Being stuck inside a body that inexplicably doesn’t function on the most basic human level is a pain that never subsides for those who are trying to have children. You can’t help but wonder what, if any purpose you have on this earth. Being inadequate has never felt so awful. And being reminded over and over again from failure after failure is a heavy burden to bear, especially when it's your fault.
I read once that research found women experiencing infertility have emotional stress levels similar to Cancer patients. Failed fertility cycles are painful to accept and often result in depression or isolation, or divorce, and eventually feed into other psycho-social disorders. Simply stated, my physical inability to have a child has consequences on a social and emotional level and it’s a struggle every day for me, personally. Mostly because I'm innocently reminded every day that this is my reality. Sadly, this has been my life for the last 7 years.
Physically you are spent from all the drugs being pumped into your system. Your arms, your ass, your stomach – are all black and blue from daily injections. Your body is completely out of sorts with weight gain. Your mood is off the charts and unpredictable. You have people looking inside of you every few days running methodical test after test. Emotionally you are a train wreck waiting on the afternoon call with the next steps or dosage changes which means you may need more costly meds overnighted to your house (which you have to be there to receive). Your marriage… it gets tense. And if you’re me, the staff will actually know you on a first name basis.
Infertility is even more difficult to accept when there is no reason to explain it. If you knew why things weren't working you could at least surrender knowing there is nothing more you can do - and then you can move on. But if it’s unexplained infertility you are constantly chasing that statistical carrot on the stick. “This could be the one” your doctor might say, followed by a very sterile non-biased hard-to-read explanation and a little womb doodle. I’ve said to myself at least 11 different times “THIS could be the one”. I’ve received a total of 11 different treatments over the course of 7 years and we got one beautiful baby girl named Stella.
"At least you’ve got one" people say. True, we did get Stella but and it wasn’t easy. 2 clomid cycles, 4 intrauterine inseminations, 3 IVF attempts and one miscarriage later (about 5 years of treatment) is what it took for me to get pregnant with Stella. Now that She’s almost 2 years old I can’t help but think about having another – like most people get to do if they so choose.
And so it goes... this past summer we had our transferred our single frozen embryo that we saved for 2 years and it worked! But just two weeks after the best news we could have received I was told we should prepare ourselves to lose the baby because it wasn’t developing at the proper rate. I had to go back to the doctor every week and literally watch our baby slowly die on the ultrasound until it finally gave up 9 weeks and 6 days later. I ended up getting a D and C at the same clinic I went to get pregnant. He was a boy.
A couple months later we worked up the courage to go in full force. This time we did IVF with genetic testing to make sure the embryos were healthy before they were transferred. This was the longest cycle ever (about 6 months total) before we could compete the transfer. We literally paid to have our embryos flown to California in first class to have them tested and flown back to us. After it was all said and done we only had 2 embryos to work with but we were stoked. All it takes is one!
On the day of the transfer we were told one embryo didn’t thaw properly. Our odds went down considerably that day from 60% to 30%. As usual Jeff did his best to help me stay positive. Poor Jeff. Once again I laid in bed for two days not moving a single muscle. Most people thought I was celebrating my 40th birthday. Little did they know I was on bed rest and maniacally referencing notes I had compiled from previous cycles to make sure everything was in line with a good turnout, and it was... Except here I sit having just received news that yet another cycle has failed. “Sorry to tell you, it didn’t work this time” And there went another $18,000.00 of our nest egg... just.like.that.poof.
Since most people don’t struggle with infertility I understand why it's hard to know what to say to someone like me. I’m bitter towards friends and family who reap the benefits, I turn my head at pregnant women, and I literally envision injuring anybody who dares to ask about "the status of number two". I’m not exaggerating when I say it takes a lot to stop myself from physically reaching out and hurting someone who approaches me about this. And every time I'm put in this situation I duck into a room or hide in my car bawling my face off. So I've found it's much easier on me to keep my distance from everyone who has what I ever wanted, and who always manages to say the wrong insensitive thing when they bring up the topic. It’s just too painful to deal with over and over again.
I never pictured raising an only child because I didn't have a choice. I’m burdened by an unbelievable amount of guilt for leaving my daughter without a sibling due to my own personal deficiencies, and giving my husband less than what we planned for while also throwing tens of thousands of our dollars out the door trying to make it work. And now I struggle with making the decision to stop seeking treatment even though THIS was supposed to be the last time - again. I don’t know if I can move past this. I feel I’ve reached an emotional and financial edge but my sense of self-efficacy tells me I haven’t really done everything in my power if I can still afford the treatment, even if that means completely emptying our savings. I know that sounds ridiculous…. (to you). But how do you walk away from something you've literally invested 8 years of your life trying to accomplish? I almost feel it’s less painful to continue with fertility treatment and fail rather than walk away from our dreams because the latter is the hardest hit to take of all.
