Chapter 4 – The Miracle

For most, you already know how this chapter of the story ends. For others, it will be the first time. Either way, here we go.

A lot of people throw the word miracle around for shit that is really not a miracle. ‘It was a miracle I made it to work on time.’  ‘It was a miracle that they still had the blah blah at the store.’ ‘It was a miracle that I found my keys.’  Stuff like that. I think because that word is overused that we tend to get desensitized when we actually witness a miracle. As mentioned in the previously, our doctor asked the question if we thought about having another baby. To which I kindly responded, ‘What do you mean?’  She went into detail about the entire process and what it would look like if we wanted to go down that road. It was a lot to take in, but I was attentive to every word. I took it all back to my wife and broke it down piece by piece as it was broken down for me. What the doctor said, the steps, who we would need to contact, and what it all really meant. We went through it all and then took a few minutes to let the air settle before we opened the conversation back up. Then I asked my wife ‘What do you think?’  Without hesitation she says ‘Yep, I’m in. We need to at least try.’  That’s my girl.

Hope. Sometimes hope can be so underrated and sometimes hope is exactly what we need to push us on. Since the day we found out about our daughter’s condition, I always believed that one day we would find a way to ‘cure’ her. There were obstacles and that belief was tested, but I always kept one sliver of hope that we would find a way. I definitely had my bad days, but I always used that one sliver as a way to keep moving forward.

So what did I talk about with the doctor? Well, having a baby. Thought I mentioned that. I said before that our daughter’s condition could be ‘cured’ through a bone marrow transplant and a few other minor/major things. I also mentioned that this option did not seem like much of a reality for us because of how serious we took her treatment and how well she was doing. Our new doctor helped us realize that there was a possibility, that there was a chance. It was all pretty simple to be honest. All we would have to do is find an IVF doctor (wait… what… baby number four was an IVF baby???  Spoiler Alert), work with a genetics lab for genetic testing to see if finding a match would be possible, go through many rounds of shots, harvest eggs, fertilize eggs, genetic test the eggs, find a match, do more shorts, implant egg, have a baby, collect stems cells, and move on with life. See, I told you it was simple.

Let’s break all that down in more detail.

The first stop on this journey was to find the right IVF doctor. We set up meetings with different IVF doctors in our area to discuss what we were up against and what we were trying to do. I left the decision of what doctor to go with entirely up to my wife. This is a very personal thing, and I wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible with whatever doctor she chose. We ended up going with a doctor that really didn’t know much about the condition of what our daughter has, but understood what we were trying to do. He took the time to do his own research, reached out to our team of doctors to get a better understanding of our daughter’s condition, connected us with the genetics lab that his office used, and genuinely wanted to learn everything he could about her condition. He was very well educated about everything for our follow up meeting. We were extremely impressed and felt like he would be the best choice, so we went with him. Other doctors we met really simplified what we were trying to do and gave mostly generic answers like ‘oh yea, we can do that’ or ‘I’m not sure, but I’m sure we can do that.’  Those are not the types of answers you want to hear when you are trying to do something as crazy as what we were trying to do.

Next step was to meet with the genetics lab for a bunch of genetic testing on us, our parents, and our daughter. We had to start here because this would tell us if it would even be possible to find a genetic match through IVF. A lot of people don’t know this but, every so often our chromosomes will switch places from generation to generation. It’s really seamless, and you would never know it but it’s just something that happens. You still get the same chromosomes from your parents, or you give them to your children, but randomly they will switch spots from one generation to another. We had to do this initial testing because if our chromosomes had switched spots from our parents to us, or from us to our kids, then we would have a zero percent chance of finding a match. This entire process takes about two and half months from the time of collection from everyone to the time we have our follow up with the lab. This is a two and half month period where just pretend like everything is business as usual and try not think about it. These results have the potential to end the race before we even get started. After the two and half months we have our follow up with the genetic lab and are told that everything looked good, and our chromosomes did not switch spots. We have a chance of finding a match. Let’s fucking go! Smiles and hugs all around. Hope you fickle bitch, I welcome you back in my heart, but then we get to the next part of the conversation. They tell us that yes, it is possible but that we have about an eight percent chance of finding a match. Hope you fickle bitch, I hate you once again. If you know anything about the process of how a baby is made, then you know it’s one egg and one sperm. Even with IVF, how the fuck are we going to overcome only having an eight percent chance. I say to myself ‘Fuck it.’ and go straight Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber ‘So you’re saying there’s a chance.’

We now have our doctor, done the genetic testing, know the odds, so it’s now time to start the IVF process. Before my wife ever takes any shot, we sit down and discuss everything we are about to do and set realistic expectations for this journey. Eight percent is not a lot, so we decide that we are going to commit to at least three rounds of IVF. It will be a lot on her with all the shots and drugs, not to mention cost, so three chances are all to which we can commit. So we start the process. She has to have her eggs tested and I have to get my soldiers looked at to see what kind of ‘shape’ they are in. Unfortunately, my wife had to do an in office egg collection procedure.  Fortunately for me, they let her bring ya boy a cup home with a list of rules. This office gave me the option to make my donation at home or in the office. I chose not to spend time in their room of shame and keep it at the crib. Either way it was not an enjoyable experience, mostly because of all the rules, but at least I could do the do in my own house. I did the do, gave a solute, closed the cup, put my boys in the provided brown paper bag, put the paper bag in the passenger set of my truck, fastened the seatbelt, and delivered my sample to the office. I thought it would be a simple drop and go, but they made me meet with the sample nurse. This mother fucker still took me in the room of shame just for me to hand over my sample. That’s it. Literally took me in that room with the old computer and sticky magazines just to hand her my paper bag. I was not happy. I guess with the amount of money that you have to spend, they want you to get the full experience. These results do not take as long to get back as the genetic testing. Our IVF doctor gives us a call a few days after to tell us that everything looks good.

Now the IVF process begins. Lots of shots and medication. It’s a weird time whereby day, I am husband and a father, and by night, I’m a nurse. My wife is not the type to be able to give herself a shot, so I had to be the one to do it, and I took that shit serious. I prepped everything, cleaned the area, did the injection, and then took care of the cleanup. Really the hardest part was getting out of that sexy nurses skirt every night; my wife is a little kinky like that. We do this same routine for weeks until it’s time for the egg retrieval procedure. At egg retrieval the doctor was able to collect eighteen eggs, let’s fucking go. After egg collection came the sperm collection. Once again, I opted for the home procedure. Nothing like wrestling down the one eyed suspect at 7am in the morning. I return to the doctor’s office and deliver the package with no issues.  Then we wait. We are later told that eighteen eggs were collected, and they were able to fertilize sixteen. Out of the sixteen, six made it to the blastocyst (also referred to as blast) phase which takes from five to six days after fertilization. It’s like a gestation period. The eggs that made it to the blast phase have a single cell removed which is sent off to the genetics lab, and then the eggs are put on ice. Genetic testing will take another two and half months, so we wait again. Understanding the odds and just the sheer craziness of what we are trying to do, my wife and I obviously don’t get our hopes us. We make small talk about it during this time of waiting but not enough to get excited about. We commented to three cycles, and this is just cycle number one, so we have to play it cool. Almost to the day of the two and half month mark we get a call from our doctor where he lets us know he has the results. Bruh, you want to talk about being nervous. He starts the call off with the normal pleasantries and checks in on how we have doing. In my head I’m like ‘cool dude, no one cares. Get to the fucking point.’  Patience is not my thing. He starts by telling us that there were eggs with genetic abnormalities, and they are not recommended for implant. ‘Yea, no shit.’ He tells us that that there were eggs that were considered ‘chaotic’ and that those eggs could not be considered for transfer because of this ‘chaotic’ status. Basically he said it meant that the egg could turn out ok, but it did not develop long enough to know for sure, and those eggs could not be considered for transfer. My wife and I are cool through this discussion, again we understood the odds and already have committed to more cycles. Then then there is a brief pause, and he says without warning ‘We got it. We got the one in a million.’  I immediately drop to the floor. Overcome with emotion I drop to the floor and start bawling my eye out. I can’t hold it back; it just comes, and I let it happen.

I live in that moment for as long as I can. The doctor congratulates us, says they will be in contact with next steps, and we end the call. I am still crying. I hug my wife who now starts to cry. She never saw me breakdown like that, so she didn’t know how to handle it, and she stayed strong to finish the call, but now she lets it out. Eight fucking percent, crazy. Miracles do happen, but now comes the hard part.