When Happily Ever After Is Going To Start In The NICU

Sorry this update has taken so long.  It has been a long two/three days.  The good news is, the baby has not been born yet.  Every day he stays inside is a day that improves his chances of survival and a healthy life.  The bad news is, I’m on my third day of active labor and it doesn’t look like the end is near.  The worst news is, the end of the labor is just the beginning of a whole new, difficult journey for me, The Prince and the baby.

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life.  The contractions weren’t fun but the worst was our talk with the neonatologist.  It was her job to explain to us what would happen after our baby is born.  There will be no tearful moments with the baby in my arms, where we weep in happiness as we begin the rest of our lives as a family.  Instead, our baby will first be handled by the large team of professionals that will be in the room with us during my delivery.  There is an incubator beside my bed already with all kinds of tiny tiny instruments in it.  When our baby is born, he will not cry.  His lungs won’t be developed enough to allow him to.  He will be rushed to the waiting incubator and wrapped in Saran Wrap (literally…they use the brand name Saran Wrap and I know this because it is sitting by my bed) from head to toe, except for his face.  The Saran Wrap will keep him from seeping liquid through his fragile skin and will help keep in his body heat as he lies under the large “French fry lamp” (that’s the neonatologist’s term) at the incubator in my room.  He will be suctioned and will immediately have a mask placed over his face, with the "team" manually "breathing" for him until they can get him and his incubator into the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).  Then they will determine whether he needs to be on a ventilator, or whether his lungs are mature enough that he can breathe with just the help of the cpap machine pushing oxygen in gently.  That will be his first minutes of life…and there is nothing I can do to change that.  I won’t see him for at least 45 minutes after his birth and, for weeks, we won’t be able to take him out of the incubator, which will keep him warm and moist, or to hold him in our arms.  We will be allowed to visit at will and to touch him, but not to hold him next to us.  Not at first.  Even typing that is hard.

All of that isn’t even close to the worst of it.  Even in a best case scenario, it will take a couple of months to teach him how to be able to eat and digest breast milk.  I will be pumping from the day of birth, but he won’t be “fed” my breast milk for a long time.  His stomach and intestines wouldn’t know what to do with the milk and starting him on it too soon could lead to a disease of the intestines that can require surgery or be fatal.  He will eat through an IV that goes through his umbilical cord; then through a PICU line that runs through his arm, down his neck and into his stomach; and then through a tube that goes down his nose and into his stomach.  He’ll hopefully start learning to suck around 5 to 6 weeks after birth and he'll need to be able to suck at least a bottle before he can be discharged.  For  months, he will get breast milk mixed (at times) with a special formula, because he will need different nutrients from most babies.

He might need to have blood and fluid removed from one or both of his lungs (via aspiration with a needle or insertion of a tube into the lung) at some point early on, as the air sacs in 30 week old lungs can collapse easily.  He may need cardiac surgery to close the hole in his heart that would have closed on its own if he made it to term (or the hole might close on its own during his first week or two outside the womb).  We will have to check his eyes for years, as babies born at 30 weeks can have retinas that don’t form properly, leading to vision problems.  He’ll have frequent hearing tests and developmental check-ups, so that any cognitive delays can be addressed quickly, giving us the best chance at correcting any issues that come up.  There is the potential for mental retardation or cerebral palsy.  There are so many other “possibilities” that I just can’t type them all.

The neonatologist had to go over the worst case scenarios with us (all of them) and have us sign consents for various procedures.  The chance of any one of these things afflicting our baby is less than the chance that it won’t.  Many of the problems have a very low chance of occurring.  I keep telling myself there is a chance of any baby having problems at birth.  But, most mothers don’t get the talk we were given…because the fact is, our chance of facing these issues is higher.  Higher because I can’t keep this baby inside of me as long as he needs to be.  Dr. Google gave a consult last night, and I was encouraged to find that the majority of 30 week old premies usually make it home by 38 weeks and usually have few issues after the lungs and eating issues are resolved in the NICU.  The most common ongoing issues are gastro-esophogeal reflux disease and an initial speech delay which corrects itself by the time the child is pre-school age.  Many children, perhaps even a majority, born at 30 weeks seem no different from their full-term counterparts by the end of the first year of life.  We just have to hope that our baby is one of those success stories and that his journey through these first few months and years aren’t too hard.

The neonatologist watched me try hold it together and be hopeful while she talked.  I think I did a good job.  But as soon as she turned to walk out of the room, I wailed...literally had a wall of sound encompassing all of my fear and anguish just escape out of my lungs like a blaring siren.  I couldn’t hold it all the way for her to get out the door of our room even though I had tried to.  I just crumbled.  She came back and held my hand, cried a little herself (which I thought was amazingly compassionate for someone who does this stuff day in and day out), and offered to help me get in touch with the psychologist the hospital provides for parents going through these circumstances.  I declined the professional help, for now.  I know I need to be strong for our baby.  I know that feeling sorry for myself and for the baby doesn’t help and won’t solve anything.  But I still can’t seem to hold the tears at bay for more than a few hours at a time.  

 All of the nurses and doctors refer to our baby by name now.  I know why they do it.  They need me to start bonding with this baby and feeling positive about his arrival now.  They want to help me feel secure that they care about him enough to know his name and use it (Yes, his name that I have kept a secret from family, friends and everyone else).  They are all awesome…the nurses, the doctors, everyone at this hospital.  I know I am in the best possible place to have this baby and I have the best specialists involved in his care.  No psychologist can tell me anything I don’t already know about this situation, and talking to a stranger isn’t going to help me.  Not now at least.

I’m not letting myself question why this is happening.  I started going there yesterday, with the “Was I not meant to have a baby and this is my punishment?  Who punishes a baby for a mother’s refusal to give up on her dream of having a baby?” or “Is God trying to teach me a lesson about priorities and letting go of my own will?”  I’ve quickly rejected those thoughts and labeled them as what they are- BULL SHIT.  This preterm labor happened because preterm labor just happens sometimes.  Unpleasant things just happen sometimes.  Things like infertility.  Things like pregnancy losses.  Things like preterm labor.  Things like the drug addicted woman in the room next to me asking how soon she can get outside to smoke after they wheeled her drug addicted baby to the NICU this morning.  These things happen and there is no good reason why they happen.  I just have to have faith that I am strong enough to handle what is coming.  Everyone here at the hospital tells me that they know we are a strong couple who can handle parenting a premie baby, and that they have no doubt our baby will be a success story, propelled by our love.  If outcomes truly came down to how much the parents loved the baby, they would be right.  But that’s not always how it works.  Anyone who has been exposed to the land of infertility knows that.  We will love and support our baby with every ounce of strength in us, but how things will turn out is out of our hands…not because of some punishment or lesson…but just because.

If this post seems disjointed, I apologize.  This is probably one of the most important posts I’ll ever write and yet, I don’t care how the words come out…I just need them out of me.  Like a purge.  I need to share my pain and fear and frustration, and I don’t care how I sound. 

Through all of this, The Prince has been amazing…truly amazing.  He has sat by my bed until I make him go home to eat and take care of the pugs.  He talks to me and tells me it will all be okay, even though I see the pain and fear in his eyes.  He has sought support from his own family, so he can support me without showing any weakness.  He brought me ice chips and cold clothes for my face and neck for hours on end, when I was dealing with the side effects of the Magnesium IV and the steroids they injected into me for the baby.  He has held my hand through painful contractions.  He keeps encouraging me to view each frustrating setback in this labor as a good sign that our baby is getting to stay a little bit longer in the best place for him…my loving body.  I have never loved The Prince more than I have loved him the last couple of days.  He really is amazing and the baby is so blessed to have The Prince for a daddy.. 

I’ve also never seen such an outpouring of love from family and friends.  I’ve offered a general overview of the situation on Facebook, but I’ve offered very minimal details of what is going on.  Even people I haven’t seen in 20 years have comforted me with their words each day.  All of my IF friends have reached out to me.  I’m not able to reach back yet.  I’m not able to really talk about the reality of what is going on.  I think it might become too real.  I am afraid my fragile façade of strength will tumble if I bring anyone from the outside into our situation.  I haven’t even allowed the doula to visit me.  I just can’t do it.  I’m hoping I’ll feel differently soon.  If I have a long stay here (and Dr. C said today that he is amazed I’ve made it this long and thinks I could be looking at this labor going on for even as long as a week or two, though he doubts it will go on much longer than that), I am going to need to see and talk to my friends for support.  The Prince is going to need for me to have that alternate source of support.  But, right now, I just can’t.  I'm afraid of everyone avoiding the big purple elephant in the room, nervously avoiding starting a conversation about what is happening and instead stumbling through a topic we can only half focus on.  I am afraid that the first hug, or tender squeeze of the hand, or smile and nod of recognition of what I'm going through, will lead to a visit during which my friends watch be bawl like a baby and then apologize a million times to distract myself from those emotions.  Even kindness hurts a little somehow right now.  I don’t know if sitting alone in this stupid room crying over my keyboard is better than sharing this experience with my friends, but I’m afraid of the unknown.  If it is possible for me to feel worse right now, I don’t ever want to know what that feels like.

I really hope that I am able to keep up with this blog…to keep my closest friends (those I’ve met and those I haven’t) updated on what is going on.  I’ve realized that this may become a much longer second chapter to my “Fairy Tale” than I ever imagined.  I still see our baby’s birth as our “Happily Ever After.” We've succeeded and been blessed when so many others have not.  I have faith that we will bringing our baby home one day in the next few months and he will be ours forever.  "Happily Ever After" has morphed into something new, but I will never lose my gratitude for the gift we've been given.  I guess I just now realize that “Happily Ever After” can have dark chapters too.  That phrase is a whole other journey in itself...and ours is a bumpy journey.  

Eventually, I may need to start a new blog, one about the baby’s journey that family and friends can access for updates about his condition and care, but which doesn’t discuss my infertility journey in the great detail and honesty that this blog does.  Colin's extended family and, to an extent, even my own family, care about us enough to care about our baby.  But it would be impossible to keep writing to all of them with updates.  I think a blog may be the answer.  I guess I will cross that bridge when I come to it.  For now, I just want to say thank you for all of the kind comments that you’ve sent me and thank you for following this journey which has taken a most unexpected turn.  I hope to have good news to share soon…though not too soon.  Love you all.

Yes...Another Obnoxious POAS Picture...



Day Four – It is Tuesday morning, and I still have a positive.  I’m almost done with this part of “The Experiment.”  I will POAS again tomorrow and then I will have my first beta test on Thursday morning.  I freaked out and contacted the nurse yesterday, to see if I should come in for the blood test a couple of days early.  I was most disappointed when her answer was, “No.  You’ve got to wait it out so we can compare your levels to everyone (insert “all of the sane people who can wait the full two weeks”) else’s levels.” 

I think that there needs to be an end point to my POAS.  I’m not doing it for fun anymore.  I’m not enjoying every time it comes up positive.  I’m doing it with shaking hands and a tight chest, irritated to be peeing on my hands at 3:00 a.m. and terrified that the line is going to disappear on me.  That was never what POAS was supposed to be about, and I refuse to let my pregnancy be dictated by fear.  I am determined not to lose out on this experience just because infertility has stolen my naivety and has made me aware of all that could go wrong.  I want my blissful ignorance back and if I can’t have it…I’m going to fake it.  I will still probably buy an “emergency” Clearblue Easy Digital kit…a “break open in case of emergency” kind of thing…for the mornings I wake up in a panic and only the comfort of seeing the words “Pregnant” will squelch the fear and let me fall back asleep.  But no more staring at and analyzing pink lines at 3:00 a.m. each morning.  After tomorrow, that part of this experiment… of this journey… is done.

In other news, I have the most amazing fertility friends EVER!  (I have the most amazing blog buddies, too…but that’s another whole post).  Since Mother’s Day, support has been pouring in from my “real life” fertility friends who read my blog.  Some of them are still in the midst of their struggles, some are pregnant, and some have “graduated” to motherhood.  All of them have been amazing.  No one has told me that they are happy for me but sad for themselves, even though I know that is how some must feel.  No one has yet asked that I give them some distance, even though I’ve been expecting for that request to come.  My biggest fear about getting pregnant, even bigger than losing the pregnancy, has been losing all of my friends.  I’ve been so blessed to have friends who are stronger than I am…friends who are putting a positive spin on my pregnancy, even though I haven’t always been able to do the same in the face of my friends’ announcements in the past.  I know that feelings will ebb and flow, and I will ride out every wave of emotions with each of my friends…giving space when needed and being there through the rest of their journeys whenever I am allowed.  But I just had to share that I am so happy that I haven’t been faced with the loss of friendships yet…and that I recognize and am grateful for my friends’ strength and support.

On a less fun note, a couple of weeks ago, before I was sure of the timing of this cycle, I had set up a dinner/support group for tonight with my other fertility friends.  The support group that is usually held on the second Tuesday of each month is being dedicated to making vision boards this month…and some of us already have a whole gallery of them.  So, we planned our own get-together…a non-vision board carb-fest if you will.  The timing ended up being terrible.  I have fretted the last two days over whether I should contact the people who are coming, to tell them about my positive HPT’s, even though I think it is too early to be “spreading the news.”  I don’t want them to find out through the grapevine later on, or worse…at dinner tonight… and feel like they were deceived.  On the other hand, most of my friends who are going tonight already know because they read my blog, and I’m glad they found out through the blog…because I’m really not ready to write “the email.”  So, for now, for better or worse, I am in a situation where most of the people at dinner tonight are going to know that I am a little bit pregnant, they know that not everyone at the dinner knows, and they know that it will be best if the status of my cycle does not become a topic of conversation at dinner.  I can honestly say, if asked, that I am waiting for my beta on Thursday.  It’s not a lie…just an omission…and an omission that I think a lot of people would make if they didn’t even have their first beta under their belt, yet.  But I am scared…scared that I’m going about this the wrong way and that the couple of people who do not know will feel hurt later on, if they find out that I knew but didn’t’ say anything to them.  What do you feel is the best way to handle this…keeping in mind that I am only about twelve hours out from the dinner, so I don’t have time to implement any change of plans that is too elaborate?  Thank you as always for your input.

The Prince is Charming

Lately, the fertility meds have been kicking my butt.  I haven’t had the horrible pain I was in a few weeks ago, but I am achy, tired, bloated, and nauseated all the time.  I wish I could say that I suffer through all of this in silence, showing the strength of my resolve…but that would be a lie.  I whine…a lot. 

Normally, my whining sends The Prince running to the grocery store, work or the gym…anywhere but around me.  At best, I turn into the teacher on Charlie Brown and all he hears is “Wha Wha Wha Wha Wha Wha.”  But lately, he has been great. 

Yesterday, I sent him an email from work, complaining that I was so sick and so tired, that I just wanted the cycle to be over.  I expected the obligatory “Sorry” reply email, or no response at all.  But instead, The Prince immediately shot back an email saying “I’m so sorry that you feel so sick.  It won’t be much longer now and it will be worth it when it is all over.  I love you.”  That little bit of effort on his part made all of the difference to me.  Instead of being grumpy all morning, every time I felt really sick again, I would think of The Prince’s words and feel happy (and sick…but mostly happy).

I was also pleased that when I told The Prince about coming out on Facebook, and his mother’s and family’s responses, he didn’t get mad.  Instead he made a joke about how he’s sure that I am hoping that his mother’s supportiveness will rub off on him…and it is always good to hope.

It is very easy for me to get irritated with The Prince…and I do, a lot.  So I really wanted to put in writing today how much I appreciate his efforts this cycle.  I might need to look back at it during my hormonal rages and freak out sessions, to remind me how lucky I am.  But I am lucky, I have a good husband.  He’s going to be a great father to our child/children, and I have hope that he is going to be a great husband, too…he certainly has the potential. 



The "Others"

It is rare in a fairy tale for the princess or prince to meet other princesses or princes.  It is rarer still for the “others” to help the principal character in the story to achieve the “happily ever after.”  Usually there is antagonism and sabotage involved in the relationship.  Not so in my fairy tale.  I have met so many other princesses (and even a prince or two) who are helping me along my journey by inspiring, teaching and supporting me.

Last night I had my infertility support group.  There were only three of us there…the smallest showing by far.  One woman is just starting her journey and is dealing with the initial emotions that go along with an infertility diagnosis.  The other woman was on day 12 of her two week wait, and started spotting during support group.  She had tried to do her first IVF, but was converted to another IUI due to lack of response by her ovaries.  Prior to that, she had dealt with a miscarriage.  She is relatively new to the world of infertility, but she is struggling as her positive attitude tries to slip from her grip with each disappointment.  Then there was me…swinging wildly from hopeful to depressed, depending on the topic of conversation.

Last night we discussed how to avoid “what if’ing,” which we all do on a regular basis.  

I distract myself with lists and spreadsheets and planning. 

The newer IF’er has started a “bucket list” of sorts, filled with things she wants to do but won’t be able to do with a baby.  When she is between cycles, she checks one or two things off the list.  Sky diving is her next endeavor.

The intermediate IF’er approaches negative thoughts by putting a positive spin on everything…she really is the embodiment of Positive Polly and I adore her for it.  When she had a miscarriage, she thought “the baby would have been sick, so it just had to happen to save the baby from pain.”  When her cycle seemed to be slipping away last night, she said that perhaps this wasn’t the right time for her…that the perfect child for her wanted to come into her life during her next cycle.

All of us last night had ideas and strategies for coping that helped the rest.  And we all shared in each others pain.  As I listened to the new IF’er choke back tears while she explained that she never dreamed she would be sitting in an infertility clinic, I remembered feeling those emotions three years ago…in shock…but believing that all we needed was a little help to get pregnant.  I try to remind her that “a little help” is all it takes for the majority of IF’ers, but there are just some of us who have a longer journey. 

And then there was the pain of Positive Polly.  She didn’t let a single tear fall during support group, even though you could tell that she wanted to bolt out of the door from the beginning and just go cry it out at home.  I am NOT a hugger…but I hugged her when she left…and cried for her.  I tried to tell her that progesterone can do funny things and maybe this isn’t what she thinks it is, but as she said “We know our bodies.  We know when it is a period.”  I am still praying she is wrong….

I’m excited by my cycle…excited at the prospect of being pregnant.  But something occurred to me last night.  I don’t want to stop supporting my IF friends.  I don’t want to stop sharing in their pain…or offering advice.  I know that many of them won’t be able to stay friends with me when I get pregnant.  I get it and accept that.  But I want to remain a part of their story.  I want to give back, and that will never change, no matter what the outcome of this cycle.

The Last Shot

Today I came to the most devastating conclusion of my life.  If I do not get pregnant this donor cycle, I am never going to be pregnant.  I’m giving you fair warning.  This post is going to be long.  This post is not going to be a happy one.  There will be no tie-ins to fairy tales and no attempts at clever analogies.  Just reality and sadness.

As many of you know, I have been having pain and spotting for three weeks now…with the pain getting worse since I started the birth control pill a little under two weeks ago.  Well, the bleeding has been getting heavier and last night and this morning, the pain was so bad that I had difficulty standing up straight and walking.  I called my fertility center, and being the awesome and sympathetic people they are, they got me in immediately to be examined.  I’ll spare you all of the details, but the bottom line is that the pill is evidently messing with my estrogen level and irritating my endometriosis to the point of this unbearable pain and bleeding.  On April 3^rd, I will stop the pill and start taking Lupron (which is what they use to treat endometriosis).  So, at least this pain and bleeding is temporary.  Also, because I will be on Lupron the rest of the donor egg cycle, through egg retrieval, the endometriosis won’t interfere with my chances of conceiving.

With that said, it has only been seven months since my last (very aggressive, four-hour-long) surgery to remove all of my endometriosis.  I travelled to one of the top surgeons in the country for the surgery, and he had assured me that he got it all…and by the way I felt after the surgery and the horrid pictures of what my bladder, bowels, uterus, ovary and abdominal wall looked like after the surgery…I have no reason to doubt that he did get it all.  But, my endometriosis has been getting progressively more aggressive.  The length between my surgeries has been getting shorter and shorter.  Each surgery, more implants and adhesions are present, and more organs are involved.  My doctors, and there have been a lot of them throughout the years, have all told me that I needed to get pregnant as soon as possible because a total hysterectomy was imminent.  That advice started at age 16. 

Today, the amazing (really, she is a beautiful human being) head nurse at the clinic hugged me as I was crying and comforted me as much as she could.  She said “We just need to get you a baby in that uterus, and then you can have a hysterectomy and this will all be over, honey.”  I replied, “When I was 16, they said the same thing…and where I grew up, being pregnant at 16 was not necessarily outside of the norm.  Maybe I should have listened.”  She said “No ‘what ifs’.  We just need to get you that baby.”  From your mouth to God’s ears, kind and wonderful nurse.

They gave me Tylenol with Codeine to help with the pain, and said to take it easy for awhile.  So that is what I am doing.  Missing yet another day of work, thinking about how many days of work and school I’ve missed because of endometriosis pain and surgeries.  Thinking about how many days of school and work, and other activities, I’ve missed because of fertility treatments, likely necessitated by the effects of the endometriosis.  It is very hard not to “what if” about the past, but, when I got home from the pharmacy, I felt like I needed to look to the future instead of the past, and so I did.  Unfortunately, that analysis has been equally upsetting.

I realized I can’t do this anymore.  I wanted to be pregnant and give birth to my baby so badly that I was able to make the leap to giving up a genetic connection to my child to achieve pregnancy.  But I can’t keep going through surgery after surgery.  My last surgeon said that the next surgery was going to have to be a hysterectomy…and I think he was right.  I can’t keep experiencing this excruciating pain, nausea and fatigue.  I’m out of treatment options, unless I want to be on pain meds for the next few years.  So, I’ve decided…if I don’t get pregnant from this donor egg cycle, I’m having a hysterectomy and moving on with my life.  Hopefully adoption will be part of that future.  Hopefully the Prince will be okay with my decision and not opt to go find a wife who can give him children.  Hopefully I will not spend my life wondering if I should have tried to suck it-up a little harder and stuck it out a little longer.  But the bottom line is, endometriosis has won.  I am putting up one last battle by continuing with a donor egg cycle…but if it doesn’t work…I’m admitting defeat.  It breaks my heart to have come to that decision, but it is breaking my spirit to live like this.  I know that someone out there will be thinking that I shouldn’t make this decision while I am in pain and emotional, but that is exactly when I need to make the decision.  It is too easy to forget how much this hurts and how obvious it is that I can’t keep going through this, when I’m not in pain and I am obsessed with getting pregnant at all costs.  Some costs might be too great…even for a pregnancy.  God it hurts to say that. 

I emailed the Prince about what happened today and what my choice is regarding the future.  He is always busy with students at work, and I thought that it would be easier for him to hear this news without me choking it out between sobs over the phone, or while he prepares to go to his physical training appointment tonight.  I told him that I know he can’t fix this, but he can help me to feel better by being kind and sympathetic.  I told him that I know this has to be hard for him too, but he is the only one who can give me what I need right now – the support of my best friend…my life partner.  I pray that he is able to be my rock right now and to surprise me by being a little emotional…a little empathetic.  It’s a lot to ask and it’s a lot to throw at him, but I can’t help it.  I know I can’t get through this decision alone.

The pain killer is finally kicking in, so I am going to stop writing this novel without a plot and try to sleep a little.  I know that there are a lot of you out of there who are supportive and I am comforted by that support already, even though I know you haven’t even read this yet.  Thank you for helping me feel cared for.  It is strange to have close friends, who know my darkest secrets and most intimate thoughts, whom I have never met.  But I am so grateful for you.



Positive Polly Doesn't Live Here Anymore



Last night, I went to the support group (hereinafter “group”) held at my infertility center for the first time since November.  I have been on a hiatus because I had already befriended most of the group members during the last two years, and I had watched as, one-by-one, they graduated out of the group when the stork visited each of their houses.  I just didn’t feel like I could handle watching another “class” of IF gals move on in their journey, while I sat watching from the support group sofa.

But, for whatever reason, I decided to try going to group again…last night.  I’m glad I went.  It was nice to be in a supportive environment.  However, everyone at the group was new, except for my one friend (left behind from the second round of group’ers that got pregnant…we’ll call her “Patience”).  Patience has had four miscarriages in a row and, somehow, she is still standing and still getting her butt to group each month.  Patience deemed us the “senior members,” at the beginning of the meeting.  We were the only two veteran IF gals.  I think the title made me feel a little conflicted.  You never want to be the “senior member” in an IF group.  You want to be a “graduate.”  But, there is also a weird sense of respect that goes along with “senior membership” status.  You almost wear it as a badge of honor…something to prove how much you have survived…a testament to your strength and resiliency. 

Newbies looked to Patience and I for guidance last night, and our words carried a lot of weight, so we had to choose our words carefully.  I really censored a lot of what I said and what I shared because I was trying not to be too negative, given the crowd.  There were so many women there who had only just received their infertility diagnosis, or had just survived their first miscarriage.  They were all so hopeful that this was going to be a very short journey for them.  They all truly believe that they will get pregnant this month (or their next cycle) and will leave all of this sadness behind them.  And some of them will be right…their journeys will be short…but most of them will be wrong.  They don’t yet realize that they are in a marathon, not a sprint.  How do you tell someone to prepare themselves for the worst without quashing their hope?  As the group went on, you could see that a couple of women, frequently the ones who had suffered losses, exhibited signs of cracks in the hard exterior of hopefulness they’ve cloaked themselves in to get through the awfulness.  I didn’t want to be responsible for making those cracks deeper…but I also don’t want to mislead anyone.  Patience and I worked had to be realistic, discussing ways to prepare emotionally for the possibility that the journey may take longer than anticipated.  But we also tried to remind them that a lot of women had graduated from the group and a lot of women just need a little help to get pregnant.  There is a reason there are only a couple of senior members.  We are an anomaly.

As I watched the effect that our words had on the newbies, I was saddened.  I heard the contrast between my outlook and theirs.  They are all a “Postive Polly,” certain that sunshine and rainbows and lots of babies are right around the corner…waiting for them to round the bend and trip into their “happily ever after.”  I’ve become a “Negative Nelly.”  I don’t believe there are rainbows and sunshine around the corner.  In fact, when I get to a corner, I peek around it to make sure I’m not walking into a wall of heartache and emotional devastation.  I’m not excitedly running to see what comes next.  I’m standing back and wondering if it is even worth taking another step.  This journey has been too long, already.  Please let it be over soon…so I can go back to being Polly.



Waking from the dream...

Last night, I was watching the movie, Inception, with my husband (for the third time) and a line I hadn’t paid much attention to before struck me as important, somehow.  In the movie, a character says “Well dreams, they feel real while we’re in them right?  It’s only when we wake up that we realize how things are actually strange.  Let me ask you a question, you never really remember the beginning of a dream, do you?  You always wind up right in the middle of what’s going on.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that I have lost touch with reality to the point that I believe that I am actually in a dream right now.  But there is a similarity between the phenomenon being discussed by that character and some of my experiences with infertility.  And it’s the same phenomenon you see in fairy tales.  The characters’ lives, to the extent that they fall outside of the actual tale, are deemed irrelevant and are never addressed.  We don’t know what formed their motivations or how they ended up in their station in life.  We only know the role they play in that particular tale.  They wind up right in the middle of what’s going on, without any explanation of how it all began.  And after “happily ever after,” they fall off the grid.  Did Cinderella have acne as a child?  Did she ever have kids?  Did she get divorced?  Who knows because everything before “once upon a time” never happened and “happily ever after” is like waking up from a dream – Poof, it’s all gone from that point on…completely disconnected from the fairy tale.

So how does this apply to infertility?  Well, I have a lot of fertility friends and I feel so blessed to have them.  But I am realizing that we seem to be starting a friendship right in the middle of a shared journey and the focus is always on what is going on in our infertility struggles right then.  I don’t know much about most of their backgrounds or what their goals are after achieving motherhood.  I’m a Chatty Cathy (I’m sure you’re shocked given the brevity of my posts) and I think that most of them know very little about my life before infertility.  It’s as if we are stuck in a dream about infertility, together, and we will only realize how strange our relationships are after we get onto the other side of infertility.  I’ve noticed lately that when anyone asks me “How are you doing?”  I say “You mean like infertility-wise?”  It’s as if I can barely remember who I am outside of this journey.  And who meets someone a half hour before talking about where the progesterone suppositories go and the various ways to get them there.  At the time the conversation is going on, it seems totally normal.  It’s only after you step back that you realize how strange the situation is…like all filters regarding bodily functions and personal secrets get switched off, but all filters regarding everything mundane and normal get switched on.

And, like the line in the movie, it seems like people who get pregnant after dealing with infertility “wake up.”  The friends that I know the most about are the ones who have gotten pregnant.  After they get pregnant, I start hearing about their marriages and childhoods and careers.  Sometimes, I’m really surprised because who my friends really are barely resembles who I perceived them to be while we were both in “the dream.”  Once they are beyond the struggles of infertility, it seems strange to them to talk only about infertility related discussions, while I sometimes struggle with getting to a place where I am comfortable talking with them about anything else.  They are trying to extend their character beyond the pages of the fairy tale…as if there is actually a life after “happily ever after.” 

And then there’s the other end of the spectrum. Sometimes my fertility friends drop off the face of the earth once they are pregnant.  It is almost as if they view what they went through as a surreal nightmare that they can now wake up from and forget about because they have a baby in their arms.  I don’t blame them or judge them for that.  I imagine it might be hard to be reminded of the struggle of infertility when you have an opportunity to just embrace the joy of fertility.  But I wonder if the strangeness of our relationships assists them in cutting all ties.  I wonder if the fact that there is no beginning “getting to know you” stage to fertility friendships makes them easier to break off.

I have so many questions…and no real answers right now.  All I know is that I want “happily ever after,” but I don’t want to lose everything I’ve gained since “Once upon a time.”  I want to take the lessons and friends with me, and I don’t want to become irrelevant once the journey through infertility ends.  I don’t want to start a new story.  I want to build on the one I already have.

Behind the Scenes

If you read through a fairy tale, most of what happens goes on behind the scenes.  You don’t hear about the seven dwarves showering or the fittings the princesses must undergo to have their beautiful gowns fit them like a glove, but those things must happen.  And so, too, much of what happens in our fertility fairy tales happens behinds the scenes.

For example, I was recently reading the blog of Christina, at http://2scompany3safamily.blogspot.com/.

She has just suffered a miscarriage and I strongly encourage any of you reading this to send her some support.  As I read her heartbreaking post, I thought about her sitting in her microscope room, suffering silently as those around her are likely oblivious to what she is going through.  Her suffering is going on behind the scenes.  Most people will never hear about what she is going through and how powerful it is.  I think it is not so uncommon for many of us to keep our suffering hidden from prying eyes.  And although we know what a huge part of our fairy tale the suffering is, the world will never know...will never see into our hearts.

My husband asked me last night why I am blogging.  I replied that it was nice to not have to keep my feelings hidden.  I like being able to share the thoughts and feelings that I rarely speak aloud and almost never share outside of our home.  He, in typical male fashion, replied “Sounds good!”  He explained that I can complain about him and infertility all I want in my blog, as long as it means he doesn’t have to hear it.  My husband was partially being a smart ass, but even he would prefer that the suffering aspect of infertility be bottled up and kept behind the scenes.

I am so grateful that you all allow me not to do that.  My heart breaks for Christina, but I am glad that she can put her sadness out there and be sent all of the love and support possible by a sea of anonymous women who are feeling pain right along with her.  I’m glad that none of us have to push our feelings and fears behind the scenes no matter how messy and confusing they are.  I think that, frequently, what happens behind the scenes is actually the real story that needs to be told.   

Wizards, Witches and Woodland Creatures

No princess and prince reach “happily ever after” on their own.  Inevitably, a supporting character helps out along the way.  Sometimes it is a wizard or good witch casting spells that help the couple past certain obstacles.  Other times, characters like the “woodland creatures,” the unsung heroes of fairy tales (they don’t even get proper names), are working in the background, supporting the couple as they go through their journey.

In the fertility fairy tale, there also characters that provide a tremendous amount of help in getting people their positive pregnancy test.  There are the wizards and good witches (RE’s, GYN’s, M.D.’s and nurses), coming up with magical formulas and protocols, trying to make a miracle happen.  These health care providers devote their career to weathering the emotional roller coasters that their patients take them on, tirelessly working to get infertility patients from the point of despair upon diagnosis to the elation of the positive pregnancy test.  Most of the healthcare providers I’ve come in contact with, who work in the “infertility field,” work long and often unconventional hours.  They frequently bear the brunt of misdirected anger. And most importantly, they genuinely care about the outcome of each patient’s journey.  They play the dual role of counselors and healers.  They have very intimate relationships with their patients (as we all know too well) for months and sometimes years…watching the highs and lows.  Then, once a positive pregnancy test is achieved, the thankful couple usually drops out of sight.  I think that it is probably difficult to stay friendly with the people who played a role in bringing your baby about, as you never expected to need them and, once pregnant, you seek to focus on the happiness of the present and future rather than the pain of the past. (I am, of course, speculating about this, as I have never had a positive pregnancy test).  In spite of knowing that they will be left behind at the end of their patients’ journeys, they continue to do their magic because they care.

Then there are the “woodland creatures.”  To me, these are frequently the coolest characters in traditional fairy tales because who would ever expect a bird or a mouse to help out?  These are the characters that the princess may not know very well, but she still considers them friends.  They are not paid to be awesome and they don’t have supernatural powers, but they provide the hands-on support when the princess is in dire need of friends.  Don’t take offense, but all of you are my “woodland creatures.”  (You are all princesses, princes, queens, etc., too…but for the purposes of this article you are also playing the role of “woodland creatures”).  I don’t know your names or much about the other aspects of your lives, but I know you are in the trenches with me, supporting me in spite of our anonymity.  You are there when I’m awake at 2:00 a.m. in a panic and you will be there to share in the joyous occasion when I finally get a second line on the pee stick.  This story wouldn’t be complete without you and I want to thank each of you for playing a role in my fairy tale.         



And A Handsome Prince (a.k.a. My husband)

In the traditional fairy tale, the beautiful princess always completes her journey with a handsome prince.  Not always so in real-life fairy tales.  Sometimes couples are composed of two princes or two princesses.  Sometimes a princess decides to embark on her journey into motherhood on her own.  I have friends in each of these categories and I love and respect them for their strength and courage.  So please don’t think, when you read this post, I am forgetting that not everyone is making their journey with a prince…But I am, so that’s what I’m going to write about.

Let me start out by saying, my husband is not always a prince.  Sometimes he is aloof and grumpy.  Sometimes he goes into his emotional turtle shell and it is all I can do to coax him to poke his head out to acknowledge that I’m there.  Sometimes he rolls his eyes when I am crying about another coworker announcing her pregnancy or he lets out too big of a sigh when I ask him to pause a television show so I can update him on our current position on an egg donor’s waiting list.  Sometimes he makes me feel like I am all alone, because his way of dealing with the overpowering emotions involved in our infertility struggles is to move on without acknowledging that anything happened.  On these days, “prince” is not the word that I use to describe him.

But then there are other days – the days when he gives me a hug first thing in the morning and tells me that today is going to be a good day, or the days that he surprises me with a weekend getaway during a two week wait to get my mind off the all-consuming fear that we’ll be disappointed again.  There are those times when he offers to take over dealing with the egg donor coordinator because I am feeling overwhelmed and out of control.  On those days…he is absolutely a prince!

I should explain that my husband is a chemistry professor.  Enough said.  He is the poster-child for “emotionally unavailable" but I love him anyway.  We are very different people and we have struggled as a couple in the last year.  We’re in marriage counseling right now, not because we are on the verge of divorce or are disinterested in the marriage, but because we don’t speak the same language when it comes to infertility and it leads to serious breakdowns in our ability to communicate with one another.  The counseling helps and I would recommend it to anyone who is feeling like the tiny cracks that were there in a marriage before infertility are widening.  It happens to the strongest couples I know, and counseling helps.  Even my husband admits that it helps and he HATES relying on anyone, especially someone in the “soft sciences.”

Anyways, Mr. Science is logical, analytical and predictable about everything.  I am logical, analytical and predictable about everything…except infertility stuff.  When it comes to my struggle to become a mother, I am a hormonal ball of emotion that changes her mind faster than the wind changes directions.  Even when I am not on the fertility meds (which would turn Spock into a bawling little girl), I am not myself when it comes to dealing with my own infertility.  And it is because of the very different way that my husband and I approach infertility that we have made it this far. 

When I was begging to keep trying IVF’s with my eggs after 6 failed IVF’s and our second RE saying he just didn’t feel we were going to get pregnant that way, the prince didn’t cry or get angry like I did.  Instead, he insisted that I consider what was most important to me and what was going to give us the best odds of getting to my goal of motherhood.  I grieved for a long time, but eventually it was his objective perspective that forced me to be realistic and realize that having a baby was more important than having a baby with my DNA.  Granted, I wanted to send him outside to live in the garage when he was telling me that he didn’t understand why I was being so stubborn and emotional about not wanting to move on to donor eggs, but if he had taken the easy road right then and given in to my begging to continue a futile quest, I would probably be on my eighth failed IVF cycle by now, with two more heartbreaks under my belt.

Writing this post makes me think about a T-shirt that I got my husband for his birthday, after our third date.  The T-shirt says “Trust me.  I’m perfect.”  He still has it and even though it doesn’t quite fit his body anymore, it still fits his personality.  And he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze himself into the shirt, like a sausage, when he thinks I need a laugh after we’ve quarreled.  I’ll never say it to him and I would deny it if ever confronted with the statement I am about to make, but he is perfect...in his own way.  He is my perfect partner in the infertility trenches.  I can always rely on girlfriends to help me cry it out and to talk about the stuff that is too sappy for my husband to take on, but he is the one I need when the time comes to make the tough calls (there have been a lot of them on this journey).  He  is the one that consistently rises to the occasion when the chips are down.  Bottom line, my husband may not always be exactly what I want, but he is exactly what I need and in that sense, he is my prince.       

Once Upon a Time (Part 2) - Before and After Infertility

Once upon a time...I was not "infertile."  Maybe I couldn't produce viable eggs and wasn't able to get pregnant, but I didn't know it.  I didn't know anything about infertility, and I was happy.  I just went about my life, hanging out with friends, going out on dates and worrying about how not to get pregnant.  In fact, if I had saved (and invested wisely) all of the money I spent on birth control over the years, I probably would have had enough money in the bank to send a child to college.  But I digress.

Around age 25, something changed for me.  I met my husband and I noticed that I was smiling at babies in grocery stores and was looking at baby clothes when I went shopping.  I still worked out, hung out with friends and watched movies.  But I occasionally found my mind wandering to how it would be to hold my child in my arms.  And it made me smile.  I realized that I wanted to be a mother.

My wedding day was a wonderful day and it marked a new beginning for me.  It was the beginning of my journey to becoming a mother.  My husband and I had a plan and, after being taken off a suppression medication my RE had previously had me on for endometriosis, we just happily waited for my cycle to start again.  When it didn't, we didn't panic.  We figured that having a baby was just going to take a little longer and be a little less traditional than we had hoped.  But as each failed IUI and IVF cycle piled up, our spirits sank.  I became consumed with all things "fertility."  It was no longer about having a baby, it was now about making a baby.  And let me tell you...making a baby is hard work.

For years, the first thing I did each morning was take my basal temperature.  That meant the first thought I had to have every morning was about fertility.  Then, I would get up and pee on an ovulation predictor stick.  Then I would drink my whey-yogurt-flaxseed-blueberry fertility smoothie for breakfast and, more often than not, head to my fertility clinic for blood work and an ultrasound.  I would spend every free second that I had at work on the internet, researching every article on IUI's, IVF's, diminished ovarian reserve, premature ovarian failure, the side effects of the drugs I was taking, the diets that are supposed to enhance fertility, yoga poses for fertility, self-help books on fertility, and every other fertility-related topic you can imagine.  It's exhausting just thinking about that time in my life. 

Then, during treatment cycles, there was the obsessing.  I would obsess about how many follicles I had and how long it was taking them to grow.  I would obsess about the level of my hormones, what the levels meant for my chances of conception and what I could do to change any of it.  Then, I would obsess about how many eggs we got at retrieval, how many fertilized, how many made it to Day 3 and...if we were lucky enough to make it to transfer...I would get to obsess about how poor the quality of my embryos were and what I could do to make them "stick."  I was so busy obsessing, at some point, I stopped talking to my friends.  I stopped talking to my husband (at least about anything other than infertility).  I stopped looking in the mirror or doing my make up.  I stopped exercising and going to movies.  I put on sixty pounds.  I stopped being me and I realized that, while I was still alive, I had stopped living.

That realization occurred only a few months ago.  I'm still mending friendships that I abandoned and I'm still learning how to have fun with my husband again.  We've both changed because of everything that's happened, and because we changed individually, we are needing to relearn how to truly enjoy being together as a couple.  We recently went on a vacation and I managed to go eight days without uttering one word about fertility issues.  At some point each day, I still would think about getting pregnant or about our egg donor choices...but I was able to let those thoughts go and just enjoy the sunshine.  I don't know if I will ever be able to go back to who I was or if I will ever be able to return to the social life I used to enjoy (especially now that all of my friends are pregnant or have small children).  I'm learning to live among "the fertile" and am slowly figuring out how to define myself outside of the label of "infertile."

Once upon a time, I was someone else.  I'm not that person anymore and, sometimes, I mourn the loss of that happy version of myself that was so full of hope and so unaware that there is a painful condition called infertility.  But sometimes, I look in the mirror and I'm able to see not what I've lost, but what I've gained.  I've gained strength, empathy, knowledge, and perspective.  I've learned to appreciate my friends, my husband, my dogs and all of the blessings that I do still have in my life.  And sometimes I'm even able to dream about what it will be like when I am in the future, holding my child, thinking about how difficult these last couple of years have been, and viewing this time as just a "Once Upon a Time."