I’d planned on writing a post-Christmas summary of what’s been going on in Babyland.

However, I read something yesterday from our online friend and fellow blogger Myndi that simply broke my heart. She suffered a miscarriage on Dec 23. As a small sign of solidarity and in respect for her mourning, I’m going to defer further baby-related updates until after the New Year.

I was very shaken by this turn of events. Indeed, I cried (literally and which, frankly, surprised me) after reading what had happened and could hardly bring myself to tell L (who was also shaken and moved by the news). I’m not sure that I would have been more upset had Myndi been a friend in “real life” or even had she been a sister (of course, I’m an only child — so there’s really no way to know). Then again, our online IVF community is—in many ways—not detached from “real life”… indeed, I speak more of these matters to you (all two…perhaps three now… of you reading these posts) than I do to most of the people in the “real world.”

I also can’t imagine what it most be like to go through such a loss. I realize miscarriage is always an “option.” It is, in fact, a natural (if unpleasant) element of the process of human reproduction. Intellectually, I get that. Indeed, that’s one of the reasons why we opted for the shared risk program, which “protects” you by allowing multiple chances until you successfully bring home a live baby from the hospital. Yet, I also realize—now more than ever—that the program lacks any sort of emotional shared risk. And, that can be a far heavier burden to carry.

So, I find myself feeling sad about Myndi’s loss, grateful (and a bit guilty) for our good fortune, and really hopeful that things work out for Myndi and PB in the near future (as well as continue to run smoothly for us).

Now that we’re “out of the closet” so to speak, we’ve been telling friends and colleagues about our joyful news. In most cases, we haven’t mentioned the IVF, primarily because it just doesn’t come up. (I think twins might have yielded more baby-making related questions.) Of course, in a few instances, we’ve discussed our difficulties and the associated treatment, assuming people wanted to hear.

That said, I have one friend who I’ve avoided telling until yesterday.

Let’s call him “Bob.”

A few years ago, Bob was in town on business, and we met up for dinner at the world famous Bern’s Steak House in Tampa. We had an enjoyable meal and had moved onto the dessert room for dessert (surprise) and an after-dinner drink. Somehow the conversation moved on to children, and Bob confided in me the struggles he and his wife had had in TTC. At this time, L and I hadn’t even started TTC yet nor was I anything that even remotely resembled an expert on matters of infertility. So, I just patiently listened to the tale of woe, tried to remain sympathetic, and generally kept (thankfully based on what I’ve now learned) any stupid suggestions or opinions to myself.

Bottom line: after much treatment, Bob and his wife were not going to be able to biologically have kids.

Fast-forward to this week.

I had to tell Bob about our struggles and success (I only see him semi-regularly, but I couldn’t keep a child a secret for the rest of our lives). So, here’s what I said (after making small talk about other “news”):

I have some other news as well. After some unexpected challenges and then associated medical intervention (which I know you’re all too familiar with as well), L and I are expecting a child. She’s due in early February. Needless to say, we’re thrilled and excited by the prospect. We’re also extremely grateful for our good fortune in a way that I don’t think is possible unless you’ve struggled.

Seemingly, he took it very well. He offered me his congratulations and seemed to appreciate my sense of tact, saying something to the effect of “dealing with the emptiness is hard for us.”

Yeah, I know, my friend. Believe me. I know.

Today was a mildly momentous day: L stopped taking progesterone.

She’d been on PIO shots until a couple of weeks ago. At that time, she switched to Crinone 8% (which is really expensive but fortunately was covered by our medical insurance because it was pregnancy and not infertility related). As a result, the past few weeks have been far more comfortable… and I’m no longer a nightly “pain in the ass” by administering shots.

All told, we probably have something on the order of $1000 in unused pharmaceuticals and supplies (extras from during and/or after the IVF cycle). At some point, we’ll need to dispose of them. For now, we’re keeping them around as a kind of “military surplus” in our War on Infertility, though we hope to live in peace from this point forward.

Well, I’m back from my brief trip to Washington, D.C. This month is going to be a whirlwind of (business) travel, followed by our planned annual (vacation) journey to London in early August. I actually have a lot to bring you up to speed on: telling the fam about the pregnancy status (and IVF history); first “normal” OB/GYN appointment; update on the PIO shots, etc.

However, I don’t have the time or energy for all of that tonight. I just need to relax… and unwind.

Exhale.

That’s what I need! To take a breather, which we all need from time to time.

This seems especially apropos, as my first column at Exhale Magazine came out today! Yup. That’s right. I’m now one of the regular writers for this smart online magazine for people who have either lost babies or struggle to make them in the first place.

So, I’ll have more to say tomorrow. But, in the meantime, why not go Exhale with me tonight?

Following yesterday’s ultrasound, we met briefly with Dr. Goodman, L’s reproductive endocrinologist at the Reproductive Medicine Group. She seemed genuinely thrilled about our success… complete with an ear-to-ear grin and hugs for us both! Up to this point, she’d been mostly “down to business” (which I appreciated), but I have to say that L and I have been very favorably impressed by the RMG throughout. They’ve been both technically competent (obviously) but also demonstrably caring.

In short, we’d highly recommend the Reproductive Medicine Group.

Now returning to regularly scheduled programming…

Yesterday was also graduation day for us. This was (thankfully / mercifully / hopefully) our last trip to the RE office. We’re now just a “normal couple” expecting their first kid. So, L will be headed back to her regular OB/GYN practice (after confirmation w/ Dr. G that it was “recommended” by her).

L’s first appointment at the OB’s office is next Wednesday. I think I’m planning to attend this appointment too. My schedule should allow for it, as I have a short business trip (leaving tomorrow, returning on Tuesday) to a conference.

Here’s a gift for the lovely parting contestants.

As a graduation gift from the RMG, we were given a copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I’d been tempted to order this on Amazon, but then I opted not to because I’d read a lot of reviews that said (paraphrasing) “this book will scare the shit out of you.”

Not exactly something I thought we’d need.

That said, having now read a lot of it, I think it’s only scary to the uber-fertiles, who are generally (as we all know) completely and utterly ignorant about matters of conception and pregnancy compared to their IF counterparts. I was surprised by both how much I already knew (good Paul!) and how much we’d already been through (good news!).

Conception: Ha! (ROFL) Check. (After writing a large one.)

Dietary changes / restrictions: check.

Activity restrictions: check.

Symptoms: check, check, check.

First month: check.

Second month: check. (Well, nearly over…)

Knowing that shit can go wrong: check. (All too familiar).

So, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” isn’t too scary at all (and an easy read).

No more PIO shots! Ohhh… maybe not!

Finally, we learned yesterday that L could stop the IM PIO shots, if she wished, and move on to Crinone (a Vaginal gel), but when we called the pharmacy we got a crazy price for the product ($405 for a 12 day supply, which we’d probably need to order twice).

Libby’s attitude: “Fuck that! I’ll stick with the shots.”

So, it seems that we’ll continue the PIO shots until: 1) we find a lower price for Crinone, 2) we get Crinone covered by my medical insurance (possible as this is for pregnancy, not infertility), 3) our doctor switches the prescription to a lower cost alternative, or 4) we simply make it through the end of week nine (when all progesterone support ends).