Icing and Animal Crackers

Our third IVF cycle in Calgary left us with two frozen embryos. Something I have come to realize is that you’re never really sure how far you’ll go to have a baby until the time comes when you need to make a decision. In our minds, this was our last attempt at having a biological child. We had just taken a yearlong break (hoping that it would happen naturally in that time) and now we were prepared to do our transfer.

We didn’t tell many people we were going to Calgary. On the morning of November 1^st, we woke up at 3:00 am and began our drive. My appointment was scheduled for 11:00 am. We drove directly to the clinic, transferred our two embryos, and checked into our hotel. After that I slept for several hours. We spent that evening and the next day in Calgary and then drove home in a snowstorm. 

I returned to work the day after we got home. Because we had kept the procedure quiet, I didn’t want to draw attention by being away from work for an extended period. I worked, waited the two weeks, and went for my scheduled bloodwork. I hadn’t started bleeding when the clinic called with the results, so I still felt a sliver of hope. Deep down though, I knew it was negative. I got the call as I was driving home from work. I had to break the news to Dustin. I remember this one hit him the hardest of our four cycles. I think it was because this was our last attempt. He felt so sure that this time it would be different. I was just numb to the pain. 

If our embryo transfer had been successful, my sister and I would have been pregnant at the same time. Our niece and our child would have been three months apart. Mary had told me she was pregnant at the end of August. We left the gym together and were standing in the parking lot. She said, “I know you hate baby showers, but I’m going to need you to plan one.” As hard as pregnancy announcements are, I could not wait to be an Auntie. 

The spring of 2018, I made an appointment with my OBGYN. I had always thought that I had endometriosis, but nothing ever showed up on ultrasounds or scans. I read that the only way to be sure was to have surgery. After all the frustration and heartache, I just wanted answers. My OBGYN agreed to book me in for the procedure, warning me that I may be undergoing surgery for a condition that I don’t have. I felt strongly about finding the truth, so she scheduled me in for January. 

Endometriosis is a painful disorder in which tissue similar to that of the tissue that lines the uterus, grows outside of the uterus. Removal of endometriosis is done through laparoscopic surgery. On a snowy January morning, Dustin took me to the hospital. The drew 8 vials of blood, took my vitals, and sent me to the operating room. I’m not sure how long the surgery was, but it was dark when I woke up. The anesthetic made me very ill and groggy. They were waiting for me to be more alert before discharging me, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Waiting in a wheelchair at the entrance of the hospital I threw up all over myself. It was not a pretty scene! 

It took me a week to recover before I could return to work, but it was worth it. It turned out I did have endometriosis. The removed large amounts of tissue from the outside of my uterus and bladder. I was now armed with new information to take back to the fertility clinic.  

I took a little hiatus from blogging this month. I celebrated a birthday, had four Christmas parties, many Christmas get-togethers, and a trip to Montana. We returned just in time to spend Christmas with our families and enjoy some downtime at home. When I sat down to write this post, I planned to write about why Birthdays and Christmases can be hard; not just for me, but for many. But this morning I dragged myself out of bed for a 9:15 am spin class. As I completed my final workout of 2021, I changed my mind about what I wanted to write.

Growing up, I wasn’t athletic or coordinated or flexible. I wasn’t competitive and never played sports. I didn’t have high self-esteem and always worried I would look silly or wouldn’t be good at it. In high school, many of my friends were in dance. I envied their talent and skill and wished I could do what they did. Whenever I was invited to play a rec game of slow pitch or volleyball, I would decline. I didn’t trust my body to do what I wanted it to do.

Fast forward to 2013 and the beginning of our fertility struggle. My body was letting me down in a different way. I wanted it to create life. To hold and deliver a baby. As girls, we’re told that our bodies are made to create and carry life. Imagine the crippling disappointment of your body failing you over and over again. Your body not doing what it’s supposed to do.

Around the time that my body was not doing what it was born to do, I started lifting weights. I had gone to the gym for a few years (mostly light cardio and Zumba classes) but I thought I’d try something different. It was hard. Like, really hard. But I felt so proud that I had pushed myself, and my body, to do something out of my comfort zone.

Fast forward a few more years. I didn’t grow up doing water sports. Not that I didn’t have the opportunity, but I was “too scared” to try. In 2018, I tried wake surfing. In 2019, I learned how to wake surf without the rope. I bought Dustin and I golf lessons and learned how to golf (poorly). When Covid hit in the spring of 2020, we got into biking. I know how to ride a bike, but I’d never done trails or long distances. With gyms closed, it gave us lots of time to ride. That winter, we bought cross country skis. We skied almost every weekend, all over Saskatchewan. And most recently, three weeks after my 38th birthday, I learned how to snowboard. I grew up downhill skiing, but I hadn’t done that in almost 20 years. I joined the “Beginner Boards” group, fully expecting to be the oldest member. To my surprise, I was not! I spent two days learning to ride the Big Mountain in Whitefish. I still go to the gym three to five times a week.

As I finished up the spin class this morning, I felt proud of what my body is able to do. It has let me down in a lot of ways. It has not been able to create life, but it can do other things. It has learned new sports. It allows me to get outdoors and walk my dogs and play with my niece and nephew. It’s strong. And maybe in 2022, it will surprise me. Happy New Year friends and family! Thank you for being here with me 🥂

In August 2016, after our 3^rd IVF failed, we decided to take a break from all things fertility related. This decision was not made lightly.  Taking a break was something we needed for our mental, physical, and emotional health, but it’s hard to walk away from something that is all consuming… something that we want so badly. I reflected on that year for this post; I hadn’t realized at the time all the events that filled that break. It’s amazing what you can do when your time, energy, and money is not being dominated by fertility! 

1. Although my sister had been married at the Royal University Hospital Chapel in January, the plan was to have a formal wedding ceremony and reception. Mary and Morgan had a beautiful fall wedding on September 17^th. They were married in the church our grandparents and Mom grew up in.
2. It was our first Christmas without Mom. Mom was Christmas in our family. She was the one that our traditions revolved around. We decided that year to step away from our Christmas traditions and give ourselves time to heal. Dad, Mary, Morgan, Dustin, and I loaded up our dogs and two trucks full of winter gear and headed to the mountains. We spent Christmas in Fernie at a great little inn that allowed pets and had a games room and hot tubs. We ate, drank, skied, snowboarded, sledded, and had a sleigh ride through the mountains.
3. In February, Dustin and I spent a week in Cancun at an all-inclusive resort. In the spring, we bought a camper and rented a lakefront lot at Blackstrap Lake. We put our acreage up for sale. When we bought the acreage, we imagined raising our family there. It was now a painful reminder of why we purchased a home that was too big for two people. We decided that our next home would be just for us.
4. I applied to the Master of Education program at the University of Saskatchewan and started my courses.
5. In September, we sold our acreage and bought a house in the city. We spent the first three weeks of September packing, and then flew to Las Vegas for a friend’s wedding.
6. Five days after we returned from Vegas, we moved into our new home. Our possession date was September 30^th, which was also my sister’s 30^th birthday. We had a party for her at my Dad’s house, where she announced to everyone that she was pregnant. (Don’t worry, Mary didn’t spring this on me in front of a group of people. She had told me a month before that I was going to be an Auntie. I’ll talk about that in another post.)

On October 31^st, our one-year break was over. We scheduled the transfer of our last two frozen embryos for November 1^st. 

When you have been living with infertility for as long as we have, you hear a lot of stories, tips, tricks, suggestions, and opinions. I will start by saying I realize the things I write in this post are things that people have said to try and help. Everyone has a story or knows someone who has a story. And when you have unexplained infertility, you hear a lot of suggestions. So here are some things we’ve heard: 

“It will happen in time” 

“You just need to relax” 

“God has a plan” 

“Go on a vacation and forgetting about it.  That’s when it will happen!” 

“Have you thought of adoption?” 

“My (insert some friend or family member) put their name on the adoption list and then found out they were pregnant!” 

“I know someone who decided to quit trying and that’s when they got pregnant!” 

“Have you tried: 

-ovulation sticks? 

-temperature tracking? 

-eating pineapple core? 

-acupuncture? 

-pelvic massage? 

-pelvic physio? 

-homeopathies? 

-a naturopath? 

-crystals? 

-checking your AMH? 

-checking your TSH? 

-checking your iron levels? 

-supplements/changing your diet, etc? 

-exercising less? 

The answer is, yes. This is a list of the things we have tried. There are probably more things that we could try. It’s hard to explain the mental and physical energy it takes to filter the information out there. There are things in this list that have worked for others. For us, it’s a vicious cycle of hope and let-down. What I hope people take from this post is this: Infertility is a complex medical issue. Each person’s situation is as individualized as the person themselves. If you know someone who is affected by infertility, ask them how they are doing and if they would like to share anything with you. If they are looking for suggestions or stories of success, they will ask you. Unsolicited advice or stories could make the person feel like they’re not doing enough and remind them that they’re still in the same position while others have moved on. 

In July of 2016 we set out for our third round of IVF in Calgary. After our initial meeting in February, the doctor prescribed me a heavier medication cycle in hopes I would have a better response. We had to move to Calgary for a week while they monitored my follicle growth. We rented a hotel suite and toured around Calgary and area whenever we weren’t at appointments. The new medication protocol made me extremely bloated and uncomfortable. When I look back at pictures from that trip, I look like I’m already pregnant.  

My pre-IVF ultrasound showed 20 mature follicles, 10 times what I had with my first two rounds. The egg retrieval was much more painful than the previous. The doctor was able to aspirate 15 eggs from the 20 follicles. I was partially conscious during the procedure, but still very dopy from the IV medication. We went back to the hotel after the surgery and I slept for the rest of the day. When I woke up, I was sore, disoriented, and hungry. Dustin brought me soup and ice cream. That’s all I remember from that day. 

Of the 15 eggs they retrieved, 8 of them fertilized. Of the 8 that fertilized, only 4 made it to day 3 embryos. Three days after the retrieval, we were back at the clinic for the transfer. The clinic decided to transfer 2 embryos; the other 2 would be frozen. The transfer is a fairly easy process. We watched on the ultrasound screen as they transferred the two little embryos. After that, we were free to travel home. 

On the drive home we stopped in Kindersley for supper and ended up with a flat tire.  I had forgot to put my tire iron back in my car so we flagged down a good Samaritan to lend us one. We drove the rest of the way home on the donut at 80 km an hour… as if the trip hadn’t been stressful enough! 

A few days after we got home, we pulled our camper to our family lake. After you do a transfer there are some things you cannot do: drink alcohol (obviously), do excessive exercise, and suntan, to name a few. So, I spent a week at the lake sipping on sparkling water and sitting in the shade. One evening, I laid in our camper, thinking of everything that happened over the last year. I was thinking of my grandma, my Mom, our trip to Calgary. I knew in my heart that this IVF didn’t work. I woke up the next morning to cramping, and then bleeding. I just wanted the whole experience to go away; I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. I text my sister to tell her that it hadn’t worked, that I was coming down to the beach, and that I didn’t want to talk about it. 

Dustin and I were physically, emotionally, and mentally drained. For 3 years, we had poured all of our energy into trying to trying to start a family. In the summer of 2016, we decided it was time to take a break. We stepped away from all fertility treatments and decided to just focus on us. 

Our second round of IVF had been identical to our first. We were feeling frustrated; there had been no change to our medication protocol and no additional testing had been requested. My OBGYN referred us to a clinic in Calgary in hopes that they could investigate further and offer a new plan.

Waitlists for fertility clinics are common.  We were referred in August and were set to have our introductory session in Calgary in February. The clinic required us to come for an orientation in a lecture theater at one of the hospitals.  The orientation would include an introduction to the clinic and program, an overview of their team and services, success stories and support services, costs and financial support.  They would require us to repeat all the bloodwork, tests, and ultrasounds we had done previously. We would meet with our doctor, as well as the clinic’s psychologist to discuss our current situation and our plan going forward. 

Coming back to August: My mom was still recovering from surgery and was doing intensive chemotherapy. One afternoon our family came out to our acreage to bury our family dog who had passed away in March.  After having a pet funeral for Tori, Mom shared with us that her cancer was continuing to spread throughout her pelvic area. She was in a tremendous amount of pain.  She was going to have another surgery where they would remove her bladder and as many of the lesions as they could. My Mom was a 5’3’’ 110-pound fighter and was going to do anything she could to not let cancer win. She joked that she would actually enjoy having her bladder removed because she would have to stop at gas station bathrooms on road trips. 

Mom went in for surgery on October 7^th. The next five months were some of the most mentally and emotionally challenging I’ve ever gone through. Not only was this surgery invasive, but Mom still hadn’t fully recovered from the lung surgery. Beginning October 7^th, I made the trip to Royal University Hospital every day to see my Mom. Her recovery was so slow.  If you’ve ever had a sick parent and had to see them in a hospital bed, you know the feeling of helplessness. My Mom had always been the one to take care of me, and now I was taking care of her. 

I believe it was December 27^th when my Dad sat me down in my parents’ living room and told me that Mom was not going to recover from this. The doctor had given a prognosis of two months. Mom didn’t want us to know. Every day after that I sat with my Mom, knowing my time with her was coming to an end.

On January 16th, my sister got engaged. We planned a wedding in 5 days so that Mom and Dad could walk her down the aisle. We had a photographer come to the hospital and take family photos before the ceremony, which was held in the hospital chapel. We had a party at Mom and Dad’s house and Mom came home for the first time since Christmas Eve. It was a magical day, even though I had food poisoning (but that’s a whole other story!).

On January 29^th we found out that Mom would be transferred to palliative care at St. Paul’s Hospital, or the Symptom Management Unit, as Mom called it.  She didn’t like the word palliative. Two days after she was moved to the SMU, Dustin and I were scheduled to leave for Calgary for our orientation. I didn’t want to leave.  What if something happened while we were gone? What if it was the last time I would see my Mom? My family encouraged us to go. They said Mom wouldn’t want us to stick around just for her, she would want us to keep working on building our family. 

We went to Calgary for the orientation. I didn’t sleep while we were there because I kept waiting for a phone call in the middle of the night telling me that Mom died. The orientation was important to me, but my heart was back in Saskatoon with my Mom. She held on for us. I returned to the hospital the day we got home to tell her all about our trip. Mom died on February 21^st; one month after Mary and Morgan’s wedding.

During Mom’s 7 years with cancer, Dad wrote a blog. I keep the page open on my phones browser and I go back to read posts everyone once and awhile. I reread certain entries before I wrote this post. I cried a lot. I miss my Mom from the deepest part of my heart. I believe she’s in heaven with our babies we were never able to hold.

Infertility itself is hard, but there are many everyday things that are made difficult or challenging that many may not realize.

1. Going into new social situations.  Because of the inevitable question, “Do you guys have kids?”  I have been in several situations where after I answer “No, we don’t” or “We have two fur babies!” that people just cease conversation… like, they’re not sure what they can talk to me about if I can’t share stories about our kids.   

2. Pregnancy announcements.  This one is maybe obvious but it’s definitely one of the most difficult.  I’m always happy for people who are pregnant because, trust me, I know what a miracle it is.  But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for me to be excited.  There’s nothing like scrolling through Facebook and seeing a cute photo of the family dog with a sign that says “Big Sister 2021” or a little onesie with a sonogram beside it.  Not to mention that nothing on social media gets more likes, more comments, more adoration than a pregnancy or birth announcement.  Like I said, it is the most beautiful thing, and it does deserve love and attention.  But it also gives us infertiles a feeling of “nothing you ever do in your life will be as significant as having a child”.   I always appreciate an individualized text, phone call, or one-on-one in person announcement.  It’s still difficult to hear, but it lets me know that the person recognizes the fragility of emotions around it. 

3. Being in environments that are kid focused.  I enjoy taking my niece to Kinsmen Park or the WonderHub.  In 2018 we went on a family trip to Disney World and loved every minute of it.  Sitting on the beach on a hot summer day is one of my favorite things to do.  But when I look around and watch parents interacting with their children, that sense of enjoyment is overshadowed by sadness.  Wishing that we could be sharing this experience with our own children.   

4. Being excluded because we don’t have children.  I’ve had this conversation with a few people, and at the end of the day it makes sense.  People with kids like to spend time with other people with kids because it gives their kids something to do.  Someone once told me that they hung out with some couples, not because they liked the couple, but because they had kids that were the same age, and it was convenient.  Our friends and family are wonderful, and they include us in their lives, but we have lost touch with some friends and don’t see others as often as we would if we had children. 

5. Not being able to give my dad a grandchild or make my sister an auntie.  Growing up we were very close as a family.  We always had birthdays and holidays together with our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  My life was supposed to be like that.  Families are brought together by children.  Seeing my friends whose parents are now grandparents and have siblings who have children… that’s hard. 

Choosing a name for a blog is difficult… especially an infertility blog.  Every title that popped into my head was already being used.  The content of this blog is precious to me, so finding the right name was important.   

The week after our miscarriage I started writing. It was just a word document with all my thoughts and feelings. I went back in my memories and put our experiences into words. I was on the phone with my sister one evening and I told her I had started writing. She said listening to me talk about my writing was the most spark she had heard in my voice in a while. I told her I was thinking about putting the stories into a blog, but I wasn’t really sure where to start. She suggested I contact a friend of hers who is a journalist. Not only is she a journalist, but she works with people to help tell their stories. Darla graciously agreed to meet me, and we had the most wonderful visit. We talked about a lot of things, and one thing I asked her about was my blog name. She asked if Dustin and I had any inside jokes that could play into the title. We have a lot of inside jokes, but none of them immediately stood out as being appropriate for the blog.

I had set a goal to have this blog up and running by September long weekend.  On August 25^th I was racking my brain for a name and decided to scroll my camera role for inspiration.  Ten pictures in and there it was: a picture of a jar of Betty Crocker vanilla icing and a bag of animal crackers.  So why are these things significant?  Well, in high school when I was stressed over an exam, I would eat.  While studying for my Chem 30 final in grade 12 I went into the pantry and grabbed a jar of icing and a box of ice cream cones.  I dipped the cones into the frosting while I stressed over my notes and the next day, I did surprisingly well on the final.  I attributed it to my choice of stress snack. 

When I had my first miscarriage, my sister showed up at my house with icing and animal crackers.  A variation of my stress snack that had helped me get through my Chem final.  Something to help me get through a stressful time.   

Every time we’ve had an unsuccessful fertility treatment, Mary has dropped off icing and animal crackers.  It’s something so simple yet so significant.  It is the perfect name for this blog. 

Our first round of IVF had failed.  My grandma was never going to get to meet her great-grandbaby.  There was an increased sense of urgency to conceive: Things had gone as well as we could have hoped for my mom in Vancouver, but her cancer was aggressively spreading into her lymph nodes.  I just wanted my mom to meet our baby.  I wanted our baby to grow up with a grandma and grandpa, just like I had.  I wasn’t sure of my mom’s prognosis at the time, but I knew the longer it took, the less likely it would be that she would be a part of our child’s life. 

To be honest, that second cycle of IVF is a blur because of everything that was happening at that time.  Mom made it home from Vancouver, but she was very weak.  She was just well enough to be at grandma’s funeral.  I had started my medications for my second cycle when I got a call from my OBGYN.  During my most recent physical, the lab detected pre-cancerous cells on my cervix.  They would need to be removed with a day procedure called a LEEP (Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure).  Because we had started medication, my OBGYN advised me to wait and see the results of the IVF.  If it was successful, I would have another PAP done to see if the cells were still present.  If it was not, I would need to have the LEEP done as soon as possible. 

We only waited two months before we tried IVF again. In hindsight, I probably hadn’t recovered physically or emotionally from our first IVF. Our second round was déjà vu of our first: two follicles, two eggs, two day three embryos, two fresh transfers, one big fat negative.  There was so much going on in our lives at that time, I cannot remember the day I found out it was not successful.  I just remember feeling numb. 

I had the LEEP done at the end of August.  During my recovery, I asked my OBGYN for a referral to another clinic to have a second opinion.  Our situation was proving to be more complicated than we thought, and we felt that we needed to explore other options. We were added to the waitlist for a clinic in Calgary, and this was where our story would continue.  

Infertility has a way of consuming every aspect of your life. Everywhere you look there are families, and pregnancy announcements, and newborn pictures. Appointments and ultrasounds and medications and tests become a way of life. I was going to share the story of our second IVF this week, but Thanksgiving has me reflecting on the things I am thankful for. 

I have the most amazing friends and family. My mom, dad, and sister have always supported Dustin and I in every decision that we have made and everything we have gone through. I have always been able to call on them when I need to cry, vent, celebrate, and ask advice. Even before my family knew of our struggles, they never pressured us to have children. When we shared with them what we were going through after our first miscarriage, I felt like weight was lifted from my shoulders.  

We have a beautiful niece and nephew, and I’m thankful every day that I get to be their Auntie. I was in the delivery room for both of their births; when the doctor announced, “It’s a girl!” and “It’s a boy!”; when they took their first breath. Not a week goes by that I don’t see them, even if it’s just for a few minutes. We are so lucky to have them in our lives. 

Many of our friends have had children during the time we’ve been trying. Although those friends can’t fully understand what we are going through, they are there to go for a walk, grab a coffee, have a drink, and be a listening ear. I also have friends who are going through what we’re going through. Those friends hold a special place in my heart. As with any shared experience, these friends just get it. They’ve been there. They know. They are one of my biggest support systems. I hate that we are going through infertility, but we are going through it together. 

I have wonderful co-workers. When I need to be away for appointments, or when I’m not doing well emotionally, they are there to support me. I have a killer gym family. Not only do I feel better after sweating out my fear, frustration, anger, and sadness, but my gym family always welcomes me with open arms. They help improve my mental, physical, and emotional wellbeing.  

Last, but certainly not least, I’m thankful for my number one… my other half… my best friend… my husband. He loves me unconditionally. He always puts my needs first. We have experienced more together in our 11 years than some couples do in a lifetime. We have a lot of things we do together that we enjoy, and things that have helped us get through tough times. I’ll talk about those more in another post but for today, I just want to say that I’m thankful for you, Dustin. (And our fur babies too 💕)