Blindsided by a Baptism

So, yesterday was not so great. When we got to church (DH insisting on sitting in the second row), I looked over to thr front row across from us and saw a line of well-dressed people and a dressed-up baby. I madly flipped through the bulletin to confirm my suspicion. Yup. Baby baptism planned in the middle of service. I hissed at DH, "There is a baptism." He looked at me with his usual confused expression, not understanding the sheer torture of these events for me.

All I could think about was the baptismal gown (sewn by my great-grandfather's wife so many years ago) that is hanging in THAT room. You know the room, the one that is supposed to be a nursery, but now just sits empty, except for the rocking chair that belonged to DH's grandmother. The rocking chair I am supposed to be rocking my babies in.

I had such a hard time keeping it together. I could feel the tears slipping down and I was thanking God silently that I have let my hair grow so it could cover my face. The baptism was thankfully as short as most Protestant ones can be. But I keep thinking to myself that should be us. I kept my head down and read my bulletin through the process. But, of course, our pastor insisted on carrying that baby down the aisle row by row for every person to see. I could hear all of the whispers of "oh, how cute he is." I just did my best to avert my gaze.

I know I am PMSing (and hence dying for some chocolate) and on the verge of weepy. But just when I think I am in a place where I can fake it through things like this, I am blindsided by the hurt that I can't seem to keep under control.

A New Ending, a New Beginning: Rewriting Your Reproductive Story; Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 11

I got a little behind in my chapter, so this weekend is a catch-up of two.

The authors start off this chapter with a series of very important questions:

How do you figure out what's right for you? What if one day you are sure you want to adopt, yet the next day you think it would be better to be childfree? Or you find an egg donor, but your partner doesn't like your choice? What if you get scared and change your mind midstream?

The authors describe how for some, it is important to be prepared for the next step and for others a time to grieve is necessary. I am sort of the next step type. It is soothing to me to know a plan is in place.

An interesting aspect of re-writing your story is when the two halves of a couple have different feelings on how to proceed. I feel that right now DH and I are on the same page, but I often wonder about where our rewritten reproductive stories may verge.

The authors conclude this chapter with great advice:

[T]here are no right or wrong choices at this juncture in your reproductive story. The beauty of the reproductive story is that it can be written and rewritten as you go through your life. Your infertility trauma will never be completely erased-it will always be a part of you-but it will be only a part, a single chapter, in the story of your life.

Knowing When to Stop Trying; Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 10

This chapter makes a very good point- how do you reach the point when you know you're done? And what does "done" even look like?

The authors' first point is another I want to add to my list of mantras- "You Made a Choice To Start, You Make a Choice to Stop." For me, there is no "stopping" until we become parents- whether that is through ART or adoption or some miracle. But we also have a stopping point for treatment. We have committed to a shared risk agreement of three fresh cycles- and that's it. For me, that is giving ivf the best possible chance of statistically happening and then we need to move on.

The authors also look at the many spiritual aspects that arise as a result of this journey- feeling abandoned by God; feeling guilty; feeling as if one is playing God. I can relate to the feeling of being abandoned by God during this process and askign, "Why?" I don't feel that treatment equates with playing God, however. No ART treatment is 100%, there is still very much a divine hand in its success or failure.

Another question posed by the authors is whether someone is selfish for seeking treatment rather than adopting. Those niggling questions that an infertile asks herself"Am I wrong for wanting my own? There are lots of babies who need homes so why aren't you adopting?" The authors address this issue so well:

If you want to keep on with treatment, by all means do. Adoption is a wonderful choice, but to adopt and deny yourself medical treatment out of guilt is not constructive for yourself or the baby you are adopting. If and when you choose to adopt, do so because you want to, not because you think you should.

I want to be able to remind myself if the time comes that ivf is not successful that I need, as the authors suggest, to honor our decision to stop. That it is a loss and it is not easy, but it will be time to get off the treatment treadmill.

Read some other great thoughts on this chapter at fertility Challenged in Florida.

Let the sun shine

In light of the lovely sunshine (although still cool temperature), I decided I needed to make the call. Since work has slowed oh so momentarily, I figured today is the daySo, I called the RE's office this morning.

And my favorite nurse- nurse J- called me back. I felt sort of overwhelmed by all the info. They are going to send me a big packet and I have to go in for bloods on cd 3 when I get my period. But the tentative plan is bcps starting with the 1st week of June and ivf stims starting first of July, retrieval around July 10-13 or so. I still need to get down about 2 pounds to be the right BMI and I want to lose about 20 more before starting the stims at the beginning of July.

Spring

I can't say that I have ever been all that impressed by spring as a season. I imagine that is a result of growing up in Southern California where spring and summer (and much of fall and winter, for that matter) are pretty much similar temperatures. But since moving to the Middle, I've had a much greater interest in spring and the end of winter. And this year, I am especially longing for it to be spring. It has been a long, cold, bitter winter. I am so weary of the snow and the icy wind that sneaks its way under one's coat. The white Easter and the snopw forecatsed for tomorrow despite the start of April next week just depresses me.

This spring feels particularly momentous for me. This winter has been a dormant period not just for the cold ground but also my infertility journey. Although we give it to the old college try every month, we haven't had a treatment cycle since October. I feel like I have just been in waiting and spinning my wheles until my work allows for a break in action and my weight reaches the necessary loss for ivf. I know that summer will bring ivf and I need to call the RE's office and get on the schedule, but something stops me (other than those few stubborn pounds). There seems an inexplicable hold on my pursuing this next step until the winter has passed.

Team on the Road

Why You Should Donate to Team On the Road

The Stirrup Queen is walking to support the March of Dimes and all of their work on behalf of premature babies. Join her by lending some support- cheer on Team on the Road or make a donation. It doesn't have to be large. A few dollars can make a difference. If every one of the 1,200 IF blogs gave just $1, that would be $1,200. I challenge you to give up a latte or mocha for just one day and direct your $4 to support the March of Dimes and Team on the Road.

Not Willing to Let It Go And Something to Decide

This post is an explanation of what started my Easter weekend to put me in the self-pity mode.

I was lucky enough to spend most of Friday at the spa. For Christmas, DH had purchased me a package that included a facial, a massage, a pedicure, deep condition and blowout, and lunch. Every single one of the technicians (what is the proper term here?) asked me if I had children, but the one that got me was the conversation that took place during my pedicure.

I was sitting there zoning out with my feet in the bubbly water, when a woman sat down in the chair next to me. Apparently, she hadn't been in for a pedicure since before the birth of her eight-month-old. So, she and her pedicurist proceeded to chatter on incessantly about babies, specifically her baby. I guess, my dirty looks (since we were in the "quiet area") weren't evil enough. Picking up on their conversation (but obviously not my consternation) my pedicurist asked me if I had children. When I said no, she replied that I was smart. I can't even express how much I wanted to hit her. I just looked at her with the most disdainful expression I could muster and used my steely cross-examination voice to say, "It is not by choice." She just gasped out an awkward, "Oh."

I seem to have reached a point in this infertility journey that I am unwilling to say the "right" and easy thing and let people "off the hook" for their insensitive comments. I am not angry or "bitter" about it, just matter-of-fact. Infertility exists and I hate that no one ever talks about it or only discusses it in the shadows (usually in shame or fear). I resent the fertile assumption that one has control over the reproductive process. And I am no longer willing to breach the awkwardness and silence. Let 'em soak in their stupid comments.


And to add insult to injury, my regular stylist is pregnant. When I saw her in January, she told me about her first-ever IUI on her second month of Clomid. This was for child number 3, the first two involved no fertility issues. Of course, I figured it would work for her. And it has. And now she is showing. She is aware of our situation, but I just don't think I want to deal with her pregnant belly for my two-hour-plus appointments. So, I have to decide whether I am on the look out for a new stylist. And I have to decide fast because my roots are starting to show something awful.

Hold the pity

I received a call from a friend (we'll call her "U") today to wish us a Happy Easter. U is the one who was married in September 2006 (months after we started trying) and was pregnant immediately despite trying to avoid. Her little boy will be one in about six weeks. She knew that we had started trying in summer of 2006, but I haven't really talked with her about it because I just didn't need to hear her fertile response. She has never once asked how things were going (and we are getting close to two years now).

Today has been a particularly difficult reminder of our infertility. In addition to the ridiculous snow storm that made for a white Easter and eliminated any hope of wearing cute open-toed shoes (the one and only thing I was looking forward to today), church was the usual struggle of wall to wall families with small children and pregnant women spilling out all the pews. The, to add to my dismay over another childless holiday, U asks out of the blue, whether we were trying again to get pregnant. I asked her in response what she meant. She said that she figured we had stopped trying because of my work and wondered if we were going to or had started up again. I told her that we had not stopped trying and it was getting close to two years of that now. There was an interminably llllllooooonnnngggg pause. I refused to fill the awkward silence.

She said, "Oh, I didn't know." I replied, "Well, you never asked." Then, U begins to give me "advice" and asks have we considered "testing." I just cut her off and said we completed "testing" about a year ago and were looking at ivf this summer. Another silence. I could feel the pity emanating through the phone line. And then, she abruptly made an excuse to get off the phone, sending Easter wishes to DH.


I don't mind talking about our infertility, if asked. But damn, I can do without the pity.

Anyone want to put bets on her being pregnant with number 2?

My second thought

I received a save-the-date in the mail for a college friend who is getting married in August. My first thought was how happy I was for her. My second thought?
Do you think they'll have a baby before we do?

Dealing with the World: Unsung Lullabies, Chapter 9

The point of this chapter is to assist the infertile in how to get through the inevitable aches of the daily insensitivities and reminders of infertility. The authors point out that one can only protect herself so much. Unless one lives under a rock, there really is no way to avoid the onslaught of reminders. There is inevitably going to be the comments or experience that pit the infertiles, as the have-nots, against the haves. The authors advise that a remedy is to remember to own up to the feelings of anger, sadness, self-pity and acknowledge the normalcy of such feelings under the circumstances.

The authors also up self-talk as the solution to feeling bad about these encounters. Focusing on what one does have (intellect, career, etc.) is a positive reinforcement that infertility does not define one. But the thing is I don't feel inadequate by these experiences- I just feel saddened and left out and no amount of bolstering is going to change the circumstance. One helpful point that the authors address is preparing responses to the inevitable stinging remarks. As I come farther out of the infertility closet, I am finding these interactions a little easier in that I usually snap off a sarcastic remark. I find it difficult to let an "educational moment" slide. Unless DH is with me because he doesn't like to bring it up.

This chapter also delves into the topic of how much to tell one's family. We have been fairly upfront with our families since last summer (mostly as a result of finding out my cystic fibrosis carrier status) although I haven't been very upfront about the cause of our infertility with my parents. This chapter also helped to break a stalemate between DH and I about asking his parents for money to help finance ivf. The authors strongly encourage asking for help where there would not be strings attached. DH has strongly felt that we should ask his parents for financial help. They are wonderful people who are extraordinarily generous. And I know they could afford to help us. And they are thankfully not like my parents for whom money = strings. I just hate having to ask someone else for money. I know they wouldn't let us pay them back because that is just how they are. The books makes the same point that DH has made over and over that his parents have an investment in our children because that is an extension of their reproductive stories. So, on the advice of the book, I have to say I caved on this issue.

The authors briefly address how to deal with friends. I must admit that my solution to dealing with many of my friends is that those who are not understanding, I just don't really have time for right now. Dealing with infertility as it relates to work has been the most difficult. With the exception of one coworker, no one knows of our infertility and I plan to keep it that way.

The chapter ends with a section title that I want to whole-heartedly embrace "You are coping, even though it may not feel like it."

As you struggle to find your footing, please keep in mind that it's all right to laugh, or cry, or get angry; it's all right to feel all the crazy things you're feeling. Feeling one way in the morning and another in the evening is not only okay, it's to be expected. It's all right to hide when you need to, just as it's all right to reach out to others. You are not alone in this- although it often feels as if you are.

Keep reading about this chapter, here.

Three Years Ago Today

I promised and made a covenant before God and our family and friends to be loving and faithful, in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health.
Back then, I could never have imagined what those vows would mean and some of what we have experienced in the last three years. But today, I renew my pledge.

Grieving for the Pregnancy or the Baby That Never Was: Unsung Lullabies Chapter 8

This chapter starts off Part III of the book which is entitled, "Grieving and Coping." As such, this starts the beginning of the process of how to actually transform infertility from crisis management to coping.

The authors start out this chapter with the concept of "little deaths"- i.e., that every month brings its own grief at the loss of another chance to conceive. This has been the most difficult aspect of infertility for me. When someone dies, there is a point of reference for the grieving process to begin. Although loss is heart wrenching and the pain never goes away entirely, the day-to-day coping gets a little easier. The tightness of pain's vice grip does slowly loosen with time. But with infertility, the grieving process is renewed every cycle and there is no endpoint from which to move away from the pain.

The authors recommend release of emotions as a way to cope with the perpetual repeat of hurt. "Acknowledging the multiple losses from month to month will not eliminate your pain, but releasing the pent-up feelings of anger, frustration, and sadness will provide some relief." I guess, my question to this proposed answer is release to whom? Absent therapy, who is the appropriate person to receive the release of the pent-up emotion? I don't think that any friends or family, and certainly not spouses, are the appropriate recipient of such release.

The authors next tackle the typical stages of grief- and make the very important point that when dealing with infertility, the stages are not a linear progression and one can easily fall from the acceptance stage back to denial or anger in just a single encounter with something like a friend's oops pregnancy. The authors suggest creating a mourning ritual that would address the little deaths since it goes unrecognized by society at large. This idea of providing a self-validation for the grief that has no societally-approved forms of expression is a great one, im my opinion.

The final section of this chapter addresses "getting stuck." When one gets stuck and overwhelmed by the feelings associated with infertility, the authors point to therapy and support groups as an outlet. Ultimately, I liked the following suggestions provided by the authors:

Be true to yourself. Don't try to feel a certain way because someone else thinks you should.

Even if you get frustrated at times, be patient with yourself. . . . The tenderness you would expect to have for your much-wanted child needs to be transferred to your partner-and to yourself as well.

Above all, remember there is no right or wrong way to feel, no right or wrong way to manage all you have been through and continue to experience. It takes time to grieve. . . . You can't erase what you have been through but you can and will get through this, and this chapter of your reproductive story, albeit rewritten, will come to a close.

To continue reading about this chapter, go to Fertility Challenged in Florida.

Twin Cities IFers

are planning to meet up on Thursday, March 20. Please email me at mrsshoelover at gmail for for details. We would love to have any locals join us.

Eighty Percent!

Of the 50 pounds that I am required to lose in order to undergo ivf, I am now down 40! I can call the RE's office and get the ball rolling in about five more pounds.

Beth Kohl's comments

I just wanted to highlight Beth Kohl's comments about my Embryo Culture post below for two reasons. First, how cool is it that the author of the book actually read MY blog and commented! And second, she makes an excellent point that bears repeating.

BethKohl said...
Hi. Beth (Kohl) here. Yesterday, I received a call from a neighbor who is reading the book. She grew up Catholic but left the Church for a local Presbyterian congregation that rents space at a larger church in our town, a congregation she called a "small bible church.". In any case, she is incredibly fluent in Christian theology, but found herself stumped when it came to IVF, and bothered by my experience, albeit brief, with the woman in the Archdiocese of Chicago's Respect Life office. She suggested we (she and I) both read C.S. Lewis for answers, stating that sometimes specific doctrines (e.g. the Donum Vitae, the Catholic Church's "Instruction on Respect for Human Life in Its Origin and on the Dignity of Procreation") marginalize particular issues or people. I think this might be true (how is that for double-talk?). I think that it might be useful to examine theological thought as opposed to religious law to best understand one's relationship to God or religion, particularly when going through something that, quite frankly, Moses or one of his homeys most likely couldn't have anticipated. In any case, I appreciate your thoughts and perspective. Thank you!

There Will Be Blood

so it would be nice for it to get started.

I feel like I have my period- bloated (up an unexplicable half-pound on the scale), PMSy; crampy. But nothing. Not even a spot of maybe it was brown-tinged. I was sort of unsure of my ovulation date, but I haven't had a (unmedicated) cycle this long in a while. The receptionist probably thinks I have a some medical condition given the number of trips to the ladies' room I have made. Why does it have to drag out and torture me?


(No, I haven't seen the movie and don't intend to.)

ETA- I knew as soon as I posted this I could tempt out a response- heavy spotting now and likely a new cycle tomorrow. That would be number 22.

Embryo Culture: Barren Bitches Book Brigade

Beth Kohl's Embryo Culture: Making Babies in the Twenty-First Centurywasn't quite what I thought it was going to be. From the title, I was expecting more of an overall look at what the book jacket describes as "oh-so-up-close-and personal tour of fertilization in America." Turns out that the book is much more about her personal journey. The author does intersperse some more "global" infertility issues and facts with her own personal infertility treatment experience. Overall, it was an interesting read that I wish more fertiles would pick up to understand the process. In fact, I am going to try to get DH to read it before our ivf cycle this summer just so that he has a better understanding of the process from a non-clinical level.

Anyhow, on to the questions for our book discussion:

In Chapter 5 ("Professionals"), Beth writes about her clinic experiences. I got a chuckle out of her observation that "my early-morning posse and I seemed to be codelinquents doing time in juvie hall," as well as her description of George, the (male!) u/s tech. How was/is your clinic experience similar to or different than Beth's? Did you meet/Have you met any particularly memorable people (either fellow patients or clinic staff)?

From many of the blogs I have read or the discussion I have with other infertile women, I realize that this Big Clinic experience is definitely the norm. The clinic I (what is the right word here- frequent, attend, visit- these all seem inadequate) go to is actually a smaller satellite office of a larger clinic. All of the nurses are nurse practitioners. From what I have gleaned from others, I am so glad I chose the smaller office. I truly do not feel like I am only a number. For both of my IUI cycles, the nurse who did the insems was so caring and understanding about my disappointment over the abysmal count numbers.

Many bits of the book hit hard for me, but none more so than what may have been intended as just something that happened in passing. On page 95 of the version I have (second page of Chapter 6- Aspiration) – they're on their way to the clinic for egg retrieval. Gary and Beth are getting into an argument, courtesy of early morning, hormones, fears, a whole blend of it all. Gary calls Beth "a bitch". Beth then says: "He clenches the steering wheel, steeling himself for the fight he assumes will follow calling me this second-most-prohibited of names. I remain silent, reassessing whether I really want to have kids with this name-calling douchebag." Did you/have you/can you foresee getting into such a minor situation with your partner and immediately jumping to the same conclusions as Beth, that maybe where you are isn't where you should be?

I don't know if it's the added hormones (well, yes, I do know that doesn't help by any means) but without fail on the days of my IUI, DH and I get into the worst arguments over infertility and just about anything else. It all gets dragged out of the closet and the end is the same- DH beyond frustrated and me in tears. And it usually results in the discussion of why are we doing this and maybe we shouldn't be and maybe we shouldn't be parents because we aren't fill in in the blank (patient, caring, worthy, et cetera) enough.

The author researched different religious views on ART while she was in the decision process. How did you make your decision to pursue ART, adoption, childfree living etc? Did your religious views play a big part in that decision?

Our religious views have really dictated our path. Both DH and I have prayed and sought guidance as to what is the "right" thing for us to do. Not that we considered any particular choice of technology "wrong," but we have try to seek an answer to what would God have US do. I have read several books on the Christian perspectives of infertility and treatment, as well as research into particular positions of specific Christian organizations and individuals with whose theology I agree. I have also looked at different religions' views of infertility and treatment as a way to better examine all of the ethical aspects.

We both strongly believe that life begins when sperm and egg meet. We had initially rejected the idea of ivf (and I am still struggling with this issue). DH was (apparently) worried that about the abundant creation of frozen embryos and he feels it would be morally wrong for us to "abandon" them. Upon learning that only about 25% of ivf cycles even result in frozen embryos and that those usually result in only enough embryos for one frozen transfer, DH felt that we could morally explore this as an option. I am still struggling with the idea of whether freezing embryos, knowing that only half survive the thaw, is really giving one's potential children their best chance of life.

Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/. You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: The Mistress's Daughter by A.M. Homes (with author participation!).

Do You Have Any Children?

DH had an "a-ha" moment yesterday when we were leaving church. Mind you, church is getting harder and harder for me lately with all of the kids and the handful of preggos. Anyhow, yesterday we had a guest pastor who was shaking our hands as we walked out and DH introduced us and the pastor commented on the alliterative nature of our first names. (btw- I find this royally annoying on its own)

Then, the pastor asked if we had kids. There was an awkward pause and I just looked away. DH finally answered, rather quietly, "No." Then, the pastor went on to prattle about whether we were going to continue with the alliterative naming thing when we do have children. I just said no and hustled out of there. Mind you, I am PMSing big-time. Under the circumstances, it's a wonder I didn't burst into a deluge of tears as the night before watching Becoming Jane was enough to have me blubbering.

DH and I had a conversation about it on the way home and he told me that no one had really asked him that question before since our journey down the infertility road. I told him I get it fairly regularly. And he told me how sad the question had made him and said, "I think I finally had a glimpse of feeling what you feel all the time."