12.27.2007

Wait – that’s it?

So I had my hsg on Christmas Eve. And I lived to see Christmas. Here’s what I learned:

1) Infertile women are like snakeskin shoes – you just aren’t going to find two that look exactly the same. A lot – a lot – of women experience incredible pain with the hsg. Some say it’s the worst they’ve ever felt. For me – well, I guess I am one of the lucky ones. Truly, it was no more painful than a pap smear. I mean, uncomfortable, yes. Awkward? Absolutely. Exactly three people were looking at my hoo-ha at the same time, while one of them was messing around with, like, three different objects in there. But I would not call it painful. And I got the all-clear, which was highly reassuring.

(Before you think I’m bragging and harbor any resentment, remember that I have another major problem – anovulation – and blocked tubes were never supposed to be my issue. A secondary problem unearthed by the hsg would make my odds of conceiving a really funny joke, as opposed to the only slightly humorous one they are now.)

2) The Internet is your best friend and your worst enemy. True, it offers quick answers to questions, keeping you from calling your doctor every five minutes (as it is, I think I’m one phone call away from being caller ID-blocked by my infertility doctor’s office). But I think the key is to get in and get out. Spend too much time on there and you get a little nutty. I worked myself into a tizzy reading about all the horror stories out there on the hsg. And the very odd part was that once I started looking I couldn’t stop – the horror stories were like a drug – even when my husband could see what was going on and pleaded with me to stop reading. Set a cut-off time for your online information gathering, lest it become obsessive and kooky.

3) When it comes to information, less is often more. Along the lines of the above, I’m learning that sometimes it really does make sense to just listen to what your doctor tells you and leave it at that. I spent a lot of time thinking and talking and reading about the hsg and in my case, the anticipation was much, much worse than the reality.

4) Ask and ye shall receive. To calm my nerves, I asked my primary care doctor for a xanax prescription prior to the hsg. It was a little embarrassing to admit that I was that worked up about it, but since I knew they wouldn’t be serving cabernet in the radiology waiting room, I felt that going in with an authorized medication in-hand to take the edge off was in order. We should never be ashamed or reluctant to ask for what we need to make this very uncomfortable process more comfortable.

Next up for me: a second ultrasound on New Year’s Eve (continuing my fine tradition of internal examinations on major holidays). My first – 7 a.m. day after Christmas – revealed two 9 mm follicles (of which I could not be prouder). For those of you not versed in all things follicular, this is a small-sized follicle that needs to grow before they’ll give you “trigger” medication (for me, hcg) to release it. They grow about 2 mm per day so by Monday they’re hoping they’ll be about ready.

Until then, I’m rooting for them.

-J

12.26.2007

Sex, Drugs and Everything Else You Used to Enjoy

In case you're new to this infertility thing (maybe you're at the stage where you think, gee, it was supposed to be "go off the Pill, have sex, start registering for an entirely new collection of accessories from diaper bags to tiny socks" but after x number of months, nothing) I thought my holiday present to you would be the most helpful info I've learned in 12 months of research and doctor's appointments - all in one place. Well, in two places. I'll start the list in this post, and finish it in a future post.

1) Being "infertile" doesn't mean you cannot ever have children - it just means that after a year of unprotected sex, you aren't pregnant. 85% of couples who have sex without birth control will be pregnant at the end of a year. So if you're not, it doesn't mean you never will be, it just means you should probably see a doctor to make sure there isn't anything they can do to help you along.

2) You may feel like a complete basket case, emotional wreck, freakshow. This is normal. I don't even particularly want kids right now - but with each month that passed with my period arriving on time, I became more and more nuts. I cry when I see babies, or when I don't. I cry when I get my period. And things that used to be fun? Not so fun anymore. For example, sex was ruined - after years of Catholic guilt (okay, well maybe not that much guilt) I finally get to have sanctioned sex with my husband, and after just a few months we don't even get to enjoy it because we have to have it on a schedule, like dentist visits or renewing the car registration at the DMV. Fun. Wahoo. Tell me I have to do something, and I won't want to do it. At all.

3) If you aren't timing sex yet, you should know that you can only get pregnant in a window that is approximately two days long. My reproductive endocrinologist (not some random website) told me that sperm can live in the right conditions (i.e. inside you when your cervical mucus is being nice to them) for about 48 hours. Your egg can live for about 6 - 12 hours. So he suggested that timing sex on days 8, 10, 12, 14 and 16 of my cycle (which is pretty spot on at 26-28 days) would be a good idea. You can also use ovulation predictor kits, or take your basal temperature (this was hard for me because until I have at least 3 cups of coffee - see #4 below - I can't function, and would regularly get up having forgotten to take my temperature), or check your cervical mucus. Number one costs about $20 a month, and requires you to pee on sticks. Number two - the temperature costs about $10 for the thermometer, and requires you to take a record your termperature before you do anything else in the morning. Number three requires you to check your cervical mucus and when it looks like egg whites, get busy. I have a friend whose code signal for sex with her husband is putting her thumb and pointer finger together and then moving them apart - i.e. "it's stretching like egg whites to get in bed baby." The good news for her is that it worked - she's pregnant and can now have sex when she feels like it, not just when things down there are lookin like egg whites.

4) Studies (one from Harvard, most recently) have shown that basically, you have to stop doing all the things that are fun, enjoyable and bad for you. Stop smoking. Drink no more than five alcoholic drinks each week. Drink no more than one cup of coffee a day. Cut out the white flour and fried foods (including donuts, particularly distressing to me). Eat less red meat and more seeds and nuts (okay, that one's not so bad). Work out, but not too much. Lose weight or gain it - your BMI should be between 21 and 25. Get enough sleep. Don't stress out (HAHA). Take a prenatal vitamin with folic acid.

Oh, and bonus. Your husband/partner? He can basically do whatever he wants.

P.S.

I didn't tell my husband this.

If I'm on a good girl macrobiotic no fun regimen, so is he. I mean, give me a BREAK! I'm already in a bad mood from all the people asking me why I'm not pregnant and then telling me to "relax," from having my friggin period when I really, really don't want it, having bad skin because I'm off the Pill, and having to endure painful tests and humiliating procedures. And now you tell me I have to have sex on a schedule, can't drink, smoke, do drugs (okay, so I don't do them but hey, I like options), escape to Starbucks three times a day, or eat donuts? Fuck you, dude. And fuck Jamie Lynn Spears, fuck Nicole Ritchie and fuck that skinny bitch Heidi Klum, who gets to look like that and gets to get pregnant at the drop of a toothy grin.

Oh forgive me. I can't eat donuts, but at least I'm still allowed to swear.

-L

Dear Santa

Santa was very good to me this year - as he is every year, I'm very lucky - but sitting here tonight looking at all the new things under our tree, I can't help feeling a little empty. The one thing I really, really want, Santa can't bring me. Never thought I'd sing "all I want for Christmas is two pink lines, two pink lines, two pink lines" but somehow, it's in my head.

I am trying really hard to think about the great things I have: a really great husband, amazing family, great friends and (almost) all the toys a girl could want (well, a 26 inch waist, pair of Louboutins and the H. Stern gold bracelet I'm obsessed with notwithstanding). I am feeling happy about the good things today, and I think it's mostly because I've finally found a place where my infertility insanity is completely understood.

It's really odd: I cannot wait to go back to Boston IVF. Me, the one who dreads hospitals, hated my last doctor, and can faint from the smell of a doctor's office.

What's so great about it? Here are a few examples:
1) There's a sign when you walk in that says something like "We love children! But please be conscientious of fellow patients: if you are accompanied by children, please use our family waiting room." Not that I am not sorry for women suffering secondary infertility - but I don't want to see their one baby when I get bad news about having no babies at all.

2) Everyone - from the receptionist to the insurance coordinator to the chief reproductive endocrinologist - is incredibly nice. It's bad enough to deal with this - to have to deal with a phone system where humans never answer, nasty receptionists and harried sectretaries - not to mention emotionally void physicians - would be really unfair.

3) They take a "whole you" approach: After meeting with the doctor (who was relaxed but professional, doctor-like but understanding) I met with Dr. Alice Domar, who runs the Domar Center (Google it - and if you don't live in Massachusetts, get her book!). She introduced herself as "Allie" and I had no idea that she was this world famous person until I went into her office and realized that she started the whole center. After listening and chatting for an hour and a half, she set me up with acupuncture, a mind-body group counseling and yoga program, and a nutritionist (helpful for me because I have a history of eating disorders and I get worse with stress).

The point of all this is that there are people and places out there where you can feel hopeful, and maybe even excited, again. As Dr. A said to us, "People only have so much battery life for dealing with something like this. We want to get you pregnant before your batteries run out."

-L

12.19.2007

Tween Sensation – Two Pink Lines; Married 30-something – One

Sixteen-year-old Jamie Lynn Spears, younger sister of Britney – hardly a finalist for mother of the year herself – just announced that she is pregnant. Which means that whatever shred of justice was left in the world has officially evaporated.

Someone wise once told me that I shouldn’t take other people’s pregnancies personally. The fact that other people are pregnant – as they will continue to be, assuming the world continues to turn – is not a personal affront; in fact, it has nothing to do with me at all. Despite the temptation to think so, people are not pregnant on purpose to piss me off. There’s no big, orchestrated scheme to make everyone pregnant except me. It’s just the way the world works.

Generally I find it freeing to think this way (I don’t have to be angry at that hugely pregnant person waddling down the street). Also it came from someone schooled in Eastern thought, so I figure it’s something I should heed, an idea that could make me wiser, more peaceful, more centered. But on days like today, in the face of such an absurdly unfair revelation, I am none of those things. I am just pissed.

At this point I should give you some context, let you know where I’m coming from when it comes to infertility. I was formally diagnosed with a problem about five years ago after a few months of trying. Yes, normally you try for a bit longer before bringing in the experts, but when I went off the pill and didn’t get a period for four months but did get just a single pink line on the pregnancy tests, I got the vague sense that something was awry. I went to a specialist who I think must be best buds with Lisa’s first doc – her cool demeanor elicited an anxiety attack every time I saw her.

The bottom line is that I have some form of polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), though it is not a classic case. I don’t have some of the hormonal elements of the condition and I’m a relatively normal weight (on a good day), but I do have the anovulation, the irregular (to say the least) cycle, the skin problems and the cystic ovaries. When I was first diagnosed a few years ago, we decided for a variety of reasons – a major move chief among them – to put treatment on hold. Now it’s time to give it a shot.

Like most people with PCOS, I have plenty of great looking eggs, but my body is a bit confused about how to release them. So the first course is to take Clomid, which theoretically forces you to ovulate. I say theoretically because I did my first-ever cycle last month to little avail. The five days of 50 mg pills gave me plenty of hot flashes, tons of moodswings and lots of little follicles – but no ovulation. This was the conclusion after two ultrasounds during the week after the pills. And let me tell you, if you’ve never started your morning with a vaginal ultrasound you really haven’t lived. Particularly when you’re lying there with the “wand” (unfortunate name) in your nether region while the nurse tells you she sees absolutely nothing of merit.

The next step is to double the dose to 100 mg – I start that tonight. I also have an hsg scheduled for – drumroll, please – Christmas Eve. Because, you know, what Christmas would be complete without the old catheter-injecting-dye-in-your-fallopian-tubes tradition?

-J

12.17.2007

Bedside Manner? Not Optional

Just when I was feeling like the Grinch, having decided that I just can't deal with sending out Christmas cards this year because ours won't have anything in it other than "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year" (and my mailbox is crammed with adorable children in Christmas sweaters, halloween costumes and Red Sox t shirts), something good happened.

I found a fertility clinic that is - if this is possible for such a place - wonderful. If you are lucky enough to live near Boston, I highly recommend it - Boston IVF & The Domar Center. If you're not, maybe they can recommend a similar place near you.

To understand why I was so elated after an infertility visit, let's backtrack a little.

About six months after we started trying, I decided that we should get an appointment with a fertility specialist. Everything I had read said that if you have trouble after 6 months and you're over 35, you should probably see a doctor. At the time, I figured that they'd tell me nothing was wrong, not to worry about it, and to give it more time. "You're young, healthy and have nothing to worry about. Enjoy the last of your childless time - vacation, sleep late - go ahead! Drink too much without worrying about a 2 year old bothering you in your hung over state. Go out seven nights a week without worrying about a babysitter! Go for it!" The wonderful doctor would say, pooh poohing me for worrying.

Um, yeah.

It was a lot more like this: Wait 6 weeks for an appointment, take time off from work for an 11 a.m. appointment, wait in waiting room which is shared with obstetrics (there's a GREAT plan, nice work), wait and wait and wait (doctor took me almost 2 hours late) while watching hugely pregnant women and their happy husbands holding hands. When the doctor finally takes you, sit in her cramped office with no windows, as she reads info about you off of her computer screen and asks questions without looking at you.

At my first visit, other than asking me how long we had been trying, Dr. G asked me no questions. When I told her I'd been off the Pill for six months, she said "Well, if it was going to happen, it'd have happened by now."

The whole experience was cold, impersonal and made me feel like I was taking up her valuable time. I realize that this may not have been her fault due to the fact that she was probably way overbooked - the hospital where she works is one of the best in the country and she was recommended as the best of the best - but it was still really sort of a harsh intro to infertility. In addition, I'd asked if my husband should come with me to the appointment, and the secretary had told me "He's not really necessary." Hmmm. Somehow I think the man who is 50% of the equation IS necessary, and if for no other reason, he should have been with me so that we could have felt like a team and so I wouldn't have felt completely alone. Dr. G essentially said the same thing when I asked her if he should come with me for the HSG test (more on that fun little adventure in another entry). But it gets better.

On the way out, she handed me a brochure for a liquid diet (I had asked her if losing weight would help my chances because I'd gained weight after we got married). I looked at her and said, "Well, um, like I said earlier, I have battled an eating disorder in the past and I think a liquid diet is really a bad idea for me..." she responded with "One of my patients has lost 4 pounds a week on it!" Uh huh. Let's see how fast she gains it back.

I left in tears and managed not to completely break down until I was in my car - paying $30 for parking because what should have taken 20 minutes took 3 hours because of the waiting. Great. So now I knew that if I were going to be able to get pregnant, I'd be pregnant already, and I was basically morbidly obese and needed a liquid diet (I am overweight - about fifteen pounds heavier than I should be - but I think telling someone who is a size 12 and weighed 90 pounds for most of her high school years to go on a liquid diet is just a leetle irresponsible).

Before I scare you and depress you and you decide that you can give up because you've been trying for seven months, keep reading.

There is more to the Dr. G story - which I'll share another time, when I talk about the tests you may have to take (hint: she doesn't get any nicer while causing me breath-stopping pain) but here is what your experience could be like:

Call to make an appointment, and actually get a human being on the other end of the line - someone nice, kind and polite. Have her tell you that you have to wait three weeks but you can come in and talk to a nurse if you'd like to see someone sooner. "I'm sure you want to get started, and I understand it's frustrating to wait," your amazed ears hear.

Be told that your husband/partner needs to be with you for the appointment (this is really, really the way it should be, if you ask me).

Arrive for your appointment and find yourself in a nice, quiet waiting room with cool mod furniture, flat screen TVs, coffee and ice waters. Be greeted by friendly receptionist and even nicer billing coordinator (WOW) who speaks english, pays attention to you, gives you no attitude at all and tells you she likes your earrings. No one tells you in a surly tone that you have to go to the first floor to update your hospital card or that your paperwork didn't arrive.

Be taken by a kind, smiling nurse to meet the doctor. Be ushered into his office - where he's actually sitting - and get this: meet him clothed. No paperthin gown; no waiting on a cold table for 45 minutes looking longingly at the Family Circle on the back of the door and knowing that the second you get up to get it the doctor will come in and think you were trying to steal the free Motrin or birth control in the cabinet; no having to get weighed and changed into a paper napkin designed by Larry Flynt while your husband gets to stay clothed and in the warm waiting room.

Instead, a genuine smile, and someone who explains what's going on. After apologizing for giving us "cold, unemotional numbers" Dr. A tells us that 57% of couples get pregnant in the first 3 months, 73% get pregnant in the first 6 months, and 85% get pregnant in the first 12 months (I might be slightly off on these, but that's what I remember). He explains that this means that after 6 months, our chances of conceiving naturally dropped to 2% a month. Just as I am beginning to get depressed, he says,
"But I feel really, really good about your chances. All of the tests you have had so far have been normal, and while that frustratingly means you are classified as having 'unexplained infertility' the good news is that you are young, healthy and can increase your chances five-fold with IUI and Clomid (we'll get to that later, too)."

While 10% a month doesn't seem so great to me (I have never, ever in my life been a C- or F student and in nothing I've ever tried to do have I been in the lowest 15%) at least that means we have a 30% chance in the next three months.

I'll admit that I'm scared about that other 70%...but somehow I don't dread going to Boston IVF the way I did going to the Brigham. The affiliated Doman Center has acupuncture, massage, yoga, nutrition and emotional counseling. They can help us with the Mind aspect, and Dr. A will take care of the Body aspect.

And one last logistical thing. If you are starting Clomid and IUI, know that you could be doing it in a place that is easier...with Dr. G, my husband would have had to give his sample at 7 a.m. and it would not have been ready for me until 11. I would have had to had the IUI between 11 and 12 p.m. - no flexibility. At Boston IVF, I can go in with my husband at any time on the day of ovulation, and the sperm will be ready within 45 minutes. So he can be with me for the insemination if I want, without having to wait around for four or five hours.

This is hard enough. Make sure that you're getting medical care at a place that doesn't make it any harder than it already is.

-L

12.16.2007

Ho, ho, hell.

The holidays are no time to be infertile. ‘Tis the season to parade around your perfect family and revel in your fruitfulness. If you are childless, it’s simply impossible to forget it this time of year.

Normally, I try to go about my day focusing on the things I can control: my work, my house, my marriage. I try to distract myself from the sadness and nagging doubts that arise as a result of infertility (Will I ever have a family? Will my body ever cooperate, ever do what it’s supposed to do without the intervention of medical science? Will this incredibly difficult road ever end with a baby in my arms?). But the holidays make this impossible. Every which way you turn there’s a neon sign pointing back to your barrenness. Holiday cards feature happy faces brimming with wholesome family cheer. Long letters tout little Johnny’s first poop/playdate/piano recital in nauseating detail. Songs carry on about tiny tots and their eyes all aglow. Even Santa with his big, round bowl full of jelly looks vaguely pregnant – and oh so smug about it, too.

It actually occurred to me as I wrote out Christmas cards this year that it was a waste of time. That although, as always, I’d staked out the cutest cards around, they seemed so empty with just my handwritten messages. I had no photos to include, no updates on our thriving family to share. That no one wants my sad, lonely little "happy holidays" message. That it only serves to underscore my failure to produce children to show off. And that, my friends, was a depressing series of thoughts.

My question is, if this time of year is about celebrating the blessings in your life – for most people, their families – then why can’t I send around letters discussing my new job, my great marriage, the new house that I love? I could send around photos of my front porch all tastefully decorated in garland and lights. The answer is that no one cares. The honest truth is that few people actually care about reading those long, self-aggrandizing letters about someone else’s family life either – but when it comes to kids, it’s impolite to admit it. You’re supposed to be interested because everyone is interested in children and everything they do, aren’t they? But I don’t see why I should be interested in details on Halloween costumes and what kinds of vegetables the little ones like anymore than you want to hear about the great project I just finished at work.

The truth is, I wouldn’t be so upset about having to hear those details if I were certain I would get to see my own child do those things someday. But I’m infertile in a fertile world and this holiday, it’s harder than ever.

I don’t know if I’m suggesting that everyone dial back their family-focused holiday greetings, although there’s clearly a fine line between tact and tacky when it comes to those holiday letters in particular. But I do think it’s important for everyone to keep in mind that there are people out there for whom the holidays are a painful reminder of a family life that, for now, is out of reach.

-J

12.15.2007

To Fertell or Not to Fertell

If you're new to this infertility thing, you have probably just gone to a dozen internet sites (a lot of them are really bad, aren't they?) and it's hard to know what's fact, and what's the opinion of a random yahoo chatroom person who's sort of a bad speller. So, thought I'd share with you the process as I have experienced it.

To give you a preview:
1) Not really "trying" but not on the Pill anymore
2)Used Fertell fertility test (available at drugstores)
3) Saw a doctor (reproductive gynecologist)
4) had blood, semen and HSG tests
5) took "time off" from worrying about it (i.e. didn't start IUI right away)
6) found a new doctor and are about to get started with him

My husband and I are both 37, and started trying when we were 36 - next month it will be one year (sorry to people who have been trying for a lot longer). At first, I thought, "I'll just go off the Pill and won't really think about it and we'll see what happens." Getting pregnant in January would have been sort of inconvenient for me workwise (can't believe I ever thought like that!) and would have cut into my ski season, so I didn't mind if it took a few months. In my mind, we'd just have fun for three months, and then we'd get serious and I'd get pregnant. I thought about being eight months pregnant at Christmas and wouldn't I look awful in pictures, haha but it'd be fun to have a January baby and Capricorns are very organized and kind and are all good students (at least, my sister is) so that would make for an easy first child.

Ah, the good old days. I have to say, one of the only good things about having a hard time getting pregnant is all that "I hope I have a girl/I hope she's cute and has blue eyes and doesn't get his eyebrows or she'll have to buy stock in Nads" is totally out the window. I just want a baby - any baby.

In April, I decided we needed to really try. I had been using ovulation predictors (aka pee sticks) so I'm not sure what "really try" meant (I guess have sex more than one time around the ovulation surge because I was away or we were both tired or my nails were wet) and not skimp on sticks because they are so ridiculously expensive. I also visited websites like babycenter.com, and at that time, I remember feeling like they were so cute, and wasn't it fun to use the ovulation calendar, and see when the baby would be born, or visit the chinese predictor site (to see if it would be a boy or girl) - the whole thing was fun and sort of exciting and I didn't mind the popups for baby toys or maternity clothes (how much fun was it going to be to buy a whole new wardrobe??). By the way, on a bad day, those same popups now make me cry...but we're not there yet.

When we weren't pregant by June (looking back I can't believe how long those few months seemed - it's crazy) I broke down in CVS and bought Fertell. It's a fertility test for you and for him - and it's $100. I measured my days wrong (I counted in 24 hour blocks instead of just Day 1, Day 2, Day 3) and when I called their 800 number, they immediately FedExed another test, so I have to give them snaps for customer service.

For ONCE, the Fertell test is easier for you than it is for your guy. You just have to - can you guess? - pee on a stick on the right day. He has to ejaculate into a little plastic cup thing and then there is some waiting and twisting of caps and after about an hour, you'll know if his sperm count is normal. For you, Fertell measures FSH (sorry, I know we promised no alphabet soup) defined as:

Follicle Stimulating Hormone – A hormone secreted by the pituitary gland in the brain. In women, follicle stimulating hormone stimulates the growth of ovarian follicles, which allows for the egg to mature prior to ovulation. High levels of FSH can cause the egg to be released before it has fully matured, making the egg incapable of fertilization.

Basically, my understanding is that if your FSH level is too high, your ovarian reserve isn't good - i.e. your eggs are gettin old.

The male test measures motile sperm - i.e. good swimmers who can get to the egg. If there are more than 10 million sperm per milliliter of semen (I am not kidding) then things are looking good (apparently that is a World Health Organization standard).

We got good news on both tests, and I have to say, I was thinking, WAIT a minute, he has at least 10 million sperm per MILLILITER and I'm not pregnant??? But then I read that if he has less than 20 million per milliliter, he's considered infertile. Here are some other facts I've learned (from New England Journal of Medecine type websites, but still, not sure if all of these are 100% correct):

In last 50 years, men's sperm count - worldwide - has dropped by half. (And everyone is blaming women having careers for the increase in infertility - HA)

After sex, it takes between 5 minutes and 70 minutes for sperm to reach the fallopian tubes (can you believe we're talking about this? I know, me neither).

Sperm can live for 12-48 hours if conditions are right inside you - but the estimates on this seem to vary wildly.

Your egg can only be fertilized for about a 12-24 hour period - some websites say 6 hours, some say 24, but basically, the window is a LOT SMALLER than they made it sound in 8th grade!! I mean, on the bus in 9th grade Robyn Hunter told me that you could get pregnant on the last day of your period - and she knew everything! Damn her. Liar.

Sperm quality is best if he has ejaculated 2 days prior but not more than 7 days prior (apparently they get a little funny in there if they haven't gotten out for some action).

Aha, I thought as I read this. Now I know why men are such horny freakshows! They are biologically wired to have an orgasm at least every three or four days. We get a hormonal surge once a month, and they get the most powerful drug known to humankind - testosterone - pumping 24/7. Again, not fair.

But as usual, I digress.

So, do I recommend Fertell? As a starting point, yes. If you don't think you want to go to the doctor right away, you can take the test and if it's normal, you can keep trying, which is what we did. The test isn't comprehensive - there could be plenty of other reasons you can't conceive, but it's sort of a good start, and it's over the counter, which is nice, and it doesn't require any blood tests, humiliating procedures or parking tickets when you can't get a space and your doctor's appointment is in four minutes (don't kid yourself, she's going to take you 49 minutes late anyway). It costs about $100, but if you're like me, and you can never get enough information about anything, it'll give you some peace of mind about two things, at least.

Next post I'll talk about the tests at the doctor's office and what to expect with those (in case you're wondering, yeah, not fun. Sorry).

-L

12.12.2007

"She Meant Well."

When I complain to friends or family about how everyone (including this random woman on the subway who offered me her seat last week - apparently mistaking my empire waist shirt for a maternity top) either thinks I'm pregnant, asks me if I'm pregnant or asks me what I'm waiting for to get pregnant, the listeners inevitably have one of two reactions:

1) "Are you kidding? People ask you that? I am stunned, in shock, horrified! Poor you!"

2) "Oh, they mean well!"

Guess which response I prefer?

I've thought a lot about the second response (not the one I prefer) and tried to figure out why I just can't get with the view that these people are just looking out for my well-being and "mean well." I think it's because there are lots and lots of things you could say and "mean well." For example,"

"Have you ever considered getting a nose job?" In saying this to a certain person I know, I could save her the pain of being teased about a nose that could only belong on a boxer whose had a very long career. But I would never, ever say that to her. Because I don't just think about what I mean - that she's beautiful but the Mike Tyson nose sort of holds her back from her inner Cameron Diaz - I think about the effect my question would have on her.

And so even though she complains about her nose all the time, and says that it keeps her from dating the guys she wants to date or feeling cute in this outfit or those earrings, I never suggest that she get a nose job. But I also don't tell her, "Don't worry about it! Stop worrying about your nose so much! If you just relax about your nose, it'll get smaller!"

The problem with being asked if I'm pregnant (which has the effect of making me feel obese and ugly) or what I'm waiting for (to get pregnant) is that it makes me talk about something I don't want to talk about with people I don't want to talk to about it.

I agree with Jennifer - if people are going to ask a question that might make you uncomfortable, they need to be prepared for an answer that might make them uncomfortable. But I want to decide who I talk with about our infertility. Just because someone asks me about it doesn't mean I have to talk to them about it.

I promise that in the next post I'll stop complaining about insensitive people for a minute and will give you some useful info about what I've learned and what we've gone through so far. In the mean time, I highly recommend a book that Jennifer gave to me:

The Baby Trail, by Sinead Moriarty. It's a funny, fictional account of two years in the life of a couple trying to get pregnant, and Sinead Gets It. After reading it, I felt a lot better about how I was feeling - that I wasn't being overly sensitive or "worrying about it too much" and that for some reason, the feelings that accompany this hellish adventure are common and amazingly similar.

-L

12.07.2007

Pregnant Questions, Part Deux

Unlike – and thanks to – our mothers, our generation came of age thinking we had choices. About everything. We went to college to find a career, not a husband. And the sky was the limit – we could be anything we wanted to be. And we became it. Once we started down that path, we knew we could wait until we’d achieved a satisfying measure of success before we got married and stopped chasing the brass ring to have children. It never even occurred to most of us that there could be some kind of issue.

Which is why it’s such an utter shock when it doesn’t happen.

For many of us – and statistics will tell you that means one in eight women – this is the first time in our lives when something is not attainable through sheer hard work and tenacity alone. I know that for me (Jennifer, the latter half of Lisafer), one of the most challenging aspects of infertility is to accept that. What? You mean I can’t just have sex more often or get in some acrobatic position afterward to facilitate the whole thing? I can’t ovulate through sheer willpower? By the way, if that were possible, I would currently be the proud mother of 2,000 children.

I think that’s partly why others’ questions (which Lisa captured so well) are so offensive when you’re going through infertility. There seems to be some unspoken (sometimes spoken if they’re rude enough) implication that if you’re not getting pregnant, you must not be trying hard enough or are doing something wrong. “I knew someone who went through all these treatments and nothing – and then, voila, she got pregnant instantly once she stopped IVF because she relaxed about it.” Oh, thanks. So the moral of your brilliant tale is that I should just disregard all that crazy science behind infertility treatments and go with the oh-so-reliable method of calming down my type-A personality. Thank goodness I had the good fortune to run into you, or I may have spent months consulting with a credible MD instead of just going home and breathing deeply.

I used to hide my infertility, answering imposing questions with a polite “all in due time” or “you’ll be the first to know.” I felt ashamed by it, and didn’t want to make others uncomfortable. I’m over it. People who have the nerve to ask impolite questions give up their right to receive polite answers. They deserve to be made as uncomfortable as they’ve made you. I’ve been married for seven years and love kids. Millions of people experience infertility. Math has never been my thing but based on those numbers, the fact that I’m infertile doesn’t require a huge mental leap.

I’ve decide to personally launch a major, one-woman education effort. I feel it’s my personal responsibility to train at least those in my inner circle to stop the questions and speculation. Infertility hurts enough, especially when we see so many around us enjoying their lives as parents. The questions only deepen the wound.



-J

So, when are you going to have kids?

Sound familiar? Chances are, if you're married, in your thirties, and have been to a wedding, reunion, family function or other inner circle of hell recently, you've been asked this question. And, if you're like us, you wonder:

1. Did you seriously just ask a 37 year-old woman that question?
2. Did you seriously just ask anyone that question?
3. How the hell do I answer that question?????

My first post (I'm Lisa, the first part of the Lisafer combo - sorry about the Bennifer copying, but admit it, you do too read People, Us and when you're desperate, Star) will start with some suggestions for how to deal with this question. Even before I started trying to get pregnant (and I've now been trying, without even a little success for the dreaded one year mark) I was floored by this question. The first time I was asked it was at a wedding four months after I got married. I made the mistake of wearing a really cute BCBG dress that had an empire waist. I was asked not once, but SIX times, whether I was pregnant, or worse, when I was due. Finally, when the last person asked me, "Oh! Are you pregnant?" I said, "Nope, just fat I guess. "

To the third person who asked me when I was due (I'd had time to think of the comeback I didn't have when the first person asked) I said, "For another glass of wine? Since you're the third person whose asked me that, and I'm not pregnant, I'm thinkin I need to get drunk RIGHT NOW." "

Now, I'm not talking about hearing the "when are you going to have kids" question from good friends - the kind of friends you might actually talk (and used to talk at length when you were single) about your sex life with. I'm talking about friends of your parents who you think were at your wedding, but you can't be sure. I'm talking about random coworkers who have never gotten so personal as to ask you if you prefer Diet Coke or Regular Coke for the Friday lunch meeting. I'm talking about the neighbor you just met for the first time.

When you're dealing with infertility, and living in the age of babydoll dresses, empire waists and media baby mania (J Lo BUMPWATCH! TLC: A Baby Story! TLC: Bringing Home Baby! TLC: You're Not Having A Baby But Everyone Else Is!) getting asked if you're pregnant is common, and it's no longer just insulting.

It's painful.

Really, really painful, and really, really hard. To keep from tearing up (I seem to cry over this a lot, and I am NOT a cryer, at all - except for when I watch Terms of Endearment. I cry every time I watch that movie, even if it's 3 a.m. on Lifetime) I have to answer the constant barrage of the "when are you having children?" type questions with something a little humorous.

For instance:

"So what about you guys? When are you going to get going and have kids?!"

A: "Apparently it's not as easy as they made it sound in 8th grade. How is the shrimp dip?"

That's what I really say. Here is what I WANT to say:

"I don't know. But more importantly, when are you going to get rid of that annoying husband of yours? He's at the bar right now molesting the waitress."

or

"Well, considering all you ever do is bitch about your kids, we're not really in that much of a hurry."

or

"I have a great book for you to read. It's called Emily Post: Manners. You really should check it out!

or

"None of your fucking business. But while we're being inappropriate, how is the Viagra working out for Tom? Getting any lately?"

Sorry. Sort of. That's enough for the first post - next time I'll write about what I think about people who just "mean well" when they ask you why you don't have kids. Oh, and about our Top Ten List of Really Annoying Advice (hint, #1 is "relax!").

-L