Last night over dinner with some girlfriends, we had a rant about stupid questions people ask, in particular those that pertain to reproduction. Sometimes, these questions can be attributed to just being 'young and dumb', other times, it's just a lack of sensitivity. Here's some examples of conversations:
a: So, you've been together with your husband for a while, when are you going to have kids?
b: I'm not sure.
a: Do you want kids?
b: Yes, I do.
a: How old are you?
b: 36.
a: Well then what are you waiting for?
There are several variations of this conversation. They all suck when you're having to deal with failed IVF procedures. And even if you haven't had to resort to IVF, when you're trying to get pregnant, it rarely happens instantly and therefore trying to answer these questions with composure, is difficult. Especially when they are thrown at you casually from people you barely know.
There's a million and one reasons why you and your partner may not have kids. Maybe the relationship is unstable and you're sure if you want to procreate with this person. Maybe you hate kids. Maybe your uterus is covered with a thousand fibroids making conception very unlikely. Maybe you want kids but your partner doesn't. Maybe your partner has a low sperm count. Why should I have to explain this to acquaintances or even strangers? Do I ask to see your medical records?
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Fertility Freakout
Last week we received an invoice from our fertility clinic for the amount of $200. It stated, "to continue cryopreservation storage, please pay the following amount. Quantity of embryos: 1". Cryopreservation, for all you non IVF buffs, refers to the deep freezing of embryos.
Whaaat? I thought we had already used all our frozen embryos! We started off with 7 embryos. In our first IVF attempt we transferred 2 embryos into my womb. In the second attempt we used 2 again. And the last and final attempt, we threw caution into the wind and tossed in 3. Therefore 2+2+3=7. Where did this mysterious remaining embryo appear from?
Our first thought was that maybe we miscounted. Maybe we had assumed we had 7 when all along there had been 8. We immediately started rummaging through our paperwork and found the important document from the fertility lab that stated our embryo quantity. We had been correct, 7 was indeed the lucky number. So where did this last little 8 cell cluster come from? By this time it was 8pm, the fertility clinic was definitely shut down for the night. At first we dismissed it as a admin error, not a lab error, but as the night progressed some seriously nagging doubts started to screw with our minds. The worst scenario we could think of was : What if they had put the wrong embryos in? In other words: What if they baby growing inside of me wasn't mine?
Of course everything is triple checked before any embryo transfers are performed. In fact, just prior to every frozen embryo transfer, the nurse comes in with the actual test tubes in which our little 'snowbabies' were once frozen in. On each of these test tubes are serial numbers, along with both of our names. We are told to verify them and then sign off on them. But still, what if the lab made a mistake that we didn't catch? A moment of distraction? I vaguely remember seeing the tiny test tubes, but I don't remember looking at the serial numbers and checking the names on each tube....
A quick search on the internet revealed that this like never happens. Ok, maybe once or twice in all the 3 million babies that have been born worldwide. But boy did those cases get a lot of attention, especially by those crazy Catholic pro-lifers who think they've got an answer for everything.
We went to bed a little apprehensive. The next morning when Stef kissed me goodbye before heading out to work, he slipped in, "don't forget to call the clinic". Completely unnecessary. There was no way I was going to forget. I called them at 8.05 and directed my call to the financial officer who had sent me the letter, still hoping it was a clerical error. Being so early, I got her voice mail. I tried my best to not ramble and sound frantic. I'm sure if I succeeded though as she returned my call pretty fast. I couldn't take it though because I was in the middle of a tricky driving manoeuvre and as usual, my phone was in the bottom of my handbag. As soon as I could though, I pulled my car over and listened to my voice mail. "Please disregard the invoice, sorry, sometimes our files aren't up-to-date with the lab's."
Phew. Big fucking crisis averted.
Whaaat? I thought we had already used all our frozen embryos! We started off with 7 embryos. In our first IVF attempt we transferred 2 embryos into my womb. In the second attempt we used 2 again. And the last and final attempt, we threw caution into the wind and tossed in 3. Therefore 2+2+3=7. Where did this mysterious remaining embryo appear from?
Our first thought was that maybe we miscounted. Maybe we had assumed we had 7 when all along there had been 8. We immediately started rummaging through our paperwork and found the important document from the fertility lab that stated our embryo quantity. We had been correct, 7 was indeed the lucky number. So where did this last little 8 cell cluster come from? By this time it was 8pm, the fertility clinic was definitely shut down for the night. At first we dismissed it as a admin error, not a lab error, but as the night progressed some seriously nagging doubts started to screw with our minds. The worst scenario we could think of was : What if they had put the wrong embryos in? In other words: What if they baby growing inside of me wasn't mine?
Of course everything is triple checked before any embryo transfers are performed. In fact, just prior to every frozen embryo transfer, the nurse comes in with the actual test tubes in which our little 'snowbabies' were once frozen in. On each of these test tubes are serial numbers, along with both of our names. We are told to verify them and then sign off on them. But still, what if the lab made a mistake that we didn't catch? A moment of distraction? I vaguely remember seeing the tiny test tubes, but I don't remember looking at the serial numbers and checking the names on each tube....
A quick search on the internet revealed that this like never happens. Ok, maybe once or twice in all the 3 million babies that have been born worldwide. But boy did those cases get a lot of attention, especially by those crazy Catholic pro-lifers who think they've got an answer for everything.
We went to bed a little apprehensive. The next morning when Stef kissed me goodbye before heading out to work, he slipped in, "don't forget to call the clinic". Completely unnecessary. There was no way I was going to forget. I called them at 8.05 and directed my call to the financial officer who had sent me the letter, still hoping it was a clerical error. Being so early, I got her voice mail. I tried my best to not ramble and sound frantic. I'm sure if I succeeded though as she returned my call pretty fast. I couldn't take it though because I was in the middle of a tricky driving manoeuvre and as usual, my phone was in the bottom of my handbag. As soon as I could though, I pulled my car over and listened to my voice mail. "Please disregard the invoice, sorry, sometimes our files aren't up-to-date with the lab's."
Phew. Big fucking crisis averted.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Time Heals
As the weeks pass, slowly we're allowing us to imagine life with a child. For years we didn't dare, it was simply too painful. And whenever one of us went off-course and did, the other would scold. 'Don't go there!', we'd say to each other. Our emotional well-being couldn't afford the indulgence. Instead we'd review all the positive aspects of being 'childfree'. Eventually we convinced ourselves that we'd find ways to be happy, fill the gap with adventure, with travel, with eating nice meals in fancy restaurants. We had to damper our urge to procreate with promises of boundless freedom. In retrospect, not a bad approach. The only problem being, that we have travelled a lot and have had a lot of adventure in our lives already and now there's a natural urge to grow in a different way.
There's that word again, urge. And therein lies the problem. Urges aren't something that can be controlled rationally. Like sleeping, eating and fucking, they are our raison d'etre. This is not to say that absolutely everyone out there should be reproducing. Hardly. Just like some people have big appetites, while others eat like birds, why can't the same be true for the urge to have kids? But urges come and go and it was our hope that eventually the baby urge would fade away. Or become less pulsating. Or something. When you find yourself in a situation that is totally beyond your control, the only hope remains is that time will heal. Our infertility wounds had started to close, making this pregnancy all the more flabbergasting. So as we get closer to the end of the first trimester, we're losing our fears, bit by bit and becoming a little less afraid to dream.
There's that word again, urge. And therein lies the problem. Urges aren't something that can be controlled rationally. Like sleeping, eating and fucking, they are our raison d'etre. This is not to say that absolutely everyone out there should be reproducing. Hardly. Just like some people have big appetites, while others eat like birds, why can't the same be true for the urge to have kids? But urges come and go and it was our hope that eventually the baby urge would fade away. Or become less pulsating. Or something. When you find yourself in a situation that is totally beyond your control, the only hope remains is that time will heal. Our infertility wounds had started to close, making this pregnancy all the more flabbergasting. So as we get closer to the end of the first trimester, we're losing our fears, bit by bit and becoming a little less afraid to dream.
mini bump
Stef is obsessing over my mini baby bump. He makes me pull up my shirt about 4 times a day and wants to stroke it. Sometimes when I don't oblige , he whines loudly and says, "it's not fair, you've had it all day to play with your tummy and all I want is two minutes with it". Like a child wanting a turn with a new toy. But it's so small right now that he can't see it through my shirt, he can't even see it at certain angles.
It's cute how interested he is, but it's winter and his hands are freezing on bare belly.Especially when he first gets in from biking home. I can't complain though, the fact that I'm starting to poke out is all very exciting. Other than my growing girth, I feel great. No sickness, maybe a bit tired in the evenings, but other than that, I'm flourishing. Just hungry as hell!
It's cute how interested he is, but it's winter and his hands are freezing on bare belly.Especially when he first gets in from biking home. I can't complain though, the fact that I'm starting to poke out is all very exciting. Other than my growing girth, I feel great. No sickness, maybe a bit tired in the evenings, but other than that, I'm flourishing. Just hungry as hell!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Time is slowing down
Time is creeping along at a tortoise-like pace right now. I feel like I've gone down 3 levels on that Inception machine and seconds have become minutes, minutes have become hours. Will the 1st trimester never end? Not that I've been deathly ill or horribly tired, but I just want to be out of the danger zone . My next ultrasound isn't for 16 days!
On a fun note, I've a got a very slight belly. Especially if I slouch and let my shoulders hang. From the side I've got a bump! I've got a baby bump!
On a fun note, I've a got a very slight belly. Especially if I slouch and let my shoulders hang. From the side I've got a bump! I've got a baby bump!
Monday, November 1, 2010
It has been almost a month since I had my first positive result. And even though I'm only 8 weeks along, it's starting to feel like this might actually happen. Life really is wild. Just as I was beginning to accept the possibility that I may never be pregnant, that I may never be that woman rubbing her belly and looking satisfied and smug, here I am feeling my uterus stretching and growing by the day. Like the old saying goes, "just when you least expect it".
After two promising blood tests, we had to wait 2 weeks for our first ultrasound. Typically women don't get to have an ultrasound until the 12th week, but using a fertility clinic to conceive has some benefits. Oh thank god for early ultrasounds! Waiting until the 12th week would have been excruciating. Already those 2 weeks were punishing enough.
Last Thursday I picked Stef up from work and we drove over to the clinic together. Luckily I'd been tutoring all morning so time had gone by relatively fast. When we got to the clinic though, they were behind schedule so we ended up waiting an extra half an hour. We both sat in the waiting room, desperately trying to keep ourselves occupied with the magazine offerings. Thankfully, over the years, the selection has improved. It used to be all glossy fashion magazines for the women and Sports Illustrated for the men. We both read long, engrossing articles to keep ourselves occupied. Finally, I hear my name called. Or a version of my name, I jump up. Like a student getting an award at school assembly.
Stef takes his seat next to the examination bed and the nurse makes sure everything is in order. Dr Taylor, my new favourite doctor at the clinic, is doing the ultrsound today. She is my favourite because she performed my one and only IVF successful embryo transfer. Also, immediately after performing the transfer, with my legs up in stirrups, she clasped her hands in prayer. A nice, sensitive touch.
Within seconds of her inserting the ultrasound 'wand' up my vagina, she tells us we're having a baby! And it's a singleton! What a mix of relief and exhilaration. Stef asks Dr Taylor to have a good look around, just in case there's one hiding on the sides. I well up and the nurse fetches me a couple kleenex. We hear the little heartbeat. It sounds good. The doctor measures the little bean to see if it's adequately growing. It looks good. I'm pregnant! I really am pregnant! It's legit! It's viable! It's a about time, fuck. We leave the clinic all smiles. Hopefully we"ll never be back.
After two promising blood tests, we had to wait 2 weeks for our first ultrasound. Typically women don't get to have an ultrasound until the 12th week, but using a fertility clinic to conceive has some benefits. Oh thank god for early ultrasounds! Waiting until the 12th week would have been excruciating. Already those 2 weeks were punishing enough.
Last Thursday I picked Stef up from work and we drove over to the clinic together. Luckily I'd been tutoring all morning so time had gone by relatively fast. When we got to the clinic though, they were behind schedule so we ended up waiting an extra half an hour. We both sat in the waiting room, desperately trying to keep ourselves occupied with the magazine offerings. Thankfully, over the years, the selection has improved. It used to be all glossy fashion magazines for the women and Sports Illustrated for the men. We both read long, engrossing articles to keep ourselves occupied. Finally, I hear my name called. Or a version of my name, I jump up. Like a student getting an award at school assembly.
Stef takes his seat next to the examination bed and the nurse makes sure everything is in order. Dr Taylor, my new favourite doctor at the clinic, is doing the ultrsound today. She is my favourite because she performed my one and only IVF successful embryo transfer. Also, immediately after performing the transfer, with my legs up in stirrups, she clasped her hands in prayer. A nice, sensitive touch.
Within seconds of her inserting the ultrasound 'wand' up my vagina, she tells us we're having a baby! And it's a singleton! What a mix of relief and exhilaration. Stef asks Dr Taylor to have a good look around, just in case there's one hiding on the sides. I well up and the nurse fetches me a couple kleenex. We hear the little heartbeat. It sounds good. The doctor measures the little bean to see if it's adequately growing. It looks good. I'm pregnant! I really am pregnant! It's legit! It's viable! It's a about time, fuck. We leave the clinic all smiles. Hopefully we"ll never be back.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Stef broke his arm the same day I found out I was pregnant. He called me just after 8am from the hospital, woke me up in fact. "My own stupid fault", he said. "My foot slipped off my pedal. I was only going 3k an hour." I told him to call me back when he was ready to be picked up. Then I went back to sleep. I've been lying in bed a lot these past few weeks. I figured it can't hurt.
An hour or so later, I wake up to him standing over me with a cast. With a sling and everything. He looks surprisingly cheerful, considering. His grin has acceptance. You win some, you lose some it said. I look up, eyes glassy from oversleeping. "Hi there lefty", I say as I stretch my two good arms over my head. My dog, Jack, who's curled up next to me, stretches out his back too and groans.
I get up and make us tea. Leaded for Stef, decaf for me. I'm playing it ultra save, which was really hard at first but now my body's used to it. It's been exactly 11 days since my embryo transfer and according to all the chat rooms I've been poring over, a home pregnancy test should be able to detect if I'm knocked up or not. Stef wants to wait for the blood test because it may not be entirely conclusive. I can't wait for two reasons; 1. i'm impulsive. 2. it's my frikkin body we're talking about and I want to know what's going on. But Stef asks me to wait until the end of the week because that way, if it's negative, he'll have the weekend to mourn. I respect his wishes, but wonder if I should do one in secret. It'll be a damned hard secret to keep if it's positive though.
Stef decides he's in too much pain to go back to the office and takes the day off. Around 2pm he gets bored and decides to watch a documentary in the bedroom. I'm in the living on the computer when I jump up and run to the bathroom. "Screw it, I can't wait any longer." I figured I'll tell him regardless of the result, we've got the rest of the day to digest it. Before I can change my mind, it's a free flow onto the stick, the most expensive stick I could buy, in fact. Instantly the thing lights up with two lines. I stare at it, half expecting one of the lines to fade away. But it doesn't, for the first time ever for me, IVF has resulted in a pregnancy.
I catch my breath and walk into the bedroom, the piss stick in my hoodie pocket. Stef looks at me slightly annoyed, then asks we why I'm opening all the blinds, he's still got 45 minutes left of his doc. I sit down next next time him in bed, trying not to burst into song. I don't say anything, just smile and pull the stick out of my pocket and, face down and out it in his hand. He looks at it, shocked. I start to cry.
An hour or so later, I wake up to him standing over me with a cast. With a sling and everything. He looks surprisingly cheerful, considering. His grin has acceptance. You win some, you lose some it said. I look up, eyes glassy from oversleeping. "Hi there lefty", I say as I stretch my two good arms over my head. My dog, Jack, who's curled up next to me, stretches out his back too and groans.
I get up and make us tea. Leaded for Stef, decaf for me. I'm playing it ultra save, which was really hard at first but now my body's used to it. It's been exactly 11 days since my embryo transfer and according to all the chat rooms I've been poring over, a home pregnancy test should be able to detect if I'm knocked up or not. Stef wants to wait for the blood test because it may not be entirely conclusive. I can't wait for two reasons; 1. i'm impulsive. 2. it's my frikkin body we're talking about and I want to know what's going on. But Stef asks me to wait until the end of the week because that way, if it's negative, he'll have the weekend to mourn. I respect his wishes, but wonder if I should do one in secret. It'll be a damned hard secret to keep if it's positive though.
Stef decides he's in too much pain to go back to the office and takes the day off. Around 2pm he gets bored and decides to watch a documentary in the bedroom. I'm in the living on the computer when I jump up and run to the bathroom. "Screw it, I can't wait any longer." I figured I'll tell him regardless of the result, we've got the rest of the day to digest it. Before I can change my mind, it's a free flow onto the stick, the most expensive stick I could buy, in fact. Instantly the thing lights up with two lines. I stare at it, half expecting one of the lines to fade away. But it doesn't, for the first time ever for me, IVF has resulted in a pregnancy.
I catch my breath and walk into the bedroom, the piss stick in my hoodie pocket. Stef looks at me slightly annoyed, then asks we why I'm opening all the blinds, he's still got 45 minutes left of his doc. I sit down next next time him in bed, trying not to burst into song. I don't say anything, just smile and pull the stick out of my pocket and, face down and out it in his hand. He looks at it, shocked. I start to cry.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Round Four
It's been a long time since my last post, almost a year in fact. To be honest, I forgot I had this blog. A lot hasn't changed in my life, but overall it's been a pretty good year. I've floated down the canal du Midi in southern France, driven around the Spanish Pyrenees, been introduced to the amazing Oaxacan coast, revisited Athens and discovered Madrid. My life has not been dull.
And between all those adventures, I have squeezed in two IVF attempts, one which is currently in progress. The last one, back in May, was a total disaster and was cancelled before they could even knock me up with my frozen embryos (aka 'snowbabies' according to some women in IVF chat rooms) . The doctors decided that I should reduce some of the medications that I was taking for my last two IVF cycles. That was a bad decision. I ovulated when I shouldn't have.
So now I'm on my 4th and final IVF session. I will not do it again. I cannot put my life on hold any longer. Money is not the issue, it is about the mental hold that this process has over me. I start this session with few expectations, but happy in the knowledge that whatever the outcome, it'll be my last.
And between all those adventures, I have squeezed in two IVF attempts, one which is currently in progress. The last one, back in May, was a total disaster and was cancelled before they could even knock me up with my frozen embryos (aka 'snowbabies' according to some women in IVF chat rooms) . The doctors decided that I should reduce some of the medications that I was taking for my last two IVF cycles. That was a bad decision. I ovulated when I shouldn't have.
So now I'm on my 4th and final IVF session. I will not do it again. I cannot put my life on hold any longer. Money is not the issue, it is about the mental hold that this process has over me. I start this session with few expectations, but happy in the knowledge that whatever the outcome, it'll be my last.
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