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.

Newlywed Advice

I'm suddenly surrounded by newlyweds through several different areas in my life. When we first moved to Augusta and Sam started PT school, us married folk were a rare breed. Now that school is winding down, the marriages and engagements are piling in. Upon moving back north, we joined a community group of newlyweds at our church. And when I say newlyweds, I mean it. We're talking weeks for a lot of these couples.

I've been asked so many times in the last few months about marriage advice. I don't know when 2.5 years gave you "authority", so I rarely feel like I have a lot to say. But truly, when I think about it, I have TONS of advice. Things about communication and conflict. Ideas on love languages and intimacy. I've had lots of "life lessons" in these 31 months of marriage from which I've gleaned knowledge. But my greatest peace of advice is this:

Stop waiting to start your family.

Believe me when I say, I know what it is like to have fears. I am married to Mr. Hesitant. He had a list a mile long about why we shouldn't have a baby, about why waiting until out late twenties/early thirties was a good idea. About how we needed a house, careers, financial plans, etc. 

Hear me when I say this: It is complete ARROGANCE to believe that you can plan when your baby enters the picture. I was so arrogant when I use to dream about things like scheduling baby births around holidays and making sure he/she wasn't the youngest in the class. For whatever reason, this is how we have come to operate in this day and age. We are either PREVENTING or TRYING. We desperately work so hard, spend so much to make sure that a baby is not possible until we are "ready". And then as soon as we are ready, we immediately think, where's my baby? What would happen if we worried more about simply LIVING? If you're married, you're relationship is stable, you're working, and you have a place to live, then what would happen if you got pregnant? Simple, you'd become a family of three. Once upon a time married couples simply had sex to make love. They didn't know about basal body temperatures, or ovulation windows, or correct positions. Pregnancy was a chance every time, and a miracle every time.

If you really, really want a family someday, let me give you a few facts: You are the most fertile you'll ever be between your late teen years (depending on when you started your period) and 25. That's right, I said 25, not 35, not 45, 25. Can you get pregnant after 25? Of course. Is it as easy? Nope. Most people won't notice, but statistically, it's harder. How about a chart to express things a little more clearly?

Normal fertility over 12 month period

A little help with this chart: keep in mind that infertility isn't a disease, it is defined at the inability to become pregnant after one year of unprotected sex. So the green line doesn't mean you're on the road to disease, it means you're on the road to menopause. But along the way, long before menopause, more and more women will leave the "fertile train" and hop aboard the "infertile train" with a one way ticket towards spending bookoos for a baby. As you can see, the difference between 24 and 25 is almost 10%. Meaning you are almost 10% less likely to conceive within one year at my age, 27, that at say 23. Something to think about.

Lets look at it from a smaller scale, because you, like me, are sure you'll get pregnant in a year. What about your chances month to month. A healthy couple in their early to mid twenties has about a 25% chance each month of getting pregnant. Not bad, right? Late twenties, that starts to drop to 20% each month. At 35, your chances are dropping still, and by 40, you have less than a 5% chance that you will get pregnant. And remember, this is if both parties are healthy.

Who's not healthy? Estimates say that more than 10% of couples, or 1 in 8 will deal with infertility. It just so happens, that my small group has 8 couples. We will use that group an an example. So, 8 couples in the group… the odds are that one will be infertile. Luckily, that has already been determined. But there is no reason to assume that there isn't another. Here are some things that might mean you aren't included in the normal, healthy group:

• If you don’t ovulate, there is a 0% chance of getting pregnant
• If he has no sperm, there is a 0% of getting pregnant
• If you have had a tubal ligation, there is a 0% chance of getting pregnant
• If you have severe tubal disease which has closed off your tubes, there is a 0% chance of getting pregnant.
• If your menstrual cycle is irregular, your chances of getting pregnant are lower.
• If your corpus luteum phase is shorter than 12 days, your chances of getting pregnant are lower.
• If you ovulate irregularly, on different days of the cycle, your chances are lower.
• If you ovulate late in the cycle, after cycle day 21, mathematically, you have a lower chance getting pregnant because there are less ovulations per year and also because implantation is less likely in a uterine lining that’s older than 3 weeks (after the last menstrual period).
• If you are underweight (BMI under 19.5) your chances of getting pregnant are lower.
• If you are overweight (BMI over 25) your chances of getting pregnant are lower.
• If you take certain medications your chances of getting pregnant may change.
• If you had surgery on your cervix your chances may be lower.
• If you have an infection your chances may be less.
• If you use lubricants your chances are lower.

The list goes on and on. I say none of this to scare you. I say it to educate you. Assuming that you can stop your birth control pills and get pregnant the next month is highly unrealistic. Will is happen to some people? Of course. Will it be you? No way to know. So my point is this: don't plan on it.

50% of healthy couples in their 20's will get pregnant within 6 months of unprotected sex. Those aren't bad odds, but it's also not what we are led to believe. I don't know about you, but I grew up thinking that sperm leapt through layers and layers of clothing all the time, and if even one little sperm made it, well, it was a done deal. I remember the first time my period was late after Sam and I got married. I was on the pill, but I was like a day late. Sam had a hissy fit. Insisted I go buy a test. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He just knew that despite using the pill accurately (and sometimes condoms too) that we were pregnant. I bought the test, it was negative, he started to breathe again. I use this to illustrate the point that somehow, we've come to expect pregnancy every time intercourse occurs (protected or otherwise if your Sam). I think it's partially carry-over scare tactics from sex ed, but regardless, it's just not true.

So, all of this is to say, if you don't want kids right now, I mean honestly don't want a baby, then fine, but recognize that you will not have forever. And assuming that you will be one of the lucky ones, assuming that you both fall into the "healthy" category, assuming that you have all of the time in the world is simply arrogant. You can't know what your future holds, and acting like a baby is completely within your control can come back to bite you.

Also ladies, I want to close with this: I started going to an OBGYN in college. I saw 3 different doctors during college and then a 4th before getting married. I asked ALL of them if my irregular cycles were a reason to suspect I might have trouble getting pregnant. They ALL assured me that no, I was healthy, when I was ready, it would happen. I think the doctors at university clinics must get paid to say this. Well let me tell you, when you're struggling to conceive, the first thing they ask you is if your cycles are regular. Irregular cycles are the number one sign of infertility as well as cramping or bleeding at odd times during your cycle (not during your period). This can be a sign of anovulation, endometriosis, and other fertility related issues. If you're cycles vary from month to month, if your cycles are extra long, if your period is extremely light or heavy, talk to your doctor. If there is reason to believe you might struggle getting pregnant, it's better to know now, than in five years when you get around to starting your family.

If I could go back to the beginning of my marriage (and convince my husband) I'd skip the pills and the condoms and the worry. I'd simply love my husband. I'd put my family in God's hands and trust that He's got us. Some might say that is not responsible, but I disagree. I don't think there is anything more responsible than saying I'm married and I'm going to love my spouse and I'm giving the rest to God. I might be pregnant or even have a child by now if we had done that. Probably not, but it's possible. I might be right where I am today. Either way, I'd have no regrets.

I May Never be a Mother

I may never be a mother. There I said it. And it's true. I'm not saying this because I'm pouting post IUI failure. This isn't part of the pity party. This is me admitting that I have no control here. I feel like I've been digging my feet into the sand telling God that He may think he has a plan for me, but I'm going to be a mother, whether he likes it or not. I've been claiming it like it's my right and like I have some control over it.

When I first began treatment way back when, I occasionally felt like I was doing something wrong. I felt that if I was meant to be a mom, it would happen naturally, so when we moved on to treatment, sometimes I wondered if God heard "I'll show you". Like if He won't give me a baby, then I'll just make one for myself. Oh silly me! All of this is ridiculous I know. There is NOTHING that I can do to MAKE a baby. But treatment let me feel like I had some level of control in all of this, and that was comforting. It was always in the back of my mind that even if we went all the way through treatment to the end and never came home with a baby, I could adopt still. But then I worried if God heard, "If you won't give me one, I'll take one" from me. Again, silly me.

Hear me when I say: I have ZERO control over being a mom. I can do everything right every month, I can create a happy little home for an embryo, I can make my body super healthy, I can pay thousands of dollars for medical treatments, but none of that guarantees me a baby. Oh, and the adoption thing, that's not a sure thing at all. I know about 5 things about adoption currently and they are the following:

1. I really, really want to adopt, but I don't feel ready now.
2. It's expensive… like crazy expensive. Why? I don't know.
3. It can take forever. If 2+ years is forever, than yea, it takes forever.
4. It's crazy scary. Huge leaps of faith in people you've never met.
5. There is NO guarantee that you will get a baby.

So yea, when I say I have no control over the situation, I mean it. I have no control over the situation. And I HATE it! I'm guessing that this is my lesson in all of this: I am not in control.

Now none of this is to say that I'm giving up. I'm still hoping and praying for a miracle. I'm going to continue to do everything available to become a mother. And it may happen. I might be a mom one day. In fact, I still feel like I will probably be a mom one day. But there are no guarantees. And that, my friends, is a very humbling realization. 

Consolation Prizes

We infertiles get told all too often that there are reasons to be happy we aren't pregnant and are living child-free. As I've discussed before, some of my personal favorites include:

"At least you can fit into your favorite clothes."

"At least you can eat whatever you want."

"Enjoy sleeping in; that will stop when you have kids."

Umm, gee thanks. Those all seem like equal trades for a baby. But let me be honest, when aunt flow shows her ugly face, or more recently, when I get negative beta results, I immediately partake of some "consolation prizes". I think we all do. Probably, the most popular is to sip on a glass of wine or drown sorrows in a pitcher of margaritas. I rarely ever drink alcohol for a variety of reasons, so that's not the option I go for. But there are some options that either take my mind off the sadness, or allow me to relax and process the sadness. So what are my consolation prizes in lieu of a baby growing in my uterus? I'm glad you asked.

For starters, I am particularly fond of baths. Always have been, always will be. My doctors have never specifically said no baths, but I know I read in multiple places that they are ill advised. Husband is very anti-bath, so I abstain. Post bad news, I take a long, hot bubble bath because there is nothing growing that I might possibly boil and I no longer care if the smelly stuff messes with my pH.

Glorious, steamy, hot bubble bath.

Secondly, caffeine. Umm, hello heaven. I know I should probably just drop caffeinated beverages all together, but I tell myself I deserve it. So I indulge in all forms: coke, coffee, chocolate.

First coffee in a month… Pumpkin Spice

This past failure in particular, one of my consolation prizes was a hummingbird cake. Hummingbird cake is my second favorite cake (carrot cake takes the top, but that's coming for Thanksgiving). My mom shows love via baking and when she feels helpless to fix me and make me smile, she bakes me a cake. Thanks momma! Cream cheese icing works wonders on the broken heart.

Yummmmmmmm.

All this indulging has made me think of other "good things" about infertility. Now granted, they don't in anyway counter balance the horror that is infertility, but hey, silver lining and all that, I've got to look for something.

Good things:

1. No vasectomy. Nope, I will never have to subject my husband to this particular procedure. He should thank me, right? I don't think any man wants to have his hmmm hmmm snipped. A vasectomy can apparently cost up to $2,000 too, so the cost savings here is amazing.
2. No condoms. Under the same thought here, we will never need condoms. Nope, no threat of unwanted pregnancy here. Hate those pesky rubbers? Don't you wish you were me?
3. No birth control pills (or other methods). Are you sensing a theme here? Well you should be. BC pills made me crazy, literally. I will never need those suckers again. And Sam and I never have to argue about whether the birth control will fail because I want to wait 30 minutes until the end of the show… When I say he was serious about some birth control, I mean it.
4. Taking life for granted. When it seems like babies are made every time you take your clothes off, it might appear that this is just the way it is. I no longer see it that way. EVERY life is a MIRACLE. There are about 8 billion (I counted) things that can go wrong on the way to making a healthy baby. The fact that you are here on earth is not a mistake, nor an accident. If you have a little one of your own; it's called a gift.

Who Takes Care of Me?

I've mentioned before that I get the awesome honor to love on some toddlers on Sunday mornings at my church. Well, each month we have a "big idea" that we try to get across to the little ones through songs and activities. November's big idea is this:

God takes care of me.

Simple, huh? But really profound when we actually get it.

I think I've been on the verge of tears about a hundred times today. I fight it off because I know if I give in, it won't stop. Sunday morning in the toddlers room is not the place to lose it. Before we started this morning with the little ones, we met as a group for some encouragement. I happen to be led in this environment by a beautiful, loving, happy lady who really cares about the volunteers' lives. She opened up by saying that maybe the "big ideas" that were created and intended for the children could actually work in us too. Hmmm... I needed that this morning. The day after finding out that I'm super duper broken, far more than I ever dreamed, I needed to hear this.

God takes care of me.

I'll be honest. I don't feel taken care of. I don't feel loved. I feel abandoned. I feel forgotten. I feel inferior. I look at other couples who have beautiful families and our friends who are adding sweet babies to their families, and I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but wonder why them? Or better yet, why not us too? I feel like my prayers are bumping the ceiling, like I need a megaphone to get His attention. "Hey, I'm down here. I'm hurting. I'm asking for a miracle and believing that you are the miracle worker. Don't forget me. "

That's what I feel. But faith is not about feelings. Faith is about trusting. So today, despite feeling like the best place for me is in bed under the covers, I'm saying my faith is in my Heavenly Father. And even though I feel forgotten, abandoned, and left-out, I'm believing that He will take care of me.

Cry fest almost came about again during worship as a friend was leading the church in Matt Redman's song, "Never Once". This is so beautiful:

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did you leave us on our own.
You are faithful, God, you are faithful.

Beautiful and true. I may feel abandoned, but I am covered in the grace of the one who said "I will not abandon you". I either believe He is faithful, or I'm calling him a liar. If He is faithful, then I have not been abandoned. He is at work. I just can't see it yet.

Three Strikes and You're Out

Beta Test Results: Negative (again)

I was prepared for this, but it still hurts. I don't know what went wrong this cycle, but it seemed destined to fail from the beginning. I never spot; I'm a full flow, no flow kind of girl. This cycle, I had a full flow for four days (normal) and then came the spotting that did not end. Well it did, but it seemed like it was never-ending at the time. I was spotting from CD5 through CD11. I was kind of worried so I contacted my nurse, and she informed me it was fine, but that I would probably ovulate late. Cue my freakout when I got a positive OPK on CD13.

Post- IUI I spotted on CD20, 21, 24, & 25. And it ranged in color, no consistency. I had some "early pregnancy symptoms" such as spotting (could have been implantation, right?), light twinges in my lower abdomen, cramping, headaches, and fatigue. Most of these can be explained by one simple thing… my period. I think my body was ready to move on pretty early this round. My guess is that this would have been one of my 7-8 day luteal phases, but because of the progesterone, the period has been kept at bay. I fully expect it to roar through like a freight train as soon as the progesterone vacates my blood stream.

What's next for the Greavu's? Well for starters, there is going to be a big old pity party starring me. It's going to be an "it's my party, and I'll cry if I want to" kind of deal. Should be fun. From there, I'm going to do as many things as possible that I didn't let myself do during this cycle, starting with a loonnngggg hot bubble bath. If only I liked wine enough to indulge in that during my bath, alas!

After I've sobbed,  and wailed, and cried, and walked around in a general funk for a few days, I'll try to remember what life was like pre-fertility treatments because that was it for us for awhile. This isn't something we want. This isn't a self-induced break, this is a we are out of money break. Yay!

So, next steps include a consultation, wait, no, THE consultation, at the end of November in which our doctor tells us she has no idea why 3 IUI's failed, but we should move on to IVF. Joy. After that begins the second and third opinion part. It's not really the opinions we are after; I'll be surprised if any one says, "you don't need IVF". No, we are actually after the numbers. Numbers preceded by dollar signs. We've decided to check around our area to make sure that we have the best fit for us before starting IVF, but we also need a number that we can save towards.

So that's it for us. I'm sure you'll hear from my old broken heart some more in the coming days. For now, I'm off to indulge and star in my very own pity party.