I Love IVF

(Note: this is kind of general, and says some stuff that has already been said here quite eloquently...but I posted this on my personal blog and figured it fits in here pretty well, too!)

I was walking back from the park one day last week, wrestling the stroller up and down not-very-stroller-friendly curbs while Nuala and Bran lazily munched on crackers, when an older, sharply-dressed woman who was power-walking purposefully past us noticed the two same-sized children and screeched to a halt. "Son mellizos?" Are they twins? Normal question. The next question was a surprise to me. "Did they happen naturally or did you do a procedure?"

Usually people are curious about multiples, and for some reason really want to know how you (well, me, in this case) were lucky enough to get two blessings for the price of one. But I, unlike many moms of multiples, have never been asked in my 3-years of pregnancy/motherhood quite so flat-out, and by an older woman, the how-to of Bran and Nuala. Usually people dance around the question, with inquiries such as, "Oh, do twins run in your family?" (which I love to answer with, "no, but they did in our doctor's office!" haha..followed by a confused expression and my IVF explanation.) So it was kind of a surprise. Which was a little refreshing, the directness. Maybe it wouldn't have been quite so refreshing if she had just been an obnoxiously nose-in-your-business kind of person, I guess, but further conversation revealed that her daughter has been doing IUIs (intra-uterine insemination) and is about to move on to IVF so she had a real interest in the subject. By the way, IUIs = total waste of money. At least for us. Bleh.

Honestly, I usually volunteer the information that Nuala and Bran are our IVF miracles. If we end up talking about them for more than a couple of sentences, I usually pop out with, "yeah, we did IVF..." so I have no qualms about talking about it. In fact, I probably give out a little too much information.

Here are the two reasons for my openness...

One: to be a bright and shining (or frazzled and crazy) ray of hope, and source of info if necessary, to others who might be going through the same struggle, or if nothing else to just raise awareness about infertility.

Two: ...is kind of embarrassing...I feel as if I'm going to come off sounding so...prideful. But here it is. I'm, um...sorta proud (see how I fear I will seem "prideful"?) of all the hard work that went into getting these two! Maybe "proud" is not the right word. I feel that sweet sense of accomplishment that one gets from fighting a battle and finally prevailing. An emotionally, financially, mentally, and physically draining battle in which we were mercilessly knocked down so many times yet were able to struggle back to our feet. Not at all to imply that natural pregnancies are devoid of hard work or are any less yearned for by the parents. Being pregnant is hard work. Period. Just because someone got pregnant the fun way doesn't make their babies any less wanted or important. Same with adoption. But, heck! IVF is a pain! In so many ways. And we went through it and were so blessed, SO blessed to have a successful and healthy pregnancy and delivery. So blessed to finally have our babies. And I know our IVF success wasn't due to me or my awesome uterus (though it was highly praised by several doctors, thank you very much...what, you didn't want to know that??)

I know 100% of the credit is due to our Heavenly Father. We did all we could, but in the end, it was totally in His hands. And I thank Him for these children many times a day (yep! even on the rascally days, which we have been experiencing MANY of lately...). I am also exceedingly grateful for the blessings of modern science, the amazingly microscopic and detailed procedures that allowed us the privilege of caring for these two very choice little spirits.

And the procedures are amazing. Such as: ICSI (intra-cytoplasmic sperm injection). The doc grabs one single sperm by the "neck," and says,"hey you! You're gonna fertilize this egg or die trying!" and manually injects the eager little swimmer staight into the egg. Who'da thought? I'm so grateful to have these medical advances available!

Which brings me to another somewhat eye-rolling aspect of the whole fertility treatment thing. Thankfully this has never been expressed to my face, but soooo much online from comments on news stories, or wherever, I hear "obviously God didn't mean for these people to have children!" Oh, pul-LEASE. If that were the case, no amount of effort or ingenious medical procedures are going to circumvent Him. Come on. It's insulting to Him, I think, to imply that if He truly meant for someone to not have children, that He wouldn't have the power to enforce His will, that a mere mortal could dink around with some sperm and eggs and create a life behind His back. And when does anyone know God's plan for other people? or even for themselves, for that matter? Do they not understand the concept of trials, and of doing all you can do when faced with a trial and leaving the rest up to Him?

And of course I don't understand all the "why's" behind why some wonderful people are not blessed in this life with children while the 14-yr-old down the street is pregnant, or the whole Octomom situation... There's a lot of stuff I don't understand. I don't worry too much about it. He has told us "my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways...For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9).

I love how Nephi, a prophet in the Book of Mormon, says it: "...I know that he loveth his children, nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things (1 Nephi 11:17). Me, too. Though I don't know the meaning of all things or have all the answers, I DO know He loves His children and has a plan for each of us, and I'm very grateful that Nuala and Bran are included in that plan for me. I didn't "sneak" them behind his back. He willingly and lovingly gave them to me.

Medical advancements, including fertility treatments, are a blessing. The Lord put the knowledge on earth to bless people. Sure, like all knowledge, people can use it for good or ill (Octomom...wow... though I don't believe for a second that those babies are mistakes in any way, but the situation...), and I have no problem taking advantage of the technology available to bring my babies into the world. Did I say, "no problem?" I meant: I am beyond thrilled that it's available!

I am also thrilled that my not-so-great vision (thanks, Dad!) can be easily corrected by wearing contacts/glasses, and while we're on the subject, boy was I grateful that not only did someone utilize the technology to create life-flight helicopters, but that one could get my sister to a competant doctor quickly enough after a car accident in the middle of nowhere so that he could use other medical advancements to save her life. AND I have fillings. Etc, etc. See what I mean?

I believe in a God who enlightens His children, in all aspects of their lives. He can inspire men and women to innovate and create and discover, leading to great progress for all mankind, and He also can guide each of us in our personal lives and decisions, such as how to go about building a family. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths (Proverbs 3:5-6). And for that, I am grateful.

So...I love IVF. Not so much all the "fun" little details of it, but because through it, I have my children.

{And also because I can truthfully say, when Nuala and Bran ask how babies are made, "well, we went to the doctor and told him we wanted a baby, so he got you and your brother ready and put you inside mommy's tummy..." heehee ;) No! I won't! I mean, they'll know all about how we got them, but I'll fill 'em in on the real facts o' life, don't worry...}

Been There, Done That

My husband and I have been considering attempting IVF again sometime this year, and have met with a doctor to cover the basics in case we do decide to go ahead with it. This required the repeat of every test we've ever had (except the HSG, gratefully, because I would have walked right out of the doctor's office if they had suggested such a thing again. Though I did get to have an SHG, which was uncomfortable, but not horrific). To complete the requirements for pursuing treatment I had to attend a three-hour IVF class (in spite of the fact that I have already done IVF, oh, let me count... THREE times. And yes, I did ask if it was really necessary).

I was prepared to be bored out of my skull, and it did feel rather like I was a college graduate in a room full of first-graders, but I managed to get through it without rolling my eyes or sighing too much.

The most interesting thing about the whole class was how nervous everyone was. Especially when the needles came out - the tiny little subcutaneous needles which barely count as needles at all - and the entire room audibly gasped in one moment of collective terror. I laughed.

I suppose all the fertility treatment I've been through has jaded me, though I can remember how nervous I was to do my first injection (I hardly slept the night before), but it wasn't necessarily because I was worried about it hurting; I was worried about doing it wrong. The wrong dose, or the wrong injection site, or the wrong SOMETHING. My first ever shot was on Christmas morning. (Now there's a "Ho Ho Ho" if I ever had one). To this day, if I hear the tune that played on my husband's cell phone as an alarm to wake us up, I get a little jittery and sick to my stomach.

The most interesting part of the class was listening to the questions people would ask, and watching the insane amount of notetaking going on. I swear, if the teacher sneezed someone would write that down, and then ask if the sneeze had any particular indications for treatment. One lady was obsessed with having several sperm samples to choose from. One woman would ask a question immediately after the same question had been just been answered. But surprisingly, no one asked about restrictions on sex during treatment, which is usually a staple for these types of classes.

I spent my time reassuring the forty-something lady sitting next to me, who was outwardly nervous and couldn't seem to figure out how to fill a syringe to the proper dose.

It was nice not to have to obsess over remembering every little detail. And it was a little odd how I, easily the youngest person in the room, was the most experienced and the most relaxed.

I'm so mature for my age.

Bad Omens and Pokes in the Eye

Natural twins are a bad omen. For me, anyway. Any time a friend announces she is expecting natural twins, it means bad pregnancy news for me. The first time this happened, a friend had called me from her doctor's office to express her shock and delight at discovering she was carrying twins (after trying to conceive for about a month, of course). I had just gone through IVF after dealing with years of infertility, and found out a few days later it had been unsuccessful. Then, the day after my negative pregnancy test, I had to host her baby shower. That was fun.

Then there was the time last summer when I was basking in the glow of a miraculous natural pregnancy. My husband read me an email from a friend, saying that she had just discovered she was expecting twins. Not a few minutes later I went to the bathroom and discovered I was bleeding. An ultrasound showed my baby had died, and suddenly my miracle was lost.

I'm sure you can see why, when anyone announces they are having twins, I get a little jumpy. I can't help it. Too many bad experiences. So I am always relieved when someone else's good pregnancy news means nothing ominous for me except the small twinge in my heart, and that can usually be tossed aside in favor of celebratory squealing.

But it seems the universe just likes to mess with me. If it can't directly affect a pregnancy, it seems to enjoy one of those little pokes in the eye to remind me of what I don't have.

This happened earlier this week when I received a phone call announcing the arrival of a friend's new baby. I hung up the phone feeling happy and excited for their family. And then a few minutes later my cell phone rang again. Of all people, it was my fertility specialist, calling to go over some test results with me. Good timing, doctor. Nothing ruins a joyful moment like reminding me I just spent time having my uterus filled up with saline and all my blood re-examined with a fine-tooth comb. Thanks, I needed that.

I don't know why it is that the universe doesn't want to allow me even one minute of happiness for someone else without reminding me of what I can't have. Where's the love?

Come on universe, enough poking already.