One of the worst things about being an infertile couple is that initially, you feel like you are the only couple in the world who cannot have a kid. Infertility, even today, tends to be an "off limits" topic, like politics or religion. I am making it an "on limits" topic, at least for me. I began opening up about my struggle when I realized that my family, friends, and close colleagues deserved an explanation for my sudden bursts of crazy. That, and the weird crimson flushes that would frequently color my alabaster skin as they rose like greedy fingers up my chest, neck, and face. Crazy and crimson are just two of the enjoyable side effects of the drugs you must take during treatments. Some women, like my former OBGYN, have no side effects from fertility drugs. Others can boast that they no longer fear hell, unless they have Clomid there, too.
(Speaking of my old OBGYN, we parted ways when she informed me that Clomid did not cause side effects. Her empirical evidence? Her Clomid use did not cause HER any ill side effects. Isn't that just so super for her?! Hooray!)
Whatever.
I threw a few pity parties during the Clomid days but my raging hormones eventually sought out a new, defenseless target. Poor John, so innocent and blameless.
Me: "Why don't you make eye contact anymore? Why are you staring at the floor?"
John: "I saw on Discovery Channel that you should never make eye contact with a grizzly if you want to survive."
It was then that I realized there are worse side effects than mood swings and flushing. The worst side effect of all might just be living in mortal fear of your wife.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
In the beginning...
I was inspired to start this blog for so many reasons. For one, I have long known that writing is a cathartic outlet for me during times of stress. With IVF (in vitro fertilisation) looming in my immediate future, stress cannot be far behind. Secondly, my mother insists I am a talented writer and I should do it more often. Thirdly, I was inspired by a certain sister-in-law who has way more questions about IVF than I could ever dream of answering, so a blog highlighting the daily status of my uterus seemed the logical answer.
Our background: In December of 2008 my husband John and I started trying to get pregnant. A year of disappointments and at least $300.00 in negative pregnancy tests followed. We followed the normal protocol of seeing our local doctor and going through the normal battery of tests, during which time we were both deemed perfectly fertile. We were then sent to a pricy but well reputed fertility clinic for further testing and treatment. Once again we were both bestowed with the title of Perfectly Fertile, and we commenced with three cycles of IUI (intra uterine insemination, or as you may know it, turkey basting). These cycles cost about $3000.00 and much heartbreak. It didn't work.
By this point I was royally ticked off. I had entered the phase of playing God, where everywhere I looked I saw women with babies and I immediately passed judgment on whether they deserved them or not. A teenage girl rushing to class with backpack full of textbooks and a baby on her hip? That earned a reproachful thought and narrowed gaze from yours truly. The woman driving down the road with windows rolled up, baby in a car seat and both hands busy lighting a cigarette? That earned a 360 degree head spin a la The Exorcist.
Fortunately that self-destructive phase didn't last too long. John and I decided to go right to the top, to the preeminent fertility hospital in the entire Northwest. One week later I received a phone call from our doctor. It went something like this:
Me:"Hello?"
Doctor: "Mrs. X? I just wanted to go over some test results with you. Is now a good time?"
Me: (Walking out of class and leaving 25 fourteen year olds unsupervised.) "Hi! It's an excellent time! Fill me in."
Doctor: "Um, it's actually not great news. You folks are subfertile, that is to say, unfertile."
Me: "Woo-Hoo! Yes!"
I realize that seems like an odd reaction. However, after more than two years, we knew SOMETHING was wrong. It was just a question of who. And the most wondrous thing is, it doesn't matter who. Because if one of us in infertile, than WE are infertile. That means that we are unable to get pregnant naturally and will need to rely on IVF to conceive our baby. IVF is an incredibly expensive and invasive process, but the terrific irony is that by the time you reach that point, you don't care. You just want to get your gosh darn family started already.
The next month will feature the continuing exciting adventures of The Humorous Uterus. I hope you will join us in our journey to have a baby, complete with all the Frankenstein-esque details. :-)
Our background: In December of 2008 my husband John and I started trying to get pregnant. A year of disappointments and at least $300.00 in negative pregnancy tests followed. We followed the normal protocol of seeing our local doctor and going through the normal battery of tests, during which time we were both deemed perfectly fertile. We were then sent to a pricy but well reputed fertility clinic for further testing and treatment. Once again we were both bestowed with the title of Perfectly Fertile, and we commenced with three cycles of IUI (intra uterine insemination, or as you may know it, turkey basting). These cycles cost about $3000.00 and much heartbreak. It didn't work.
By this point I was royally ticked off. I had entered the phase of playing God, where everywhere I looked I saw women with babies and I immediately passed judgment on whether they deserved them or not. A teenage girl rushing to class with backpack full of textbooks and a baby on her hip? That earned a reproachful thought and narrowed gaze from yours truly. The woman driving down the road with windows rolled up, baby in a car seat and both hands busy lighting a cigarette? That earned a 360 degree head spin a la The Exorcist.
Fortunately that self-destructive phase didn't last too long. John and I decided to go right to the top, to the preeminent fertility hospital in the entire Northwest. One week later I received a phone call from our doctor. It went something like this:
Me:"Hello?"
Doctor: "Mrs. X? I just wanted to go over some test results with you. Is now a good time?"
Me: (Walking out of class and leaving 25 fourteen year olds unsupervised.) "Hi! It's an excellent time! Fill me in."
Doctor: "Um, it's actually not great news. You folks are subfertile, that is to say, unfertile."
Me: "Woo-Hoo! Yes!"
I realize that seems like an odd reaction. However, after more than two years, we knew SOMETHING was wrong. It was just a question of who. And the most wondrous thing is, it doesn't matter who. Because if one of us in infertile, than WE are infertile. That means that we are unable to get pregnant naturally and will need to rely on IVF to conceive our baby. IVF is an incredibly expensive and invasive process, but the terrific irony is that by the time you reach that point, you don't care. You just want to get your gosh darn family started already.
The next month will feature the continuing exciting adventures of The Humorous Uterus. I hope you will join us in our journey to have a baby, complete with all the Frankenstein-esque details. :-)
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