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"Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words could become a page in someone else's survival guide." - Morgan Harper Nichols
Hey Friends, welcome to the start of my attempt to share our story. I wish I had the bravery and courage to share the story as it was unfolding but the amount of energy infertility steals is indescribable. It takes everything you have just to get through each day and the idea of other people joining that rollercoaster seemed way too overwhelming at the time. So these blog posts, although written during our struggle, are technically reflections on a time that we will never forget.
Infertility. It’s a word most people have heard, they have a neighbor or a sister in law or coworkers wife, someone who “struggled” to have kids. It’s not a journey most people understand or one that most people share if they do. If you are going through it, you often do it in darkness and if you made it out it’s a darkness you don’t usually care to look back on.
Our journey started two years ago. We broke all the rules and talked about kids on our first date. We both shared a desire to have a family and our mutual fear of marriage, we laughed about how kids didn’t scare us nearly as much as being married did. Kids of divorce issues, I guess. Flash forward four years, we had just gotten married and couldn’t wait to have that honeymoon baby. We had been together for a long time, we had a long engagement and we were eager to start that next chapter. Looking back we were so naive, so entitled. As if life just has this natural progression and followed some kind of silly made up rules. For some people it does, those people won’t know this journey. We all have our own journeys, our own challenges and curve balls. For us, this was our first big curve ball and it hit us hard.
That first negative test was a slap in the face, my perfectly laid out plan didn’t work. How? Why? I had always imagined it would just happen, I had a preconception appointment months ago, I had been taking prenatals, we timed everything perfectly, and nothing. It’s crazy how you can be so aware of all the possible outcomes but still never think that yours would be anything but what you wanted. Month after month, nothing. Countless tears, huge fights, a lot of frustration, fear and lack of understanding that would pile up each time. At the nine month mark I was over it. In my gut I knew something was up but everyone was constantly reassuring us, words like “patience” and “relax” became instant triggers, as if we were somehow the cause. As if our relaxation had any scientific impact on conception. They didn’t get it, that was ok. So I moved forward, set up an appointment with my OBGYN, lied and told her it had been a year. She set up a blood test, semen analysis, and an HSG (basically a dye test to see if your tubes are open). Ladies, if you have to have this test, a little fair warning, pop that advil, remember to breathe and definitely take the day off work. It was very painful but very quick and you might feel pretty nauseous afterwards. Just remember, eye on the prize, this is one of they first things you can check off your list, which ultimately gets you closer to your goal. I liked going to our OBGYN, she had a proactive approach and if felt so good to move forward, finally.
The results? All good. Yes, good to go! Maybe I was just being impatient. She offered to prescribe us clomid, a drug that helped with ovulation, basically it boosts your odds a little. The day after I took my first pill our world came crashing down. My dad had passed suddenly. A day that every detail will forever be etched in my memory. All of a sudden nothing mattered, our infertility seemed silly and pointless. I remember sitting on the curb at the ER waiting for my family to get there thinking how glad I was that we weren't pregnant. I didn’t want kids without him in this world, kids he would never meet. We had such tunnel vision for the past year that we never even saw it coming, never imagined that some other kind of heartache would change everything. But it did.
The next three months were honestly kind of a blur, I did those three rounds of clomid and we timed everything correctly (looking back I have no idea how), still nothing. I didn’t care, at that point I was numb, I was forgiving of my self and my body for the trauma it had just incurred and decided it was time for a break.
The next few months rolled by, we were grieving, trying to pick up the pieces, find our footing in this new world and this new normal. I decided to make my work my everything, it was the only distraction that made sense and made me feel like myself. I started up this blog, I channelled some of those feelings into creating prints for an Etsy shop that I opened. I welcomed any distraction. Before we knew it the painful holiday season had passed and a new year was at our door. At this point, I have to address something. The thing about infertility is it doesn’t go away, it doesn’t take a break. Those breaks are still full of heartache, pressure, and guilt. You hear the stories that so and so got pregnant after they stopped trying or when they were on a break or vacation, and so that is in the back of your mind the whole time. After a year, you know your cycle even if you are pretending not to track. You feel bad if you missed a day of sex, which is now known to you as “timed intercourse,” super sexy huh? You guilt yourself over that Pepsi you had or the fact that you haven’t been meditating, whatever weird fixation you have decided is causing all this. Which changes from month to month. The point is, you never feel relief. You never really get a “break,” your dream of having a child doesn’t just vanish because you have decided you need it to for a little while. Those baby showers, kids birthday parties, holidays still feel empty, they still hurt. You still struggle.
The big move from OBGYN to RE...
So now it was January 2017, we had been trying for a year and a half, every test we had done had come back normal. Three rounds of clomid under our belt, nothing. At this point our OBGYN couldn't help us anymore, which meant neither could insurance. Here’s a fun fact, infertility isn’t covered by most insurances. It kind of falls in the same category as plastic surgery, it’s a decision you are making therefore is not a medical condition. Hmm weird, seeing as how none of this was my choice but ok, women’s health care in this country is a story for another day.
This is when we decided to see a specialist. I will never forget that meeting, we were both so nervous and so torn. It was hard to justify being there when everyone (including ourselves on somedays) is constantly telling us, “you guys are so young” and “they haven’t found anything wrong, I am sure it’s just timing” or my favorite “you guys just need to relax.” But I trusted my gut and there we were, listening to a new doctor going over all our options. All of which felt overwhelming and terrifying at the time. Plus the wave of hope started to roll in, hope is your enemy and your best friend all at the same time. Every month you have to find your hope or else you would give up. But by the end of the month, when that stick says negative you curse that stupid hope and swear you will never let yourself feel like that again. And yet there you are, month after month. That vicious cycle. Praying that miraculously this was your month, that you are that random story of those people who got pregnant when they "stopped caring." Which you say you have but each negative test still cuts you to your core.
There was that hope. Talking to a specialist, also known as a Reproductive Endocrinologist, all of a sudden we felt it again. He agreed that we were very young and so far everything looked great. This is a sentence we would be hearing a lot the next six months that followed. “You guys are so young, everything looks great.” So, why are we still not pregnant?
We decided to start off slow, our insurance switched and all of a sudden we had a little bit of infertility coverage, an allowance, if you will. Best. News. Ever. Taking money out of the equation is huge. If you were battling an illness the last thing you would want on your mind is money, but with infertility its all about money. This became very clear to me early on, just how privileged we were to even be able to afford to be in that office. How the doctors actually talked openly about finances and knew the costs of things, how the financial office would become a very familiar place. How there must be so many couples who will never be able to afford to stand where we were standing. That, to me, is heartbreaking and my attitude of feeling sorry for myself really shifted at that point to a gratitude for even being able to give it a try. Talk about some serious self growth, that year had forced me to grow so much, so quickly. One of the hardest parts of the journey is the emotional side, it's also something to be incredibly proud of, if you choose to see the silver lining in the pain. That's a post for another day!
The dreaded Clomid...
Our first step in our new plan of attack was back on clomid, or as I like to call it it the devil. If anyone has taken this pill, you deserve a cookie for sure! For those of you who don’t know what it is, basically it is a pill that tells your brain to ovulate and stimulates egg growth. In nature we have a number of eggs or follicles that are released each month. Out of those, one egg usually matures and hopefully that is the one that is fertilized. With clomid your body makes more follicles, so you have a couple of mature eggs, basically boosting your odds for conceptions and multiples as well. Because it targets your brain, the side affects can be pretty brutal. For me, it made me so depressed. Plus, it caused horrible hot flashes and night sweats. Nausea, cramping, breakouts, food aversions, headaches, you name it. From a totally vanity perspective it destroyed my skin, that alone could make someone cry. Add in hormone and it's a mess. But it’s a battle and you would do anything for that baby so you suck it up. We did three more rounds of clomid except this time we did it in addition to IUIs. The easiest way to describe an IUI is the “turkey baster method.” They take the sperm, clean it, and insert it into your cervix via a catheter. Not a pleasant experience, nothing like how you imaged making a baby would be like. No candles or sweet music, no laughter and amazing connection with your love. Nope, just a cold exam room, legs strapped down while you hubby holds your hand while a doctor or nurse digs around in there with a catherter. I will never forget staring up at those florescent lights, trying my best to relax, breathe and not focus on the fact that our baby might be made this way. But again perspectives change, anything for that baby.
That first round of clomid and IUI was super exciting, our odds were really good and we had no reason to expect it not to work. Oh man, that hope was back. Yet there it was, that big fat negative. This time via a blood test and a sympathetic phone call from a sweet nurse. To say that we were devastated is an understatement. Our naiveté hitting us upside the head once again. We still felt entitled, we still felt like this would work because “we are young and everything looked great.”
So we ran away for a few days (see my posts on Anzo Borrego + La Serena), we dried our tears, licked our wounds, and tried to remind ourselves why we were doing all of this. We tried to find that intimacy that had been taken from us by this process in order to come back strong and ready to fight again. We came back from our little getaway and started our next round, much more numb and very cautious this go around. The next two months were more of the same, doctors appointments all the time, everything always looking perfect but always ending with a disappointing phone call. Three strikes and we were out, we had defied the odds once again. Big odds. For those of you who don’t know what infertility statistics look like here is a little overview.
About 72% of couples will fall pregnant after a year of trying and by the second year 90% will have conceived. With clomid, it’s about a 30% chance each cycle but those who do fall pregnant with clomid, 90% do so within the first three rounds. Basically it either works in the beginning or it doesn't. IUIs have about a 35% chance each cycle, and those who do fall pregnant 90% do so in the first three rounds. Similar thing, either they work right away or they don't. So at this point we are just defying odds like no ones business, especially for two people who are seemingly healthy and very young (by infertility standards).
It should be noted that these statistics are not often understood by the people who love you and are trying their best to support you during a journey they know little about. They feel your disappointment and hurt for you but their hope stays so strong because they don’t know what else to do. I am sure they must think, "it’s bound to work one of these days," and as far as they know every test we have had was good so that’s a good sign right? How do you explain to them that good is bad? It just means the reason for our infertility is harder to diagnosis which means it harder to fix. It’s a hard balance to find, you want to tell them that you are terrified that children might not happen for you, all the while trying to reassure them that it’s fine and you still feel positive. That struggle to find common understanding with your loved ones is another layer in this journey. One I won't get into in this post but that I think is super important and needs to recognized. Your doctor can give you a prep sheet on how to prep for your treatments but no one talks to you about how to prepare for the emotional side of things. Or how to manage your loved ones and their roles in this process. It's definitely something I plan to explore in one of my posts.
IVF...
OK, onto the next step, it was a big one too. At this point we were officially moving into the world of IVF. a place I never in a million years would have imagined myself being apart of. Not to mention we are officially out of pocket at this point. I can’t even tell you guys how scary that was. Those figures are big, like buying a fancy car and paying cash kind of big. It was the biggest gamble we have ever taken. Plus, thankfully, we had family help that allowed us to place that bet.
First thing I did was reach out to the few ladies I knew who had been through it, all three were clients of mine. I am a photographer by trade, for those of you who didn't know. All three had their little families and were success stories. These three ladies were incredible, the only people who really knew what our journey was like, who knew the right things to say and helped prepare us for something that life never prepares you for. I will forever be grateful for them and their openness about their stories. I also started reading online, which is a double edged sword. As many success stories as you hear, there are three times are many stories of pain, disappointment, and struggle. I did stumble onto a blog that resonated with me and it really did help me during my dark days. If you have time check out www.wildlandia.com. Her story about IVF was something I clung to the entire process and partially why I decided to write this blog. It was raw and open and I really appreciated that. It’s something too many people go through alone and that needs to change.
Acupunture...
Another super important person to me during this process, besides my friends and family, was my acupuncture doctor. I started going in January, when we started with our specialist, I had heard the benefits were great and helped with infertility. I am such a naturalist and all this science and chemicals freaked me out, acupuncture was the thing that gave me balance. It still does, it has been the calm during the storm. And all those mornings sitting there talking to this amazing woman, who has become such a dear friend, was so helpful. To have a friend on the inside, who knows this journey so well, who is holding your hand through every step and cheering you on was so amazing. Not to mention all the incredible nurses, they have an impossible job and they have made the constant appointments bearable. They see you at your worst and they empathize in a way no one else can. They make your crazy feel normal and that is indescribable. So if your RE does not make you feel that way, time to find a new one.
If you are starting this process, I can not recommend acupuncture enough. Not only did it calm my side affects, it helped with digestion (since you are so many meds that part of your body really takes a hit), and it was amazing for my anxiety. Anxiety and stress go hand and hand with infertility and hormones so anything you can do that helps you find those deep breaths is truly euphoric. Plus skin, you guys my skin (as you can see in this super filtered photo) was a hot mess. So angry, so inflamed, I got cold sores and breakouts, it was the worse. Acuptunture and switching to an all natural skin care line like Lush, saved me! Infertility leaves no room for vanity, your body becomes a baby making science experiment and you definitely loose that part of yourself for a little while. That doesn't mean you don't still see the changes and cry about feeling ugly, trust me, you do. You just have to know that it's temporary and it's the first stage of sacrifice in your journey of motherhood.
So we took the leap of faith and signed on the dotted line, paid our enormous bill and stepped into the IVF process. A week later we hit our first road block. We went in for our baseline ultrasound and the doctor told us we couldn’t start this month because I didn’t have a good follicle count. Side swiped, once again. We had our medication ordered and ready to go. Mentally, emotionally, physically we were all prepped and excited but that energy would have to wait. They sent us on our way and said see you in a month and that was that. I had an angry cry in the car, dramatically cursed the world and then got over it. What else can you do? Ultimately you want it to be the best cycle, so you have to have faith in your doctor and in the process. That’s what we did.
A month later we went back for the same appointment, this time more nervous and skeptical, but we got the green light. We had made it over the first hurdle, now onto the next!
Next IVF post coming soon! Thank you guys for listening and following our story.
xoxo, Chelsea