A Year of Miracles

IMG_0966

My miracle baby is no longer a baby. She turned one on Friday.

I haven’t been sure how or when to post on here anymore. I don’t feel a calling to be a straight-up mom blogger. And, more importantly, a lot the people who read this blog are still going through infertility and loss, and I want to be sensitive to that. But I feel like this milestone is too big to pass by, so here I am.

Hi.

One year, holy smokes. One year of looking into the face of a baby I never thought I’d meet. Some days I still ask myself if this is really a dream. I’m not exaggerating when I say that every day with Winnie in our lives feels like magic. I am up to my eyeballs in gratitude. This life, this family–it is all I’ve ever wanted.

Grief still lingers, of course, and probably will for a long time. On a recent road trip to South Carolina, it hit me hard that Winnie’s twin should be traveling with us. I miss my mom, I miss my brother, I miss all three of those babies that I’ll never get to meet–at least not in this lifetime. But so it goes, right? There can’t be light without darkness. The last few years were very dark and very long, but how can I begrudge them when they brought me here, to this place right now?

I quit my job after Winnie was born. I had been unhappy there for a long time, and I just couldn’t fathom leaving this hard-earned baby every day to go to work. I’ve been doing a bit of freelance writing here and there, but mostly I’m just spending time with my girls. Lettie is in pre-school three days of the week, but I have her home with me the other two days. Winnie is with me every day, all day. I never thought of myself as the stay-at-home mom type, but so far I’m loving it. There is nowhere else I’d rather be. I have no plans to return to work at the moment, but who knows what will happen in the future. I’m considering going back to school at some point to be an infertility nurse. I eventually want a career that allows me to help others who are going through what I went through, but I’m not sure what that will look like.

Other than than hanging with Tim and the girls, I’ve mostly been doing things that feel good to me. I started writing creatively again, which I haven’t done for years (aside from this blog). I even took a memoir class to get some ideas going. I’d like to turn my experience with infertility into a book, but alas I am slow and lack focus, so we’ll see when or if that happens. I’m trying not to pressure myself. I made a mosaic the other week out of an old recycling bin. I’m planning on painting my front door an eggplant purple soon. Every morning during Winnie’s nap, I take a nap, too. Slowly, I am healing. I am returning to the person I used to be before infertility took over my life–or, maybe more accurately, I am learning who I want to be right now.

If you can believe it, Winnie is still breastfeeding. She had the same exact issues as Lettie (tongue tie), but for whatever reason she just fought for it harder than Lettie did, and we were able to exclusively breastfeed pretty much from day one. To have that nursing time with her was and is one of the greatest gifts of my life. Personality-wise, Winnie is happy and very laid back (like her dad–she did not get that from me; I have zero chill). She’s shy, but she likes to smile at people and say “hi” from a distance. She eats everything, and I mean everything–pate, tapenade, filet mignon, you name it. She was a terrible sleeper, but thankfully we seem to have finally worked that out through sleep training. Today, she dropped a big, wet open-mouthed kiss on me and said, “Ah-la-la-la.” I’m telling myself she said “I love you.” You never know.

I have so much more I could say, but this seems like a good place to stop for now. I’ll leave you with some pictures of Winnie’s first birthday party. I’m not the crafty type, but I ended up making all of the decorations (along with tons of help from my mother-in-law and her friend). I had so many conflicting feelings about my baby turning one that I had to channel it into something…sooooooo crafts it was!

Even though I’ve been silent on here for so long, I think of you all often. I am grateful to you, and will always be grateful to you, for being there for me during the hardest time of my life. I’m not sure how much I’ll post on here going forward. Maybe I’ll pick it back up again at some point, who knows. Regardless, if you need an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on, or if you have any questions about immunology treatments or anything else, hit me up at theskyandbackblog@gmail.com. I am here.

she asked
‘you are in love
what does love look like’
to which I replied
‘like everything I’ve ever lost
come back to me’
–Nayyirah Waheed

IMG_1085IMG_1095IMG_1087IMG_2829IMG_2830IMG_1236IMG_1244IMG_5956IMG_1113IMG_1137IMG_1130IMG_1140IMG_1143IMG_1147IMG_1176IMG_1173IMG_1189IMG_1195IMG_1203IMG_1215IMG_1119

The Things She Carried

[inspired by Tim O’Brien’s novel, The Things They Carried]

She carried 758 needles, 170 suppositories of the vaginal variety, and hundreds of blood draws—she was told she had good veins, like that was some kind of prize to win. She was weirdly proud of her awesome veins, because in this game of carrying and dropping, losing and winning, there’s not much else to be proud of.

She carried 63 ultrasounds, some of them a routine check for follicles, some looking in vain for beating hearts, some checking to make sure “the products of conception” no longer existed inside of her.

She carried names of drugs she could barely pronounce—Menopur, Follistim, Ovidrel, Ganirelix, Intralipids, Lovenox, Prednisone.

She carried four IUIs, three IVFs, 66 follicles, 33 eggs and 20 embryos. Some of these embryos were placed back inside of her, and some never grew beyond a handful of cells. All were loved.

She carried lesions on her ovaries, cervix, uterus and bladder. She carried a blood clotting disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome. She carried overactive natural killer cells, which weren’t really killing much except teeny-tiny embryos too little to fight for themselves.

She carried one laparoscopy attempt. One actual laparoscopy. Three egg retrievals. Two transfers. Two D & Cs.

She carried 1,938 miles of travel—from the house to the fertility clinic; from the clinic to work; from Philadelphia to Manhattan for surgery; from Philadelphia to Woodbury to visit what she hoped would be a miracle doctor; from Philadelphia to Woodstock to spend the day with a fertility visionary. She carried $726 in parking garage fees, and even one parking garage accident.

She carried Please Gods and plea bargains. She carried what-ifs and what-will-I-do-nows.

She carried special diets—no gluten, no dairy, no sugar, no air.

She carried the love of a good man, but she carried it clumsily and sometimes carelessly. She lashed out. She yelled. “Why can’t you carry any of this for me?” she wanted to know. There was no good answer to that question—he knew it and she knew it, and at the end of the day she was lucky to still be holding his heart.

She carried the memory of lost babies—three at last count. First was Gabriel. She lost him on the bathroom floor at work, and by the time she got to the hospital she was so bloody it looked like she was starring in a Carrie remake. Then there was Anna, who was confirmed genetically normal and therefore should have lived, but didn’t. Anna, who said au revoir to the world on Christmas day, but who would never open a single present. Finally, there was Baby B, a loss too new to even get a name.

She carried a persistence that even she admitted was insane. She carried advice from relatives, friends, acquaintances, the checkout lady at Target, wondering why she was doing this to herself, why she didn’t just give up. Stop this nonsense. Be happy for what you have. Halt. Cease and desist before you ruin yourself, your job, your marriage. And she did want to stop, she did. But she needed to try one last time. One more needle, one more blood draw, one more doctor. One more.

And now.

Now she carries a baby inside of her, a little girl, no bigger than a winter squash. She feels her kicks, taps and nudges, and they feel like hope. She still carries the what-ifs—so many what-ifs—but now she carries something else as well—trust. Trust that this is the soul she is meant to meet. She sings to her baby every night, hands on her belly, heart wide open as a summer sky: ‘twas grace that brought you safe thus far, and grace will lead you home.

18 Weeks & Everything’s Still OK

Hi, friends. First of all, thank you for your comments on my last post. They were all wonderful and heartfelt, and made me feel significantly less crazy town. I’m sorry I haven’t responded yet, but I will. I love you guys.

I don’t have a single profound thing to say today. I’m thinking this is going to be a semi-boring update, so get your yawn faces on. In a nutshell: baby and I are ok. As of today, I am 18 weeks and 2 days. I had an OB appointment on Wednesday and that kid was moving around so much that my doctor couldn’t lock down a heartbeat! All we could hear for a minute were these swishing sounds. I’m thinking that means there’s a hyperactive boy growing in there. Anyone else have any gender guesses? When the doc finally got the heartbeat locked it sounded nice and strong at 158 bpm.

Following that appointment, I went to my dentist and got two more root canals. I only have three non-root-canaled teeth left in my mouth now. Can you even believe that? I kind of can’t. I half-jokingly asked my dentist if I had the most root canals out of any patient he’s ever had and he said “yes.” The man has been practicing for 33 years. Dude. I don’t even know what to say about that, so I’ll just leave it right there. Anyway, the one root canal went smoothly. The other was bleeding so much he couldn’t finish it. The dentist said he suspects it’s cracked, which means the root canal might fail. Which means a tooth extraction. The last time I had a tooth extracted, it took two hours and the head of dental surgery had to call over his colleague to help. Apparently I have the longest roots this side of the Mississippi. I do not want to go through this ordeal while pregnant. It’s already stressful enough getting root canals while pregnant. I’m really bummed about all of this, but it’s beyond my control.

I’m not sure if I told you guys about this yet, but I got a call from Dr. Braverman a few weeks ago. My long-awaited test results came back and according to him my immune system was “acting up again.” He doubled my prednisone dose. Dr. B assured me that he wasn’t worried about miscarriage at this point, but rather complications later in pregnancy. This increased dose will supposedly help prevent that. I was supposed to stop my intralipids after the first trimester, but those are continuing on for now, too. For those of you who don’t know, prednisone is kind of evil. I really try not to complain about it because honestly I am just grateful that it’s helping me stay pregnant. However, it causes major insomnia. I lay awake from roughly 1 am to 5 am every night. Once in a while I’ll take a Unisom and that helps, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that every night. More or less, this lack of sleep makes me feel insane. In-f*cking-sane. Like totally bonkers. I prowl around the house at night like a freaking cat, scouring the fridge for midnight snacks. Speaking of snacks, another fun little side effect of the pred is that I’m huge. I’ve been gaining a pound a week and my face is like a mylar balloon. Again, I’m growing a human, so whatevs, but it’s a little freaky to see the scale jump so much every time I go to the OB. The good news is that Dr. B wants to wean me off the prednisone by 24 weeks, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

All of the above BS aside, I really am doing ok. I’m still nervous as hell about our anatomy scan in two weeks, but other than that, I’ve been managing the anxiety. Here’s a couple of things that have been helping:

*The gym! I haven’t gone to gym with any regularity in three years (you can thank fertility treatments for that). But now that I don’t have endless doctors appointments and the first-trimester nausea has subsided, I have a little more energy (even with the lack of sleep, boom). It feels awesome you guys. I only do a half hour on the eliptical machine like three or four times a week, but even that feels like such a treat.

*I’ve been taking some space from Blog Land. I’ve found that it’s for some reason easier to manage my anxiety if I just keep my head down and don’t write about it.

*Staying busy. If I’m constantly moving or doing something I don’t dwell as much on the what ifs. I’ve been doing a lot of baking, organizing and even (gasp!) folding laundry.

*Planning a staycation. Tim and I booked a hotel in the ‘burbs next weekend. Lettie will spend the night with her grandparents. We’re going to get a couples massage and eat in a chain restaurant and swim in the hotel pool. I’m gonna get me a bottle of non-alcoholic wine, pop a Unisom and get a full night’s sleep. Romance, people!

Speaking of sleep, if you’re not snoozing yet, you deserve an award. I mean, I know how riveting reading about me folding laundry must be. Anyway, that’s about all she wrote. I’m still scared every single day, but I’m doing fine.

 

 

Graduation Day & Baby B

Graduates-throwing-hats

Friday was an amazing day. I “graduated” from my fertility specialist. That means, from now on, I am under the care of an OB, just like a regular pregnant lady. To say it was emotional is a big, fat understatement. The ultrasound tech gave us our final ultrasound and Baby A was looking good, right on track for 10 weeks, even moving his or her hand in a waving motion.

I haven’t mentioned our ultrasound tech yet, but she is wonderful. Not only technically good at her job, but extremely calming and caring. She never seemed rushed and always took the time to answer all of our questions thoroughly. And believe me, my science teacher husband had a ton of questions about not super-relevent things, like ultrasound views and such. After our scan, I thanked her profusely for being so good at her job. And then I started to cry. Not tearing up, but like actual shaking cries. Then Tim started crying, too. The tech gave me a big hug and said, “I’ve been doing this for a long time, I understand. That kid is growing so well. You’re doing great.” I’m pretty sure she even teared up a little, too.

Afterwards we met with our doctor and he officially released us from the practice. I didn’t cry again, but I did give him a bear hug and several “thank yous.”

Wow, you guys. Just wow. I really never thought I would see this day. Truly. I know we’re still not out of the woods yet, but this is a huge milestone. So for now, I’m putting the worries aside and I’m just going to bask in this glow, and give thanks to the Universe and those babies and my body for getting us this far. I can’t even write this without crying.

In sad news, at our 9 week ultrasound, Baby B no longer had a heartbeat. I haven’t updated you guys on this yet because I don’t really know what to say. I’m not sure how I feel, honestly. It’s a loss, for sure. But then there’s this miracle growing right next door. It’s just a weird situation. I do know, however, that I am extremely thankful to Baby B for coming here briefly and helping his brother or sister.. I will be grateful for the rest of my life.

Next up: final visit with Dr. Braverman tomorrow and first OB visit on Friday. Keep growing big and strong, Baby A. You’re doing great!

Dr. Braverman, Helper Embryos & Why I’m Never Googling Again

First of all, thank for all of the awesome comments on my last post. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I sure do love you guys.

The morning of the Dr. Braverman appointment started off kind of disgustingly. I typically leave a banana by my bed and take bites throughout the night if I wake up feeling nauseous. That morning I woke up and realized the banana I had been eating was covered in ants. I ate ants, you guys. Probably lots of them. Gag.

After de-anting myself, we drove from Tim’s parents’ house to Dr. Braverman’s office. I fully expected to wait a long time, since I had read in reviews that the wait times were out of control. However, we were seen right away. Dr. B. came in wearing a pink polo shirt and got right to business. The ultrasound screen was tilted away from me, so I couldn’t see what he was looking at. He immediately said, “You have one viable pregnancy with a heartbeat and another sac.” The heart rate of baby A was 115 bpm. Doc B. said 90 – 110 was normal, so 115 was great. Then he let us listen to the heartbeat. It was freaking awesome. He said that Baby B could still develop a heartbeat because it had a fetal pole, and the sac looked normal and not collapsed. He gave it a “better than 50% chance” of seeing a heartbeat at our next ultrasound. He then looked at blood flow to my uterus and said that looked good as well. I was expecting to not be wowed by his personality. The one time we Skyped with him, he was short and not super personable. I don’t actually care at all if he’s personable because he knows his stuff, and that’s what matters. That said, I liked him a lot better after meeting him. He seemed gentler somehow. All in all, it was a great visit. If fingers-crossed-all-goes-well, I will see him again at 10 weeks. And oh yeah, he told me the burning I’m experiencing is “just pregnancy,” so that made me feel better..

All was well. And then I had to go and ruin it. On Tuesday, I had the brilliant idea to google “normal fetal heart rate 6 weeks 4 days.” Whhhhhy did I do that to myself? WHY?! I found lots of people whose babies had higher heart rates that 115. And then I found this terrifying study that said 110-119 bpm between 6.3 and 7 weeks was “borderline” and had a “slightly elevated risk of fetal demise.” Then I asked my OB friend and she gave me a range of normal, and 115 was at the bottom of the range. So then I was just a wreck. And completely pissed at myself for googling in the first place. I emailed Dr. B in a panic and he wrote back right away saying 115 is a very common heart rate in his practice for that stage in the pregnancy. After reading his kind email, I felt better, but not as much as I should have. Like, ok, one of the world’s leading miscarriage specialists said it was fine, so it’s probably fine. Still, I was ridiculously nervous for my next ultrasound on Friday.

Finally, after about six years, Friday arrived. I barely slept the night before. But all was well. Baby A’s heart rate had gone up to 132 bpm, solidly in the normal range. I can’t even tell you how relieved I was. And then I vowed never to google again.

Baby B now had a “flickering” of a heartbeat. A faint flickering is obviously not great for 7 weeks, though. The doctor gave the twin a 10 -15% chance of making it. I asked what the chances of it being genetically normal if he or she did make it, and the doctor immediately started talking about CVS and selective reduction. Whoa, whoa, whoaaaaaaa. Slow down there, buddy. I am NOT ready to think about any of that scary stuff. Eesh.

Anyway, we are still in limbo with baby B. My greatest wish at this point is that we have a clear resolution one way or the other soon. Our doctor said that in animal science you see a lot of “helper embryos,” These are basically embryos that exist for the sole purpose of assisting the stronger embryo, and when their job is done, they pass on. He suspects that Baby B is a helper embryo. This is a really sweet thought and makes me feel better about the whole thing.

I talk to both of my babies every day. I tell Baby A I am thankful he or she is growing big and strong. I tell Baby B that I love him or her no matter what happens. If he or she decides to keep growing and turns into a healthy baby, well then that is just amazing. And if he or she is just there to help out a sibling, then thank you from the bottom of my heart. And once he or she is done helping, it’s ok to go.

And that’s about all there is to tell at this point. Next ultrasound is Friday. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I Will Not Let Fear Win

Hi, guys. I’m sorry about the whole disappearing act. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.

First of all, let me clear the air and tell you that I’m pregnant! My first beta was 910 (for those of you that geek out on this stuff like me). I didn’t have another beta for five days, and I told them only to let me know if there was a problem. I did not want to spend needless hours analyzing or worrying about anything, so I don’t have a second number to report.

One of the reasons I didn’t let you know before now is that my blog is not anonymous, and I definitely felt too fragile to announce it to, like, anyone I know who may be reading. I’m still not ready to announce it to the General World and won’t be for a long while, so if you know me in real life, please keep it on the low. Thanks, love you!

The other reason is fear.

I had a few days to just be like, “yay!” And then things started getting weird. First there was our 5 weeks ultrasound. They saw one gestational sac with a yolk sac. And one gestational sac that was measuring two days behind with nothing in it. The doctor said it could go either way at this point. The smaller sac could grow, or it wouldn’t develop and would be reabsorbed into my body. Ok. I was absolutely thrilled that the one looked as it should, but I was also worried about the other one. Eventually, I made my peace and decided that things would work out as they were meant to. In great news, both embryos implanted exactly where they were meant to in my uterus this time. Phew.

Then two days, later I started bleeding. My doctor warned me that I might have some brown spotting because the twins are stacked on top of each other like sardines. “It’s like a construction zone in there,” he said. But this was not brown, it was bright red. It wasn’t a ton, but certainly enough to freak me out. I think Tim and I were both having flashbacks to my last pregnancy. I figured I had a blood clot in my uterus, just like last time. Tim and I were both angry. I threw the picture of my embryos across the room (sorry, embryos, I still feel bad about that). I went to bed expecting to wake up in the middle of the night soaked in blood. It didn’t happen, but I still had some light bleeding in the morning. I called my clinic and they told me to come in.

I went in fully expecting them to tell me that I was at least losing the smaller twin. But no. The smaller twin had grown and now had a yolk sac. They didn’t see a blood clot in my uterus. They said the bleeding could be because my progesterone was low. People, my progesterone was 6.5. I’m pretty sure your period starts when your progesterone drops below 5. The thing about this is that my clinic knew about this number on Friday, but did nothing about it. Only after the bleeding did they up my dose. I was furious. My number is up to 23 now, by the way, after the dose increase, so we are good there. Anyway, the second reason they gave was that the babies could just be burrowing in and irritating everything. The doctor put me on bed rest for five days, told me to work from home and sent me on my way.

I continued to spot until yesterday. I went to bed every night wondering if I would wake up covered in blood. I will probably wonder that tonight as well, and I don’t even know for how long. To say this week has been hard has been an understatement. Being alone in my house all day, with nothing to do but think, did a number on me. Whenever I would do something simple like go downstairs and heat up my lunch, the spotting would start again. I was terrified to move. I was terrified to go to the bathroom. I was terrified to do anything.

Also, during the last two weeks, I developed what I thought was a UTI. I went to Urgent Care, they agreed probably a UTI. I took the full course of antibiotics and then they called to tell me that my culture actually came back from the lab negative. I am having an intense burning pain in my pelvis. It’s so bad that it sometimes keeps me awake. I followed up with my GP. She said maybe it’s bacterial vaginosis. She suggested just treating it in case it is, but that doesn’t sit well with me. I’m seeing doctor Braverman in two days, so I will ask him to advise me then. Hopefully he’ll have some insight. I’m scared that whatever it is triggering my immune response and will harm my babies. You see a common theme here?

Fear.

Yesterday I went back to my clinic for a follow-up ultrasound. I was 6 weeks 1 day. The tech first checked out what I assume was the smaller twin. There was a yolk sac still and what she said looked like the beginning of a fetal pole. But no heartbeat. She said, “We’ll just have to see what happens with that one.” My heart sank.

Then she zoomed in on the other sac, and there it was: a glorious heartbeat. A heartbeat! You guys, I have never let out a bigger sigh of relief in my life. I cried. The heartbeat couldn’t be measured yet, but she said that’s normal for this early.

Basically, our smaller embryo has a 50/50 shot at pulling through. The nurse said you can start seeing the heartbeat anywhere from day 29 to day 33. I was there on day 30. So it could just need another day or two. Or it could stop developing. It’s been two days behind the entire time, so I’m choosing to believe right now that it is a fighter and it just needs those two days to catch up.

My wise and amazing friend said to me yesterday that if that second soul is meant to join our family, he or she will continue to grow. And if not, I still have one healthy baby with a heartbeat, and I will have a slightly easier pregnancy without the risks of a twin pregnancy. I love both of my babies already, so one not making it will definitely be a blow. But she is right. Whatever is meant to be, will be. I want whatever outcome leads to a healthy pregnancy and delivery, and I’m going to leave it right there. The universe can work out the rest.

On Monday, we travel to New York to meet Dr. Braverman for the first time. He will do an ultrasound and look at blood flow to the uterus. I will be 6 weeks and 4 days at that time, so if the smaller twin’s heart is going to beat, it will have started by then. At least we won’t have to wait very long for answers.

I am beyond grateful to be pregnant. Beyond. I am thrilled we saw a heartbeat. I still can hardly believe it. But I’m scared. So scared. Every second of every day. Will I bleed again? Do I have some weird pelvic infection that’s hurting my baby/ies? Will the smaller twin make it? Will we go to our ultrasound on Monday and find out we lost everything? I’ve been so scared that I couldn’t even bring myself to blog about it. I’ve been hiding. Cowering, really.

But I refuse to keep doing this to myself. I don’t want to deprive myself of the joy of being pregnant. So I am determined to climb my way out of this one.

After our first ultrasound I said to Tim. “I don’t even know how to feel.”

Tim said, “You should feel happy. All our dreams are coming true.”

And that right there is what I need to focus on. One day at a time.

I can do this.

Crankyville, Population: 1

I hate the two-week wait. Seriously. Waiting can shove it.

Of course, my wait is longer than two weeks because my clinic schedules pregnancy tests like a million days after transfer. At my old clinic, I had to wait 9 days for a beta. Not bad. I don’t remember feeling particularly tortured during that time. But now? Forget it. This wait feels endless.

I’m not going to test early. I do not want a seat on that roller coaster. I’ve seen too many negative pregnancy tests in my time. I don’t ever want to look at one, ever again. The beta shall remain the Final And Only Word on the matter.

I promised myself I wouldn’t start analyzing symptoms. For those of you who don’t know, everyone who does IVF or a frozen embryo transfer takes progesterone. Fun fact about progesterone: it mimics pregnancy symptoms. So there’s really no way to tell if you’re feeling pregnancy or progesterone. Which means analyzing symptoms is useless. However, a few days ago I started feeling nauseous. I fooled myself into thinking this was a legit sign. Since I wasn’t feeling it up to that point, it couldn’t be the progesterone, right?

Yeah, well, it’s not the progesterone, but it is something that has nothing to do with a pregnancy. I realized this morning that I started feeling nauseous at the exact same time I switched out my calcium brand. And calcium often makes me super sick to my stomach. So yeah, boo. I’m annoyed that I let myself fall into that trap.

There’s been good news in the last two weeks, though: one of our embryos made it to freeze! Huzzah! Anyone who knows my history knows that a cycle yielding 3 decent-quality embryos to transfer and one to freeze is HUGE for us. We will never have a freezer full of blastocysts like some of you lucky bloggers out there, but I am so incredibly grateful for one. We also have an embryo leftover from our first cycle, which means we have two frozen embryos total, all ready for another transfer if needed. But I really hope we don’t need it. I just heard from Braverman’s office that we have to get the full panel of immune testing done again before we can start another transfer. Those tests take six weeks to come back. This means we likely wouldn’t be able to do another transfer until January as our clinic closes for several weeks in December. Mother effer.

I’m just cranktastic today, there’s no getting around it. I’m tired of this wait. And sick of infertility in general. Like, I am so over it. I’m having a grand old time throwing a pity party for myself. I’d invite you guys, but you don’t want to come. It would probably be the lamest party you ever attended.