Her Eggs, My Basket

Last February Facebook reminded me about a blog I posted when I was at my personal worst. This reminder also made me realize I had not written another blog after dropping that bomb. So thanks, Facebook.

Excuses aside (I can come up with 3 to be exact), let’s recap.

Shortly after my 40th birthday I received news about yet another failed IVF cycle. As a result, I was trying to come to terms with my disappointing track record. I had endured 8 years of invasive fertility treatments and tried to pick up where we left off. It didn’t work and to be honest, I was pissed.

<end recap>

A few months later we decided to go back to the clinic. I can’t say what I was expecting from the meeting. We’ve been there a hundred times before.  Maybe it was closure or maybe it was some sort of miracle. I do know that I would have done anything to move forward from the state of mind I was in.

We shuffled into the office and sat down. The conversation always starts with an apology and then the doctor draws my womb-doodle. I heard “less than 10% - blah-blah-blah”. And while he didn’t actually say, “don’t spend any more money on this,” you could tell that’s what he was trying to say as diplomatically as possible. I could see he was disappointed for us. After all, he’s been by my side for about 8+ years. But this time the meeting ended differently.

This time our Doctor suggested using someone else’s eggs...

Wait… what? This is absolutely not how I envisioned my “happily ever after”. I was in shock. After he said that it was like Charlie Brown’s teacher was in the office. “wah-wah-wah”. When we left the office I revisited my options on the way home like so many times before.

1. Continue with IVF
2. Adoption
3. Kidnapping
4. Do nothing

1. Continue with IVF:
Well this was an option before, but if I was going to trust my doctor with all that scientific data he collected on me over 20% of my life then we should probably pass. Plus, I already did this half a dozen times and it’s not like there are any Groupons or frequent flier miles floating around. I would have found those by now. Pass.

2. Adoption:
It took me about 5 seconds of looking into the adoption process to realize it wasn’t for me. Adoption is wonderful but I did not have the energy to wrap my head around an equally complicated, costly, and risky process. I was tired. I already know way too much about the fertility game and wasn’t about to switch gears at this point. Pass.

3. Kidnapping:
Too much work and also happens to be illegal. Pass.

4. Do Nothing:
It basically came down to one question. “In a few years would I regret not trying this?”

Well, yes. I mean, I’ve been trying EVERYTHING so yes, I would most certainly regret overlooking one last approach that might have worked for us. Are you kidding me?
After chewing on that question I realized the egg donor option wasn’t a bad idea after all. Stella would have a half-sibling (which was obviously very important to me). Jeff would still be biologically related to our children so that type of personal connection would still exist – for him, at least. And I would still be able to actually carry a baby and relive all those pregnancy nightmares that you forgot about when you decide to get pregnant – again. So, hurrah!

After this epiphany I found myself maniacally researching how families with donor egg children are doing, and how those children were raised and informed about their upbringing.  I read a few books and we talked to a couple therapists. I also talked to people who had donor egg families themselves. Frankly, I had a hard time finding a reason not to do it. So, after a good amount of due-diligence I was all-in (and so was Jeff.) Here we go – again!

The chance of getting pregnant via egg donor is around 65%. That statistic is a LOT better than the 10% I had using my own eggs. So this time around my attitude was much better. I was relaxed and felt like we had a fighting chance. Not to mention that most of the pressure was off because I wasn’t doing egg retrieval with all those scheduled shots. I was basically putting her eggs in my basket. I was actually a surrogate – for myself.

After a few months of online people shopping we finally found our girl. I have to say, shopping for humans is weird. It was just like a dating website except you have a LOT more information about the person – except their name.  I’m talking about writing skills, mental and physical health information, current job, education level etc. You even find out about their immediate family. Boom. Come to think of it, these dating websites could probably learn a thing or two from the database we were looking at (if you know what I mean).

Our girl went in for her egg retrieval appointment sometime last summer. This is when they knock you out and suck all the eggs out that were stimulated by medication for the last 2-3 weeks prior. It isn’t a pleasant process. Anybody that is willing to do that for you is a hero (trust me). I waited by the phone to hear how many eggs were retrieved…. 24. I was in shock. The most we ever got from my own egg retrieval was 7 or 8. By the end of the fertilization process we only had about 1 or 2 to work with. So I was absolutely thrilled. We split our batch of eggs with 2 other families so everyone got 8. Isn’t that weird? I know…

Then they immediately fertilize the eggs. This was also a big deal. You find out how many embryos you win. After 5 days of daily check ups on cell division and quality we ended up with 3 (Grade A) embryos. Those younger girls sure have some magical eggs. Damn.

5 days after the egg retrieval I had to go in for the big day. I wanted the process to be over quickly so I had them pop in 2 embryos and asked them to freeze the last one. Done and Done. The two-week wait is the worst. You over analyze everything your body is telling you. Normal people don't even know they are pregnant by this time but if you're an infertility junkie, you know way too much. I compared my days with notes I took from the last 13 cycles. Sadly, 2 weeks later we got a big NEGATIVE on my blood test. I wasn’t as discouraged though because we had a contract for a few tries. We still had 1 froyo left over too! So a month later I went back for that one and guess what…. Freaking twins. TWINSSSSSSSS.

Unbelievable. How in the world did a tiny little cell that was frozen, kick-start itself and end up splitting into 2 whole human beings inside of my broken-ass body? We were absolutely beside ourselves and also a little scared about all the risks that come with twins too. Interesting fact – identical twins are not hereditary. They are spontaneous and the chance of it happening to anyone is .043%. And trust me when I tell you it can happen.to.anyone.

Now, about 16 months later here I sit on maternity leave with two adorable identical twin boys who resemble their father on every level. I’ve had a lot to time to think about this mess we were in for so many years. I did not beat infertility. I wish I could have but it wasn’t possible. But we did find a way to work around it, and we couldn’t be happier. Now I understand that sometimes you have to give something up to let another miracle happen. My life may have not unfolded the way I thought it should, but what did happen was meant for me, and me alone.

Some people might question the reason I share this information and it’s pretty simple. After sharing my previous blog I was contacted by a lot (LOTS) of people who were going through the same thing, or who were getting ready to start the same process. I wanted to make sure everyone knows there was a positive ending for us after all that work. I’m not embarrassed or worried about what the world will think of me for sharing an incredibly personal story. It’s my story to tell so I'm telling it. It’s more important to me that the 1 in 4 women who are affected by infertility know there is something waiting for you. It might not be what you expected but you are here for a purpose that purpose is different from everyone else’s.

Missing you and it's National Ovarian Cancer Awareness month.

Last September we lost a great woman, mother, friend, sister, grandmother and mom to Ovarian Cancer. This September I can't help but think about how quickly she was taken from us. Many did not have enough time to say goodbye, including myself. 

I found myself thinking about Di Oliver yesterday. Ironically, September is National Ovarian Cancer Awareness month. Maybe she was reminding me not to forget - not like I would. A lot has happened since she left and I wish I could have one more conversation to bring her up to date. Her laugh was infectious and her smile was amazing. She was the type of woman who made the party. 

Last year I was asked to speak at her memorial service. It was a tough job but I was honored. I really miss you Di, like so many others. Here was my story to share...

....For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Dana and my family has been long time friends with the Oliver family. My mom and dad have spent many Friday nights and holidays with them over the years, and by default – so have I.

 Despite my best public speaking aversion tactics, the Oliver’s asked me to share a few words about Di today - which I’m honored to do. And while I stand here in front of what seems like 5000 people staring at me from this side of the room I take comfort knowing that without a doubt - Di is out there cheering me on with that great big smile, like she’s done with every single person who was fortunate enough to be graced by her presence. 

We loved her so much. Di accepted everyone for who they were, no questions, no judgment. Di was everyone’s biggest fan. She encouraged everyone, loved everyone, and was always cheering you on… except if you were playing her in Words with friends. 

Di made friendships natural and easy, but more importantly she made life so much fun. I remember back when I was getting married I was in the process of looking for a wedding dress. After searching everywhere, I saw there was going to be an event at Filenes Basement, called “Running of the Brides. “ For those of you who don’t know what this is, let me paint you a picture…. Imagine 500 or so uptight brides and their best mates literally camped outside a department store for hours waiting for it to open so they can get their hands on an amazing designer dress at a very low cost. 

The idea is, you grab as many dresses as possible and use them to barter for the dress you really want. So the more dresses you can grab at the beginning – the better. Hence the name “Running of the Brides” Naturally I thought, well… that sounds like a great idea! So I emailed my best friends, my mom and Di to see who would join me. Of course, Di jumped in without hesitation. My girl friends eventually jumped in WITH hesitation, probably because they knew what we were getting into.   

So, we gathered the troops at about 4 am and headed into Tysons corner to get our spot in line. It was pitch black, freezing and misty outside. But we were OK! We were Ok because we were equipped with Coffee, cigarettes, beef jerky and US weekly magazines…. (Your basic dress shopping survival supplies). And we sat in line for hour after hour waiting for 9 o’clock to approach. We never seemed to run out of conversation. 

It soon became apparent that the closer it got to opening time, the more difficult it was to hold a spot in line. By a quarter till 9 the women turned into a crazy mob of bride-zillas (myself, excluded). And my friends got swallowed up in the crowd. I was convinced we were at a disadvantage – until I spotted Di. She had somehow managed to muscle her way all the way to the front of the line. When we locked eyes she had a look on her face like “Are you kidding me?!” 

When the doors opened we made a run for the racks. Everyone bolted in a different direction. I grabbed as many dresses as I could carry before trying to locate my friends.  By the way, wedding dresses…. not lightweight! 

When my mom and I finally found everyone, Di was standing in guard position in front of what seemed like a pile of dresses the size of a car and my friend Brandi was lying on top of them, face down. Apparently Di thought it would be more efficient to throw the entire RACK of dresses on the ground and Brandi followed suit by doing what I can only imagine was a swan dive on top of them to keep everyone away. I have to agree that this was probably the best method for getting the most dresses to barter with. 

I actually did buy my wedding dress that day. I bought two – but again, they were really inexpensive! Who knows what I would have been wearing to my wedding if it wasn’t for her. 
So I have to thank Di for those memories and many others I keep close to my heart. She was an extraordinary woman with an enormous heart and character. 

When it comes to Di; when you say yes to life and have fun and project positivity all around you, you become a sun in the center of every constellation and people want to be near you. Di was most certainly everybody’s sun. 

I am 1 in 4

October 15^th commemorates a common thread of grief that runs through the veins of struggling mothers and fathers to be. They lost a child, or two, or three. Maybe  more. Period.

Men and women are coping with such a profound loss, putting the heartache into words is hardly possible. Many families grieve in silence and never come to terms with their loss. 

Today I ask that you think of those people by understanding they haven’t quite reached that chapter in life that some of you so fortunately have. Be mindful of those who are silently suffering or who have suffered a tremendous loss. Light a candle for the ones they lost and be thankful for the ones you have.  

I am 1 in 4.

I’ve said to myself at least 11 different times… THIS could be the one

Being stuck inside a body that inexplicably doesn’t function on the most basic human level is a pain that never subsides for those who are trying to have children. You can’t help but wonder what, if any purpose you have on this earth. Being inadequate has never felt so awful. And being reminded over and over again from failure after failure is a heavy burden to bear, especially when it's your fault.

I read once that research found women experiencing infertility have emotional stress levels similar to Cancer patients. Failed fertility cycles are painful to accept and often result in depression or isolation, or divorce, and eventually feed into other psycho-social disorders. Simply stated, my physical inability to have a child has consequences on a social and emotional level and it’s a struggle every day for me, personally. Mostly because I'm innocently reminded every day that this is my reality. Sadly, this has been my life for the last 7 years. 

Physically you are spent from all the drugs being pumped into your system. Your arms, your ass, your stomach – are all black and blue from daily injections. Your body is completely out of sorts with weight gain. Your mood is off the charts and unpredictable. You have people looking inside of you every few days running methodical test after test. Emotionally you are a train wreck waiting on the afternoon call with the next steps or dosage changes which means you may need more costly meds overnighted to your house (which you have to be there to receive). Your marriage… it gets tense. And if you’re me, the staff will actually know you on a first name basis. 

Infertility is even more difficult to accept when there is no reason to explain it. If you knew why things weren't working you could at least surrender knowing there is nothing more you can do - and then you can move on. But if it’s unexplained infertility you are constantly chasing that statistical carrot on the stick. “This could be the one” your doctor might say, followed by a very sterile non-biased hard-to-read explanation and a little womb doodle. I’ve said to myself at least 11 different times “THIS could be the one”. I’ve received a total of 11 different treatments over the course of 7 years and we got one beautiful baby girl named Stella.

"At least you’ve got one" people say. True, we did get Stella but and it wasn’t easy. 2 clomid cycles, 4 intrauterine inseminations, 3 IVF attempts and one miscarriage later (about 5 years of treatment) is what it took for me to get pregnant with Stella. Now that She’s almost 2 years old I can’t help but think about having another – like most people get to do if they so choose. 

And so it goes... this past summer we had our transferred our single frozen embryo that we saved for 2 years and it worked! But just two weeks after the best news we could have received I was told we should prepare ourselves to lose the baby because it wasn’t developing at the proper rate. I had to go back to the doctor every week and literally watch our baby slowly die on the ultrasound until it finally gave up 9 weeks and 6 days later. I ended up getting a D and C at the same clinic I went to get pregnant. He was a boy. 

A couple months later we worked up the courage to go in full force. This time we did IVF with genetic testing to make sure the embryos were healthy before they were transferred.  This was the longest cycle ever (about 6 months total) before we could compete the transfer. We literally paid to have our embryos flown to California in first class to have them tested and flown back to us. After it was all said and done we only had 2 embryos to work with but we were stoked. All it takes is one!

On the day of the transfer we were told one embryo didn’t thaw properly. Our odds went down considerably that day from 60% to 30%. As usual Jeff did his best to help me stay positive. Poor Jeff. Once again I laid in bed for two days not moving a single muscle. Most people thought I was celebrating my 40th birthday. Little did they know I was on bed rest and maniacally referencing notes I had compiled from previous cycles to make sure everything was in line with a good turnout, and it was... Except here I sit having just received news that yet another cycle has failed. “Sorry to tell you, it didn’t work this time” And there went another $18,000.00 of our nest egg... just.like.that.poof.

Since most people don’t struggle with infertility I understand why it's hard to know what to say to someone like me. I’m bitter towards friends and family who reap the benefits, I turn my head at pregnant women, and I literally envision injuring anybody who dares to ask about "the status of number two".  I’m not exaggerating when I say it takes a lot to stop myself from physically reaching out and hurting someone who approaches me about this. And every time I'm put in this situation I duck into a room or hide in my car bawling my face off. So I've found it's much easier on me to keep my distance from everyone who has what I ever wanted, and who always manages to say the wrong insensitive thing when they bring up the topic. It’s just too painful to deal with over and over again.

I never pictured raising an only child because I didn't have a choice. I’m burdened by an unbelievable amount of guilt for leaving my daughter without a sibling due to my own personal deficiencies, and giving my husband less than what we planned for while also throwing tens of thousands of our dollars out the door trying to make it work. And now I struggle with making the decision to stop seeking treatment even though THIS was supposed to be the last time - again. I don’t know if I can move past this. I feel I’ve reached an emotional and financial edge but my sense of self-efficacy tells me I haven’t really done everything in my power if I can still afford the treatment, even if that means completely emptying our savings.  I know that sounds ridiculous…. (to you). But how do you walk away from something you've literally invested 8 years of your life trying to accomplish?  I almost feel it’s less painful to continue with fertility treatment and fail rather than walk away from our dreams because the latter is the hardest hit to take of all. 

Window Monsters DIY

Halloween is a great time of the year. Not only do you get to dress yourself (and innocent family members) in ridiculous costumes, but you also have the opportunity to kick-off the ruthless onslaught of seasonal decor with creations on your own terms.  Once Thanksgiving shows up it's all about turkeys and those weird cones with fruit falling all over the place. yawn.

Anyway, you probably noticed I haven't published a single blog since December of last year. Well, I'm tired. I can't use the excuse that "I'm busy" because I've always been busy and never had a problem squeezing in some great projects ... before.  That was until I had a kid. Once you have a baby it's all over. I can't believe I'm even admitting that but it's true. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Moving on - Halloween. Yes. Costumes. Yes! Window Monsters YESS!!! Halloween on a Friday Night? HELL YES!!!!!

Sadly, I can't take credit for these window monsters. I wish I could because they are really easy to do. I needed some inspiration and of course Pinterest sucked me in. I figured this would be super easy and quick and I was right! Thank God because sometimes Pinterest really lets you down.

There weren't any directions on how to do this. I had to figure it out but it wasn't hard. Here's what you need:

• Cardboard or matboard sheets large enough to fit your window openings
• Box cutters/scissors
• A bionic hand to cut the cardboard
• A marker
• Black paint/brushes
• Contact paper or tissue paper

If you don't have any cardboard go to a frame store and ask them for their mat board inserts. They will have a TON of huge cardboard inserts that get shipped with their supplies. I was so excited when I figured that out. Yay me. 

1. I started by laying out each sheet and measuring the height of my monsters. You want some variety and height for each panel. Cut each panel so they are really snug in the window frame. That way you won't need to use tape.

2. Draw your monsters with a marker or something dark enough to see on cardboard. Don't worry about the lines because you're going to paint over them. 

3. Cut each monster shape out. This was hard and took some time. Cutting cardboard with scissors takes an intense amount of strength and patience. I didn't do well with either but a glass of wine really helped.

4. Paint the cardboard black. I tried using spray paint first but it was so porous it just sucked the color right through (see my pic?). Lame. I decided to use oil paint which I already had on-hand. Plus, I wasn't driving my butt back to the store. I would suggest using cheap acrylic or tempera paint for this. It will dry a lot faster than oil based paint and has great coverage.

5. After you paint the monsters you'll want to cover their eyes with a translucent material. You want something that will let the light shine though from behind. I used contact paper and taped it to the back. You could also use tissue paper. 

6. Pop those babies in the window and enjoy!

Holiday Snow Globe Soaps!

If I can make a bazillion of one cute thing for all my favorite people in an afternoon, I win. Especially during the holiday season. You think you have time, then you don't. How does that even happen?  It takes all year for December to come around. We know this. Then a week before Christmas everyone is rushing around taking care of last minute details…. Guilty as charged. Well this year a friend and I decided to try something different. And it worked!

Nothing says Happy Holidays more than a thoughtful hand-crafted stocking stuffer.
Here's what you need;

• 2 ice cube trays
• White soap
• Teeny tiny Christmas decorations (1/2 inch tall)
• Soap scent
• Soap dye (blue)
• Soap glitter (optional)
• Clear Glycerin
• About 2 hours to complete this project

Steps:

1. First you want to grate your white soap. This will be used as the bottom of the snow globe. Think "Snowflakes". Make them thick curls and not powdery (trust me on this).

 2. Then you're going to melt your glycerin in the microwave. Stir it around every 20 seconds in a microwave safe dish. I used a Pyrex container for this. Add a couple drops of the dye after the soap is melted. You can get darker but you can't go lighter, so just stick with a drop or two. You want it to be light so you can see the little toy inside. (Optional, at this point you can also put in the glitter soap).

3. Carefully pour the melted glycerin into the ice cube trays. Only fill them up about halfway or a little less. Remember, you have to stick a figurine in there, and then you need to cap it with snow. Let it sit for about a minute. The glycerin will begin to form a skin on the top layer. This is your window of opportunity!

4. Using a toothpick, carefully position your figurine in the center (UPSIDE DOWN) in the ice cube tray. Like this...

 5. Then you're going to sprinkle a little bit of the white snow on the top of your ice cubes. Seal the snow up with the remaining amount of melted glycerin. You can also melt some new glycerin and leave the dye out so it's clear. This is what we did and it looked great. 

6. Put them in the freezer for about 15 minutes. When the cubes have cooled, crack them slowly just like an ice cube and out will pop your perfect little snow globe. 

 7. We decided to get tags printed and wrapped everything up in a very festive package. This is the end-product! Not only did everyone love this, but it was very easy to clean up in the kitchen.

 Happy Holidays!

This was a Danchelle Production. 

Feeling Fall'ish

So I realize now, it's been about 4 months since I've updated my blog. (Gasp) Well I've been busy. Raising a child and stuff. But I wanted to get back on it so here I am. Now back to your regularly scheduled recordings…

Now that I have a baby, I get to do all these silly things I never EVER in a bazillion years would have ever considered doing. But now I'm doing even worse things than I ever could have imagined and I blame Pinterest. Browsing Pinterest can be deadly. It puts terrible ideas in your head about things you can do, and things that you really like but would probably never do, and things you shouldn't do but try anyway. It's exhausting.

So, I was looking through Pinterest one night when I wasn't sleeping (again) and found these pictures of babies with their butts painted like a pumpkin. It was cute.. so cute. The photos were perfectly staged and the little pumpkin butts were just .. well, you know. So that night in July, I decided to take another Pinterest adventure and do this with Stella. 

I don't know why I thought face paint would be ideal for the task. Obviously they don't sell butt paint (do they?). Anyway, I decided to wait until Halloween and goto the store like everyone else and purchase face paint. 

Well come to find out, face paint really sucks these days. I'm honestly not sure it was ever great. But nowadays it really sucks compared to whatever we used back in the day. I'm pretty sure whatever I bought was made in China out of some nuclear byproduct. You know when you buy something in the store and when you get it home it looks NOTHING like what you saw in the store? That's what happened to me. It "LOOKED" like pumpkin orange in the store, but when I got home it was like the color of volcano lava from a Nat Geo special. It was really scary looking.

Anyway, I put it on my baby. Let's talk about that…. So I got everything ready. The paint, towels, the pumpkin (props), and the camera close by. Stella was lying on the floor minding her own beeswax and here I come with fluorescent biohazard paint and schmear it all over her little behind. I even drew a little stalk on the top. cute.  

Clearly I hadn't done this before because the pumpkin really didn't capture the bottom portion of her bum quite how I envisioned (i.e; it wasn't Pinterest perfect). But going back to make the correction was a gamble. Seven month olds have the ability to spin around like the Tasmanian devil. Sometimes it takes two of us to get her in pants. (Don't even get me started about putting her in tights). Anyway, what I failed to think about was the white carpet directly underneath my spinning tornado butt. So this is where I accepted her butt for what it is, and this is what we got.

Not exactly the Pinterest Perfect look I was striving for but at least I can check this off the list and confirm yes - it's total pain in the ass … ha ha. I made a funny.