Saturday, December 31, 2011
A Bedtime Rant
I'm not sure why, but tonight as I was getting ready for bed I kept thinking about the different ways people have responded to our news. And maybe it's simply because I'm pregnant, but no response seems to make me happy. When people say, "Oh how exciting," I want to throw a dose of reality in their faces and tell them how much this will cost us financially, physically, mentally, and emotionally. On the other hand, when people say, "You poor thing" or "Wow. That will be such a challenge," I want to tell them that we'll handle it. More than that, we'll make it look easy. Maybe it's because both types of people mirror my own feelings at one moment or another, but there has to be a better way. Why can't people ask how we feel instead of telling us how we should feel? Why not say, "Wow. That is amazing news. How are you feeling about it?" And I don't mean, "How is your husband handling it," which I already get quite frequently, as if the man will just faint like the husband in that stupid credit card commercial everyone and their mother asks us if we've seen the moment they hear we're having triplets. Trust me. We know this is big news. We're neither naive nor stupid, yet people keep asking, "What are they going to do?" and telling us how scared or excited we should be. Don't you think we already are those things? Don't you think that we already know this will be a challenge? We are two rational, college-educated people in their 30's for goodness sake. We are not a teenage couple whose birth control failed and is now blindly stumbling into parenthood. We planned this. We paid lots of money to get medical help doing it. We mentally prepared for twins. I'm sure we'll manage with triplets. So be supportive, be honest, be inquisitive, but stop trying to tell me how I should feel about becoming a mother of three.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
15 Going on 25
Today I begin week 15 of my pregnancy. It's a strange place to be because, for most women, they are only 1/3 of the way through their experience; but for me, it's more like half. Although we want to get much farther, my doctors would be happy if I reached 30 weeks. It's kind of the minimum safe zone for multiples. So I really shouldn't have been surprised to learn that I am "progressing" much faster than the average pregnant woman... much faster. This week, I was measured for the first time. Don't get me wrong, they "measure" just about everything else each time I go in for a visit (and they were only too cheery to note that the holiday season had helped me pack on some extra pounds), but this was the first time they measured my belly. Now, I had just done a visual belly comparison with my best friend who is only four days ahead of me in this process. We felt we looked pretty much the same. My belly seemed to start a little higher, but we seemed to stick out about the same amount. Au contraire. The nurse practitioner measured and then announced, "Well, you're measuring right at 25 weeks." Really?! That's 10 full weeks ahead of my actual gestation! No wonder I've been in maternity clothing since week 10! But I have to remember that I've got three times what normal women house in their bellies. Three babies with three sacks and, well, two placentas. That's a lot to shove in your abdomen.
Aside from this little shocker, this week has been a pretty good one baby-wise. Although I overdid it a bit during the holidays and am more sore than normal, I'm beginning to feel more confident in my body's ability to get us all through this pregnancy. This seems odd considering I've been in more pain, but the pain has been what I deem "normal" pregnancy discomfort. It's not pain that signals a problem. Instead, it signals shifts in my body that tell me that it is working to accommodate this new situation. I am still aware of the risk factors involved, but am less fearful of things going horribly wrong. We even came up with what we think will be a much better work plan for me - one that will allow me full pay (not disability pay) longer and hopefully give me a break that will make the last two full months of pregnancy easier... and perhaps even allow me to avoid much bed rest. The first baby shower is already being planned and my dad is booked to fly in around week 25 to help us with the nursery. Things are looking up.
I must admit, though, that it is still strange to look down and see a growing belly. (Most of us associate that with frustration and reestablished diet plans.) But it's even more bizarre to really think about why that belly is there - that there are three human beings growing in there. It's something that I know, but it's not something that I really fully grasp. I'm getting there, though. We're only a few weeks out from knowing the sexes of the babies and I think (despite all of my feminist leanings and disdain for gender roles) that will help me to feel more attached - like this is really truly real. And I hear that once I start to feel the babies move, reality really sets in. I'm not there yet, but each I get out of the shower and look at my profile in the mirror and really see the changes in my body, it becomes a little more real.
Aside from this little shocker, this week has been a pretty good one baby-wise. Although I overdid it a bit during the holidays and am more sore than normal, I'm beginning to feel more confident in my body's ability to get us all through this pregnancy. This seems odd considering I've been in more pain, but the pain has been what I deem "normal" pregnancy discomfort. It's not pain that signals a problem. Instead, it signals shifts in my body that tell me that it is working to accommodate this new situation. I am still aware of the risk factors involved, but am less fearful of things going horribly wrong. We even came up with what we think will be a much better work plan for me - one that will allow me full pay (not disability pay) longer and hopefully give me a break that will make the last two full months of pregnancy easier... and perhaps even allow me to avoid much bed rest. The first baby shower is already being planned and my dad is booked to fly in around week 25 to help us with the nursery. Things are looking up.
I must admit, though, that it is still strange to look down and see a growing belly. (Most of us associate that with frustration and reestablished diet plans.) But it's even more bizarre to really think about why that belly is there - that there are three human beings growing in there. It's something that I know, but it's not something that I really fully grasp. I'm getting there, though. We're only a few weeks out from knowing the sexes of the babies and I think (despite all of my feminist leanings and disdain for gender roles) that will help me to feel more attached - like this is really truly real. And I hear that once I start to feel the babies move, reality really sets in. I'm not there yet, but each I get out of the shower and look at my profile in the mirror and really see the changes in my body, it becomes a little more real.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Gratefulness
Last night, I met a very interesting woman. She is one of my mom's neighbors and, although it has been many years, when she was young she had five children in six years. Six entire years of being pregnant! I can't even imagine. And she said to me with a smile, "I never felt better than I did when I was pregnant." I am not that woman. I'll be honest. When I find women closer to my own age who tell me they loved being pregnant or they felt so fabulous during those nine months, I want to hurt them. I doubt their honesty. I have not felt good. And just when I crossed the twelve week mark and nausea started to subside, and I thought the end was in sight... no. It has returned. Now, in week fourteen, the dry heaving has resurfaced along with the nausea. I have headaches (and sometime migraines) just about every day. My allergies are having a field day... and there is very little I can do about any of this. Take ginger. Use heat packs. Take a Tylenol. Yeah, great. Like any of those things are as good as "real" drugs.
But then I hear of friends (far too many friends) who are having trouble conceiving or who are having legitimately challenging pregnancies and I have to take a step back. True, it took some medical intervention to get me knocked up, but it worked for us. (In fact, it worked a bit too well, if you ask me.) And true, I feel like I have low-grade flu 24/7, but that will end and we will hopefully have three healthy babies as payment. I can't say the same for everyone else in the world. That is something to be grateful for. And it brings some reality to our own pregnancy - things do not always work out as you had planned. Right now, we have more than we bargained for, but that could change in a heartbeat. Our perinatologist so kindly told us that 25% of multiples don't even make it to the 24 week "safe zone," which is a sobering statistic. But for now, I need to be grateful for each day that my peas have in their pod and show true kindness and love to those who are struggling because, well, it's the right thing to do and because it could just as easily have been us.
But then I hear of friends (far too many friends) who are having trouble conceiving or who are having legitimately challenging pregnancies and I have to take a step back. True, it took some medical intervention to get me knocked up, but it worked for us. (In fact, it worked a bit too well, if you ask me.) And true, I feel like I have low-grade flu 24/7, but that will end and we will hopefully have three healthy babies as payment. I can't say the same for everyone else in the world. That is something to be grateful for. And it brings some reality to our own pregnancy - things do not always work out as you had planned. Right now, we have more than we bargained for, but that could change in a heartbeat. Our perinatologist so kindly told us that 25% of multiples don't even make it to the 24 week "safe zone," which is a sobering statistic. But for now, I need to be grateful for each day that my peas have in their pod and show true kindness and love to those who are struggling because, well, it's the right thing to do and because it could just as easily have been us.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
And We're Public
* discovered infertility was the reason we weren't getting pregnant.
* decided to do InVitro Fertilization.
* transferred two blastocysts.
* were told we were having twins - both took!
* told in week 10 there was a third baby. My granddaddy's twin genes had apparently taken affect.
* much shock, changes in doctors and meetings with friends in the medical field.
* acceptance (for the most part) and lots and lots and lots of doctor's appointments.
At this point, we are feeling pretty optimistic. However, this week we met with our new perinatologist (a doctor who works with high risk pregnancies) and he told us about a lot of risks. I know his intent was to inform, but it also put a dark hue on the day. We were not naive to the risks of multiple gestation, but it's hard to hear a list of all of the bad or challenging things that you and your babies may have to endure in the upcoming months. But we realized that there is no use dwelling on the "what ifs," so onward we go!
This is my first (and ONLY) pregnancy, so I have no idea what is normal... and from what everyone tells me, nothing is normal when you're having triplets. And to have all this after IVF makes things even more unusual. But the weirdest thing for me is starting to show. Normally, this doesn't happen for women until 14-15 weeks, but I started to show around 11 weeks and really started to "feel" pregnant body-wise at 12 weeks. Stretching positions I used to do with ease, like the Child's Pose in yoga, have to be modified because there's this weird protrusion where my moderately flat stomach used to be. And it's not fat that can be squished one way or another - it's something else entirely.
It's also strange to think of all of the things we need in order to accommodate three little ones. There's the usual - three cribs, three high chairs - but then there are things you don't think about, like a car that fits three car seats safely in the backseat. Or like nursing accessories that help a bipedal mother with two of, well, everything important, care for and feed three babies. And a bathing system that will easily accommodate an "assembly line" of baby washing that also won't kill my back. Not to mention a house that can comfortably house five people and two dogs when ours is stuffed with two adults and dogs. This gets a little overwhelming, but we made our first step forward on Friday. Actually, I made that first step. I negotiated for and bought us (well, primarily myself - it will be my car officially) a crossover vehicle with third row seating: a 2008 Mazda CX-9. And I got a damn good deal on it, too. In fact, after 1 1/2 hours of negotiating, the manager actually wrote "you won" on the final offer. And although this car meant another car payment (mine was paid off entirely) it also made me feel more confident - like we had taken the first truly practical step in being able to handle this new stage in our lives. It made me more confident. Now, when people say, "Enjoy sleep now because you're not going to get any for a long time" or "Wow! The next few years are going to be really tough," I just want to tell them we can handle it. That we're going to make it look easy. I know it will be different and definitely challenging at times, but my perspective is finally starting to change from naysayer to go-getter, and that's a good feeling.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Mom x3
As usual, too much time has passed and I can't even begin to recount (for myself or posterity's sake) all of the things that have passed since I posted last. But here is a sad attempt to summarize: I went through the entire IVF process successfully. My hCG levels were off the charts, so we figured we'd be having twins. We were right. The week 8 ultrasound showed two sacks with two embryos, each with their own little fluttering hearts and swishing heartbeats. I got the official stamp to move out of specialist territory and into the world of "normal" pregnant women - my OBGYN's office. But when I went there for my week 10 check-up (on Tues Nov. 22), they found not two, but THREE embryos! The next day, I went to a radiologist to confirm and yes, now we are trying to prepare (in all definitions of the word) for THREE babies.
If you've been reading my blog, you know that I have been excited, but reluctant to become a parent. I have never felt that strong biological clock everyone loves to talk about, but we did have a draw towards parenthood. However, I never in my wildest dreams anticipated three babies - in my life, let alone all at once! This has been quite a shock and I'm not sure how successfully I've embraced it yet, but I'm working on it. My husband has been great - almost too great. He's been so optimistic that I almost wonder if he's had any doubts at all, which just seems unnatural to me. My sister was the only one who freaked out with me. That may seem like something a person who is panicking wouldn't want, but it was actually comforting to know that someone else saw the scariness in the situation. I'm sure it will all turn out to be great, but this is a strange, frightening and unknown road for us to travel. It seems only natural to feel some sort of trepidation. And feel it, I do. Luckily, we have some amazing friends and family around us, several of who are in the medical community and - go figure - in the same NICU at a local hospital. But we have others, too, who are familiar with facilities and doctors and are eager to help guide us towards the great places. That is comforting. (Not as comforting as getting some semblance of my body back after this ordeal, but it will have to do for now.)
For now, we're taking it one step at a time. I am grateful for the love and support around us and I'm sure I'll grow into this new role, but it may take me a little longer than I'd like. For now, I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that there are three wiggling, thumb-sucking little human beings in my body and that someday (soon), they are going to push out my belly, give me strange cravings and, God forbid, come out of my body to meet us and the rest of the world.
If you've been reading my blog, you know that I have been excited, but reluctant to become a parent. I have never felt that strong biological clock everyone loves to talk about, but we did have a draw towards parenthood. However, I never in my wildest dreams anticipated three babies - in my life, let alone all at once! This has been quite a shock and I'm not sure how successfully I've embraced it yet, but I'm working on it. My husband has been great - almost too great. He's been so optimistic that I almost wonder if he's had any doubts at all, which just seems unnatural to me. My sister was the only one who freaked out with me. That may seem like something a person who is panicking wouldn't want, but it was actually comforting to know that someone else saw the scariness in the situation. I'm sure it will all turn out to be great, but this is a strange, frightening and unknown road for us to travel. It seems only natural to feel some sort of trepidation. And feel it, I do. Luckily, we have some amazing friends and family around us, several of who are in the medical community and - go figure - in the same NICU at a local hospital. But we have others, too, who are familiar with facilities and doctors and are eager to help guide us towards the great places. That is comforting. (Not as comforting as getting some semblance of my body back after this ordeal, but it will have to do for now.)
For now, we're taking it one step at a time. I am grateful for the love and support around us and I'm sure I'll grow into this new role, but it may take me a little longer than I'd like. For now, I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that there are three wiggling, thumb-sucking little human beings in my body and that someday (soon), they are going to push out my belly, give me strange cravings and, God forbid, come out of my body to meet us and the rest of the world.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
When Do We Get Off?
It's been about two weeks since I've blogged and oh what a two weeks they've been. I started the first of my meds - Lupron - which is a subcutaneous shot done every evening. My husband has been graciously stabbing me in the stomach every night since Tuesday Sept. 13. Now that I'm doing it, the shots aren't so bad; but I was an emotional wreck the weekend prior. I got this good sized box in the mail with a mini-cooler in it with a vial of Lupron, a bunch of alcohol pads and a box of syringes. Thank God this has been a fast process because I don't know if I could have lasted much longer.
On the bright side, I haven't had many side effects. I wasn't sure what would happen to me or my body, but it hasn't been that bad. The worst thing is that the hormones seem to have me suspended in the worst part of my normal cycle - where I get migraines - and I'm not allowed to take Advil, which is my go-to drug. I was told on Tuesday that I can take Imitrex, which I was grateful to know since I got another migraine last night (Wed) but then wished I hadn't known because I felt absolutely miserable. Let's just say the migraine would have been a step up in the area of discomfort.
Aside from that, I've just been itchy. Not terribly itchy, but I'll find myself scratching my palms or wrist area, or the bottoms of my feet will drive me nuts. This is weird because I haven't found anything or anyone (including a pharmacist) who has found that as a side effect. It has continued now that I've started the Ghonal, but I didn't think much of it until today when I got an email from my boss that our campus has had an outbreak of Scabies. And what, you ask, is the primary indicator of Scabies? Itching! So I looked into that and I'm about 99% sure that my itching is unrelated and that I don't have little mites under my skin. Ewww! But seriously, what are the odds?!
But I've been trying to stay positive. It comes and goes. I wish I could say I'm happy all the time, but honestly, I think I'm pissed off more than anything. It may just be hormones, but I hate being angry all of the time. I want to be happy and optimistic, but that so often seems out of reach. Last weekend we did go look at a new baby store in town and it was fun to think of the possibilities. It is easy to get wrapped up in the procedures and forget why we're doing this, but the end result is scary, too, especially when we learned we have a 25% chance of twins since my body is in good shape fertility-wise. Ahh!
We've also told more people than we originally intended. I guess this is just a hard thing to keep quiet. It becomes such a part of your day-to-day life. Hopefully everything will work out for the best and we'll be confirming happy news instead of reporting to a dozen people why we're not pregnant. But it's weird that, no matter how many people we tell, I don't feel any more supported. Neither of my two closest friends have been checking in on me with any sense of regularity. In fact, I've gotten maybe one text from each of them since my first appointment nine days ago. And the other friends, I really only talk to when they're over. So, despite people knowing, support is low. My sister has been good at finding time to call and text, and my mom is always eager for an update, but doesn't want to bother me by calling. Apparently no one understands that I'd like for it to seem like people care. I'm not psychic. I don't know that you're thinking about me and I often feel alone in this process. My husband has been great, but it's not his body so it's not as constant for him. He can step away from it when he wants to, but I can't.
I don't want to dwell or harp or bitch, but this process can be overwhelming. If I was just doing this, it would be one thing, but I'm teaching four classes and am up by 6:30 am every morning. And I come home with lots of work - planning, essay-reading, grading - not to mention normal house work. Now I learn that I'm only going to know 36 hours in advance when my procedure is going to be and it will require me to take a day off. Taking a day off means planning ahead and having a sub lined up... but how do you line up a sub when you don't know what day you need him/her? My boss also doesn't know about this, so at what point do I tell her? And how much do I share? It's a lot to have on your mind at once and when I really think about it, I feel that panic set in and I don't know what to do. I don't think I've ever felt so much anxiety or felt so helpless and I didn't fully realize it until now. People say that the IVF process is stressful and that it's a roller coaster of emotion, but I've felt pretty good. I'm not on a ton of drugs and I haven't felt that abnormal. But when I sit down like to this to reflect, I realize that I have been stressed. I have been on a roller coaster. I suppose it's to be expected, but this is one ride I'll be glad I got on, but I'll be even happier to get off.
On the bright side, I haven't had many side effects. I wasn't sure what would happen to me or my body, but it hasn't been that bad. The worst thing is that the hormones seem to have me suspended in the worst part of my normal cycle - where I get migraines - and I'm not allowed to take Advil, which is my go-to drug. I was told on Tuesday that I can take Imitrex, which I was grateful to know since I got another migraine last night (Wed) but then wished I hadn't known because I felt absolutely miserable. Let's just say the migraine would have been a step up in the area of discomfort.
Aside from that, I've just been itchy. Not terribly itchy, but I'll find myself scratching my palms or wrist area, or the bottoms of my feet will drive me nuts. This is weird because I haven't found anything or anyone (including a pharmacist) who has found that as a side effect. It has continued now that I've started the Ghonal, but I didn't think much of it until today when I got an email from my boss that our campus has had an outbreak of Scabies. And what, you ask, is the primary indicator of Scabies? Itching! So I looked into that and I'm about 99% sure that my itching is unrelated and that I don't have little mites under my skin. Ewww! But seriously, what are the odds?!
But I've been trying to stay positive. It comes and goes. I wish I could say I'm happy all the time, but honestly, I think I'm pissed off more than anything. It may just be hormones, but I hate being angry all of the time. I want to be happy and optimistic, but that so often seems out of reach. Last weekend we did go look at a new baby store in town and it was fun to think of the possibilities. It is easy to get wrapped up in the procedures and forget why we're doing this, but the end result is scary, too, especially when we learned we have a 25% chance of twins since my body is in good shape fertility-wise. Ahh!
We've also told more people than we originally intended. I guess this is just a hard thing to keep quiet. It becomes such a part of your day-to-day life. Hopefully everything will work out for the best and we'll be confirming happy news instead of reporting to a dozen people why we're not pregnant. But it's weird that, no matter how many people we tell, I don't feel any more supported. Neither of my two closest friends have been checking in on me with any sense of regularity. In fact, I've gotten maybe one text from each of them since my first appointment nine days ago. And the other friends, I really only talk to when they're over. So, despite people knowing, support is low. My sister has been good at finding time to call and text, and my mom is always eager for an update, but doesn't want to bother me by calling. Apparently no one understands that I'd like for it to seem like people care. I'm not psychic. I don't know that you're thinking about me and I often feel alone in this process. My husband has been great, but it's not his body so it's not as constant for him. He can step away from it when he wants to, but I can't.
I don't want to dwell or harp or bitch, but this process can be overwhelming. If I was just doing this, it would be one thing, but I'm teaching four classes and am up by 6:30 am every morning. And I come home with lots of work - planning, essay-reading, grading - not to mention normal house work. Now I learn that I'm only going to know 36 hours in advance when my procedure is going to be and it will require me to take a day off. Taking a day off means planning ahead and having a sub lined up... but how do you line up a sub when you don't know what day you need him/her? My boss also doesn't know about this, so at what point do I tell her? And how much do I share? It's a lot to have on your mind at once and when I really think about it, I feel that panic set in and I don't know what to do. I don't think I've ever felt so much anxiety or felt so helpless and I didn't fully realize it until now. People say that the IVF process is stressful and that it's a roller coaster of emotion, but I've felt pretty good. I'm not on a ton of drugs and I haven't felt that abnormal. But when I sit down like to this to reflect, I realize that I have been stressed. I have been on a roller coaster. I suppose it's to be expected, but this is one ride I'll be glad I got on, but I'll be even happier to get off.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Deep Breaths
In the past two weeks, I have visited the ER for blood work, had a vaginal ultrasound, taken medications, had an X-Ray of my uterus, and consulted with my fertility doctor about our IVF schedule. Today, I received my temperature controlled box of medication and syringes. And in the next three weeks I will have my blood drawn at least three times and have a minimum of two doctor's appointments. And in that fourth week? That's when IVF will occur. Needless to say, I'm feeling a little anxious.
With this last visit, I received a lot of information, but one specific sheet was about stress. It said that women preparing to undergo IVF often have the same stress levels of a person undergoing treatment for a terminal illness. This is not comforting, but it is reassuring that I'm not going nuts. Yesterday, I was nauseous from the time of our appointment until I went to sleep. I kept sighing every 5-10 minutes. I took a lot of deep breaths. But right before I went to bed, I asked myself, "why are you so stressed out?" I couldn't really answer. For many women, the procedures themselves are the scary part. So many people don't like doctors and hospitals that the thought of blood being taken or going in for outpatient surgery sends them through the roof. But I'm not that way. It's not that I enjoy having medical work done, but I don't dread it, either. Is it the shots? Perhaps. I have to say the prospect of stabbing myself in the stomach every day for a while, and then twice a day for a while after that, does not leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling. But I'm sure once I've done it once or twice, the fear of the unknown will vanish and it will become just another minor procedure. Perhaps it's impending parenthood and the stresses of actually being pregnant. That is something that seems daunting, too. I guess the bottom line is that I'm scared of the unknown.
So how do I relieve that stress? How do I make myself not anxious or afraid of what's ahead? I am not generally an anxious person, but this is different. But I am also told that I need to minimize stress during all of this. Easy for them to say! They're not teaching four eight-week classes and having people shove stuff into veins and orifices every few days! They say communication, yoga, and deep breathing will help. But I'm doing these things and my stomach still feels like a tight ball in my torso. I now have a box of needles and a vial of medication in my refrigerator, which I'm going to see every day when I open up the door to get a snack. But I don't even have to open the door to be reminded of this. I have paperwork to sign, tests to take, reminders on my phone... not to mention dietary restrictions and the changes that are already going on in my body. I want to be excited about this - the process and the intended result. I've written about keeping an emotional buffer, but we've talked about the need to be excited. To not expect the worse and celebrate the possibilities. But I don't even know how to do that! I bought a really cool book called The Pregnant Body, which I've been reading. But in my head, the only real thing is the next step, whether it's the meds, an appointment or a procedure. And then there is work... and time off in week four... and...
How do you turn off your brain and just do what needs to be done? My husband has been great thus far and he wants to be my "rock," so that when I feel lost or confused (or name any other love song cliche) I can (wait for it) lean on him. This is great, but sometimes it makes him seem detached. Perhaps he is detached. I mean, it's not his body. He may have to help give me shots, but they're not going in his belly. His hormones aren't going to go crazy. He's not going to get morning sickness or watch his belly grow exponentially!
But I want to be happy about all of this. And I think I am, beneath all of the panic. I want my friends (those who we've told) to be excited, and they probably are beneath the distractions of their own lives. I want to accept that this is happening - that we have chosen it (and are paying a lot for this choice) - and enjoy it through all of it's stages. Maybe if I keep writing, saying, and thinking this mantra, it will be true. And in between the mantra? Lots of deep breaths.
With this last visit, I received a lot of information, but one specific sheet was about stress. It said that women preparing to undergo IVF often have the same stress levels of a person undergoing treatment for a terminal illness. This is not comforting, but it is reassuring that I'm not going nuts. Yesterday, I was nauseous from the time of our appointment until I went to sleep. I kept sighing every 5-10 minutes. I took a lot of deep breaths. But right before I went to bed, I asked myself, "why are you so stressed out?" I couldn't really answer. For many women, the procedures themselves are the scary part. So many people don't like doctors and hospitals that the thought of blood being taken or going in for outpatient surgery sends them through the roof. But I'm not that way. It's not that I enjoy having medical work done, but I don't dread it, either. Is it the shots? Perhaps. I have to say the prospect of stabbing myself in the stomach every day for a while, and then twice a day for a while after that, does not leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling. But I'm sure once I've done it once or twice, the fear of the unknown will vanish and it will become just another minor procedure. Perhaps it's impending parenthood and the stresses of actually being pregnant. That is something that seems daunting, too. I guess the bottom line is that I'm scared of the unknown.
So how do I relieve that stress? How do I make myself not anxious or afraid of what's ahead? I am not generally an anxious person, but this is different. But I am also told that I need to minimize stress during all of this. Easy for them to say! They're not teaching four eight-week classes and having people shove stuff into veins and orifices every few days! They say communication, yoga, and deep breathing will help. But I'm doing these things and my stomach still feels like a tight ball in my torso. I now have a box of needles and a vial of medication in my refrigerator, which I'm going to see every day when I open up the door to get a snack. But I don't even have to open the door to be reminded of this. I have paperwork to sign, tests to take, reminders on my phone... not to mention dietary restrictions and the changes that are already going on in my body. I want to be excited about this - the process and the intended result. I've written about keeping an emotional buffer, but we've talked about the need to be excited. To not expect the worse and celebrate the possibilities. But I don't even know how to do that! I bought a really cool book called The Pregnant Body, which I've been reading. But in my head, the only real thing is the next step, whether it's the meds, an appointment or a procedure. And then there is work... and time off in week four... and...
How do you turn off your brain and just do what needs to be done? My husband has been great thus far and he wants to be my "rock," so that when I feel lost or confused (or name any other love song cliche) I can (wait for it) lean on him. This is great, but sometimes it makes him seem detached. Perhaps he is detached. I mean, it's not his body. He may have to help give me shots, but they're not going in his belly. His hormones aren't going to go crazy. He's not going to get morning sickness or watch his belly grow exponentially!
But I want to be happy about all of this. And I think I am, beneath all of the panic. I want my friends (those who we've told) to be excited, and they probably are beneath the distractions of their own lives. I want to accept that this is happening - that we have chosen it (and are paying a lot for this choice) - and enjoy it through all of it's stages. Maybe if I keep writing, saying, and thinking this mantra, it will be true. And in between the mantra? Lots of deep breaths.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Moving Forward
Things have been moving pretty quickly around here, both in the fertility world and my professional world. We started a new teaching session, which included a fourth class I wasn't previously aware of (which I've never taught, by the way). So things have been a bit overwhelming. On the fertility side, I started my cycle on Friday, which meant I had to visit the ER for blood work on Sunday. This was unfortunate for several reasons, the largest being financial. I was warned that ERs often don't run the lab work through your insurance and instead charge you the full amount and leave the rest up to you. And this is exactly what happened. Luckily, the warning prepared me so that I didn't try to rip someone's head off when I was told to pay $563.72. I simply smiled, handed the guy my card and went on to have my blood drawn. However, when I went to my ultrasound, the employees at the specialist's office were appalled. I'm am, hence, in the process of getting the necessary information in order to get a reimbursement.
The rest of the ultrasound appointment was, however, good news. We think that my side of the fertility game is okay, but we don't know it. This started to confirm our hopes. When I first met with the specialist, he said they harvest all of the viable eggs when the time comes, and that number is generally around fifteen. So when the nurse who was counting my follicles moved into double digits on just one ovary, I was feeling pretty good. My total ended up around thirty, which is (from what I am told) a pretty high number. But follicles don't necessarily mean good eggs. They just mean the possibility of good eggs. I have an X-ray scheduled for next Tuesday to see if the rest of my system looks as good as my initial ultrasound. Then, we meet with the specialist again the following Friday and, if all looks good, we proceed with the IVF. That means that we could be pregnant by the end of September! That is so so so crazy!
It's hard to know how to feel about all of this. Things look good, which is very encouraging; but it's easy to get lost in the medical side of everything and to forget the end goal. Sometimes I even have a hard time saying the word "baby" out loud. It is something I want (most of the time), but it still scares me to think of it as a reality. Just thinking about the next appointment, the next test, and what our options are makes the entire thing more logical and I remain more detached. And in some ways that is a good thing. Despite the time, effort and money, nothing is guaranteed to us. This makes some amount of detachment healthy, right? I don't want to be so wrapped up in the idea of becoming a mother that I am completely crushed if things don't work out, which I've seen both with people undergoing IVF and the normal pregnancy process. But at what point does the detachment become a problem? When does it stop being a healthy sense of protection and move into denial or the ignoring of reality? Should I think about fun things like baby names and nursery decor or will that leave me too vulnerable for disappointment? I don't know, but I wish I did. For now, I think I'll stick with detachment but dabble a little in dreaming for the future. Hopefully, this will allow me to find a decent balance and, of course, we hope it will all end in good tears.
The rest of the ultrasound appointment was, however, good news. We think that my side of the fertility game is okay, but we don't know it. This started to confirm our hopes. When I first met with the specialist, he said they harvest all of the viable eggs when the time comes, and that number is generally around fifteen. So when the nurse who was counting my follicles moved into double digits on just one ovary, I was feeling pretty good. My total ended up around thirty, which is (from what I am told) a pretty high number. But follicles don't necessarily mean good eggs. They just mean the possibility of good eggs. I have an X-ray scheduled for next Tuesday to see if the rest of my system looks as good as my initial ultrasound. Then, we meet with the specialist again the following Friday and, if all looks good, we proceed with the IVF. That means that we could be pregnant by the end of September! That is so so so crazy!
It's hard to know how to feel about all of this. Things look good, which is very encouraging; but it's easy to get lost in the medical side of everything and to forget the end goal. Sometimes I even have a hard time saying the word "baby" out loud. It is something I want (most of the time), but it still scares me to think of it as a reality. Just thinking about the next appointment, the next test, and what our options are makes the entire thing more logical and I remain more detached. And in some ways that is a good thing. Despite the time, effort and money, nothing is guaranteed to us. This makes some amount of detachment healthy, right? I don't want to be so wrapped up in the idea of becoming a mother that I am completely crushed if things don't work out, which I've seen both with people undergoing IVF and the normal pregnancy process. But at what point does the detachment become a problem? When does it stop being a healthy sense of protection and move into denial or the ignoring of reality? Should I think about fun things like baby names and nursery decor or will that leave me too vulnerable for disappointment? I don't know, but I wish I did. For now, I think I'll stick with detachment but dabble a little in dreaming for the future. Hopefully, this will allow me to find a decent balance and, of course, we hope it will all end in good tears.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Ch-ch-ch-Changes
I'm not a control freak, but I do a lot of mental planning and I'll admit that a lot of my moodiness is a direct result of mental plans gone awry. Well, I had a more-than-mental plan. I knew how many classes I would be teaching during the next eight weeks and, although it was a little daunting, I was able to mentally juggle the start of my cycle, the driving back and forth to the specialist, the extra workload (I was taking on an extra class for a little pay boost) and normal spousal and household chores. Then, I started spotting and I got nervous. But I recovered... for the most part. But today I was told that I had been assigned an additional class and that this had happened a while ago, but somehow was never communicated to me. This class means extra hours and lunch away from home two days a week. It's not a big deal, but it's more than I was mentally prepared for. But then tonight I was told that, in addition to this being a fourth class and a class I haven't taught before, there may be nine students video conferencing their way into my classroom from another campus each week. Now I'm responsible for two classes worth of students, for a class I've never taught... and I'm going to be on video. This is not what I signed up for. I'll make it work - I always do - but right now I'm feeling very panicky and overwhelmed. I desperately want for my cycle to start so that I can at least know time frames for upcoming procedures. I feel so out of control. It's not like the entire IFV process wasn't taking the control away from me before. Now my professional life is going haywire. I know it will work out in the end, but in this moment I can't see the path. All I see are obstacles and detours and lots of essays to grade. Right now, I am not looking forward to this.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Deep End
With treatment ever nearing, money has been on my mind. Well, it's been on both of our minds, really. We have a pretty good system in place for the IVF procedures, but we currently have debt, so things compound and leave a bleak fiscal future. Luckily, we both have stable full time work that pays well, but our current debt plus the $11,000-$15,000 price tag for medical stuff (not to mention normal pregnancy and baby stuff should everything go as planned) makes everything a little daunting. But today, I was incredibly optimistic. I wanted to be productive and was productive. I listed some stuff to sell online and got a bunch of chores done around the house. Hopefully, some of that will pay off, but we'll have to wait and see. I'm still optimistic, even about the money, but I think my husband feels the weight a little more heavily. I hope things fall into place so that we can be reassured that we can truly handle this financially.
Then, to further emphasize all of the seesawing emotions as of late, I began spotting today. (I know. It's not something I would normally write about, but you can't really shy away from menstruation when you're writing about fertility.) Now, my cycle is and has always been pretty abnormal, so this could just be the very early signs of things to come, things which might not come for another week or longer, but it was still a wake-up call. This is really happening. We are really making this decision.
It's weird how cerebral the process becomes when it can't happen naturally. For many couples, there is one night of passion perhaps fueled by the idea of becoming a family and then boom, you're pregnant. Barring some sort of intervention, there is no turning back. Not so for us. We got the first step - the passion and idea (which was really more panic-stricken for me, if I'm truly honest). Then, we had the belabored steps of testing, waiting, testing, waiting, more testing, more waiting, and then options. Then, there was the appointment with the specialist. This was more serious, but it was still a choice. Now I know the plan, but it's not fully in motion yet. I got the meds in anticipation, but this could stop at any moment. We could weigh the options (and we have) and decide it's not worth the costs. Passion comes and goes. Sometimes, I'm 100% sure. Other times, I think we're nuts. But every time, I've come back to this as the right decision. But that's it... it is a decision and it's one we are making over and over again.
Sometimes I wish for that boom and your committed sort of thing. In many ways, it would be so much easier. But this way almost seems more natural for us. My husband and I are very logical people. We think through options. We plan finances. We muse over gifts, friends, patio furniture... whatever decision is currently on the horizon. It seems almost apropos that we had to make the decision to procreate in this way. And since we have both come very slowly into this idea of wanting to be parents, I think it's given us good time to adjust. I used to have short bursts of panic any time my husband would talk about making a baby. I'm sure for some women, that's great foreplay. Not for me! It was like a big red STOP button. But now, I feel more certain of the decision. It's less the novelty of parenthood - decorating the nursery, picking a name, getting to eat more than I should without being ridiculed, getting cute pregnancy clothes (because they are cute now, thank God). Now it's more of the long-term decisions. The desire to be good parents and grow up a well rounded kid (or kids). And aren't those better reasons to venture into parenthood? We would have gotten there eventually, even with a quick natural conception, but I think I needed to baby-step (no pun intended) into this whole "I'm gonna be a mommy" thing. But now we're out of the kiddie pool and getting to the edge of the diving board. My toes are curled over the end and I'm peering cautiously into the waters of the deep end. There is that sense of excitement - that desire to jump headlong into the sparkling waters. To feel the cool rush of wind, then water. To know the exhilaration of the moment. But there's still that underlying fear. The "what if" and the thought of dark and scary things lurking beneath the drain. But as a kid, I always jumped. I fought the fear of that dark speck, the fear of falling, of helplessness. I always jumped... and I was always glad I did. I suppose I should, as an adult, have at least the amount of courage I had as a kid. So... here goes.
Then, to further emphasize all of the seesawing emotions as of late, I began spotting today. (I know. It's not something I would normally write about, but you can't really shy away from menstruation when you're writing about fertility.) Now, my cycle is and has always been pretty abnormal, so this could just be the very early signs of things to come, things which might not come for another week or longer, but it was still a wake-up call. This is really happening. We are really making this decision.
It's weird how cerebral the process becomes when it can't happen naturally. For many couples, there is one night of passion perhaps fueled by the idea of becoming a family and then boom, you're pregnant. Barring some sort of intervention, there is no turning back. Not so for us. We got the first step - the passion and idea (which was really more panic-stricken for me, if I'm truly honest). Then, we had the belabored steps of testing, waiting, testing, waiting, more testing, more waiting, and then options. Then, there was the appointment with the specialist. This was more serious, but it was still a choice. Now I know the plan, but it's not fully in motion yet. I got the meds in anticipation, but this could stop at any moment. We could weigh the options (and we have) and decide it's not worth the costs. Passion comes and goes. Sometimes, I'm 100% sure. Other times, I think we're nuts. But every time, I've come back to this as the right decision. But that's it... it is a decision and it's one we are making over and over again.
Sometimes I wish for that boom and your committed sort of thing. In many ways, it would be so much easier. But this way almost seems more natural for us. My husband and I are very logical people. We think through options. We plan finances. We muse over gifts, friends, patio furniture... whatever decision is currently on the horizon. It seems almost apropos that we had to make the decision to procreate in this way. And since we have both come very slowly into this idea of wanting to be parents, I think it's given us good time to adjust. I used to have short bursts of panic any time my husband would talk about making a baby. I'm sure for some women, that's great foreplay. Not for me! It was like a big red STOP button. But now, I feel more certain of the decision. It's less the novelty of parenthood - decorating the nursery, picking a name, getting to eat more than I should without being ridiculed, getting cute pregnancy clothes (because they are cute now, thank God). Now it's more of the long-term decisions. The desire to be good parents and grow up a well rounded kid (or kids). And aren't those better reasons to venture into parenthood? We would have gotten there eventually, even with a quick natural conception, but I think I needed to baby-step (no pun intended) into this whole "I'm gonna be a mommy" thing. But now we're out of the kiddie pool and getting to the edge of the diving board. My toes are curled over the end and I'm peering cautiously into the waters of the deep end. There is that sense of excitement - that desire to jump headlong into the sparkling waters. To feel the cool rush of wind, then water. To know the exhilaration of the moment. But there's still that underlying fear. The "what if" and the thought of dark and scary things lurking beneath the drain. But as a kid, I always jumped. I fought the fear of that dark speck, the fear of falling, of helplessness. I always jumped... and I was always glad I did. I suppose I should, as an adult, have at least the amount of courage I had as a kid. So... here goes.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Change
This entire process is so surreal... and it's making me feel a bit bipolar. I haven't even started, well, anything yet and I find myself moving from one end of the emotional spectrum to the next each and every day. On Wed, I woke up feeling pretty good, but found myself on the verge of tears reading birthday cards for my sister. Talk about a walking cliche! And this is me WITHOUT the hormone treatment! My God, how will I be in a few weeks? And today, I've been thinking about how I'd love to just start my period so we could get into the process, but now just lying on the couch I started to panic. I've never had any issues with anxiety, but I could feel it rising in my body - from my stomach to my chest - and my heart began to race. Ugh! But I'm feeling better now. It's amazing how cathartic writing can be.
It's so weird to want something you have never wanted before. I think that's at the root of this. I am so accustomed to not wanting a child that I can't convince myself of our current path all of the time. Sometimes that other part of me comes through and I panic. Our lives are good right now. We have a routine. Our marriage is good. Why add something to complicate it? But them again, why not spice it up? Why not bring someone else into something good, especially when kids are exposed to so much hardship these days? That brings me comfort. I know we're making the right choice, but it's such a big choice. Sometimes I simply have to remind myself that it IS a good choice.
It's so weird to want something you have never wanted before. I think that's at the root of this. I am so accustomed to not wanting a child that I can't convince myself of our current path all of the time. Sometimes that other part of me comes through and I panic. Our lives are good right now. We have a routine. Our marriage is good. Why add something to complicate it? But them again, why not spice it up? Why not bring someone else into something good, especially when kids are exposed to so much hardship these days? That brings me comfort. I know we're making the right choice, but it's such a big choice. Sometimes I simply have to remind myself that it IS a good choice.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Support & Fading Optimism
Tuesday simply flew by. It is only now, at 12:30 am on Wed., that I find myself taking time to blog. It's been a good day, but busy. I suppose that is a good thing, though. When I'm busy, I can't dwell things - either the good or the bad.
I did get to share my story with my best friend, though. For other reasons, it had been several weeks since we had spoken and I preferred to share our news face-to-face since she lives so near to us. Unlike my sister, whose first response was to make sure I was certain of our decision (in a loving way), my best friend simply hugged me and asked for the details. I suppose that's what sisters and best friends are supposed to do, right? The sister is there to first make sure you're not jumping into anything and then be your support. The best friend is just there when you need her. I found both to be comforting.
Our conversation did, however, make me a little more leery of the upcoming hormone treatments I know I'll have to begin in a matter of weeks. I suppose I've looked upon them with optimistic naivete, but now they seem more ominous - more looming. It won't deter me from the process, but the reality is ever so slowly creeping into my consciousness. But I suppose that's a good thing, too. It's better not to go into the process all smiles and optimism only to be confronted by wildly fluctuating hormones and miscellaneous side effects. And if I am granted a relatively pain and roller coaster free experience? Then I can only be pleasantly relieved.
Here's to more waiting!
I did get to share my story with my best friend, though. For other reasons, it had been several weeks since we had spoken and I preferred to share our news face-to-face since she lives so near to us. Unlike my sister, whose first response was to make sure I was certain of our decision (in a loving way), my best friend simply hugged me and asked for the details. I suppose that's what sisters and best friends are supposed to do, right? The sister is there to first make sure you're not jumping into anything and then be your support. The best friend is just there when you need her. I found both to be comforting.
Our conversation did, however, make me a little more leery of the upcoming hormone treatments I know I'll have to begin in a matter of weeks. I suppose I've looked upon them with optimistic naivete, but now they seem more ominous - more looming. It won't deter me from the process, but the reality is ever so slowly creeping into my consciousness. But I suppose that's a good thing, too. It's better not to go into the process all smiles and optimism only to be confronted by wildly fluctuating hormones and miscellaneous side effects. And if I am granted a relatively pain and roller coaster free experience? Then I can only be pleasantly relieved.
Here's to more waiting!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Perspective
Today has been a weird day, full of ups and downs. This isn’t terribly abnormal for me, but now my thoughts bounce back and forth between various baby and medically themed things. I woke up optimistic and in a good mood, which is not normal for me. (I am quite the grouch in the morning.) I’m not sure when my mental tide changed, but it did and on my drive home from work this morning, I found myself thinking of previous conversations I have had with friends about the whole idea of Invitro and even the extreme measures we can take these days to preserve the life of a child/preemie who, in nature, isn’t equipped to live. It wasn’t long ago that I proclaimed that, even if we were deemed infertile, I was sure we wouldn’t take the medical route - that we would adopt or simply concede to a life without offspring. But somewhere along the way our plan, like my mood, changed.
I suppose it’s because this is a male problem and, even though the process involves my body (to a much higher degree than I had originally anticipated), it seems more natural to help a little swimmer reach it’s goal than to manipulate a woman’s body that is not willing to generate new life. But is there really a difference? On the one hand, technology is an amazing thing and we should take advantage of it, right? But on the other, if there is a legitimate reason why anyone’s body puts up a fight or shuts down in the procreative process, shouldn’t that tell us something? I use to think so, but when you’re on the other end of the argument (the side looking at the growing list of pregnant friends and imagining that never happening to you) it becomes difficult to see things the same way. I suppose that’s true for many things. If only we could experience life situations from multiple perspectives, this world would be a better, more empathetic, place. But I digress.
For now, I’m in a bit of a funk. Perhaps it’s because I started developing symptoms of PMS yesterday. Perhaps that is making the reality of this – and it’s rapidly approaching start date – more present… more, real. It’s not that I’m not excited to get this started. In fact, I think it’s breathing new life into my marriage – giving us a new thing to look forward to and plan together. And I think that’s healthy. But it is a daunting task. There are lots of meds, trips out to the doctor, medical bills… and I’ve only told one person that we’ve begun this journey. (Other than you, my curious reader.) There is fear there, too. First, fear in making it real by talking about it with someone, face to face. Fear in the idea that our attempts may fail and we would have to admit that to people other than ourselves. But there is also joy and healing in the process of telling. That’s why I started this blog in the first place. It is cathartic to put into words complicated emotions and hear responses, feedback, praise, questions… whatever… from people you love and trust. So maybe sharing is at least part of the answer. And maybe it just comes with the territory. This is a monumental decision and if we took it lightly – felt no joy, fear, anxiety, excitement – I think that would speak volumes about us. So I am grateful for the emotions and grateful for the technology that allows me to share them. And when happiness isn’t realistic, I think gratefulness is a fantastic place to start.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Journey of a Thousand Miles
This last week, I had my first appointment with a fertility specialist. Our issue is actually male infertility, but since my body will do most of the work, I have the honor of getting worked on. Joy. There aren’t a whole lot of fertility specialists in our area and we had heard of other people going to larger cities hours away, but we were recommended to one and decided to try it. I was nervous and excited. I didn’t know what the appointment would entail, so I primped and primed my girly parts as best I could, took a few really deep breaths and went. I turned out, the doctor barely even touched me. (All that shaving for nothing. Geez!) But I really liked him… and his staff… and his office. And I suppose there will be enough physical manipulation in due time, right?
So for those of you as uninformed as I was, here’s the plan. The first step is starting a new menstrual cycle. In fact, I have to call the office as soon as I start my period. I’ve never had to announce this news to anyone, let alone office staff, but I’ll do as I’m told. Then, within ten days I’m going to have about five tests: blood work, ultrasound, X-rays of my girlie parts, etc. The tests will tell them if there’s anything wrong with me. And then, the meds. Apparently there is about a $5,000 gap between “basically normal fertile female” and “damn that girl’s girlie parts are screwy.” I really hope I’m on the conservative side of this spectrum because nothing about this process is cheap.
We know we’re looking at a specific type of Invitro Fertilization (IVF) called Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection (ICSE for short) which involves the normal IVF harvesting of my eggs, but adds the manual selection of individual sperm and insertion of said sperm into my eggs (externally, of course). Sounds like fun, huh? And despite all of this, I left the doctor feeling excited, relieved and somewhat eager. There was comfort in knowing that we had a plan and we were taking the first steps. I had been feeling down for a while (I have struggled with mild clinical depression in the past) but I feel better than I have in a long time. Perhaps it’s just the newness, but I hope not. Maybe this is part of my larger purpose in life, even though it’s something I’ve never felt pulled towards. I’ve never felt my biological clock ticking and I’ve only held a couple of babies in my entire lifetime. But there must be sometehing to this parenting thing if so many generations have done it. (And we’ve had birth control for decades now, so don’t give me that bullshit.) And it may be that all of this effort and money leaves us with nothing but a failed attempt, but I still find hope in that. So… onward and upward! Here’s to my next menstrual cycle. May it come speed and significance! Excelsior!!
The Beginning
Welcome to my blog! I have started this primarily as free therapy for myself and to document the ups and downs of the next however many months of my life. So… where to begin?
I have been married for ten years now. We were one of many friends who got married around the same time, but while they were popping out kids, we were getting our first dog. We both attended college for undergraduate and graduate work and really had little desire for a family that went beyond our four-legged companions and us. When people would ask us about kids, we’d say “maybe… eventually.” But in the last couple of years our response has gotten a little more favorable and we’ve talked about kids as more of an eventual probability than a possibility. And last year – in May 2010 – we decided to throw caution to the wind and start trying. And we did… but nothing happened.
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