Ok. That hurt.

Last week H and I went to his father's retirement party.  H's dad worked for this company for over 25 years.   I've only been in the family for some of those, but in that short time I've seen how much pride F-I-L (father-in-law) had in his work.  He put in a lot of hours, along the way earning the respect of his co-workers and the admiration of his son.  On vacations, with some frequency he'd have calls to take and give up free time to resolve work issues, but I never heard him complain about it.  He did his job with the vigor of a newly hired employee.  His work ethic is exemplary.  All this is to say, we were looking forward to the party his colleagues had put together for him.  I knew they'd miss him.  How could they not?  He seemed to me to be the glue (professionally and socially) of his workplace.

H and I arrived at the party and quickly noticed a slide show.  My brother and sister and law had combed through boxes of photos.   They found sweet and funny snapshots of time gone by and handed them off to someone at the company.  The result was a visual of a wonderful life full of family, friends, co-workers, and endless smiles.  Among other touching tributes, the slide show was one of the highlights of the party.

When things were settling down and as people started to leave I snuck off to find a place to do my nightly injections.  Even when I'm having fun, it's hard to forget about IVF.  When I returned, just a handful of people lingered to dig deeper into the slide show; reminiscing about work trips and embracing all the good times over the years.  The final slide was a family photo taken at the beach a few years ago.  H and I weren't married yet, but his brothers each had two kids at that time.  I admit, it is a nice picture.  In all, there were 12 of us in the shot.  The woman who put together the slide show, at the moment that picture appeared said, "You know, this is a person's real legacy.  It's not the work you leave behind, it's your children and grandchildren who are what really matter."  She's right (work isn't all there is to an accomplished life) and that's a beautiful sentiment.  F-I-L loves his family above all else and I know he's a proud husband, dad and grandpa.  To add insult to injury, she said it twice to two different groups of people.  I was obviously in ear shot for both.  What she didn't know is that his middle son and I are in the throws of IVF, constantly wondering if we'll be able to create a legacy through children of our own.  Her words filled my mind, heart, stomach, and soul with fear and pain.  I tired to smile, an impossible task after feeling like you've just been punched in the gut.  There was no escaping the sense of doom I felt.  I just had to hope my face didn't show my anguish.  An innocent, heartfelt statement can sometimes become the most hurtful words I hear.  H and I don't shout out our issue to everyone we meet and society doesn't know to be cognizant of these types of problems.   Heck, I didn't either before I landed in this category of people.  After having been through this, I'll forever be mindful of what I say or ask when it comes to the very personal journey of couples making families.  I don't expect others to innately know this, but that doesn't make a random statement hurt any less.

What I'd really like is for a Vince Vaughn looking angel to come along and put ear muffs on my head in the instant before a stinging comment will be made.  I know that will never happen and I also know I can't hide from the unpredictability of social situations, as tempting as that may be.  I have to face the every day circumstances and continue to build a thicker skin.  I do that by reminding myself that I'm lucky to have H and our wonderful families and so many other of life's gifts.  When I'm done with this post, I'll put this memory to bed and go back to thinking about what I enjoyed from that night.  It was a pleasure to honor F-I-L and he deserved every second of it.

Because I now feel badly about having used some of these lines in the past, I share these helpful hints in a small effort to make the world a safer place for infertiles:  http://www.resolve.org/support-and-services/for-family--friends/infertility-etiquette.html

The ride.

A lot of people refer to the IVF process as a roller coaster.  A couple sits in a car, eager and anxious for the ride, going through ups and downs, laughing (if they're lucky), screaming, braving steep and scary twists until, finally, the car comes to a rest.  I've decided I don't like that analogy.  The IVF ride is more complicated than that.  On a roller coaster you can see the downhill approaching, you know to brace for it, and you know when it's going to end.  IVF isn't that predicable.  So, I've decided it's more like The Zipper.  Remember that one?  That crazy thing went up and down too, but it also spun you around without any warning.  Well, I don't think there was any warning ... my 10 year old brain certainly never wrapped itself around that mystery.  The rides are similar, but the Zipper adds the element of uncertainty... and it's the uncertainty that makes this process tough to take.  I haven't been on an actual Zipper in decades.  But, for the last couple of weeks, I feel like I'm right back at the amusement park, only this time - it isn't for fun and games.



The daily doctor appointments continue.  My internal alarm clock knows to wake me up at 530 - 6 am in order to get me ready and to SGF on time.  I'm tired.  Today my eyes feel heavy and I am trying to muster the energy to last another few days of drugs.  Since the injections started the Carny Zipper Gods haven't spun me around much and I've enjoyed a break from the unpredictable ups and downs.  It's as if the ride got stuck, at the top, where the view isn't all that comfortable, but after time it isn't so terrifying.  But, if I'm being honest, I'm worried about when the ride starts back up again.  Will I be able to hang on to my positive perspective and general (somewhat surprising) sense of calm?



The injections have been a breeze.  No mood swings, no tears, no eating binges.  The appointments show me everyday that my beloved follicles are growing.  I like to believe they're all (7-9 of them depending on the day and the technician)  working really hard to get themselves to the optimal size.  Some are better at it that others.  Today one follicle was 15.4mm.  Just above the goal of at least 14mm (the acceptable egg making range is 14-18mm).  Another follicle on my somewhat lazy right sided ovary was 12.1mm.  That little guy has fight, I'm sure of it.  And he has a couple more days to catch up (before the leaders get too big to continue with meds).


(the chicken follicle came first.  then the egg.)

Then what?  Then I get the trigger whopper shot.  This shot is the biggest needle of all the injections.  Unlike my daily doses, I can't give the whopper to myself.  I've asked my awesome nurse anesthetist neighbor to do it for me.  H, you recall, wasn't able to go to the injection class.  And, bless his heart, he just doesn't want to inflict any pain on me.  A nurse, we agreed, can get this done quickly and professionally.  My neighbor agreed to do the shot before really understanding what it would do to me.  I think I caught him off guard the other day when I said, "So- you're gonna make me some eggs!"  The whopper will help my body make an egg for each appropriately sized follicle (in a normal cycle, the body will only make one egg and shut down all the other follicles).  There will be some attrition.  I likely won't get as many eggs as there are follicles.  That's where my concern begins.


(btw, my neighbor looks nothing like this, but in my head, the shot does)

First, there's surgery to extract the eggs.  How many will there beeeee????  No way to predict.  We'll have to wait for the results.  Once those are in, we'll have to wait and see how many eggs were successfully fertilized   More attrition.  Once those results are in, we'll have to wait and see how many will be viable for implementation.  Even more attrition.  Assuming there's at least one viable embryo, there's another procedure to transfer it back to my uterus.  Remember the mock embryo transfer?  The one that made me faint? You can imagine, I'm a little apprehensive about the real deal.  Then what?  Another wait...  A two week long wait at the end of which the doctors will tell me I'm pregnant or I'm not.  That's not the end, by the way.  Then they measure something called beta (more blood tests; my arm already resembles what I imagine a heroine addict's to be).  The number should double every other day.  The rising beta will tell us if the pregnancy is sticking.  There's a big fat wait around every corner, the results of which may send me spinning (into sadness, or into uber-cautious happiness).  My peaceful Zipper ride is about to enter turbo mode.  I hope I handle it well.  That's the only thing I can do.  Worrying won't make a baby.  Neither will stress.  And the tears I feel welling up when I think about it too long won't help either.  A part of my body I have no control over will either take to a pregnancy or it won't.   That's why I consider it my only job to give my insides a peaceful environment in which to work.  My prayers are of course for a child, but also for serenity.  I can't let that Zipper scare me.  I want to land on my feet - no matter what.

Good for Something

"What does not destroy me makes me stronger," (Friedrich Nietzsche) is the original quote perhaps from which Kelly Clarkson derived her tune Stronger (What doesn't kill you makes you Stronger, Stand a little taller, la la la).  I like Kelly's song and blast it when it comes across the radio.  Normally. I'd belt out the lyrics if I was sure no one would hear, but now I want to shout to anyone who might listen- she (rather, Friedrich) is right!  I'm trying to see the sunshine and rainbows even though sometimes it feels like it is raining.  Here are some perks of IVF (am I allowed to say perk and IVF in the same sentence??!!):



Me and H; H and me.  Our young marriage got a big test in the very first year.  At first we clumsily stumbled through the IVF news - with love, sadness, and some fights.  I remember one not so elegant conversation that ended with me leaving the condo in tears and wandering the neighborhood in search of comfort, which I found after sitting on the front steps of my church.  I guess I figured if my husband couldn't help me (and he normally could), God was a pretty good second stop.  After a few minutes, I just wanted to go home and hug it out.  The quick change of heart was either the power of the Lord, or I just felt ridiculous sitting there with tears on my face.  Plus- the mosquitoes were out.  When I got home, there wasn't any further discussion about that particular topic for a few months; we just left it unsettled and moved on with our day.  Back then we knew we wanted a baby, but we weren't on the same page about how to get there and we definitely didn't know how to talk about it.  Now we understand how to share our thoughts with one another and more importantly how to listen while trusting that the other person wants what's best for us both.  Listening sometimes takes more patience and understanding than I initially knew I had.  Passing through this test is giving us communication skills to help us now and forever.  We do slip up from time to time (I definitely snapped at H yesterday about flip flops in front of the door) but then I remembered that we're dealing with much bigger things and I regretted sweating the small stuff.  Our perspectives are forever changed.  When we got married I was more than confident we'd be able to get through life's bumps, but until you're truly tested you don't completely know if you will get through it with grace and/or dignity. Now I know.  Absolutely.  Without the a doubt.  We're pretty much rock solid now.



Food.  Eating and body image has been an adult long issue for me.  I love sweets, but when I eat them, I don't love myself.  The joy of a cupcake is later ruined by feeling too fat for my pants (as if gaining weight happens in an instant, right after I'm done licking the icing off of my fingers).  Sugar, sadly, is a bit like an addiction.  The more I eat, the fatter and sadder I feel, yet I keep going back for more.  When infertility reared its head some friends, some books, and some blogs shared a myriad of ideas on what I shouldn't be eating.  No alcohol.  No caffeine.  No sugar.  No gluten.  No dairy.  I was desperate, so I tried really hard to change my habits.  Weekend wine, morning coffee, constant sugar, anytime bread, and yogurt snacks became enemy #1.  I was more successful at some restrictions than others.  When I wasn't successful I got mad at myself for not having more will power ... why didn't I have the will to give up a few food groups to gain a  BABY!?  After sufficiently beating myself up,  I had to amend from none to LESS and recognize that food probably wasn't the problem nor the solution to infertility.  Miraculously though, as I ate less and less of these things, I started to notice that I just plain felt better.  I have more energy, I'm sick less, my clothes aren't tight, etc.  Good healthy habits, IVF has inadvertently taught me (I never seemed to quite get that message on my own), is a great thing.


"I never shall have that Park Avenue air, but I'm in such health, why should I care?" -Bette Midler / Beaches

Just Me, my thoughts, and I.  I'm full of quotes today.  One of the best lines from Shawshank Redemption goes like this, "The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry."  Isn't that so true?  In fact, one of my nick names from H is "Run Around Ris."  I'm in a big damn hurry.  I constantly over schedule myself in an effort to stay busy and to what end?  Usually a stressed out one.  But, stress is not productive for anyone going through IVF.  During acupuncture, when I'm alone with my thoughts (no distractions) for 30 minutes each visit, I'm forced to focus on myself.  It's the calmest part of my day.  Since starting, I've learned that I have to have quiet time even on the days I don't see the acupuncturist   I suppose what I'm doing is a cross between meditation and therapy; I lay on a couch and stare at the ceiling.  A little bit of couch time has shown me that slowing down and finding moments to work through my spinning mind is surprisingly helpful. I'm not ready to commune with Buddah (may not ever be), but I'm beginning to understand why Buddhism teaches that peace comes from within.  I control my thoughts, no one else.  Just me.


Dont' get me wrong - IVF shots, appointments, poking and prodding all score a big fat zero on the fun scale - but it's upsetting and overwhelming to spend too much time thinking about that.  Instead, I'm choosing to see that this process has it's privileges and (along with luck) has the power to lead the greatest something of all, a child of our own.