Friday, April 30, 2010

What if I never become a mother?

I am writing this post as part of Project IF in commemoration of National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW): Hundreds of additional "what ifs" shared by others in the ALI community can be found here.

I have wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. Even as a teenager, I used to think about my future children. At that age, I thought my future children would come into my life when I was in my late 20s/early 30s, but the thought that I might not be a mother never really crossed my mind.

And yet I never made achieving motherhood a priority until recently. As I have written here before, throughout my 20s, as I moved around, began and ended romantic relationships, and ultimately went back to school for a career change, I naively thought I would have all the time I needed to get pregnant when the time was right. When I was settled in one place that I could make my home, when I met the right man (father), when I was financially secure, I would simply stop using birth control and, in short order, become pregnant.

Clearly things have not gone according to plan.

If I never become a mother, I suppose, as my mother has always told me, I will just "do other things with [my] time." I wrote at length here about the upside of not being a parent, and I don't doubt that there is one. . . I just don't think, for me, that the upside is much of a compensation for being childless. I think any honest parent will tell you, though they longed for and love their children, that being a parent is a different life from what you had before or from what you would have if you had never had a child.

On the other hand, if I never become a mother, there are so many things I will miss. I will never get to feel my baby moving inside me. I will never get to give birth or breast feed.

I will never hear a little voice call me "Mommy" or say "I love you." I will never get to relate the funny things my child says and does to my sister and to my parents. I will never watch my child sleeping, or hold and comfort her when she is afraid or sad. I will never know the satisfaction of watching my child start school, master skills, and someday grow up and leave my home.

I will never know the fulfillment of nurturing another human being and helping him grow into the person he is supposed to become. I will never see parts of myself, or my husband, or my parents in our child. My in-laws will never be grandparents, and I will never have my own grandchildren.

I will never know that common bond with other women who have shared the experience of motherhood. I will never be able to contribute to a conversation about children by sharing my own experiences as a parent.

In short, I will miss out one of the most life-changing experiences anyone could hope to have.

What if, through the help of ART, I am able to conceive and to give birth to a healthy, living child of our own? What if our current treatment cycle works? What if I do become a mother after all?

It is that hope that makes me keep trying.

To learn the basics about infertility, go here.

Thursday, April 29, 2010


I can hardly believe that this is my 200th post! Wow. Who'd have thought I'd have this much TTC-related stuff to write about. ;-)

I posted last week about attending an infertility support group. Though a lot of what the support group leader was talking about last Monday was stuff I didn't "get" or that did not resonate with me, one thing she talked about that did is the idea letting go of attachment to the outcome. Easier said than done, or as I read somewhere, letting go is "simple but not easy."

When we met with our RE last Friday, MM told him that one reason we'd taken a long-ish break was that the treatment cycles were harder for him than our TTC-on-our-own cycles because his disappointment was so much greater when they failed. He talked about how angry he would be when the HPT was negative or when my period arrived and how that anger was greatly increased when we'd spent "so much time, energy and money to achieve a pregnancy."

Our RE's response, which did not come across as flippant and simplistic as it will sound as you are reading this, was "it doesn't help to get angry, and when there is an 85% chance that the treatment won't work, you should be expecting that outcome." True, but easier said than done, right? He does know of what he speaks, though, because in addition to being an experienced RE, he and his wife conceived their 2nd and 3rd children (twins) via IVF. He's literally been there, on both sides, patient and physician.

After hearing their exchange, I recalled what the group leader had said on the subject. I have been ruminating about since, and I think it's right. One of the biggest things that causes me to obsess during treatment cycles is my attachment to the outcome of a cycle. With proper scheduling and structure, I can do all the things I have to do in a treatment cycle without thinking about TTC all the time. The real reason I obsess is because I want the outcome--a pregnancy, with a healthy, living baby at the end--so badly.

So I am making that my project for this cycle: letting go of my attachment to the outcome. I can only do what I can do, and what will be, will be. We can do everything "right" and follow the RE's treatment plan, and we may still never have a baby. The outcome is completely outside my control.

I am coming to slow acceptance of the idea that we may never achieve a pregnancy together which will result in our bringing home our own healthy, living child. While I cannot say that I am OK with that, I know that life will go on regardless and that it will be good. Different, perhaps, from what I had planned and anticipated, but still good.

In this sense, I am in a very different place emotionally, mentally, than I was when we started our first treatment cycle last April. And given where I am today, I no longer think it's a good use of my energy to spend all my time wishing/hoping/praying for something that may or may not come to us.

What if I just accept what is and what will be, without trying to control the outcome? I want to learn how that will feel.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Quick u/s update

I had my CD 3 u/s this morning, and it showed no cysts and "lots" of resting follicles. (The nurse did not count the follicles because her aim was to check for cysts.)

So I have my drugs and will be starting them this evening. My next monitoring appointment is on May 6, CD 11.

Thought for the day: why oh why does Follistim have to be so expensive? My little 400-unit cartridge was over $260!

Gotta get to work. . . .

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


I had to post a link to this video here for those who may not have seen it. A beautiful and poignant look at the many "what if?"s we all ponder. Warning: this video may well bring you to tears (it did me).

Monday, April 26, 2010

Protocol for IUI #3.1

I got the call from our clinic a little while ago. The nurse who called is my "favorite" NP there; she did both of my IUIs and has done a few of my monitoring appointments as well. She was also the one who called me with my first beta result back in August when I had my first-ever (and so-far-only) BFP, and was thus the first person to give me a heads up that, though I was technically pregnant, I was likely miscarrying (and she was right). Nurse Favorite remembered me and was very friendly, as usual.

(Oh, and BTW: Nurse Favorite is 33 weeks pregnant. With her fourth child. Her oldest is 7. I guess she's not working at the clinic for the employee discount. LOL This means that she was pregnant--just barely--when she did my last IUI. Why couldn't some of her fertility have rubbed off on me? ;-) )

Because my last treatment cycle in late November caused a 30.5-mm follicle, there is a chance that this caused a cyst, and that must be ruled out before I start any drugs, since they can aggravate an existing cyst. So before I can even get started on this cycle, I have to go in for a cyst check u/s on Wednesday.

Assuming my u/s on Wednesday is clear, my protocol for this cycle will be:

**Clomid 50 mg each evening CD 3 through CD 7 (Wednesday through Sunday)
**Follistim injections in the following doses:
--125 units on CD 3
--100 units on CD 4
--75 units on CD 6 and on CD 8
--50 units on CD 10
**hCG trigger when instructed
**Progesterone gel vaginally each evening for two weeks following IUI or timed intercourse
**Checking OPKs daily before 11:00 a.m. each day beginning on CD 8

My mid-cycle monitoring u/s will be on CD 11, Thursday May 6. Our RE said I could decide at the mid-cycle u/s whether we want to proceed with IUI or just go with timed intercourse.

I am crossing my fingers that I do not have a cyst on that right ovary. I will be really annoyed if I do, since the treatment cycle that will have caused it was a complete waste of time and money (and will lead to further delay). I guess if I do have a cyst, I will have to take medication to shrink it before I can do any more stims.

Stay tuned.

CD 1, take ?

AF has arrived. I just placed my cycle day one call to our clinic's nurse line and am awaiting a call back.

Will post more when I have a plan.

Friday, April 23, 2010

RE visit

As planned, MM and I had a sit-down appointment with our RE today, our first in over a year. I posted a few weeks ago here about the fact that MM wanted to talk with the RE about the possibility of doing more IUIs and how much it might increase our chances of conception.

As usual, our RE was running behind schedule; we waited 35 minutes past our appointment time, despite being told at check-in that he was no more than 5-10 minutes behind. But also as usual, once we got in to see him, he took his time and discussed everything with us in detail and answered all our questions.

When asked what he would estimate our odds of conception to be currently, TTC on our own, he said he would estimate 5% per cycle. (I actually thought it was more like 2-3%, so I found this encouraging.) He noted that the chemical pregnancy I had in July/August of last year, which was the result of a break cycle, at least let us know that things are "working behind the scenes." In other words, MM's sperm are able to reach and penetrate my eggs, so there is no problem with sperm functionality and no problem with my cervical mucus. (He already knew my tubes were clear from my January '09 HSG.) The most likely barrier to pregnancy for us is the quality of my eggs, which is a result of my age. Poor egg quality (and the resulting genetic abnormalities) is the most likely reason I had the early miscarriage.

MM asked him for some "hard numbers" about what he thought our odds of conception would be with IUIs and stims. He estimated between 10-15% per cycle, noting that, at my age, the stimulation portion of the cycles is probably of greater benefit to us than the actual insemination.

We did remind the RE that we do not wish to do IVF, and he respected that. His only comment about the (relatively low) success rate of IVF at my age was that it doesn't take into account the possibility of future FETs from the eggs that would be retrieved. My lack of ovulatory issues and previous good response to stims would likely mean that he would be able to retrieve a better-than-average number of eggs. However, in looking back at my initial baseline u/s, we both noted that one of my ovaries (the left) is behind my uterus and thus inaccessible for egg retrieval, so that would almost certainly adversely affect the number of eggs that could be retrieved.

He told us that his recommendation would be to try 3-4 more IUI/stims cycles. We left the office without committing to doing anything, planning to call the office on my next CD 1 if we choose to go forward.

MM and I talked briefly after leaving the office, and we've agreed to go ahead with the 4 more IUIs for which our insurance will pay 50% of the cost. So I may be back on the treatment roller coaster here in the next few weeks.

Of course, today is CD 27 for me, and we did have well-timed intercourse this cycle, so I suppose it's not impossible that I am currently pregnant as I type this. Normally AF would be here, or close to arriving, by CD 27, but I do know from my OPKs that I probably ovulated a little later than usual this month, so I'm not feeling particularly optimistic about the fact that AF is not here and does not seem to be on her way yet. If I get to CD 32 (next Wednesday) and still no AF, then I might get hopeful.

So that's where we're at. Assuming I am not currently pregnant--and given what happened in July/August last year, I will be checking a HPT even if/when AF arrives--I will be back on Cl.omid and shortly.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Useful Advice

I recently ran across a link to this on someone's blog and had to share it here. I've been on the receiving end of most of this "useful advice." You can read the full text here; it starts like this:

Useful Advice

by Catherine Tufariello

You're 37? Don't you think that maybe
It's time you settled down and had a baby?
[Yeah, I've heard this one.]

Tuesday, April 20, 2010


Monday night I attended an infertility support group for the first time. I have been hesitant to post about the experience for fear of how what I write may be perceived by some readers. Over the years I have learned that my emotional reactions to experiences tend to be a little outside the norm, especially for a woman.

Ultimately I've decided that this is my blog and that I really shouldn't self-censor, unless I am doing so with the intent to avoid hurting others' feelings. So here it goes.

I was hoping that the group might help me cope with some of the unpleasant emotions I have been having related to my inability to have a baby, but I actually left feeling a little perplexed. The group was a professional-led group, led by someone whose focus is the mind/body connection. I liked her, but in a sense, I could not relate to her.

Don't get me wrong. I do believe that there *is* a mind/body connection. I just don't necessarily feel that all (or even most) physical problems can be overcome by the power of the mind.

When it was my turn, the leader told me that she believes I need to "get in touch with [my] feelings" and that I have repressed emotions which are probably affecting my ability to get pregnant. (She mentioned in passing that they are probably contributing to my weight problem, too.) After I described various thoughts I was having about TTC and infertility, she asked me "how does that feel, in your body?" Huh? Aside from feeling a little tense talking about my feelings in front of three complete strangers, I wasn't physically feeling anything out of the ordinary.

*I* don't feel that I am repressing my emotions. Far from it. I have experienced more angst and sadness in the past 18 months or so than I can remember feeling since I was a teenager. I have cried regularly, in my office, in my car, and at home. I have ranted, and continue to rant, against Fate, The Universe or G-d to friends who were/are sympathetic and willing to listen. I have become irrationally angry at times over others' happy child- or pregnancy-related news. I have written at length on this blog about my emotions related to our infertility.

As I see it, I am just a more logical than an emotional person. That's not to say I don't have emotions--clearly I do, everyone does--but I tend to be ruled more by my head than by my heart. I have been this way for as long as I can remember.

But I guess THINKING about my feelings is different from FEELING them. How can I think about feelings if I'm not feeling them first?

Am I just in denial? If so, I don't know how to break through it. I wouldn't have the first clue where to start to "get in touch with my feelings." I didn't know I was out of touch with them.

So that was my experience. I doubt I will go back. Honestly, I got less out of the group than I do out of writing this blog and reading the comments people leave and reading others' infertility blogs.

Unlike many women whose blogs I read, I actually do have a lot of support in my life already. My sister has PCOS and took two years to conceive her (thus far only) child. A close friend of mine from college struggled for several years with secondary infertility. Another friend was given a 1% chance of natural conception by her doctor and went on to have a son. Yet a third friend has a sister-in-law to whom she is close who has been through the ringer with infertility, including multiple IVF cycles, infant loss, and more than one miscarriage. And my BFF, who has never TTC and thus is not infertile, has nonetheless been wonderful about listening to my ravings. I also have several less-close friends who have been very understanding and supportive, when I have chosen to talk to them about our situation.

To be honest, MM is not the greatest in terms of providing emotional support (he is generally more sensitive than I and perceives me to be "strong" enough to deal with things), but he is not dismissive and tries to be supportive. And clearly I have several other people in my life to whom I can turn when needed.

I think the idea of a support group is good, and I may seek out another at some time if I feel the need. I just didn't get much out of this experience, which actually left me feeling more confused than comforted.

Monday, April 19, 2010


My emotions related to infertility are so strange. I often find that I do fine with things that an objective outsider might suppose would be difficult, while random things which would seem less likely to affect me upset me greatly.

This weekend was a good example of this phenomenon. We had dinner with my close friend C and her 15-month-old son, my godson, on Saturday evening. While in Tucson for the day on Sunday, I visited my friend L, who is pregnant and due in a few weeks (I wrote about L's loss of her last pregnancy in this post last summer), and visited another friend's six-day-old baby girl (I wrote about her pregnancy here). I also spent most of the day Sunday with M, the 10-year-old girl in foster care for whom I am a Court Appointed Special Advocate.

Any rational person might expect that dinner with my godson would bother me. He is an adorable child and is at a very cute age, toddling around and communicating (more through gestures than through words at this point). You might think that seeing my close friend enjoying motherhood would highlight for me that this is something I have not experienced and may never experience. But I thoroughly enjoyed our dinner and actually did not think of our infertility at all while I was with my godson and his parents.

You might think that seeing a friend who is 8+ months pregnant like L would upset me. Just the sight of the obviously-pregnant belly of a woman in her third trimester can be hard for many women with infertility to see. You might think I'd have an especially hard time knowing that this is her third pregnancy in three years (I literally have not seen L UNpregnant in over three years, since we live 100 miles apart and our face-to-face contact is now sporadic) and that she conceived this time without even trying.

You might also think it would be hard to be with L's two-and-a-half-year-old son and see their interactions. Any reasonable childless woman would think more about her childlessness when in the presence of an adorable little one.

And yet, my visit with L was not upsetting at all. Particularly in light of their loss last summer, I am so happy for her that she is pregnant again and that this pregnancy has been uneventful and healthy. Her son was adorable, and I enjoyed spending some time with him; kids change so quickly when they're little that he was almost like a different child from the last time I saw him a few months ago.

I think a lot of people would expect my visit with my friend's newborn to be the hardest of all. After all, this baby was conceived at the same time as the baby we lost last August. She was born within a few days of what should have been my due date. The parents married the same year we did and started TTC several months after us. Like nearly all newborns, she is tiny and innocent and perfect. But this visit wasn't upsetting for me either. I listened to my friend's birth story and watched her husband feeding and burping the baby and was fine.

And then, as I was driving home, my mother made a random comment which had me crying for a good portion of my drive home. After I had related some of the highlights of my outing with M, she told me "Maybe this [meaning my volunteer work as a CASA] is what you were meant to do" instead of being a mother.

Really? Yeah, because it's really the same thing. I guess my mom would think volunteering at an animal shelter one Saturday a month is the same thing as having a pet, too.

First my mom's comment made me angry, and after I hung up the phone, it made me sad. While I enjoy volunteering as a CASA and like to think I am making a real difference in M's life, I in no way view my work with her as a substitute for mothering my own child. Being a volunteer is fulfilling, but it doesn't even come close to filling one one-hundredth of the void in my life from being childless.

To be fair to my mother, she has never faced infertility (in fact, she had the opposite problem), and I know that she cannot relate at all to what I am going through. Her comment still stung.

So I spent time with a toddler, a 2-year-old, a newborn and a pregnant friend and did fine. . . . and cried because my mother made an insensitive comment that touched on my infertility. Seems a little backwards to me.

Friday, April 16, 2010

What if?

Stirrup Queens is organizing Resolve's spring advocacy project, Project IF. You can find more information here.

I submitted a couple of my own "what if"s in the comments on Mel's post--the first two, below--but decided later that I had other "what if"s I wanted to share. Here they are.

1. What IF I could have gotten pregnant once upon a time, if only I hadn’t waited until I was 37 years old to start trying?
2. What IF the fact that we cannot conceive a child together ruins my marriage?
3. What IF I am never able to accept living a childless life?
4. What IF my parents-in-law die without ever becoming grandparents?
5. What IF I am never able to stop being bitter about the ease with which others conceive their children?
6. What IF we gamble the $25-30K on donor egg IVF and it doesn't work?
7. What IF donor egg IVF works, and our child resents not knowing his/her genetic/biological history?
8. What IF golden retrievers are the only "children" I'll ever have to love and nurture?
9. What IF it turns out that my miscarriage in August 2009 was the only baby MM and I will ever conceive?
10. What IF it turns out that it was my weight, or something else within my control, and not my age, that made me unable to conceive? I guess I will never know.
11. What IF, despite my feelings to the contrary, I wasn't truly meant to be a mother?
12. What IF I am never able to believe in prayer, or G-d, again because no one answered our prayers for a child of our own?
13. What IF our insurance paid for fertility treatments? If my insurance paid for up to three IVF cycles, would I be willing to do IVF with my own eggs then? It would certainly take away one of our major objections: the gamble with a significant sum of money.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Food for thought

Having reached an age where a fair number of my friends and acquaintances are divorced, some for the second time, I've talked a lot with various women about marriage. . . . when it's best to marry, why some marriages don't last, how children affect marriage, etc.

The majority of my friends who married younger than 25 and are now divorced seem to be of the opinion that marrying before 25 is a mistake for most people. (I have had some people say marrying before 30.) Quite a few of my still-married friends believe this as well, and a quick look at statistics shows that, in fact, over 64% of divorces involve marriages in which the wife was under 25 when she married.

[I must say here that I have some friends who married young who have been together for a long time and are still quite happily married. I'm not sure if they are in the lucky 36%, or if there is something fundamentally different about their personalities or relationships that has made their marriages lasting and happy while others' marriages have failed. I think very few things are true for absolutely everyone.]

Having attended at least some college and earning over $50,000 are also correlated with a lower divorce rate. So if a woman wants to avoid divorce, it seems that her more prudent course is to spend her early 20s going to college and preparing for a career which will pay fairly well. Even if she doesn't care about preserving her marriage, she will need the higher earnings to raise her child(ren) alone, should her marriage end in divorce.

On the other hand, based on the latest research, it likely isn't prudent for a woman to wait until after age 30 to start having children. We now know that female fertility begins to decline around age 27, though it does not drop dramatically until after age 35.
Putting all this together, basically, in order to maximize her chances for a lasting marriage and children, a woman today needs to find the right man to marry and have at least one child sometime between ages 25 and 27. She also needs to stay focused on her career (or education), though, because she will just be starting out and building the foundation for her professional and financial future.

An alternative, I suppose is to have kids younger, with "the wrong guy," either someone you don't marry or someone whom you know you will likely eventually divorce, and hope you can either raise them on your own or find a man who doesn't mind marrying a single mom.

Or to do what I did: wait until after age 35 to marry and TTC and hope for the best.
Does anyone else see something wrong with this picture? Sure, we are equal to men. . . . we just have a much more limited opportunity to reproduce than they do.

I sometimes wonder if I would have lived my life differently had I had a clear perception of these facts at a younger age. I doubt it, though. No, I think even if I had read these articles and known that there was a POSSIBILITY that I would be unable to conceive after age 35, I still would have gone blithely on believing that I, of all people, would still be ultra-fertile into my late 30s. I never wanted to "settle" in marriage, and I never wanted to be a single mother. There is no chance I would have neglected education and career in exchange for motherhood.

Even though this information would not have changed MY choices, though, I wonder if there are women out there who would choose differently, if they knew the greater risk of infertility that comes with waiting until after 35 to TTC.

Monday, April 12, 2010

CD 16 and a + OPK

My body is being weird this cycle. Over the 18 months or so I spent charting, I noticed that I usually ovulate around CD 13 or CD 14. There have been times I have ovulated as late as CD 18, but that is rare for me.

I have been using OPKs this cycle at my husband's request. I started on CD 11 and had not yet had a positive result going into CD 14 (last Saturday). I missed testing on Saturday because I was in bed with a horribly painful, debilitating migraine headache. I tested yesterday, CD 15, and the OPK was close-to-a-positive-but-not-quite. I figured I was just catching the tail end of Saturday's surge.

I tested again this morning, just to be on the safe side, and I got a clearly positive test. Odd. I guess this means I will be ovulating sometime between tonight and tomorrow night. Very late in the cycle for me.

And I can't help but think how little chance we have of conceiving on our own, even with appropriately-timed sex.

One up side to finally getting a positive is that I can stop testing now until next month. ;-)

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Back to the RE

MM and I had a talk last night about the practicalities of TTC. Although we have talked occasionally over the past few months about (his) emotions related to the issue, we had not had a talk like this since early December, when we made the decision to stop doing intervention. (The most we've said on the subject has been his request that I use OPKs to predict ovulation.)

Because of the context in which the topic came up, a significant portion of our discussion centered around money. The topic of treatments came up in relation to our making summer travel plans. Though we had free airline tickets for the particular trip we were discussing, obviously the cost of hotels and meals would differ somewhat depending upon which city we'd be visiting. If we are planning to do anything else related to TTC except just having sex, we might be spending money that we should be saving.

(Allow me to note here parenthetically that I am bothered on some level that finances play such a large role in a decision which should likely be based mostly on other considerations. I think anyone who is contemplating having a child should stop and think about finances, at least as they relate to the ability to provide for the child, but I find it distasteful to have to think about finances in relation to simply bringing the child into the world. Such is life.)

While we are by no means wealthy, we are financially comfortable. We do not have an extravagant lifestyle: neither of us drives a luxury car; we don't live in a huge house; neither of us shops much; we don't regularly visit exotic locales on our vacations (though this is due as much to time considerations as to finances). I have student loans which I am paying off and will be paying off for the foreseeable future. We generally find that we have enough money to do most of the things we want to do, within reason.

At the same time, we are not in a position where we can spend freely and without thought. Neither MM nor I is particularly a saver, and though we have a small "rainy day" fund, it is much less than the "six months' salary" which most financial experts recommend having. Given our circumstances, which I suspect are not much worse than most people's, spending more than $2000 or so at one time on anything would require advance planning and probably giving up some things.

I wrote at length here last May about our thoughts about IVF. Because they haven't changed much, I won't repeat them here. Suffice it to say, we do not intend to go down that road. Our reasons are both financial and not. (The one exception to this might be donor egg IVF. Because the success rates are so much higher, and I would not be the one taking the ovulation-inducing drugs, some of our objections to using IVF would be eliminated or reduced with donor egg IVF.)

Particularly in light of MM's continued unexplained optimism about our chances of conceiving on our own, I thought it wise to have a frank discussion about where we are. In two years of TTC, including four cycles using fertility drugs, we have had a single BFP, which we learned shortly afterward was a chemical pregnancy. Other than that one, unexpected positive test--which, ironically, was the result of a cycle when we were taking a break from treatment--we have not even come close to achieving a pregnancy.

Someone who is better with numbers than I am could probably break down the odds of a 39-year-old childless woman conceiving naturally after two years of unsuccessful TTC. No, the odds aren't zero--I have examples in my own life, not to mention the online IF community, of women to whom this has happened--but I think it's safe to say that the odds are small.

MM gets that there is only a slim chance of our ever achieving a pregnancy which results in a real, live baby of our own, with or without treatment. Intellectually, he understands it. BUT he is not ready to give up hope.

The end result of our discussion is that we are going to have a sit-down appointment with our RE, something we have not had in about a year. We still do not want to go down the path of IVF, but MM thinks that we should try a few more IUIs, if I am willing. My one hesitation is my perception of the futility of this course of action. Is it worth spending even a couple thousand dollars for something that will only incrementally increase our odds of conception?

So that is what we intend to discuss with our RE. Our appointment is on April 23rd.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Oh, Arizona

I do love my adopted home state of Arizona, though I don't always agree with its political representatives. I don't usually get political on this blog, but after recently learning about a bill pending in my state's legislature, I feel the need to spread the word to those in the IF community who may not have heard about it.

RESOLVE explains this far more eloquently than I could here.

If you feel moved to do after reading this, I ask that those of you in Arizona contact your legislative representative and let him/her know you oppose this bill. Isn't being infertile bad enough without additional restrictions being placed on methods for treating it?