Running For My Life In The March For Babies

We all have had experiences in our lives that have left us downtrodden. Unfortunately, part of being human is feeling pain, whether it be physical or emotional. We all have difficult roads in our life journey that we need to survive and hopefully, ultimately rise above.

Infertility and recurrent pregnancy loss have been a huge and rather difficult part of my journey these past four years. Infertility has left me feeling powerless, weak and helplessly unable to control my physical or emotional self. I have had surgeries and gone through multiple IVFs that have put me on bed rest and have made me physically weak and in pain. The many different hormones I have been on and the overall stress of infertility has put me on an emotional roller coaster that has left me feeling overwhelmed and sad. I have been starting to feel that I am no longer in control of my own well being.

I have also done a lot of waiting these past four years that has left me feeling inadequate. I have been waiting in doctor’s offices, waiting on the phone to fight with my insurance company, waiting for my medications to come, waiting for my procedures to happen and waiting to see if all of this waiting was worth it. The problem with waiting is that you don’t go anywhere. When you wait, life is put on hold and you can’t move forward. There are many situations where you know your waiting will pay off, and the object of desire is right around the corner, but with many things in life, including bringing life into the world, nothing is guaranteed, and your waiting may not pay off.

So what do you do when you can’t wait any longer? What do you do when you come to terms with the fact that what you desire most is not around the corner? How do you heal from such a deep sense of loss? How do you move on without losing all hope? How do you find yourself again, or perhaps redefine yourself?

These are the questions I have been wrestling with since the failure of our final IVF last fall. My husband and I started our journey with infertility in February of 2006. We were so lucky to conceive our daughter through IUI two years later. She was born prematurely in January of 2008, but she is, thank goodness, a happy and healthy little girl today. Six months after her birth we started trying to conceive again. We have spent four years--almost half our marriage trying to conceive--undergoing many procedures, suffering many pregnancy losses, climbing this uphill battle, waiting for another miracle. But it seems, in the world of fertility procedures, there is nothing positive waiting for us anymore. This reality has left me feeling sad, powerless and empty.

I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out something to make me feel strong again, something to make me feel powerful. I need to feel in control again and physically healthy. I recently saw online an advertisement for the March of Dimes, “March For Babies 10k,” an event that will “raise money for research and programs that help moms have full-term pregnancies and babies begin healthy lives…bring comfort and information to families with a baby in newborn intensive care.” My husband, my daughter and I were all preemies and all spent time in the NICU. This organization is very meaningful to me.

I have decided to participate in the 10k, despite the fact that I have zero running experience and have never done a race. But I have been training using a, “Couch to 10k” program, and I am proud to say I ran 3 miles non-stop on the tread mill the other day. I never thought I would be able to accomplish something like this. With all my body has been through the past four years, I didn’t even think I could walk two miles, never mind run three. Training has left me feeling physically strong and powerful. The running seems like a literal, as well as a symbolic, “moving forward.” It is refreshing to have a big goal that I can accomplish through hard work. I feel in control again.

When we struggle through the tough roads of our journey, there is always a time of healing that must follow. I am hoping that crossing the finish line, hand and hand with my husband, who is also running the 10k, will help us move past the challenges and the losses we have faced these past four years. I am hoping to feel like I can “kick butt” again, for who knows what challenges may come next!

Go Team Annie Grace!



For more information on how to support March Of Dimes, visit their website, www.marchofdimes.com.

You Are Not Fat, You Are Pregnant...

Dear Pregnant Women,

Lately I have been hearing some of you outright trash your bodies during this miraculous state of being and it has infuriated me on many different levels. At five, four or even as soon as three months pregnant, some of you describe yourselves as large, fat, obese or humongous, and one of you even referred to yourself as the size of a “Mac truck.” I am begging you to stop this trash talk, if not for your own sake, for the sake of your infertile friends.

Having had the blessing of being pregnant with my daughter, I have lived through the extraordinary changes a woman’s body goes through during this incredible time. I know and can appreciate how hard pregnancy is. I clearly remember the nausea, the aches and pains, the stretch marks and the multitude of other bizarre and seemingly unreasonable conditions a woman will experience throughout her pregnancy. But having struggled to get pregnant with my daughter, and then not being able to carry my subsequent pregnancies past 8 weeks, I also know what it is like to want to be pregnant more than anything else in the world. I see pregnancy as a miracle, a gift and something to be cherished.

When some of you trash your bodies, it saddens me to the core. I realize these comments come out of great insecurity as you struggle to come to terms with your new body. But when I hear a four-month pregnant woman who is starting to show, say, “I am humongous and gross,” it makes me so angry. I feel she is not appreciating this incredible gift of having a baby growing inside of her. When I look at the same four month pregnant woman, I have feelings of wonder and amazement. Truth be told, there might also be some feelings of envy and sadness as I start to think about my own unfulfilled desire to be pregnant. So when I ask you, “How are you feeling?” and you say, “Disgusted. I am huge already,” I must admit that I am disgusted too, but not by your size but by your negative attitude.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was grateful for every pound I gained and every pant size that I had to retire. To me that meant my baby was thriving and getting bigger. Everything on my body got bigger, my butt, my legs, my arms. I don’t even want to talk about my bra size. Let’s just say that I didn’t know until I was pregnant that cup sizes reached well above the DD’s into the middle of the alphabet. I was just grateful my baby was healthy and I was able to be a part of this incredible phenomenon that I had hoped and prayed for, for many years.

I have to be honest, I did not carry my baby to full term. I can only imagine how “large” and “humongous” women feel towards the end of the last trimester, and God help those women who carry well past their due date! I have friends who have carried and naturally delivered 9 and 10 pound babies, and I am inspired by them. I also can’t imagine carrying multiples. But those feelings of being “large” should come out of understandable discomfort and a desire to not walk around feeling like you have 20 pound weights attached to each ankle, not out of a desire to want to look like a super model.

I guess what I am saying is this-- Pregnant ladies, be gentle with yourself and love your pregnant body. Please appreciate and cherish this gift, especially out of sensitivity to all of us ladies dealing with infertility or those women who may never have the opportunity to be pregnant. We as women, pregnant or not, beat ourselves up and often compare ourselves to Hollywood standards. Looking like a glowing and pregnant Natalie Portman did on Oscar night is not reality unless you have a team of people getting you ready each morning. And yes some starlet pregnancies may come and go and their weight may not reach the non pregnancy weight of us real women. But that is not reality either.

So please, cherish and love your body! Enjoy your curves for at least this short period of time! And for goodness sake, remember that the changes your body is going through are on account of a beautiful baby growing inside of you, and there are many women struggling with infertility who would give anything to have your growing belly!

Sincerely,
Casey

What me, Jillian Michaels, Padma Lakshmi, Tia Mowry have incommon!

Lately we have been hearing more and more celebrities speaking about endometriosis-related infertility. Jillian Michaels from the NBC hit television show, The Biggest Loser, recently talked about her struggle with endometriosis and how her journey with infertility has led her to the adoption process. Tia Mowry, an actress known best for her role on Sister Sister, talked about her struggle with endometriosis and her miracle pregnancy. Padma Lakshmi, host of Bravo’s Top Chef and an endometriosis sufferer, also calls her pregnancy a miracle and started the Endometriosis Foundation of America to help other women who suffer from this disease. So what is endometriosis?

Endometriosis is a disease where the tissue that lines and then sheds from the uterus during a normal menstrual cycle, escapes the uterus and then grows on the outside portion of the uterus, the ovaries, the intestines or other parts of the body. During ones period, this rogue tissue also sheds and can cause severe pain and bleeding. Because the blood had nowhere to go, the tissue can exhibit itself as scarring and nodules. Endometriosis causes infertility. Sometimes the scarring from the endometriosis can damage the fallopian tubes. In other cases, the endometriosis can become so progressed that a woman’s entire reproductive system can be fused together. Some doctors believe that endometriosis can inhibit the fertilization of the egg or implantation of a fertilized egg. Although endometriosis affects millions of women, there is so much about the disease that is unknown.

I was diagnosed with endometriosis by my reproductive endocrinologist at the start of my infertility journey. After ruling out many other major infertility issues though tests and procedures, we were left with the possibility of endometriosis, due to my symptoms of painful periods. The only way to confirm this diagnosis was through a laparoscopy. A laparoscopy did show that I had uterine tissue growing on my ovary, my uterus and parts of my intestines. My doctor was able to use a laser to remove the tissue.

This diagnosis gave me a new understanding of my body. I always had severe stomach issues, especially around my period. After many tests and procedures which showed nothing, my gastroenterologist could only figure that Irritable Bowel Syndrome was causing my stomach irritations. I had been complaining of debilitating pain with my period for years. My gynecologist always told me that was normal! My period would also leave me exhausted and drained. I actually have to plan social events and functions around my period. When I was working I sometimes would have to sometimes leave early or call in sick. All of the stomach issues, the pain and the fatigue could now be explained by endometriosis.

There was a feeling of relief that came with my diagnosis. All those years, I had been basically told by medical professionals to “suck it up” . I had been made to feel like a wimp, like this excruciating pain I was in was “normal.” Then my initial relief turned to anxiety. After researching endometriosis, I learned that there is no cure for the disease and no one is sure how one gets the disease. Even though I had my laparoscopy, that was only a temporary fix. The tissue will grow back and can be dangerous. It seems like the best treatment is laparoscopic surgery, which is really disheartening because it is not an easy fix. There are other hormonal treatments, but there are side effects to these medications. I am currently trying to alleviate my symptoms through exercise and diet.

I am grateful to celebrities who come out and talk about endometriosis. I can only hope that making the public aware of this sometimes debilitating disease will help educate women who may be suffering in silence. I am also grateful for organizations like the Endometriosis Foundation of America. This organization is dedicated to learning more about the disease to help alleviate the pain that millions of women are experiencing on a daily basis. Some people in the medical field believe that endometriosis is genetic. If it is, I can only hope that when my daughter’s generation is of age, there will be a cure.

Infertility and Cancer

There is a lot of communication that happens between couples dealing with infertility. It is inevitable. There are lots of decisions to be made regarding treatment options, hopes, dreams and fears that are expressed. Even if you are not a talker (which my husband is not) you cannot escape certain discussions. Yet, I have found that there is always one thing never talked about at length, if at all, one giant, pink elephant in the room. The long term effects on all of these infertility treatments on the woman, and the fear of developing cancer.

I will never forget when my mom first realized how many drugs I actually took for an IVF cycle. As life has a crazy way of working out sometimes, we were in the middle of moving when I was going through my second IVF cycle. I had tried to pack as much as I could before I started my ovary stimulation drugs because once I was stimulated, I couldn’t do much of anything. My mom came in and saw this extra large box in my foyer and asked if it was all of my kitchen items. I informed her that it wasn’t, that was just one of my boxes of medications for this round of IVF and the smaller box next to it was also filled with medications and needles. My mom looked like she was about to vomit and just muttered worriedly, “Oh, Casey.”

I told her the same things my doctor told me to try and put her mind at ease. Because I was on birth control for many years in my early twenties, giving me a break from the constant ovulation and high estrogen , I was at lesser risk of developing ovarian or uterine cancer. I also told her because I was pregnant with my daughter and breast fed I was also at a lesser risk. My doctor also said that he usually stops people at stimulated cycle #10 to prevent long term risks. I participated in 6 cycles. These facts did not seem to put my mom at ease. She had reminded quietly throughout my infertility journey that these drugs cannot be good for me. Honestly, her fears have been my fears and my husbands fears as well. But the feelings of self sacrifice and doing anything for your children exhibits itself with just the mere longing for children.

The statistics are more harrowing for women who never give birth. They are at a greater risk for ovarian and uterine cancer. My aunt, who never had children of her own, was recently diagnosed with an aggressive type of uterine cancer. Within two weeks of her diagnosis she had a hysterectomy and is now discussing further treatments with her doctor. Luckily, she had been to her gynecologist regularly and caught it fairly early. She had been spotting post menopause which is a major warning sign for cancer. A huge problem is that for cancers like ovarian or uterine, often when the symptons of pain and spotting occur the cancer has progressed.

I am terrified for my aunt. The particular type of cancer she has can show up anywhere in her body later on. I hate that this is a part of her journey. I wish I could take away all of her pain and suffering. I feel for all women who carry the burden of cancer. Some of these women have struggled for years trying to get pregnant, only to find their little ones through adoption later on in their journey. Some women have chosen to use their nurture and motherly instinct to help others in their community, either their family and friends or on a larger scale. Others find their calling through creating loving homes for pets. My aunt has spent her life volunteering, being there for family and friends, providing a loving home for rescue animals and spoiling her nieces and nephew!

I also can’t help but think about myself and my risk for developing cancer. Before I got pregnant with my daughter, I had a whatever it takes attitude with regard to fertility treatments and scoffed at worrying about my health. When going through all of my fertility treatments after my daughter was born, I started worrying about my health more. Despite assurances from my doctor that it shouldn’t affect my long term health, I am was nervous. How could the boxes upon boxes of drugs have no effect? At the beginning of trying to conceive again, I kept worrying about my daughter having a sibling. After my third IVF coupled with my third IUI, I started worrying my daughter having a mother. Because of this worry, and my chronic pain from my endometriosis, I have even recently started thinking about a hysterectomy which is a blog for another time!

My heart goes out to those struggling with cancer and to the families who have lost incredible women to cancer. I also pray for those young women who are now cancer free, but now may have limited options when starting a family due to their battle. None of it is easy. In the meantime, I am trying to help carry my aunt through this part of her journey, as she helped carry me throughout mine.

Preemie Story Part 2: Guinness, the NICU and my Sleeping Beauty

So, last we let off, I was waiting for an operating room so I could give birth to my baby girl at only 34 weeks (6 weeks early). I had spent a long night on various medications to try to get me out of labor, only then to have many other medications pumped into my body to prep for my c-section.

My memories from this time are like snapshots,and only when I piece them together can I attempt to recreate the entire story. I remember being wheeled into the operating room by the doctor, who kept slamming me into walls by accident. He kept joking that he was a better doctor than bed-wheeler. I remember all of the staff in the operating room joking and talking about their daily lives. I noted how this was an average day at work for them, yet it was the most important day of my life. I remember my husband telling the anesthesiologist how sensitive I am to anesthesia. After I started dry-heaving during the surgery, the doctor remarked that my husband wasn’t kidding, and then adjusted my meds. I remember telling my husband to take his glasses off, because to my horror, I could see the reflection of my open abdomen.

I remember the NICU staff walking into the room right before my little girl was ready to be taken out of me, assuring me they were going to give the best of care to my little girl. After they pulled her out, I remember waiting to hear her cry for the first time. It felt like an eternity. It probably was anywhere from 30 seconds to a minute. Our daughter's amazing doctor, who happened to be in charge of the entire NICU kept saying, “Come on Princess. Come on Princess. It’s okay, she is just a little stunned. Come on Princess.” Finally she cried and it was the most beautiful sound. Then I cried out of joy and relief. Before the NICU staff whisked my little girl away to work on her and make sure she was stable, I was able to give her a brief kiss on the head.

The doctor then sewed me up and brought me to the recovery room. Unlike after my previous surgeries, I was alert. I needed to see how my baby was. The NICU doctor came in and told us our baby was stable, but there was a long road ahead. My daughter was currently on CPAP which was helping her breathe. Also, because she was born so early, she was at risk for a collapsed lung and for bowel obstructions, among other problems. The doctor said that for now, she was stable and doing okay, but that the next 48 hours were crucial. They wheeled me into the NICU to see her, and as I went to sit up to get a closer look, I am told that I turned a shade of green, then white, and then I collapsed.

I was in and out of consciousness for the next 24 hours; the drugs and the operation definitely took their toll on my body . I would wake up periodically and ask my husband how my little one was. He was running back and forth between me and our baby and kept assuring me she was doing great. The next morning I finally got up, showered as quickly as I could, and got in a wheel chair to go see my baby. Seeing my baby in the NICU, in an incubator, hooked up to monitors, on a breathing tube, was extremely overwhelming. She was 4 pounds 8 ounces and actually dropped down to three and change as all babies lose weight in their first week. The nurses called my daughter Sleeping Beauty and Pocket Princess. They said she was perfectly formed, yet she was tiny. The nurses told me that she probably wouldn’t come home much before her due date.

There were many painful things that we endured during that time. I don’t like to dwell upon these things, because when all is told, we came out of this very lucky. I remember how hard it was not being able to hold my baby for the first 48 hours, until she was stable. I remember how weird it was seeing other people take care of her feedings, change her diaper and look after her general well being. After four days, my husband and I had to leave the hospital, but my little one had to stay. That was the worst day of my life, leaving her there in the NICU. My only comfort was that the nurses and doctors there were angels on earth. I had been watching them for the last few days taking care of my daughter as their own. I knew she was in good hands.

The doctors there had told me that Guinness Beer was good for breast milk. It goes without saying that my husband and I stopped at a local supermarket to pick up a 6-pack before we went home that night, after leaving our little baby at the hospital, although I was too exhausted and worried to take more than a sip

My little one beat all of the odds. Like most babies in the NICU, there are things she had to do on her own before she could come home. She first had to breathe on her own, which thankfully she did after a few days. She then had to be able to bottle feed, as opposed to receiving food through a feeding tube. That was a little trickier. When I was discharged, I tried to make it to the hospital to see every feeding that I could. The feedings I missed, I would frantically call the NICU nurse assigned to my daughter to see if she was able to bottle feed or if it was a tube feeding. My daughter was so little, that drinking from a bottle was exhausting for her, and sometimes she just couldn’t do it. I knew that when the nurse told me that it was a tube feeding, it would immediately add at least a couple of days to my baby's stay in the NICU. I was getting a lot of use out of the breast pump I had bought on a hunch the week before I went into labor. It would be months before my little one would be strong enough to nurse.

The last test before my daughter could come home was the car seat test. My husband and I had to bring her car seat into the NICU so that the doctors could monitor her while she sat in it. If she didn’t go into distress, and her vitals remained stable, she could go home! I remember getting that joyous call that she was finally ready to come home. We rushed to the hospital and watched as they unhooked all of her monitors, which had been on her since moments after her birth. I was so very excited and overjoyed, but I was also terrified. I was pretty sure there was a good possibility that I could break her.

My incredible mother single handedly redesigned my kitchen while I was in the hospital and while I was going back and forth to the NICU. The morning we went to go pick up our baby, my parents, whom I am forever indebted to, were at our apartment scrubbing it from floor to ceiling, removing all the dust and making it safe for our little one. We had a new granite counter top and a new dishwasher that I had ordered the afternoon I went into labor eleven days before. We had our kitchen redone. My brother and father were able to pick up the crib that my grandmother ordered early to complete my daughter's nursery. We finally had a baby in our home, a dream of ours for many years. We were traumatized by all we had just gone through, but so very grateful. Now the new journey of parenthood was upon us.

A Preemie Story: Part 1- Baptism by Fire

As I left abruptly for the hospital that afternoon, I couldn’t explain how I knew, but I was certain that the next time I would be returning to my apartment I would no longer be pregnant. In fact as I locked the door, I said to my mom, “I guess we won’t be able to get the kitchen redone before our little one is born.” She thought I was crazy and assured me we were just going to the hospital as a precaution, all was well and it will get done. Technically, we were both right. I wasn't able to get my kitchen redone before my baby was born, but I was able to do it before she came home from the NICU!

I wasn’t prepared to have my baby 6 weeks early, at least on a conscious level. Many couples who struggle with infertility have preemies. Some of these couples have preemies because they are having multiples, which puts them in a higher risk category for pre-term labor. Some babies are born prematurely because of medical conditions of the baby's mother. For example, my husband was born 12 weeks early because my mother in law suffered from placenta previa. Seeing as his birth was 30 years ago, it is pretty incredible they both survived. Sometimes, there is no explanation for a woman to go into pre-term labor. I was born 6 weeks early like my daughter, but there was no genetic or medical reason why my mom went into pre-term labor. Even though we struggled to get pregnant, there had been no concerns during my pregnancy. As a matter of fact, the morning of the day I went into labor, I saw my doctor. He did an ultrasound, and besides my daughter being breech, all was well. He assured me there was time for her to turn around and have a normal delivery.

My due date was February 12th. My baby shower was scheduled for the second weekend in January and our hospital tour and birthing class was scheduled for the first weekend in January. As soon as the craziness of Christmas was over, I started panicking over everything I had to do to be ready for our baby, even though we had 7 weeks still to go. I think I knew on a subconscious level that she was coming. The week before my daughter’s unexpected arrival I started behaving feverishly. I just had to buy my nursing pajamas, bras and a robe for the hospital. I also bought a high grade breast pump, even though I hoped to nurse exclusively. My mom’s response to this was, “You don’t even know if you are going to use it!” Somehow I just felt I needed it. I also made my husband order my daughter’s dresser for her room and asked my grandma to immediately order the crib that she was so generously was going to buy for us for the shower.

After my doctor’s appointment on the day I went into labor, I went to Sears and ordered a dishwasher for our kitchen which was to be delivered the following Monday. I also picked out a paint color for our kitchen and the granite for our new counter top. A few days later we were telling our story the head doctor in the NICU while visiting our little girl. The doctor looked at my husband and said, “Your wife just HAD to have and do all of these things so early? Your wife knew this baby was coming! Next time she starts demanding you paint the kitchen to get ready for the baby, you bring her to the hospital right away!” When I first started feeling “cramps” which I would later know to be contractions, my super was in our bathroom fixing our broken toilet. Having a fixed toilet was another one of the many things I was able to cross off my list before bringing home our baby!

My “cramps” felt like they were coming a couple of times an hour. I felt compelled to call my doctor, who to my surprise told me to go straight to the hospital. I immediately called my husband at work, hysterical. He on the other hand was really calm, not realizing what I knew in my heart- this baby was coming! My mom came over and I packed my bag with all of the hospital essentials I just bought and she drove me to the hospital and stayed with me until my husband got there.

Sure enough, once I arrived at the hospital I was having regular contractions only minutes apart. The doctor thought I was dehydrated, and two bags of fluids later, the contractions were still going. And even after two shots of terbutaline, my contractions still wouldn‘t stop for long. On top of it all, my baby was kicking like crazy -- apparently she found it amusing to hear her kicks echo on the fetal monitor. This actually gave me much needed comfort because I was worried about her health and safety. An ultrasound showed my baby wasn’t in distress, but it would be better if she were not born so early. The doctor said that I needed to be admitted to the hospital to try to stop the labor, and I had a night of “magnesium sulfate” ahead of me, which I will always think fondly of as “the fire meds.” They also gave me a steroid shot to help develop my baby’s lungs.

Because I was in a shared room, my husband couldn’t stay with me that night. It was a long, long night. The magnesium sulfate made the hot flashes I got from my fertility meds seem like a breeze! It felt like my body was on fire. I would look over at the monitor every once in a while and see my contractions going strong. I mentally prepared myself as best I could that this baby was coming. I decided then her middle name would be Grace, because she would need all of the grace she could get to flourish despite her premature birth. At 5:00 am, after being at the hospital for 12 hours, the nurse came in held and my hand and said, “Honey, I’m not a doctor, but I feel in my heart that this baby has a purpose, and for whatever reason, needs to come out now.” I definitely agreed, and called my husband and told him to come back to the hospital. It turned out that the nurse was right, because an hour later the doctor checked me and I was 3 cm dilated. Because my baby was still breech, I would have to have a c-section. This baby was going to be delivered as soon as an operating room was available!

Stay tuned for a Preemie Story Part 2: Guinness, the NICU and my Sleeping Beauty

12 Days of Christmas: IVF Style!

So in light of the Holidays coming up and having the firm belief that to get through our most challenging paths we need a sense of humor, I bring to you:
The 12 Days of Christmas...IVF Style!

On the first day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
hope for one healthy baby.

On the second day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby.

On the third day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the fifth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the sixth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the seventh day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby! .

On the eighth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the ninth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby! .

On the tenth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Ten developing follicles,
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby! .

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Eleven calls to the insurance company,
Ten developing follicles,
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Twelve vaginal ultrasounds,
Eleven calls to the insurance company,
Ten developing follicles,
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!