A few more in the freezer

The latest round of embryonic March madness is drawing to a close, and another 3 fighters made it to be biopsied and cryopreserved. Now it's just another 10-14 days until we get the pre-implantation genetic testing results to know what we've truly banked. In a first for us, one of our poorly scored day 3 embryos actually made it into the final countdown. (Embryos get rated on day 3 based on number of cells, fragmentation—the fraction of the embryo composed of incomplete cell chunks, and symmetry of the cells.) This embryo proved to be our ugly duckling, coming through as the most highly scored embryo on cryopreservation day. Proud of you!

We did it—again!

Another cycle in the books. Now to let the embryos grow (hopefully)!

This cycle was our best so far—a full 25 follicles at my final monitoring appointment, no ovarian or breast pain, and frankly I walked in and out of today's retrieval feeling great. I didn't tear up even a little when getting my IV. In fact, I kept my eyes open during my last blood draw earlier this week, and even snuck a peek at the blood mid-flow late last week—talk about overcoming a phobia. To top things off, I had surprisingly productive afternoon in the office after the ritual post-retrieval coffee cocktail at The Royal in downtown Oakland.

That's not to say we got a drama-free cycle. There was an FDA test scare that required a last-minute re-run of the full panel (after much cajoling), and due to an inconveniently week-late ovulation, my retrieval timeline was pushed precisely to the day after Nicolas flew out to Europe. My battles with Cigna continue—although they now, for the most part, acknowledge that Nicolas isn't my sperm donor, I found myself yesterday filing my first complaint with the California Department of Insurance under Spring's guidance.

After all the highs and lows, here I am enjoying an injection-free evening while the fate of another 10 mature eggs lie in the hands of Spring's embryologists.

Even Lily got in on celebrating the end of my fourth cycle!

And guess what else? My parents send us their congratulations! That's right, now that we're done* making our embryos and our future surrogacy agency has acknowledged receipt of our retainer fee—yes, that also happened today—it was time to share the news, which went over pleasantly well. They even said I shouldn't feel guilty about the choice to use a gestational carrier. It'll be a secret from the rest of the Aloia/Repak clan for now—no need to jinx it or break the hearts of cousins whose dream we might be trying on for size—but getting my parents' approval about becoming a parent on my terms has lifted a weight that was bearing down heavy for the past 8 months. It's nice to have earned a night off.

*done: as in, we think we won't be making more, but life is complicated so I still took my vitamins tonight just in case.

Second "vacation" of 2024

Indisputably our second stab at taking time off this year was more successful than the first. I hardly answered any slack messages and didn't even write a line of code. That said, attempting a vacation between back-to-back IVF cycles was probably overly ambitious. To our credit, when we converted our Amtrak credits into our first trip to Colorado, we never imagined what our fertility journey had in store.

We landed back home a full week ago and I honestly don't have the energy to do much more than tell a story in pictures. We did a lot. I worried a lot. And I didn't fully absorb the good news that arrived a week ago today as we sat in the airport, en route home, and learned that we had reached our minimum threshold for making our future family.

Here's the best I can give right now at telling the story of a few days where we had a change of pace.

Things started off scenic with our overnight train to Colorado. I can't recommend highly enough the upgrade to the sleeper car that we thankfully splurged for. However, my anxiety levels weren't aided when, before even making it to our destination, I found myself texting photos of Lily for "lost dog" posters after she ran away. One four-lane highway crossing and several hours later, a kind stranger returned her to our dogsitter and I tried to remember to breathe.

We made it to Glenwood Springs and our first taste of summer weather! The town kicked off its 127th annual Strawberry Days Festival right when we arrived.

We were up early the next morning for the first activity on our agenda: paragliding! Sadly, I learned that my stomach is just a wimp. Even with a fabulous pilot who took seriously my ask that we have a smooth ride, the rises and dips just left me feeling a little queasy for an hour or so after the ride. Nicolas, I'm proud to report, isn't nearly such a weakling.

Item 2 on the agenda was actually both the scariest and the coolest: the caving "wild tour". They weren't kidding when they said there was a chest size limit of 42". We shimmied and squirmed our way through passages whose mere discovery amazed me, while I thanked the stars that Colorado isn't on a fault line and admired the heck out of the mom on our tour taking her 11-year-old adventuring for his birthday.

After proving to myself that I could be brave both above and underground, we took the gondola back down and spent the evening in some (overcrowded) hot springs. The pools were all designed to mimic mineral compositions of various springs around the world and, what do you know, I settled on Iceland's Blue Lagoon (which we've previously visited) as my top pick!

Nicolas, who's prepping for his big hike in the Alps in a month, convinced me to brave the heat and we even got some nice shots as we explored Boulder. I'm not sure just when I became a total princess, but it seems I've built a taste for the tastier parts of vacations.

Between hikes, we rewarded ourselves with lunch at the most fabulous university dive bar. It completely tickled my fancy with its MIT East Campus/Senior House vibes and had a great beer selection too!

We dodged the rain post afternoon-hike at Boulder's teahouse, created to celebrate its sister city status with a city on the other side of the Iron Curtain.

And just like that, it was basta - enough. We'd spent two and a half of our five vacation days in transit, so perhaps this wasn't the most well-planned trip, but we'd squeezed in a lot. We capped it off with a trip to Basta, a Michelin bib gourmand rated restaurant where I ate probably twice as much pizza as I'd needed. And that was it. Vacation numero dos was in the books.

The first calls

We had our first calls with surrogacy agencies today. I felt so seen, so heard, so respected in my choices. There wasn't the slightest wince as I told our story, from our meeting through online dating with profiles that listed our intent to be parents as "maybe" to our journey into foster parenting to our round-about arrival at IVF and surrogacy. My wanting to care for and love a child could co-exist with my not wanting to grow it inside of me (and a recognition that the stress and sleep deprivation of my job might not be best for either mom or growing baby). I wasn't judged or made to feel less valid than those seeking surrogacy out of medical necessity. Not only that, I was met with positive reactions as I counted off our four euploid embryos and our one low-level segmental mosaic. The reps praised our choice of fertility clinic, whose embryology lab has particularly high standards, and they taught us that, when working with a surrogate, odds of a live birth from a genetically-tested embryo climb to 70-75%. Now that the healthy and genetically-tested embryos have been banked, my age is no longer a risk factor. For the first time since we began this scary and unexpected journey, I'm wracked with sleeplessness over something new: excitement; hope.

I don't want to sound overly naïve: I understand that surrogacy agencies are a business, and that they have a financial interest in making me feel good, but two things can be true at the same time. Just because one of these agencies may make a profit off of me doesn't mean they can't also bring me validation and the fulfilment that proved so elusive as we fought tooth and nail to make last year's foster placement work.