Shrunk

I'd never been to see a therapist before yesterday. My clinic has a licensed Marriage and Family therapist on staff who specializes in IF. She's actually dealt with IF herself. She was much warmer than I expected. I was completely prepared for a sterile room (no pun intended), open ended questions and bouts of silence. Like you'd see with Tony and Dr. Melfi. But there wasn't a moment were one of the three of us didn't have something to say. The validation we got from that session was like a divine intervention. It was about as reassuring as a conversation with god himself could have been as far as I'm concerned.

Before I tell you more about this, I'd like to clarify that Brian and I both scheduled this session for the same reason - me. In case you couldn't tell by the last oh, 76 posts, I've COMPLETELY LOST MY MIND. Yes, she asked us both questions, and Brian answered everything wholeheartedly, but I'm sure by about four minutes in, the Doctor figured out that I was the main reason for the appointment... I told her about my fears. I told her that I worried that Brian had settled on DI just for me. And how I was afraid that I was being unreasonable by not wanting to wait an undefinable amount of time to save up the money for IVF. That we were rushing into this, because I couldn't wait any longer...

In a nutshell she responded with:

"Melissa, the people who spend the most money don't always win. And I wouldn't say you are rushing into anything. TWO YEARS of trying- completely voids the whole rushing in thing. Keep your eyes on the prize. If you want a family NOW, go get one. If DI is the most reasonable way for you both to attain that, then you're making a fine choice. And also: you're crazy. My receptionist will get you our standard issue straight jacket on your way out."

Okay so I might have paraphrased a little. And maybe she didn't actually tell me that I had lost my mind. Nor did she issue me a straight jacket. But its likely that she at least considered it.

In all honesty we walked out of there with the peace I had hope to achieve in at least eight sessions. I know that sounds too perfect, but I swear it wasn't all peaches and cream. She told us that some of our other fears would probably come true and that our struggles weren't close to over. DI is going to be a life long journey. We have a lot of learning to do, and its never going to stop. And I feel strangely good about that. I feel like this was meant to be in some way. Like we are supposed to deal with this challenge, and we'll be better parents/people for it.

She also confirmed what Brian had been telling me all along. That he really was fine with DI. Like I had already mentioned here, and here. She told me that I was projecting my own fears on to him, and assuming that he'd deal with all this like I would. She said he genuinely appeared to be on board with doing DI. Then she threw out some psycho-babel about how men don't think or process things the same way women do...

I would say that this appointment was worth every penny, but at some point during our discussion, the therapist mentioned that the clinic provides your first counseling appointment for free. FREE. SOMETHING OTHER THAN LIBRARY BOOKS - THAT WAS RELATED TO INFERTILITY- WAS FREEEEEE. Finally. But seriously I would gladly have paid a nominal fee for the advocacy we received from her. Someone who's probably had this conversation a million times in her 20-30 career. She gave us the confidence we needed to move forward. And so we will. And had I not had to get the rubella vaccine yesterday we'd be doing it next month. But instead we'll have to settle for July. We're bumping things up a month.

The Deepest Blues Are Black

First things first. I want to thank all of you for the well wishes on my last post and the emails and conversations that followed. They meant SO MUCH. I get an immense amount of comfort in knowing that you've all been there. And for those of you that haven't, just the simple offer of support is greatly appreciated. Your words helped to remind me that this actually is REALLY hard, and that I'm not just extraordinarily weak. I was beating myself up thinking that I had over estimated my own strength against all this. Thank you for picking me up.

I've been in a really black place for the last few weeks. The darkest I've ever seen. It was scary and lonely, and to be honest I'm not quite sure I'm completely out of there yet. In the past this blog has gotten me through some ugly days, even when no one was reading it. Just typing things out was consoling enough to get me through the days where Brian had done as much as he could. But this time I was so low, I couldn't even comprehend expressing my thoughts. I was paralyzed.

On top of that we had a little relapse in the DECISION 2009 of IVF over DI. To the extent that I had a phone meeting with a Financial Counselor at our Clinic to get a closer number on what exactly it would cost for IVF. The last information we got was from our doctor and was technically a ballpark. 14k for IVF, plus 2-6k for meds, averaging around 18-19k for people with our medical background. Not including the 1k in blood tests I would need to get things started. And another 2k for an FET if the IVF doesn't work. So a minimum of 17-19k, Maximum of 21-23k.

Once we had the hard numbers from the clinic we talked again about how difficult it would be financially. We also figured out that it would push things back at least a year. And that is including asking family for help. Since November of last year we have spent over six thousands dollars on testing alone. That was most of the money we had saved for my maternity leave, before we actually knew that IF was going to be a part of our lives instead of a baby. We're pretty conservative financially speaking. We've worked really hard to get were we are. We don't have a big fancy house, we don't live beyond our means, we rarely take vacations, and I make Brian's lunch almost everyday. We live comfortably but are definitely governed by our budget.

While I think DI is a wonderful option for starting a family, I can't help but worry that my yearning to start a family NOW is unreasonble. And that waiting a year or so to save up the money for IVF might not be as horrible as it seems. Brian has told me repeatedly that although having a bio kid would be ideal, he really is okay with DI and that he just wants to be a Dad already. He knows I feel exactly the same way, but I still wonder if part of his acceptance of doing DI is just for me. To spare my sanity, my heartache. He is that kind of man. 250% devoted to the happiness and well being of his wife and marriage.


I may always wonder what might have been. But for now I think we need to focus on what our future holds. It's time to look up, and move forward.

Exodus

I feel listless. I don't want to blog. I don't want to comment on other peoples blogs. I don't want to read updates in the forum I belong to. I don't want to think about babies. I don't want to think about how we're going to get one, or whether or not we ever will. I'm fried. I'm taking a break.

Fear Factor

Things that I fear about creating a DI family.

1. That our openness about D.I. will invite unwanted comments or discrimination towards our child when they are older.

2. Whether or not they will have resentment towards us and their conception.

3. About how this will impact any future medical issues.

4. That our child will feel different from the rest of the family.

5. What they are going to look like? If they take completely after the donor? How is that going to make both of us feel?

6. Genealogy projects in school.

7. When they choose to look for their biological father.

From the time that Brian and I began considering DI over IVF, we worried that it was "taking the easy way out". HOLY CRAP was I wrong about that. While IVF clearly has the market cornered on being physically invasive/demanding, I personally think DI has the market on being emotionally taxing. This process so far has left me more unstable than dealing with infertility alone, except the side effects are the same. Just when you think you have a few answers and you dust yourself off a little, something comes out of right field to knock you down again. And I mean DOWN. Like we either need to knock off a jewelry store for some IVF money or resign ourselves to the idea of not having kids at all, because this is SO HARD.

We purchased a few donor profiles Sunday night, and were swiftly reminded that none of them will ever be as good as Brian. While for the last few weeks I'd been eager to read up on the extended profiles with Facial Feature Reports and/or Baby pictures. I suddenly found myself repulsed by the staggering amount of information we'd received. It hit us both hard. Almost like we'd rather flip a coin or let someone else choose.

I started to feel really unsure about the process, and over the next few days neither Brian nor I brought it up. I thought that I had made a little progress on the "loss of a biological child" front. But clearly I haven't. Still, when I start to get too far down on it, I think about the fact that I would totally adopt if it wasn't also out of our price range. I would gladly donate a kidney tomorrow if it meant I could leave the hospital with an adopted child. Like a good deed provided in lieu of payment. I mean that. We would adopt in a heartbeat if it wasn't more expensive than IVF. And adoption isn't with out its emotional baggage either. I understand that. Which only reminds me why we'll be able to come to terms with DI. Of course it's not our first choice, but it's better than the alternative - no children at all. I don't mean to sound callous. OF COURSE we are going to LOVE any child we are blessed with. I just mean - FUCK! - why does it have to be so hard to start a family???!!!

I've talked with a few different women who conceived through DI, after dealing with MFI. They've all said that once that baby is in your arms nothing else matters... I believe them. I just wish I had that confidence now. It feels like such a colossal leap of faith. 

Could You Repeat That Please?

I finally heard from the Tissue Bank Director at my clinic. She will help us coordinate our purchase of the sperm. She let me know that I will need to call her as soon as I place an order for my shipment of sperm. Evidently I have to have an appointment to ship and deliver sperm. The coordinator needs to verify that the sperm that they receive is the sperm that I ordered. Do you see how many times I've said the word sperm in the last three sentences? Well that is a fraction of the amount of times that this woman mentioned it during our seven minute phone call. I don't know if you noticed but I have tactfully referred to the containers sperm, as vials in previous posts- Instead of saying the word SPERM, OVER AND OVER.

Literally first sentence I heard from her after I answered my cell phone was "Hi Melissa, I understand you have some questions about ordering sperm"... Am I being childish, or prude? Sperm is such a bizarre word. The sound of it is just so severe, clunky even.

Every time I hear it aloud I imagine it being printed in BIG BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS: SPERM.

I guess the reason it caught me off guard is because everyone else I've dealt with at my clinic speaks with such a delicate and reassuring inflection. This woman could have been confirming the delivery of my Rototiller.

Moving on, it's starting to feel that much more real now. It's exciting. Next thing on our list is to actually choose a donor. And order our VIALS.

The Proposal

I knew today was going to be a good day. I have a new bra on, and some how that always makes the sky that much more blue... I spoke with my IUI Coordinator today. She was helpful and had a very soothing telephone voice. Which I totally appreciate because I am the freak who's blood pressure sky rockets whenever I'm at the doctors office. The anticipation KILLS me for some reason. And even when I receive a phone call from them I can feel my chest tightening, among other things...

She told me that she was going to walk me through each step of the preparation for my IUI and that I could take notes if I wanted but that she was also going to send me a list with all of the details. - A list? For Moi? Enchanté...

First I need to go in for more blood tests that probably won't be covered by my insurance. SHOCKING.

1.Blood Type, (which I should know but don't),
2.Rubella (which I hopefully don't have)
3.Varicella (which is Chicken Pox, had it when I was a kid)
4.Prolactin (which I'm told is the hormone associated with lactation, and I'm pretty sure there's none of that going on, but they're the doctors, so whatever. )
5.CBC - (Complete Blood Count - Checks the quantities of Red and White Blood Cells and Platelets, hearing that makes me think "CBC, and a CHEM 7". I loved ER)

In the packet she's going to send me I'll be getting a few different consent forms which will need to be notarized. They have to do with the actual Insemination procedure and the Cryo Preservation of our vials. And after all that is taken care of, as long as my blood tests come back clean, I mean okay, of course they'll be clean. Then we just wait until August...

Speaking of waiting until August, when we told our RE that we were planning to do it then, he said it was a shame that we were waiting so long because he's like to see me pregnant much sooner. Awwwwwwwwwww. He's a very soft spoken southern gentleman, with a perfectly lovely bedside manner, and good sense of humor. I LOVE HIM. I was really hesitant to see a male doctor at first because I have always had female Physicians. I like my mechanics to own their own car's, if you know what I mean. He's only seen my goods once for an ultrasound, but he has such a comforting presence that I didn't seem to be as nervous with him. He also told us that he thinks a double IUI would be best because we are planning an "Unmedicated Cycle". So I'll be doing OPK's to monitor. Then the morning that I receive a positive test I'll go in for my first IUI, and then again the next morning.

The feeling I have right now is what I was expecting after my last call with with our RE. I am so thrilled to begin this process, I'm just over the moon right now... I have another conference call with my Cryo Bank Coordinator. She just came back from vacation so I'm not sure when she'll be able to get back to me. Hopefully soon. And as for August? Well, lets hope that comes soon too.

*** Welcome ICLW Readers***

No Way Back

The process of choosing to create a DI family has been just as emotional as dealing with IF. Just a new set of "What if's" and "How come's". Well at least for me anyway. It was a pretty rough night in the Griffin household this Saturday. Had myself a meltdown...

Even though we've made a decision, the fact that we didn't have a definitive plan left me with the need to discuss the topic incessantly. I can't help it, I'm a planner. I HAVE to obsess, otherwise I'LL DIE FROM NOT HAVING SUFFICIENT CONTROL. Every time I brought it up, it seemed like Brian wasn't in the mood to talk about it, or I only got short answers. I accused him of avoiding the topic, pointing out that his lack of discussion and interest in searching for donors was his secret way of telling me he never wanted to have kids with me at all. AT ALL!!! It started out innocently enough, while we were discussing the process with some really close friends of ours. When suddenly our conversation took a violent turn in the center of my head... Then well, Yada yada, I left our friend's house bawling. After a deafeningly silent car ride home I thought it'd be a good a idea for me to take a drive and consult the Foo Fighters- In Your Honor album, for some solid advice. Or at the very least, play it loud enough to muffle my sobs. After an hour of sitting in my car parked at a vista point, in front of a couple who was undoubtedly creating an illegitimate child of their very own in their car, Brian called me and begged me to come home. When I say begged I mean, tried to sound like he was worried instead of mad. So I went home. But I took the long way. Cause I'm 30, and I can do that if I want to. Only to find him already asleep when I walked in the door.

We're doing better today. There are still many more discussions to be had. And Brian admitted that he may have been a little less than accommodating when it came to my questions. But told me that he didn't always feel the need to discuss it at my suggested lengths. And that it seems so far away, what's the rush? My urgency stems from the crazy, which is propelled by the hormones, who are sponsored by the Infertility. And we're coming up on two years here. I'M READY FOR A CHILD, GET IT? What I mean is, it's all part of the journey. And actually I think that Odyssey is probably a more accurate term. Makes it sound more lengthy and treacherous, doesn't it?


This afternoon we had our first consultation with our RE since our test review in January. We told him that we had decided on DI, he congratulated us, and began to tell us the basic steps to get on our way. Surprisingly my demeanor was a little more solemn than I thought it would be. I've been looking forward to making this call- Taking our first real step towards finally having a family, and instead of hanging up with a beaming smile, and girlish laugh, my polite work-like tone was all I could manage. I feel a loss. Still.

Part of that loss, is from our bank account. It's going to cost double what I thought it would because of the amount of vials our Doctor prefers that we order. And for the process he prefers. It's partly my fault though, I keep forgetting to use the "Home Owner Rule" when it comes to medical bills. This rule usually applies to repairs, whatever you estimate the maximum cost will be, DOUBLE IT.

After the rest of our questions were answered by the doctor he set up two more conference calls for me this week. One will be with my Cycle/IUI Coordinator, and the other will be with the Go-To person for handling our shipments from the California Cryobank. I'd like to give you a better breakdown of the specifics for this process but I don't have a complete grasp on what exactly that is yet. But I promise I'll let you know as soon as I do. It's time for bed now... Stayed tuned for details on the chat with our RE

***Welcome ICLW Readers***

The Easter Bunny Can Suck It

Easter sucks. Why? Because it's another holiday that's marketed towards kids. Did I ever tell you that we don't have any? Children I mean. I almost completely forgot, and then while I was hiding bottles of Chardonnay in my backyard I remembered that they should be colored eggs instead. Hard boiled eggs dipped in every pastel color that would match the variety of receiving blankets made for the babies that will grow up to hunt for them. Plastic eggs filled with chocolate and jellybeans, and coins that would surely generate a smile on the face every oshkoshbegoshed little body on earth.

I'm fortunate in that I didn't have to spend my Easter with young children to remind me of what I'm missing out on. Truthfully I drank Mimosa's on my Sister-In-Laws patio. It was lovely. But that doesn't mean I didn't think about it. 

Seeing pregnant women used to crush me, but now it's families. Walking through Safeway seeing a Mom tell her daughter she can't have the sugar booger cereal, or seeing a dad place pears in a produce bag, while contorting around a baby bjorn. It truly is torture on a whole new level. 

I still stick with what I said in my last post though, I'm actually in pretty good place emotionally. But the holiday's still get to me. Even Easter.

*Thanks for the "Easter Basket" Jenn*

Identity Crisis

It's not always evident when you read my one of my posts, but I am a pretty practical, deliberate, and no nonsense person. So when we first began discussing the fact that we would be completely honest with our child and family about DI, I was well aware that we would likely run into some asshole who'd inevitably say some rude/narrow-minded bullshit, which might lead to me being dragged away in handcuffs. Okay maybe I wouldn't go that far, but I really assumed that after a brief and gentle explanation to that person about DI and why what they said was offensive, I'd be able to shake it off. Or at the very least, laugh at them over a glass of wine later that night while daydreaming about their mysterious disappearance.

The book I'm reading about DI families discusses public tolerance and basically says if your are going to be open with your child from an early age, as we plan to, you need to expect to hear words like "Sperm bank" and "donor family" from your four year old's mouth while in mixed company. Because at four years old, discretion means nothing. So strangers will likely hear of your child's background before your are ready to confide in them. SO BE PREPARED.

We're only about ankle deep in the world of what it is to be a DI family. (We haven't even told our whole family yet) But right around the time that we made our final decision, I came across some really hurtful comments about deciding to use DI on a forum I belong to. I couldn't believe that in this place I considered to be safe, that I would read such rude/narrow-minded bullshit. It stopped me dead in my tracks, I wanted to retreat. And for a second (actually a day) I considered making my blog private again. So that I could use discretion when sharing our story... I was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to protect our privacy, to run from those disparaging comments. I confided in Brian my dismay at the bigotry I encountered and he poetically responded with "Fuck them, why do you care what they think anyway?" And again. I was stopped dead in my tracks. Why did I care what they thought?! Who was this pansy running from the first bit of resistance?! I felt like I was in fifth grade again running away from the kids who made fun of my off brand jeans.

Infertility has thrown so many curve balls that I shouldn't have been surprised by yet another after school beating. But fortunately, that little episode was nothing more than a blip on my radar. There are so many other things to think about now, so many wonderful things. Like morning sickness and swollen ankles.

For the longest time I've used this blog as at outlet for sadness and frustration. But I all of a sudden find myself with nothing to report but absolute glee. I am no longer stymied by a heavy heart. The countdown has begun.

We're planning to do our first IUI this August. And I am FUCKING stoked.

Introducing...

Sa.wyer Rob.ert Re.if was born this morning at 4:29 am. I am thoroughly honored to say that I was a witness to his birth. I am also however, thoroughly exhausted. So please excuse any fragmented sentences, as I will not be able to accurately edit this until I get out of bed. Next week.

One of my oldest and dearest friends is Sawyer's mommy. She invited me to witness this indescribable miracle, not because we're close enough that she wouldn't be embarrassed if I saw her spread eagle while groaning through labor, but to motivate me to move on already with a plan for our own family. I would imagine she thought that witnessing childbirth would be enough of an instigation to get my ass in gear. Little does she know that the invitation alone is part of what helped move me along. Brian and I made a decision about a week ago.

I was concerned at first. When she asked me I was completely stunned and told her I would have to think about it. I was a little terrified what that experience might do to my jumbled, infertility laden brain. Could I handle seeing a brand new baby placed on his mother's chest for the very first time? Would it break me? Would I fall apart?

The answers are yes and no, respectively. It was without question, a life changing experience. And I can't thank her and her husband enough for allowing me to share it with them.

Brian and I will be using Donor Insemination to start our family. It was the toughest decision we have ever had to make as a couple. We deliberated carefully between our options. The further we broke things down, the more apparent it became that we had base our decision on practicalities. IVF is financially, just plain out of reach for us. We could spend the next two to three years scrounging to save for a 40-60% chance, while my biological clock moves along unwavered by our less than supple pocket books... We could refinance our mortgage and be encumbered by a new, and inevitably higher payment. Which would only lead Brian to work more hours - and if you don't know Brian, he already works longer and harder on a daily basis, than anyone I've ever met. And I couldn't do this without him. I don't mean change diapers and wash bottles and do laundry. I mean I couldn't relish a family we went through so much to attain, without him by my side. Hearing the heartbeat for the first time, and feeling the baby kick. Watching first steps and introducing new foods... I won't even consider taking that away from him.

The other factors include the success percentages versus our specific diagnosis of severe MFI. While Y Chromosome Microdeletion was ruled out, there is the possibility of other genetic or chromosomal errors that we had to take into consideraion.

So, I feel good. Brian and I have been giving each other the those silly, knowing, little smiles that we did when we first started trying. Talking about names again and possible dues dates. When I'm in his arms it's incredibly easy to feel hopeful, and even blissful about the idea of FINALLY becoming parents. But when I'm alone, or laying awake in bed, the uneasiness creeps in. I think about the stories of failed DI by IUI, that are unexplained and ultimately leave the couple with IVF as their only other option. I probably sound ridiculous and you're thinking I shouldn't torture myself with the "what if's" and also, that I whine an awful lot. The problem is, I already know what its like to have the rug pulled out from underneath me. Like when I kept telling myself "It can take a healthy couple up to a year to conceive"...Well we all know how that turned out, DON'T WE.

We don't yet have an exact start date, it's definitely several months away. I really would like to elaborate on that but the drool on my keyboard tells me it's time to wrap things up and hit the sack. I've been up since 1am. I wonder if this exhaustion is anything close to what I will feel in my first trimester? I can't wait to compare it.

Infertile Haze

It's odd, I usually don't loose my shit until after I ovulate. But looking at my last post it's very clear that I was a tad unstable. I'm not ashamed, nor do I regret what I wrote. My words and feelings were genuine. As was my delirium.

But its nothing new. I think a large portion of our circumstance has made me irrational. I've been thinking night and day about our options for conceiving, but the lines between our choices have only become more blurry, and more complex. Leaving me more uncertain.

You should also know that I had another long conversation with Brian and he confirmed what I mentioned earlier. That I am in fact crazy. And that I worry too much. He assured me that he thinks about it almost as much as I do, and that he really is fine with either option. We agreed that we both would rather have a biological child but aren't sure yet by what means we'll get there. And we're still both very okay with DI... I say we flip a coin.

So there you have it. We're no further today than we we're yesterday or three months ago for that matter. I'm just able to recognize my lunacy. Again.

I Feel the Need...

The need for speed. I've found myself becoming increasingly impatient with the idea of waiting until fall to make any plans for conceiving our bundle of screaming, pooping joy. So what's holding us back? Just a little thing called MAKING UP OUR DAMN MINDS.

We're still sort of on the IVF train, but I have to admit something. I am terrified. I am mortified by the thought of giving myself shots in the stomach for weeks at a time, and I'm greatly concerned for the hormonal fluctuations that come along with it. I am almost so completely frozen with fear at the idea of it not being successful, that in my tiny, scrambled, little brain you can hear me trying to talk myself out of IVF all together. I know that 15-20k, isn't a huge amount in the grand scheme of things, but right now it seems like a fortune. FIFTEENFUCKINGTHOUSANDDOLLARS. GAH! It makes me light headed just thinking about it.

I'm tortured by the fact that not wanting to do IVF makes me feel like I am taking the easy way out. LIKE ANY OF THESES CHOICES ARE EASY! Every time I begin to coo at the tiny, one thousand dollar invoice for DI, I suddenly remember why I don't want to do that either. And I wince while the breath is knocked out of me again. How dare I choose a stranger's biology over my husbands?! It makes me feel unfaithful, and lazy. Am I so weak that I will gladly side step the sacrifices and exertion of scrimping and saving every penny for instant gratification? 

I want a baby now, but I'm so torn by how to get there. Brian says he is still very open to both options but I can't help but feel like he's not telling me everything. And not because he can't or won't but because he hasn't truly explored all of his feelings himself. And I need to know everything. Every detail, every concern or reservation. Nothing can go left unsaid. Before I go any further, it's just something I need. 

TWENTY-TEN

I turn thirty this week. If you had asked me 10 years ago if I thought I would have kids at this point in my life I actually would have said "Nofuckinway". Oh um, I spoke like a truck driver in those days. OKAY, so I haven't changed that much... I digress. I met Brian when I was 21, back then I didn't know if I wanted to be a parent at all. It was Brian who changed my mind. Not by badgering or bribery, but because he is a much nicer person than I am. And I'd like to replicate that if possible. The world could use a few more nice people, but we're still working on that.

When ever a birthday or holiday passes I remember last year when I spent time day dreaming about packaging up the happy news that we were pregnant with any given holiday. Ex: "If I got pregnant nooowwwww, I'd be twelve weeks at the beginning of May, annnnnnd my Grandpa's birthday is May 7th, SOOOO I could tell the whole family that he's going to be a great grandfather!!!!" Yet another example of how TTC creeps into EVERY aspect of your life.

So about my birthday. I've kind of been pretending it's not happening, and I'm not sure why. It's not that I feel old, it's just that I don't understand how I could possibly be in my 30's. It's all too bizarre. I have made a few plans to celebrate though, Brian is taking me to a fancy dinner then to see Wicked up in the city. I haven't really decided if I want to do anything with friends, since I might kill myself after the show. But I guess I'll play it by ear. Happy Birthday to me.

Flip Flop

If you've been reading this blog for more than three months you would know that when Brian and I were first diagnosed with Male Factor Infertility, we sort of made the decision not to have kids at all. We didn't swear it off forever, but we decided that we weren't going to pursue any treatments- therefore assuming it would never happen for us. It was a resignation of sorts, some might even call it a white flag. We were just so exhausted from the 16 months of futility. A few weeks later we decided not to make any decisions at all. For at least a year. And then a whole 2 weeks after that, we were all of a sudden ready to discuss our options. Partially thanks to our RE, who made things even more complicated by giving us two very different choices for conceiving.

In one hand we have the option of using Donor Sperm, also referred to as Donor Insemination or DI. The main reason we have considered it is because of our concerns with chromosomal abnormalities on Brian's side. Which according to our RE may not be a factor at all, as he once thought. It is not very invasive, costs about one thousand dollars, and has up to an 80% success rate each try, in the first 6 cycles. But with that comes a lot of emotional baggage that you can read about here.

And in the other hand, we have Invitro Fertilization with Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection. Or IVF w/ ICSI. Which means I get a baby that is half of me and Brian. IF it works. There is only a 40-60% chance. I would have a few weeks of hormone injections, followed by an invasive process to harvest my eggs under sedation and local anesthetic. Once they are (hopefully) fertilized they would insert the fertilized egg into my uterus using a catheter. Oh and it costs like $15 grand.

So basically we've been flip flopping between using DI or IVF. First no kids, then IVF, then Donor, then IVF, then Donor again and we even got so serious that we looked into specifics on donor profiles.

This week we are back to IVF, deciding that we'll try it once and if it doesn't work we'll move on to donor.

Next week: Abduction

Me, Me, Me

I came back to check out my last post. I usually reread them a few days later. There are always typo's that I missed, or sentence structures I end up changing. But this time I feel the need to explain a few things in the last post. Number one: I was having a bad day, childlessly speaking. Number two: There is almost no right way to tell an infertile couple that you're expecting. Maybe I shouldn't be generalizing, but what I'm trying to say is that you, the fertile, can't win. No matter where you tell me, or what you say, I am going to feel a loss. You know why? Because it's ALL ABOUT ME. I live in a far off distant land, where your pregnancy news makes me think about my empty spare bedroom. I don't like it here. I hate that my friend's joy only reminds me of what I'm missing. But I can't help myself. So when you tell me that you're pregnant, and I congratulate you with a smile. Please know that any sadness in my eyes has nothing to do with you. It's all about me.


P.S. There is an unruly double standard that also applies, I'm usually very excited for people dealing with infertility who finally become pregnant.

Compassion Vs. Candor

Is it Jealousy? Is it resentment? Or is it just the fact that I feel like we are being lapped on the race track to pregnancy? I know it's not a competition, but when I hear about another one of our friends becoming pregnant, I feel combative, and belligerent. I feel left out.

In addition to telling our friends about our situation, we also express how important it is for them to be open about telling us when they're time has come or come again. That they shouldn't worry or hesitate. But is a little sensitivity to much to ask? Am I being unreasonable, like someone who's short preferring to be called "vertically challenged"? I hate the idea of people walking over eggshells for me, but I'd also rather they not pour acid on the gaping abscess over my heart. I know the world at large isn't going to stop multiplying just because a certain percentage of us can't. I would never begrudge a friend the gift of a family, nor would I wish them the torment of infertility. I fully acknowledge that our situation is by no means hopeless, and that for right now we have made the decision to take some time before pursuing treatments. But that doesn't make it sting any less when a friend tells us they're pregnant. A part of me knows that I should just suck it up, I should be happy for them... So lets just call a spade, a spade here: I'm going to smile on the outside, while I crumble a little on the inside.

Oct-what?!-lets?

Something needs to be said in light of the recent spectacle created by the women who gave birth to Octuplets. I read a blog post written by a fellow infertile. I wish that I had the eloquence and wit that this women does because I would have written this article myself. Word for word.

Before you get started I am going to give you a small guide to the abbreviations because it's written in Infertilese.

HOM's - High-Order Multiples
ART - Assisted Reproductive Technology
IVF - Invitro Fertilization
FET - Frozen Embryo Transfer
IUI - Intrauterine Insemination

Once you finish the article come back here to read the rest of my post.

I'd like to gloss over my favorite parts of this article:

1. I LOVE that she points out the fact that if IVF were covered by insurance, there would be a lot less HOM's. Our insurance covers NOTHING.

2. In the same paragraph she points out that people who need IVF don't typically/purposefully put themselves in the positions to birth a litter. You only hear about them because it makes great news. Example: John and Kate plus 8. I personally like the show, but you see what I'm getting at. She also nailed it when she referred to the "the Fertile Public", insinuating that most people who don't have trouble getting pregnant have no idea what's going on with the latest treatments. While we've begun telling people about one of our options being IVF, at least 95% of them have assumed I'm going to have twins- if not more. I'd like to first say that in my case, they would only implant one fertilized egg because my plumbing is in good shape. From what I've read, when there is a problem on the woman's side, endometriosis, cysts and such, it's more difficult for a single egg to implant, so they tend to, but not always, insert more than one. Second, from the same people who assume we'll be having multiples comes the reaction "oh gawd, I would never want twins". Let me just say that when it's a real possibility that you may not have children at all- twins don't sound so bad.

3. I like that her ultimate judgment is on the doctor for implanting so many embryo's without doing further assessments into her situation. Also isn't there some kind of code of ethics that should have been called upon in regards to the health of the potential lives to be created from this procedure???? Not to mention the crazy mother's health? She has 6 other children to think about!! What if something had gone terribly wrong? Then the 6+ would be without their mother? AND what kind of financial impact it would make?!!!

I'd like to end this post with a big WTF?! And ask for your input on this travesty. Especially to my readers who are dealing with infertility.

Blogiversary

It's officially been a year since I started this little thing I considered to be an outlet. Although to be fair, I'd say the words "life preserver" should be somewhere in that description. The woman I am today is someone very different from the one writing this blog back then.

The past year has offered little more than despair and devastation. But its also made me realize how lucky I am to have Brian. Infertility is painful and consuming. And can break down even the strongest of marriages.  Brian has been supportive, patient and comforting from day one. Even after we received the test results- His optimism and stoic presence has pulled me back from the depths I never anticipated. There were many nights I crumbled in his arms and cried because I couldn't express a single word. I didn't know where to start.  And that's where this blog came in. 

Even with everything Brian offered I couldn't function without some other release, an avenue to solace. This blog has become that and more. To be honest, when I started this I had just barely grasped the concept of what a blog actually was. As silly as that sounds, I'd like to point out that my mother-in-law refers to it as a "blob". Love you Mom.  But aside from the bit of peace writing this blog has given me, its also directed me towards other women blogging about their own infertility experiences. It's like this massive world you had no idea existed until you're suddenly forced to become a citizen of it. It's a world full of anguish and grief and black humor. There's an excess of sad stories but then, fortunately, we stubble upon the ones with happy endings. They fill you with hope and anticipation that your day isn't as far away as it feels. Their stories give atonement and advocacy to every breakdown -public or private, every resentful glare towards a pregnant woman, and every night you cried yourself to sleep... I'm not alone. We are not alone. I hope that other people can learn as much as I have from reading and writing blogs.  I've spoken before about the profound healing powers this blog has given me, but I'd like to reiterate so that anyone reading this, now matter what there current life crisis might be, will be given another option for finding relief.

Even though we're moving on, I'm still on the mend. I don't know that anyone ever recovers or gets over infertility. Technically even if you conceive, through medical assistance, donor insemination, or miracle, you will be forever categorized as infertile. Because the odds of your next pregnancy will likely still be- well, unlikely without any of the above proceedings.  But hopefully we'll know better what we're up against and how to handle it. I actually think I'm a better person for having been through all of this. I don't take as much for granted. And I really believe the saying "You never know until you've been there" has never rang more true. 

Cryotastic

Tonight Brian and I visited the California Cryobank website. It's a starting point in looking for donors. We didn't make any purchases, but our searches were wholehearted.

I'll be honest. It's still a little surreal. I'm also a little taken back by my sudden excitement at the thought of (hopefully) being pregnant some time this year. We aren't rushing into anything. We won't be making any decisions for a few months. There is still a need to sort through the philosophical side of it. Like how this will impact our future child. A friend of mine that I met through an infertility forum, sent me the link to this article. It's about exploring the world of Donor Insemination. A place I suddenly feel compelled to examine. It also talks about families created through Donor Insemination and their acceptance.

I can't yet worry about what our families will think, I'm still too busy trying to figure out what we think...

Undone

Have you ever missed someone you've never met? Or ached for something so much that its hard to breathe?
I'm down today. I should have seen it coming. I've been pretty even keel, since our first meeting with the RE. Calmly putting it all into some kind of perspective. Was I just fooling myself? How do you organize your feelings for something like this? I've calculated and plotted. But it seems as soon as some sort of conclusion is reached, it all comes crashing down behind us. And I feel lost again.

Complicated

We heard back from the RE regarding the genetic testing for Brian. The great news is that he does not have the Y Chromosome Microdeletion. Fantastic to know for the fact that it won't be passed down to our potential son(s), but unfortunately it doesn't change the fact that we will still need IVF.

While we discussed the possibility of Brian having a chromosomal error, the RE mentioned the idea of using a sperm donor. Brian and I had discussed this a while ago and decided it wasn't something we wanted to do. But when we were speaking with the RE he asked us if adoption was something we had considered, when we said yes, he pointed out that if we did use a donor, the child would at least be biologically be one of ours (mine). And that if we knew we could love and care for an adopted child, what would be the difference if only one of us would be related by blood? Thank you doctor, we REALLY needed to add another quandary to our situation.

So before we received the results to the blood tests, we let the idea of Brian having a chromosomal error sink in, and the more we thought about it the more we became concerned about what could be passed on to our potential children. And the more a donor sounded like a good idea. You're probably wondering how that could even be an option for us. Believe it or not, I have had a harder time with it than Brian, I couldn't let go of the idea of this baby not being half of my husband. Not having his eyes or smile or height, or bionic metabolism. But moving passed my romantic notions, there are dozens of other factors that should be taken into consideration. First of all we would never ask anyone we knew for a "donation". And despite the crude jokes that some of Brian's guy friends have made, I would not be asking any of them for "assistance". I digress. So. Should we use an anonymous donor? Or one that is open to being contacted after a child has been conceived. Not that we would want to keep in touch but for the childs sake. You can of course choose a donor that has similar physical features, but you also need to look at the quality of his sperm. We also decided that if we were to use a donor we would be open with our child. Which brings up even more things to think about... Even if you begin telling this child everything from a very early age and explain that they are very much loved and wanted and that they're special, will they resent us? Will they want to look for their biological father? How will that make us feel? Will they feel different from other kids or worse, different than Brian? Will they have the same connection with him?

One of the benefits of using a donor is that it would not require IVF. IVF is physically and emotionally a very taxing procedure with months of preparation. And it costs like a bazillion dollars. If we were to use a donor we could do an IUI, or Intra Uterine Insemination. The RE gave us up to an 80% chance of conceiving per cycle in the first six months with a donor IUI. That is excellent. It's also under 2k. But forget the monetary costs for a moment. What would a failed IVF cost us emotionally? Our chances with IVF are more like 40-60%. And the devastation of an unsuccessful IVF is something we still aren't prepared to deal with.

Our conversation with the good doctor took place via conference call, Friday night. Right before his two week trip to India. So we have some time to think of a few more pages of questions for him, we plan to bombard him when he gets back. Safe trip Doc, safe trip.

Rise n Shine

I wish I could say that so far this year things have been very different for us. Unfortunately thoughts of babies still keep me up at night. Or in this case VERY early in the morning. I can't help it. After and hour of pleading with myself to phase everything out and try to fall back asleep, I just get up. Its silly to lay there, when I could be so much more productive right here. I missed you Internet. Its not that I haven't been thinking about you - BELIEVE ME. But I haven't been all that inspired to write.

I've been able to push most of the baby stuff out my head during the day. But in the wee small hours of the morning I still wonder what our lives will be like in five years, and whether or not they will include a child of our very own. It really is still that much in the air. The second round of tests that the RE ordered were to look at Brian's genetic materials. The RE said that Brian's severely low counts were indicative of a chromosomal error. Its called Y Chromosome Microdeletion. Its caused by missing gene(s) in the Y chromosome. This can lead reduced sperm counts, low morphology, the shape of the sperm, and low motility, the sperms ability to move. So let me put it this way, the old saying of "It just takes one" isn't actually true. You need a good pack of swimmers to get one guy to the.. ehhem finish line.

On that note, I will continue to leave us all in suspense as this journey of the infertile continues.

History

Given everything that I've shared with you, I think we can safely agree that 2008 was most definitely on par with a raging case of herpes and a severe UTI. And Brian and I couldn't have been happier to celebrate its departure from our very own living room, with a few good friends.

I'm trying to stop thinking about how horrendous the past year was and starting looking ahead again to what might be. In the days following our initial decision to remain an Aunt and Uncle, I couldn't help but feel giddy dreaming of the potential freedoms that lay ahead. I thought about taking a few classes at CSM. I thought about planning some weekend getaways, and even about learning how to play the drums. I want to join a wine club, and finally do something with the spare bedroom. It's been that awful peach color for much longer than it deserves. And maybe, just maybe it will be a nursery one day. But I can't plan for someday anymore. I need to think about tomorrow. And what I'm going to cook Brian for dinner, and more importantly what kick ass bottle of wine I'll be serving with it. Maybe I'll take some cooking classes - improve my knife skills. I'm definitely going to start jogging again. I miss the clarity it gave me.

As pretty as that "plan" sounds it's quite possible that a month from now I'll be posting about how we're trying to sell both of our cars to pay for IVF. But as far as expanding our family goes - I'm not going to think that far ahead yet.

Is That An Ultrasound Probe, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

We met with the Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) this morning. When I called originally they asked that we make the appointment in the middle of my cycle. The appointment includes a one hour consultation to discuss our test results and an ultrasound for me to monitor my follicles and to make sure I didn't have any cysts. The follicle is the fluid sac within the ovary that contains the egg, and is best measured towards the middle of your cycle. Now that I think about it I should have asked for a print out so that you could see what a phenomenal uterus I have. Doc said everything looks perfect. The main reason why that is relevant is because Brian's semen analysis was extremely abnormal. He's got the trifecta of bad results and it looks like our only option of conceiving a genetic child of our own would be through Invitro Fertilization with Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection or IVF w/ ICSI. So I'm hoping the fact that my plumbing is in great shape gives us a much higher percentage that the IVF would be successful. And its all ours for the low, low price of $15,000ish. Did I mention how lovely you look today? That shirt is... something else... It really brings out your eyes. And that wallet, it looks so heavy, let me hold that for you... There, that's better....

SUCKAAAH!

Ugh. So yes, there is a shot in hell for us. And it does accept Mastercard or Visa. But the thing is, the monetary gamble is not the scariest part. The potential devastation we face if it doesn't work - is unthinkable. So needless to say we aren't quite ready for that yet. Emotionally or financially. So we are back to square one. Taking some much needed time off...

Just Say No

I have a relatively simple question for you. When are you going to have kids? 

In the past I always answered this honestly, but vaguely with "someday".  Brian and I have since decided that we would be pretty honest from now on, especially because this question would be coming mostly from people we know. But what do we say to strangers? People we've just met who ask very innocently if we have children at all.  It's already happened to me twice in the last week and so far I've just given a simple no. Brian thinks that I could come across smug and selfish by not explaining that we actually want them, and tried, but that it didn't work out for us. I however predict crickets during the BIG. GIANT. AWKWARD. pause from the people we JUST met who now know that we are barren. Infertile. Childless, not necessarily by choice.  Is it fair to saddle complete strangers with the news of our hardship? I would feel terrible if I just met someone then apologized for my cold and they said "Oh, don't worry about it, I have a rare form of extremely aggressive cancer".... 

So help a girl out. Will at  least one of the six of you that read this blog leave me a comment with your opinion, or suggestion?

Clarity

Writing yesterdays post was easier than I thought it would be. It also felt better than I thought it would. I don't feel sad anymore. I feel free.

The dust is still settling on life we thought we would have created together, but amongst the ashes is another one. Together, of course. The agony I felt month after month when I realized that something I thought I felt and loved never actually existed, is beginning to fade. And the horizon looks clear, and wide open.

There are still so many questions running through my head. The "what ifs" that I can't escape, the "what nows" that I try to focus on. I think about the fact that we still have options, but I flinch when I realize the roller coaster of emotions that would come with it, and the odds that are stacked in its favor. I think about the fact that the lines in our families may stop with us. If my brother never has children, or if Brian's brother never has children. That's it. I think about how much this will weigh on our families, especially our parents, when they realize they may never have grandchildren, at least not by us. And the list goes on...

When will I stop thinking about it everyday?

Will I always have this kind of resolve?

Should we come right out and tell people, like we've just booked a trip to Mexico, or should we wait until it's a topic of conversation?

Will sending out Christmas cards with my dog's picture only remind people that we can't have children?

What will become of the friendships we have once more of our friends start having kids?

How will I feel I at Baby Showers and children's Birthday parties?

What in gods name will I write about now???

Nope.

This is probably the last time I will write one of these posts. The results from the tests show that we are very unlikely to conceive without medical intervention. Brian and I have decided that we do not wish to pursue treatments at this time. Man that sounded litigious. I didn't mean it that way. Let me start over.

I'm not going to post about when I get my period anymore. Brian and I are going to be D.I.N.K.'s (Double Income, No Kids) or better yet: Aunt Liss and Uncle Brian. Before you freak out, let me say a few things.

A.We are very aware that there are other options, medical procedures, adoption, etc.
2.We are not closing the doors on having children forever, but this is our plan through at least 2009.
C.We don't need your input, we need your support.

This has been an excruciatingly painful year. Having been a basket case, and hyper-focused on one goal has been extremely difficult on our marriage. It's affected everything from my overall happiness to my job performance. We can't live like that anymore. The strain is just too unbearable. The test results have brought us to a new level of closeness in so many ways. Brian and I have really bound together and feel immensely connected. We have taken this decision very seriously and talk about it nightly. It's something we both think about through out the day.

We have an appointment to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist on December 19Th. But basically just to get some information. We will begin telling our families in the coming days. Some of them may even begin visiting this blog. I welcome that. In the mean time, I'm going to focus on everything I've left behind in the last 16 months: Me, my husband, friends and family. I'm going to appreciate the Holiday's and take one day at a time. I need that.

Speechless.

I have a whirlwind of thoughts flying through my head right now. There are so many topics that I feel I need to cover but I don't even know where to start. Friday we received the results from the first round of testing. They were not good. I'm not sure what I want to post at this point. But I needed to say something. Anything.

If you're pregnant, drop everything you're doing and throw it in my face please

I know it's because I'm hypersensitive to it right now but GOOD GOD other peoples pregnancy news is EVERYWHERE. In the last week I have purposefully avoided the regular sites that I go to because I needed a break from hearing about anything to do with reproduction. Then at lunch today I decided to give people.com a once over and the top story is Pete Wentz calling his newborn son "A Happy Accident". That's fantastic. I quickly closed the browser and figured I'd go to one website where I could find someone struggling like me, someone who like 19 days ago posted about getting her period, someone I didn't think would now be posting about morning sickness. The Infertility Diaries at Redbook.com. Evidently the period she posted about was implantation bleeding. I know that I should be happy for her, but today- I am not. I know my last post was pretty pathetic and sad. But I hope that this one exudes anger. I'm so angry and frustrated and exhausted from feeling my feelings and thinking about getting pregnant and more over, not being pregnant. I really want to scream. I just feel so jaded. I feel done. Like it may never happen for us and I'm okay with that it if means I can get my life back. My train of thought back. My emotions under control, or at the very least reasonably contained. FUCK.

A Long December

I can't wait for this year to be over. I know everyone complains about how time goes so quickly- "I can't believe it's almost Christmas", and so on.  But this has been a very long year for me. For us.  A long and disappointing year. Every month giving me a two week block of time where I swear I can feel the earth spinning that much slower.  

What is it about this month that presents the motion to reflect on what exactly you've made of your life in the last 48 weeks?  I wish I could forget it all. I know having gone through all of this made me that much stronger, I can at least see that. But the amount that I've grown will never fill the void that I feel. Like a flightless bird.  I feel broken.