At last...I think my souls found me.

I am 12 weeks pregnant, with TWINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I feel like I have composed this Blog forever, from even before I actually fell pregnant. I imagined this moment with such intense clarity, it was a dream; a sometimes very unreachable dream, to actually officially announce that my time had come. That all the hoping and wishing and praying had had some use. And now, that my story will finally have that happy ending. Through my hardest 'fertility moments' the only thought that kept me going was that there was NO way that I could be put through what I had been through and not to have my happy ending one day. Well, Please G-d, this IS it.

So to fill-in the gaps, my Embryo Transfer took place on 16 May, due to my Veteran-fertility status, Profman put back 4 embryos. I wasn't being too ambitious I prayed for just one to take, just make one find their 'home' inside me. My sweet little twin/multiple fantasy had fizzled out ages ago.

I did a urine sample the day before I was scheduled to do the blood test, and to my absolute unbeleivable shock two lines appeared. No way! My Donor was away and I called him shaking and crying, and not beleiving that this could actually be true. When I think back to my frist ever pregnancy, I remember doing the urine sample and never once questioning that it did not mean what it meant. Now the jaded-me knows all to well that two lines on a urine sample does not mean a pregnancy, and that a positive blood test does not guarantee a baby, and not even a 6 week beating heart on an ultrasound does not equal baby. I guess this is what maturity does to you, I would have preferred not being so very mature. That inncoent thrill of beleiving what you see alludes me. Even after the next day, when I did the Beta Hcg to test exactly how much pregnancy hormone I had in my blood, I couldn't beleive it. It was 173, which is really high. I had to do the Beta again two days later to see that it had doubled, this would be the only sign of a 'strong' pregnancy, it had almost tripled, and I still couldn't beleive it.

I was scheduled for an ultrasound to confirm if 'anything' was there two weeks later. You think the two-week-wait after the embryo transfer is agony, well this is just pure unadulterated torture. Two weeks of wondering, and hoping and pleading with G-d. I went with my Donor for that scan, I faced the wall shaking, defying the ultrasound screen, tears streaming down my face. All I heard was the Profman saying, there are TWO sacs, and there are TWO heartbeats. I still couldn't face the screen, Profman jolted me out of it and practically shouted at me (Israeli's!!) and said: "Look!!" and there I fell in love with two tiny little blobs, just blobs with no distinguishable anything, just a fluttering heart-beat. Could I beleive it now??

Once back at home in an unbeleiving haze, Google-monster-me took to my computer and googled anything twin-like. Amongst a million other things I found out about Vanishing Twin Syndrome, where you can 'lose' a twin. Usually in the first trimester; at one scan you can see two heartbeats and then at the next only one remains. The one gets absorbed by the other. Trauma sets in and I decide I am going for scans every single week, and this is what I have done up until 10 weeks. Seeing the blobs transforming, into: maybe a head, maybe a leg, is that an arm etc, and ofcourse seeing corresponding heart beats, allow me sleep for the next 7 days.

That was up until last week when I had my above pictured scans. I still cannot actually beleive it when I say it. Kind of like when you get married and you get that thrill everytime you refer to the person who was your forever-boyfriend as your now, husband. Like you have to pinch yourself. Is this me, is this actually my life? Did this really happen, am I really really having not one, but TWO babies.

Between me, Adam and Noam, we have told the family dog, the owner of the grocery store, the waitress in the nearby restaurant and almost every single body else that we know. I have been showered with baby-tummy-kisses from my children, it's almost like a competition between the two of them, who can give the babies more kisses. And ofcourse intense speculation as to what we are having, is it another brother and sister, or sister and sister, or brother and brother? What will they look like? I am a really European-whitey, and the Donor is of 'dark chocolate' Yemenite origin, will one be blonde with green eyes and the other be something out of 'Lawrence of Arabia'? Well we are all going to have to patiently wait, as we will only know in about 6 months. So the countdown begins!

I am not going to use up any space complaining about symptoms, of which there are many, none of them deserve any mention whatsoever. My prayers were answered, and all I can do is celebrate every single day which brings me closer to seeing, touching and smelling my two new loves. I am realistic enough to know that this will probrably be my last pregnancy, and it's okay, I am just so grateful for being given one more chance.

Dear G-d, keep them safe and keep them healthy.

coulda, woulda, shoulda

It was 2am this morning and I couldn't sleep, again. The silence and solitude is all-consuming at that hour. Thoughts racing, and a thousand Blogs composing. The 'could haves', the 'would haves' and the 'should haves'.

I need words. I use words, I talk, I express, I analyse, I emote. This self-imposed black-out is good on one hand as I don't obsess too much, but on the other, I need this outlet, I need my words.

Now I play the waiting game, alone. Without my 'words' to help me through.

One of the 'could haves'(from the wee-hours this morning):

My parents always named things. Cute names were always thought up for new pets, new businesses (even if only in their minds), new ventures. That is their game. My mother had a pregnancy 'scare' when my brother and I were just pre-teens or somewhere around there. The possible unborn infant was duly named. If it was a boy it would be called Storm Keswick; and a girl, Jessica Wren. I spent hours, days, and maybe a week or two playing with my 'imaginery' sibling, dreaming up adventures, games, and fantasizing about the possibilities. She wasn't pregnant. And I was sad. They were so real to me. Even for that short time.

Reflections

This time last Birthday I was licking some serious wounds.

I was alone, I was miserable and I had just miscarried. I knew I would be fine. I am the grown-up. I worried more about the children, their trauma of experiencing first-hand, a South African-style armed robbery. Their loss of both their innocence and the only life they knew. Those 45 minutes on that Monday morning changed everything. New country, new life, new friends. Adapting, comparing, learning, surviving. Witnessing the transition in Adam from being the shy, insecure and scared little boy in those first days at his new school, to the boy soon after that everyone wanted to play with, sit next to and be friends with. And Noam, always smiling, outgoing, confident: before and after. Everything happens for a reason, and with our loss of South Africa, we also gained Israel.


And me. A year later. A Birthday later. I have a lot to be proud of. I survived the Summer, and the very mild Winter, I survived without a pool, I survived more failed IVF attempts, I survived being a mostly single parent, I survived being the maid/gardener/baby-sitter. I survived without my friends and family, who, without them, I probrably would not have had the tools to cope.

I still feel that my head is 'just above' water, but I don't feel like I am drowning anymore.

Happy `birthday to me.

Its' my Birthday, it is officially the 12th of May!!!! It is 12.55 am and I have just got my Birthday present from the Donor. It felt only right to use my present to post this Blog. I got a APPLE MACBOOK !!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How cooooool is my Donor!!!!!!!

This past week has flown past in a haze of hysteria. Israels' 60th Birthday was celebrated in usual loud and proud Israeli-style. Every minute of this past holiday was spent barbecue-ing and more barbecue-ing. Eating, friends, fun and celebration of this miracle little Jewish state.

We got away this past weekend, we went with dear friends to the Golan Heights, on the Syrian/Lebanese border. What a beautiful beautiful place, all I heard this past Shabbat - all day - was birds singing and horses neighing. The veiw was of the Galillee, the company was great, the children were dirty and we were all in a mini little -rural bubble dream world. It all came to an abrupt end when I smashed my ankle into the corner of a metal flower pot, we waited for Shabbat to end, packed (me hobbling and moaning) and set off back home. It is a 2 and a half hour drive so we only got home around 11.30, me still hobbling and moaning. The Donor and I then spent the entire morning today dealing with the Israels National Health Insurance System. In laymans' terms this just means waiting, waiting and more waiting. And then finally dealing with a Orthopedic Surgeon who does not speak English. Apparently there is nothing broken or even fractured, I am still finding this hard to believe as I hobble and hop around the house. One word. Arnica. Needless to say I feel like a complete idiot that I wasted everybody's time.

After returning home from the joys of the National Health Insurance, we found our beloved Labrador with a gash in his back. This could only have been due to some kind of Divine Intervention as we cannot fathom how, or when this could have happened. He now has two stitches and some funky -non-scratching silver stuff on the wound.

Did I mention that I got a APPLE MACBOOK?????????????????

I wonder how different I am today than what I was 20 years ago. I still feel like a 15 year old, except I am going grey, have wrinkles (smile/character lines - whatever), have two children and have had the same partner (now husband) for 14 years.

Recently a friend from all those years ago contacted me, which got me thinking. Would we still like each other if we met now 20 years on? What would we have in common now. Then, she made me laugh, we liked boys, and liked sneaking cigarettes. But now, I wonder. I also wonder how much I must have changed, I don't even remember who I was at 15, was I anything, or was I really just still trying to figure it all out. And I am still trying to figure it all out.

I found myself thinking back to such far-away memories, funny, happy and some sad.

I wouldn't want to be 15 again for anything. I do truly love the way my life has turned out, but it is still quite staggering to realise that in a blink of an eye, I have got old. It just happened so quickly, too quickly.

Spring Break

The Donor is back, Pesach is but a memory and School Holidays are over.

I went for my check-up with Profman, I walked in, all confident and shiny; and walked out totally deflated. I thought that with my new-found post-operative fertile self that there was going to be no looking back. I thought I had it all figured out, full-speed-ahead to my Frozen Five. My 'worst-case' scenario was going to be CLOMID (ovulation inducing pills). What a joke!

I am not really good at 'making long stories short', but here goes anyway.

1. Due to my current 'status', I have a 5% chance of falling pregnant naturally.
2. If I choose to go with a Gonal F/Menogon-IUI cycle (Follicle Stimulating Hormone with sperm injected directly), my chances jump to 10%. The problem with this is that only the follicles from the healthy RHS would stand a chance, so automatically my chances are halved.
3. A Frozen Embryo Transfer is a bit dodgy as the survival rates after defrosting are not great, and generally frozen embryos are used for a 'rainy day'/last resort scenario. Basically for when I have run out of all other options. Success rates are 15%.
4. With IVF I would have a 25% chance for success. Eggs generated from both right and left sides would be used/fertilised, and those not used would then join the Frozen Five.

I have two major factors against me. Firstly age, from 35 years of age, egg quality and quantity rapidly decrease. Secondly, Ovarian Reserve, this is the amount of healthy eggs that I have left at my disposal. Every single month this decreases, and because I have not responded brilliantly to the past two IVF's my Ovarian Reserve is questionable.

Also, my new resolve (from a while back) was to NOT be so forthcoming with information about myself, ie 'the reproductively-challenged me-info'. I am going to try and put this into practice now. So I have decided to have a "news black-out". No more information. No more endless babbling about injections, Progesterone/E2 levels, hormones, ultrasounds, follicles, etc., etc. The more I talk/write about it, the more I obsess about it all. This time I am going to do it differently. This time it's going to be just Me, Myself and I(and maybe a Mom, oh, and the Donor).

Here's hoping that when next I discuss my two ovaries, one fallopian tube, womb, or anything else connected to my vagina will be in about 3/4/5/6 months to say that I have finally finally made it. Until then, if anyone asks, I am taking a breather, on Spring Break, letting 'nature take its' course', blah blah.

So Dr. Hand-Job (thanks Judy - http://averyopenbook.blogspot.com/- for the really good giggle)says that I am fit and fertile as a fiddle (if fiddles could be fertile). And, again, according to him I "will be pregnant within the next few months".

The coolest part was seeing the photo's he took during the Lapscope. I got to see the very rotten 'before' pic of my left hand side, and then the 'after', which looked exactly the same. Next I have to discuss with the Profman at next weeks' appointment how exactly to proceed from now. The Frozen Five ARE calling. After more than two and a half years of trying to conceive, it is going to be a hard-sell, convincing me to 'wait and let nature take its' course'.

I am single parenting again, the Donor has been back in SA for the past week and is now on a plane back to China until just before Pesach. Right now I have a sleeping angel next to me. Adam has an eye-infection, we put drops in tonight at bed-time, and I told him to ask Hashem (G-d) to make his eyes better, he said he would also ask Him to make me better. "Yaladim ze Simcha, Yaladim ze Bracha"!

Significant other information:

1. Adam lost another tooth. The Tooth Fairy brought 20 Shekels this morning.
2. Cat (of non-existent mouse-catching fame) looks a whole lot thinner, so I assume she has had her kittens. I hope far far away.

God told the Jews to "go forth and multipy". And they are. Winter was cold and now everyone is pregnant, there are bursting little tummies and big fat exploding tummies everywhere. It really is so beautiful. Not sure if it is Israeli's or Jews, but having children is like a national sport here. There is this great song from like 25 years ago by a famous Israeli singer that goes: "Yaladim ze simcha, yaladim ze bracha" meaning 'Children, that is joy; Children, that is a blessing'.

I had a bad week end, I am sure it was evident from my last post. Everyone has ups and downs, no exception with me. I found myself questioning everything, my life, my level of reigious observance, my choices, my parenting, the list goes on. The 'why's' and meanings of 'it all'. Too much thinking! I have picked myself up and hurled myself into the Pre-Pesach chaos of Israel. More rushing, more cleaning, more preparing. Regarding the annual Pesach clean, I am on a go-slow, the post-operative me has decided to just chill.

Tonight I am going for my check-up with the surgeon, hopefully it will NOT be a repeat of the ghastly 'hand job' from last time. And hopefully I will be told that I am now bursting with bubbling fertility.

Crap long and sick week.

The chest infection/cough turned my week into a haze of coughing and spluttering sick Me-ness. Husbandless again. And for two more weeks. Sick of coughing and sick of feeling sick. Sick of being told that I should be grateful as I "have two beautiful, healthy children". Like I don't know that! Like I don't know that I am blessed beyond words to actually have two children. Why do people feel the need to point out something which is so totally obvious to me? Am I not allowed to hope for more children just because I already have two? Am I supposed to NOT try so hard?

New resolve - not to be so free with information about myself and my feelings. Not to share so much. Not to wear my heart on my sleeve. Not to share my hopes and wishes for more children. Try and be a bit more private. Censor all this fertility stuff. There are those that 'get it' and those that just dont.

I understand me. I understand that there is nothing unrealistic with hoping that one day my son will have a brother and my daughter will have a sister. Something that I never had, and because I never had it, I know and understand the need for it.

It's all over.

The operation went ahead successfully on Thursday night. I have four neat little incisions on my stomach. As expected, my left hand side Fallopian Tube (with Hydrosalpinx) was completely removed, along with the lasering of the Endometriosis and Adhesions. It is now three days later. I was home the next day, I still am a bit uncomfortable, not really sore just like a pulling feeling in my stomach. I feel totally exhausted and have spent most of the time sleeping. I spoke to the Surgeon again this evening, he said that he was very happy with the outcome of the operation. My left hand side is really screwed though, even the ovary is past its' 'sell by date', there is still a chance that I could fall pregnant naturally from the right hand side which apparently looks 'beautiful'. I have to schedule a check up appointment next week with him, and then I can contact my Profman to find out my next step. I still have my 5 frozen embryo's eagerly awaiting their turn, and I really want to try them first.

I unfortunately have picked up some kind of chest infection, so I have been coughing almost non-stop since the operation. Hardly condusive to a speedy recovery after abdominal surgery.

China, and the 'East' is a distant memory. It was great being with the Donor, but I am not a fan of anything 'Eastern', ie the smells, food, spitting. I was really happy to get back to the relatively civilised 'Middle East', back to this place that I am happily calling 'home' now. Seven days too long without my children.

Home

We got back late last night. My Blog was not accessible from China. Apparently my ramblings are of a highly sensitive anti-China tone, and I have to be censored.

I was ACHING to just smell and touch my children. Seven days too too long!

About to totally crash right now, two facts I have to share.

1. My cat (of non-existent mouse-catching fame) is pregnant. Theoretically, she is still a 'toddler'.

2. My long-awaited operation is scheduled for tommorrow evening at 7pm.

Full report on the past week to follow.

Too tired to blink. Hard, long emotional day. We had the 'shloshim' (Jewish mourning, one month following the passing, all the friends and relatives go back to the grave again) for our friend that died. I simply cannot beleive that it is a month already, I haven't even had time to actually let this sink in yet, and already a month.

This past week I got my first really ugly comment. I have not published the comment, I am still trying to figure out if I perhaps should.

I wonder how easy it is to 'lash' out at someone 'anonymously', someone who is a complete stranger. My first reaction was of real shock, as it was so clear to me in my head what I had written, what my intentions had been. I knew what I meant. It upset me to think that maybe I had offended someone so unwillingly, that through my words I had the 'means' to unintentionally cause such a reaction from a total stranger.

The people who know me who read this Blog know who I am. They know 'where I came from' and they know 'where I have been'. When complete strangers read my Blog they have a tiny window into my life, a tiny portion which I choose to reveal and therefore have no idea who the 'me' is other than the 'infertile me'. The other 'me' is a Mother (mostly single) who is daily thankful for having the life that lets me be a full-time Mother to my children. This is the 'job' that I waited for my whole life. I was born to be a Mother. Being a Secondary Infertile makes me MORE appreciative for what I have; for having two beautiful, healthy children.

The other 'me' is also a Wife. Wife to an insanely hard-working and permanently travelling man. A man who is my other half and best friend. A man who I seldom see for longer than 10 days at a time. A man who I miss terribly in my 'new immigrant' life in this strange and sometimes very foreign land.

We celebrated Adams' fifth birthday this past Wednesday. At his party last year, I remember being so overcome with sadness, it was two days before we left SA for good. What was supposed to be this great party celebrating his birthday, ended up being a farewell party for all of us. On Wednesday I took a minute, amidst all these new - and once -strange people, I felt very proud of myself. I did it. Through all those really black, sad moments of this past year, I made it to the other side. I have some amazing people in my 'new' life, people who I can really call friends. And I am grateful for being given a second chance. I said once a long time ago, "my children are happy, therefore I am okay", now I feel more like, 'my children are happy, and I am happy.

I am flying to China tommorrow for a week (Purim week), children-less. I did this once before two years ago, I remember the flight was great, I took a sleeping pill and slept the full 12 hours to Bangkok. The first 2/3 days felt so self-indulgent, I could sleep when I wanted to, could do just about anything when 'I wanted to'. By day 4, it started to get to me, every aeroplane that flew over, every jungle-gym, every new experience, all I wanted to do was to share it with the children that were NOT by my side. They were both having such a great time at my in-laws, that they did not evn want to speak to us when we called every day.

My operation is final and booked. We get back late on the 25th, then the 26th we have the 'Shloshim' for our friend that died, this means back to the Cemetery. More tears, more reminders and more sadness. Then on Thursday, the 27th I will have my operation, hopefully restoring me to a semi-fertile person. I can't wait.

Revised plans and new hopes.

Another week gone.

Death has an awful way of making you wake up a bit, and realising what you have. Being grateful and appreciative. Not 'sweating the small stuff'.

After much internal debate I have decided to postpone my operation and to go with The Donor to China. It is a work-related trip for around 7 days and the children will stay with my in-laws - they are happy as that means unlimited television.This was a gut-wrenching debate, I did NOT want to postpone this operation, I wanted to move on as quickly as possible, to remove/fix whatever is wrong with me and be moving on to my next IVF. There is this drive, almost an addictive need to start the 'next' IVF as soon as possible, clinging on to that Hope. I said a thoughtless thing the other day to my mother-in-law, I thought it over and realised that I had totally "missed the plot". I said that there was NO way I would be postponing, not by a week, not by a day, as this operation is the most important thing in my life right now. Thats' not true though. What I do NOT have is NOT the most important thing in my life, what I HAVE is the most important thing in my life. I have been truly blessed by having two healthy and amazing children, and I have a husband who loves me, and who at the moment would like nothing more than for his wife to come with him on this China trip. I have to re-focus, I want and need some time just with him. And I need to give my (lack of) fertility OBSESSION a break, even if it is just for 10 days. So, decided, done, we will fly around the 18th, be back in Israel around the 29/30th, and I will schedule the operation for the 31st.

My Profman is not actually going to do the operation, another doctor is. His expertise is Laparoscopic surgery, I met him last night. He wanted to meet me and get a case history from me and also do an Ultrasound for himself. My history is long and involved, I was scheduled for a quick "10 minute check", I don't think he was expecting what he actually got. The internal examination was the worst I have ever had, usually I can try and find things to laugh about in yukky/awkward situations, but there was nothing. It was just plain horrific. I kind-of went 'on him', then 'off him', then back 'on him' throughout the hour that I was with him. Two major 'on him' factors: 1. He promised me that under NO circumstances whatsoever would he perform a Laparotomy, it would ONLY be a Laparoscopy. And, 2. I asked him how my chances for falling pregnant would increase after the Laparoscopy, he answered that if he came to me after the operation and said that he was 'happy' with the outcome (meaning that he had been able to remove all the adhesions and Endometriosis, and fix/remove my Fallopian Tube) then he looked at my and said "You will be pregnant again!". Cool!!!

Death

What a horrific week.

I dealt with death, if that is possible, to actually 'deal' with death. I think it is more like 'feeling and breathing' death.

A very close family friend died of a heart attack early last Shabbat morning. He was in South Africa with his youngest daughter, and his wife was in Israel with the two elder daughters. His body had to be flown to Israel, he was buried on Monday evening on a cold and rainy night, close to midnight with close to 200 people saying their last goodbyes.

The most traumatic part of all of this has been watching people I love so much have to suffer and have this constant heartbreaking sadness with them. To see the wife totally broken, her lights out. To know that there is nothing I can do. Nothing anyone can do.

The Jewish faith has specific guidelines and rules of what to do in any situation, be it happy or sad. When someone dies the direct family members (parents, spouse, siblings and children) sit Shiva for 7 days from the funeral. This involves them doing nothing other than sitting on low chairs and 'receiving' people who have come to express their condolences and pay their last respects. A Shiva house is a very sad place.

The Shiva ends tommorrow night, and then we all go back to the grave again on Monday morning. I have no idea what to do afterwards. After the Shiva ends, after all the people go, when the mourners have to try and start piecing their shattered lives together.

How do you support someone who feels like she has nothing left to live for?

Almost pregnant

Just as I expected, it was all in vain. All the prayers, all the blessings, all the millions of injections, all the pills, all the pessaries, the anaesthetic, all the poking and prodding in my innards, all the loss of dignity, the praying and pleading at the Wailing Wall, all the stupid 'positive thinking' and all the hope. All in vain.

Negative. Again.

I really knew it, the urine sticks of the past week had already confirmed this fact. So no real shocker.

Just such a shame, also knowing that 'they' or one of 'them' really tried, but just couldn't quite make it.

So what does it mean, was I pregnant? Technically, yes, for all of 5 minutes. Does it mean I miscarry now? I really don't know. I think it is called a 'chemical pregnancy' or 'chemical miscarriage' or something like that.

I have spoken to the Profman now and he asked me to call again on Sunday to decide our next step, ie. Salpingectomy; complete tubal removal. I am doubling my chances by doing this.

So onward with the drama that has become my life.