Category: Infertility

All I Want for Christmas is a Baby

12/22/2012

All I Want for Christmas is a Baby

Brandon's first photo with Santa

Yes, I remember my Christmas pasts when I yearned for the same blessing. I thought that if I was to believe in Santa, those were the times he should have proven his magic to me/us. My only message to you is--just keep the faith. Brandon, our beloved son, arrived a few months before Christmas 2008; he was definitely worth the wait and restored my belief in Christmas miracles.

For those of you who have loved and lost, this time makes your bereavement so much more profound. Your arms are left empty and your heart aches with the whys and the what ifs.

I recently watched the documentary titled ‘Ethel’, a personal portrait of Ethel Kennedy’s life, directed by her daughter, Rory Kennedy. In it, Ethel recalls her late husband, Robert’s, response to the loss of his brother, John. I’m paraphrasing but in it she said that Bobby fell into a deep depression after Jack was murdered. He spent much less time with the family and would retreat to their bedroom soon after returning from his office.

A year to the day of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, Canada named a Yukon mountain peak after the fallen President. Bobby decided to climb Mt. Kennedy which was to be his first and only climb. Dolly Connelly wrote about his climb in Sports Illustrated on April 5, 1965. In an excerpt from her story, she shares a poignant moment from Robert Kennedy’s feat:

“He synchronized his breathing as he had been instructed, with a slow, steady "rest" step, in which the knee of the trailing leg is locked to take the weight off tired muscles, and moved up alone to a summit believed to be more than 14,000 feet high. He was the first man ever to stand atop the superb peak that Canada had named for his dead brother. He took off his goggles to look out upon a vast panorama of granite tyrannosaur teeth extending in all directions across the roof of the Yukon as far as the eye could see, and he stood very still for one private moment. Then, as James (Big Jim) Whittaker and Barry (The Bear) Prather, both veterans of the U.S. Everest expedition, watched and an aerial armada of photographers' planes circled overhead, Senator Robert F. Kennedy planted a family memorial flag. He also placed in a cache in the snow a copy of President Kennedy's inauguration speech, which was tightly wound in a metal cylinder of the type used for mountaintop registers, and three PT-boat tie clasps. Thus ended the climb of an obscure peak which had started in secrecy in Washington and evolved into the biggest story in Yukon Territory since the cremation of Sam McGee.”

In the documentary, Ethel said that mountain climb was what seemed to allow her husband to let go of his depression and grief.

The actions you decide to take to lay down your grief may not be as grandiose or press-worthy but they are necessary nonetheless. Whatever propels you to move forward with your life is an important step in moving beyond your loss. Given time, you will be able to synchronize your breathing, rest your step so as to take the weight off of your tired muscles, climb your personal summit and plant your family flag.

My Holiday wish for you is that will find many blessings (in the form of children) in the year to come.

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When is the right time to use donor eggs

12/2/2012

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When is the Right Time to Use Donor Eggs?

I met with a group of people last week who were considering using donor eggs to start or grow their families. My impression was that they were all in various stages of the decision-making process. One of the questions that came out of the discussion was, “When is the right time to use donor eggs?”

If you read my post Egg Donor Cycle—Originally Deemed a Failure Results in Twins there was no doubt that in order for my husband and I try to have children who would share his DNA, donor eggs were a necessary component. My husband and I had gone through 1 IVF cycle; 3 embryos resulted from the retrieval but all had massive chromosomal abnormalities. Given that our first pregnancy resulted in a Triploidy child, there was little doubt that my egg quality was extremely poor. While the reality seemed harsh and unfair to me at the time, I see now that we were fortunate to have a definitive answer so that we could move forward in our endeavor to have children. What struck me last week was that so many of the wonderful people sitting in front of me were in a very grey zone.

Donor egg IVF is generally used in women with significantly diminished egg quantity and quality.
This includes women with:

Premature ovarian failure (early menopause)
Poor response to ovarian stimulation
High day 3 follicle stimulating hormone (FSH) levels
Very low antral follicle counts on ultrasound
Advanced female age, 40 and older

The first step in assessing whether donor eggs are necessary in building your family is to meet with a Reproductive Endocrinologist. These doctors are specially trained to diagnose and treat those who are having difficulty becoming pregnant or carrying a pregnancy to term.

If your R.E. recommends using donor eggs, you (and perhaps a partner) will make the final determination whether it is right for you and your family. As with IVF and other fertility treatments, there are no guarantees, unfortunately. Donor eggs do increase the likelihood of pregnancy with women who are diagnosed with poor egg quality, however.

SART, The Society for Reproductive Technology, offers an informative database of success rates for ART (assisted reproductive technology) cycles. I ran the report for 2010 and compared donor cycles to patients using their own fresh embryos. The donor egg showed a 55% success rate for live births (it did not break out the ages of the mother/carrier). The reason age is not relevant is because the majority of donor eggs are retrieved from women who are young (typically in their 20’s and very early 30’s). Conversely, the fresh non-donor embryos resulted in 12.6% of live births for women between the ages of 41-42. For women over 42, the success rates for live births from fresh non-donor embryos were reported to be 4.2%.

Going back to the original question, the live birth statistics offer a stark reality that is difficult to refute. Beyond that, I think the bigger question may be, "How much longer can you wait to be a parent?" If you have already experienced miscarriage(s) another question might be, "How many more are you willing to potentially endure?" I have a friend who has lost 5 pregnancies. Every time she shared that she had miscarried, I would privately wish that she would seek help from an R.E. It broke my heart to see her in such pain and I felt that she deserved to know the potential reasons for her heartbreak.

The decision to move forward with donor eggs is extremely personal and requires a great deal of consideration. If you opt to use donor eggs to try to become pregnant, accepting the fact that you will not be genetically linked to your future child/children is the first of many hurdles you will face. In future posts I will touch on the following:

Choosing a donor bank
Choosing an egg donor
Contemplating the issues surrounding disclosure (to your child, family and friends)
Handling the legal matters that pertain to having a child through egg donation and selecting an attorney

I realize that I have oversimplified this very complex issue. It is not my intention to try to persuade you to move forward with a donor egg cycle. While I have been blessed with 2 children thanks to an anonymous egg donor, the decision was extremely difficult for me. I definitely wanted children but was afraid to go through another pregnancy. I am merely sharing some data and resources that may be useful to you and/or your partner.

Whatever path you choose to build your family, I hope you find great success and happiness in the end.

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When You're Just Not Feeling all that Thankful

11/21/2012

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When You're Just Not Feeling all that Thankful

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and we are reminded by Facebook posts and TV ads that we should be exuding gratitude for our many blessings. Personally, I find Thanksgiving to be a bit like New Year's; instead of feeling forced to try to have fun, we are obliged to come up with a list of things for which we are grateful.

Well, when you have mourned the loss of a child, suffered a miscarriage, endured failed fertility treatments and/or have not matched with a birth mother, it's really not that easy to give grace. On top of that, there always seems to be an adorable baby in the crowd who belongs to somebody else. That's just a cruel set of circumstances because you may be torn between wanting to steal said baby or run as far away from it as possible. Yes, I can certainly appreciate that you may be feeling anything but thankful this year.

The Thanksgiving before we adopted our oldest son, I remember shopping for a cape that would cover up all of the weight I had put on after miscarrying. Personally, I was ‘ok’ with going to a gathering with others because it involved good food and wine; those were the only things that seemed to temporarily alleviate my sadness and depression, back then. The group that we happened to be joining that year did not include any newborns. If it had, I am quite certain that I would have monopolized any/all of the babies in attendance. His/her/their parents would have been able to eat, drink and chat without having to balance a wine glass and cocktail plate while holding a tiny infant. As we were saying our “goodbyes,” our close friend’s mother (who now has 3 grown sons) hugged me for a very long time. She, herself, had endured 5 miscarriages before having her oldest son. I sincerely appreciated her quiet understanding in that embrace.

You may be planning to join a group that does include an infant or two and the thought of having to be in the same room with a newborn may just be too difficult for you to endure. Your apprehension is completely understandable! Unfortunately, your friends and family may not truly comprehend it. Their mission will likely be to try to surround you with lots of love and food.

Here’s a thought before the table is set tomorrow--it’s really up to you to decide how you wish to (or not) celebrate this Thanksgiving Holiday. Forget about what is expected of you because that's irrelevant. In fact, you can avoid celebrating altogether. If you do, I hope you escape to a place that allows you to rest and be pampered. And let's be honest, avoiding may be way better than asking Uncle Tom to "Please pass the turkey. And oh, by the way, shut up!"

Another idea is to choose a form of celebration that best fits your mood and mindset. If you know that where you typically celebrate will cause you angst this season, veer off path. My husband and I spent a few years having our Thanksgiving celebration at a very nice restaurant and I think we may have also stayed at a hotel, even though we lived in the same city. That was not unusual for us back then because it allowed us to be somewhere that didn’t house all of the negativity that had come from the baby-making drama. Full disclosure--we did have a bit of an advantage because our family lives far away and we didn’t have the typical pressure of having to please our relatives. The bottom line is if you need to write this year off, then so be it! Your beloved family members will just have to get over it!

As a caveat, if you are thankful for the other blessings in your life, don’t feel guilty about expressing and sharing your appreciation. If you are in the midst of an IVF cycle and are feeling positive, that IS wonderful--celebrate! If you are awaiting the birth of your adopted baby, eat, drink and be merry.

My wish for you is that you will receive your most precious blessings in the form of healthy children in the not-so-distant future.

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Crying and Cursing while Rebuilding from Hurricane Sandy

11/5/2012

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Crying and Cursing while Rebuilding from Hurricane Sandy

This post is dedicated to my friends on the East coast who are dealing with the devastation that Hurricane Sandy thrust upon you. I am deeply, deeply sorry for all of your losses.

There are a good number of you who were in the midst of undergoing fertility treatments or in the process of finalizing your adoptions. Given the lengthy power outages, road closings and transit shut-downs, sadly those procedures and plans were either put on hold or, worse, cancelled due to the upheaval.

In 2007, my basement flooded for the 2nd time while my husband and I were undergoing our first IVF cycle. Until hearing all of the sad stories and seeing the unbelievable destruction, I hadn’t given our experience a whole lot of recent thought. Many of those terrible memories have faded since the births of our sons.

On the night of our 2nd flood, my husband and I had just moved the contents of our basement back into their respectful places from the 1st flood that occurred 4 weeks prior. We never thought we’d ever encounter such an event ever again—at least not in that particular house. What were the odds? (Although, if you have been reading my blog, you have probably come to realize that my husband, Brian, and I should seriously start playing the lottery given our ability to beat crazy odds!)

During the 1st flood, I was running a board meeting that I chaired for Children’s Memorial Hospital. When I got to my car I saw that I had 25 messages on my mobile phone. As I was looking at the screen, my phone rang and it was my husband. Here is what I heard, “D’LO, our basement is flooded and we have lost everything. I am dealing with it and I don’t want you to come downstairs when you get home!” Our basement was fully finished with a family room, full bath with a steam shower, a fireplace and a fabulous laundry room. I don’t recall my response but I remember leaving the parking garage. As I pulled onto the street, I thought to myself, “Well, I’m just not going to go home. I’ll just drive tonight.” We had suffered a miscarriage about 6 weeks prior to the 1st flood and I was still very emotional. I came to my senses after I drove around hopelessly for a while. When I got home, I changed and started helping my husband rip out carpeting and drywall.

When the 2nd flood occurred, my husband and I were present. I was dressed in a pink sundress and was barefoot. Another deluge had begun and we both began to worry about our lovely new basement’s fate. We started to frantically move as many items as we could to the upper floors. Many of my husband’s vintage guitars had been lost in the previous flood along with furniture, photos, our washer & dryer, and a refrigerator. We learned a day after the 1st flood that we didn’t have what is called a sewage backup rider on our insurance policy and therefore were responsible for all of the remediation, repair, construction and replacement expenses. At least this time we wouldn’t have to pay everything out of our own pockets, or so we thought!

As we braced for the 2nd food, I stood in the bathroom with towels stuffed into the toilet and scattered on the floor around our steam shower. What we were dealing with was hydrostatic pressure which means that once the sewers and pipes fill up underground, there is nowhere for the remaining water to go and therefore it just pushes its way up into any opening it can find. In our case, it was any/all drains, the toilet and sinks. We heard a distinctive glunk, glunk, glunk, and with that my husband shouted, “GET READY!” Shortly after his proclamation, the towel in the toilet flew up to the ceiling and a geyser began to erupt out of that toilet. The steam shower was filling up and I was pushing against the glass door with all of my might only to see the filthy water rise above my waist. My husband came in and said, “Let it go, there is nothing we can do.” I started to scream as the putrid water began to run over my bare feet and quickly came up to my shins.

Immediately, I thought, “The IVF drugs are in the laundry room fridge!” I ran through the murk, mud and God-knows-what-else and opened the door to the fridge. I started grabbing as many boxes as I could and then ran upstairs to put them in our kitchen fridge. I can honestly say that I think that I had an actual break-down that night. (My mother, sister, several friends and especially Brian can certainly attest to that fact.) I couldn’t stop screaming and crying. I just couldn’t. Our dear friend, who my husband called to come over to calm me down, took the drugs home with her to store in their refrigerator.

My strength was gone and I allowed myself to completely give into my grief, anger and hatred that accompanied the crazy event. The hatred was directed at the home we had purchased in 2006; I felt that it was rebelling against us by not providing a safe haven while we were trying to heal from our miscarriages and get through our IVF process. We had so many unattained dreams that we believed would be fulfilled when we bought the home. None of that had come to fruition and the damn house was kicking us while we were down. I wanted to leave the keys on the front porch and allow any willing and able party the opportunity to tame whatever demons lived within it.

The next day I went to Home Depot to pick up more cleaning supplies. As I pushed the cart full of bleach, buckets, and fans, I cried openly. Many construction workers gave me questioning and fearful glances. It's not often you go to your local Home Depot to find a seemingly crazy lady without any makeup on, in torn up shorts, a gnarly t-shirt, salmon colored gardening shoes (which come to think of it, actually matched the gnarly t-shirt) crying her way through the aisles.

Upon leaving, I got into my car and listened to my voicemail. The nurse from my doctor’s office had called with more details about our IVF cycle. I begrudgingly returned her call and told her that we had decided to put our IVF cycle on hold. When she heard the reason, she tried to convince me otherwise. At that point, my head was ready to explode and she clearly didn’t understand how devastating all of this was for me. I wasn’t willing to go through an IVF cycle while I was trying to put my home back together. I also felt the stress would be detrimental to the outcome.

When I arrived home, I got right back to work on the clean-up that needed to be accomplished. I was beyond livid because we learned that even though we were covered under the newly added sewage back-up rider, we couldn’t use the coverage. Our agent advised us that this disaster would be considered the 3rd strike on our policy. “What was the first strike?” you ask. Well, six months after we bought the home, our neighbor’s tree was struck by lightning, cracked and collapsed on top of our home. Ironically, the 2nd strike was related to the 1st flood even though we weren’t covered under the policy. The reason we were given was that the 1st flood had been recorded by the insurance agent, who we ultimately fired, and still counted against us. If we chose to put the claim in for the 2nd flood, we would probably be dropped by our current insurance company and not likely eligible for any other home owner’s insurance. (At the time this seemed ludicrous to me. Now that I have some perspective, 3 major catastrophic events to a single home within 2 year period does seem like a humongous liability!) We had put a big portion of our savings into the first basement reconstruction and we were in the midst of an expensive IVF cycle; I was left wondering, “How are we going to afford to fix all of this?” As I cleaned, I did a lot of crying and cursing at that damn house.

My experiences pale in comparison to what you have been through. I know that many of you didn’t have the opportunity to run into your basements and save your fertility drugs. To add insult to injury, you / your donor / your surrogate were trapped with no way to get to your doctor’s office for whatever next steps were planned. For those of you who were having babies through adoption, getting to your baby was next to impossible. Oh, I am so very sorry that Hurricane Sandy got in the way of your hopes and dreams!

I am saying a prayer for all of you while you are in the process of rebuilding your lives and trying to grow your families simultaneously. The only thing I feel may be important for you to hear is that when I was crying and cursing, I didn’t see any goodness down the road for me/us. Those were some of the darkest moments for me, my husband and our marriage. Now that I have my 3 boys, I can tell you that I seldom think of those very bleak days. I was able to move on and find happiness as a mother. In fact, had we gone through that IVF cycle during our 2nd flood, I may have never had the opportunity to be the mother to my guys.

My prayer is that your horrific days will soon pass and you will find your ultimate happiness as a loving parent and all of this horribleness will be nearly forgotten.

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Frivolous but Friendly Distractions

11/2/2012

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Frivolous but Friendly Distractions

Well, the new iPad mini was released today. I know this mainly because of the industry in which I work. Also, I had no choice but to go into my nearest Apple store because my exchange server crashed on my iPhone 4S and therefore my work emails, calendar and contacts weren’t syncing. After spending 4 frustrating hours on the phone with my corporate IT guys yesterday, I was told that my only hope in finding a solution was to go seek help from an Apple Genius.

When I walked into the store today, there was 1 genius available; Jeff was his name. He is very nice and informed me that I actually have 15 days left on my warranty. That factoid was shocking because my major technical issues typically occur merely a day after my warranty has lapsed.

While I was waiting for Jeff to backup my iPhone, a woman named Barb pulled up next to me at the genius station to setup her new IPad mini. She shared that she had bought it for herself a day after her 79th birthday. How nice was it of Apple to have launched the perfect gift for her—even though it was a day late?! A glitch occurred though while Barb was trying to link her device to her email account(s). The problem was that she couldn’t remember any of her passwords. Jeff, who I was now forced to share because of the growing store traffic, tried no less than 40 passwords to her numerous accounts. He was extremely patient, I must say. After many attempts, Barb’s husband sauntered over and tapped his older version iPhone and proceeded to pull up every single one of her email passwords. “Oh, thank the LORD, good man!” was what I thought. As excited as I was for Barb to get her mini up and running, I certainly didn’t want my newfound genius friend, Jeff, to lose sight of my problem. (Unselfishly, I sure hope Barb’s husband never loses his phone with all of her private data!)

Barb was very sweet and talkative. During our visit, I also learned that her son lives in China. She asked how she could Skype him on her new mini. I told her that Facetime works the same way and that she could forgo Skype if her son had an Apple product with internet connectivity. Then we demonstrated by Facetiming her device with another Apple rep’s phone. (I would have shown her on my phone but Jeff had run away with it to do some diagnostic tests.)

I noticed that Barb had chosen a very functional yet boring grey cover for her mini. What? No way, Barb. You have so many other colors to choose from AND there are probably other covers available on the Web that could be personalized with a fabulous monogram OR even a personalized pet photo. C’MON, BARB! She said she didn’t realize. Clearly! “We need to get you up-to-speed on buying necessary and fabulous accessories for your device,” is what I told her. She added a pink cover to her growing pile of goodies just to appease me. That touched me.

Barb and her husband left but not without a nice, warm hug. I wished her a happy birthday. It was a pleasant surprise having come into the Apple store with the intent of digging myself out of my technical conundrum only to meet some lovely folks in the process.

Shortly thereafter, Jeff brought back my phone and handed me my problem ticket. He said, “It seems to be working now but watch it closely so that if the problem persists we can swap out your phone.” (Between you and me, I secretly hope that I will get to turn it in; only this time I will choose my replacement in white!)

What’s the point to my story, friends? Simple errands can sometimes turn into friendly and unexpected distractions along the way. Diversions are helpful while we impatiently wait for our children to arrive--even if it is but for a millisecond.

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Our Private Domestic Adoption Success Story

10/15/2012

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Our Private Domestic Adoption Success Story

Our eldest son turned 4 years old last week. We adopted him domestically and were present for his birth. From the moment he entered the World, we have thanked God and especially his birth mother for such an amazing gift. We have discussed his adoption openly and last night as my husband was bathing him, our son asked, “What did my birth mother say when she gave me to you?” I was so touched and astonished that he is already starting to understand and ask about his journey.

If adoption is something you are considering, I thought you may want hear Brandon’s story…

The moment my infertility was confirmed, I knew right away that I wanted to adopt domestically. I started researching our options and persuaded my husband to attend a free orientation that was being hosted by The Cradle, a local and well-known, full-service adoption agency. The program gave us a general overview on the differences between pursuing domestic and international adoptions. We listened to adoptive families share their stories. The one that sticks out the most for me was this family with 3 adorable and rambunctious boys. The parents had conceived their first naturally and then struggled with secondary infertility. They had chosen to adopt from Russia given that was the country from where their ancestors had migrated. The main obstacle they faced was that the paternal grandfather did not support their decision to adopt. Fast forward to when they brought their almost 2-year-old son home, Grandpa was the first to hold him once the toddler departed the plane and was placed into his arms by mom. Grandpa immediately went from being dubious and uncertain to elated and overjoyed. His change of heart seemed to happen instantaneously.

When we left the orientation and got into our car, my husband turned to me and said, “I don’t want ‘A’ baby, I want ‘OUR' baby.” While I understood what he meant, I couldn’t connect with his differentiation. The orientation/genetics of OUR child made no difference to me. I felt that once a child was given to me, in whatever way that happened, I would love him/her as my own. I share this memory because I think it illustrates a very common stumbling block for many couples who endure infertility—we aren’t always on the same page. The irony is that we’ve never needed our partner’s support and understanding more!

We officially began pursuing private domestic adoption in December of 2007. My husband had obviously warmed to the idea but he still had some apprehensions for sure. We chose private as opposed to working with a full-service agency or going the International route. Personally, I felt private would enable us to adopt sooner but I can’t point to any data that could have proven my hunch and I know a lot of couples who have had a great experience with full-service agencies. It’s just what felt right at the time.

Once our adoption pursuit began, we also decided to work with a marketing agency; the agency’s primary role was to reach out to potential birth mothers. I was told when we began working with the agency that I could call for updates. And you know I did. I called every Tuesday at 10 AM. After about 4 Tuesdays, I could tell that the firm was not all that thrilled I was touching base on such a regular basis. In fact, they so much as told me that, “I didn’t need to worry because they were doing their job.” Well, you know that didn’t sit well with me. If I had to ‘pay to play’, I felt that I had every right to have full insight into how many potential birth mothers had viewed our profile and showed interest. Given that, I unapologetically, called for my updates. (I share that  anecdote because you should feel good about your fertility/adoption partners. If something feels amiss, advocate for yourself and your family and DON’T feel the least bit guilty about doing so!)

30 Tuesdays plus 2 days later, we connected with our son’s birth mother. She was 5 months pregnant and knew she was having a boy. From the notes that I took on those Tuesdays, I recorded that 40 hard copies had been sent to potential birth mothers in almost as many States. I don’t have access to the online profile that was posted and therefore I am unable to share that data with you, unfortunately.

The night we connected with our birth mother was a little surreal, actually. I was in Detroit on a business trip when I got the call from our marketing agency. I was informed that a birth mother was interested in speaking with us that evening. They warned me that she had also requested a meeting with another couple so as to set my expectations. I arranged for us to be the second couple interviewed merely because I wanted to make sure that I was home and not stuck on a run-way. Before I called my husband, Brian, to inform him of the interview, I contacted our attorney to make her aware of the birth mother’s basic information (age, marital status, state of residence, etc.). Our attorney counseled us to move forward with the interview but to be mindful that this may not be the perfect fit (on either end).

Thankfully, my plane arrived on time. When our home phone rang, my stomach started doing flip-flops. I didn’t want us to screw THIS up. The conversation actually occurred between our birth mother’s mother (our son’s birth grandmother) and us on speaker phone. We chatted for over 2 hours and she finally said, “I want you to speak to my daughter. I choose you but I want her to make the final choice.”  I have to say that I wasn’t feeling completely excited and hopeful when we hung up the phone though. I was fully aware that the likelihood of us ever hearing from her ever again could have been fleeting.

Thirty-or-so-minutes later, our phone rang again and it was our son’s birth mother. We chatted for at least another hour. During that call, we were told that we would be the parents of her unborn son. We discussed meeting her in person the following month. While this was the news I desperately wanted, I was skeptical. We had been through so many false starts on our own and I was fully aware of the non-completion rates in domestic adoption. I wasn’t quite ready to let my heart out of its cage and let it fly free just yet. I did start a journal that same evening though. If I really was going to be this baby’s mother, I wanted to start documenting every detail from that moment forward.

Once the connection was made (or “match” as it’s called in adoption-speak) I decided that I wanted to do whatever I could to support our son’s birth mother no matter what the outcome. I understood the full magnitude of the loss for which she was preparing herself. I couldn’t fathom the thought of giving birth to a live and healthy baby only to relinquish him/her to people whom I had only known for a short while. I felt that this was the time that God was allowing us to prove ourselves as deserving parents and I prayed that it would all work out.

I began speaking to our son’s birth mother on a very regular basis. We did not formalize the number of times that we would connect but let it happen very organically (as hippy-dippy as that sounds). The funny thing is that I am not loosey-goosey at all. I am extremely regimented and I like lots and lots of order. I literally let myself be guided in a way that I had never allowed myself to be ever before. Strangely enough, it felt totally natural at the time.

My biggest concern was that our birth mother had the emotional, financial and physical support that she needed to carry her baby/our son. In the beginning of our relationship, I really just tried to get a general sense of whether the decision to give her baby up for adoption was truly her own or if she had been coerced/influenced by others. Much of what we talked about in the beginning of our relationship had to do with her everyday life. I was surprised that she didn’t barrage me with a multitude of questions like how we planned to raise her baby or who we were as people or even as a couple. In retrospect, the profile that we provided gave her the preliminary information and beyond that, she was probably just giving it up to God. I was told this would be the case by other adoptive families but still found it perplexing. I allowed her to take the lead. I realized that once the baby was born, she may begin to feel a tremendous loss of control. My goal was to give her as much power during this stage as I possibly could.

I flew to meet her and her extended family 2 months before our son was born. We met at her doctor’s office. I still remember what I wore—a cotton burnt red sundress that was smocked at the waist. My hair was twisted in a bun. I wanted to look attractive yet casual. Most importantly, I was hoping to portray someone who would be a loving mother. I was so anxious as I sat waiting to meet her. I checked my cell phone compulsively just to be sure she wasn't trying to reach me to call off the whole thing. When she walked in the door, I knew it was her from the photos she sent the first night over email. I stood to greet her and she extended her hand. I threw my arms around her and hugged her immediately. I wanted her to feel my warmth and appreciation right away. I realized that my eager gesture may have been premature and even unwelcome. On the other hand, I felt that anything less would have been disingenuous and insincere.

The high point of the visit for me was when she allowed me to sit with her during her ultrasound. It was a very intimate moment, as you can imagine. Here we were, having been strangers a few months before and now we were sharing this wonderful and emotional moment. When I saw our son on the screen, he was sucking his thumb and his heart was clearly beating. The majority of my previous ultrasounds had ended in tears and confusion. I was beyond elated to see this healthy fetus up on the monitor. I worked hard to keep my emotions in check for fear of spooking this amazing woman who held my happiness in her belly. It was really difficult. I could also tell that the nurse administering the ultrasound had never participated in this type of moment between an expectant birth and adoptive mother. There were all sorts of intense feelings flying about that room on that particular morning.

That first trip to meet our birth mother was both exciting and heart-breaking for me. On one hand, I was growing confident that I would likely be a mom in a few short months. On the other, I struggled with how the birth of my future child would affect his birth mother in the long term. As she and I grew closer, I encouraged her to work with a counselor or therapist but she was not in favor of doing so. In a way, I had become almost a parental figure to her but I had to respect the obvious line between protector and independent party. That was one of the most difficult aspects of this experience for me. I felt a need to support her but knew that I had to stick to my role and not deviate in a way that could ultimately harm her. The night before we left, I gave her the journal that I had started the night we first spoke. I told her that she was welcome to read the entries that I had written to Brandon (my husband and I had chosen his name at this point and our son's birth mother was aware and had embraced it). I also invited her to write a note to him if she wished. The day we left, she returned the journal to me. She and her mother had both written entries. (Recounting that memory is very emotional for me, I must say.)

As time drew closer to our son’s birth, I continued to speak with our birth mother almost daily. She invited us to participate in his birth; her offering seemed to drive home the reality that we were REALLY going to be parents in the coming weeks.

Exactly 2 weeks before his birth, I was chatting with her and asked about her birth plan. I wanted to make sure that she still wanted us to participate and, if so, to what degree. She mentioned that she would like to take Brandon (she referred to him by the name we had chosen) home for 1 night. ZOIKS! My heart began to race. I suddenly felt that my precious child was slipping away from me. Immediately, there was a pit in my stomach and an internal philosophical struggle started to play out in my mind. My brain told me that even though I loved this human that another was carrying, I had no right to claim him as my own. I was abundantly aware that the person with whom I had grown so close had the absolute right to keep her unborn child. My heart started to crack at this point. I/we had so much to lose and I was frozen with fear. I was having difficulty forming words or even breathing, for that matter. When I hung up the phone, I admonished myself mentally for having asked the question that produced an answer that would be left hanging until it wasn’t. Terror and dread were what swirled in my head.

After that bewildering conversation had taken place, my anxiety began to take hold of me. I spoke to our attorney about my fear. Brian tried his best to stay positive but reminded me that we should prepare ourselves (he wouldn’t say the rest). On those days, I would go to the nursery and sit in the rocking chair, which was newly upholstered, where there was a large ‘B’ stenciled the wall and anxiously rock with my conflicted emotions. Brandon’s drawers were already stocked with little bitty diapers, receiving blankets, white onesies and everything else a newborn baby could ever need/want. How was I going to NOT bring him home to his room? It, my heart, had pried its way out of its cage and was starting to flutter—there was no way to force it back in NOW!!!

I didn’t sleep for the 2 weeks leading up to our son’s birth. On one hand, I couldn’t wait to meet Brandon (the son who we already named). On the other, I had a feeling of utter dread. I spent hours crafting my impassioned plea to his birth mother over and over in my head. I was noodling with every word so that whatever did manage to fall out of my mouth would assure her that we were absolutely the perfect parents for Brandon. Oh, those were long and worrisome nights.

The day before our son’s due date, we flew to his expected birth place. His diaper bag was packed with adorable outfits, diapers, bottles and pacifiers. It was late when we finally made it to the apartment we rented for a month. We tucked ourselves into bed as birth mom was scheduled to be induced at 5 AM the next morning. The night consisted of us tossing and turning and not sleeping a wink. We didn’t speak; we just counted the hours, minutes and seconds until we could leap out of that bed, shower and drive the short distance to the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital at 4:59 AM on the dot. When we got to birth mom’s room, she informed us that her labor started at 3 AM. The Pitocin was administered about 5:30 AM and I was fully expecting Brandon to be delivered in no less than an hour.

22 hours later, our son was born just after 3 AM. There was some drama that occurred during those hours. There was a moment right before she began to push when I thought, “Uh-oh, here we go—we are NOT going to be parents…” The drama was brief and it really boiled down to a very long and drawn out labor. We stood in the hallway outside of her room while conversations were occurring behind the scenes. We were invited back in and once the pushing started, everything seemed to be back on track.

When Brandon FINALLY made his appearance, I was elated, concerned and overwhelmed. Our birth mother insisted that I cut Brandon’s umbilical cord. Nervously, I agreed. The doc started to holler at me because I wasn’t doing it fast enough. I had to holler back at him because Brandon’s little fingers were in the way and I wanted to avoid cutting them at the same time.

Brandon was whisked away to be monitored, poked and prodded and in that moment I had an out-of-body experience. To my left, was my precious little baby undergoing blood tests. To my right, was the amazing woman who had just endured 24 hours of labor and was planning to give us our most beloved gift. My instinct was to go to birth mom. I couldn’t abandon her; I wanted her to know how much we deeply cared about her. I sat next to her and held her hand. Brian went to be with Brandon.

The room eventually settled down and Brandon was ready to be held. She (birth mom) quietly and almost apologetically asked if she could hold Brandon. Her request both broke and warmed my heart; it shocked me that she had given us the ultimate power to allow her that first moment with her/our child. Without hesitation, I said “Of course!” She held him and we took photos of their precious time together. She asked which of us wanted to hold him next. I pointed to Brian. He was unable to speak at that point. The joy that he had been trying so hard to control had been immediately released the moment he cradled our son. He was overwhelmed by his love for the little being and his tears were unrelenting. At that moment, neither of us had any doubt that the baby he was holding was meant to be OURS.

Reluctantly, we left the hospital around 5 AM. On our way back to our apartment, we called our close relatives to share our joy. We hadn’t slept in days and desperately needed some rest. Our slumber was brief. We excitedly headed back around 9 AM to see our sweet little guy.

That morning, we brought our birth mother flowers and Krispy Kremes. When we stepped into the flower shop, I remember wanting to do something so much more for her. Showing up with a bouquet of flowers and donuts just felt like an insanely inequitable gesture; it certainly couldn't begin to demonstrate our deep gratitude for the unbelievable sacrifice she was about to make--her greatest loss was to become our most beloved gift. The bottom line is that there are strict legal limitations on what adoptive parents are allowed to give birth mothers/families and we were bound by those very same rules.

That afternoon, I stood by our birth mother’s bed and I asked her how she felt. Her first response was quite casual and I realized that she hadn’t taken the question the way I had intended it. A second later, she looked at me as if to understand and began to cry. She asked if she could take Brandon home for the night. This time, I was looking her in the eye and I couldn't avoid her request. Inside, I began to panic. I tried my best to look as composed and deliberate as possible. I told her that Brian and I were going to go out for about an hour so that she could spend some private time alone with Brandon. I said that upon our return we would like to speak to her further about the plan.

Once we were in the rental car, our hearts and minds were racing. We both knew that our future as parents would be decided in the next 2 hours. We went to a fast-food restaurant, ordered, sat down and inhaled our meals without uttering a word to each other. I recall it being the most bizarre and harrowing thirty minutes of my life. Our fear was so palpable that we were both rendered mute. My motor skills were diminished by lack of sleep and the horror of having to walk away without my living/breathing child made it nearly impossible for me to put one foot in front of the other. I dropped my phone as we were getting into the car and I watched it happen as though it was in slow motion. Every time I looked at the scars left on that phone, it conjured up all of those uneasy feelings of those frightening moments.

When we arrived back at the hospital, we entered the parking garage to find our birth mother and her friend taking a stroll. I really couldn’t believe I was going to have to have ‘the talk’ in a parking garage but that was the scenario we had been dealt and it seemed to make the precarious situation even scarier.

We got out of the car and walked up to our birth mother and her friend. Here is what I remember of our conversation after we made idle chit-chat… I looked at our birth mother and said, “What has been my biggest concern since we met?” Our birth mother looked at me but did not respond. I said, “Your well-being. Do you feel that Brian and I are meant to be Brandon’s parents?” She started to cry and so did Brian. I reached to hold her and she allowed me to do so. She responded by saying, “Yes, I knew from the moment we met that you were meant to be his parents. I just wanted a little more time with him.” I then said, “You are bartering with me the way I would barter with God if I knew he was getting ready to take someone away from me who I loved more than anything. If you trust that we are meant to be Brandon’s parents, we need to be able to start bonding with him and taking on our roles as his mother and father. This is where our paths have to start moving forward. Will you allow us to take him tonight?” She agreed.

Our adoption remains open and we both feel so unbelievably blessed to be Brandon's parents. Brian's original disinclination to adopt has been replaced with his infinite love for our son. His devotion to Brandon is unwavering. The song that always takes me back in time to those early days after he was born is, I can See Clearly Now, by Johnny Nash.

In our case, I feel that the relationship that we fostered with our son's birth mother was what allowed her the assurance of knowing that she was making the best choice for him. We respect and cherish her and we have such gratitude that she allowed us to participate in his birth.

If you feel adoption is your path to parenthood, here is a link for further resources Adoption Resources Information.

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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 at that time. 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?”

Remember 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 anonymous 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 anonymous 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.

On October 5, 2009, Logan and Trevor were born. In fact, today is their third birthday. They were delivered at 33 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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Dealing with Insensitive and Hurtful Comments During Infertility

10/1/2012

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Dealing with Insensitive and Hurtful Comments during Infertility

Let me be the first to say that before infertility smacked me in the face, I may have hurt or offended others by asking insensitive or even ignorant questions about their fertility struggles. I want to say how deeply sorry I am for whatever words I may have spoken or actions I may have unknowingly taken that hurt you. Clearly, I was stupid and unaware back then and now I know better.

So let’s start with that, our family and friends desperately want to try to help us but they fumble at times. That happens whenever we are faced with a major challenge and it definitely applies to infertility. While their intentions are good, they make mistakes and sometimes don’t even realize that the words they choose may be hurtful and biting. For those that have never been through what we have, there is a lot of curiosity and sometimes questions leave people’s mouths before they ever consider how their words are being received.

I am writing this in part to try to educate those around you. Feel free to send my blog to your entire network so that nobody feels singled out; I am happy to be the bad guy in this situation.

I have personally been on the receiving end of obtuse comments. This narrative exemplifies what we sometimes experience as parents who have built our families through creative measures…

After our twins were born, we went as a family to an annual 4th of July celebration. Our friends knew about our struggles and were elated that we had finally completed our family. We wanted to share our happiness and our adorable little guys with everyone. At the time, our twins were 8 months old and our eldest was 20 months old. We had a great day. However, just as we were leaving, one of my husband’s oldest friends and I were chatting and he asked me a question that still irks me to this day. Given our close relationship, he knew all about our losses and how we created our family. In fact, he was at the party that I wrote about in an earlier blog entry where I had a mini break-down. On that glorious 4th of July afternoon, he literally said to me, “So the twins are Brian’s but not yours, right?” The impact of this question was so stunning to me that it felt like he had punched me right between my eyes. My first inclination was to slap him as hard as I could, drown him with whatever beverage I was holding, and scream, “ALL of my kids are mine! I nearly died giving birth to MY twins and if you think for one second that they aren’t mine, you are a BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEPing idiot!”

Mercifully, I composed myself and simply said, “ALL of my kids are mine. They don’t happen to share my DNA but you better believe that they are MINE.”

Now seems like the appropriate time to share some phrases that one should NEVER say to someone who is facing infertility or has created their family through alternative methods:

Who are his/her/their REAL parents?
Do you wish you could have had your OWN?
So, they aren’t REALLY siblings then, right?
Well, at least you already have one!
Are you going to try to have your OWN children?
Why did their adoptive mother/family give them up?
Who is their adoptive family? Where do they live? ETC.
Who is the egg/sperm donor? Where do they live? ETC.
Maybe God doesn’t feel this is your time/or that you should have children. (Someone actually said this to me. She is an Atheist, by the way. I am still working on forgiving her that one, but very major, transgression.)
Maybe this isn’t the right time.
Try to focus on other things
How much did your baby cost?

Now, if you are in the process of researching alternative ways to build your family and you connect with others who have been down the same path, always start by asking, “Are you comfortable sharing your story…?” Speaking for myself, my goal is to provide you with as much information as possible so that you may find your parental path posthaste. If you ask me a question that falls outside of the parameters mentioned above, you will definitely be forgiven. As I said in the beginning of this post, I am SURE that I asked questions during our discovery phase that probably annoyed or even offended others. I was so curious and I wanted a baby so badly that my questions were often asked with little regard for those graciously trying to lend their support and guidance. Boy, I am having to apologize a lot in this entry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

On the other hand, if you are on the receiving end of this blog from someone who is struggling with infertility, I hope this entry has provided you some insight. Clearly, you want to do whatever you can to support your friend or family member during this tumultuous time. I am sure your heart is breaking for him/her/them. My only advice is to be mindful of the words that you choose. Sometimes, words that are meant to be encouraging can actually cut and unknowingly damage the relationships that we hold so dear.

Lastly, remember that once a person or couple makes it over to the other side and becomes a parent, that child is theirs regardless of the how they were brought together as a family. Asking questions about how that child came to be can sometimes be very intrusive. For children who are adopted or have come by way of a donor, their birth story is theirs and it should be protected until he/she decides to share it. People ask me all the time about our eldest son’s birth family. My simple reply is, “If Brandon chooses to share the specific details about the amazing woman who gave birth to him, that is his choice and his alone.”

My intention in writing this entry was to enlighten all of us. Infertility is a subject that leaves many battle scars. Let’s try to support each other, as best we can, while we are waiting to celebrate the birth of your future children.

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Sorrowful Anniversaries and Hibernating Grief

9/11/2012

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Sorrowful Anniversaries and Hibernating Grief

This day, September 11, reminds us that we cannot always prepare for the unknown. Sometimes we are struck without warning and are forced to pick up the pieces of what remains of our lives.

My heart goes out to all of those who lost loved ones on that horrific day back in 2001. Today may be just as punishing for you. These types of sorrowful anniversaries have a tendency to awaken what has lay dormant in us and solicit feelings of tremendous agony. The grief kicks us in the gut and whispers, “You thought you were rid of me but here I am again.” My heart breaks for you too.

It is important for you to acknowledge that in these times of mourning and grief, taking special care of yourself is absolutely necessary. If you are able, I urge you to share your feelings of loss with loved ones. If that doesn’t feel comfortable, write down your thoughts.

Resolve, The National Infertility Association, provides a great number of support options for those facing infertility. Connecting with a community may decrease the sense of isolation you may be experiencing at this particular moment/time.

Once your anguish has settled into its reverent place, my hope is that you will ready and prepare yourself for your future children.

Peace, my Friend.

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Is my infertility my fault?

9/5/2012

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Is my infertility my fault?

When I was in the midst of my despair after having lost 2 pregnancies, I began to wonder, “Is all of this my fault? Did I wait too long to try to have a family? Should I have settled down sooner?” And even worse, "Am I being punished for a past transgression? If so, does the punishment fit my crime?"

If you are torturing yourself in the same way I did, hear this--None of this is your fault. You did nothing to deserve the hand that you have been dealt. I beg you to stop because nothing good will come out of the shoulda', woulda', coulda's! (Yes, I am yelling at you right now. Get over it and keep reading.)

Your struggle to have a family is absolutely, 100% not fair. Whether you have learned without a doubt that having your own biological child is not an option or you are in a state of Purgatory and don’t fully understand what is standing in your way of having a healthy baby, it’s just NOT fair! (This is the part where I am wrapping my arms around you metaphorically. If I you were standing in front of me, I would actually do so.)

You have every right to feel angry, confused, upset, sad, mad, disgusted, bewildered, and every other noun that fits here. Maybe you're upset with your partner for not understanding your immense grief. You may even be frustrated with your doctor for not being able to diagnose the reason(s) for your infertility. If you know that you are unable to have a biological child, you may be struggling to accept that you will not share a genetic link with your children. There are a myriad of reasons why you are experiencing these emotions. Your grief is real and it is valid. (Say that to yourself one more time because it is absolutely true.)

In fact, if you think it would help, you should hit, break and/or smash something. I threw and broke A LOT of meaningless objects when I was enduring this part of my despair and depression. Direct your physical destruction on material things though. Hitting humans is off limits and will only make you feel worse in the long run. If your partner comes home and notices something of value has been inexplicably broken, you can blame it on me. I can’t reimburse you for it though. I’m just sayin’!

If smashing a few vases just isn’t going to get the job done, go out and buy an insanely expensive piece of jewelry, pair of shoes, or purse. If you need to leave the country and hide-out in a foreign land, that's 'ok'. Just make sure there is a 5-star spa within walking distance. I’m giving you permission and I want you to do something that makes you feel better, even if the relief is only temporary.

Better yet, scream, yell and cry to someone who knows and loves you unconditionally. Let them throw their arms around you when the time is right. My guess is that they are looking for ways to support you and will welcome the opportunity. When I allowed my raw emotions to rise to the surface, I could sometimes manage a few syllables in between my sobs and gasps. Whatever I was able to say was pretty much indiscernible. Sometimes, you just need to let it out even if your loved ones can't understand a darn word you've just uttered.

Once you’re done breaking things, maxing out your credit card, and screaming your lungs out, I want to share a few thoughts with you…

YAY! You’re back.

Here's what I want you to know: All of my children were absolutely meant to be mine. The fact that we aren't linked genetically is a mere caveat. It is actually rather difficult for me to believe that they don't share my genetics and here is why…

My oldest son, who is adopted, is me, truly! Oddly enough, he looks like me. When I was a mischievous kid, this was the human my mother conjured up when she would say, “Oh, one day I hope you will have a child just like you!” Her wish was granted without a doubt. He enjoys organizing and cleaning at the age of 3.5 years old. He likes to load the dishwasher. After a bath, he drags the wet washcloth across the counter to make sure to get all of the germs off of it. The word “no” is one that he uses proficiently when it meets his needs though he refuses to acknowledge it if it is directed towards his actions. He has Strabismus (crossing of the eyes). I possessed the very same traits, qualities and conditions when I was his age--every single one of them. Honestly, at times, it kind of freaks me out.

You already know that my DiDi identical twins came via an anonymous egg donor and that I am also an identical twin myself. Fraternal twins are linked genetically but identical twins are not because they are simply a result of one egg splitting. The incidence of identical twins occurring is 3 out of every 1,000 births Worldwide. The basic point that I am trying to make here is that it is a HUGE coincidence that I have identical twins especially since I am one too.

My twins bear a close resemblance to my husband but they definitely have some of my features too. Now, I think that it is important to mention that the anonymous donor we chose does look an awful lot like me. In fact, that was one of the most important factors when we chose our egg donor.

When our twins were born, I was unable to breastfeed. I lost a great deal of blood and had 7 blood transfusions the night they were delivered. That life-threatening loss of blood prevented me from producing any breast milk whatsoever. I mention this because when they were in the NICU, I felt a tremendous amount of remorse about not being able to breastfeed them. Even without the breastfeeding, we bonded in so many other meaningful ways. They were in the NICU for 3 weeks. I was in the hospital myself for about half the time they were admitted. Once I was sent home, I went to the hospital every day to see and hold them. Like any other mother who is faced with caring for a child at home while her other little one(s) are in the NICU, I worried and fretted over my premature babies AND I felt the pangs of guilt when I was with one but not the others. Biology was irrelevant at this stage of the game--my deep love for my children had already taken over.

My overall conclusion is that the children who come to us are destined to be ours; the manner in which they arrive is immaterial. Once I became a mother, my anger and sadness were replaced with joy, love and worry for their health and well-being.

I wish you the same amount of love, joy & worry when you become a parent!

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Finding your parental path

All I Want for Christmas is a Baby

All I Want for Christmas is a Baby

When is the right time to use donor eggs

When is the Right Time to Use Donor Eggs?

When You're Just Not Feeling all that Thankful

When You're Just Not Feeling all that Thankful

Crying and Cursing while Rebuilding from Hurricane Sandy

Crying and Cursing while Rebuilding from Hurricane Sandy

Frivolous but Friendly Distractions

Frivolous but Friendly Distractions

Our Private Domestic Adoption Success Story

Our Private Domestic Adoption Success Story

Egg Donor Cycle—Originally Deemed a Failure

Egg Donor Cycle—Originally Deemed a Failure Results in Twins

Dealing with Insensitive and Hurtful Comments During Infertility

Dealing with Insensitive and Hurtful Comments during Infertility

Sorrowful Anniversaries and Hibernating Grief

Sorrowful Anniversaries and Hibernating Grief

Is my infertility my fault?

Is my infertility my fault?

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