Surreal

This journey started 2 1/2 years ago. Well, 7 I should say. I have always wanted kids. Amber was a bit slower to see my vision- but all the same we managed to pick our daughters name before we picked rings. A few steps were out of order, but we have never followed a traditional path.

Every thing has some how fallen into place throughout this roller coaster of a journey. I have never claimed to understand the process; or felt as though I needed an explanation. Though there were some nights when my resolve was tested and I asked repeatedly for answers. Each step in our life brought us to where we are now. Along the way I started to believe that I could have achieved a few technical degrees in this process. From injections and identification of medicinal reactions, to ultra sound tech from the sheer quantity of black and white images I have stared at searching for answers. I can now tell you the difference between a sub Q injection and an intramuscular injection. I can look at a needle and tell you what gage it is. None of these skills hold a candle to the strength and resolve Amber has attained. From Amber Working at a company that was destined it seemed for its eventual demise- allowing us to meet the people who made the medical side of our journey a reality (despite there being no reason in the world they should have) to the world teaching a desperately impatient wife the value of every moment we have been given. Amber and I can now find the true significance in any date or sequence of events that make every thing baby "meant to be" and a true miracle. All of it lead us to now.

But- Here we are. Mid July and 20 weeks pregnant, and beyond excited to meet our little girl. Our little girl. It sounds so odd coming from my lips. She is real. Her heart is beating away, her hands and feet constantly reminding my wife she is real. There is a tiny human growing every day. We get to meet her. Finally.
I may not be the most feminine woman in the world, but as I stand and breathe if this little princess wants dresses, tiaras, heels and a tea party- I will be the first in line. I will be her champion on the sidelines as loud and proud as I will be in front of the stage. I will learn to braid hair as quickly as I will teach her what offsides means. My baby girl is on her way, and I am like an impatient child on Christmas Eve to meet our little one. She will be worth the wait.

Four times and holdin on strong.

Fourth times a charm. God I hope so. We started yet another round of injections. It's funny looking at each plan, each perfectly laid out course of action and realizing each try that has felt like years at a time but have only lasted weeks at a time. This is the first time I have sat back and said- "huh you are only on injections for a month!" A month of apologizing for hitting a nerve and making her lip go numb or what ever the case may be. (Yes sadly that has happened). So here we are again- writing appointments on calendars, reading the same articles on what to do, what not to do and all the in between. This time though seems different. This time I look around our cozy one bedroom and hints of baby pop up. Our nephew Noah has started to leave traces all over. The bin below the tv where his onesies and diapers are. The cabinet above the sink where there are bottles and formula. At first I was worried these things would make us sad, or even like we were taunting fate. But as the weeks pass I realize none of that is true. Really it's more like Noah is sending future baby McGuire good vibes. Like these two crazy ladies are all right... These things make me smile.
For now we are cautiously optimistic. Despite the roller coaster that has been our journey to parenthood- the constant rise and fall of hopes and sorrows, our determination has never wavered. When the time is right we will meet them. Until then, we are loving having our practice Noah. Amber almost changed a diaper for the first time... His bouncer makes me think of his beautiful smile and now lucky our future baby will be to have all these things already. The bitterness has faded away and let room for the one thing Amber never lets me forget- hope.
This time holds a bit more weight. We stay positive and Amber holds on to notions like buying a new recliner that will "hold her uterus at the right angle" and being thankful for all 59 shots she has to endure every try (counting only Pre- transfer shots... But no one is counting...) this time we both have to face the possibility that our next step- should there have to be one, will be a different path. Our game plan may have to change. Or I guess I should say our uterus plan will have to change. With all these things floating somewhere above our heads in between all of the other appointments and calendars of medicines and plans, we are still trying to just be the McGuires. Still Mao to work each morning , still enjoy every day audit comes. Because if this journey has taught us nothing else it has taught us to be humble. To be thankful for every moment. Every tear. Two years, four try's and a whole lot of love later. We will be ready to meet you baby McGuire. And I have a feeling there are a few other people out there who would enjoy meeting you too.

Radio Silence

Forgive the radio silence. There has been a lot going on. The last few months have brought more change to the McGuire world than I thought I could handle. But here we are, new home, Amber at a new job, newlywed best friends, and now here we are on the eve of our next transfer. At 1PM tomorrow afternoon we will be checking in at our doctors office (goodies for all in hand as usual) and starting the long process of holding our breath.

Since the last transfer Amber and I have learned a few lessons. Patience, faith and hope to name a few. Not that we did not have these things before but somehow the world made them all so much more valuable through this process. From loosing most all of those last year to renewing it all ten fold. We count ourselves extremely lucky to be where we are today. It can not be said enough, but this is due in large part to our friends and family.

So as we embark on this journey to meeting our little one, and bringing the terror that will be a third McGuire into the world- for all of you who have crossed every appendage for us- we too will be wishing amazing things for all of you.

On a final note thank you to every one who has shared their "secrets"- my wife will now be consuming an ENTIRE pineapple, and a bag of spinach today. Apparently there is nothing we wont  do. I am totally fine with this. Here we go three days of bed rest. Thank god for football and a portable work computer that will keep her busy.

Back in the game

Sometimes miracles do happen.  Not often, but they can. Small events are often attributed to miracles. Missing the bus that crashed later that day, stepping out into the street just a moment after someone came screaming by not paying attention, being late only to find out you were there just in time. All of these things at the time seem like great happenstance.

Then there is being offered a second chance for your dream. Free of charge.

Amber and I have counted ourselves so lucky over the last few years. Being together has been a blessing and our friends and family have been so supportive. Meeting our doctor and his entire office was a huge part of our journey. And now this.
There are no words for people like that in the world. Every day common people doing their job and yet so much more. These women (and our Dr.) have gone so far beyond care they have become a part of our family. Between figuring out ways to help us with the medicine we need, and negotiating with other offices now they have taken it one step farther. He is actually performing a frozen embryo transfer for free.

And were back in the game.

If there was ever a way to thank every one who has helped us along the way- I think not giving up is a good place to start. So in September Amber will once again be my hero and do just that. Try again. After our best friends wedding we will have the transfer (after yet another long bout of injections and meds).

Though there will still be obstacles (one we just cleared by finding out there was no scar tissue from the last round and getting the green light) and taking a little bit of time to save up for the necessary meds, we are more than hopeful that the world wants us to try again. So for the thousandth time- from the bottom of our two hearts. Thank you.

Here's to more updates and more good news.
Wishing all of you and yours well.

Broken Hearts

You spend you life hoping for the best. Hoping not to have to face the moments where your strength is tested. Wednesday January 25th, we saw something no hopeful parent wants to see.  A still ultra sound. The embryo had stopped growing and there was no heart beat.

This journey has taken us from high to low, from down to up and all over again. The gut wrenching waiting, and the expectations that have come along with the process of IVF is not for the light of heart. Amber and I have wanted nothing more than to start a family. We have fought for every thing we wanted since the beginning. Each other, our marriage, and now our baby. There were no guarantees but we both wanted it so badly that we convinced ourselves that hope would take us through. Though this is not true, hope has gotten us through. Hope of another try and of the family around us. Hope of moving on without the weight of the sadness. We have hope. This is what makes the journey tolerable.

Tomorrow Amber will once again endure another procedure. This one to remove the tissue that had developed and start to heal. There is no way to quantify the emotional scars, but the physical healing will start. The doctor will take that tissue and send it away to see if we can find any answers as to why this happened. We might not get any answers. At this point, we have come to terms with that. All we know is that we will do every thing we can to try again, and to continue on our journey to three.

Once again we thank you all for your continued positive thoughts and strength. Despite not being easy we have so much to be thankful for. When our little one arrives we will never take them for granted. Our friends and family have stood beside us, and for that we can never thank you enough.

Until the next update... We wish you and yours the best.  Our hearts and thoughts are with all of our friends who are going through their own hardships.  Even in darkness there is light if you choose to see it.

Patience is a virtue

Amber and I had committed a cardinal foul of IVF. We had gotten our hopes up for an appointment. Last week was going to be the first post positive pregnancy ultra sound. We were told there was a possibility of seeing a heart beat, maybe even seeing more than one embryo. We got excited.

Thursday morning we realized that though EVERY other step of this process is meticulously planned and timed, the embryos have no time line to "attach".  This meant that on the morning we had put so much excitement into, we did not find either of those things. There is a slew of reasons for this from late connection, to slow growth but it was hard not to focus on the bad side.

So we pushed through a very long week. Tried not to focus on the upcoming appointment. Continued with the seemingly endless injections and meds all the while trying not to think it was for not. Wednesday morning lead us both to work, and then a rushed drive to La Jolla during rush hour. The AMAZING staff at the office always seems to make us smile, but this time we were both waiting with baited breath. Dr. Smotrich finally  came in and began the ultra sound. Within seconds there was a clear image on the screen of one tiny but very strong heart beat. It seemed to move the entire room, the strength of that little heart. We had cleared the third and largest of four IVF hurdles out of high risk, appointment a week, clouded fear. The next "hurdle" will be making sure our little embryo grows and develops over the next week. With confidence I feel like I can say, we got this.

Amber has been amazing. I constantly have to sit back and watch with pride and excitement that she is going to be my baby momma. The moments where she cries for little to no reason make me laugh, while moments of fear pass any more with simply a hug. We have to be two of the luckiest people on earth with all the support we have had over the last few months. So here we are. 7 weeks and 3 days along.  September 4th is our tentative due date. And the adventure has just begun.

Thank you all.

One Great Story

Their are a lot of cliches out there about life and I buy into quite a few of them.  One of my personal favorites: "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away."  You see, when it comes down to it, all I want out of life is a great story.  I want to be able to tell my grandchildren that their granny was a bad ass.  That she took advantage of every opportunity.  That sometimes things didn't quite work out but that I picked myself up, brushed myself off and moved ahead.  Whether they are tear jerking or laugh inducing, I am proud to have stories.  And this story, The McGuire Journals, is a huge one. . .

This past Saturday was the moment we've all been waiting for.  The culmination of shots and check ups, protein, salt and gallons of Powerade, everything we've put ourselves through for this chance.  Needless to say, we were giddy school girls that morning.  We had found out throughout the week that they had retrieved 27 eggs during the retrieval on Monday, 25 of which were viable.  Fifteen of those had been successfully fertilized.  That Saturday morning, our doctor gave me a quick call to let us know that 11 had reached the zygote phase which, as he put it, was "phenomenal."  The plan, 2 to be put in, 9 to go into the freezer.  We couldn't believe it.  So of course we ran out of the house like crazy women with tunnel vision to drive to La Jolla.  Our excitement and anticipation was barely contain as we walked in the office.  Our lovely neighbor and Derby great Dr. Turmoyal made her signature mouthwatering cake balls for the special occasion (Hanukkah style of course) which we practically threw at the staff.

A quick side note.  We were given instructions the day prior that I could eat what I wanted to in the morning but needed to wear loose, comfy clothes, no perfume and I had to drink 16 oz of water on the way up.  I was concerned that what I thought was the embryo transfer was in fact going to be a sorority hazing so I checked with the nurse the day before as to what was up with the perfume and water.  The water, for those of you like me who hasn't been pregnant before, is for the ultrasound.  Turns out the perfume was in fact no smells AT ALL including lotion and body wash because the embryos are extremely sensitive to it.  Who knew!

Anywho, they called us both back to the pre-op area and started going over the procedures for after the procedure and the drug regimen.  The meds are overwhelming now that they gave us a calendar printout to keep us on track.  One injection every day.  Two on Mondays and Thursdays.  Two patches that change every other day and a pill at night.  Plus the standard pre natal vitamin and baby aspirin.  They gave me my gown, hair net, and super sexy socks to change into while also giving Karen a gown, hair net, booties and a mask so she could be in the operating room too.  I cannot tell you how amazing that was.  I was hoping that that would be the case but I know that Karen was prepared to wait in the waiting room.  But this is our journey and much of what the entire staff has done for us is because of the love and commitment they see between us.  I can't imagine they would have had it any other way.

We went into the OR and hung out for awhile.  Once they came in, Dr. Smotrich gave us a picture of the embryos that were going in and the embryologist gave us the top to their petri dish.  The lights were dimmed (they are sensitive to that too) and, as Karen clutched my hand tight, we got started.  She got to see the ultrasound screen during the entire procedure and in the end, there was a tiny speck of light at the top of my uterus that contained both of them. (We have a picture of that too!)

Afterwards, they literally tipped the table up so my legs were above my head and Karen and I had half an hour to talk and cry and reflect on it all.  It was an unbelievable moment that we thought couldn't be topped.  But then our doc walked back in and asked if he could say a prayer.  We're not religious people but we respect his deep faith and said of course.  He held both of our hands over my uterus and said the prayer in Hebrew.  Neither of us could keep the tears from our eyes. . .

We headed home to three days of bed rest.  Literally off my feet except to pee and no using my abs.  It was frustrating at times but luckily we had amazing visitors who kept us company and full of food. Plus a full day of Sunday football with noise makers care of my wife.

Tuesday we returned for a quick blood test.  Turns out my progesterone was a bit low (they want it at 30 and mine was at 24.6) so they upped my nightly drugs to two but that's it.  Not enough concern to do another follow up.

Now its a waiting game.  Trying to be in the moment and be realistic about our chances that they latch on but still take care of myself as a high risk pregnancy like I'm supposed to.  Trying not to over analyze every little thing.  Trying to take deep breaths.

So our next appointment is January 3rd.  And that appointment could quite literally change everything . . . and start an even crazier journey. . .