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.