IVF, meds, and doctors, OH MY!

Throughout this blog, I'm trying really hard to be positive and upbeat.  The fertility/infertility journey requires a lot of strength, sleep, and positivity (wine doesn't hurt either).  As much as we tried to remain positive, there were people along the way who definitely ruined our mojo.

*To avoid revealing the identities of those mentioned below, except for my own and my husband's, all names have been changed.

First, let me say, that I am not here to be negative and to disparage any sort of medical professional. What we experienced was unique to us. It is ours alone, and I would never in a million years presume to think that ALL doctors who work with infertile couples behave as our first doctor did. In fact, we have proof that they do not because we fired our first doctor, and our second doctor was a dream.

When you're told by the nurse practitioner at your OBGYN's office that your only options for having a child are IVF or adoption, your heart breaks a little bit.  Every dream that you had about having a child that "looks just like you" is gone.  You start to wonder many things (but the first always seems to be making peace with winding up with a kid who won't look like you):

--will I ever be a mom (I've written a bit about that already)
--what will it feel like to never be pregnant?
--how will I relate to other women who have been pregnant?
--will I be excluded from their group?
--what will it be like to never have a child who looks like me?
--how will I explain what has happened to others?
--what if they don't get it?
--how much is all of this going to cost?

My OBGYN referred us to a particular doctor, a supposed fertility expert, at a local, but well-known, hospital.  I made my appointment to get put through testing to figure out what was going on.  At the time, I was only 32, so I had time on my side.  What's the upside of infertility at such a young age? EVERYONE in the field says, "Oh my gosh. You are SO YOUNG."  It's the only great feeling about not having been "advanced maternal age" (over 35).

After all of our testing (hubby got tested to), we were told what the issues were and were told that IVF would be our only viable option.  We had already wrapped our head around the IVF thing, so we weren't that surprised.  We had come with questions, and the nursing staff responded well.  We were given information, they explained the process, and we went home to talk more about it. Other than the initial examination from the doctor, I didn't see him again for the rest of the visit.

It was August 2006.  My school year was getting ready to start. I was playing soccer again in an all women's league, and I had realized that my full life would be REALLY helpful during this IVF process.  We went back for our initial appointment, to learn how to administer all of the drugs, and ask more questions.  All I wanted to know was would I still be able to play soccer.  The answer was "no."  Because of the intensity of all of the medications, I would need to rest and take it easy.  No soccer balls to the stomach.  So, that was the first step in limiting my activity before I was even pregnant.

We went to the pharmacy, got ALL of the medications, had our schedule of when each would have to be administered, and we were ready to roll.

Ladies: You think PMS is bad? You ain't seen nothin' until you've seen a woman on IVF meds.

Stay tuned for that in my next post.

Inconceivable

It was inconceivable to me (pun intended) that I would never be a biological mother.  I just couldn't fathom it.  To catch up a bit, check out this post: http://kathleenwhitworth.blogspot.com/2015/02/stumbling-around.html.

To NOT be a mom? What would that look like? Feel like? What would I do with my life?

I tend to be a hand wringer.  I wring my hands, fret uncontrollably and don't do anything about that which I am fretting.  Usually in these cases, Shannon tells me to go talk to someone (usually a person whom he thinks will help me).  So, I called my priest, FT.

I was born and raised Roman Catholic and am still practicing.  I'm not on board with absolutely everything the Church wants me to be on board with (living together before marriage, anyone?), BUT I value immensely our priest and his input.  He is a very down-to-earth dude who is really honest and forthright.  He's not super preachy (I know, weird for a priest), and he generally guides his flock to the right answer rather than telling them what to think.

With that in mind, I called him and told him EVERYTHING that had gone on with the medical/science world: IVF or adoption were our only choices.  He suggested that we meet for coffee, and we did.  When he walked in and sat down, I didn't even give him a chance to get his coffee before saying, "Ok. We've been told that IVF is our only option. I know the Church is not big on IVF, but I don't care. I want a baby, and this is what has to happen."  He smiled and said, "Ohhhhh Kayyyyyyy.  Well, why don't you tell me why you want to have a baby."  And I said, "Shannon and I want to share our lives with another human. I want to have my husband's child."  FT said, "Well, then, there you have it.  Those are good reasons."

The conversation went on for quite some time.  FT was supportive and told me that he would support us no matter what.  I can still see us sitting there all those years ago.  I feel incredibly blessed that our priest is so very realistic and kind.

When I returned home to Shannon, I said, "Let's go for it."  We had been given the name of a fertility doctor at a local, well-known hospital.  We called his office, made an appointment for a consultation, and met with him for the first time in late August 2006.

Had I known the kind of person he was--his attitude, his bedside manner, his general aura--I never would have worked with him. I was SO desperate to have a biological child that I did not vet this doctor enough.  Lesson learned.  More on that in my next post.