Tag Archives: pregnant

“Lending a Hand”: A Husband’s Perspective

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By Chris…..a.k.a “The Brit”………

When my wife first suggested writing a blog to retain her sanity as we set out on our fertility journey, I couldn’t have been more supportive of the idea. “Great idea!” said I, “Go Balls-out;” not knowing at the time I was going to get drawn into becoming a contributory writer. Then again, I should have known better. Have you met her? Hmmm, of course you have……. so you know what a strong minded woman she is.

I’d put off writing this for some time, why? I have no idea. Perhaps it was the thought of putting my own personal life out there on public display even if it was only to a limited group of family, friends & acquaintances, but deep down I knew that having nodded compliantly some months ago there was no going back. So here it is. The middle aged alpha-male perspective on all this!

I guess, subconsciously I’d never really given much thought to having kids of my own, even as most of my contemporaries were having families, I thought of myself as “Will”, “Cool Uncle Will,” like the character Hugh Grant plays in the film “About a Boy”. I still considered that I had plenty of time for all that sort of thing but the truth of the matter was, that as much as my wife’s body clock was ticking, the realisation set in that mine was too! I finally recognized that I didn’t want to be a geriatric dad, but at the age of 42 maybe that’s exactly what I would be. Granted, my wife & I couldn’t have met & married any earlier & our entire journey has been as fast-tracked as it possibly could have been. So, nonetheless, these were the cards we’d been dealt, but with that, my own fertility was brought starkly into question and that was something I’d never considered before!

So, as my wife & I sat in the reproductive endocrinologist office considering the prospect of IVF treatment, the topic of conversation turned to focus on me.

“And of course, as part of the pre-screening, we’ll ask your husband to provide a sperm sample for all the usual testing. Just make an appointment at the front desk to tender the sample on site”.

Now, I should say at this point, I’m not naively Neanderthal to think I wouldn’t be required to do this, but I suddenly gave thought to how it all works. I envisaged a white padded room, with plastic chair and pornographic literature from the 1960’s. I’d been in pressure situations before but this was something else. How could I be expected to perform under such conditions? I needed mood lighting, scented candles, privacy & a snuggle rug along with my iPhone.

“Alternatively, ask the nurse to provide you with a sterile receptacle on the way out & you can work from home, but remember the sample has to be dropped into our office within 45 minutes.”

Phew, now this was much better. Plus, I had the added benefit of my wife being “on hand” to help out.  Anyway, when the time came, my delivery was modest to say the least and my male ego was sufficiently bruised in front of my ever supportive wife, even though we did laugh about it afterwards! If that wasn’t disconcerting enough though, it was nothing to the embarrassment I experienced upon getting to the clinic in order to make the “drop-off”. Expecting to be first on line as the doors opened at 7.30am, I was greeted by a packed waiting room full of the opposite sex. I nervously fumbled through my work bag for the sample and felt a bead of sweat form on my forehead as I sheepishly told the admin girl, “I….. I know it’s in here somewhere!” Needless to say, I handed it over & completed the receipt forms before sheepishly dashing for the nearest exit.

Now that I’m through with the comedic element of all this, there is a serious point to make here. A couple’s fertility issues are something that need to be managed collectively & sympathetically by both partners. The one thing I’ve learnt on the journey thus far is that it’s vital that both individuals listen to one another every step of the way & really hear what the other is saying, but it’s equally important that you give each other space to rationalize each other’s private thoughts over any given issue. The fertility journey requires us to make huge decisions; often with a sense of urgency about things we never previously considered and these thoughts can weigh heavily, especially when the final outcome can last a lifetime.

I remember one afternoon when my wife & I were looking even further ahead and discussing the possibilities of egg donors, sperm donors, surrogate mothers or even the prospect of adoption. As an engineer I’m conditioned on solving the immediate problem at hand & I never try to get too far ahead but during this particular discussion I began to wonder if that route really was for me. Could I be a good father to a child where only half the gene pool emanated from one side of our marriage? This was huge and I have the utmost respect for those who have the courage to pursue this part of the journey, but the question remained……. was this for me? At the time of writing, I’m still undecided!

The more I debate the issue in my head the more I begin to realize it was my acceptance of an intrusion into our relationship that I was questioning. In my experience, it’s rare to find two people in their late 30’s or early 40’s these days that are getting together and don’t have children from a previous relationship. My wife & I were different here. The fact remained though, instead of creating something new borne out of our relationship, I might be forced to accept that we’d have to open up our lives to something from outside. It wasn’t so much as to whether I could do it as to whether I wanted to. It was somehow an invasion of our intimacy.

The one thing I now know is that I’d need a lot more time to wrap my head around this because the decision isn’t mine alone & whatever I decide affects wifey too. Ultimately, our family unit is the most important thing to me & given that we both have so much to offer as prospective parents, I think I’d eventually be entirely accepting of whatever our journey turns out to be.

The Right to “Due” Process.

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Over the past few weeks, I have received multiple emails from women; friends I speak to on a regular basis, some I haven’t spoken to in a while and some who are Chris’ friends. They all have a similar tone, sharing either what they went through themselves to get their little ones here or what they are currently going through.  I started thinking about how similar we all are, the fear, the anxiety, the hope and the perseverance we wake up to each day. But….it also made me pause to consider how different each woman’s story is at the same time. Each is an individualized journey, which should be respected and admired. Baby-making is a process; a process as unique as any other artist’s creative process. Each person will take twists and turns along the way that another may not, even though the end product we are trying to create is the same. Sometimes, it’s those personal decisions along the way which  prepares us, makes us ready, stronger, full of fight, to tackle all that is about to come. And sometimes it is that journey which is what makes us so appreciative in the end. There is no right or wrong way and a woman and her partner’s decisions along the fertility ride is going to be considered as carefully as the partner they chose to have this baby with or whether this kid is going to Harvard or Yale.

All you hear when you’re young is how NOT to get pregnant. I’m sure a lot of us spent the majority of our teenage years and early 20’s thinking every time we had the smallest slip up, that was it, pregnant. Life was over. I mean, the first time I got felt up and a boy even laid on top of me (fully clothed mind you,) I thought I had committed a cardinal sin. That was the longest month ever waiting for my period to come. Could I really have been that naïve?! Apparently so….All I know is God, Mother Mary and every Saint I could think of and I had a very close relationship at that time and I don’t think I ever prayed so hard for something not to be. Funny how things change…….

Now, women in the position of wanting something so desperately look for the answers of, “OK, so how do I get pregnant?” Nobody said anything about egg viability, misshapen uteruses, miscarriages and “geriatric pregnancies,” so why does this process become just that, a process? Aren’t we supposed to just be intimate with our partners and nine months later a healthy, beautiful bundle of joy arrives from the love that was created? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? Well, yes in theory and sometimes miracles do happen just like that even when we think they wouldn’t, but sometimes they don’t.

After hearing friends’ stories of their process, what they endured, some of the judgment they received at times and how they soldiered on to do what felt right for them in order to be a mommy, I just wanted to remind women in current situations or starting this process to listen to your gut. You know… that mommy instinct that is going to come in handy when you do have your baby? Listen to it closely. This is your story and you are the only one who can write it. While hearing what others went through and asking for advice will be crucial for research while gathering information and for moral support, there will come a point when you need to quiet the noise coming from a million directions and listen to yourself. This is unfortunately not a one- size-fits all situation where you follow the manual and connect the dots. So, after careful thought, if you do decide you want to try fertility drugs or Acupuncture or Cupping or Chinese Medicine, or IUI or IVF or an egg donor or a sperm donor or a surrogate or adoption, etc., do it. And just keep reminding yourself it’s not how you get to the title of “Mommy” in the end, it’s just about being called Mommy. I wish you all, the easiest and briefest journey in your process. Never stop hoping.

Jackpot

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“Papa can you hear meeeeee……..?!”

Those are the words that replayed through my head as we sat in the waiting room during our first specialist meeting. My heart was racing. My palms were sweating. It took everything in my power not to squeeze the last ounce of blood out of Chris’ hand as he signed every last bit of paperwork;  which made me fear we might actually be so poor after this venture that we’ll have to sign away the rights to that very child we are trying to have.

Just as I was about to get up to pee for the 2nd time in ten minutes or have a coronary from nerves, whichever came first……there he emerged. It was like something biblical; a religious moment. He parted the partition doors the way Moses parted the Red Sea. People weep when they see the holy land, I wept when I laid eyes on him. I immediately saw his welcoming smile as I heard him call my name, but all I saw were heavenly white lights that surrounded him as if he was going to lead us to that very promised land……..I then was able to draw my first breath that morning.

We had hit the mother-load. There he was, in all his fertility specialist glory. An adorable, young, Jewish, yamaka wearing, Harvard educated miracle worker leading US into his 27th floor, all-city view office ready to check my eggs. MY eggs!! I was honored. I felt prouder than his Jewish mother probably did the day he told her he was becoming a doctor. More thoughts raced through my head from the short walk to his office than the 45 minutes it took me that morning to decide what to wear and how to do my hair so I might appear younger; hoping it would therefore lead him to give me better news about my eggs due to my youthful appearance. All I kept thinking was, “If this guy can’t get me pregnant. Nobody’s going to.” I will go so far as to say I was ready to break out into a rendition of “The Bottle Dance” from Fiddler to entertain him or bring  him a beautiful brisket next time if it meant he was going to make this happen for us. Yes, I am not above bribery at this point. If I’m going to go down, I will go down swinging.

Within the first five minutes, I was in love. Within the first ten minutes, I think the blood returned to my body. Within the first fifteen minutes, I felt more reassured than I have in months and he hadn’t really said anything of consequence yet. An hour and a half in his office, he spoke to us like human beings. He was kind and thorough and funny and never once spoke down to us. He explained things in laymen’s terms so we understood everything and was honest about where we were at. He was confident and hopeful and his positive outlook……well, his positive outlook made us feel we could have a positive outlook too.

He stressed how he was not too concerned with my pesky FSH level of 12 and because my AMH was above the median for my age meant that there was a reserve there. Now, we don’t know what the viability of that egg reserve is yet, but he did stress nobody’s eggs are ever all bad, even women in their 40’s. As I’ve come to understand from my new best friend, in the last few years, a lot of doctors are now turning to the AMH level more than the FSH level because there is a chance for moderate fluctuation from cycle to cycle. The AMH is more constant and doesn’t really vary. That number is what it is. He was confident that if he repeated the blood work it might have even gone down to an 8 next time. So there we were……..OK….*“insert even bigger exhale.”

As he continued and told us he didn’t really expect too many surprises to surface from my impending HSG (aka tube & uterus check test) or Chris’ semen analysis (oh yes, get ready for that blog entry coming up soon……that will be a good one,) he confessed that with our history, the way things are looking on my lab report and the biggest prognostic factor being that I was just pregnant, he wouldn’t be surprised if we wound up doing this on our own if we gave it a few more months.

But…..first….the dreaded internal sonogram. Good times.

My poor husband should receive a medal for his bravery that day. As he anxiously watched me undress to get examined, he was like a helpless child trying to do something to help me, standing there, waiting to take my pants and underwear to lie neatly on the chair. (This really is no different when he wants to get lucky, though he is not as anal about folding them and laying them on a chair.)

Cut to the chase…..Dr. Mazel Tov showed us everything and in fact I not only had 1 or 2 follicles, I had 6 on the right and 5 on the left! Just one short of a dozen!! Go me!

But of course, because it’s me, I couldn’t just be left to bask in my follicle joyfulness as I stared and recounted each dark circle on the sono. That would not make for interesting reading folks. Of course there has to be a small, potential red-flag. Although preliminary, it is appearing that my uterus might be slightly misshapen. Not to be confused with a tipped uterus. This is different. Mine is appearing as a “partial bicornuate.” In other words, what is also called a “heart shaped uterus.” My uterus looks a bit like two devil horns coming out from either side. –(I could go to so many places with the devil horn thing right now, but I’ll leave it alone. I think those of you that know me are probably already chuckling at this.) So, while he appeared to not be overly concerned by it, my HSG will tell us more as to whether it is insignificant enough to just be left alone or whether I will need a surgical procedure to correct it. Either way, the doc said it is not something to stress over. (Yeah right……surgery on my uterus, sounds awesome. Sign me up.)

As we finished up and spoke about options we might consider after our tests and procedures are completed, he was quick to say that no matter what we choose to do, he would like us to wait until after our upcoming 2nd honeymoon to Italy. Because we “fit the profile” of couples who go through all the preliminary testing and then wind up calling him to say, “Never mind….we’re pregnant,” he is optimistic. But, he also does not want to start any kind of drug protocol until I’m home and can be monitored. Fair enough. Here’s hoping though. He said to go and enjoy vacation and we’ll take it from there upon our return. He said we can even choose to do nothing for a few months. So, who knows, we might be able to make-a-little-meat-a-ball or-a pizza-pie on our own….and if we don’t, we now have a plan to come back to and feel we are in the best, most capable hands. We might end up homeless after our insurance coverage runs out and we start paying out of pocket, but hey, one day at a time for now….it was a good first visit.

And there you have it. Chris and I walked into what we hoped would be a lucky gamble and we walked out hitting the proverbial fertility jackpot of doctors. Lucky 7’s , Triple Cherry’s across the board.

Thank you, Dr. for giving us some tikvah.

Yasher Koach.

 

Cervical Mucus & American Ninja Warrior.

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*Before I start this blog entry, I’d like to apologize to my husband in advance for the full disclosure & TMI. He was an innocent participant in all of this.

          So…any of us that are having issues conceiving know changes in cervical mucus during the month are prime indicators for when ovulation and your peak fertile window is approaching. We all wait patiently for that little smiley face on the ovulation predictor test to appear and for that perfect “egg-white” texture (hence another egg reference) and aim to provide those little “spermies” an ideal vessel in which to travel. Yeah…..well, I just don’t seem to have a knack for deciphering the difference between creamy, sticky, egg-white or watery cervical mucus. Maybe, I just don’t have any. Who knows at this point? I could be drying up like the Sahara for all I know. Only until this month was I able to think I got some sort of glimpse into what this magical and heavenly egg-white texture was supposed to look and feel like. When I told my acupuncturist that I just don’t see significant changes, she reminded me that I did get pregnant once already so something must be going right….fair enough.

         Well on my quest to decide if the “Big O” was approaching (ovulation day, not orgasm day in case your minds were in the gutter)….I must have spent a good half hour trying to figure out what was going on. The ovulation test was still not showing any signs of the stupid smiley face and honestly, I was not in the mood for anything that night other than devouring the yummy dinner I had just made and plopping on the couch with the dog and a cuppa. But….duty called and I was determined not to miss out on another month. I finally decided that I am shit at this and would have to enlist Chris to check for me when he got home. Great. Now he’s gonna think I want to fool around and pounce. Same way he assumes this when I quickly walk naked through the apartment to throw my dirty laundry in the washing machine before jumping in the shower. No, I’m not trying to be sexy or seduce you right now walking scantily clad across the room…. I just want to put my dirty clothes away because they stink from 5 hours of teaching dance classes tonight. Nonetheless I was going to take my chances.

          My adorable, loving husband walked through the door that night and during dinner I explained what he had in store of him that evening. Talk about a honey-do list.

Me: “Babe, I need you to check my cervical mucus tonight.”

*Picks up his head with that wry smile…*

Chris: “Alrighty, I think I’m up for the task…..” *wink* *wink*

Me: “No hon. Seriously. I’m not trying to be sexy here. I really don’t know what I’m looking for.”

Him: “OK. If I must…..I must…….” *wink* *wink*

Me: “Oh god…..really??”

          As we both broke out into laughter, I thought he got the picture that his usual up for anything wife was tired this one evening and this was purely a clinical request. As I waited for him to change and get comfortable I was flicking through the T.V. before he called me into our bedroom.

Chris: “OK…lay down.”

Me: “Don’t be funny, just do it.”

Chris: “I will but I need you to lay down and relax.”

Me: “Alright. But just do it quick. Please……..”

Chris: “OK, but I can’t work under this kind of pressure.”

Me:……*silence*……………”Are you done yet?”

Chris: *heavy breathing commences – slowly starts kissing me*………

Me: *more silence and then I hear the T.V. in the background*…….“Hon….I love you but I really don’t want to fool around right now. Can you PLEASE just check my cervical mucus so I can go watch America Ninja Warrior???”

Chris: *hysterical laughter*…….”Yeah, yeah alright……..”

          God I love that husband of mine. He just gets it. Priorities people. Priorities. This is what intimacy is built from…….Long story short………we never figured out the cervical mucus that night but we did catch one hell of an episode. Great show.

 

The Decision to Put Out.

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          Writing this blog has been something I’ve been toying with for the last few weeks. While it’s been frustrating since the miscarriage in January waiting to conceive again (and honestly more like expecting to conceive again since we got pregnant on the first try,) the new-found knowledge that my eggs are in question has made the situation even more pertinent. So, instead of just waiting for the miracle of life to happen naturally, receiving the information that may not happen on its own has put me in a very different head space.
          This journey is extremely personal. It’s a lot of information that a lot of people might question why I’m putting out there. Quite frankly, I questioned writing it myself and spoke with Chris at length about whether I wanted our lives out there and why. The truth? I just hope it helps. I hope it helps me to get my emotions and thoughts out there so I don’t sit around and brew and feel sorry for myself. I hope it inspires others. I hope it teaches people that infertility is prevalent and it’s nobody’s fault. I hope it creates dialogue. I hope it fosters support. I hope it makes relationships stronger. I hope it makes us laugh and show there are funny moments amidst struggle and I hope at the end of this journey, I have these writings to show our “little egg” how much he was wanted and how much we were willing to endure to get him here. 
          As with anything I have done in my life, I either do, or don’t do. I did it in my professional dance career, I did it in grad school and I still do it now when I teach. A good dancer doesn’t mark. Everything is full out. I either will put myself out there 110% or not at all. So here I go. What I will say is as hard as this situation continues to get, I am the luckiest girl to have a partner who listened to my thoughts on starting this blog, sat there at the kitchen table and said I should go and do this “balls out” and write from the heart, uncensored. So I thank “The Brit” for letting me expose him, for being my rock, my biggest supporter and my partner in crime who I take this baby-makin biz with seriously. We are a team. Me and you. You and me. No matter where this roads leads us. I may have been more fertile, with ripe, juicy follicles at 25 where the egg pickin’s were endless, but you were a piece of the puzzle that needed to be filled before this baby was meant to be. I believe that I needed to wait for you. So while all those puzzle pieces align, the timing is optimal now, no matter what those numbers on a lab report say. Everything in our relationship and all that has fallen into place for us has been ruled by the stars and angels above. This will be no different. With this struggle, we will love and appreciate this baby ten-fold when he arrives. Neither of us is afraid of adversity and even in weak moments we will be OK. That much, I know.
          So….that’s why I’m putting out; my writing that is, figuratively speaking. I am scared, excited, hopeful, anxious, ready, filled with dread, doubtful, faithful, fearless, optimistic, pessimistic, trusting and forging ahead. Lately, I have often been caught saying to myself and others,

“I can do this. I know my body can do this at least once. I feel it. There’s no way I can’t conceive and carry at least one healthy child.”

          I have been so tightly wound to control this situation and even though I have never felt so good physically, mentally and spiritually through the practice of mediation, prayer, acupuncture, Chinese Medicine, exercise, rest, summer days at the beach, great sex and de-stressing, the truth is, ultimately this is not in my control. There is a reason having a baby is called a miracle. There is a point where science ends and faith must take over. As my dear friend Simone recently pointed out,

“I hear you keep saying ‘you can do this.’ ‘You know your body can do this at least once.’ Jess, when you realize that it’s not YOU that’s going to make this happen and release it up to God, let him do his thing and trust….that’s when you’re going to get pregnant.”

          This has stuck with me for the past few days. I know it’s completely true and nobody has said it better. Now….here….. is where I try to make a conscious effort to control the things I can control but worry a little less and trust my angels above. Through my writing I hope to find a peaceful place of acceptance and get ready for this baby we can’t wait to meet.

Waiting. Period.

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           Yep….OK…..15 DPO, 4 negative pregnancy tests, 2 swollen boobs I want to rip off my body, 10 gallons of water weight bloating, one moody wife and one patient husband…… and…… we wait. Oh no, we’re not waiting for the love our life, our “little egg” to appear, no we’re waiting for Aunt Flo to finally friggin get here so I can button my pants again this month and get over the fact that despite perfect timing, egg-white cervical mucus (finally), a happy smiley face on the O test and corresponding temperatures, we are in fact NOT PREGNANT. We are so not pregnant that the void of a second line on the pregnancy test was so apparent the thing almost jumped out and smacked me in the face to tell me,

“Asshole. You are not pregnant and staring at me isn’t going to change it, no matter how many angles you look at me from or how long you hold me up to the window to see if the sun reflects a line off of me. Stop holding me under the table lamp too and putting me down, walking away for ten minutes and coming back to double check. You’re just making an idiot of yourself and you should be ashamed.”

          So….here Priscilla sits waiting…..just waiting……Oh. Wait. You haven’t met. Meet Priscilla. That is my PMS alter ego who remains present until post-period, follicular phase Jessie returns. I’m sure you’ll get to know her well.

          You know….It’s bad enough you have the dreaded two week wait after ovulation where you sit in this purgatory of hell just willing your temperatures to stay up so that you’re still in the running. But now, to know you’re not pregnant and your luteal phase just doesn’t want to end….well that’s just cruel and downright mean.

          People asking, “well…..are you sure you’re not pregnant?” does not help either. In a nutshell…….Yes, I’m fucking sure. Do you think I’m making this shit up? Do you think I enjoy the repeated ass-kicking my negative pregnancy test has been giving me the past week?! Really??? Mind your business……..I know my body.

          I guess I should look on the bright side. My luteal phase is long enough for an embryo to implant so that’s one problem I’m not enduring. Although, there is no embryo that seems to want to implant so that kind of defeats the purpose of that rationale. But, nonetheless as my acupuncture guru advises,

“I believe your body is getting itself ready to implant. Your temperatures are looking good (except that dip mid cycle we just can’t seem to boost and she keeps reminding me of) and it’s just a matter of time…..It’s going to happen.”

          I do believe this….I have to believe this. Now, I just need to talk Priscilla off the ledge before she demolishes ALL of The Brit’s chocolate stash his friends brought him over from England.

Period.