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Finding your parental path

A place where those facing infertility can come and find inspiration, gain knowledge and maybe even have a laugh.

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Putting one foot in front of the other during infertility

10/19/2013

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Putting one foot in front of the other during infertility

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As I stalked my former CEO one day while he continued to meet a steady stream of people in his office, my stomach was doing flip-flops. I wasn't sure if I was feeling my unborn baby in my belly or if my nerves were giving way as I waited for the inevitable to happen.

No, I wasn't quitting my job or even waiting to be let go. A business trip was planned for the management team to travel to Mont Tremblant and I was included. The CEO of the company for which I worked owned a home where he hosted us each year. The excursion had been booked for several weeks; we were going to do some team building and hold strategy meetings in between luxuriating at the spa and/or skiing. We were due to take off in 2 short days but I learned the day before from my OB/GYN that my 14-week-unborn baby would likely not survive. This was going to be my/our second loss. I needed to tell my boss that I wouldn't be able to make the trip. 

My plan was to walk into his office, sit down, make small talk, let him know that I was dealing with an unforeseen family matter, apologize for having to pull out of the trip at the last minute and end by offering to reimburse him for my travel expenses. Keep calm and carry on was to be my mantra on that day. I was confident that I could/would stick to my script. I’ve encountered numerous pivot-worthy scenarios during my career as a salesperson. For example, I’ve had clients begin conversations by firing my agency/technology (and by association me) only to have them end with allocating additional budget to test a new product. Given my history of turning bad news into good, I believed that I could act in the third person and convey my message in a calm and rational manner.

The CEO was a very generous yet quirky person;  he could be tricky to navigate, at times. This annual trip was extremely important to him. 

On more than one occasion, I had observed him, losing his temper. Seemingly minor infractions could provoke him and without much warning. His volcanic reactions could erupt spontaneously in what had moments before been a casual and kind conversation. 

Later that afternoon, I noticed my boss was alone in his office. I politely/quietly knocked on his door and asked, "May I have a moment?" He casually waved me in and said with a smile, “What’s up?” I sat down, took a deep breath and that’s when the unthinkable happened. Upon exhale I hastily blurted, “I am really sorry but I can’t go to Mont-Tremblant this weekend. I just found out that I will probably miscarry but I am not sure when it may happen!”

Oh don’t worry, it gets worse…

As I was making the declaration, I burst into a guttural sob that started in my throat but quickly moved throughout my whole body. Who in the World knows what he, the man who held the keys to my career—at least during my tenure at his company, could comprehend from the gibberish falling out of mouth. I was having a difficult time catching my breath much less controlling my facial gestures. I grasped onto the chair and stared into my lap.

(Why are you holding you hands over your ears and closing one eye? Oh, because you are extremely mortified for me? Yes, I understand. As I recall this moment in time, I really wish I could erase it but alas I cannot.)

Finally, when I was able to gather some semblance of control over my emotions/body, I looked up at him through blurry eyes. Shockingly, he looked very serene and casually said, “Well, congratulations on getting pregnant!” I let out sort of a snort/laugh while I used the back of my hand to try to whisk away the tears and mucus that were on/around my face.

He was aware of our previous loss given it happened while I was working for him when it occurred. During our therapy session/meeting, he shared that he and his wife had also suffered through losses and he empathized completely. I was very surprised by his candor and compassion. I was having a tough time reconciling the fact that the man sitting in front of me could have ever been his alter ego.

The only thing that I recall going according to plan during that conversation was that I offered to reimburse him for my travel. He told me not to worry about it then abruptly stood up and simply said, “Thanks!” I took his lead and said the same to him.

As I jetted out of his office, a shiver traveled down my spine because let’s be honest, that exchange was beyond awkward. I was mortified, to say the least. On the other hand, I appreciated that this powerful and intimidating man had chosen to offer kindness in lieu of impatience and ambivalence.

That weekend I waited for the inevitable to happen but it never did. Our baby’s heartbeat finally stopped a week later. My doctor was hoping I would miscarry on my own to avoid surgery. In doing so, I came down with what they believed was Sepsis. I was admitted into the hospital and had an emergency D&C while being given loads and loads of IV antibiotics.

Why am I sharing this story? One of the trickiest things about struggling to have a family is putting one foot in front of the other while we try to carry on with our daily lives. Our minds and spirits become enormously frayed while we are tasked with holding down a job, nurturing a partnership/marriage, running a household, keeping up with our friends and maybe even raising other children. Personally, I found it nearly impossible to keep going while I was facing the very real possibility that I may never get to be a mother. Getting dressed and even brushing my teeth felt more like working out. Infertility is scary as hell.

Lean on your loved ones for support. People will surprise you; they may even have more patience and tolerance than you ever thought possible. 

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How to Support Someone Struggling with Infertility

7/20/2013

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How to Support Someone Struggling with Infertility

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First and foremost, don’t gloss over the fact that your friend and/or loved one is in crisis. In our society, we tend to go that route and it just isn’t helpful. When someone learns that they can’t have a biological child, that brutal reality is crushing. Imagine being told that the one thing you wanted most in life was an absolute impossibility.  Let that notion sink in for a moment.

…Now, if it were you, how would you like it if someone simply ignored your agony?

Learning that you have to seek alternative solutions to build your family is not akin to having to choose another neighborhood because you can’t afford to purchase a home in the one you really wish to live. It’s also not even close to attending your second choice college/university. I know this because my husband and I have built our family through fertility treatments and adoption. 


The only quasi comparison I can make is that infertility may be a bit like being stood up at the alter. When you're standing there feeling insanely happy about starting your life with the woman/man you love more than anything, the moment you learn that he/she doesn't feel the same way, betrayal falls down on your like shards of glass. They've made a mockery of your loyalty and devotion and it shatters your belief in the shoulda', woulda' coulda's. That's how losing my unborn children felt to me. God had played a sick joke on me/us and I was profoundly devastated. But I bring up a good point, when a person is stood up at the alter, they have a logical person towards whom they may direct their anger. Who do we blame when we learn about our infertility? I wanted to shake my fist at God but realized I would probably need his help in the very near future. For the record, I was right.

Some people tell their friends and family when they have endured a pregnancy loss and yet others withhold that information for various reasons. A direct parallel cannot be drawn between someone sharing the news that they or their partner has suffered a miscarriage to how much pain they will experience while their hopes and dreams are in serious jeopardy of ever coming true.  

When couples are encountering fertility issues, it’s not uncommon for them to disagree over how they should create their family. There are so many factors that go into mapping out a parental path especially when it requires the assistance of third parties. In addition to being forced to accept the fact that a person’s future child/children will not share his/her and/or their partner’s DNA, a significant financial investment must also be made in order to pursue that goal.  Can you imagine spending $20,000 or more without the guarantee of parenting a child in the end? The stress of trying to figure out from where the money will come while absorbing the shock that your body has forsaken you takes an enormous emotional toll.

Having said all of this, the question I’m sure you continue to ask yourself is, “How do I support my loved one during all of this uncertainty?” To start, put yourself in his/her shoes. Really think about what it would be like to embrace the possibility of never being able to parent a child if that was your lifelong dream.

In a previous post, I wrote about what one should NEVER say to a person facing infertility.  You may want to read it and forward it onto others in your immediate family/circle of friends.

Ultimately, the person you love just wants to feel understood. They need to hear the words, “I’m so sorry!” I urge you to listen to them—really listen. Prior to asking a question, rehearse it in your head before it leaves your lips. That exercise could save you from having to apologize for inflicting unintentional pain for what may have been an insensitive remark. Try to refrain from offering the usual platitudes and definitely don’t say, “It will all be ok!” The bottom line is that you can’t assure him/her a child. Your loved one’s doctors and/or adoption facilitators can’t even grant them their wish with 100% certainty.

I realize you may feel like everything you say/do these days is all wrong. I seriously doubt that is the case, however. But sadly, I think you would agree that your predicament is far less precarious than the one your loved one is currently facing. At this particular juncture, your quiet and unconditional love is what’s needed most. In my no-so-humble opinion, these are the ways in which you may support someone who is experiencing infertility.

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Déjà vu

6/29/2013

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Déjà vu

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My current quest is finding our family a home in a top-rated Chicago school district. The exercise has proven to be exhausting and futile over the past several months.

Last night, we learned that we lost out on an updated, spacious home with loads of storage and a dry basement that was also within walking distance to one of the best elementary schools in the city. I sure hope our opponent won due to a sizable difference in their bid.

When I saw the text from our Realtor that simply read, “I’m sorry but they took the other offer” I immediately felt betrayed, angry and just generally frustrated. Part of my betrayal stemmed from the hope that had begun to grow inside of me. I had already started imagining our future happiness in the home. I was angry because I had wasted my time (and my HR manager’s) frantically trying to gain access to my online ADP account that wouldn’t allow me to login. Our lender needed 2 months worth of pay stubs to work out the numbers and the listing agent had set a rigid deadline for any/all offers to be submitted. When we wrote up the offer within minutes of the deadline, I was committing to more than just the physical property. I was attaching us to the street and the community. I had already convinced myself that our children's future best friends all lived on the same block. My frustration was really about not wanting to start the whole process over again. 

This wasn’t the first time we lost out on a home deal either. Back in January, we had made an offer on an even larger home with 5 bedrooms and 3 full baths. It definitely needed more work but the layout was perfect. It was located on Minnehaha Street. Now, I call it Minneboohoo Street.

When I overindulged on pineapple pizza last night while I watched the Mad Men season finale, I thought, “I am feeling some of the very same emotions tonight as I did back when I was facing infertility!”

I wanted to shout, “Why can’t you just let us buy a house?” UGH!!! I’m not really sure who, you is but I am damn mad at him/her!

The source of my internal anxiety is no longer fueled by my biological clock ticking; now it's tied to the ever-rising interest rates. Instead of sending exasperated emails to my fertility nurses/doctors, they now go to our ill-fated Realtor.  My new shopping distraction is purchasing Judy Collins, John Denver, Jim Croce and Joni Mitchell songs on iTunes. Apparently, I find solace in songwriters whose first names start with the letter ‘J’.  (Ok that realization just struck me. ‘J’ names were obviously very popular in the 1960’s.) I have racked up about $100 on my iTunes account just today.

Don't misunderstand me; purchasing a home can't compare to starting/building a family. My only point is that some of my old infertility wounds have been opened up during our home buying process; it reminds me of the depression I used to feel when I realized that we were back at square one.  If you are anything like I was when I was desperately trying to become a mother, you may feel a pang of envy whenever you learn of others good baby fortune. Now, I definitely feel a sense of inequity every time I'm informed that we lost the chance to own a home to which I felt we were entitled. Deep down, you and I both know that the winners are probably just as deserving as we are though. Sadly, that knowledge doesn't take away the sting.

As I listen to these beautiful songs and put my thoughts to paper, I'm gaining important perspective. I realize that finding a great home in the right neighborhood would be nice but all I really need are my sweet and crazy children.  I am sure you would trade any/all of your beautiful monetary things for a healthy child.  I will keep thinking good thoughts for you.  While you are waiting, have a listen to the Judy Collins station on Pandora. It's  pretty great!


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Don’t Worry, Your Worry will get Bigger

5/20/2013

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Don’t Worry, Your Worry will get Bigger    

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I have hesitated to write about my mom experiences in this blog/forum because I remember how annoying it was when my friends used to prattle on about their current-day issues with their kids back when I had none to prattle on about. I am breaking my code of silence, however, because I want to reassure you that your current-day worry will become even greater once you become a parent.

I recall obsessively wondering from where my children would come when I was facing infertility. The nights were almost unbearable because I would lie in bed and try to conjure up ways to convince others to put me at the very top of any/all lists that would guarantee my chances of becoming a mother.

Today, I am giving you an assignment that will enable you to be the best parent you can be once your children arrive.

Last night when I was putting our 4.5 year old to bed, he began inquiring about fire safety. He asked what would happen if a fire ever broke out in our house. He wondered how he would get out of his room at night, if the fire were between he and his door. I assured him that mommy and daddy were right down the hall and that we would protect him. In my head I kept chanting/praying, “Lord, please don’t let there ever be a fire in our house—or at least not when any of us are home!”

Then I reminded him that the fire alarm was right outside his door and that it would make a sound if it detected any fire or even smoke. In hindsight, that was probably a mistake because that new knowledge actually provoked more anxiety in him. He doesn’t like loud buzzing noises. I have a sticky note on our dryer buzzer that says, “Make sure this is OFF at all times” The first night we moved into this house, it sounded right after he fell asleep and sent him into a major tailspin.

As we went through about 43 fire safety and escape route scenarios, I thought to myself, “I don’t recall ever laying in bed and wondering about this particular subject matter when I was waiting for you or your brothers to be born.” When we were adopting and going through the egg donor processes, we met with a myriad of professionals who prepared us for the physical, financial and emotional challenges we would face as parents but nobody ever prepped me for this particular event.

Once a person crosses the parental threshold, sex and drug conversations are to be expected; in fact, the first time I held our eldest I said, “Please don’t ever do drugs!” But who prepares/reminds us that we will be faced with a parental challenge of epic proportions almost every single day once our children make their way to us? Well, I guess that’s what I am doing right now, eh?

Don’t get me wrong, while I was sitting on the side of his bed and we were talking all of this through, I felt honored to be his mother. In those minutes, the awesome sense of responsibility came at me in full force. Looking back, I now realize that I had an idealistic and simplistic view of what parenting a very young child would be like; now it seems, overly so.

When I have a second to ponder the desperation I once felt about becoming a mother, I often think to myself, “I guess I should have used those months/years to prepare for how to alleviate my children’s angst about what life may have in store for them” (imagined or real). Now that I have been given the awesome gift of motherhood, I become stumped so often at the numerous inquiries my young children throw at me.  

In short, here is my message to you—Spend the time that you have now preparing yourself to be the best parent that you can be. Once your child/children arrive, you will not be given a cheat sheet of the questions he/she/they will throw at you at any given moment. They start doing this at a very young age; you will be surprised! 


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Denise sits down with the I AM BIG SHOW

4/13/2013

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Denise sits down with Ayush on the I AM BIG SHOW

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So, Now What?

3/21/2013

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So, now what?

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This post is dedicated to all of you who are asking yourselves, “So, now what?” I received an early morning text from a dear friend who recently  became pregnant thanks to an anonymous egg donor cycle. This morning’s text was panic-ridden. After having just celebrating her rising HCG levels last week, I learned that she had begun spotting this morning. I was saying, "No, no, no!" in my head. It took me back to when I experienced a similar scare when I became pregnant the very same way. 

Prior to my scare, I had experienced 2 other miscarriages. They were not typical and occurred much later in my pregnancies. I didn’t spot/bleed and was unaware that I had lost my babies until the ultrasounds indicated that their heartbeats had stopped. What people don’t tell us is that there is no such thing as a typical pregnancy or miscarriage. We experience them with varying symptoms and side effects. 

Unfortunately, it may take a few days for my friend to know if she is miscarrying or if her pregnancy is still intact. I am now sitting on the sidelines, much like my loved ones did for me/us, and just praying that her pregnancy and baby(s) will survive. While her pain and anxiety is off the charts, it's excruciating for me not to be able to influence her outcome. 

I know she is feeling tortured. She wants an answer but only the one that will assure her a healthy baby in 9 months. When her mind starts to wander the other way, it’s just too difficult for her to fathom enduring yet another painful loss. I am sending her prayers and hoping that her doctor will say to her what mine said to me which was, “Spotting is very common with twins!”

Kisses and hugs to all of you who are fretting and worrying. I am praying that your healthy babies come to you quickly and with as little stress as possible.

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Making Love, not War during Infertility

2/9/2013

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Making Love, not War during Infertility

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The day my husband, Brian, and I learned that the 3 embryos resulting from our first IVF cycle all had massive chromosomal abnormalities, strife and  resentment began to fester between us.  I had just walked in the back door having returned from an acupuncture appointment. We were due to go into our endocrinologist’s office the next morning to transfer the embryos that had fertilized from my egg retrieval a few days prior. Brian asked me to sit down and he seemed extremely somber. I thought to myself, “Oh God, who died?” I hadn’t even considered that the news he was about to deliver would be related to our IVF cycle.

After he shared the news, we held each other and cried together. He had written down a lot of facts that included the specific chromosomes that were abnormal for each embryo. Then came the defining moment that seemed to set the tone of our tumultuous infertility journey, Brian had moved to one of our club chairs and was sitting across from me when he said, “Well, we are going to have to look  into using an egg donor!” Fury was what I felt, smelled and tasted at that very moment; I flew into a rage. 

My anger stemmed from him not giving me even a moment to grieve the loss of my fertility or even process it for that matter. It was abundantly clear to us both that my eggs had spoiled and were beyond rotten. Given my age, my previous miscarriages and the new set of harsh facts, the notion of me ever carrying my own biological children had just died. I was incensed that my husband had already accepted that reality and  had moved onto his desired path within an hour of the heartbreaking news. 

My outrage was intense. I remember thinking (and maybe even saying) “This has to do with me. How about letting me decide how we are going to move forward?!” Of course, I realized this had to do with us both but I wanted/needed it to be about me in that moment. 

After many hurtful words were spat, Brian demanded that we get in the car and go for a ride. It was chilly outside so we both threw on our jackets. Before we left, I poured myself a large glass of Pinot Noir. I figured that since I wasn’t going to carrying a pregnancy that week, I could do  whatever I wished. That memory actually makes me shudder because it reminds me of just how emotionally weak I had become and how deep my despair had grown back then. 

We drove for a short distance when Brian stopped our car (obviously he was the designated driver) on the street adjacent to our favorite park. This was the place where we rode our bikes days after our second miscarriage to release our tension. We often strolled there and talked about our hopes and dreams of having a baby. We would watch children playing and chuckle at the tantrums they put their loving parents through when they were told it was time to leave. 

I didn’t want to get out of the car. He came to my side and begged me to get out and walk. I ultimately relented but not without bringing my glass of wine. On our stroll, he tried to make me understand his point-of-view when he made the poisonous statement minutes earlier. I yelled and cried at him for all of the park patrons to see. I had already resigned myself to the fact that I would never be planning any play dates with the mothers present so what did it matter.

No resolution was found on that day nor would it be for quite some time. Our relationship became embattled during our journey to find out children. I felt for the longest time that the comment Brian made that day nearly broke us as a couple. It was difficult for me to let go of my anger and resentment towards him because I couldn’t understand how the person who was supposed to love and cherish me could have been so insensitive to my feelings. We moved forward with our goal to build our family through various means but I often thought, “How can we focus on having a child when we can't even agree on how to make it happen?” 

Forgiveness, on both of our parts, has come over time. As I have said before, the process of building a family through alternative measures tests everything we know about ourselves, our partner and those who are doing their best to support us. One of the most difficult aspects of infertility is that it shakes our foundation and forces us try to stand while the ground beneath us is completely unsteady. While we try to hold onto each other, sometimes the force is so great that we lose our grip. While we stretch for our partner, it seems that his/her fingertips are just beyond our reach. The sad irony is that we have never needed our partner's love and support more.

I realize that I'm airing our dirty laundry; I do so with the hope that it will somehow spare you the profound pain and agony we endured while building our family. My message to you is simple; protect your marriage/partnership with all your might. Work on building the love, trust and respect between you and your partner because once your children enter the World, in whatever way that happens, your relationship will be the basis onto which that little human will rely. In other words, make love, not war! Peace, my dear friends.

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Egg Donor Cycle—Originally Deemed a Failure

10/5/2012

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Egg Donor Cycle—Originally Deemed a Failure Results in Twins

In March of 2008, I received a call on my cell phone while I was standing in a Starbucks with my boss. As it turns out, my fertility doctor was on the other end. What I remember of the conversation was this… “This is Dr. K.; I don’t have good news for you. The retrieval from your donor was a failure. We were only able to retrieve 1 egg and I don’t expect a positive outcome from this cycle. We will check to make sure your donor followed the proper protocol. Our experience with her indicates that she most likely did follow it, however.” My response was, “Why are you calling me?” SILENCE------and then our doctor said, “Is this Denise Steele?”

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my earlier post where I told you that the road to figuring out how my husband and I would ultimately build our family was long and winding? Our decision to move forward with egg donation was complex, to say the least. I really had no desire to pursue it and was focused on adoption. My husband, on the other hand, had doubled down and believed with all of his being that this would be our winning hand. Neither of us could have predicted how prophetic his metaphoric belief was to be. Ultimately, we decided to pursue adoption and egg donation to increase our chances of having a family. I happily agreed to project manage the adoption process and my husband, Brian, took on the egg donor endeavor. 

Coincidentally, we connected with our adopted son’s birth mother just a few days after we signed the contract with our egg donor. We decided to put the egg donor process on hold until our son was born. Our donor decided to work with another family in the meantime. After having been through a cycle, she was only willing to commit to working with us up until a certain date. We literally waited until the last possible second of her commitment window. Our oldest was just 3 months old when we moved forward with the egg donor process.

Once our egg donor started her cycle, I was very clear about the level of involvement I wished to have. Bottom line, I really just wanted my husband to mark the dates on my calendar when I was due to be seen by my doctor. I did help choose our unknown donor and was present for the visits with our attorney to finalize the contract, however. Beyond that, I wanted as little to do with the process as was possible.

You may view my stance as being detached and cold. The losses that we suffered beforehand were so devastating to me that I had built a protective wall around my heart and had grown callused to the idea of carrying any future pregnancies. I never miscarried on my own; once we learned that our unborn children had been lost in utero, I carried them around waiting for the  inevitable to happen but it just never did. During those days of waiting, I would go into my doctor’s office for status checks and every single time I would think, “Maybe they will see a heartbeat and realize that the baby is still alive.” It was torturous. In my last miscarriage, I came down with an infection and my doctor was forced to do an emergency D&C in the hospital. I was admitted overnight and was put on an antibiotic drip. I left with enormous horse pills that I had to take every 4 hours for 10 days. I would set my alarm clock to wake at 1 AM and 5 AM to gulp down my meds, gag from the nasty taste they left in my mouth and then cry myself to sleep. 

I predicted that any future pregnancies would end in heartbreak and I had no desire to put myself through that again. Growing close and loving a little being whom I would never get to smell, hold, feed and care for didn't appeal to me whatsoever. 

Going back to the phone call with our doctor, my original reaction was not one of concern or despair; I was actually aggravated and confused. I had instructed my doctor’s office to plainly write on any/all of my records that “ALL COMMUNICATION MUST GO THROUGH THE HUSBAND!” 

I responded to my doctor's question by confirming that he was speaking to his intended patient. Then I firmly asserted that all communication was supposed to go through my husband as was indicated on my chart. He explained that he had other procedures to get through that morning and that Brian should contact his office with additional questions.

As I was standing next to my boss, whom I liked very much but had no intention whatsoever of disclosing that I was trying to get pregnant through an unknown egg donor, I excused myself so that I could call Brian with the news. Not surprisingly, he had a lot of questions. Frankly, I was totally annoyed that I had to be the one to address them. I undoubtedly instructed him to call our doctor’s office to get the answers that he needed and deserved.

Again, I realize that my behavior seems icy especially since Brian had suffered through the same painful losses as I. To be blunt, I was resentful towards my husband, about this particular issue, because I felt I had done my part and had been pushed to my emotional brink. I was angry because I felt that he was putting his own selfish desires ahead of my pain. I had sacrificed a great deal and I didn't think he fully appreciated the hell that I had been through emotionally and physically. Suffice to say, I wasn’t willing to participate in the minute details that were required in quarterbacking an egg donor cycle. My feeling was that if he was committed to carrying out this egg donor ‘thing’ he was going to have to have skin in the game too. I wasn’t amenable to letting him get off (pardon the pun) by delivering his man-sample to our doc's office and then transferring all of the other responsibilities over to me. NO, I was not. I was willing to show up for the necessary doctor’s visits but beyond that, he was going to take ownership of this undertaking.

When I arrived home and got out of the car and was walking into take care of our new, beautiful baby, I felt an enormous weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I recall thinking, “Ok, now we're done with all of this baby making business.” The earlier phone call had put to rest my relentless wondering and worrying. A newfound sense of freedom had come over me and it allowed me to start looking forward to our life with our baby boy. Quite simply, the finality enabled me to start breathing again.

The next morning the phone rang. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying off. I picked up the phone with no expectation as to who would be on the other end again. It was the nurse from our doctor’s office. She stated that the donor egg had indeed fertilized and that I was to come in for the transfer the day after next. All I said was, “Ok.” I was puzzled by this notification because I remembered Dr. K. saying that ‘it’ had failed. I never anticipated getting a call from his office or that there would be any next steps. Well, so much for breathing!

I yelled downstairs to Brian and said, “It fertilized. We need to go in on Monday.” Understandably, he had a lot more questions and was just as baffled as I. Our exact conversation is a bit fuzzy but I am 100% certain that it ended with me snip-snapping, “Call the doctor!”

We went in that Monday and Brian couldn’t help but be a little excited. I was living up to my end of the bargain by undergoing the transfer procedure. We were given a card with a photo of our embryo on it. I recall wondering what I was supposed to do with the card when no pregnancy came of the transfer. It felt wrong to throw away a card with a perfectly nice picture of an embryo.
 
Anyway, Brian was allowed to be in the room and held my hand through the procedure. We waited for about thirty minutes. Brian is a very sentimental person but after all of this, my wistfulness was gone. My attention was concentrated on getting back to our, now, happy lives with our baby boy. 

Fast forward to the first ultrasound, I knew that I had become pregnant as a result of the transfer but didn’t fully buy into the idea of it. Dr. K. said that he never thought we would get to this stage and I mimicked his skepticism. I took my place on the examination table and our doctor performed the ultrasound. Here’s what I heard next, “Huh! That’s interesting, I see 2 gestational sacs.” I looked at him and said, “What does that mean?” He said, “You are having identical twins.” WHAT? NO!, I thought. Then, I said, “No, we only had 1 egg.” (As an aside, being a twin myself, I never wanted twins. If our donor would have produced more eggs and more embryos would have developed as a result, it was my/our wish to transfer only 1 embryo at a time.) He looked at me and said, “You should know this since you are an identical twin, it split.” I looked at the screen in total disbelief and pointed to one of the white dots and said, “That is an air bubble and it will be gone in my next ultrasound.” He just laughed and said, “That is not an air bubble.” 

The next day I left for a business trip in Florida. I was in denial about being pregnant with twins. However, when I went to bed that night cuddled up with one of our baby boy’s onsies, I started to panic about the idea of having 3 babies in 8 or 9 months. The following morning, I awoke to seeing blood -- not a lot but enough to think that I was miscarrying. I had never bled before so I thought, “OK, here we go with an actual miscarriage.” I called my doctor’s office and the nurse to whom I spoke said that there was nothing that could be done but just to wait and see. 

I returned home and drove to my doctor’s office from the airport. Before he did the ultrasound, he said, “Bleeding is very common with twins.” I was completely agitated because I couldn’t understand why he kept harping on this twin thing. What I saw on the screen were those same 2 white circles that had appeared the week before. I was braced for the bad news. I figured that I was going to have to endure yet another D&C. Dr. K. said, “They are fine and they ARE twins. I am pretty certain that you are going to end up with 2 babies.” This was the very moment when the reality that I was going to be a mother to 3 babies in less than a year started to sink in and I was absolutely terrified. I was trying to get my head around the fact that just a few months before, I was on my hands and knees begging to be a mother. Now, I was feeling overwhelmed and  insecure because I wasn't confident that I would be able to handle what God was giving me/us. 
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On October 5, 2009, Logan and Trevor were born. In fact, today is their third birthday. They were delivered at 32 weeks gestational via emergency caesarean section. Logan was baby ‘A’ and weighed 5 lbs. 1 oz. A minute later, Trevor, Baby ‘B’, followed and weighed in at 4 lbs. 7 oz. Their birth was a bit chaotic. As it turns out, I was in very bad shape. I had 7 blood transfusions and a full  hysterectomy about an hour after they were born. For whatever reason, God decided to spare my life and granted me the gift of raising my 3 sons. 
 
What I remember of their birth was feeling a huge sense of relief when I heard them cry for the first time. I was carrying posterior and only felt them move a few times throughout my entire pregnancy. The day I was taken to the hospital, the medical staff was having a difficult time picking up both heartbeats. I was  convinced that my fears had come to fruition and that we would not be bringing home 2 babies. Trevor came out needing to speak to the CEO of the hospital right away. His screams were so fierce that I recall having a sense that he was going to be more than just ‘ok’.

Upon reflection, I am now able to understand that my inability to embrace the egg donor process was my way of protecting my heart. My detachment was elemental because I wasn’t going to allow for any future heartbreak especially since I had just found immense joy in raising our adopted son.  

My pregnancy with Logan and Trevor was quite risky. I endured serious complications but the worst was that I was unable, or maybe even unwilling, to allow myself to grow emotionally close to them in utero. Admitting this is very difficult and makes me feel very ashamed. Given my history, I had built up a wall and had decided, unconsciously of course, that I would give into being the mother of these 2 children IF and WHEN they came to be born and were alive. Wow! The magnitude of that realization is striking me as I type. Let's just let that sit for a moment...

Of course I do wonder if my experience would have been entirely different if we were childless during the donor process and my pregnancy. But here's the thing, creating families through alternative methods is so very complex. There is no book titled, What to Expect When You Adopt or Have a Baby through Surrogacy or Egg Donation. We (you, me and everyone else facing infertility) have been dealt a hand that tests everything we thought we knew about ourselves, our partner and those trying to support us. When our children arrive, in whatever way that happens, we will love them with all of our being. That love is the only given in all of this.

Looking back, I am truly amazed at what it took to build our family. Clearly, my road to becoming a mother was laden with potholes. At times, I/we got off course and even lost our way. Once we arrived at our destination, it became abundantly clear that what we had endured was worthwhile and our journey was beyond extraordinary.

Handing out birthday cake to my sons and their preschool friends today was what I had envisioned when I was so desperate to become a mother. I fantasized about snuggling with my kids on their birthdays and that is exactly what I did this morning. It was glorious and it took me back to when they were these tiny, helpless little humans in the NICU and we worried and wondered, “Will they grow into healthy little boys?” I can attest that they most certainly have. The song that takes me back to the day that they were born is, Here Comes the Sun.

My life is good and full of meaning now. I sincerely hope that you will experience the same joy (and craziness) in the very near future!

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    Denise Steele is a proud mom of 3 boys thanks to private domestic adoption and a successful anonymous egg donor cycle.

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