Phoebe: Decisions, Decisions. Now it’s Varicocele Repair.

After much back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth (seriously, people, make up your frigging minds), my husband is calling today to schedule his varicocele repair. The doctor said that we could see changes as soon as three months from now and we’ll definitely know something in six months. At my age (37 in April), that’s not too long to wait, according to most everyone we’ve talked to. The procedure is covered by insurance (we think), and we can always do IVF if it’s not successful. Going to email my doctor’s office now and tell them we’re holding off on IVF. They will have to wait to get my $24k. Let’s hope we don’t have to go there!

Later today update: the varicocele repair surgery is scheduled for April 17.  BTW, the reproductive urologist pointed out that DNA fragmentation is more important than morphology or motility in predicting pregnancy, and yet it is not part of the initial semen analysis given by most clinics.  I realize the test is expensive, but people should be given the option, for Chrissakes.  Had we done that “expensive” test, we wouldn’t have lost more money and time on pointless IUI’s.

Just sayin’,

Phoebe

Phoebe: Pity Party

When perusing infertility forums and websites, I am bombarded by stats and figures about people’s follicles and whatnot, but until reading Maggie’s latest post, I have yet to read anything that touches on the emotional and alienating aspect of it all.

It’s in weakened moments that I find myself comparing my situation to that of others. Even the word “infertility” makes you feel less than. And you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself, but you look around and it seems like you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a friend who’s pregnant or cooing over their new spawn. These are not people who necessarily take better care of themselves than you do. They are not necessarily younger. They are not less stressed out. They do not necessarily have simpler lives. And it feels shitty.

In my moments of self-pity, I think about how clueless these people are. Unless you are in infertility treatment, it’s as if you’ve never heard of it. I will tell some pregnant friends I am trying to get pregnant and they will say “all you have to do is get an ovulation predictor kit and then when it shows a surge, you boink for the next two days.” I had lunch recently with a chick who is one of those “being a mom is my identity” people and mentioned that my husband and I were pursuing infertility treatment and she asked in this condescending way: “and what does that entail exactly?” As if I was talking about getting sexual reassignment surgery. I had heard of fertility treatments before ever pursuing them. Ugh, there’s a smugness among certain people with kids that just makes it worse. It reminds me of when I was single and how some married people looked at me with pity. And now the “being a mom is my identity” people give me that same look.

It occurs to me in those moments how these people just got pregnant for free – I have to choose between spending $20,000 to have IVF and buying a house – and without self-flagellation. Their bodies are normal, doing what they are supposed to do, and even popping out babies at 39, 40, 42. I am INFERTILE. My chances of getting pregnant without help are, wait for it, between 0 and 1%.

The worst part is when I think about Darwin’s theory of “survival of the fittest.” If my body rarely makes eggs, and my husband doesn’t make enough sperm, doesn’t it stand to reason then that we are not the fittest and therefore should not reproduce? It’s fun to think of yourself as an evolutionary failure.

And the part that bugs me the most is that SO MANY PEOPLE are in the same boat, yet it is not discussed and so it feels like we’re all alone when we’re not. We’re all isolated and alienated when we’re not. There are millions of us out there. I would say half of the people I know are pursuing or have pursued infertility treatments. Let’s take it out of the closet, people!

I never thought I would be one of those people stressing about getting pregnant and letting it make me feel like my life is on hold. Ugh, you never know any of it until you get there.

And when I talk myself out of the despair spiral, I realize that I am on my own path, and I will get pregnant one day one way. It’s just a matter of being patient.

Still peeing on sticks,

Phoebe

Maggie: IUI failed again…Adoption pre-approval received

So today I got my adoption “pre-approval” in the mail.  Then I read how much the cost is.  MORE than IVF.  WHAT!?!?!?  I’m in such a confused/frustrated state right now.  3 years of infertility, 2 failed IUI’s and insurance that pays for absolutely nothing.  It’s not that my husband and I can’t afford to do IVF or adopt, it’s just to spend $15,000-$20,000 for something that has no guarantee of working seems insane.  A friend of mine did 4 IUIs and 3 IVFs.  She finally had twins, but I don’t even want to add up how much all that cost.  And I guess if I KNEW it would work it would be worth it, but it’s like going to Vegas and shooting craps at the high roller table but you don’t even get free snacks or drinks!

I guess I just never in my wildest dreams thought I couldn’t have a baby.  Seems that every unwed, unemployed, unhealthy woman I know can get pregnant just from looking at a complete stranger, but my wonderful husband and I are stuck in limbo.

And then, to be honest, I really resent being judged as to whether or not my husband and I are fit to raise child by some 15 year old who “thinks” she got pregnant at prom.  I want to say…you weren’t even smart enough to use a condom and there are 3 people who could be the dad.  And you are sitting in judgment of me?!  UGH!!!!  I guess all I can do is laugh at the irony.  Laugh or cry.  Those are my only two options.  And I’ve definitely cried enough.

I’m just venting out of sheer frustration.  I currently have 17 friends who are pregnant.  That’s 1.42 baby showers I will shop for and/or attend this year (and that’s assuming no one else gets pregnant).  I’m happy for all the other people, but it’s so hard sitting there guessing how round the mom’s tummy is and listening to everyone talk about how motherhood is the best thing in the world and how I really should think about getting pregnant.  I want to say…REALLY….gosh that never once dawned on me.  Thanks for the heads up. I’ll get right on it now that you mentioned it.

Another friend of mine adopted and had her son home for almost 3 months when she got the call that the birth mother changed her mind and my friend and her husband had to give the baby back.  That is a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, let a alone a friend.  I don’t understand how our laws a written.  A child isn’t something you put on lay-away….ask someone to hold for you…and then come back and pick it up a few months later.  I’m sure the laws are they way they are for a reason, but I just don’t get it.  Going through all this is difficult enough, but I don’t know how I could get over having to give my child back.

So I didn’t confirm yet with the adoption agency (we’re supposed to go to an orientation) and I didn’t let my RE know when/if I’m coming in for IVF.  I just need some time to think and pray.

I’ll let you know when I make a decision.

Peace, Love and Babies,

Maggie

Phoebe: Getting Ready for IUI Numero Dos.

Quick backstory:  I have always had irregular periods.  My mom did too, and had trouble conceiving even in  her early 20’s.  In fact, I have two adoptive siblings.  So I always suspected that when it came time for me to try to conceive, it would not be one of those lickety split situations.  My husband and I got married about a year ago, and would have loved to just chill for a while baby-free.  But I am now 36 (I turn 37 in April), and knowing it might take a while, we decided to start not not trying.  In other words, Trojans aside – let ‘er rip.

Last July, I thought I might be pregnant because I experienced what I thought was implantation bleeding and didn’t have a period for a long time.  I went to the gyno for a pregnancy test, and she said not only was I not pregnant, but I was not ovulating and I should go on Clomid.  After this news, I didn’t have a period for 50 days.  The following month, on a friend’s recommendation, I read Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which is extremely enlightening.  One of the things I learned is that when you  have irregular periods, you are often not ovulating at all.  So when you finally have what you think is a period, it’s not a period at all, but what is called anovulatory bleeding.  For anyone trying to get pregnant or just wanting to know how your body works, I strongly recommend this book.  It saddens me that, until last August, I had very limited knowledge of how babies are made.  Who knew there was cervical mucous, waking temperature, ovulation predictor kits and all that good stuff?  And I can’t believe I spent the first 35 years of my life trying so hard not to get pregnant when getting pregnant is virtually impossible most days of the month!  Honestly, I don’t know how anyone has an ‘accidental’ pregnancy.  But I digress…

In January, 2009 we decided to see a fertility specialist, or RE as they seem to be called online.  After learning about my background, he suggested three rounds of IUI with Clomid.  If that didn’t work, three rounds of IUI with FSH shots.  Then if we were still not pregnant, we would regroup.  He seemed very encouraging and relatively certain, given what he knew then, that this course of action would get us pregnant. I was assigned a nurse and left the office feeling very positive.  I called several times with questions before my first procedure and my calls were not returned.  The receptionists were rude.  If it wasn’t enough frustration to have to see an RE in the first place and pay for everything out of pocket (my first visit alone was more than $950), being treated like an anonymous pest was not helping matters.

Our very expensive and invasive diagnostic tests showed my girl parts to be in proper working order except for the irregular ovulation, which could be corrected with Clomid.  My husband came in on the low end of all three semen standards:  count, motility and morphology, but not so low that the doctor went off of his initial course.  We did our first IUI on January 27th.  After the sperm wash (What’s a sperm wash?  Oh, yet another costly procedure requiring one’s husband to whack off into a cup, and then hand his nectar of life off to the lab tech who, with a smirk, takes the sample and removes all but the highest quality swimmers), we were working with 12 million of his best guys.  I got my period two weeks later like clockwork.  When we came back for the ultrasound (which is required to start another round of IUI – all of these pricy tests and doctor visits are a constant reminder of our inability to do it “the old fashioned way”), we papered the doctor with questions.

I have three friends who had one unsuccessful IUI and went straight to IVF and got pregnant.  He said, I can’t speak to their cases because everyone is different.  We asked about our chances.  The chances of getting pregnant with IUI are around 10%.  We gain a couple of percentage points with a higher dose of Clomid on the 2nd round, which would make more eggs, meaning more “targets” for the sperm.  We asked why we shouldn’t go straight to IVF, where the chances are about 50/50.  He said if money was no object, sure.  But if you’re willing to be patient, we prefer to do the less expensive and less invasive procedures first.  That seemed reasonable to me, although considering that three IUI’s costs the same as a single IVF, it is a gamble.  I mentioned to the doctor that we would also consider taking a break from IUI and just trying for a natural pregnancy and he looked at me funny.  He said our chances of getting pregnant on our own are 0-1%.  With Clomid, the chances are 0-2%.  I told him the experience was stressful and finally admitted that he was great, but his office was terrible.  He was mortified to discover how I had been treated (in addition to being unattentive, they had drawn my blood unnecessarily and sent me in for an unnecessary ultrasound) and immediately assigned me a new nurse.  I said I didn’t want to be high maintenance, but the experience was stressful enough without the office slacking too.  He said “We have high maintenance.  You are not high maintenance.”  Since then, I have been treated great.

So – now that you’re all caught up – I am on day 12 of IUI cycle #2.  Last month, I ovulated around day 16, but who knows if the Clomid will make me drop an egg earlier.  That said, the nurse said my husband should abstain for 4-5 days before the procedure (which takes place on ovulation day), so we figured last night was a good night to do the nasty.  The one good thing about conceiving medically is that it makes sex only for fun, not that mechanical ‘get pregnant’ sex that so many of my friends have complained about.  Meantime, on Wednesday my husband went to a reproductive urologist who said he may have a medical reason for the low sperm numbers:  a vein that blocks the stuff from coming out.  There is a surgery that can be done to correct it, but it would delay our reproductive efforts.  He is having one more test to determine whether the surgery is necessary.

Two months, some damaged confidence and thousands of dollars later, we have a lot more information than we started with, which is a comfort.

Peeing on sticks until next time,

Phoebe

Welcome to The Adventures of Babymamawannabe!

The Adventures of Babymamawannabe is an intelligent, lively discussion about the ups and downs of trying to conceive.  We’re not saying it’s original.  We’re just needing a forum.  Visit our site for weekly updates from various folks in the process of getting knocked up.  Enjoy!