I was originally going to post this on myspace; however, I have not yet "come out" to my mom, so I am going to hold it aside until I do.
October 19 – 25 is National Infertility Awareness Week. In honor of this week, and to increase awareness, I am “coming out of the infertility closet.” Yes. I’m infertile, but more about that later. In the interest of spreading awareness and understanding, I’d like to share a few things with you.
1 in every 6 couples experiences infertility. That means someone you know has already or probably will at some point in their life deal with infertility.
If someone shares their feelings with you, they are obviously looking for your support. Think you know how to support them? Think again. I know I didn’t. I said all the wrong things when a friend came to me. Please read about “infertility etiquette”. http://www.soulcysters.net/infertility-etiquette-vita-alligood-160049/ This article does a great job explaining what to say, and more importantly, what not to say.
If you choose not to read the article, that’s fine – just do me one favor. Never tell an infertile couple to relax. We infertiles didn’t start out high-strung. We thought we’d be pregnant in no time. We bought books about pregnancy. We searched online for nursery themes. We enjoyed trying. We were excited every month when we got to pee on sticks. Then infertility hit. Listen, we’ve done the relaxing thing - it didn’t work. Let us be micromanagers of our bodies now. Don’t worry if you’ve told me to “relax and it will happen,” or made any of the other comments listed in the article to me. I do my best to not take it personally, even if it does hurt at times. I know you mean well and are doing what you can to support me. Even if I don’t say it to your face, please know that I appreciate that you do what you can for me.
It’s not always easy to talk about infertility. Some people are embarrassed. Some, like me, just want to maintain some portion of their life that doesn’t revolve around baby-making. Some feel that this is a private journey to only be shared with their partner and don’t want pity from others. If someone opens up to you about infertility, just listen, hold their hand, let them cry, and most of all let them know that you are there for them in whatever capacity they are comfortable with – whether it be a pick-me-up call now and then, or a shoulder to cry on when that elusive 2nd line once again refuses to show up on the pregnancy test.
This is a very tough road to travel. If you know anyone who is struggling, send them to www.resolve.org, which is a wonderful resource for coping. There are many other resources I can recommend. Feel free to get in touch with me if you or someone you know needs information, a shoulder to cry on, a doctor or facility recommendation in the area or just wants to know what these other resources are. I’m here for anyone who needs me.
And now, since I said I was coming out of the infertility closet today, it’s time for my story.
18 months ago, Bryan and I decided it was time. We were about to celebrate our 1st anniversary; we were comfortable in our careers; we were saving for a house. The first 4 months, nothing happened. I mean nothing. I had just gone off birth control and wasn’t “regular” yet. In fact, I wasn’t anything yet. Nothing was happening. Finally, that good old visitor I have come to despise showed up and I decided to look into charting basal body temperature to see what was going on. I had 4 more months until my annual exam and thanks to insurance rules I couldn’t get in any earlier. So I charted. I took the 3 week online course on charting so I could interpret what I was doing. And there it was again….nothing.
What did that mean? Turns out it meant I wasn’t ovulating. My temperatures were erratic, my cycles lasted anywhere from 38 - 57 days, and I was rapidly gaining weight despite my best efforts. I continued charting and researched what could make me not ovulate. There was really only one answer – and I fit almost every single characteristic. I went to my annual exam armed with my charts. I showed my doctor. She ordered blood tests. The results came back. She ordered more blood tests and an ultrasound. Then she told me what I had already figured out thanks to the wonders of the internet. I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome.
Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, or PCOS, is a misnomer. It effects more than ovaries and fertility. It’s an endocrine system disorder. Not only does it put be at a greater risk for miscarriage, but it also puts me at a greater risk for diabetes and heart disease. I found out just this month, on my birthday no less, that I am officially pre-diabetic. PCOS isn’t the point of this though, so if you want to learn more about it, go here http://www.inciid.org/faq.php?cat=infertility101&id=2
So the diagnosis is PCOS - then what? Then, we went on to more testing, namely the HSG and the SA. The HSG is a procedure where dye is injected into your uterus and an X-ray video is taken to see if the dye spills out of the fallopian tubes. It is not comfortable, but I passed it with flying colors. Bryan passed his SA (the swimmers’ test) with flying, or more accurately swimming, colors as well. On to treatment!
Thus far, I’ve done 3 rounds of treatment – pills only. No luck. I’m in the middle of my 4th round of treatment now. This time, I get to add a one time shot and ultrasound monitoring. I don’t have much hope of it working, but that is a natural response to infertility – the loss of hope. It’s torture knowing that your body isn’t doing what it was built to do – what comes so easily, unexpectedly and at times unwanted to others.
Treatment is rough. Remembering all of those pills and the timing of taking them, the hot flashes and night sweats (hey, at least I’m well versed for menopause), the letdown of one more month gone with nothing to show for it but a dent in the old wallet.
Trying is no longer fun. It’s “sex with a purpose.” It’s worrying if you are in the optimal position to get pregnant. It’s a total disconnect between partners at times. It’s strictly a medical procedure at times. It’s emotionally draining. It’s “let’s get this over with so I can elevate my hips uncomfortably for the next 20-30 minutes and then go to sleep.” Sex is not sex when you are infertile. It’s a means to an end.
Infertility has been known to break up even the strongest of marriages. Thankfully, I have the most wonderful and understanding husband in the world. I could never have gotten this far in the journey with the few shreds of sanity I have left – not that I had many to begin with – without him.
This is my story so far. I don’t know where our journey will take us next – a precious baby of our own, adoption or child-free living. Maybe we’ll take an extended break and buy a house instead of pumping all of our cash into treatments.
Infertility is a roller coaster. You may laugh, you may throw up, but you've got to admit - it’s one hell of a ride.
1 comment:
You said it!! Don't we ALL know that sense of hopelessness and frustration! I'll always be a shoulder for you to cry on!! I know I need one as well! I will also be your cheerleader until we BOTH have babies in our arms!
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