Author: Aimee

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Egg Retrieval and counting…

I think it’s safe to say, that at this moment, I have turned into a <fill in the blank>.  Perhaps it’s the nine days of multiple injections, the waking up at 4:40am to get to the clinic, or the toll that 3.5 years (and then some) has taken on me.  It may also be the added fear that the next ultrasound technician may get the wrong hole – again.  I digress.  In less than 48 hours, if all goes well tomorrow, I will be arriving at the much sought-after milestone of the ivf cycle – egg retrieval. 

I’m not excited – I’m kind of happy that the monitoring phase is coming to an end though.  There is certainly some trepidation – and I find my thoughts wandering, not unlike many women in our situation, down a path of ‘what ifs’.  What if no eggs are retrieved (I have 10, only a few at the 18mm mark)?  What if none fertilize?  What if we get to the next phase (Yay!), but there is no pregnancy?  The truth is, even if you become pregnant, give birth, have multiple children, I guess there will always be ‘What ifs’ – no matter the situation.  So, I don’t let myself dwell very long because there is no point.  If these last years have taught me anything, it’s that.  Not much good can come from wondering, second guessing, or even planning and running through different scenarios.  It’s a waste of energy and time.  To be honest, these two ivf-cycles are probably the closest I’ve come to learning to be in the present.  I’m a planner, so that is quite rare for me. 

Tonight we administer the HCG injection – and then it’s back to the clinic for more bloodwork and another ultrasound.  This is short and sweet, but I will write more in the next few days.

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A Realization

Yesterday I had a brief glimpse into what it might feel like to see those long-sought-after double pink lines.  I’m not pregnant, although I thought I may be, regardless of the cramping, spotting, and warning signs of AF.  I swear looking at my pregnancy test that I could see that second line.  I looked after the 10 minute window, which was probably the first mistake.  Did I stare at the single pink line for so long that a second one “appeared”?  I brought it to the window, under different lights, both upstairs and downstairs, but still, I didn’t always see this phantom second line.  I was in disbelief – I talked to myself – I exclaimed “There is a second line…there is a second line!”  Yes, for a good portion of the day I was on the fence as to whether or not I may have finally fallen pregnant.  I got excited, relieved, over either an evap line or my eyes playing tricks on me.  I took another test this morning, first thing.  No doubt, there was no second line.

It’s been three years this month since we decided to start a family. We’ve been at that starting line for three years…

I look at my husband and I feel awful.  Here is a brilliant man, so loving and affectionate, someone who would make an amazing father and I can’t help but think I have taken that away from him.  True, our journey isn’t over, but as the days pass by and one year has turned into three, we now are understanding that there is a possibility that we may never become parents.  His boss just had a baby girl – now my husband will hear about and see all that he is missing.  He will see the barrage of Facebook updates and probably sit back and imagine what it would be like for him.  I am petrified that now he will start to resent me and will question his decision to choose me as a wife.  I write with heavy hands today.  All I want to do is go back to bed and cry.  I want to hide, I want to cover my face.  Today, I feel beat down. 

When life gets tough and you feel you can’t get through, people will often say that God has bigger plans.  That everything happens for a reason.  That in the end you’ll learn something and come out a stronger person.  Well, for the life of me, I don’t understand why we were dealt this hand.  I don’t understand what God’s bigger plan for us is and quite honestly, I think it’s really messed up.  I thought perhaps it was patience that I was trying to be taught.  I think three years is long enough.  Maybe there is no reason – maybe, as the saying goes (which I absolutely hate by the way), “it is what it is”. 

This weekend we are supposed to go over our IVF packet that we received several months ago.  Fortunately, I have my severance that I can use towards treatment (there’s that silver lining).  I don’t want to really do it to be honest, but I know that if we don’t try it once, then we’ll always wonder what if.  Perhaps it will work and we’ll be parents afterall.  Perhaps it will be useful as a diagnostic tool and we’ll have an answer to our “unexplained infertility”.  Perhaps it will just be money down the drain only to tell us that things didn’t go in our favor.  We won’t know until we try and I think we will. 

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The Room

“What will you use this room for?” My mind quickly responds nursery, but mouth says “guestroom”.  A lot of change has happened recently – we moved into our new home (!) and then the same week I was laid off due to restructuring.  To be honest, I’m not so worried about the latter and there are plenty of things to keep me busy while I decide on my next career move.  It’s also a great distraction from the absence of little feet running throughout our new home.  OK, now I know how bad dealing with infertility has been given I just called my lay off “great”.  Talk about perspective and relativity.

Our house has four bedrooms, 2.5 baths, and a full basement.  Plenty of room to grow into, plenty of room for a family.  Of course, the ‘what ifs’ linger in the back of my mind – What if it’s just going to be the two of us? What if we don’t need this space? What if we’re planning for something that may never be?  I have not uttered any of these what ifs to my husband, but sometimes I think I can hear the sauntering of a big elephant throughout these rooms.

We have our rooms mapped out and two will be guestrooms.  I feel like having two guestrooms is just being PC in some sort of weird way.  The first bedroom next to the master bedroom my heart has marked as the baby’s room, only there’s no baby…yet. As my husband and I start discussing bed options, there’s a voice in my head that asks “But, what if we get pregnant, shouldn’t we just leave this room a blank slate for now?”  and then it’s followed by a louder voice of “Just leave this room alone – you have others!”  I don’t say any of it though.  Part of me was a bit surprised that my husband was quick to call it as a guestroom, but he’s more practical than I am and he does have a mother and brother who will visit.  Even if I were to get pregnant this cycle, I suppose we wouldn’t create the nursery until the third trimester anyway.  Yellow, light wood furniture, and elephant décor – that’s how I see this room.  I’m very happy with my house, I’m happy decorating and making each room our own, but there’s something about this room in particular that makes me uncomfortable, I suppose that’s the right word.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m just being stupid and naïve at this point.  Does it make sense to continue to make decisions based on someone we don’t have? I’ve done that for three years now.  Stayed at my job longer than expected, took hormone therapy, visited my specialist 2 – 3x a month, sometimes a week, you know the drill.  And now with the house, I find myself doing a little bit of the same.  For example, we went out and bought new blinds – cordless please, as that’s child friendly – and stalling on buying furniture for that guestroom.  I guess the best I can do is make our house a home, decorate for us and our current situation.  I’ll make the “future nursery” into a beautiful guestroom, mind as well make it something nice to use while we wait for its future occupant.  I think I’ll still choose a yellow paint though, it’s versatile anyway.

As for my job – I put my career trajectory on hold long enough…making decisions in the present based on future expectations…and that is a regret I have.  This time around, I am aiming high, getting myself back together, and pursuing the career and professional life I aspired to.  I seemed to have forgotten who I was during these last three years, but I feel like the woman I was is coming back stronger than before.

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Has Our Fertility Ship Sailed? – part 2

The hope remains that we’ve take a different course that can still lead us to our destination, it’s not like we’ve struck ground and started sinking.  To be honest, sometimes having that hope annoys me, I think it would be easier to give up, take it for what it is, but funny the resiliency of the human spirit…resiliency, persistence, stubbornness, naivety, call it what you will, but it’s there.

After trying to conceive for two and half years with unexplained infertility, I often wonder how much of a relief it would be if I could just push the idea of having a family from my mind.  Ignore the biological desire, forget the fantasy I’ve put together of our family Christmases, first birthday parties, being pregnant.  If only my husband and I could just throw up our hands and say “Well, we gave it a good run!”  The unexplained part gets me – there’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to conceive, we just haven’t.  That open ended sentence that just continues into oblivion.  Will we or won’t we?  Could our time be next month or next year?  It’s the holding on to what might be that keeps us…I don’t know, stuck?  Motivated?  Hopeful?  I guess you really can look at the glass half full or empty, depending on your mood.

Is it possible to just put this on hold?  Can I go a few months where I lose track of my cycle or have I been doing this for so long that it now becomes second nature?  It’s sort of like saying “Don’t think of a big pink elephant” and then that’s all you think about!  I’ll admit, I’m scared to even “waste” a few months where we aren’t trying.  Neither of us are getting any younger, but at the same time, I can’t see us continuing this song and dance without taking some sort of break.  I guess each month has been mechanical, and perhaps that is a sign to take a break.  See what I just did there?  I referred to a month of not trying to conceive as “a waste” – YES, time to change it up!  We are supposed to be human ‘beings’ not human ‘doings’.

I don’t think anyone should feel they need to “get over” infertility – not at all.  You don’t get over it, do you?  These experiences, just like any other, will stay with you forever, no matter if you have a child or not.  Our experiences shape us regardless of how little or how much thought we put into them.  Perhaps a better piece of “advice” and hopefully what she was trying to say, is “don’t let it stop you from doing other things”.  Whether that is developing your career, being intimate for fun, or just enjoying life.  Fertility-challenged doesn’t have to become a road-block or never ending obstacle course that keeps you from the rest of your life. 

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Has Our Fertility Ship Sailed? – part 1

We just hit our two and a half year mark of trying to conceive.  The hormone therapy started in the fall may have produced “juicy” follicles (direct quote from my fertility specialist) and stopped my luteal phase spotting, but it did not produce a baby.  This weekend, after four negative pregnancy tests (I went a little overboard hoping I might see that double line or plus sign), my husband and I had to come to the realization that if we wanted to have children, conceiving “naturally” just wasn’t going to cut it.  To say I was emotionally distraught and felt physically sick is an understatement.  An insensitive phone call with my mother, who felt the need to say more or less “get over it” and “move on”, was the icing on the cake.  I saw the future we planned sink right before my eyes.

The devastation I felt Saturday made me realize just how much I thought we would be able to conceive within these 2.5 years.  I thought this was the month – I felt energetic, positive, and at 12dpo I thought there was a faint plus sign on my CVS pregnancy test.  Apparently it was an evap line (something new I learned).  Saturday evening I completely broke down – it felt as if my world was crumbling right in front of me and I no longer had the strength to keep rebuilding.  The thought of our inability to conceive overwhelmed my mind – I just didn’t understand why this was happening.  Why, in order for us to possibly have a family of our own (because there are no guarantees), we will have to pay?  Not being able to accomplish biology 101 blew my mind.  I felt anger, bitterness, depression, disbelief, sadness.  All these emotions, all at the same time. I was exhausted.

This will take time to come to terms with, to understand and accept.  I am nowhere near understanding and acceptance.  My husband and I are scheduled to meet with our fertility specialist on Feb 12 to discuss our options when it comes to IUI and IVF.  I don’t know if we’ll move forward with either of those options…the way I feel this week I’m ready to hang up my hat for a bit and give my body and mind break.  I suppose the “bright side” is that we can even consider doing Assisted Reproductive Technology, that financially we may be able to try it out one time…I know to even have this option is a blessing.

I suppose just like with each cycle, we enter a new phase of “wait and see”.  We’ll gather our information on IVF and IUI, do our research, and then most likely put that information aside for awhile.  I don’t think either of us can jump into any other treatments right now.  There are times when I can’t imagine us not having a family of our own, but now I’m thinking perhaps it’s just not meant to be and that is a hard pill to swallow.  As you all know, it’s exhausting, the constant appointments, ultrasounds, bloodwork, tracking.  I would lie if there isn’t a glimmer of hope inside me that this “time off” will in fact get us pregnant – you know the stories I’m talking about, the ones where “a friend of a friend stopped trying and got pregnant right away.”  I really don’t believe those stories, I think they are exaggerated.  After going through these two years, there is no way a couple can “stop trying” or “just forget” – isn’t it always in the back of your head?

Has our fertility shipped sail?  Are we at the end?  I think it’s too soon to tell, clearly our ship has taken another direction and only time will tell whether we hop aboard or decide to stay on land.

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“Just Relax”

WORST.  WORDS.  EVER.  At least to a couple struggling with infertility.  I also consider, as I’m sure most of you do, the following to be on the ‘unwanted comments’ list: “It will happen”; “Stop thinking about it”; and “Just do it”.  Whoever knew that these two words, when put together, could evoke such emotion – I’m talking anger, frustration, a feeling that makes me want to punch the other person…I never would of course.  In these two and a half years of trying to conceive, “Just relax” has got to be the biggest thorn in my side.  Nothing conveys such lack of empathy as these two words. 

What is ‘relaxing’ anyway? Isn’t it all relative?  When these two words are uttered to me, it assumes that I am not relaxed.  Just because I share the countless tests we’ve undergone as a couple, or the timing of my cycle, or how I have another doctor’s appointment, doesn’t mean I am frantic or stressing out over not getting pregnant.  I don’t believe ‘unrelaxed’ sums up my emotions over these two and half years – saddened, discouraged, and disappointed are much more accurate. Grant you, these words often come from well-meaning individuals, but intention does not change impact.

“Just don’t think about it” – ah yes, another favorite.  For most of us, not thinking about our cycle is not an option.  Cycle days 4 – 8 I take Clomid, and go in for bloodwork.  Around cycle day 10 I start looking for ovulation, around day 12 I head in for more bloodwork, and then once the smiley appears, I have to count another four days and begin taking Endometrin.  At the end of my cycle, typically around day 27, I take a pregnancy test and when no plus or double line appears, it starts all over.  Oh yes, of course intimacy gets thrown in there too!  I know many of you are on strict regimens trying to get pregnant, not thinking about “it” can be the only thing that stands in the way of conceiving or not, especially when you have medical or hormonal issues.  Why is infertility treated so differently than other health problems?  I’m asthmatic, if I couldn’t breathe, or was having long-term respiratory complications, I’m pretty sure “Just relax” and “It will happen” are not going to be offered as advice.

The more I think about these words of “encouragement” the more I realize just how angry hearing them make me.  It comes back to feeling isolated and having others close to you not understand in the slightest way what infertility is like (I’m glad they didn’t go through this struggle, I wouldn’t want this for anyone).  So what exactly is the right thing to say?  I think treating infertility like a real condition is the first step.  For those of us with unexplained infertility I think it’s especially hard for others to grasp what we’re going through or to see our struggle as a medical issue because there isn’t any one factor to point to as the culprit.  The words “Just relax”, “Stop thinking about it”, and “It will happen” all imply that we have control over our infertility – which we really don’t – we do however have control over our infertility treatment and we should never lose sight of that.  Maybe that’s really why it makes me so angry – because I know not thinking about “it” won’t magically get me pregnant, forgoing my treatment each month won’t get me closer to having a baby (we did that for nearly two years), and there are no guarantees that “it will happen”.

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In the Shadows

Perusing through The Infertility Voice’s Facebook page, my pointer slowly hovers over the ‘like’ button, and then it moves away, only to find its way back, but eventually leaves the page altogether.  With every blog post I write, or article I read related to infertility, I find myself on the fence of “liking” and “sharing”, but only to hold back.  I am still in the shadows…I still feel shame or embarrassment on some level and I shouldn’t, no one going through this should.  Only four people in my circles know about my blog and none of them have the url – that really says something.

As I wander the vast landscape of interconnecting articles, posts, and couples emotionally sharing with complete strangers online, I wonder if there is a privacy setting so no one else can see if I too chime in.  Sometimes I think it will be a relief, just to let it out and show my friends and family…all of them…that it’s been over two long years of trying to have our child.  Part of me thinks back to when Chrissy Teigen went public with her fertility struggle…it was so moving and inspiring (Tyra too), but then to find out weeks later she was expecting.  I wonder…would she have been so open if she wasn’t pregnant?  Will I be that way?  I know if my husband and I do have children I will openly share our struggle (sans some of the details of course!), but why not now?  Is it because our future is still unclear?  I don’t know the outcome for certain, and yes, I know that confines me.

I have a distant friend who adopted her son about two years ago and just gave birth to another son.  She calls them both miracles.  Some time ago, I saw her “like” a news post about a local doctor she went to – he specializes in treating endometriosis.  After visiting her Facebook page I noticed she followed an endometriosis group.  Now, here is a person to open up to – although it’s been quite some time since we saw each other, we both have endometriosis (I’m assuming) and perhaps she too has struggled with infertility.  And yet I haven’t reached out.  I am so fearful that my story will spread through the grapevine and people will start poking into our business.  It’s always been my instinct to gradually wade into the water… 

I wonder how many other couples hold back from loved ones…I wonder how many times we’ve sat across from friends or family who also struggled.  The prospect of knowledge gained should really overcome any fear we have, and yet often times it does not.  I don’t want pity, I want answers and perhaps opening up to others can provide me with those answers, or better yet, perhaps I can help someone else out.  So many of us struggle silently in reality, yet have no problems opening up to an online forum.  Perhaps that’s because we already know we have allies waiting online, complete strangers who can “get” what we are going through, more so than our closest friends and family to the best of our knowledge.

It’s a very personal thing, deciding who and when to share our struggle with…it doesn’t come easy at all.  My feelings on it change with every phase.  I don’t think I was strong enough last year or the year before to share my story openly, but I think I’m getting closer.  I know I would like to.

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Out with the Old…in with the New…sort of

Ahh, the new year has begun!  I can’t help but think this could be our big year – we buy a house, my career gets back on track, the work-life balance for my husband returns and yes, we fall pregnant!  It may be a new year, but it’s really just a change in the calendar, yet we as humans use this milestone as a way to start over, a fresh start to the same life, it’s as if a switch goes on that says on January 1 2016 all things will be different…or at least things can be started in that motion.

Realistically I know that because the calendar says January 1 it doesn’t really change anything in our situation.  I’m sure we still have our struggle ahead, but if the last year has taught me anything (and it sure has!) it’s that my husband and I can persevere and support one another through difficult times. We’ve made it this far…we can keep going.  As I sat on our couch last night, reflecting on 2015, I was quite surprised to find that I continued to find good memories and achievements to focus on.  The struggle with our fertility did not take center stage, in fact, it was something in the shadows that I just didn’t want to harp on.  My husband got a new job after a year from being laid off, my parents got their grant to rebuild after Hurricane Sandy and bought a small new retirement home, I’ve learned more of what I want in a career (and life), we embraced the summer and our city living, we found a good realtor (fingers-crossed) and I, we, managed the hormone therapy and constant doctor checkups.  2015 was tough, but I can now see all the positives that came from it.

I don’t have any resolutions this year – I will continue to move forward.  Yes, I will have self-doubt, moments where I think the sky is falling, heartbreak each time a home pregnancy test shows negative, but I will get through it all…I am confident of that now…and you will too.  Nothing stays the same.  A friend of a friend posted a message on Facebook just this week and to paraphrase, everything changes…all the time. If you are miserable today, you won’t always be.  The flipside is also true…if you are happy and things are going right, embrace those moments because they too will change.  I think the two work hand-in-hand…the good times pull you through your dark hours…the bad times help you appreciate all the good there is and possibly help you change your perspective.  My husband and I comment frequently how quickly the time goes…life is precious, enjoy the small moments of happiness and never forget them as you go through your struggles.  We are all blessed in more than one way…sometimes we just need to change our perspective to see all that we do have.

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Odd Woman Out

What is it with this fertility struggle that brings you back to feeling like you are in grade school?  As a 34 year old woman, I sometimes can’t believe the thoughts that enter my head when it comes to having a baby.  I sit with my two friends, one already has a 2-year-old, the other has just mentioned she and her husband are going to start trying, and the first thought that enters my head is “Oh F#ck, now I’m going to be left out”.  It’s reminiscent of not wanting to be last picked for a team, or making sure you have a seat with the girls in the cafeteria.  You don’t want to be left out…left behind in life.

The fact that I felt fear of being the only one without a child, well before my friend has even started trying, makes me feel that I have really gone off my rocker.  As we sit there and talk yet again about kids, (I suppose the topic will continue to come up when you’re in your mid-thirties), I try my best to hold back cynicism.  Sometimes I feel like a fool – sitting there, thinking to myself I’m the only one who can’t have kids.  I feel like I shouldn’t be part of the conversation, like I have no business chiming in and faking my smile. 

Just before Thanksgiving the girls and I met for dinner.  A week in advance I started preparing myself for my friend, we’ll call her ‘P’, to announce that she was pregnant.  She is the same friend who over the summer said she and her husband just started trying.  I just had a feeling this was coming.  As we order martinis, she goes for a ginger ale – this is a girl who drinks martinis whenever we get together, so immediately I knew.  She was cute with her announcement, it was very nonchalant, and after the congrats and hugs, the next 40 minutes (which seemed liked hours to me) was filled with baby and pregnancy talk.  My other two friends talked about their pregnancies, when they found out, and what it was like, meanwhile, my hands grasped firmly to the bottom of the tabletop; I literally had to keep myself from running out of the restaurant.

I’m sad to say that I couldn’t wait to get out of there.  As soon as I got in the cab, the tears swelled.  Arriving home, I could not look at my husband – I felt so worthless, ashamed, broken, as if there was something fundamentally wrong with me as a woman.  It’s as if we’re waiting on the platform and everyone else is getting on the train while my husband and I are still waiting for our ticket.  I wave happily and wish all the soon-to-be moms well, but I wonder, will we ever get to board?

I want to be encouraging and supportive to all my friends, but I’ve noticed these days I have to hold my tongue from “warning” them about waiting too long or putting your career on hold for something that may not come.  When I hear them talk about having a second baby by year’s end, immediately I want to warn about secondary infertility, but I don’t.  I hold myself back because my story isn’t their story, and chances are, it won’t be God willing. 

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Paralysis

There are days when I feel my mind is paralyzed by our fertility struggle.  I find it hard to think of anything else and when I start down the dark path, it’s hard to come back.  One thought leads to the next, my mind swarming with different scenarios of what our future will look like, what our families think, how worthless I am.  Some daysI can hear the “clock” ticking, louder and louder with each failed cycle.  Do we move forward in treatment?  Do we start to look for alternatives?  Do we start to consider our house down payment as possible fertility funds?  This is not what I expected, I’m sure none of us did. 

I find myself hesitant with family and friend gatherings.  I am nervous the talk of family and the questions on when do we plan on starting our own will come up.  I have plans with friends tomorrow evening and for the past few days I have been scared that another will announce her pregnancy – that will leave me the odd man out.  I don’t even want to have a short visit with my Mother-in-Law out of state because I am embarrassed – yes, I feel ashamed and fight the urge to crawl into my shell and stay there.  It was one thing when my mind would get consumed by infertility, but now for me physically not wanting to go into situations where the talk of babies may come up is an entirely different ball game and I don’t like it one bit – that’s not who I am.

I think I’ve faced most challenges in my life head on.  I’m not afraid of confrontation, stating my own opinion, or going against the grain.  I’m outspoken, stand my ground, and I believe I elude an air of confidence.  Of course I’ve always struggled with insecurity – who hasn’t – but it never stopped me from trying to get what I want in life.  Infertility is slowly…has eaten away at these traits…I feel it, I see it.  Like an acid, it has corroded into nearly all aspects of me.  I know at some point this will need to change on my end, there is no guarantee that we will ever have child, and I am not willing to go through life meek and ashamed (ah, there’s that bit of spark coming back!).

When I work from home, inevitably my mind wonders into the realm of being fertility challenged and sometimes it gets stuck there for quite awhile.  Typically after some tears and online searching I bounce back, other days I’m not so resilient.  It doesn’t help of course when you have to be monitored at the doctor – how are you supposed to “forget about it” and “relax” when you need to keep track of ovulation, doctor appointments, and drug therapy?  “Trying to conceive” is marked in all my doctor charts, so even when I go to my allergist (like yesterday) or my primary care doctor, the comment/question of “Are you still trying to conceive?” naturally comes up.  I feel my whole soul slowly cave in…kind of like a mushy pile folding in on itself.  Those are the days I can do without.

I’ve noticed I tend to nap more and I feel like my face is frowning when I’m in our apartment alone.  I often remind myself to smile and watch the curve of my mouth – who wants permanent frownie lines!  I try to give myself a reality check and remind myself that some of my hardest thoughts are not based on any evidence and that it’s just the insecurities of infertility toying with me.  My husband won’t leave me for another woman.  His mother won’t tell him to shop around for a new wife.  I am no less of a woman, wife, daughter, because I have yet to have a child.

I don’t know when our time to be parents will come.  I sometimes think maybe we already are parents, sacrificing and doing what we can for our child now, even if they aren’t here yet.