Okay, I've done it. I finally called the most highly recommended fertility doc here in Uruguay (really, there aren't ALL that many, but still, he is supposed to be very good) and we have an appointment. Now, we don't plan on doing IVF until March or April, but we figured we better just go chat with him, make him aware of our prescence/plans, make sure there's no huge long wait we don't know about or something...
It was pretty hard for me to make the call. Mostly because it was in Spanish and, as I've mentioned before, I HATE talking on the phone in Spanish. But it went well. The other reason it was kinda difficult is just knowing that with this phone call, it all starts again. Maybe not for several months, but it's still the first step leading to IVF's physical and emotional ups and downs. And financial, though I really doubt there are going to be any "ups" involved there.
So that's that! Our journey begins again.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Dearest Bonnie
Now the Lord of peace himself give you peace always by all means. The Lord be with you.
2 Thes. 3:16
2 Thes. 3:16
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Try Try Again?
Six home tests and one official blood test later, the results are decidedly negative. I have had that nagging it-didn't-work feeling for awhile now, but you always hope that you are wrong.
I'm going to go bury myself in chocolate now. I may emerge to blog again sometime during the millenium.
I'm going to go bury myself in chocolate now. I may emerge to blog again sometime during the millenium.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Longest Wait Ever
I swear this has been the longest wait ever between a transfer and a pregnancy test. The time is just dragging, and I am going crazy. I won't even admit to how many home tests I've done so far (all negative, of course). Knowing it's still too early to test isn't enough to stop me. It's like there is some sort of magnetic pull between my fingers and the box of pregnancy tests in the closet. I can't seem to get the logical part of my brain to override the urge to keep on testing.
I don't even know if I will still be alive by the time the actual blood test rolls around. I think I've managed to age 80 years in the last nine days.
Isn't there any way we can speed up the clock?
I don't even know if I will still be alive by the time the actual blood test rolls around. I think I've managed to age 80 years in the last nine days.
Isn't there any way we can speed up the clock?
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
It Really Is Something In The Water
So I guess we all need to move to Australia and go swimming in the Kununura waters. Or maybe we just need to be Nicole Kidman.
I find it so fascinating how people connect random things together as if there is a cause/effect relationship going on, when really it's just a coincidence completely unrelated to any sort of mystical phenomenon.
Of course it would be wonderful if there were these sorts of supernatural fertility cure-alls. But if things like this really worked, don't you think it would have made it into some scientific journal by now?
I don't believe in all the fertility voodoo and other nonsense that is out there. But I do believe in miracles and tender mercies. And I strongly believe it is essential to recognize the miracles in our lives as gifts from God, and not gifts from Mother Nature.
I find it so fascinating how people connect random things together as if there is a cause/effect relationship going on, when really it's just a coincidence completely unrelated to any sort of mystical phenomenon.
Of course it would be wonderful if there were these sorts of supernatural fertility cure-alls. But if things like this really worked, don't you think it would have made it into some scientific journal by now?
I don't believe in all the fertility voodoo and other nonsense that is out there. But I do believe in miracles and tender mercies. And I strongly believe it is essential to recognize the miracles in our lives as gifts from God, and not gifts from Mother Nature.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Need to Create
There are lots of weird methods to help a woman get pregnant--my most favorite of ludicrosities which involve aromatherapy and standing on my head. What the authors of these methods never say is that they don't work because they're offered up to and used by women who would have gotten pregnant with their husbands in the next room shouting out sweet nothings. I know women who can get pregnant faithfully using birth control. (No comment. We won't even go into that.) Standing on their heads? That would have mattered as much as a rainbow to a blind person.
The best advice for an infertile person always comes from a fertile person. It's so useful. It's so understanding. Really, the compassion of such people never fails to boggle my mind.
One of my mother's best friends had secondary infertility. She's an incredibly creative person who could put her mind to a project and accomplish it. She taught herself how to upholster furniture, make cabinets, frame portraits she had painted, sew formalwear and other crafts and arts I forget the names of. Her creative impulse was more than that--it was a drive channeled through her hands. I understand that drive to create; it speeds me along, too.
Her mother was one of those sensitive and understanding fertile people I previously mentioned. Impatient with her daughter's infertility, she pushed her into doing IVF. The cycle failed. Her mother pushed her into doing another IVF cycle and she got pregnant with triplet girls. Halfway through the pregnancy, she lost all three girls. She was heartbroken. I remember going to her house months and months after it happened and being frozen in front of a shadow box hanging on her wall containing three little girl dolls with large eyes as their only features. So much pain. In my head echoed words of her testimony she had borne about eternal families and resurrection... mentioning nothing of the emotional tragedy she had suffered. I respected her an incredible amount for being able to get up and smile each day--for being willing to be grateful for what God had given her: one healthy son.
She refused the third IVF cycle her mother wanted her to go through and ended up adopting a son. It's a good thing I never met her mother.
I learned from her many things about endurance, but mostly this: that I can be creative with whatever materials God sees fit to bless me. If it's a child, wonderful. If it's paint, wonderful. She never let the perceived limitations from others stop her. She needed to create, to make something come alive with its own vibrancy. And she never thought for once that working with her hands was a substitute for raising a child, or vice versa. They were boths arts. They were both equal endeavors of talent.
And she was right.
The best advice for an infertile person always comes from a fertile person. It's so useful. It's so understanding. Really, the compassion of such people never fails to boggle my mind.
One of my mother's best friends had secondary infertility. She's an incredibly creative person who could put her mind to a project and accomplish it. She taught herself how to upholster furniture, make cabinets, frame portraits she had painted, sew formalwear and other crafts and arts I forget the names of. Her creative impulse was more than that--it was a drive channeled through her hands. I understand that drive to create; it speeds me along, too.
Her mother was one of those sensitive and understanding fertile people I previously mentioned. Impatient with her daughter's infertility, she pushed her into doing IVF. The cycle failed. Her mother pushed her into doing another IVF cycle and she got pregnant with triplet girls. Halfway through the pregnancy, she lost all three girls. She was heartbroken. I remember going to her house months and months after it happened and being frozen in front of a shadow box hanging on her wall containing three little girl dolls with large eyes as their only features. So much pain. In my head echoed words of her testimony she had borne about eternal families and resurrection... mentioning nothing of the emotional tragedy she had suffered. I respected her an incredible amount for being able to get up and smile each day--for being willing to be grateful for what God had given her: one healthy son.
She refused the third IVF cycle her mother wanted her to go through and ended up adopting a son. It's a good thing I never met her mother.
I learned from her many things about endurance, but mostly this: that I can be creative with whatever materials God sees fit to bless me. If it's a child, wonderful. If it's paint, wonderful. She never let the perceived limitations from others stop her. She needed to create, to make something come alive with its own vibrancy. And she never thought for once that working with her hands was a substitute for raising a child, or vice versa. They were boths arts. They were both equal endeavors of talent.
And she was right.
Monday, September 22, 2008
It Must Be the Water
Provo is a very odd place. I suppose I could stop there while everyone nods in silent agreement, but I feel compelled to explain myself. I'm 31, have been married nearly 8 years, and have one not-quite-two-year-old daughter; in most parts of the world this would be considered quite normal, but around here I'm way behind the curve. Most of the women I meet who are around my age have three or four (or sometimes more) children, and I still can't wrap my head around the fact that nearly half of the women I see in grocery stores are pregnant. It really must be the water. Or maybe the air. Or something.
(Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I am nearly 13 weeks pregnant with our second child, but, as with all the other fantastic women on this blog, getting there has not been easy. My husband and I tried for about three years before we had our first; it was only after a wonderful doctor properly diagnosed me as having PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and prescribed the correct medication that my daughter made her way into the world. We were blessed to conceive this baby much more quickly because we already know the issues we face and how to treat them. Thank you, thank you, Dr. Ivey-Crowe.)
When I look around at the many expectant mothers here in Provo I assume that most of them are excited to be bringing another life into the world. But I do wonder if some of them fully comprehend the miracle that is occuring within their bodies. I will admit that I do not like being pregnant; my first pregnancy was tough for various reasons, and this one is following suit. But I am always cognizant of the fact that something incredible is happening here. I look at my toddler and contemplate the fact that she started as nothing but two tiny cells; now here she is, approaching two, full of personality, independence, stubborness, and fun. She's her own little person, completely and totally.
I like to think that my experience with infertility has made me more aware of this utter miracle; often, the harder we work for something, the less likely we are to take it for granted. It will never be easy for me to have babies, but I'm grateful that the solution to my problems is relatively simple. I will always need medication in order to conceive children, so the label of "infertile" will always be with me. But I no longer begrudge that label because it has helped me to recognize my children for the miracle they really are.
(Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I am nearly 13 weeks pregnant with our second child, but, as with all the other fantastic women on this blog, getting there has not been easy. My husband and I tried for about three years before we had our first; it was only after a wonderful doctor properly diagnosed me as having PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and prescribed the correct medication that my daughter made her way into the world. We were blessed to conceive this baby much more quickly because we already know the issues we face and how to treat them. Thank you, thank you, Dr. Ivey-Crowe.)
When I look around at the many expectant mothers here in Provo I assume that most of them are excited to be bringing another life into the world. But I do wonder if some of them fully comprehend the miracle that is occuring within their bodies. I will admit that I do not like being pregnant; my first pregnancy was tough for various reasons, and this one is following suit. But I am always cognizant of the fact that something incredible is happening here. I look at my toddler and contemplate the fact that she started as nothing but two tiny cells; now here she is, approaching two, full of personality, independence, stubborness, and fun. She's her own little person, completely and totally.
I like to think that my experience with infertility has made me more aware of this utter miracle; often, the harder we work for something, the less likely we are to take it for granted. It will never be easy for me to have babies, but I'm grateful that the solution to my problems is relatively simple. I will always need medication in order to conceive children, so the label of "infertile" will always be with me. But I no longer begrudge that label because it has helped me to recognize my children for the miracle they really are.
How Far Is Too Far?
"Why don't you just adopt?" It's a question that every infertile person has been asked at one time or another. Well-meaning folks sometimes ask this question like it's as easy as running to the supermarket, going to the babies-with-brown-hair-and-blue-eyes aisle, and selecting your favorite bundle of joy.
In reality, adoption is a long, arduous, expensive process that is interfered with on every level by government bureaucrats, mothers of worthless sperm-donor fathers who want to raise "their" grandchild, and a completely corrupt court system that chooses biology over adoptive parents every time.
I have known people trying to adopt and seen the hell they go through. I have seen them attach themselves to an infant, only to see that infant ripped out of their arms after a year because some father who wasn't honorable enough to marry the child's mother decides it might be fun to have a little mini-me in the house. As far as I'm concerned, if a so-called "father" is unwilling to marry the mother of the child, he should not have a right to object to that mother giving her child up to a better life.
And the money. Well, in the case of international adoption, there are a lot of people that need bribing, a lot of people that need favors, and a lot of people that need convincing to give their orphans up to a foreigner.
And we all know that newborn American babies are extremely hard to come by. There are simply too many abortions. And as for mothers who hope their out-of-wedlock babies will be raised in an LDS home? They are even fewer and farther between.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I recently read an article where a reader commented that "doing IVF is going too far. There are many children who need good homes...", basically going on to say that anyone choosing fertility treatment over adoption is a selfish jerk.
Pardon me for being cynical, but these sound like the words of someone who conceived a baby on their honeymoon, and can't understand the divinely-instilled longing to give birth to one's own child.
I think people who adopt are saints, and I think people who take in foster children are worthy of immediate translation, but my desire to have my own child does not make me a bad person. And my decision to put myself through fertility treatment does not make me selfish in any way.
Yes, there are children that need good homes. But there are also spirits that still need bodies.
To the person who says IVF is going too far I say, "You have a lot to learn."
In reality, adoption is a long, arduous, expensive process that is interfered with on every level by government bureaucrats, mothers of worthless sperm-donor fathers who want to raise "their" grandchild, and a completely corrupt court system that chooses biology over adoptive parents every time.
I have known people trying to adopt and seen the hell they go through. I have seen them attach themselves to an infant, only to see that infant ripped out of their arms after a year because some father who wasn't honorable enough to marry the child's mother decides it might be fun to have a little mini-me in the house. As far as I'm concerned, if a so-called "father" is unwilling to marry the mother of the child, he should not have a right to object to that mother giving her child up to a better life.
And the money. Well, in the case of international adoption, there are a lot of people that need bribing, a lot of people that need favors, and a lot of people that need convincing to give their orphans up to a foreigner.
And we all know that newborn American babies are extremely hard to come by. There are simply too many abortions. And as for mothers who hope their out-of-wedlock babies will be raised in an LDS home? They are even fewer and farther between.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I recently read an article where a reader commented that "doing IVF is going too far. There are many children who need good homes...", basically going on to say that anyone choosing fertility treatment over adoption is a selfish jerk.
Pardon me for being cynical, but these sound like the words of someone who conceived a baby on their honeymoon, and can't understand the divinely-instilled longing to give birth to one's own child.
I think people who adopt are saints, and I think people who take in foster children are worthy of immediate translation, but my desire to have my own child does not make me a bad person. And my decision to put myself through fertility treatment does not make me selfish in any way.
Yes, there are children that need good homes. But there are also spirits that still need bodies.
To the person who says IVF is going too far I say, "You have a lot to learn."
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Blogging From The Couch
We've made it past the first big hurdle! One of our embryos survived the thaw beautifully and was expanding so fast they had us come in for transfer a couple hours earlier than originally planned. So I am now relegated to bed rest for 24 hours. Thank goodness for wireless Internet, laptops, televisions, and phones!
I was really nervous this morning, especially when the doctor's office called asking us to come in early. I started to over analyze everything - how did the nurse sound? Did she sound like she had good news or bad news? Do you think she would have us come in early if it was bad news?, etc. Luckily it was good news.
I am a little nervous about our hopes being dependent on only one embryo, but knowing it looked really good and was doing so well beforehand is comforting. And besides, it's a bit of a relief to know we are not going to have twins. (While I would love to have twins at some point, I really wanted to have just one child next so my son wouldn't be so overwhelmed, and so he could have a little friend that didn't come with a built-in playmate. It will be easier for him if he doesn't have to be a third wheel his whole life).
So now we get to hold our breath for two weeks. This is the worst part - the am-I-am-I-not game. And having been pregnant twice before doesn't help matters, because I am sure to over analyze every similarity or dissimilarity to my past experiences.
We're keeping our fingers crossed.
I was really nervous this morning, especially when the doctor's office called asking us to come in early. I started to over analyze everything - how did the nurse sound? Did she sound like she had good news or bad news? Do you think she would have us come in early if it was bad news?, etc. Luckily it was good news.
I am a little nervous about our hopes being dependent on only one embryo, but knowing it looked really good and was doing so well beforehand is comforting. And besides, it's a bit of a relief to know we are not going to have twins. (While I would love to have twins at some point, I really wanted to have just one child next so my son wouldn't be so overwhelmed, and so he could have a little friend that didn't come with a built-in playmate. It will be easier for him if he doesn't have to be a third wheel his whole life).
So now we get to hold our breath for two weeks. This is the worst part - the am-I-am-I-not game. And having been pregnant twice before doesn't help matters, because I am sure to over analyze every similarity or dissimilarity to my past experiences.
We're keeping our fingers crossed.
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