Cheers, dear readers,
Thank you once again for coming to read about our personal journey with infertility. Last I left you, Eric and I were scheduled to embark on a very scary journey… the unknown world of fertility treatment. We were nervous, scared, anxious, and on edge quite often. Trying to quietly keep track of all the appointments – which were starting to become daily – was beginning to become a bit daunting. We did our best to schedule them super early in the morning before work, waiting in the waiting room with all of the other hopefuls, waiting for our names to get called – relieved when they called our names to “get on with it” and nervous about what was about to happen next at the same time. I would sit there trying to be productive – reading important statistics and figures about success stories and such, helping me feel more secure that we chose the right fertility clinic. I’d also sit there and wonder how long all of the other couples had been coming here… How many tries were they on? Did their insurance cover more than mine? Were they as stressed out as I was? How old are they? Hmmm, who could know. We didn’t really talk to any of them. Looking back, we probably should have, but they had their noses buried in their cell phones and magazines just like we did.
The roller coaster of emotions during treatment is a vast tapestry of twists and turns, and not for the faint of heart. We tried to keep our goal in mind: we wanted our own child, from our genetic makeup. It’s rather incredible how strong this urge is. I loved my family and my family heritage, and I wanted to pass it on (Italian with some English and German thrown in). I loved Eric’s family too (Norwegian, Polish, Russian, etc)… his unique auburn hair, his incredible intellect, his generous spirit. I loved it all and wanted it for our child that we created together. This is big important stuff, and we were doing everything in our power to make it so. On the positive feelers side, we were hopeful, excited, even jubilant at the prospect of announcing our own bundle of joy with that sparkle in our eye, like most of our friends had joyously done (sometimes in shock if it wasn’t planned). To stay hopeful and positive, we reminded each other that we were in this together, and to keep our eye on the prize (but maybe not toooo much, in case it didn’t work out the way that we hoped. How do you balance THAT little conundrum?).
At our doctor’s suggestion, we were jumping right in with natural cycle IVF. Our fertility team thought that this was the best course of action, given our budget, age, and the data that they had collected from my eggs and Eric’s sperm (how romantic! I can hear the violins now!) As usual, we cracked jokes. But in my heart of hearts, I really was convinced that if one of my healthy, mature eggs met one of Eric’s non-two-headed type of fast swimming sperm, the magic would happen. The poor little guys just needed some help, and help we were giving them – a whole team and clinic of help, with several doctors and many, many nurses and administration folk to schedule all of these appointments. What we also liked regarding natural cycle IVF was, as the name suggests, it is more natural. No hormones to be injected, which we thought was both healthier for me, the woman, as well as more kind to our collective wallet, as the hormones are quite expensive!
So they analyzed, they watched, they waited, while I got acupunctured, vitamin’d, and yoga’d it up with Eric, doing our “Breathe to Conceive” DVD to help us stay as relaxed and stress-free as possible. Down Dog, here we come! Bring it on, sister yoga instructor in the TV! We’re doing this thing! It was almost time for them to retrieve my egg, said the little screen where they were analyzing my ovaries and follicles almost daily… Yikes! As Eric likes to say, “Let’s see what happens next!”
Please join me next week to hear more about my personal journey down the infertility path. I look forward to speaking with you. And I wish you the best on your journey.
This post is also available in: Arabic