It's Like Riding a Bicycle

At least that is my opinion, anyway…

Although I am a mother, I didn’t achieve a pregnancy without medical intervention and without the genetic assistance of others.  And even though I had the honor of carrying my child and experiencing a pregnancy, I am still infertile.

Infertility is like riding a bicycle.  Even though you have taken months off of actively trying to conceive a child, it seems like the muscle memory of your brain just remembers how to fall back into the pitfalls of being an infertile.

Some people speculate that once you have had a baby, your body somehow “learns” how to get pregnant.  This is why you hear of all of the stories – you know the ones…“I know someone who did 8 IVF cycles and finally had a baby and when their baby was 10 months old, they miraculously got pregnant on their own.  Maybe that will happen to you too!?!”  I know this happens.  I know people in the online ALI community who have had this miracle occur and I am truly happy for them.

Do I think I will be one of them?  Nope.  But apparently my unconscious thoughts somewhere in the depths of my mind are hoping this will happen.  I get a reminder of this every month. 

Here are the Facts:

• We are not preventing.  We are not “actively trying”.  Intercourse in our house is timed – but rather than to my cycle it is to when we have the most time and energy for each other – the weekends.

• After Carder was born, I have noticed some changes in my body.  My cycle is still as short as ever (24-25 days) and my periods are still very painful.  But I now experience the tell-tell signs of ovulation every month.  For instance, Egg white cervical mucus is now a monthly occurrence for me – in abundance.  I no longer have to look closely to determine if it is there.  Now, I can easily tell when I wipe and there is no need to get my fingers involved in the process.
• We did achieve one known documented pregnancy that didn’t involve a petri dish and an embryologist.  The documented beta level was only at 45 and I lost the pregnancy by 5 ½ weeks.

The Conclusion:

I am a lunatic infertile whom apparently thinks she is having a miracle baby.  Needing to have intercourse more than once (or at all) in fertile window of 3 days be damned.

Case in Point: 

Last month my cycle was 24 days long.  On day 22 or 23 of this cycle, I had some cramps that I would have sworn AF was coming any minute.  She never showed.  By day 25 when AF hadn’t arrived, I was mentally tallying up every possible pregnancy symptom that I was experiencing. 

I have cramps but no spotting.  I am soooo tired I can barely stay awake after 4pm.  I am absolutely starving but at the same time I think I am going to throw up.  I think my nipples look darker…I must be pregnant.

Derek and I have a conversation about “what if” I really am pregnant and we ponder cute baby names (it’s totally a girl by the way).

I calculate a due date.  I ponder whether I will higher risk due to the preterm labor with my previous pregnancy and will be put on bed rest.  I calculate how much extra this will cost us at daycare.   I think about all of the cute ways we can announce the pregnancy to our families and friends.  I wonder what kind of big brother Carder will be.

I practically had my hands perched on the keyboard to Google “Early Pregnancy Symptoms” and was contemplating run to the drugstore to buy a stick to pee on.

And then the rational side of me took hold of the optimistic side and shook the hell out of it. 

"GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!!!  YOU ARE INFERTILE.  THE CHILD YOU BORE ISN’T EVEN GENETICALLY RELATED TO YOU!  THE ODDS AREN’T GOOD.  HAVE A GLASS OF WINE AND CHILL THE FUCK OUT."

So I drank some wine (while thinking to myself that I may be pickling my possible child and wondering if it will be my last glass of wine).

And the next day the bitch showed up.

Thank God I didn't go out and waste my money on another damned stick to pee on.

You would think that one of these days I would abandon all hope...At least I no longer sit on the toilet and cry about it, right?

I Shouldn't Feel This Way

We have several friendly acquaintances at our Church with small children.  One such couple has a daughter that is 11 months old.  This past Sunday, I found out that they are expecting baby #2 and are 13 weeks along.

Since Carder has been born, this is the first time we have been "lapped" by someone we know.

I felt...

JEALOUS. 

RESENTFUL. 

PAIN. 

For a moment, it was almost as if I was back in the thick of TTC with Infertility blocking our way.

It was the first time since we found out we were expecting Carder that I felt this way.

(OK, that's not entirely true.  The first time was when the wife of another Church couple w/2 children where husband works on a boat in the ocean and is gone 50% of the year made a statement that there WOULD BE MORE and I thought "must be nice..." but it just wasn't full fledged pain, just the jealousy part)

It was the first time that I felt that sting - the slap in the face that knocks the wind out of you.  I wasn't expecting to feel that way.  I thought that perhaps actually having a baby in my arms would have protected me from the pain of just how easy it can be for other people.  I suppose it has - but just not like I thought it would have.  Instead of it being a spinal block, it made the pain tolerable.  I didn't go home and cry about it like the childless infertile that I once was would have - I just had to breathe through the pain a bit.

I guess that what I took away from this was that I will always have scars from our journey through infertility.  I will always remember what it felt like.  I will always feel the stabbing pain of pregnancy announcements (at least to some extent).  But at least now I can deal with the pain without crying myself to sleep or downing a bottle or two of wine - because I looked into the eyes of my beautiful baby boy, kissed him on top of his little head, told myself that he was worth every heart ache I had waiting for him, and said a little prayer of thanks that we were no longer waiting.

Some Day, Some Way

A long, long time ago*, after almost 3 years of trying, Derek and I finally got pregnant.  After such a long time trying, I was sure that our dreams were finally coming true.  And then I lost the baby.  I was having a hard time dealing with the loss of this child and I began to search for solice online.

I found a website called Babycenter and I joined.  At first, I only participated in groups about loss and miscarraige.  I tried but couldn't stand the groups that were for people who were actively trying - there were so many people there who got pregnant their first try and it was so hard to stay positive when you felt as if you were the only one who was struggling to conceive a child.

And then I found a group of women who had been trying to conceive for one year or more.  It was if I had found an online home.  I made friends with these women quickly and I found a support system unlike one I had ever known.  I bonded with these women and formed some extremely strong relationships.  We mourned failed cycles and losses together.  And we celebrated successes together.  I love these women.  Although it has been several years now and we no longer post in our BBC group, we still keep in touch.  We have had 2 get togethers where we travelled across the US to meet each other.  And I hope we have more of these in the future.

For a while now, I have wanted to post about this group of women.  One of them - Katie - coined a phrase that we quoted to each other frequently.  "Some day, some way."  There were times that this phrase was all that kept me believing that some day my dreams would come true.  I held on to this phrase with all of my might in failed cycle after failed cycle.  It became my mantra.

And now - for almost all of us - this mantra has come true.  Most of us are now mothers or are expecting our first child (and are far enough into the pregnancy that I feel as if I can post this without jinxing anyone).  For us, our Some Day, Some Way has finally come true.  I look over at Carder who is sleeping like an angel in his swing and I feel so lucky that my dreams have finally come true.  (And we lived happily ever after.**)

But there are still 2 of us for whom our dreams haven't manifested into reality.  For them, the strain of infertilty broke them and their marraiges.

For one of these ladies, she and her husband had decided to pursue adoption.  They were quickly picked by a birth mother who was expecting twins.  She allowed herself to imagine the future with these babies and felt peace and happiness.  And shortly after being matched, her marraige fell apart.  Not only did she have to say goodbye to her husband - a relationship that had been over a decade of her life - but she had to give up her current version of her dream of motherhood.  Over the last couple of years, she has dealt with so many feelings of loss.  And in the last few weeks, she has been dealing with the feelings over having to pass up the chance to be a mother to the twins.

For you, my dear friend, I want to remind you that your "Some Day, Some Way" will still happen.  It won't happen with the man you began your journey with.  And it won't be with the twins you loved the moment you learned of them.  But it WILL happen.  And you will be a wonderful mother.  Never forget that "Some Day, Some Way" will find you when it is meant to be. 

For you, my readers, this post is twofold.  Please remember my friend and send some loving thoughts out to her, even if all you do is think something kind because you don't know who she is.  In addition, if you are still trying for your miracle, don't give up hope that your "Some Day, Some Way" will happen.  Whether you conceive naturally, through IUI, or through IVF - or whether you adopt embryos or a baby - one day your hearts and your arms will be full.

*Yes, this story begins like so many Fairy Tales.
**I guess you could say it ends like a Fairy Tale, too!

What Do Fresh Mozzerella and Ovaries have in Common???

Derek and I were preparing some fresh mozzarella over tomatoes.  The grocery store was out of the type of mozzarella that we normally buy, so Derek had bought a ball of mozzarella pearls - small balls of mozzarella smushed together into a large ball.

As he was slicing the ball of cheese, Derek said "I bet this is what your ovaries looked like while you were stimming.  And it is probably about the right size."

Up until then, I hadn't really looked at the ball of cheese.  But when I did, I realized that he was spot on with the comparison.  The resemblance was uncanny.

I wonder if anyone (who isn't an RE or infertile) has ever made that comparison before. 

Reflections on Mother's Day Feelings

Sorry for my blogging absence this last couple of weeks.  I have several posts to type to fill you all in.  But today, I want to focus this post on Mother's Day and how I am feeling about it.  This will be a long one because I am feeling quite emotional.

And Mom - if you are reading this - please read the whole thing - no matter how long winded it is.

Over the last 7 years of my life, Mother's Day morphed for me - just as it does for almost all infertiles.

Way back in 2004 (at the start of our journey), it was a day to celebrate my Mom and Derek's Mom and all that they meant to us.  And that first year, it was a day that I felt hope - we were newly married and we had been discussing beginning to start a family.  We actually thought that we could plan for when we would become parents.   We had decided that I would stop my birth control and we would officially start trying the next month.  We wanted to have our first child after we had been married for 2 years and we were giving ourselves a 6 month cushion just in case it didn't work the first time.  (And, yes, as I typed that, I heard the universe laugh loudly in my head...)

By Mother's Day in 2007, I had grown concerned as to why it hadn't happened for us yet.  My OB didn't seem too worried about why it was taking us so long.  I had reasoned to myself that Derek had been travelling a lot for work and perhaps we were just missing the right day to procreate, but the fear that I couldn't have a baby was already deeply rooted even if I didn't share it aloud.  That was before I found an online community of support and I was still suffering in silence.  None of my friends had struggled to have children and I felt so all alone.  Desperately alone.  Mother's Day was still a day I celebrated, but I no longer celebrated Mother's Day with my whole heart.  The first pangs of sadness floated in.

I think that Mother's Day 2008 was the beginning of the big downward, slippery slope in my feelings towards Mother's Day.  We had completed our first rounds of testing and were still considered unexplained infertility, but we knew that everything appeared to be working correctly.  We had finally seen "PREGNANT" on a HPT and the result was confirmed by my OB's office.  But, just a week and a half after finding out we were expecting the most beautiful gift in the world, I had a miscarraige.  Derek and my Dad had installed several new doors on our house the day that I lost the baby - and they were working on the french doors in the basement when I went to get Derek to get him to take me to the hospital.  That Mother's Day (and every one thereafter), I would go down to the basement to look at those doors and I would cry as I mourned the child that could have been but wasn't.  I remember not wanting to celebrate AT ALL. 

In 2009, we had completed more testing and had several failed IUIs .  We had experienced our first failed IVF and we now knew that our embryos had fragmentation.  My heart was crushed.  I can't remember if I even sent cards to my Mom or to Derek's Mom but I am pretty sure I did because it was something I felt as if I had to do.  And since I am being utterly honest in this post - I have to share that even though I had found a wonderful group of women online who were also suffering - I still felt utterly alone.  I was the only one in our group who had gone through IVF and failed.  And all of my online friends were getting pregnant left and right.  This was the first Mother's Day that I truly wanted to completely forget.  And what I remember is how crushed my own Mother was that I didn't want to celebrate HER.  And how she couldn't even grasp the concept of why I felt this way.

In 2010, I had think I had abandoned all REAL hope of every becoming a mother.  Although there were treatment options still available, we had decided that we didn't want to invest our life savings into donor eggs.  Although we loved the idea of embryo adoption, we felt like the cost to pursue this option was so close to the "base price" of adoption.  So, we had decided to pursue domestic adoption.  But the truth of the matter was that we felt trapped by our lives and we wanted out.  Since we were attempting an exit strategy, we weren't moving forward with adoption.  AT ALL.  And I knew that our next "life" would not be as financially stable as our current one.  I wasn't sure where we would come up with the funds for adoption once we made these big life changes.  I had begun to feel as if we would always remain childless and I was trying to prepare myself for a lifetime without children. 

Remembering the way my Mom felt the previous year, I did my best to push my feelings away and celebrate Mother's Day with her.  Of course, I failed miserably.  I postponed making plans with her because I didn't want to dread it for weeks in advance.  And (once again, being brutally honest) I only called to make plans with her because my best friend convinced me that it was the right thing to do - I shouldn't hurt my own Mom just because I was dying inside.  But, because I had hurt her so badly the previous year and because I procrastinated, she made other plans with her sister. 

I can only imagine how she felt those last 2 Mother's Days - and I really don't want to because it makes me feel like an absolute asshole even to this day.  What I wish I could have eloquently explained to my Mom back then?  As an infertile, just getting through a regular day can be tough enough.  But the holildays?  Those suckers are BRUTAL.  And Mother's Day is especially so.  It is the day that celebrates everything you want to be but are afraid you will never achieve.  I can now look back and see that I was battling depression on a day to day basis.  There were days that it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other or get out of bed.  My heart broke every time I saw a pregnant belly or a child that is the age any of mine would have been.  A simple trip to the grocery store could be enough to make me break into tears, so trips to the park and baby showers and many other normal life events made me wish that someone was pulling my fingernails out instead.  And a day that celebrates Motherhood?  Well, I would have taken any other form of torture to have avoided the day entirely.  The commercials alone could send me over the edge.  I distinctly remember standing in the card aisle trying to pick cards for my Mom and Derek's Mom and breaking into tears and then running to the bathroom to sit in the stall and sob.  (I am sure the other shoppers at Target thought I was absolutely nuts).

This year, things are different.  I haven't gotten the cards out in time, but this time it was due to my hectic schedule and not procrastination.  I still cried when I stood there picking out the cards, but this time it was because the words in the cards meant so much more to me.  And when my Mom (finally) gets the card that I picked out for her, I think she will know that and she will cry too.  Because what it says is THAT perfect for how I feel.  And even though I can't spend Mother's Day with her because of the miles that separate us, I hope that she enjoys the gift she will receive today.  And I hope she knows that, being on the verge of finally becoming a Mother myself, I find myself finally want to truly celebrate my own Mom again.  I found myself wanting to make this day special for her - out of love and not obligation.

And as I have sat here this morning, quietly reflecting on the Mother's Days for the last 7 years of my life, I have cried quite a bit as I have remembered this evolution of feelings.  It was so much easier to write them now I feel my son moving inside of me and I don't feel hopeless.  My heart has healed and I am no longer in the depths of the black hole that was my infertility.  I can still remember the emotions, but they aren't so raw and fresh.  

And today, as I more fully understand a Mother's love, I know my Mom will forgive me for how much I hurt her these last few years with my attitude towards this holiday.  I only hope that she will understand my feelings and will someday know it was never because I didn't love her - only because I was in so much pain myself.

I don't know if anyone who hasn't suffered from infertility can understand just how different Mother's Day feels to you when you are no longer in the trenches fighting to survive.  So, to my friends still waiting for their miracles - my thoughts are with you today.  I remember and I have cried many tears for you this morning.  I promise that some day, every tear you have cried and all of the pain you have felt will be worth it.

My Thoughts on PETA

As I am sure you are all aware by now of the atrocious campaign that PETA was offering "in honor" of National Infertility Awareness Week.

When I first heard about the campaign, it was from reading the posts of fellow bloggers.  I was furious that PETA would even consider it remotely appropriate to give away a vasectomy to honor the millions of people who can't have children.  Right, because that is exactly what we all asked for.

I had the best intentions of writing my own email to PETA to let them know how outraged I was.  The first roadblock to this was that the campaign to stop PETA happened when I was pretty busy.  As each day slipped past, I kept telling myself that I would have time to get to it the next day.

The second roadblock - well - that one was probably self imposed.  As I read the letters that were posted on the blogs of my online friends, I realized just how eloquent and well written those letters were.  They seemed to be written by people with clear heads who listed facts and figures as arguments for why PETA should drop their campaign.  And they never once dropped the F-Bomb.

As I tried to compose my own letter, I couldn't figure out how to express myself and my anger without cursing.  Unless I pirated one of the letters written by a fellow blogger, the best part of my contribution to the fight was that I was going to tell them that instead of honoring infertiles with this campaign, perhaps they should honor the Dugger Family (and those like them) as they were more likely to overpopulate the world than we infertiles were.

And then it happened.  From the dedication and persistence of the bloggers whose writings I admired (and was considering claiming as my own), PETA caved in and dropped any mention of NIAW from their contest. 

And to those bloggers who were eloquent enough to say the right words and determined enough to win the battle, on behalf of the infertile community I would like to say THANK YOU!

Pampered Chef Revisited and a Support Group

On Monday night, I was invited to go to another Pampered Chef Party by my real estate agent.  This party was being held at the home of "the woman" that I have been so concerned about.  Of course, I jumped at the chance to go.  I know, if I really had offended her, showing up at her home may not have been the wisest idea.  But, I wasn't sure if I would ever have another opportunity.

Before the party began, I had a chance to tell her what I had missed out on telling her the first time.  As it turns out, my emotion-dar was right on.  She and her husband weren't suffering from infertility, but had recently had a miscarriage.  She is in her 40s and it was a surprise pregnancy, so she admitted that she didn't understand the heartache of really wanting a child until after she had lost one.  She is a really sweet woman and she was touched that I sought her out to make sure that she knew our situation *just in case* she was struggling.  So, I can now rest easy about that situation.

Derek and I started attending a local church.  On Sunday, there was an announcement in the bulletin that an Infertility/Adoption support group was being formed.  The first meeting of the group was last night.  The only ones who attended the meeting were myself and the group leader.  (She was older when she started TTC so she moved on to International Adoption after only a year of TTC).  I think that we were both disappointed that there weren't more people that attended, but it was nice to meet someone in the area who understood where I was coming from.  She indicated that there were at least 2 other women in the church that she thought might attend in the future.  She also mentioned that this was the only support group she had seen in the area, so she hoped that possibly others in the community might attend.  The group will be meeting once per month to begin with and I think I will go again, even if it is just a small group to start with.  

The ALI online community has been such a life saver to me over these last years and I don't know how I could have survived the journey without the support I have received here.   I know that I am no longer currently TTC and neither is the group leader.  But, I hope that by forming a group, we might be able to be a support system for those who are still trying.

Sing You Home

I love to read.  My latest read was "Sing You Home" by Jodi Picoult.  I have read several of Picoult's books and have found each of them to be page turners.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw a blurb in a magazine about "Sing You Home" while I was waiting on Derek to get his hair cut.  What I read in the book preview stated that the book was about embryo donation and the legal battle for a same sex couple to use those embryos.  As you can guess, this peaked my curiosity and I immediately went to the library to find this book.

This isn't Picoult's first mention of ART in one of her books.  Anyone who has read "My Sister's Keeper" is aware of this fact.

What I wasn't expecting were the events of the first chapter.  While I don't want to spoil anything for you, a quick Internet search would reveal most of what I am about to tell you.

After struggling with infertility for years, Zoe and Max are finally pregnant.  The first pages of the book talk about their struggles - and as a fellow infertility patient, you can feel how the character of Zoe could be you.  Her desire to be a mother, the injectibles, the pain of past miscarriages - all of it - are spelled out in those first few pages.  I was hooked.

And then, at 28 weeks, Zoe is having a baby shower.  And during that shower, Zoe's placenta detaches and loses the baby.  I was shocked.  Crushed.  (After all, I am flying to Georgia for a baby shower in a couple of weeks - when I will be 29 weeks - for a baby shower.  Enter PANIC*)

All of that aside, I was still hooked and couldn't put the book down.  Zoe never gives up the hope of becoming a mother, even after Max divorces her because he no longer wants to be a father.  If you can stomach the first chapter (which I have already given you the most shocking parts of) and you aren't offended by same sex relationships, I would definitely recommend this book.  It was heart wrenching and real.

And although it wasn't exactly what I thought it would be, I loved the fact that Picoult wrote about struggling with infertility as if it had actually happened to her.  I hope that as this book's circulation increases, the non-infertile population will be able to see past the homosexual's trying for a baby portion of this book.  Instead, I hope they will focus on the portion of the book that allows others to see inside the life of an infertile - the intense desire to become a mother and the pain/struggles that we often have to endure to get there.

I couldn't think of a better time than now, with National Infertility Awareness Week approaching, to give a shout out to Picoult and "Sing You Home".  I hope that each of you finds time to read it and I hope that it touches you in the same way it touched me.

*Side note - for a few days after reading this book, I did have panic attacks when our little boy seemed to be moving less frequently.  Luckily, there were only a couple of days that he seemed to be less active and that I worried obsessively about this.

Responses to "The Scarlet Letter" Post

Thank you to those of you who commented on my last post.  Thank you so much for your thoughtful comments...After reading some of your comments, I realized that I probably should have said a couple more things in that post.

The first one is that I have always been open about our infertility.  Probably to a fault.  I have never hid our struggles to have a child from anyone - and for a while - I felt like the only thing that defined me WAS our infertility.

Now that we have moved to our new city, there aren't many people I know.  And, I haven't used our infertility journey as a conversation starter (nor do I plan to in the future...).  BUT, to the people that I have met, I still have not shied away from sharing how we got here.  And I don't plan on changing this.  I feel it is important to keep sharing our story just in case it helps someone deal with their journey.

And the truth is - I really was planning on saying something to her about how we got here - just in case.  But the Pampered Chef lady started the presentation and I didn't want to rudely talk over her.  I thought I would have an opportunity before the party ended - and that opportunity just didn't come.

I have actually considered trying to track this woman down.  My current internal debate is whether or not she will think I am NUTS for tracking her down just to tell her that we had a hard time conceiving.  If she has struggled, then we will find a common bond and will perhaps become fast friends.  If not, well...

As far as the Scarlet Letter - I am aware of the Common Thread of Infertility.  My good friend Katie actually made me a bracelet a couple of years ago and I proudly wore it every single day - until it broke.  I actually have the thread in the basement in my crafting supplies and now that we are getting more settled in the house, I am considering making a new one to wear.

But if this woman is suffering in silence, she probably wouldn't have been aware of what the bracelet even stood for...

Anyway, I have to go to work - I just wanted to throw those thoughts out there...

Eat, Pray, Love

I am one of those people who really likes to read the book before I watch the movie.  And, if you have been reading my blog, you know that Derek and I are all about making a big change in our lives lately.  So, it should come as no surprise to you all that this book/movie are of great interest to me.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I picked up the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I must say that I am thoroughly enjoying it.  I just finished the "Eat" section and have recently started the "Pray" section.

For those of you who know nothing about this book, Elizabeth Gilbert goes through a divorce and then decides to spend a year visiting Italy, India, and Indonesia and she writes a book about her experience in each of these 3 countries and how the time she spent in each of these countries shaped her in some way.

I don't want to spoil anything for anyone, but a passage of this book really spoke to me.  I dog eared the page and I have returned to it several times to read it again.  I think it will speak to all of you as well, and I wanted to share it.

Elizabeth and her ex-husband never had children.  As she reflects on the differences between her sister and herself and the massive changes in her life caused by her divorce, she reflects on her place in the family.

To create a family with a spouse is one of the most fundamental ways a person can find continuity and meaning in American (or any) society.  I rediscover this truth every time I go to a big reunion of my mother's family in Minnesota and I see how everyone is held so reassuringly in their positions over the years.  First you are a child, then you are a teenager, then you are a young married person, then you are a parent, then you are retired, then you are a grandparent - at every stage you know who you are, you know what your duty is and you know where to sit at the reunion.  You sit with the other children, or teenagers, or young parents, or retirees.  Until at last you are sitting with the ninety-year-olds in the shade watching over your progeny with satisfaction.  Who are you?  No problem - you are the person who created all this.  The satisfaction of this knowledge is immediate, and moreover, it's universally recognized.  How many people have I heard claim their children as the greatest accomplishment and comfort of their lives?  It's the thing they can always lean on during a metaphysical crisis, or a moment of doubt about their relevancy - If I have done nothing else in this life, the at least I have raised my children well.

But, what if, either by choice or by reluctant necessity, you end up not participating in this comforting cycle of family and continuity?  What if you step out?  Where do you sit at the reunion?  How do you mark time's passage without the fear that you've just frittered away your time on earth without being relevant?  You'll need to find another purpose, another measure by which to judge whether or not you have been a successful human being.  I love children, but what if I don't have any?  What kind of person does that make me?

I know that she isn't necessarily speaking of infertility, but she might as well have been - which is obviously why this spoke to me.  This describes to me the panic each of us faces every day that we worry about what happens if we don't ever make it to parenthood.  You can substitute family reunion with class reunion or birthday party or any other event where people gather, and it would still ring true.

We all wonder what our lives will be if we never make it to parenthood.  I hope we never have to find out.

A Double Dose of Cancer

I debated internally whether or not to share this information with all of you - because I didn't want to alarm any of you.  But, because I love all of you dearly and I felt I needed to post.

I am not a doctor, nor did I stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, so if this information speaks to you, you should consult your physician.


Cancer #1 - Your Baby/Child
IMO - this is nothing to freak out about.  I wanted to share the info so that you could judge for yourself.  Or, so that if someone who loves you happens to mention this fact to you in passing, you will have already read the information.  Knowledge is the key, right?

My Mother In Law has watched several of her loved ones suffer from or die with cancer.  And, as some of you may remember, she recently battled the disease herself and is currently in remission.  But any time that she hears the word "Cancer" in a news headline, it is a huge cause of concern for her.  Understandably so, right?

Well, shortly after we found out we were at the top of the donor embryo list, she let me know that she had heard a story that indicated children born from IVF have a higher risk of cancer than children conceived naturally.  She admitted that she didn't know much about it, but urged me to look into it before making up our minds about moving forward with our donor embryos.  I did consult Dr. Google to see what he had to say.

Basically, the article indicates that there is a **slightly** higher risk for childhood cancer in children born through IVF.  It cites that the increase isn't due to the process, but is more like due to the advanced age of the mother's eggs and also due to the genetics the parents are passing along to the child.  The figures about percentage vary from article to article based on the way they calculate the percentage.  However, if you are interested in reading more about it, you can read the medpagetoday article or the article in Time online, or you can google it yourself.

To me, the best part from either of these articles was the last paragraph or the article in Time. 

Even if the study had confirmed IVF as a risk factor, experts say the level of increased risk is not enough to deter parents from undergoing the treatment. While IVF may bump up a tiny risk of childhood cancer, without it, many infertile couples may not have a baby at all.

It almost seems as if the person writing this article really understood the pain and suffering of infertile couples, doesn't it?

Cancer # 2 - YOU
After the bomb  my MIL dropped, I was sitting in the waiting room for 2 hours at a Dr's office (taking one of my staff members for stitches from an accident on the job) and there wasn't really anything but People Magazine in espanol or medical type magazines to read.  And believe me, peeps, looking at the pictures isn't as fun when you don't know the celebs or when you can't read the captions.  So, medical magazines won.  And what I read has caused me to come home and do some further googling.

Not only does your status as an infertile mean that your child could have a higher risk of cancer, it means you are possibly at a higher risk of ovarian cancer. 
From what I am reading, it would appear to me that we infertiles may have risk that increases exponentially - several of the bullet points spoke to me.

These articles cite the following items indicating increased risk:

• A woman who has had children has a lower risk of ovarian cancer than women who have no children. The risk gets even lower with each pregnancy.
• Using the fertility drug Clomid® for longer than one year may increase the risk for developing ovarian tumors, and the risk seemed to be highest in women who did not get pregnant while on this drug.
• Fertility drugs seem to increase the risk of the type of ovarian tumors known as "low malignant potential" (LMP tumors). If you are taking fertility drugs, you should discuss the potential risks with your doctor.

The first study that I read (in that medical mag) mentioned only Clomid.  However, it made me wonder if all of my days on Clomid or Femara or (oh heavens) Gonal F and Menopur was going to increase my risk of ovarian cancer even more - after all, if Clomid increased your risk, wouldn't all fertility drugs (especially these that made you ovaries resemble bubble wrap) increase your risk?  My Googling did bring to light this statement from cancer.org.

However, women who are infertile may be at higher risk (than fertile women) even if they do not use fertility drugs. This may be in part because they haven't had children or have not used birth control pills (which are protective). More research to clarify these relationships is now underway.

So, the increased risks may not be in association with the drug, but the disease of infertility.

Other good news I found?

• Using oral contraceptives (also known as birth control pills or "the pill') also lowers the risk of ovarian cancer.  So, ladies, all those months on the pill prior to finding out we were infertile weren't "wasted time and money".  They could be offering you some lower risks of ovarian cancer.  In addition, all those BCPs you popped for your IVF cycles did more than just get you ready for a transfer.
• Both aspirin and acetaminophen have been shown to reduce the risk of ovarian cancer. Once again, all those baby aspirin you took during your IVF cycles, good stuff.  And the acetaminophen you popped for those painful periods or to combat those lupron headaches?  More good stuff.
• A study of women who followed a low-fat diet for at least 4 years showed a lower risk of ovarian cancer. Now all those diets you have gone on to loose all of that infertility weight also offer you an added benefit - not only can you fit back into your skinny jeans, but you are combating ovarian cancer...

Okay, so those last 3 I may have been searching for a lighter side of things.  I don't like to just post doom and gloom stuff.  And dry wit is part of why you all love me.

But seriously, if you feel that you want to read more about your possible risks, you can read a couple of articles at Mayo Clinic or at cancer.org or you can talk to your doctor.
I know that when I go next week for my next round in the stirrups, I will be asking my OBGYN about it.