- How come no one ever tells couples who are physically able to have biological children that they should adopt? There have been a number of times in my life when a friend or acquaintance has shared that she and her husband (or he and his wife) are "trying" to have a baby, and not once have I ever heard someone respond by saying "you should just adopt instead." Is it only infertile couples who have the moral responsibility to "help a child in need" and put aside their natural inclination to procreate?
- I hate it when people say "there are so many children out there who need good homes." On the one hand, there is no arguing with this admittedly true statement. On the other hand, we did not set out to "save the world, one child at a time" when we decided we wanted to be parents. I applaud and commend those people for whom adopting older children, especially those with challenges, is their choice, but this was not our aim when we thought of becoming parents and is still not our goal.
- Why does everyone feel the need to ask a married couple when they intend to have children? Though to be fair, I must admit I have asked this question of couples many, many times over the years, so this is probably just karmic payback for me.
- MM asked me this morning if I would "pee on those ovulation sticks" this cycle. He expressed concern that we somehow missed my fertile window last cycle. And here I thought we were no longer actively TTC. Hmm. Guess someone hasn't truly given up on the notion that we will somehow, miraculously, conceive on our own. (I am going to use the OPKs since it is important to him. I am currently on CD 7, so I won't start for a few more days.)
- On a related note. . . . were I to conceive this cycle, my due date would be very close to my inlaws' (and my nephew's) birthdays, 11/6 and 11/8. How sad is it that I was able to calculate this in my head and get within 5 days? It's so hard to un-train the brain.
- MM has mentioned several times over the past few weeks that "we should adopt an orphan from Haiti." I have pointed out to him the inconsistency of this idea with his previously-expressed feelings about adoption; this is a man who previously has said he does not even want to adopt a newborn. He acknowledged the inherent conflict in his thinking. I guess if you want MM to be your adoptive father, you need to come from an impoverished country and survive a natural disaster. . . . merely being an American child who has been abused or neglected wouldn't be enough to qualify you. ;-)
Monday, February 8, 2010
Random thoughts
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
A gift . . . . I never asked for
In these past several weeks, now that my focus is off TTC, I have been working on coming to terms with the distinct possibility that I will never have a child of my own. While actively TTC, even someone pessimistic like me keeps some hope alive. If we didn’t, we’d find it impossible to continue taking the prescribed fertility medications every day. Nearly all my actions, and most of my thoughts, for most of the past year or more have been directed at achieving the goal of having a baby of our own.
But now, nearly two years into TTC, I am beginning to accept the possibility—I will go further and say, the likelihood—that a pregnancy and birth of a child of mine and MM’s will never happen. I am starting to think more about what this eventuality will mean.
So, depending on perspective, I can do as I have been doing for the past year and look on my infertility as a curse or a punishment. . . . or I can look at it as a gift. (At this point, anyone reading is probably beginning to wonder if I’ve finally, truly, gone off the deep end.)
There is no other way to express it: my inability to have a baby of my own has been the absolute biggest failure of my life. I know that some reading this will be tempted to respond that I haven’t failed, that it’s not my fault. . . . but given our “unexplained” diagnosis and my age, that is certainly how it feels.
My observations of most people I know who have children have shown me that, for most people, their children rank among their highest priorities. I have no quarrel with that. I actually am of the belief that our society should be more child-centered in some ways than it already is. Not in the sense of catering to children’s whims, but in the sense that I believe children’s rights should be respected, that harm to them should be avoided, and that they should be nurtured by the entire “village.”
How many times have we heard someone say “My child is my life”? Many words have been spoken, many pages written, on the transformative power of parenthood. This is as true for men as it is for women. Many men have been inspired to "be a better man" by the birth of their child. Even women who become pregnant unintentionally usually end up thinking that their child’s presence in their lives is a positive thing.
MM and I will probably never experience that transformation that comes with bringing your child into the world. We will likely never live a life that is focused on someone other than ourselves.
At the same time, I think that sometimes children become a compensation of sorts for other unrealized dreams in people’s lives. In some cases, this occurs due to necessity and is temporary: the parent, particularly the mother, is forced to put other plans and aspirations on hold, at least temporarily, because of the time-consuming nature of parenting a young child. Some women get back to pursuing those dreams, and some are permanently detoured, for better or worse, by the arrival of their children.
I’ve often heard women speak or write of the feeling that they have given up their own identities for motherhood. Many express these feelings without regret for the sacrifice; others seem more bothered by what they have given up.
I sometimes find myself wondering whether it is entirely a bad thing to live childless. When I was in my late 20s, childless and unmarried, I told my mother mournfully that I would probably never have a child of my own. (I didn’t truly believe this at the time; my remark came from self-pity.) She flippantly responded “Well, then you will just do other things with your time.”
Guess what? Once again, Mom was right. Having no children for the past ten years has afforded me a freedom that no responsible parent has. Since my mom made that comment, I have been at liberty to travel at a moment’s notice, work long hours, sleep in on the weekends, change jobs (or careers) on a whim, eat what I wanted, swear freely and be a bad example. I have no doubt that, should I spend the rest of my adult life childless, as I have spent these first 20+ years, the choices I make will be quite different than those I will make if I am a parent.
In addition to the freedom I have had (which, of course, I would gladly give up to be a mother), I may well accomplish things in the life that would be difficult or impossible if I were devoting much of my focus to being a parent. My future will be different. Not necessarily better or worse; just not what I thought it would be.
Being unable to attain something I so desperately want, and which I never imagined would not be a significant part of my life, has forced me to re-examine other areas of my life as well. Despite the unmistakable void in my heart (an empty place, waiting for my child to occupy it), I find the rest of my life to be far from empty. Rather, I find it to be full of good things and abundance. . . . so much so that wishing for something more, even something so natural and so longed-for as motherhood, seems almost selfish.
In a sense, infertility has been a gift because it has opened my eyes to some things which I might not otherwise have seen. In addition to the complete freedom to do as I please which I have already enjoyed all my adult life (without motherhood to define me or take up the majority of my time and focus), I have grown secure in the knowledge that my life is sufficient, just as it is. Knowing that I am sufficient, mother or not, is a powerful truth.
Infertility has given me the knowledge that my husband stays with me because he loves me and wants to share his life with me . . . not because I am the mother (or future mother) of his child/ren. I retain the ability to make my choices for my own reasons alone, without considering the needs of my child.
Most of all, I have learned that the worst thing I can imagine can happen to me, and I can still emerge happy and whole.
To be sure, the gift of infertility is not something that I ever asked for. The things I have come to know through this painful experience are not on a par with holding my baby in my arms for the first time or hearing his/her first words spoken. Infertility is a gift I wish I’d never received. But on some level, a gift nonetheless.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Universe taunting me
Lately it truly seems that the Universe is f$#%ing with me. For the past several weeks at least, I have been noticing that I am seeing a higher-than-expected number of pregnant women and seeing them in unexpected places. A few examples:
On a related note, I have learned that two more people I know are pregnant since the last time I posted on this topic. Three pregnant women I know have given birth in the past month, though, so the number of pregnant women I know has stayed fairly constant: 12 at last count.
Not really sure why the Universe seems to feel that I need constant reminders of my failure to conceive. . . .
Also, what is up with advertisers thinking that every woman is a mother? I am sick to death of seeing ads on Fac.ebo.ok, Yah.oo and the like for things for "Moms." I am not a mom; I may never be a mom. It's offensive to me.
- Several weeks ago, I attended a continuing legal education seminar on ethics. Given that there are still more male than female members of the bar, I would estimate that only about 35-40 of the 100 or so lawyers in attendance were women. Of these women, about a third were not of child-bearing age. And yet the only two pregnant women in the room chose seats directly in back of and beside me after I was already seated and the seminar had begun. . . and proceeded to discuss their due dates, symptoms, fetuses' genders and the like during each break.
- On the way back to the office that same day, I passed two different pregnant women walking on the street. This might not be unusual in some places, but where I live, nearly everyone drives or rides the bus. It was also quite chilly for here--in the low 50s--making it even more unlikely to see anyone, pregnant or not, out on foot.
- Tuesday night the only visibly pregnant woman at my gym got on the elliptical trainer next to mine, though there were others available.
- The cashier who took our money at Sweet Tomatoes on Sunday was pregnant. So were two of the other patrons in the restaurant.
- Actually, lately it seems that nearly every time we go out to eat I see at least one pregnant woman.
- When I got my hair cut and colored yesterday, in my usual salon which is as small as my master bedroom, the only other client there in the other chair was visibly pregnant.
- On the way to the salon, I walked passed a pregnant woman (walking out of a sushi restaurant, of all places).
On a related note, I have learned that two more people I know are pregnant since the last time I posted on this topic. Three pregnant women I know have given birth in the past month, though, so the number of pregnant women I know has stayed fairly constant: 12 at last count.
Not really sure why the Universe seems to feel that I need constant reminders of my failure to conceive. . . .
Also, what is up with advertisers thinking that every woman is a mother? I am sick to death of seeing ads on Fac.ebo.ok, Yah.oo and the like for things for "Moms." I am not a mom; I may never be a mom. It's offensive to me.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
An excerpt from the holiday letter I wish I'd written
As usual, 2009 has been an eventful year.
In January, to kick off the new year, we embarked on a series of invasive testing at a well-respected local fertility clinic. After multiple canceled and rescheduled appointments with our very popular doctor, having been told that he could find nothing wrong with either of us except that my eggs are "old," I started using traditional Chinese medicine and acupuncture in an attempt to achieve pregnancy without medical intervention. Three months later, after spending thousands of dollars and enduring weekly sessions with acupuncture needles and three-times-a-day teas with the foulest tastes and smells imaginable, we resigned ourselves to having to use the fertility clinic's services.
As you can see only MM, the dogs, and I here in our family photo, you have probably already guessed that, despite the months of fertility drugs and frustration and thousands of dollars spent, we are still childless. (And no, I am not pregnant in the photo, just fat.) In early August, just a couple of weeks after the dogs' drug overdose (more on that later), I got my first-ever positive pregnancy test, only to find out within the same day that I was having an early miscarriage. We hope it is not the only positive pregnancy test we will ever see, but who knows?
On a related note, I'd like to extend my congratulations to the twelve people who announced their pregnancies this year--one the day after my miscarriage was diagnosed--and the fifteen people we know who welcomed their first child into the world in 2009. And especial kudos to the two friends who managed to accomplish both the birth of a child AND another pregnancy this year! You know who you are. . . .
I am a little late to the party with this topic, but wanted to share my thoughts nonetheless.
I know my fellow ladies struggling with infertility can relate to the mixed emotions associated with receiving friends' and family members' holiday greetings. On the one hand, I genuinely love hearing from everyone, finding out what they have been up to, and seeing how their kids have grown. I actually like getting photos with my holiday cards. On the other hand, the newsletters and especially the photos can be a painful reminder of what we don't have and may never have.
Oh, and by the way: I hate it when my friends, the parents, only send out photos of their kids. Yes, I get that you are probably unhappy with your figure after having given birth and that you'd prefer to hide from the camera. . . and yes, I want to see your kids looking cute and Christmas-y and see how they have grown since last year's card. BUT I'd also like to see a picture of YOU, my friend, even more than I'd like to see a picture of your offspring, especially if we don't often see one another during the year. Ahem.
Our "family" photo this year was a picture of MM, the goldens, and me. It was a very nice photo (thanks, BFF), but I'll admit that I wondered whether it would seem a little pathetic to my friends and relatives with children. "Oh, look: S has been married for over a year, and she and her husband still just have those big, hairy dogs, two of them now. Guess they aren't having any kids; she is getting kind-of old."
I've decided that for Christmas 2010, I am going to make a concerted effort to make sure that I get a good photo of MM and me on each trip we take. (We already have our first, to Las Vegas, planned for the third weekend in March.) Next year's photo greeting will be a collage of us in all the fun places we visited. That way my friends with small children can envy ME the way I currently envy THEM. . . . I doubt most people who are parenting small children get to take 3-4 trips a year just for fun.
Yes, I am being a little snarky, and my intention is somewhat inappropriate for a time of year that is supposed to be filled with joy and good cheer. Oh well. I guess I'm just a horrible person. (Hey, maybe that is why I've been cursed with infertility!)
Happy New Year! I hope 2010 is a better year for us all.
In January, to kick off the new year, we embarked on a series of invasive testing at a well-respected local fertility clinic. After multiple canceled and rescheduled appointments with our very popular doctor, having been told that he could find nothing wrong with either of us except that my eggs are "old," I started using traditional Chinese medicine and acupuncture in an attempt to achieve pregnancy without medical intervention. Three months later, after spending thousands of dollars and enduring weekly sessions with acupuncture needles and three-times-a-day teas with the foulest tastes and smells imaginable, we resigned ourselves to having to use the fertility clinic's services.
As you can see only MM, the dogs, and I here in our family photo, you have probably already guessed that, despite the months of fertility drugs and frustration and thousands of dollars spent, we are still childless. (And no, I am not pregnant in the photo, just fat.) In early August, just a couple of weeks after the dogs' drug overdose (more on that later), I got my first-ever positive pregnancy test, only to find out within the same day that I was having an early miscarriage. We hope it is not the only positive pregnancy test we will ever see, but who knows?
On a related note, I'd like to extend my congratulations to the twelve people who announced their pregnancies this year--one the day after my miscarriage was diagnosed--and the fifteen people we know who welcomed their first child into the world in 2009. And especial kudos to the two friends who managed to accomplish both the birth of a child AND another pregnancy this year! You know who you are. . . .
I am a little late to the party with this topic, but wanted to share my thoughts nonetheless.
I know my fellow ladies struggling with infertility can relate to the mixed emotions associated with receiving friends' and family members' holiday greetings. On the one hand, I genuinely love hearing from everyone, finding out what they have been up to, and seeing how their kids have grown. I actually like getting photos with my holiday cards. On the other hand, the newsletters and especially the photos can be a painful reminder of what we don't have and may never have.
Oh, and by the way: I hate it when my friends, the parents, only send out photos of their kids. Yes, I get that you are probably unhappy with your figure after having given birth and that you'd prefer to hide from the camera. . . and yes, I want to see your kids looking cute and Christmas-y and see how they have grown since last year's card. BUT I'd also like to see a picture of YOU, my friend, even more than I'd like to see a picture of your offspring, especially if we don't often see one another during the year. Ahem.
Our "family" photo this year was a picture of MM, the goldens, and me. It was a very nice photo (thanks, BFF), but I'll admit that I wondered whether it would seem a little pathetic to my friends and relatives with children. "Oh, look: S has been married for over a year, and she and her husband still just have those big, hairy dogs, two of them now. Guess they aren't having any kids; she is getting kind-of old."
I've decided that for Christmas 2010, I am going to make a concerted effort to make sure that I get a good photo of MM and me on each trip we take. (We already have our first, to Las Vegas, planned for the third weekend in March.) Next year's photo greeting will be a collage of us in all the fun places we visited. That way my friends with small children can envy ME the way I currently envy THEM. . . . I doubt most people who are parenting small children get to take 3-4 trips a year just for fun.
Yes, I am being a little snarky, and my intention is somewhat inappropriate for a time of year that is supposed to be filled with joy and good cheer. Oh well. I guess I'm just a horrible person. (Hey, maybe that is why I've been cursed with infertility!)
Happy New Year! I hope 2010 is a better year for us all.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Done
Our latest cycle was a bust: AF arrived four days ahead of schedule last Saturday. It was no surprise that it didn't work--the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing and expect a different result--but I was surprised and annoyed to get my period four days earlier than I'd expected it. Seems that the drug regimen for this past cycle screwed up my body in more ways than one.
Because I started having cramps and spotting on Friday afternoon and knew that AF was on her way, MM and I had a long talk Friday night about this "journey" we have been on these past 20 months of TTC. To summarize our discussion, we have agreed to stop doing intervention. We both feel that the toll it is taking on us, physically (on me), emotionally and financially, is too much. And given our "unexplained" diagnosis, we don't even know for sure that the treatments are necessary or helpful.
We re-visited the IVF option and once again agreed that it isn't for us. We agreed that we still feel that adoption isn't for us. MM does not believe in prayer, and I have been having my doubts on the subject myself.
If no "miracle" occurs in the next two years, we may consider pursuing donor egg IVF at CCRM at that time. It would be a compromise in a lot of ways, but we think it is a compromise that would be worth our consideration. Unfortunately, the price tag is high: around $30K per cycle.
I know there are a lot of people who are willing to go a lot farther, spend more money, and do more to try to achieve a pregnancy. MM and I agree that we have done about as much as we can reasonably do at this point. (He sagely pointed out that what we have already done is far more than most of our friends who have children ever had to do.) We don't intend to go into debt, or push me to the brink of my sanity, or allow our entire lives to revolve around TTC any more than we already have.
Since our discussion, I have felt relieved that I will no longer be closely tracking my cycles, taking injections, doing OPKs, and the like. I'm relieved that I won't have to think about TTC and that I can focus on other things again.
I have not found, however, that our decision has made my inability to have a child of my own any more easy to bear. In fact, though my primary emotion about my childless state is currently grim resignation, I am still angry and sad, too.
I think the holidays and the focus on families that is even more prominent than usual this time of year is enhancing my feelings of loss and grief. (I'm sure those of who reading this who are in a similar situation can relate.)
So that's where we are. I may still post on here from time to time about my emotions about our infertility, which I'm sure are not going to go away any time soon, but I will no longer be writing about my experiences with treatments because I won't be having any.
I see that a few people have already stopped "following" this blog since my last post, and I anticipate more will stop reading once I post this entry. I understand; we are looking for others who are sharing our experiences, and insofar as the pursuit of treatment goes, I will no longer be sharing the experiences of most of those who read this blog.
I have been trying to focus on the fact that the majority of my life is very good. I am relatively healthy; I still have both my parents and a sister and a nephew; I am married to a terrific guy; I have lots of friends; I am gainfully employed in a job that I enjoy (most days).
Somehow, though, knowing that I have all these things and more does not take away the pain in my heart because of what I don't have, what I probably will never have.
I hope this gets easier to accept as time passes. We'll see.
Because I started having cramps and spotting on Friday afternoon and knew that AF was on her way, MM and I had a long talk Friday night about this "journey" we have been on these past 20 months of TTC. To summarize our discussion, we have agreed to stop doing intervention. We both feel that the toll it is taking on us, physically (on me), emotionally and financially, is too much. And given our "unexplained" diagnosis, we don't even know for sure that the treatments are necessary or helpful.
We re-visited the IVF option and once again agreed that it isn't for us. We agreed that we still feel that adoption isn't for us. MM does not believe in prayer, and I have been having my doubts on the subject myself.
If no "miracle" occurs in the next two years, we may consider pursuing donor egg IVF at CCRM at that time. It would be a compromise in a lot of ways, but we think it is a compromise that would be worth our consideration. Unfortunately, the price tag is high: around $30K per cycle.
I know there are a lot of people who are willing to go a lot farther, spend more money, and do more to try to achieve a pregnancy. MM and I agree that we have done about as much as we can reasonably do at this point. (He sagely pointed out that what we have already done is far more than most of our friends who have children ever had to do.) We don't intend to go into debt, or push me to the brink of my sanity, or allow our entire lives to revolve around TTC any more than we already have.
Since our discussion, I have felt relieved that I will no longer be closely tracking my cycles, taking injections, doing OPKs, and the like. I'm relieved that I won't have to think about TTC and that I can focus on other things again.
I have not found, however, that our decision has made my inability to have a child of my own any more easy to bear. In fact, though my primary emotion about my childless state is currently grim resignation, I am still angry and sad, too.
I think the holidays and the focus on families that is even more prominent than usual this time of year is enhancing my feelings of loss and grief. (I'm sure those of who reading this who are in a similar situation can relate.)
So that's where we are. I may still post on here from time to time about my emotions about our infertility, which I'm sure are not going to go away any time soon, but I will no longer be writing about my experiences with treatments because I won't be having any.
I see that a few people have already stopped "following" this blog since my last post, and I anticipate more will stop reading once I post this entry. I understand; we are looking for others who are sharing our experiences, and insofar as the pursuit of treatment goes, I will no longer be sharing the experiences of most of those who read this blog.
I have been trying to focus on the fact that the majority of my life is very good. I am relatively healthy; I still have both my parents and a sister and a nephew; I am married to a terrific guy; I have lots of friends; I am gainfully employed in a job that I enjoy (most days).
Somehow, though, knowing that I have all these things and more does not take away the pain in my heart because of what I don't have, what I probably will never have.
I hope this gets easier to accept as time passes. We'll see.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Hiatus
I don't think I'll be posting much for a while. Of course I will let you all know if--by some miracle--this cycle results in a BFP, and I will continue to read all the blogs that I follow regularly and comment where appropriate.
Although I first started this blog to have a place to vent my feelings and to connect with other women going through similar experiences, I am beginning to view it as one more way in which I have allowed myself to become fixated and obsessive about our inability to have a baby. Though I enjoy writing here and reading and responding to comments (which, by the way: I cannot email a response to a commenter if her blogger profile is private), I think these activities are just giving me more opportunity to dwell on things.
(Arguably, reading others' blogs is also adding fuel to this fire, but I have become oddly attached to the writers whose blogs I read and don't want to lose track of their stories.)
I just don't think that I currently have much to say that I haven't already said before. I still find myself constantly assaulted by others' happiness about their pregnancies and children; I still find I can't be happy for any "fertiles" who conceive. I still have envy, anger, grief, guilt, frustration and all the rest. I just feel like I've said it all before and don't have much new to share in terms of feelings.
So. That's where I am. I didn't want anyone who has been reading even semi-regularly to think that anything bad had happened to cause me to stop posting, and I don't plan to abandon this blog entirely. I just probably won't post again for a while.
Although I first started this blog to have a place to vent my feelings and to connect with other women going through similar experiences, I am beginning to view it as one more way in which I have allowed myself to become fixated and obsessive about our inability to have a baby. Though I enjoy writing here and reading and responding to comments (which, by the way: I cannot email a response to a commenter if her blogger profile is private), I think these activities are just giving me more opportunity to dwell on things.
(Arguably, reading others' blogs is also adding fuel to this fire, but I have become oddly attached to the writers whose blogs I read and don't want to lose track of their stories.)
I just don't think that I currently have much to say that I haven't already said before. I still find myself constantly assaulted by others' happiness about their pregnancies and children; I still find I can't be happy for any "fertiles" who conceive. I still have envy, anger, grief, guilt, frustration and all the rest. I just feel like I've said it all before and don't have much new to share in terms of feelings.
So. That's where I am. I didn't want anyone who has been reading even semi-regularly to think that anything bad had happened to cause me to stop posting, and I don't plan to abandon this blog entirely. I just probably won't post again for a while.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Transition
Though nothing has really changed since I had my mid-cycle u/s on Sunday, I have had a shift in my thinking which makes it feel like I am going through some sort of transition. The thoughts that popped into my head about the futility of our continuing to do IUIs have not gone away; in fact, they have multiplied and intensified. I think it is time for a change.
MM and I have not discussed any next steps in depth for some time--the most he's said on the subject is that I can "stop whenever [I] want" and that he is still opposed to IVF--and this decision is obviously one I won't make on my own. Having said that, any thoughts I express here are mine alone, not his or ours.
The more I think about it, the more I am becoming convinced that it doesn't make sense for us to continue using drugs to stimulate my ovaries and doing IUIs. Because I already ovulate regularly on my own, I don't truly need ovarian stimulating drugs. IUIs are an empiric treatment for us anyway, since we are "unexplained." There is no documented problem with my cervical mucus or MM's sperm count that would make the procedure a must for us.
I am in the midst of completing my fourth cycle with Clomid, and two of those cycles have also included Follistim. None of these drugs have produced the desired effect, a pregnancy. One might argue that, aside from this cycle, they have produced the desired effect of stimulating my ovaries, since I have had at least two mature follicles every medicated cycle but this one. But my ovaries don't truly need stimulation, and merely producing eggs that don't result in pregnancy isn't exactly the goal.
Given that IUIs and ovarian stimulation have not worked for us, the logical next step would be IVF. But we are not going down that road, for all the reasons I've already discussed here.
Putting aside all my objections and hesitation about IVF, MM's main one is the money. (Not surprising, given his debt aversion and the fact that he will not be the one experiencing the physical and emotional side effects of the procedure.) MM once made a passing remark that he would be willing to do IVF if the odds were better, say greater than a 50% success rate. Even CCRM can't guarantee a success rate of over 50% for someone in my age range, let alone our RE's clinic. (I stand corrected: a quick search of CCRM's website shows that their success rate for women 38-40 using their own eggs was 50.7% in 2007, though that was for pregnancies and not for live births. I'm pretty sure MM means a success rate for live births.)
The only procedure I am aware of that can consistently offer a >50% success rate for someone my age is donor egg IVF. Believe it or not, based on my current limited knowledge, I might be more willing to do a donor egg cycle than a standard IVF cycle simply because I would not have to go through ovarian stimulation. I am aware that I would have to take other drugs, including injections, and that they would have their own side effects. But at least to my uninformed mind, it seems like being a recipient of a donor egg would be a little easier on the body than a standard IVF cycle with one's own eggs. (I welcome anyone who knows different to educate me on this point.)
One huge problem with donor egg IVF: the price tag. A little preliminary poking around reveals that it is in the neighborhood of $25-30K. I know MM would balk at that. . . . though perhaps a little less once he learned that the anticipated success rate can be as much as 70-80%, depending on the clinic.
Using a donor egg would involve giving up my own genetic link to our child, but at least s/he would be genetically related to MM. And because the vast majority of people assume that when a woman gives birth to a child, that child is her own, the only people who would know otherwise would be those whom we chose to tell. . . a distinct difference from adoption.
I know that the cost of adoption is similar, and I know that MM sees adoption as a true last resort option. . . last resort in the sense that I believe he might opt to live child-free rather than pursue it. He, even more than I, has a real sense that he wants a biological link with the child he raises as his own.
Honestly, probably the best thing for me to do at this point is to take a little break and get clear in my own mind about what I want to do next. I have been talking for some time about seeing a counselor to talk about my feelings related to our infertility, and I should. It's just hard to make that a priority with so many other things going on at work and in my personal life, not to mention the expense. (Our insurance is VERY limited in which counselors it will pay for, and I haven't found anyone who is anywhere near my office who is "in network" and has experience in counseling people with infertility, so I will likely end up paying out of pocket for someone qualified.)
I'd be interested to hear what those of you who are still TTC have to say about my thoughts. I find that the perspective of people who are pregnant or parenting is just different enough that I have a difficult time relying on their advice. For obvious reasons, no one can imagine choosing a child-free life once they have already had the experience of parenthood. Unfortunately, I don't have anyone in real life to whom I can turn for advice: at this stage in my life, only three women in my circle of friends are childless--one of those by choice--and none of those have experienced infertility.
[On a quick physical note, given when I took my trigger shot, I should have ovulated sometime yesterday or early this morning. The resolution of the near-constant pressure and discomfort over my right ovary which I'd had since around Saturday would lead me to believe that I did, in fact, ovulate. MM and I dutifully had sex both Sunday and Monday nights. So I should start feeling back to normal physically in a day or so.]
MM and I have not discussed any next steps in depth for some time--the most he's said on the subject is that I can "stop whenever [I] want" and that he is still opposed to IVF--and this decision is obviously one I won't make on my own. Having said that, any thoughts I express here are mine alone, not his or ours.
The more I think about it, the more I am becoming convinced that it doesn't make sense for us to continue using drugs to stimulate my ovaries and doing IUIs. Because I already ovulate regularly on my own, I don't truly need ovarian stimulating drugs. IUIs are an empiric treatment for us anyway, since we are "unexplained." There is no documented problem with my cervical mucus or MM's sperm count that would make the procedure a must for us.
I am in the midst of completing my fourth cycle with Clomid, and two of those cycles have also included Follistim. None of these drugs have produced the desired effect, a pregnancy. One might argue that, aside from this cycle, they have produced the desired effect of stimulating my ovaries, since I have had at least two mature follicles every medicated cycle but this one. But my ovaries don't truly need stimulation, and merely producing eggs that don't result in pregnancy isn't exactly the goal.
Given that IUIs and ovarian stimulation have not worked for us, the logical next step would be IVF. But we are not going down that road, for all the reasons I've already discussed here.
Putting aside all my objections and hesitation about IVF, MM's main one is the money. (Not surprising, given his debt aversion and the fact that he will not be the one experiencing the physical and emotional side effects of the procedure.) MM once made a passing remark that he would be willing to do IVF if the odds were better, say greater than a 50% success rate. Even CCRM can't guarantee a success rate of over 50% for someone in my age range, let alone our RE's clinic. (I stand corrected: a quick search of CCRM's website shows that their success rate for women 38-40 using their own eggs was 50.7% in 2007, though that was for pregnancies and not for live births. I'm pretty sure MM means a success rate for live births.)
The only procedure I am aware of that can consistently offer a >50% success rate for someone my age is donor egg IVF. Believe it or not, based on my current limited knowledge, I might be more willing to do a donor egg cycle than a standard IVF cycle simply because I would not have to go through ovarian stimulation. I am aware that I would have to take other drugs, including injections, and that they would have their own side effects. But at least to my uninformed mind, it seems like being a recipient of a donor egg would be a little easier on the body than a standard IVF cycle with one's own eggs. (I welcome anyone who knows different to educate me on this point.)
One huge problem with donor egg IVF: the price tag. A little preliminary poking around reveals that it is in the neighborhood of $25-30K. I know MM would balk at that. . . . though perhaps a little less once he learned that the anticipated success rate can be as much as 70-80%, depending on the clinic.
Using a donor egg would involve giving up my own genetic link to our child, but at least s/he would be genetically related to MM. And because the vast majority of people assume that when a woman gives birth to a child, that child is her own, the only people who would know otherwise would be those whom we chose to tell. . . a distinct difference from adoption.
I know that the cost of adoption is similar, and I know that MM sees adoption as a true last resort option. . . last resort in the sense that I believe he might opt to live child-free rather than pursue it. He, even more than I, has a real sense that he wants a biological link with the child he raises as his own.
Honestly, probably the best thing for me to do at this point is to take a little break and get clear in my own mind about what I want to do next. I have been talking for some time about seeing a counselor to talk about my feelings related to our infertility, and I should. It's just hard to make that a priority with so many other things going on at work and in my personal life, not to mention the expense. (Our insurance is VERY limited in which counselors it will pay for, and I haven't found anyone who is anywhere near my office who is "in network" and has experience in counseling people with infertility, so I will likely end up paying out of pocket for someone qualified.)
I'd be interested to hear what those of you who are still TTC have to say about my thoughts. I find that the perspective of people who are pregnant or parenting is just different enough that I have a difficult time relying on their advice. For obvious reasons, no one can imagine choosing a child-free life once they have already had the experience of parenthood. Unfortunately, I don't have anyone in real life to whom I can turn for advice: at this stage in my life, only three women in my circle of friends are childless--one of those by choice--and none of those have experienced infertility.
[On a quick physical note, given when I took my trigger shot, I should have ovulated sometime yesterday or early this morning. The resolution of the near-constant pressure and discomfort over my right ovary which I'd had since around Saturday would lead me to believe that I did, in fact, ovulate. MM and I dutifully had sex both Sunday and Monday nights. So I should start feeling back to normal physically in a day or so.]
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