I started this blog because I needed somewhere to put all of the big (HUGE) feelings that I had about infertility and the IVF process. It was the equivalent of an online diary that let me vent and rage and ponder in the safety of anonymity. As I moved through the process of treatment and eventual conception and delivery it became a place for me to share my thoughts and experiences with the hope that it might be helpful for others; I felt so broken and alone during my IVF cycles I wanted to reach out and provide some sort of comfort and hope to people who felt like I did. But my feelings and experiences are a very small subset of what people deal with and feel when they’re in similar circumstances. So, if any of you out there would like to be a guest blogger and share your thoughts and experiences let me know. I’d like to use this space as a platform to give others a voice. Writing about my journey was very therapeutic for me – maybe it would be for you too. And maybe it could be a light in the darkness for someone else.

My twins are 2 now – 27 months old to be exact. Since they were conceived I’ve been thinking/debating/rehearsing what to tell them about their genetic origins. I’ve read some literature and talked to some people and done a whole lot of thinking. I know that it’s better to tell them sooner rather than later so that they grow up with this knowledge rather than springing it on them when they’re older because that can erode their sense of self and stability. But how young is too young? And what do you say? In this, as with most things it seems, I’ve gone with my gut and just taken the plunge.

It happened accidentally a few months back. They had just switched from cribs to toddler beds and that wasn’t working out AT ALL. So we moved them to mattresses on the floor which they really loved. At bed time I would come and lay down between their mattresses and hold their hands and sing them songs. One night I was singing “Sunshine” and holding their tiny, plump little hands in mine and I had an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the donor (this happens pretty regularly). But this particular night I was feeling particularly loved and secure and so I just started talking to them about it. I started telling them the story. I told them how mommy and daddy wanted a baby so badly but the doctor told mommy all her eggs were broken so she couldn’t have a baby. And mommy was so sad she cried and cried. And how a nice lady let mommy use some of her eggs to make a baby, because the nice lady had extra eggs and it’s nice to share. And mommy was able to have not just one baby but TWO babies! And mommy and daddy were so, so happy to finally have their little babies. And those little babies are you!

I’ve told them some version of this story once or twice or week now since then. Sometimes they’ll ask for the story – “Mommy lady story, k?” and they’ll break in at different parts. Whenever I talk about how sad I was R pats my face and says “OH NO! No sad mama! Lady share.” and they both clap when I tell them that we were so happy to have TWO babies. At the end Z always says “Yay! More story.” To them it’s just another story. But to me, it’s acceptance. It’s gone a long way towards allowing me to accept my decision to use donor eggs and to feel secure in my role as their mother. And I feel like they will grow up with this being a part of who they are. To them their conception story is a soft, warm, safe part of bedtime, and I hope that those feelings of love and security will endure. I hope that the part that sticks with them is that we desperately wanted them, that people in the world are good and are willing to help and to share, and that having them made us happy and complete.

I know that the story is going to have to change as they get older. I know that they’re going to have questions and that it will all get exponentially more complicated. But I feel confident that we have laid a good foundation of openness and trust. And that makes me “so, so happy”.

I’m in Austin on a work trip with my boss and a coworker. Both men, both older than me. We’re having dinner at a casual outdoor place and they’re as laid back as these characters ever get. They’re both lovely people – very nice. Both consummate professionals, these two. There’s very little personal talk. It’s all business or politics or history – very safe.

So we decide to have a second round of drinks (the workshop we’re running is going very smoothly) and the conversation turns to productivity. My coworker mentions how his productivity has declined due to the never-ending piles of laundry that the kids generate. I agree. We talk about how we spend our time and somehow (for the life of me I can’t remember how) I mention that I sometimes blog. They politely ask what I blog about. There’s the uncomfortable pregnant pause and, two drinks in, I say “Fuck it” in my head and blurt out – “I blog about infertility”.

There’s a long pause. My coworker says something like “From your own personal experience or in general?” and I take a long sip of my drink and tell him that it’s from personal experience. That my babies are the result of extensive fertility treatments, and that it was very difficult for me and that I found a lot of comfort from my online community.

There’s another long pause. Then he looks at me and says “My sister can’t have children. She suffered quietly for years and I never knew. It’s one of the greatest regrets of my life that I didn’t know she was hurting. I wish I could have done something to help her, I wish she could have confided in me.” And then my boss clears his throat and we both look over at him and he has tears in his eyes and he says “That’s why I don’t have children. We tried for years and years. We did infertility treatments and nothing worked. Eventually you accept it and move on, as much as you can, but it was really hard for us.”

It’s hard for me to put in to words what I’m feeling right now. There we were, three random people sitting a table, all of us deeply touched by infertility. I’m struck by how willing people are to talk about their personal stories when given the opportunity. I’m struck by how open and vulnerable people are willing to be when presented with an authentic opportunity for honest discussion. I’m struck by the sheer number of people who have been touched by infertility. I’m especially struck by the fact that I underestimated these two particular people. I had arrogantly assumed that infertility was my own personal pain and they would have no understanding or concept of what that was like. Shame on me! It just goes to show that everyone is fighting their own personal battles and dealing with their own inner demons. We can see people every day and never know what’s under the surface.

Infertility is so pervasive and yet still so hidden. It’s so intensely personal and that makes it hard to talk about. But we NEED to talk about it. We need to take the shame and failure and the secrecy out of infertility. We need to open up about the struggles and heartache, because there are so many of us out there suffering silently and alone. So I am going to start talking about it. I’m going to put it out there. I may not be able to do much, but I can do something.

Whew – that’s better! It was definitely time for an update. Still the same old me but with a new and fancier wrapper. Hope you like it!

…but lots of tears.

“The child who was never born” by Martin Hudaceka.

I have no idea who to credit this to as it came from the vast internet unknown. But -THIS.

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books,… 
but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.

I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed.

I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.

I will notice everything about my child.

I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body, I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.

I have succeeded.

I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immerse power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes I will be a wonderful mother.

…and this is what ~13 lbs of babies look like. And yes, those are my ribs. 

Things are moving right along!

I’ve stopped birth control and started the Lupron injections. No major swelling or pain with injection, so it seems that the Lupron I had before (that caused IVF cycle #2 to be cancelled) was compounded incorrectly. I started on the Estrace on Monday and thankfully the Lupron headaches have eased up a bit. My donor starts her injections on Sat.

I think of her all the time, and not in the way I thought I’d think of her. I think of her like a comrade, or secret pen pal. Every time I give myself the injection I think of her, in her bathroom or kitchen, giving herself the injection too. I hope it’s not too bad for her. I hope she’s not regretting her decision now that she’s getting to the hard part. I hope she thinks of me. I hope she’s excited. I hope she knows how excited I am and how much this means to me and my husband and our families.

In an uncharacteristically optimistic moment my husband and I decided to rent a house with 4 bedrooms instead of 3, so that we can have a nursery if this works. We have to be out of our house by Dec 31 (the landlord is trying to sell) and we don’t want to buy since we’ll likely have to move for my job once I finish the Ph.D. So, we were looking at both 3 and 4 bedroom homes and just decided to throw caution to the wind and hope for the best and get 4 instead of 3. It seems like tempting fate, but I’m so tired of being cautious! I’m so tired of hedging my bets and expecting the worst and guarding my heart and waiting for the other shoe to drop! I’m excited! I just want to be hopeful and excited. 

Many many thanks to “the unexpected trip”  for nominating my for a Liebster Award. It’s always nice to feel appreciated, especially by someone I admire! Her journey is truly inspirational – check it out at http://theunexpectedtrip.wordpress.com/

Anywho, I stole this part from her to help explain what a Liebster award is…

“The interwebs tells me that the Liebster Award is given to up-and-coming bloggers who have less than 200 followers. Liebster is German and means: “sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, valued, welcome.” The award is given not by a committee but by fellow bloggers and is a way to spread the word about great blogs out there, and a way to get to know new (or new-ish) bloggers as people. I did a little digging and found what I think are the original rules of the Liebster. Here they are:”

Here are 11 things about me that you don’t know.

1. I have classic arachnophobia (spider, ticks and mites). It’s so bad that I was once taken to the hospital because I walked by a bunch of hatching baby spiders and they got on my legs. I broke out in hives and had such a massive panic attack my friends thought I had been bitten and was going into anaphylactic shock. Now I have Xanax on hand, just in case.
2. I have lived in a tent for more than 2 years of my life. Most of that time I was doing field work in either Bolivia, Argentina or the Himalayas.
3. I was married once before.
4. I am the tallest women in my family by more than 5 inches.
5. I am allergic to peppermint and latex, but I have no reaction to mosquito bites or poison ivy.
6. I did theatre in high school, and was offered full theatre scholarships to every college I applied to.
7. I love my dog more than anything in the entire world, but consider myself to be a cat person.
8. When I was a little girl I told my mom I died in a car crash.
9. I have no idea how to blow dry my hair, and I only own a blow-dryer because we needed to thaw out pipes when I lived in Ohio.
10. I am an excellent cook, and have a cooking blog.
11. I have had the same recurring nightmare since I was about 5 years old. I’m standing on the beach and there’s a storm coming. The waves are getting bigger and I turn to run away but there is a huge sand cliff. I try to climb the cliff but it falls down, pushing me closer to the water.

Here are my questions from TUT

1. Name 3 – 5 of your favorite books. – World War Z, Lord of the Rings, Dhalgren, The Night Circus, The White Queen

2. What kind of music really moves you at soul-level? Tori Amos, Glen Phillips, Greg Brown

3. Link to a piece of art you like. – http://www.spiritart.org/Present/WillowArlenea/Ascension.jpg
4. Describe an outfit (clothing, shoes), head to foot, that embodies who you are. – black fitted tank top, cargo shorts and hiking boots
5. If you were on an airplane that was about to crash into the ground, what do you think your last thoughts would be? – about my family, hoping they know how much I love them.
6. Describe something imaginative and perhaps unusual you used to do as a child. – I would tame the wild forest cats on our farm. Also, my cousin and I would draw pictures of the grocery store and have “art shows” where we made our mother buy them.
7. Describe your absolute perfect job (what the office looks like, what you do, what your hours are, etc). – It would be some traditional teaching and advising of students, some research and some outreach and media relations. My office would have floor to ceiling bookcases on 2 walls and a large picture frame window with a window seat on the far wall. Lots of light, comfie chairs, lots of plants.
8. What are some of your very favorite movies? – House of 1000 Corpses, The Princess Bride, Zombieland, James Bond, Paranormal Activity
9. What is one of the most adventurous things you’ve ever done? – Trekking in the Himalayas 
10. Country, city, or suburb? – country
11. What is your idea of a perfect day? – Hard to say. Some days it would be reading a book in bed with the rain falling outside, other days it would be hiking in the Andes, some days it would be relaxing on the beach.

Here are my nominees (in no particular order)

• HER bun. MY oven.
• The Empress and the Fool
• No Good Eggs
• NewtoIVF
• My Preconceived life
• Idiotic Infertility
• Rain before rainbow
• It Only Takes One

And the questions for them to answer if they’d like to participate –

1. Who has been the biggest influence in your life?
2. What is your happiest memory?
3. What are you most afraid of?
4. What thing could you not live without?
5. If you were stranded on a desert island and could only take 1 book, 1 movie and 1 kind of food what would they be?
6. If you were a tree what tree would you be and why?
7. If your house was burning down (and you were alone) what would you carry out with you?
8. Where do you want to settle down?
9. What is your favorite smell?
10. What is your favorite joke?
11. Mayo or mustard?

After a truly long and agonizing struggle I think I’m ok with moving forward with donor eggs. One thing that seems to be critically important to me is that I am 100% comfortable with the donor. And I have 2 deal breakers –

1. She has to at least resemble me. Even if my children don’t have my genetic makeup I want them to physically blend in with our family. This part is problematic, because as I’ve mentioned before I have very red hair and there aren’t very many red-headed (or strawberry blonde or auburn) donors. She also can’t be too tall – my husband is 6’7″ so we want to minimize the possibility of any enormously tall female children (this is mainly my husbands request). In a perfect world she would have light eyes (green, blue, grey) because I think that’s very attractive and if I can choose, hey, why not? And yes, I know that having a donor with red hair doesn’t mean we’ll have a red-haired child. What it does mean is that similar characteristic to mine (including skin tone, coloring, hair, whatever) will be passed on to the child.
2. It has to be an open donation. I absolutely understand why people (both donors and recipients) would want to be anonymous. It’s extremely appealing. But I believe that donor conceived children have a right to know their genetic heritage, both for medical and personal reasons. I feel it’s vital for humans to have a sense of who they are. Also, my husband and I are going to a great deal of trouble to ensure that our children are genetically related to at least one of us, how could we dream of taking away their right to know the people they are genetically related to? Plus, if I were a donor I would want to know that my eggs went to good people. I would be concerned for the health and happiness of any children that might have come from my donation. I would never want a donor to regret their decision to donate the eggs that allowed us to have a family. Ideally, I would like us to keep each other informed of milestones and/or health issues, with the understanding that any children I might have would have the option to contact them in the future if they ever were curious.

So, our pool of possible donors is small. My frustration with infertility and all of the testing and uncertainty is high. And our bank account (after 3 IVF cycles and all that goes along with that) is very low. Frozen eggs seem like the way to go – cheaper, easier, less uncertainty. That gives us 2 main FE options –

• Donor Egg Bank USA – this is the group my RE works with. They have absolutely no one that fits our criteria. I am uncertain as to whether or not they allow open donations.
• The World Egg Bank – in order to see the donors you have to be a patient of an “affiliate” and do a bunch of testing. The nearest affiliate is more than 600 miles away, and I don’t want to do more testing. I have been poked and prodded enough for 3 lifetimes. There is also a fee to see their donor database, and they do not allow open donations. So, no deal.

I guess that means frozen eggs are out unless by some miracle a reddish haired, medium height, green-eyed donor who explicitly wants an open donation pops up on Donor Egg Bank. It could happen, right? Based on my track record with infertility…my magic 8 ball says “Not likely”.

This has led me to look at fresh donation. MUCH more pricey, few or no guarantees, much more complicated. Our clinic only has 8-10 donors, none are even close to our criteria. The other local clinic doesn’t allow open donations. BUT, I’ve found a donor through a nation-wide agency that I really like. She has auburn-ish hair, blue eyes, 5’7″. She donated once before (7 years ago-no report on the outcome of the donation but she is recommended by her agency) and she has 2 kids of her own. She’s married (he’s very supportive), we have the same interests, I love her reasons for wanting to donate, she’s open to future contact. She’s currently available and interested in donating to us.

BUT, she lives 300 miles away (there are no donors in our area that meet our criteria). She’s 29. The donor fee and agency fee combined are well north of $10,000. Then there’s travel ($4000), meds ($~6000), monitoring ($3000), legal/psych/health insurance/etc ($1500) and then the actual IVF part ($14,000). In the end we’re looking at ~$40,000. With no guarantee that it’ll work. Where a million things coud go wrong. Will she pass all the tests? Will she take her meds properly? How many eggs will she produce? How many of those eggs will fertilize? And even if we get the expensive “guarantee” it only refunds the cost of the IVF itself, not the $25,000+ of donor fees, travel, meds, etc.  That’s a lot of money to gamble with. Not to mention the emotional costs.

I am truly at an impasse. Do we wait for a frozen egg donor who may never show up? How long do we wait? Also, most frozen donations aren’t open, which is a deal breaker. Do we go with this fresh donor and just hope for the best? Anyone have any suggestions? Someone? Anyone?