The Fear Factor

So I just read Emily's blog: she's facing a second miscarriage. Trisha is dealing with her fourth loss. A friend from high school emailed me this week: she's recovering from her third miscarriage. As I read other blogs, hear other stories, I'm realizing something, something awful. You know that statistic that doctors quote at you after a miscarriage, the 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage stat? Well, I'm beginning to realize that infertile couples carry the brunt of that load. I know this shouldn't be a revolutionary idea, no lightbulb moment involved. But I'll be honest, it never dawned on me until I started talking to other infertiles, hearing other stories of heartbreak that I might experience the loss again. I guess the odds seemed with me somehow, and a second loss seemed to cruel. Spread the wealth, right?

As I realize that my chances for miscarriage are even greater simply because we are an infertile couple, simply because we have experienced a loss before, I am gripped with fear. Am I strong enough to survive that kind of heart ripping, soul shredding loss again? I was a real mess for a while after that dreaded phone call. And I was in a MUCH better place emotionally, physically, spiritually then, after only 3 months of trying, than I am now, 16 months later. So many women are recovering from their fourth, fifth, or even 6th miscarriage. They are all so strong. I don't know if I am that strong.

I guess I'm willing to risk it. I'm not on birth control, we aren't using condoms, and we are discussing IVF. And I guess, yes, I am willing to risk it. I'd walk through fire to bring a baby home. But what kind of woman will I be on the other side? Will I be refined by the flame or scorched and scarred?

Flustered, Frustrated, Furious

Well, IVF appointment round 1 was a DISASTER! Ughhhhh! What an afternoon/evening! I told Sam on the way to the appointment that I felt out of sync. The time since finding out about the failed IUI has just allowed my brain to become mush. Instead of feeling engaged and active, I felt benched and out of the loop. I had made an extensive list of questions as always, but still not very confident.

And then the insanity ensued. We were concerned about Atlanta traffic at 5:30, so we left pretty early. Traffic was actually great, so we got there with 45 minutes to spare. Sam wanted to get a coffee. I was hesitant, but figured we could go 3 miles and back in that time even in traffic. We grabbed some Starbucks, but when we tried to leave, the car wouldn't shift from park. Ahhhhhh! This has happened before, for brief moments, but it always works after a few tries. Alas, not this time. We were stuck for 25 minutes trying to switch gears and reading what to do online. Nightmare! To make matters worse, my appointment was technically after hours, so I couldn't call and explain. We did actually make it to the office (10 minutes late), but needless to say, I was flustered.

The appointment started off horribly. She began with "I think we should take a break." Huh? She said she figured we weren't financially prepared to do IVF (true) and that was that. End of consultation. I think that was the entirety of what she had prepared. Obviously, I got my questions out, and she graciously answered, but I felt like she was half answering and dodging questions the whole time. It almost seemed like she thought the consult was a waste of time since we aren't financially ready to move on.

Basically, we concluded that IVF costs $12,500 per cycle or $25,000 for 2 fresh and 2 frozen (no refund if it fails, no refund if you get lucky round 1) or $30,000ish for 3 fresh and 3 frozen with 70% refunded if you don't take home a baby, but NO refund if you get pregnant round 1 (or 2). Well thank you for the bargain! Cue the frustration!

I get that this is expensive stuff! I really do. But I feel like I'm being taken advantage of. The more we talked (and the more I read after) the more I got the feeling that this is a well oiled money making machine. If your cycle gets cancelled after your baseline, but before you start monitoring, you will be refunded 90%. Sounds great, right? Until you realize that your baseline ultrasound and blood work costs $1200! WHAT!!!!! My baseline has been $485 and that's one of the most expensive I've heard of.

I read somewhere online that Atlanta is one of the most expensive cities in the country (if not THE most expensive) for IVF procedures. I'm starting to believe it. Keep in mind that the $12,500 does not include meds or additional procedures like ICSI or assisted hatching. Ahhhhhh!

When Sam and I left, we were both bummed. It wasn't a very informative or helpful consultation. The more we talked the more furious I became. My doctor talked about people going into life-long debt, taking out home equity loans, medical loans, credit card loans, like it was nothing. It was so cold, so clinical. So matter of fact. Now I get that she has to make money. Believe me, the husband and I understand college loans, particularly the med school variety. She'll probably be paying for her student loans forever, but really, have a heart.

I remember being little and my dad (a dentist) would be soooo upset over his patient's financial conditions. He would do "favors" and work for free all the time. All the time. And my dad isn't even all that nice. But he earnestly cared about his patients and couldn't handle the idea that a patient would want treatment, but couldn't have it, based on finances. I'm not looking for a freebie, but lets be reasonable. I'm not here to personally finance your monthly mortgage, car, and student loan payments.

The real FURIOUS part came as we discussed all the times we've spent hours fighting for refunds from them. Currently, we are fighting a $120 bill (that my insurance already paid) and for a $500 refund for bills that my insurance covered after the fact. I feel like I have to suit up for war to deal with their finance people. Zero customer service available. Shouldn't they be groveling at my feet to win the chance to perform IVF on me. If you want $12,500+ from me, at least graciously handle my small potatoes (to you) refunds.

Hopefully, the other appointments will go better. We go to a "low-cost" clinic on Monday. I have no idea how that will turn out, but we felt like it was certainly worth an hour of our time to learn about all our options. And at the very least, kudos to those doctors for giving a darn.

Choose Hope

When Life meets Reality:

Choose Hope

You may remember in a previous post that I talked about how my emotional status seems to be cloudy with a forecast for more cloudiness. This chain of thought was brought to fruition because of a series my church was doing called Climate Change. Well don't you know, three weeks later, the last message was just for me. I'd really encourage you to listen to the message. I think it speaks to EVERYONE, but it really, really speaks to most infertiles. And the good news is you don't have to be religious, or know where you stand on the Bible: it's just a great message about what to do and how to handle life when your expectations aren't met.

The message discusses a kind of chain of events. Let me diagram this for you:

Expectations

I

I

V

Suffering

I

I

V

Perseverance

I

I

V

Character

I

I

V

Hope

The idea here is that no matter how happy or optimistic, no matter how bubbly your personality is, there will be seasons of your life where your expectations are not met as to how your life should go, and in those seasons, our natural inclination is for our emotional climate to look like a bunch of storm clouds. I don't know about you, but I'm in a season of unmet expectations right not. The way I thought my storybook life would unfold is just not reading quite right. We seem to be stuck on page six, and I want to get to "and they lived happily ever after". As I said before, my emotional state is pretty much cloudy all the time. Sure the sun breaks through, but in the quiet of the day, I'm not radiant, I'm not filled with hope, I'm sad, I'm wishing for more. 

Jeff, the speaker, says that when life happens, and expectations aren't met, the storm clouds roll in over your heart and push hope out. Our heart gets sick, an unhealthy emotional climate is created, and we become Debbie Downer. I don't know about you, but I'm often Debbie Downer. I think it's partially just my nature, partially that I'm just sad, and partially that I'm in a place in my live where good things aren't happening. I'm in a place where my millions of prayers aren't being answered. I'm in a place where I feel like it's probably better if I don't pray for others, because they are more likely to be healed, fixed, forgiven if I don't add my two cents. Debbie Downer, right?

So what's the solution? What do we do when our expectations aren't met? When life knocks us down? Apparently, it's several steps, but in the midst of our suffering, we persevere. I think infertiles have MASTERED this step. I don't know if I've ever met another group of people who get knocked down as often or as frequently, and yet CD1, while a crushing blow, is also another chance, and we pull ourselves up, haul ourselves to the pharmacy, or doctor, or acupuncturist, and start all over again… that's perseverance. 

I'm currently under the "suffering" category. An incredibly interesting point that Jeff brought up is that we don't like to think God is forcing us to walk though suffering because we don't see suffering as a blessing. Ohhhhh, this is so me. I keep asking God to get me out of here and I don't want to think that maybe it's God who is making me walk this journey. But maybe, just maybe, He's trying to build His character in me, and give me hope. Maybe He's asking me to trust His ways and walk through the suffering to the other side. 

The message explains that the leap from perseverance to character is a "then God" moment. These are the places that God shows up. I love the idea that through this I might gain more of His character, that I might look more like Him on the other side. But man oh man, am I far, far away from having any character in this, let alone His. I pray I learn fast because otherwise, I might be here for awhile. And having hope, real true hope, even in the darkest moments? Yea, I'm a long way from that.

I mentioned before that I'm wishing one of the many doctors I will be seeing starting this week can give me some hope. And I still feel that way. After three failed IUI's, I've become disillusioned with the medical world and their ability to solve our problems. My doctor never gave us odds for the success of the IUI procedure, but I felt like my OBGYN in Augusta and the RE in Atlanta felt like that would work for us. They have always talked like our infertility was minimal, like our problem was so small. It made me feel that despite reading hundreds of blogs and thousands of message boards where IUI failed, despite only knowing one success story when we started, I felt like it would work for us. We would be the lucky ones. Never once has my RE voiced any reason to suspect that there might be more going on, that we might not be "easy", that IUI might not work. My first appointment in this marathon of appointments is with my RE this Thursday. I'm 99% sure that I know what she'll say: there is no explanation for why IUI didn't work for us, but she would recommend moving onto IVF. But I want answers. I need more than "standard procedures". I want someone, whether it be my doctor or one of the other two we are seeing to offer some hope to make me believe that they have a plan, and a reason for that plan. 

But after listening to this message (for the third time), I'm thinking that maybe it's not the doctor's words that will give me hope, maybe it's walking through this wilderness, spending my forty days out here, maybe it's the journey that leads to real hope. I think the scariest part is knowing that my hope isn't supposed to be placed in eventually having a baby, but instead my hope is in the One who loves me and cares for me, whether that brings me a child or not. 

Heavy Heart for the Holidays

Not too much to report on the baby making front… We're au naturel for this cycle (and the next several), so not too much hope right not. But we are doing our part and carrying on as if BBT's and OPK's really do help make babies. Strangely, I got a positive OPK waaayyyyy early this cycle. The earliest I've ever gotten a positive OPK before during a non-medicated cycle was CD 16. Normal is CD 19. This month, I was dragging my butt and didn't start testing until Monday, CD13… and don't' you know, it was positive. I didn't get a shift on CD14, so I tested again… still positive. Hmmmm…. No clue what any of that means. I'd like to say that three months in a row of medication taught my body the appropriate time to ovulate, but I didn't get a shift today, CD15, either. So maybe it's the opposite, my body doesn't know how to do anything now without meds… lovely.

I am excited about the slew of appointments we have coming up! As you can see from my timeline, I have three appointments at different clinics to get second opinions, discuss IVF, and find the place I'm the most comfortable before moving on. We also have an appointment with a urologist, just to get a specialist to give us the all clear and thumbs up for Sam before we move on. I know that no one will have the magic key, it's called unexplained for a reason, they don't have a clue what's wrong, but I'm hoping that someone can restore some of my hope in the medical world. I want to really believe in the process if we are going to sink a down payment on a home into these procedures.

In the mean time, I'm going to try to enjoy Thanksgiving. I've read on several infertile ladies' blogs that they are skipping family time this year as it is just too tough… I wish. There's no escaping for us: Thanksgiving is being held at my mom's, which is where we currently live. There will be two precious new faces at Thanksgiving this year, my niece Alexis, and my cousin's little girl. But there should be three new little faces. Alexis is 8 months old, my cousin's baby is 7 months, and my little one would have been 6 months. Needless to say, I feel like the failure. Here's my grandmother wanting to hold and love on all her great-grandkids, and I failed to provide. Here's my mom cleaning the nursery that she converted a guest room into incase her granddaughter spends the night. She thought it would get tons of use from my niece and all of the babies I'd be bringing into the world. The crib has yet to be used. Poor mom.

My family will more than likely not even mention my failures at motherhood. And that is certainly not how any of them would put it. They are good people, and I love them all. But I will feel the underlying tension, hear the unspoken questions, even if it's all in my head. While every one oooo's and ahhhh's over the new little one's in the family, my heart will be breaking, I want someone to oooo and ahhhh over mine, but she's not here.

But there are plenty of wonderful people who are here, great conversations to be had, wonderful food to eat, and a beautiful home to celebrate the holiday in. It's a lot more than most people have. I will try my very best to keep bitterness at bay tomorrow, to love on my family, to serve with a joyful spirit. I am blessed, even while I'm waiting on one particular blessing.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up, I want to be…

Remember when you were little and people asked you "what do you want to be when you grow up?" Like pretty much every other little girl I went through my vet phase and teacher phase. As I grew up though, I realized that I would never EVER be able to put an animal to sleep and I have ZERO patience for kids who don't do their homework. Scratch vet and teacher off the list.

When I got to college I began my freshman year as an undecided. I thought about everything from English to Communication Disorders. I have varied interests. I really felt like I could do lots of things. But what I really wanted to be was a mom. A stay-at-home mom to be exact. I could never find tons of motivation to pick a particular major because I never saw myself as a career woman.

Graphic design was always in the back of my mind. I loved the design experience that I had, but I also LOVED the idea of working part-time or maybe even from home. That was the deciding factor for me. I enrolled in the art program at the end of my freshman year.

Looking back, graphic design might have been a mistake. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED my college career. I had a blast in my program and really felt good about my chances upon graduation. But three and a half years out, my confidence is nil. There are several reasons for this, but bottom line, I don't feel good about putting myself out there. I think like a lot of college graduates, I had an idealized image of what a college degree equals. I felt that even with a super specialized degree, I'd be fine. A college degree from the University of Georgia equals solid employment, right? As I've come to learn, not always. Do I still think I can do design work? Definitely. But with zero post graduation work, my portfolio still consists of school projects. I can't imagine hiring me. I think the only chance of a job in design would be someone that knows me and knows what I can do.

So what's next for me? Good question. I wish I knew. I recently read somewhere that in this age of post-recession, poor job market, finding the best fit isn't always about your degree. It's about finding some happiness whether that be in salary, job security, promotions, or job satisfaction. They recommended thinking not about what you want to do, but about where you've been most happy. Past job experiences in which you were happy may lead in a different direction, but that's okay.

For me, past job pickings are slim. There was a lot of waitressing and that is certainly not my job of choice. Without a doubt, the place I was happiest was working as in intern for my church doing graphic design. Interestingly, the design work was not what made me happy. I enjoyed my work, the day passed quickly, I had an outlet for my creativity; all of that was great. But that's not why I loved my job. I loved the people. I felt like I was a part or something that mattered.

I think that's my take away. It is not in me nature to be a workaholic. I'm a hard worker for sure, but I guess I've always known where my priorities lie, and that's at home with my family. I tend to be frustrated with most of my jobs. I end up grouchy or discouraged, frustrated or apathetic. But working at my church I felt appreciated, valued, engaged; therefore, I loved my job.

Sam loves to work. Really. He could align soup cans all night and love his job. He's rarely frustrated, rarely discouraged. He enjoys a day's work for a day's wages. That's just not me. I can't really imagine how much I'd have to earn to not care what I'm doing, but it would be a lot. The money is just not the motivating factor for me. I need something beyond a paycheck to find satisfaction.

Even now, when the more I make, the faster I can try IVF, I still want something more. I want to work for good people. I want to be a part of an organization that I can respect. I want to feel like I'm doing something, helping someone. I want it to matter.

Part of me wants to hold out, to wait for the perfect job. The selfish part of me wants to find a job that makes me happy. I remember how much I hated my last job and I don't want to be that miserable again. The realistic part of me says money is money and my happiness at work won't be quite so critical once the bank account is full.

My goal is IVF. To meet my goal, I need a job. The faster I get a job, the faster I can attempt to make a baby. For the sake of our family (and my sanity) I need to put myself out there, risk rejection, and start bringing home a paycheck. My future child depends on it.

Let's Be Real

So many infertility bloggers understandably keep their blogs anonymous. They go about their daily lives and no one knows whats going on. Obviously, this is not me. I started this blog long before I knew I was infertile, long before we were even thinking about trying. From the very beginning I wanted this to be a place where I could be real.

The name of this blog has a purpose: Genuine Greavu; a reminder to myself to be authentic, not to put on my best face. When the time came to decide what to do about all of the trying to conceive mess, I had some serious anxiety about going public. It seems like no big deal now, but that first night I posted, I asked Sam about a hundred times if I should press "publish" or not. But ultimately, I decided that this was a HUGE part of my life (didn't know how huge at the time, but still) and that I wasn't being true to myself if I kept everything sugar-coated here. By the time I went public, I had begun to heal from the miscarriage. It still hurt like crap, but I wasn't a puddle on the floor anymore. I also wanted to speak out because I knew that somewhere there had to be someone going through that, literally in the valley of the shadow of death, and if I could walk beside them, maybe I could find some purpose and make a friend along the way.

Interestingly enough, I've stayed true to my goal and been very honest here. I've probably offended my fair share of readers with some of my thoughts, which is obviously not my goal, but this is a space where I lay it all out. Sometimes life is beautiful, but sometimes life is a mess. Either way I want to be real. The problem lies in life, I mean away from this blog, am I real? Sam sees the real me for sure. He sees the moody, pessimistic, hormonal beast that shares his bed. But beyond that, am I real with the people I encounter every day?

The interesting thing about publicly sharing the ends and outs of infertility is that the people that you bump into, do life with, etc all know. Literally I sometimes post a blog, forget about it, and then 3 hours later have a friend give me a hug and say "I just read your blog". Oh. Yea, about that. "I'm fine." That has been my response when anyone asks how I'm doing. "I'm fine." Sam will tell you this is my go to response even when tears are streaming down my face. I have no idea why I go there when people obviously already know that no, I'm not fine, I'm a mess. Why do I feel the need to look neat and together in real life when I can openly and honestly admit that I'm drowning on here? All too often, the readers and real life participants are the same. There is no hiding.

I'm trying to stop this. I'm trying to be more honest in real life. I certainly don't want to unload on some unsuspecting person in real life. I get that not everyone has time for the full length saga that is my life when they ask "how are you?" But the people that I do life with, the people who I know are "in the know" who ask, I'm trying to be more open and honest. Even on my good days, even when I'm optimistic about our future, "fine" doesn't cover it.

So, if I know you in real life, let this serve as your warning: if you're asking "how are you?"and looking for "fine, how are you?" maybe you should say "how 'bout them dawgs?" instead and we can happily launch into a surface level discussion about bowl game dreams. And that's fine by me. I get that not every person I bump into at Target or meet on Sunday morning is looking for a status update on my uterus.

I will of course continue to be real, to be raw, to be authentic here on the blog. But I'm also going to try to drop "I'm fine" from my vocabulary. For those of you who are public on your blogs, how do you handle the duality of blog life and real life?

the "A" word

"A" is for... no not abstinence, nor adultery, not alcohol, nor artichoke, but adoption. I guess when you're publicly stating that you are looking at $10,000 and up for IVF, it makes sense that the adoption question gets brought up. A lot. This last week I've kind of been bombarded with adoption questions. People have very strong feelings on adoption, and apparently on shelling out money for IVF too. Thus far, no one has been pushy one way or another, nor have they been judgmental about our plan. So I thought I'd discuss my thoughts on adoption to date. These may all change in the future. I also want to honestly say that I know very little about adoption. All of this is what I think I know about it. I'm probably wrong, so if you've adopted or are in the process, don't let me offend you with my ignorance.

I'm certainly not giving up on bearing a child (or two), but I am coming to terms with the fact that a larger family may not be possible for us without adoption. And I am totally okay with this. What I'm still struggling to come to terms with is the idea that I may never give birth, ever. It's kind of interesting; for the longest time I've believed that I would adopt. In my head, the plan was a family of four or five little ones and then adopt a little boy from Africa and/or a little girl from Asia.

So if it was always part of the plan, why am I balking at the idea of starting our family via adoption? Well, there are several reasons:

1. I don't think we'd pass a home inspection right now. We have no income, none, at all. We are living off student loans. Even if I had a job, I don't think we'd make it. They want stable families not jobless people living with their parents. It will be at least 8 months until we are a 2 income family. I may be naive,  but I think we can move on with IVF sooner than that.
2. I want a baby. This is kind of selfish, but I want my first child to be a baby. I mean a baby-baby. I want him/her skin to skin one millisecond after he/she is born. I've never thought about or looked into domestic adoption. That wasn't part of "the plan". But I do know that with international adoption, we wouldn't get a baby-baby. Only 25% of international adoptions are less than a year old. The youngest are typically 4-6 months old. I can't explain why, but those months seem more critical to me with my first child.
3. I feel like being"forced" into adoption takes away from the ministry of adoption. (Pleeaasseee hear me: this is a personal feeling. I don't direct these feelings onto anyone else adopting. This is just how I feel about adopting for our family. Please don't be offended.) Since I was super young and first "planned" on adopting, my reason was to do for one what I would love to do for so many. But I also always felt that by adopting (particularly children that don't look like my family) I would be given an amazing opportunity over and over again to explain why we chose to adopt. The answer would be Jesus plain and simple every time. Adoption would still be so beautiful no doubt about it, and the story of love would still be there, but if I can't say, I could  have had more children on my own, but I chose to adopt, I will just feel like my testimony is diminished. (My issue, not yours. Again, I don't project these feelings onto other adopters no matter the circumstance.)
4. I want my child to feel wanted. Along the same lines as item #3, I worry that if I'm "forced" to adopt, that the child might later feel less wanted. Is that crazy? It seems to me, that if I can tell the child that we started out family in the traditional way, but that we wanted him/her so much to complete our family, that we set out to find him/her and bring him/her home, they'll feel wanted. But if I have to tell the child that I desperately wanted a child and couldn't have one, and so we had to adopt, well that seems like an easy leap for a hurting child to the idea of "I'm second best". And that would break my heart!
5. Husband and I aren't on the same page. No matter what my hang-ups and hesitations are about adoption, I feel one hundred percent justified in saying we aren't moving forward until we are on the same page. Sam has his own issues with adoption; most of which are different than mine. Even if I was 100% on board and wanted to skip IVF and move ahead with adoption, I wouldn't feel good about it because Sam doesn't feel ready. I don't think adoption is something you pursue if only one person is ready.

Even if we end up adopting before we get pregnant, I still think we will want to try for at least one birth child. I may change my mind, but for now, that is my hunch. I've always felt like adoption is such a beautiful way of showing Christ's love and carrying out his commandment to "look after orphans and widows in their distress" (James 1:27). I still feel that way, but when I got married to Sam, it suddenly became vastly more important that I have his children. Why is this? I'm not sure. Maybe a little one to snuggle with would remove this "need" but right now, I couldn't really care less if the child is genetically related to me, but I do want to carry it, and I do want it to be related to Sam.

So there you have it: we are currently a jumbled up mess of emotions and feelings and thoughts on adoption. Obviously we need to do a lot of research and a lot of talking to each other and to others who have adopted. We need to do a lot of praying and a lot of soul searching, but for now this is where we stand.