It's All Relative...
...when it comes to baby-making. I may have mentioned it before, but infertility sucks. Seriously sucks...and we've only been at it for four years. Trust me, I don't think my infertility story is special and I'm not judging...except for these ungracious stinkers. A friend shared this article on her Facebook page a few weeks ago and it just made want to scream. First of all, the "anonymous" couple tried for two years to get pregnant. Two years? Depending on your story, it could be a long time. I wanted to e.mail the couple and offer to take one of those precious little babies off their hands. But, I guess they remained anonymous for a reason. I mean, they chose to do IVF and there is a possibility of multiples - they knew that their choice could lead to. I'm pretty sure using the word "regretful" to describe their predicament was enough ammo to form a lynch mob. But...I guess it's all relative, right?
Each of our stories is unique. Whether you've chosen not to have children, you're a fertile myrtle, or you've been trying so long you've forgotten that you used to have sex for fun. You never know what someone else has going on, and usually someone else's reproductive organs aren't really your business.
I found myself in the "oh, it's supposed to be fun - I forgot" phase. One time in particular, I actually told el husbando to stop eating a sandwich and get his ass to the bedroom because there was a stupid pink smiley face on a stick. Super fun, right? As I remember the look on his face, it's pretty funny now. After an early miscarriage in 2010, then nothing...we found ourselves dumbfounded. We were fairly young and in good health - what was wrong with us? Late in 2011, we discovered that there was a new fertility specialist in Anchorage and we made an appointment. We loved our doctor - she was a funny, no-nonsense kind of gal and she laid it out on the table - hand drawn graphs and all. We had about one year to get moving on this before the baby-making-possibility curve took a nose-dive. We signed on - let's do it - "it" being IUI - Intrauterine Insemination. I should've figured we would have eventually gotten to this point - my Mom did give me a turkey baster for Christmas one year. Foreshadowing, perhaps? Or she's just a weirdo. :)
Did I mention that el husbando was working a two week on/off slope rotation at the time? So, we had a very small window to work with...reproductively speaking. While he was gone, I spent every morning and evening injecting myself with special hormonal drugs to "pump" my ovaries into overdrive. I remember holding that needle away from my gut the first time thinking "what the foxtrot"? Then I jammed it in, but forgot to release the meds because I was so nervous. Fail. Eventually I got the hang of it and the two weeks of needle-jamming produced extra large eggs AND a seriously bitchy wife. I'm not kidding, I was a raging "getoutofmyfacebeforeIsmacktheshitoutofyou" beyotch. Then my husband would home from the slope, sleep-deprived after working fourteen nights straight and we would hustle over to the Women's Clinic. Guess what he had to do then?
Yep, you got it...he got to walk through the waiting room of all women to a "special" little room for the men, complete with "special" videos and mags. Poor bastard. He did it, but he wasn't too excited about it. While he was doing his "thang", I would hang out in my room with my feet all nonchalantly hung up in the stirrups waiting...waiting for them to "spin" it and bring it in. Then they would inject it into a fun little tube that led up into never-never land. At the time we were hopeful and exhausted (and one of us was not nice). Then they'd send us home to rest and maybe do the deed the next day. Sounds super romantic, I know...we tried that cycle twice and then I said "enough". My cranky ass wasn't going to survive without physically assaulting someone.
After the first cycle, we were all tested to see if we would be a kidney match with our Dad. The hospital messed up my labs for the test, and after a discussion with our Mom, we took as it a sign that maybe the IUI would work. So, we tried this cycle one more time, to no avail - it just wasn't meant to be for us. We thought we would just give it a break and get through life...my sister donating a kidney to our father, work, life, etc. But I found myself becoming increasingly bitter toward certain people. One type in particular were the ones that knew what you'd been going through, yet they let you know that they were going to "plan to get pregnant" this month and so on. And the ones that "accidentally" got pregnant. I was thinking, "no, you accidentally forget to buy milk at the store", you got pregnant because you weren't trying NOT to. Eventually, I stopped discussing babies - and pregnancy - and all that goes with it - because it didn't seem fair that what we wanted, couldn't happen. So I was on a pity party train...for sure. That was my deal, it wasn't anyone else's fault - I couldn't blame anyone else - I couldn't be angry at someone else's happiness, because that wasn't fair either. My friend Nina coined it best "we've all got our own shit going on, you just never know." It's all relative.
I'm not going to lie...I still hoped - every single month - that it would happen. I would wait for the tell-tale sign of sore boobs, nausea, whatever...it's amazing what symptoms you can imagine when you're hoping for it. My least favorite comment from people was something along the lines of "you just need to relax and it will happen"...you know that comment from well-meaning folk. It's not what you want to hear - it's a bull-shit line and we all know it. But again, it's all relative because we weren't really trying or thinking too hard about it anymore...because forcing your husband to put down his turkey sandwich to run to the bedroom is ridiculous and not the way we wanted to live. So, if you're reading this and maybe feeling this way...you're not alone. It's a sucky, emotionally draining process...but you can get through this.
Then, in October 2012, out of the blue - we got an e.mail in October 2012 from CSS - from a woman who would become our favorite dress-and-boot-wearing-CSS-girl. We had put the adoption discussion on the back-burner while we had so much going on...but apparently we were still on the e.mail list for the workshops. She was writing to let us know that there was one in a few weeks - would we interested? Well, yes ma'am. You know who you are. We still love you for that e.mail...and the calls and texts...and for coming to our finalization. You might not know it, but you planted that first seed of hope and for that we will be eternally grateful.
If you're reading this blog, then you've probably read Part One of our Adoption Story.
Each of our stories is unique. Whether you've chosen not to have children, you're a fertile myrtle, or you've been trying so long you've forgotten that you used to have sex for fun. You never know what someone else has going on, and usually someone else's reproductive organs aren't really your business.
I found myself in the "oh, it's supposed to be fun - I forgot" phase. One time in particular, I actually told el husbando to stop eating a sandwich and get his ass to the bedroom because there was a stupid pink smiley face on a stick. Super fun, right? As I remember the look on his face, it's pretty funny now. After an early miscarriage in 2010, then nothing...we found ourselves dumbfounded. We were fairly young and in good health - what was wrong with us? Late in 2011, we discovered that there was a new fertility specialist in Anchorage and we made an appointment. We loved our doctor - she was a funny, no-nonsense kind of gal and she laid it out on the table - hand drawn graphs and all. We had about one year to get moving on this before the baby-making-possibility curve took a nose-dive. We signed on - let's do it - "it" being IUI - Intrauterine Insemination. I should've figured we would have eventually gotten to this point - my Mom did give me a turkey baster for Christmas one year. Foreshadowing, perhaps? Or she's just a weirdo. :)
Did I mention that el husbando was working a two week on/off slope rotation at the time? So, we had a very small window to work with...reproductively speaking. While he was gone, I spent every morning and evening injecting myself with special hormonal drugs to "pump" my ovaries into overdrive. I remember holding that needle away from my gut the first time thinking "what the foxtrot"? Then I jammed it in, but forgot to release the meds because I was so nervous. Fail. Eventually I got the hang of it and the two weeks of needle-jamming produced extra large eggs AND a seriously bitchy wife. I'm not kidding, I was a raging "getoutofmyfacebeforeIsmacktheshitoutofyou" beyotch. Then my husband would home from the slope, sleep-deprived after working fourteen nights straight and we would hustle over to the Women's Clinic. Guess what he had to do then?
Yep, you got it...he got to walk through the waiting room of all women to a "special" little room for the men, complete with "special" videos and mags. Poor bastard. He did it, but he wasn't too excited about it. While he was doing his "thang", I would hang out in my room with my feet all nonchalantly hung up in the stirrups waiting...waiting for them to "spin" it and bring it in. Then they would inject it into a fun little tube that led up into never-never land. At the time we were hopeful and exhausted (and one of us was not nice). Then they'd send us home to rest and maybe do the deed the next day. Sounds super romantic, I know...we tried that cycle twice and then I said "enough". My cranky ass wasn't going to survive without physically assaulting someone.
After the first cycle, we were all tested to see if we would be a kidney match with our Dad. The hospital messed up my labs for the test, and after a discussion with our Mom, we took as it a sign that maybe the IUI would work. So, we tried this cycle one more time, to no avail - it just wasn't meant to be for us. We thought we would just give it a break and get through life...my sister donating a kidney to our father, work, life, etc. But I found myself becoming increasingly bitter toward certain people. One type in particular were the ones that knew what you'd been going through, yet they let you know that they were going to "plan to get pregnant" this month and so on. And the ones that "accidentally" got pregnant. I was thinking, "no, you accidentally forget to buy milk at the store", you got pregnant because you weren't trying NOT to. Eventually, I stopped discussing babies - and pregnancy - and all that goes with it - because it didn't seem fair that what we wanted, couldn't happen. So I was on a pity party train...for sure. That was my deal, it wasn't anyone else's fault - I couldn't blame anyone else - I couldn't be angry at someone else's happiness, because that wasn't fair either. My friend Nina coined it best "we've all got our own shit going on, you just never know." It's all relative.
I'm not going to lie...I still hoped - every single month - that it would happen. I would wait for the tell-tale sign of sore boobs, nausea, whatever...it's amazing what symptoms you can imagine when you're hoping for it. My least favorite comment from people was something along the lines of "you just need to relax and it will happen"...you know that comment from well-meaning folk. It's not what you want to hear - it's a bull-shit line and we all know it. But again, it's all relative because we weren't really trying or thinking too hard about it anymore...because forcing your husband to put down his turkey sandwich to run to the bedroom is ridiculous and not the way we wanted to live. So, if you're reading this and maybe feeling this way...you're not alone. It's a sucky, emotionally draining process...but you can get through this.
Then, in October 2012, out of the blue - we got an e.mail in October 2012 from CSS - from a woman who would become our favorite dress-and-boot-wearing-CSS-girl. We had put the adoption discussion on the back-burner while we had so much going on...but apparently we were still on the e.mail list for the workshops. She was writing to let us know that there was one in a few weeks - would we interested? Well, yes ma'am. You know who you are. We still love you for that e.mail...and the calls and texts...and for coming to our finalization. You might not know it, but you planted that first seed of hope and for that we will be eternally grateful.
If you're reading this blog, then you've probably read Part One of our Adoption Story.
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