Failing at Fertility

I guess I never imagined that the act of procreating another human being could be so difficult. Well, the act itself hasn’t been difficult, rather the actual meeting of the sperm and egg. After all, my mom and my high school health teacher scared me into thinking getting pregnant could happen from a handshake.

So, for years you avoid getting pregnant at the “wrong” time, dutifully taking birth control pills at the same time every day. Checking off all the things you want to do as a couple before having children.

Jack Bauer and I really wanted to enjoy being married for a while before starting a family. We loved to travel all around the world and worked long and hard at our jobs. He got his MBA; I trained for marathons. We even lived abroad for a year (not that these things can’t be done with children, they’re just a little easier without). We had planned everything out pretty specifically. New Zealand trip – check; promotion - check; buy a house – check; save a little bit of a nest egg so that we could have a nest for our eggs – check.

And like so many other couples, when we decided the time was right, it really didn’t occur to us that we would have challenges. After all, all of the women on both sides of my family, including my sister, pretty much got pregnant by looking at their husbands sideways, so I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, my mom was so hyperfertile that she got pregnant with my sister with an IUD in place and my mother-in-law got pregnant with my husband in a similar manner. I just thought JB and I could decide that one day we’d snap our fingers, so to speak, and the next day I’d be pregnant. But, so far, no stork has visited our house.

It just seems so ironic that something you have tried to avoid for so long could actually be completely avoided. We haven’t used birth control in five years and it’s made no difference whatsoever.

One night JB and I were watching TV after one of our many failed artificial attempts to conceive. He seemed to have an epiphany, looking up from his BusinessWeek saying, “You mean we never had to use a condom.” No idea what prompted that thought in his head, but I thought that one moment summed up a lot of this crazy journey.

Rantings from the Nest

The Nest and I were emailing back and forth today about important things like uterine linings, progesterone applicators and period cycles when her always sunny disposition turned into a little bit of a rant:

“Just for the record, I am going to be so mad if we don't get a baby! I
hate taking pills, now I'm up to nine a day, a shot in the belly, and I'm
flowing like the River Jordan. It just doesn't seem fair for someone to go
through this and not get a baby. I want a baby! Now, that I've had my
little fit, let's continue.”

I got the biggest kick out of it. She wasn’t complaining about going through the process or that she signed up for something she didn’t want, she was simply feeling the same way that I and millions of others have felt while going through this ridiculous fertility stuff.

And the key word in her rant, for me, anyway, was that she said she’d be “mad.” I was really happy to see that she’d be mad and not sad. Mad seems like a much more constructive emotion (though I completely understand being sad beyond belief – I’ve been there, too). When you’re mad, you might take a kickboxing class or scream into a pillow to get out your frustration. After one of my six medical quests to get pregnant didn’t result in a bun in the oven, I went out and ran a half-marathon (I do run pretty regularly, but hadn’t trained at all).

“I’ll show you, stupid uterus,” I thought to myself.

Since I wouldn’t have been able to run it if I was pregnant, I took it as an opportunity to show my body who was boss. It must have been some weird reversion back to grade school when we had to run at basketball practice if we made a mistake.

My most frequently used coping mechanism was to buy a bottle of Chardonnay and a packet of Oreos. I’d finish off both of them with in a matter of a day or two (yes, I realize that I don’t have the most sophisticated taste.).

And, since my rear end and stomach were already several pounds heavier from those awesome fertility drugs, my over-indulgence only added insult to injury, but something about it took the edge off.

I remember getting a call from my fertility doctor’s office telling me that my beta test was negative while I was shopping at a large department store. Stunned from the news, my immediate reaction was to hit the purse counter and I went over and bought an expensive impractically colored suede purse (which was a really bad I idea considering that we’d just spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatments, only for it not to work).

Another gal I know was so upset by her lack of procreation that she went out and bought a BWM in a semi-spontaneous fit of frustration. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

Ever do anything crazy to soothe your empty uterus?

Embracing my inability...I mean infertility

I completely accept the fact that people have strengths and can’t do everything well. For example, I can play a mean game of volleyball, can sing like a rock star on Rock Band, and I have Magellan-like directional sense, but I can’t cook, ice skate, sew or bowl well at all.

I can write a public relations strategy like nobody’s business, but can’t do graphic design to save my life. So, I have experts take care of it for me.

And, it just so happens that another one of the things that I can’t do is get pregnant.

So, I’m working with someone who can. The Nest has had three children, so I know she’s got some strong experience in the area.

I’ll just stick with things where I can excel.

Episode IV: A New Hope

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far way…Evil imperial forces had taken over the universe, errr…uterus. Many tries were made to overtake its powerful hold, but they haven’t been met with any success. The Rebel Alliance has tried for more than four years to restore freedom to the universe, I mean, uterus, but nothing has worked – not the valiant efforts of three ovulation inductions or the highly calculated and strategized three in vitro fertilization transfers. For a while, it seemed that all was lost on reclaiming peace and harmony among the universe/uterus.

OK, maybe my Star Wars references are pushing it a bit, but my quest to get pregnant has, at times, seemed as complicated and unfair as the fight between the good Rebel Alliance and the evil empire of Darth Vader.

After five years, tens of thousands of dollars, 1611 pre-natal vitamins, 55 ovulation detection tests, 16 pregnancy tests, 23 blood draws and ultrasounds and ten embryos, I am still not pregnant. My husband, who wants to be known as Jack Bauer (also the name of the super cool and tough Kiefer Sutherland character on 24), and I have decided to try one last effort to have a biological child.

But, there is a new hope and a part of that Star Wars analogy that does work. A Jedi Knight has emerged that could bring a balance back to the galaxy.

Enter the Nest. Through an amazingly serendipitous act, the Nest, also known as our prospective gestational carrier, came into our lives. I can’t say how she did lest it giveaway her identity, but through a wondrous occurrence we met our carrier and discovered that she and I are kindred spirits.

After another six months, 50 emails, one counseling session and one key visit to our fertility doctor, we’re on the countdown to the transfer of Jack Bauer’s and my embryo into the nest.

She and I will share this blog space as a way to tell our story. Now all I have to do is sit back and relax – she has the tough part.