Three steps forward, two steps back

I have spent the past two days in an enlightening and perspective changing training.  In it, I learned how to apply solution focused approaches in difficult client situations.  Solution focused approaches really can be applied in any situation.  The past two days have really changed some things within me that have been beliefs of mine for a handful of years.  It is exciting and renewing for me.  

The location of the training happened to be minutes from the office we have traveled to many times in the past two years.  I recently called and scheduled a consult with our doctor as a follow up from our last failed cycle.  In the infertility world, it’s known as a WTF appointment.  It was offered after our cycle failed, but at that time I wasn’t ready.  Only within the past few weeks have I felt ready to go back, sit down with our doctor and discuss what he thinks happened and whether or not there is any hope for the future.  

Knowing myself, I know that going back there will provoke anxiety and open my Pandora’s Box of feelings.  Yesterday, I started mulling over the idea of stopping at the office on the way home and feeling what I need to feel.  Today I did just that.  As I predicted, once the surrounding area became familiar, a wealth of feelings and memories came flooding back.  The tears came and I let myself feel what I needed to feel.  Cheryl called as this was happening and I mentioned nothing of it. I wasn’t ready quite yet.  I looked at the building for a few minutes and then resumed my journey back home.  

During one of the exercises today, I spent 10 minutes talking with a colleague about this journey to acceptance that I’m on.  We put the solution focused approach to work and I made a plan for the issue that I presented.  I followed through with that plan in the parking lot before I left today and took a few more steps that I needed to take.  

Our journey still largely occupies space in my brain.  Needless to say, it was the foremost thought in my head on the drive home.  

In our training, we discussed the miracle question.  The concept is not new to me and I have used it before.  On my drive home, I used it on myself.  If I were to wake up tomorrow morning and a miracle had occurred overnight regarding my problem, how would I know?   What would be different?

Here was my answer:  I wouldn’t feel angry anymore.  I wouldn’t feel desperate anymore. I wouldn’t feel guilty anymore.  I would be at peace.  I would be able to let go.  

Bring on the tears! 

This further developed into:  I want to not be angry.  I want to not feel desperate. I want to be at peace. I want to let go. 

I dug deeper.  My final answer was:  I don’t want this to be my life.  

I struggled with wanting and not wanting to write about this.  It’s incredibly depressing and I would prefer to be positive and upbeat; however, when I started this blog, it was with the intention to heal, to process, to be real and to help others.  

This is real.  Excruciatingly real.  It is raw. It is the truth.  It is difficult and it hurts.  It’s a normal part of this shitty process.  

Tuesday night I went to my counseling appointment with a positive attitude and proudly proclaimed that I had thought about our future without children and I was ready to take on the world.  Yesterday I participated in a group activity where we used solution focused approaches to discuss moving forward and a life without kids.  I was positive and hopeful for all that we could do.  Today, I felt that horrible desperation again – What can I do differently?  What can I do that will make it work?  It has to work!  Why is this happening to us?  We were so close with that chemical pregnancy – why did it have to be?  Those are the stream of desperate thoughts.  Three steps forward, two back. 

Once in a while I wish that we had never started.  Along with many other things in life, we cannot undo what has been done.  We cannot pretend that it never happened.  I cannot take back the endless blood draws, the multiple internal ultrasounds, the crushing realization that a cycle failed, the physical pain, the emotional pain, the long term impact of all of those hormones on my body and everything else that has been a part of our journey.  I can’t undo any of it.  I can only feel it, sit with it and hopefully one day let it go.  

Some days I feel desperate to return to life “before”. To not cringe when I see an ultrasound picture, to not fear the question “do you have kids?”, to not avoid pregnant friends, to not be triggered by pregnant people, babies and toddlers, to not be jealous and resentful of people who have what I desperately want and have tried so hard to have, to not feel what I feel.  

One year ago yesterday I was full of hope after a crushing year.  We had our first IVF transfer.  Two embryos were safely snuggled in my uterus and, though I tried to remain realistic, I thought for sure this was it.  We would have at least one baby and if not, we had a minimum of two tries left.  Surely, the odds were in our favor that there would be a healthy take home baby at the end.  Surely we would not be in that group of people who just don’t get a baby.  One year later – we are those people.  

I’m anxious for the WTF appointment.  I’m not sure yet what I hope he says.  It might be easier to move on if he tells me that there is no hope for trying again.  Then I could really trudge through this grieving process toward acceptance.  Earlier today, in my desperation, I wanted to be given hope.  Three steps forward, two steps back.  

My cousin shared the image below on Facebook yesterday.  It struck me so much that I saved it to my phone.  It’s a good reminder in those desperate moments.  

  

Path of Life – A Full Heart

A few days ago, I had a conversation with a friend about children and parenting styles.  At the end of the conversation, she made an excellent point that you don’t have to have children of your own to make an impact on a child’s life.

At the tail end of my counseling session on Thursday, I was in tears.  I have yet to make it through discussing our journey without crying – in counseling that is.  In normal conversation I’m usually fine.  Yesterday as we enjoyed lunch at Katy’s Café, wouldn’t you know, but that darn song Over the Rainbow came on.  I’ve mentioned in a previous post that it’s a trigger for me for some unknown reason.  Then, I ended up with my perfect first Alex and Ani bracelet – Path of Life.  Add two drinks after work and I was a bit of an emotional mess last night.

As is typical, I got home and was met by two little munchkins – ages 6 and 3.  We’ve lived next to each other for their entire lives.  They love our dogs – more than us I’m pretty sure!  They played with the dogs for a bit before having dinner and I made a wine date with their Mom.

With all of the recent rain, our veggie gardens looked atrocious and I made a plan to weed them last night.  I had just started when our neighbors returned home.  As soon as the girls got out of the car, they were asking if they could help me and I said yes.  Together, the three of us pulled out the weeds and marveled at a worm.  They both were very careful not to pull out any vegetable plants and dutifully asked before pulling anything that they thought could potentially be a vegetable plant.  When we were all done, we picked raspberries.

In the meantime, their parents started a bonfire in the yard between our homes.  We sat out last night, enjoyed the fire and shared many laughs as usual.  The poor worm was cremated as he didn’t survive being re-homed and played with.  Toward the end of the night, the three year old climbed up on my lap so that she could hold and pet Zeppelin, our miniature poodle.  Eventually, she fell asleep.  Her Dad remarked that he was surprised because she doesn’t normally sit on the laps of other people.  Her Mom didn’t believe that she would fall asleep while sitting there.  Sure enough, she was out.

When I went to bed last night, my heart was full.  Those little girls may love our dogs more than they do us, but we sure love them.  Right now they couldn’t understand, but some day, we’ll be sure to explain to them how those little moments made such a huge impact on us.

Moving Through

What a beautiful Friday morning it is – even more beautiful since I don’t have to work today.  I got up this morning to get the garbage and recyclables ready and after dropping them off, settled on the couch to peruse Facebook while Cheryl continues to sleep.  Shortly into my newsfeed, I came across the image at the bottom of this post.  To say it hit me hard would be an understatement.  I wish that I had seen it months ago, if not a year ago.  I saved it to my phone and shared it with a fellow individual who I thought may also benefit from it.  Then I knew I had something to say.

This month marks two years since we started our journey for me to try and get pregnant.  It has been five months since our last negative blood test and our decision to halt efforts at this point.  These last five months have been the worst part of the past two years.  I have been on an emotional rollercoaster unlike anything I have experienced before.  Of course, as is our style, we have not only been dealing with the question of children – will we, won’t we, how will we, when will we if we do? – but also limited finances.  We always seem to have multiple big life “things” going on at one time.  To say we have been under a lot of stress would also be an understatement.  To say that things have been great, even good, would be an out right lie.

The image at the bottom explains so much of what I have been going through for the past year and a half, though most intensely for the past five months.  I have been moving back and forth on the left side of that image for some time now.  Most recently, I have been right down at the very bottom.  I have been at that bottom before.  I was attempting an upswing when my cousin completed suicide a few weeks ago.  I let that launch me back down safely at the bottom of that image.  As I said, I’ve been there before.  It can be a comfortable place for me because it is familiar.  It’s not a good place for me though.  My normal personality is that of being a responsible and sensible person.  At the bottom of that image, I am a person who acts without thinking, wants to change my entire life and gives little regard to what the consequences of my actions will be.  In the end, the sensible and responsible me wins out – as always – thanks to how my parents raised me.

If I were on my own, I could get stuck in the bottom of that image.  It would be much easier to be that person who simply does whatever my mind tells me to at that moment.  I’m not on my own though.  Three years ago in September, in front of our closest friends and family, I committed myself to another person.  I don’t take that commitment lightly and I never have.  While being safely at the bottom of that image, I wanted to wash my hands of it all.  No relationship is perfect, including ours.  Over the past four years we both have made mistakes and said things we shouldn’t have.  Our problem is that we both hold on to those things and use them over and over at each other.  Do I know better?  Certainly.  I have an excellent social work education after all.  So, package that up with being stuck at the bottom of that image, add two incredibly stubborn and strong individuals and you have a recipe for a perfect disaster.  That is exactly what happened.

During our perfect disaster, Cheryl commented that she wished we had not ever tried to have a baby.  I was quick to say that it had nothing to do with what was going on between us.  After all, I had four years worth of things that had been said and done that I surely listed for her and she for me.  When I saw that image this morning, I knew that I had been wrong and she had been right, at least partly anyway.  My emotions, my actions, my thoughts – they all made sense when I saw that image.  I wanted to run away and forget everything that we had been through.  Marriage is a lot of hard work.  Add our infertility struggles to that and it can be unbearable.  I wanted a clean slate and did not want to continue to feel my emotions.  My education, life experience and that damn sense of responsibility keeps me from doing anything unhealthy to numb my feelings – except for eating through them.  I get how people become addicted to substances and use them to cope.  I could easily become one of those people.  I have seen how it has ruined lives though.  I have worked too hard to get to where I am to let that happen to me.  As a result, I feel every single feeling that I have until I feel like I’m going to burst.  It is difficult, but I see no other choice.  Running away doesn’t make them disappear.  It only adds a whole new host of issues to deal with and solves nothing.

We really are no closer to a decision on children.  I feel like we are in limbo and that’s hard.  I want to move on and close that chapter of our lives.  I can’t though because we truly haven’t decided if we want to have children.  Did we want a family?  Yes, we did.  Not being able to make that happen has meant that we need to adapt to life as just the two of us and find happiness without children.  As I’m sure all of you with children know, a life with children and a life without children are two very different things.  I am trying to just live in the moment, but I am a habitual planner.  Looking into the future, I have two separate ones planned – one with children and one with just the two of us.  They are vastly different and both are exciting, happy and wonderful.  Eventually we must pick our path.  I cannot be at the top of that image on the right side until we do.

Today, I am happy to say that I am on a slow but sure path up the right side of that image.  It is still a struggle, but it is less of a struggle than it was.  As for us, we are working on cleaning up after our perfect disaster – committed to building something that is better than what it was before.  It is still a struggle.  Individually we have a lot to work through as we also do as a couple.  That’s life though – constant change and growth and finding the beauty along the way.

$312.27 x 60

I only recently added the Time Hop app to my phone. I used to think it was just a useless app that I didn’t really care to have. Then I decided that it would be neat to see what was happening in my life each day over the past few years – still useless, but interesting at least. Today I was reminded that it has been exactly one year since we signed the paperwork and received a check for $15,000.00. We were so excited and took a picture just to remember the moment.

One year later, not much remains of that $15,000.00. What did we do with it? Well, we paid off a small balance on our credit card at that time, replaced the floor in the front room of our house and embarked on our IVF journey. One year later, what do we have you ask? We have a new floor in our front room and a monthly payment of $312.27 for another four years. The credit card balance that was once paid off now exceeds what it was at this time last year. In order to afford the monthly payments, I put one set of three student loans in forbearance. Last year alone, they accrued $9,000.00 worth of interest. If they continue in forbearance until this time next year, there will be $11,000.00 worth of interest added to that. Yes, my education was expensive. The plan was to keep them in forbearance until the $15,000.00 was paid off. That no longer seems like a good plan, but it will have to do until our financial situation changes.

Why am I sharing part of our financial situation? I share it to show the reality and the sometimes unknown impacts of infertility. We estimate that we have spent approximately $18,000.00, at a minimum, out of pocket in a year and a half in order to try to have a baby. That doesn’t include the cost of the time we both have had to take off from work for appointments and my surgery. If you add all of that in, we easily move upwards of $25,000.00. It is often a joke among the infertile community that by the time you have a child (if you do), you cannot actually afford to care for one. It is easy to see why. The sad fact is that there are many couples out there who have spent much more money out of pocket than we have. If we could afford more, I may have pushed to keep moving forward in my moments of desperation.

When we received the check, my first thought was that there were two possible outcomes – we would have the loan paid off when our child was four years old at the oldest or, we would be paying this off for the next five years and have virtually nothing to show for it – except for that new floor. At that time I was incredibly optimistic. I thought for sure that IVF was our answer and that we would have a healthy take home baby to show for our financial gamble. It was all going to have been worth it.

We can’t say we didn’t give it our best with the information we had at the time. We can think of a lot of other things we could have done with that $15,000.00 though. We could have taken that money and worked with an adoption agency. As a direct result of using the bulk of that money for IVF, we now cannot afford to work with an adoption agency. At a minimum we would need $10,000.00 just to begin the process. Yes, foster care is free. We’ve kind of been down that road and are hesitant to go back for good reason. I could have bought my dream truck – an early 2000s black Chevy Silverado. We could have taken one hell of a vacation. Or, we could have (and actually would have) never taken out that loan and instead, plugged away at paying on all of my student loans instead of just some of them.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at life, we do not have a crystal ball to gaze into. We acknowledged the gamble we were taking and we moved forward. When I saw the picture of that check today, I wasn’t sad or angry. I wasn’t happy or elated. I just was. Sometimes that’s the best you can hope for.

Here is a picture of that new floor.  It isn’t anything fancy – after all, IVF is expensive.

Triggers

Recently, my phone has been telling me that there is not enough storage space left on it. After looking at the usage, I found that my music and pictures take up the majority of my 16 GBs. I figured that there are probably plenty of pictures that I could get rid of, so off I set into my saved pictures to weed through them. The next thing I know, I’m sad, my heart is aching and I’m quietly crying as my wife is sleeping next to me.

See, in my saved pictures, I have four triggers. One positive home pregnancy test and three sets of embryo pictures. I’ve looked at them many times. Typically they don’t provoke negative emotions, but once in a while they do. Last night was one of those times. I can’t seem to part with them though. The actual pregnancy test is long gone and somewhere in our house are the hard copies of the embryo pictures. These seven chances at life weren’t meant to be, but I can’t seem to let go of them. They are part of our evidence that we gave it the best shot we could.

I woke up this morning hoping that the emotions from the previous night had dissipated. I was wrong. Overnight they continued to swell. Two days ago I was confident that we would move forward in our lives and probably not look at trying to get pregnant again. Last night and today, that thought seems impossible. This is the rollercoaster of emotions that I speak so often about. Tears are ready to spill out of my eyes at any moment. They did on the way to work this morning. I’ve spent a lot of time crying in my car.

Here’s the thing about triggers – it’s hard to say when they will appear and what kind of damage they will do. It’s hard to build a defense against them, because what triggers you one day may not the next. Sometimes your trigger is something that has nothing to do with anything that you can identify.

For instance, I was in my car one afternoon on my lunch and on came the song Over the Rainbow. Instantly, I was in tears. To my recollection, this song has no significance in our journey. I heard it again just the other day and quickly turned a deaf ear. We were out in public and that doesn’t make for a good spot to break down.

Several weeks ago, my sister-in-law played in an alumni basketball game. It took everything I had to get through that game with my composure intact.  On the outside I was smiling and laughing, on the inside I was a disaster.  Three rows in front of us sat a woman around our age (probably younger actually) who was pregnant. Here’s the thing though – it wasn’t the fact that she was pregnant that was the issue. It was her fingernails. Yes, that’s correct – her fingernails. See, when we started realizing there was an issue with my fertility, I started reading about all of the things that can impact your reproductive system in a negative way (basically just breathing is enough to do it is what it seems like). Long before that, I had heard that you weren’t supposed to wear fingernail polish while pregnant because of the chemicals. So, when we started, I stopped wearing fingernail polish. I broke that rule once last year when we went to Florida and I had painted my toenails. What a rebel! Anyway, back to this woman. Here she was, right in front of me, pregnant and *gasp* with fake fingernails! The horror! All of those chemicals! Our IVF failure was fresh in my mind at that time. I thought of all the changes I’ve made to try to reduce and eliminate harsh chemicals in my life and still, no pregnancy. It certainly didn’t seem fair.

Here’s another odd one. A few days before the fake nail incident, I was filling out paperwork at work for a home visit. As I wrote the person’s middle initial, I realized that if we do not have children, we will never get the opportunity to name a human being. We have spent so much time talking about and deciding on names. That’s just part of the process of dreaming of a family. It’s hard to come to the reality that those names, those little people whom you have created in your head, may never exist.

Sometimes pregnant women are triggers, sometimes baby pictures are, sometimes pregnancy announcements are and sometimes babies are (remember how I mentioned in a previous post that FB provokes anxiety? – that’s why). It’s hard to say when they will be and when they won’t be. Lately, they are more often than they aren’t. It’s nothing personal. It’s just where I’m at in our journey. It doesn’t mean that I begrudge these folks their pregnancies, babies and their happiness. It just means that I’m sad for us and am constantly (literally all the hours that I’m awake) wondering if we will get that same joy.

*Word to the wise – please do not comment here or on FB that we will get that same joy. You don’t know that for certain and neither do we.  We will have joy in our lives but it may not come in the form of a child.   

Make It Work

When I was contacted by a CNN producer regarding my submission for the CNN iReport infertility assignment, one of the questions she asked was what advice I would give others who are struggling with infertility.  My answer – do not put your life on hold.

When we first started trying, I hated to make plans even weeks in advance because of where I might be in my cycle and well, what if I was pregnant?  After the first few months, I still held on to that hesitation.  Cheryl, on the other hand, was over it.  Her view was that of the fact that it hadn’t worked yet, so we needed to go about living our lives and make it work.  When we started the first inject cycle, I still wasn’t in the same space she was.  Depending on how your injectable medication is distributed, it may or may not have to be refrigerated.  Mine did.  The injections have to happen between 5-7 pm on a daily basis when you are actively cycling.  For that first cycle, I made sure that I was home every night by 6 pm so that I could do my shot.  I wouldn’t make any plans and any time Cheryl wanted to do anything, I reminded her that I needed to be home for my shot and anything we wanted to do would have to wait until after.  After two months of doing this, it got old and became more difficult.

Here are some highlights of things I would have missed out on if I would have continued to put my life on hold:

Two amazing vacations to Florida.

Hiking a small part of the Appalachian Trail.

A trip to NYC and an Aerosmith concert – We were smack dab in the middle of our first IVF cycle for this one.  My meds traveled with us.  I did one set of injections in the parking lot of the concert venue.  The second set of shots I did in a bathroom at The Stonewall Inn.  I thought that was great!  Two lesbians trying to make a baby and doing injections (of fertility meds people!) in the bathroom of the bar where the gay rights movement got it’s start.  We walked around NYC that day for 10 hours, got in the car and drove directly to Amherst for my ultrasound and blood work that next morning.  We got stuck in traffic and made it about 30 minutes before my appointment.

My wife’s pool banquet – injections done in the car for that one.

Work activities – injections done in the bathroom at work, at the event and in the car.

Family activities.  During one cycle, Cheryl and I went geocaching with family.  I did my injections in the car out in the middle of the woods.

Regatta – For those who don’t live around here or aren’t from here, Regatta is a fundraiser for a local Fire Department.  Basically it’s a big drunken camping party with the opportunity to float down the local river.  Last year I was in the middle of a cycle.  I did injections at the camp site and that Sunday morning we got up early…well, I got up early, my wife hadn’t really been to sleep yet.  Anyway, we got up early, went home to shower and off we went for the usual ultrasound and blood work.  This year I will be enjoying Regatta (in two weeks!) without the added hassle.

We could have also missed out on many motorcycle trips.  This past season we rode to Letchworth State Park with a group of friends.  My meds traveled with us and I did my injections in front of everyone.  Modesty truly is a thing of the past.  You’ll have that when your feet are in stirrups on a regular basis, and I’m not talking about the kind that are attached to a saddle.

I’m glad that I didn’t miss out on those things.  I’m glad that we stopped putting our lives on hold for something that wasn’t in the cards anyway.  We would have missed out on some amazing memories.  This girl surely doesn’t miss an Aerosmith concert for anything!  There is always a way to make it work.

You Are Not Alone: When IVF Doesn’t Work

You are not alone…

If you have had blood drawn so many times, there is a permanent scar in the exact spot.

If you have ever had countless transvaginal ultrasounds.

If you have injected yourself in the abdomen countless times.

If you have injected your tush with progesterone.  My wife doesn’t like needles, so those PIO (progesterone in oil) shots were all done solo.

If you have had multiple failed IUI cycles.

If you have had multiple failed IVF cycles.

If you have watched friends and family members get pregnant and give birth while you sit by with an empty uterus and aching heart.

If you know the following acronyms: TTC, TTTC, CD, OPK, HPT, POAS, IUI, IVF, RE, IF, BFP, BFN, BFFN.

You are not alone…

If you are feeling depressed.

If you are full of anger and rage.

If you are feeling desperate.

If you are feeling lost.

If you are feeling hopeless.

You are not alone…

If you have gained weight from the fertility medication.

If you have had emotional outbursts.

If you have never taken so much medication at one time in your entire life.

If you have half used medication all over your house and in your fridge.

If you feel like EVERYONE has seen you naked from the waist down.

If your marriage/relationship has suffered.

If your social circle is smaller than it used to be.

You are not alone…

If Facebook feels like a mine field and looking through your newsfeed provokes anxiety.

If you have found your largest support through a group of folks online, none of whom you have ever met in person.

If social situations cause anxiety.

If you consider what your life will be like without children.

If you worry about who will take care of you when you get older.

If you are tapped out financially (and emotionally of course).

Our story… (spoiler alert: it doesn’t end with a baby)

In July 2013 my wife and I began our journey to try to conceive a child.  After much consideration, we decided to use willing to be known donor sperm and to head right to a Reproductive Endocrinologist’s office and skip the at home inseminations.  I had already suspected that I had endometriosis, but had no idea what havoc that may wreak on our journey. August 2013 was our first IUI (intra uterine insemination, aka artificial insemination).  We were excited and terrified at the same time.  Little did we know, we had a very long and painful, both emotionally and physically, road ahead of us.

After two more failed IUIs, I went in for surgery in November 2013.  We already knew that I had a uterine septum and of course the suspected endometriosis.  During that surgery, my endometriosis was burned and my uterine septum, found to be more serious than originally thought, was fixed.  We moved to injectable medications for subsequent cycles in order to attempt to increase our odds of conceiving. The first injectable cycle in January 2014 had to be cancelled because I over responded to the medication.  In February 2014, I did get pregnant, but it ended in a chemical pregnancy.  This is as close as we would come to realizing our dream.  April 2014 brought another negative.  May 2014 brought another cancelled cycle due to over responding again. We had been at it for almost a year.  Our RE’s office is 1.5 hours one way, so a 3 hour drive every time we have to go up.  For an injectable cycle, you’re looking at a minimum of 5 trips over the course of about 10 days.  Our appointments were scheduled for 7 am so that I didn’t have to miss a lot of work.  By May 2014 we were exhausted and no closer to our dream.

The morning that we left the RE’s office knowing that our cycle was cancelled, we made the decision to move to IVF (in vitro fertilization).  We didn’t have the money, but we were able to secure a loan and put one set of my student loans in forbearance.  We knew we were taking a risk – we could get nothing out of IVF other than over ten thousand dollars that had to be paid back. In July 2014, one year after we started our journey, our first IVF cycle was completed.  Out of 9 eggs retrieved, 6 fertilized and only 4 of those were considered normal.  We transferred two and were able to freeze the other two.  All this brought us was another failed cycle.  I was devastated.  I thought IVF would be the ticket.

Desperate, I moved directly into a frozen transfer cycle with our remaining two embryos.  This brought more heartache – another failed cycle.  Emotionally, I was raw.  We agreed to take a break before moving forward with our last IVF cycle. We met with our RE again and discussed what we could do differently.  If no embryos were frozen, this would be our last cycle.  Financially, we had reached the end of what we could afford.  Emotionally, we were beaten down, angry and sad.  I immediately started a new regimen of medications.  We would add more once we got closer to our January 2015 start date. By the middle of December, I was taking 9 pills a day.  At the new  year, I would begin my injections.  I would also have the lining of my uterus scraped (with no pain medication) to help the embryos to have something to grab on to.

For our second fresh IVF cycle, there were 8 eggs retrieved and 7 fertilized.  We were thrilled.  We thought we would have plenty to freeze and more opportunities to create our family.  We were able to make it to a day 5 transfer – in the infertility world that’s gold!  Before the transfer, we were informed that only two of the embryos were doing well.  The other five would be discarded as they were not developing as they should.  These last two embryos were it.  It was all I could do not to cry during the transfer.  I had no hope.  When everyone left the room, I got off the table, hugged my wife and we cried together.  We had nothing to fall back on now, our safety net was gone.  We spent the rest of the day together, trying not to dwell on the reality of the situation.

Five days later, despite daily injections of progesterone in oil, I knew this cycle had failed.  There was no second line on that pregnancy test and I knew my body was gearing up for just another regular old month. I was full of anger and rage.  I was depressed.  I was desperate.

It has almost three months since the official negative.  Every day is a different emotional journey.  The future is uncertain.  We aren’t sure if we will try again.  Before we do, I will be pursuing expert excision of my endometriosis – first for quality of life reasons, second for a potential shot at trying again to get pregnant.  Though my RE assured me that my endometriosis wouldn’t impact IVF, I believe that it does.  I wish I had known then what I know now about endometriosis and the role it plays in infertility.  My wife has no desire to carry nor for us to use her eggs.  We now suspect that she may have endometriosis as well.  A friend has offered her eggs or her wife’s eggs.  She has also offered for her wife to be our surrogate.  We cannot afford to work with an adoption agency.  We have had a negative experience with the local foster care agency and are apprehensive about becoming involved with them again.  We have discussed living without children.

For now, I am just trying to come to terms with our journey thus far.  I have been through a lot of painful procedures (many not mentioned above) and have nothing to show for it.  If we wanted to pursue a second opinion, the next closest RE’s office is over two hours one way.  The closest endometriosis excision specialist is over five hours away.  I have started counseling to help process through everything and figure out what’s next. Our goal is for me to have my second surgery this Fall.  Then, we will be hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail in 2016.  If we tried again, it would not be until after all of that.  As more time passes and I continue to heal, I think more and more of living without children.  Until a final decision is made, our struggle remains.  Infertility has left a mark on us that will never disappear.

My wife and I are 1 in 8 who are dealing with infertility.  We are the faces of infertility.  You are not alone.

If you would like more information on infertility and/or National Infertility Awareness Week, please follow the links below:

http://www.resolve.org/about-infertility/what-is-infertility/  (Basic understanding of the disease of infertility.)

http://www.resolve.org/national-infertility-awareness-week/about.html (About NIAW)

 

The Only Way Out is Through

Two years ago, thanks to the recommendation of a friend, I found an amazing group of individuals online.  Though we weren’t officially set to start trying to get pregnant yet, I wanted to learn all that I could so that we could begin to make some important decisions – sperm bank vs. a known donor, at home insemination vs. medical intervention, etc.  In the beginning I soaked up more information than I shared.  I read their stories, followed along in each journey, learned the lingo and made mental notes of important considerations.  Over the past two years, these individuals became my lifeline – a group of people whom I may very well have been lost without.  I have shared in their joy, their anxious two-week waits, their births, their heartbreaking losses and their many other life events.  They have been a sounding board for me, have provided a wealth of information and above all else, have always provided an unlimited amount of support.  When I began counseling for the second time around this past year, I made sure to mention them when speaking about my support system.  The truth is, I have never met any of these folks in person, yet I feel closer to many of them than I do most people I see every day.

After a few months of being part of the community we had at that time, one of the regulars shared a phrase that has since stuck with me – the only way out is through.  This was a top contender for my most recent tattoo.  I have no doubt that it will still end up somewhere on my canvas.  In the beginning of our journey, what this phrase meant to me was that the only way to get a baby was to go through whatever was meant to be – losing all modesty, being in physical pain on a regular, recurring basis, injecting myself with many needles of various lengths and sharpness, sending my hormones and emotions on one huge rollercoaster, and many other things.  The word “out” set a scene in my head of Cheryl and I leaving the hospital with a newborn in our arms.  When the going got tough, this phrase was my mantra.  I reminded myself that it would all be worth it in the end.  Again, to me, “end” meant that precious, healthy, take home baby.

As we slowly come out of the fog that has been the past two years, we are increasingly mentioning not having children.  It was not until earlier tonight that it finally clicked in my head that the “out” and “end” that I have spent so much time picturing, planning and hoping for could be changed.  Not every story ends with a baby, this is just a simple fact that I think people like to ignore.  It can be an uncomfortable and sad reality.  Making that choice is not easy.  The road that brings you to that option is not easy.  Sometimes you give it all you’ve got only to find that your original goal is not your destination.  Never did I imagine, until recently, that our original goal would not be our destination.

During my most recent counseling session, I was asked to think about what our lives would look like if our “out” and “end” are not as I have imagined.  What our lives would look like if we do not have children.  Thinking about this is one thing.  Making that final decision at the ages of 30 and 31 is a different thing.  Could we make a decision and change our minds later on?  Yes, we could.  At the same time, getting back on that rollercoaster after an extended break seems daunting, tiring and terrifying if I’m going to be honest.  By the time we would be ready to try again it will have been a year and a half, at a minimum, from this most recent try.  My hope is that a year and a half from now we will be healed, to some degree, from the past two years.  Trying again will mean reopening everything that I am trying to close up – with no guarantee that the result will be any different.

Indeed, the only way out is through.  I think that it is best not to get caught up in that word “out” though.  Keep an open mind, put all of the cards on the table and be willing to redefine your “out” and “end” as necessary.  No one ending is better than another.

Hiking to McAfee’s Knob

Our vacation has come to an end.  I’m safely snuggled up at home, fire going in the woodstove, suitcases packed away and laundry almost done.  Every move I make reminds me of our greatest accomplishment – hiking to McAfee’s Knob.

Before we began our trip to Florida, I mapped out the possible routes and obtained an estimate for the cost of gas.  To my surprise, one route would take us right through the Appalachian Mountains in Virginia – in about the exact area where we are looking to hike next year.  Then began my efforts to convince Cheryl that we had to take that route at least one way.  Sure, it would add an extra hour, but the view would be worth it.  I ordered a road atlas and when it came in the mail, we began mapping our route.

During our time in Florida, I excitedly realized that our route home would take us within minutes of the Appalachian Trail.  Now I just had to convince Cheryl that we should spend one of our days hiking out in the woods.  It was easier than I anticipated!  She eagerly agreed and we set off planning our return.  We acknowledged that we were not prepared to hike but agreed that we would make it work and figure it out.  On Thursday we set our sights on Roanoke and off we went.

Friday morning we woke to a dreary sight – rain, rain and more rain.  My trusty weather app kept telling me that the rain was expected to last longer into the afternoon than we had planned on.  We had one day to get this hike in and decided that we were going, rain or shine.  Our footwear choices consisted of sandals, work boots and sneakers.  I weighed the options carefully – or so I thought.  Sneakers would be comfortable, work boots would keep my feet dry, sandals weren’t an option.  We trekked off to Wal Mart in our work boots and finished equipping ourselves for the day.

McAfee’s Knob sits directly on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia, approximately 20 minutes northwest of Roanoke.  It is reported as one of the most photographed spots on the entire trail.  If you google McAfee’s Knob, you will find some beautiful and awe inspiring pictures.  I was excited and couldn’t wait to get out there.  I knew we were in for a challenge, but I was thrilled that I wouldn’t have to wait a whole year to set my feet on the AT.  In a total of 3.9 miles, we would gain 1700 feet.

We found our way to the parking lot and checked out the map and posted information.  Behind us was the mountain and to our left was the actual, living, breathing AT.  We found a nice guy sitting in his truck who was willing to climb out in the rain and take our picture.  We made some small talk, explained what we were doing, thanked him and ran across the road to get started.

When you start off to McAfee’s Knob, you are immediately met with an uphill hike with a few switchbacks.  We had no idea what we had gotten ourselves into.  It was posted on FB though, so there was no turning back now.  I certainly wasn’t going to follow up with posting that we had changed our minds and turned back.  When the going got tough on the way up, that was exactly what I said to Cheryl – I can’t tell everyone on FB that we didn’t finish.  One step at a time, we kept moving – up and down and back up and back down and onward.  Since it was a weekday and the weather wasn’t great, we didn’t expect to meet many other hikers.  We were told by a few folks that it would be too early to meet any thru hikers (the folks who travel the entire AT, typically starting in Georgia and ending in Maine).  Three folks had actually set out before us as we parked.

Along the trail, there are two shelters.  They aren’t much, but when all you have to sleep in is a tent or hammock, I imagine it is close to a 5 star hotel.  We came upon the first shelter and were discovered by a little dog wearing a red jacket.  She had seen us coming and was alerting her hiking partners.  I was thrilled to see an actual AT shelter, so down we went.  To our surprise, we found two thru hikers (owners of the dog), two section hikers and one other guy whom we were a bit leery of.  Out on the AT you need to trust your instincts.

The thru hikers – a man and woman about our age – had started in Georgia (Springer Mountain) in December and were Maine bound.  We expressed our surprise at finding thru hikers this early in the year at this spot.  According to them, there were two others from Canada ahead of them.  We inquired about the dog and they told us that she had hiked all but two days so far.  They set off with us not far behind.  Eventually the section hikers, a man and his young son from Tennessee, caught up to us and we learned a few things about each other.  We would continue to pass each other as we made our way to the top – one step at a time.  We never saw the other guy again.  We asked the man from Tennessee about him.  He said that he had supposedly been working in the South and was hiking home to Pennsylvania.  He didn’t seem entirely convinced of this and neither were we.  He wasn’t dressed in typical hiker fashion and Cheryl didn’t see a pack or any other items with him.

The further we went up, the more we worried about making it back down and making it out before the sun disappeared.  We had managed to forget a flashlight and Cheryl is very scared of the dark.  I’m not much of a fan myself.  After what seemed like forever, there it was – that view that I had spent weeks looking at via pictures from other folks who had made it up and back down.  Our section hiker friends were there as well and together, we marveled at the view – exclaiming that it had all been worth it.  Originally we had planned to sit a top the Knob for a half hour and have lunch.  The wind, random snow flakes and cold temperatures changed our minds.  We each called our moms and let them know that we had made it up.  We snapped our own beautiful pictures, Cheryl discovered that there was a geocache back down the mountain and off we went.

Going down the mountain proved to be more difficult for me.  My knees took a beating as well as the back of my right ankle as my boot cut into it.  There was no choice though, we had to keep going.  We discussed several times on the way back down that sneakers would have been the better choice.  Live and learn.

Through all of my investigating of McAfee’s Knob, I knew that there was an alternate way down.  There was an old fire lane road that intersected the trail and would cut off a half mile of our trip.  It may not seem like much, but when you’re moving along slower than a snail with pain in every step, a half mile is a lot.  My wife was an excellent hiking partner.  We encouraged each other along the way and she helped me down every steep step on the way down.  We met many other folks along the way, some day hikers and some section hikers.  Eventually, we finally made it back down to the bottom and across the road to the parking lot.  Everything hurt from the neck down, but we had made it!  We let our moms know that we had survived, and off we went back to Roanoke.  On our way back, I cried at the realization of our accomplishment.

We rewarded ourselves with a Mexican dinner and two large margaritas.

Today we are slow moving and sore.  Every aching muscle reminds me that I have two working feet and two working legs capable of carrying me wherever I need to go.  I needed to go up that mountain and bless my wife, she went with me.

 

To have or not to have…

Childfree. Childless. In the infertility world, this is the point many couples get to.  You make the permanent decision to live without having children as part of your family.  Personally, I don’t care for either term.  Childfree I reserve for those folks who have never wanted children and are happy to live without them. Childless sounds pretty depressing to me.  Though our journey has been rough, I certainly don’t plan on letting it over take my entire life for years to come.  It has already over taken almost two years of our lives – half of the time we have been together.  Also, kids of our own or not, our lives certainly will not be childless. We have plenty of friends who have kids and those who will have some in the future.  There are plenty to go around!  Every kid needs a fun Aunt Cheryl and Aunt Stacy – Cheryl is really the fun one, I’m just along for the ride most of the time. 

I’m supposed to be on vacation and relaxing. I am, but I can’t seem to quiet this part of my brain.  We have found ourselves at a fork in the road.  This fork has several different paths, all with risks and rewards. We have no intentions of picking a path just yet. After spending so long planning each next step, it’s hard to take a step back and stop planning – hence the Appalachian Trail hike we are planning for 2016.  

A life without our own children would still be full. We love to do so many things that would be more difficult if we did have kids.  A life with our own children would be full of sharing those adventures with them. Watching them grown and learn.  

Either way a full life awaits us, along with another week enjoying the Florida sun!