Category: Infertile Me

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Magic 8 Ball Predictions

The first draft of this post was actually quite upbeat and positive … how despite where I wanted to be in life by now, Mother Nature obviously decided to take a different path. And I was going to be okay with it. But then I had my follow-up appointment with my GYN today and well …

When I was little, I used to ask my mom for a sister. I desperately wanted to have someone to share a room with, not to mention sharing secrets and clothes and shoes (must have been all those after-school reruns of the Brady Bunch). What I knew little of back then was that my mom wasn’t able to have any more children after I was born. In fact, she was supposedly very lucky to even have any children at all, let alone my brother and me. She had such severe endometriosis that, back in the day, they didn’t think she would have much success with getting pregnant. Shortly after I was born, she had her hysterectomy to stop her endometriosis from getting any worse.

I was told the whole story when I was in high school, after having gone through yet another painful period. My mom asked me back then whether or not my cramps were bad enough that I’d want to go on birth control. Which, when I think of it now, was pretty progressive of her to do that … especially given the fact that we were Filipino (remember previous posts about how “private” we are?) and my mom was (and still is) deeply rooted in Catholicism (ahem … remember natural family planning?). Even back then, I had no inclination to be on the pill.

So my senior year in high school, a bunch of us were coming up with predictions for ourselves; kind of a “Magic 8 Ball” prediction in where we saw ourselves in ten years. Would we be successful in our careers? Would we be happily married? Would we have lots of kids? Some had said they’d be happily married with the 2.5 kids and the dog. Others said that they’d have a wildly successful career, yet single or divorced.

As for me … I can clearly remember saying that I would be happily married (“It is certain”) with a relatively successful job, but not one that I was completely passionate about (“Signs point to Yes”). And … having problems getting pregnant (“Outlook not so good”).

I’m sure it’s probably because by then I knew about my mom’s past medical history. But the other part of my prediction was that I would have at least one of my children before I was thirty. Thirty was the magic year because my mom and I were just about that many years apart and I absolutely HATED that there was not only the generational gap between us, but a cultural gap as well. I didn’t want to be so out of touch with my own children and therefore thought that by having them before thirty, I would be closer to their generation.

Well here I am, about to turn thirty-six this year and STILL childless.

And to top it off, I just had my follow-up appointment with my GYN today. The one to go over the results of my latest US, et al in regards to the increase in pain and bloating with each cycle. And well … as suspected, without doing any “looky-see” surgery, it appears that my endometriosis is back. So now it’s time to go back on Lupron. Back to being void from any emotion, except for the extreme highs or lows. Back to having no chance AT ALL at being pregnant. Basically, no ability to have any glimmer of hope. At least for the next three months. And then maybe another three months after that.

On an upswing … at least I won’t have any “oh geez … can you just kill me now because this must be what hell in a uterus feels like” pain for now.

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30-second Infertility

I was driving home from work today when I heard this commercial on the local radio station.

It was about a husband and wife struggling to “create their family.” How they went to RinkyDink Hospital and tried so many unsuccessful rounds of IUI’s with no success. And then when they were “just about to give up hope,” they heard about the success that BigCity Hospital had with infertility. A year and one round of IVF later, they were ecstatically happy with their infant twins.

The commercial made infertility seem so easy.

It’s just too bad that the years of heartache and heartbreak that come with infertility can’t be packaged neatly into 30-second radio spot.

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One Baby Step for Em … One Giant Leap for Em-kind

On our Caribbean cruise this past November Hubby & I couldn’t help but notice all the small children on board. I suppose it was only natural, given that it was the week of Thanksgiving and there were quite a few family reunions planned on this cruise. One particular child caught our eye. It was this adorable little Asian girl (I’ll call her “Gracie”), most likely only 2 or 3 years old, who was wandering around the ship’s library flipping through some picture books. I was particularly fascinated by her because this black-haired brown eyed child would have been the type of physicial attributes that Hubby & I, as Filipino Americans, would have produced. And of course, I started to feel those imaginary apron strings pulling again.


Our Nephew, Tyler

At first, we only saw the dad towards the back, looking around at different books to read. He looked a bit older in age than most of the parents with young children on the ship. And he was also Caucasian. No big deal, I remember thinking, “Gracie” could possibly be mestiza (Tagalog for “mixed ancestry”), like our nephew Tyler is. But then shortly afterwards, I saw “Gracie” run across the library towards her mom … who was clearly not Asian and who was also clearly a bit older. Wow, I remember thinking, here’s an actual family created by adoption right in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile and think how lucky they were.

Apparently “Gracie’s” dad saw my smile and smiled back at me. “She’s adorable,” I told him and both mom & dad smiled back and said their thanks. Their eyes were gleaming with pride as they walked out of the library together. I turned to Hubby and he, in turn, grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as if to say, “I know.”

When we returned home from this trip, I relayed this story to the Stephens Minister (SM) that I’ve been meeting with regularly and who know that adoption is our next step. She is an absolute wonderful person who has this incredible ability to see the good in every situation and give the encouragement and strength to keep the faith even when things go awry. Anyway … after telling this story to SM, she turned to me and said, “See! It’s a sign!” meaning that this little encounter was God’s way of “nudging” us to take the next step towards adoption.


Hubby's Little Cousins

In turn, I told her something that I didn’t even tell my husband back there on the ship. That I wanted to talk to the couple and ask them about the path they took to get here. And ask them if this was the best decision they ever made. And ask them how difficult it was to go through all the paperwork. And how long it took. And the list could go on and on and on.

But I didn’t ask those questions because I thought it would be intrusive and embarrassing. I mean, it’s one thing to go to adoption seminars and ask these questions in front of a crowd who is also at these seminars for the same reason. It’s another thing to ask these questions face-to-face with someone else on a personal level. I guess it’s the fear in me that I might say or ask something stupid or get too personal with my own IF issues that it might make the other person uncomfortable. My past experiences, even with support groups or even other non-IF related groups, has taught me to feel uncomfortable in doing this. Or hey, it may even be the Asian American in me (who is supposed to keep these issues private) that makes me feel uncomfortable in those type of situations. In any case, I truly did regret that I never got my chance to ask “Gracie’s” parents about their experiences.

A couple weeks ago, as I was in pursuit of doing some adoption research, I approached my one co-worker who’s son and DIL just adopted domestically, about which agency that they had used. In the past, she had shared with me their “Dear Birth Mom” letter and I remember not only being pretty impressed but pretty overwhelmed with what they had done. In any case, my coworker told her she wasn’t quite sure about those details but that she would ask her DIL about it and get back with me. “Better yet,” she said, “why don’t I have her call you?” I was a little hesitant at first, but then thought the chances of receiving that call were slim to none.


Every Asian Girl needs a Hello Kitty ... This is my "Filipino Hello Kitty"

Imagine my surprise this past week when K (co-worker’s DIL) called me. I just happened to be at work when the call came through my cell phone. Lucky for me, I was able to find a small conference room to duck into while K and I chatted. I won’t go into the details of our conversation, but I can tell you that I was able to ask her those questions that I wasn’t able to ask “Gracie’s” parents. And ultimately what I got out of it was a sense of relief. That we shared similar disappointments and heartaches (as many of us IF’ers do here online). That we internalized many of the same feelings of failures towards our body and of letting down our spouses and other family members. While it’s been very therapeutic to voice these same feelings on my blog or even reading and commenting on other IF’ers blogs, being able to say these things out loud and to a live person was simply incredible. Especially because in the ten-plus years of trying to start a family, I’ve never been able to completely let my guard down with someone regarding these feelings to any one else other than Hubby. (No, not even my SM. Okay, maybe with my incredible therapist …) And to be able to do that within a 30 minute conversation with K … during work hours, nonetheless … was so refreshing.

At home later that evening, I was reflecting on my conversation with K and I finally felt a sense of … not peace, per se. Not even relief, because that’s what I was feeling earlier in the day. I think it was a feeling of content. Meaning that I’m finally at a place where I know Hubby & I are making the right decision by not giving up our dream to be parents. And that by taking the adoption route, our dreams will come true.

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Chances in H-E-double-hockey-sticks

Today I am feeling … sad.

I shouldn’t be. It’s my day off from work and I’ve only got two more days until another weekend. It’s my Mom’s birthday, and although she & Dad are in Aruba for a week of fun, I’m wishing that she’s having a wonderful sand n’ sun kinda day. And it’s bright as bright can be here in Suburban Detroit.

But it’s cold … really cold right now. And maybe that’s what I’m missing today. Is warmth. I want to be back in bed in my cozy pajamas snuggling with both my cats on either side of me. I want a steaming hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows to sip on. I want to flip randomly through the television and finally settle on turning it off and reading a good happy book.

Instead I’m sitting here at a local cafe, which normally I like to do, and freezing my tush off. And contemplating my life.

I just got back from my OB/Gyn office and I guess I’m feeling a little oversensitive. The reason I went today was to have an ultrasound. I had made an appointment to see my doc last week, in the midst of yet another painful period, which have been increasing in intensity over the past year. The ultrasound scheduled today was to see whether or not my endometriosis was back. And truthfully, even without having my doc review the images, I pretty much know that it is.

I know I haven’t gone into detail about my infertility past. I do that purposefully, because quite frankly I hate reliving that point of my life. But the basic jist is that I’ve had multiple scopes and even a laparotomy to clear out some pretty bad endo … only to find out that in the midst of my IVF work-up that I also had PCOS. So not only am I in pain pretty much with every cycle, but my hormones are seriously whacked-up. (Why do I have the urge to cross my arms like Rev. Run from Run DMC and say “Word!”?) And after the failed IVF and subsequent decision NOT to go through a frozen cycle with only one embie, I just drifted into a haze until that fateful day in November of 2006.

I know I’m a much better person emotionally now, especially since starting to blog about these issues. And I know that I’ve taken that small baby step forward towards the adoption front.

But yet …

Is it normal to still feel like a failure? That after ten years my body is still refusing to do what it’s told? I cycle every month now … every 27 days like clockwork. And every month it’s a constant reminder that this body refuses to become pregnant. And to top it off, it’s not just a physical reminder … it’s very much a painful “Geez, I can’t even think straight, let alone stand up straight or lie down without feeling the cramps”- kinda reminder.

I find out the actual results two weeks from now. And from there, it’s a decision of whether or not I’ll be treated medically or surgically. My doc does not want to start out surgically to clear out the endo, as there is always the risk of creating adhesions (or scarring).

What he would like to do is either put me on Lupron for a period of time, or place me on birth control pills. And I’m hesitant to do either. If you can believe this, during my whole “reproductive life,” I have never been on the pill. And quite honestly, I don’t feel like starting on it now … some 25 years after having my first period. As for Lupron, I hate what it did to me the first time around. While I don’t think I was a raving lunatic during those six months, I do think I was emotionally detached from everything and everyone (including Hubby) around me.

There’s a part of me that thinks, “Just take the damn things out already!” I mean, they’re not doing the job they’re supposed to be doing anyway. I’m just about at the point where I don’t want to have to deal with the pain anymore, both physically and emotionally. I don’t want to have to be reminded every month that I can’t get pregnant. I want to say that I’ve been able to close that chapter in my life – and by having my reproductive organs removed, it would certainly make that final. I would never be able to get pregnant and I would never have to think “what if …”

But then …

I guess it boils down to the fact that I know I probably don’t have a chance in H-E-double-hockey-sticks, but I still want to know I have the option to become pregnant. After all, my Aunt who tried for many years to get pregnant finally had her dream come true naturally some 20 years after getting married. And by that timeline, I’m more than half-way there.

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When the Old-Fashion Way Isn't Working … A Book Review

I’m finally living up to a promise that I made to DayzofRain. (Although I’m pretty sure that she thought I must have forgot about it!) But after over a month of nonstop holiday stuff, followed by the two untimely trips to Virginia Beach, I have finally completed the first of the two tasks I’ve been given. This post, to do a book review, is the second task.

To tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure of the reason why DayzofRain specifically contacted me but I was truly honored to do so as I am an avid reader. Okay, so I mostly dig chick lit (sounds like chewing gum) but I do truly enjoy immersing myself in a good book.

The book I was assigned to read was “Having a Baby… When the Old-Fasion Way Isn’t Working: Hope and Help for Everyone Facing Infertility” by none other than the RESOLVE celebrity spokesperson, Cindy Margolis. For those of you who aren’t familiar with RESOLVE, they are the nation’s leading voice for women or men experiencing infertility. And for those not familiar with Cindy Margolis, she’s a model and an ex-Baywatch girl who is also famous for being the “Most Downloaded Woman on the Internet.”

Now, I can almost hear those of you out there thinking, “How the HECK does a swimsuit actress/model end up becoming a spokesperson for RESOLVE and, to top it off, end up writing a book about infertility?!” Well, it’s because she and her husband have experience in going through infertility; in fact they have almost 10 years of experience in this subject matter.

After marrying her husband in 1998, Cindy and her husband, Guy, set out to start their family right away. Unfortunately it took 3 years, three failed IUI‘s along with three failed IVF’s before bringing their son, Nicholas, into the world. It also took another one failed IVF and one surrogate pregnancy before adding biological twin daughters, Sierra and Sabrina, to their family.

I, myself, first found out about Cindy Margolis’ experiences in infertility a few years ago, before the birth of her twin daughters. One weekday on my day off from work (probably less than a year after my own failed IVF experience), I happened to be flipping through channels and stumbled onto a program on VH1, called “Cindy Margolis Inside Out.” I had never paid attention to Cindy’s career in the past, but when I heard her talking about her struggle with infertility, I put down the remote control and watched. The show documented the one IVF experience they went through as they tried to give Nicholas a sibling. I was fascinated and amazed that a celebrity would be out there letting the world know what it was like, emotionally and physically, to go through infertility and IVF.

As it turns out, Hubby happened to call home during one of the commercial breaks just to check in. When I told him what I was watching, he told me that I probably shouldn’t be watching that program. When I asked why, he simply said that it was better that I didn’t. Well … being the stubborn person I was, I ignored Hubby’s warning and watched the rest of the program. Now, if you haven’t put two and two together from the previous paragraph above, this program was documenting the one failed IVF attempt that they went through before deciding to go through surrogacy. And since I didn’t heed Hubby’s warning, I found myself crying inconsolably.

So back in mid-December, DayzofRain asked me to read this book, I was excited to do so. Ever since seeing that VH1 program (which, coincidentally, I haven’t seen since … nor can I find much about it on the internet), I wanted to know what Cindy had to say and contribute about infertility and options.

In the book, Cindy shares rather candidly her whole experience from trying to get pregnant, to being diagnosed with “unexplained infertility,” to the emotional lows of failed ART procedures, to finally the emotional highs of finally becoming a family. And in between her own stories, she included other’s experiences of success and failures in their attempt to have a baby. For me, reading all those stories and all the emotional roller coasters was simply validation that I was not as crazy as I thought I was.

In addition to other people’s experiences, she does include quite a bit of resources. At the end of each section, whether it be about finding a good RE to finding different agencies for surrogates or donor egg / sperm or adoption, she lists many organizations and their addresses/websites to contact with any questions or request for information. These lists are not all-inclusive, but they do provide a starting point for doing some research.

On a personal level, the only thing I found lacking in this book was information on adoption. The book only includes one chapter of information on adoption to the six or so chapters devoted to various ways to have your own biological child (either through IVF, surrogacy, donor egg/sperm). It skims through the various programs (international vs domestic; open vs closed) over one page within that chapter. While that one chapter did have an inspiring story that deeply touched me, I wish there would have been more information. Especially information about getting through the grief of not being able to become pregnant, to sustain a pregnancy, or to have a biological child of your own. As Cindy’s journey did not take her on the adoption route, I am sure that is one reason why there isn’t much included in this book.

Overall, the book is an easy read, especially for those that are pretty new to the infertility journey. The back of the book contains a glossary of the most basic ART terms as well as a recap of all the resources at the end of each section. For those that are “seasoned” in the quest for a baby, especially for those who are already in the process or have already gone through the various ART procedures, this book may be too simple. However, the personal stories (including the elusive male point of view as well as a surrogate mom’s point of view) are enough to keep you interested in reading.

So. There you have it. My homework is done. Just in time, because I was running out of excuses to make up for not doing it sooner. I can only use the excuse that “the cat used my paper as her litter box” for so long.