So I totally stole this off of the Fertile Thoughts webpage, but I thought it was incredibly touching.
"What do I think God meant when he gave me infertility?”
Couples experiencing infertility often receive well-meaning but extremely insensitive "advice." We can all list the most popular ones: "Just relax and you'll get pregnant," or "adopt and you'll get pregnant," or "things happen for a reason", of the most painful from those who think they've got the goods on God's plan, "Maybe God never meant for you to have children." The sheer audacity of making a statement like that never fails to amaze me.
"These same people would never walk up to someone seeking treatment for cancer and say, "Maybe God never meant for you to live." However, because I am infertile, I'm supposed to get on with my life. It's hard to understand that people can not see infertility for what it is, a disease for which I have to seek treatment. What if Jonas Salk had said to the parents of polio victims,
"Maybe God meant for thousands of our children to be cripples, live in an iron lung or die." What if he'd never tried to find a cure? Who could think for one minute that that was God's plan?
"What do I think God meant when he gave me infertility?
"I think he meant for my husband and I to grow closer, become stronger, love deeper. I think God meant for us to find the fortitude within ourselves to get up every time infertility knocks us down. I think God meant for our medical community to discover medicines, invent medical equipment, create procedures and protocols. I think God meant for us to find a cure for infertility.
"No, God never meant for me not to have children. That's not my destiny; that's just a fork in the road I'm on. I've been placed on the road less traveled, and, like it or not, I'm a better person for it. Clearly, God meant for me to develop more compassion, deeper courage, and greater inner strength on this journey to resolution, and I haven't let him down.
"Frankly, if the truth be known, I think God has singled me out for a special treatment. I think God meant for me to build a thirst for a child so strong and so deep that when that baby is finally placed in my arms, it will be the longest, coolest, most refreshing drink I've ever known.
"While I would never choose infertility, I can not deny that a fertile woman could never know the joy that awaits me. Yes, one way or another, I will have a baby of my own. And the next time someone wants to offer me unsolicited advice I'll say, "Don't tell me what God meant when he handed me infertility. I already know."
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Someone else's hands
Tomorrow is our IUI consultation with our fertility clinic. I'm very nervous and Jason and I are very excited. My nervousness stems from the fact that every time I walk in the door at the practice, I'm given loads of information that takes my tired mind a week (at minumum) to process. The reasoning behind the excitement is a lot easier to pinpoint.
So.... tonight, I'm channeling my nervous energy into something semi-productive. Well, it is productive, but I really should be fixing the button on the slacks I want to wear to work tomorrow. I'm taking the tangible portion of the aforementioned "loads of information" and getting organized. So I sit beside what was an hour ago a mash of patient information packets, consents, clinic policies, lab work results, surgical findings, and parking receipts --- I honestly do feel better. My theory is that if the papers containing all of the overwhelming information are in order in the notebook, the little clouds of knowledge in my mind will somehow file themselves away neatly as well. I know that tomorrow brings with it the hope of a child, but also more information than I could possibly hope to wrap my mind around in the week it usually takes me -- I think I'll set a goal of two weeks for myself on this one -- that is if I've got that kind of time. I'm on CD 24 tomorrow. Clomid will start anyday, and I'm happy that Calee ventured there first. Fear of the unknown sucks.
My surgery was 9 days ago. Because of an iodine allergy, my doctor and Jason and I chose to do a laproscopic hysterscopy to be sure my tubes were open before we spent thousands of dollars on IUI and donor sperm. My iodine allergy, oddly enough, turned out to be a godsend. My doctor was able to find what she may have been able to see on a hysterosalpingogram, but would not have been able to correct: uterine polyps, stage I endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. All of which she was able to take care of while I was in the diagnostic surgery. Great news, but all shocking for Jason, who (along with me) believes that the only news he would receive was that my tubes were open. They are, by the way. So between God and Dr. Mitchell-Leef, I hope they can get me pregnant.
As I await tomorrow's exacting instructions from Dr. M-L and the clinic, I'm just glad it's in someone else's hands. Two pretty damn smart someone elses at that.
So.... tonight, I'm channeling my nervous energy into something semi-productive. Well, it is productive, but I really should be fixing the button on the slacks I want to wear to work tomorrow. I'm taking the tangible portion of the aforementioned "loads of information" and getting organized. So I sit beside what was an hour ago a mash of patient information packets, consents, clinic policies, lab work results, surgical findings, and parking receipts --- I honestly do feel better. My theory is that if the papers containing all of the overwhelming information are in order in the notebook, the little clouds of knowledge in my mind will somehow file themselves away neatly as well. I know that tomorrow brings with it the hope of a child, but also more information than I could possibly hope to wrap my mind around in the week it usually takes me -- I think I'll set a goal of two weeks for myself on this one -- that is if I've got that kind of time. I'm on CD 24 tomorrow. Clomid will start anyday, and I'm happy that Calee ventured there first. Fear of the unknown sucks.
My surgery was 9 days ago. Because of an iodine allergy, my doctor and Jason and I chose to do a laproscopic hysterscopy to be sure my tubes were open before we spent thousands of dollars on IUI and donor sperm. My iodine allergy, oddly enough, turned out to be a godsend. My doctor was able to find what she may have been able to see on a hysterosalpingogram, but would not have been able to correct: uterine polyps, stage I endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. All of which she was able to take care of while I was in the diagnostic surgery. Great news, but all shocking for Jason, who (along with me) believes that the only news he would receive was that my tubes were open. They are, by the way. So between God and Dr. Mitchell-Leef, I hope they can get me pregnant.
As I await tomorrow's exacting instructions from Dr. M-L and the clinic, I'm just glad it's in someone else's hands. Two pretty damn smart someone elses at that.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Impossible to start from the beginning...
So I composed a little timeline on the side. Unfortunately, the facts are there stated, but the feelings - grief, anger, hopes, and disappointments - deserve to be documented as well. I want to document how I feel at this time in my life because honestly, I never want to take anything for granted in the future. Life is full of obstacles. I have been one of those individuals who overcomes personal difficulties and prefers not to further reflect on the negatives. This journey is the first time in my life that I feel if I don't really own my emotions, then I will regret it in the future.
The Anniversary
Anniversaries are wonderful, right? Well, not always. Yesterday marked a year since Jason and I found out that we would not be having children without some drastic intervention. The progression has been intense over the past year, but I'll give you the easy to read "large print" version of our emotions that first year and to our current place in the baby game.
Jason and I had some slight (very slight) reason to believe that we may not be able to conceive as easily as some. He had a routine physical in late December 2006 at which we asked his physician if we could have Jason's sperm count done. The doc said "sure" and that it was an easy test with same-day results. He gave us the order to go down to the lab and have the test done.
On a Friday afternoon, we went to the lab and they told us that the portion of the hospital that performs the sperm analysis accepted their last samples at 2pm, but that Jason could come back early Monday morning and she would rush the sample over to he hospital so that results would be as accurate as possible. She gave us the sterile cup and everything so that it could be done in the privacy of our own home as long as she had it within an thirty minutes.
Monday morning, January 8, 2007: Jason drops the sample at the lab at 8:30 am sharp. At noon, we still have not heard anything. We called the lab and they told us results had been faxed to Jason's doctor. Jason gets the call from the doctor, who will not discuss results, but simply tells us that we need to see him and he can't see us until the following day. I break down. We go to the lab, pick up the results and read for ourselves: "no spermatozoa detected in sample." We sat in the parking lot of the lab in Jason's car. We read it 100 different times, trying to find a different explaination for what we already knew. I expected a low count, that's all. Low count is fine, lots can be done. But I did not expect that there would be zero.
We both cried. A lot. We made love. Then we got ready: we had family coming over that night for a football game and we had to pretend that everything was fine. Jason and I got an early start on pretending everything is fine. Just hours after hearing the mind blowing news, we were doing it. We're absolute pros now, and it comes pretty easy most of the time. It's kind of a theme now. Calee and I trade advice on the best ways to either appear real at it.
The next afternoon, I called Calee and told her the news. She was shocked. She also told me that she was going to skip class and drive to be with me. I didn't let her, but the fact that she offered was enough. Over the next couple of months, she told me how great I was holding up and that she didn't think she could do it as well as I had if it was Ryan..... wow.
I became obsessive about researching Jason's condition, possible resolutions, and options on financing fertility treatments. I spent at least six hours a day on the internet. Over the next five months, we made and cancelled a few appointments at fertility clinics. Jason wasn't ready yet, and while it broke my heart at the time, I probably wasn't either. Finally, in June, we went to a doctor who specialized in reproductive urology for males. He did some genetic testing that ruled out cystic fibrosis and other chromosomal issues, but did not find a physical reason for Jason's infertility. Even all the hormone testing had come back normal. So, after ultrasounds, ten or so vials of blood, a doplar and five months, we knew little more than we did before.... except for this: we DID definitely want children, and we were going to find out what it took to have them.
When Jason and I first discovered our problem, the idea of donor sperm wasn't even something that either of us were willing to consider. Why have children, if they can't really be yours??? But we were missing a key piece of the puzzle that should have been more obvious to both of us, who had wonderful families: family is not about genetics at all, no one bit. I thought about what my reaction would be if I found out that one of my parents wasn't really my parent. I would be shocked, but it wouldn't change anything major in my life at all.
We planned on doing artificial insemination at home, but had a set back with my OB/GYN's office. Fortunately though, this setback resulting in the realization that the stress of trying to predict my own ovulation when I can't even reach my own cervix was a little too much to handle for me. So, I began the research again. I called three different fertility clinics and chose one with Jason's help. We had our first appointment on December 6th of this year and things are looking good so far (I'll update that in another blog about our plan). I actually just cancelled the appointment we had a another clinic today because I feel so optimisic about this plan. We're doing IUI and it could be very soon!!!
Sometimes even really shitty anniversaries can be good.
And believe it or not, that is the SHORT track to how we got to where we are today.
Jason and I had some slight (very slight) reason to believe that we may not be able to conceive as easily as some. He had a routine physical in late December 2006 at which we asked his physician if we could have Jason's sperm count done. The doc said "sure" and that it was an easy test with same-day results. He gave us the order to go down to the lab and have the test done.
On a Friday afternoon, we went to the lab and they told us that the portion of the hospital that performs the sperm analysis accepted their last samples at 2pm, but that Jason could come back early Monday morning and she would rush the sample over to he hospital so that results would be as accurate as possible. She gave us the sterile cup and everything so that it could be done in the privacy of our own home as long as she had it within an thirty minutes.
Monday morning, January 8, 2007: Jason drops the sample at the lab at 8:30 am sharp. At noon, we still have not heard anything. We called the lab and they told us results had been faxed to Jason's doctor. Jason gets the call from the doctor, who will not discuss results, but simply tells us that we need to see him and he can't see us until the following day. I break down. We go to the lab, pick up the results and read for ourselves: "no spermatozoa detected in sample." We sat in the parking lot of the lab in Jason's car. We read it 100 different times, trying to find a different explaination for what we already knew. I expected a low count, that's all. Low count is fine, lots can be done. But I did not expect that there would be zero.
We both cried. A lot. We made love. Then we got ready: we had family coming over that night for a football game and we had to pretend that everything was fine. Jason and I got an early start on pretending everything is fine. Just hours after hearing the mind blowing news, we were doing it. We're absolute pros now, and it comes pretty easy most of the time. It's kind of a theme now. Calee and I trade advice on the best ways to either appear real at it.
The next afternoon, I called Calee and told her the news. She was shocked. She also told me that she was going to skip class and drive to be with me. I didn't let her, but the fact that she offered was enough. Over the next couple of months, she told me how great I was holding up and that she didn't think she could do it as well as I had if it was Ryan..... wow.
I became obsessive about researching Jason's condition, possible resolutions, and options on financing fertility treatments. I spent at least six hours a day on the internet. Over the next five months, we made and cancelled a few appointments at fertility clinics. Jason wasn't ready yet, and while it broke my heart at the time, I probably wasn't either. Finally, in June, we went to a doctor who specialized in reproductive urology for males. He did some genetic testing that ruled out cystic fibrosis and other chromosomal issues, but did not find a physical reason for Jason's infertility. Even all the hormone testing had come back normal. So, after ultrasounds, ten or so vials of blood, a doplar and five months, we knew little more than we did before.... except for this: we DID definitely want children, and we were going to find out what it took to have them.
When Jason and I first discovered our problem, the idea of donor sperm wasn't even something that either of us were willing to consider. Why have children, if they can't really be yours??? But we were missing a key piece of the puzzle that should have been more obvious to both of us, who had wonderful families: family is not about genetics at all, no one bit. I thought about what my reaction would be if I found out that one of my parents wasn't really my parent. I would be shocked, but it wouldn't change anything major in my life at all.
We planned on doing artificial insemination at home, but had a set back with my OB/GYN's office. Fortunately though, this setback resulting in the realization that the stress of trying to predict my own ovulation when I can't even reach my own cervix was a little too much to handle for me. So, I began the research again. I called three different fertility clinics and chose one with Jason's help. We had our first appointment on December 6th of this year and things are looking good so far (I'll update that in another blog about our plan). I actually just cancelled the appointment we had a another clinic today because I feel so optimisic about this plan. We're doing IUI and it could be very soon!!!
Sometimes even really shitty anniversaries can be good.
And believe it or not, that is the SHORT track to how we got to where we are today.
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