Thursday, December 9, 2010

12 Days of Christmas: IVF Style!



So in light of the Holidays coming up and having the firm belief that to get through our most challenging paths we need a sense of humor, I bring to you:
The 12 Days of Christmas...IVF Style!

On the first day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
hope for one healthy baby.

On the second day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby.

On the third day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the fifth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the sixth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the seventh day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby! .

On the eighth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the ninth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby! .

On the tenth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Ten developing follicles,
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby! .

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Eleven calls to the insurance company,
Ten developing follicles,
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
IVF gave to me
Twelve vaginal ultrasounds,
Eleven calls to the insurance company,
Ten developing follicles,
Nine acupuncture sessions,
Eight late days to work,
Seven mental brake downs,
Six different medications,
Five pregnant friends!
Four daily injections,
Three glasses of wine,
Two transferred embryos,
And hope for a healthy baby!

Monday, November 22, 2010

Dealing With Loss Around the Holidays

The Holidays are a notoriously hard time for those who are grieving the loss of a loved one. For all of us women struggling with infertility, the Holidays are a time when we grieve the lost opportunity of a new life. What is more difficult is that many of the traditions and rituals of the Holidays are often centered around children. For those who have experienced loss during pregnancy, the Holidays can be a strong reminder of the absence of that little life. My last miscarriage happened on Thanksgiving Day last year. With this Thanksgiving approaching, it is hard not to be reminded of last year’s horror. It is also hard not to think of what could have or should have been as we approach this Christmas.

There are some things that people can do to try and cope with their feelings of grief and loss this Holiday season. Although no one can really take away the pain, there are ways to help manage it.

1. Respect yourself and your feelings. Don’t beat yourself up for being sad or for grieving. Don’t tell yourself that you should be “over it,” when deep inside you know you are not. People often feel pressure to feel cheery and bright during the Holidays. But when you are coping with a loss, it is often impossible to feel cheery or bright. When you acknowledge and accept how you are really feeling, it is often easier to function without lashing out at others or losing patience with yourself. Just say to yourself, “I am really feeling sad today, and that is okay.”

2. Give yourself permission to say no. Are you dreading going to your cousin’s annual holiday party because you know that several pregnant people will be there, including your cousin’s wife? Well you know what? I am giving you permission to say no. We are only human, and many times our emotions are raw. We often need to protect ourselves to retain our sanity. This is not the time to be a hero. If people get mad at you for saying no, then too bad. Last year at this time, due to our miscarriage, my husband and I were dreading the holidays. If it were not for our little girl, we probably would not have left the house or celebrated at all because we were so sad. We participated in some things, but said no to others, so we could grieve and heal.

3. Bunk Tradition. We all have dreams and ideals of how the Holidays should be. When we have suffered a loss, there is a huge hole in that ideal, and traditions that were once joyful may seem more like a nightmare this year. It is okay to change things up a bit to make it more manageable. One year my husband and I took off the day after Christmas, missing many family holiday parties, to go to the Caribbean for a week. Christmas was very hard for us that year, and getting away was just what we needed. Consider doing something different this season, like having your Holiday dinner at a restaurant, or going over to a friend’s house. You might even want to start new traditions. This might make it a little bit easier to cope with your loss this Holiday season.

4. Have an escape plan. If there are just some events that you cannot possibly get out of, go, but make sure to have an escape plan if things get to be too much. Maybe you have another event that you have to attend after this one? (They don’t have to know “the event” is really a CSI marathon in your pajamas!) Maybe you are not feeling that great? (Truth is, you may be feeling just fine physically, but far from fine emotionally) Keep your time limited if you need to, and don’t feel guilty about it for a second.


5. Try to have a little fun. There ARE some joys in the Holiday season. Even when you are sad and feeling completely overwhelmed with grief, there are some distractions that can lift your spirits. Watching the classic movie Scrooged while drinking some eggnog or watching the snowflakes from your window while sitting in front of your fireplace can be a great way to unwind and forget about your troubles, even if for just a few hours.



In short, be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself. Be understanding of your emotions. Give yourself space. Let yourself off the hook just this once. Shout “Humbug” from the rafters. The Holidays will pass soon enough, and you have permission to pass on the Holidays.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Weight of Guilt

Throughout my entire infertility journey, it has been hard not to be consumed by guilt. There are a hundred things one could feel guilty about during this process. As an Irish American Catholic woman, guilt seems to be something I cannot avoid! In my family, I have seen several generations of some of the best guilt sufferers and guilt encouragers in action. In an attempt to let go of my guilt, I am going to list all of the things I feel guilty about.

I feel guilty that I have serious infertility issues that will most likely prevent me from having another child. I feel guilty that my daughter will have no siblings. I feel guilty that when my husband and I are old and sick, my daughter will have no one else to share the burden of caring for us. I feel guilty that throughout my infertility journey I have been sick, sad and distracted and have not been able to be the best mom to my daughter. I feel guilty that I caused my daughter stress and worry throughout this process. I feel guilty that I might have genetically passed down my infertility issues to my daughter.

I feel guilty that my infertility issues have caused so much pain and heartache for me and my husband. Although my husband assures me time and time again that it is “our journey,” I feel guilty that my body is broken. I feel guilty that I cannot give my husband more children, especially a son, who would have had a "V" (a "fifth") after his name. I feel guilty that when my husband and I got married 8 years ago we talked about having as many kids as we could, and now that hope and dream is not possible. I feel guilty that we have spent half of our marriage struggling with infertility. I feel guilty that my husband has had to worry about me through 8 surgical procedures, all fertility related, in the past six years.

I feel guilty that throughout this process I have neglected people and things that I love. I feel guilty that I have lost touch with friends and missed social gatherings and important events in their lives because I have been consumed both mentally and physically with my infertility. I feel guilty that I have missed hanging out with important elderly family members, especially my gram who recently passed away, because of my inability to go to see them during certain points of my infertility journey. I feel guilty that I have caused my parents so much stress and worry throughout this process. I feel guilty that I cannot give them more grandchildren to love and spoil.

There are many more things I could list. These are just a few that dance around in my head sometimes before I fall asleep. Now that my husband and I are at the end of our infertility journey, I started thinking about all of these things, and the concept of guilt in general. I realized that I could replace “I feel guilty that” with “I have no control over the fact that.” Feeling guilty about something, although heart wrenching and stressful, implies that I have control over it. Having control over something, even if it is something bad, is a safer feeling than admitting to having no control.

Guilt is a weight that can bring you down, paralyze you, consume you and bring you to make choices that your heart doesn’t want to make. To be a better mom, have a healthy marriage and be my best self, I need to let go of all of these weights, all of this guilt. I have no control over my infertility. I have done the best I could with the challenges I have been given. I am only human. Letting go of this guilt will give me room to embrace the future with an open heart and an open mind. I feel lighter already!

Monday, October 25, 2010

Miracles, Miners and Me

What a month it has been! I have been struggling to find the words to sum up the emotional roller coaster I have been through after completing our last chance IVF. It is surreal to me that this process, which has taken months to prepare for, is now behind us. As my husband and I went through this process, the world was caught up in its own emotional roller coaster, rooting and praying for the 33 miners in Chile who were trapped a half mile below the earth’s surface for almost ten weeks.

Millions of people from around the world followed their story for months and watched as each man resurfaced and greeted their loved ones. The whole world had prayed for these men as they endured unimaginable circumstances day in and day out. The family and friends of the miners hoped beyond hope that the miners would be rescued. They set up “Camp Esperanza” or “Camp Hope” at the site, praying for a miracle. A miracle happened.

There is a lesser known story regarding trapped miners that was also in the news recently. A group of 276 men were working in a mine in central China when the mine suffered a gas leak. 239 made it out safely. 26 were found dead. But 11 men were missing, and no one knew whether they were dead or alive. Then, after a couple of days, these 11 unfortunate men were found to be dead.

Merriam-Webster defines “miracle” in two ways; “an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs” or “an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment.” By the second definition, there is no doubt that the Chilean miners’ rescue was indeed a miracle. I am certain that their faith and hope carried them through those horrific days spent underground. But, I hesitate to say that it is a miracle by the first definition. If you say that the Chilean miners were saved by divine intervention, where does that leave the 37 Chinese miners that didn‘t make it out alive?

Using the word miracle in the infertility world can be viewed as insensitive to some. I often reluctant to call my daughter a miracle for that reason. But now after my last shot of having a healthy pregnancy through IVF, my husband and I have lost 32potential lives, by either miscarriages or non-viable embryos. With those statistics, our daughter, who was conceived through IUI, is surely an “extremely outstanding event.” But what about those people who never succeed at conceiving naturally? Where is their miracle? To say that God helped me, but not others, conceive, or to say that God helped me once, but then refused to help me again, seems ridiculous.

In matters of creating life or avoiding death, I have no answers. It is a mystery and always will be. My husband and I have had a difficult path. I am certainly struggling with and grieving over our recent failed attempts to add to our family. There's an emptiness that remains after the drugs and doctor's appointments stop, after the fight is over and all that is left is the sad reality. The reality is that in creating a life, there is only so much one can do. I am not sure where our journey will lead us now. Many of the tears I shed these past couple of weeks have been in gratitude for my daughter. I can’t explain why she is here any better than I can explain why the Chilean miners are alive today. But I promise to cherish my daughter and never take her life for granted.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Music Will Set You Free

Music has always been a special part of my life. Growing up, my parents always had music playing in the house. There are pictures of me as a baby with giant headphones on rocking out to great artists like The Police, Nat King Cole and The Beatles. There are many songs, artists and albums that remind me of particular times in my life. Music has the power to motivate me, bring me comfort, make me happy or let me wallow in my sadness!

There are two play lists that I have been listening to throughout my infertility journey. One is my, “Feeling Mushy Infertility Mix,” there other one is my, “I Will Kick Infertility’s Butt Mix.” I make sure that when I am traveling to my doctor’s office or going through procedures, I have access to these two play lists. They inspire me, bring me comfort and help me cope.

"Feeling Mushy Infertility Mix"
1.Breathe (2AM) 4:40 Anna Nalick Breathe (2AM) - Single
2.Answer 3:41 Sarah McLachlan Live Acoustic EP 2003
3.Irish Blessing 3:18 Ardyth & Jennifer Learn to Fly
4.In the Sun (Gulf Coast Relief) [Featuring Chris Martin] 4:57 Michael Stipe In the Sun - EP
5.Fix You 4:55 Coldplay X & Y
6.A Long December 4:58 Counting Crows Films About Ghosts: The Best of Counting Crows
7.Times Like These 5:25 Foo Fighters Skin and Bones (Bonus Track Version)
8.Catch the Wind 2:55 Donovan Donovan's Greatest Hits (Remastered)
9.Waiting for My Real Life to Begin 5:46 Colin Hay Man @ Work
10.Hear You Me 4:31 Jimmy Eat World Story's Changed
11.Feels Like Home 4:40 Chantal Kreviazuk What If It All Means Something
12.I'll Be There for You 5:42 Bon Jovi Cross Road
13.Days Like This 3:45 Kim Taylor The Greatest Story - EP Singer/Songwriter
14.Hallelujah (feat. Charlie Sexton) 4:16 Justin Timberlake Hope for Haiti Now
15.Let It Be (feat. The Roots) 3:53 Jennifer Hudson Hope for Haiti Now
16.We Shall Overcome 2:53 Bruce Springsteen Hope for Haiti Now

“I Will Kick Infertility’s Butt Mix”
1. I Gotta Feeling 4:49 Black Eyed Peas The E.N.D. (The Energy Never Dies)
2. Don't Stop Believin' 4:09 Journey Journey: Greatest Hits
3. Three Little Birds 3:00 Bob Marley Legend(Original Recording Remastered Bonus Tracks) 4. Eye of the Tiger 4:05 Survivor Survivor: Greatest Hits
5. Closer to Fine 4:04 Indigo Girls Indigo Girls (Remastered Edition)
6. Keep Holding On (From "Eragon") 4:00 Avril Lavigne Keep Holding On Single
7. The Middle 2:46 Jimmy Eat World Jimmy Eat World Alternative
8. Float On 3:28 Modest Mouse Good News for People Who Love Bad News
9. Move Along 4:00 The All-American Rejects Move Along
10. You're All I Need to Get By 2:51 Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell The Very Best of Marvin Gaye
11. Life Is a Highway 4:26 Tom Cochrane Mad Mad World
12. Everyday 4:44 Dave Matthews Band Everyday
13. There's Hope 3:56 India.Arie Testimony: Vol. 1 Life & Relationship

These songs are great. They have carried me through some tough times. I look forward to hearing what songs bring you comfort and carry you through!

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Keep Swimming!

IVF is very stressful. It is stressful on the body, mind and soul. Sometimes, it just gets to you. Sometimes you become truly overwhelmed, sad and almost paralyzed by the stress of it all. IVF takes a toll on every aspect of your life. I became truly overwhelmed by it all this past weekend. It has already taken me weeks to prep for my upcoming IVF procedure and I still have weeks to go before the procedure itself. I have had to line up my insurance company, doctors, embryologists and genetic labs. This all takes a lot of time and can be very frustrating.

This past Saturday, I lost it with complete strangers on the telephone. I had been fighting with my mail order pharmacy for WEEKS to get this one drug that I needed to start physically prepping for my IVF. If I didn't get this drug on the day that I needed it, I couldn't do my IVF this month and all of the work I have done to get everyone on the same page these past weeks would be for nothing. I called every day, two or three times a day, and talked to people who would assure me that it was coming the next day. The next day would come with no delivery and I would call them only to find out there were more glitches on their part.

Last Friday, after weeks of trying to get this medicine, I was told that I needed to stay in my house the entire next day so I could sign for my meds when they arrived. I wisely contacted the on call pharmacist the next morning because I was not going to wait all day just to have the meds not show up--again. I finally got someone on the phone and they told me it had not been shipped out as promised and it would not be coming. Over these past weeks I had try reasoning with this pharmacy, shouting, demanding to speak with managers, all that I had left was tears and hysterical sobs. Didn’t these people know how hard this process is without their added aggravation? Didn’t they appreciate what was at stake? Finally they were apologetic about the whole situation and they eventually transferred my prescription to another pharmacy, who was able to deliver my meds by the next business day.

On Saturday, after I got off the phone with this pharmacy, I did what many people do when they are dealing with intense frustration, I turned to facebook to vent. “All insurance companies and mail order pharmacies, in particular Curascript, can suck it!” was my status for the rest of the weekend. Was it the most mature thing to write? No. Did it feel good to write it? Yes. I received tons of comments supporting me in my frustrations. The best of which was from a student I used to work when she was in high school, who we will call Jody.

Jody was one of the kids I will never forget. She still is and always was the most gentle soul. She was shy, kind, thoughtful and had huge aspirations to change the world, even in the 8th grade. Jody also dealt with severe depression. She couldn’t see how beautiful, wonderful and valuable she was, no matter how many times I told her and I told her at least four times a day as her counselor. There were some days I know Jody did not want to exist anymore. There were some days I anxiously came into school praying that I would see her. But Jody made it into school every day. Jody saw many therapists, took her meds like she was supposed to and kept checking in with me. Jody continued to exist, and not only did Jody exist, but she thrived. Through participating in every community service project she could and being a loving presence to all who met her, Jody certainly changed the world. She continues to do so as a college student and is participating this weekend in Samaritans 5k event to raise money for suicide awareness. http://www.samaritansofboston.org/index.php/5k.html.

I am so proud of Jody. I don’t usually make a habit of being facebook friends with my former students, but Jody is one of the exceptions. In reading my frustrated facebook status this weekend, Jody responded, “Keep Swimming!” I had to laugh immediately recognizing this quote from the movie “Finding Nemo.” The idea of continuing on in the face of adversity is a theme throughout this Disney classic, as Nemo's father tries to find his son with the help of his lovable friend Dory.

So I am going to “Keep Swimming.” Through the stress, the emotional and hormonal ups and downs, the injections, the doctors appointments, the set backs, the medications, the exhaustion. Jody kept swimming after all and this week she inspires me to do the same.
.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Mini-Vacations from Infertility

Last weekend my family and I went on a short vacation to the beach to unwind and relax. My third and final IVF is rapidly approaching, so it was very necessary for me to take the time to be in the present moment, enjoying the beauty of nature and all of the little treasures life has to offer. I was so happy to take a break from thinking about my infertility treatments, and I was actually able to remain stress free and unburdened during my whole time away. The morning we were to go back home, I sadly said goodbye to the ocean. I realized on my vacation that there were ways I could “take mini-vacations” that would provide temporary stress relief as I navigate another difficult path on my journey.

1. Drinking a glass of wine, or a margarita, or some other tasty adult beverage. When struggling with infertility, being able to have a drink is the equivalent of “No Sally, you don’t win the car, but hey, you win our take home version of the game show!” No one really wants the crappy board game, but at least it is something. Clearly, I would like to be pregnant and therefore not be able to drink, but since I am not with child, yes I will have a margarita on the rocks with salt. ( Obviously, this is not a good option if you struggle with addiction--the social worker in me had to clarify this).

2. Doing something crazy. My husband and I weren’t sure what we would do for our 4th wedding anniversary. We were really depressed because we had thought for sure that we would be pregnant by that time. We knew we had a difficult autumn approaching, filled with doctors, fertility treatments and surgery. We decided to do something that we never would have done if we were pregnant or if we had kids. We spent the day at trapeze school. It was crazy and awesome. We will never forget it.

3. Being around nature. Whether I am sitting on a bench taking in the river view, or walking on a trail alongside the duck pond, I find peace and comfort in running water. I like to be by the water and feel its healing presence, especially on my tougher days. I feel spiritually rejuvenated in these spots. Being by the water reminds me that I am a small part of a greater universe, and I find that comforting.

4. Watching a fun movie. For people struggling with infertility, it is sometimes hard to find a movie that is relaxing. For instance, “Knocked Up“, a seemingly hilarious movie about a couple who accidentally gets pregnant, could be excruciating for someone who is having trouble conceiving. This past weekend I found a great movie to watch that was hilarious and not at all thought provoking or stressful; “Date Night” with Steve Carrell and Tina Fey. It made me laugh and took me away from my troubles for a little while.

5. Doing something to benefit others. Helping other people feels good. It is a beneficial distraction from your own troubles. After my failed IVF with embryo biopsies last year, I thought I had hit bottom. Then a few months later, I had an unexpected pregnancy and then went through my fourth miscarriage in less than a year. I was feeling really low and quite lost, looking for meaning and purpose. I eventually started writing, and I noticed that my writing had themes of peace and service. Eventually, was born, devoted to teaching preschoolers to love the environment, each other and themselves. With the site, I hope to make the world a little bit brighter. It brings me comfort to have created meaning and purpose when I was experiencing overwhelming feelings of sadness and emptiness.

These are some of the "mini-vacations" I take to escape from the stress of trying to conceive and of coping with the inevitable difficulties. Everyone has their small joys in life, whether they are exercise, reading a book, listening to music, eating a fabulous meal or getting away. I look forward to hearing about what brings you joy and relief from stress.
With Love,
Light,
and Happiness,
Casey

Sunday, September 5, 2010

So, when are YOU going to have a baby? Why that question should be illegal.

I am not sure how the question, “When are you guys going to have kids?” or “When are you guys going to have another baby?” became a casual, innocent question to ask. If I knew, I would turn back time to that moment and thwart any attempts to make those questions socially acceptable. As with many things in life, what appears innocent and friendly to some, is actually painful and hurtful to others. It is never okay to ask anyone those two questions or questions like those.

While my husband and I were desperately trying to conceive our little one, people would ask us all the time the dreaded question, “So, when are you guys having kids?” We had been married for four years before we got pregnant with our little one, unbeknownst to most, almost half of that time was spent trying to conceive. I suppose to the outside world it seemed odd that we hadn’t started a family yet. Simply hearing the question always brought me pain and heartache. There were certain times when hearing it was especially excruciating, like after my surgery for endometriosis or after my first failed IUI (see “Our Journey” post).

I never knew how to handle that question. Was I really supposed to tell cousin Frankie that I see once a year my whole sordid tale of infertility? Did my husband’s co-worker’s wife really want to know about my ovarian cysts at the annual office holiday party? Probably not. These people thought they were just making simple conversation. Then there were those closer relatives and friends who felt like they were doing me a favor by asking. They went on to explain how my husband and I would make amazing parents. They sometimes went further by saying how they could not wait to see what our kids would look like. (just put a knife in my already broken heart and twist it some more)

Once my husband and I had our daughter, I thought the days of awkward questions were over. Then after my daughter turned six months, coincidentally when we started trying to conceive again unsuccessfully, the awkward questions returned and still haunt me today. Most of our closer relatives and friends now know of our difficulties in trying to conceive and have stopped asking. But the people in our lives who are not aware of our struggles say things like, “So isn‘t it time for another one? Your daughter needs a sibling you know. She can’t be an only child.” I find that after all of the miscarriages I have had since my daughter‘s birth, I have a lot less patience for these questions. These questions do not make me sad anymore. They now make me angry. How dare these people ask such questions? Don’t they know how inappropriate these questions are?

What I eventually remind myself is that these people truly do not know inappropriate these questions are. A recent article in Self magazine reported that, “One in eight American couples will experience infertility, and 1.1 million women will undergo treatment this year. That most won’t talk about it makes it that much more painful: A recent survey of infertility patients reveals that 61 percent hide the struggle to get pregnant from friends and family.” Most of the time, I do not feel like educating people about how horrible their questions make me feel. It never seems like the time nor the place. I also hold back from responding to these questions with something equally inappropriate such as, “Yeah, we had hoped that our last four pregnancies had not ended in miscarriage, so we could in fact provide a sibling for our daughter. Thanks for asking”

My husband always has a knack for taking the “high road” in most situations. When he is asked about our intentions of having more children he always replies longingly, “I sure hope so.” Not the answer a person expects mind you, but it is enough to drop the topic of future family building and make the interrogator think a little.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Faith, Fertility and Doogie Howser


I'm not sure if my husband and I ever could have imagined the lengths to which we would go in order to have a baby. But I am sure that it was shortly after our initial appointment with the fertility doctor that we knew our journey was going to be more complicated than we had originally planned. As I mentioned before (see “Our Journey” post), both my husband and I grew up devout Catholics. We had to rethink all we ever were told about morality and conception from our schooling, where things like IVF and embryo biopsies were not an option. My mother-in-law, who epitomizes the word “Catholic,” wasted no time thinking after she heard about our issues and their possible solutions. After listening to our sordid tale, she came out with one of the most beautiful quotes, from one of the most unlikely sources--the popular hit television show of the late 80’s, early 90’s, Doogie Howser M.D. This quote, from Doogie’s computer journal that he faithfully typed at the end of every episode, read, “when the tools of science meets the mysteries of faith, the most powerful of all human miracles is born. It’s called hope.”

I have never felt like what my husband and I were doing to try to conceive was ever wrong. How could anything that brings about a life, a little soul, be wrong? I begin to wonder if the people in the various religious institutions who made the rules about what is the “right” way to conceive ever had trouble conceiving? Have they ever felt the despair, the loss or the sense of hopelessness a couple with infertility faces? Have they ever seen the joy of a family who has conceived a child through IVF after trying for many years? For a person like myself with a severe translocation coupled with endometriosis, “conceiving naturally” is not an option and would just lead to one miscarriage after another.

My daughter, was conceived because “the tools of science” met with “the mysteries of faith.” My fertility doctor actually looked at my daughter the other day as we went over my discouraging medical history and said, “She is a miracle.” I didn’t want to hear that from him as we were talking about trying to conceive again, but I appreciated the statement regardless. My daughter, at the tender age of two, enters a room and fills it with love. She emanates joy. Her friendliness is contagious, even to random strangers in the grocery store to whom she introduces herself unsolicited. My daughter is compassionate and thoughtful, a truly special soul. If my husband and I followed the rules mandated by certain religious institutions, my daughter wouldn’t be here. But we didn’t, and she is. She is a child of God, and she is full of Grace (which also happens to be her middle name).

My faith in God gives me grace and strength to get through this difficult journey. My fertility doctor and all of the medical procedures that exist out there to help me achieve a pregnancy give me hope. My husband, my daughter, our parents and other supportive family and friends give me love. Because of this combination of support, I am well armed to fight infertility. Without faith, hope and love, I would be lost.

There is a great anecdote that sums up how I feel about taking advantage of all there exists medically to help me conceive. I heard it during a homily at mass one day, and it went something like this:

A great flood came to a town, and the waters were rising steadily. A man was determined to stay in his house, convinced that God would save him. A neighbor came by with a row boat and asked the man if he wanted a ride to safety. The man said, “No thanks. God will save me.” The waters continued to rise, and the man went up to the second floor of his house to escape the river. Then, a police boat came by and ordered the man on the boat. The man replied, “I will not go, God will save me.” Finally the man had to go on top of his roof to avoid the rushing waters. A helicopter came by with a rescue basket warning the man this was his last chance to evacuate. The man again refused saying, “It’s okay. God will save me.” Later, the man got swept away with the rising current. At the pearly gates the man asked his Creator, “Why didn’t you save me?” God replied, “I sent two boats and a helicopter. What more could I do?”

Because I am only human, I have no idea what will be said to me regarding the use of fertility treatments when I arrive at the pearly gates to meet my Maker. I just might hear the words, “Bad call.” My heart and soul are telling me otherwise, though-- especially when I look at my daughter and see God so clearly in her. What I would not want to hear is, “I sent a reproductive endocrinologist, a genetic lab and an embryologist your way. What more could I do?”

Friday, August 20, 2010

M is for Miscarriage

I have always known that there was intense suffering and pain in this world. Throughout high school and college, a good part of my time was spent volunteering, which gave me the opportunity to sit and talk to people during their most difficult times. I have done outreach with the homeless population in New York City, assisted women who were dying in Calcutta, played with orphans in Tijuana and even counseled men with addictions who had been incarcerated on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. My whole life I have felt a real responsibility to hear people’s stories as they navigate the most arduous terrains of their personal journeys. I always felt that listening to their stories made them feel less alone, and that it was the least I could do. Now, reflecting on some of the most painful parts of my own journey, I hope to reach out to people going through similar situations so that they feel less alone.

Growing up, I remember hearing how my mom had five miscarriages between me and my brother, who is 8 years younger than me. My mom never really talked about it. My parents both felt that my brother and I were miracles and they were so grateful for us. Yet, “miscarriage” was a word that always brought me fear and anxiety. Although the issue my mom had with her uterus was not genetic, somehow I still worried that what she went through could be a possibility for me as well. It was a potential reality I didn’t want to face. In my early twenties I was certain I could never emotionally survive a miscarriage if one came my way. I was also sure I could somehow strategize my life to avoid miscarriages. If only we could find a way to strategize the pain and heartache out of our lives!

In the past two years I have had four miscarriages. Some have been worse than others, but it goes without saying that they all have been low points in my husband’s and my journey. Due to my diagnosis of a translocation (see “Our Journey” post), 94% of our pregnancies will end in miscarriage. Needless to say, something I was certain I could somehow avoid became a very real and steady presence for me, a great source of anxiety in my daily life. My diagnosis of the translocation was devastating, but after three consecutive miscarriages, I was glad to finally have some answers. Stress and uncertainty are a major part of the world of infertility treatments. Yet, hope is just as present. A miscarriage is the antithesis of hope.

To know you have a life growing inside of you that is no longer “viable” is devastating. In my case, to know you have a life inside of you that is struggling to survive, but most likely will not make it, is heart wrenching. Especially since nothing I can do can help, and I just have to wait for it all to end. By my fourth miscarriage, I felt like my body was just a hospice for what were once potential lives. Like in grieving for a lost loved one, I certainly grieved for each pregnancy lost. When my doctor called me and told me told me that all 12 IVF embryos weren't viable, I grieved for them too, even though they were never actually implanted.

Every time the doctor tells me that I am pregnant, or that we have embryos growing, I feel like it is a little piece of my husband and me now out there in the universe. I feel there exists a little life, with a lifetime of potential. Though I am always aware of the odds working against me, I feel like where there is life, there is hope. When there is no longer life or when I know life is no longer thriving, all hope is lost. And I myself feel just that-- lost. While I am waiting for the miscarriage to come, I mostly disengage with my surrounding world, except for participating in what is necessary. When it arrives, I take a few days to grieve and keep my feet up. I take time to feel sad. I cry. I drink chocolate milkshakes. I don’t talk to anyone for a while because there is nothing to say and nothing that can be said to make me feel better. Nothing. If I could make time freeze during these periods so I could let the suffering pass and then unfreeze time when I am ready to face the world, I would.

I am just one woman amongst many who have had similar experiences. My heart breaks when I read the blogs of other women who have gone through this, and in some cases, so much more. I am amazed by the grace and the strength of these women to keep going. I am amazed by the strength of my mother, now that I have a deeper understanding of what she went through. Quite frankly, I am amazed at my own strength. The 22 year old Casey would have predicted the present-day Casey to spontaneously combust at having to handle all of this. But I am still here. We somehow all are still here, no matter where our journeys have taken us. That wisdom first came to me long ago when I volunteered, witnessing all of the incredible survivors living through insurmountable crisis. I am grateful for the grace and the strength that have carried me through. And I pray that life’s most difficult paths will continue to grant me wisdom.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

"Where Everybody Knows Your Name"


I love my Reproductive Endocrinologist (better known as my fertility doctor.). I love him as well as every single member of his staff in a deep, would-throw-myself-in-front-of-a-bus-to-save-their-lives, committed sort of way. The funny thing is, I think they feel the same way about me. Well, maybe it isn’t realistic to think they feel that way about their patients. But they make me feel like they love me in that way, and that is good enough for me. When I walk into their office, I feel like Norm walking into Cheers. I get a big, friendly warm welcome. During an IVF cycle, when I am seeing them 3-4 times a week, the office becomes my second home and they are a surrogate family to me. And when I am on a break from treatments, I actually miss them.

After six months of trying to conceive naturally at the tender age of 26, my ObGyn recommended that I go see a specialist. This referral made me sick to my stomach. It confirmed and made real my underlying suspicions that there was indeed a problem. I didn’t want to go to a specialist. But, more accurately, I didn’t want to have a fertility issue. Rising above my anger, fear and frustration was my overwhelming desire to conceive and become a mom. I made the appointment with the specialist and anxiously awaited the big day.

I was truly hoping for some answers. None of the doctors in my gynecologist’s group understood infertility. They all had said things to me ranging from completely dismissive, to terribly ignorant and hurtful, to just plain outrageous. One doctor in the group told me that every women had painful periods and it wasn’t that uncommon (I was later diagnosed with endometriosis). Another doctor actually touched my arm, made a noise like he was electrocuting me, and assured me that he gave me his “special touch” and I would be pregnant in the next five months. His nurse looked at me and said, “MmmHmmm honey! I hope you are prepared to be pregnant. It always works!” The same doctor told me on a separate occasion just to get a bottle of wine and go on vacation, and that my husband and I would be pregnant in no time. He was confident that it would work for us because it had worked for him and his wife. (Thank you doc for the TMI-Too Much Information)

Anxiety, sadness and despair overwhelmed me and my husband the first time we sat in my fertility doctor’s office waiting for him to see us. It was really strange seeing all of the other women around me waiting for their turn to go in. It was the first time I had knowingly been around other women who were having fertility issues. I was so anxious that the doctor would not take my issues seriously and would write me off as too young, crazy or “just stressed.” I was also just as anxious that based on my symptoms he would tell me my case was hopeless and there was something seriously wrong with me.

As it turned out, the specialist did neither. My husband and I went in to meet with him and he listened to our journey and my symptoms. He asked many questions regarding my personal history. He recommended some initial testing and explained it in a clear and descriptive manner. He didn’t dismiss me. He listened with empathy. He didn’t overwhelm me with a lot of information, but gave me enough to feel empowered. He didn’t promise me that I would get pregnant, but he didn‘t find my situation hopeless either. He answered my long list of questions. I immediately felt comfortable with him. And his staff were all very friendly, and also answered all the questions that I had. I left the office that day feeling sad that my journey to conceive had resorted to seeing a specialist, but I also felt new hope in being in the right hands with this new doctor and his staff.

Over the past four years I have counted on my fertility doctor and his staff through my and my husband’s most difficult days. One particularly rough day included a visit to my ObGyn for a yeast infection I had developed after taking an antibiotic right after one of my IUI procedures. I knew there were at least ten days to go before my fertility doctor wanted me in for a pregnancy test following my IUI. I shared this information with my ObGyn, yet she kept going on and on about how she always got a yeast infection when she became pregnant with each of her four kids. She was sure I was pregnant too. I assured her that a test couldn’t show it now, even if it were true. She ordered one anyway, and as I was waiting for her to give me the results of my urine test, I heard her outside my examination room telling the nurse that the test was negative and that I could go. The doctor couldn’t even bear to look at me. I asked the nurse about the test, wanting to be sure I had heard correctly. The nurse responded, “Don’t worry, you can relax. It is negative.”

I tried to keep it together as I left the ObGyn’s office. I immediately called my fertility doctor’s office and through tears told the nurse my story. She assured me that it was too soon for even a blood test to show a pregnancy result. She said that she was sorry I had to go through what I just went through and told me to relax and come back in a week and a half for a blood test. The fertility doctor and his staff supported me when that blood test did eventually turn out to be negative. They always gave me the difficult news of negative pregnancy tests, or worse, of impending miscarriages, in a compassionate, professional manner. I could always tell they were rooting for me, and yet they never gave me false hope. They were so incredibly happy for me when the fertility doctor told me and my husband that the pregnancy with my daughter was viable, after many blood tests and ultrasounds. I feel like they truly are the only ones who understand all that my husband and I went through to conceive my daughter, and the odds my daughter overcame to be here. I count on the fertility doctor and their staff for their honesty, for their guidance, for their support. They are never dismissive, they never say the wrong thing. They define the word “sensitive” day after day.

I love my fertility doctor and his staff. I feel I can never repay them for what they have done for me these past four years. My fertility journey has been quite traumatic, terrible and even terrifying at times. They are a shining light for me, and I know I will continue to count on them to get me through the long journey that lies ahead of me. When my daughter and I say our prayers at night, we make sure to say a special prayer for them. For them we are so grateful.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Why I dislike "To Become Pregnant" Magazine

So it has been a long while since I had been to my fertility doctor’s office. After the IVF failed in August due to a lack of viable embryos (see “Our Journey” blog post) my husband and I decided to take a break from fertility. The very next month I needed surgery to remove my gallbladder, a result of the type of birth control pill I was on coupled with all of the “pregnancies” I had. Then in November I surprisingly and unintentionally got pregnant naturally and went in to see my fertility doctor only to miscarry on Thanksgiving Day. After taking a real break for almost a year, my husband and I decided it was time to test our luck once more with trying to conceive through IVF.

While waiting to see the fertility doctor on my first day back to the office, I spotted a familiar nemesis in the waiting room. Let’s call my nemesis, “To Become Pregnant” magazine. Goodness, I really dislike this magazine. I have to see it not only at my fertility doctor’s office, but always at my regular ObGyn’s office as well. The magazine just sits there on top of some sort of unnecessary office furniture, mocking me, with an unnaturally adorable baby on the cover, followed by many more adorable baby pics and pregnant bellies on every other page. I have since come to peace with this magazine. But back before I knew everything that I had going against me fertility-wise, this magazine would haunt me, as it may haunt many of you. Every magazine always details an overwhelming, unreasonable amount of tasks to complete in order to have a better chance at conceiving. And it always STRESSED ME OUT. I decided to go through this magazine and put together all the things I would have to do to increase my odds “To Become Pregnant,” that is, according to their advice and the advice of their advertisements.

First, I wake up and take pills that some woman testified gave her a “miracle baby”. I cook all of my meals according to the recipes found in a “how-to-cook-for-infertility” book. I make sure I see the dentist in order to avoid gum disease, which could not only prevent conception but cause stillborns. I check all carpets, electronics and household items that are fabric, foam or plastic because they may have a chemical that is effecting my ability to get pregnant. Since I can’t take 5 months off from work to complete a fertility spa program to increase fertility, I get that same program’s recommended exercise DVD and routinely work out my “core”. On top of that, there is a Yoga Ball I use to help and some regular yoga positions with more accompanying DVDs. I eat a lot of Greek Salad or anything that can be considered to be a Mediterranean diet. But of course I cannot diet in general because that will thwart any initiatives I take towards conception. I eat healthy, though, and there are many healthy snacks I choose from. But I also eat chocolates which have been prayed over that could help with my fertility. Finally, others are doing acupuncture, herbs and massage, so I do that as well.

Not only are there tips for me in this magazine, but many tips for my husband and I to follow together. There is a lubricant we have to use that was developed by a Sperm Physiologist(???). One woman swore the lubricant helped her achieve her “miracle baby”. We chart cycles, use a fertility monitor, track cervical mucus, and I simply listen to my body. We “don’t start messing around with alcohol, hormones or drugs” when we are getting ready for pregnancy (!!!!!). Around the time we are trying to conceive we eat foods that are sexy (on top of snacking on non-diet, Mediterranean recipes from the “how-to-cook-for-infertility” book, with a side helping of prayer chocolates ). We exercise around this time, but not too much. I also buy new lingerie. Before doing an IVF, we ask the embryologist to rock the embryo before implanting it because it worked with mice. Oh, and we also relax.

Okay so why does this magazine irritate me so? Simply because it reminds me of that vulnerable, unsure, uninformed desperate young woman I was many years ago. I would read these articles and try to do everything they said to get pregnant. I would mostly follow every word, but would slip up here or there. If I didn’t get pregnant at the end of the month I would ask myself, ”Did I not have enough prayer chocolates?” or “Maybe it was those few glasses of wine?” or “Maybe the foods we were eating simply weren’t sexy enough?” Month after month of getting my period, I would second guess myself and try to figure out what more I could have done to get pregnant, or what rule I didn’t follow. With every issue of “To Become Pregnant,” there were more and more guidelines I had to worry about.

My fertility journey has taught me a very hard but vital lesson. We can twist ourselves into pretzels, change our whole lifestyle, inject ourselves with many, many hormones, but when it all comes down to it, we are still trying to bring a life into this world. There is a great mystery to all of this and it is frustrating as all hell. It makes me feel like I am repeatedly banging my head against the wall. But I would rather be frustrated and baffled than blame myself month after month for not being pregnant because I didn’t chart my cervical mucus right (gross!). I guess what I am trying to say is that I am clearly an advocate for being proactive, considering all the lengths I have taken to get pregnant, but I feel like we can’t blame ourselves for our inability to conceive. We have to be at peace with all of our efforts or non-efforts and accept (albeit begrudgingly) the mystery of conception. “To Become Pregnant” and magazines like these have an incredible opportunity to touch the lives of women who are on this difficult fertility journey, but instead they just make us crazy(er). They prey upon their vulnerable readers, all the while selling ad space to ridiculous companies. But I guess, “What you can do to try to improve fertility slightly although it may not even matter in the end” doesn’t really sell. But I must admit those prayer chocolates sure do sound good.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

My Favorite Note of Comfort

So, it is much easier to give advice on what NOT to say to people who are struggling to conceive (see previous blog, “What Not To Say” http://chancesour.blogspot.com/2010/07/say-what.html ). The truth is, there isn’t really a lot you can say to someone who is struggling with this difficult journey. Like with many hard things in life, there are no words to capture the sorrow, the pain, the loss and the heartache that this path brings. At any given moment, a caring supporter’s words can seem trite or meaningless, even with the best intentions. I have had many words of comfort said to me over the years and there is one grouping of words that stands out above the rest. I received the following note back in 2007 from a close family member. I saved it and have continued to read it during the more difficult times in my husband’s and my journey. I share it now because it continues to bring me comfort and strength.

The body of the note read:
I just wanted to email you and let you know that I am thinking about you. You don’t have to email me back. I know that when I am frustrated, angry, upset I don’t want to be asked a thousand times how I am. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better or at least make you smile, but I know there isn’t. I just want you to know that I think you're so amazingly strong, a wonderful person and a wonderful woman and wife. I know that you must be confused, hurt, angry, etc but I just hope you are not internalizing it. It is so easy to blame oneself or think you're somehow a bad woman because you are having trouble doing what seems so natural. You are so wonderful and I have no doubt that you will be an excellent mother. Make sure you lean on your husband, your greatest strength is that you have each other.

Why is this note so great?
-I like the phrase “I am thinking about you.” It is nice to be thought of, yet the phrase is casual enough that you don’t feel like someone is obsessing or stressing over your situation.

-When I am in the thick of fertility treatment hell, I love emails and texts. I like not having to talk to people if I do not want to, yet I like knowing they are there if I need them. I liked that she said I didn’t have to write back.

-I like that she admitted she couldn’t make it better. So many people want to make it better, make you smile so they feel like they helped you (they make it about them and their need to help). They try so hard to be positive and hopeful. When you try to explain the reality of the situation and how you have to prepare yourself for a good or bad outcome, they try even harder to make it all better. Admitting that she couldn’t in fact help me actually helped me (Does that make any sense?!). She acknowledged my pain, anguish and uncertainty and was willing to be in that place with me instead of dragging me out kicking and screaming.

-She didn’t say I was strong enough to do this. She didn’t say how I was too wonderful to be going through this. She simply said I was strong and wonderful. When you are tired, when you are a temporary human pin cushion (from all of the injections), wondering if this will even matter in the end, hearing that you are amazingly strong and wonderful feels good.

-Throughout this process when I get in more self-pitying moods, I have often said to my loving husband through tears, “I feel like I am broken.” I have also said, “I am so sorry my body sucks and now we have to deal with all of this;” and if it is a particularly rough night, “You should trade me in for a younger gal with genetically sound, endometriosis free reproductive parts.” Inevitably he always reassures me that he loves me, he under no circumstance will trade me in and most importantly he reminds me that this is OUR journey together. The above note recognizes and allows for these insecurities in a non-intrusive way, all the while encouraging me to let them go.

-I like how she says I will be an excellent mother. She doesn’t say that I will be pregnant soon or one day in the future. She doesn’t say that I could always adopt if this doesn’t work. She doesn’t say when or how it will all work out. Her assurance and faith come through without making unrealistic predictions about my situation that inevitably will make me angry if they don’t work out. Also when the universe seems like it is campaigning against your desired role as mother, it is nice to get a vote of confidence.

-Finally, after acknowledging my sadness, frustration and stress, the note ends with an affirmation of my greatest strength. Again, this note is great in large part because of what she could have said but had the wisdom not to. She didn’t say, well at least you and your husband will always have each other. She instead reminded me that I am not in this alone, and even if the world around us crumbles, my husband and I can pick up the pieces if we rely on each other.

This note really was a comfort to me. The unfortunate truth is, it may not serve as a comfort to other women going through a similar situation. I cannot speak for everyone. We are all individuals on this path, and what is good for some may not work for others. Also, depending on where we are in the journey, our needs change from day to day. All of us share common desires, though. We want to feel loved and thought of. We need people to listen and to talk to us, but only on our own terms. We want to be included in everyday activities, but also want our space when needed. Some days we will need laughs and distractions with no mention of fertility, and other days we need chocolate ice cream and tear fests. So for all of those with friends or family members who are going through this, ask us what we need through email or text, tell us you are thinking about us, and we will certainly come calling when we are ready.

(I look forward to comments about what words have brought you comfort)

Monday, July 26, 2010

“In complete darkness we are all the same”-Janet Jackson

While I was first trying to get pregnant, I worked as a Campus Minister at a wonderful local Catholic college. As Campus Minister, I mainly focused on organizing service learning trips in the US and abroad for the students. I also occasionally did retreat work with the students. During one of my first weekend retreats I had an extraordinary experience that changed my perspective forever.

I did not feel like going on retreat that weekend. I just received news that my first IUI after my surgery to remove the endometriosis was a failure. Earlier that morning I had gone into my doctor’s office hoping for clearance to immediately start up my second IUI. As I was preparing the retreat house before the students’ arrival, I received a phone call from my doctor’s office saying I have huge cysts (thank you Chlomid) and my blood work was not great. Not only did the first IUI not work, I had to go on the pill for a month in order to relax my system to see if my cysts would go away so that I could try again the following month. That would mean no possible pregnancy for at least two months. What is two months to someone who has been already trying for two years to get pregnant? A lifetime.

Feeling mushy, but determined to be my best self, I welcomed graciously my small group of college students and the priest who had arrived with them to lead the retreat. The priest talked sternly about the “no cell phone or watches rule” to encourage the students not to be distracted by the outside world. As the students filed out to put their stuff away and claim their rooms, one student lingered behind.

This student, whom we will call Polly, was and still is an amazing, determined, giving, selfless young woman. She led a group on campus that organized local community service projects and was involved in many other things. She was a pleasure to be around, a girl with a good head on her shoulders. Unbeknownst to me, she was also terrified, isolated, stressed and overwhelmed. She was 10 weeks pregnant and a junior in college. After the other students and the priest left the room, Polly asked me if she could keep her phone because there was a crisis going on in her family. The social worker in me asked if everything was okay. I thought maybe her grandma was sick or something.

Polly told me she was pregnant. I honestly would have been better prepared for her to tell me she was waiting for a call from NASA to visit the moon. She told me her family and her long term boyfriend already knew and were supporting her in her decision to keep the baby. But her family and her boyfriend were a plane ride away. She wanted the phone for security. I told her of course she could keep the phone with her. I also managed to blurt out that if she needed ANYTHING she could count on me.

The retreat progressed and I kept staring at her belly in wonder, thinking about the little life in there. A lovely nun came in to talk to the students at one point about valuing themselves. She did something really unique in trying to teach my students that they were all special, God’s gifts; she read them, “On The Night You Were Born”, a children’s book about how all the animals on earth celebrated when we all came into existence. It is a beautiful book. There is a hidden line on one illustrated page that says, “You are a miracle.” Tears came rolling down my cheeks looking at this young woman Polly, carrying an even younger life inside of her.

Something really hit me that night as I went outside and looked up at the stars and had a chat with my Creator. My husband thought then and still thinks that these simply random circumstances were cruel and unusual. I kept repeating the same questions in my mind. Why was this happening to me? What is the purpose of this? Then it hit me that Polly was probably asking these same questions herself. We were both “terrified, isolated, stressed and overwhelmed.” Life was not working out like either one of us had hoped or planned. The circumstances we found ourselves in were forcing us to rethink our lives. We both felt alone, like no one could possibly understand. We couldn’t really share with anyone what was going on for fear of being judged. We both were putting on a brave face while inside we were in turmoil. We actually were both trying to make the best of things as best we could.

I suddenly felt overwhelming compassion for Polly. So when she asked me at the end of the retreat if I could accompany her to her first two ultrasounds because her family lived far away, I agreed. I prayed hard the night before her first ultrasound, not just for the baby’s health, but for the grace and the strength to get through it without breaking down. It was a great honor and privilege to be there with her during this special moment, yet it was so difficult with all that I was going through. I sat next to her, marveling her pregnant belly as we both listened to the little heartbeat on the monitor. I am sure Polly was thinking, “With all my boyfriend and I did to prevent this, what were the chances that we would get pregnant?” And at the same moment, I was thinking, “With all we are doing to try to make this happen, what are the chances my husband and I will get pregnant?”

“In complete darkness we are all the same”-Janet Jackson

Monday, July 19, 2010

Say What?

When it comes to infertility I have found that people just don’t know what to say to those going through it. Then when they finally find the words, you kind of wish they hadn’t. My husband and I have had many crazy things said to us throughout our journey. I find these statements mostly come from those closest to us who are having trouble seeing us go through the pain we are going through. The crazy part is people say these things and their words come from a place of love and care(mostly- there are exceptions!). I think our family and friends are trying to be helpful. They just want to make it better.

Listed below are ten unhelpful (and borderline hateful) things people usually say to those of us struggling with infertility. I personally have heard each and every one of these. I have also included what I wanted to respond with and what I actually said.

1) "You are just stressed. If you relax and stop thinking about it, it will happen."
What I want to say: Thank you Captain Obvious for pointing out that I am stressed. Guess what? As long as I am dealing with infertility I am going to be stressed. Makes things pretty bleak for me if I go by your assessment of the situation. By the way, how can I stop thinking about it when I am injecting myself daily and getting vaginal ultrasounds every other day. Also for your information, if stressed people didn’t get pregnant the human race would die.
What I say to end the conversation: Hmmm, maybe I will take a Yoga class or something.

2) "You want it too bad. You just can’t force these things."
What I want to say: What is wanting it too bad when it comes to bringing a life into the world? What does that even mean? Tell my doctor who is pumping the heck out of me with meds he can’t force it, because he feels otherwise. Oh and by the way, I am PAINFULLY aware of my lack of control in this situation, but thanks for the reminder.
What I say to end the conversation: You really can’t.

3) “You are so young. Why are you worrying?”
What I want to say: Yes I am young AND 94% of my eggs are bad AND I have endometriosis. What is there not to worry about? (“Older” women get a lot of grief too I am sure) I feel like commenting on age either way is really dismissive and unhelpful.
What I say to end the conversation: Yup. I am certainly young.

4) “You’re too skinny” or "You’re too fat"
What I want to say: If my weight was the issue, my doctor would have told me day one. Do you think if that was the problem he wouldn’t have caught it? During a fertility cycle, I probably see my doctor and their staff more than I see my husband; it would have been noted. My infertility is not my fault or in my control!
What I say to end the conversation: Hmmm, I will check that out.

5) “You’re working too hard at your job.” or “This fertility stuff is your only focus! You need a distraction.”
What I want to say: My lifestyle is not the cause of my infertility. THIS IS NOT MY FAULT. Honestly, I have a super sized box of drugs that I am pumping into my system through needles, if it was as simple as cutting my work hours or getting a hobby I would be pregnant.
What I say to end the conversation: Who doesn‘t like a vacation?

6) “It will happen when it is meant to be”
What I want to say: Though that may be true, I simply don’t want to hear it right now. What if it isn’t meant to be? If it is meant to be, how do I take all the steps to make it happen? Why wasn’t it meant to be already? It may seem like a wise, reasonable answer, but it just isn’t practical. What if my fertility doctor said that to me when I went to him with my troubles? What I say to end the conversation: Well that is true.

7) “You’ll be pregnant by next year. I‘ll bet you.”
What I want to say: Fine, you want to be a psychic friend? I will accept this answer on one condition. If you are wrong future me gets to come back in a time machine to this very point and smack you, really hard.
What I say to end the conversation: Wow, that would be really nice.

8) “Wow, I never had any trouble at all conceiving.”
What I want to say: Clearly, thanks for sharing.
What I say to end the conversation: That is really good. It’s a tough road. But, we all have our journeys.

9) "I understand what you mean, with our first one it took two months to get pregnant."
What I want to say: (Long sad sigh)
What I say to end the conversation: It IS a scary thing to think you are going to get pregnant right away and then it doesn’t happen.

10) "Maybe you’re pregnant" or "Maybe you will get pregnant on your “infertility break”"
What I want to say: I am not pregnant, though I may look it because I am swollen and full of cysts from a cycle that didn’t work. When I said we were on a break, there is no room for a “Hey you never know it could happen when you least expect it!” I am on a pill to rid myself of those cysts that will prevent pregnancy. Actually, the cysts are so big, I am banned from participating in any “relations” that will get us pregnant. The fact that you are insinuating such a possibility is devastating to me because I know it is not true now or will be true in the near future (unless through immaculate conception).
What I say to end conversation: Maybe!

I am comforted by the fact that most of these people who say these things love me dearly. These are the same people who pray for me, help out with my needs during these tumultuous times and love me when I am whacked out on hormones. So I hope this blog will help not only those who have heard these things, but those who are trying to support loved ones going through this. I look forward to all of your additions to the list.
With Love,
Light,
And Happiness,
Casey

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Our Journey

In high school, if you asked me what my future held, I probably would have said either doing intense volunteer work in a village in Africa for the rest of my life, or raising a huge family with the love of my life. I remember hearing about fertility treatments in high school. My initial thinking on the subject was, “Oh no. I would never do something like that. I would just adopt.” One laparoscopic surgery, three I.U.I.s, one beautiful baby girl, two I.V.F.s, 12 Embryo Biopsies, 16 little angels lost, countless blood tests, ultrasounds and many other tests that I cannot even pronounce later, my current self is on a journey I could have never imagined nor predicted.



When my husband and I first started casually trying to conceive at the young ages of 26 and 25, we had no idea that my body is, The Money Pit, of fertility. Like the characters in the 1980’s classic, we saw lots of potential in this beautiful dream of our future life and then slowly but surely, things started to unravel! After a year or so of “casually trying“, we upgraded to “really trying“. Then, after 6 months of getting nowhere, I felt in my heart something was terribly wrong. During my first visit to my fertility doctor I just wanted some answers. I just wanted to be pregnant. That day we entered on a journey that, unbeknownst to us, would take us to some of the highest peaks and lowest valleys in our life.

After ruling everything else out through many "pleasant" tests and procedures, our fertility doctor performed a laparoscopic surgery on me that revealed a moderate case of endometriosis(www.endofound.org). After not being able to get pregnant naturally a few months post-surgery, our doctor recommended we do I.U.I. This led to some complications with cysts and no pregnancy. After the cysts went away, we went through another I.U.I., and we were so incredibly lucky to get pregnant with our little girl.

Before my daughter was born, I secretly scoffed at all of the women lugging their toddlers and older children into the fertility doctor’s office. I looked at them thinking, “I would be SO happy with just one baby. Don’t they know how lucky they are?” Well, six months after my little one was born, before my endometriosis could grow back, I was in my doctor’s office trying my luck again. My first day back my blood test showed I had a biochemical pregnancy (fancy term for early miscarriage). I was shocked and devastated, but my doctor reassured me saying it happens to many women. He recommended we go for another I.U.I. which worked well last time.

The I.U.I. did lead to a pregnancy, only to end in another miscarriage. My doctor again said that was normal, and we were just unlucky. He then suggested I.V.F., which compared to I.U.I. was just a "few more shots and just a little more complicated." He felt the ability to examine our embryos before implanting them would avoid another miscarriage and lead to a quick pregnancy. A textbook perfect embryo, as he called it, was placed in my womb, but ended with our third miscarriage, all in the short span of five months! There were more tests, more discussions and finally an answer followed. I am a carrier of a balanced reciprocal translocation. This means that there is a genetic mutation with the majority of my eggs which causes only one out of every sixteen of my pregnancies to be viable. The rest will miscarry or worse. A baby with this type of translocation would be born without most major organs and would be stillborn or would not survive more than a few moments past birth.

Most people would search other options at this point. Why not adopt? But, my doctor didn‘t give up hope; so we didn’t either . His solution was that we do embryo biopsies so that we could screen the embryos' genetic material to see which ones were viable. Suddenly we were transported into an episode of X-Files. We were assured it is common, it has been done for many years, and our insurance may even cover it! As practicing Catholics, we had, many moons ago, stretched way beyond our initial limits and comfort zones. I looked at my daughter thinking, “How could we not do everything possible to try and bring another life into the world?” One egg retrieval, 12 embryo biopsies later, we were told none of them were viable. They all had the mutation and would not survive. That experience was a year ago this summer.

Like the characters in The Money Pit, we have invested ourselves deeply in a dream of how things could be. Even with “our house” crashing down around us, solutions to our problems indeed exist, though extreme. With solutions comes hope, albeit just a glimmer. Relinquishing all hope doesn’t seem like a viable option for us. Letting go of this dream or “selling the Money Pit” will mean that I take a huge loss after investing so much. Trying to wrap my head around a new, unfamiliar avenue like adoption overwhelms me greatly at this point. As unreliable and taxing as all this infertility stuff is, at least I feel like I know how to navigate it.

Our story is one of faith, one of heartache, one of hope. Surviving it all thus far has taught me that no matter how broken or how bad things are, we adapt, we get up, we go on. Chances are we will not get pregnant again as we try our last IVF with embryo biopsies this fall. Chances were, my daughter should not be here with us now seeing as how the odds were stacked against her on account of my endometriosis AND the genetic mutations in my eggs. Chance may be that our next child will be born to another amazing woman, who will love him so much she will give him up for adoption in hopes of giving him a better life.

I am not sure where our journey will lead us, but I know our journey thus far has been incredible. I hope to share some of my stories with you so that you in turn will share yours with me and the rest of the women who are all taking their chances on creating a family. Society does not like to talk about infertility, but it is so important to do so (though terrifying!). Cheers ladies to a new part of my journey starting this blog, and to you, and all of your journeys!
With Love,
Light,
and Happiness,
Casey