It Never Goes Away

I think I've come to the realization that the pain of losing your baby never goes away.  You learn how to deal with it and "move on".  But the hurt of that loss is so deep it never leaves you completely.  I had written a letter to our first baby that we lost last year on my birthday.  We lost her only days after we knew we were pregnant, but we already had fallen in love with her.  We both instinctively knew she was a girl.  I don't know how to explain it but we did.  And we named our precious baby girl Esther.  Esther would have been born in about 5 weeks.  Her birthday is February 28, 2012.  I hadn't cried about it in a really long time until I read the letter today, that I wrote her a few weeks after losing her.  Here it is:

My Little Angel,

For a moment you were here with us, you brought so much joy and wonder.  I know it was only a brief time but I fell in love with you.  And now I miss you dearly.  Tomorrow I would have seen your heart beat and your little body developing.  I miss you so much but I know that in this moment I can't hold you, cuddle you or kiss you, that Jesus will in my place.  Mommy loves you so much Esther.

Knowing tomorrow morning will come and go like you never were breaks my heart.  Know I am thinking about you.  Know that I wish tomorrow would have been one of the best days of my entire life.  But also know the day I found out you were a life growing inside of me was one of the best days I've ever experienced (Daddy experienced it with me).  We were so excited about you - and still are.

We look forward to the day we get to wrap our arms around you at heaven's gates.  I can't wait to see your smiling face.  Looking forward to that moment gives me peace about moving forward.  You will always have a very special place in my heart.  Forever.  I love you so very much.

Loving you ALWAYS,
Momma

Great Song about Infertility

Breaking the Silence

I found this article on SELF magazine's website.  It's rather lengthy but such a good read.  It talks about the feelings of infertility and why people don't talk about them.  This is why I have this blog.  This is why it needs to be talked about!!!

This Woman Has a Secret

It's infertility, which will strike one in eight American couples. Why are so many of us hiding this struggle from our friends and family?
SELF investigates the roots of women's silence— and why our reluctance to talk keeps us from getting the health care we deserve.

By Jennifer Wolff Perrine

Lisa scans the room for an empty seat. Save for the disembodied voices of unseen nurses summoning patients into exam rooms, the place is excruciatingly quiet. The clouds outside the floor-to-ceiling windows cast a pallor onto the walls, the furniture and the faces of some 40 women waiting at the Perelman Cohen Center for Reproductive Medicine at NewYork-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center in New York City. Everyone is here for the same reason: She can't get pregnant without a doctor's help. Yet with so much in common, no one speaks or even acknowledges one another. The women sit at least one empty chair apart, reading the newspaper, tapping on their BlackBerries, staring at their shoes. The few who are accompanied by husbands—they don't talk, either.

"You can cut the tension with a knife," says Lisa, a 33-year-old health-policy analyst who is here for her fourth cycle of in vitro fertilization (IVF). Lisa finds a love seat with room for her and her oversize red leather purse and plops down into it. It's 8 A.M., but already she's exhausted. And she's scared, hoping for joy but preparing for heartbreak. It's a feeling she's grown accustomed to in more than two years of trying to have a baby with her husband, Jack. Her big brown eyes are on the verge of tears. "I never imagined it would come to this," she says.

After three failed IVFs in their hometown of Washington, D.C., Lisa and Jack have taken a leave from their jobs, moved to New York for two weeks and are spending roughly $20,000 for another chance to conceive. No one close to the couple knows they're here—not Jack's family in the Midwest and not Lisa's parents, who live in an outlying suburb. They're paying $1,600 to sublet a studio apartment rather than tell family what they are doing. The only people who know are members of their support group back in Washington, strangers a few months ago and now the few people they feel can understand their struggle. They share this experience with SELF under an agreement to print only their middle names. "We have so much invested that we can't handle other people being emotionally invested," Lisa says. "We can't deal with other people being upset if it doesn't work when we are already so upset ourselves."

Doctors have diagnosed Lisa with "unexplained infertility," which accounts for approximately 20 percent of all infertility diagnoses. Even after her first IVF failed last year, she and Jack had remained optimistic their second try would give them a family. Lisa was still young, and both she and Jack appeared to be in perfect health. For Lisa, each procedure had a 60 percent chance of success, according to statistics from Shady Grove Fertility Center in Washington, D.C., where Lisa was being treated. She was at work when the nurse called with the news that barely any of her eggs had become fertilized. Lisa phoned Jack, and together but apart, they each closed their office door and sobbed. That night, they huddled together in their bed, lights off, ringing phone ignored. "We were in a very dark place," Jack remembers. They began avoiding friends, canceling plans and not making new ones.

Lisa was left heartbroken and angry—not least at herself. "When the first cycle didn't work, I thought, OK, maybe it's one of the medications and I had a weird reaction to it. But when the second cycle didn't work, I began to think, No, there is something wrong with me. I was crushed. I wondered, Why is my body betraying me? Why won't it do what it is supposed to do?"

By now, the couple has grown so anxious when questioned about starting a family that before going out, they have to strategize about how to handle their feelings if the conversations veer in painful directions. Lisa regularly declines baby shower invitations, claiming she is heading out of town. They celebrated last Thanksgiving with a cousin whose children are preteens rather than be around family who have babies or toddlers. "No one means to say the wrong thing," Jack says, "but inevitably people have questions or comments that start off innocuously and then turn into an emotional land mine."

One in eight American couples will experience infertility, and 1.1 million women will undergo treatment this year. That most won't talk about it makes it that much more painful: A recent survey of infertility patients reveals that 61 percent hide the struggle to get pregnant from friends and family. More than half of the patients included in the survey, conducted by pharmaceutical giant Schering-Plough, reported that it was easier to tell people they didn't intend to build a family rather than share their troubles. "It's almost impossible to convey what it's like to people who haven't gone through it," Jack says. "There's a feeling of despair and loss that you just can't quantify. So much weight is on the line, so many questions about genetics and identity and what it means to pass that down—or not."

Having difficulty getting pregnant can cause as much grief as losing a loved one, says Linda D. Applegarth, Ed.D., director of psychological services at the Perelman Cohen Center. "But it's different. It is chronic and elusive," she adds. "There's a fear that life will be eternally empty. Some feel a sense of damage and brokenness; it goes to the heart of who they are." The result is the dread and shame that Applegarth sees in her waiting room. "Patients slink around and sit in corners because they don't want to see anyone they know from their work or social circle," she says, "even if it would mean they would know someone going through the same thing." Only 5 percent of patients use the psychological support services their clinic offers, despite data showing how helpful they can be.

Women's silence hurts more than themselves. It ensures that infertility remains an anonymous epidemic, with less funding and research than other common medical problems receive. Infertility activists, a beleaguered few, struggle to find allies. "We can get only a handful of our own volunteers to speak out, because of the shame," says Barbara Collura, executive director of Resolve, the national infertility association in McLean, Virginia. "Because we have so little patient advocacy, we have so little progress."

It's a strange dichotomy: How can a health issue that gets so much ink be shrouded in silence? We've read about the "Octomom" freak show and how the proliferation of multiples, linked to the rise in fertility treatments, drains the health care system. But rarely is the average person made aware of the frustration that 12 percent of women of childbearing age endure trying to make a baby. Nor do most people realize that a majority of infertility treatments fail; in 2006, 57 percent of IVF cycles using women's own eggs failed, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta. (Procedures using donor eggs do better—the failure rate for those is 37 percent.) A study from Harvard Medical School in Boston shows that women who have difficulty getting pregnant can be as depressed as those who have major heart problems or cancer.

Infertility is not cancer. But it is debilitating. And some activists argue that infertility desperately needs the kind of awareness effort that helped bring cancer out of the shadows two decades ago. Breast cancer has its pink ribbon. AIDS has its walks, multiple sclerosis its bike-a-thons. Resolve does sponsor an awards gala honoring achievement in the field, but it draws primarily doctors and other professionals from the infertility world, not patients, and most important, it raises no money. Complains one Resolve member who walked out of last year's event, "Everyone gets up and tells their success stories. Infertility treatment isn't always about success. And that's the problem with how infertility is being handled; as with any other disease, some people won't be cured. That's why it needs more recognition and funding, so people can get help. But no one wants to recognize the failure."

Because no one wants to discuss infertility, "nothing gets done about it," says Lindsay Beck, founder of Fertile Hope, a program run by the Lance Armstrong Foundation in Austin, Texas, that supports cancer patients whose treatments threaten their fertility. "Infertility is where breast cancer was in the 1970s—completely in the closet." Beck's treatments for her tongue cancer and its recurrence aged her reproductive system by possibly a decade; she ultimately had five IVF procedures and two children. She's undergoing fertility treatments again in hopes of conceiving a third. "In my experience, it's a much lighter atmosphere in the cancer waiting room than in the IVF waiting room," she says. "Cancer patients talk about anti­nausea drugs and what worked for them. They look at each other as a means of support. For some reason, fertility patients tend to ignore each other in the waiting room." Beck says that "the cancer card" makes it easier for women to talk about their difficulties trying to get pregnant—and to find financial assistance to pay for treatment—after chemotherapy, radiation or both have ravaged their body. "Everyone relates to cancer and is supportive of helping cancer patients," she says. "For the average fertility patient, there is no united front."

Rather, women are often denigrated in their time of pain. Catholics may be made to feel like sinners; in 2008 the Vatican denounced IVF and certain other infertility treatments because they "dissociate procreation from the context of the conjugal act." Many legislators shy away from the issue because fertility treatments produce unused embryos, which are linked with abortion and stem cell politics. And on a deeply personal level, friends and family can wound with their words. "I was afraid of people judging me because I was older," says Mariana A., a software sales manager who spent more than five years in her 40s trying for a baby before having twins with the help of Advanced Fertility Services in New York City. "They ask, Why did you wait? But they didn't live my past. They don't know if I had bad pregnancies. People's prying is insensitive and inconsiderate."

Even the health care providers and pharmaceutical companies that support infertility patients struggle with the best language to use and whether to label infertility a disease—something that conveys its seriousness but could make some patients feel more stigmatized and broken. There are any number of reasons some women don't conceive easily: age, endometriosis, polycystic ovary syndrome and their partner's low sperm count, to name a few. Yet regardless of the why or how, "infertility is a disability," says William Gibbons, M.D., president of the American Society of Reproductive Medicine and director for Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston. "For too long, those suffering from infertility have had their condition slighted or even ignored."

Last November, the World Health Organization in Geneva brought some clarity when it defined infertility as an actual disease. "Part of the problem is that the insurance industry considers infertility akin to cosmetic surgery; having a child is deemed by many insurers to be something men and women would like, but it's not necessary for their health," Dr. Gibbons says. "Having an internationally recognized health organization acknowledge infertility as a disease is a baby step that hopefully will pave the way for insurers and other providers to improve coverage." Scant insurance coverage not only marginalizes patients but also adds to their stress and shame. "Women often feel humiliated about having tried so hard with nothing to show for it, especially if the process has left them bankrupt," Beck says. "People don't want to talk about [the money]."

It's not that patients don't want to help rally for better insurance and more research. But treatment can be so emotionally, physically and financially enervating that, in the middle of it, they have neither the time nor the energy to invest in activism. If treatments succeed, or patients adopt, they are then busy with young children. However someone resolves her infertility, the tendency is to want to put her struggles behind her. "People want to forget," says Collura of Resolve, whose activities include local support groups for infertile couples nationwide. "We do our damnedest to instill in our members that they need to take a stand and help the cause or the same thing is going to happen to the women who come after them."

On day 5 of Lisa's IVF cycle, snowstorm warnings loom up and down the East Coast. Lisa and Jack find themselves trapped in their lie: They had told her parents they would visit New York from Washington that weekend, but because they are actually living in New York for Lisa's treatment, they need to know how much snow will fall a few hours south to see if they need to "cancel" their fictional trip. Even if the weather cooperates, the couple has yet to figure out a cover story for where they are staying, as they can't reveal they've rented an apartment. "We're not terrible people," Jack says sheepishly.

"Logistically, it's getting harder not to tell people, especially our families," Lisa adds. "[IVF] is no longer just a part of our lives; it's the focus of our lives. It's hard not talking about it with my mom because I know she's wondering when we're going to have kids but doesn't want to pry. Yet it's painful because she talks to me about other people who are pregnant, and I don't think she'd do that if she knew what we were going through."

Lisa feels close to the edge. The couple's savings are nearly gone: Since getting married in 2006, she and Jack have been putting aside more than $1,000 a month for future child-care costs and a house in a better school district; all that money has been spent. Everyday occurrences—learning a friend is pregnant, seeing a mom with a stroller on the street—can send her into a fit of tears. She even confesses to feeling jealous of women in her support group who have miscarried. "As devastating as that is, getting pregnant at all is still kind of encouraging for your overall prognosis. For us, it's been two and a half years and nothing."

Infertility treatments can be so intense that even when money is not a factor, "the stress can be too much to continue," says Alice Domar, Ph.D., director of the Domar Center for Mind/Body Health at Boston IVF. Last year, researchers at Harvard Medical School found 34 percent of patients younger than 40 with insurance for at least three IVF cycles dropped out after only one or two; 68 percent of patients older than 40 gave up before exhausting their coverage. The process swallows lives; women become slaves to their monthly cycles, often unable to leave town even for a weekend getaway due to daily monitoring for hormone levels and egg counts. When month after month a couple fails to get pregnant, their lives stall and the question of whether or not their family will expand looms over decisions about the car they buy, the house they live in, the clothes they purchase.

The longer the process drags on, the more uncomfortable they tend to become talking about it to other people. "Even in well-meaning attempts to make you feel better, people say something that makes you feel worse," says James Grifo, M.D., director of the New York University Fertility Center in New York City. "Isolation is a defense mechanism against overload. It isn't necessarily a good thing, but it's what infertility patients do to protect themselves."

At 33, an age when her entire social circle seemed to be wearing maternity clothes, Tara Elbaum couldn't get pregnant with a second child. "It was so easy for them," says Elbaum, an attorney in New York City. "Their babies were always in my face, at birthday parties, when I dropped off my son at school. My way of dealing with it was not talking about it."

Elbaum, who had five IVFs and two miscarriages before finally getting pregnant with her daughter, struggled with her feelings. "I hated being jealous," she says. "It's one of the ugliest emotions someone can feel, and I felt it all the time." Elbaum even envied the support and attention a relative received after announcing her diagnosis of non-Hodgkin lymphoma a day after Elbaum miscarried. "Within two seconds of her telling the family, people were saying, 'I know this doctor,' 'How do you feel?' 'What can I do for you?'" Elbaum remembers. "There I was still bleeding from my miscarriage, and I didn't feel I could talk about it."

Sometimes, it's easier to share intimate details with strangers. Across the Internet, message boards and blogs rage with the anxiety, grief and frustration of thousands of infertility patients typing in from around the world. "It can be humiliating to feel like you're not normal, and the Internet provides a safe haven," says SELF contributing editor Catherine Birndorf, M.D., clinical associate professor of psychiatry and obstetrics and gynecology at Weill Cornell Medical Center. But despite the consolation that anonymous online friends can provide, Dr. Birndorf warns, "when you start talking to only these strangers, you disconnect from the people in your life, and that's even more isolating. We still need to have real relationships."

Domar remains frustrated that only about 100 of Boston IVF's 2,500 annual patients seek mind/body services from her center. "Denial is a factor," Domar says. "Walking into that room, you label yourself as infertile. That's hard for a lot of people." Although one of the greatest insults to an infertility patient is to tell her she should "just relax," studies show stress does make women less likely to ovulate—and that there are ways they can feel more calm. A Harvard Medical School study published in 2000 established a link between lowering anxiety and improved pregnancy rates in women who had been trying to conceive for between one and two years. Research also reveals that patients who get psychological support often feel less distress about treatment. And if their treatment fails, Domar says, they are quicker to build their family in other ways, such as donor eggs or sperm or adoption.

Domar shared with SELF preliminary results of new research she hopes will inspire more patients to seek help: In a small study of 97 Boston IVF patients younger than 40, women who had participated in 5 to 10 mind/body sessions were 160 percent more likely to get pregnant after a single IVF cycle. And more than two thirds of women with a clinical diagnosis of depression got pregnant after these sessions, whereas none of the depressed women in the control group conceived. The meetings teach relaxation techniques to ease anxiety and cognitive-behavioral strategies to fight depression. "These results can absolutely be replicated," Domar says. "Isolating oneself during fertility treatment is not helpful to getting pregnant."

"Where are the tens of thousands of patients affected by this disease?" Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D–Fla.) asked the group of Resolve members gathered on Capitol Hill for Advocacy Day in June 2009. Wasserman Schultz was the last speaker of the day, and at least half of the 90 women who had come to lobby their legislators had already left. But still, said the congresswoman, there should have been more people there in the first place. "Where are your numbers?" she challenged them. "If you're not going to fight for yourselves, how is anyone else going to fight for you?"

The women were floored. They had paid their own way from as far away as Florida and Chicago. Some had left children at home. "Her speech was sobering for those of us fighting the fight," Collura says. "Some volunteers were upset because they had worked so hard just to get those people in the room. But she was right."

"When you have an issue that impacts millions and you can't muster even 100 people to the Hill on a day that belongs to them, it becomes hard as a member of Congress to commit to putting energy into that issue," Wasserman Schultz says now. A breast cancer survivor, former infertility patient and mother of three, she has been a regular at Resolve's Advocacy Day, mostly seeing the same faces year after year. "I had held my tongue for years," she says.

When Wasserman Schultz shared her breast cancer ordeal with Congress, politicos from both parties approached her to tell the stories of their mothers, sisters and daughters. Gaining respect and sympathy—and having the backing of the powerful breast cancer lobby—enabled her to move a bill promoting breast cancer education for young women. "There is a stigma to infertility that somehow you are less of a person, and that stigma has to come off completely," she says. "Patients need to start shouting from rooftops. And their doctors need to step up with resources and advocacy, because they are the ones with the means to organize."

When patients do take up the cause, it can make a difference. Risa Levine, a 48-year-old attorney in New York City, endured 10 IVF cycles and four miscarriages, yet remains childless. "Someone who had a breast cancer scare once said to me, 'What you went through is nothing; it's not like you were scared you were going to die,'" Levine recalls. "My thought was, Yeah, but I wanted to."

Instead of withdrawing, she began making calls: Several years ago, outraged at the dearth of funding and research for infertility, Levine approached then Senator Hillary Clinton (D–N.Y.), who went to the CDC. As a result, in 2008 the agency issued a white paper that outlined the very need that Levine and other advocates want fulfilled: more money for more research. There is little knowledge of the link between infertility and chronic diseases, the document notes, and no information on how much infertility could be reduced by promoting better nutrition, exercise and smoking cessation. Of 84,000 chemicals in the workplace, information on reproductive toxicity is available for only a few thousand. No agency tracks the success of treatments that do not involve assisted reproductive technology or measures the health risks of treatment for mothers and children. And the infertility research that has been done emphasizes women, leaving the causes of men's infertility largely a mystery.

The CDC report paved the way for the federal government to develop a National Action Plan for infertility, says Maurizio Macaluso, M.D., chief of the women's health and fertility branch of the division of reproductive health at the CDC. He hopes this project will create newfound awareness that will "reduce the concern that [infertility] is a punishment or fate—or that it cannot be altered." Post your comments to the CDC (on the next page) and help craft its plan.

After learning firsthand that the average cost of one round of IVF is $12,400, Levine lobbied her congressman, Anthony Weiner (D–N.Y.), who reintroduced the Family Building Act, a bill that calls for federally mandated insurance coverage for infertility. (Currently, only 15 states have some form of mandate; the bill is awaiting a vote in committee.) Senator Kirsten Gillibrand (D–N.Y.) has introduced the Family Building Act to the Senate. "One person's passion matters," she says about Levine.

Recently divorced, Levine no longer expects to become a parent, a revelation that pains her every moment of the day. Still, she says, "if this cause was important enough for me to fight for while I was trying to have a baby, it has to be just as important when I failed—even more so."

As the day of Lisa's pregnancy test—also Jack's 43rd birthday—approaches, her anxiety skyrockets. She's been in email contact with her support group but no one else. When her book club met the day she returned to Washington, she concocted a story about digging out her stoop and sledding down her street during the epic snowstorm that, actually, she had missed. "Everyone was telling stories about how they survived, and I figured I had to join in," she says.

Jack's birthday arrives, and Lisa is able to give him the gift he wanted most. "We are so happy and relieved!" she writes in an email to SELF after receiving news of her positive pregnancy test. "I (almost) feel like a normal person for the first time in two years." Who else hears the happy news? Her acupuncturist and pregnant support group buddies. "IVF is a process, and it's easier to talk to people who have an intimate knowledge of it," she says.

As it turns out, Lisa and Jack are having twins. And finally, after 14 weeks, they tell their parents. Although they admitted they had seen doctors at Cornell, they never confessed how long they had been trying, how many procedures they had endured or how much this pregnancy ultimately cost. Then again, their parents didn't ask. "I think they were just happy that I was pregnant. They had been worried that we didn't want kids," Lisa says.

Even though she didn't share all the gritty details with her family, Lisa admits, "It's nice to talk about it. I didn't realize how depressed I was and worried about what someone would say. Truly, I didn't realize how pervasive the pain was until I didn't feel it anymore. It's like the world has gone from black and white to color."

Lisa became a paying member of Resolve when she and Jack started going to its local couples support group, and she plans to continue her membership. But now that she has what she wants, will she help fight for the cause? "Certainly, there is not enough research or understanding of infertility," Lisa says but adds that doing anything public might get her in trouble at her health-policy job. Working behind the scenes is one option, but she says, "I'm sure my volunteer efforts will be for schools or parks. Once I have twins, I'll have a lot less free time."

What It Feels Like

I guess you could say I'm pretty open about my infertility.  I don't mind talking about it as long as I'm not too emotional that day.  (However, there are times I will just start crying talking about it)  So don't get me wrong, it is difficult.  I wanted to express how it feels to be infertile.  More so for people who aren't infertile, but also for those of you who are looking for words to label your feelings.  

It's hard to put words on these feelings.  I even did a Google search and couldn't really find the right thing.  None of it really hit home for me.  So I'm going to do my best and describe what it feels like.

When I was younger, before boyfriends or dating or any of that stuff, I dreamed of being a Mom.  I grew up with a pretty amazing Mom.  She was a single Mom for the first 4 1/2 years of my life.  She did a great job and made sure I had everything I needed.  She gave me the choice to live, even though it changed everything for her.  I was unplanned, unexpected, surprising, and all together a shock.  But she made what could have been a hindrance, a wonderful life.

I watched my Mom closely as I grew up.  I always knew she loved and cared for me so much.  And as the years went on I realized how wonderful a relationship we developed.  I began my teen years and I remember thinking to myself, "I can't wait to be my daughter's Mom".  I looked forward to the day where I would meet this AMAZING man, and we'd marry and grow our own little family.  It's always been my dream.

I never grew up thinking I'd "be" something.  I never wanted to be an astronaut or doctor or professional athlete.  I wanted to be a Mom.  I still do - so very much.  Now imagine my surprise, when I finally find the man of my dreams, we marry and get settled into life and then something is not quite right.

When your dream of becoming this one thing is shattered by a diagnosis you have no control over it's maddening.  Scott will tell you I'm not the funnest person to live with sometimes.  I will come home after a long day at work, where either I've heard of multiple drug babies being born, have had to do multiple D&C's for miscarried babies, or had to help with c-sections where the mother "accidentally" got pregnant for the third time - and at that point I'm angry.  Infertility has brought out the worst emotions in me.  Especially anger.  I do my best to pray through it, cry through it, or ignore it, but I'm human.  There's no getting around these emotions.

It literally makes me feel out of control.  Outside of God doing a miracle to our bodies, the only way we will get pregnant is if my eggs are sucked out from my ovaries and matched with "washed" swimmers via a microscopic needle in a doctor's office and then re-implanted into me while I stare at the poster on the ceiling.  Romantic huh?  Yeah that whole beautiful part of conceiving a child in a candle lit bedroom on your anniversary or Valentine's Day?  Nope not us.  Just the good ole IVF room at Dr. Anderson's office.  Which I am thankful for- at least we have that technology.  It's just not very fun.

Infertility has also made me deeply saddened and all together a different person.  There are days where I just want to stop everything, go home and cry.  I know it doesn't fix anything or change it, but it just makes me feel better.  Getting it all out.  What use to be beautiful and exciting - is not anymore.  By that what I'm saying is, seeing little babies everywhere.  Hearing about someones pregnancy, delivery, or children.  A big part of me is still very excited for them, especially if their my friends.  But a big part of me will always be sad until I get to experience that.

So many, SO SO many people have told me, "your young, you have plenty of TIME".  I realize that yes, time is on our side.  Does that mean I want to spend the next 15 years trying to have children?  Would you want that?  Of course not!  So why people suggest that it's somehow "easier" because I have that option is crazy.  We've already endured YEARS of this, why would we want to endure more?  And yes we're "young" so we can try longer, but does that discount our heartache we've experienced?  Does it take away our three miscarriages?  No.  Does it bring those babies in my arms?  No.  So instead of trying to encourage someone in my situation with those words, maybe say something along the lines of, "I will be praying that it happens soon for you."  or "We keep you in our prayers all the time." (thanks Shannon and Nathan Brophy for that :) )  There are better things to uplift an infertile couple than suggestions about how long they might have to wait until they have children.

It's my assumption (yes I know those are sometimes bad) but nonetheless, my assumption, that people think infertility is like drinking too much coffee.  The side effects are there, but there are ways to "fix" them.  Just do the right things and POOF! baby.  But it doesn't quite work that way.  Its very complicated and intricate.  And many emotions are left out there in the open.  Words hurt badly and they leave marks people don't even realize their leaving.  Try and understand that infertility is a serious medical condition.  It affects about 10% of the reproductive population.  And that every case is different.  Just because one thing worked for your next door neighbor, doesn't mean it works for someone else.  And because your cousin adopted and then got pregnant doesn't mean that happens for everyone either.  If that's what happened then God wanted them to adopt and for it to work out that way.  Scott and I have had the conversation - we will NOT adopt just to have biological children.

When people say this it drives me crazy.  I feel like they think they've found the perfect solution.  Why would you not honor the beauty of adoption in itself instead of using it as an avenue into childbirth?

Overall, this whole world we're living in its different.  We're different and we know it.  When we see people all around us having children - because we're at that age, and we're not - we know.  When we get the question from acquaintances asking us when its "our time"?  We know.  And it brings about a fury of emotions.  Hurt, depression, anger, frustration, irritation, money issues, happiness, helplessness, etc.  Pretty much any emotion you can think of we've probably felt it along the way.  And realize we have no idea when this will end - if ever.  We have hope and faith in the Lord that He will bless us, but maybe what we hope for will come to find us in a way we don't expect.  We just don't know.  This infertile life is one of never knowing.  But, in all of that we still love each other so much.  We have a great time together and if it ends up being just us forever, I will always consider myself blessed.  I have found the love of my life, and whether or not we get to have children, I will still enjoy our life together. 

Not So "Anonymous" Anymore

After our last miscarriage something occurred to me.  Women facing infertility and miscarriage don't want to talk about their problems.  And when they do people around them have a hard time relating to them and they don't know what to say.  Some people who want to support and love them end up saying the wrong things.  So I decided to make this blog public.  So public we put it in our Christmas letter.  So for those of you who've been reading, our names aren't really "John and Jane", my name is Ashliegh and I'm married to a pretty awesome guy- Scott.  We live in Alaska and we have experienced infertility for over two years and have had three miscarriages since June of 2011.  

I found something on Pinterest that is so fitting for infertility.  Those of you who have experienced it or are still experiencing it like us will get a little laugh out of this.  And for those of you who know someone, please don't say these things to them.

  

And a little extra word of encouragement.  Lots of people have told me "you are SO young, you have plenty of time".  I may only be 24, and Scott only 27.  But that doesn't discount our heartache or what we are going through.  So the next time you come across someone experiencing these things, sometimes it's better to listen or offer a hug.  One of my best friends has been a great help through all of this and most of the time she just sits there and listens and lets me cry on her shoulder.  That can be the biggest help.

Here's a preview of our Christmas Letter we sent out- and a picture of us on our recent trip to The Caribbean :)

Dear Family and Friends,

I hope this letter finds you happy and healthy this holiday season.  2011 has been a wonderful year, and we hope it’s been the same for you.  We’ve had a year of growth, struggle, grace and triumph.  But as always, we’ve seen the providence of God in every decision and step we take.

Scott is still working diligently at Kenai New Life Assembly of God.  For the past two years, he has served as the Christian Education Director but will transition into the Youth Ministry in January.  I’m proud to say he just finished his credentialing test to become a Licensed Minister.  He has worked very hard the past couple years to achieve this goal.    Scott also serves as the President of the Kenai Peninsula Soccer Club.  He definitely stays busy but is such an inspiration to me. 

 

As for myself, I’m still working as a Surgical Tech at our local hospital.  I was recently accepted into Surgical Assisting School through Meridian Institute out of Tennessee, and will finish in September of 2012.  It’s a challenging career but very rewarding as well.  I stay involved with the church as a Sunday school teacher, worship team member and women’s ministry events.  It’s been a blessing to us to be a part of New Life Assembly of God; not only because of the church, but the people at New Life have encouraged us as well.

Recently, I’ve realized how amazing those friends are.  For those of you who don’t know, we’ve struggled to conceive a child for the past two years. During that time our church members, family and friends have supported us endlessly.  After prayer and careful consideration, this summer we decided to move forward with fertility treatments.  Between May and October, we endured three miscarriages.  It was one of the most heart breaking times we’ve ever experienced.  Though we’ve been through a lot this year we still see the Lord guiding our steps.  This experience has definitely opened our eyes to the need of infertile couples.

During this holiday season we ask you to not only keep us in your prayers but those around you who may be experiencing the same struggle.  This journey has taught me a lot and my knowledge has grown regarding infertility.  Many women are scared, uncomfortable, or too hurt to talk about it.  I would like to break that mold and offer support and help to those experiencing infertility.  If you know someone who would like support or prayer please ask them to contact me through my blog, www.prayersinapetridish.blogspot.com.  

We appreciate your love, support and prayers as we continue our difficult path.  We also hope this holiday season is filled with blessing for you and your family.  

But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength.  They will soar high on wings like eagles.  They will run and not grow weary.  They will walk and not faint.  ~Isaiah 40:31

With Much Love,

Scott & Ashliegh

 

The Melting Pot in Ft. Lauderdale, FL - SO delicious!

A Step in the Right Direction

I am so relieved.  I just got back from visiting the doctor's office and my nurse practitioner is going to talk with some nurses at the office and get the ball rolling on my testing.  I did have some blood work done for a blood clotting disorder and a lipid panel to see if my cholesterol levels are normal.  It's kind of weird hoping there is something wrong with you.  I guess if there is something wrong, there is something to fix.  

On an other note, due to the fertility diet I have lost 8 pounds!  I am so excited and hoping that this continues!  If anything I will be healthier.  I have noticed more energy and I love it.  I use to want to come home and take naps after work and now I'm making plans for what I'm going to do after work, its awesome.

As good as the fertility diet is with the massage and all that, I'm still missing my baby so much.  I had a break down last night for the first time in about a week.  I felt like I was doing so good and then all the sudden I wasn't.  I hate that I've had three miscarriages in such a short time.  I just want a baby!!!  I don't know why my body wants to be so difficult!  

Thankfully, I was encouraged a lot yesterday because I needed it.  A Facebook friend had written a verse on their status, it was 1st Peter 2:19 which says, "For God is pleased with you when you do what you know is right and patiently endure unfair treatment."  Also, the verse of the day on my phone was Isaiah 40:31 which says, "but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."  And on top of all of that I had a great phone conversation with my mom who was very encouraging.  

As much as learning all of this has been beneficial, I am hoping this journey is over soon.  I'm really tired and brokenhearted.  I don't know how much more I can handle.  I'm hoping the Lord is going to do something great.  I feel like I have my hand on a plug and all I need to do is pull hard and blessing will pour out over John and I.  I am so ready for that!

Oh Geez...

Okay, sorry I haven't written in a few days.  Here's the deal.  We did get pregnant but had another chemical pregnancy.  I've had a really hard time with this one because it's our third in a row.  I'm kinda tired of losing my babies.  It down right sucks.  I have a feeling there are some other underlying issues so I've looked into immune and blood testing to see why my babies don't seem to implant very well.  So we'll see what comes of all of that.  The doctors I've spoken to don't seem to understand my need to find out why this is happening so I have an appointment with a new doctor tomorrow (Thursday) to see if she can help.  One thing I've realized is after three miscarriages I believe you are considered high risk once you are pregnant.  Not a label that I really wanted to have.  

John and I have decided to take a break from IVF and fertility treatments for a while.  We are definitely burnt out and tired of all the needles and procedures. So in the meantime we have decided to do a "fertility diet" and I'm also doing fertility massage.  I figure it couldn't hurt and maybe we'll get pregnant on our own again!  Here's the jist of what I'm doing in case you want to try it out yourself.

Here's what I'm taking:

Fertility Blend for Women
-It has vitamin B6 in it, which if you have a shorter luteal phase (the time between when you ovulate and have you period) it will increase it. If its 10 days or less it can be very difficult to conceive. I've had short luteal phases in the past so that's why I'm taking it.
-It has Chasteberry Extract in it which helps balance your hormones and normalize ovulation.
-It has L-arginine and it helps maintain healthy uterine lining. I'm also taking a baby aspirin (81mg) per day to help with implantation. Since all my miscarriages have been during implantation I'm hoping that will help.

I'm also taking Royal Jelly which also helps regulate hormones and most importantly for me helps with egg health. My Fertility Specialist thinks this is the main cause of my issues, so I figure if my eggs are healthier maybe I'll make better babies that will stay! It also "boosts your libido" so having sex more often tends to lead to more babies. ;)

John is also taking Fertility Blend for men which helps boost sperm health and quality.


The fertility book I'm reading, "The Fertility Diet", by Jorge E. Chavarro and Walter C. Willett, gives ten diet changes to help boost your fertility. Here's what they say:

1. Avoid trans fats, the artery-clogging fats found in many commercially prepared products and fast foods.
2. Use more unsaturated vegetable oils, such as olive oil or canola oil.
3. Eat more vegetable protein, like beans and nuts, and less animal protein.
4. Choose whole grains and other sources of carbohydrate that have lower, slower effects on blood sugar and insulin rather than highly refined carbohydrates that quickly boost blood sugar and insulin.
5. Drink a glass of whole milk or have a small dish of ice cream or full fat yogurt every day; temporarily trade in skim milk and low- or no-fat dairy products like cottage cheese and frozen yogurt for their full-fat cousins.
6. Take a multivitamin that contains folic acid and other B vitamins.
7. Get plenty of iron from fruits, vegetables, beans, and supplements but not from red meat.
8. Beverages matter: water is great; coffee, tea, and alcohol are OK in moderation; leave sugared sodas unopened.
9. Aim for a healthy weight. If you are overweight, losing between 5 and 10 percent of your weight can jump-start ovulation.
10. If you aren't physically active, start a daily exercise plan. If you already exercise, pick up the pace of your workouts. But don't overdo it, especially if you are quite lean- too much exercise can work against conception.

So we will see what happens.  John and I are also taking a romantic vacation in a couple weeks so that can't hurt either!  Wish us luck and keep us in your prayers.

Jane