Halloween

Ahh…Halloween.

I'm convinced this is THE hardest day of the year for all people struggling with infertility to be on social media. 

See, we KNOW Mother's Day and Father's Day are going to be hard.  Most of us brace ourselves for those days during the other 364 days of the year. 

And holidays that involve gifts…like Christmas and Easter…we can help ease the ache in our heart by telling ourselves things like "We would NEVER buy our kids that gift!"or "Thank Goodness we weren't woken up at 4:30 am by deranged excited little people!"  

But Halloween kind of creeps up on us.  You nonchalantly peruse your favorite social media site and then…BAM…all these adorable little elephants and owls and ladybugs and 5,240 Elsa's and superheros are staring back at you.  And it's super hard because those kids are so, so, so stinkin' cute.  And you think "Darn it, I want to dress up a kid!!!" 

I am so grateful I am beyond the raw heartache of infertility.  It's that raw heartache that can make you want to crawl under the covers on days like this or convince yourself that you don't really want kids, but I'd like to suggest just simply logging off the social media, putting down the technology, and focus on being present in your own blessings.  

It's comparing ourselves to others that often leads to feeling worse about our life or our circumstances.

While I have known life without things like Facebook and Instagram, I have never known adult life without it. And I think that kind of sucks.  (Though I am SUPER grateful I managed to get through high school without social media!!)

My generation has always had the ability to compare our houses, our cars, our careers, and our kids with just a few clicks of the mouse (or swipes on a touch screen). When your friends start a new job, buy a house or a new car, the social media highlights are short and sweet, but those kid posts/pictures keep popping back up! Every new life milestone, every holiday, (and for some of you) every 10 minutes.  Suddenly, your cute little lonesome Dorothy is now posing with her entire Wizard of Oz crew of siblings and we're over here wondering (mostly) where the hell the past seven years have gone and (partly) when the heck you had child number seven…(okay, maybe not seven…just four)?

This growing world of technology and in-your-faceness is SUCH a double-edged sword in the infertility community.

It's the technological advancements that give me more options for how we're going to bring a baby home.  It's technology that allows us to join anonymous infertility online support groups or blog about our stories and reach so many more new people with similar journeys.

The key is finding the perfect balance of using technology and letting go of social media. 

It's a hard balance to find.

P.S For those of you who still may be in the throws of all the raw emotions associated with infertility, know that it does get better.  One day you'll be able to see all those cute little kids in costume on social media and you'll not only be okay, you'll be happy thinking about all the fun they had trick-or-treating. 

Upside down

In the past year that my sister, brother-in-law and niece have lived back in our hometown, my husband and I have watched my niece several times.  Although we've seen her at least once a week since their return, our opportunities to actually babysit her alone are few and far between.  Mostly because this little girl is super, duper loved by two sets of grandparents and a whole bunch of aunts and uncles willing to babysit her anytime and my husband and I have pretty busy evenings of off duty jobs and cookie making. We usually get together as a huge family gathering.  

The few times we have watched her have mostly been in her home.  Primarily because that's where all her stuff is and it allows mom and dad to stay out a little later since her bedtime routine can begin.  There's no risk of her falling asleep in the car and it means mom and dad don't have to pack all her stuff  up and worry about getting her ready.  In fact, it's been almost exactly one year since the one and only time we've taken her out on our own.  Back then she was around four months old, newly arrived in Richmond and Paul and I were itching to take our niece out into the world.  She happily and quietly sat in her stroller and barely made a peep. 

Last week Paul and I had one of those wonderfully spectacular date nights.  One of those evenings where you try a new restaurant and the food is amazing, the ambience perfect and the conversation flows.  I called my sister and basically told them to plan a date night for themselves for the following week.  I've been cutting back on the cookie making and happened to have a free weeknight and I knew it had been awhile for just the two of them to get away.  

Because of where they chose to go to dinner, we ended up meeting at the mall food court.  We thought the excitement of the play place would make for an easier escape for my sister and brother-in-law.  

The minute we walked up, I realized just how much my childless existence has tarnished my way of thinking.

Quite honestly, public child play places mortify me.  I look at them and practically see the germs jumping off the play equipment.  Then there's the kids shrieking and the parents yelling at their non-listening children.  And, of course, there's always that one child who insists on getting in every other kids face and you just know it's that child who has the cold/flu/plague.  I was immediately on pins and needles waiting for my niece to either take a nose dive or backflip off the big, germ infested plastic creatures.  Because she's my sister, I looked at her and asked "How could you let her play in here? Don't these places give you the heebie jeebies?"  She replied simply, yet perfectly… "Because she loves them."  It was in that moment, that I put myself in my niece's shoes and saw those exciting larger than life animals to crawl all over…shrieking in pure delight as she ran from one to the other…sometimes marching around or putting her arms up in excitement (when the plague girl wasn't in her face.)  

My sister and brother-in-law were able to scurry off without being caught by my niece and Paul and I let her play for another ten minutes (about as long as I could keep my anxiety at bay).  We then went to conquer dinner.  We've eaten at chic-fil-a with my niece on many occasions and my sister knew we knew the dinner routine and we knew we knew the dinner routine.  My brain was firing on all cylinders…paying attention to her…to my surroundings…multi-tasking the entire time.

We got a high chair, put down the placemat, got her dinner started and loved interacting with her the entire time.  And then my husband put Bubble Guppies on his phone because he knows my niece is obsessed with Bubble Guppies and well, he loves her.  And I was mortified…again.  In .5 seconds, we became that couple to the outside world who plops technology in front of the child.  But then, you remind yourself, who cares what the outside world is thinking?  Because she zoned in on her favorite show and instead of staring at everything and everyone around her, she ate her dinner…at least for the five minutes Bubble Guppies actually played on the iPhone before the signal inside the mall became too weak for it to upload.  Fail.  Nothing like pissing off a one year old by taking away Bubble Guppies.  Luckily a toy traded for some ice cream did the trick.

My sister and I planned to swap cars so we didn't have to do the carseat switcharoo…which was a marvelous plan until Paul and I walked out of the mall and realized we forget to tell them where we parked and they forgot to tell us where they parked.  Thank goodness for car remotes!

We needed to run into Wal-Mart quickly so we ditched the stroller and I went to find what I needed and Paul went to get what he needed.  I took my niece with me and made the mistake of walking down the party aisle.  I was letting her walk beside me and all of a sudden she stopped and yelled "Mick".  She had spotted the Mickey Mouse face plates which were conveniently placed at toddler eye level.  And because "Mick" is her newest obsession and I'm a sucker…I decided she needed to have them.  I can justify spoiling her because I'm her aunt…but it dawned on me that when we have kids, that situation will unfold very differently.  I'll be the person who puts the plates down and walks out with a screaming kid.  I made the mistake of not taking my cell phone with me and we couldn't find Paul where he said he would be.  We killed a few minutes by walking around…my niece switching between yelling "Mick" and "Pawwwwwwl".  Finally he emerged from the toy section carrying the stuffed dog from Bubble Guppies.  My niece was ecstatic.  Sucker number two.  The whole way home she kept saying something that sounded like "Bubble Guppies", but just wasn't.  I told Paul that I bet she was calling that character its name and we should look it up.  Paul said "Uhh…You mean Bubble Puppy?"  Yeah….I have A LOT to learn.

The rest of the evening we heard "Pawwwwl", "Kake", "BubbPupp", and "Mick".  

It was so much fun.  

While we had several people approach us to comment on how adorable she was (probably because she waved them down herself), we were lucky none of them made the usual assumption that we were Mom and Dad.  Those comments still sting and I was grateful we didn't have to hear them.

When my sister and brother-in-law came to pick her up (yes, they did actually return to claim their child)…I told my sister that I am sooooo out of practice.

It didn't really hit me until tonight.  It has been well over 12 years now since I had my last babysitting gig and almost eight years of married life sans kids.  My baby cousins are no longer babies and my other niece and nephew are 10 and 4.  

The night left me feeling equal parts excited for our future and "Oh shit, what are we doing?" 

I realize this evening…all of 2 hours…is nothing compared to what parents face on a day to day basis. The anxiety, the fear, the unknowns, the keeping it cool when your kid starts to lose it, putting the toy back because 'no you can't have it', the decision making, the constant multi multi-tasking.  

But parenting (or niece sitting) is also about re-experiencing the simple joys in life.  Like climbing on an oversized bug or finding your childhood idol staring back at you in the face.  It's letting yourself relish in those moments; being present and choosing to focus on their joy instead of the strangers around you giving you the stink eye.     

There's always an up side to down and a down side to up.

It's all in how you choose to see things.

Quietness

I've been quiet on the blog recently.  Mostly because every now and then I need time to reflect and make sense of this life that's been handed to us and the opportunity to immerse myself in LIVING my life in the real world instead of behind a computer screen.

I've said it before, writing is my coping mechanism. It gets me through the really tough stuff.  I kept an almost daily journal from 5th grade through my freshman year in college (hmm….I wonder where those are?)  Honestly, some days I don't want our infertility journey to be the focus of my day…or the focus of a blog post.

But then I realize that this journey is somehow woven into EVERY aspect of my life.
It has shaped how I process certain situations or how I react or how I respond in conversation.

Our pastor made a statement in church this past weekend that keeps resonating in my head.
"The period of waiting is the period of growth. When you think a reasonable or acceptable period of time has passed…that's when the real growing begins."

I immediately had two very clear thoughts.
 When will this period of growth end for us?
AND
 Boy, we must have had to do A LOT of growing.

My job is centered around reminiscing with residents about their life. I have to meet them in whatever moment they're in.  Stories are (usually) focused on the 'good times'.  I hear on a daily basis how we should appreciate each day because life is too short.  I'm 100% certain hearing this daily reminder from people at the end of their lives is what has helped put things into perspective for me.

I get it.

So my initial thought to my pastor's statement is null and void.  It just doesn't matter.  We'll get to be parents someday.  In some way, shape or form.
I've learned to stop trying to picture what my future will look like.  Again, because it doesn't matter.
Our future will be just how we make it no matter what is thrown in our path.

And when I think about my second thought, I am aware how right He was.
We did have A LOT of growing to do…we still do.  We all still do.

I think about the major story that has shaped our married life together. I bet if you think about it (some may be so obvious that it doesn't require any thought), you'll figure out what your major story has been.

I pray that if it's a trial or tribulation, you embrace it and use it as an opportunity to grow.

I pray that if you're in the middle of the 'daily grind', the 'same old, same old', with 'What's for dinner?' looming in the foreground, surrounded by bills, screaming kids and a messy house; that you'll stop and realize THESE are the moments that count.

My residents said so.

The Easy Way

I'm about to get incredibly honest with y'all.

 

Now, I always write from the heart and (on most days) probably write with a little too much honesty or, at the very least, a little too much information. But today, I'm going all in.

 

When my husband and I got married, I was completely annoyed that he wanted to wait a year to start trying to have children.  Recently, someone asked me how it felt to turn 30 and I responded by telling them I have felt like I was 30 since I was 15, so I'm happy my numerical age is finally catching up to my mental age.  And it's true.  I have wanted children and everything that comes with having children since I was (at least) 15.  Not one thing about remaining childless for an extended amount of time appealed to me.  Mostly, I agreed to my husband's request because I understood that he did not have a childhood like mine and he needed a little more time to process the whole kids scenario. We decided to focus our time and energy on the house buying process and mastering the art of taking care of a puppy and that's just what we did. 

 

By this point, I'm sure you're well aware of our timeline, but I'm not sure if you're aware of the emotions behind that timeline.

 

For all of 2008, I was sad.  One.hundred.percent. bummed that things were not working out like we had planned. Every month presented itself with a new opportunity to grieve.  I briefly talked about my first chemical pregnancy (April 2008) and the subsequent months of confusion and heartache that followed.  I could not fathom that we would be one of those couples who had to seek help from a fertility doctor.  They say hindsight is 20/20 and looking back I remember trying to have a sense of humor about our lack of success even in those early months.  Once I even did a headstand after sex (because that's what everybody does to get pregnant, right?!)  I did it partially out of desperation and partially to make Paul laugh.  Anyone who's been trying to conceive for any amount of time knows that doing the deed can most definitely become exhausting, lack luster and not fun...especially when it's got to be timed.  That year was full of monotony and confusion.

 

In 2009 and 2010, I shifted from sad, confused and hurt to down right pissed off.  I was angry and mad and annoyed.  All around me people were drinking water and getting pregnant.  I swear there were numerous immaculate conceptions those two years, especially on my facebook feed. In the spring of 2010, just after we had spent $19,000 on fertility treatments (over the course of 2 years), our sewer line broke.  Suddenly, the $6,000 we needed to repair it seemed like chump change (which we most definitely did not have) and I remember thinking how unfair it was that our story was unfolding this way.  I was so freaking angry that we were dropping so much money on things and we had NOTHING to show for it.  It's not exactly like you invite your friends over to come check out your awesome new, underground sewer line. Every day was emotionally draining.  Anger was driven mostly by the feeling of being left behind.  My 25 year old brain was trying so hard to come to terms with the total blow of infertility.

 

I've said it before; by the end of 2010, we were emotionally, financially and physically drained.  We felt as though every part of our beings had been chewed up and spit out.  We didn't have one ounce of our souls left to give.  So, we got selfish.  We attempted to find ourselves again...or honestly, just find ourselves to begin with.  Being that we started down this infertility path so early, we hardly had any time to discover who we actually were.  What kind of adults we were going to be in life after college or who we were as a couple. 

 

These past four years have been glorious and wonderful.  Things shifted.  It has been so absolutely amazing to do everything WE want to do, when we want to do it (as much as we can with still caring for four dogs.)  I've mentioned before how freeing these past four years have been.  Things are way on the up swing.  Sure, we're still paying off our debt, but at least we now have some pretty freaking awesome vacations and a Harley to show for our spending.  We've come to terms with the little amount of debt we still carry because we chose to fill the childless void in our life with happy, positive experiences.  We've known many marriages that have crumbled and many alcohol addictions started because of infertility.  We'll gratefully take the debt any day.

 

But the one thing I have never mentioned before is the other thing that grew over the past four years.

 

COMPLACENCY.

 

We both got to a point where we were perfectly content.  We turned into people who didn't care if we had kids or didn't.  We became those people who could have been perfectly happy living child free. We got use to being able to be selfish and after 3 years of giving infertility our all...that was fine with us. Over the past year, I've begun to realize that complacency is often just another coping mechanism.  It helps shield your heart away from the difficult areas.  And it completely worked for us while we took the time to piece ourselves back together.

 

Honestly, not having kids would be the easy way.  There are still definitely some days where I'd like to choose the easy way.  Vacationing and travelling all the time.  Getting to be selfish.  Not having to make appointments or difficult decisions.  But, as is the case with most things in life, the things that are most worth it are never easy. 

 

We learned to focus so much on the positives of NOT having kids that we neglected to see the positives of having kids. 

 

I never miss an opportunity to bring up the Race to Parenthood because it did so much good for us.  Not just financially, but emotionally.  It shook us from that safe little tree limb we were happily clinging to and made us hit the ground...hard.  It reawakened our desire to be parents...not just because everyone else is...but because we WANT to be parents.  We knew right away we were all in for the Race.  Our complacency shifted almost overnight back into a passionate desire to become parents...come all the hell and high water life could throw at us.  Our complacent state was such a gift to us.  We now know that whichever direction our life unfolds...we will be okay.  People in the infertility community often talk about this proverbial 'other side' and we know, without a shadow of a doubt, we have crossed it. 

 

 

____________________________________________

 

Editorial Note:  I realize I use "I", "We" and "Us" a lot.  This is, after all, my blog and our story. Most blog posts will probably be like this because writing is MY coping mechanism.  I realize that the majority of my 594 facebook friends (Seriously...I didn't know I knew that many people until just now), probably aren't dealing with infertility.  I recently learned that someone questioned why I was writing all of this and making it so public.  First of all, I figured those that don't care about our journey or this cause, won't read the blog.  That's fine with me.  Those that do want to share in our story will read the blog (and according to most of my post stats, that's usually over 200 of you!)  My hope is that those dealing with infertility or close to someone who is will gain a little information here and there.  I hope that everyone of you will replace infertility with your own trial and tribulation and use my blog as a daily reminder that we all have our own unique struggles, our own way of coping with things, but that life is beautiful ALL of the time.  Doing life together is what makes it meaningful. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



1-800-sperm

(Please read this in the jovial context it was written in.)

There is nothing normal about buying sperm.

 

It's just such a weird and unique experience to try to wrap our heads around.

 

You fall in love (hopefully!), get married and one day maybe you'll have kids.

You probably don't think twice about the actual sperm.  Odds are, you'll accept all your husband's flaws (if he has any) because you love him. You probably won't even consider his family history because you love him and you want to have kids with him anyway.  You'll take him for who he is...his personality, his interests, his looks...because you love him.

 

Get my point?  You love him! (hopefully)

 

But when you realize your husband's swimmers can barely swim, won't stop and ask for directions AND don't get along with your eggs, well then you may just find yourself shopping for sperm.

 

And that's where the process takes a 100% awkward nosedive. 

Nothing says romance like, "Hey honey, come sit on the couch next to me so we can over analyze all these men and their swimmers." 

 

Suddenly, you're trying to pick out a person's sperm based solely on their family history, their interests, their education and one measly baby photo.  And you think... "Well, this is just great.  I'm trying to pick half of my future child's genetic make up based on a sheet of checked boxes." I mean, it's not like it's a major life decision or anything. And again, it's weird.  Because, suddenly, you care that someone's great uncle died of cancer at 40 or that someone has seasonal allergies or that they didn't go to college, all because you don't actively love the person you're reading about.

 

It can be a terrifying and overwhelming process.

Luckily, Paul and I are able to have a sense of humor about the whole thing.

We remind ourselves that we will love our little baby so freakin' much that the donor sperm will be an after thought.

 

When we first started casually looking up sperm banks we were amazed by how many popped up in a google search. In a stroke of genius...(okay, maybe just a stroke of "help, what the heck am I doing?!"), I called my fertility clinic and got them to recommend a few sperm banks.  Thank goodness I did!  They steered me away from one of the first that had popped up in my google search (because of proximity).  My IVF nurse informed me they had had some issues with that bank recently.  Yeah...no thanks!!  She recommended one from the Midwest and one from the West Coast.

 

The one from the Midwest was like shopping on a national chain website.  They have several locations around the country and it appears they all pull from each other's resources.  It can be awesome to have so many options, but it is completely nerve wracking, too. 

The one from the west coast had more of a small boutique feel.  Yes, a more limited selection, but better customer service and easier to navigate.

 

This sounds totally shallow, but it's kind of like wedding dress shopping.  You know there are millions of wedding dresses across the country.  You also know you're only going to visit a few dress shops close to you and you're probably going to try on less than a handful of dresses at each store.  Two things will happen....you'll either fall in love with one dress and know that it's the one...or you'll get so tired of looking at them you just pick the best one. Naturally, you want a beautiful dress that looks good on you because you know there will be pictures forever...but honestly, at the end of your wedding day, the ONLY thing that matters is that you married your love.

 

For us, sperm shopping is much the same.  We know there are thousands of donors out there at hundreds of sperm banks across the country.  We're only going to look at a few of them and we'll narrow down our choices.  Naturally, we'd like to choose a sample from someone who is not completely unfortunate, but the ultimate thing that matters at the end of this process is that we will love a child unconditionally and whole-heartedly. 

 

Just to make the process a little trickier, there's this whole blood compatibility thing.

 

More than likely, you probably don't know your blood type (or your spouses) off the top of your head (unless you're an active blood donor or have a medical condition.) If you're lucky, your parents will remember from when you were born.  Luckily for me, I'm the first child and my mom is pretty sure of my blood type.  "I think you're A+. I don't think you were anything weird."  Uhh, thanks. 

 

Did you know in the 1930's and 40's it became mandatory to have a blood test before you got married?  Vaccinations weren't as common back then and the country was seeing an outbreak of syphilis.  Also, procreation was the number one reason for marriage and a blood test helped check the blood compatibility of the husband and wife.  As vaccinations grew in number and the world loosened up a little, the laws changed and as of 2012 only Montana required pre-marriage blood work.  A little pre-marriage blood work sure would have been nice for us.  It would have saved me a step!  Wouldn't you know, with ALLLLLLL the blood work I've had over the course of the past seven years, this basic information (blood type, Rh factor and CMV status) is not in my chart. So off I went yesterday for yet another blood draw.

 

Not only are we scoping out all these random traits, characteristics, and family history, we also need to cross check the blood type, Rh factor and CMV status against mine.

 

It's like medical speed dating....with your husband by your side.  Not creepy at all.

 

Again, Paul and I are choosing to focus on the humor of this whole scenario.  Remember what I said about laughing at certain situations, even when you should probably be crying?  If we didn't, we'd get so wrapped up in how freakin' unfair this all is and, well, that wouldn't solve a darn thing.

 

And since Paul and I are awful with numbers, you can be darn sure we'll find someone smart in math.

 

Off to sperm shop we go! 

 

P.S.  Thanks to everyone who has (jokingly, I hope) offered us a free sperm sample.  While we are most thankful for your generous offer, we'll stick to picking from a mysterious donor online.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Shh...

(Warning: This post contains sensitive and personal material.)

 

The Miscarriage.

Unfortunately, this is a major taboo subject in today's world.

 

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  More specifically, the date is October 15th.  I was trying to hold off on writing about this topic until then, but it's been tugging at my heart a little too much recently.

 

This topic is extremely personal and unique to each individual woman. I get that.

 

I won't get into specific statistics about miscarriages and still births.  If you're really interested in knowing numbers, here's a good chart to help break it down.

 

It saddens me that the one area where most all women can relate in some way, shape or form, is the one area that most women won't talk about. I understand that every woman has an incredibly personal and private view point on this topic; however; it makes my heart heavy that by not talking about it, we miss one major area where we could develop and grow our overall compassion and understanding of each other.   

 

As I have traveled down this infertility road, so many stories relating to this topic have crossed my path.  Each story is shaped by its own unique set of circumstances and there's no way I could even begin to summarize all the different scenarios that have unfolded before me.

 

Some doctors have argued that the overuse and easily accessible home pregnancy tests have added to the rise in the number of miscarriages reported.  The early detection HPTs are used to detect an hCG level above 25, which in the medical world is a really, really, really low beta number.  In the medical world, a miscarriage occurring before a gestational sac can be detected on an ultrasound is dubbed a chemical pregnancy.  You've heard me talk about this as it has been my experience.

 

Even the basic vernacular used to describe our experience shapes how we perceive what we're going through. 

 

Here's my most recent example of what I mean.

 

If you're reading this, you have most likely followed my story almost daily for the past month now.

It's important to understand the timeline in which my most recent story played out.

 

Friday, Sept. 12th: Frozen Embryo Transfer of three 3 day embryos.  (Embryos usually implant around day 5.) Commence almost two week wait.

Tuesday, Sept. 23rd: 1st Beta: 26. I'm pregnant!

Wednesday, Sept. 24th (& everyday through Oct. 2nd): Positive Home Pregnancy Tests

Thursday, Sept. 25th: Non-doubling, yet rising beta: 45

Friday, Sept. 26th: Share will everyone our positive status.

Monday, Sept. 29th: Non-doubling, yet rising beta: 75 (Suspecting a blighted ovum)

Thursday, Oct. 2nd: Beta dropped to 71-Probably a chemical pregnancy-expect period.

Tuesday, Oct. 7th:  6 weeks pregnant today and finally started my miscarriage.

 

If I had not been in the infertility world, I would have received a positive pregnancy test and would have scheduled to have an ultrasound whenever my OBGYN could fit me in. I would have started to bleed at the 6 week mark and would have been completely devastated by the arrival of my period, all along probably thinking I was going to have a normal, healthy pregnancy.  But, BECAUSE, I am in this infertility world, I was well aware of my low numbers and suspected my story would unfold this way.  Mentally and emotionally making the transition from 'pregnant' to 'not pregnant' relatively easy for me.  All along my doctors (and Paul and I) have referred to them as chemical pregnancies because that is exactly what they are.  This term also helped us process this journey.  We knew all along that although a gestational sac was probably developing, more than likely, an embryo was not.  Please know, I am not negating that other women and men may still find a similar scenario to be earth-shattering and heart-breaking.  It just wasn't for us this go around.  We haven't had a positive pregnancy result in over 7 years, so we're probably a little used to it, too. Yes, it's still sucky, but it's manageable.  I hope that makes sense.

 

But here's a similar, yet entirely different scenario.

 

Due to incredibly painful periods, my sister (Brittany) has been on birth control since her teen years (while I have never been on birth control).  When she and her husband decided to start trying for kids in 2012, she went off of it.  For close to 3 months, her cycle was wishy washy and she began to get frustrated with a non-regular schedule (Personally, I have always been like clock work).  In fact, she was on her way to a scheduled doctor's appointment to discuss why she hadn't had a period in over eight weeks, when she FINALLY got a positive pregnancy result that morning.  She had been testing religiously that entire time all with negative results.  She discovered that she had ovulated way late and had caught her pregnancy way early.  She went on to have a happy, healthy, perfect baby.

At the end of this summer, my sister and brother-in-law got another (somewhat) surprise positive home pregnancy test. They shared their joyous news with family and close friends.  Eight short days later, my sister began to feel not right.  Being that she had already had a child, she could tell that something was off.  The next day her suspicions were confirmed.  Blood work confirmed a fairly low beta number (not as low as mine, but not where it needed to be) and two days later more blood work confirmed a dropping beta.  Her doctor called to confirm that she was indeed having a miscarriage...just before she hit the 7 week mark.  Our timelines were almost identical, but because of our different histories, our story unfolded in a drastically different way.  I suspected and believed a chemical pregnancy all along; she thought happy, healthy pregnancy and BAM...a miscarriage.

 

My story was easy to process, hers was devastating. 

 

A pregnancy that ends before the 24 week gestation mark is termed a miscarriage.  A pregnancy that ends after this is termed a still birth. 

 

I am 100% a believer that the later the pregnancy ends, the more traumatic, earth-shattering, heart-breaking, gut-wrenching the news is.  I will not even begin to pretend that I know anything about this pain.  I also won't even begin to pretend that I know what it's like to have multiple miscarriages. Many women on their journey to parenthood (especially in the infertility world) will have multiple miscarriages at various weeks of gestation.  More than anything, the awareness that I have been fortunate enough to not have this be my story, is the one thing that has helped put my life into perspective these past seven years.

 

My heart shatters for each woman who experiences a miscarriage or a still birth.

Words cannot adequately express how sorrowful of a time this can be in a woman's life.  Every woman (and man) will process this situation in a different way. 

 

If you are a silent processor, please realize that you are not alone.  One in four woman will experience a miscarriage at some point in their life. I know many women who don't share the news  they're expecting with anyone, often have a hard time telling people when they then have a miscarriage.  Sharing with just a few extra family and friends right away can most definitely make the miscarriage process a little easier IF it happens.  They can help be your shield from the rest of the world and help cover for you on the days you feel awful.

 

If you know someone going through this, it's okay to ask them if they want to talk about it or not.  Let them know you're there for them. Provide a meal, provide some yummy treats. Write them a note just to let them know you're thinking about them.  The littlest signs of compassion go a long way.

 

In a world where women constantly belittle women (appearances, parenting techniques, etc.), my hope is that we all remember the miscarriage.  I pray we learn to view each other in a compassionate and understanding way. 

 

 

 

 



 

 

Picture Day & Humble Pie

In keeping true to this blog being mostly an electronic diary for myself, this post contains mostly a run down of the past few days.  There's nothing much deep or witty coming from this brain today.

My husband went to Pennsylvania this past weekend to run in a 5k with my father, sister and brother-in-law.  I cherish that after 11 years together (not a long time by any means), my husband and I sincerely and wholly miss each other when we're apart.  In today's world of divorces and lack luster marriages, I am so grateful we still prefer to spend more time together than apart.  Anyway, I was really excited for him to return home and just as he arrived, I was hit with this pretty intense abdominal pain. Nothing says "Hello, honey" like being doubled over on the couch. 

My initial thought was to curse the fact that I had eaten an entire frozen pizza by myself.

Now before you go judging me, please know it was a small frozen pizza and eaten over the course of three meals and two days.   But, nonetheless, I was 100% blaming that pizza for that abdominal pain.  At that point, my thoughts were leaning more towards a gastrointestinal pain than anything else.  A pepto and three ibuprofen seemed to do the trick for that night. My poor husband was greeted with nothing more than me complaining about my pain.

(Side note: Ever notice how a woman must be almost hospital bound before getting major sympathy points from a man, but a man gets a runny nose and a 'tickle' in his throat and the world must come to an abrupt stop? Hope I didn't generalize too much. You know what I mean!)

On Monday, I went about my day mostly pain free, though I did have some residual tenderness just under my right rib cage.  At this point, I was thinking perhaps I pulled a muscle from all the cleaning I did on Sunday.  Maybe I carried the vacuum cleaner up the steps funny?  Maybe I strained myself opening all the windows and cleaning both sides of them?  The point is that I was not alarmed in any way and was trying to justify my pain.

But about 4:00 on Monday afternoon, I was hit with so severe of a pain, I could barely stand up straight.  I thought I would pass out on the way home from work and was so grateful I only live two traffic lights away from my job.  I called Paul just before I left and told him how awful I was feeling.  The only thing I could think of was an ectopic pregnancy.  For those of you who may not know, an ectopic pregnancy is when the embryo implants into the fallopian tube or outside of the uterus. The word ectopic means "in an abnormal place or position".  The only early symptoms of an ectopic pregnancy are abdominal pain, a missed period and a positive pregnancy test.  If the ectopic pregnancy is in your fallopian tube, most women won't realize it until their fallopian tube ruptures, they hemorrhage and pass out from blood loss.  Lovely!  I was not about to mess around with my pain since Dr. Google had convinced me the pain I was feeling was from an ectopic pregnancy.

I have been to the ER two times in my whole life (unless my parents took me when I was a baby for that whole constipation episode).  My first ER visit was in December 2002 when my appendix was inflamed. The subpar hospital I was at (out of state and holiday time), sent me home with antibiotics.  Three months later I had my roommate in college take me to the ER on a Thursday night around 11:00 pm and by 6:00 am, I was having an appendectomy.  I don't go to the ER on a whim.

When I got home from work on Monday evening, I made the executive decision to go to the ER because my pain was THAT intense.  My period had still not arrived and it did not feel like a miscarriage.  Luckily, I made an educated decision in the heat of the moment (hooray for being a thinker, not a feeler!) and called the after hours on-call fertility doctor. I was soooooo grateful the doctor on call was the other doctor in my doctor's practice and not one of my two former fertility doctors.  How awkward would that have been??  

The on-call doc was an integral part of putting together the Race to Parenthood and we had met him several times. I explained all my pain, my fertility treatments, our fertility history and he calmed me down.  I was talking to him on the phone while Paul was driving me to the ER.  Based on my low beta numbers, he determined I was not at risk for actually having a fallopian tube rupture and he suggested I visit my doctor on Tuesday morning for an ultrasound.  So, we made a u-turn and ended up going to our small group meeting that evening.  Luckily, my intense pain subsided to a manageable ache for the rest of the evening.

I went to work on Tuesday morning and called my doc. Fortunately, they could squeeze me in at 9:45. Wouldn't you know, JUST before I went into the doctor's office, I finally started to spot.  Nothing like eating a little humble pie when you're in front of your doc after being an alarmist.  

He could neither confirm nor deny the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy because he couldn't see any pregnancy tissue anywhere.  The positive side was that he also couldn't see any active bleeding from my fallopian tube. This particular scenario gave me an opportunity to see how differently Paul and I process the exact same situation as he had gone with me.  I was grateful that the doc couldn't find anything definitively wrong and Paul was upset that he couldn't tell us more. Which just goes to show that (like most men), Paul does not like feeling helpless. 

Over the course of this journey, I've learned how to laugh at life's timing.  Certain situations will arise where all you can do is laugh.  Even if it's something you should probably cry at…because, seriously, what are the odds?   For example, after my appointment (& lab work where I got stuck twice b/c my vein rolled in my one arm and then she tried the other arm), I returned to work.  I wasn't feeling bad just yet and had the goal of making it through my afternoon staff meeting.  Every two to three years, we do a new pictorial directory at work.  Wouldn't you know, yesterday was picture day.  What are the odds that my staff picture day (once in three years) would fall on the day I started my miscarriage? I had my picture taken and then barely made it through my staff meeting because things got intense fast.

Hello feeling like I'm in 7th grade again. 

I can't even begin to express how grateful I am to work in a place where I can tell my boss exactly what I am going through and have her give me orders to go home and take care of myself.  My employees were great too and practically kicked me out the door.  (Hopefully because they wanted me to go home and relax and not just to get rid of their boss! ;)  )

Today, I'm choosing to embrace a day of sleeping in late (after waking up super early to catch the Lunar Eclipse), watching awful daytime TV, snuggling with my pups and being so.freaking.lazy it may just kill me.  

Maybe I'll shower today, maybe I won't. 

Here's to hoping I feel a little more normal tomorrow.

A lesson in patience

Just when I'm fairly certain I have this whole patience thing down, God throws another opportunity to grow in my path.  

I've been told I have the patience of Job before.  Maybe it's because I work with people who have dementia for a living, maybe it's because I've dealt with infertility for 7 years, maybe it's because I answer my husbands endless question "Have you seen my…?" over and over again, maybe it's because I actually enjoy 1,000 piece puzzles.  

Who knows.  Most days though, I think I've got a pretty good grip on the whole patience thing.

And then one day your IVF nurse tells you your beta numbers have dropped and your period should show up any day.  

(TMI for men?  Sorry, if you have a lady in your life…you've had to deal with it, too!)

So you wait…and wait…and wait some more.  

It's an interesting situation to be in for me.  A little role reversal.  In the beginning, I would pray it DIDN'T show up…now here I am praying it does. 

The first and only other time I had a positive pregnancy result, I only had 3 days to think I was pregnant before our dreams were shattered by the arrival of my period.  At this point, I'm now closer to 6 weeks than 5. 

I had a brief super fleeting thought wondering "What if it doesn't show up?"  What if by some miracle my beta number that day was a fluke? What if I wait around for two weeks and go in because it still hasn't arrived and they actually find a heartbeat? 

Now wouldn't that be some shit?

(Pardon my early 2000's expression.  I'm just not sure how else I would so easily and accurately describe that situation if it did unfold that way.)

The most likely reality is simply I am in another waiting game.  Waiting for my number to drop to zero so my body stops thinking it's pregnant.  Waiting to get this show on the road so we can continue on our journey.

I'm choosing to believe that my momentary lack of patience is actually more of a super, duper intense excitement for the next phase of our journey to begin.  

You say tomato, I say tomato.  

(Boy, that phrase isn't as fun when you have to type it..darn spelling it the same way!)

I'm comforted knowing that my future is not mine to know or worry about.  God has it under control and he already knows how our story will unfold.  I find comfort in the daily small things in life.  Like how absolutely, amazingly, beautifully, gorgeous it was today.  In fact, counting my blessings and taking note of the small things is my most favorite way to calm myself (whether it be from impatience, worrying, sadness, anger…etc.)

But, in the meantime, you can find me writing some half insightful…mostly written because it beats twiddling my thumbs…blog posts.

Let's go shopping!

For Sperm!

 

I'm still having a hard time processing that statement.  It's just so....weird.

 

Let's talk a little about how we got here and why we made this decision.

 

I'll save all my sarcastic comments and humorous posts about this topic for another day.

(Trust me...you'll see more sarcasm from me very soon!)

 

Seven years ago, this option (sperm donation) was totally off the table for us.  It felt wrong. It felt silly.  It felt completely and totally unfair (to us, to all biological relatives, to the baby). To this day it's still hard to wrap my head around.  I picked out the father of my children 11 years ago...no I don't really want to pick who gets to donate genetic material.  But the bottom line is this...my husband will still be the daddy of our children.

 

All along Paul and I have always said "If it's not both, it will be neither".

We've had numerous conversations about adoption (which by the way...never, ever use the phrase "Just adopt!".  Adoption can take years and can cost MORE than fertility treatments. This statement may make someone going through infertility want to punch you in the face. You've been warned!)

We talked about fostering.  (Which is our absolute last resort because we can always foster when we're older.)

 

It was just over one year ago that the Race to Parenthood 5k idea was born. When Paul and I were considering whether or not to become a featured couple we needed to have some very frank and open conversations which we had neglected for four years.  If our option with our last remaining frozen embryos didn't work, which direction were we going to pursue next?

 

Very, very slowly our hearts turned towards this option.

I talked in this post about Paul's very selfless decision.  I mentioned then that it boils down to a realization that passing along genetic material does not make you a parent. 

For Paul and I, it became so clear.  Because I have always had a desire to be pregnant, we want the opportunity for nature AND nurture from the very beginning. Call it selfishness...call it whatever you want.  It's important to us. It is cheaper and less invasive than egg or embryo adoption.

 

My sister said it best.  "When I look at Nora (our niece), I do not see 1/2 my husband, 1/2 me.  I see the baby I carried in my womb for 9 months.  I see the baby we brought into the world. I see her." 

 

We have thought about how this could affect the baby in the future and if (God willing) the treatment should work, we will be open and honest when the time comes.  Our child(ren) will know they were loved so fiercely that Mommy and Daddy needed just a little extra help to bring them home.  And we will teach them that love, commitment, encouraging & supporting each other makes a family.

Not DNA. 

 

I had a very in depth conversation with our IVF nurse yesterday and she said she whole heartedly agrees with my simple yet true statement that Paul's DNA and my DNA just don't like each other.  The sperm has no problem fertilizing the egg, but when they start to grow...they fail somewhere between day 3-10 post fertilization. We could have done embryo genetic testing, but neither one of us ever wanted to 'waste' an embryo for testing purposes.  Given that they fail to develop so early on, accurate testing may have not even worked. If sperm donation does not work, then we will cross that bridge when we get to it. We've still got a lot of fight left in us.

 

If you are going through infertility, please remember to do what YOU (and your partner) feel is right and best for the two of you and your future.  Some people will never do a fertility treatment and will move straight to adoption. Some will never consider adoption but will do multiple fertility treatments. Maybe you'll have to consider surrogacy.  Maybe you'll choose to not become parents. Who knows. 

Remember to follow your own hearts. Try to make educated decisions.  Know that your story is YOUR story.  Not your parents, not your relatives, not your friends, not your neighbors.  YOURS.

 

If you are the family or friend of someone dealing with this horrible disease, be supportive.  Know  every decision they have made has been agonized over and not made lightly.  You might not agree with their choices.  That's okay.  Remember it's not your story to write.

Love and encourage them anyway.

 

 



Grateful

I find it odd as I sit here to write this that the only feeling I currently have is one of gratitude.

 

Today's blood work confirmed what I have secretly been suspecting all week long.  My beta numbers have dropped from 75 to 71 which shows the beginning of a miscarriage (or in my case another chemical pregnancy since I have yet to make it to an ultrasound.)

 

Yes, a part of me is sad that we have no more embryos of our DNA combined available, but a bigger part of me is so, so relieved to have the clear answer.

 

I was praying for the clear cut answer in today's blood work.  My biggest fear (which was minimal considering I know we'll handle things as they come), was that my number would rise but only slightly; leaving us in the exact same predicament.

 

I am grateful that I don't have to do another two weeks of possibly unnecessary injections in my rump.  I am grateful that my body can get this process over with before too much time passed. I am grateful that saving these next two weeks means we get to start our next step (hopefully) two weeks sooner. 

 

We chose to marvel in the joy of our surprise pregnancy announcement last week and because we chose to live in each individual moment, we never let ourselves really think about actually bringing home a baby in nine months.  I was due around Paul's birthday next year and while that birthday may end up being bittersweet, we learned long ago that the specific date your child is born on does not matter at all.  And, hopefully, when Paul's birthday finally does roll around we'll be focused on welcoming a baby a few months down the road. 

 

I am grateful I know my body well enough to have mentally braced myself for this moment.  Last Friday and Saturday I felt pregnant.  My body had enough hCG in it to register some pregnancy symptoms...mostly being tired and having a really sore chest. Starting Monday evening through now, I haven't felt anything.  In fact, I felt some slight cramping last night and thought "My body is ready to start this process."  I am grateful to have been given the green light to officially stop my meds.

 

My heart goes out to our IVF nurse who has to make these calls to women.  She was so gentle and sweet and I think I surprised her when I told her we knew exactly what our next step will be.  She probably handles all sorts of reactions and emotions and she was so kind to explain just what will happen next for us when I started bombarding asking questions.  I think she was grateful that I wasn't a crying, blubbery mess.  She actually said that I don't need to wait another cycle if we wanted to jump right into things.  That gives us about a 10-14 day turn around time and I know we can't get our stuff together that fast!  At this point, we're looking at taking our next step mid-November.

 

I am grateful that all of our children will be able to have the same genetic make up now.  Yes, I would have been over the moon to have a 1/2 Paul, 1/2 Kate baby, but I know genetics does not make the love you feel for a child.  

 

Thank you for sharing our excitement and our joy and delighting in our positive pregnancy result.  Our memories from the past week will be forever happy and wonderful.  It gave us the little sneak peek we needed to see what we've been missing all these years.  It reaffirmed our resolve to be parents (though trust me, more cruises and trips to Europe sure are tempting!!) We hope you'll stick around for our next adventure.  We promise not to cry wolf too many times with those positive pregnancy results!