The Road Not Taken

If only my fertility were as easy as choosing between two divergent roads I’d have a 50% of having my own baby and those odds sound like heaven! After three and three-quarters years, however, I’ve always ended up on the wrong road.

I was thinking today that our WTF appointment is only two days away and realized that attending it doesn’t change anything. The IVF failed–period. We can’t go back and unfail it. Though I know how it failed, I don’t really know why. The most dire question I have is why more eggs weren’t retrieved. Technically, there were more there. Lots more there! I’m assuming the estradiol levels matched what was on the ultrasound or they would have told me. I guess that is a question for Tuesday. I just hope that I’m not rushed out of the appointment before I have the chance to ask my questions. I’m making a list of questions and they better answer every one of them!

I guess the thing I fear the most is the doctor saying that I have poor eggs and don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of having my own child!

But I’m so tired of being afraid all of the time. So tired of blaming myself. So tired of the endless grief that clings to me each day. So tired of others feeling sorry for me yet at the same time desperately needing their words like a parched man needs water.

I am trying to come to terms with the idea that I may never have a biological child. I am trying to imagine myself going the donor egg or the adoption route. It’s not what I want and not what I planned, but nothing on this “journey” has been of my choosing. I close my eyes and let myself visualize these other options to the point where they don’t scare me anymore. This is progress for me.

As for donor eggs, like I said, not what I imagined for my life! But. . . I would do it for my husband so he could have his own biological child. He deserves a child. He really does. He’s the most wonderful man on Earth and doesn’t deserve the train wreck that came along with trying to have a baby with me. It’s the least I could do for him and I would do it with all my heart. I would fall in love with my husband’s child, plain and simple.

Except for the fact that he doesn’t want me to do donor eggs.

He said he wants a child that is the best of him and the best of me. . .not the best of him and some other woman. I love him for this, but at the same time I don’t think he really knows what he would be giving up. He feels that if a child can’t be conceived from both of us, he’d rather have a child that isn’t conceived from either of us, hence adoption.

I’ve only done a small amount of research on adoption, but it seems to be more expensive and just as challenging as IVF. I worry that we’d be turned down–I’m almost 38, he’s 45. Oh, and I take anti-depressants. For some reason, I think that would be held against me. Of course, I wouldn’t be on them in the first place if my life hadn’t taken a serious wrong turn in the last three years.

I feel like I sound horrible in this post. I’ve read so many posts from women who have adopted and I know that once they lay their eyes on their children, it was love at first sight and the fact that they were not biologically related became of little consequence. It’s just that I’m not there yet. I can’t visualize that joy, because my heart is so full of grief. Full of grief from the babies that I lost and the grief from this last cycle.

If it were up to me and I knew that I could only choose between those two options, I think I would go the donor egg route. But then I realize that this is just as risky as anything else.  The majority of research out there pushes donor eggs as the perfect solution for older women or those with poor egg quality but what they fail to mention is that it is not a done deal. The success rate for donor eggs is not 100%.

I need 100%.  That’s just the cold, hard truth. Odds have never been in my favor. Technically, I only had a 4% chance of having a second miscarriage, but guess what, it happened! That’s four chances in one hundred. Pretty phenomenal.

I guess I’m rambling because I’m more nervous about this appointment than I am admitting. I fear the doctor’s words, I fear that I will be blamed, I fear everything. I know what she says isn’t the final verdict on anything, but it’s just going to be hard going back there when before we had so much hope. I’m afraid of bursting into tears when I’ve tried so hard to be composed there. I always feel like I have to appear to be in control. I have no idea why.

I am not brave. I am not composed. I am not professional. I am broken, worn, and tired. I wish I could just taken whatever energy I have left and be myself.

 

 

 

 

 

What I would like fertiles (and the world at large) to know. . . part 1

As I was driving home yesterday, I got to thinking (no smoke coming out of my ears; like many of you I do some of my best thinking driving). Typically, I get very upset/angry when infertility is misrepresented and stigmatized.   If I had the privilege (and courage) to educate the general masses about infertility (particularly mine), what would I say?  I made a mental list (God, I love lists). 

1.  I did not choose this.

I did not sign up to be infertile.  I did not ask for it.  I did not go looking for it.  It happened to me.  It could have happened to you (though I would never wish it on you or anyone for that matter, even though I am turning into a bitter shrew).  Do not take your fertility for granted–ever!

which leads me to. . .

2.  Infertility is a medical condition. 

Yep, meaning it has a biological and physiological basis.  Since it is a medical condition,  relaxing on a vacation will not cure it.  Instead, I have to take endless and expensive rounds of medication in hopes that I will become reproductively normal like you are.   

which also leads me to. . .

3.  No, I cannot “just get IVF”.

IVF is an expensive, time-consuming and involved process.  Even if I qualified, I would probably have to take out a second mortgage on my home, even though I have good medical insurance.   I never saved up for infertility, because like you, I assumed I would be able to reproduce with relative ease.  Don’t even talk to me about savings or a “nest-egg” (ironic use of words you’re using, huh)!  Any savings I once had are long gone to cover medications and treatments.  At this stage in the game, I chastise myself for merely splurging on a $5 tube of lipstick.

so naturally. . .

4.  No, I cannot “just adopt”.

Nope, I can’t run down to the grocery store and just pick up a baby or child.  Yes, I’m aware that there are thousands of children “out there” who need a good home.  Would it surprise you to know that adoption isn’t easy as it sounds?  I take anti-depressants (sorry to make you uncomfortable).  An adoption agency could turn me down for this reason alone.  What did you say?  Oh, your cousin’s mother sister’s aunt adopted and she got pregnant the next month?  Great–but what does this have to do with me?  Are you suffering from ADHD or something?  Stay focused.

5.  Your Facebook ultrasound photos make me want to cry, so I just get angry instead.

Did you know that when I see your image, I am once again reminded of the giant hole I have in my life?  Even though I’ve seen numerous posts like these (sometimes in the course of a week) I can’t just get over it or blow it off.  I know it is natural to want to share your good news with the world, but don’t you think some things are meant to be kept to yourself?  I mean, this is a picture of your uterus after all!    How would you feel if I showed you the xrays from my HSG?  Trust me, that was not a pretty experience.

6.  No thank you, but I do not want your eggs, reproductive parts, or your husband’s sperm.

So, you’re getting a hysterectomy?  Er, that’s good. . .I guess.  Not trying to be mean, but I’ve only met you twice and it’s awkward enough being at this baby shower, so can we, um, just talk about something else?  Better yet, would you mind go standing on the other side of the room?

7. Yes, I will be missing work, sometimes many days in a month, and you will have to pick up my slack and start to do your own job as well.

I dread telling you that I will not be in–again.  No, I cannot always give you advance notice.  We are dealing with my menstrual cycle.  Maybe I’ll start early, maybe I won’t.  Maybe I’m ovulating, maybe I’m not.  Maybe I got bad news at my appointment and I’m sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot crying my eyes out.  Please give me time to pull myself together emotionally before I return.  Oh, and please refrain from telling everyone that I “have another doctor’s appointment”.  I do not feel comfortable discussing such a personal topic with people I barely know.

8.  No, my infertility was not caused by choosing to go to graduate school and having a career.

Even I use to get fooled by this one.  Trust me, I wallowed in my own sea of guilt for a long time.  But, did you know that I only chose the education/self-improvement/career path so I could one day be a great mother for my children?  Silly me!  I was actually planning ahead.  What?  You were smart enough to have children first?  Aren’t you clever? 

9.  Yes, I know God has chosen to bless you with children (yeah, I heard you the first time you told me).

Yes, your children are a blessing, but don’t go spouting that stuff that God gave you children because you are a wonderful person, have awesome virtues, or because you are superior to 99% of the population.  God chooses who he wants to bless, pure and simple.  And, he loves me just as much as he loves you, even if I do not have the children to show for it.

10.  Infertility is not contagious.

Did you know that when I tell you I’m infertile you get a slight look of disgust and bewilderment on your face?  No, I didn’t think you did, but just wanted to let you know.  Dont worry,  you won’t catch it from me!  In reality, I’m not the only person in the world who has this condition.  Did you know that as many as 7 million couples have trouble conceiving?  No, of course you didn’t.  See?  I’m not just purposely witholding children from the world.  In fact, I bet you have other friends who are in the same boat as I am.  They probably don’t share this information with you because of the reaction you just gave me.     

In my head, the list goes on, but I believe I have made a start.  Stay tuned for part 2.