On Learning We're Expecting...

In the weeks that followed our positive beta test, I had so many thoughts and emotions going through my heart and mind. I wasn't yet able to share those here, or on my other social feeds, but I wrote them down anyway. It was such an important release for me. Now that the secret is out, I'm ready to share. As always, thank you for reading and for your unending support!

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March 17, 2017

A week ago, we received the very best news. We were nine days past our five-day embryo transfer (9dp5dt), and I had gone into RSC that morning for my “beta test” — a blood draw that would reveal my hCG level. Basically, a pregnancy test.

I had been good. I heeded the advice of doctors and nurses and did not test on my own at home. No “POAS” for me. (That’s “pee on all the sticks” for you non-TTCers.) I had a friend ask the day before my beta if I would take a HPT (home pregnancy test) prior to going into the clinic, and I responded with a resounding, “nope!” I knew I wouldn’t trust the result either way. When testing so early, you can always get a false positive or a false negative. So if the stick said I was pregnant, I would stress that I wasn’t. If it said I wasn’t pregnant, I would be sad that I wasn’t. I decided to just wait for the professionals to give me accurate, trustworthy results.

Of course, waiting is never easy. But you do a lot of it when you are dealing with infertility.

The blood draw was scheduled for 9:15 Friday morning, and I was told that, as per usual with my clinic, I wouldn’t receive results until sometime between 2 and 6 that afternoon. I was off from work that day, and my husband returned home around noon. Greg and I were sitting on the couch and I was actually holding my phone, talking to him about something I had seen or read, when a notification popped up on my cell. A new voicemail. It was 1:50 p.m., my clinic had called, and the phone hadn’t even rung! 

I think we were both instantly filled with panic and fear. Hope and expectation too, but certainly anxiety. Greg didn’t want me to listen to the message. He said I should just call the clinic. But I knew of other couples who had received the news this way — via a voicemail message. And I figured that if it was good news, whoever had called to share would just say it, and if it was bad news, then they would probably say to call the clinic directly. 

There was no getting around it; we needed to listen to the message.

As I pushed play, I think we both held our breath. It wasn’t our RE calling, it was another doctor at the clinic, someone we haven’t met or spoke with before, and she had the results. In those seconds before she shared the news, I tried to discern the tone of this stranger’s voice. Was she happy? Or was she about to tell us something that would break our hearts? 

“Hi Carissa, it’s Dr. Reed calling from RSC. I’m calling with your test results from today…”

It was seven seconds of agony. 

And then complete joy.

“and congratulations! It’s positive. We’re very excited for you.”

We heard “congratulations” and Greg and I both burst into tears. We hugged, we kissed, we laughed, we cried. I sobbed, really. I just held my husband and wept the happiest tears. I soaked his shoulder with them. Even recalling the moment now, my eyes are filling up again. We hardly heard the rest of the 44-second message from Dr. Reed. Greg chuckled a bit as he informed me that I needed to hit replay because he stopped listening after “congratulations.”

…..

While I had mixed feelings about it, we did share the news with our families that same day. 

Prior to beta day, I gave my parents a head’s up that I might not be ready to disclose the outcome of the test right away, whether the results were positive or negative, and I told Greg he should pass that same word of caution onto his parents. Both understood. But after receiving the news that we were pregnant, Greg was so excited, he wanted to call his mom and dad immediately. So we did. The difference in the way we told our parents highlights our personalities perfectly.

When Greg called his mom — and later his dad — he gleefully announced: “We’re pregnant!”

When I called my mom and dad, I said, “The results came back positive. Technically I’m pregnant, but we still have a long way to go…”

My delivery was essentially the same when I called my best friend, who is like a sister to me.


What can I say? Greg’s the optimist. I’m the realist.

So why did I have mixed feelings about sharing such happy news? I always imagined that I would tell my family in a fun and special way. And hopefully in person. But IVF sort of steals the surprise and spontaneity out of pregnancy — unless, of course, you’re secretive about your struggle to conceive and decision to pursue IVF. But we weren’t secretive. In fact, we were very open. Outside of my husband, my mom has been my go-to during this whole journey. And she knew about every doctor’s appointment, blood test and ultrasound during our first round of IVF. Suffice to say, it was going to be difficult to hold any information close to the chest and even more difficult to surprise anyone with a pregnancy announcement.

…..

For me, it didn’t take long for the euphoria of that congratulatory voicemail moment to give way again to worry and fear. 

In the days that followed, I had more tests to pass. The clinic monitors your hCG levels to make sure the pregnancy is progressing normally. My second beta test was three days after the first. They want to see the hCG number double. My third beta test was two days after the second. Again, the number should climb exponentially higher. My nurse informed me that they continue monitoring the level until it exceeds 500.

As much as I tried to remain positive and stress-free, it’s impossible not to let doubt and anxiety creep in during those days of waiting and post-blood draw hours. 

My first beta was 111. Thankfully, my second beta tripled, jumping to 343, which makes sense since it was three days between tests. My third beta almost doubled, to 676. Hitting that 500+ mark means no more blood draws for me (at least, not for a few weeks). And yet, as much as I dislike needles and blood tests, I wish I had to go back into the clinic for another test. Seeing the numbers climb would ease my mind.

It’s been two days since my last beta, since my last bit of good news, and in that short amount of time I’ve questioned my pregnancy and had a mini emotional breakdown.

The thoughts running through my (technically 5-weeks pregnant as of today) mind have gone something like this:

Why don’t I feel sick? I was having cramping in the early morning, why did it stop? What is that twinge on the left? What if it is an ectopic pregnancy? What if it “went away”? God, can you please allow me to feel terrible so I know I’m still pregnant?

Work is my saving grace because, in the busyness of helping brides find their wedding gowns, I don’t have enough time to worry about what is going on in my uterus.

During each phase of the IVF process — stimulation, retrieval, fertilization, transfer — I found myself needing to rely more and more on my faith, cultivating patience and having trust in God’s plan for my life. And now that we have achieved pregnancy, I need those things more than ever. I feel so fragile. Like I’m perched on the edge of a cliff; I know where I need to go, I can see the next step, but I'm waiting for a bridge to be built to get to the other side of the canyon, hoping I don't fall in. 

The key word there? Waiting. There is always more waiting, even when you seemingly reach the thing you’ve been striving for. There is always another test to pass or milestone to hit.

And I realize this particular waiting period is one that other expectant women go through after they see two lines, a plus sign, a happy face or other symbol on an at-home pregnancy test. Waiting for that first prenatal appointment and ultrasound. But for me, this waiting has such deep anxiety attached to it because it is impossible for me to forget all that it took and all that it cost for us to get to this point. And, consequently, everything that we stand to lose.

The other piece of this complicated puzzle that is my mental and emotional well being is this: A tiny bit of guilt. Having been open about my journey, I’ve connected with and followed the journeys of other infertile women who are desperately trying to build their families. And so many have been through multiple rounds of medications and procedures and have spent even more than we have in an attempt to make a baby. It’s not all that common to be successful your first round of IVF.

So how could we be so lucky to get pregnant after our very first embryo transfer?

Of course, it is a little crazy to call us lucky in that context. We didn’t have the luck of being able to get pregnant naturally and we certainly didn’t have the dumb luck of getting pregnant without trying or conceiving on the very first try, as some couples we know. That latter group? They are lucky! 

And yet that is the funny thing about infertility. You can feel so many disparate emotions all at once. Joy, anxiety and guilt over your fledgling pregnancy? Check, check, check.

That’s where God comes in. Or, at least, that’s where I am trying to bring God back in. To bring me peace during this time. To help me be patient. And to trust in the wait. Every time a bad or negative thought pops into my head, I try to replace it with God. If I remain in Him, he will remain in me. I just need to believe. And keep praying. For a healthy pregnancy. For this little life inside of me, barely bigger than a poppy seed, to keep growing. I ask God every day to protect my baby and to help me nurture it. He is with us, and we are nothing without Him.

These are the hope-sustaining thoughts I want filling my heart and mind as I wait for the next step in the journey, our first ultrasound, which is scheduled for the day before my birthday. The greatest gift I could receive this year is the confirmation that my pregnancy is viable and normal and that little baby Thilgen is progressing just as he or she should be.


(Post image via Seeds of Faith Designs)