You Are Not Alone: National Infertility Awareness Week

Today we are wrapping up the 25th anniversary of National Infertility Awareness Week. A lot has changed in the past 25 years with advances in science, technology, and social awareness making it possible for millions of people to become parents. And each year brings about new medical advancements. Procedures that weren't possible just a few years ago are now common place. But as is the case with all things medical, these infertility comes with a steep price tag both physically and emotionally. Weeks like this help increase education and raise general awareness on the issue that eases some, but not all, of the emotional pain associated with this disease. (Knowing you are not alone is an amazing feeling). And, thanks to raised awareness, health insurance plans are increasingly covering the costs of infertility treatments, thus easing the financial burden associated with prolonged testing and treatments.

As many of my friends know, this is a subject that is near and dear to my heart and incredibly personal. I suffer from infertility as do too many of my friends. But thanks to advancing medical technology, I am now a mother. My journey wasn't easy; it was long, painful, expensive and lonely, but these costs were worth it because in the end I was rewarded with a baby. Not everyone is so fortunate. So in honor of this week, I'm reposting my story. I've shared it before but because education is so important, I'm sharing it again:

According to the Center for Disease Control, an estimated 6.1 million women in the United States between the age of 15 and 44 have difficulty conceiving and staying pregnant on their own. I am one of those women.  Today, thanks to my amazing doctor at the Beach Center for Infertility, I am fortunate to have an active, healthy 4 1/2 year old. Because this week recognizes the struggle that the 6.1 million of us endure, I am sharing my own deeply personal story.

Before Sidney was born,  I spent several years unsure as to whether I would ever become a mother. Like many women my age, I spent my 20s trying not to become pregnant but once I was in my 30s and married, the time seemed right. Or so my mind thought but my body did not agree. While so many of my friends and neighbors had their first, second, and even third children, Glenn and I weren't so fortunate. We were hopeful and tried to remain positive but as each month was met with another crushing disappointment our hope began to fade.

At this time we were living in Norfolk, VA which ironically enough, happened to be a hotbed for cutting edge reproductive medicine. (I didn't realize that in vitro fertilization was pioneered at Norfolk's own Jones Institute). After a series of miscarriages, my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist. Dr. Flood was warm, welcoming, and supportive and together Glenn and I set about a course of action to overcome the "unexplained" infertility obstacle that stood between us and our much wanted baby. Over the next 18 months I underwent two surgical procedures, had more blood work drawn and spent more time in doctor's waiting rooms than any person should ever have to endure. I overcame my fear of needles and became an expert at self injecting hormones several times a day. I also became an emotionally charged wreck. Probably much to Glenn's relief, he spent a good portion of this time period out at sea and wasn't home to suffer the emotional mood swings that became a daily part of my life. Just a few months into this process my body began to feel like a pin cushion that had been invaded by an alien yet there still wasn't any baby.

Everyone deals with infertility in their own way. Some people talk about their experiences openly while others endure the pain privately. To a great extent, I chose the later. Our families and a few close friends were generally aware of what we were going through but for the most part, we didn't talk about it. Unless you have experienced the infertility roller coaster, you truly can't understand what it is like. It is also a deeply personal subject that more tactful people are often uncomfortable discussing.

During this dark period the comments I did hear ran the gamete form positive to negative and just plain strange. More supportive friends assured us that we would become parents while a particularly callous former friend informed me that God obviously didn't think we would be suitable parents so he was preventing it from happening. Upon hearing this, I was actually speechless for one of the few times in my life. In what I hope was meant to be a supportive comment, my in-laws even told me that they would be able to accept any child we might adopt as a real grandchild. In social situations with people we only casually knew the inevitable question was when were we going to having children. After a time I started bracing myself for these inquiries by having a slew of ready to respond quips in mind. During this time I was an overly hormonal woman so many of these comments did not sit too well with me.

Instead of reacting to this array of comments, I withdrew into myself. I sent generous gifts to baby showers but couldn't bring myself to attend. I spent hours scouring the Internet searching to possible answers. I convinced myself that if we just kept trying it would work. I continued to change my diet, exercised more, lost weight, and spent numerous sessions in acupuncture all in hopes of making my treatments work. I was convinced that the third time would be the charm but as the third assisted try turned into the fourth, fifth, and even sixth attempt my body continued to fail me. Through daily emails and the occasional long distance phone call, Glenn and I discussed how much longer we should try. After all, this whole experience was taking a physical, emotional, and financial toll on both of us.

As I waited for Glenn's return from deployment, I covertly began to explore the option of adoption. We were open to the idea but decided to give our current routine one more go before moving on. Good things can come to those who wait because upon Glenn's return, we started a final round of injections, blood work, and anxiety riddled waiting. This time luck was on our side and IVF worked its magic. We were pregnant. It is impossible to describe the sense of elation I felt that hot June day as I sat in my car in the parking garage talking to Jessica from Dr. Flood's office. (This was the only place I was guaranteed some small amount of privacy and I had been steeling myself for making what turned out to be the most pivotal phone call of my life).

All 2 pounds 12 ounces of my miracle baby then

All of this brings me to where I am today. My heart continues to ache for those women whose desires to become mothers go unfulfilled.  I have felt both your physical and emotional pain. I know I am one of the lucky ones. Because of this experience, I will never take anything for granted again. In a perfect world we would all be able to readily have the babies we want when we want them. In lieu of this perfect world I wish for understanding, compassion, and continued medical advances in the field of women's health and reproductive medicine. In the meantime time I hug Sidney tightly each night and silently thank everyone who helped make his existence possible.

And my goofy little boy today

National Infertility Survival Day (A Re-Post)

I'm re-posting what I wrote for last year's National Infertility Survival Day.  American Mother's Day is next Sunday but this day deserves recognition as well.  My thoughts remain the same; the feelings just as poignant.  

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Today is National Infertility Survival Day.  Most people are probably unaware of this day but to those of us who have struggled with infertility, it is a day that hits all too close to home.  According to the Center for Disease Control, an estimated 6.1 million women in the United States between the age of 15 and 44 have difficulty conceiving and staying pregnant on their own.  I am one of those women.  Today, thanks to my amazing doctor at the Beach Center for Infertility, I am fortunate to have an active, healthy 3 1/2 year old.  Because today is a day that recognizes the 6.1 million of us, I am sharing my own deeply personal story.

Before Sidney was born,  I spent several years unsure as to whether I would ever become a mother.  Like many women my age, I spent my 20s trying not to become pregnant but once I was in my 30s and married, the time seemed right.  Or so my mind thought but my body did not agree.  While so many of my friends and neighbors had their first, second, and even third children, Glenn and I weren't so fortunate.  We were hopeful and tried to remain positive but as each month was met with another crushing disappointment our hope began to fade.

At this time we were living in Norfolk, VA which ironically enough, happened to be a hotbed for cutting edge reproductive medicine.   (I didn't realize that in vitro fertilization was pioneered at Norfolk's own Jones Institute).  After a series of miscarriages, my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist.  Dr. Flood was warm, welcoming, and supportive and together Glenn and I set about a course of action to overcome the "unexplained" infertility obstacle that stood between us and our much wanted baby.  Over the next 18 months I underwent two surgical procedures, had more blood work drawn and spent more time in doctor's waiting rooms than any person should ever have to endure.  I overcame my fear of needles and became an expert at self injecting hormones several times a day.  I also became an emotionally charged wreck.   Probably much to Glenn's relief, he spent a good portion of this time period out at sea and wasn't home to suffer the emotional mood swings that became a daily part of my life.  Just a few months into this process my body began to feel like a pin cushion that had been invaded by an alien yet there still wasn't any baby.

Everyone deals with infertility in their own way. Some people talk about their experiences openly while others endure the pain privately. To a great extent, I chose the later.  Our families and a few close friends were generally aware of what we were going through but for the most part, we didn't talk about it.  Unless you have experienced the infertility roller coaster, you truly can't understand what it is like.  It is also a deeply personal subject that more tactful people are often uncomfortable discussing.

During this dark period the comments I did hear ran the gamete form positive to negative and just plain strange.  More supportive friends assured us that we would become parents while a particularly callous former friend informed me that God obviously didn't think we would be suitable parents so he was preventing it from happening. Upon hearing this, I was actually speechless for one of the few times in my life.  In what I hope was meant to be a supportive comment, my in-laws even told me that they would be able to accept any child we might adopt as a real grandchild.  In social situations with people we only casually knew the inevitable question was when were we going to having children.  After a time I started bracing myself for these inquiries by having a slew of ready to respond quips in mind.   During this time I was an overly hormonal woman so many of these comments did not sit too well with me.

Instead of reacting to this array of comments, I withdrew into myself.  I sent generous gifts to baby showers but couldn't bring myself to attend.  I spent hours scouring the Internet searching to possible answers.  I convinced myself that if we just kept trying it would work. I continued to change my diet, exercised more, lost weight, and spent numerous sessions in acupuncture all in hopes of making my treatments work.  I was convinced that the third time would be the charm but as the third assisted try turned into the fourth, fifth, and even sixth attempt my body continued to fail me.  Through daily emails and the occasional long distance phone call, Glenn and I discussed how much longer we should try.  After all, this whole experience was taking a physical, emotional, and financial toll on both of us.

As I waited for Glenn's return from deployment, I covertly began to explore the option of adoption.  We were open to the idea but decided to give our current routine one more go before moving on.  Good things can come to those who wait because upon Glenn's return, we started a final round of injections, blood work, and anxiety riddled waiting.  This time luck was on our side and IVF worked its magic.  We were pregnant.  It is impossible to describe the sense of elation I felt that hot June day as I sat in my car in the parking garage talking to Jessica from Dr. Flood's office.  (This was the only place I was guaranteed some small amount of privacy and I had been steeling myself for making what turned out to be the most pivotal phone call of my life).

All of this brings me to where I am today.  My heart continues to ache for those women whose desires to become mothers go unfulfilled.  I have felt both your physical and emotional pain.  I know I am one of the lucky ones.  Because of this experience, I will never take anything for granted again.  In a perfect world we would all be able to readily have the babies we want when we want them. In lieu of this perfect world I wish for understanding, compassion, and continued medical advances in the field of women's health and reproductive medicine.  In the meantime time I hug Sidney tightly each night and silently thank everyone who helped make his existence possible.

Oh Baby, No Baby?

There is a baby boom going on in my midst. This is the year that my closest friends from both college and as far back as high school turn 40.  And based on email messages and Facebook announcements, it would appear that everyone is getting a baby as their big birthday gift.  Most of these friends will not be first time moms; rather they were already considered "late in life" mothers when they had their first children a few years ago.  Back then, I was a part of this baby trend.  At the time we were generally all married and had been for at least a few years. As a rule we had advanced degrees, were established in our careers, and were fulfilling all of the stereotypes that go along with this demographic.  Whether by intensive trying; sometimes with the faithful assistance of a fertility specialist, the planned natural route, or by "oops, how did that happen?" it was a busy couple of years for many of us.  And now as our babies have become pre-schoolers it would appear that the baby bug has bitten again.  Has the bug bitten me too?  Yes.  And no.  Essentially, as is the case with most things, it is complicated.

I've never hidden the fact that Sidney was conceived via IVF.  After several years of trying various methods for getting our sought after baby, luck finally was in our court and Sidney was conceived during our first attempt at IVF.  We even came out of the experience with a generous supply of fertilized embryos that we stored for future use.  While I was still pregnant the plan was to wait a year or so then try again for a second child.  But then Sidney was born prematurely.  The weeks, months, and even year that followed his birth were scary, tiring, and emotionally draining.  There was no way either of us were ready to tempt fate and go through the process again.  So those embryos sat frozen each month as we dutifully paid our "freezer fee".  We were sure that someday we would be ready but we certainly weren't during that long first year.

But of course things got even more complicated for us. We moved to Albania; a country where not only could we not utilize those frozen embryos but a place where if I was to become pregnant I would have to leave in order to receive the specialized medical care my doctors told me I would need.  Initially I was OK with this.  After all, I was still exhausted, emotionally drained, and not ready to take on the responsibility of adding another child to the craziness of our life.  And deep down, I had this hidden fear of all the things that could go wrong. I would be three (or more) years older moving me from being an "older mom" to being an even older mom.  Knowledge can be dangerous and I was so acutely aware of all of the risks for both me and my unborn child that go along with being an older mother.  Across the board statistics just weren't in our favor.  We had dodged the bullet with Sidney but would we be so lucky again?  Was it a risk worth taking?  These were the thoughts that kept me up at night while I contemplated what the future held in store for us.

Glenn and I both come from small families.  As an only child of older parents with little potential for even having cousins there is the potential for Sidney having a lonely adulthood.  But is that reason enough to have another child?  And there were still the risks and my ongoing fears.  Initially being in Albania afforded us the opportunity to not have to directly deal with all of these questions.  But gradually as we have settled into a routine we have been thinking about trying again.  After all, it would be really nice for Sidney to have a sibling and we want another child.  And I'll admit, seeing all of my friends pregnant has made me think about it in a serious manner.  Just when I thought I was ready to try again I had my own "oops" moment that predictably ended in a physically and emotionally painful miscarriage.  This incident brought all of my pains and fears back to the surface.  There just wasn't any way I could deal with that emotional and physical pain again.

So where do we go from here?  I honestly don't know.  We're continuing to pay our freezer fee and talk about our options and what the future may hold.  Since we will shortly be heading to western country with top notch health care options maybe another round of IVF is possible.  We've run through the scenarios about how we could make this work and have a plan (or course we do).  But the fear of the "what if" still permeates this option.  Perhaps we adopt.  After all, there are thousands of babies who are desperately in need of loving families.  That isn't to say that adopting is the easy route.  Having witnessed many friends go though the often emotionally painful process of adopting I know that that too could be a bumpy and unpredictable route.  Most days I think I am up for the challenge entering into the adoption process may bring but then there are days when I'm not so sure. Or we could simply keep the status quo. We are lucky to have a healthy, happy, and thriving son.  While it would be nice for Sidney to have a sibling, being an only child is not the end of the world. Without having to share our "wealth" we could provide Sidney with more opportunities than we could if we had more children.  If we surround ourselves with friends who are like family perhaps a lack of siblings and cousins would be less noticeable.  Is one choice better than another?  Are there any wrong decisions?

What I do know is that I'm not joining my friends in getting a baby as a 40th birthday gift. Instead I'm heading to Spain with a dear friend.  We will play tourist, eat too many tapas, freely sip sangria, and do all of the things that one just can't do when they have an infant.  And most importantly I will give thanks for the fact I have these choices to contemplate.  Many people just don't have that option.

Recognizing National Infertility Survival Day

Today is National Infertility Survival Day.  Most people are probably unaware of this day but to those of us who have struggled with infertility, it is a day that hits all too close to home.  According to the Center for Disease Control, an estimated 6.1 million women in the United States between the age of 15 and 44 have difficulty conceiving and staying pregnant on their own.  I am one of those women.  Today, thanks to my amazing doctor at the Beach Center for Infertility, I am fortunate to have an active, healthy 2 1/2 year old.  Because today is a day that recognizes the 6.1 million of us, I am sharing my own deeply personal story.

Before Sidney was born,  I spent several years unsure as to whether I would ever become a mother.  Like many women my age, I spent my 20s trying not to become pregnant but once I was in my 30s and married, the time seemed right.  Or so my mind thought but my body did not agree.  While so many of my friends and neighbors had their first, second, and even third children, Glenn and I weren't so fortunate.  We were hopeful and tried to remain positive but as each month was met with another crushing disappointment our hope began to fade.

At this time we were living in Norfolk, VA which ironically enough, happened to be a hotbed for cutting edge reproductive medicine.   (I didn't realize that in vitro fertilization was pioneered at Norfolk's own Jones Institute).  After a series of miscarriages, my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist.  Dr. Flood was warm, welcoming, and supportive and together Glenn and I set about a course of action to overcome the "unexplained" infertility obstacle that stood between us and our much wanted baby.  Over the next 18 months I underwent two surgical procedures, had more blood work drawn and spent more time in doctor's waiting rooms than any person should ever have to endure.  I overcame my fear of needles and became an expert at self injecting hormones several times a day.  I also became an emotionally charged wreck.   Probably much to Glenn's relief, he spent a good portion of this time period out at sea and wasn't home to suffer the emotional mood swings that became a daily part of my life.  Just a few months into this process my body began to feel like a pin cushion that had been invaded by an alien yet there still wasn't any baby.

Everyone deals with infertility in their own way. Some people talk about their experiences openly while others endure the pain privately. To a great extent, I chose the later.  Our families and a few close friends were generally aware of what we were going through but for the most part, we didn't talk about it.  Unless you have experienced the infertility roller coaster, you truly can't understand what it is like.  It is also a deeply personal subject that more tactful people are often uncomfortable discussing.

During this dark period the comments I did hear ran the gamete form positive to negative and just plain strange.  More supportive friends assured us that we would become parents while a particularly callous former friend informed me that God obviously didn't think we would be suitable parents so he was preventing it from happening. Upon hearing this, I was actually speechless for one of the few times in my life.  In what I hope was meant to be a supportive comment, my in-laws even told me that they would be able to accept any child we might adopt as a real grandchild.  In social situations with people we only casually knew the inevitable question was when were we going to having children.  After a time I started bracing myself for these inquiries by having a slew of ready to respond quips in mind.   During this time I was an overly hormonal woman so many of these comments did not sit too well with me.

Instead of reacting to this array of comments, I withdrew into myself.  I sent generous gifts to baby showers but couldn't bring myself to attend.  I spent hours scouring the Internet searching to possible answers.  I convinced myself that if we just kept trying it would work. I continued to change my diet, exercised more, lost weight, and spent numerous sessions in acupuncture all in hopes of making my treatments work.  I was convinced that the third time would be the charm but as the third assisted try turned into the fourth, fifth, and even sixth attempt my body continued to fail me.  Through daily emails and the occasional long distance phone call, Glenn and I discussed how much longer we should try.  After all, this whole experience was taking a physical, emotional, and financial toll on both of us.

As I waited for Glenn's return from deployment, I covertly began to explore the option of adoption.  We were open to the idea but decided to give our current routine one more go before moving on.  Good things can come to those who wait because upon Glenn's return, we started a final round of injections, blood work, and anxiety riddled waiting.  This time luck was on our side and IVF worked its magic.  We were pregnant.  It is impossible to describe the sense of elation I felt that hot June day as I sat in my car in the parking garage talking to Jessica from Dr. Flood's office.  (This was the only place I was guaranteed some small amount of privacy and I had been steeling myself for making what turned out to be the most pivotal phone call of my life).

My miracle baby today

All of this brings me to where I am today.  My heart continues to ache for those women whose desires to become mothers go unfulfilled.  I have felt both your physical and emotional pain.  I know I am one of the lucky ones.  Because of this experience, I will never take anything for granted again.  In a perfect world we would all be able to readily have the babies we want when we want them. In lieu of this perfect world I wish for understanding, compassion, and continued medical advances in the field of women's health and reproductive medicine.  In the meantime time I hug Sidney tightly each night and silently thank everyone who helped make his existence possible.