By now, the Mrs. has set it all out very nicely. And I share her excited anxiety, or anxious excitement, or whatever this admixture of feelings is. It is a very strange process for the male of the partnership, having some rather important roles to play, but not being nearly as involved in the initial processes of pregnancy as normal. (How is that for being euphemistic?!)
One role I get to play is giving shots. I hate needles. No, let me restate that. I HATE needles. I dislike shots so much that they let me sit down to give me my TB test, which is an itty-bitty needle. But now I will be learning how to administer them.
One positive aspect of doing fire chaplaincy is hanging out with EMTs and Paramedics. This means I see enough needles and such that I am getting used to them.
I will let you know how this goes.
1.28.2010
Surprise!
So today I went to the center to have my nurse consultation--where they tell me all about the entire process, go over everything I need to know and answer all my questions--and also a mock transfer--where they go through the transfer process, but take measurements so that they know "the lay of the land," as it were, for the real thing. Everything went well, and I am only slightly freaked out. On the plus side, based on the meds they picked for me, the majority of my time I will only have one injection. There will be two days with three, and about 12 days with two, but all the rest of my almost two months will be one injection. Yay! I also discovered that most of them don't need to be refrigerated. Another plus! Finally, my med cost came in at the low end of things,(sometimes the meds can cost as much as the procedure, so that was a great thing), and my "monitoring" will be covered by insurance. So, the 6-7 blood tests and ultra sounds shouldn't be out of pocket. Woo Hoo! All in all, it was a visit filled with good news.
What I wasn't expecting was the news that I will not be starting my suppression injections the first week of March as I expected. Why? Because I am starting them a week from tomorrow! They moved me up a month. Ack! Don't get me wrong. This is a great thing. Not only is it less time to worry and fret and freak myself out about everything, but it completely removes the difficulties of trying to miss Holy Week with the procedures (and the possibility of being due around Christmas). But my mind has not quite wrapped around the fact that this is really happening in a week. I thought I was going to have more time to prepare. I have decided, however, that this is just the first of many opportunities to learn to go with the flow. After all, once I have children, plans will have to be a lot more flexible. So, I might as well take this opportunity to learn that lesson early.
In other news, Phil has agreed to learn how to give me the IM injections, so I am going to pull up my big girl pants and learn to give myself the SQ ones. In the added degree of difficulty category, I will start my injections on a day that I am out of town. Even so, I am going to do my best to keep my stress levels down and live the experience. After all, I really only plan to do this once.
So, here's to good news and good surprises. May there be more of these down the road.
What I wasn't expecting was the news that I will not be starting my suppression injections the first week of March as I expected. Why? Because I am starting them a week from tomorrow! They moved me up a month. Ack! Don't get me wrong. This is a great thing. Not only is it less time to worry and fret and freak myself out about everything, but it completely removes the difficulties of trying to miss Holy Week with the procedures (and the possibility of being due around Christmas). But my mind has not quite wrapped around the fact that this is really happening in a week. I thought I was going to have more time to prepare. I have decided, however, that this is just the first of many opportunities to learn to go with the flow. After all, once I have children, plans will have to be a lot more flexible. So, I might as well take this opportunity to learn that lesson early.
In other news, Phil has agreed to learn how to give me the IM injections, so I am going to pull up my big girl pants and learn to give myself the SQ ones. In the added degree of difficulty category, I will start my injections on a day that I am out of town. Even so, I am going to do my best to keep my stress levels down and live the experience. After all, I really only plan to do this once.
So, here's to good news and good surprises. May there be more of these down the road.
1.16.2010
Change of Mind
Having paid my nonrefundable deposit to the clinic this past week, I am officially committed to at least one cycle of IVF. I am excited, but most often, when I think about it, I am terrified! The sheer number of injections (approx 2-4/day for over a month and then one a day for another month) has me wigging out. Did I mention Phil doesn't do needles? Fortunately, we have several nurse friends who have agreed to stick me. Without that, I'm not sure this would even be possible.
To be honest, after I read multiple first-hand accounts of the misery involved, and after I determined that our insurance didn't cover any of it, Phil and I had pretty much written IVF off. When we first started going in for testing, we agreed that we would try Clomid, but we weren't going to take any "extraordinary measures" to have children. If we were supposed to have children, it would happen. That's an easy enough decision to make when the doctors keep telling you that they don't have any idea what the problem is, everything seems fine, just keep trying. As it turned out, my squeal point was more variable than I thought. Once we found out IVF was our only option if we wanted to have biological children, it suddenly wasn't something I would "never" do. I was at least willing to consider it (and, obviously, decided to move forward with it).
But I was bothered by my decision. I felt as though I had gone back on my agreement not to use extraordinary measures. I know that we are allowed to change our minds and that, often, that can be a good thing. But I also know that sometimes we are given choices where the better choice is to stick with our original decision. Doubt plagued me. Was this one of those times? Was I making a mistake by moving forward with IVF?
I initially decided that I had not actually changed my mind. I was merely making sure that I completely explored all of my options before ruling any of them out. Yes, it was a rationalization (something I am extremely good at). But as I thought more about it, I decided it was like math--once the givens had changed, it was time to reevaluate the assumptions that had been based on those givens to make sure they were still valid. And as I researched IVF, I discovered that many people struggle with this decision. Whether the difficulty with the decision is monetary, religious, or something else, there are many couples who swore they would never do IVF who find themselves considering it. Reading their stories, I also discovered that there was no single right answer. Some couples decided to stick with their original decision. Others opted to try IVF. What became clear was not whether they changed their mind, or even why, but that they took the time to figure out what they thought was best for them. As with many things, there was no one right answer.
I finally decided that if IVF was the right track, it would work. If it wasn't the right thing to do, it wouldn't work. Suddenly, everything fell into place. The center was wonderful and we would only have to travel there three times; the rest could be done locally. My surgery was scheduled in the short time period necessary to allow me plenty of time to recover and still try a cycle in March. We were able to get a low-interest loan to fund the cycle. We would be able to extend or shorten the protocol as needed to make sure that the major events didn't fall during Holy Week. When we called to reserve our spot, March was still available. Whether simply good timing, or a divine answer to my question, everything has continued to work out precisely as we needed in order to follow through with IVF. It has made me hopeful again. And that, in and of itself, has been a gift. And so, at least for now, I am glad I changed my mind. But feel free to ask me again after the injections start.
To be honest, after I read multiple first-hand accounts of the misery involved, and after I determined that our insurance didn't cover any of it, Phil and I had pretty much written IVF off. When we first started going in for testing, we agreed that we would try Clomid, but we weren't going to take any "extraordinary measures" to have children. If we were supposed to have children, it would happen. That's an easy enough decision to make when the doctors keep telling you that they don't have any idea what the problem is, everything seems fine, just keep trying. As it turned out, my squeal point was more variable than I thought. Once we found out IVF was our only option if we wanted to have biological children, it suddenly wasn't something I would "never" do. I was at least willing to consider it (and, obviously, decided to move forward with it).
But I was bothered by my decision. I felt as though I had gone back on my agreement not to use extraordinary measures. I know that we are allowed to change our minds and that, often, that can be a good thing. But I also know that sometimes we are given choices where the better choice is to stick with our original decision. Doubt plagued me. Was this one of those times? Was I making a mistake by moving forward with IVF?
I initially decided that I had not actually changed my mind. I was merely making sure that I completely explored all of my options before ruling any of them out. Yes, it was a rationalization (something I am extremely good at). But as I thought more about it, I decided it was like math--once the givens had changed, it was time to reevaluate the assumptions that had been based on those givens to make sure they were still valid. And as I researched IVF, I discovered that many people struggle with this decision. Whether the difficulty with the decision is monetary, religious, or something else, there are many couples who swore they would never do IVF who find themselves considering it. Reading their stories, I also discovered that there was no single right answer. Some couples decided to stick with their original decision. Others opted to try IVF. What became clear was not whether they changed their mind, or even why, but that they took the time to figure out what they thought was best for them. As with many things, there was no one right answer.
I finally decided that if IVF was the right track, it would work. If it wasn't the right thing to do, it wouldn't work. Suddenly, everything fell into place. The center was wonderful and we would only have to travel there three times; the rest could be done locally. My surgery was scheduled in the short time period necessary to allow me plenty of time to recover and still try a cycle in March. We were able to get a low-interest loan to fund the cycle. We would be able to extend or shorten the protocol as needed to make sure that the major events didn't fall during Holy Week. When we called to reserve our spot, March was still available. Whether simply good timing, or a divine answer to my question, everything has continued to work out precisely as we needed in order to follow through with IVF. It has made me hopeful again. And that, in and of itself, has been a gift. And so, at least for now, I am glad I changed my mind. But feel free to ask me again after the injections start.
1.13.2010
It's Everywhere
When I wasn't trying to have kids and even after I had started trying, but before I knew there was a problem, the world was a rosy place full of potential. Once I began to experience infertility, the world became a horrible place that turned against me. Everywhere I went, I would see pregnant, happy women without a care in the world. It seemed as though everyone who wanted to was able to have children, except me. Friends and family got pregnant easily and seemingly as soon as they started trying. Others got pregnant when they had not been wanting or trying to. Meanwhile, I was going through the monthly emotional roller coaster. Resignation and frustration, followed by acceptance and a willingness to try again, hope that I tried to reign in to keep from being crushed, a two-week wait involving an obsession regarding temperature and every possible bodily symptom that might signal pregnancy, only the be followed by hurt and despair, until the resignation set in again. And I couldn't help myself. Every month, try as I might to be detached from the outcome, I got crushed. I would tell myself not to get my hopes up, but it never mattered. I always did.
When I found out friends or family were pregnant, it wasn't as though I wasn't happy for them. Truth be told, I was elated that they did not have to experience the monthly hell I was living. But, it was difficult for that happiness to shine forth through my own sadness and frustration. So, there were times I would stay away from the real world to try and avoid all of the happy pregnant women. [FYI: Mother's day is a particularly traumatic time!] It didn't work.
Television is full of pregnant women--celebrity baby bumps; reality stars (some of whom couldn't possibly make good parents?!); women with more children than they can possibly raise by themselves. And movies are full of accidental pregnancies: 9 Months, Saved!, Juno, and Knocked Up, to name a few. Sometimes, titles or characters are a dead giveaway. Television shows such as Private Practice or Accidentally on Purpose, for example, are abundantly clear in this regard, so that I can steer clear or subject myself as I decide. Others are not so obvious. I did not expect a pregnancy reference in Family Guy--Something, Something, Something Darkside. Then, there are the references to infertility that hit me upside the head out of nowhere, when I least expect it. I came upon these most recently in Up and Julie & Julia.
Books, I discovered, were no better. I would carefully read the plots on the backs of the books and there would be no indication that pregnancy would be involved, only to discover in the last 3 pages of the book that someone was pregnant! I simply could not find a single activity that would not force me to come face to face with the one thing I could not achieve, no matter how much I tried. Speaking as a control freak and someone who has never found anything I couldn't stubborn my way through, I most wanted to avoid coming face to face with pregnancy because it made me feel like a failure. Over and over again. Why is it that this simple, basic, biological process that everyone else seemed to be able to do, is beyond me? Why am I broken?
I probably won't ever have an answer to these questions. But, there are two things I can do. First, stop feeling like a failure. I'm still working on this one. The second is much simpler. Regardless of whether it's simply in my head, or whether there really is a huge spike in pregnancy and infertility plotlines in modern media, I simply assume that every book I read, or show or movie I watch, will contain pregnancy or infertility in some way. I simply expec to find it everywhere. That way, I am not caught off-guard and left an emotional wreck when all I want is to escape.
When I found out friends or family were pregnant, it wasn't as though I wasn't happy for them. Truth be told, I was elated that they did not have to experience the monthly hell I was living. But, it was difficult for that happiness to shine forth through my own sadness and frustration. So, there were times I would stay away from the real world to try and avoid all of the happy pregnant women. [FYI: Mother's day is a particularly traumatic time!] It didn't work.
Television is full of pregnant women--celebrity baby bumps; reality stars (some of whom couldn't possibly make good parents?!); women with more children than they can possibly raise by themselves. And movies are full of accidental pregnancies: 9 Months, Saved!, Juno, and Knocked Up, to name a few. Sometimes, titles or characters are a dead giveaway. Television shows such as Private Practice or Accidentally on Purpose, for example, are abundantly clear in this regard, so that I can steer clear or subject myself as I decide. Others are not so obvious. I did not expect a pregnancy reference in Family Guy--Something, Something, Something Darkside. Then, there are the references to infertility that hit me upside the head out of nowhere, when I least expect it. I came upon these most recently in Up and Julie & Julia.
Books, I discovered, were no better. I would carefully read the plots on the backs of the books and there would be no indication that pregnancy would be involved, only to discover in the last 3 pages of the book that someone was pregnant! I simply could not find a single activity that would not force me to come face to face with the one thing I could not achieve, no matter how much I tried. Speaking as a control freak and someone who has never found anything I couldn't stubborn my way through, I most wanted to avoid coming face to face with pregnancy because it made me feel like a failure. Over and over again. Why is it that this simple, basic, biological process that everyone else seemed to be able to do, is beyond me? Why am I broken?
I probably won't ever have an answer to these questions. But, there are two things I can do. First, stop feeling like a failure. I'm still working on this one. The second is much simpler. Regardless of whether it's simply in my head, or whether there really is a huge spike in pregnancy and infertility plotlines in modern media, I simply assume that every book I read, or show or movie I watch, will contain pregnancy or infertility in some way. I simply expec to find it everywhere. That way, I am not caught off-guard and left an emotional wreck when all I want is to escape.
1.12.2010
A New Dream
So, when last we left our struggles, Phil and I were exploring our four potential options: surgery, IVF, adoption and childlessness. We cried and talked and worked at figuring out where we were. We had many gracious people share their own stories of infertility with us, for which we are eternally grateful. We attended a free seminar at a fertility center recommended by my OBGYN. We both felt instantly welcomed there and knew that, should we decide to pursue IVF, that would be the place we would go. Most startling, however, was that we essentially received an answer to our big question—why?—within the first 10 minutes or so, quite by accident.
The center is a fertility center, not only an IVF center, and they hold the seminars in part so that people are aware that infertility problems do not automatically equal IVF. We listened hopefully as they explained the percentages and possibilities. Then the doctor gave a few example case studies. In one, the woman was 25 and had been having infertility issues for 5 years. In doing her health history, the doctor discovered that she had not simply had an appendectomy at 16, but her appendix had ruptured and infection had set into her abdomen, which had scarred and blocked her tubes. Her only option was IVF. Phil and I sat in the back row of the seminar looking more than a little stunned. As some of you know, in 1996, my appendix ruptured rather spectacularly and it was over 24 hours before I ever got to the hospital. Needless to say, the infection was extremely severe, and that is likely what caused my infertility problems. This was a mixed blessing. We were glad to know what had caused the problem, but now knew that our surgical option was off the table. It was IVF, adoption, or childlessness.
After another period of soul-searching, we agreed that we both still very much wanted to be parents. I told Phil that, from my perspective, I would rather try one cycle of IVF first and, if that failed, move on, but that if I didn’t try, I would likely always wonder “what if.” So, we scheduled a consult with the fertility doctor. We had a wonderful meeting, but we discovered that before we could do IVF, I would have to undergo further surgery. It turns out that I had a certain type of blocked tube (a hydrosalpinx) that retains fluid which discourages pregnancy and, without surgery to close it off or remove it, our chances at IVF would drop by half to, at best, 26%. So, I had surgery today on my right tube to cut, drain and burn it closed. We decided to leave the left intact because it will not interfere in the process and I am not yet willing to give up on the idea of spontaneous healing and the possibility of natural pregnancy.
So, I am currently in recovery and, if all goes well, we will start IVF in March. Here’s to a new year and our new dream.
The center is a fertility center, not only an IVF center, and they hold the seminars in part so that people are aware that infertility problems do not automatically equal IVF. We listened hopefully as they explained the percentages and possibilities. Then the doctor gave a few example case studies. In one, the woman was 25 and had been having infertility issues for 5 years. In doing her health history, the doctor discovered that she had not simply had an appendectomy at 16, but her appendix had ruptured and infection had set into her abdomen, which had scarred and blocked her tubes. Her only option was IVF. Phil and I sat in the back row of the seminar looking more than a little stunned. As some of you know, in 1996, my appendix ruptured rather spectacularly and it was over 24 hours before I ever got to the hospital. Needless to say, the infection was extremely severe, and that is likely what caused my infertility problems. This was a mixed blessing. We were glad to know what had caused the problem, but now knew that our surgical option was off the table. It was IVF, adoption, or childlessness.
After another period of soul-searching, we agreed that we both still very much wanted to be parents. I told Phil that, from my perspective, I would rather try one cycle of IVF first and, if that failed, move on, but that if I didn’t try, I would likely always wonder “what if.” So, we scheduled a consult with the fertility doctor. We had a wonderful meeting, but we discovered that before we could do IVF, I would have to undergo further surgery. It turns out that I had a certain type of blocked tube (a hydrosalpinx) that retains fluid which discourages pregnancy and, without surgery to close it off or remove it, our chances at IVF would drop by half to, at best, 26%. So, I had surgery today on my right tube to cut, drain and burn it closed. We decided to leave the left intact because it will not interfere in the process and I am not yet willing to give up on the idea of spontaneous healing and the possibility of natural pregnancy.
So, I am currently in recovery and, if all goes well, we will start IVF in March. Here’s to a new year and our new dream.
Some Background
Note: This post originally appeared as a note on my Facebook page on October 28, 2009.
Ever since Phil and I got married, I have been dreaming of raising curly, red-headed children. We laughed about our heritage (German and Scots/Irish) and coloring (or lack thereof) and declared that any children we had were likely to be clear, have large noses, and be meticulous drinkers. I wondered whether they would spend hours reading the way we do; how they would do in school; who they would like; who they would take after. I spent hours wondering whether I would make a good parent. I was assured by anyone I talked to that I would do fine.
Once we got settled in Michigan and I finished law school, we had been married 8 years. We had “the talk” and decided it was time to start a family. We talked about what we wanted and made sure we were as close to being on the same page about everything that we could. We talked about how to rearrange the house to make a nursery. We picked names. And we waited. I had read tons of literature and knew that since I was under 35, we were supposed to wait a year before we freaked out. I diligently waited my year and then went to the doctor for testing. After another year of testing and various drugs and more waiting, I was scheduled for surgery to take care of endometriosis—surgery is the only definitive way to diagnose it, but I had all of the symptoms.
During the surgery, the doctor was also going to do another tubal dye study. I had previously had an HSG which had looked okay, but on further review they couldn’t tell whether the right side was blocked, so they were going to do another one while I was already there. The surgery went well and the doctor was able to remove scar tissue. However, the tubal dye study revealed that both tubes are completely blocked. The right one was likely blocked at the time of the HSG and, whatever small opening that had been in the left one was now well and truly closed.
We now find ourselves left with four options:
1) Have surgery to try and open the tubes. This surgery is unlikely to be covered by insurance, increases the risk of ectopic pregnancy twenty-fold, and provides a 5-50% chance of success, depending on where and how severe the blockage is.
2) IVF. Also not covered by insurance. This is our best bet at bio kids, but it appears that it may be more than we are willing to do, given the emotional, physical, time and money commitment it requires.
3) Adoption.
4) Childlessness.
Rather than rushing into any of these choices—or ruling any of them out—we have decided to take the time to strengthen ourselves, and our relationship, while we ponder the alternatives. We are working on gathering as much information as we can and prayerfully figuring out where we are, what we want, and how we can best go about doing that. In the meantime, we are grieving the death of a dream. Even if we have bio kids using IVF, we have lost the spontaneity and surprise. If we choose adoption, we have lost the dream of seeing ourselves and our family in our children. If we chose childlessness, we lose the dream of being parents. So, please bear with me, as I grieve the loss of this dream, and learn to dream a new dream.
Ever since Phil and I got married, I have been dreaming of raising curly, red-headed children. We laughed about our heritage (German and Scots/Irish) and coloring (or lack thereof) and declared that any children we had were likely to be clear, have large noses, and be meticulous drinkers. I wondered whether they would spend hours reading the way we do; how they would do in school; who they would like; who they would take after. I spent hours wondering whether I would make a good parent. I was assured by anyone I talked to that I would do fine.
Once we got settled in Michigan and I finished law school, we had been married 8 years. We had “the talk” and decided it was time to start a family. We talked about what we wanted and made sure we were as close to being on the same page about everything that we could. We talked about how to rearrange the house to make a nursery. We picked names. And we waited. I had read tons of literature and knew that since I was under 35, we were supposed to wait a year before we freaked out. I diligently waited my year and then went to the doctor for testing. After another year of testing and various drugs and more waiting, I was scheduled for surgery to take care of endometriosis—surgery is the only definitive way to diagnose it, but I had all of the symptoms.
During the surgery, the doctor was also going to do another tubal dye study. I had previously had an HSG which had looked okay, but on further review they couldn’t tell whether the right side was blocked, so they were going to do another one while I was already there. The surgery went well and the doctor was able to remove scar tissue. However, the tubal dye study revealed that both tubes are completely blocked. The right one was likely blocked at the time of the HSG and, whatever small opening that had been in the left one was now well and truly closed.
We now find ourselves left with four options:
1) Have surgery to try and open the tubes. This surgery is unlikely to be covered by insurance, increases the risk of ectopic pregnancy twenty-fold, and provides a 5-50% chance of success, depending on where and how severe the blockage is.
2) IVF. Also not covered by insurance. This is our best bet at bio kids, but it appears that it may be more than we are willing to do, given the emotional, physical, time and money commitment it requires.
3) Adoption.
4) Childlessness.
Rather than rushing into any of these choices—or ruling any of them out—we have decided to take the time to strengthen ourselves, and our relationship, while we ponder the alternatives. We are working on gathering as much information as we can and prayerfully figuring out where we are, what we want, and how we can best go about doing that. In the meantime, we are grieving the death of a dream. Even if we have bio kids using IVF, we have lost the spontaneity and surprise. If we choose adoption, we have lost the dream of seeing ourselves and our family in our children. If we chose childlessness, we lose the dream of being parents. So, please bear with me, as I grieve the loss of this dream, and learn to dream a new dream.
Introduction
When my hubby and I decided to become parents, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. That's probably a good thing, or we might never have decided to try. Now, over two years into trying to conceive, we have decided to try IVF. As many other women have done before me, I have decided to blog about my experience with infertility and IVF in an effort to vent for my own sanity, keep family and friends informed, and help others know that they are not alone. Welcome to our journey.
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