it's been harder than we thought

Hablo Espanol?

2009-05-29T18:17:00.005-06:00

I finally got a question that I've sort of been waiting for. I'm not sure what my reaction should have been but I took totally in stride at the time and now I think it's hilarious.

Jonah's 17 months olds. He doesn't say much - he has a few words and a few signs - basically pretty normal. Anyway, at Gymb0ree an oler man was there (someone's grandfather maybe?) and he was interacting off and on with Jonah. And then he asked me - "Does he speak English or Spanish?"

Hahaha! He speaks English, of course - but with an accent. You know, because he's brown...

On another note, we had a fabulous Memorial Day weekend - we were supposed to go camping, but it was too cold so we stayed in a hotel. But we hiked a lot and it was gorgeous. Jonah's still a bit young to appreciate the view. But it was good to get away.

Surviving

2009-05-20T08:03:00.001-06:00

I guess that is the best that I can say for myself right now. I’m surviving. I’m coping. It has been three months. The shock is starting to wear off somewhat, but it still hits me out of the blue sometimes and it is still incapacitating. I am fighting off deep dark depression. I have kept it at bay for the most part but it sneaks up on me sometimes and it is difficult to fight off. Jonah is the joy that keeps me going.

He is truly such a blessing. When I feel like completely checking out and hiding from the world, he is what brings me back – I don’t want to miss out on any time with him. This time is so special. He is changing every day. He’s so big. And so smart! And still absolutely beautiful. And he is so much fun now! He’s walking and trying to talk. He’s very into trucks and cars and is completely obsessed with books. He is constantly walking around with a book in his hands coming over to push himself into our laps to read the book to him. Mostly he likes looking at the pictures and turning the pages – reading the actual words on the page is optional. He is truly amazing. I just wish my mom were here to see him…

A Timeline for Grief

2009-03-30T19:42:00.001-06:00

Why is that people somehow think that after enough time has gone by I’ll be fine? I see it in K’s eyes. I hear it in the questions he’s not asking me and underneath those he does ask. He wants to know when he’ll get his wife back. He’s asking me for reassurance that things will be ok again. I can’t give that to him and he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that I will never be the same. How could I possibly be?

Do I think that I will heal? Yes. Do I think that in time, the pain will lessen? Yes. But will I ever be the same?

My world has been shattered. I’m 31 years old and I’ve lost my mother. My mother was 60. She didn’t die of a prolonged illness. She wasn’t killed in a car wreck. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get time to prepare. I think that anytime you lose a parent, a mother, especially when you’re close, it’s hard. Really, really hard. But when you lose someone suddenly – it adds another dimension of difficulty. When someone is sick and you know that they are going to die, you do part of your grieving beforehand. When it’s sudden, you have to do it all at once. And when someone takes their own life, there are so many, many questions left unanswered. Most of the time, the question is “Why?” “Why? Why? Why?”

I know why. Even though I’m still asking that question, I do know why. She was in pain. And she thought she would never get better. She felt trapped by her pain. She felt hopeless. But it wasn’t true. She would have gotten better. She had gotten better before.

Much more than “Why?” – my question is “how?” How could she have done it? How could she have gotten so bad, so quickly? How could she have let herself think those things and not sought help? How could she have promised me that she would never try to kill herself again, and then go and do it? I asked her. I asked her! She told me – “I’ve thought about it. And emotionally, I’m in a much better place than before. I wouldn’t do that.” How can someone say those words - be so rational, so calm, so assuring one day and then kill herself a week later?

I don’t believe she was lying to me when she said it. I think she believed her promise, or at least wanted to believe it. I continue to believe that she wasn’t choosing to die. She was choosing to end her pain. She wasn’t thinking about the long-term consequences of her death, of what it would do to us, of what she would be missing out on – she was only thinking about the short-term solution of ending the pain. She was desperate and crazed and in this state, suicide made sense. To her. It doesn’t make sense to me.

Death doesn’t make sense to me. It’s too final. Too real. How could it possibly be real? How is it possible that my mom, my beautiful, wonderful mom is gone? That I’ll never see her again. Never talk to her again. She’ll never take me shopping again. Never dote on Jonah again. Never read to him again. I’ll never see her smile, hear her laugh. I can barely stand it.

How could I possibly be the same? How could I possibly be ok?

How would you be?

Grief and Fear

2009-03-24T18:06:00.002-06:00

For a few days I thought I was better. And I guess I was, somewhat. But out of nowhere and for no particular reason, yesterday at work I just broke down. And yesterday was not a good day. Today was not so great either.

That’s what my mom used to say – “today was not a good day.” She had been struggling with chronic pain for almost 5 years and some days were better than others. Someday, I want to write more on what happened to her and my family these past 5 years, but this isn’t the post for that.

I miss her so much. The pain is palpable. It hits me sometimes like a physical blow and I might as well be forced to my knees by the impact. How could she really be gone? How is it possible that I will never see her again? Never talk to her? How could it be that my mom, my momma, is gone?

February was a bad, bad month all the way around for us. We lost our dog of 8 years, Lucy, at the beginning of the month. We had to make a very difficult decision and it was very hard. My whole family was saddened by our loss. My mom had called me sobbing the day it happened. And then, just two weeks later, she died too. And ever since I’ve been struggling with this fear – what else is going to happen? What is the next bad thing? Luckily, K reminded me that we had our “three” since our embryos also all “died.”

But both of us are struggling with this fear. This fear of death. Fear of something else bad happening. It’s understandable, of course, but it’s no way to live. I’ve always been a worrier and fought against my tendency to imagine all the worst possible scenarios. Now it seems to be an ever present anxiety – what if something happens to K? To Jonah? To my sister? My dad?

Unfortunately, the fear for my dad is well-founded. He’s not doing well. He wasn’t doing well before my mother died. In some ways, he was worse before but in other ways he’s much worse now. And my sister and I feel so responsible for him. Her, even more than me because she lives there. I’m 800 miles away and that distance has always acted as a much-needed barrier between me and my dad’s needy, demanding, and oft-times crazy behavior. No such barrier exists for my sister. And that makes me feel both relieved and guilty at the same time. An emotion I’ve felt for years in fact.

My parents, mostly my dad, were not at all happy when K and I made the decision to buy a house in Colorado and not move back to Arkansas to be near them. My sister and brother-in-law moved there in 2003 and the expectation had been that K and I would follow. And it wasn’t just their expectation – I really think that I thought so too. But then we made the decision to stay here. And it was absolutely the right decision for us. For our family. But it was not received well. My dad did not speak to me for over three months after that. My mom also wished that we lived closer but she would never jeopardize our relationship over that, and as time went on, she began to understand, and support, more and more our decision to stay here. We did not decide to stay here because we didn’t want to be close to my family. Although over that last several years, we have felt very relieved by the distance (particularly from my dad) and I have realized that the reason I have been able to maintain a good relationship with my father is because we don’t live there. I just don’t think I can live near him.

But I could have lived near my mom. She was easy to be around. We loved having her as a house-guest. And while I don’t regret our decision to live here and be far away from our families, I’m also a little envious of my sister and all the time she got to spend with our mother that I missed. How much more she got to see her these past 5 ½ years than me. And of course, I can’t help asking the question – “If I’d lived here, could I have saved her?”

I know that I couldn’t. My sister is asking herself the same question and I know that there is nothing more that she could have done. That either of us could have done. And yet, I still find myself wondering and questioning. If only I had been there. If only I had called on Saturday.

If only. If only…. If only...

My mom

2009-03-12T19:03:00.002-06:00

is dead.

These are the words that keep echoing through my head (didn't want to put that as the subject because it's too morbid).

"Mom died. Mom died. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead"

Over and over again. I have to keep reminding myself and each time it's a shock.

"She's dead. She's dead. She's dead."

"She killed herself." "My mom killed herself."

My mom walked to her computer one morning, wrote out a note, and then went to the garage and shot herself.

I can't believe it's really true. I cannot reconcile this truth with the truth of my mother and who she was. So generous. So giving. Such a great mother and grandmother.

I'm very, very angry. And sad. And guilty. And in denial. I can't believe that I will never see her again. Never talk to her again. Never get to tell her about Jonah. Watch her see Jonah, hold Jonah, read to Jonah.

My mom, who was the most unselfish person I knew, did the most selfish thing.

And while I know, or think I know, that in some ways it wasn't really her - it's still hard. She was sick. Dealing with chronic pain for 5 years that carried with it severe depression and anxiety. The pain had gotten worse in the past month - exacerbated by a sudden case of shingles. I know that she was acting to end the pain. That she felt she could no longer live with it anymore. I want to understand that. I'm trying to understand that. But it's very hard. Because regardless of the reasons. Regardless of whether she was or wasn't "really" herself at the time. She is gone. Forever. And that means she left me.

And I can't understand how she could leave me.

Jonah's First Steps

2009-03-10T19:46:00.001-06:00

I don't have the energy for a real post so instead, I'm posting an email I just sent to some of my friends and family:

Jonah took his first steps without holding on to anything today! (Or at least we think we so - we explicitly told his nanny not to tell us if he walked for her when we weren't there!).

First, he walked just for me this morning. I didn't really try again until K got home and he walked between us several times. He was laughing the whole time and then we were laughing and he got to laughing so hard he couldn't balance anymore!

Very cute. We'll try to catch it on video soon.

I'm including so many of you on this email (that doesn't even include a picture!) because I really, really want to call my mom right now. Since I can't tell her I decided to tell as many other people as I could. So thank you for indulging me.

Overwhelmed

2009-03-02T19:08:00.006-07:00

I am overwhelmed by the comments and support from this wonderful community - thank you. There is a lot that I'm going to need to say in the upcoming days, weeks and months I expect. But I can't now. What I do want to post, though, is the eulogy that I wrote for my mom. I have no idea how I was able to read this at her funeral - but I did. And I'm so glad that I was able to do that.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

To my mother, my friend, my role-model.

Mom,

Words cannot express the love I have for you. My greatest hope as a mother, is to be as good of a mother as you were. Through your fine example do I know how to be a mother. How to be a woman.

I miss everything about you. How you would listen to me for hours. Always attentive, always asking questions. Shy as I was when I was a little girl – to you, I would talk non-stop. All those trips back and forth to Ft. Smith when you would drive me to gymnastics. And I would talk the whole way. I would tell you, practically page by page, about whatever book I was reading. And if you weren’t really listening, I never knew! Because you were so attentive and patient and interested.

I don’t know how to write this. I don’t know how I could possibly say how much I love you, admire you, respect you, like you. You recently told me that you thought about and missed your mother every day for the last 17 years. I thought I understood it at the time. But I didn’t. Now I do. A day won’t go by that I will not think of you. And miss you. And wish that I could talk to you. And a day won’t go by when I’m not thankful for you. For all that you have given me. For your love. Your generosity. Your heart. For making me the person that I am and for inspiring me every day to be better.

I know that your family was the most important thing in the world to you. I know that you wish you could be here. But since you cannot be, my promise to you is this – I will carry you with me always. I will do my best to be the mother to my children that you were to me. I will strive to be the loving, generous, dependable friend that you have always been.

You are in my heart. And so, in truth, you will never die – you will be with me always. Thank you. For everything.

Mom with Jonah - December 2007

Not the post I thought I'd be writing

2009-02-26T17:21:00.002-07:00

What I expected to be writing about right now was the embryo transfer we just did. We went ahead and did a frozen embryo transfer without telling anyone. I had thought I might write about it but never even did that. Now, it just doesn't seem to matter. It didn't work, which we pretty much expected, but I can't really care about it at all right now. Because my world changed with a phone call on Sunday. A day that started off so well. K and I had even said to each other what a good day it was going to be. Then my sister called. And told me to sit down. And put K on the phone. To tell me that my mom had died. She had taken her own life.

I couldn't talk to her after that. I gave the phone to K and left the room screaming. I made K keep Jonah away from me b/c I didn't want him to see me this way.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! My momma!

I cannot comprehend the loss I am feeling. I cannot believe that this is real. I prayed on Sunday night that I would go to sleep and wake up back home in my own bed. That somehow this was the worst dream I had ever had. But of course, I didn't even really sleep Sunday night so never even had the chance to wake up thinking for even a moment that I was home and none of this had happened.

We buried my mom yesterday. My sister and I spent today going through her desk trying to figure out accounts, credit cards, appointments to cancel. We have to go through her closet. And these things I can handle - sort of. What I can't handle is knowing that my mom is gone. And that Jonah will never really know her. That she won't get to see me continue to grow as a mother. That she won't meet her next grandchild. That instead of naming our next child in honor of her mother, I will be naming her in honor of my mother.

I have a lot of really great friends and they have been wonderful these last few days in their outpouring of love and support for me. But I don't have any friends that I talk to on a regular basis or who I'm accustomed to opening up to. I think it's not really in my nature to do so, but also, it may be that I just have never needed to. Because I had my mother. Now, who am I going to call? When I get back home on Saturday and need someone to talk to - who do I call? Who is ever going to be interested in every little new thing that Jonah is doing? Who can I go to just to get the reassurance that I sometimes need that I'm a good mother, that I know what I'm doing?

There is so much that I need to say about this but I can't say it all now. I am so sad and devastated and scared and angry. I am so sad for my mom - she was so sick. And she tried so hard for so long. She just wanted to feel good. And to live life to its fullest and enjoy her children and grandchildren. I don't know what happened to her Saturday night/Sunday morning that led to making such a disastrous, irrevocable decision. I do not believe she was truly herself. She had promised me that she would never do this. And I believed her. I can't believe I was wrong. I can't believe she is gone. I can't believe how much I miss her already.

One Year

2008-12-08T18:46:00.004-07:00

Wow! Jonah is a year old! This year has just flown by. It feels like just yesterday that we got the call and headed to San Antonio to meet our son, and yet a whole year has gone by. And it has been amazing. Jonah is truly the best thing we have ever done. Being a mother is everything I thought it would be and more. And different than I thought it would be and yet not. It is easier in some ways than I thought and harder in other ways than I could have imagined. I always knew that the love I would feel for my child would be like none other but I never knew I could love anyone this much. He is so so wonderful. And sweet. And fun. And beautiful. And funny. He makes me laugh which makes him laugh which makes me laugh...

We kept his birthday celebration small - just us and my parents. Jonah is an amazing eater so far so it was no surprise to us that he took right to his cake. There was no messing around. He knew just what to do with it and he ate bite after bite. In fact, we ended up taking away half of the piece to keep him from eating all of it!

Jonah is crawling and into everything. He's the kind of baby that goes straight for whatever is dangerous in any room you put him in. He loves electrical outlets and can sense an uncovered outlet from a mile away. Anything and everything goes into the mouth - sand, leaves, dirt, small pieces of plastic, dog food - if it's on the floor, it's fair game. He has just started pulling up to standing in the past few weeks and it's quickly becoming his new favorite trick. He particularly likes to try out all his new moves in the bathtub which is a somewhat hazardous affair. Needless to say, I make sure to get his hair clean and everything else is mostly just washed by the friction of the water (don't tell me if this isn't really possible) or a passing attempt at a crawl-by wash cloth.

We are doing great. I am happy in my job (not sure if I've ever been able to say that before). It's not really the job so much as my schedule and the people I work with. The organization I work for is still mostly run by self-important assholes but since I'm only part-time (can't say enough how much I LOVE this fact!), I don't have to interact with most of them very often. I'm in the office two days a week and work another day at home (split between two days and dependent upon Jonah's napping etc.). The people I interact with on a daily basis are great and I love being home with Jonah the rest of the time.

Now that Jonah is a year old, we are starting to think more and more seriously about the next child. To be honest, I think I had already started thinking about the next one the moment we got Jonah home (the downfalls of being a planner). I am definitely not ready for another baby right now, but I definitely want another one before too long. We have always said that we wanted two children and even though we've discussed the possibility of just having the one since he was so hard to come by, we are in agreement that we want two.

While in a way the thought of starting the whole process over again brings me stress, I can already tell that this will be a thousand times easier than the first time around. We still have four frozen embryos and plan to give a frozen transfer another shot. I don't have any real expectations of it working but it's worth a try since we have them. And if/when that doesn't work, we'll adopt again. I actually believe that if we gave it enough time, I could get pregnant. We know of know physical reason (other than the fact that my tubes are now tied!) that I can't get pregnant and I have technically been pregnant 3 times. But, I don't know how much work it would take - if it would require multiple attempts at IVF, donor eggs, etc. And for me, it's not worth it. So while there is still a part of me that will be sad to never have experienced pregnancy, I am also really excited about experiencing another adoption. I love thinking about the day we got the call about Jonah. It was so unbelievable and exciting and scary and wonderful. So although I'm not quite ready yet, I know I will be soon!

6 months

2008-06-12T21:19:00.006-06:00

It doesn’t seem possible that it has been six months since we first got Jonah. And yet, there it is. The time has just flown by and my 5 pound baby boy is pushing 20 pounds, smiling and laughing like crazy, rolling over (when he feels like it), sitting up (sort of), eating solids, and generally being totally and completely amazing. Our house is exploding in baby items – plastic gadgets and rechargeable batteries upstairs and down. I’ve changed countless poopy diapers, missed weeks of sleep and made endless bottles, and yet I often still find myself completely amazed and overwhelmed by the fact that I am actually a mother. I have a baby! Pushing the stroller in the park, I still feel like shouting to anyone I pass - Look at me! I'm pushing a stroller, and the baby is actually mine!

I was sitting tonight working on Jonah’s baby book and like every other time I have sat down to work on it, I end up in tears. I cannot believe how lucky we are. After everything we went through to become parents, we have made it. Life is good.

Doesn't take much

2008-04-19T06:37:00.003-06:00

Well, it doesn't take much prodding to get me to post pictures of Jonah! Doesn't this look like he's been doing the walk of shame?

Limbo

2008-04-17T19:25:00.002-06:00

I've thought a lot about this blog lately but haven't done anything about it. I guess I'm in an avoidance pattern. There is a part of me that wants to just let this go and quit blogging altogether. But there's another part that really likes writing this blog, having someplace to put my thoughts down and to reach out to others. And so I've thought about things I'd like to write about but haven't managed to get around to doing it at any of the times when I actually could. I actually did start the promised post on adopting but somehow it felt disingenuous and not at all what I had set out to do - so it is here, in draft form, and here it will stay until I can figure out what to do with it. And I guess I can say the same thing about this blog - here it is and here it will stay until I can figure out what to do with it.

Friday Evening Romance

2008-02-29T18:44:00.005-07:00

Our dinner plans began with dreams of steak but by the time K was finally able to leave we had instead landed on just buying one of those store-made roasted chickens, some bread, hummus and maybe some carrots (so we could at least act like we were going to eat some vegetables). Oh, and of course a bottle of fine wine (he may spend $10!)

So, I'm sitting on the couch folding diapers as K is getting ready to leave to go to the store. He leans over and kisses me on the neck and says he wants to "make out" this weekend. I push him away. He says "You smell like urine."

Ah. Love is in the air.

Sick Baby

2008-02-22T16:06:00.002-07:00

(Not Jonah)

Our first baby, our dog, Lucy, is sick. And we are feeling like really bad parents. For the most part I think Lucy has been doing really well with Jonah. She basically has zero interest in him or any of his stuff but has at least licked his face a couple of times and has ventured into his room once or twice to emerge with one of his stuffed animals in her mouth. Other than that they basically ignore each other. I haven't really felt like her life has changed that much either. She still basically gets to sleep wherever she wants -- which is usually in our bed or the guest bed (which we're trying, unsuccessfully, to break her from) or her couch (yes, she has her own couch in a little nook under the stairs which we refer to as the "Harry Potter suite) or her bed or one of our couches (where she is not supposed to be and knows it and so will jump off as soon as she hears us at the door as if we won't notice the tell-tale warm, hairy spot and drools marks she has left behind). Lucy is a rescue greyhound who I adopted right after I moved to Colorado. I met K soon after that and she quickly became as much his as mine. That was 6 1/2 years ago and Lucy is now 9 1/2. She's a little grey on her face but other than that you would never know she was that old. She is beautiful, if I do say so myself -- we get stopped all the time with people wanting to see her and tell us how pretty she is. She has been a huge part of our lives these past 6 years. She has more nicknames then I can even remember and we've written numerous songs about her.

Which is all a long way of saying how much I love her and how awful I feel that she is sick and that it took me a whole day to even really notice (Wednesday) and 3 days to take her to the vet. She always sleeps a lot (like most of the time) so it's a little funny to hear myself say that she has been lethargic (our standing joke is when asked how Lucy is we say "she's tired") but she has not even wanted to get up to go outside. She's also been completely uninterested in eating, even table scraps. And last night we finally took her temperature to discover that she was running a fever. So this morning I took her to the vet. And she is definitely sick. Running a fever and dehydrated. They kept her there to put her on an IV for the day and have done a whole variety of blood tests, urine tests, etc. It is looking like she has some type of kidney infection which should hopefully be cleared up with antibiotics. But the whole thing is just scary.

They were asking about her last vaccinations and I can't remember exactly what she had. The vets around here are so expensive (this visit is costing $550 so far) that this past year we kind of did a hodge-podge with her vaccinations -- rabies here, bordatella there, and I don't know if we missed something. It's entirely possible. And then they ask if she has gotten into anything lately. And whether she's been peeing more or if her poop looks funny. And I can't say. I have no idea. We just let her outside and let her do her thing and don't really pay attention. On a normal day, I would never think to feel guilty about any of this but now that she's sick and the vet is asking me all these questions that I can't seem to answer, I feel like a horrible pet owner. And going to the vet always reminds me that Lucy is getting old. And I hate that. I can't stand the thought of anything happening to her. I never wanted to be one of those people who loved their dog so much...until the baby came along. And we're not. Lucy is still a huge part of our life but I know that I should have noticed how bad she was feeling sooner. And that I didn't because I was distracted by caring for Jonah. Which is fine and normal, I know that. But it just makes me sad. Dogs are pretty much just as helpless when it comes to being ill as babies are. They can't tell you that they feel bad or tell you what is wrong. It is up to us, as their caregivers, to notice when something is wrong. And we didn't do a very good job of that this week.

2 posts in progress

2008-02-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking for awhile about two posts that I want to write, but I obviously haven't gotten around to doing either of them. But just to whet your appetite:

#1 -- I've already alluded to this. I plan to write a post regarding the financial impact of infertility treatment and adoption. It's something that we all deal with

--- PAUSE---
I just dropped a pacifier on the floor, picked it up wiped it off on my pants, handed it to K who dipped it into my beer and stuck it into Jonah's mouth. He sucked it eagerly. What does that say about us as parents?
---RESUME---

OK, where was I? Right. Finances. The financial aspects we all deal with differently but one thing I've noticed is that most of us are hesitant to be very specific about what we've actually spent and how we've come up with the money. So, I am going to lay it all out there and you can too if you choose.

#2 My 2 cents of wisdom on adoption. We have learned an awful lot through this process and I think it's worth sharing. We are lucky in that we know a lot of other people who have adopted (both of K's siblings and several friends) but most people don't know anyone who has been through the process. It can be an overwhelming process even when you have some experience or prior knowledge and so I thought I would at least try to sum up my little bit of wisdom.

Obviously, this post is neither of those but by putting it into words perhaps I will now get around to writing them. In the meantime, hope you are all doing well - I have actually been trying to keep up with your blogs but have been too lazy to comment, my apologies. We are doing great - still no particular word on my job front but I at least managed to talk to my boss. Hopefully I will know something more definitive soon. Jonah is awesome. He's getting really big. His 2 month doctor's appointment is Friday so we will know his exact weight then.

More soon.

Routine, what routine?

2008-01-17T06:22:00.000-07:00

Someone decided to wake up at 3:00 this morning and not go back to sleep until right now (6:20). In fact, someone was really pretty much awake at 2:30 but I pretended not to notice until closer to 3:00. Someone acted like he was hungry around 3:oo and again at 5:00 but then only ate half his bottle. Someone appears to actually not really be asleep right now after all... I know what you're thinking - why would K want to be up so early?

We have gotten into somewhat of a pattern and Jonah has been sleeping at night for the most part. Not through the night, mind you. He still is up every 2 1/2 - 3 hours for a bottle, day and night. Considering that he is now up to 9 lbs you would think his ferocious appetite would have calmed down somewhat, but no, he is still on a 3 hour only stretch. I expect that at some point he will start being able to go longer. During the day, I can sometimes keep him happy for up to 3 1/2 or almost 4 hours but at night, I'm too tired to continue putting the pacifier back in or getting up to hold him, so I end up folding and just giving him a bottle.

The routine (ha ha) that had sort of been working is that I stay up with him until around 11:30 or 12:30, give him a bottle and then we both go to bed. He is sleeping in a co-sleeper right next to me. He generally wakes up again around 2:30 or 3:00 and I pull him into bed with me and give him a bottle. Then he wakes up again around 5:00 or 6:00 and K gets up with him. In theory, K is getting up with him and then going to work (he works out of our house) but I think a good part of the time he is actually laying down and sleeping with Jonah in the guest room. Anyway, it is a fairly decent arrangement except that I don't get quite enough sleep and since I have still yet to nap during the day (I know it's crazy but that's just the way it is), after a couple days in a row of this I get too tired and just go to bed early. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to work very well for any of us. Last night I went to bed at 9:30 and took Jonah in with me. K came in around 11:30 and got him and didn't give him another bottle until around 1:00. He then came to bed and put Jonah back next to me. Jonah proceeded to be very noisy for the next 2 1/2 hours. I think we all slept a little but not great and by 2:45 or so I gave up and got up with him. Gave him the bottle that I thought he was asking for (he only ate half of it), changed his diaper, and then decided to give the guest room a go. We laid down together but sleep was not what he was interested in. I got up with him again, re-swaddled him and seemed to get him to settle. We went back to my bedroom and he slept for maybe 10 minutes? Then cried. K pulled him into bed with us, which usually works, but it was not to be. So, I got up. Changed another diaper. Gave another half bottle. And Mr. Jonah has still not gone to sleep. He is currently propped up in the boppy next to me sticking out his tongue (very very cute). I am on my third cup of coffee... I actually feel great but we'll see how I feel at 3:00 this afternoon. By the way, just to be clear, I'm not complaining. He is great. Better than great in fact. Did I mention that he's 9 lbs?? We no longer have a tiny little baby!

So there's an update on motherhood. Everything is going really great. We've been getting out a little bit more. It's very cold here at the moment and our streets and sidewalks still have some snow left from Christmas so walking outside is not as pleasant as it might be. We did, however, buy a very snazzy stroller so I'm anxious for it to warm up a little so we can really take it for a test drive. I'm starting to dread the thought of going back to work. My boss has yet to officially respond to my request to go part-time but from what I've heard through the grapevine I'm just assuming that it's a go. I do need to know from him which days he wants me in the office so that I can find some kind of childcare. I really don't want to think about that, much less do anything about it, but time is ticking by so I guess I better start doing that soon. Ok, I need another cup of coffee so I will go for now!

Adopting after infertility

2008-01-13T06:08:00.000-07:00

I've actually been thinking about posting for awhile but 1) hadn't gotten around to it and 2) wasn't sure what to write about. This seems to be a universal dilemma with infertility blogs -- what to do once you finally have a baby. Is this still an "infertility" blog? Am I now a mom-blogger? Will I quit blogging altogether?

I'm not exactly sure what I want to do, and right now I honestly don't care. I think I'll just do whatever feels right. The fact of the matter is, I am still infertile. Adoption did not "cure" my infertility -- but it has allowed me to be a mother, to have a child, which for me/us was the most important thing.

As part of our preparation for adopting, our agency required quarterly readings where we would need to read a book and write up a short paragraph about it (obviously we didn't make it a full quarter but nonetheless...). I am an avid reader so had taken their list of book suggestions and checked out a bunch of them before we were even officially signed on. One of the books on their list is Adopting After Infertility by Patricia Irwin Johnston. I did not get through this entire book but I skimmed through a lot of it and thought it was a pretty good book to read for those considering adoption after infertility. Many of the issues that she discusses early in the book in terms of steps towards making the decision to adopt we had already discussed and resolved, but it was validating to read through them and to realize that we had in fact considered these things.

I do not have the book in front of me so unfortunately will not get this exactly right but one of the things that she addresses is the different aspects of grief/loss that infertile couples face in not being able to conceive a child together. I think she discusses 6 in total -- I can't remember them all for sure but in sum they are the losses of passing down your own genes, the experience of being pregnant, experiencing a shared pregnancy, creating a child together, and being parents. She asks that you think about which of these are most important to you. It is an interesting exercise because it can help you to think about your feelings about other treatment options (e.g., surrogacy, egg donor) as well as adoption. For us, the experience of being parents was the most important thing -- I'd bet that this is the case for most couples going through infertility; however, I think that the importance that different people place on the other factors varies dramatically and is ultimately at least one of the main driving factors in the decisions that people make. (The other important factor for many of us is the financial considerations -- this was certainly true for us and is something I want to explore more in another post.) Going through the list of losses and thinking about how I felt about each one was actually very helpful and thought-provoking even though we had already made the decision to move to adoption. In fact, as I write about it, I think it is something worth coming back to even now that we have a child.

K and I were both dealing with some strong emotions around these issues last weekend. We were actually on our way to do some baby shopping (one of our first big outings with Jonah). K shared with me that he had really been struggling with the feeling of wanting to try infertility treatment again and feeling this need to pass on his genes or something. It was a tough conversation in a lot of ways and it's difficult for me to write about, so for now, I am going to skip going through the details and just say that I believe (and K has confirmed this) that he really just needed to express these feelings out loud to me, to acknowledge them (to recognize that he felt guilty for having them) and to talk through some of the emotions surrounding them. This whole conversation took place in the car. We had finished the conversation by the time we got to Baby's R Us. K felt relieved to have gotten things off his chest and I was feeling good that I was not dealing with those emotions.

We returned some gifts and started looking around. K was pushing Jonah in the stroller while I was browsing baby clothes. In the same area as the boy's baby clothes were maternity clothes and breast feeding accessories. All around me were pregnant women. And I was all of a sudden struck by an overwhelming sense of insecurity mingled with sadness/loss. And it seemed so ridiculous -- here I was with my baby and yet I was still feeling this sense of loss. I had not gotten to shop and prepare before having my baby. I did not get to be pregnant with him. But even more than that, I was feeling so insecure. I felt as though everyone would look at me and not see me as a legitimate mom. That somehow it was obvious to everyone that I was not a "real" mom, that I did not know what I was doing and that I did not deserve to be a mother. It's weird, at home I do not feel insecure at all about my ability to care for Jonah and be a mother. But almost every time I have been out in public with him, I start feeling insecure and like an impostor. I think it's still part of that overall sense that this can't be real.

But it is real. And I do deserve it. And I am a "real" mother. Sometimes I guess I just need to remind myself of that.

Merry New Year!

2008-01-01T08:21:00.000-07:00

We were talking to my SIL, J, last night and she said that while 2007 had been a big and good year for them, they were glad that it was over. They adopted their third child in July and a month or so ago B had a vasectomy. J said that she was glad to be moving into a new year where from now on they would not have to be thinking or worrying about getting a phone call about an adoptive situation and they would never have to worry about an unexpected pregnancy (not that it was likely to happen anyway). They could finally just move on with their lives, with their family complete and the difficult family-building process over.

Her comments really resonated with me and made me realize that 2008 will be the first year in 3 years that I won't be doing any kind of fertility treatment. 2005, 2006, and 2007 are defined in my mind in many ways by the various treatments and failures that we experienced. Memories of other events are remembered in relation to where we were in various treatment or failures -- "Oh, right. I remember that, it was right after I lost my second pregnancy..." I am really glad to know that 2008 holds no possibilities of more IF treatment! While K and I definitely want more children (we've already been talking about it which is kind of sad), and K in particular wants to try IF one more time (with our 4 remaining frozen embryos), it most certainly won't be this next year. And that feels really good.

Reality?

2007-12-31T08:54:00.000-07:00

My sister has been here the last week with her husband and 2 year old. They just left this morning and the house is now very quiet. The last few weeks have been a bit crazy -- almost two weeks in Texas, one week at home by ourselves, and then a week with visitors. Now I think we are finally going to have some time by ourselves to settle into some sort of routine, or at least something approximating a routine.

It was really good to have E here (of course I have to say that since she reads my blog :)!) But seriously, we were able to get a lot done. We now have a crib and the nursery is almost put together. We bought, and returned, a lot of stuff and were able to get at least somewhat more organized.

Jonah is doing great. He is now 8 lbs! We know this unfortunately because he has a cold and we had to take him to the doctor on Saturday. He seems to be handling it pretty well though. No fever and the congestion hasn't interfered with his ability to eat (obviously since he has gone from 5 lb 11 oz. to 7 lb 15 oz. in under 3 weeks!)

I do think I'm still having a little trouble believing that this is real. It just doesn't seem possible that I can really be a mother. And yet, here I am, doing all kinds of "mom" things that I had always been a little scared of -- I've cut Jonah's fingernails twice, suctioned out his nose, given him multiple baths (sponge only so far as we don't have baby tub yet), cleaned his umbilical cord stump (and accidentally knocked it off a little early), taken his temperature, taken him to the doctor, etc. etc. We haven't been out with him much at all, especially now that he has a cold. K and I did go to a craft store with him on Friday and used the stroller for the first time. I had a quick moment of tearing up in the store as we walked through the aisles pushing a stroller -- again, it just doesn't seem real -- Us, parents! Pushing a stroller! Wow.

So as this year is coming to its end, I have to say it didn't turn out too bad. And, 2008 is looking like it is going to fulfill the name we prematurely gave it -- Two Thousand Great!

Sleep deprivation

2007-12-23T05:40:00.000-07:00

Well it's 5:30 in the morning and I'm awake. In fact, I've been up since 4:00 and awake on and off most of the night before that. My little guy seems to have his days and nights a little mixed up and K and I don't quite have our system worked out for both of us to get sleep. Namely me - he seems to be sleeping fine at the moment. But I'm not complaining. I feel amazingly good despite the lack of sleep. I haven't been napping during the day though I've had plenty of opportunities, so I guess I can function on a lot less sleep than I thought. I expect it will start to catch up with me though, perhaps as soon as later on today, and with that in mind, I think I will force myself to take a nap today!

At the moment, I have implemented the Baby Bjorn and Jonah seems to be liking it pretty well. My reason was actually rather selfish as he didn't want to be put down and if I'm going to be up at this hour, I needed to make coffee. He cried at first and then settled down and now he is asleep against my chest. I think I'll leave him there -- no need to mess with a good thing.

Since I'm up, I thought I'd take the opportunity to backtrack and try to get this story down in whole.

Monday November 19, 2007
We went to San Antonio to meet with the agency in person. We were pretty sure that we were going to go with this agency but wanted to meet them in person just to be sure. Everyone was extremely nice and we felt very good about the decision. We left them with our photo albums and everything pretty much complete, except for paying the initial fee. We had considered staying the night in San Antonio just for fun but decided to go on ahead to Dallas (where K's family is). We left San Antonio and about an hour and a half into our drive the agency called. They had a situation they wanted us to consider and were hoping we could come in and look at all of the paperwork the next day. (The agency gets self-report medical and social history from all birthmothers as well as medical records from their doctor's visits, which includes agreed upon drug screening. Adoptive parents are also shown a picture of the birthmother). This woman was due in March and there were some issues with drug use during the pregnancy.

We took the call pulled over on the side of the highway. I was on the phone and honestly didn't take in too much. We were very unsure of what to do at this point. We were obviously very excited on the one hand but also apprehensive on the other. Neither of us were very familiar with this particular substance and its potential impact on a developing fetus. We stumbled around for awhile looking for a place where we could go and get Internet access. We ended up at a bookstore looking around in books and unsuccessfully attempting to log in to their wireless. We got in the car and strangely enough ended up in the parking lot of an Office Depot and were able to mooch their wireless from the car. We did some surfing in an attempt to learn more about the substance in question but after 15 minutes or so of this, we both realized that we weren't getting anywhere and what we needed to do was turn around, go back to San Antonio and look at all the information the next day. So, that's what we did (in a manner of sorts -- we actually stayed in a small town outside SA after a long-time of aimless wandering through residential neighborhoods and multiple U-turns).

We spent over an hour the next morning at the agency looking at the information and going back and forth over what we should do. I had been hoping that I would just know whether it was right for us or not once we looked at all of the information. But I did not get that feeling -- I just felt really unsure. Ultimately, that is what made the decision for me. After going round and round, I finally said to K that if we were having that hard of a time making a decision, it must not be right for us. So we turned it down and headed, once again, to Dallas. It felt strange to be turning something down. The decision was much harder than we had thought it would be but it also felt good in way to be able to say no -- to know that it wasn't the right situation for us and to have the confidence to go with that decision, not letting "desperation" cause us to do something that didn't feel right.

We spent Thanksgiving in Dallas with K's family and had a very nice time.

Monday, November 26, 2007
We called the agency and paid the initial fee (they take credit cards which is really nice!).

Tuesday, December 4, 2007
I got a call from the agency around noon. They had another situation that they wanted us to consider. Birthmother due in February and there was some drug use in this situation as well. They were going to overnight us the packet of information and we could take a couple of days to think about it. Once again, I spent some time researching the particular substance. K and I were both feeling a little overwhelmed by the possibility of having to make another difficult decision but agreed that we would wait to make any decision until we saw all the information.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007
K took me to work and dropped me off out front of my building. I work on the 14th floor -- my cell phone does not work in the elevator and sometimes it takes it awhile to get service again afterwards. So anyway, I went up the elevator, went to the bathroom and then went to my desk. My phone was ringing as I walked in but I didn't answer it in time. I noticed that my cell phone was still not working so I turned it off and turned it back on again. In this time (10 minutes tops) K had called my work phone (the call I just missed), my cell phone, and text messaged me. I called him back immediately and all he said was to call the agency, that there was another situation -- a baby that was already here. I grabbed my phone, a pad of paper and a pen and headed for the hallway (my favorite place, remember). I called the agency to get the details. They told me that there was a baby that had been born the day before. The couple had only come to the agency the week before but they did have information from them. The baby had been born early, about 5 weeks or so, and was a little small, 5 lb 11 oz., but was doing great. Both birthparents were going to sign the papers the next morning.

I was in total shock and unsure how to proceed. I asked them to fax over the information to me at work. I called K. He told me to wait to get the fax and then go somewhere with some privacy and call him back. I stood by the fax machine for several minutes while nothing happened. I called K again. He decided to turn around and head back to my office. I called the agency again to confirm that they were in fact sending the fax and asked whether they had called any other couples. They said no and that if we were interested, we would be the ones. I went back to stand by the fax machine. Finally it came through. I looked through it all as I waited for K to call. Included in the information was the delivery report. A lot of it didn't make sense to me, but it did include the apgar scores -- 8 at 1 minute and 9 at 5 minutes. I called by gynecologist's office and left a message for a nurse to call me to help interpret the delivery report we had gotten. K called and I met him downstairs in the lobby of my office. We looked through the information together, which included a picture of both birthparents, for about 3 minutes. Then I looked at K and said "What are we doing? He's here, he's healthy, he needs parents. This is it!" K agreed. We started making plans for what to do next. We agreed that I should go on ahead to San Antonio the next morning. K decided that he needed to stay and work and tie up loose ends and so wouldn't follow until the following day. I called my mom and said "Do you want to go to San Antonio? Tomorrow?"

K and I parted ways -- he went back to work and I went up to my office. I tried to think clearly and pull things together but not sure I managed that very well. I booked us both plane tickets and printed off directions from the airport to the agency and to the hospital. I pulled some of the work I was currently doing off the network and onto my desktop. I tried to clean off my desk a little. I packed up my laptop. I went to find my boss. He wasn't there so instead I pulled a co-worker/friend into his office to share the news and asked that she let our boss know. I told her not to tell anyone else at this point and that I'd call her the next day when we knew more. I headed home. At this point I was trying to think of all the things I needed to get done before leaving town but was having trouble even knowing where to start. The weekend before I had begun several projects around the house, primarily painting a dresser and bookshelf to use in the nursery and also beginning to work on the baseboards in the house (sanding them to get ready to repaint). I decided to go ahead and finish the dresser and bookshelf and so proceeded to paint one final coat on each of them. So this is how the nursery was left -- tarp on floor, newly painted bookshelf and dresser, several cans of paint, an old desk, half-sanded baseboards. No paint on the walls, no doors on the closet, no knobs on the dresser drawers, no crib, etc. etc.

Thursday, December 6, 2007
My mom met me in San Antonio the next morning. We rented a car and headed for the agency. We met the caseworker there and then followed her to the hospital. Both of the birthparents had been in that morning to sign their relinquishment forms. Jonah was in the NICU -- I think mostly because it was an adoptive situation and this gave us some privacy. He was early and small but was eating well and had no trouble breathing or anything. He was hooked up to a monitor but I think that is just standard in a NICU. So we walked in and could see his hair poking through before we even got close! I held him. My mom held him. The caseworker left and we just looked at each other and were like "now what?" The nurses were asking me all kinds of questions, like did we have a pediatrician? car seat? etc. And I was like, you don't understand, we don't have anything. We found out about this and were on a plane less than 24 hours later!

So Mom and I had a lot to do. K, in the meantime, was going crazy and decided to just go to the airport and try to get on a plane that evening. My mom and I headed to Target with a list of items to purchase -- my sister, bless her, sent me a very specific list of things to get so we didn't have to expend any brain power (of which we were short at this point) in choosing a car seat! We went to the hotel where I sent out an email to friends and family and then back to the hospital to feed Jonah. Then we went to the airport to pick up K. We dropped my mom off at the hotel and went back to the hospital to see Jonah. We stayed at the hospital until about 1:00 in the morning and then finally left, completely exhausted. I was totally overwhelmed at this point and feeling almost panicked. The next morning, however, I woke up thinking about Jonah and knew then that everything was going to be ok. We had a lot of hoops to jump through the next day before we could be discharged from the NICU (infant CPR video, car seat test, etc.) and didn't end up leaving the hospital until 7:00 in the evening. We took Jonah back to the hotel and spent our first night with our son.

Wow. That was really long. I think I'll stop for now. That's pretty much the gist of it anyway. The rest involves a drive to Dallas, staying with K's parents (in the house that they are currently renovating which added some interesting challenges to things), and having a Naming ceremony for Jonah (in lieu of a bris, as we had him circumcised in the hospital). We got the ok to leave the state on Friday and headed home to Colorado on Sunday. And so here we are. A little tired and pretty disorganized. But very, very happy.

Home, finally!

2007-12-17T08:55:00.000-07:00

We are finally home! It seems like it has been forever since I have been back home but in fact it has only been 10 days. It is amazing how much can change in such a short time! I am going to try very hard not to get too overwhelmed with all I have to do now that I am back home - but that might be a little hard! There is so much and I don't even know where to start. I am, however, taking some time to just relax before jumping in and trying to organize ourselves for our new life.

We got in last night at 7:30 after 14 1/2 hours on the road. The drive from Dallas usually takes us about 12 hours, but considering that we had to stop to feed Jonah every 3 hours, I was pretty impressed by our time. The drive home was somewhat challenging - the worst was for our poor dog. She is used to having the whole backseat to herself on road trips and was probably pretty shocked to find herself in the back of the SUV squeezed in with a mountain of stuff and only room enough to lie down. We also had the front seat loaded with stuff and a large canvas bag full of stuff on the top of the car! Jonah and I were in the back and K drove the whole way home. Every 3 hours or so we had to stop to feed and change Jonah which I did on my lap in the backseat. He only peed on me and the car once!

We got in to snow on the ground and a driveway badly in need of a shovel. This has all happened so fast that we have absolutely nothing ready. Luckily my sister went shopping for us on Saturday and got us a co-sleeper so we were able to set that up last night before going to bed. That at least gives us a place for Jonah to sleep and it works pretty well as a changing table for now too. Now it is just a matter of going through all the stuff we acquired in Texas, finding a place for it all, figuring out what else we need, and trying to set up a nursery to put it all in!

As I said, I'm somewhat overwhelmed by it all but at the same time, I am so happy that I am just running on a constant high of awe at what we have been given. I plan on taking some time soon to backtrack and write in more detail about all that has happened these last couple of weeks, but for now, I just wanted to check in. I hope to check in on all of you to catch up soon as well!

Surprise!

2007-12-12T22:26:00.000-07:00

Introducing...

Jonah William

Born December 4, 2007

5lb 10 oz.

So, we knew things could happen fairly quickly but we figured that meant more like 3-6 months, not 2 weeks! We got the call from our agency on Wednesday (Dec. 5) that a baby boy had been born the night before and were we interested? We of course had some moments of huh? what, really? And then of course, said Yes! I headed San Antonio the next day and K ended up following that evening.

Jonah was born a few weeks early and so was in the NICU for monitoring. He is perfectly healthy and we brought him "home" (hotel room) on Friday (December 7). My first night as a mommy got me 2 hours of sleep (K, on the other hand, slept better than Jonah)! Mostly I couldn't sleep b/c I kept wanting to look at him! He is so sweet and we fall in love more and more every time we look at him.

There of course is lots more to tell but I need to feed my baby! I'll try to check in again soon.

Understanding infertility

2007-11-30T13:24:00.000-07:00

I am having a funny day with my reactions to things. Not quite sure how to sum up my state of mind. Melissa has a very thought-provoking post up comparing going through infertility to cancer. I think it’s probably something that we’ve all thought of in one way or another. Most people just don’t understand what it’s like to be dealing with infertility and the insensitive, judgmental comments from those on the outside are a dime a dozen. I posted a comment on the post with something that I had been thinking of months ago. Now that the comment is up there, however, I am not sure that I made myself clear and I’m not sure I am clear, myself, in what I was hoping to express. I am going to include my comments below, and try to talk about them more (and ask for your thoughts)

Comment #1
I've actually thought a lot about this comparison myself. What I have come up with is that it might be easier to make the point (which you made beautifully, by the way, so this is in no ways a criticism) by using a disease/condition that is not life threatening. I've thought about posting about this myself but your post is just too good of an opportunity to waste! When I've thought about trying to get others to understand infertility by comparing it to something like cancer, my concern has always been that my arguments would be dismissed out of hand because I was comparing IF to something life threatening and that would be hard for some people to overcome. I found myself thinking instead of an injury I had a couple of years ago. I hurt my wrist while at work and what at first appeared to be a minor injury eventually turned into something much bigger involving 2 surgeries, occupational and physical therapy, and more. As I was dealing with this (for what ended up being more than a year), I felt desperate to get proper function back to my wrist (and my arm and hand as well). You could say I went to extreme lengths to fix it. It was not life-threatening, but not having full function of one of my appendages did certainly compromise my quality of life, to say the least. And no one in my life ever commented that I was being desperate, or that it was "God's plan" for me to have a janky wrist. Of course not. It was a medical condition that most people would have gone to lengths to correct. And yet, when those of us dealing with infertility, a medical condition, try various different medical procedures to help "fix" the problem, we are judged for it. Definitely a double standard.
But, to tag on to Tracy's point -- a lot of these statements are coming out of ignorance. Since we made the decision to adopt and to let it be widely known that we are adopting, I've really come to realize how little most people understand about the process. I just take it for granted that people know more than they do, both about adoption and just the process of reproduction in general (not to even mention infertility). I am constantly amazed about how little people know. And most people have no reason to know any of this. While it is somewhat frustrating to discover that our friends who have 3 kids do not even really know what an embryo is, that's just the way it is! They obviously never needed to know that bit of information... oh well.

Comment #2
I just wanted to jump back in here to say that I am appreciating this post even more as all the comments continue to come in. It has really made me think and explore my own feelings even more than I already had and I am actually working on a post right now to continue my thoughts on this -- but I'm thinking that it may take me a little while to finish. I appreciate what Kathy V wrote regarding my earlier comment and think she's correct -- my analogy is not complete. I came up with it months ago as I was thinking about the tendency to classify women going through infertility as "desperate" and thought it would be a way to connect to people in my own life and get them to understand more clearly how I was feeling and how that classification of "desperate" was hurtful and misplaced (even though I've used it to describe myself at times). Of course, I've never actually talked about this to anyone, just explored it in my own head. But the analogy of IF to an injury is not complete b/c an injury such as I described is usually treatable and curable; whereas infertility is for most of us something we have to live with always. And as has been pointed out, it can also sometimes be life-threatening. I should know this, having had 2 ectopic pregnancies, but it's something I tend to push aside and not think about. It's only when I get the rare reaction of "how scary, you could have died" that I remember again how scary it was/is. I'm appreciating this post and the comments because not only have they got me thinking but also because of how nice and validating it is to read other people reacting the same way that I am. So thanks Melissa for starting such a good conversation!

I think perhaps the sign of a good blog post is if it makes you really think about something and question your reactions. So I used the comparison of my infertility to the injury of my wrist because it was something that I experienced personally and that the people around me, (friends, family, coworkers), remember and saw all that I went through. I think in many ways it’s a good analogy, but only up to a point. I have to say I was somewhat proud of myself when I came up with the analogy because I thought it might possibly really help people understand IF a little better – when I was first thinking about it what I was mainly trying to address was the whole issue of desperation and the negative connotations of that word, “desperate” that come to be associated with people struggling with infertility.

So my main point was that no one ever referred to me as desperate when I had appointment after appointment with doctors and various other medical practitioners in search of getting the range of motion and overall functionality in my wrist back. The difference between this injury and my infertility is, of course, that my wrist did eventually heal. The only sign that I was ever injured is the 3 inch surgical scar. And that’s almost a good thing. It’s like an outward sign of what I endured (since it was a work injury I like to show it off as my level of commitment to the organization!). The scars of my infertility are all internal, invisible on the outside. And despite all the doctors’ appointments and treatments and surgery, my infertility is not healed. And it never will be. I suppose there are cases where infertility is treated and cured, in a manner of speaking. But many, if not most, of us we will always be infertile.

For those whom treatment successfully results in a pregnancy, the infertility is not cured. It doesn’t just go away. Because the treatment was only successful that one time—I say this not to discount the joy of that success but merely to make the point that if the couple who had success once desire to build their family further, they are usually once again faced with their infertility to deal with all over again. And just because treatment worked once does not mean it will work again. In my own personal case, my infertility will never be “cured” – because I no longer have functioning fallopian tubes the only way I’ll ever get pregnant is through IVF. So this is where my analogy breaks down – I may be able to get someone to understand the desperation piece somewhat better when comparing it to an injury like a broken arm or leg, but it doesn’t get at the lasting nature of infertility. I think this is why we tend to go to an analogy like cancer. I didn’t want to go there, however, because that is not quite right either. To me, one of the hardest things about infertility is the fact that while the treatment is medicalized and involves large amounts of medicines and oftentimes surgery, in reality you’re not really “sick” (most of the time).

You’re not sick and yet you are taking large quantities of medication, often involving very large needles. You’re not sick and yet a lot of the time you feel like complete and utter shit. You’re not sick and yet you have more doctors’ appointments than anyone you know. You’re not sick and yet you are having surgery, often multiple times. And because you’re not sick in the traditional sense of the word, you also have to deal with the insensitivity of the general public. And, because reproduction is supposed to be something that just happens naturally, everyone feels entitled to have an opinion on the matter and to share their “expertise” with you.

But as I noted to my comments, most people really have very little expertise. I have become so intimately familiar with all aspects of the process that I often forget that others will not know what I am talking about. I just mention off hand that we have done IVF and throw around the terms transfer and retrieval without stopping to even think that they probably don’t have a clue what I’m talking about. So while I can get very upset (alright pissed off) by people trying to share their non-existent expertise or uninformed judgment, I try not to get too upset by sheer ignorance. I think it is unrealistic to expect most people to really understand the details of IF, just as most of us not directly impacted by it don’t understand the details of other diseases; however, I think it is completely justifiable to expect people to show more sensitivity and empathy. And not just for infertiles but in general.

On your marks

2007-11-27T21:36:00.000-07:00

The newest wait has begun. We are officially in the game. In other words, not only have we chosen an agency but have also given them a rather large “down payment.

So we chose an agency in Texas and decided that it would be a good idea to go down there and meet them in person before handing over a large chunk of money. K’s family is in Dallas, so we decided to go over the Thanksgiving holiday since we didn’t have plans for Thanksgiving anyway. We actually made quite a trip out of it. We flew into Austin on Sunday morning and visited with some friends. We then got up on Monday morning and drove to San Antonio to meet with the agency. They were very nice and spent almost 2 hours with us. We already had everything together and I think they were rather impressed when I pulled out 5 copies of our photo album and profile. We went through all of our paperwork and ended up with very little left to do. We didn’t’ pay the upfront fee while we were there because we were waiting for a credit card from the National Adoption Foundation to arrive but we did leave our profiles and photo albums. It felt a little weird to leave them there!

Anyway, we then went to Dallas to spend Thanksgiving with K’s family. Yesterday, we called the agency with our credit card number. So, we are now in the adoption game for real for real. And it feels really good. In fact, I have checked out several books on infant care from the library and we spent this evening clearing out the room that will soon be a nursery. Up until this point the room has served as one large closet for K, but he is now officially kicked out. And I am busy sanding down a dresser to get it ready to paint, and if that goes well it will be followed by a bookcase. We are also talking about ideas for painting the walls and decorating. I don’t want to go too overboard with getting things ready or buying a lot of stuff since we still have no idea how long we will be waiting, but it feels good to at least be able to start on this project (something I’ve been waiting to do since we moved in to this house 2 ½ years ago).

For the past 3 ½ years I have not let myself read about pregnancy or baby care (K actually hid the pregnancy books my SIL had sent upon hearing of our first pregnancy. They arrived the day that I took the methotrexate shot. I’ve since found them but they remain tucked away out of sight). I didn’t allow myself to think too much about what we were going to do with a nursery. And I certainly have not been able to think about, much less look at, baby gear. So it feels really good to be able to do these things and to know that I have a reason – we are getting a baby, we just don’t quite know when. There are still things that are hard for me, but I’ll save those for another post. For now, let’s just end on that positive note, because you never know how quickly things can happen. I was gone for a week and didn’t check any of my blogs. I got back to find out that R at WannabeRE has a daughter! Wow. That happened fast. If you get a chance, go over and congratulate her!

Questions

2007-11-13T15:23:00.000-07:00

I’m assuming it’s a fairly universal phenomenon to question your own decisions based on the decisions of others, to sometimes feel judgmental of others whose choices differ dramatically from your own, or to question the validity of your choices in the face of others’ differing decisions. (Are you just wondering what the hell I’m talking about?)

Let me be more specific and put this in terms we can all understand (meaning, of course, infertility). The decisions to continue on with treatments, to pursue adoption, or to give up the dream of being parents are ones that none of us make lightly. We are all coming from different places, with different life experiences and infertility experiences, different diagnoses, different budgets, and different emotional and physical thresholds. Therefore, it is not at all surprising that we all make different choices in how to proceed in the face of our infertility. But that does not eliminate the judgment that comes with those decisions, both from friends, families, and strangers outside the world of infertility as well as from those in the infertility community. Besides the questioning and judgment of others, I believe that most of us probably question, at one time or another, ourselves and the choices we are making.

Example: One of my SILs struggled with pregnancy loss and secondary infertility while trying to conceive their second child. When K and I started trying, she was just recovering from her second miscarriage and beginning to move into infertility treatments. In the 3 ½ years since, they went through the standard IF testing, medicated IUIs, and finally to IVF. They attempted one round of IVF, which was unsuccessful and then immediately moved to adoption. They have since adopted two children. Their family is completed. (You can see where this is going I’m sure…) Ours has not even started. Which of course leads me at times to question our choices – especially the decision to try IVF a second time. I realize intellectually that everyone is different (see above statement) but emotionally, I can’t help but question myself sometimes.

And then I come to the flip side of the equation, which is judging others’ choices based on my own. And it’s interesting how it works both ways, and for me at least, I sometimes feel competing emotions all at the same time. When I read about someone who is continuing on with treatment despite multiple failures and years of trying, I sometimes find myself wondering why they don’t just adopt (yes, I’m very, very aware of the irony of this statement). I sometimes find myself feeling less than sympathetic towards those who determine that adoption is not the right choice for them or at least not yet. (It’s right for us, why wouldn’t it be right for everyone?) But then, I am often almost immediately hit with a competing emotion of questioning my own decision (It’s not right for them, am I sure it is right for us? Maybe we should try one more cycle…or donor eggs…) I have also found myself feeling less than sympathetic to those going through secondary infertility, or infertility a second time around (You already have one, quit complaining! We don’t even have that yet.) And then I remember that we also want more than one child and will have to deal with all of this a second time.

Which I guess brings me back to my original point, we are all so different. What is right for one is not necessarily right for the other. I think though, that it is often easier to see this when the questions and judgment are coming from someone on the outside – outside yourself or outside the world of infertility. It’s much harder to recognize it when you yourself are doing the judging (of others or of yourself). And the decisions are so hard. That is what brings me back. Couples who aren’t experiencing infertility never have to think about these decisions. No one would question a fertile couple’s desire for additional children. Most people just decide to have kids and have them. They decide how many they want and that happens for them. They don’t have to make the difficult decisions that we make – when and how and whether to continue trying.

I have always wanted at least two kids. But sometimes I find myself thinking that maybe we’ll just be done after one. My sister is dealing with this issue right now. She went through hell bringing her son into the world. She wants three kids. But right now, I think that the decisions and sacrifices (financial, emotional, and possibly physical) that will go in to making that happen for her is feeling too overwhelming. And I know it’s not as easy as saying “just adopt” or “just try IVF again” because she’s my sister and I know her situation, but I also know that it wasn’t that easy for me (and still isn’t). Which once again reminds me not to judge others.

What about you – do you ever find yourself questioning others’ choices? Do you ever question your own because of someone else? And how do you respond when someone questions you?

On cubicles and not working while at work

2007-11-12T15:49:00.000-07:00

Ok. So I’m at work but having a very difficult time doing any of the things I’m supposed to be doing (like working). This of course is nothing new. Still, it’s a bit of a problem. I just can’t focus. The time seems to be dragging by. I can’t believe it’s only 3:00. The thing is, I have plenty of work that I could do. I just can’t seem to motivate myself. I don’t want to be here. I hate working in a cubicle and sitting staring at a computer all day long. My hand hurts and my shoulder is killing me.

My cubicle is in the back corner of the office, which I like because it’s right by the back door (meaning I can sneak in and out without anyone really noticing). But…I’m also pretty isolated over here and the only access I have to a window is to leave my cube or stand up on my tiptoes and possibly get a small glimpse of sky. The cubes are all designed so that you are sitting with your back to the opening. It is the most awkward set-up I can imagine and it’s obvious that whoever designed these cubicles never worked in one. The other problem with working in a cubicle is the total lack of privacy. I can hear just about everything said by those who sit closest to me and I’m sure they can hear me. Which is a problem when cycling, etc. and you need to make (or receive) personal phone calls.

I can’t tell you how much time I’ve spent in the hallway with my cell phone these last 2 ½ years. When I think back on this time, one of clearest images will surely be of me sitting in the hallway on my cell phone with a pad of paper and pen in mind hand writing down instructions or on my cell phone and crying or some combination of the two. I hate that fucking hallway. Come to think of it, I’m not so sure that I don’t hate my job as well. I’ve been trying to have a baby the entire time that I’ve been working here. No matter how good my job was (which it’s not), that would probably be enough to make me not like it.

Water, water everywhere

2007-11-06T16:24:00.000-07:00

But nary a drop to drink.

I really hope that eventually I will get to the point where I am not bothered by seeing pregnant women and hearing about other women’s pregnancies. I can’t say I am at that point now. As we move further along in this process towards adoption, I am slowly coming to the point where I can believe that we really are going to get a baby at the end of all of this. And that is a very exciting prospect. I know that with adoption the question is when rather than if. But, I’m still having a hard time convincing myself that it will truly happen for us, and I probably won’t believe it until I’m holding our baby in my arms!

And while I truly believe that I am embracing adoption with open arms and all the love I have to give, I am still sad about what I have lost and will never have. On almost every adoption website I have been to there is a picture of a very pregnant belly somewhere on the site. And it makes me so sad to look at that and to know that that will (most likely) never be me. I will never get to feel my baby moving inside of me. I won’t get people reaching out to touch my belly and smiling at me for no other reason than that I’m pregnant. I will never experience the “surprise” pregnancy or surprising friends and family with our news. I won’t buy maternity clothes. I won’t get to breastfeed my children.

I have been trying to get pregnant for so long and wanting to be pregnant for so long. At some point along our journey, I really felt as though I had moved beyond the wanting to be pregnant. In fact, I felt that pregnancy itself would take too long and that I just wanted a baby right now! And for the most part, I do feel this way. Most of the time. But I’m still affected every time I hear about another friend or family member who is pregnant. And I still struggle every time I see someone else who is obviously pregnant.

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I started writing this post yesterday and stopped, assuming I could pick up where I left off. But…I am having trouble getting back into where I was going yesterday. After I stopped writing I checked in on some of the blogs I read. I ended up going to the blog The Unlucky 20 Percent (thanks Samantha) – at 20 weeks pregnant, Ann and her husband just learned that their baby has a rare and completely lethal condition. She is being induced today. I cannot even imagine what they must be going through right now. My heart aches for them.

But, reading her post yesterday really got me thinking. And not necessarily in the typical way you might think -- I’m not going to write about how it reminded me that the loss we are feeling could be much worse (although it did), because what struck me even more was that I realized that in spite of feeling sad about how things have turned out for us – I also feel relief.

Yes, relief. There is a part of me that is actually relieved to not be pregnant. And I realized yesterday, that it is a bigger part of me than I thought. My experiences with pregnancy were all very brief and sad and scary, and I know that if I ever get pregnant again that I will be terrified. In fact, for a whole year that we were trying, I didn’t know whether I was more scared of being pregnant or not being pregnant because the fear of another ectopic was so great.

So while I know that I will still have moments of sadness about not being pregnant and never being pregnant, right now I’m going to hang on to my feeling of relief.

I hope this doesn’t read like I’m saying I read her post and thought “I’m so glad that isn’t me.” I guess there is some of that in there but that’s not what I’m trying to get at. I mean more that I realize that with all the worrying I am doing about with adoption, I am relieved not to be worrying any longer about what is going on with my body. And more than that even. But I’m having trouble capturing it in words. Does this make any sense?

Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T18:29:00.000-06:00

Not sure what y'all are doing, but I'm blogging. And reading everyone else's blogs. I love getting comments on my blog b/c then I have new blogs to check out! So, thank you.

I'm not much into Halloween. K, on the other hand, is overly into it. He has been preparing for weeks. He has encased our entire entrance-way in black and installed multiple black lights. He bought himself a skeleton costume and is intent on scaring children. Oh, and he has spooky music playing out the window. He's been very excited about his plans and wanting to talk them through with me. I have to admit that I've not been overly interested. He's a bit over the top sometime. But, while I'll never admit this to him, it's kinda cute. He gets so excited over the silliest stuff. Which is one reason I know he will be such a good father. In fact, he's already planning how he is going to bring his costume and accessories to have fun with the nephews over Christmas.

Nothing new to report on the adoption front. We still haven't gotten any information from the agency that we are waiting on, but I did talk to the director again today and I expect we'll have something by tomorrow or Friday. I worked on our profile a little bit last night. As I was messing around with it I realized that I've never actually seen anyone else's adoption profile. K's sister was going to send us hers but somehow that never happened. And come to think of it, I think his brother was supposed to send us their's as well. Hmmm... The abbreviated profile we sent out to friends and family has gotten a good response though, so I'm thinking that our's will be ok.

The one really good thing about Halloween is that we have a lot of chocolate in the house. As K is busy being a skeleton, I'm thinking that he is probably not going to get around to making dinner. Seeing as how I've almost given up cooking completely in the last several months (alright, alright it's probably more like a year), I'm thinking that chocolate may be my dinner. Along with another glass of wine. And possibly some more tortilla chips. I know, I'm a health nut. So I'm off to raid our candy bowl. Trick or treat!

Walking anxiety attack

2007-10-29T16:04:00.000-06:00

Is it possible to have an anxiety attack that just continues on and on? Because that is what I am feeling like at the moment. Not like severe, I can’t breathe, I think I’m going to die anxiety but more like a mid- to low-level, near constant feeling of anxiousness. It’s giving me an upset stomach, I can’t concentrate and I am not sleeping well. Issues are going on with my father that I can’t even bring myself to write about that are adding to my already anxious state. K jokingly said that perhaps worrying about my dad would distract me from my worries about adoption, but I quickly informed him that he was way underestimating my ability to worry. I can in fact worry about multiple things all at the same time with an equal sense of dread and dismay for all of them. A feat for which I am sure he envies me greatly.

On the adoption front, nothing much has happened. Other than my near obsessive searching of Internet sites on adoption and dedicated hunt for the right agency, no decisions have been made nor actions taken. I believe we are narrowing in on an agency, but that is based only on their website and a phone call with the director. I am still waiting to receive an application and information in the mail. Hopefully, everything we receive via mail will line up with what I heard over the phone (which hasn’t always been the case thus far), and we will feel comfortable moving forward with them.

The only piece of news I have is no news at this point but I’ll go ahead and write about it anyway. We received an email from a birthmother last weekend. I immediately wrote her back and we exchanged several emails over the next several days. She had apparently seen our profile on a free online adoption posting website that I had created a couple of weeks ago. We arranged for her to call us on our toll-free number mid-week. I worked from home that day and was an absolute nervous wreck waiting for her call. Which never happened. She did email to say that she was sick and would try to call the next day, but we haven’t heard from her since.

Now the thing is, we have no way of knowing whether she was legitimate or not. Unfortunately, I have read too many instances of couples being scammed to be very trusting. On the other hand, she could absolutely be sincere and there are a million reasons why we haven’t heard back from her. But I’m not going to pursue it. If she writes again or calls – great and we will continue to cautiously pursue getting to know each other. But if she doesn’t, nothing has really changed. Except that I am now even more eager to sign with an agency.

This very small experience of being in touch with a birthmother made me realize that this is not something I want to do on our own. I want an adoption professional in our corner advising us and working with us, and I also want to know that the woman or couple that we are matched with has a professional to work with and to advise and counsel them. This is a difficult, confusing, and very emotional process. Which is why we are having such a hard time deciding on an agency. It is such a tough decision with so much riding on it! But fingers crossed, we will make a decision soon and it will be a good one. I have looked up the agency we are leaning towards on the state’s DFPS website and verified their license and reviewed inspection reports. I’ve done a very thorough Google search of their name and have posted questions about them on a couple of online adoption forums (no response yet). I don’t think there is anything else that I can do. But I am still very anxious. I just hope that it will ease somewhat once we are officially signed up and on a list with someone. I’ll keep you posted…

Never ending journey

2007-10-23T16:16:00.000-06:00

I am honestly not sure how I get through my days. I am so totally distracted by what is (or is not) going on in my personal life (i.e., staring a family) that I absolutely cannot focus on anything else. I do not feel like doing any work, or any of my real work, but I feel guilty about the amount of time I am spending at work browsing adoption sites. Now I have to be honest – I never particularly want to do work. My job is just not that interesting. But, I’m usually fairly good at staying focused and am able to get quite a bit done in a day. I never used to be much for surfing the web at work and I've never been much of a chit-chatter. But these days (alright it’s more accurate to say these months…), I can’t go more than a few minutes without checking my personal email, pulling up a website or two, reading a blog, or simply sitting and staring at my desk and doing absolutely nothing. I don’t want to be here. I just don’t care about this place, or this job, right now. Unfortunately, we are about to spend thousands of dollars on an adoption which will also lead to us bringing home a baby (or so they tell us!), so we are not exactly in a position for me to up and quit my job. And in fact, this has been the case for years now.

That is one of the things that is hardest for me about all of this. I look at my life and where I am in my life, and it is not where I expected to be. And I’m not sure it is where I want to be. But I am so clouded by this one thing that I want and haven’t yet gotten, that I can’t make any decisions about any other part of my life. I don’t know if I am truly unhappy with other aspects of my life -- everything is so mixed up in my desire to have children that it is impossible for me to untangle the different parts of myself and my life to determine what I am happy with and what I want to change. Because the fact of the matter is – I’m not happy. Well, actually I’m depressed, which is different from being not happy, but I’m not sure that if you took the depression away that I would be happy. And that scares me. And it makes me really sad and fairly pissed off. I feel guilty complaining about my life – I know that in many ways I am very, very lucky. I have a wonderful husband and a wonderful marriage. I have friends and family who love me. I live in a safe place. I am healthy. I have a decent job. Etc. etc. etc.

But… there’s still this one thing that I don’t have. And it has taken over so much of my life. The fact of the matter is, having a baby has been guiding me and the decisions I make for longer than we have even been trying. I have always wanted to be a mom. I've always known that was important to me. I was not the kind of girl who had my wedding planned and children’s names picked out at 19 or anything, but I did know that it was what I eventually wanted out of life. And when I realized that K was “the one” I was not interested in waiting around very long to get married. And once we were married, I didn’t want to wait a terribly long time to have kids. We did wait a year before we officially started trying, but even during that time I was thinking about it. I would be working out and thinking about getting my body in shape to pregnant. When I finished graduate school and started looking for a job, I was looking for a place that would be “family friendly.” I actually chose my current job over another job because I thought this would be a better place to work when I got pregnant and had kids. I never really expected to be here 3½ years later. But then we started trying. And nothing happened. And then a lot happened but none of it was good. And my job was not going well, but I didn’t feel like I was in a position to leave. Because there was always something going on or about to happen. “I can’t leave my job, I’m about to start IVF. How can I start a new job in the middle of an IVF cycle? I can’t afford to quit my job – we are dealing with infertility.” And on and on. And of course, it hasn’t stopped. “I can’t quit my job. We’re trying to adopt a baby.”

I’m so tired of my life being ruled by all of this. I said early on that I did not want infertility to take over our lives, to define us. But, it’s nearly impossible for it not to. It seems to affect almost everything and I don’t know how to make it not. I just want to move on with my life. It feels like we started down a path and have stalled out. All around us other people are moving on and we are stuck. I know that having a baby will not make everything in my life better--I am not that naive. But, having a baby will get us moving again. And I’m starting to get very tired of the view here.

Another long week

2007-10-19T15:39:00.000-06:00

It hasn’t been as long of a week as last week (which seemed to last forever before getting to Friday) but it has still been a long week. And another long week of waiting. And the hardest part is that in many ways, what we have started is just another reset of the clock. All the waiting we have done up until this point doesn’t really count. Because we are in a new game. We have to get in a new line. And we’re not even really in an official line yet. I don’t know what we’re in. It feels like we are in the line to get in line (with the small hope that somehow miraculously, something will happen and we’ll get to cut straight to the front).

I don’t know how to get myself to accept the fact that we are in a new game and that I have to readjust my expectations with regards to waiting time. I am so tired of waiting. It’s been years already.

The other adjustment is that of switching from the lack of control of infertility treatments to the lack of control of adoption. Surrendering control is something you have to do in both, but the types of surrender are different. And regardless, I don’t like surrendering control. Right now, I am waiting for an agency in Texas to get back to me. Their website sounds really nice. I got a good recommendation from someone on an online adoption forum. But I haven’t heard anything back yet. And it’s been, like a whole week (almost). I submitted on their online form (twice – because I wasn’t sure it went through the first time). I called and left a message. And I emailed. Think I might be a little anxious? Really?

But the thing is, we’re not really brand new to adoption. We got our homestudy done in May. We have been on lists with three attorneys in Arkansas since April. I’ve been sporadically browsing adoption websites for months. It’s just that now, it is for real. We want to get signed up with an agency (in addition to the networking we are doing) so that we know that we will get a baby eventually. No matter how long it takes, signing up with an agency will give us that assurance – and the sooner we can get on the list, the sooner the wait can begin.

But the decisions are so hard. Our agency here seems very nice. But their wait averages 18 months. Another agency we looked into in Texas has much shorter wait times, but more than 75% of their fees are due upfront and they are non-refundable! Other agencies we have looked at are just way too expensive. While others are for Christian families only--which we’re not. (I’m Jewish. K was raised Christian.) So, I was excited to find an agency that seems to have somewhat reasonable fees and wait times. I really want to find an agency that feels right for us but I also really want this to be the one that is right. Because I don’t want to look anymore. It’s all too overwhelming. I just want to know that we are officially in the game. With someone on our side working for us. Then I’ll at least know that the game clock has started and the waiting can begin (again).

Next steps

2007-10-14T07:29:00.000-06:00

Saturday was a better day than Friday. I don't think I cried at all. I did spend most of the day in front of the computer working on our adoption portfolio, but I think it is therapeutic for me. We knew before we even started that this cycle was our last. At least for now -- we have both admitted that we may want to come back to IF treatments at some point -- but for now, we just want to start our family.

So we had already decided that our next step was going to be moving full speed ahead with adoption. What we had not decided was how exactly we wanted to proceed. We have already had a home study with an agency here in Colorado but have not signed on with them to be included on their list of potential families. We are going in for a meeting with them tomorrow to discuss in more detail what those next steps would be and what their adoption process is like. But I'm just not sure that this is the right agency for us. I'm not sure that we even want to use an agency here in Colorado. My biggest problem is their wait time -- 18-24 months.

I know lots of agencies list average waiting times up to 2 years, but there are also a lot that have 6-12 month waits. K's sister's first adoption (2nd child, but first that was adopted) took 2 weeks. I'm not kidding. She went to the agency that K's brother had used in Texas and after talking to an adoption specialist for awhile, they broached the topic of a situation that had just come up -- 2 month old baby girl in cradle care who they were presenting parents to the birthmother the next day. They were presented and chosen and home with their daughter two weeks later. After KL was a year old, they got back on the list and brought home their son, P, within a year.

Now, I'm sure you're asking yourself -- why don't we just use that agency??? Well, their fees are $40,000. And unfortunately, we are not blessed with the same level of funds that K's brother and sister are. However, I have found a couple of other agencies in Texas with lower fees and similar wait times. So we are going to look into those as well. In the meantime, we have decided to go ahead and try networking.

Last night we sent out an email to friends and family with our adoption profile asking them to help us network. I was so nervous to send that email. I actually made K push "send" for me! Up to now, I have been rather private about our infertility. It's not that nobody knows, because a lot of people do, but it's not something that I have readily talked about, even with friends, and I have friends I have never said anything to about it. In some ways though, I am feeling somewhat of a relief in just getting it out there. For now, we have only emailed friends and family. Eventually, I may include colleagues, but I'm not quite ready for that yet.

We have already gotten back some very nice responses. My sister forwarded our email to something like 200 people (thanks E!) and several of them wrote her back the nicest responses that she sent along to me. I've also gotten some very nice emails from some of K's friends and family. In addition, I posted a question today on an online adoption forum and have already gotten several responses back on that. So that feels good.

Now it's over

2007-10-14T06:29:00.000-06:00

Does preparing yourself for bad news help? I'm not sure whether it does or not. Maybe. But bad news is bad news and it hurts no matter how prepared you think you are for it. I went in for the blood test by myself on Friday. I got to talk to our favorite IVF nurse and told her straight away that I didn't think it had worked. I gave them K's number to call, turned my phone to silent, and went to do a presentation for work.

They had already called by the time I got home around 11:30. It looked like K had been crying ever since they had called. I didn't cry right away. My immediate defense mechanism was to pull out all my adoption information, turn on my laptop and get started on our next move. And to send K out to buy intoxicating beverages. In large quantities. K's defense mechanism is to sleep. He's very lucky that way, and I have to admit I am jealous of the quality and probably somewhat resentful. Right now for instance, it is 6:30 in the morning on a Sunday and I have been awake since 5:30 (I don't even normally get up this early to go to work). But I can't sleep. I went to sleep OK but then woke up around 5:00 full of anxiety and could not go back to sleep.

Anyway, back to Friday. After eating and drinking a bit, K went off to bed. I sat glued in front of my computer getting increasingly overwhelmed by the adoption information I was looking at but unable to pull myself away from it all. But finally something broke and I found myself sitting in the shower sobbing with the water pouring over me. At some point I ended up curled in a ball on the bathroom floor.

K and I spent the rest of the evening talking and crying. And drinking a little. And talking some more. And looking at adoption information together. And crying. And drinking. It was good actually and I'm sure it was healthy for both of us. I know I probably have more grieving to do and the pain will continue to hit me, but it was good to get a least some of it out.

It's not over til it's over

2007-10-11T17:34:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is the official beta test. So far, I've had four negative HPTs. K hid my last test so I didn't do one this morning. Probably for the best. This has been an incredibly hard week. It has seemed to last forever and I've felt incredibly depressed. And angry. And sad. And ready for all of this to be over but also a little scared for it to be over. And badly in need of a drink.

Hope is a funny thing. Even at my most jaded, when I'm sure that there is no way that this could possibly work for us, and intellectually I'm telling myself that I know I'm not pregnant and that I'm prepared for the negative result, there is still somewhere inside me that last little kernel of hope that I can't get rid of. And no matter how much I try not to acknowledge it, a bigger part of me than I even realize will keep clinging to that hope until the last possible moment.

I decided to test at home this time because it was so hard last time getting the phone call that it didn't work. I thought that by doing tests ahead of time, I (we) would be prepared for the call, whatever happens. But I forgot about the reset button that automatically seems to get pushed on me anytime I see a negative HPT. I am first disappointed and sad and angry but inevitably I somehow begin to convince myself that the test could be wrong. That it's just too early. And so instead of really easing me into the bad news, each new negative test is just another fresh blow. And each test I've taken this week, the negative result has come up so quickly and so completely it's as if the test is mocking me: "Yeah right. You? Pregnant? What a joke."

To me, the pain of infertility is like a million small little injuries that never quite go away and just keep adding up. We've certainly had our share of bigger blows and disappointments, but in some ways it's all the smaller little injuries that are unseen but so many that make everything so hard:

All the phone calls I've made and taken at work, in the hallway so no one can hear me. Or see me crying. All the conversations about other people's children and pregnancies that I've endured without them ever knowing the pain it causes me. All the nameless pregnant women and couples with babies that we see and envy. And the guilt of not being able to truly feel happy for someone else's blessing because it only heightens our awareness of what we're missing.

And then there is all the grief for what we have lost and what we may never have that I haven't truly let myself feel -- and I still won't. Not yet -- I'm still clinging to my last shred of hope. Small as it is, I just can't let it go.

Happy birthday to me

2007-10-09T10:50:00.000-06:00

Sunday was my birthday. It was a big one for me. I turned 30. As a treat for myself, I took a home pregnancy test. So far, I’m 0 for 3.

Sunday (9 dpt) HPT #1: Negative
Monday (10 dpt) HPT #2: Negative
Tuesday (11 dpt) HPT #3: Negative

Happy fucking birthday.

Just ignore me

2007-10-03T14:09:00.000-06:00

Please ignore all advice and pointers that I have given up to this point, as I obviously have no idea what the hell I am talking about. In fact, feel free to ignore any future advice that I deign to offer as I cannot be trusted.

Case in point -- progestone shots. We obviously have no idea what we are doing. My right hip/butt has been so sore since Saturday night's shot that I can barely sit, much less walk or stand. To touch it is torture. Something definitely went wrong with that shot as I am always somewhat sore but never like this. And the trouble is, I can't see an end in sight. We have to keep giving the shots. I'm thinking that I might have K do the shot on my left side again tonight just to give my right side one more day of reprieve. But, I'm scared that will then make my left side so sore that I will really be in trouble. And the real bitch of the thing? I actually brought my heating pad to work today thinking that I could discreetly sit on it and get some relief, but it has, for some unknown reason, decided to quit working.

Continuing on in discussing my lack of expertise in anything -- estrogen patches. I thought I had discovered a sure-fire way to remove that sticky gunk, but alas, once again I was mistaken. My pumus stone scrubbing worked only the one time. Since then, the abrasiveness has been too much for me and hasn't worked particularly well anyway. The next time I tried the stone, I immediately got red and broken out and whether it's because of that or just the patches themselves, I am now red and itchy from all the patches. And sticky.

Emotionally, I am eratically vascillating between hopefulness that this might actually work to a downright surety about the fact that it won't. And, I am also obsessing on any symptoms that I may or may not have, including pain in my side and upper leg area that I distinctly remember from my last ectopic pregnancy. So now I have that anxiety thrown back into the mix. I mean, it should be impossible for me to have another ectopic being that my tubes are securely tied off, but I am not exactly feeling rational about my fears and anyway, nothing with me has ever been particularly "normal' or "as expected." I keep getting hit with waves of overwhelming fear, nauseuos-making fear. Fear of what? Just about everything. I'm scared of not being pregnant of course, but I'm also scared of being pregnant -- of being pregnant and it not working. Of being pregnant and living in fear day after day, week after week of things going wrong. And I'm also scared of a "borderline result" -- as hard as a negative result is, I think an ambiguous result would almost be worse -- part of my whole distaste for waiting. I desperately want this to work. But maybe even more than that, I just want to know one way or another. The uncertainty and the anxiety that naturally follows is driving me crazy.

Ready, set, wait

2007-09-28T14:37:00.000-06:00

The transfer was yesterday. We transferred two embryos -- "Uno" our lone embryo from our last fresh cycle - 4 cells - and "Dos" from our first fresh cycle - 9 cells. They were grade B and B+ -- I can't remember which was which. Interestingly, they performed assisted hatching on them and to our surprise we learned yesterday that they had apparently performed assisted hatching on our last cycle. I have to admit that surprise is not the only emotion I felt at this news.

I actually wasn't expecting to hear any news of our embryos until Friday, as that was what happened on our last cycle. When I talked to the nurse on Wednesday, she did not have any news other than that the first 3 embryos had been removed from the freezer (I'm struggling over the terminology here -- it is all just a little weird when you put it into writing). But on Thursday, the lab called and talked to K. They were asking about removing the additional embryo (Uno) and informed us that the embryos were grading as A and A-. Then on Friday morning the lab called again and talked to K and said that they wanted to perform assisted hatching (in part because they had done so last time). I had been trying so hard to remain calm and proceed with life as normal, that I had gone into work on Friday morning. So K calls me at work and of course I end up in the hallway on my cellphone (I work in a cubicle so the only privacy I get is by going in the hallway or downstairs to the lobby) trying to figure out what was going on. I called our nurse to try to find out some more information. I let her know that I was pretty upset by the fact that assisted hatching had apparently been performed last time without our being informed--especially considering that this is not the first instance where our clinic has failed to tell us information. So then she transferred me to the lab so that I could talk to the embryologist directly. Apparently, assisted hatching is very commonly performed in our clinic (again something that was never discussed with us) and that she wanted to do it because 1) our embryos were not dividing well and 2) it was done last time. She assured me that overall the embryos looked good but that this would just give them an extra chance. So I agreed.

When we went back for the transfer, the doctor showed us a picture of our embryos. She had already marked 2 of them as "Y" and 2 as "N" One of them had divided but looked abnormal (the cells were all the same size and they aren't supposed to be). I can't remember what the deal was with the other one that we didn't transfer except that it obviously hadn't divided as well as the others. The 2PN (frozen on Day 1 of our first fresh cycle) had divided to 9 cells and the Day 3 (frozen on Day 3 of our second fresh cycle) was 4 cells and had not yet divided but looked as though it was about to.

So there you have it. I have been trying to stay off my feet and have moved from one couch to another over the last 24 hours or so. Trying not to freak out too much (I'm actually doing a better job than K). I've already determined that I am not waiting for the blood draw this time (which will be on October 12) and am trying to decide how soon I can realistically to a test and expect anything close to an accurate result. Tomorrow? Probably a little too early. I'm also trying not to think too much about our clinic. It's hard though. I can't help but feel very frustrated by our experiences there. But, on the other hand, there are some really good things about it as well. And honestly, I don't really have anything to compare it to. I don't know anyone else (in person at least) going through infertility right now. My sister and both of my sisters-in-law went through infertility but they only ever did IVF once. So I don't really know anyone that has had the kind of sustained contact with a clinic that we have had and what that experience has been like. It's hard for me to put our experience into any kind of real perspective, but it just seems like the fact that they have failed to tell us things like this is not ok. But, in the end, how much difference does it make? And what can we do about it anyway?

Never mind

2007-09-26T12:00:00.000-06:00

I spoke too soon and so I felt the immediate urge to correct myself. My backside is now officially sore -- tender to both touch and movement. So apparently the thinner oil only ensures that the immediate aftermath of the shot is not as unpleasant as it could be and the soreness kicks in after 12-14 hours. Ouch.

Cycle update

2007-09-26T08:54:00.000-06:00

Estrogen Patches
I briefly mentioned my estrogen patch woes in my last post but have decided that the issue deserves more attention than that. For those of you who have never gone through a frozen embryo cycle, let me provide a little background information.

In a fresh IVF cycle, estrogen patches are used after retrieval. You put one patch on and leave it on – only changing it once or week. Or so I’m told. Since both my IVF cycles were cancelled after retrieval, I never really made it quite that far. But, I understand the theory. A frozen cycle has none of the bells and whistles (e.g., Lupron, Follistim) of a fresh cycle but lots more estrogen patches (assuming that, like me, you are doing a frozen cycle with hormone replacements rather than a natural cycle with monitoring). So, you begin on Day 1 of your cycle, which by the way isn’t really Day 1 as in the day you started your period (so why in the hell do they ask you for that at every appointment?).

Wait. I lost my train of thought. Where was I? Oh, right. Day 1. Place one nice, small estrogen patch on your abdomen (preferably below the waistline where your underwear can help keep it from falling off). Replace patch every other day. After about a week, increase to 2 patches. Then go up to four. Then down to 3. Then down to 2 but change after only one day. Then back to changing every other day.

Don’t get me wrong--none of this is a particularly big deal. Aside from having to consult my schedule on a regular basis to remember whether I’m on an “on” or “off” day and to double check the number of patches to apply, the 1st couple weeks are a breeze. It’s just when you get several weeks in, like I am now, and the number of patches keeps increasing that things start getting sticky – literally. I mean, there’s only so much room on my lower stomach, especially considering that you’re not supposed to put a new patch in the same spot as an old one. So Sunday night as I’m trying to put my four new patches on, I look down to discover that there are little sticky squares all over my belly, red from trying to get the gunk off, and I can’t figure out where to put all of the new patches. So, I move to my ass – there’s plenty of room there…

Last night, I believe I discovered an effective method for removing the sticky residue – pumas stone. Don’t even ask me how it is I decided to try something I use on the calluses of my feet on my stomach, but I did. And it seems to work. Yes, it’s a little (a lot) abrasive, but if carefully done, the sticky stuff is conquered. My stomach looks remarkably better today (if you ignore the three new patches).

Progesterone shots
I feel like a total veteran of infertility and infertility treatments and in a lot (most?) ways I am. But on the other hand, when it comes to actual treatments, there is a lot that I haven’t done. I’ve only ever had one transfer. We never did IUIs, so the one transfer is my only experience with the whole catheter thing. And since both of my fresh IVF cycles were cancelled after retrieval, I’ve only done the weeks of progesterone shots for the one frozen cycle. (For the last fresh cycle we did the HcG trigger shot and one shot of progesterone). Last night we began the progesterone shots and while I was sort of blasé about the whole thing, I was also still somewhat anxious. I mean, there is just something strange about having your husband inject medicine into your rear end with a 2 ½ inch long needle. Luckily, the nurse had ordered progesterone in a thinner oil than what we used last time and it really makes a difference. I don’t want to speak too soon because often the soreness seems to build up over multiple injections, but for now, I am relatively un-sore. So I feel that perhaps I/we have this progesterone shot thing figured out (hope I’m not speaking too soon) and so I will pass along some tips that I have learned:

My tips for progesterone injections:

ë Lay down. The first intra-muscular injection we ever did I was standing up and it hurt a lot worse and I was much sorer the next day.
ë Warm the oil up ahead of time. We have a heating pad ready to go and use it to heat the oil up.
ë Count down. I tend to be a little jumpy, so to avoid this I have K touch the spot where he is going to do the shot and let me know exactly when he is going to do it.
ë Massage the injection site and apply a heating pad afterwards (especially with the thicker oil – for the thinner stuff this might not be as necessary—I’ll let you know in a few days)

The Thaw-out
I just now realized something and it is really making my heart pound. Our embryos will be thawed out today. I’m not sure what time and I don’t even know whether they will be calling to let us know (which means I will struggle with the decision of whether to call and bug them or be strong and wait for them to call). And speaking of thawing them out – isn’t that a really weird concept? It sounds like we’re talking about defrosting a chicken or something. Although, I like to think about my embryos more as popsicles.

Bored

2007-09-21T17:50:00.000-06:00

Frozen cycles are really pretty boring. I know I shouldn't complain -- I mean, the good thing about a FET is that it is easy: less expensive, less invasive, etc. But, it's boring. No shots, no blood draws, only one ultrasound monitoring. Where's the excitement in that? Last cycle, I was shooting up with Lupron at a campsite. Now, all I get is some lousy estrogen patches. Of course, tonight I get to bump up to four patches. I can't wait. I love having strange, sticky patches all over my body that no matter how hard I try, I can't remove all of the sticky residue that they leave (FYI--alcohol does not work. Goo-Gone works pretty well but it's a little scary putting something that works on car grease on bare skin).

This morning was my first, and only, pre-transfer appointment. I went in for a quick visit with my good old friend -- The Dildo Cam. Of course, all they are looking for is a properly-thick lining in the uterus, and in my case fluid in the uterus (which thankfully there was none). I have to say it was not the best feeling in the world to be back in that office.

Highlights of the visit:

1) I didn't weigh as much as I did last time I was there (but I still weigh several pounds more than I used to...)
2) K using some piece of equipment that looks like a microphone to call for "vagina scan on aisle 5"
3) K taking a picture of me laying on the table (me, flipping him off in the process)
4) K and I looking around at the other couples in the waiting room to see if anyone appears more veteran (i.e., downtrodden) than us (they didn't) and then trying to make ourselves feel better by referring to them all as silly freshman
5) Me not remembering, and not even making a very good guess, the first day of my last period (I mean really -- how is that possible? Wasn't I just posting about that? But, no. Couldn't remember, even when handed a calendar. So, I guessed. And then got it wrong. It was listed in my chart from when I called to tell them that I had started. So why did they need to ask???)

That's about all there is to tell about this cycle for the moment. We start progesterone shots some time next week. So I'll be sure to check in by then. Finally, some excitement.

Emotional lows and lowers

2007-09-19T11:18:00.000-06:00

I’ve been writing posts in my head for days now but haven’t put anything down in actual writing. So, here goes. You know how I said I had “calmed down” and “made a plan with K”? I guess that was premature of me. I had, in fact, calmed down and discussed a plan with K, but I only managed to stay calm for a few days. I thought that I was still being calm, but in fact, no, I was back to desperate, semi-crazy behavior. I can’t say that I am doing much better at the moment, but I have at least, once again (and maybe only for the moment) reached, if not a state of calm, then a state of semi self-control.

The back-story…I have mentioned before my feelings about adoption, but I don’t know that I have fully expressed my feelings. That may be, in part, due to the fact that I am not exactly sure how I feel. It varies day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Some of the time I am still feeling very hopeful about being pregnant – about my actual chances of getting and staying pregnant – and very much longing to experience pregnancy. Other times, the thought of going through the waiting and wondering of pregnancy scares the shit out of me – my entire experience of pregnancy has been short-lived and negative and it is hard for me to visualize myself experiencing anything other than that. I also feel that I have been waiting to have a baby for so long, that the 9 or so months of pregnancy is too much. I want my baby now! Even though I try not to, I can’t help finding myself regretting and questioning decisions that we have made. The number of times I think “if only we had…” is enough to drive me crazy (and perhaps it already has…).

“If only we had started the adoption process rather than pursue IVF… If only we had decided not to go through with the tubal… If only we had done a frozen cycle instead of a fresh one this last time…” and on and on and on. While I dwell on many of these “if only’s” the first one and variations of it, haunt me the most. If we had moved straight to adoption, we’d very likely have a baby by now. But at the time, it seemed that the most expeditious route towards starting our family was IVF. We had every reason to believe that it would work for us: I had gotten pregnant before, so we knew that we were technically able to conceive. I responded well to the Clomid and all my blood work looked good. IVF worked for my sister on her first try.

But nonetheless, it hasn’t worked for us, and yet we still haven’t officially moved on to adoption. Instead, we are in a sort of in-between mode, waiting to have one more shot (or one last shot) at a pregnancy while dipping our toes into the adoption waters. But in my state of desperation, there is a part of me that keeps hoping that a situation will fall in our laps, that we’ll get a phone call about a baby being born this weekend and that we’ll be “saved” from making any more tough decisions or going through any more waiting.

While there is still a part of me that longs to be pregnant and that hasn’t fully resigned myself to the idea that I may never get to be pregnant and give birth to a child, there is another, equally strong part, that just wants to be done with the whole thing altogether. I just want to be a mother, and I know that adoption would/will be a very positive choice for us. I am ready for all of this to be done, one way or another. And so I have found myself desperately searching the internet for information on adoption. But rather than being systematic and thoughtful, I have been completely haphazard in what I am doing.

Prior to making the decision to move forward with this frozen cycle, we agreed that if it didn’t work, we would move forward whole-heartedly with adoption. We had not made any decision as to whether that would mean signing on with an agency or more aggressively pursuing an independent/designated adoption, but we had both agreed that this would be it for infertility (at least for a while). I had determined that I would work on getting everything ready for adoption (e.g., finishing our adoption profile and photo album, creating a website, research funding options and agencies) so that when/if the transfer didn’t work we would be ready. I think all of these things would make sense to do and would fall into the “systematic and thoughtful” course of action. This is not what I have been doing. In the process of researching these more sensible areas of adoption planning, I ran across several websites that post potential adoption situations. The postings are mostly from adoption facilitators but also some from agencies, attorneys, and, in a small number of cases, potential birthmothers. The sites are somewhat addictive because it makes it all seem so easy and so very close and real. I have emailed about several of these situations and have gotten myself excited about them actually panning out.

I emailed about a couple of situations that I never heard back about. But here’s the breakdown on the ones that I did:

Situation #1: This was through an agency. I actually talked to someone and think that it was a legitimate situation but 1) it was going to a lot more expensive than what we were hoping for and 2) there were circumstances that neither K nor I were comfortable with. I/we made this decision right away, so nothing lost. I also had the agency send me general information about their program, just in case.

Situation #2: This was through a facilitator. A match had already been found but…she would keep me in mind for future situations. She emailed me later that same day about a baby that was due that very weekend. If we were interested she would print off our profile and overnight it to the birthparents. I said “yes!” and to please call me if she needed anything else. She never called. I emailed her a few days later to see if there was any news. She never emailed me back.

Situation #3: This was through a facilitator. A match had already been found but…would we be interested in this other situation? Yes. I emailed her our online profile. A few days later she called me and asked if I was still interested and if so, she would mail our profile. I emailed her a more complete profile. That Friday I called to check in and was told that the FedEx with our profile had not arrived but that they were trying to locate it. On Saturday morning, I got up early and started doing some research about this facilitator. What I find out was not good. This woman does not have a great track record -- with adoptive families or birthmothers. Additionally, she has never called or emailed me since anyway. Needless to say, this was all a good reality check for me and led me to my previously mentioned state of calm and discussion with K.

But again, this didn’t last long as I found myself looking up the same sites the very next weekend in search of more situations. Which I emailed about. And heard back about two of them. K’s response was less than enthusiastic. At first, I was frustrated with his response. WHAT WAS HIS PROBLEM? THIS COULD BE OUR BABY!!

Then I took a step back and asked myself “What in the world am I doing?”

We had made the decision to move forward with a frozen cycle. If something turns up through one of the attorneys we talked to back in April, that is one thing. But for me to be randomly pursuing potential adoptive situations through unknown attorneys, agencies, and facilitators in various states across the country is absolutely ridiculous. Particularly since I am doing so without K’s true support and looking at situations that 1) he is not comfortable with and 2) he is not ready for. So…we had another long talk. We have decided that if this cycle doesn’t work, we will most likely sign on with the agency here in town that did our homestudy. And, I made him promise that we would have a good long talk about everything that we are and are not comfortable with at that point. I promised him that I would put a hold on my desperate searching and try to concentrate on what we are doing right now. So, I removed all the links to the adoption pages from my browser (Sad, I know, but I obviously have no self-control).

I can’t say I feel a whole lot better. But I know that this is the right thing to do. I can’t be splitting myself in two different directions. If we move forward with adoption, we need to do so with total commitment and put the infertility treatments behind us. But we’re obviously not there yet.

Frozen embryo transfer, blah, blah, blah

2007-09-14T16:13:00.000-06:00

So I'm finding it very hard to get excited about this cycle. I FINALLY started my period and am scheduled for a transfer on September 28. But I'm just not really feeling it.

I really like the nurses at my clinic, the IVF coordinator in particular, but in terms of the doctors -- I could take 'em or leave 'em really and in fact, that sums it up pretty well as they seem to keep losing doctors. So, when the nurse asked if I wanted to set up a meeting with my doctor prior to transfer to discuss our options, I said no. I don't have the energy to go in there one more time than I have to and frankly, what is there to say? It's a frozen embryo cycle -- there's not a lot to do.

But, perhaps a meeting would have been nice. I had asked that they thaw 3 of our embryos from our first cycle (frozen on Day 1) and the 1 embryo from last cycle (frozen on Day 3). K went in today to pick up our consent forms and they told him that they would be thawing the 3 and only thawing the other 1 if the first three don't look right. Not really sure of the reasoning -- K is not exactly good at repeating information (in fact, I've yet to meet a man who is), so they could very well have told him something that made complete sense but he was unable to articulate that to me. Now, I had specifically wanted to try and transfer our embryo from the last cycle (I'm calling him "Uno") because I somehow have a good feeling about that one, but now it looks like that may not happen. I should be upset. And perhaps I am/will be. But right now I'm having trouble giving a shit. Maybe that's a good thing?

On the adoption front -- nothing is happening and I haven't written about it because I think I'm a little embarrassed? I definitely think that I was acting in a completely desperate, haphazard way which could have easily led me to make a poor decision. Thankfully I calmed myself down (at least somewhat), talked with K, and I think that we have come to some resolution as to next steps if this transfer doesn't work. I will write more about this, and my forays into adoption postings online, in a future post.

Oh, the irony

2007-09-08T15:21:00.000-06:00

37 days and counting...

So I always find it ironic when I am desperately waiting for a period. About the same kind of irony as when I'm taking birth-control pills as part of an infertility treatment cycle. Or, getting my tubes tied so that I can get pregnant. Oh, the world of infertility is a strange, strange place.

34 days and counting

2007-09-05T15:31:00.000-06:00

and still no period. Why am I surprised? Actually, I'm not surprised. Of course I haven't started my period. Of course it's late. I'm actually not going to be surprised when this whole cycle is going to have to be delayed another month or so because of lab closures. I mean, I have run into lab closures 2 out of my last 3 cycles, and the nurse I spoke with last week mentioned that I might be running up against another. (How often do they clean that fucking lab? Is that a good thing? Or should I be worried that it's dirty enough to have to be cleaned so often?) Oh, and the doctor that did my last retrieval--who I had determined I actually liked? He's gone. Been deployed to Iraq. So, this cycle is off to a great non-start so far...

Waiting is intoxicating (really)

2007-09-02T14:22:00.000-06:00

I've already talked a lot about how the hardest thing for me in all of this is the waiting. But, the fact remains that that continues to be the hardest thing and I can't seem to get over it. I am struggling with an overwhelming sense of desperation and a need to do something, when in fact, there is so little that I can do. It makes me so incredibly edgy and just feels awful.

I am still waiting to start my period so that we can get started with the frozen embryo transfer -- I am, of course, late in starting making the waiting even longer. I am having trouble being very excited or even engaged at all in this upcoming cycle. Of course, I've figured out the timing of everything already -- depending on when I transfer, when I could first take a test, have a first ultrasound if it was positive, finish the first trimester etc. etc. But that's just standard procedure -- I've being doing that in some way or another for years now...

In the meantime, I have been browsing the web sporadically and somewhat haphazardly for information on adoption. As I said, I'm feeling this awful sense of desperation and it makes me rather than less than organized or systematic in how I am proceeding with things. So, I stumbled across several websites where adoption professionals (mostly facilitators, some agencies) post adoption situations. I randomly emailed about a couple of them and while none of the ones that I had emailed about were still available, I was given information about a couple of other ones. Supposedly, our family profile is going to be shown to each of these birth mothers soon.(!)

But, I don't really know much more than that. Totally obsessive, impatient person that I am, I was hoping it to happen immediately and to get a phone call or email right away. That hasn't happened. I don't really know what to think or feel. On Friday, when all of this happened, I was feeling incredibly excited and hopeful. But by the very next day, I was already feeling let-down and disappointed. Which I know intellectually speaking is ridiculous but my brain and emotions don't always coincide and no matter how many times I tell myself that 1) it hasn't been long enough to think anything one way or another 2) we haven't gotten ourselves invested (really) in either of these situations and whatever happens will happen and 3) we are about to start another frozen embryo cycle which could work and I can look forward to that .... I can't stop myself from thinking and hoping about the what ifs. What if one of these situations is the right one for us? What if one of these will lead us to our baby???

I can't help myself. It's all I can think about. But, as always, there is really nothing that I can do. So, I have been trying to keep myself busy, and mildly intoxicated. It is 2:30 in the afternoon and I am on my second glass of wine (which came after a beer). So far this weekend I have pulled a lot of weeds from the garden and yard (although my fight against dandelions is really a pointless, losing battle), made a batch of home-made pasta sauce, frozen a dozen or so tomatoes (we still have so many tomatoes it's ridiculous), cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, read most of Harry Potter - Book 4 (for probably the 5th or 6th time), taken the dog for a walk, had sex (which is truly amazing--the fact that I wanted to have sex, not the sex, although it was not bad), and.... checked my email about 100 times.

And now, my second glass of wine is gone. What to do, what to do? It looks really lonely and sad, sitting there empty. Hmmm... maybe I'll go pull more weeds. And then see how I feel. Perhaps I'll check back in here later. Or, perhaps I'll just get drunk. Really good and truly drunk.

Uncomfortable Encounters

2007-08-25T14:02:00.000-06:00

So, I just finished this book, Feed, and there is a line in it that has stuck with me and has gotten me thinking:

"She laughed really short and harsh. I didn't think she should joke about that, because you just don't joke about your life. Especially because it can make people really uncomfortable, if you have something wrong with you, and you keep bringing it up in certain ways."

One of the reasons that I don't find myself wanting to talk about my infertility very often is that it seems to make people uncomfortable. And that makes me uncomfortable. They don't know what to say. And I always find myself trying to make light of the situation -- turn it all into a joke. And it never really goes over very well. Joking about it is obviously a defense mechanism in some ways, but just like the saying "if I don't laugh, I'll cry" (is that even really a saying?) sometimes laughing really helps. And so does crying. Before my tubal surgery, I found myself crying and laughing a lot. It became really hysterical to me that I was going in to have my tubes tied so that I could get pregnant. I mean, that's really pretty fucking funny. It got me laughing so hard, I cried. But, it's not the kind of thing that seems to go over very well with others...

Anyway, back to my original point. I think people are often made uncomfortable by other people's problems. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but it's almost like avoiding a situation will make it go away. Or by not acknowledging it, it won't be there? I think this feeling of discomfort makes people try to avoid these situations or people altogether. My guess is that this happens a lot. And that we've all probably done it at some point or another. It's just gotten me thinking. I know that I have felt uncomfortable talking to people (friends) before about some problem that I was having and have realized that I was uncomfortable because they seemed uncomfortable. And I wonder if I have made others feel that way--does other people's pain make me uncomfortable?

Maybe. I hope not. Or I hope that I am at least empathetic enough to listen without letting my own discomfort show. But what about the times when I have not called someone who was going through a difficult time (surgery, death in the family) because I "didn't want to bother them"? Was that really it? Was it really about them or was it more about me? I didn't want to feel uncomfortable. I didn't want to be bothered. I can't say with any confidence whether I have ever acted this way or not. But I know that others have seemed to act this way towards me. And it's got me thinking. If I have ever made someone feel uncomfortable by my own discomfort with what was happening in their lives, or if I've avoided someone for this, I am really sorry. It was about their pain, and I made it into something about me. And that isn't right. Knowing this, I can at least hope that I will never respond this way in the future. People don't always want to talk about their problems, their sorrows. And that is ok. But if they do, someone needs to be there to listen.

Which brings me to another line in the book that I thought was really good:

"You know...this isn't re: the world serving you some meg three-course dump banquet...She's the one who this is happening to. I don't know what you're saying to her? But I hope you aren't sulking weirdly."

My Story - Part 3

2007-08-24T15:13:00.000-06:00

I haven’t written in awhile—Frankly, I think the telling of my own story has been depressing the hell out of me. But dammit, I started this story so I’m going to finish it! (Deep breath.) Here goes. Part 3

Now, where was I? Oh, right. IVF. The exciting part. Or, in my case, the incredibly big let-down part. So we went to a new clinic to begin the IVF process. In my impatience, I was hoping that we could begin the very next month, but of course, we had all the pre-IVF testing crap to get out of the way first, so it took awhile before we could even begin. And then of course my body didn’t cooperate right away …but we finally got started October/Novemberish. The day of retrieval dawned bright and hopeful, and we left the hospital feeling great (19 eggs retrieved). It wasn’t until late that afternoon that things started going downhill. I got a call from one of the doctors at our clinic—we’ll call her Dr. #2 (not the doctor who had done the retrieval, Dr. #1). At first it seemed like she was just calling to check in but then she got around to the point of the phone call which was to tell me that there had been fluid in my uterus during retrieval. And that that was bad. Best I could gather from the conversation, Dr. #2 had called to check in on all of the IVF patients and the IVF nurse who had been present for my retrieval mentioned the fluid. Dr. #2 asked if we had been told of this and the nurse replied that she didn’t think so (we hadn’t). So…Dr. #2 told me that fluid in the uterus significantly decreases the chances of a successful implantation and that the fluid was likely caused from damaged tubes (based on my history of ectopics). Her recommendation was to freeze all of the embryos, have my tubes tied, and then move on to a frozen transfer. But, she would verify all of this the next morning after looking at the ultrasound pictures herself.

The next morning Dr. #2 called. She had looked at the pictures and determined that there had been a significant amount of fluid in my uterus during retrieval and in fact, there had been fluid in my uterus 2 days prior to that. Dr. #1 had failed to tell us any of this. With this amount of fluid, our chances of success were likely to be less than 10%. So, we had all 10 of the embryos frozen. We talked to Dr. #2 more in-depth about her recommendations, I searched every site I could find on “fluid in uterus and IVF” and determined that we would go ahead and have my tubes tied and then do a frozen transfer.

At some point, I may decide to write more about some of this, but right now, it just makes me too depressed. Let me just say that I had a tubal and then did a frozen transfer which didn’t work. After finding out that the transfer didn’t work, I wanted to move on to adoption right then and there. I’ve already written a little about that experience , so I’m just going to move right on past that for now.

During all of this time, I found myself pretty upset about how Dr. #1 had handled (or mishandled) my care. I wrote a letter immediately after it happened, but I never sent it. At that point, we were just trying to move on and make the best out of a bad situation. But after a couple of months of thinking about it, we decided to issue a complaint. We worked with a patient advocate at the hospital and eventually had a meeting with the doctor. He was actually very accommodating and acknowledged right off the bat that he should have told us about the fluid. (He of course hedged on whether it really would have made a difference etc. etc. but at least acknowledged that he was wrong not to tell us). Anyway, long story short – he offered us the choice of either another frozen transfer on the house or a $6000 credit towards a fresh cycle. We decided to do the fresh cycle. At this point, I didn’t feel like I could go through much more and we felt like we had been cheated out of the chance to do a fresh transfer, which has the best odds of working. Our clinic’s success rate for fresh transfers is around 50% vs. frozen at 25%. So, that’s what we did. And boy oh boy was that a good decision. First, I didn’t stim well. Then, it looked like there was fluid in my uterus (which they drained during retrieval). Then, after having 11 eggs retrieved, only 1 fertilized. Then, the fluid came back. Transfer cancelled. 1 more embryo to join our other 7 in the freezer.

And so, here we are. One year later. Now what? Having had my tubes tied to prevent fluid in the uterus, the only way I can get pregnant is through IVF. I really wanted to be done with the whole thing – have it either work or not, so that we could move on. But having only had 1 chance of conceiving in the whole last year, I just can’t seem to move on yet. So, we’ll do another frozen transfer. And then….? Who knows? But I do know that this sucks. A lot. K created a little visual display to express how we’ve been feeling and I think it sums up the situation pretty well.

My Story - Part 2

2007-08-17T13:35:00.000-06:00

I’ll try to pick up where I left off and see how it goes. A month or so after the ectopic, I went in for an HSG to ensure that my tubes were open. Everything looked fine, and we started trying again as soon as we were able. I got pregnant again that very first month and I knew it immediately. I did an early pregnancy test and because I had learned from my previous experience, I also went in for a blood draw right away. My HcG levels were only 33, but considering that it was still very early, I wasn’t particularly concerned. But before I could even go back in for a 2nd blood draw, I started bleeding. Then it was just a matter of going back in for blood draws to watch my levels slowly drop back down to zero.

We tried unassisted for a couple months after that, but then went in for an appointment with an RE. My initial bloodwork (and K’s semen analysis) all came back fine, so our first intervention was merely a low-dose of Clomid. Which worked. Pregnant again. This time my initial levels were around 850. My follow-ups were around 1200 – only about a 40% increase. But the nurse and doctor did not seem concerned. I, however, was incredibly concerned and totally freaked out, but there was really nothing we could do at the time. It was Thanksgiving, and we were leaving town the next day. I was trying very hard to stay calm (not particularly succeeding, but trying). I did not want to tell any of K’s family what was going on since we still knew nothing for sure. Unfortunately, my lack of drinking was immediately obvious to his sister (and I was even pretending to drink!). Anyway, we got through Thanksgiving and got back into town. I was so worried that I called and bumped up my ultrasound by several days. The day of the ultrasound we were both still nervous, but I had truly started to believe that everything was going to be ok. Wrong again. Nothing in the uterus. Possible fluid by right tubes. All our hopes came crashing down around us once again. Another dose of methotrexate. Weeks of blood draws. Blah, blah, blah.

This time they made us wait 3 months to start trying again. Once again, the HSG showed that my tubes were clear, but this time the doctor took a closer look and saw what appeared to be an irregularity (and/or possible tear) in the right tube. So the recommendation at this point was to be monitored via ultrasound and only try if I was ovulating on the left. The first month we were able to try again, we were on vacation so I couldn’t go in for an ultrasound. We decided not to try. Next month – ovulated on the right, so not able to try. Next month – ovulated on the right, so not able to try. The next month they upped my dose of Clomid and I ovulated on both sides. Try but no success. Same thing the next month. Maybe the next? It really all starts flowing together, so who knows. I just remember that I was scared the whole time that I was going to have another ectopic. I didn’t know whether I was more scared of not being pregnant or being pregnant. I finally decided to stop the Clomid altogether because I hated trying when I was ovulating on both sides and worrying constantly about having another ectopic. We finally decided to look into IVF and made an appointment with a new RE clinic. That was last July. And that is where I will leave off for now. More exciting details in the saga of my infertility to follow soon…

My story - Part 1

2007-08-10T12:28:00.001-06:00

One of the reasons I decided to start this blog was because I have been feeling the need for awhile to tell my story. I’ve wanted to for many reasons –but mostly just out of the need to talk about what is/has been going on in my life. My infertility isn’t something I feel comfortable talking about to very many people. But it is something that I find myself thinking about A LOT – in fact, I have found that I am obsessively going over my “infertility history” in my head. So, perhaps if I get it written down and published, I will quit thinking about it quite as much? Probably not, but it’s worth a shot. I expect that this will take me awhile to put down into words, but here is Installment #1:

I’ve wanted kids for as long as I can remember. And one of my greatest fears has been not being able to have them. I believe the fear started when I was 19 – I had an abnormal pap-smear, which although it turned out not to be a big deal and was easily resolved, it really scared me and planted the fear of not being able to have kids in my head. After K and I got married, I knew that I didn’t want to wait too long to start trying. Infertility has been pervasive in both of our families (long story in itself that I won’t go into here), so I didn’t enter into the process of trying with the naiveté that many people do – I was well aware from the very beginning that it might not be easy. On the other hand, I think almost everyone begins the process of trying incredibly hopeful and I definitely was – every month I was sure that I would be pregnant.

But month after month went by with no success. Initially, I wasn’t particularly alarmed. We were trying to be very casual about trying—I wasn’t charting or taking my temperature and I only tried an ovulation predictor kit once or twice (never was able to get those to work right for me). After about 9 months of nothing working and with my cycles getting more and more irregular, we made an appointment with an RE. The morning of our appointment, I got up early and took a pregnancy test, just in case, and it was positive! I woke K up with the stick in my hand. We immediately called the RE to cancel our appointment, feeling rather smug I must admit.

K was so excited he wanted to tell everyone, but the more excited he got, the more scared I got. I just couldn’t believe that it was really real and instead of feeling happy, I felt panicked, and the panic seemed to grow with each passing day. I wasn’t scheduled to have my first check-up until I would have been almost 10 weeks along, but I knew that I couldn’t wait. I made up a reason (told them I thought I had a bladder infection) and scheduled an appointment. I don’t know if it’s normal procedure, or if I just got lucky, but the doctor decided to do an ultrasound. The ultrasound showed nothing in my uterus. My heart, of course, dropped at this news, but at the time, I was willing to convince myself that I was just earlier into the pregnancy than I had thought, and the doctor seemed willing to go along with that theory. He had me go in for a blood draw, to be repeated in two days.

It’s almost funny for me to look back on this whole experience and realize how completely ignorant and naïve I really was. I had not let myself do almost any reading about pregnancy at this point, because I was trying so desperately to stay calm and not obsess. So, I had no idea what the blood test was really for. I didn’t know that HcG levels are supposed to double every two days or so. So the tests results, and the implications of them, came as a complete shock to me and K. I think the doctor expected us to know that the situation was not good when she showed us the HcG levels (something around 650 on Friday to 715 on Monday), but all we knew was that they were supposed to have gone up. It wasn’t until she performed an ultrasound, which still showed nothing in the uterus and a swelling in the right tube, that we realized what was going on. The pregnancy was ectopic, and there was no chance that we were having a baby.

It makes me really sad thinking about myself back then. I can picture myself in that room, crying, K crying. I think I walked around shell-shocked for weeks afterwards. The methotrexate didn’t help, of course. That is one nasty medicine – nausea, cramping, bleeding, diarrhea. And the worst part – you can’t drink when you’ve taken methotrexate, and if there’s one time in your life when you could use a couple stiff drinks, it’s after finding out you’ve lost a pregnancy!

I know that we were lucky that we caught the problem when we did. I wasn’t being monitored and wasn’t scheduled for an appointment for weeks. Had I not gone in when I did, the situation could have gotten very bad. On the other hand though, because I lost the pregnancy as early as I did (7 weeks along, 2 weeks after finding out I was pregnant), I felt as though I didn’t have the right to really grieve. Or not the right exactly, because I was definitely grieving, but I guess I somehow felt embarrassed by how hard it was for me. That somehow because it happened so early it didn’t really count. Embarrassed that I hadn’t realized that something was really wrong – how stupid of me, to have thought that I was really pregnant and really going to have a baby. It’s hard for me to put into words exactly, but I can still call up those feelings. I don’t feel that way anymore, but I can remember so clearly how it felt.

Which speaking of how I feel now…I’m actually supposed to be working (you know, that is what you’re supposed to do at work). So, I will stop for now. Installment 2 to follow soon…

The Waiting Game

2007-08-09T13:40:00.000-06:00

One of the hardest things about infertility for me is the waiting. The waiting and the not knowing. The complete lack of control. I hate not knowing what is going to happen. I hate that I have so little control over the outcome. We have decided to try another frozen embryo transfer. I just have to wait until my next period to start. Will it work this time? We’ll just have to wait and see…

One of the reasons that we started over with a fresh cycle this last time was that I really needed to feel as though we have given it our very best effort before being able to move on. But, of course, this cycle was cancelled without a transfer just like our last, so once again, I feel like we haven’t even really had a shot and can’t give up on treatment yet. What I am not sure of is how I’ll feel if this next transfer doesn’t work. I’ve said that this will be it -- at least for now (see already I have to add in that disclaimer) -- but the thought of giving up and accepting that I will never get to be pregnant is very difficult for me. We are both very open to the idea of adoption, and in fact, after the last transfer didn’t work, we started working towards adoption. If that is our route to a family, I know it will be a wonderful, rewarding experience for us. But, I do have my share of fears and reservations about adoption. Besides the financial concerns (which are big for both infertility treatment and adoption), it is more of the waiting and not knowing and total lack of control all over again and worse.

Three weeks after we first started looking into adoption and had contacted some attorneys, we got a call from one of them. A pregnant woman (due in less than 3 weeks) had come into his office and was considering adoption. He called us. We tried to stay calm, knowing nothing was for sure, but we couldn’t help getting excited. It seemed as though it were meant to be. We moved forward with fingerprints, scheduled (and paid for) a homestudy. And then she changed her mind.

I had told myself over and over again at the time that I shouldn’t be overly disappointed (or surprised) if it didn’t work out and should just be glad to have gotten the call and to know that it was possible to get such a call even without much work on our end. But of course I was disappointed. I also now feel wary of going through that again. We only had two weeks to be excited and dream about the child that we might get – and still it was hard. I just feel overwhelmed and scared by all of it. And I’m sad. And sorry for myself. And sad.

I’m so tired of feeling sad. I’m so tired of waiting. And I’m really fucking tired of not being able to do anything about any of it.

Happy Anniversary

2007-07-30T16:42:00.000-06:00

So, Friday was our anniversary. I thought this year was sure to be our lucky year and that this anniversary would certainly bring good tidings, especially considering this year’s date – 7.27.07. Furthermore, two thousand seven was supposed to be a good year for us. Mostly because two thousand sucks had ended. Yes, oh yes, 2006 was not a good year for us.

2007, however, has certainly not been the year we had hoped it would be. I have to say it didn’t even start off very well, being that we spent New Year’s Eve stuck in a hotel in Amarillo, TX with all possible means of getting back into Colorado shut off to us due to snow. But still, we hoped for a good year. I mean, we really thought that we were due for some good luck after the disaster that was two thousand sucks. Of course we briefly thought the same thing after 2005, but it became obvious very quickly (January 2nd in fact), that 2006 was not going to be a good year for us. Forgive me as I reminisce back to January 2, 2006 – a beautiful ski day in the mountains, full of laughter and good cheer. Until K decided to run into a tree and break his leg. Oops, there goes 2006. And it continued to go down the toilet as … the cast for K’s leg didn’t work and he had to have surgery, my first two monitored cycles (once we could finally begin trying again in March) I ovulated on the right and so we couldn’t try that month, subsequent cycles where I was ovulating on the left were unsuccessful, K broke his hip mountain biking (no, I’m not kidding. The man really did break his leg, the same leg, twice in one year), my car was rear-ended and the insurance totaled it (luckily, we fixed that right up with a little duct tape – OK, not exactly fixed but at least got the bumper stuck back on…), my IVF was cancelled after retrieval due to fluid in the uterus. Did I miss anything? Possibly. But it’s really too depressing to remember everything. More depressing, I think, is the fact that 2005 was an equally bad year if not worse (2 ectopic pregnancies, 1 miscarriage, stolen car, wrist surgery, 3 months of silent treatment from father...) God, I need a drink.

2006 was seriously so shitty that we renamed it 2000-sucks. In fact, we tried to get a head’s start by renaming the Jewish year of 5756, 5750-sucks, in hopes that we would start off the new Jewish year on a better foot, but when that didn’t work (see above -- cancelled IVF), we were really truly hopeful about 2007. I mean, we knew we were starting the year with me getting my tubes tied. How much better of a way for a girl to start a year is there really?

Pre-natal Vitamins

2007-07-27T15:29:00.001-06:00

Another cancelled cycle brought about the ritual cleansing of all artifacts related to IVF, pregnancy, etc. This cleansing was not nearly as dramatic as the last. I managed to do it all without once bursting into nears (OK, maybe just once but no more than that) and I didn’t throw anything (really). For me, the process begins by removing all the drugs and syringes from the bathroom counter, collecting all the paperwork laying around (calendars, schedules, etc.) and ritually burning them (I’m not kidding. I really do burn them. It’s cathartic, sort of), and of course, we can’t forget those assholes of assholes, the pre-natal vitamins.

After the failed frozen transfer, I threw them across the yard, aiming for the compost pile. I don’t think I actually made it in the compost pile. A few hours later, hanging my head in shame, I asked K to go and find them. (He already had and put them in the garage where they remained, unharmed for several weeks). I’m sure I’m not the only one who has a hate/hate relationship (no, I definitely don’t mean love/hate) with her pre-natal vitamins. When I first started taking them 3 ½ years ago, I did so with excitement. And after my first ectopic, I couldn’t wait to start taking them again – I mean, I actually cried when I started my period for the second time and could once again start trying and taking pre-natals. Alas, those glorious days of optimism have long since passed me by, and my pre-natal vitamins have become a symbol for all that hasn’t worked.

I hate the fuckers. I hate that in all the information on IVF, along with the directions for taking Lupron, progesterone and every other hormone in the known universe, they remind you take start taking pre-natal vitamins. As if every infertile woman hasn’t been taking those assholes for years. Of course I know the benefits of pre-natal vitamins (folic acid, etc.). I am also completely aware that the other suggestions that you can find regarding getting ready for IVF – eating healthy, stopping drinking, getting in shape prior to beginning– are probably damn good advice. But, for me at least, I was too damn tired and depressed by the time I got to IVF to worry about any of those things. I mean, how could anyone seriously expect me to get through any of this without drinking? Or God for forbid, without coffee? And when it came to the pre-natal vitamins, yes, I took them. Most of the time. Begrudgingly. And a lot of good it did me. They are now hiding under the sink in the bathroom with the remainder of my IVF drugs. And for the moment, good riddance.

Denied, again

2007-07-27T09:52:00.000-06:00

We started the IVF process a little over a year ago. In the time since, we have managed to go to transfer once. Yep, just the once. So, basically, in the last year, we have had one chance to get pregnant. Pretty good odds, huh?

Once again, my cycle has been cancelled after retreival, and this time with much, much less to show for it. Delay and waiting is the name of the game when it comes to infertility. For everyone. But I have to say, I think we have encountered more delays and waiting than most. Take the last year for example. We had our first appointment with a new RE regarding IVF in July. At that point we were still working with another clinic on a very low invasive technique -- monitoring by ultrasound for ovulation and only trying when I was ovulating on the left. The day after our initial IVF appointment, I had an ultrasound showing that I was indeed ovulating on the left. So, we gave it the old college try and then proceeded to wait and see if anything was going to happen. 2 weeks. No period! Negative pregnancy test #1, #2, maybe #3? (who can keep count?) At some point I decided that I was very possibly ovulating again, so what the hell, let's keep trying, and waiting... Of course nothing happened except for delaying by several weeks our ability to move forward with pre-IVF testing. We finally got through all the pre-IVF testing and I got on birth control pills. First ultrasound (after 4 weeks of pills) -- cyst. Wait another week. By this time it was well into October (or maybe it was already November?).

But, the IVF process seemed to be going beautifully for us. I was stimming well and when we went to retrieval in early December, they retrieved 19 eggs. But then, that afternoon, I got the call. Fluid in the uterus. Lots of it. Chances for a successful transfer with this amount of fluid-- around 2%. Recommendation - freeze all embryos the following day. Get tubal ligation (they assumed the fluid was coming from my tubes based on my history of ectopics and presumed tubal damage). Do frozen embryo transfer. So, on to more delays. The rest, of course, is history, of which I may go into in more detail in another post, but on the topic of delay, it was not until March that we finally got to actually have a transfer, which didn't work. We decided to move forward with a whole new, fresh IVF cycle in May, and guess what? More delays! The clinic was closing for cleaning. One of the doctors was leaving. I had started birth-control pills to prepare myself for the cycle, but oops -- because of the clinic delays I was going to have been on them for too long, so let's delay even more before we could start! And now of course, here we are - delayed again. Transfer cancelled. Fluid in the uterus. (Boy, I sure am glad I got my tubes tied so as to avoid that problem.) Oh, and we only had one egg fertilize. So, now what? Frozen embryo transfer? Sure, that's a great idea. Only, you'll have to wait at least 6 weeks to get started...

Crazy infertile woman

2007-07-21T14:36:00.001-06:00

Or something like that. Angry? Yes. Scared? Yes. Frustrated? Yes. Wondering where the hell my real doctor, the one who actually knows me, is? Yes, yes, and yes. I understand that clinics rotate doctors, and I'm usually not concerned about who is seeing me -- hey, I'm not sure how much I actually even like my regular physician, so I'm not usually concerned. On the other hand, here I am a day away from trigger, with a remarkably unremarkable response taking place and a potential complication arising--I'd kind of like to talk to my doctor, you know, one I've met before. But, no. I am stuck with a doctor that I met for the first time on Wednesday and while she may be very nice (I really don't think so right now, but then I am high on hormones so who knows?) and may be very, very competent, she doesn't know me, and she doesn't know my history. (Oh, did I mention that she is brand new to the clinic--been there a week?) The cursory glance she took at my chart doesn't count, nor does the slightly closer look she took when we insisted.

I've felt for a long time that one of the worst things about infertility was the total lack of control one has. I have absolutely no control over what is going on with my body. I mean, what the hell are my ovaries thinking? And my uterus--we really need to have a long talk. I've also learned, through my experience with infertility as well as other unfortunate encounters with medical professionals in the last several years, that you have to be very proactive when it comes to your health. And I have been. But, there is only so much I can do. I mean, how many more times can I google "fluid in uterus and IVF"? I'm not going to find out anything I don't already know or haven't already found. In fact, I'd probably just end up back here, at my own post, since there isn't a whole hell of a lot of information out there. So, what to do but wait? Nothing I guess. But I'm good at waiting. Or at least I have a lot of practice at it.

When are you planning to have kids?

2007-07-16T12:11:00.000-06:00

Why is that question so hard? You would think by this point I would have a pat answer that I could just pull out of my hat with no thought at all. But no, instead, my heart starts pounding, I fumble around with a silly grin on my face. Answer quickly and change the subject as quickly as possible. Uuuugghh. It’s silly really. I mean, if there’s any topic that’s been thoroughly covered in probably every infertility blog and online discussion board it’s this one. I’ve a hundred one-liners (some of them real zingers) tucked away for this very question. And yet, and yet, when it comes, I’m always caught off guard. I can’t’ respond and end up feeling like shit. Why is that? I’ve been pretty lucky over these past three years when it comes to the inappropriate questions and comments that many women/couples going through infertility have to deal with. I haven’t gotten a whole lot of them. Of course, we all get the question about whether we plan to or want to have kids, but I haven’t had to deal with much worse than that. And yet I still walk around terrified of someone asking me about having kids. I don’t know why I can’t just say “Yes. We hope to have kids some day.” And move on without feeling like a complete wreck. But I can’t. What about you? Does this question nearly bring you to tears?