My husband and I knew that we couldn't get pregnant the "old fashioned way". We knew it would take the technilogical advances of science to get it done. We knew we would have to have In Vitro Fertilization. We also knew it would be a bumpy ride, but we were ready. Here is the story... part one.
I kept thinking I was bound to get busted. Imagine, a co-worker walking in and seeing it. My sweater pulled up my arm, needle in hand.
It adds to the stress of it all. And, let me tell you ... you don't need any more stress when you are trying to give yourself a shot with your hands shaking, sweat pouring down your temples and tears streaming down your face. It's tough enough.
You should know, I am not a junkie. These are legal drugs. Potent, but legal. It's quite a process,too. But, when your body doesn't do what you want it to... and your biological clock is ticking at alarming decibels, you have to do something.
I suppose it wouldn't be THAT bad if it was just once. Just one injection... But, considering I have to do this twice a day for the next three weeks and then once a day for another who-knows-how-long....I'm looking hard for that perverbial light. It's not just shooting up, either. First you have to mix the drugs together. Pushing the needles into the vials, pulling them out and mixing them, then shoving the needle into your arm. I have done this in many different places. I can't help it. I work for a living, and I am not lucky enough to have four weeks of sick days. I wish. And, as a television reporter, I am not in an office most days, which ... of course, adds to the stress. I can remember this one time, I was covering a story in a downtown area and had to "run back to the news car" to grab something. That was my story, anyway. I literally made up the meds and injected them into my arm in the middle of a hustling down town just as the workday was getting under way. That may have been one of the only days i DIDN'T cry. I was too nervous to tear up. It was not easy to keep this up.... but, I want a baby. And, if I want a baby, then this is what I have to do. Apparently, there are no options.
When my husband and I first went to the In-vitro Fertilization Clinic, we were excited about the possibilities. Of course, nervous, anxious and scared to death about all that comes with those possibilities. We knew our odds from all of the pamphlets and internet research we did. They were NOT very good. But, we are optimists, so we decided to go for it. I remember thinking how odd it all seemed. Looking around the waiting room at all of the other mom wanna be's. At that moment, it didn't seem fair. I guess right then I was happy that I had learned at a young age that life was like that. Not always fair, I mean. Being a patient here automatically puts you in a club. A club that nobody really wants to be in.
In Vitro seemed like a great idea. It seemed easy enough to understand. In-vitro is a procedure that allows couples who cannot conceive normally to have a child. The woman's egg and man's sperm are taken out of the body and fertilized in a laboratory, then put back into a woman who can carry the pregnancy to term. IN-Vetro literally means, In Glass. That's simplifying it, of course.
The doctor was nice. Slightly cocky, which I considered a good thing. The consultation was easy and didn't hurt a bit. Everything else, from there on out, did. It's slightly humiliating. First they measure your uterus. Oh, the joy. Turns out I have a "perfect" uterus. Who knew! Obstacle number one: Check! A very nice nurse, named Ann showed us how to give the shots. It looked easy at the time. She also gave us the scripts for the drugs. It was all going great.
I called around to shop for the prices on the meds, since... of course, health insurance -- which will cover new and improved breasts, a new nose, bigger lips.. etc, does not cover in-vitro fertilization. They call it an "experimental procedure", which is funny since the first in-vitro baby is in her 30's. Turns out the pharmaceutical companies don't really compete in this area. The prices are over-inflated and ridiculous. For example, this one med called Gonal-F ranges from $717 (through a WHOLESALE COMPANY) to $1200 at the local pharmacy. That is two doses!! And, that is just one of the drugs. So, here they are... couples desperate for a baby -- being dragged over the coals by the pharm. companies. Of course, there are no generics. To put this into perspective, these drugs are more expensive than many life-saving cancer drugs out there. Imagine that. Again, not fair. Again, we had no choice.
We forged on. After the first week of shots we started going for blood work. Every other day or so. The doctors had to keep very close tabs on blood levels. The drugs were going to make my ovaries produce as many eggs as possible. Other drugs would prevent my body from ovulating... until the right time, then another drug would induce ovulation. The evening shots in the privacy, quiet and calm of my own home were so much easier than the others. My arms were bruised and aching. Good thing we did it in the fall, no short sleeves necessary. After a series of blood tests and ultra sounds, the doctor called to let me know that we may have to cancel the cycle. What? I began crying. I'm not sure if I started crying because I was sad or mad or both. I do know that I was pumped up on hormones and that didn't help. My estrogen level had leveled off. Luckily the next day it went up and we were back on track. All just part of the roller coaster ride. Still, obstacle number two: Check.
I took the shot that would set me to ovulate in 48 hours. Which meant, that our egg retrieval, as it's called would be on Friday, September 11th. An omen? A sign? I should mention that I looked for signs EVERYWHERE. Everything meant something. The egg retrieval doesn't hurt a bit. Only because i am totally knocked out. Profofal. The drug of choice for Michael Jackson. I can remember being in the middle of telling a story to the doctor and anesthesiologist... and then, waking up. I asked, "Are we going to do it know?" The doctor, "We did. It went well. We got two eggs." Two. We'd hoped for four. Prayed it wouldn't be zero. We'll take two. Obstacle number three: Check.
Now it was my husband's turn to shine. He had to make his "deposit". Easy. Obstacle number four: Check. I think it's safe to say ... that didn't hurt a bit. Now, two very special "swimmers" were selected to fertilize. They have no choice, either. The embyologist actually injects the sperm into my egg and hope for the best. Normal fertilization rates are about 70%. This would almost ensure 100% fertalization. (We were shocked when we got a bill for $1000 for this process. Just this one process.) We left for the day and I was pumped on pain killers and leftover hormones. I slept for most of the day. The next morning the doctor called. I remember his words... "how does 100% fertilization sound?" REALLY? It sounds amazing. Obstacle number four: Check. Now, we wait one more day and head back to the office. A few new drugs mixed in now and it's time to transfer what have now become embryos, into my uterus. My perfect uterus, if you recall. This was easy. This is what all of the uterus measuring was for. That seemed so long ago. The embyologist said our embryos were great. The doctor, using ultra sound and advanced technology, put both embryos into my uterus. It didn't hurt a bit. Then, he showed us them on the screen. Two of them... right there in my uterus. Little tiny lights. Obstacle Five: Check.
That day, we started shots of progesterone which will continue on. They hurt. They go into the muscle and the needle is huge. My husband did these. He had a tough time. We both did. It's an emotional roller coaster and it's something that you can't understand until you go through it. My hip got very sore and bruised. Day after day. Shot after shot. This was the toughest part. Not only because of the shot, but the wait. It's known as the 2WW. Two week wait. And, you are under strict instructions NOT to do a home pregnancy test. It could give you a false positive from all of the drugs. Or, a false negative. They urge you to stear clear. I didn't. I couldn't. I did two. One day apart. Both times the stick showed negative. Both times I cried my eyes out. Both times I wish I hadn't done it. Both times I crawled in bed and that was the end of my day.
We kept up the wait... mainly because we had no choice. My mind kept playing games with me, which didn't help. I kept reading different articles. When reading the ones that said slight cramps might be a sign of pregnancy -- I got slight cramps. The ones that said you'll feel some "pain" in your uterus if the embryo is implanting itself ... made me feel like I had pain. It must be the embroys implanting. It had to be. It just had to be. I cried a lot. I felt so anxious. Everytime I tried to get my mind OFF of things, I thought more about it. It was crazy. I looked up baby names. Thought about what we'd do the nursery in. I mean, we got through five of the six obstacles... this was going as well as it could have. So far.
A few days later, my husband wanted to go out for dinner. It had been a while since we had a nice, calm and FUN evening. I agreed and we went to Olive Garden. We had fun. Until I started crying. Not for any reason at all. One thing is for sure, my husband is amazing. He's been so supportive and understanding. He's going to be a great daddy.
As I continued my 2WW, while surfing the net for more details and symptoms, I came across what would be a kind of crutch for me. A website for women going through IVF to share their experiences, thoughts and concerns. A forum filled with members of my club. It was brilliant. I made new friends. Reading their stories and updates allowed some of my focus to spread to them. I held my breath waiting for their test results. I celebrated their victories and cried over their disappointments. I'd never met these women, but they were like sisters to me.
And then, finally. September 28th came. I went for my bloodwork early. They said 8am, but at 7:15, I was in the waiting room. Waiting. It was quick and easy. The next 6 hours were not. I didn't put my cell phone down once.
They said they'd call by 2:30. I had a meeting at noon and I prayed that call would not come while I was surrounded by people. Then ... about 5 to 1, there it was. Ringing. BLOCKED came on the display. I knew it was them. The call I had been waiting for. The results I'd worked so hard for. There it was, in my hands. When I answered and said hello, I heard the nurse's voice. I knew it was bad news. Doctors only call with the good news. They make their nurses do the dirty work. "I'm so sorry." That's what she said. And, I'm sure she was. I couldn't breathe. I kept thinking it wasn't real. I thought I did everything right.
Did I not take care of my babies? I loved them. I talked to them. My husband, their daddy said good morning and goodnight to them every day. He, we loved them. We created them. And loved them. And lost them. It's a grieving process that few can understand. The few people who knew encouraged us to look forward and be positive and try again. I didn't want to. I mean, I wasn't ready to move on just yet. I had the right to grieve. I earned that right.
I kept saying ... What if. Blaming myself. It took a while for me to really come to grips with our loss. A while for me to decide that risk is not easy, but worth it. My sisters on the forum grieved with me and encouraged another round. It was so strange later that evening, my body craved a shot. Another shot meant we were still on track. NO shot meant we had no shot. This time.
You were expecting a happy ending. This is reality. According to the Deparement of Heath and Human Services, data from the 430 fettility clinics in operation in 2007, 142,415 cycles performed resulted in 43,408 live births. It's a gamble. You learn a lot doing something like this. Taking a leap of faith. My heart hurts for what might have been, but I feel hope in what could still be. One thing my sisters on our forum asked me to pass along, be sensitve. If you know a couple that doesn't have children, don't ask, "Why don't you have kids." or "When are you going to have children." It hurts. It already hurts. That, and love your babies and your life. If you are fortunate enough to have a family, appreciate them.
As for me, I'll try again. The shots, the ups and downs, the pain... they're all worth it. We will end up in even more credit card debt. But, a small price to pay.... Especially when you think about the possible rewards. It took me a while, but eventually I realized that it's okay to grieve and it's okay to move on. I know that something we have no control over what happens to us, but I also feel that a stong will and positive attitude can take us place we had no idea we could go.
We will document our attempt, which we've just started. We hope our story will help others. We want to hear your story, too.
