Negative beta

The test didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. I was in the middle of the meeting when I got the email alert that results were in. I had to wait until lunch to go to my car to cry. 

The end of an era. 

9dp5dt

I'm 9 days post transfer and the pee sticks are coming up negative. I started testing 6dp and there was an extremely faint line, almost an evap line. I had to squint and really look to see it. All the internet searches assured me it was too early and that no line didn't mean anything yet. I've been taking a test daily since, not necessarily with first morning urine. Sometimes a second test a day. All so that I have an excuse for myself why the line wasn't getting darker. 

This morning I took a test with fmu and it wasn't even faint. Just a clear negative. Saying I'm disappointed doesn’t cover it, but calling it devastation feels too strong. I'm just really sad.

I feel surprised because I was so sure it would work. I didn't prioritize doing any of the rituals I had done the first times. I thought I was past the superstitions and it was a tested protocol; we knew that not only it worked but it worked more than once. I was sure it would stick. It's part of the reason we waited so long to transfer: we needed to be ready to catch a baby in 9 months from transfer because I was certain that the protocol would succeed. 

I feel guilty. We are profoundly grateful for the family we've built. It feels greedy to want more when our prayers were answered before. We recognize that we are so lucky it feels almost wrong to shed tears and "waste emotion" over children that never got to exist. 

I feel frustrated that I still have to take the crinone until I get an official negative beta. It's keeping me captive in a Schrodinger's pregnancy. Until they confirm there's no pregnancy I can't help but hope that the pee sticks are faulty or dismiss the results I'm getting as late implantation. 

I feel so sad. I saved all the baby clothes and toys in closets, piling more in and readjusting to make everything fit as my kids aged out of stages. It will be a relief to get rid of it all, one day soon, but for now I mourn what could have been. How much my kids would have loved to have another sibling. How much time and discussion went into whether or not to do this transfer and what it would mean for our family. How much we put on hold because of my need to prioritize it and give it the best chance possible. 

I feel relief. It's not the results I wanted or expected, but a negative HCG is a blessing that brings quick and complete closure to a very long journey. If it wasn't meant to be, I’m at peace knowing we gave it everything we had and did all we could.

The tears continue to flow. Unlike all the other failed transfers, I can't comfort myself with a resolve to try again soon. This was our last embryo and there are no more chances. Praying there's no drama when I go in for the beta.  

FET 9 - CD 22 Transfer day

As an Orthodox Jew, observing Sabbath (Shabbat in Hebrew) and other aspects of my faith is important to me. My practice is personal and never intended to impact or impose on anyone else. I fully embrace a “live and let live” mentality and believe everyone should be free to honor their own beliefs, so long as kindness leads the way without harming others. For anyone interested in learning more, this is an example of an article with information about restrictions on Sabbath: Shabbat’s Work Prohibition: Traditional do's and don'ts for the Jewish day of rest

With that in mind, I wanted to document my FET experience on Saturday. 

My husband and I carefully planned the day. Since it was not medically necessary for him to be there, he could not come with me and we knew I'd have to go on my own. I was scheduled to be in the clinic mid-morning for the short procedure so we planned for him to take the kids to synagogue to keep them busy and limit their questions about my absence (another major difference than previous cycles, in the best way possible). I hired a driver to pick me up around the corner from my home, with navigation details and payment arranged in advance including special instructions to make sure to open and close the car door without prompting.

In the days leading up to transfer day, I kept having interactions in the clinic that were bothering me. Small and seemingly insignificant, but they were coming at me frequently enough that I was noticing it. I've been abundantly blessed that my schedule doesn't allow me to harp on things and document every interaction; I've barely been able to keep this blog alive even during an active cycle. Somewhere in my gut things felt off and I was subconsciously keeping track. 

The first time alert bells rang in my mind was when we were signing off paperwork for my cycle and they gave me the wrong time interval from trigger to the FET. They had put in the default number but I had undergone multiple tests in order to get an exact hour count, with the past successful FETs following exactly that. I pointed it out to the nurses and they corrected it before handing it back for signature. No harm, but that was when my guard initially went up. I chalked it up to the change in doctors as mine had moved away in recent years, and put it out of mind.

The second time was when they were giving me medication instructions and told me to bring crinone with me to the transfer because the default protocol is to start it immediately after transfer. Again, that was the default and my protocol says to start it the following day. 

The next alert came when the doctor came in for monitoring and saw that my lead follicle was measuring the right size. Offhand he calculated what day my transfer would be the following week, again following the default protocol. I know he was just doing monitoring and bouncing from one room to the next but I still corrected him - no, I get an extra day based on my personalized protocol. He hesitated before agreeing, saying they'll make sure to check the charts and get it all straightened out. 

The crinone mistake happened again a few days later when the formal instructions came with the exact time of procedure, where a nurse (yawning, chewing, uninterested) was rattling off instructions on the phone and said it again about the crinone timing. I corrected her and for the first time in the conversation she broke away from the rehearsed monologue to check my chart and confirm I was right. 

In the week I had a week to prepare for the transfer I contacted the clinic no less than three separate times asking if there was anything I needed to sign or do for the transfer. At one point I specifically stated that I am an orthodox Jew and have limitations to what I can do on Sabbath; another time I said, "in observance of Sabbath I prefer to sign any documents/forms in advance." I was assured that everything that needed to be signed was received.  

Transfer day comes. My driver drops me off in front of the building. Being the weekend, there is very little foot-traffic in and out of the building. I waited a few minutes until the security guard walked by and triggered the automatic door so I can walk in the building. I walked past the elevator and headed to the stairs. I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, excited with anticipation for the procedure. My mind was on trying to calculate how long things would take, and whether there was a chance I could be back before my family returned from synagogue. 

On all the other floors there was an entrance to the floor, which I was used to having visited the other floors by stairs in the past when the elevator had heavy traffic. The fourth floor had a new badge scanner with a Restricted Access sign that I didn't expect. I went back to the third floor and walked across the building to another staircase to try another area: same issue. Restricted Access. I knocked on the door but no one answered. I walked back down to the lobby to consider my options. I couldn't go back to the parking lot to get my driver because not only am I not supposed to directly ask him to do things on my behalf, I'd also have to trigger the doors to get him. I waited a few minutes to see if the security guard would reappear but I was on my own. I reluctantly headed to the elevator and bopped the button with my elbow. 

I'm going to pause here and say that I recognize this may seem ridiculous to someone who is not Jewish or not Orthodox. I understand. I'm fully aware of how it may look from an outsider's perspective. But to me it was important to try to keep shabbat. With preparation I could have planned for a workaround so this was completely preventable and I was upset.

The elevator opens to the clinic floor and I walk toward the reception desk. I said, "Hi, my name is... and I'm here to check in for my FET." Her response was, "Did you check in at the kiosk?" I took a deep breath trying to hide my frustration, since it's not this lady's fault and I didn't want to sound annoyed at her, and said that I'm an orthodox Jew and prefer not to use the kiosk if it's not necessary. I felt uncomfortable saying it out loud, because even though it's not a big deal for her to check me in on her screen, it was clearly an inconvenience. I felt like I was failing Jews everywhere.

She was so confused. Her solution was to send me to another desk down the line. The lady there was  scrolling on her phone, enjoying a slow clinic day. I repeated who I was and why I was there. She started with the same question about the kiosk, but before I could answer, a tech was coming up behind me, smiling, saying "oh I was just coming to get you."  Wonderful. Avoided the kiosk.

She uses her badge to get past two doors to get to the patient check-in area. She asked for my ID and insurance, and I handed them to her. She then asked me if I have a living will and I said no. She hands me a paper to sign stating that I don't. I stare down at it and give some pushback. I said I asked to sign everything in advance and that I requested not to have to sign anything today because of the sabbath. She gives me a blank stare. She's just a tech and has no idea how to handle this: she needs the patient to sign a paper to get to the next step and has never encountered someone declining. I asked what happens if I don't sign it, and she said she'd have to get the nurse manager because they can't continue to the next step without it. I handed the paper back to her because at that point I noticed it wasn't even my name on it and if I was going to be forced to sign something I'm only doing it once. She apologized and gave me my correct paper, which I reluctantly signed with my non-dominant hand, feeling the tears of frustration sting the back of my eyes.

She leads me back to a room with a curtain and says the nurse will be there shortly. A lovely nurse comes in to take my vitals, making the appropriate amount of small talk about the weather as she's working. She mistakenly said "egg retrieval" when confirming the procedure I was there for, and I reminded her that it was a transfer. She quickly corrects and said "yes of course I meant that, it was just a morning full of retrievals so I have that on the mind haha." She gives me the rundown about discharge and then, of course, asks me to sign that I understand. At that point I can't hold it in any more. I signed it and started to cry. I was so so upset. I was so frustrated that no one paid attention to what's important to me as a patient. There was no discussion between the clinic and the OR to communicate the limitations I had shared. At that moment I recalled all the red flags which led me to worry that if they cared so little about reading my chart about my Shabbat preferences and my crinone protocol, that they wouldn't get the correct embryo to transfer either and that all this was for nothing. 

I tried to dismiss it but the nurse encouraged me to tell her what the problem is so I did. She was very sweet and apologized profusely on behalf of the clinic. I didn't expect her to do anything, and I recognized it wasn't her fault personally, but I appreciated her acknowledgment of my frustration. I calmed quickly enough and changed into my gown to wait for the next step. I was told to arrive an hour before my scheduled procedure and even with the stairs and check in issues, I was still ready to go about 25 min before the scheduled time. I was hoping they'd be ready for me soon so I could head home. 

I sat there waiting patiently, just me and my full bladder, trying to put the past behind me and think ahead with positive vibes. I heard the nurses chatting right outside my curtain. They were making small talk with the last of the egg retrieval patients being discharged.  They were excited that the work day was almost over ("only one more quick procedure") and their plans for the rest of the day. Already feeling sorry for myself, it was just more salt to the wound. I had waited 3 years for this procedure, with so many obstacles along the way and many conversations and back-and-forth with my husband about whether it would even happen. Then when we decided, it was time to start allocating financial resources toward it. We saved and sacrificed to afford this self-pay option for a last embryo. I understand that these nurses have probably been up since the crack of dawn; I know their profession doesn't get nearly enough credit; I also fully and readily admit that they didn't do anything specifically wrong. But it didn't feel good to sit there listening to them being so cavalier about a possibly-life-altering procedure I was about to go through, on my own, in such an off-hand way. They don't work in a regular place and there's a responsibility and gravitas that comes with it, whether they intend it to or not. This had nothing to do with my religion but just piled on top of the already charged experience. 

I'm not even done... the story continues.

The doctor comes in and confirms the information about my embryo. I feel reassured that the embryo thawed successfully and that it was the correct one. He asked me to sign that I understood. For the third time, I signed the paper.  

Shortly after, they came to get me for the OR. I held the flap of my gown closed in the back and walked over. They settled me on the table, arranged some warm blankets on my top, and got an ultrasound in place to help guide. The doctor inserts the speculum and it was too short. He asked for a second one, and it wasn't the right fit either. On the fourth one, he tried to adjust multiple times and wasn't getting the view he needed for the procedure. He tried for a few minutes and couldn't get it, meanwhile the second doctor was pressing on my bladder with the ultrasound. After some time, he suggested I go empty out my bladder just a bit (count to six then come back). I was escorted down the hall to the nearest bathroom and counted to six, cleaned up, and walked back to the OR. The door was locked (needs a badge to get in) so I just stood there outside the door.  A minute passes and a kind tech sees me waiting there holding my gown closed and asks if I need help. I say that I'm waiting for my nurse to get me back in the room, so he tries his badge but he doesn't have access so he's locked out too. He goes to get my nurse who was at the nurse's station, chatting. She says, "oh I'm so sorry I didn't see you walk right past. We were discussing the pumpkin challenge at the front desk if you want to vote on your favorite." Everyone had cleared out of the room when I went to pee, so we had to wait for everyone to come back. Both doctors took the break to look back at the notes from the last mock transfer to see if there were any issues (there weren't) and I internally groaned about why the eff they'd make me go through a stupid mock transfer if the transfer doctors weren't going to read the notes as part of preparing for my transfer anyway. Like maybe someone could have noted the speculum size used successfully in the last transfer???? 

As we're waiting for the doctors to return, the nursing tech was trying to make small talk and make me feel comfortable in a very awkward situation. Her small talk was "So, tell me about your sabbath," clearly having been warned by the nurse to be sensitive but also completely missing the mark. I'm sitting there with legs in stirrups and nervous about the situation. Under normal circumstances I'm happy to answer questions and have a discussion about religion. But that was not the time and I was not in the mood. My response to her was, "I'm happy to chat about it and answer any questions you have but maybe another time." 

I get back on the OR table, they rearrange the sheets, the ultrasound comes back, they raise the bed again, the speculum dance repeats. Same results - he's unable to get the view he needs. He asks me to release my bladder a bit more. I get back and the second doctor now tries to get the view needed; she is unsuccessful. Everyone else has already left and there are no other doctors to try. He sends me back to the bathroom to release, this time "count to 40". At this point it's already past my original transfer time and I express my concern about the window closing or the embryo degrading. Doctor assured me there's a 3 hour window and we have plenty of time. To his credit, he seemed stressed but very calm.

The whole process repeats an additional two more times until he says to empty my bladder all the way. After what seems like 90 seconds of peeing I'm back at the OR with an empty bladder praying to get through this. They easily and quickly get the speculum in place and step 1 is finally complete and we all cheered, hoping to lighten the mood. The next step was to get the catheter in place and that took several more tense minutes. They were finally able to get the catheter placed, the embryo transferred, and end the ordeal 40 minutes after starting. 

I was walked back to my curtain area and my sweet original nurse came in for a last set of vitals. She again apologized for the miscommunication and said that she reached out to the nurse manager who will be in touch with me. I got dressed, and asked my nurse if she can show me which staircase I can use to get downstairs. She offered to walk me out and pressed the elevator buttons for me. Luckily my driver was sitting in the lobby waiting for me. As soon as he saw me he got up to activate the doors and get me home, about an hour later than originally anticipated. 

There were so many things that could have gone differently. I did get a call from the nurse manager, and I shared some of this with her. Not all of it because I'm still processing everything that happened, and not sure what her capacity is for hearing it, and the recovering people-pleaser in me feels a strong reluctance to be the cause of trouble. She assured me that if I ever need another procedure on Saturday she would personally ensure that none of this would be an issue. I told her that I'm 41 and this was our last embryo; there won't be a next time. But I did offer her to keep my number handy to discuss ideas to improve patient experience for situations like this that come up in the future. 

That brings us up to speed: getting through the 2WW. 

FET 9 - CD 14

There was a moment where we thought that I'd have to go in on Saturday for monitoring but we were able to avoid it because my body was ready for trigger. Ironically, due to the earlier timeline, it meant that transfer landed on a Saturday.

Lots of symptoms after the ovidrel shot. Way more painful cramps that I recall from previous cycles. I told my husband my uterus wasn't used to this anymore. In the past, the FETs would follow much more intense retrieval cycles. This many years after the last one, memories fade and I had forgotten how painful each step of the process is. 

FET 9 - CD10

On this monumentally historic day in Jewish history, where in Israel 20 living hostages were finally released from terrorists who held them captive for 738 days, my monitoring appointment went smoothly and results are all well-within mid-follicular phase.

There are notable differences in this FET from previous rounds of treatment. Knowing my body and the length of my cycle, I can easily advocate for myself from a place of understanding and knowledge of what's going on. I remember the days they were making me come in 6 days in a row for endless sticks and prods for no real reason just because it's the default protocol and they love collecting data. Back then I didn't know enough to speak up. In addition, I now have access to ChatGPT which didn't exist when we first started treatment over a decade ago. I have an appropriate amount of cynical skepticism to AI and refuse to feed it specifically personal information, and it can't be trusted blindly because I've caught mistakes regularly, but it comes in handy for some things. 

Current events reaffirm my belief that making a move might be a good for our family. A potential timeline for something as big as that move is dependent on the results of this cycle, like so many things that have been on hold for the past two years because of it. So, for now, we patiently proceed and take things one day at a time.

BIG DAY

 Today is a BIG DAY. 

• It is day 734 of the war, and there is finally a deal on the table between Israel and the terrorist group, brokered by the US, to finally return the final 48 hostages home who were taken on October 7, 2023.

• It is the Hebrew date of my eldest's birthday, marking the anniversary of when we became parents after 12 years of waiting.

• It is CD5 and baseline appointment day for FET 9. It's happening!

I'm 41 and this is out last embryo. Whether it sticks or not, this transfer will mark the end of an era for us. As the last viable embryo, we won't be charged for storage anymore after the transfer. I'm grateful to be in a place in our life that we are in a position to be able to transfer, that we've gotten on the same page about transfer/another baby, and agree that this is it for fertility treatment. 

I think I am prepared for either outcome. I'm a very different person than I was when we first moved to this clinic. The superstitions still run deep but I have mellowed out a lot and I try to remind myself that they're just superstitions. I'm excited and hopeful, and at peace. Whatever is meant to be will be. If there's anything that I've learned over the past several years it's that He has a plan; all I can do is pray and hope.

Day 438

As the war in Israel presses on, we continue praying for the immediate release of our hostages. On day 438, there are trickles of news about a possible deal. We're holding on to any thread of hope. The hostages, soldiers, and Israelis are constantly on my mind while trying to navigate our daily lives here.   

I had an appointment with my new doctor yesterday. My previous doctor, the one I love and the one who helped us build our family until now, has announced she's leaving my clinic and transferring all her patients. We had met briefly before my 40th birthday when I panicked about my age but not yet ready to transfer then. At the time she reassured me we had time because the clinic takes patients up to age 55. 

When I got the announcement about her move a few months ago I immediately got on my doctor's schedule for one last consultation. Not only to make sure my protocol is documented for the next doctor but also so that I understand it. 

So yesterday I reviewed my protocol with the new doctor. She's a "measure twice, cut once" kind of personality so I think we'll get along well. She mentioned how strange it is that they couldn't get the cervix open at the last procedure. We decided together to repeat the mock transfer, even though I had it done within the last year. Partly to confirm that there isn't anything new there to address, and mainly to make sure we're not stuck at an actual transfer with an embryo that has no method of getting in. I'm scheduled to repeat the mock this week. Once that's done, the only thing left is to order medication and decide if we want to proceed.  

We're still dealing with a lot. A lot. But at the same time I think we both realize we can't put our lives on hold forever because of the other things happening. 

There are long-term decisions that feel impossible to make until this transfer happens, almost regardless of the outcome. The TTC phase of our lives feels like an unfinished story, and we can’t fully move on to the next chapter until it’s complete. 

The majority of the past decade was focused on building our family, and now that we’re transitioning out of that mindset, new questions and considerations are bubbling to the surface. Every day since October 7 I've been re-evaluating everything in my life: my career, where we live, how we want to raise our kids, where we feel most safe. More than just living with "no regrets," life is short and I want to make the most of the time we have with thoughtful and intentional steps toward our future and our kids future. 

Day 399

[I'm writing this in mid-December but back-dated it for timeline accuracy.] 

Friday morning, Nov 8, I went in to the fertility clinic for a repeat EMMA/Alice (uterine biopsy) yet again. It's been years since my last treatment. 

For one, the office has been significantly upgraded. No more radio with bunny ears antenna in the waiting room. The clinic was moved up a few floors to a completely renovated state-of-the-art facility. Electronic check in, more staff, and bright, fresh space. 

For another, the protocol for the biopsy isn't even part of standard practice anymore. But because of past success, no harm in doing it, and trying to keep everything the same they agreed to make it part of my treatment.  

To summarize, it was horrifically painful and unsuccessful. I was on cycle day 25, which was within the parameters of when they want to do this kind of procedure. No matter what they tried to shove up there they couldn't get the cervix open enough for the biopsy pipe thing. They brought in a fresh team. Had me empty my bladder. Took a break. It didn't work and the procedure was deemed unsuccessful. 

After discussing with my doctor, she was confident that it was unnecessary to reschedule and we could proceed, if we wish, without it. 

Day 343

Our nation is enduring a profoundly challenging time of deep mourning. Most recently, the tragic loss of the six hostages—Ori, Carmel, Eden, Hersh, Almog, and Alex—has sent shockwaves around the world, particularly affecting the Jewish community. For over 11 months, we have been grappling with the heavy burden of war, grieving those lost on and since October 7th, and feeling the strain of rising antisemitism from all directions. The one year mark looms ahead and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. 

In an effort to feel control over something I started a decluttering project. I schedule a monthly donation pickup and commit to at least 4 bags to donate. It forces me to go through the house and fill up at least that many. It's usually more, and some additional bags for the trash. Over time it's making a difference. I'm really good at getting rid of things we don't use (unfortunately I'm equally good at ordering unnecessary things online) but I have a hard time parting with baby clothes. 

I saved most baby items from my oldest to youngest. They were born different seasons, and they're different sizes, so of course most of the baby clothes don't fit. I try to tell myself that if I'm lucky enough to have another baby we can buy more clothes. I also remind myself that it's stupid for the clothes to sit in a bin in my closet when there are actual infants who may benefit from them if the clothes got donated. So I've pruned the bins multiple times to pare it down to my top favorites and saved those. They hold a sentimental value and I can't quite part with them yet. 

In another stab at control, I set myself a weight loss goal and also put together a list of "prizes" to get for myself when I reach it. Logically, I know that with exercise and a calorie deficit I can lose weight. Realistically, it takes time and patience and effort. For a minute I considered buying a treadmill - weighing the pros and cons I realize that aside from the cost, I don't want to deal with assembly or maintenance or finding a spot to house it, not to mention the shame of having to post it on fb marketplace or similar when it doesn't get used. I started blocking off time for walks on my calendar and we'll see if that works.

I pray that the hostages get released or rescued, alive, and reunited with their families soon, and that our soldiers come home safely. I hope better days are up ahead, just around the corner. Shabbat shalom.

Day 329

Today is the 329th day since October 7, 2023. The war in Israel continues, with hostages remaining captive in truly horrific conditions. How is it possible that life goes on as normal while this nightmarish reality unfolds just a few miles from their homes? For the rest of us over here, every happiness, every success, and every milestone in life is overshadowed by the reality that the world has accepted evil and continues to live with it. We continue to pray for the IDF soldiers fighting to keep Israel safe, and the speedy return of the hostages, alive, back to their families. This is a heartbreaking video of family members shouting their loved one's names at the border; it's impossible to watch without crying.

Life keeps moving forward, both as a blessing and a challenge during this difficult time. Thankfully, the kids have started school. The last few weeks of summer after camp ended were rough—there was no structure, and we were just getting through each day until bedtime. They are a joy and a blessing and I'm grateful every day for them.

We're still dealing with our personal home life challenge of getting a special needs adult set up to get into a group home. To say it's been a challenge is an understatement. There's frustration at why this is so hard and taking so long. There's guilt in having my time split away from my kids. There's exhaustion at trying to juggle it all while working full time. As a stress-eater, I've put on over 10 lbs this past year. On top of being emotionally and mentally drained, I'm also not feeling or looking my best physically because of the extra weight. I'm hoping something will give soon so that we can move the process forward and be the first pickle to get everything else on the right path.

Day 315

Today is the 315th day since October 7, 2023. The war in Israel, and the hostages still being held captive, are constantly on my mind. I know many Jews feeling the same way, recognizing that there are varying degrees of this feeling depending on how close one is to the situation. For 315 days we've been praying to get our hostages back. There's currently a significant summit happening in Doha and I'm hoping there is some sort of agreement reached that gets the hostages back and doesn't compromise future safety of Israel. 

It's also day 7 of my cycle. I scheduled a mock embryo transfer for today because the results are good for a year and the last one I had was over three years ago. I don't know if we're warming up to the idea of transferring another one, but because this is cycle-dependent and within my control I decided to just get this done. I was a few minutes away from the clinic when I checked my phone for the suite number - it has been a few years. Only then I noticed that the appointment was scheduled for a completely new location. I was early for my appointment but even with the buffer time and speeding and assuming I'd hit no traffic, I would still arrive 5 minutes after the buffer window. Not to mention that it's a new location so I'm unfamiliar with parking and need to find the place and possibly fill out whatever paperwork wasn't done online. I called the office in a mild panic and they rescheduled me for Monday. It's the only day left this cycle they can do it so I had to shift several things on my calendar to make it work.

I could have also just canceled it. Why am I pushing it? I'm not sure. I recognize that doing this now doesn't mean we've decided we're transferring the last embryo. I want to believe that we'll get there, and soon, but know it's not just up to me. 

I also feel that I need to guard my heart. Transferring means that I'm putting out in the universe that "I want another baby." That is the one and only reason to transfer regardless of any other consideration on the pros/cons list. Admitting it means being vulnerable and hoping for the best but knowing it doesn't always end that way, based on too much experience. Transferring with the knowledge that it would be the end of our TTC journey puts extra pressure. 

Even knowing we're still in the process of considering it, I'm worried about delaying the timeline. For starters, my age. But more alarming is the state of the country and where things stand regarding fertility treatment. This article is just one example. For many reasons, I want to transfer and put this chapter behind us, one way or another. 

Day 283

The October 7, 2023 attack on our nation changed us all, collectively and individually. It started with a brutal massacre by terrorists on innocent civilians on a holy day in Israel, escalated into full blown war that has been going on for 283 days. Since then antisemitism has skyrocketed in America and globally. On the surface, our day to day goes on but in reality life feels unstable and fragile with a sense of urgency constantly bubbling just under the surface.

Almost immediately after the attack, I felt the need to go to Israel and help in any way I could. For the first time in my life, I regretted not serving in the IDF even though that wasn't done by girls back then. As months passed, this feeling grew more intense, pulling me toward helping my people. The intensity only subsided when I signed up for a solidarity mission and bought my ticket to Israel. Though it was just a small contribution, it felt right to help. We visited injured soldiers, sat with grieving families, packed food for those in need, and spent time picking vegetables to help feed the country and assist farmers who lost their workers to the war effort. Visiting the sites of the terror attacks—such as the Nova festival memorial, Sderot, and Tekoma where the burned cars are stored—was indescribable. The sheer horror of that day is unfathomable and it felt necessary to bear witness and help carry the responsibility of sharing the facts about what happened.

I wear the hostage tags in solidarity with those still held captive and their families who are enduring unending suffering not knowing the fate of their loved ones. After nine months they feel like they've gotten tighter and at the same time it feels wrong to take them off when there are still 120 captives in hell. 

My personal life has taken some turns as well. For years, I debated whether to leave my job, enjoying the benefits but feeling stagnant and bored. I occasionally looked for other jobs without real intention of leaving, fearing change and worrying about the loss of my flexible schedule. In September, I found a job posting on LinkedIn and contacted the hiring director, whom I knew. After several intense weeks of interviews and negotiating, I received an official offer letter and accepted. The new job is similar yet different and better than my last one, though I'm still finding my footing. Despite some imposter syndrome and questioning the move due to the different pace than I'm used to, I haven't regretted it.

We're also still managing the situation with the special needs adult in our life. This has become increasingly complicated over time, adding significant stress to our lives and our marriage. We're working on the application to place this person in a group home, but there are so many barriers along the way. In many ways, our life feels stuck because of it.

We revisited the topic of another transfer and agreed that, given our current high levels of stress, it wouldn't be the right move at this time. While I agreed to temporarily table the discussion, I feel a lot of resentment and frustration about it. The only correct reason to transfer is if we're both ready for another baby, and he's not quite on board. I can't even bring up the subject without it striking a nerve and starting an argument. Considering everything we went through to get those embryos, and yes - me specifically - it feels like a punishment not to be able to transfer. I can only hope we somehow get on the same page, and eventually get to a point where we have the peace of mind to close this chapter of our life. 

In addition to everything else, many people we know are moving to Israel - a concept referred to as "making Aliya" - due to disillusionment with America's politics and rising antisemitism, in addition to this growing compelling need to be in Israel. We teach our children to value Israel, so it feels hypocritical not to live there. I love being in Israel and want to support it, but living there is very different than visiting on vacation. There are significant challenges to making Aliya, such as financial hurdles, no separation between church and state, mandatory military service, cultural differences, and, oh yeah, active war. Despite these obstacles, I would consider moving. However, this is another tinderbox of a conversation where we can't even discuss it. He says the pros don't outweigh the cons, and he doesn't want to forever be an immigrant. I understand that on some level. Even so, I want to do right by our children and give them the values and childhood I missed out on. I don't know what the right decision is and feel it's not the right time to push the topic until I solidify how I feel about it. In many ways, until we get that special needs adult settled it's not a relevant conversation anyway. Another reason for resentment.

What I do know is that I feel uneasy. I feel like I'm not doing enough, or fast enough. I'm not seizing enough moments or creating enough memories. Life is short and I don't want to coast. I want to find the right path and put all my energy and resources into going full speed ahead. The question is: what's the target?

5784

The new Jewish year began with Rosh Hashanah two weeks ago. Our lives have not gotten any less hectic but we're learning to manage. Or rather, we're learning our breaking points and trying to manage steering clear of them. 

We're still the primary caretakers of an adult with special needs who moved into our home. I'm working diligently to get this person out of our home and into a space of their own. Due to several factors there are limitations to the options, government programs, and opportunities available for this person. Nevertheless we are motivated to find a right fit as soon as possible. Their presence in our home is not good for our marriage, our family, my sanity, or our kids. So, working on it. 

People say things like, "Wow. You're so incredible for taking this on; so amazing for taking care of this person." No. It's not amazing. It's incredibly shitty that this was dumped on us. The only thing that I did was not drop them off at a homeless shelter when this happened. It's so incredibly unfair and so avoidable that this person ended up homeless and helpless because their parents didn't take care of basic things when they could have during their lifetime. 

It feels trite to sum up the Jewish holidays in a few sentences while there's so much stress going around in the foreground, but they did happen and it was nice enough. The kids are now almost-4 and 16 months old. They had adorable outfits, very much enjoyed the holiday meals, and were in groups at shul, though the older one didn't like the change of scenery from the regular room which they switched up to accommodate the bigger group. I was thinking back to Yom Kippur last year where the baby, at only 4 months old, was so cranky and fussy the whole day and ended up in the ER that night because of RSV. This year was thankfully much better, though fasting while taking care of little kids is no joke. 

The conversation about transferring the last embryo continues. I'm a few months away from turning 40. That in itself is only one reason I feel pressure to move forward. I don't want to keep the embryo on ice forever, and I'm not interested in waiting years before deciding. If it doesn't stick then we're done, and I can move on either way. I will be sad but I don't think I'll be devastated enough to change my mind about doing more IVF cycles. The problem is that getting to the point of a transfer means I need to psych myself up (after convincing my husband that it's a good idea) and then putting ourselves in a situation where it may not succeed. If we transfer we need to be ready for either outcome. He's not ready for another. If the roles were reversed I wouldn't want him to try to convince me. I feel like as long as there's an embryo available we should transfer it; we worked way too hard and sacrificed way too much to not transfer it. I can understand both sides of the argument, and I worry that one of us will end up permanently resentful if we don't get on the same page soon. At least the conversation continues.

Little teapot

Taking on a dependent adult with special needs has turned our entire life upside down. Doctor appointments, program scheduling, ride coordination, finances, construction on our home, setting them up a new life in a new state. All this on top of the regular chaos of the life that we actually signed up for.

I have so much anger about it. So much resentment that this adult person's parents didn't take the time to make the arrangements needed during their lifetimes. I can't take out the resentment on the individual; it's not their fault. It's also not their fault that they can't do things for themselves. I don't want it coming out on my kids or at work so it burns up the bit of energy I have to just keep it from exploding. 

I have the personality and skills to take this on but I'm resentful that I have to and that I was given no choice or say in the matter. I'm frustrated that the responsibility lies on my shoulders and since I don't do things half-assed it will get done correctly at a cost to myself or my family. There is a finite amount of my energy, resources, and time and I'm frustrated I need to spend it on this because someone else dropped the ball. I'm the glue and I'm coming apart.

It feels wrong to complain. It feels like by complaining I'm not grateful for the good parts of what's happening in our life at the same time. It feels like I'm taking for granted the good parts of life that haven't been affected by this. So I'm not sure how to vent. Or to whom.

You know how sometimes people do crazy things to their hair (get bangs) when they're feeling like they need to get some control? I left my hair alone but I got some piercings. I tried therapy but it wasn't helping. 

In the weeds

For years I took pride in not having fallen off the writing wagon, and tried to update with at least one post a month since the start of the blog. I didn't want mine to become one of those blogs that grew weeds and was rarely updated. But.... life happened. More specifically, life with some curveballs. 

My husband's mother passed away unexpectedly in February. In addition to processing his grief at losing his last living parent so suddenly, we were also tasked with some monumental hurdles such as cleaning out his childhood home, dealing with finances, and taking on the responsibility of another adult family member with special needs. 

It's been a very difficult road. We've relied heavily on extended family members to help us bridge the gaps in our ability and capacity. 

There have been some significant internal struggles as well. Knowing our kids will never get to know my husband's parents. How unfair it is that they waited so long for grandchildren and never really got to enjoy them. How unfair it was of his parents not to make any arrangements for their finances or the special needs family member, leaving it all to us to sort out and stress over. How traumatic its been to clean out someone else's 40+ years of accumulations in a house that could have been downsized years ago. Lot of guilt. Guilt at not being present for our kids while we deal with this. Guilt of what-ifs, had we done something different would things have turned out better? There's no way to know. The truth is that no one was in a place to receive feedback even if we had the wherewithal to provide it. Guilt about asking for help when we need it. Guilt for not being better prepared for this unprecedented situation. Not saying any of the guilt is justified; just stating that it's there.

So we move forward. We're trying to make the best of the situation, or at least keeping our head above water until we get some better footing. Trying to deal with several "#1 top" priorities simultaneously. 

I'm trying to make sure our kids don't feel the brunt of the stress. I'm also trying to keep routine as much as possible, and remembering to take the time to enjoy them every day. Between the ear infections, coughs, other doctor appointments, filling out forms for childcare and camp, packing lunches and washing bottles, endless questions, tantrums, and constant laundry, there is so much love these little beings bring into our life. 

The conversation of transferring our last embryo has taken a semi-permanent back seat until things settle a little more. We're not on the same page about it, but there's no point in bringing it up when we're operating at maximum stress levels. So the conversation waits while the lil guy chills on ice for the time being.

Happy January

It's been so long that I forgot my password. I started writing this a week ago and then got side tracked and logged out again.  It's 90% freeform brain dump so there may be some inconsistencies, typos, and mild chaos. Let's go.

Winter break was adventurous. Daycare and school were closed so we had everyone home for a stretch of time. I thought it might be a good idea to take a trip using points for a couple of nights, just for a change of scenery. We were among those passengers affected by the Southwest fiasco when our flight was canceled and we were stuck out of town. Our "free" trip ended up costing a whole lot but I hope we'll get it back from Southwest. Luckily we were staying with family and weren't stranded but it was the four of us in one room and the unknown of when we're getting home was stressful. We also had some crazy weather that resulted in fallen branches, downed live wires, broken fence, and a power outage for several days. The only thing I tried to save was my very small stash of frozen milk at neighbors and the rest had to get tossed. Now to deal with the cleanup, insurance, and follow up. Adult things.

Even with the flight hiccups, I would still fly Southwest. It was our first trip ever traveling with kids and we learned a lot. Kids under two can technically ride for free as a lap child but there are so many barriers to that so it makes sense to pay for the seat if you can afford it. Flying over the holidays was mayhem. Flying after a storm was chaos because all the delayed flights were trying to also get out. Unless your lap kid is under a month old, it's hard to have them sitting and comfortable for the whole plane ride. They need a seat. A stroller in the airport is key. A double stroller in the airport is a nightmare. Travel light - buy whatever you can at your destination. If you're checking a suitcase, assume it won't arrive so you can plan accordingly, and then be pleasantly surprised if it does. Keep all the things you need for the kids in one bag, stored under the seat in front of you instead of overhead.

I'm trying to figure out how to plan a trip for passover or the summer or something. I completely understand the feeling of wanting to "get away" but I'm not looking to run away from my family - I'm trying to figure out the logistics of taking them with me, as hard as it is to travel with babies. I just need a change of scenery from the routine. I thrive on predictability and I'm pretty sure most people appreciate routine, but sometimes you just need to change it up a bit. Only a bit - too much and it's overwhelming and chaotic and I want to go home. 

I tried to find a way to get more fitness in my day. I even rented a peloton to try it out. I used it once before we all got violently ill with a stomach virus which knocked me out for a week. Then it was winter break. Then it was other things. Long story short I've returned the bike. My comfort zone is walking outside, specifically with a stroller. During the height of the pandemic I set a goal to walk at least half an hour daily just to get outside and get some air. The weather is still too cold to do that and I don't want to wait until spring to start. But it's also not my main issue - it's exhaustion. I'm still in the stage where if it's quiet I just go to sleep. I don't have time for hobbies; I don't prioritize chores; I rarely socialize and when I do it's incredibly planned out. When it's quiet it's time to sleep. Even a short nap makes a difference. Some nights the kids are in bed by 7:30 and I'm asleep by 7:40. When they wake up at random intervals at night, obviously not overlapped because that would be too convenient, I take whatever sleep I can get whenever I can get it. Then coffee. Then pastries because who can think clearly to make good food choices when tired. Then exhaustion. Then repeat. So when I feel like when I can get at least six uninterrupted heavenly hours of sleep in a row, that's when I'll be able to schedule in workouts too. I'll even take four in a row. 

Whenever I think of the exhaustion and this particular phase of life, I start thinking about a third and how that could ever fit in. I've never before been so conflicted about something as I am about this and as a decisive person that is an unsettling feeling. My age, my health, my sanity, my bank account are all factors. In my heart I know I'd love more but does that do justice to the ones I already have. Can I really take on more? If we have another embryo in the freezer, how can we not transfer it? Transferring doesn't equate baby so we need to be prepared for either outcome. We need to be prepared mentally, emotionally, financially, to expand the family again. If I could go back to my 2016 self and explain that it will be a rocky road along the way, but that I'll be contemplating this in 2023, I'm not sure I'd have believed it. I've gone up and down in my pros and cons about a third and every time I start spiraling down the what-if's I add more to that blog post and try to put it away. My baby is growing up so fast and I want to enjoy this time with him. There will be time to revisit this and decide somewhere down the line but in the meantime, I'll enjoy the kids as they are now and try to remember to take deep breaths every so often. 

Parenting is an incredible joy and I feel so incredibly blessed. So so thankful that we're at this point. Even with the chaos of trying to keep up with the laundry and dishes and bags to pack and lunches and pumping and sweeping so much cheerios off the floor and and worrying and appointments and more cheerios on the floor and I'm so tired and wrangling a tiny octopus into a onsie that he absolutely abhors because who needs clothes even when it's freezing outside and endless buckling in and out of carseats and drop offs and pickups and so many bottles to wash and omg is the dishwasher broken again and please finish your food before you start negotiating for more screentime and why is there cheerios on the floor I just cleaned here and cute videos circulating to the family and they're sleeping and I miss them. 

This is what I prayed for. As hard and draining as it is, it's a phase that I know I'll miss once they're grown up and don't need me as much. I'll have time for toes in the sand later. Right now I have to sweep some cheerios and enjoy some tiny toes that refuse to stay socked.

Tired

It feels like we never settled into a new groove since the newest addition to our family joined in May. Between one virus after another, being unable to get any help due to these illnesses, and the severe sleep deprivation that has settled into a semi-permanent brain fog, I'm not feeling like myself. 

The rise in anti-semitism is scary and mentally draining. The threat feels real and ever present. 

On top of that I'm feeling a lot of financial pressure. I know we've been hearing about "inflation" and "rising costs" as buzz words in news snippets whenever I can catch them or on social media posts, but I didn't realize how much it affects us until I saw a trend in the grocery shopping. I still do most of my shopping on an app and then pick up. It not only helps me stick to a list but I save an hour or two of walking around the store. I usually buy the same items so I can easily add them to my cart in the middle of a meeting or late night feeding and fit it into my day somehow. But that means I can also easily see the price increases over the past few months and it's insane. We're not buying exotic food. Eggs, milk, cheese, fruit, and vegetables.... all skyrocketed. I'm not even buying that much. The 5 lb bag of flour is now at $6.59 -- what? Switching brands immediately. There's the option to shop around and buy the cheapest things in different stores but I'm barely holding it together so I don't know if I can handle trying to add that to my mental load. 

It keeps bringing up the idea that I need to come up with more income. We're not spenders so it's not a question of pinching somewhere. Either me or my husband or both of us need to bring in more money. It's a scary economy right now and I'm worried about leaving stable work. On the other hand I shouldn't have to transfer money from savings just to be able to afford milk or formula for my babies. Yes, formula. I'm still pumping but the use of decongestants over the summer tanked my supply and I'm stuck underproducing. That story has its own baggage of stress.

I've also been stressing out about the exorbitant cost of summer childcare. Daycare in general is so expensive but for some reason reliable, licensed, good care over the summer months is even more expensive. I'm looking at nearly $7,000 for both of them for only eight weeks and it doesn't even cover the gap weeks between school and camp. Not only is it so much money, but these programs also want you to pay in full months in advance to hold the spot. Another dip into savings??

I considered maybe traveling for part of the summer by maybe cobbling together something with points and credit card miles and stay with family. It will still cost a lot and we don't have the paid time off of work but that might be a wash considering the alternative. I want to make it work because I love the idea of taking my babies to see the world. I'm not sure if it's the financially responsible choice though.

I think the first step is to get more than 45 min of sleep. The world looks different on the other side of a good rest. I know this is a season. I know we'll get past it. I know we'll figure it all out. I just don't know the path from where we are now to where we want to be. I hear memes mention adultier adults and I feel like that's what I'm looking for - just someone to help me out of the plateau I seem to be stuck in and help me help myself. Or someone to write a check for a lot of money and tuck me in for a long nap.

Thankful

The other morning I got a message from my fertility clinic. It was an email blast sent to everyone (I guess they don't filter out inactive or past patients) about the upcoming schedule around the holidays and end of year. They're letting people know last date to start any IVF cycle before the lab closes for its annual maintenance and cleaning. 

There's a strange feeling about seeing a reminder for something that used to take up so much mental capacity in the past. There used to be anxiety related to memories of the days when we were in the height of fertility treatment, where recalling details would bring on fresh waves of pain of loss and hopelessness. 

Now, under the fog of sleepless nights for the best possible reasons and the most exhausting mental juggle that is parenthood, getting that reminder brings some comfort. And relief. And renewed sense of appreciation for the helpers that got us to this point.

What a world of difference. As overwhelmed or frustrated as I get sometimes at the lack of personal space and time these days, I'm feeling incredibly grateful for what does fill up my mental capacity these days.

Whew

 We're talking about how it's ridiculous that the toddler isn't yet potty trained. We've tried it before (twice) and for various reasons it didn't stick. We know it's up to us to drive this wagon because he's comfortable and sees no reason to make a change. 

But it's been a time. We tried at winter break last year when I was in my second trimester. He was withholding at school so they said it was too much pressure and reassured me that he'll for sure catch on before I have the baby. Well.

Had the baby in May and since then it's been one thing after another. Ear infections. Bronchitis. Pneumonia. Whole family got covid. Then baby got RSV. Then toddler got a stomach bug. What in the world. We haven't had a full work week in months. 

I've been exhausted. My husband is exhausted. We're mentally drained. When are we supposed to also add the stress and pressure of getting a toddler  - who is lukewarm about participating, at best - to use the toilet. He's not motivated by food prizes. Stickers are not interesting. He's too smart to get bribed. I don't have the energy for it. I know it needs to happen. Just like we need to move him from a crib to a bed. I know. We don't want him to be the weirdo first grader who's still in a crib because his parents were too lazy, I get it. 

This is something we think about when we contemplate having any more. They say it's rough in the beginning, and that's true. I just want my babies to be happy and healthy. That's my wish for everyone this coming year. My goal is to have him toilet trained and in a bed by Thanksgiving. Wish me luck.

Rosh Hashanah 5783

My husband went to an earlier service on his own and then we went together to our regular synagogue as a family. We unlocked several new parenting levels, such as navigating the streets with our first double stroller and sending our toddler to the drop-off children's programming. It was fabulous. I wore the baby in services while he slept then went off to a side room to feed him before handing him off to my husband until services were done. The first day worked out better with timing and naps.

It was a lot - the shlepping, the juggling, the coordinating, being "on" and dressed for multiple hours at a time. It was exhausting but nice to be with people again. There were a few masks in shul but the majority of people weren't masked. It didn't feel weird to be in a crowd without a mask. Having the family recently recovered from covid was a big factor in why we were comfortable going to and being in shul. I'm glad I got a chance to be in services this year. 

At a point in davening I cried. It was the same point where in past years I pleaded for that to be the year we would be successful in our fertility treatments. The melody of the prayers transported me right back to that headspace of all those years, and this year I felt an overwhelming amount of gratitude commingled with all those emotions. 

I hope that we can get our act together enough to start hosting people for holiday meals again. It's a big part of the social glue in our world so it felt like a piece was missing. Overall it was a beautiful holiday.