

 

Here's the thing. 

It absolutely sucks (there's no way to sugarcoat it) to have known that there was a heartbeat and now there isn't.

 

But here's the bigger thing.

I'm not the first woman this has happened to and I won't be the last.

And our blessings still so far outweigh our heartache that I can't even be mad about it.

 

Because we've been here before. 

Not necessarily this big of a loss, but having our world shift into a new light...well that isn't new.

 

We'll tackle this phase in our journey the same way we've tackled the last few phases of our journey.

Problem solving and taking it one step at a time.

 

So, our next immediate step is to schedule a D&C...it will definitely happen this week just not sure when.  Technically, I could stop all my meds and wait for the process to naturally happen, but the doctor suggested a D&C so we could do genetic testing.

 

This will help us decide what our next step will be.

And, in the doctor's words, will help us know whether to blame the embryo or blame my uterus.

 

I don't typically like to be a Debbie downer, so it was, honestly one of the most gut wrenching things I've ever had to do sending my husband out into the lobby first to tell my mom and my sister to step out into the hallway, so everyone in the waiting room wouldn't have to watch me lose it. 

 

They had come to share in our joyous moment that never came to fruition.

 

As it was, my heart was breaking for all the nurses to have to chat with us after such devastating news. I don't think I could do what they do day in and day out.

 

Paul and I were in a really, really good place prior to this part of our journey and that's a place I'd like to stay. This setback will not threaten the overall joy I have for this time of the year.

 

And, I'm still grateful. Grateful that the ultrasound had a definitive result. It would have been worse to have seen a baby that had barely developed but was still holding on.  I hate being in limbo and now we can close this chapter and start writing the next one. 

 

Thank you all for loving us so well the past week and for sharing in our joy.  I am so at peace knowing we had a truly joyous Thanksgiving and God spared us the news until after the holiday weekend.

 

I had one glorious month of being able to wake up every morning and say 'today I am pregnant'.

That is priceless to me.

 

And all this really means is that our next HUGE moment is just a little farther away.

That's okay though, because I know we'll get there.

At some point, in some way, some day.

 

 

 

 

Just to end on a positive note, cheers to being able to ride whatever I want to ride and drink whatever I want to drink and eat whatever I want to eat in Disney World in a few short weeks.