Don't Count Your Eggs

Every Month I'm Convinced I'm Pregnant

So what's that about, huh?

Hi. It's been a while. A few months since I've posted. Six months since our last and final FET. And here I am. Trying to catch up on life and thoughts and feelings. Always playing catch up these days. While I feel a bit removed from being active in the IF world, I'm still in it in different ways. Thinking about ways to change the culture of shame that permeates the infertility landscape, working with clients in my private practice, and showing THE FILM in different places (next up PALO ALTO on Monday Sept. 24 with pregnantish mag. GET TICKETS HERE and use promo code MAYA for cheap ass tickets).

One thing I have been very aware of these past few months is my body, and my wobbly transition from mentally/physically/emotionally preparing for a second pregnancy and child to embracing having one. Some days the word embrace seems to fit. Others... I'm totally convinced I'm P, because perhaps there is something that just doesn't feel finished to me. 

I guess I can start with the declaration that I feel absolute gratitude for the incredible strong, healthy, beautiful child I have. She's 3 1/2. Wants to pick her outfits every morning. And reminds me that she is a "grown-up" daily. I am completely immersed in her and am often reminded of the sheer miracle of her existence. I have also totally accepted that she will likely be my one and only. And there are perks to that. I get a little frustrated with our culture's social norms that everyone has to have 2+ kids because if not you're somehow robbing the first kid of the experience of a sibling. Or that there is something inherently sad about being an only child because that kid will be lonely and have to take care of her ailing parents by her own self. Please. Just. Stop. Momo likes to do everything by her own self. She will be fine. More than fine. She will have things and experiences she wouldn't have if there were more mouths to feed. I don't worry about her wellbeing as an only child, but I do get sad sometimes seeing her friends welcome a sibling and I wonder how resolved I actually am about #2 not working out.

I think, like most things on IF Island, this is about adjustment. It's about having an initial expectation/hope/want and having to shift gears when reality hands you something different. The brain can do it faster. The brain can remind you how contained your life FINALLY feels now that you have a little person rather than a baby. Your brain can convince you that one is WAY easier and less stressful and tells you that you can travel now (we just did, check out my article about our Canadian adventure on POPSUGAR that came out today!) and DO THINGS! The brain can logically appreciate what you do have and move on. Your heart might have to play catch up, which is apparently my favorite game anyway. The heart is not as linear about these kinds of things. It wants what it wants and it gets triggered more easily. It sometime wallows in the what-ifs and the fears and the wants. Sometimes it just longs for what it wants and it doesn't feel the need to justify itself. AND IT IS ALL OK. 

A person can be both grateful and accepting while still longing. And I think that's where I'm at six months out. I was really annoyed with myself the last few months where I was taking pregnancy tests (in secret) and just hoping we had beat the system, even if there was no real logical way that could have happened. The random natural pregnancy I had kinda messed me up in that I now know it is possible. Maybe. And as long as something is possible there is a little seed of hope. But I also noticed that when I realize I'm very not pregnant, I do feel ok, once I've acknowledged the disappointment. I feel a slight sense of relief because I'm just scared to be pregnant. And I give my brain and my heart a minute to try and get on the same page. It's messy sometimes. Easy other times, and that's how this is gonna go. 

I think it's important for everyone on IF Island to give themselves a little space to wobble. When you have to accept a new reality it takes a little time and it's ok to feel all the feelings. It's ok to have longing and moments of envy and moments of relief. It's most important to treat yourself kindly and don't feel ashamed about your feelings. 

Noah and I had a brief chat about whether we wanted to pursue any more ART interventions for a second child and the answer was a clear no. That chapter is solidly closed for us. Thankfully we are on the same page. So it's kind of up to the universe and how tired we are around day 9 of my cycle. And whatever happens happens, for now. This part I don't have much control over. What I do have control over is how I work to process and nurture my feelings and my one and only. 

Sending so much Friday love to anyone on IF Island.

Three Reasons to Come See One More Shot with The ART of Infertilty in LA this Saturday, June 9th

GREETINGS!

It's been quiet over here. I've been quiet over here. Just living. Working. Parenting. Momo is three. F-ing three. I can't believe it. I wanted to touch in today to invite anyone in the LA area to a screening, panel discussion, and art exhibit on Saturday, June 9th at Venice Arts in Marina Del Rey.

Here are three reasons why I think you should come:

1) Because after 90 minutes of watching me get vag exams and crying my face off, Noah and I are going to host an awesome panel. We've invited five incredible people who have built their families in different ways. One through open adoption, one through egg donation, one is a single mom by choice who created embryos through egg and sperm donation, then donated her remaining embryos to other people who have made babies with said embryos, one who is a parent via gestational surrogate, and one incredible guy who just went through TESE (a surgery where sperm is extracted straight from the testicle) and found out he and his wife will need to move to a sperm donor. What all these people have in common is the struggle and the determination and the ability to have shifted gears in regards to how their babies would come to them. And I'll get to talk to them about their process and about what it means to make modern families. Doesn't this sound better than re-runs of Basketball Wives? I mean...come on.

2) Because the film is part of a really moving art exhibit called the ART of Infertility  The ART of Infertility is an international arts organization based in the U.S. Founded in 2014. They curate innovative and emotionally provoking art exhibits to portray the realities, pains and joys of living with IF. They also design engaging curriculums to host art and writing workshops. They plan educational, outreach events. They advocate for infertility rights. Most of all, they provide support for those living in the shadows of infertility. Through art, they break the silence around reproductive grief and push back against common misconceptions. They. Are. Awesome. The exhibit has over 300 pieces in their permanent collection (that they are lugging across the country right now) and it's a very different take on advocacy and support and coping.  

3) Because we just made tickets FREE. Because infertility is friggin' expensive enough. Why not hang with people who may understand you on a different level, understand the different ways babies can be made, and have a glass of wine in a thought provoking art exhibit. 

Are you sold? Hope so. Would love to see you there! 

The End of Shame and Stigma #NIAW #flipthescript

Greetings!

So it's National Infertility Awareness Week. I know I've been radio silent for the last month and it's for no real reason other than I've been busy and distracted and felt like after this last attempt at baby #2 I haven't had much to say. It's only been a month but it feels like so long ago and I do feel like I've processed things and am totally fine with the outcome. I don't feel incomplete. I don't feel angry. I don't feel sad. I don't know why or how, it's just where I'm at and I'm grateful for being here.

But what I do feel, as someone who has tried really hard to decrease stigma and shame that's often associated with infertility through this blog and through our film, One More Shot, is that IT IS TIME for anyone who struggles to conceive to say F that to stigma and shame. I have written about shame and stigma in a variety of different ways, but being that it's infertilty awareness week, I want to take a hot minute to explore a few cultural and institutional shifts that need to take place in order to really change the experience of the infertility patient.

I think one thing that really needs some revision is the language of infertilty. We HAVE to change how we talk about and are talked to about fertility problems. Being told you "failed" IVF just sounds soooooo....blaming and terrible. Like there is something really wrong with you and you're at fault. Saying, "that last IVF cycle didn't work," essentially has the same meaning but a very different feel. Maybe I'm being nit-picky, but can the word "fail" be shown the exit? A "negative" beta-- how about "there was no hcg levels in my blood so I sadly am not pregnant." That's wordy. We can come up with better, but you get where I'm going with this, right?  "Poor responder?" How about the meds often don't work for me as anticipated. Do we have to call a pregnancy over 35 "geriatric"? Can the word "diminished" be replaced with something else? Maybe not, but how about...low? or decreased? Diminished just sounds so...faint.   Even calling someone or oneself "infertile"-- that always rubbed me the wrong way. It feels labeling and definitive. Struggling with fertility issues feels a lot less stigmatizing to me, but maybe it's just me. If there's an opportunity to start changing language, I think we should all try. Who's in?!

I also think the phrase, "no one has to know," has to go.  What am I talking about? I'm talking about what I have heard many doctors tell their patients when donor conception is first discussed. The doctor is often the first person to have the difficult conversation about using someone else's genetics, and how that conversation happens can set the tone for how a person conceptualizes and feels about using a donor. As a therapist now working with those struggling to conceive, I hear a lot of stories, and many have been about a doctor telling a patient that donor eggs are recommended and they will be referred to an agency that will help them find the perfect donor and "no one has to know." That phrase is like handing someone a box of shame, because secrets = shame. And some people do need to know, specifically the child conceived in this way. No one has to share or be public about their family building choices, but I don't think any doctor should make an assumption that secrecy is best. We must all come to terms with what we are comfortable with and what we decide is best for us to build a family in an alternative way. There is grief and loss and anger and all those glorious emotions, but then once we have committed to something and a child is on their way to this world, we must find a way to reclaim those difficult feelings and replace them with pride and confidence.

With advocacy day in DC coming up, I think the last thing I'll mention is insurance coverage and how I think that plays a role in the shame around the disease that is infertility. Having an ailment in the foot or pains in the chest or something not working right in ANY PART OF THE BODY except the reproductive organs are most likely covered by insurance, thus validating that there is a medical issue that essentially deserves to be remedied. I know there is a lot of variation and a lot of insurance sucks in general, but what really sucks is an almost universal rejection of fertility coverage for a majority of people in this country. And that makes the disease that is infertility feel invalidated and stigmatized. We've got to figure out a way to change some of this!

So what can we do? 

We can start by using more positive and less destructive language towards ourselves and others. GET RID OF THE F WORD because no one is failing anything! Don't label yourself as infertile and just try to stay at least neutral if not positive. We can all gently correct people (as I do when people ask me how tall Momo's "real mom" is) when they use language we are hoping to change. And if a doctor ever tells you "no on has to know" ask that doctor why it matters if someone does know? Ask him or her if he thinks you should feel ashamed at how you are choosing to bring your child into the world? Have a conversation if it feels right, you don't need to just take it in. And lastly, if you're fired up about advocacy and trying to change policy then maybe think about advocacy day. I was really hoping to go this year but I have a conflict that might prevent me from going. Talk to your employer about considering coverage and find ways to be heard. It's not always easy but it's important. 

These are just a few things on my mind today as I think about NIAW this year. It is time to flip the script. Noah and I will be at the American Fertility Expo on Saturday so if you want to come see the movie and hang out we will be there, doing what we can to continue to build awareness and have an honest dialogue about IF. 

Taking down the baby gates

Today is Momo's third birthday. As I was getting supplies out to bake muffins for her birthday celebration at preschool, I watched Noah attempt to put socks on her while she attempted to do a backflip. I smiled as he said his infamous and extremely ineffective mantra, "I need you to listen, please."

This past week has been a transition week for us. We are transitioning from being hopeful and excited about the embryo transfer of her full genetic potential sibling, to being happy and satisfied with Momo being an only child. We are doing a good job with it, if I do say so myself. It's been a mix of crying it out, feeling sad, then being really present with her and grateful that she's here. There have been moments of purging the baby stuff-- clothes and toys and changing tables, and thinking about planning a big trip for our ten year anniversary this summer, since we just "saved" $250,000 (the average cost of a kid until 18 these days), right?!! It's kind of up and down but starting to emotionally stabilize. What's important for me is that I'm aware of where I'm at and I just let it ride for a bit. Shifting gears and bridging the gap between expectation and reality is a process. 

I notice moments where I worry about Momo having to take care of us when we are old, and I worry about her having to do that alone. Then I think about how so many people have no relationship with their sibling or don't like their sibling and I remind myself she will never be alone. I notice moments where I am ready to pack up and give away all the baby stuff, so I throw it into a trash bag, then find myself digging out a few cute outfits that I'm not ready to let go of. And that's ok. While I am letting go of ever having a baby again, I also know as long as I'm not in menopause, we never know what might happen. I'm not going to actively try because I think it will be too crazy making for me, but I am going to be open to the possibilities. So I'll save a few things and go through this process in steps. I also notice moments where I'm slightly triggered again, like when I pick her up from school and the ergo-carrying brigade of parents with new babies come bouncing into school. They ooh and ahhh and talk about how everyone is doing as a big brother or sister, and it's a reminder that sometimes it's just hard to be an infertile gal in a fertile world. But then Momo comes rushing out of the gate, her eyes darting around for me. When we lock eyes her body visibly relaxes and her smile lights up my heart. It soothes the feeling of wanting I might have for anothe,r and blocks any feelings of jealousy that I don't get to have the same family building choices many other people get.

So I'm going to go bake now and Noah is going to go pick up her big girl bike. We took down the baby gates in the house and there was a definitive feeling of openness that suddenly took shape. Something about that felt good. We don't have a baby anymore. We have a threenager who smiles a sneaky little smile and looks away when her father tells her she needs to listen. And the sun will continue to rise and set out of her ass and we will keep being grateful to be her parents. 

The End of the Line

It's with a very heavy heart that I write this but it looks like my journey is officially over. Beta went down to 8.

And I knew it yesterday. I tested my pee and saw just one line and felt the light go out. And immediately I felt like I had failed. That I failed Momo in bringing her sibling to life. That I failed my family in some way. That I failed the doctor in Seattle who is literally the nicest person on earth. That I failed Noah, again. And I knew that I just needed to go through my process for a hot minute before I could think more rationally. The brain tries so hard to make sense of things and when something doesn't go the way we think or hope, we try to force an answer. What did I do wrong? Then sometimes we move to regrets-- why didn't I wait to transfer until I was less tired? Why didn't Noah and I try naturally for the last few years? Why did I just assume this embryo was a sure thing and meant to be, or whatever I thought? How else can I kick myself? I'm not sure why so many of us go to this place but I know a lot of us do. And then we need to be brought back to the truth. 

The truth is I did the best I could and can never be accused of not trying with all my heart. The truth is none of the stuff that happens on IF Island is about deserving or logic or fairness. Sometimes things work and sometimes they don't. Sometimes PGD tested embryos don't take and sometimes fragmented grade F embryos turn into healthy babies. The science is amazing but it's far from perfect and all each one of us can do is the best we can and do everything that feels right to us in a given moment. One of the hardest things for me is that this last shot felt so right. I'm almost shocked. As I sat in my RE's office sobbing (he was out of town but the nurses are great and we had a nice little pow wow), I thought about how I've shed more tears in his office than I did in my college dorm freshman year. I thought about the last 8 years of my life and how much energy has been spent trying to will babies into the world and mend a shattered heart. I thought about how tired I am of longing. 

I always felt that whatever happened this would be it. But last night I found myself thinking about whether we would get an egg donor or how we can try naturally without going through the mindfuck that is ovulation test strips and period despair. The crappy thing about getting pregnant naturally last year, even though it was short-lived, is now there's voice in my head telling me that maybe it's possible again. And Noah looked at me and just said no. He's done chasing hope. And I am too. We've chased for so long it's time for us to just be. To be fully present in the family we are lucky enough to have and not distracted by what could have been or should have been. 

And this week will be about revising the idea of what I thought our family would look like. It will be taking the space to feel all the feelings and then come back to what I have. A healthy beautiful daughter who told me this morning she was going to poop on my head. 

We never know what the next day might bring and we never know how things will turn out. Sometimes I believe things are meant to be but most of the time I believe that much of life is out of our control and we have to do our best with what we are given and then try to make sense of things as they happen. And when things don't make sense we can shift focus to something that does. The love I feel for Momo is so pure and if it's the only thing that makes sense to me in this moment then so be it. 

I thank everyone so much for all the love and support over the years. I'm so proud that through our film Noah and I can be somewhat of a voice for millions of people who often live these painful moments alone and in silence. I hope we can be a part of a cultural shift about infertilty where there isn't so much shame. 

Sending so much love as always. 

M&N&M

 

 

The fairies choose hope...

Soooo....

This:

 I'll start with the good news. There was HCG in my blood.  Base hit. But once again, not a lot. My beta was 24. This has me in a a bit of a mental predicament because on the one hand, I know that number is low and the beloved term "a little bit pregnant" once again rings loudly in my ears. On the other hand, Momo's first beta was 23. I was distraught beta testing for over a week and had a very challenging pregnancy but we made it and she is perfect and strong and healthy. It was interesting to observe my thought process around all this. My first thought was W.T.F!!?? That's a low number. What are the odds of a miracle happening twice for us. Then I was pissed. I know I still carry some trauma from my pregnancy with Momo and almost needed this next experience to be different. A clean slate, a different start, and instead it felt exactly the same. Then I reminded myself 24 is not 0. And I felt gratitude to still be in the game. Then I noticed my brain try to blame me--"what's wrong with your body why can't you just do this?!" Seriously? No. we aren't going there Brain, not today. Then I thought about Momo and her beta. 23. 23. 23. Maybe these embryos are just a little slow to warm. Maybe the consistency in the numbers is a positive thing and Momo's low number wasn't a fluke but just how this batch of embryos roll? Maybe this next kid will totally tear the house down since his/her beta is a whole point higher than Momo's?! 

Isn't it interesting to see where our thoughts take us and how our feelings then reflect our thought process? (Can you tell I'm a therapist trained in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy?). When I focus on the low number I feel like shit. Don't get me wrong, I clearly cried my face off for about five minutes. I needed to. It was a release of anxiety and frustration and some sadness that I couldn't just get a solid hit this time. But when I sat with my thoughts and sorted through them, I could decide what I focused on. 

So I decided. We got this. This is happening. For now. And that's the truth. I'm not blowing smoke up my own ass. I'm not pulling the baby dust over my eyes. I'm staying with the facts of what I know. I know this little thing is still there, in some form. I know I want it more than anything to find a short term lease in my uterus and a permanent home in my heart and life. I know that 24 is not 0 and that 23 made the most incredible little human I've ever met. I know that I never let go until someone pulls the plug.

And so we wait until Wednesday.  Momo's second beta was 72.  Momo has been doing this thing where she will say who "the fairies" choose to do something. The other day she said, "Daddy, the fairies choose you to change my diaper." Lucky Dada.  Today the fairies choose hope instead of fear. And we will ride that train until the end of the line.

See you Wednesday IF Island. 

One way or another...

Noah cut this video of the transfer and posted it on the One More Shot page, but I thought I'd share it here as well: 

 

It kind of made me teary watching--might have been the music he chose or the hormones I'm on, but I also think there's two parts anxiety about tomorrow's beta test and three parts nostalgia for what tomorrow means. Whatever happens it is, in a way, the culmination of 8 very long and complicated years of our lives. It could be the beginning of a journey to the child that will complete our family of four, or the end of our journey that we are so grateful has given us our firecracker of a daughter. One way or another, tomorrow we will know.

Looking back at all of it-- the first doctors appointment in LA to the trip back to Seattle for the second of the donated embryos, it's amazing for me to think about all that has happened and how much infertility has changed my life. For the good and bad. Noah and I always try to make lemonade out of lemons, but the years of intense assisted baby-making has it's scars and sour patches. I regret nothing (well maybe a few of the IUIs, those felt kind of pointless, though not at the time) and hindsight is 20/20. Everything that didn't work led us to Momo and perhaps to her sibling. It led us to Seattle, Noah's hometown, and to an incredible doctor who made the whole process almost seem fun. It led us to our film and to a community of incredible people who have each others backs in a way not many communities do. While I lost some friends along the way, I also gained some, and I value those friendships so much. 

So whatever happens tomorrow it will be ok. I will be ok (I think)...no actually I know. Because some how I always eventually am. Maybe not right away, but with time and space and confidence that what might not make any sense to me today (or tomorrow) will one day either make sense or just be ok. 

Wish me luck.

 

 

Five things I forgot about the 2WW

So it's been a week since transfer and I have to say, this time around, time has gone fast. I guess it's really only a ten day wait, which isn't too bad. I've been busy, which is helpful, but then I have these moments where I remember how crazy making the two-week wait really is. It's been about four years since I've been here, and I've noticed a few things I forgot about this glorious moment in time:

1) I forgot how ineffective it is to repeatedly ask my husband if he thinks it worked. Yet I do it anyway. His answer never changes, duh, but I like to hear him say it. I like the confidence in his voice and the way his newly formed wrinkles around his eyes look stressed about having a second kid. That's true confidence. Now of course Noah's confidence doesn't mean anything in terms of actual success, but I think I'll keep asking, obsessively, at all times of the day and night for the next two days just to hear him say it. 

2) I forgot how itchy progesterone shots make my butt. My bottom is already red and lumpy and sore and I think part of the reason is because Noah has kind of lost his touch with the shots. Not totally hit fault, we are always in a rush. But he harpoons me. Not always. But often enough so that I already look like I sat on a beehive. I remembered how red and lumpy things got last time (though I thought it was much later in the process), but what I neglected to remember was how itchy I get. I assume others do too? I opened a drawer in the kitchen a few days ago and saw a plastic fork and my eyes lit up. Yessss.... that's exactly what I need to scratch my booty. And as I was standing in the kitchen scratching my butt with a plastic fork, I remembered I had this tool before. And I used to scream "fork me!" for Noah to find my fork. And it was a life saver. So glad to have found you again old friend! Occasionally Momo asks to help. "Mama, can I scratch your booty with the fork?" Yes child. Yes, please scratch my booty with a fork. Then we go and play fairies. 

3) I forgot how easy it is to panic if you think you've made a wrong move. Like if you've eaten something you shouldn't have or if you dash across the street and suddenly feel a little cramp. I honestly have moments when I forget this little thing is (hopefully) inside me (that's how distracted I am!) and I'll lift Momo or roll around with her and then feel a flush of hot fear come over me that maybe I messed something up in my belly. I have to remind myself that this microscopic cell is now deeply nuzzled into the muscles of my insides, and that there's a nice lil' layer of fat around my waist as extra protection. Everything will be ok. 

4) I forgot how peeing becomes a serious decision. Well, not just to pee, but whether or not to do a pee test the morning of the beta. I did with Momo and that's when I got that traumatically faint line. I didn't times before. This time I'm having a hard time deciding whether I should test or not. Noah says no, I'm leaning towards yes but I'll let it be a game time decision. Ah the big decisions in life.

5) I forgot how much we want this. I mean, I never forgot truly, but I've come to terms with whatever the outcome and my mantra has been "whatever it is it is."  I'm not stressed about it. I don't feel like my life is depending on this working the way I did with Momo, because we were so broken it honestly felt like we just couldn't feel any more broken. But I want this little thing to stay and work and grow and be a healthy baby and complete our family and be a sibling for Momo and several more crows feet for Noah. Just a few more days until we find out.

Sending lots of love to anyone in the 2ww right now. Wish I should raise a glass and cheers to itchy booties!

Embryo In! Now we wait....

Please welcome the newest addition to the family:

Cute, right? 

Transfer went well. A 2:30pm transfer kind of leaves you the day to feel slightly on edge but I have to say this time around Noah and I were kind of...chill, dare I admit.  The whole process was fairly easy and I love that the embryologist came into the room to chat about her process, and that we were able to watch the pulsing little embryo in the dish get sucked into the catheter. This one looks different than Momo did at that stage. Momo was literally bursting out of her shell. And that's who she is. She wakes up before 6am every morning like a Pop Tart looking for adventure, and often her dad. And her breakfast aka cereal bots. She's really strong, and had to be to survive the pregnancy we had, and she's just... zooming to go. Always. This little guy or gal seems a bit more contained. There was a buzz of energy around the embryo as it got sucked up, but it was...chill.  Please. Yes. A chill child who sleeps through the night. I'm reading into all this way too much I know. But it's kind of fun to do. My dad says since this one has been in the freezer for like, 8 years now, he/she will have TWICE the energy of Momo. I'm going to disagree. Also, I'm no spring chicken by the time this kid is born, and I'll have a 3 1/2 year old in tow. Chill is good. 

I've been hanging out in a hotel by myself and I keep thinking that "I don't feel anything," which makes me laugh at myself. Even though this isn't my first rodeo I go back to the obsessive thoughts about sensations and superstitions. I didn't meditate or wear lucky socks. I didn't carry special rocks in my pocket during transfer and I didn't do hypnosis the week before. I did eat my pineapple core and watch a lot of Shark Tank, and here I am. About to walk back over to the clinic (yes, walk, they are much more lax about bed rest) for my progesterone shot, which.... for anyone who has done these, no thanks. And then I'll head back to the Island where Noah's family is and lay around and eat, because that's what makes embryos happy, right?

Just before I went to bed at 9pm, Noah texted me to rest up because "our new bigger life adventure begins tomorrow." I really hope he's right. Beta is on the 12th. Until then...

 

The Last Shot: Going back for baby #2

About two weeks ago I got a special package in the mail:

We started meds...we? Me. Me stared meds. He shoots me. It feels much less intense this time around because we are distracted and trying to do a fast progesterone shot while Momo eats a bowl of cereal,  so we've lost a lot of the ritual and drama. Maybe that's a good thing. It's been about four years now since I did all of this. The calendar. The monitoring appointments. The drive to the clinic out here and dripping sweaty armpits when I park the car-- it's amazing how the body holds on to sense memory. Parking spot = armpit sweat. I was always nervous when I'd go to the RE. The last few times it's been like visiting an old friend.  My doctor looked tired on Friday when I went in. We hugged and I asked him why he looks so tired. He told me about his kids soccer tournaments and his busy schedule and then he checked out my uterus. All looked good. We are a go for Seattle. Remember Momo is from Seattle. There were two embryos in her donated batch and we are going back for the second one. The Seattle clinic has been amazing and I'm actually excited to see our doctor there and revisit the place where Momo hung out for four plus cold years. 

It's been interesting to notice where my brain goes when I think about this transfer. For the most part I feel pretty relaxed and at peace with whatever happens, but when I think about the fact this is essentially our last shot, our only chance at a full genetic sibling for Momo, and quite possibly the last time we engage in assisted baby making, my brain suddenly goes: Oh shit. Why haven't I worked out more? I was in such better shape for Momo, do I not care as much? Why is it so hard to stop drinking coffee, I'm so selfish. What if the embryo doesn't thaw? What are the odds all three embryos that were created are going to be good and result in babies? I eat too much dairy. I should have stopped eating so much dairy. Why does it matter if I eat dairy? I hate myself. I love dairy. Estrogen shots and pills = narcolepsy. I'm so tired. There's no way this is going to work if I'm so tired. Fuck it. People on crack get pregnant, so I'm out of shape and eat too much string cheese. I haven't done yoga in a long time. I should have done more yoga...

You see where I'm going right? In chaos circles where my faulty logic has decided if it doesn't work it is some how my fault for not doing yoga and eating string cheese, but if it does work then it's because it's a good embryo. I could have done more perhaps, but some times you just have to pull the trigger. It's time. We've been trying for a while to get this boat sailing and the fact that we feel emotionally ready is going to have to carry us. Whatever happens happens. I've decided to let the insanity run one last lap through my mind and then I put my foot down. I'm doing the best I can and what that looks like at this stage of my life is a little different than what it looked liked four years ago. I know the odds of this working, I know the chance it won't thaw etc etc and I'm not going to think about it because what's the point. I always ask myself how does what I'm doing or thinking serve me? In my mind, we're going to get our other baby. He or she has been waiting a long time and my assumption is it's going to work and if it doesn't we will deal with that on the back end. For now we have to pack. I need to be shot in the butt...like right now...and I have to have one last delicious cup of coffee because come Friday we're done with caffeine because baby #2 goes in at 2:30pm. I'll get knocked up by a sweet lady in a white coat the way I always dreamed, and all will be awesome.

Cross your fingers for us! 

 

ONE MORE SHOT on NETFLIX!!

I know. It's like, enough already. But we just have to share that our film is now on Netflix!

Netflix is a big win for our lil' film because it means it is accessible to a lot of people. And we hope it can connect to a lot of people whether living on IF Island or not. It's crazy to think about how LONG things take-- making a movie AND making a baby. But I guess some things are worth the wait.

I started this blog in April 2013, so I'm coming up on 5 years here. That too is crazy to think about. I think about what my expectations of family building  were when I started the blog and how the past five years played out. Expectations vs. reality can be a mind boggling thing. But that's life right? You have goals and wants and dreams and hopes and then you have what really happens. There are moments where they match up and moments where you're standing there like WTF is happening.  And that's part of the deal. 

I'm going to keep this short and sweet today, before I get too nostalgic. But I will keep writing, though not too frequently. We are going to try for #2 probably at the end of February-- and depending on how that goes there might be some good topics to cover. Wish us luck!

We are also going to be showing the film in different places:

In Salt Lake City, Utah with the ART of Infertility on February 15 and in Pasadena, CA at the American Fertility Expo-- there will likely be some other screenings along the way. If you want to sign up for our mailing list please do at the One More Shot film website, or mine.

My new years resolution, again, is to try and figure out technology. I'm starting with my mailing list so we can stay connected. 

Sending love.

M

HAPPY NEW YEAR! Let's leave all the baggage behind

Today is an obvious day for reflection and goal setting, but it's also an opportunity to think about the way we think about ourselves, take care of ourselves, love ourselves. I've never been big on resolutions because...well... I can usually hold strong for about two weeks and then I just end up feeling badly. So I'm forgetting the resolutions and instead trying to focus on things within my power, mainly how I think about things and how I react to things. Especially the unexpected. 

One part of this process involves a bit of self-reflection and a desire or commitment to think about things/myself a little differently. The other part of this process is letting go to past labels and expectations and hurt. It's hard. It's really hard on IF Island, but the past traumas and challenges don't necessarily inform the future, and often don't serve us. So, for example, I'm going to try to do FET #2 in the New Year, and when people ask me about it, I find myself being a bit sarcastic, "We'd like to get pregnant again...if my body will cooperate," and even a bit defeated at times, "Yeah we're going to try but something always comes up with my stubborn ovaries." That's my past, and while there is truth to these statements, they carry a negative tone and it's not going to help me. I'm also labeling myself and my ovaries, and really how is that helpful? My ovaries cooperated at one point in time, the time that resulted in Momo. Why is the tendency to only focus on the...fifty seven other times they didn't cooperate? Jk. Jk. See, here I go again. Many of us on IF Island feel cursed. We look at the end of the year with shock that all the efforts at baby making were unfruitful. We can't fathom how this next year will be different, because we've fallen for that siren of hope before and came out broken hearted. And it's hard. And for many it's very real and very raw. And it feels...bat shit crazy to wake up new years day and tell ourselves THIS IS GOING TO BE IT! But we have to. We have to at least try. 

One exercise I like-- well two I guess, involves getting rid of the past baggage, literally and figuratively. Literally, for all of us hoarding expired meds and syringes and old IVF cycle calendars in that one drawer/bucket under the sink/closet, THROW THAT SHIT OUT. Or, pack it up in a neat little box, tape it up and label it PAST and then put it in the garage or storage or wherever is far away from your psyche. Figuratively (or emotionally), sit with your eyes closed and reflect on the year. Think about the struggles, the moments of excitement and the moments of horror. In the assisted baby-making world those moments often come one after the other in a rapid cycle that can be exhausting and really upsetting. But think about it all. Let the tears flow, think about the labels you've assigned yourself-- broken, infertile (I can't stand that word), a bad luck charm...whatever, then box those up to. Imagine doing a sweep of the traumatic events and sadness and putting it all into a box, taping it up and leaving it in 2017. Now I'm no dummy, I know this stuff lives in us and it's something we have to be aware of. But I also know the power of perception and of the mind and believe trying to leave this stuff behind can only hep us move forward as gracefully as possible.

I was listening to Brene Brown talk about shame the other day and she gave a definition I thought was very fitting for IF Island:

Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging. 

Infertility is automatically associated with shame. I hate that. So I invite anyone who has felt shame around their fertility challenges to let that go. Decide not to feel shame. Decide not to feel flawed. Tell yourself you are worthy-- and deserving of all of it. Because you are. And find a way to harvest a pride in your determination or ability to be standing upright after years of treatments. Focus on what you are and have accomplished rather than the stuff that's missing. Just for a moment at least. 

Let's say good-bye to all things crappy in 2017 and hello to new possibilities in 2018. And hello to a new way to talk to yourself, love yourself and believe in yourself. 

Sending lots of love and luck in the New Year.

M

 

Don't You Want to Have Your Own Child?

I hear this term a lot, your "own," child, and while I know what people mean when they say it, I wanted to spend a little time here...clarifying a few things. 

Maybe I should start with the disclaimer that people don't say this to me. Not now at least. I have been asked, before Momo was a person, if I was sad that I wasn't having my "own" child, and the question just confused me. If this is not my child whose child is it? In my head/heart/body/spirit I was P with my baby. We were meant to find each other, we had help from kind strangers and special doctors but there was no doubt that she was my child. My very own baby girl.

But what people mean by this is are you sad you don't have a genetic child, and my answer is absolutely not. That's my personal answer. Momo is very clearly an upgrade from our genetics.  But let's explore the meaning and feeling behind the word "own", shall we?

So I think the last time I heard this was a few days ago when someone was talking to me about how her family was worried how she would feel pursing donor eggs and not having her "own" child. I asked her whose child would it be? Who would be the parent on the birth certificate? Who would be changing diapers and wiping tears at 2am? Then I asked her if she was sad she wasn't going to have a child who wasn't genetically related to her and her answer was yes. Very much so. And that is totally fair. 

Being sad and grieving the loss of one's genetics and having your own child can be two different things. Genetics isn't the only thing that connect a child to a parent. It is one thing that does-- but honestly if your kid got lost at a mall somewhere, the thing that would probably help you find each other would be the help of strangers and your last names, or the sounds of two people (one little one big) screaming through the mall. So much of the process of moving through the sadness of the genetic loss is working to reframe specific ideas of family. 

There is a shift that can happen-- sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, when a person moves to donor conception. You have to first wrap your head about what it means, what the chances of it working are, how much it is going to cost, and back to what it means. Most people who venture down a donor path never expected or intended to be there, so there is a lot of mental and emotional shifting that has to take place. But when a person can sit with what it means to them, grieve appropriately, then think of different ways to conceptualize having a chid with the help of a donor, then they can be proud of their choice and move towards their new reality (hopefully), which is that they are going to have their own kid.  

So if people ask, usually it's because they are just curious and don't realize some questions can really trigger a gal on IF Island. If you can gently correct them, then more people will start to get it. "I do want my own child, and I'm excited at the possibility of that child coming to me with the help of a donor!" 

Does anyone have experience with this kind of question? Would love to hear thoughts. 

Chasing someone else's happy ending

Happy Friday-- it's Friday right? I want to quickly share a piece  I wrote for PopSugar that published yesterday about why we filmed our infertility journey for a documentary. The fact that I can write about infertility in the mommy-sphere just blows my mind. Never thought I'd see the day. 

Anyway...

This time of year seems to fly by. I live in Los Angeles and it's been such a strange week.  Parts of the city are up in flames and the sky is a smokey eerie orange-gray. It's also December and I'm still wearing flip flops. What's the deal?  So even though it doesn't feel like the holidays, they're a commin' and for some people on IF Island that's a nice pause in the daily grind of work-life-fertlity, but for others it's another reminder of a year gone without meeting the baby-making expectation. It's also a time for family to be together and sometimes that means new family members, which can also be hard. 

So my friend Candace (she's the gal in the movie who adopted) and I are going to do a FaceBook Live event on Saturday at 10am PST where we will talk a little bit about coping with the holidays and all things infertility, and answer questions from anyone who wants to write in. We will also probably talk a bit about the movie because, hey, why not. I've never done anything like this-- I'm that unicorn that doesn't have Facebook and honestly I think I've snooped on FB three times in my life. I don't know if I would have been able to emotionally handle the baby announcements when we were having such a hard time. Social media can be a great way to connect, but it can also be hard sometimes. So I steered clear and am now a little excited to lose my FB virginity on Saturday. Though really Candace is doing all the work here, I'm just showing up. Maybe I'll brush my hair. No guarantees. 

I'm really grateful to Candace for a lot of reasons. After the first time we interviewed her for our film, we were immediately friends. She's one of those people who is just super real and honest and no BS and also smart and kind. She was so helpful to me because she was honest about how broken she felt at times but also so optimistic and determined about creating her family. We first interviewed her the day or day before she was going to meet her child's birthmother for the first time. Noah and I were headed towards an egg donation cycle I think. Candace had gone through two egg donor cycles and nothing worked, so while that was a terrifying reality to wrap my head around, seeing her exited to meet the birthmother also solidified two things: 1) sometimes there are things we have to do as part of our process regardless of outcome and 2) if the next thing didn't work, something would, and adoption can work for many people.  Going into an egg donor cycle is really scary.  Knowing you could get that far and come up empty handed is just not a good feeling. There is so much risk to all of this. But when my sister offered to donate we both really thought it would work but also knew that this was the next step, and if it didn't then it didn't. We knew it was something we needed to do. 

And when it was a total bust Noah and I thought about Candace and her husband in two ways. The first was that they had gone through a similar experience and were still standing and had been able to regroup and create a new game plan, and the second was that they might need to be our happy ending. I'll explain the last one. Noah and I had been filming for several years when we did the egg donor cycle, and we didn't know how much longer we could attempt to make this movie. It became very clear to us that we might not have our own happy ending but we wanted to leave our audience on a high note, so we decided if we didn't have our own happy ending, we would use Candace's, and our journey would still be in progress.  That was a real conversation. It was a diplomatic one between two producers who were trying to make a film based on a all real events that we had little control over. And then we sat with the production decision and thought about what that might mean for us, as people, as a couple. Wait, what if we didn't have our happy ending? 

This was a truth. A possibility. One we had to really work to have different perspective on. We might not have the ending we wanted (a baby) but that didn't mean we wouldn't couldn't be happy. I could understand that in my head but didn't believe that in my heart. I felt so strongly about being a mother, but the more I worked the reframe my ideas, the more I could sit with this idea. It takes time and effort to reimagine your life and shift expectations. Luckily I didn't have to work that hard. Yes, it took a while and a lot of different people and doctors, but we managed to figure it out and got lucky. Very lucky. 

I try to remind myself of that everyday.

Sending lots of luck and love to everyone. Hope you'll join us on FB tomorrow morning!

 

 

 

 

Going with The Flow

I want to start with a big fat THANK YOU to everyone who has watched the film and to everyone who has sent us notes about it. It really touches us when we hear your stories and we hope that the film can be a solid support. Or at least a space where anyone on IF Island can come to relate and maybe for a laughs at how INSANE assisted baby-making can be. We also want to send a HUGE thank you to Elizabeth Walker and the Art of Infertility exhibit that has been displaying incredible pieces of artwork done by folks in the IF community and will be showing our film tomorrow night! If you're in Philadelphia please check it out! Noah and I will be Skyping in for a Q & A. 

So going with the flow-- literally and figuratively. My FET for the end of this month got cancelled because, well, my ovaries are not cooperative. This isn't new news. This is very very old news. But we tried to see if we could prep my body for transfer and between "something weird" in my uterus at one point and a persistent cyst, we called it. Transfer will now hopefully be some time early (hopefully) in the new year and that's that. 

I was bummed for a minute (or two...ish) and then decided not to be, because it wasn't going to help me at all.  It's fine to feel disappointed, that's kind of par for the course with a lot of this stuff, and I did. But I also felt like I have one shot at this and I want things to be and feel as right as possible. So when my brain starts to feel annoyed at the widening age gap that will separate Momo for her potential sib (is it just me or does everyone hold on to 3 years as being some kind of magical number?), and the inconvenience of having to travel last minute (likely alone) to Seattle for a transfer, I just take a deep breath and remind myself to feel gratitude that this potential little being exists and I have a chance to get it. This is a major mind shift for me, because while I cognitively have always been aware of the need to be patient and go with the flow, my emotional side is easily pissed off. It's just my nature, my temperament--whatever you want to call it.  But I've spent too many years feeling handcuffed to my ovaries and too many sleepless nights worrying about the what-ifs that this time when we got cancelled I just kind of went--ok, we will regroup later. Now I will keep drinking coffee (though my acupuncturist thinks my diet might be part of the problem so I've got to work on that) and living my life and will gear up mentally when I need to. 

So the plan (for now) is to go with my flow-- we will do a natural FET-- well not natural, there will be meds but we won't do birth control or lupron or anything else that makes it slightly more convenient to plan for. And I'm thankful for that. In the few weeks I was on birth control I was quickly reminded of how cranky and moody and snippy I get (yes, I'm blaming the BC!) and also how FAT! Not a fan of the little pill. So we will just go with whatever is and hope for the best. 

In the time before, I will continue to try to get our film out there and work on my book and figure out where Momo will go to preschool aka pee-school next year. I guess I should add get in shape and stop eating crap to the list...why am I so unmotivated? Is it because it's cold and pie is so good?

Anyway. Thanks again for all the support and love and know Noah and I are always sending it right back at you!

 

Popcorn, Tears and Hope: One More Shot, a film about making modern families

 

Sooooo...

Our documentary, One More Shot, comes out tomorrow on iTunes, Amazon, and Vimeo for those not in the US. Noah and I are really happy that it's leaving our computers and entering the world, but I have these moments where I feel like who F cares. We barely wanted to live our lives for the years we were going through all this, so who would want to watch it? 

That's my self-conscious side talking. 

The honest truth is when we were going through the dark infertility years, we would have definitely wanted to watch something like this. Real people sharing what infertility really looks like from the inside out. A real couple under the pressure and stress of trying to figure out how to make/have/get/find a baby when nothing seemed to be working. It. Is. Ugly. At times. Because we didn't wear make-up (Noah really could have used a little touch-up under the eyes in some scenes ;) and we didn't edit out the ugly. Hormone injections made my skin terrible. Fear and heartbreak made my attitude grim at times. And we caught that on film and we found the coherent narrative that allowed us to tell our story, which really is the story of millions of people around the world. I think when we were at our darkest points I would have wanted to see this film, because it would have helped me feel less isolated and alone, perhaps less crazy or joined in my crazy. It would have helped me see that I could reframe my ideas and expectations of the family we would have. It would have reminded me that there is always always hope. 

I would have also wanted to share this film with my family and friends who just didn't get it. Some family and friends did get it, that was helpful. But some didn't. It's hard to put into words what living on IF Island feels like. So we tried our best to show it. The excitement when things go well, the dive into despair when it feels like all is lost, the way your whole life gets handcuffed to your ovaries and you feel trapped and scared and excited for the possibilities all at the same time. And you cycle through these feelings at warped speed every month until you have that constant headache behind your eyes that comes from Googling insane fears into the wee hours of the morning while resenting your spouse for being able to sleep. I would have wanted everyone in my life who wanted to understand what we were going through to see this film, because then a real conversation about infertility could take place in a connected and open way.

And I really would have wanted the general public to see this film so that any stigma associated with infertility could just dissipate. I just wish people going through this could feel nothing but pride in surviving the emotional roller coaster and that society in general wouldn't see infertility treatments as some kind of elective procedure or something that only impacts women over 40 who "waited too long." Not the case. Infertility is a disease that affects a lot of people, and many of those people have to think outside the box when building their family. And it's important that all of this is seen as incredible determination on the part of those pursuing alternative family building options, as well as normal in terms of how children can be created. Having donors or surrogates or birth mothers, being conceived in a lab-- whatever the origin story is, let's understand it for the miracle and gift that all of this is. Please. 

So when I feel embarrassed about my skin or those scenes where I opt out of wearing pants-- ugh, Maya WHHHYYYY??? I remember our goal with this film. To decrease isolation and shame. To erase stigma. To educate and start an honest dialogue about infertility. To normalize alternative family building. To make people laugh and cry and connect and ultimately to instill a sense of hope. 

That's what we hope to do. Tomorrow night you can let us know if we did.

Please watch the film if any of these things speak to you. Share the film as you see fit. Add a comment on iTunes if you have thoughts/feelings/opinions that could help inform others. And know that in the ugliest times in each of our lives there is the possibility for beauty and growth and hope.

Thanks to everyone for all the love and support along the way. We know this film has been a long time coming and Noah and I hope we are doing right by you.

If you're in the Seattle area, the film will be showing at the Celluloid Bainbridge Island film festival this weekend (Sunday I think).

And If you're in the Philadelphia area, the film will show as part of the Art of Infertility: Cradling Creativity exhibit that starts today through Nov. 28th with the film showing the night of Nov. 18th. 

 ALSO, part of the proceeds will continue to go to the BabyQuest Foundation so if nothing else, help us help this amazing non-profit organization. 

 

 

Our film @onemoreshotdoc is FINALLY born!

 

It's been over a month since I've written and I think I've been a little nervous. The film Noah and I have been working on for YEARS, One More Shot,  is finally being born! (You can pre-order it here). And while I am so excited that it will get out there and hopefully help erase some of the shame and stigma and isolation people feel, I'm also anxious, though I'm not totally sure why.

Making this film was very cathartic for us for a variety of reasons, the main one being it was something we could do when we couldn't make a baby, and it really helped us process. It's been really interesting to come full circle with the film and feels like a huge emotional release of our whole journey. It's like we aren't holding it in for ourselves anymore-- it's just out there. And having this record of it (where I am way skinnier and look waaayyyy younger) solidifies it as part of our past. That journey is complete. Now being back into trying for #2 (I've hit a few snags, surprise surprise, and will know on Friday if I can move forward with a transfer in Nov) it's kind of strange. In a way it's like aren't we over this stuff-- the doctors appointments and searching for the cheapest pharmacy for meds and wondering/waiting to see what my body is doing so we can attempt to make some plans? That's soooo 2014. And yet here we are. The film is being born and we are back in the trenches.

But the birth of this film means a lot to us and we hope it means something to others. I've been writing  some blog posts for other blogs and writing from different angles, because there are so many. There is the emotional side of living on IF Island, there's what happens to relationships and friendships and marriages, there's grief and loss and joy and learning to shift perspectives on what family means. There's trying to reconcile the gap between what was expected and the reality of an assisted baby making process. There's the question of why we chose to share in the way that we did and what it means to be "infertile" (I really hate that word). I could go on and on, but this is all the meat of what is in our feature length film. 

I think I've been a little quiet here lately because I've been slightly overwhelmed and crazed, but also a little reflective about all of it-- our journey to Momo, how Momo might feel seeing the film when she's older, how scary her birth was. There are little snippets of memory that float around my mind between driving to the doctor or trying to encourage Momo to pee in the potty. Sometimes it dawns on me how insane this has all been and how incredible our child is and how lucky I feel to have all of it, however exhausting. I'm not sure if I'm making sense but I'm going to do my best to be a little more present here and perhaps use this space to turn these snippets of thoughts into something more coherent. 

More than anything, though, I have to say thank you to everyone who has ever read this blog, emailed me, commented, or been impacted by parts of our story. The support I found here and what I learned about others heartbreaking journeys really helped me believe in our film and feel confident in its purpose. Because our story is the same story of millions of people who feel totally alone in their experience. And that's not ok. I hope this helps people feel less alone. 

Though some tears will be shed while watching, there is also a lot of hope. We hope this movie helps to validate the experience of infertility and normalize the different ways people can make a baby. Pre-sales started earlier this week and we are donating part of those sales to the BabyQuest Foundation. We were lucky enough to be grant recipients in 2012 and are forever grateful to be part of the BQ family. 

Please help us spread the word! And don't judge me for wearing the exact same yoga pants and grey sweatshirt for three solid years. 

You can follow the film on:

Twitter @onemoreshotdoc

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/OneMoreShotFilm/

 

Back in the Game... I think

It's been a while since I've done fertility stuff. I'm not at all saying I've forgotten what it's like to be chained to a calendar that's decorated with multiple doctor appointments and injection/med schedules. And I haven't forgotten the anxiety of trying to make a plan, buy a plane ticket etc etc only to have to cancel because lining isn't thick enough or I broke through the birth control-- whatever that means. But...I've had some space from it all and it has been very very much in the back of my mind. Until today. I had a call with the doctor in Seattle. I really like her and am trying to gather whatever feelings of excitement I can, but talking to her reminded me about how...messy this all is. She said that with all the issues I had during pregnancy she wanted to think more about a better implantation. She wanted to consult with my doctors out here (which I very much appreciated). I realized I should probably go see my RE since he's monitoring me. The Seattle doc won't be in the office when we were hoping to do the FET--- ugh! It's all starting again. The figuring it all out, the logistics, the fears...the shots. I've had two D & C's since Momo was born-- should I do more intense tests on my uterus to make sure all looks good? If it doesn't, what are my choices anyway? The Seattle doc actually asked if I had thought about a surrogate. We don't have $100,000 laying around so I've got to saddle up and do this thing. A surrogate? Mentally I have to believe that everything that happened during my pregnancy with Momo was a fluke. It won't happen again, and to our credit, with everything that did go wrong we are both alive and healthy. So there's that. I was thinking what I might need emotionally to gear up and really I think the only thing I can grab and count on is the idea of being totally flexible. If I've learned anything it's to do everything in my power to feel confident and to roll with the punches. I'm going to now spend the remainder of Momo's nap digging through old medical records to see what I did before her transfer. I remember taking antibiotics but not totally sure for what. I did a spreadsheet of the cost of meds from different pharmacies--that are probably outdated. It was nice to have this section of my brain empty for a while (and I say empty because really, not much has filled the IF files in my brain except obsessing of how to try and sleep more). But I've got to turn it on again. Hoping for a Thanksgiving transfer but we didn't even get that far today.  To be continued.

The False Assumption about PGD tested embryos

Hi.

It's been a while. I always feel badly when a lot of time goes by without checking in. The past month has been business as usual-- I had ideas for a second documentary that I have to sell Noah on because he's still dealing with the specifics about getting the first one out in a few months. Momo is starting preschool next week. I've had some family stuff-- one being saying goodbye to my Baboo, who was like an adopted grandmother to me. When my mom moved to this country from Japan, she didn't speak much English. She came here for art school which is where she met Baboo-- a much older very outspoken hippie who taught my mom how to drive and probably the F word. She was an incredible artist and dancer and because my grandparents lived in NY and Japan, she became like a grandma to me. She was at my birth and loved me just as deeply as she loved her own children and grandchildren. She's at home with hospice care and I went to see her this weekend because chances are she won't be here much longer. Anyway, I guess my point in sharing this is that simple reminder that life is so precious but also that love and familial relationships cross the genetic boundary in lots of different ways. 

I digress. 

I really only want to write when I feel like I have something worth talking about. One thing I have been noticing a lot lately, and by a lot I mean about a half dozen people I know who have recently done  FETs with PGD or PGS tested embryos and have been completely baffled that they haven't worked. And I have been too, because I think there is a false assumption when transferring a PGD tested that it's just going to work.

So a PGD tested embryo is when the doc takes a single cell out of the embryo to test chromosomes. The information you get is if it is a genetically "normal" embryo and gender if you want it. The result is a confidence in that embryo--why shouldn't there be....and possibly an attachment to a potential boy or girl.  Knowing gender sounds like a fun idea ahead of time but I have also seen how hard it is when the pregnancy doesn't work out. I believe the success rate for PGD tested embryos is somewhere between 55%-70% depending on who you ask, which is high, but it's not 100%. Nothing is, as we all well know.  And I'm no doctor here so your doc might tell you otherwise. The testing itself can also be very expensive, averaging around $5,000 last I checked. So is it worth it? I guess it really depends on the situation but this is a conversation I feel I've been having with different people in different situations and I guess if you can afford it without any issue and you have enough embryos that the risk of doing the biopsy feels manageable, it might be a no brainer, but anyone who really needs to weigh the pro/con list of this one might feel a bit stressed out. The added stress is knowing that the WTF feeling after a negative beta test can feel a little super sized. 

Is this something a lot of people have dealt with? Having to decide on PGD or PGS testing and then not having the expected outcome? 

I guess it's always most important to do what feels right to you and your partner and doctor, and then have realistic expectations. Whatever that means anymore. Good luck to anyone having a transfer soon. I'm gearing up for #2. My phone appointment with my doctor is mid September and then its go time. The excitement I feel about this possibility is only a fraction higher than the dread I feel about everything I have to do to try and get this thang to work. But it can be done. It will be done. And hopefully my decade of trying to make babies will eventually be behind me. 

 

When Infertility fills every corner of your mind

I just finished reading (listening) to the book What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty. It was recommended to me by a friend who thought it would be an easy summer read (listen) and has a secondary story line about infertility that my friend thought I might find interesting. I gave it a listen and thought the IF story line and the feelings portrayed were pretty accurate. I won't spoil anything for anyone interested in taking a look, but there were a few lines that stood out to me and made me think about how truly life/identity changing the infertility experience can be.

The character, Elizabeth, says, "I've lost my ability to chat, too. I listen to people talk about their interesting full lives-- they're training for marathons, they're learning Japanese, they're taking the kids camping and renovating the bathroom. I had a life like that once  too--I was interesting, active and informed. Now my life is three things, work, television, IVF. I no longer have anecdotes. People say, 'what have you been up to Elizabeth?' and I have to stop myself from treating them to a complete medical update... my infertility fills every corner of my mind." 

I remember really feeling like that. Like I didn't have a suitable answer to the question, "how are you?" It was as if I wanted to share everything and nothing at the same time. There were moments of wanting to spare others the boring details of failed fertility treatments and moments where I honestly didn't now what my answer was. How was I? In that moment?  In life? In general? In the grand scheme of things? As my obsession with having a baby took on life of its own, my areas of interest narrowed to just that-- ways to get/make/find/create/have a baby.  Supplements, procedures, dietary changes, magic-- it started to become difficult to related to anyone who didn't have at least some basis of understanding of the quest for parenthood. It was a difficult place to live because prior to IF Island I felt pretty confident I could have a variety of conversations about a variety of different topics and didn't constantly worry about managing my feelings if something triggered me or upset me. It was really hard to live in the world for a lot of the time.

I work with many  people on IF Island and I see a common theme of this, but also a very strategic and adaptive coping tool to counter some of these feelings. And that is to live your life. It's not always easy when your life and goals and expectations have taken a massive nose dive, but the people who end up feeling the most themselves or the most solid are those who actively pursue a life outside of infertility. It's a tricky balance at times to be genuine to oneself while living in the fertile world, but there are few specific things I've seen people do that seem helpful. One is contain the fertility talk as much as possible, or rather designate times when fertility stuff is off the table. That might be a date night, a movie, a comedy club, dinner with friends/people who don't have kids and don't want kids. Fertility and the what-ifs permeate everything-- it's so hard to set boundaries because it's your brain that's stuck trying to make sense of your life. But consciously setting those boundaries can be very helpful in giving your mind a break.  The second is to try something new. A new hobby, a new kind of exercise-- pottery, yoga, adult coloring-- It feels like there are often a lot of limitations to exercise and life in general when on IF Island. Sometimes it feels like the "I can't" overpowers the "maybe I should try..." and that's what sucks about being handcuffed to your ovaries. But there must be some things, some activities that are doctor approved and worth trying. It's also an opportunity to meet new people who have a common interest which can be refreshing. Another thing I wish I was able to do while in the thick of it was remember and pursue the path I was on before I got derailed. The experience of infertility changes many of us-- in a variety of ways. While I was transforming through different identities and trying to figure out how to be in the world as a woman searching for a baby, I often forgot who I was before that search. Taking some time to get back to my roots, my self, my goals and dreams that were not related to having a baby would probably have helped me a bit. It's easier to say in retrospect though, I know that.

Anyway, check out this book if you're looking for an easy summer read with a solid shout-out to IF Island. And please share what helps you personally get some space and connect to who you are at heart. I'd love to hear. I'm also trying to compile a list of resources-- books, apps, websites, professionals, agencies etc. that can be helpful to others so if you've come across something really helpful please share. Thanks!