10/4/2017 0 Comments Forever InfertileI’ve been very quiet for a while. I think mostly because I haven’t been sure what to say. For the first time in a very long time, I’ve felt quite speechless. I have to say that so far being pregnant is a million times easier than being infertile. Am I tired? YES. Am I uncomfortable? Some of the time. Do I have horrendous headaches that seem uncontrollable? Multiple times per week. Do I have other miserable symptoms, I'm not even referencing? Most definitely. Am I waking up in the middle of the night sobbing because I can’t wake up from the worst nightmare ever and have no will to live? No. Am I scheduling my day around what time I have to go to the doctor for blood work multiple times per week, staying home every night instead of going out because I have to give myself multiple shots, or getting up early every morning to take shots? No. Am I avoiding alcohol and caffeine and having legitimate pregnancy symptoms that aren't real but are caused by the $5,000 worth of medication coursing through my body for months at a time? No. I'm actually pregnant so it makes avoiding those substances and having pregnancy symptoms way more tolerable knowing it is actually for something. This will likely be an unpopular opinion among the non-infertile crowd but I truly believe women who find a healthy pregnancy unbearable would never make it through multiple fertility treatments. Whenever I hear women talking about how they aren’t good at being pregnant when their pregnancy is perfectly healthy and normal, I am glad for them they didn’t have to endure any fertility treatments. So far, pregnancy is a walk in the park compared to being infertile and going through IVF. There’s truly no words to make someone understand the Hell of infertility. I don’t think people want to understand because just the thought makes them so uncomfortable. If the thought of infertility is that uncomfortable, just imagine for a moment how horrible it must be for every second of every day to be consumed by infertility. It’s infuriating to me how people seemed to have dismissed my infertility now that I’m pregnant in an almost, “I told you that you would get pregnant eventually” kind of way. People are so willing and eager to include me in the “pregnancy club” now. It’s insulting that people think my pregnancy experience started the moment I got pregnant. My pregnancy experience started long before that. I’m not sure if it started in month six when I started freaking out that something was wrong or if it started when I received my diagnosis or if it started when I actually started testing or when I started treatments. But, it did not start at conception. I have put my body and mind through absolute Hell to get pregnant. I’ve had 3 IUIs, a surgery (including a lost Fallopian tube and pregnancy), 2 rounds of IVF, and a Donor Egg Frozen Embryo Transfer. I literally cannot even imagine what it would be like to have sex, pee on a stick, get a positive stick and feel like I’m having a baby. I’m currently 15 weeks pregnant and most days I have to consciously remind myself that I’m pregnant. It's physically painful sometimes to talk about being pregnant for fear that I will jinx myself. When I hit the second trimester I thought, “Whew, we made it over our first big hurdle.” Then I quickly remembered, “I have no clue what number hurdle this is.” We had so much failure. SO MUCH FAILURE. I’m not even sure how to classify the failures. Then we had to shift gears about what our family would look like – where it could come from. I had to find a place where egg donation was moderately affordable (with financing our eggs were $10,000 (not including meds/travel or all the other treatments paid for thus far) but most places charge $40,000-$50,000 just for egg donation). So, I found a place. Scheduled an appointment. Found a donor. Donor agreed. Donor did not pass screening. Found another donor. Donor agreed. Donor had late period but finally started. Donor produced eggs. Sperm was sent to facility and made it. Sperm injected into eggs and made 6 good quality embryos from 6 eggs (BIG FREAKING DEAL by the way). I started medications. Medications weren’t working. Upped dosages. Medication wasn’t working again. Upped dosages again (at this point I felt like this cycle would be canceled). Got the go ahead to not cancel cycle. Made the day long journey to Syracuse. Had transfer. Transfer took. Had to have 3 blood tests to confirm. Then an ultrasound to confirm again. And another ultrasound to confirm again because the first ultrasound was a little too early to really confirm. Then ANOTHER ultrasound to confirm heartbeat. Then I started the very slow process of weaning off the 10+ different medications I was on to get pregnant. Then after all that, I made it out of the first trimester. So I guess that’s why getting out of the first trimester really didn’t feel like I expected it would. I’ve already been through so much. I feel like I’ve spent so much time thinking about being pregnant and not being pregnant. I feel like I don’t know how to be pregnant. That sounds really weird, but after taking so long to get pregnant I just can’t comprehend that it finally worked. It’s like it somehow happened so fast when it did finally happen. I don’t think I was really prepared for all the feelings I have. I had read many, many articles about pregnancy after infertility, but again it’s one of those things you can’t understand until you’ve experienced it. Then there’s also your own smugness getting in the way: “Oh I won’t be like them. I’ll be so happy. Nothing but happy.” Why? Because we don’t like to be uncomfortable. Some days I’m still so consumed by doubt, I literally convince myself I’m not pregnant. It is so hard to believe it’s real. Even though I’m showing now, it still feels like it’s just a dream. I still have my positive pregnancy tests on the bathroom sink and every morning I stare at them while I brush my teeth and remind myself I’m pregnant. I’ve made it this far. Some days my anxiety is so high. Just because everything has been going well so far doesn’t mean things can’t go south quickly. We haven’t had our 20 week scan yet. I keep hoping that I’ll feel “safer” after that scan. But I know that things can still go wrong during delivery. Then even after delivery anything could still go wrong. Whenever I tell a parent this fear I always get some kind of stupid “that’s the job of being a parent—worrying” response. I had a 2.5 year head start on my worry that you did not have. Life is not fair and this is where it feels so obvious to me. I just want to blissfully enjoy my pregnancy, but I know too much. I am far more aware of how precious life is than the average non-infertile. Some days I feel so guilty. Why did I get pregnant when all these other women can’t or haven’t yet? It took me 2.5 years to get pregnant –which honestly felt like an eternity. But, I know there’s women who are still trying after 5, 8, or 10+ years. I cannot imagine the strength of these women. I had to leave most of the support groups I was in because I couldn’t stop feeling guilty. I still experience jealousy. I would literally give just about anything to be able to have sex and get pregnant like a normal woman. When I hear people talking about, “Oh with your first kid….” I generally tune out after that. This may be my only child. Just because we have five embryos left doesn’t guarantee one will work. Picking out a name feels impossible because this may be our only child. When we first started talking about names I was so excited, but now it just feels overwhelming. What I would give to be naïve enough to think a second or third child is a definite possibility and not just a pipe dream. I think the hardest feeling I’ve had to cope with is the sadness. I am sad this baby will not be genetically mine. When I hear people commenting on how a baby/child looks so much like their mom/dad, or when someone says their baby/child looks just like them, or when I notice that a baby/child looks like their mom/dad I have this gut wrenching sadness knowing I’ll never experience that. I often wonder how I will feel when someone comments on how the baby looks like Matt. I wonder how I will feel if someone unknowingly says the baby looks like me. I think it is so hard to express this sadness because I felt like people would think I’m ungrateful for my baby. For some reason in our culture we perpetuate this belief that if you are sad about something you are not “grateful for all you have.” I cannot F*ING roll my eyes hard enough when people say that. YOU CAN BE SAD AND GRATEFUL AT THE SAME TIME. Stop telling people to be grateful, for the love of God. My therapist reminds me that this is the invisible type of grieving where no one brings you a casserole. There’s lots of invisible grieving because people are too damn afraid to be uncomfortable. If you disagree with that statement, it’s probably because having someone point it out makes you uncomfortable. I’m also worried about how my child will respond knowing he’s not genetically mine. Will he hate me for my choice? Will he be angry that he doesn’t know anything about his maternal biology? Will he want to find his biological donor? How will that make me feel? What terms will I choose to refer to our donor with our son? I worry that Catholics or other religious people will think of my child as an abomination or a great sin. I hope he never has to hear anyone say those things about him because those things are not true. I feel that my baby is far more of a gift than a naturally conceived baby. (Maybe that’s just a mother’s bias. Obviously, my baby will be way better than everyone else’s children). These worries seem so unfair. Even with all these not-so-positive feelings I do find room for excitement. When we found out our baby was a boy I could not have been more thrilled! I have always wanted a boy. I could already imagine Matt teaching him to play baseball and soccer (not that girls can’t do those things too). We’ve picked out a color for the nursery and have started baby registries (Target, Amazon, and Babies-r-Us –shameless plug in case anyone is wondering). These were all things I never thought I would be able to do. When I accidentally walk down “the wrong aisle” (aka the baby aisle), I don’t hyperventilate. Well…not for the same reason. Now I’m scouting sales on diapers instead of actively avoiding making eye contact with the baby on the boxes. I can’t wait to feel him kick. I’ve been having some fluttering feelings lately and I’m more than ready for full on kicks. I can’t wait for our next ultrasound. Getting weekly ultrasounds was quite addicting at the beginning. It has certainly been too long since our last one. Feelings associated with infertility will be something I have for the rest of my life. I think my feelings will evolve and become more complex as time goes on. I think it’s the same way when a close loved one dies. The sadness isn’t quite so painful every day after a period of time. Occasionally, there will be strong bouts of sadness and longing. For me, it’s also not just the inability to have children, but I have diseases that will make my life more physically uncomfortable and possibly shorter. I’m at a higher risk for early menopause, stroke, dementia, high blood pressure, etc. I will likely require more surgeries in the future and medication (ironically enough birth control pills) to manage my endometriosis. I think the general public is unaware that significant, life-altering diseases are the root cause of many cases of infertility. “What lies ahead, I have no way of knowin’, but under my feet baby, grass is growin’.” – Tom Petty
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Heather Joyce
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